#my own daughter beats me by 3 fucking points im so done

[relativelydefected]

I havnt posted in awhile. I just keep finding myself in deeper darker holes every time I turn around. Just one right after the other. It gets tough to think about let alone write about.

My mom is in the hospital again. She passed out 3 times this week again. My dad told me his struggles with bringing her up the stairs. Picking her up off the floor of their bedroom cause she couldn’t get on the bed. Went to visit her she got up to get me something and fell again.. she had two cat scans done. She has to wear a heart monitor to monitor her for an irregular heart beat. They found she had a small brain aneurism in her head.. as well as a spot in another part of her head as well. Which may be the reasons she keeps passing out. The past two days she’s had nausea. Which might explain the things going on in her head.

I quit therapy. For the simple fact that if something is to happen to my mom. I’m gonna be a wreck regardless. So no amount of therapy is going to help me with that. And I’m not using that as a scapegoat or an excuse. It’s the fucking truth. I don’t care who tells me otherwise.

No amount of breathing exercises or coping mechanism is going to help me with this portion of my life.

The kids are doing well. My daughter is clueless as to what is going on and my son is slowly starting to take into an account the seriousness of the situation. He cried about it last week and all I could tell him is that she’s fighting this she’s strong and that we’re gonna get through this together.

Things I should probably say to myself but knowing the reality of the situation. It’s tough to think that way while at the same time trying to prepare for something that might be inevitable.

I havnt been to the bike path for the past few days due to having a cold and this bipolar New England weather.

I even bought a longboard. Just to try something new.

Havnt been able to fully try it out cause it’s either raining or I’m sick or my kids are sick and I have to be home.

Havnt been able to see my mom the past week cause I’m fighting off this cold that doesn’t want to go away.

On a more semi positive note.

I met this guy on tiktok we talked for two days before we decided to hang out. What’s funny is he lives right down the street from me..He’s a single dad I’m a single mom.. he has a good job his own place.. he’s younger than me and that’s a first for me but I thought why not give it a shot. Really cute.

Has a stutter but that is also really cute .. we are both gamers we both like studio ghibli and Star Wars. We went to the mall he was so nice and easy to talk to he gave he gave me a hug it was just really lovely. It felt good to be treated like a lady after 11 years of being treated like garbage..I definitely felt a connection. Then of course my own insecurities took hold and I think I messed up the entire thing. He seems like such a good dad and he has all these nice qualities but some how some way I always manage to mess up a good thing. That’s my life. It’s like I psych myself out every time. I can’t just let things flow or be. Maybe he’s not attracted to me? I don’t know..

He has a twitch I watch it, try to message but don’t hear back so not much I can do 🤷🏽‍♀️ think im just gonna stop messaging at this point.

It felt good to go out shop and have fun and not think about the crap going on in my life so for like 5 hours I was at peace for the first time in months.

Good things never last. They are rare but fleeting.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now but im not.

But I tried right? Even if it didn’t work out.. I can say I tried to meet someone and put myself out there.

But I also feel guilt about being happy. When everyone around me is falling apart.

Maybe when I go back to work it will be a distraction from all this. But I can’t go back till I figure out my daughters situation with school or whether i need to put her in daycare full time.

Cause I can’t do both and I have no one to help me in this situation unfortunately.

I’ll try to update more. If you guys have prayers I could always use them.

#depression #anxiety #terminalcancer #stage4cancer #breastcancer #mentalhealth #life

[harryfeatgaga]

omfggggg paige I just saw that you watched scream 6!!!!! i’m really glad to hear that you liked it!!!! i really enjoyed it too (i’ve seen it twice now actually).

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 NOW SO FOR ANYONE WHO HASNT SEEN IT YET KEEP SCROLLING:

I really liked the beginning and end scenes the most. At first I was like “Damn. That’s new” when I thought they just straight up revealed the new killer but it was even better tbh. That whole “Who gives a fuck about movies?!” line too was just soooo good. Perfectly delivered (as usual).

And I like Sam’s character even more now. I thought she was cool in Scream 5 and the whole “daughter of a serial killer” concept is interesting but what makes it better is her clearly being a bit.....“unhinged” as well, so to speak (honestly got chills when she was in the costume and they played the ghostface theme when she appeared behind Bailey). I also liked that this movie paralleled Scream 2 a bit (Scream 1 & 2 are my favorites but this one is close).

My only complaints were 1.) ethan being a killer. I felt it was too obvious....plus I like cute, dorky characters so I felt a little betrayed ngl. 2.) Ghostface definitely should’ve had the shotgun more. Cause let’s be real, ghostface coming at you with a knife isn’t actually THAT terrifying esp considering how is always easily beat up (Gale literally used a book to hit him at one point 😭). Ghostface with a shotgun though??? Pretty terrifying tbh. And finally 3.) I was salty that the only one from the “friend group” that died was (of course) the asian girl.....as a fellow asian girl it just made me a bit salty lmaoooo (the death scene itself though was very well done and brutal too).

And imo ghostface may not really be the “scariest” horror movie villain/killer/slasher, but to me he is definitely one of the most ICONIC.

So what was your favorite part of the movie, Paige?? 😅 Another fave scene of mine was Gale and Sam talking about “making your own family” and it kinda got to me when they played Dewey’s theme in the back 🥹😭

Anonymous asked: (same anon raving about scream 6 but) also I liked scream 5 and thought it was decent but tbh I liked the trailer more than the movie itself I think. However, for this movie I barely saw the trailers and even when I did I wasn’t entirely sure about this one, but this movie was really enjoyable for me (SLIGHT SPOILERS AHEAD)—even if there seemed to be less of a body count in regards to the main cast.

AHHHHHH HELLOOOOO YES IT WAS SOOOOOOO GOOD IM SO GLAD CAUSE I WASNT A FAN OF 5 but you legit said all my thoughts omg and I know I was so sad she died but god that death scene they def went all out jnhujfbhhj and no right ghos face with a gun is so scary esp in the world we live in rn I also loved them bringing kirby back tbh and gale kicking ass as usual but yeah one of them being ethan was lame imo like you said toooo obvious im sure there will be another one so im excited to see what will happen

[marcus--666]

@decaying-vamp said share with the class so ima share with the class >:D

okay so one thing my self-insert ocs have in common is having "Disney Princess Powers" aka just able to befriend basically any animal because thats something i wish i could do irl lol

this kinda gets long so ima put a read more here lol

I'm still planning out the details, but the oc, Ha'ku (my AFOP oc but for the film timelines, otherwise known as Y'ou in the game universe) is still a Sarentu, but not part of TAP, he was instead "rescued" by a pair of scientists who found him as a kid (like 3 or 4 years old) all by himself in the forest while they were doing some biology stuff. he was being "stalked" by viperwolves (spoiler alert, they were trying to protect him) and so they took him back to their base of operations. the scientists wanted to be the first to raise a Na'vi to be more human. it failed miserably, as Ha'ku clung to his Na'vi/Sarentu side fiercely, even when his "parents" became abusive and tried beating the Na'vi out of him (and also refusing to acknowledge the fact that he is also a boy not a girl).

