#it was a good shoot! im excited to get them printed <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[trainstationgoodbye]

test shots from my little brother's engagement shoot at tipsoo lake the past weekend!

[jermagaunt]

Had a game yesterday against the lovely @becomingisla who came to visit us over the weekend for a festival. Playing at home made me realise how small all my terrain is and that I definitely need to get a bit more. Really fun game where I used my very old, very battered Ork models for Orktober and Isla used her short men, I mean pre primaris iron hands list. This battle really got me excited to play orks again which is exactly what I was hoping for because it's seemed too daunting a task to try and fix up my battered and bruised poor orks from 10-15 years ago. Supply drop was our primary mission and battleline units could still shoot and do actions which was helpful for both our lists in this 1k point game. The far corner objective was blowing up on turn 4 and the middle objective was the only one to remain in turn 5 allowing for some big points in those last turns. Here is what our armies looked like after deployment, the unprimed trukk contained my big squad of 10 nobz with a warboss who also let them move 8" once they're out the trukk.

Isla got first turn and pushed forward a bit, he lascannon old man dreanought taking a few wounds off my trukk.

I pushed forwards hard on my turn one, getting lots of big advances and probably pushing my bikes way too far, they're orks, they got excited!

I forgot to get some pictures of turn 2 but I declared the WAAAAGH! to give all my guys advance and charge and a bit of extra protection. The trukk still died, unfortunately not blowing up so I could careen it forward but the Nobz clambered out ready for a big run towards the dreadnought that krumped dere trukk over dere! Both dreadnoughts managed to survive the turn, one being charged by a very angry 4 armed deff dread and the other being slapped 9 times by a warboss' powerclaw.

Turn 3 the terminators came in and the dreadnought ran away to allow everyone to shoot the Nobz. Ard as nails meant most things were wounding them on 6s and a failed charge meant those terminators weren't long for this world.

The Nobz and Boyz charged the armoured gitz and ripped them open, the captain surviving and me realising that Helbrecht and his sword bros punch a lot harder than a warboss and his Nobz.

Turn 4 saw the old man running back for a heroic last stand on the final objective but we both knew it was curtains at this point. He took down the remaining Nobz with him but the warboss crumped im gud fer squishin iz gitz like dat!

Quick final turn just to tally up points, the dreadnought did explode out of spite to kill one more boy and hurt a warboss and a little unclean one came to watch the last turn

Really fun game against @becomingisla and here are a few action shots she took of her terminators' final moments. She did really good despite only a few games of 10th under her belt

Final scores here and can't wait to get my orks all fixed up and krump some more gitz! Already looking at some 3d prints of Nobz and meganobz for a bully Boyz list...

[wizkiddx]

i saw that you at least used to write for harry could u do another? like maybe im just a basic bitch but 'only one bed' trope or sm

Summary: honestly just me shitty attempt at the only one bed thing ahah with Harry Holland x reader

no warnings I don’t think apart from my ramabling :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God you were groggy. It had been a long 16 hour flight and you were well and truly completely over this day. Once you’d had some proper sleep, no doubt you will be beyond excited to explore the forest and beaches of this remote island in Indonesia. You were certain it was beautiful, even if you’d arrived in the dead of night so you couldn’t see any of the majesty yet. It was one of the joys of being Tom’s makeup artist - travelling the world and being paid for it? A literal dream. 

Except maybe the previous 24 hours. The Holland name carried a lot of weight in the world, but not enough to control typhoons across the tropics - there were some limitations to his power. And yes first class lounges were nice but none had beds to crash on during the 6 hour weather delay. The four of you (Tom, Harry, Andrew and yourself)  ended up camping out in a out-the-way corner. Tom got the long sofa; Andrew in one of those weird egg line chairs; you and Harry splayed on the floor. Why you’d had to get up at 4 am to catch a flight that was now not departing till 12 hours later actually hurt to think about - especially because you’d all gone out for a meal the night before that had inevitable went a lot later than planned. 

Two connecting flights with a very angry baby later, the four of you were checking in to the only hotel on the island - which was now almost exclusively filled with the production team for Tom’s newest movie. It wasn’t especially big-budget with massive million pound overheads, instead a smaller scale indie film (that you privately thought might earn Tom a number of accolades). But yeh, shooting on an island that received almost no tourism meant everything was different to the usual. None more so than for Tom and his team (including you) who he normally would look after very well, with the nicest hotel rooms or rental homes. 

The hotel was basic, you’d known that before you arrived but seeing is believing is it not? Most entertaining though, was seeing Tom’s face. Andrew was a well travelled older guy, he had stayed in some shitholes in his life. Equally you and Harry had both travelled when you were younger (you through inter railing and him in australia), so had stayed in hostels before. But for Hollywood star Tom Holland? The way he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘really this place?’ did lift your spirits momentarily. 

Andrew had got his key first, bidding you all good night with a grunt, then Tom - who still seemed confused as to the whole arrangements. It left you and Harry at the small dingy reception, the warm glow of an old lantern-esque light fixing illuminating the place. The guy behind the desk was a smiley local and greeted you warmly, if incorrectly.

“Ah and finally the couple I see!” He spoke with a thick accent but still very clear English which had you questioning if this was just a translational error. Harry looked at you instantly, his eyes wide which made you scoff - him joining in, shaking his unruly curly mop emphatically.

“No no we um… we aren’t together.” All the while Harry pointed between the two of you, communicating through actions rather than just the language, given that you were both the very typical Brits abroad who hadn’t learnt the language of the place they were visiting. 

“Still under Holland name?” The guy asked in a perplexed manner, flicking through a book filled with cursive scribbles and scanning to see if he’d made a mistake. He checked one, then looked up nervously before checking the same page once again- you saw where this was going. ”We, we only have couples room down for you though? 3 double rooms is the booking for Holland.” 

It was late, you both stunk of a combination of plane and BO, you both just wanted your individual and respective beds. 

“Well can we get another room then?” Harry didn’t quite snap but there was still an impatientcy to his voice, which came out whenever he was a little agitated. Seeing the slightly worried look the mans eyes, you leaned onto the desk with a genuine smile. 

“Sorry we know its last minute and its not your fault, we’ve just had a really long flight.”

“I am terribly sorry miss but we are only small hotel and Hollywood has filled us up. I have no other rooms. I am truly sorry sir, ma’am.” The guy went from looking worried to terrified as Harrys jaw tensed up, you naturally squeezed his arm to try and ground him, instantly deciding that you’d just work it out. 

“No no it’s not your fault, don’t worry we’ll figure it out. Can I just get the key?”

Harry stepped back and let youtakeover proceedings, signing all the insurance documents etc and asking the man about the breakfast arrangements and such, though you saw him furiously typing on his phone and by the buzzing in your pocket- presumed he was messaging the group of you Tom, Andrew and himself. 

Once finished the guy pointed you on your way, up two flights of stairs and down a hall. The whole time Harry was muttering about how useless the other two were for not replying and also for making the wrong booking in the first place. If only you hadn’t been the last two to checkin, then it would’ve been someone else’s problem.

He felt especially guilty just because you were the only girl-  he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, hence why he was trying to locate his brother so they could share tonight till they got it figured out. The tension, combined with sleep deprivation, was palpable as you both walked in silence toward the room - Harry was trying to formulate a plan in his head as they did so. And honestly? You just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. So, once you reached the door 57 holding the physical key (old school, rather than a key card) you just decided to address it. 

“Will you chill please?” 

“Well if my idiot broth-“

“Oh leave him be for god sake. If you’re okay with it I really don’t mind sharing with you tonight?” Not bothering to laugh at his slightly shocked expression with mouth hanging a little open, you fiddled with the key until the lock clicked open. From the entrance you had a pretty clear view of the whole room and… well, lets just say dated would be a fair expression - when compared to what you were used to? The floor was tiled and the bed was a small double, with some funky and slightly washed out prints of blue and red on the cover. The pillows looked a little limp, more like glorified pieces of cardboard than anything fluffy and comfortable. The walls were that yellowy magnolia shade that everyone in the UK had gone insane for in the 80s and there was an old school wooden wardrobe in the corner. 

Home for 5 weeks. 

With a shrug of your shoulders you entered, dumping your personal and work suitcases by the far wall carelessly - the higher priority action being to collapse on the bed. Doing so with an overdramatic huff, you let your eyes close but payed special attention to the delayed footsteps of Harry as he entered, then the slight creaking noise as he perched on the other side of the bed - no doubt looking at you, at least slightly fearfully. 

The relationship between you and Harry was complex to say the least. Well no… it should be, not on the face of it. You had met through work and made friends. And you wished it was that simple but alas, nothing ever really is. When you’d first worked with Tom you were in the tail end of a relationship you had long since forgotten about - literally meaningless, not worth the time and effort you’d put into it. From the start you’d had a feeling Harry was more interested in you than the average co-worker (even if your job and therefore co-workers were anything but normal and average) but you were in a relationship so nothing ever came. 

Then almost as if synchronised, just as you got out your relationship, Harry threw himself in the deep end with a girl he’d met through his family friends. Then the roles were somewhat reversed, you now spent a good chunk of your day just entertaining yourself with thoughts of the curly headed, slightly awkward, very-passionate-about-tea-making Holland. The cliche is so real - your always want what you cannot have. 

However, a couple months ago his relationship had fizzled and faded away leaving both of you in a sort of no mans land. The sort of not wanting to ruin the friendship situation. The subject was never broached by either you - except you assumed he was being tormented in a similar way to how you were by his big brother and Andrew. Never publicly, yet whenever you found yourself alone in a room with one of them (being Tom’s makeup artist that happened often enough) there would always be a sly dig. The chemistry was  so ‘obvious even a blind man could see it’. Somehow though, weeks of this and your were still stuck. Stuck in the middle. 

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice was gruffer and hoarser from the long journey but you could hear the self-consciousness and naivety in his tone, without having to peel your eyes open and look at his face. 

“I know your not a murder and plus, we shared the airport floor this morning… this is pretty much the same.” He hummed in acknowledgement so you carried on “and plus your pint sized.” That earned you a playful shove in the side as you sniggered, before pulling yourself up so you we now sitting next to him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. His brown eyes searched deeply into yours, as if physically checking for any hint of regret or hesitation. “Don’t even dare offering to go on the floor.” 

“Okay okay okay!” Holding his hands up in surrender, you both laughed, breaking the peace of the late night of the remote Indonesian island. Once an impressive yawn interrupted you though, Harry proclaimed it was time for bed and shooed you into the bathroom to get changed and sorted. 

Honestly you were too tired and lazy to dig out your cleanser and skin stuff, instead opting to just splash a bit of water on your face before swapping into your pj shorts and an old tattered oversized tee. Once done you and Harry swapped, him coming out a couple minutes later in basketball shorts and a black loose fitting tee. 

It wasn’t awkward so to speak, more a sort of excited-tense atmosphere, which there was no doubt Harry was mainly responsible. The boy was jittery and on edge, which to put simply, you didn’t have the energy to reciprocate. 

With a quiet wish of goodnight to each other, Harry flicked off the bedside lamp and you both rolled to your respective edges of the bed, a large space of no mans land between you. In the middle. You know the first time you share a room with someone and you overthink everything? When you don’t want to move about or fidget too much in case it disturbs the other? When your listening intently to their breathing, in the hope it’ll even out and only then will you feel able to fall asleep yourself? 

Well it doesn’t work when both of you are doing it. When both of you are professional over thinkers. 

God knows how long it took till you gave up, favouring sleep over your worries and concerns. So you flipped over, no doubt rocking the whole bed, turning to face his back that was still huddled almost teetering off the edge of the bed. The only light within the whole room was that coming under the actually scarily large gap between the floor and the door to the hallway. It was just enough to see the back of Harry’s curls and you must’ve fallen asleep trying to trace all the torturous and windy routes of the strands.

///////////

In the morning the process of waking up didn’t come easy to you as normal for many reasons; the long day prior; the jet lag; the weird surroundings. So you stayed in this sort of blissful haze for probably longer than you should. Half aware but not really; half asleep but not quite. In the middle  of sleep and alertness. Therefore it took you longer than it should have to notice the extra weight on the dip of your waist. Not anything alarming, just a presence you were absolutely not used to. It was only when you shifted a bit to lie further on your back, that enough of a stimulus from the added pressure made you actually open your eyes blearily. And sure enough, a limp hand looked to have casually and unconsciously been thrown over your side. 

As if in slow motion, you traced the arm backwards - first with your eyes, but then having to twist your neck too. Only then could you fully see the browny ginger haired boy who was lowkey spooning you? It was certainly a way to fully wake you up, breath halted to a stand still in your lungs, in fear of disturbing him and having to confront what would almost certainly be an awkward situation. 

There was still a safe hands width distance between the two of you except for the rogue arm. Harry’s head was placed to the edge of his pillow, mouth slightly parted as his breathing slightly tickled the wispy hairs on the back of your neck. He looked so peaceful and calm - a difference to the normal Harry who, even on a good day, took great pleasure in meticulously picking things apart and being a bit cynical. It was part of his ‘charm’; but seeing him like this was a type of vulnerability he rarely chose to show. 

To be fair he was asleep, he dint realise he was exposing himself in this way.

Finding yourself a little transfixed (a bit creepy but hey) on the natural curves and definition of his face, you ever so carefully rolled over in the bed to face him. It stopped you from craning your neck and gave the sleepy boy a slight nudge, making him tense his arm a little more tightly round you. 

He settled quickly though, giving you ample opportunity to just observe what was going on . Both right in front of you… and what the hell was going on in your head. Because to be honest it was an overwhelming amount of emotion thoughts for the early morning. 

Somehow you must’ve eventually drifted off once again because the next thing you were aware of was a shuffling from immediately next to you. This time though, you were instantly aware of exactly the situation you found yourself in and chose to keep up the pretence of sleep - a little interested in how Harry would play it. 

You heard a small gasp, having to suppress a chuckle at what you imagined Harry’s sleepy and panicked face looked like. That lasted a couple of moments, before you felt him painstakingly slowly peel his hand from your waist and if you were being 100% honest… you heart sort of sank. 

What you had been expecting?- you don’t know and really there was really no reason to be disappointed. Yet, you still felt this deflated and disappointed feeling, hit your chest especially hard. Perhaps it was because of your focus on that emptyness that you forgot you were supposed to be pretending to be asleep./.

Because when he had delicately brushed the side of your face to tuck a rogue bit of hair behind your ear - your eyes flickered open.  Like a rabbit caught in headlights, Harry froze, his hand still hovering over your jaw. Equally, you didn’t know what to do. Because really… do friends tuck hair behind the others ears? And do friends look at each other with this matched expression of confusion and fear? 

It took a painfully long time (though in reality was probably only a matter of seconds) before the boy retracted his hand, suddenly sitting up from his reclined position down at you. Mirroring his actions, you both ended up sitting, facing the opposite wall, bodies closer than they needed to be in the double bed. Both still very much in the middle. 

“I er-“

“-No no don’t… was nice of you” He had been about to apologise which you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to hear ‘ I didn’t mean it’ - you wanted him to mean it. In response Harry nodded jerkily, and from your peripheries, noticed he was searching your face for any sign of emotion.