the other science teams and the Avatar program knew about them attempting to raise Ha'ku (not about the abuse though cuz he was heavily isolated), and Grace tried desperately to get him away from the racist couple, even offering to have Ha'ku be part of her school, but was refused. Parker let them do what they wanted, since he really couldnt give a shit about a Na'vi child, so long as in the end he can use them

from my googling and game knowledge, the RDA wasn't fully aware of TAP, and im pretty sure Grace also had no idea of its existence. Im not too sure if i want Grace and the others to know Ha'ku is Sarentu, or even who the Sarentu are, though I would assume she would know the Sarentu? At least maybe from the Omaticaya mentioning the lost clan? Anyway, he has the mark of the Sarentu though he has no idea what it entails

eventually the Avatar program get the green light to gain custody of Ha'ku a little after the massacre that happened at Grace's school since he's basically the only Na'vi they can interact with, the "parents" dont like that and try to slit Ha'ku's throat since theyre all "if we cant have him, no one can" and are fully delusional and believe he's their human daughter at this point. they fail, but leave a gnarly scar on Ha'ku's neck. Ha'ku is like,,, 17 when this happens? its hard to tell the timeline for me, but like apparently Neytiri is 18 when the first film takes place?? by the time the first film begins, Ha'ku is 19

depending on whether or not the RDA/Grace actually know about the Sarentu and the mark, Ha'ku is gonna be either ignorant to it or know the bare minimum about his heritage going into it

ok most of the backstory stuff done, lets get into the actual fic ideas i have lmao

thanks to the abuse from his tormentors, Ha'ku has severe social anxiety so he keeps to himself in an area near where the Avatars sleep, the only person he remotely trusts is Grace, who noticed his affinity with animals when she first took him out into Pandora, and also the unbridled joy on his face when he got to be free

film stuff happens off screen, Jake meets Ha'ku the day they go into the forest, he's confused why they're bringing this quiet af Na'vi ("he's not even an Avatar, Grace??") with them, but once they land, Ha'ku opens up a bit and gestures to Jake to follow him when Grace and Norm are doing their science stuff, the scene with the Helicoradian happens, but instead of the hammerhead titanothere charging at them, Ha'ku calms it and gently stokes the creature, being all like "see? he's a good boy :D" to Jake, of course thats when the thanator shows up to fuck shit up, but wow Ha'ku also calms it down before Jake can get trigger happy, even resting his forehead against the creature's own

all is well right? nah the other marine shows up and begins shooting at the thanator, which pisses it off (wow what a shocker), and it grabs Ha'ku's arm and runs off, to everyone's shock. Ha'ku is trying to get it to let go, but it wont, in fact it breaks the skin of his arm thanks to the angle it's dragging him at. soon enough, it lets him go across the river near the waterfall and runs back towards the others. Ha'ku has no idea what to do, but he spots an atokirina floating nearby, like it wanted him to follow it. using his jacket to cover his kinda torn up arm, he slowly makes his way through the forest after the atokirina, softly humming the Sarentu song to himself to keep him calm. eventually, he's led to a viperwolf giving birth, though it's in distress. Ha'ku understands that she's scared since this is her first litter and doesn't want to be alone, so he stays with her until all her pups are born, which takes all day and evening.

this is where Tsu'tey finds him

idk if i should like put the entire outline here or not but yeah heres some of it lol its very self indulgent but i have no shame

I have such a huge self-indulgent fic idea with my Na'vi oc and Tsu'Tey >:)

[artificialqueens]

Drabble Compilation (Trixya, Biadore) - Candy Cane

A/N: a bunch of drabbles ive written over on my side blog @sillylittlecandycane !! im accepting prompts over there if you are interested uwu here’s the list of everything in here: 1.) Trixya, half drag dance challenge 2.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya 3.) Biadore, “If I puke, will you hold my hair back?" 4.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya sequel 5.) Trixya, "You’ve been crying, I can tell." 6.) Biadore, Adore visiting Bianca in Palm Springs

1.) Trixya, half drag dance challenge For a split second there Katya was ecstatic about being Trixie’s partner for this challenge, then she remembered she has a huge fucking crush and is definitely going to wind up making a fool out of herself. Trixie’s clearly excited though, so Katya decides she’ll try to swallow down those feelings, and focus on keeping that smile on Trixie’s face.

Neither of them are really dancers, but Trixie definitely is a country girl, so she’s somewhat more familiar with it than Katya. The older is still nervous, she’s not used to this kind of thing, not by any stretch of the imagination. She’s done choreo before, any given drag queen has, she just hasn’t had to learn it in such a short amount of time before.

After learning what they could with the instructor and are back in the workroom to practice, Trixie turns to Katya and grabs her hands. Katya stares down at them with wide eyes, just now registering she’s been dancing with Trixie.

Cute, sexy, funny fucking Trixie.

“We have so got this,” Trixie says, all the confidence in the world embodied in that tone.

Katya looks into Trixie’s eyes and smiles back, “Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.”

It’s exhilarating to have so much confidence in herself, and then to have some in her partner as well. It’s so different from what she’s used to. They’ve still got work to do to make sure they nail this thing all the way to the core of the earth, it’s just not so terrifying anymore. It feels good, it really does.

2.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya Katya’s at the point where she is seriously regretting being pregnant. At the end of the day, it was her choice, but sometimes she thinks it was a bad one. Everything fucking hurts, she’s constantly hungry, she can’t sleep right anymore, and she is always horny. This is just the worst thing ever.

What doesn’t suck is how sweet and loving Trixie, her fucking wife, has been. Katya doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the fact that Trixie is her wife. It’s so surreal! She’s like the best wife ever. Always getting her whatever she wants or needs, even if it’s 2 am and she’s being absolutely ridiculous, Trixie is there to help her and make the best out of a sucky situation.

Katya cuddles closer to Trixie, listening to the soothing sound of the younger’s heartbeat. She’s going to have a baby with this girl. They’re growing their family and it’s just… it’s perfect.

Trixie gently tugs her fingers through Katy’s messy blonde hair as they watch some stupid Lifetime movie. The domesticity of it all is wonderfully stupid. But it’s still stupid. She feels restless, she’s unable to go out and at least dance, she wants to do something.

“I’m bored,” Katya says, frowning slightly.

Trixie giggles a little, and it’s so fucking cute it hurts, “Okay, what do you wanna do?”

“We should go bungee jumping,” Katya says, keeping a straight face.

“Yeah, and then we’ll eat live bugs,” Trixie replies with an eye roll.

Their eyes meet and they erupt into laughter, holding onto each other and enjoying the moment. Katya sighs, and lays her head back down to Trixie’s chest, frowning.

“I’m seven months preggers, there’s like nothing I can do,” Katya groans.

Trixie combs her fingers through Katya’s hair again, “That’s not true. We can still play like uh, board games? We can go back to thinking of baby names, too. Can’t do any worse than my parents.”

Katya looks up at Trixie, a content smile on her lips. At least Trixie is trying for her, which is so much better than she feels she could’ve ever hoped for. The Russian pushes herself up to kiss her wife deeply.

“Or we could…” Katya mumbles against her, a sly offer.

Trixie giggles again, like music to Katya’s ears, “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

3.) Biadore, "If I puke, will you hold my hair back?"

Adore has drunk herself stupid, or stupid-er, again. She needed a night of insane drinking, and boy did she get it. Everyone is looking at her like she should be at rehab, but she doesn’t fucking care. A broken heart can’t be mended with alcohol, but it can be forgotten, at least for a little while.

She downs another shot, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees Detox and Willam laughing at her, while Bianca looks incredibly exasperated. Adore groans and lays her head against the counter, she feels awful and it definitely isn’t just her broken heart.

“B…” she mumbles, lifting a heavy arm to poke her friend.

Bianca rolls her eyes but looks down at her anyways, “What?”

“I don’ feel so good…” she whines, her words slurred.

“Well that’s what happens when you drink more in three hours than Willam does in one night,” Bianca snaps back, the disapproval in her voice strong.

“I’d be offended but you make a good point,” Willam says, giggling.

Adore huffs and stares at her bright red wig and the way it’s sprawled out in front of her. It’s one of her favorites, but it was also her ex’s favorite… God, she misses him so much it hurts like a bitch. Maybe she should throw out the wig, if it’s going to hurt her so much. It’s still a favorite though, and she refuses to allow that dickhead to take more from her than necessary.