“Still can’t believe this all happened… I-I didn’t disturb you too much did I?” He sounded really nervous. You were never like this with each other. So static and forced. 

“No no… I slept really good actually.” Your register was quieter, waiting till you’d finished speaking before looking over at him with a self conscious smile. 

“Ah I’m glad… I um-I did too.” The silence returned and the atmosphere just felt sharp. It felt like you were quite literally walking either side of a knife edge. It made you chew on your bottom lip, playing with the slightly frayed edges of the vintage quilt. 

“Y/n- I look…” He’d bolted upright and voice was more raised than normal for the morning. “This is gonna sound so fucking weird, especially cos we’re literally in the same bed but... but I was thinking we could maybe go on a hike or something together?” What he seemed to be suggesting didn’t match the level of panic that was conveyed in his body language which confused you. And what the bed had to do with it… was yet to make sense in your head. 

“I think Andrew said we’re getting some tour of island this afternoon so-“

“ I kinda meant just you and me.” 

The penny dropped and it had you focusing all energy on processing what was happening - understandably causing Harry to only worry more with the lack of response. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined ever-“

“No I-I….I’d really like that too.”

“Oh er… well… really?” The sheer shock made you giggle, feeling the two of you sliding back into the normal dynamic.

“Normally a boy has to buy me a drink before he gets in my bed but….” A mischevious smirk that spread across your lips gave Harry the final confirmation that just maybe you were interested too, making him scoff and quietly chuckle.

It was odd; mainly because this was the two of you being incredibly vulnerable and honest with each other - something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be for fear of messing things up. And then one lazy morning, both with morning breath and slightly puffy eyes, it changed. For the first time when you looked at him, he really saw - and vice versa. You were still in the middle of something, yet it was completely different. 

This time you were in the middle together figuratively as well as literally. In the middle of the bed, closer than you needed to be, but not wanting to retreat - while you both just looked shyly and bashfully at each… Eventually you lips hesitantly met in the middle. 

[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 

[trailerparkflower]

Favorite Steve/billy fics?

Thats a good ask im sorry it took me so long!! I love very different works, from extra fluffy as Steve Harrington hair to dark and gloomy as Billy Hargrove soul, and characterization is the key…And hurt/comfort, of course. Thought about this a lot and collected stuff what im think are the bestest everr

Build It Better by Anonymous ~ fandom classic!!! Lovely and cozy story about true love, loneliness, family, kindness. The purest cutest thing EVER! Also Im still dreaming to taste Steves infamous mashed potatoes

Princess Steve by Squeakyshroom ~ thats was one of my first Harringrove fics what I read, and its still has a special place in my heart…Love tempting slurty Billy, experenced in Cali and knowing all what he needs to and super flustered preppy boy aka repressed subby slut Steve. Story about acceptance of sexuality, feelings, desires….

fistfight drunk like by lipgallagher ~ pretty dark pretty sad…Pretty pretty. Trash magic boys in uhealthy relationships. Thats tbh one of the most re-readed fics for me, Im just can get enough?! Crushing and depressing and sometimes leaves the feeling what u was fucked rough and hard but didnt get any aftercare. Honestly living for it,,,, one of the favest faves!!!! (And Billy Hargrove with heavy Daddy kink)

shoot the lights out, hide) till its bright out by lipgallagher ~  Amazing post ST2 series of Steves n Billy unfortunate events. Love the character study, special atmosphere, the dynamic between em two, plot…everything in dis is simply perfect. The feeling of American suburban town with a slight touch of white trashy aura, dark forests with monsters, lonely scared boys…Lots of ice cream

Expecting the Unexpected by dabblingwithwords ~ HURT/COMFORT AT FINEST! Spooky creepy themes are super exciting, just like Billy, who cant help it but becomes caretaking and protective towards Steve, who clearly has some anixety issues and PTSD:) Upside Down stuff happens…….

House by femmesteve ~ I wont even be lying, this is one of the hottest things I ever saw idk. Short filthy thing, Daddy Billy forever

Broken Pieces by Cerulaine ~ another classic out here! Incredable alternative story about “what if Billy found out about Upside Down and joined the party”. Billy and Steve getting trapped in the Upside Down together, and then get a soul bound….Characters are amazing, alive and breathing, and what I really love is how troubled psycho Billy can be there, just like in canon. Hurt/comfort just A+++++, story is dynamical, everything about is is just dope

by your hand (is the only end i foresee) by thecopperkid ~ fuckin gross boys?? dude bros rivals trying to cool down steam in their relationships by Fucking. Steve is dramatic Diva in $70 baby pink polo & girly sailboat-print shorts, Billy just walking trashy fuckboy with long hair n red paisley bandana….the r so awful i really love them. (+hatesex and Billys dirty mouth)

To taste your beating heart by CeruleanHeart ~ 80s. Breakfast club references, the Princess and the Rebel….Lovely work with awesome take on Bills and Stevie personalities, blooming tenderness, interesting dynamic! Wholesome and powerful

can’t you see them? (can’t you feel them?) by ToAStranger ~ Dope!!! “The summer after El closes the Gate, Steve Harrington goes missing.His car is still in the driveway…“ Mysterious, heartbreaking, creepy…Gives me Nicole Dollanganger vibes. Actually also pure and sweet, and very hopeful and touching. Also Tommy and Carol are freaking adorable

Bite Your Tongue And Choke Yourself To Sleep by trashcangimmick ~ dark and sad and beautiful and hopeful. Steve went through a lot in his life and tries to survive as he can-with bad masochistic coping mechanisms. Getting used to meetin men what likes to break him, he has a big surprise coming in the face of Billy Hargrove……Very sweet and touching story with what I was obessed and waited updates like crazy

Focal Point by Meowmers ~ Billy trying to handle his issues and problems, Steve dealing with his broken heart and nightmares. Billy is an asshole, Steve is a bitch, both stubborn and really CUTE because they get dreamy and flustered and gay. Also life imitates art, cuz in this Billy gets the bite, like, how amazing is that??

[sadboyayeron]

Tapping at my Chamber Door Chapter 3

The lady.  Jennifer Hubert judging by the name on the desk plate.  Told them to sit in the chair or bench infant of her desk while she went around then in sat down.  Kevin sat in the chair directly in front of her.  Neil and Andrew took to sitting on the bench on the right side of the wall.  It wasn’t a particularly large space but it wasn’t to small to fill claustrophobic with four people inside.

“So Kevin Day, It is very nice to meet you my husband loves watching you guys play Exy,” She smiled at them and then opened a drawer in her desk pulling out two folders.  “ Now these paper were just printed out today.  One from Nikoshi’s Doctor and another from his psychologist.”  Kevin straightened his back more at that.

“Psychologist?”  She looked up at Kevin.

“Yes, a lot of children in foster care go to see a therapist.  It helps cope with abandonment and makes sure the kids are transitioning well in their new homes.”  She opened one of the folders.  “Nikoshi saw a therapist who recommended him to a psychologist.  He was diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and given medication.  He went through three different medications before he was put on Focalin XR.  His biggest issues are impulsivity, managing feelings, and energy.  There is more information in the folder with getting the prescription at a pharmacy and things to know about his behavior.  He takes Focalin every morning before school, its not needed on the weekends but to long off it isn’t the best idea.  Though if you want him off the medication, if you ever come to adopting him you can do that.”  She looked towards the other two. “Will you two be helping take care of Nikoshi.”

“Yeah we are, is there anything else we need to know.  If he needs a therapist we already got that covered.  We can send her the information.”  Neil replied with a bored tone but 

“Thats good to know, he just saw the doctor last week.  He gained some weight and is now at a more healthier weight then he was before.”  She sighed. “You have to reminded him to eat, he forgets to and he doesn't ask for food.  The foster home he was just at was good with keeping a schedule, he ate, took his meds, ate at school, had a snack at home, soccer practice and then dinner.  He gets distracted and has little habits that cause him focus to much on random things.  The meds take away his hunger also, so it important that he finishes.”  She then closed both folders and stacked them together before sliding them to Kevin.  

Kevin didn’t know how to process that.  This information sounded to familiar.  He always had to remind Riko to eat something.  Riko would go days without eating, or sleeping, or even both.  It got so bad the master had to tube feed him because he past out and didn’t get back up.  Niko always got back up.  He was taken out of his thoughts when the lady, Jennifer stood.  He picked up the folders and got up following Andrew and Neil out the door.  Nikoshi was still sitting in his chair, he was singing his legs slowly and seemed fixated on his hands.

“Nikoshi, these gentlemen here are going to be your new guardians,”  Niko looked up at them.  He got a better look at there faces, now that the glasses were off he could easily recognize who the taller man was with the chess piece on his cheek bone.  He was confused o say the least.  This had to be some sick joke, or a stupid stuPID dream.  He looked at the other too, the screw that littered the red heads tan face and the man with blond hair and black studs.

“Deadass?”  He blurted out suddenly.  Fuck.  He did not mean to blurt that out.  Kevin day looked taken back by his statement and the other too snickered from slightly behind him.  The lady looked horrified.

“Nikoshi thats not how you take to people.”  She said.

“Oh, um... Sorry.”  He tried to say hoping he didn't look like a complete dumbass. “But like aren't you famous or something.”  

Kevin honestly had know idea what to say to that.  He was not prepared for any of this to begin with.  

“Come on kid we have to go to the air port, you got everything. “  Andrew glanced at the trash bag sitting next to him and felt a familiar weight on his chest.  The kid looked at his stuff and back at Andrew and nodded his head.  He grabbed it and stood up.  Andrew could see the resemblances to his trash of a father on the kids face but he could also see Nikoshi as the kid that he was.  He wanted nothing more then to protect this kid.

“Alright it was nice meeting you three and you behave Nikoshi.”  She waved at them before returning to her office.  Nikoshi tried to wave back but he kept his hand close to his side still.  The red head, Neil Josten gave him a small smile and told him to follow then to there rental car.  They went ahead of him but Kevin kept looking back.  When they got in the car Neil was sitting in the back with him. Niko sat behind Kevin while Neil was behind Andrew.  Andrew turned to look at Niko while Kevin pulled out of the parking lot.

“You hungry?”  he asked.  Niko realized he never got to eat breakfast, Kris usually made sure he did because she was told to make sure he stayed at healthy weight.  He was about to say he hadn’t eaten yet but a quick glance at the clock in the front told him it was already 1:14pm.  Instead he shrugged.  He wasn’t hungry, but he also knew that the meds took away his hunger and he should probably eat something.  “Is there anything you would want to eat.”  Yes.  Bacon egg and cheese sandwich.  He didn't voice that though he just shrugged his shoulders again.  Andrew Minyard sighed before looking at Kevin.

“Umm, why don’t we find something at the air port, we haven’t eaten since breakfast so we could eat.”  Kevin told him.  they made eye contact through the mirror but Kevin quickly averted his eyes.  

“Okay.”

Niko decided he did not like Airports. They were overly crowded, had to many security guards, and once they got to the the area with food he did not like that the smells of different foods.  Kevin got him a suitcase where just stuffed his trash bag where he stuffed his trash bad inside of.  He tended to stay close of all three of them but stayed slightly behind.

“Alright Nikoshi, pick a place you want to eat.”  He did not like this.  There was a lot of places to eat.  A lot of places he has never been.  A lot of food he hasn’t tried.  He did not like this choice that was given to him.  When Kevin noticed he wasn’t going to answer his question he sat his eyes on Niko.  Niko did not like this either.  Couldn’t they just pick for him.  He shrugged his shoulders.  Neil and Andrew weren’t surprised but Kevin seemed irritated with him.  He didn’t want to come off as irritating he really didn’t know.  “Thats not an answer.”  He knew that wasn’t an answer but it was the only one he had.  He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and moved his feet side to side nervously.

“Cafe con leech and strawberry pop tarts.”  Niko blurted.  Kevin was bout to say something else but Neil cut him off pointing to a 7/11 that was right next to them on the left.  Kevin didn't like the idea of giving a 10 year old coffee but went with it when Andrew flicked him a look.  Neil grabbed the pop-tarts while Niko followed Andrew and Kevin to make the coffee.  Andrew asked him how he liked it. “Half filled coffee with two spoons of sugar...No it needs to be even with the spoon.  Yes.  And the other half almost all milk and the vanilla creamer for taste.  Yay!”  

This kid is getting excited about Andrew doing his coffee how he likes it, what the hell.  This better not be a coffee addiction he is feeding.  He handed the coffee to the kid ignore Kevin's little frown.  This was the first time he saw the kid smile, besides it wasn’t even that much coffee.  The kid probably just likes the taste of it.  They went to the register meeting Neil who had the pop tart, fruit bowl, chocolate bar, and a sandwich.  Andrew could guess who's was who's.

As they sat in the chairs near where there plain was supposed to be in thirty minutes, Nikoshi swung his legs back and forth as he took off the crust around the pop-tart first.  Siping his coffee after two pieces.  Then he eat the rest of the pop-tart, took a big gulp and did the same thing with the next pop-tart.  Kevin found this behavior odd and familiar.  “Why are you eating it like that.”  Ovisuly was the wrong ting to say because Nikoshi stopped all movement.  He looked at Kevin and shrugged.  The shrugging again.

“I don’t like the criss to I eat it first and like the drink the cafe at the same time so I get all the flavors.  But I don’t like mixing the strawberry with it so I eat that last and then drink more.  My foster mom always gave me Cafe con leche and pop-tarts.”  Niko wasn’t in the mood to eat anymore.  Now he was thinking about it and he didn't want to.  He only had a little bit left and knew he had to finish it or else it would be wasting.

Kevin you are a ass.  He watch Nikoshi shove the rest into his mouth and then chew ever so slowly while looking around.

“Nikoshi have you done any sports.”  Neil leaned forward to look at Niko from where he sat next to Andrew to get a better look at the kid.  Niko looked at Neil and nodded.  He told them about being on the soccer team.  Kevin made a face to that and Andrew gave a tiny smirk.  He explained how he was supposed to be right wing, which is like a midfielder that can play both offense and defense and assist the striker or can shoot in the goal.  He was supposed to be a right wring but he coach always switched him around the field.  He played striker a lot too.  He was the fasts on the time.  Neil smiled at that.  Kevin thought about how good he would be at sexy with his father and mothers genes and quickly tried to shut the thought down.  Nikoshi also explained how he played basketball and baseball for fun with some kids in the area.

Soon it was time to bored the plain.

(So I don't know if Im going to continue writing like this, Ideas pop up randomly so I might just stick to doing that)

This is possibly the last chapter but Im still going to be talking about Niko.  Send me asked about him if you want.

[evietheninja]

It’s on site, Bitch.

Side story to a fan fic my friends and I are writing. They wanted a fight, they got one lmao. 

New Message!

Pikachu 2.0: Yo, what do you guys think of this?

Evie glances down at her phone, reading the message out loud to the guys accompanying her in the living room. Attached to the message is a poster for an event happening tonight. "2000s night huh?" Kiri asks sitting on the couch. "Sounds MANLY!" He practically yells, excitement in his voice. "When was the last time we all went out anyway?" He asks, looking over at Bakugo and Evie who are sitting on the floor. "It's been some time, that's for sure." Evie says, closing the picture and typing out a reply.

Glowstick: Sounds like fun!

PoisonIvyWHO?: CAN WE GET READY TOGETHER LIKE WE USED TO??

BigTittieGothGF: YESSS

Evie laughs as she looks over to the boys who are staring down at their screens as the messages come through. "What the fuck babe, you kicking us out?" Bakugo asks, a smirk across his face. "No, dumbass. I may be getting ready at someone elses place." She says looking back down at her phone.

PoisonIvyWHO?: Evie's?

BigTittieGothGF: YEah! Evie, you okay with that?

BakuBITCH: Really? We JUST got this fucking place and you're already kicking us out?

DaddyShark: That's not very manly of you guys.

Glowstick: Kiri.. We're not men..

Kiri laughs. "Why the fuck are you texting me that I'M RIGHT HERE." Evie and Bakugo laugh. "You fucking texted us instead of SAYING IT." She says, leaning on Bakugo as she laughed.

PoisonIvyWho: I'll be there in 20.

BigTittieGothGF: Too bad, Bakugo. We're already going. Get whatever ur wearing and GO TO DENKI'S

Pikachu2.0: Yeah... Cal already told me you guys were getting kicked. Sorry lmaoo

Bakugo rolls his eyes. "Well FUCK Kiri, I guess we're getting kicked out of our own place." He says, standing up. "Let's go pick what we're gonna wear and get out of here before the girls get here. I'm not trying to fight with Cal when she gets here, and lord knows Nina will tell me some shit and they're gonna piss me the hell off before the night even starts." Bakugo finishes, holding out a hand to help Evie up. She laughs, making a loud HUMPH as she gets up. "Babe, seriously suck it up stop being such a baby." She says, laughing.

"Shut the hell up, dumbass. I'll fight your ass too." He says, pulling her in for a kiss. "UGH GET A ROOOOOMMMMM" Kiri says, tossing a ketchup packet at them. "Oh my GOD Suki when did we adopt a CHILD?" Evie laughed pulling away from Bakugo. She picks the ketchup packet up and throws it back, casuing Kiri to swat at it. It hits the wall, splattering. "BRO WHAT THE FUCK" Bakugo yells, walking over to Kiri and grabbing him. "BRO SHE FUCKIN THREW AT ME WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?" Kiri yelled back, attempting to put Bakugo in a headlock.

Evie takes her phone and snaps a picture, sending it to the group chat.

Glowstick: Alright, who had two weeks?

PoisonIvyWho?: ME BEECH RUN ME MY MONEEEEYYY

Glowstick: *Paid PoisonIvyWHO? $20*

BigTittieGothGF: *Paid PoisonIvyWHO? $20*

Pikachu2.0: *Paid PoisonIvyWHO? $20*

BigTittieGothGF: Here's Shota's piece.

BigTittieGothGF: *Paid PoisonIvyWHO? $20*

PoisongIvyWHO: HELL YEAH IM GETTIN FUUUCKED TONIGHT!!

Pikachu2.0: You bet your ass you are. ;)

Glowstick: BROOOO

Evie laughed, watching the boys continue to wrestle. "Damn a little less clothing and I'd be questioning if I was just a cover up." She says, walking over to the hall towards her and Bakugo's room. Eventually, she heard the boys stop and she assumed one of them looked at their phone, because next thing she knew the boys were at the doorway, glaring at her.

"What?" Evie said, looking between the boys. "You fucking bet on us?" Bakugo says, his hands sparking lightly. "Hey, calm down. I wasn’t the ONLY one who bet. Even fucking Aizawa was in on it! You can't put that on me alone." She says, keeping her distance. "What were the lengths of time?" Kiri asks, genuinely curious. "Uh, Cal said 2 weeks, Ni said a week, Aizawa said an hour, Denki said 3 days." She says. "And YOU?" Bakugo asks. "Me? I gave you guys the benefit of the doubt and said a month. But nooooo." She says laughing. "ANYWAY. You two need to get the hell out.” She says, pushing the boys out of the room. “Wait, dumbass! I kind of need clothes to wear.” Bakugo says, pushing past her to get into the closet inside their room. Kiri laughs and walks over to his room to get some clothes to change into. 

Bakugo packed a WHOLE ASS BAG of clothes, a few shirts and a couple pairs of jeans because he wanted to make sure he looked really good. Kiri did just about the same, a whole backpack with clothes inside. What the fuck? Are they spending the night? Why the fuck. Evie laughed lightly as they made their way to the door. They may be men, but god DAMN they take forever to get ready. 

“Alright, we’ll be at Denki’s. Text me if you need anything.” Bakugo says, planting  quick peck on Evie’s lips before leaving. “:Yeah yeah, have fun I’ll let you know when we leave.” She says as she opens the door. “Wha- why the fuck are you guys taking backpacks? I thought you guys were going just to change not spend the week there.” Nina’s voice echos through the hall after seeing the boys. “FUUUCK I thought we’d be gone by the time you guys got here.” Bakugo complains, nodding at Cal and Nina as they enter the apartment. “Shut the hell up, boom boom boy.” Cal says walking past him. He tugs at her sprout on her head, causing her to yelp. “Stop it, asshole! i’ll get Frank on your ass.” She warns, rubbing her sprout as he lets go. 

“Who the fuck is Frank:?” He asks, Kirishima laughing next to him. “None of your business,  leave! You take any longer and we’ll be fucking late.” Nina says, closing the door as they walk in. “I thought we’d never get rid of them.” They joke as they smile and hug Evie. Cal jumps onto them, laughing and giggling as they regain themselves. 

The next hour and a half consists of the trio getting dressed, comparing outfits and making sure they looked really good for the night ahead. Cal is wearing a green lace bralette, with gloves to match. Shes got a tight black skirt, with thigh high stockings with guarders with heels. Her hair is down and tame, the black skirt and green top complimenting her every feature. Nina is wearing a black and white cheetah print tube top, with leather shorts, thigh high platform boots with her chains rearranged in a choker fashion, with a loop in the middle for an attachable leash, her mullet slick back. Evie is wearing a green long sleeve crop top that ties around her stomach, with a deep v cut, ripped skinny jeans and thigh high heel boots. Her hair is half up, the other half tamed beautifully to compliment the outfit. She puts on her favorite black choker with a silver heart in the middle. She only wears it when she wants Bakugo to replace it with his hand, which she was sure he would do later. 

The group looks at each others outfits, gushing on how ridiculously good they looked. After a very long photo shoot, the group locks up the apartment and heads out. They meet up at the club, excited to get the night started. They are (not surprisingly) the first  ones to make it. They stand around, waiting to hear from their significant other’s and Kirishima. Denki, Bakugo and Kirishima show up next, Denki walking up dressed from head to toe in black, a silver chain on his belt loops and black and silver jewelry complimenting his outfit. Kirishima has on red cargo shorts, a white t shirt on with a windbreaker jacket that says “Riot” in red letters on the back. Bakugo is in black jeans with an orange tee shirt, with orange converse to match and a black blazer. He, for once, slicked his hair back and hot DAMN he looked good to Evie. Cal and Evie couldn’t help but gawk over their men as Aizawa finally made his way to the group. Aizawa is dressed in a grey v neck t-shirt, skinny jeans, a loose fitting leather jacket with his scarf covering his neck as it always does. His hair is half up in a bun on the back of his head. He probably looks the most comfortable than every one in the group. 

They gather in their group, Denki pulling Cal closer as he looks her up and down. Bakugo smirks as he watches Evie approach him, eyeing her figure. “You... you are SO lucky we didn’t get ready at the same place.” He growls as he throws an arm over her. “We would’ve never made it to this damn club.” He finishes, hearing Denki and Kirishima laugh in agreement. “I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.” Kiri says under his breath. They laugh and enter the club.

After a few drinks, dedicating drinks to their accomplishments ranging from graduating college and getting their own places, to them just being happy they were all finally getting to hang out. Feeling the light buzz, Evie urges Bakugo to go out and dance with her. He complains, although in actuality, she knew he loved to dance with her, able to show the girl he was with. 

Cal and Denki were laughing and talking amongst themselves for a bit before finally heading out to the dance floor. Lets be honest, they were only a few drinks away from starting their dance battles, and everyone for once was ready for it. 

Aizawa and Nina stood close together, Nina dancing to the music while Aizawa watched, almost entranced by her movements. God, the way he looked at her, the way he undressed her with his eyes. Anyone who’d watched them grew jealous of the love they had for each other. Every so often, he would pull them in and says something that would physically cause Nina to shudder. It always entertained Evie. She’d always laugh watching the way just words would make Nina squirm. 

Evie looked up at Bakugo, urging him again. He laughed and nodded over to Kiri, inviting him to dance with them. Many people questioned the relationship they shared, were they all in some kind of relationship? Was it just as simple as Bakugo and Evie were just comfortable with Kiri? Pretty much. Nither Evie nor Bakugo saw Kiri in that way, and Kiri just really loved to dance. 

The trio makes their way to the dance floor as the music bumped through the speakers. Evie let the music take over, feeling Bakugo behind her, molding to her body with ease. Kiri does the same, only in front. Nina had stopped dancing for a sec to watch her friends dance, and smirked at the three. They knew Bakugo wouldn’t hold his composure long, and would claim Evie in about a song or two. 

The song Goodies bumped through the speakers, with it being Evie’s favorite song, she danced harder feeling the boys match her tempo. Every so often, because Bakugo couldn’t make his mind up about how comfortable he was with Evie facing either towards or away from him, he would turn her. She laughed, feeling the drinks work their way into her system, giving her a good feeling. 

The song Me&U begins to bump through the speakers. Evie starts to sing the lyrics, the front of her body facing Kiri. Kiri begins to sing as well, looking Evie in the eyes while doing so. Bakugo takes notice, and whips her around, glaring at Kiri from over Evie. She laughs, noticing Kiri pick up his hands in apology and decides that’s the time for him to go find another dance partner. Evie grabs Bakugo by his cheeks, forcing him to look at her as they grind. For a while, it feels like they’re the only two in the room. 

Sweat drips, their bodies bumping to the sound of the base. Evie smiles up at Bakugo and kisses him. Then, she jumps, feeling a cold, wet feeling run down her back. She whips around, seeing Ururaka looking her up and down smirking. “Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She says smugly in a monotone voice over the music. Ururaka then turns her attention to Bakugo, her smile turning sweet. “Hey, Kachan, how are you?” She says, taking a step closer to him almost pushing Evie out of the way. Evie looks to her left, seeing Nina already making their way to her with Cal close behind, a worried Denki behind them and Aizawa looking from the distance. “Don’t fucking call me that, one. And two we’re in the middle of something, so if you could, you know, fuck off that’d be great.” Bakugo says, bumping her shoulder and returning to Evie. 

“Oh, you’d rather be with that? HA, okay.” Ururaka says, scoffing as she looks at the couple. “Listen here you broke ass bit-” Cal starts, ready to lunge at her. Nina stops her for a second, looking Ururaka up and down before speaking. “Is there a problem?” they ask. “Oh, can’t fight your own fights?” Ururaka says, turning her attention back to Evie. “Oh, I can fucking fight alright.” Evie says, rolling up her sleeves and removing her earrings. “Hold these baby please.” She says, handing them to Bakugo who takes them and places them in his pocket, taking a step back to watch Evie do what she did best. “Oh you got the wrong bitch” Nina says, cracking their knuckles. 

Ururaka pushes Evie. She stumbles lightly, and recovers quickly. Ururaka looks at her in confusion. She’s...not floating. Evie looks over to a golden eyed, floating haired Aizawa, who’d activated his quirk, disabling Ururaka’s. Evie smirked, returning her attention to Ururaka who was already on the floor due to Nina using her chains to restrain her, and Cal straight out kicking her on the ground. She laughed, bending down as Cal got in another kick. No one around noticed, nor cared about what was happening to Ururaka. 

“Oh honey, you should’ve known better.” Evie says in the sweetest way possible as she stands and gets her kick in. Nina unrestrains her and they step over her, turning to return to Aizawa when Ururaka gets up, grabs Nina by the shoulder and throws a punch. Before the punch even makes contact, Cal jumps on her, throwing punches as Ururaka turns her attention to her. Somehow, she manages to get a hold of Cal’s sprout on her head, making her even more mad. Evie grabs Ururaka by the hair, pulling her off of Cal and punching her a couple times before Bakugo steps in. He grabs Evie, stopping her from injuring her anymore. “It’s not worth it, babe.” He says, attempting to calm her down. 

“She isnt worth it!” Ururaka screams, getting up because this girl STILL hadn't had enough. Nina uses her chains to grab Ururaka, throwing her to the ground and planting a platformed boot on her chest. They lean in real close, speaking loud enough for her to hear. “Listen here, bitch. YOU, are a piece of shit, and if we EVER see you trying it again, it’s on site.” They say before getting up. Cal walks up, kicking her down as she tries to sit up. “Oh, the 99 cent store called, they want their dress back.” Cal says, spitting on her before leaving as well. Evie calms herself enough for Bakugo to let her go, and they turn back once more before laughing and walking off. 

Before any kind of authorities are called, the group leaves the club, making their way to their favorite after club place, a 24/7 boba tea place just down the street from the club, They order drinks, and all make another toast to a great night. “I’ve really been wanting to do that shit since the situation.” Cal says, beaming. “Same” Nina says, clinking cups and laughing. Bakugo walks over to the table, with drinks in one hand and his phone in the other. The fact they’d forgotten Kiri was fucking hilarious to him. Kiri slams through the door, asking about what’d happened. He was SO upset he’d missed it. 