Adore realizes she’s been zoning out, and reaches her hand out for Bianca. Her hand finds Bianca’s, and she squeezes it tightly. Bianca’s eyes meet hers, and Adore is overwhelmed with how wonderful and amazing this person is. Bianca’s is basically the definition of perfect, and Adore knows she’s lucky to even be her friend. Though that doesn’t really stop her from pining after Bianca.

“Bia…” Adore whines again.

“What?” Bianca sighs.

“Can we leave?” she asks, quiet and sad.

Bianca looks down at her, and must take some kind of pity, “Yeah, we can go.”

Ten minutes later they’re climbing into the back of an Uber, and Adore is quick to lay her head down in Bianca’s lap. Bianca rubs the back of her neck, and it feels really good because she’s starting to feel really ill.

Adore moans pathetically, “Yanks…”

“Yeah?” Bianca answers her.

“If I puke will you hold my hair back?”

“Sure, but then I’ll beat you up for puking all over me and this fucking car.”

Adore giggles, feeling slightly better with their usual banter, “Love you, Bia.”

“Love you too,” Bianca smiles softly.

4.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya sequel

For almost a year now, Katya’s life has been totally changed. Deciding to actually go through with physically having a child was big enough, but when she was actually pregnant? Everything changed.

Every decision she made impacted the baby. What she ate, what she wore, what she did… Every little thing impacted not just her anymore, but her child too. And she wouldn’t give it up for anything, because sitting here, holding that child in her arms, she knows it was all worth it.

Sitting here in the hospital bed, Katya is mesmerized by her baby. Her eyes are so startling blue, like Trixie’s, and her smile is so vibrant, like Trixie. Katya thinks her baby will be just like Trixie in so many ways. Katya hopes her daughter gets all her good traits, and none of her bad ones. This child helped to save her from addiction, Katya doesn’t want her to fall into it.  

“What are you thinking about?” Trixie whispers, leaning over her shoulder to look into their baby’s eyes.

“How we still haven’t named her,” Katya says, cupping her pretty face.

Trixie rolls her eyes, “Well, we would’ve had that one figured out by now if-” “Really? In front of the baby?” Katya says, trying to play all serious at first, then bursts into laughter at Trxiei’s surprised expression.

“You bitch,” Trixie laughs, lightly slapping Katya’s shoulder.

“But seriously, the kid needs a name,” Katya frowns, “We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby’ forever.”

“It’s only been a day,” Trixie shrugs, “But you’re right.” “I should give her a really complicated Russian name you can’t pronounce,” Katya teases.

“Do you hate me? Is that it?” Trixie plays along.

Katya kisses her though, and the way Trixie turns bright red gets her all emotional all over again.

“I’ve been in love with you since we met,” Katya reminds her once they break apart.

“We should name her Barbara,” Trixie giggles.

“Nevermind, you’re right, I do hate you.”

Trixie cackles, and the baby starts to fuss in response. Both immediately try to calm her down, and luckily do so with minimal effort.

“Maybe… Cherry?” Trixie suggests.

Katya looks at her, then realizes she;s being serious, “Really? Cherry?”

“We could put down like, Cheryl or something on paper, but Cherry is like red, and sweet, and cute…” Trixie explains, blushing some.

Katya purses her lips, looks down at her baby, and grins widely.

“Cherry suits her.”

5.) Trixya, "You’ve been crying, I can tell." There’s tear tracks down Trixie’s cheeks, her eyes are bright red, and she’s even sniffling. It makes Katy’s heart hurt. She doesn’t like to see Trixie upset, that girl is the last person on this earth who should ever cry.

“Katya-” Trixie says, jerking back when she sees the older, clearly having thought she was alone.

“What happened?” Katya asks, stepping forward instinctively. She wants nothing more than to hug her.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Trixie says, unable to meet Katya’s eyes.

Katya frowns, “You’ve been crying, I can tell.”

Trixie looks shocked, but still persists, “I’m fine.”

“I’m never going to believe that,” Katya says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Trixie finally admits.

“Okay, that I can understand,” Katya says, reaching forward to take Trixie’s hand in her own, “But… that doesn’t mean you have to be alone. We don’t have to talk, but let me be here for you. Please?”

Trixie looks up at Katya’s kind, worried eyes, completely taken aback by how genuine her friend is being. Trixie nods, unable to actually form any words, and is almost instantly wrapped up in a strong hug.

The younger places her head in the crook of Katya’s neck, and starts to cry all over again. She doesn’t feel so empty and alone now, though. She feels like maybe if she just stays in Katya’s arms, listening to her reassurances and absorbing her love, for a little while longer then everything will be okay.

6.) Biadore, Adore visiting Bianca in Palm Springs

The sun is shining brightly, the palm trees surrounding the pool sway in the breeze, and Danny feels more relaxed than they have in many, many months. They’re on their back in the center of the pool, letting themself drift and be one with the water. Usually they prefer to go straight to the source, they are a mermaid after all, but there’s something to be said about getting to be alone in the water with their boyfriend.

There’s no one else around, just the two of them, alone and having sexy, fun, romance together. Said boyfriend pops up out of the water  next to Danny, and peers over them, a smirk on his lips. Danny sits up so they’re not on their back anymore, and presses a little closer to Roy.

“Hi,” Roy chuckles, leaning in close to Danny’s lips.

Danny grins, “Hello yourself.”

Roy laughs, but kisses Danny anyways. The kiss is chaste, but still full of love and joy. Danny wraps their arms around Roy’s neck and goes in for another kiss, this one full and sloppy. Roy pushes Danny forward as they soak each other in, until Roy had Danny pinned to the concrete edge, his large hands spanning across Danny’s, currently tiny, hips.

The younger is bad at the whole self-care thing during work, which is one of the many reasons he’s happy to have them here. Now he has an excuse to get real food into Danny, and help them relax.

The two pull away from each other, breathless and smiling, and it’s perfect. The sun on their skin, the clear water around them, and neither would have it any other way.

“We should go annoy the neighbors with your golf cart this afternoon,” Danny suggests, smiling and close to laughter.

“Yeah,” Roy says, close to laughing himself, “We should.”

[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 

[f33itan]

💛⚜️Pᴀʀᴛ 1: Tᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪs Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ⚜️💛 (From my Wattpad)

A/N: Ok, this was something a mutual of mine said here on Tumblr, and I decided to write a oneshot about it. Might be very VERY slight angst, nothing bad enough to actually be put under that umbrella though, anyways, enjoy this, and ty for the reads! :)

CW: MENTIONS OF RAPE, DEGRADATION, AND MORE FOUL WORDS THAN USUAL. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

B/N: Your Mother's boyfriend's name

M/N: Mother's name

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

"Oi, Y/N! Go get me another pack of beer from the store!"

"Yes father!" Damn that pig looking bitch. I'm just some fucking girl, trying to protect her mom from this demon of a person! Heck, he's not EVEN a person! He's the devil himself!! Man, I wish dad was here...

When you were in about 7th grade, your real father got killed in a massacre a couple cities over. He was not only a police officer, but a great father and husband as well. He treated you and your mother amazingly, and you thought life couldn't get anymore perfect, but soon that all went down hill. After his death, your mother's health depleted and she felt empty inside. She needed somebody else to make her complete. She decided to call an old friend from high school, and next thing you know he moved in. He seemed like a nice guy at first, but soon enough he was beating you guys mercilessly, enough to leave large bruises and scars whenever you didn't do exactly what he asked, in your eyes though, it was more of an order. You hated being ordered around, but you hated your mother getting beaten around even more. It seemed like a blessing that he hasn't tried to rape her, but god knows what he'll do, he's unpredictable

With all of this happening, you decided to tell him you were doing some "extra curricular" classes in college, but what you were actually doing was taking the Hunter's Exam and learning nen. Your biological father was kind-hearted and fun to be around, but he was also strict and sometimes a bit harsh, though he always meant well. Before his passing, all three of you would go out on the weekends to train, exercise, or do something that would enhance your body power and brain power. Because of this, all of you were exceptionally smart, and bodies all well toned. Sometimes your excursions would be going to a park and practicing a sport, driving to the snow and sledding, skiing, snowboarding, and every once in a while going to another state to zip line, try animal encounters, or take a family friendly class in that state's heritage and customs.

Since you were accustomed to hard core training and events, you thought the Hunter's Exam was quite fun, and was a test to your skills. After that, you were scouted out by a strong nen user by the name of Biscuit Krueger. You and her had lots of fun training, and with her pushing your limits to the utmost best, you turned out to be a specialist.

(Whenever I imagine myself in Hunter x Hunter, this is always my nen type and stuff LMAO)

Your power was called, Black shadow. You could have up to 10 weapons on hand, completely subjected to doing your bidding. These weapons were linked to you through blood, and they were surrounded with a substance that appeared to be black mist. The weapons you most preferred to practice with and use were your katana, blood string, and scythe. You could also make a weapon yours by cutting a fingertip and letting the blood drip onto the weapon, altering the appearance then gaining that black "mist", showing that it was now yours. The downside to this technique was that those "shadows and mist remnants" were your sleep. The darkness in your mind and the shadows all around you were taken and used for that power. In turn, you were always tired, yawning, and had bags under your eyes. Another plus side though was that you had a nen created chamber that had every weapon you owned. A girl can have some fun toys, can't she? You had tools for torture (whenever you took an opportunity to try it), many varieties of weapons, and of course, more snacks. But unlike B/N, you didn't have just fatty snacks. You had regeneration potions, healthy snacks, and special nen created "snacks" to help with different things, which all of these you had collected through pulling some strings. Your mother was worried, but you said it was all just college things. Yeah, just college things..

Ill make that pig bitch pay for what he has done to my mother!

Feitan POV -or whats going on with him- :

"What time, is it.."

"8 AM Fei!"

"Shut up, green eyes, too loud."

"Oh Fei don't be rude! It's mean!"

"That's, the point."

"Oh wait, Shalnark, what this?"

"What do you mean?"

"This... gold string?"

"OI SHALNARK, FEITAN, COME ERE' REAL QUICK!"

"Phinks, what, do you, want-" Phinks just ignored his question and pointed to the TV.

This is Channel 12, reporting live from York New City Town Square. People all over the city are claiming to be seeing a string tied to their left ring finger, leading them to some unknown destination! What is this string? Who put it there?-

"AY AY IM ON TV! THE STRING THINGY JUST LEAD ME TO THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL AND NOW WERE DATING! SUPER AWESOME!"-

I apologize for the interference, but this string appears t be leading people to.. partners? Soulmates? Find out tomorrow morning, this is Amy Starwick from Channel 12, signing out.

"What. The. FUCK."

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOODNESS HOLY SHIT FEITAN YOU HAVE A SOULMATE!!"

"Nope-"

"YESS YOU DOOOOOOO"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP CHEERY BITCH-"

"No❤️" Since Feitan was on his last nerve with Shalnark, he decided to stomp over towards Chrollo in the main room, but Chrollo just chuckled.

"Wanna go find your soulmate? See if that things real?" Feitan just stared at the ground, lightly shifting his feet.

"Go ahead, I don't mind."

"Just, doing it, out of, curiosity."

"Mhm, curiosity, go find them." And with that, he was dismissed. Feitan wanted to say it was curiosity, but deep down he had this feeling there was something else, but what was it? It made his stomach tingle and he didn't like it one bit. He tried to ignore all of this, and just shrugged it off...

꧁꧂꧁꧂TimeSkip to Next Day꧁꧂꧁꧂

Your POV + some Feitan POV:

"Alright, today's the day, he'll be at his work, and on his break, i'll set the plan in motion.." Both me and mom don't like him, and I don't know about her, but I sure hate him, every ounce of him. The plan is simple: 1. Capture mom's boyfriend, 2. Take him to an abandoned building, 3. Torture him and get all of the answers I need, and 4. Kill him. His break is at 12, and he usually goes to get takeout every other Friday, what a pig. I'll give him a taste of his own medicine.

Time: 11:30 AM

Ok, I have everything ready. Fully energized to the utmost extent, Elixirs to bring him back in case he passes out too early, and- what? He's leaving for lunch early? PERFECT! You ran behind some buildings and hid in a two-way alleyway, waiting for him to pass by...

Here we go..

One..

Two..

THREE!

You covered his head with a sack, and took his phone out of his back pocket. Before heading over to your post, you laced the inside of the sack with some sleeping powder and pressed it against his nose and mouth. Within moments he passed out, and you typed in what you hoped to be his password, which was correct. Around 12:30, you were going to text one of his coworkers that he would be "going to a restaurant across town, and ditching work for a day, not wanting to see his stupid good for nothing girlfriend or his dumb daughter." You knew he called you both this because of going through his text messages when he wasn't looking or when he was sleeping. Little did you know that somebody was watching you from afar.

"Hmm... So, she, my, what do people, call it.. soulmate? Seems, interesting..."

Time: 12:00 PM

"Jesus, I new he was a fat ass but I didn't know he weighed this much!" You were tugging him from his legs through the back ways of York New. You wanted to find a secluded area, where once you were done with him you could just toss him somewhere for the birds and maggots to eat. After walking for what seemed like hours, you came across a set of abandoned buildings, specifically the one you laid out some extra things. A couple extra weapons, some towels, a change of clothes, a chair and some rope, a couple of flashlights, and of course, some snacks. Lucky for you, the douchebag you've been dragging around like a rag doll was still out cold, so you picked him up and tossed him on the chair, tying his wrists, ankles and neck to the chair.

"Maaannn, this is boring!! When the hell are you gonna wake up?!" As if on queue, you saw his eyes start to flutter open, and you immediately grabbed your box cutter. It wasn't a weapon used by your nen, but it was quite effective.

"What.. who.. wait- Y/N!? WHAT THE FUCK?! UNTIE ME NOW BEFORE I BEAT YOUR ASS!!" you didn't notice it, but Feitan was watching from the building over.

What, the fuck? Why she kidnap him? That pig? Why? Confusing, gotta keep, watching.

You shoved the box cutter into his left cheek, and you bathed in the glory of hearing his screams of pain.

"How does this feel, you bitch? Everything you've done to my dear mother, everything you've done to me, and heck, YOU WERE PROBABLY BEHIND MY DAD'S MURDER DURING THAT FUCKING MASSACRE!!" B/N noticed the tears in your eyes, and took this to his advantage.

"So what if I was? Both of your parents were pathetic anyways."

"NO THEY AREN'T! YOU'RE THE REASON WHY MY MOTHER'S LIKE THIS NOW! YOUR THE FUCKING REASON FOR EVERYTHING SHITTY THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME!!"

"Heh, hehe.. hahaHAHAHA! YOU KNOW GOD DAMNED WELL THAT ALL OF YOU ARE PATHETIC! WANNA KNOW WHY I GOT WITH YOUR MOM!? BECAUSE SHES HOT. AND SHE HAD GOOD MONEY FROM YOUR FUCKING DAD. YOU KNOW WHAT I WAS GONNA DO?! YOU KNOW WHY I TOOK OFF EARLY TODAY?! I WAS GONNA RAPE YOUR MOTHER AND MAKE YOU WATCH, THEN KILL BOTH OF YOU AND RUN OFF WITH ALL OF YOUR MONEY!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S IRONIC?! I DON'T HAVE ONE. SINGLE. FUCKING. REGRET. IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR DAD, YOU SOULDN'T HAVE HAD THE NERVE TO DO THIS, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABORTED!!"