[yuhyoongi]

Anniversary

1 - Morning

-hoseok pov-

i wake up to my phone ringing. i already knew who it was before i checked the caller ID. it's most likely my best friend. i pressed the answer button. "GOOD MORNING" a loud voice yells into the phone. "ow! Anjila i just woke up. hush" i say. i hear a squeak of a voice "i'm sorry" she apologizes. i sigh and shake my head. "it's alright. what do you need so early? it's 7:54 am Anji" i ask her. i hear her giggle "i was wondering if you wanted to.. uh.. go to the carnival with me today?" she invites me out with her. "i would love to, but i'm going with yoongi. it's our three year anniversary! remember? i'm going to propose to him today!!" i tell her quietly so yoongi doesn't hear me in the other room. "oh. okay. that's all i was wondering. have fun. bye" she quickly hangs up before i could apologize. i quickly send her a text:

“hey Anji, im sorry for not being able to go with you. i'll make it up to you somehow! i'll be pretty busy so i won't be easy to reach! have a good day todayyy”

i fall back asleep.

some time later, i feel a hand shaking me. "hey wake up! im about to start making breakfast!" i open my eyes. yoongi is smiling down at me. he plants a kiss on my forehead and walks out of the room. i rub my eyes, then proceed to get out of bed. i check the time: it's 8:59 am. i go in the bathroom to shower and wash my face. today is the big day. i'm going to propose to yoongi. i know he'll say yes, but what if he doesn't? that would be embarrassing. i love him, i cant lose him. we'll be able to have a future together, finally.. my mind wonders for a few more minutes until i hear a knock on the bathroom door. "hoseok-ah hurry up! breakfast is getting cold!!" yoongi yells through the door. i quickly begin to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. "okay, i'm coming!" i say and then turn the shower off. i grab my towel and dry myself before putting on my outfit for today. yoongi and i decided to match our outfits:

(hoseok in purple, yoongi in black)

i brush my hair and teeth. i walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where i find yoongi patiently waiting for me. "there you are!" he exclaims and rolls his eyes. i laugh and the notice he hasn't eaten. "why haven't you eaten anything?" i ask him. he looks at the two full plates of food. "i was waiting for you," he smiles at me. i shake my head and smile back. i walk over and sit next to him. he made pancakes, bacon, a sunny side up egg, hash browns, and orange juice. "thank you" i kiss him and begin to eat my food. it was very very good (obviously). he finishes a couple seconds before i do. i stop him from doing the dishes. "i'm doing them since you made breakfast," i tell him. he shakes his head, but i refuse to let him. he finally gives up and sits down. i quickly wash them, dry them, and put them away. i check the time. it's 10:13 am. "so what shall we do first?" i turn around and face yoongi. his eyes widen a little bit. "i haven't really thought about what we would do before the carnival honestly. it's still early. we can go shopping maybe? or see a movie? or we could sleep?" yoongi throws out ideas. i nod. "we can do all of those. we have time! firstly, we'll go shopping. then we can go see a movie. then we come back home, take a nap, wake up, fix ourselves up, and go to the carnival!" i smile at yoongi. he laughs and stands up. i watch him as he walks to grab his shoes. i follow and put mine on as well. i grab my phone and slip it into my pocket as we walk out of the door. "should i drive or should we uber?" i ask. yoongi tosses me the keys to the car. i laugh and shake my head.

__________________________________________

2 - Out and About

-hoseok pov-

of course, i take him to his favorite stores. today i am determined to make yoongi the happiest he's been in years. i want today to be his day. to be our day. we get all sorts of new clothes. i take yoongi thrifting with me so i can find some new, cool prints. i secretly buy him a gift while we're at a store. i buy him a skateboard. i figured he'd like it. the design just spoke of him. i nearly pass out because i almost drop the ring box out of my pocket. i buy a new pair of shoes. they're sandals. i also get a new pair of sunglasses, as does yoongi. we put everything in the trunk of the car. then we drive to go see the movie. we haven't quite decided what we want to see yet until we get to the theater.

when we arrive, i park as close to the front as possible. we walk inside and look at the options. we decide on Avengers: Endgame. we walk into the theater, prepared to be devastated. the movie begins. i'm already crying at the very first scene. luckily, i brought tissues so i pat the tears away. i look at yoongi and he's holding the tears in for later. i decide to do the same. i cuddle up to him and continue to watch

*time skip through the movie*

the credits start rolling. i'm crying into yoongi's shoulder. he's crying too. we stand up and wipe the tears from our faces. as we begin to walk out of the building, we put on our sunglasses to hide our red eyes from the world. we return home and bring all of our bags from shopping inside and leave them in the living room. we walk into the room and plop onto the bed, exhausted from the crying. "i cant believe they did that" i being to tear up again. yoongi pulls me closer to him and comforts me. "it's okay. it's just a movie" he says to me and runs his fingers gently through my hair. i calm down and slowly drift off into sleep.

__________________________________________

3 - Always and Forever

-hoseok pov-

i wake up to my phone aggressively vibrating and making a loud noise. it's my alarm. i go over to shut it off, but yoongi beat me to it. "we should get up and get ready to go" i say to him and sit up. he shakes his head and goes under the covers. i shake him. "come on!!" i exclaim. he groans, yawns, and turns the other way. i pull the covers off of him and pull him out of bed. "let's goooo!" i yell and push him into the bathroom, where i proceed to splash water onto his face. his eyes open immediately. i laugh at him, then start washing my face. he rolls his eyes and grabs his face wash. after washing our faces, we fix our hair, and grab a lint roller and fix up our outfits. i look at him in awe. i have never seen someone so beautiful in my life. he always amazes me everyday. not with just his looks. with his everything. his fun personality sways me. i fall for him harder every breath i take. i truly want to spend the rest of my life with him.. i smile. he looks at me. "are you staring at me?" he asks. my face gets hot. "uh- no" i say and look away. he laughs and shakes his head. "i'm gonna go grab.. something," he says and walks into the bedroom. THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING i scream in my mind. i look in the bedroom. yoongi is adjusting the waist of his pants. he pulls his shirt a bit much over one area. i shrug it off and go grab my new shoes.

as i'm tying my shoes, i feel eyes on me. i look to my left and yoongi is sitting on the couch looking at me. but once he notices me looking at him, he looks away. how is it that we've been together for three years, yet we still get embarrassed when caught admiring the other person? i ask myself, not coming up with an answer. "i'm ready to go" i tell him. he nods his head and shakes the keys. "i'll drive us there" he says. i open the door for him, and we left.

when we get in the car, we turn on the directions to the carnival. it's near the more sketchy places in the area. yoongi is on edge about it, but i'm excited. i checked the time. it's 6:30 pm. i wait until we get a red light, then i scream loud. yoongi nearly jumps out of his skin. i laughed and he playfully punched my arm. "don't do that!" he yelled. i laughed more. he began to chuckle. i smiled and looked out the window. we're close to the carnival. i suddenly get extremely anxious thinking about proposing to him tonight. fireworks go off at midnight every year during the carnival. that's when i planned proposing.

we pulled into the parking lot. i look at all the lights for the rides and games. it was beautiful. i was super excited for it all. tonight was going to be the best night of my life. i was determined to make tonight amazing for yoongi. i was the first one to get out of the car. i jump up and down as yoongi gets out and close the door. he locks the car doors and we walk in. i look around at all the tall rides and the tons of games. i look over to see yoongi's face. it's lit up with amazement and excitement. i pull him over to the first ride. it's the ferris wheel. we get on and look at the view. he thought the view was pretty, but i thought he was prettier.

we get off, and get on more intense rides like roller coasters. then we decide to get food and play arcade games. yoongi rushes over to the basketball game. he wins the biggest prize. a life size gorilla plushie. while he does that, i decide to try the shooting game next his game. i end up winning a small prize. we both go over to the balloon popping game. i end up popping the most and get a medium prize. i exchange the small and medium for a large prize. i get a large sloth plush.

after hours and hours of playing games and going on rides, it's 11:57. yoongi and i go for a walk a little away from the carnival where we can be alone. we countdown to the fireworks. well, he counts down to the fireworks. i countdown to when i propose to him. it's 11:59.

ten seconds.

nine seconds.

eight seconds

seven seconds

six seconds.

i get on one knee

four seconds.

three seconds.

"min yoongi..."

one second

"would you make me the happiest man in the whole entire galaxy by marrying me?"

fireworks

yoongi gasps. he begins to cry. "yes!" he yells. i stand up and hug him. "i love you so much hoseok. i'm so happy" he sobs into my chest. i hug him tighter. "i love you too" i whisper. i put the ring on his finger. i laugh and choke on my tears a bit. he looks at the ring. "it's perfect" he says and smiles at me. i smile back. his gaze suddenly darts to something behind me and his smile drops. he pulls me behind him. i look to see what he was looking at. there's someone pointing a gun at us. "stay there!" i hear the person yell. i go next to yoongi. "it's okay" i whisper to him. he nods his head. the person steps into the street lamp light. "Anjila? what are you doing?!" i yell. she starts sobbing. she looks me in my eyes. "why not me? i've been here for you your whole life! you haven't noticed me! i've been your best friend for all this time, i've wanted something more! hoseok i'm in love with you for god's sake! why can't you love me back!!" she screams at me. yoongi looks at the ground. "Anjila. i'm sorry. i just can't return those feelings. i'm sorry if i hurt you in any way" i apologized to her and my eyes started to tear. "you take my happiness, i take yours," she begins to move her finger on the trigger. she aims it at me, then at yoongi. "you don't deserve hoseok" she says, then pulls the trigger. it hits yoongi in the stomach. "NO ANJILA WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOONGI NO. STAY WITH ME. PLEASE!" he falls to the ground. i rush to his side. i see metal poking out from his waistband. he brought his gun with him? i wonder and look. yeah, that's a gun. i think in my head. i grab it and put it in my sleeve. "Anjila, how could you?" i scream and sob onto yoongi's chest. "yoongi you're strong. you got this. everything will be okay. we will be okay" i say to him and force a laugh through my sobs. i stand up and turn to Anjila. "h-hoseok i-i'm sorry. but you have me now! we can finally be together! see!" she starts to walk towards me. i pull the gun on her and shoot. i hit her in her chest. she collapses. i run to her, crying. "i'm so sorry Anjila.." i mumble and walk to yoongi. "H-HOSEOK, N-NO" he yells while choking on blood. i hear a loud BANG and then there's a stinging sensation in my back. i fall to the ground. she shot me. i realize. i drag myself over to yoongi. i make it to him. the stinging sensation turned to burning. "y-yoongi i'm so sorry" i cry and look at him. he shakes his head and touched my face. "everything is okay" he says very calmly. he kisses me. "i love you so much yoongi" i say to him. he stares at my face. "i will love you forever. i'll see you in our next life. don't forget me, i love you Jung Hoseok. until we meet again.." yoongi says with a smile and rests his head on the ground. his chest stops moving. "n-no!" i yell, choking on my own blood. "I will love you for the rest of eternity Min Yoongi. always and forever. until next time..." i say and lay next to him, feeling my body go numb until everything goes dark.

so that’s the end of the story. i’m open to all feedback. it’s my first time really posting a story i’ve written. let me know if you enjoyed the story. if you didn’t, tell me why. xx

[dacergirl369]

s14 trailer breakdown!!!

okay so from the trailer there are six clear episode plot line we can see- a zoo episode, a laser tag episode, what i will refer to as the ‘melon episode’, dines out 2.0, a noir episode, and an episode where he whole gang seems to have a corporate meeting and then watch a movie at a private screening that they find *very* exciting. So, let’s go through what we can see about these plotlines from the trailer and what we can piece together from bts info, and then look at what’s missing from trailer and what this could mean. buckle in, because my ted talk is about to get started. in the essay i literally will. Let’s go.

So, we have an episode list, but only the description for the first ep, “tg gets romantic”. we know that in “tg chokes” the gang goes to guiginos at least once due to a scene rob leaked on instagram (https://www.instagram.com/p/B1NBx6-HOxM/?igshid=yg2ql5uyu4w1, https://www.instagram.com/p/B1zgApEHXhv/?igshid=1ge7qkgw5bm0d), so let’s start there.

We can see the entire opening scene for tg chokes on robs instagram, which shows us the gang are back at guiginos for a meal all together (which is also shown in the trailer). But the trailer has another guiginos scene (where dee appears to have a reaction and the waiter appears to use an epipen on her), where the gang (bar charlie and mac, who both only own one quote unquote “nice” outfit), are all wearing different outfits. So we know they visit guiginos at least twice this season. These more than likely happen in the same episode (what i called “dines out 2.0” before but we know is actually called “the gang chokes”).

Moving on to the laser tag episode. It’s... a laser tag episode. Unfortunately I don’t have much to say about it, but it’s a very clear plotline featuring the whole gang. It’s hard to tell if they wear the same outfits at another point because of the vests, but based on dees shirt i don’t think so. This plotline most likely takes up most or all of an episode (maybe dee day? my girl seems to be really enjoying the laser tag, so maybe?).

Then we have the noir episode, which we know is “the janitor always mops twice”. A whodunnit where the premise is to find out who diarrhoea poisoned frank. features the whole gang + the waitress, based on cast instagrams.

Then we have the screening episode (?) which i will go on record as saying i believe will be the thundergun episode (thundergun 4: maximum cool), but that is just personal speculation and not really based in any “facts” or “real world observations” or whatever pussies and people with small meat base their predictions on. we see the gang in a meeting in a corporate style office (the scene where charlie thinks the window is a two way mirror) and then later towards the end watching something on the big screen in an empty cinema and cheering (wearing the same outfits as before). Personal prediction: they’re gonna try convince a studio to let them make thunder gun 4 like they did with lethal weapon. i WOULD like to point out that in robs instagram pictures with dolph lundgren he is wearing a grey v neck shirt sleeve t shirt and in the shots i just mentioned he was wearing a baseball shirt with a print on it, so just keep that in mind when assessing the realism of this theory. But those might have just been backstage or after shooting pics. Anything is possible in iasip.

Okay, next I’m gonna talk about the zoo episode. This is the first episode i’m gonna discus where there are gang members missing from what i can figure out of the plotline. So, we have a very clear story in the trailer of mac and charlie going to the zoo, seeing the meerkats, charlie pisses on mac. Later in the trailer, frank is shown tormenting a gorilla. dee and dennis do not appear to be at the zoo with them, and kaitlin and glenn don’t seem to have been on set at the zoo based on social media posts. dee and dennis are only seen alone together in one scene during the trailer, which is this puppy (0:05), where they appear to be at some kind of fair/stand/protest or something? I’m not sure what it is, but dee appears to be texting while dennis laughs mockingly at her, so potentially (WILD SPECULATION ALERT) the zoo episode is the gang texts and dee and dennis have the main plot of this episode. this is the only dee and dennis solo scene in the trailer however we do have unaccounted for plotlines so this could be a part of that and their plot in this episode may not have a shot in the trailer.

Finally (not finally, but lastly out of the plotlines i have lovingly sherlock-ed together), we have the melon episode. This is probably the episode the trailer gave us the most information about, and we can out together almost a whole plotline from these shots. This seems from the trailer to be crickets only episode of the season, although there is a video of david hornsby on robs instagram (https://www.instagram.com/p/B1zEOJjnPG8/?igshid=yfciekezwnc3) of him wearing a different outfit, so maybe there’s another episode in store for rickety cricks this season.

The gang appear to be watching a show in the bar, dennis tells them to shut up so he can watch, they gasp and remark how much they love the show, although dee says the plot is absurd. Dennis says humans are stupid and should be eradicated, which is met with agreement. Seems like we’re gonna have some good ol fashioned meta references this season, folks! Anyways, after this they somehow stumble across franks melon in a safe, ask him and it, and drop it from a ladder (from which cricket catches it). they also seem to be looking at the office computer while dee gags. this looks to be a classic “gang finds a thing and is surprised and intrigued by it so investigate but in an idiot way” episode, although we don’t know what frank is up to during this melon madness. he doesn’t seem to wear that shirt at any other point during the trailer. hmmmmmmm frank wyd

that brings me to the end of clear episodes in the trailer, but there are a few other things that, while they don’t really fit in with any specific plot, gives us a little info about what else is going on this season.

we have a plotline where frank is in the waiters house with him and his mother, not sure what the gang is up to but we see frank wear that shirt earlier in the trailer with charlie. we don’t not see charlie wear his shirt again in the trailer so it’s most likely a plot not in the trailer. there’s also a shot of frank and charlie in their pjs in their apartment, potentially from the first episode (tg gets romantic) as according the episode description it appears to be the episode this flyer is from (https://www.instagram.com/p/B1ZZB-PnDeB/?igshid=nta7myvov0t2), which would make sense for the boys in their pjs, although they could really do that at any point in the season. we ALSO see mac and dennis in their apartment, also in pjs, talking about lunatics. this is likely from the same episode as the charlie & frank pj shot to mirror them, which strengthens the argument that it’s from the first episode due to both sets of guys having the same set up and problem just in different ways (both advertise for a person to come live with them, it goes wrong). dee is also there in this macden shot. maybe she is the lunatic in question? idk. we have dee and mac on what looks like a basketball court, dee is dancing, and after that we also have mac and charlie in the macden apartment and mac tries to swipe charlie’s boaba. i have no idea about these, so i don’t have much to say. just thought i’d bring em up.