You couldn't handle this anymore, tears were falling down your face rapidly as you grabbed the duct tape and closed his mouth shut.

"I don't give a fuck about what you say.. I'm going to kill you here. This is your grave. Someday, I'll join you in hell, and when I do, I'll torture you again, and the Devil will laugh. You just watch and ducking wait you, you.. PATHETIC WORTHLESS PIG ASS SLOPPY ASS NASTU FUCKING BITCH!" With that, you grabbed a couple super worms in each hand and shoved them into his ears. Even with the duct tape, you could hear his screams of agony as the worms dug deeper into his ears. You then got our your katana and slashed him across the stomach, and shoved even more worms into that open wound of his. Quickly, you poured a large bottle of the elixir you had brought over him to keep him from dying so quickly. Box cutter still in hand, you carved small lines all over his arms and legs, then ripped off the tape to hear his desperate cries. You imagined he wanted to be dead, but you didn't care. His pain and you pain mixed together and you just started laughing. You through your head back and let yourself laugh. all of the pain this man has caused you and your mom will be repayed today.

But the pressure and stress was too much to handle. Your laughing of victory soon turned into screams and more tears, as you let yourself fall to the ground, not even noticing you didn't hit it hard, something had caught you, or someone..

What the shit am I doing?

Am I really going to kill him?

What's wrong with me?

What will mother think?

What would dad do?

What am I doing with my life?

You soon snapped out of all of those negative thoughts though, as you noticed something caressing your face lightly.

"Rest, now. He, won't die, so quickly. I'm, Feitan." You were a sniffling and crying mess, so all you could do was rush into Feitan's chest and cry. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He had no idea what he was doing, for he had only seen this kind of skin on skin contact in movies. So, he did what those people in the movies did.

"Don't, worry... It's all, going to be.. okay."

Word Count (Including author notes, etc) : 2251

-Wrote February 3, 2021-

Unedited sorry about that lol-

Part 1...

[simptasia]

neurodivergence in abc’s lost

i’m gonna be listing off and talking about the canon neurodivergent characters in lost. i won’t be adding characters that i personally headcanon as neurodivergent in some way, what i’m writing here is elaboration upon what has been given to me by the show. please note that none of these people’s conditions or disorders were named in the show, so such diagnoses being named here are me taking that extra step based upon their symptoms

first of all i wanna point out that based on what i’ve seen the show, that the island’s healing powers applies to conditions inflicted upon the mind, not ones inherent to the mind. thats why daniel’s brain damage heals, but people like hurley and locke will always continue to have depression

hugo “hurley” reyes

schizophrenia and depression

our most prominently featured mentally ill character. it might seem bold to label him with schizophrenia when it’s never said that that’s what he has. but during his time on lost, he displays many of the symptoms: paranoia, pathological self loathing, delusions and hallucinations. now, it’s a fictionalized depiction of schizophrenia and that’s probably not even what the writers had in mind but it’s none the less a really, really good and respectful portrayal of it

it would take too long to list off all the times when hurley displays paranoia (heck, it’s easy not to notice how much its a part of his character) and self loathing. delusions? the situations regarding the numbers and his bad luck (canon never ever Proves what hurley believes to be true regarding that stuff)

they did an episode dedicated to hurley having hallucinations. a man named dave who drives him to self destructive behaviour, self hatred and attempted suicide. fun fact: when people with schizophrenia in real life have hallucinations, they tend towards just auditory. hurley gets visual as well as per Rule Of Drama. this is not a bad thing, just a narrative tool

(steering slightly into headcanon for a bit here but i personally ignore the dharma made Hurley Bird they revealed in the epilogue and just take hurley hearing that bird say his name as an auditory hallucination. for two reasons: one, hurley hearing/seeing things that don’t exist is already consistent with his mental state. and two, that bird literally, genuinely did not fucking say hurley)

extra notes

to be clear, in case there's confusion, hurley really does have magical powers. he can talk to dead people. that isn’t a delusion or hallucination. you can understand how confusing and distressing this must be for hurley

he's had a compulsive eating disorder since he was ten due to the pain of his father abandoning him. his struggle with this is well documented

at several points during the show he’s shown to have trouble spelling. he especially confuses his “y(s)” and “ies”. it’s not clear if this is due to poor education or a learning issue. or both, really. it’s safe to assume with him being poor, mexican and mentally ill, that school wasn’t easy for hurley

hurley has unjustifiably lived at mental health institutions on at least two occasions (the first time was against his will, second was volunteer)

john locke

depression

locke suffers from severe self esteem issues, and i know most lost characters do, but i mean to the point of irrational and destructive behaviour. he has an obsession with being deemed special in order to justify his existence. he also suffers jarring mood swings. (he can switch from calm and jovial to angry and defensive at the drop of a hat). when he was wheelchair bound, this threw him into a depression. when he failed to convince anybody to come back to the island, he attempted suicide. he would have gone thru with it too. he will go to extremes to make sure things stay the way he wants them to (killing an innocent woman so they can stay on the island, tying up and drugging boone so he won’t tell anybody about the hatch), and will fall into despair if he fails

also note that the things im saying about locke are not a comment on people with depression. i don’t think all depressed people kill and drug people. those were statements on locke’s character that i believe are a part of his mental state. my point is: he’s emotionally unstable and he tried to kill himself. and i think his extreme need for validation (from people and the universe in general) is especially concerning

to me, this all says to me that locke has clinical depression

locke isn’t as easy as the other people on this list to classify as Canon Neurodivergent but at least to me, i think it’s very obvious. like i feel bad being so vague but like, basically, watch any locke episode

daniel faraday

acquired brain damage, severe memory degradation as well as other neurodivergent behaviours (i’ll go into it)

he’s played by jeremy davies. enough said

okay, jokes aside. at some point in the past daniel and his assistant theresa were involved in some vaguely referred to time based experiments. while she was catatonicized, the accident left daniel severely brain damaged (also daniel spent years doing radioactive experiments without head protection, which would not have helped and indeed that is foreshadowing of this whole debacle)

apparently this left him in a state where he can no longer take care of himself, having been assigned a carer. his most outstanding symptom is that his ability to process short AND long term memory has been impaired

short term: he’s shown to have issues retaining memories from day to day. he wasn’t sure if he had met charles widmore already (he hadn’t). charles lays some exposition on him and when daniel asks why he’s telling him this, charles says, with sureness, that “because by tomorrow you won’t remember this”. counting on that to be an absolute fact seems silly to me but that does seem to the case. again, Rule Of Drama is in play here

long term: he can no longer access memories he formed many years ago, famously the memories he formed with desmond in 1996. all in all, this condition is highly plot convenient. can’t argue with results, really

no, i can keep going, i got more, this is daniel fucking faraday we’re talking about: his ability to remember 3 playing cards has been impaired (note that this is a skill most 4 year olds master), he forgot the secret code the science team were all taught and when he introduces himself to jack there is a long pause, in hindsight implying that daniel forgot his own name

like real life memory conditions, theres varying level to how much he does and doesn’t remember. he’s thankfully not in a 50 first dates situation and doesn’t forget everything day to day. clearly he remembers people if they’re around enough, like during his time on the boat. charlotte, miles, frank, naomi...

upon landing on the island, his memory slowly gets better (considering his condition beforehand, the fact that nobody comments on this is staggering)

when dan is fully healed? i could not say, i could theorize, but such things are nebulous. but still, the times we see dan without his brain damage, he still behaves like a neurodivergent person. just not like he was when he was brain damaged. he stims near constantly, has a tendency to repeat names and words (echolalia) and it’s shown that dan compulsively counts in his head. he counted up to 864 beats, if i remember correctly, which is about 10 minutes of counting in his head. by no stretch of the imagination is that neurotypical behaviour