NOW, onto what we didn’t see in the trailer. we KNOW there is an episode with poppins because of this instagram post (https://www.instagram.com/p/B01Cqu4nwMK/?igshid=1cc2y1uvonml0). none of the outfits these three are wearing come up in the trailer, so i’m forced to believe this is an episode we have not seen any shots of yet. not sure what dee and dennis are doing. it could be that shot i mentioned before in the zoo section, but we can’t be sure. we didn’t seem to see anything about the global warming episode that has been teased, either.

so let’s recap what we know (or what i think i know). there’s ten episodes this season. we can deduce six coherent plots from the trailer (laser tag, noir, zoo, melon, chokes, potential thundergun). we know there’s an episode with poppins with mac charlie & frank, and the global warming episode. the first episode is tg gets romantic, which we have the description of and most likely those pj shots. so that’s nine plotlines overall we seem to have a grasp on right now. i believe the one we don’t have any info for right now is the finale, and that both the plot details and the shots are being kept under wraps so that the finale is more hard hitting when it comes out. i do believe they’re gonna go hard, we’re living post mfhp, anything is possible, and last seasons finale is an awful lot to top. i can’t even guess at the finale plot. i am so excited.

so that’s my official trailer breakdown and review, i hope this was coherent and if you know anything else or know that im wrong about something please tell me, i’m just so excited i want to have as clear a picture as possible bcs i can’t wait to know what the seasons gonna be!!!!!!

((thank you to @lesbian-mac for listening to my two hours of trailer related rambling and telling me to post this lmao <3))

[keichanz]

Inuyasha and miroku buddy cop au

I have…literally no idea where this came from??

And anyway you can’t tell me he wouldn’t this *cackles* 

“I’m telling you, Inuyasha, they were hot! And the one inthe passenger seat had the biggest—”

“For the love of god, Miroku, shut up,” Inuyasha groused from the passenger’s seat of the policecruiser and closed his eyes, truly exasperated with his friend and partner ashe let his head thump back against the headrest. “For the last time, I have a girlfriend, I’m very happy with her, and I don’t need orwant to hear about the tits on somebroad that you pulled over solely because you thought she was hot.”

Miroku put a hand on his chest in mock affront, though hisviolet eyes were gleaming impishly as he said, “Inuyasha, I’m appalled youwould think such a thing of me. I was goingto say she had the biggest eyes the color of rich, melted caramel.” He paused.“…But, now that you mention it—“

Inuyasha groaned. “One of these days, Miroku, you’re gonnaget caught pulling all these people over because you want the driver’s number,Sesshomaru is not gonna be happy withit, and he’ll have both our asses because he’s a sadistic asshole who likes tome suffer for no reason.”

The dark-haired officer waved a hand in the air,unconcerned. “So he’ll have a hissy fit, big deal. Not like we haven’t dealtwith a pissy Sesshomaru before.”

“You could get your badgetaken away, you moron.”

Miroku frowned, as if he hadn’t thought of that, andInuyasha resisted the urge to take the idiot’s own gun and shoot him withit.  Taking out his phone, he shot a textto his girl, hoping she’d be able to talk some sense into him before he committedmurder.

IM GONNA SHOOT HIMKAGOME I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL

Just like he knew she would, she responded instantly. lol aww my poor baby. what he do this time?

damn pervert keepsgoin on about all the girls he’s pulled over cause theyre hot or some shit andjeopardizing BOTH our jobs can I PLZ kill him

Her next text was a little delayed. we can’t have sex if you’re in jail

Inuyasha grinned. His girl knew him better than he did andhe loved her for that. alright fine goodpoint. then whose bright idea was it to put me in a profession that has accessto guns?

yours babe? you know,since you were a kid? your lifelong dream of being a cop?

clearly I didn’t thinkthis through

ooh i dunno aboutthat…I like a man in uniform ;)

WOMAN

i love yooooouuuuuu

Chuckling, Inuyasha shook his head and typed back, love you too baby

“—the car!”

His brief conversation with Kagome over, Inuyasha finallytuned into what Miroku was saying and he turned his head to pin him with afrown. “What?”

“That’s the car!” Miroku was saying, his excitement evidentas he pointed frantically out the windshield toward a forest green Ford Focus alittle ways a head at a red light. From their position idling on the side of abusy main street, they had a clear view of the traffic light up ahead and thecars waiting for it to turn green.

A feeling of dread washed over Inuyasha as he asked, alittle reluctantly, “…What car?”

“The one with the two hot chicks!” he replied and the grinthat split his face was slightly terrifying and perhaps a little on the creepyside in Inuyasha’s opinion. “Oh, man, what’re the odds?! It’s destiny! It’sfate! The Gods are smiling down on me!”

Inuyasha suddenly paled and had a very, very bad feelingabout where he was going with this. “Miroku, don’t—”

But it was too late. Miroku was already shifting into driveand merging into traffic. “No, no, don’t you get it?” he asked while hishalf-demon partner groaned and slumped in his seat, dragging a hand down hisface.  “I wasn’t able to the other day becauseI had to respond to a call concerning an accident, but now I have a secondchance!” The light turned green and Miroku flipped the cruiser’s lights on,watching as the cars before him reacted instantly and pulled to the side,giving him a clear path to his target. “The fates have been kind to me today,my friend, for I’ll be going home with two new numbers!”

He cackled gleefully and Inuyasha didn’t bother to evendignify that with a response, choosing to drop his head in his hand and growlin aggravation. “You’re gonna get us fired, jackass.”

Miroku ignored him. “Come now, my pretties, pull over forthe nice police man…ah, there we go.” The green Focus flicked its blinker onand turned into a plaza parking lot that was more or less empty and Mirokufollowed behind it.

“Miroku,” Inuyasha tried to reason one last time, his toneexasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.“Seriously, don’t do this. Come up with some minor excuse, like the car matchesthe description of another one you’re looking for and—”

The car door opened and Inuyasha sighed, shaking his head. “Idiot.”

“Ladies,” he heard his partner greet with faux surprise fromthe open window. “What a pleasant surprise! You see, your car matches thedescription of one my partner and I are searching for—“

Inuyasha snorted. Thief,he thought and pulled up a game of solitaire on his phone. This was gonnatake a while.

“—but I see now that I was mistaken. Please accept mydeepest apologies for pulling you over again. However, since you’re both here—”

“You’re kidding, right?” came a vaguely familiar voice fromthe Ford and Inuyasha frowned, his ears cocking forward under his police cap.“You can’t seriously expect us to believe that bullshit excuse, this is thesecond time in a week!”

“Now, now, I can understand your upset over this—“

“She’s right, though,” said a much more familiar and equally peeved voice and Inuyasha’s headjerked up as his amber eyes finally took in the also familiar green car before him.

“Well—“

“This has to be harassment,” the first voice said andInuyasha’s brows snapped low over his eyes as he finally recognized who itbelonged to. “Don’t think we don’t know why you keep—“

“Isn’t there some kind of official complaint we can fileagainst you?” the second voice interjected and Inuyasha growled as he unbuckledhis seatbelt and opened his door, his ears pinned beneath his hat and his ambereyes livid. “I mean, this is getting ridiculous and a little annoying.”

“Now, ladies, I can assure you I had plausible cause to—“

“You had no validreason to—!”

“Actually,” Inuyasha interrupted loudly as he came up besidehis partner.  “There was a very valid reason as to why my partnerpulled you over, such as texting anddriving?” Inuyasha crossed his arms and glowered down at his suddenly verysheepish looking girlfriend since high school.

The car’s passenger, who he knew now to be Sango, groanedand then muttered, “I told you.”

Kagome bit her lip and then aimed an innocent smile at hercop boyfriend. “Umm…I wasn’t?”

Miroku gaped and looked between the two with wide violeteyes. “Wait a minute, you two know—?”

They both ignored him as Inuyasha continued to glare down ather silently and rolling her eyes with a heavy sigh, Kagome got out of the carand faced her very ticked off boyfriend. “You know I’m always careful,” shemuttered guiltily, a pout etched onto her features.

“That doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and then felt like an asswhen his girl flinched. Heaving a sigh, Inuyasha grabbed her arm and led her alittle ways away so the other two couldn’t hear them. “You have stop,” he saidand removed his hat before running a hand through his hair in frustration.“Sooner or later I’m gonna have to give you a ticket, Kagome. It’s dangerous,and this is the third time. I can’tkeep letting you off with warnings because you’re my girlfriend.  It’s my job to—“

His chastising was abruptly cut off when slender armswrapped around his waist and a head of dark hair was tucked under his chin.“I’m sorry,” she said softly, the regret clear in her voice.

Inuyasha’s eyes softened and he wrapped her up in his arms,hugging her tight. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he murmuredand kissed her head. “You’re my world, Kagome. I see it all the time, andnearly every time I thank the Gods that it’s not you in that twisted up car, oron a stretcher, or—“

“I know,” Kagome interrupted him and leaned back to cup hisface, knowing that as a policeman he’d seen horrific things that he refused totalk to her about because they were so gruesome. “I know and I promise I’llstop. You’re right. It’s stupid, and dangerous, and not only am I puttingmyself at risk, but others too. I don’t ever wanna put you through that.” Shesmiled at him and Inuyasha felt himself relax.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “That’s all I ask,” hesaid lowly. “Thank you, baby.” And even though it was against protocol tofraternize with the public while on duty, Inuyasha swooped in and laid a lovingkiss to her lips, relieved that his girl would stop the potentially lifethreatening bad habit.

Kagome hummed and shifted her hand to playfully jingle thehandcuffs clipped onto his belt and then trail her fingers over the butt of thegun holstered at his side.

“You know it’s a federal offense to touch a police officer’sequipment,” he growled against herlips and then pulled back with a sinful smirk.

“Oooh,” she purred and smiled impishly. “Are you gonnahandcuff me, officer?” Her brown eyes laughed up at him and he had to fight theurge to give in to his own mirth.

“Mmm, right after I press you up against that car and makeyou spread your legs.” Amber eyes flashed wickedly and his smirk turned into anamused grin.

“Frisk me, baby,” Kagome returned smoothly, and thengiggled. Inuyasha sniggered too, and then they both standing there snickeringlike teenagers at the ridiculousness of the entire exchange, holding each otherand both of them wondering how they had gotten so lucky to end up with someoneso amazing.

“If you two are done grossly flirting with each other,”Sango suddenly interrupted and the couple turned to find Kagome’s friendglaring heatedly at a grinning Miroku with a suspicious red hand-shaped printon his face, “Inuyasha, I need your gun.”

Inuyasha frowned and edged away from her. “Why?”

“Because I’m gonna shoot your partner with it.”

As her boyfriend’s expression cleared and he looked like hewas actually contemplating handing it over, Kagome rolled her eyes and gentlyelbowed him in the gut, ignoring his exaggerated grunt of pain. “Sango, youcan’t shoot a cop with another cop’s gun, and you—“ She turned to Inuyasha andraised a brow. “Since apparently he’s your partner, can you please stop me frompulling us over in the future? Seriously, it’s annoying and it has to beagainst your code, or something.”

Snorting, Inuyasha scowled at the officer in question andcrossed his arms. To his credit Miroku actually had the grace to look guilty.“Trust me, I’ve tried. He even does it when I’m not with him, but as long as Iam, I won’t let him since it’s our jobon the line when he does.” He leveled another glare at his partner and Kagomenodded, satisfied.

“Alright, well, we gotta get going. Souta and Kohaku arewaiting for us and I promised Mama I’d take gramps to his appointment. I’ll seeyou at home later, kay?” She tugged him down gently by his hair hanging overhis shoulder so she could lean up and sweetly peck his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Inuyasha murmured and watched as she walkedaway, collected a still fuming Sango and hopped back into her green Focus.

“So,” Miroku piped up as the Ford drove away and exited theplaza, “you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

Inuyasha groaned and stalked toward the cruiser, stillpissed off at his partner for resorting to his lecherous ways while on duty,even if it did result in him gettingto see his baby for a bit.

“She’s a babe,” his perverted friend and co-workercontinued, seemingly oblivious the half-demon’s ire. “Seriously, I had no idea—“

“We’re going, Miroku,”Inuyasha snapped and yanked open the driver’s door. “And this time I’m driving and you’re gonna make it up to me by buy me the biggest coffee theyhave at Starbucks, now get in nowbefore I leave your perverted ass here.”

“Do you have her friend’s number? Because I’d really like—oh, wait, you wereserious—shit, Inuyasha, wait! I need her number! Inuyashaaaaaaaa!”

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

Okay folks. this is it. part 1 of the final chapter

here we go.

-

trial day 2?? oh yeah i forgot they split this game up in the worst, uneven way possible 

-

wow that cutscene was

something alright

-

wow datz actually managed to hold onto the snow globe. kudos?

-

what the fuck

i think i heard it wrong but Dhurke’s objection sounds like an old man 

I'm pretty sure i heard it wrong 

missed the bass

-

who was that no– oh Garananana

i guess she's gonna be the final boss instead huh

- 

im so tired i cant even snark properly 

-

“is that kosher?”

i like it

-

oh god

what.... what is she wearing 

i mean

fuckin

TALK about madonna-whore complex. oh yeah, time to turn super evil?? bear your midriff! show off dem tiddies! 

look, SOJ. theres only one bad bitch in ace attorney who can pull off floaty tendril hair, and its NOT ga’ran.

i cant believe i have to look at this train wreck for the rest of the trial

-

“heh heh heh. its all coming back now. the feel of my blood pumping through my veins”

this is perhaps because youre actually moving now, your eminence.

-

can we just dispense with the trial and have a good old fashioned anime fight? cmon apollo, spike up that hair and grab your BFS. 

-

“meep”

WHATS WITH THE MEEPING

BONNY DID THAT TOO

SOJ ITS 2016 ...ACTUALLY ITS 2028 YOU HOLES

-

everyone in the court: :O what??? whats wrong with rayfa??? why is she sad???

oh i dunno maybe because her fucking Father just got brutally murdered?? maybe??

what the fuck is up with SOJ characters being dumb as a bag of bricks when it comes to other peoples’ feelings regarding death of loved ones???

-

phoenix: shits fucked, thats why?? apollo: OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-

“seems like she's worse off today than she was yesterday”

hey game you'd better not be implying any shit 

-

“discipline”

soj

-

alright, back after another longass break. i can do this.