(im not trying to sound defensive. and i don’t think anybody, anywhere, is arguing that daniel faraday is a neurotypical. unfathomable)

going into headcanon territory again, his ND traits, when not brain damaged, say to me that he’s autistic and/or has OCD and possibly anxiety. thats all theorizing on my part tho. but the fact of the matter is, damage or no, he’s neurodivergent

notes

his apparent need for tactile sensory input is legendary in the lost fandom. in layman’s terms: him pet pet. not just people but objects too. humans, overall, tend to touch things to process input better. many ND people do it more, and it seems daniel is a case of that (i am not making a solid statement on jeremy davies’ neuro state. that’s his business)

he shows an inability to properly process grief

he also shows shocking indifference to his own safety, resulting in reckless behaviour. how much of this is a result of his mental state or his upbringing is up for debate. i think it’s a combo of both

without his brain damage, he appears to have an eidetic memory

danielle rousseau

trauma induced mental illness

pretty self explanatory. the loss of her expedition, husband and daughter, as well as 16 years of loneliness (on THIS island) has resulted in emotional instability for danielle. she’s prone to paranoia, trust issues, irrational behaviour

she’s just not well. she’s right most of the time but she’s not well

libby smith

indeterminate mental state 

libby was institutionalized (the same place hurley was sent to) and placed on medication (which seemed like sedatives to me, based on her expressions). in the show it’s not what clear what put her there, but having just done some research, i’ve discovered that Word Of God says that libby became mentally unstable after the death of her husband dave smith. so this is probably another case of trauma induced mental illness. she must have had a pretty extreme episode to cause her to be sent to a place like that. something to think about

but alas, it’s libby, so not much info. moving on

benjamin linus

anti social behaviour disorder (is my best guess)

oof. depictions of mental illness with characters who are immoral are depictions of mental illness nonetheless. i feel almost silly saying this but: ben is not... okay

ben displays issues (at best) with empathy, compassion and morality. how much he cares about other people is highly debatable but one thing that's certain is that he does genuinely love his daughter. everybody else is ????

but the loving alex thing rules out him being a sociopath or having narcissistic personality disorder. and it is genuine because when he loses it with grief, it’s not a performance, because the only audience is us...

he’s a compulsive liar, lying even when it doesn’t benefit him. lying just because. ben is highly unpredictable, which isn’t inherently a neurodivergent thing, but when a person goes from a calm discussion to strangling somebody, all roads point to Uh Oh (i don’t know the technical terms for Uh Oh). many of his outward emotions are performed (the difference between his fake smiles and few real smiles is noticeable). he’s manipulative, he treats people like objects for his benefit/plans, he’s self absorbed, he has zero issues with murder unless it’s a child. he does have some moral standards. but overall, uh, [just gestures at ben]

also ben is repeatedly offended when other people don’t trust him, which is HILARIOUS, but also shows a cognitive dissonance on his part

hmm i need more here, im gonna break out the big guns

that’s some basic info there and doesn’t that line up with ben?

the article goes on to say that people with this can put on superficial charm. that is, behave friendly and “normal” when they have to. which ben is shown to be able to do

and this

“Serious problems with interpersonal relationships are often seen in those with the disorder. Attachments and emotional bonds are weak, and interpersonal relationships often revolve around the manipulation, exploitation, and abuse of others.”

reminds me of his situation with juliet. and locke. and his “friendships” in general

i snipped the wikipedia article for this because unlike the rest i felt,,, underequipped to talk about this sort of thing

ben being mentally unwell is clear enough in canon and i think this disorder is what lines up best with it. please note that ben is capable of change and growth (like people in real life who have such issues) and like the show i’m not gonna paint him 100% evil or irredeemable. i’m just saying what’s true

notes

ben says at one point that he doesn’t dream anymore. it’s highly probably that this is a lie, but if it isn’t, well that's not good. it’d mean his brain isn’t entering into REM sleep properly, which can lead to emotional problems

ben doesn’t blink as much as most people do, something michael emerson did on purpose. this can apply to some neurodivergent people

it’s shown that he was quite nonverbal as a kid. in the flashbacks in “man behind the curtain” little ben barely speaks

honourable mentions

pretty much all the survivors suffer from PTSD due the trauma of the crash

a great deal of the characters suffer from PTSD from trauma in general due to their awful lifes. like, abusive parents, war, loss of loved ones, etc

and i must note that ben, daniel and locke suffering from parental abuse, ranging from emotional to physical, is something to factor into their cases

claire, similar to danielle, also suffered trauma induced mental illness due to the loss of her baby and feeling like she was abandoned

sayid is depicted as dead inside during season 6 due to The Sickness, so thats like a magical form of depression. and one could argue that he already had regular depression beforehand

boone joked about shannon having bulimia. (whether or not it’s true, boone is an asshole) if it’s true, shannon has an eating disorder, which is considered a form of mental illness. espech one so self image based

self harm

self harm is not an inherent part of mental illness but such concepts are often linked so i felt i should mention some of these, it’ll be quick

hurley’s aforementioned eating disorder

charlie takes heroin as a form of self harm (that isn’t a theory on my part, it’s clear as day that charlie started taking it because his sense of self worth was so low that the drugs felt like the only option)

locke, hurley, (both as mentioned above), jack, desmond, michael and richard have all attempted/nearly commited suicide

so what can we conclude from this? well that's up to you, really. that i love lost a fuck ton? that the actors and writing in lost is amazing? that all the neurodivergent based depth got saved for the boys? yeah

but i wanna conclude with this: a part of what makes lost really special to me is that these people i’ve talked out here? they’ve suffered, and oh boy it was tasty suffering, but all of them, yes even libby, were more than suffering

these people have nuance. one way or another, these people (to varying degrees) were happy at times. silly. funny. angry. opinionated. they loved. they were loved. they lived and breathed as human beings. that means a lot to me

lost is a story of broken people given a second chance. take that as you will

thank you for your time

[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

A/N- It’s my first time posting my writing on Tumblr but I guess better late than never huh, so here you go. More is in work so please anticipate a lot.

~Fay

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:1.7k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more ; you.

Series: Masterlist ll Part 2 lI Part 3

                                           Part 1: Distress

                                            °•. ✿ .•°

“Why own a fucking iPhone when you can’t even answer a fucking call?! Dammit!”, he breathed hard after his nth tempt to connect the line failed again, his own Samsung device was clutched tightly in hand, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Yoongi had reached that point where smashing the black covered device in hand to the wall was considered a bliss, but he was saint enough to convince himself otherwise. Not when his phone was his gateway out of this mess; the only way maybe. So he tried again; redialing the numbers, manually even.

 “I swear I’ll shred your trench coat to pieces, fucking im-“

The end of the line connected midway his constant ranting.

“Oh thank God above you finally answered! What took you so long?”

“Ever heard of Bio lecture Yoongi?”, the soft voice at the receiving end answers calmly, though Yoongi knew the person was beyond annoyed.

 Who wouldn’t? Multiple spam in all form of communication, texts, kakaotalk, Instagram dm; at this point, Yoongi wanted to settle down to those damn pigeons. Even Yoongi would be out of his head if it happen to him, not that it will happen in the near future or anything.

“Don’t outsmart me woman, I’m not in the mood.”

“What is it Yoongi? You know I have class at this time of the day”

“I need your help”, his breath came out breathless than ever.