( That’s oddly compassionate of him, all things considered )

I was about to defend Nahyuta because what kind of person wouldn’t try to spare a child from witnessing that kind of trauma... but then again, this is the Sadmad who purposefully tried to trigger someone into losing a trial so

(shrug emoji)

-

grana’s gone into full HORHORHOR BITCH MODE 

partially I'm totally numb because i dont have any stakes in her newfound ebilness, and partially I'm tired of this weird new trend of child abuse in the new games 

- 

“Barbed head.”

oh my god 

the first person she goes to after realizing that her caretaker is gone is fucking Phoenix 

im gonna cry 

“ive been reduced to “royal robe remover”” NO NICK YOU’VE BEEN UPGRADED TO DAD BY SOMEONE WHO’S NOT YOU

( ‘It’s like she’s grooming Mr. Wright to be Nayna’s replacement’) 

I know this game is all about confusing bullshit for heartwarming moments and vice versa but guys 

good lord

my heart

i really needed that 

-

(sigh) they really couldn’t get someone who sounded like a fucking 14 year old to do her voice?? really???

-

rayfa: (looks like she's going to die and collapses)

apollo: this is not good...

gee apollo you really think so? 

-

wait a fuking second 

we went through the whole dance cutscene and we’re not even going to see the pool??? does that mean the priestess has to be conscious and present for the images to be visible? ...and how does that work, anyway? 

i just realized, a medium could use a pool to see the dead, but how the hell could they project it for others to see?? does she literally open a portal to hell???

(sigh) i just regret sitting through that cutscene again

-

“cabal of traitorous lawyers”

i love that

-

(Seriously Dhurke? This is no laughing matter.)

this basically sums up Dhurke’s entire personality 

...yknow, i know what they were trying to do with his character– i really do. i know he’s supposed to come off as a dashing, cavalier rebel who laughs in the face of danger. 

but they overshot endearingly irreverent and ploughed straight into fuckwaddome. if you want a character to be charming, they need softer moments too. Dhurke isn’t a bad person, but he’s kind of an asshole when you get right down to it, and nothing so far is proving otherwise. 

-

ok ive heard Dhurke’s Objection again and it doesn't sound like an old man– it just sounds about as overblown and ridiculous as Manfred von Karma’s (not to mention about as deep)

-

LET DHURKE SAY BITCH

... i guess

-

another perfect example of Dhurke being kind of a fuckwad: he keeps needling the queen and baiting her in ways that could get himself killed, which would be all fine and dandy if he were the brave resistance leader being tortured for information in the bowels of a dungeon.

...but here’s the thing.

IF YOU DIE, DHURKE, APOLLO AND PHOENIX DIE TOO. DID YOU FORGET ABOUT THE GODDAMN DC ACT? ITS NOT JUST YOUR DEAD ASS ON THE LINE HERE SO SHUT YOUR SASSY TRAP AND THINK ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN YOUR *AMAZING WIT* FOR ONCE.

you’ve got 2 extra lives on the line here.

...3 if my suspicions are correct.

-

stop calling him son please you abandoned him in an orphanage and didnt contact him for 14 years.

...and if he can’t call you ‘dad’ you have no right to call him ‘son’

-

coming back to this after ghost trick has convinced me that one of ga’ran’s lackeys miiiiiight be related to Cabanela, baby

-

“Wright... I can see we are kindred spirits, you and I! Hah-ha ha ha ha ha!!”

NO

NO 

NO

NO

FUCK YOU DHURKE 

-

“It’s pretty easy to spot the difference between a soulless man and the soulless shell of a man”

ok that did get a laugh out of me, good job dhurke.

-

apollo: pls dont get us killed dhurke: mmmm ok ill try but I'm not promising anything lol

://///

-

“But remember, son, if you truly believe in me, you should be able to prove my innocence.”

do i even have to list how many reasons thats wrong and a shitty thing to say

-

“Such Insolence”

You’ve been beat out, Not So Fast

-

Ga’ran used Gust!

Apollo flinched and couldn’t move!

-

“I could behead you at any time”

she's got a point; she’s a fucking despot, there’s no reason to actually hold a trial. i mean i guess she wants to shut up the rebels but just killing them would be a lot easier and its not like she has any qualms about murder

-

“Aw shoot, ya got me.”

again, not an appropriate reaction for whats going on buddy

-

lol get fucked kjudge

-

DGFUFUS OH COOL

WE GOT GUILTY (excited cheers from the audience)

the applause and the shots of everyone with :O faces is making me feel like i just won a gameshow 

wheres my cheesy jingle 

-

also i love how Dhurke’s like “oh shit!! my assholishness has directly resulted in my son’s death!!! did NOT see that coming!!!!!!!!!”

-

again the sound mixing is drowning out the background music (sigh)

-

“your benevolence? I’d be happy to lend an ear if you’d like to talk!”

>this is it, this is why he leaves the series guys. Apollo is too good for these sinful games.

-

DAMNIT DHURKE, YOUR SHIT MOUTH IS RUBBING OFF ON YOUR SON

-

hmm

we’ve got an april may here

-

“Rayfa, I shall buy you a new servant”

so Kooraheen practices slavery..? I mean, she.... she said ‘buy’, not hire.

-

“she would have left shoeprints”

do

do you know what evaporation is your malevolence 

-

wait wait wait

that doesn't make any sense 

the only prints leading out are from Inga, but the prints inside the building are from Nayna? how did she avoid leaving prints leading inside, then?? did she just long-jump over the dirt path???

-

the guards are not fanboying, apollo, they’re toadying. there’s a difference.

-

apollo: maybe the place he was stabbed and the place he died were different 

(the game only continues after you carefully explain what dying of blood loss is three years later)

-

to be completely fair, there are actually stories of people who were unaware of being stabbed 

furthermore, when you get stabbed, you’re not going to be the most rational human being on earth. 

phoenix, don’t give sadmad that point, especially when he’s currently assaulting your protege 

now, as i was saying, Apollo’s suggestion that Inga was stabbed in the back and then ran into the temple is perfectly plausible; running to shelter from an attacker is probably the first thing you’d want to do when injured, and the tomb was a pretty safe place, i’d wager. 

tbh i really don’t know why they’re arguing about him feeling the pain as that wouldn’t really impair his movement considering he was stabbed in a place that wouldn’t affect his ability to walk???

but yeah apparently he was doped up to shit so 

-

...i highly doubt back pain medication is strong enough to negate a stab wound. on the other hand, if it is and your back pain is THAT intense, Inga, you need to see a fucking doctor pronto.

...yeah shots straight into the spine is one step away from surgery; not to be an asshole but I'm not sure Inga was doing so well anyway before he went 

-

huh. are they really gonna give us an actual choosable choice to abandon Dhurke and save our own skin? Cause that would be interesting; a lot like the old games where you could “”choose”” to defend a client or not.

to be clear here, though, i wouldn't choose “no” even as much as i dislike dhurke. we know (sigh) that he’s innocent, and even if i dont like him it’s our duty to defend his shitty ass

OH HOLY FUCK

THERES THE CHOICE

wow. y’know SOJ, i dont much like you, but you fuckin Did That. well done.

also thank you for the Justice pun it is much appreciated.

-

“And while I can’t say I’m used to it, this isn’t exactly my first rodeo”

FWHAT

>game flashes back to the Ahlbi case

DSKJFLS THIS IS LITERALLY THE “at second rodeo: this isn't my first rodeo” POST

-

YES OK WE’VE SEEN THIS CUTSCENE TWICE NOW ALREADY

WE GET IT, RAYFAS GOT COLD FEET ABOUT BEING QUEEN

MAYAS IN THE GAME 

OK

-

phoenix: allow me to mansplain how rayfa is feeling despite how fucking obvious it is. after all, we know our players have the mental and emotional capacity of goldfish!

oh hey mansplain is a legit word in the dictionary 

cool!

-

why are they building this up?? just fucking tell Rayfa to do her stupid dance again and get on with it; we already did this at the beginning of the trial 

-

“Hmm... Indeed. It would be problematic.”

ohohoooohohohhhihgjhgo

-

oh her nails are actually tiny pen 

thats neat 

thank goodness Kooraheeneese is an up-and-down written language– otherwise they’d have to make a whole new animation for the english game teehee

-

“....................But... Horn Head needs my help”

oh my heart

-

dan she just straight up begone’d her 

-

see the one thing that falls flat here is that, during a regular trial, the prosecution saying “oh, ok, have it your way; you can try to prove your theory” holds up a little more since they... you know. don’t have absolute power.

where as, with Garananana, its more like she's just a huge posturing pushover. especially since every other minute she's saying “ok, I'm gonna kill you for REAL now.”

-

rayfa: b but if i fail you'll be killed!!! i dont get it...

apollo: i literally just finished explaining that I'm 100% ready to die for my shitty job that was like 5 minutes ago

it is sweet to see that he’s cheering her on though. good big bro 

-

I'm finding small solace in this beautiful moment of “your foreign dad and bro are here for you babe reach for the stars”

Athena’s probably flashing a double thumbs up from the gallery too

-

“But... I finally know now. I know in what I can trust”

Bobby, from the afterlife: YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 

-

Garan: What??? my tiny 14 year old daughter is going to do a thing i don’t want her to??? fuck there’s no way i can shut her up. not even with all of my large adult man guards who could easily just escort her out of the courtroom without any resistance because they’re my fucking royal guards and I'm the Queen

-

oh shit she took off her own cape

im so glad i muted the game so her awful voice actress couldn’t ruin this cool moment

-

and now as this long ass cutscene plays out again, i simply cannot help but wonder about the poor choir and how long they’ve been on standby 

where do they keep the choir during trials 

whats it like singing the dance of devotion song every trial 

-

oh finally here we go. alright, lets see what the magic party pool has in store for us this time 

...o ...ok then

-

OH! OH SHIT 

Inga’s face blind?!

Y’know I did have a few thoughts about that when we discovered his notebook but I didn’t think they’d actually go that route... though, thinking about it now, it is pretty convenient.

...ok everyone’s freaking out. maybe they’ve never heard of face-blindness? ...or maybe its not face blindness after all

im pretty sure it is though

-

i dont know why but everyone being like FUCK ITS GOD and phoenix being like “whoops shits trippy now” made me laugh pretty hard

-

ok i gotta say I'm actually a little invested now, even if its just because i think face-blindness is an interesting thing to incorporate into a murder case. again, a convenient thing, but an interesting thing all the same.

-

ahh fuck i keep forgetting how the stupid seance works 

welp, there goes one of my souls... (sigh)

-

..apollo you dont need to show her the picture of her dead father to say “he had a cell phone”.

-

the voice was coming from INSIDE THE PHONE 

-

RAYFA HAS A PET FROG????

WHAT

SHOW US THE FROG SOJ

SHOW US THE FROG! SHOW US THE FROG! SHOW US THE FROG! 

-

...why would Rayfa interpret the sound of the warbaa’d (something she’s familiar with) with a lion’s roar (something she’s unfamiliar with) ??

-

oh i see thats why Vore Machine is an idiot 

for plot convenience 

-

Datz Are’bal, a man who throws fire crackers at children.

...sounds like an are’bal guy.

bahdum-tshh

-

“The joker who got a kick out of startling Ahlbi with his Dragon Snot Snaps”

...something tells me that if Datz found out about Youtube, he’d be one of those “””prank””” channels.

also WHY ARE THEY CALLED SNOT SNAPS

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

-

“happy-go-lucky”

i think you mean vaguely sociopathic

-

(sigh) ive finally been worn down to the point where i need a walkthrough. ive... been beaten...

-

boy ahlbi’s just a font of knowledge isn't he 

-

DID SHE JUST BREAK HER NAILS OFF

PLEASE SAY THOSE WERE STICK ONS

HOL SHIT

-

MMMM LAY IT ON ME NICK

face blindness 

... i mean theyre not calling it that but thats what it is 

-

yeah yeah channeling blah blah come on! youre in the LAND of channeling !

-

shduhjahdjk

I'm picturing Inga running into his own dead body and flipping his shit 

-

oh man. thats the end of Trail 2 part 1.

guess i’ll see you guys on the other side... heheh. 

[alecair]

I'd love to see some reaction HC's for the MM. Particularly my babe, Zen (but the whole crew is cool). He's literally almost perfect save for his nerdy-ness. I'd love to see your take on how he'd be with a nerdy/artistic S/O (Like Gaming, Anime, Comics, Fanfic/Fanart, ect)

[insert screaming here] I AM LIIVING FOR THIS

Im gonna start with Zen

Zen

This man looooves when you get into a new anime, game, or comic (or anything to be honest) because he loves seeing you excited over something

Did I mention cosplay? Shit son, this man loves to wear the costumes you make for him for couple’s cosplay. He loves taking selfies with you while in cosplay.

He gets a certain look in his eye when a kid comes up to you in costume and asks to take a picture with the two of you. 

You write fanfiction and he reads the hell out of that. He’s so proud of you for pursuing what you love, and you’re so. GOOD. at it. Like, how are you not a published author yet?

Your fanart, oh god, he praises your talent. He promotes that shit everywhere

He can watch you play games for hours, in between rehearsals and musicals, and just be in awe

He totes your cosplay pictures around everywhere and just whips them out on his phone to show his co-stars “HEY HAVE YOU SEEN MY GIRLFRIEND”

He’s just. SO. PROUD. OF. YOU

Jaehee

She honestly doesn’t get the fascination to be honest but you like it and that’s all that matters to her

Honestly, she likes seeing you so excited about something

She’ll beta read your fanfics and comment on what she liked about them while pointing out small details that should be fixed

She really likes seeing your art and you can bet that she’ll compliment your talent every chance that she gets

707

THIS MAN, HOO BOY. He nerds tf out WITH you

New game? He’s on that. New anime? he’s already got all the figures and merch in doubles to share.

You write a fanfiction? He fucking co-author’s that shit

Your fan art? he’s coded a website just for it

If you want to crossplay the male character, he’ll be the female. He has NO problem with that shit. (will cosplay same gender if you’re a boy.)

He games with you and sometimes, he’ll purposely suck at a fighting or racing game, just so he can watch you gloat to him (honestly, you know he does this, but you still like to rub it in his face)

He’s even registered the both of you as attendants at E3

Jumin Han

He’s always wanted to try cosplay

This man will buy you every kind of fabric you need 

He’s even extended his house to include a craft area

At first he’s confused when you tell him you sew your costumes yourself but then he can’t stop watching you diligently measuring, drawing patterns, cutting fabric and working the sewing machine

He has a publisher print and bind your fanfictions, then gifts it to you later.

Seriously, he feeds into your nerdy obsessions because they make you smile

He starts company projects for your obsession (it drives Jaehee nuts, she has more work to do)

Yoosung

You two play LOLOL together like all the time

He’ll nerd out at you over the latest update 

When Halloween comes he gets super excited because the both of you dress up as LOLOL characters

He wasn’t much interested in anime before but, watching your eyes light up when a new episode aired, made him curious

He’s into it, this boy digs sharing nerdy interests with you, and chances are, he’s probably already read your fanfics and faved all of your fan art

Sometimes, he’ll catch himself turning on your favorite show and listening to it in the background while he does his homework 

V

He likes to listen to you talk about your fascinations 

He even does cosplay photo shoots for you and makes you prints

Honestly, he just likes to support your hobbies and will do what he can to keep you happy

[katekanekatekane]

I feel raw. 