“Fuck if you’re asking about the same kinetic and potential energy chapter, I’m gonna rip all my nonexistent and existent  hair out of my-“

“Please…”

                                        ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You swear it took you everything not to scream out of frustration watching your phone blow off during lecture period. Plus, the same ID that keeps popping up on the lock screen adds the bitter taste. Once your professor said the word ‘thank-‘, you were already making your way out of the hall, books not even properly shoved in bag and you were sure you left your favourite baby blue Sharpie highlighter behind.

Once in the hallway, you yanked your phone out of your sling bag and slide the screen harshly, already embracing yourself for the upcoming questions and constant groaning. What you did not expect is the person on the other side panting heavily, desperate. Yoongi sounds…distress.You were still processing his jumbled words but once the word ‘please’ escaped his mouth, you froze.

That word is so rare to even pass-through Yoongi’s head, what less say it. The last time you remembered the word ever exist in his sentence, was the day he consulted you at the cafeteria. Head down, full frown and shoulder slumped was some few giveaway you could collect which equals to one thing; failed test.

You were used to people asking you questions, since you were one of the few alphas in curriculum areas. But having Yoongi, the junior of Art and Music Department, Majoring in Music Production asking you to be a full-time physics tutor is…well, unexpected. You pity him, that poor boy seems like he couldn’t breathe for goodness sake, not until you lean back to your metal seats and smile softly, not forgetting to nod along while you utter the word that Yoongi seems dread to hear, ‘Sure, when?’

You swear his eyes shine like a good measure 60 watts light bulb. But that was long time ago, you lost track how long it was though you were sure it won’t be more than a year now, hearing that Yoongi is in serious problem was the main pushover to your muscle cells.

The thing is Yoongi never beg, ever. He never sounds that desperate even when he got 5 per cent on his last two physics quiz, he never sounds this discomfort.

“I’ll be there in five”.

                                          ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You almost lost a footing while climbing the stairs up the boys’ dormitory, but you didn’t stall behind. Once room 103 is in front of you, you proceed to reach out to knock, when you heard an infant’s cry. You froze, chest rising in rapid beat from all the runnings.

“Yoongi?”

The crying was still there, you glance to check the neighbouring room number on the door, confirming that the room in front of you indeed belongs to Yoongi. So you crossed your heart and decided to knock, after all, you go with the concept YOLO. The door opened to reveal a hopelessly in despair Yoongi and a small woven basket on his dinner table, the moving mauve blanket shows that he wasn’t alone in the room, physically anyway.

Though the facts were right in front of your eyes, your mouth was sealed from emitting any word, what less sounds. You just stand there, at his doorstep, mouth agape. The cried were getting louder and the small tiny hands rising from the woven basket was doing nothing other than deepening the frown on Yoongi’s forehead.

“Come on Y/n, say something…”

Once his words registered in yourself, you took a last glance to Yoongi, before backing away into the hallway and sprint off.

“I need to go.”

“Y/n wait!”

No no no, this is bad. He thought Y/n would be different, thought she’ll understand but turns out, she ran away.

“Just…just like Hyoju.”, Yoongi whispers.

The cries from behind him gets louder and he snapped to look at the one sole thing that currently gives him a headache.

“Can you fucking shut it?!”

Yoongi growled but then retracted away from the dining table, against the wall and sliding down on his back until he reaches the floor. A sudden seed of fear bloom in his chest,

“What am I doing, am I already out of my mind? He’s just a baby, what does he even know?”, Yoongi sigh while standing and dragged himself to the basket, brushing along his slender fingers through the baby’s thin hair; his baby. The living being right in front of him is his own making, an act done without even considering about the effect. In this case, Yoongi can admit that he’s one of the few to be blame, maybe THE ONE to be blamed, fuck he was so drunk that night he can barely remember her, the mother of his child, Han Hyoju

The baby’s crying subsided a little as soon as Yoongi’s fingers make contact with the head, as if the touch of a 10-minutes-ago-newly known-father is proof that it’s safe for the little one.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do”, he whispered because it was a fact.

Yoongi was never a fan of kids, he was never a person-type, a typical signs of an introvert. His only source of never-ending help support is none other than his roommate, Dance Major Park Jimin. He helps Yoongi realize that age is just numbers, Yoongi; as a hyung, two years older, seeks more advice than he wants to admit. This whole two years living with Jimin, the topic of conversation never goes off if it didn’t start with Jimin encouraging Yoongi to get some sunlight on him to which Jimin always said, as Yoongi quoted “We don’t need a walking paperwhite corpse walking around campus, hyung. Go out and get some air would you?”.

 It’s just that Jimin’s happy go lucky trait as well as his naturally warm smile is enough to blooms a friendship unlike Yoongi, who people would just point fingers at and said ‘cold, harsh and rock dead’ just by a mere look. Jimin don’t, however. That’s how Yoongi opened up a little to him. But now, that said roommate can’t help him, being on the other side of Korea, back in Busan his hometown for four days(though Yoongi doubt he won’t prolong it) limits Yoongi to ask for any favour to his friend. The kid in front of him will die of thirst first if he waits for Jimin. That’s what left him to his other only friend; Y/L/N Y/N.

But Yoongi could understand what you did, how you act. It’s because both Yoongi and you didn’t share more than three sentences, or on some lucky days short bickering outside of your tutoring hour. He only knows the basic things for someone to be an acquaintance; name, major and room number(because it slipped your mouth once when texting your roommate), but other than that, zero-knowledge. Jimin insisted that he asked more, to what Yoongi always dismiss, he’s too shy or scared, or maybe both.

Though Yoongi knew so much, he still labels you as a friend, which means a name listed in his life whereabouts, significant enough for him, not a nobody. He wanted to smile thinking that you’re indeed a friend to him, but it falters upon remembering you retreated away.

“I’m doomed…”

A sudden burst of the door jolted Yoongi, retracting his hand that once was playing with the baby hairs on his child’s head. You walk in, head high and face determined. You dropped off your school bag by the sofa, the usual place when you hang around Yoongi’s room after tutor session. Yoongi was overwhelmed, all his senses went numb, why did you return?

“Yoongi, does the baby comes with a bag, a pouch, anything other than the basket?”, you already made your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi still got a perfect view of your side profile from where he’s standing.

“Umm-“, Yoongi snapped out of his short trance and reached out for the mustard yellow beg that was originally in the same basket as his child when he first opens his door this morning, “Is this it?”

You glance over to him and nod, motioning him to hand it over. Once the bag is in your hand, you unzip it and pull out a baby bottle. Yoongi just watched in awe as you mixed baby formula, Yoongi assumed the grey paper bag you brought with you contained the powder formulae. He knows he shouldn’t be gawking like that, but he’s completely amazed, the fact that you came back had him racked his brain for a reason why, and now you’re going through all of this just to feed his kid. He felt small. Once the formula milk was done, you walked towards the living room and straight to the dining table, where the baby is. The red face of the baby shows just how long it had been crying.

‘Poor thing.’,  you thought. You put down the baby bottle on the table, hands reached out to swoop out the crying baby and puts the nuzzle near the mouth. After some effort, the baby takes in the nuzzle into his mouth and right away the rooms fell into a deep silence.

“Aww you poor thing, starving huh? It’s okay it’s okay. I got you.”,  you cooed.

Yoongi stood there dumbly, watching you feeding his own child, still confused but for sure, extremely grateful. Now if only explaining is easy enough.