(I also feel kinda sick, so I either am Having Emotions because im getting sick, or I’m Having So Many Emotions that i feel sick so that’s uhhh... annoying)

But old ass stuff has been coming for me lately and it’s a pain in the ass??

Like I read a twitter thread about stalking the other day and jesus christ it shot me right back. I hadn’t really thought about that being stalked had felt like in a long time and it’s so fucking gross. I remember being powerless and terrified and I felt for the woman talking about her experiences, I really fucking did. 

But that’s some old ass shit!!! I haven’t been fully bothered by my old stalker in like 4 years, those experiences are things that I’ve processed and aren’t part of my life anymore. Like... I don’t... need to worry about this..??? WHy must I have emotions about it?? Now??? 

And like... christ

Last night i was tag ranting because I always post on mobile and this site is a joke and i cant do stuff beneath a cut like this on mobile. And I... I worked through it all a little by ranting that way but I NEED to express why last night was so upsetting, but even verbalizing it is super draining and the idea of talking to someone else feels like a burden and I don’t want to put that on the people that I want to talk to... And ugh. Okay, let’s do this.

Last night.

I signed up for a risograph printing class. 

I was excited. 

I waited and splurged on it and I really want to learn riso.

Classes like that are socially scary for me, because new place, new people, new things,  but I wanted to do it, so I went out on the limb. This is also something that a younger, less healthy, me would have AGONIZED about before hand, but the me of today didn’t waste time worrying about ahead of time, because that’s not productive or useful. 

So, I go to the class.

The teacher seems nice.

My classmates seem okay. 3 out of the 5 of us already knew each other, so that makes stuff a little awkward for the other two of us, but whatever.  

I’m making small talk. Again, this is something that a younger me never would have dreamed of. Being brave enough to make small talk with strangers and to start conversations myself is leaps and bounds past the stuff I would have been able to do even a few years ago.

So, the teacher goes over the basics. I’m excited. Nervous, because my work hasn’t been super inclined to sitting down and shooting from the hip lately, but fine.

I start working.

I get excited about my project. 

It’s different than what everyone else is doing, but I think I can make it work, and it seems like a fun thing to make. I’d rather try and fail to do something I find interesting and care about than just bullshit around and make art I don’t give a shit about because it’s easy.

Cool, okay.

So, I’m drawing and prepping longer than my classmates. My classmates were all getting up and starting to print while i was still drawing. That’s okay. I have two hours of class left, I can make this work. 

I prep my different colored masters.

I go up to the riso for the teacher to help guide me through my first print. I’m the last to start.

(also note all 5 of us are sharing one riso, so we’re all taking turns, and other people are inclined to wait around up close by the machine for their turns-- something that is socially kind of a nightmare for me because uhhh I don’t want to be rude and people waiting like that makes me inclined to rush and make hurried choices.)

I grab a stack of paper to print on. I notice, once the teacher has already loaded it in, that the paper is cut and stacked a little crooked, which seems like it could be bad. It’s kinda too late, printing is already happening. I figure, “okay, whatever. It’ll be okay. I don’t mind the colors being misaligned.”

Also, note, I thought I was playing it cool that I was a little nervous and anxious. I was apologetic and stuff, but not anything that out of the ordinary for a new student. But that teacher, bless her heart, was astute as FUCK and in the worst possible way. She kept comfortingly being like “it’s okay” but in a way that showed me that she clearly saw me as shaky and uneasy, even when I was keeping it together pretty well. Or I thought I was keeping it together. So that’s not a Great sign. I don’t love my weakness being visible when I wasn’t trying to be vulnerable. 

I finish printing color #1.

I go back to work on the next level color master. I’m hurrying a little now, the end of class is getting nearer.

Eventually I go up to print this level and the teacher rejects it. It’s the alignment is off. Shit. I wasted all that time and have to start over.

I go back and make another, the end of class is getting TOO close. We have like 30 min. The professor is both hovering a little and avoiding me, clearly worried that I won’t finish. I am RUSHING. I decide to ditch doing a third color. This next level is going to be mediocre and weird, but it’ll be okay. I’m stressing about the time wasted on the ditched layer.

I’m waiting to use the riso with the others. She gets me in between people because I’m so far behind. Which, while nice, puts me on the spot again and doesn’t feel great because I’m clearly the artistic runt of this liter. Which would be fine if it wasn’t being broadcast to everyone else and I wasn’t getting special pity treatment.

We do a test proof. It’s bad. The alignement is awful. But everyone is standing around me and clearly wants to get more of their own prints in and I”m behind and being a pain and clearly getting special pity treatment, I don’t want more special pity treatment or to take more time from my classmates, so even though it’s AWFUL I say to just go ahead and print.

The teacher asks if I’m sure. Her face is full of sympathy and pity and she’s watching me like I’m a wounded animal. She sees the  fragility that I’m trying to hide and I hate it. I know that part of anxiety is always over reading what other people are thinking and feeling but I could SEE it on her and that’s what really fucked me up about last night. It wasn’t just my brain, so I couldn’t just write it off as my brain. This woman was seeing things that I didn’t want her to see, and instead of politely ignoring them for my pride, she was treating me like a fragile thing. 

I say yes to printing because if this moment lasts any longer i”m going to have an anxiety attack.

I go ahead and print and the prints start coming out and look unsurprisingly awful. She knows this. I know this. The others looking on, sympathetically, know this.

She gives me a pity compliment. “Oh, it looks kind of cool like this. This is one of the cool things about printing--” 

All artists have done this. We’ve all tried to be gentle with someone who’s work is a mess and is falling apart and looks terrible but we don’t want to be mean or hurt them so we dig for pity compliments. Pity compliments, while well intentioned are the devil. That makes me feel a thousand times worse than if she’d said “Well, it’s off, but this is your first time. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

I’d rather admit defeat and learn from it than someone pretend something awful is good to protect my ego.

And to make all this worse, the printer starts messing up. It’s grabbing more pages than it should, and misprinting already misaligned pages. She gets me to feed them back through. It does it again. She has me do it again. This is awful. What was already embarrassing and terrible is being prolonged, and each time I get more panicked, which only makes this worse. 

One or two of my classmates join in on the pity compliments. I want to die. I thank them, grab my prints, and bolt.

The teacher stops me, “Are you sure you don’t want to do a third color?”

It’s 10 till the end of class and other people who are WAY ahead of me and clearly want to do their own prints. I say no. 

I don’t want to take more time from other people. The piece is already ruined. She gives me a pitying look. She’s sympathetic. 

Others start printing. Good. Good. 

I went and hid in the bathroom for a minute to take a breath and cut down on social stimulation. I’m trying not to cry. I promise myself I will make it to my car before I cry. I wash my hands and fix my hair and pretend I’m okay.

I made it to my car.

But, okay. I know that, in the scheme of things, that this night was nothing. It was a little mess up that shouldn’t matter. But it hit a nerve.

What is the nerve?

Treating me like a weak, fragile thing. 

I’ve been that weak, fragile person that she saw. But I thought that I wasn’t that anymore. I thought that I knew that I’m not. 

I have come so. far.

But that didn’t matter. How much better I am now didn’t matter at all. 

Me as I am now, to her, was the same as the weaker, more fragile person that I once was. She didn’t see the trembling, or the stuttering, or the sweating that I would have been doing 4, 6, or 10 years ago. She didn’t notice that I tried to make small talk with her to alleviate the awkwardness of last night, and didn’t see how much better that was than the lip biting silence and shuffling that I would have been doing a few years ago.

My strong was her weak.

And she fucking saw me.

That’s the worst part of all this.

If she hadn’t noticed, that would have been totally fine and perfect. Or if I had been reading too much onto her, I could have gone home and been like “nah, that was on me.”

No.

She saw my anxiety and fear and reacted the WORST possible way that someone could react to me and it made me want to disappear.

I would have taken her pretending not to notice. I would have taken her actually not noticing. Hell, I would have taken her being rude or openly hostile and cruel. But pity. JESUS CHRIST, pity. Pity means that she doesn’t think I’m strong enough to handle being treated normally, and that makes me want to vomit. She saw me, and she saw weakness, she saw fragility.

I can scream all I want about how strong and solid I am now, but that doesn’t matter a fucking inch because what she saw is so telling.

Regardless of what I think I am, what other people see when they looks at me shows what the world sees. What those not measuring by growth see. 

And I... I know I have weak moments. I know that I have moments of fragility or open anxiousness or being obviously sensitive.

But this moment was barely on that scale. I was doing pretty well for me. I thought that I was doing okay.

But she clearly didn’t think so.

So that’s uhhhh awful.

And seriously, she was super nice. I’m not upset with her. I’m just upset, and upset with myself.

Nothing has changed, I’ll keep trying new things and pushing and trying to be brave. But this hurt. This hurt a lot.  

I was really knocked down a peg. Didn’t realize that I needed to be knocked down but uuuh apparently I did. 

So

I’m okay. 

I’m just sore. 

But I’m okay.

(Or I will be.)

[nobody-needs-to-know-that-blog]

A year later- Sept 18, 2016

The day where it all begins to fall apart. Maybe not completely or full on that day but it definitely started.... Actually it started to fall apart during the first week of school.

First week of school i happen to work with a kid that i had class with the previous semester, a kid that i kinda liked and definitely wanted to get to know better. I kinda got to know him better... Not really. My first experience with him, was that he was trying to get my number.... off of the emergency sheets that our boss has us fill out.... he ended up getting the house phone before my actual phone... It didnt help that his phone absolutely hated mine and we literally could not text each other.... 

Well we ended up having a class together that was kinda hard. So we would work on homework and lab problems together. One thing leads to another and we ended up going to dinner with one of his older friends who made a joke like oh is this a date... well i was stupid and kinda said yes? However i still had a boyfriend at that time. During that dinner i literally avoided saying boyfriend. Like i was ashamed of him or something. I wasn’t i never was. I just wasnt the right person for him. I dont know if im the right person for anybody. 

Anyways after that we ended up going to this jazz club thing on campus and we danced a little bit but not much. We ended up talking about his ex. She was there and she was pretty. and she could dance... i have two left feet. Anyways he was still really hung up on her and really wanted to get back with her. Which i completely understood. First “real” girlfriend yeah that happens. But they were two very different people. The dude did drugs and who knows what else. The girl. Very catholic... little miss goody two shoes... kinda like me... till SOMEBODY fucking broke me...

So during that dance we talked about how the older gentlemen had confused the hell out of both of us like there was something between us. May it be sexual tension or just wanting to get to know each other a lot better there was something. Well anyways I was amused but slightly pissed so i ended up printing off a coloring sheet that said “What the lemon scented fuck do you think you are doing?” and it was perfect about what was happening so I gave it to him and he was all im sorry i didnt know i didnt know. It was something that happened. 

More happened in september... i went to my first party... got to drink. That was fun... Ended up worrying boyf because he was like you should be safe and all that other shit. But then was like i guess this is payback for every time i went without you... well i ended up messaging them both and i told the kid i wanted to get to know better that i was jealous of his ex... because she got to date him... While drunk... but i remember everything so maybe not that drunk...

There would be days where he would come over and watch tv with me.. or well force me to watch black books or arrested development ( i cant watch arrested development anymore....) There was even one day where boyf was picking me up for the weekend and kid was leaving because boyf was there.... they didnt meet tho...

That was September... Then October comes around, oh was October was a shit show.... We still hung out every couple days to work on homework together, whether it be in my dorm or at the student center or who knows where. We would hang out. I had been with the boyfriend for over 4 years at this point. 4 YEARS. 4 FUCKING YEARS. actually 4 and a half. Am i done healing probably not. but whatever such is my life.

Okay back to October. First part was slightly uneventful. More hanging out more being with the boys whatever... Well Boyf’s birthday is in October... we ended up going home for his 21st birthday... i was terrified as fuck that he was going to propose to me... I wasnt sure if i could live with him for the rest of my life. I wasnt sure if i could be with anybody for that long.. Before that relationship i jumped from boy to boy to boy and i kinda have been doing that now as well... but i have stayed with this one for a hot minute... I dont know. I push damn near everybody who gets close to me away... It is a miracle that i have anybody who wants to be near me at all... Anyways that is where it also begins. 

I am terrified at the thought of proposal... I didnt want to live with this boy. I didnt want to be married to him. I couldnt handle that. I loved his family. They were more accepting of me than my own family... If they saw me now probably not as much because of the two tattoos and 3 piercings. I have changed.. 

Well anyways we would go to a physics club every friday and we ended up carving pumpkins together... They were cute... I did a pi on mine and it was cute :) i think i may have done an imaginary one im not sure... lol Well anyways dude who isnt the boyf ended up asking me to go see rocky horror with him because his friend was in the shadow cast of it. Oh man was that fun... but then we ended up going to the cast party afterwords which was my second party, and my bestfriends boyfriend was looking after me and was like worried and stuff which was great... Well after the party we ended up going back to his place to hang out because we didnt want to be at the party anymore and they wanted to smoke i think? well we are back there gave one friend a mix of rum chata and fireball ( its call a cumshot....) so that happened. we ended up going to sleep around 5... am... i thought i would be in my own room... nope he ended up sleeping with me which wasnt good but whatever. He had his arm like drapped over me and it was surprisingly comfortable... He wasnt overly hot like boyf had been... It was raining that morning.. The room has like a wall of windows which was beautiful to look at and was great for listening to the rain... Well at one point he ended up kissing me... it was just a peck and he was like inhibitions were gone and thats why and yada yada yada. Whatever he wouldnt have kissed me if there wasnt something there before... Its not a spur of the moment thing..

Halloween i was lilo and he was harry potter... we got pictures together.. I told boyf about it. He freaked out. I felt like shit... I still feel like shit for what happened.

October ended in lots of tears... I basically broke up with him on skype. Ex-boyf at this point was saying that i was the only person for him and that he didnt have anybody else to talk to and that i couldnt leave him because he would be all alone... That isnt what i need.. I am not somebody for him to tell everything to. I was taken for granted and it didnt feel good. It felt amazing to be wanted by somebody who wasnt just going to use me so they could feel better. 

November started with tears and freak outs and all that awesome shit. I would still talk to ex-boyf because i always talked to him but that wasnt much better... i started to take longer to reply and then not reply at all. At one point he ended up coming to campus on a sunday morning and we walked all over campus- to the convocation center and back just talking about the future of us if there was one. I told him at one point that i was going to block him on all social media sites if he messaged me during a week. Because i didnt want to talk to him during the week after i broke up with him. He was worried about me... he missed classes because he felt physically sick and i dont know if he has gotten anybetter.. I was worried about him because he told me that he said he couldnt live without me. But i couldnt be in a mentally abusive relationship... again. 

I had been in one before, ( irony was that it was with his cousin but thats a story for a different time) So yeah that was a thing. 

Anyways thanksgiving rolls around.. i message my cousin saying that i want to do something with my hair. She was like HELL YES!!! she was so excited... I ended up getting highlights done and they looked really good and it felt good to be different. However that change didnt last long. Ex-boyf was like i didnt have my good luck charm this year for hunting so i didnt see anything or shoot anything. He was upset. Im not a good luck charm ain’t no way. Sorry dude.

So thanksgiving is over back to campus. And so begins December. One of my other friends turned 21 as well and we all pregamed and then went to necto.. well i was faking being drunk (i was at one point but not when i was faking it obviously...)but being all i want somebody to cuddle and be with and well yeah... i ended up going to kids dorm, and we ended up watching trainspotting which was fun :) However afterwords i was like there is something between us ( and even as i type this i still get butterflies which fuck you by the way) and i think we both want this but i dont know if you do i know i do and he kept telling me to say it just say it and i was like no its pointless i cant!! and then we kissed again.. and it was great ( FUCK YOU FUCKING BUTTERFLIES AND TINGLES AND ALL THAT FUCKING SHIT) we ended up making out... that was the beginning of December..

And then all though-out December.. especially the weekends we would hang out.. we had our christmas party and we ended up going back to his dorm after and making out during Arrested Development which is why i cant fucking watch it ( well that and its still fucking stupid) 

He ended up spending the night before i went home for the winter break. i was alone and didnt want to be in the dorm room alone... Whatever. but then the first of the year.

Fuck the first of the year. Fuck getting what i fucking deserved. Fuck all of this fucking shit. And fuck that person who texted me when i didnt fucking know who it was. 

I deserved the text message break up. Whatever. I didnt get closure. I deserved it because i gave it. But i still hang out with this kid. Its still not okay. He does this stupid shit that used to be cute... but its not anymore... I still call them boys but i still love hanging out with them... They make me smile... as much as i say i hate this kid and i dont want to deal with him, he can still make me smile.... 

The boys... i like to think they would do anything for me... Its kinda weird now that im dating the other one... its weird that they do the same things... that they both skipped out on the other for me... that i cant just sleep next to them... they have to touch me or kiss me or any of that... 

Maybe its good that im sick... idk

[itdisneymatter]

Day 10 - Magic Kingdom (II)

TLDR: Breakfast at hotel for a second shot, then pool for a bit. Headed to Disney Springs and picked up some artwork and not much else. Then finally on to Magic Kingdom to hit a few of the rides we missed the first day including Pirates, Buzz Light-year and Space Mountain. Ate monstrous turkey legs. Got lots of memory maker photos. Stayed until the 4th July (but not really the 4th of July fireworks). Spectacular!

We woke up a little later than normal and hit breakfast at the hotel and then an hour at the pool before heading out to our first stop, Disney Springs. First stop was an art shop that stocked some prints from an artist I like - Jasmine Beckett-Griffith. I picked up a 10x8 print and a set of Oracle cards, really for the artwork (though if you want a reading, hit me up :P). Kudos to Ann for letting me indulge in the weird things I like (no, not like that ;) For the past 11 days its been cards, art-y stuff and my unnatural obsession for Harley Quinn... thus far. Next a standard Starbucks stop (though they looked at me funny when I wanted no cream and sugar in my cold brew), then to browse the t-shirts in the Harley Davidson (we were here for more than just me, honest). Popped into another few shops including Marvel, before getting back on the road to head to Magic Kingdom. The 4th of July is one of the busiest days in Disney due to the holidays but a little known secret is that they do a trial run of the Independence days fireworks on the 3rd, so that's what our plan was for the rest of the day.

Before we continue, I'd like to present you with Patricks Fun Fact Of The Day, two in fact to make up for yesterday (and the first is a shark related one so quite fitting too).

Fun Fact 1: More people are killed by bees and lightning every year than are killed by sharks.

Fun Fact 2: Sporange is the only word that rhymes with orange - it means part of a fern or something (though technically it has the word orange in it so its a wee bit cheating).

Now we had to visit Lost & Found prior to heading into Magic Kingdom as Ann lost her special edition Magic Band on Saturday at Animal Kingdom. It was actually found and returned to the Lost & Found office which was at Magic Kingdoms car park - so that worked out really well. We got to the park as soon as the parade had started which was great timing (even though we seen it before), this was in main street so the kids had a much better field of view. They even got to interact and high five with a few of the Disney characters as they passed. I was too busy photographing the Disney characters to get their reactions but if we happen to do it again, when were next at Magic Kingdom, Ill definitely turn the camera the other way. I’m pretty sure Merida recognized our Celtic strips amidst the crowd and blew me a kiss, ohhhh and Elsa winked at me too, obviously I’m not looking into that meaning anything whatsoever (even though it does :P)

And then it started to rain, and wouldn't you know it, due to the fact there was only a 20% chance of rain we didn't take the bag with the rain-jackets in. Oh well, the rain wasnt actually that bad at all and we per served with it. We had Splash Mountain Fast Passed but they shut it down due to poor weather (as they do with all outdoor type rides). They do offer some alternatives so we headed to Haunted Mansion instead.

Next was a ride we hadn't seen since 2013, Pirates of The Caribbean. We'd watched all the movies prior to coming over (well except the new one out in the cinema), so we were all pretty much clued up and excited. Nice wee boat ride through various sets all based around Pirates. They had a nice waterfall at the start which had different characters like Davy Jones and Blackbeard projected on it, which was a cool effect.

Left Pirates and a guys in a Cubs fan shouted 'Mon The Hoops as he walked by (as we were all wearing our Celtic kits). In fact we got a few 'Mon The Hoops and Hail Hails over the course of the day, even from peeps not from the UK which was nice.

We were hungy by that point and there was really only one thing most of us wanted - Turkey Legs! These were like mutant turkey legs though and even wee Robert the fussy one said he wouldnt mind getting one for himself. So we made out way over to the opposite end of the park in Tomorrow Land where we knew we could get them. The trouble was, the weather also means all of the smaller stalls were closed down too - DOH! So we asked a cast member if there was anywhere else that sold them. Yes she said, Tortuga Tavern she said. And where is Tortuga Tavern I hear you ask? Why its directed opposite from Pirates - where we just came from! Trekked back over to the other side of the park and finally managed to get some, plus a cookie as Grace wasnt that hungry. These things are massive and it makes me wonder what the actual size of the turkeys where to have produced such huge legs! Im sure there's an answer (Patrick if you're reading this, can you go find out? THX ; ).

The rain had stopped by that point which meant that the Fireworks would definitely be on, there were even people settling down at a good spot at that time which was 2hrs before the show was due to start. Eek, what people would do for a photo, eh? Haha ;) Then we made our way back over to Tomorrow Land (yeah, I know, right?), after stopping to get a quick pic with a park photographer. In fact, we got quite a few photographs taken tonight using our memory maker, so here they are...

So first up in Tomorrow Land was Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin. Our third shooting game since we got here. Shoot the aliens and stop Zurg, getting points along the way. If you've been following along, you'll know how this is likely to end, but here are the scores on the doors...

Gerry:  134900

Robert: 32500 

Patrick: 29700

Ann: 29600

Gracie:  6600

Carousel Of Progress after that and although Gracie had done this before she couldn't remember it so she was asking lots of questions, which is normally a good thing but probably not when the animatronic puppets are they only other others speaking to the rest of the people on the ride! Although this is a new shiny ride, its still a really good one and gives a glimpse of how life has developed throughout the ages and to the future, which as Patrick pointed out, is mostly a reality now! Im not sure if this ride is adapted to current technological trends or if Walt Disney was spot on with forecasting the future!

And now the one Robert had been waiting for, Space mountain, the last of the big 3 mountains we had to ride this time around. It was me, Patrick and Robert on this one. This was one of Patrick’s favourites but Robert was so keen on it last time - I have a feeling he might feel a little different now. A roller coaster in the dark, and although doesn’t have any major drops, has lots of sharp (and unexpected) turns - really fun ride. I asked Robert once we finished what he thought and he said - It was easy! Haha, how times have changed.

Speedway next and the boys were tall enough to go on their own, but though it best to go in front of both in case they got over excited with the accelerator. After a few more memory maker photos which I posted above already, we got a spot to watch the trial 4th of July fireworks. It was pretty majestic and patriotic (well for Americans that is, but you cant help youself get caught up). Probably one of the best fireworks shows Ive seen even if we didnt have the best viewpoint (which was behind the castle).

We had Fast Passed Seven Dwarves but the the FP queue was LOOONG and the kids were getting really tired at that point. Headed out of the park just as another show was starting but we reaffirmed our decision to call it a day.

Now we ordered Gracie a Furbacca (Star Wars Chewbacca Furby) and we received a notification it had been delivered to the hotel (that 30 day Amazon.com Prime trial came in handy). One small problem though, the office which handles deliveries was closed until tomorrow morning, so that will be something we'll have to do first thing, which will keep Grace happy as she wont stop talking about it. Shopping day tomorrow and anticipating BIG sales and deals due to the holidays. Goodbye bank balance! :P

[lyndseysammonsphotography-blog]

Hate to break it to you, but...

Maybe even more so than I am.

There I said it.

Do you use a camera?….a camera phone, DSLR, point-and-shoot, or even an old-school disposable film camera? Hey, underwater, even. 

More importantly, do you feel a little (or BIG) gleeful twinge in your gut when you feel like you got the, ‘oh-my-gosh, check-this-out, such-a-cool-shot’ shot?

Do you obsess over the ‘perfect’ angle and never feel that it’s quite good enough?

Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but you are officially a ‘Photographer’.

Call yourself what you will.

You and I are no different, Professional or otherwise.

Back in the day, I taught children’s workshops completely on drug store’s disposable cameras.

And they learned way more than I ever did in that short amount of time - for many reasons.

But, I digress. Back to the point... You say: What? Me? An actual Photographer?

Ummmm, YEP! With a capital ‘P’.

What makes a ‘quote-un-quote- “Professional Photographer”?

It’s just one tiny, (fairly insignificant) thing...more on that toward the end.

For now, here’s the bigger question: 

What makes a quote-un-quote “AMAZING Photographer”? “Professional” aside.

It’s simple.

1. An eye.

2. The love for the ‘click and wind’

3. Confidence.

That’s it. Seriously.

Let’s start with number 1:

‘An eye’ is just something us pro-photographers call a photograph that looks cool. But, here’s the deal - yes, there are technical aspects of what makes a photo better, but, in the end, it’s highly subjective. We each may have our own opinions of what makes an awesome shot. ‘Oh, girl, you have SUCH an ‘eye’.

But, in reality, it’s 'such’ a friggin amaze-balls photo and I can only wish I could take something even REMOTELY close to that level of coolness.

I can’t speak for all Pro Photographers, but, I, for one, LOVE to teach, so I’m not afraid to say it. I even get all giddy and outwardly excited when someone shows me a bad-a$$ photo. And I’ll jump up and down with them if they are just as excited about it.

It’s not a contest of who’s the better photographer, although, unfortunately, it may feel that way sometimes.

It’s about learning, growing, developing your style and lifting up others to do the same. We live in a very visual world. There is plenty of work to go around. And there sure as heck is enough appreciation and love for the arts to go around.

I’m here to tell you that Professional Photographers gawk at beautiful shots just as much as anyone else. 

If not less-so because we get caught up in our work and sometimes don’t stop to smell the roses. I know because I’ve been there.

We have to continually challenge ourselves to get that raw perspective - to get back to the time where we had a child-like view of the world through our lens.

But, hey! I know, for a FACT, you’ve taken, at least, one beautiful photo in your lifetime, right?!

One that we can show a friend and say, “Whoa! Look at this!’

The one that may get a laugh or a cry because it shows such raw emotion one-way-or-the-other. One that made you feel giddy inside.

That’s having an ‘eye’.  Chance realized. Or maybe that opportunity plus the technical know-how.

You may get an, ‘Oh, cool! You should print that!’ (Or now-adays, “You should post that!) Or even a ‘Dude. You need to think on that.’ Cuz that one was a little too real.

But, in the end, you saw it and you captured it.  It brought about some sort of feeling, whether positive, negative, or indifferent. Just like ‘Professionals’ do.

You may just not press a shutter button as many times as we have to to get that lucky shot. And, yes, sometimes, it is luck - Being at the right place at the right time. And sometimes it IS a talent - For knowing what angle will look best or realizing, if you wait juuuuust 10 more minutes, the sun will be just-so and will make that shot even better. Not to downplay years of experience or education, but you captured it, just the same. 

Maybe even with less clicks.

Because you have an ‘eye’.

#2

I call ‘click and wind’ the feeling that I got the first time I held a 35mm fully-manual-film-camera in my hands. The one my dad gave me from his Vietnam days. The one I wish I could ask to tell it’s completely unadulterated story.

Back then, I had no idea what I was holding, let alone what all the dials meant. Nothing came out on that first B&W roll of film - but I was hooked.

And, you now what? You don't have to shoot film and advance the frame with that little arm thingy to get the same feeling. These days, digital can offer a similar experience.

If you feel it, you feel it. If you see it, you see it.

If you find yourself in a situation that speaks to you,  it’s all yours.

Not mine. Not Ansel Adams’.

Yours.

Own it. Feel it. Have confidence.

Which leads me to #3

Whether you feel you are just having fun with photography or you want to take it to a completely new level.

Whether you are on Instragram, on an app - getting creative with ALL your might…or using your DSLR to figure out the dials, buttons and all those (uber) confusing settings.

I’m here to tell you:

YOU.

ARE.

A.

PHOTOGRAPHER.

No ‘amateur’.

No ‘I just play around’.

You are.

So, have confidence.

Show those photos off.

Post to your heart’s content.

It’s your passion. It’s your love. It’s your art.

Say to yourself, and to the world: “Im a Photographer.”

Notice the Capital ‘P’.

Tonight, I made a fellow Photographer say out-loud (in a room full of people, mind you):

“I am a good photographer.”

“I am a good Photographer.”

‘NO, SAY IT!’

“I.

AM.

A.

GOOD.

PHOTOGRAPHER.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I hope she felt it.

Because the only difference between a Professional Photographer and not is if you’ve sold a photo. That’s it. 

The only difference is if you’ve made a buck. And, guess what?

She’s sold one, if not way more, in one way or another.

She’s just as much a ‘Professional’ as I.

SO, if you get that little twinge of a feeling when you click that shutter, whether its on your camera phone, DLSR, for Instagram, an app or any other form of Interwebs,

You are a Photographer.

I’ve always felt, the sign of a good photographer is one who can view other’s works and learn.

I vow to always learn and help others to learn. I vow to teach, humble myself and, lastly, lose myself in a good photo when I am blessed enough to see it.

With all my Heart. Soul. And passion for the click and wind.

For the Love of Photography.

“I’m a Photographer” and I challenge you to yell it in all CAPS!

NO, I DARE YOU!

Whether its on FB, Instagram, my blog or anywhere else this shows up:

Say it - Scream at the top of your lungs!...

“I AM A PHOTOGRAPHER.”

NO…better yet, “I AM A GOOD PHOTOGRAPHER!”

Then get out there, click that shutter and own it.

“There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.” ~ Ansel Adams