[chcfasher]

okay i am so excited to get to plotting & interacting with all u cuties ! bare with me though , im also trying to study for a quiz i gotta take later tonight . anyways , i’m mia aka your resident masshole reporting for duty . i’m 20 years old ... will be 21 in june ( fingers crossed my Sad ass will be out of q*arentine by then ) . i go by she / her / dumb bitch pronouns & am very much so done talking about myself already . so lets get to my boy asher here who is ... how do you say ? a asshole ? a dirt bag ? a soft baby boi ? if you wanna plot & discord is easier for you shoot me a mssg @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 . lets goooo 💛

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒

full name: asher james bennett nickname: ash , aj birthday: march 25 , 1996 zodiac: aries hometown: madison , wisconsin ( click here to see his parents house / childhood home ) current residence: los angeles , california ( although he lives in the villa with everyone , before the year away he lived on his own & still owns the home , both because he loves the place and because it gives his family somewhere to go when they come out click here to see his house ) vehicle: 2017 jeep wrangler rubicon in black ( click here ) , 2019 maserati granturismo in red ( click here ) gender: cismale orientation: heterosexual , heteromantic relationship status: single ( it’s complicated ) family: tamara marie bennett-abbott ( mother ) , harrison charles bennett ( father , deceased ) , mason billings abbott ( stepfather ) , bradford sawyer abbott ( brother ) , stephanie anne bennett ( sister )  education: vocational highschool graduating from the culinary program , graduated ucla with a bachelor in management with a minor in food studies occupation: celebrity chef , tv personality  net worth: 19.7m height: 5′11″ weight: 161lbs tattoos: left arm ( x , x ) , right arm ( x , x  , plus the butterfly tattoo jack has ) , right hand ( x ) , right thigh ( x ) , left leg ( x ) criminal record: arrested ( x6 ) - simple assault ( x2 ) , assault and battery ( x1 ) ,  disorderly conduct ( x2 ) , criminal mischief ( x1 ) , criminal trespassing ( x2 ) , minor in possession of alcohol ( x2 ) , drug possession ( x1 ) drugs / alochol / smoking: yes , mostly marijuana though / yes / no moral alignment: chaotic neutral hogwarts house: slytherin theme song: righteous by juice wrld (  a look at his mental health and the way it he attempts to cope ) & i am by james arthur ( deep dives into his view on himself and how outside opinions of him have effected the way he sees himself ) & empty space by james arthur ( instead of being about a girl this really encapsulates how the loss of his father has affected his life ) traits: charismatic , well-intentioned , affectionate , loyal , jocular , reckless , immature , flippant , short-tempered label: politicians son , miscreant , fuck boy , broken bird , mr. misunderstood , mama’s boy , epicure hidden talents: drawing , singing , master at rubiks cube , skilled card counter ( blackjack )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

asher was born just eleven months after his sister stephanie , to at the time lobbyist harrison bennett &  prosecutor tamara bennett . a menace as a child , he made dennis the menace look like a saint , basically . at first his parents hoped this was simply just a phase but as time went on it became very clear that  if it were a phase it was going on for much longer than his parents had hoped . his sister immediately taking on the spot of prodigal daughter , while asher took on the spot of black sheep of the family . this didn’t mean that his parents didn’t absolutely adore both of their children , because they did . both taking on daddy’s little girl & mama’s boy respectively , early on . 

around the time asher was seven both of his parents were up for office , his mother for district attorney & his father for u.s representative from wisconsin . the influx of cameras / eyes on the bennett family mixed with the level of stress both his parents were under completely put asher off from the world of politics . despite being in a family that had generational ties to politics on both sides . during a family appearance asher was captured on camera ( both video & photo ) putting up a piece sign behind his sisters head during a speech his father was giving . 

[ tw: death , suicide , loss of a parent ] when asher was twelve his father went on a boating trip with friend , call it a boys trip if you will . two days into the trip news broke of his father being in a major boating accident where harrison was the only one on the boat & was dead upon being found . it later was confirmed by the coroner that his death was likely a suicide .  the loss of harrison was hard on the entire family , it was easy to say it affected asher heavily having locked himself away in his bedroom for nearly a week only leaving his room to go to the bathroom & grab food that he’d return to his room to eat . later , when he returned to school he was suspended just in that school year three times . it was genuinely the beginning to the incredibly reckless version of asher , that we seen since .

despite his antics he played varsity football as a cornerback & varsity soccer as a midfielder . taking up sports at an early age , it was clear he was a born athlete who genuinely enjoyed a little competition . he also took an interest in culinary , he was very much so that kid standing on a step stool as he helped his parents in the kitchen . this interest turned into him attending a vocational / trade highschool instead of an ordinary public school , like he had in elementary & middle . 

when he was fifteen he started a youtube channel where he posted cook with me videos weekly & vlogged his experience within the culinary program at school .

during highschool his mom started getting serious with a professor at the local university . asher , of course , hated the idea of his mom replacing his dad and it took nearly two years & an engagement for him to actually sit down & listen to his mom about the situation . it wasn’t until then that he realized , mason , was supposed to replace his father ... it was simply his mom not allowing herself to get stuck in one place in life & fall into a spiral . once he actually heard her side he gave the guy a chance . turns out the two have alot in common & get along very well . he’ll never replace his father but he respects him none the less .

before he’d even graduated highschool , asher amassed over 1m subscribers , made appearances on the ellen degeneres show & rachel ray show . this was around the time he realized he wanted to turn his hobby into something more than that & hell he was good enough to do so . when graduation came , he’d already committed to attending ucla as a business major with a minor in food studies . 

soon after graduation he went on the show master chef , finishing as runner up , which was one hell of a feat given he’d been the youngest chef on the show . he enjoyed the experience & recognition the show gave him . 

while at ucla he continued to play football he was so good he was receiving national attention to the point where nfl scouts were looking at him . obviously he was still too young to go into the draft but they let him know , this was something that was more than on the table . it was definitely something he loved hearing but at the end of the day , the nfl was never really the goal for asher . so toward the end of his sophomore season when he was suspended for the rest of the season for getting arrested & charged with drug possession & criminal trespassing he took that as the excuse not to return the sport the following season .

this was not the first time ( we know it was not the last *wink wonk* ) asher was arrested . from the end of his middle school days throughout highschool he’d racked up four arrests . his first one taking place in eighth grade & the only reason the misdemeanor charges actually went through were because his mom asked for them to in hopes that it would scare asher from acting out in such a fashion ever again . unfortunately , his actions were rooted in much more than teen rebellion having never accepting or being able to cope with his father’s passing . the charges & arrests that would follow his mom was able to cover up & kind of bury them . that way word didn’t spread like wildfire about her reckless son .

not even a full year removed from football & he’d accepted a tv show offer from food network . a show called asher’s kitchen a primetime half-hour show where a new chef would come on each week if they beat asher in making a 3-course meal they win bragging rights & $20,000 , if they don’t they go home empty handed . despite the shows constant high ratings asher grew bored of the show & left after only two seasons . the network tried to replace him but quickly learned asher’s personality was what really carried the show .

in 2018 , he went on to open his first ever restaurant the smoking goat an american bistro with an upscale vibe in the heart of los angeles . the place is literally his baby & if you can’t find him you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll find him there . whether it’s catching up with regulars or big name celebrities coming through the doors , or throwing on a chef coat and cooking up some of his very own specials . 

around the time of his restaurant opening he started to let up on the youtube channel & it’s now been nearly two years since he’s uploaded & honestly has no intent on returning to the platform . in asher’s eyes , everything has a term limit & his youtube channels time was up .

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗 / 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

the timing of his amsterdam arrest was to say the least , horrific . not only was he in talks with several networks ( fox , cbs , netflix , etc ) to have his own daytime food-focused talk show but his mother was at the beginning stages of her 2020 presidential campaign , which she had since put a halt to and decided to continue on with her tenure as a u.s senator from wisconsin . with the headlines of his arrest spreading like wildfire , the internet resurfaced many of his earlier transgressions , the networks inevitably put a halt to going any further in negotiation & the political realm began to turn their attention to the kind of parent the senator was to have a son so ... out of control ? her opposition questioning how she could run a country if she couldn’t so much as raise a law abiding son .

upon his release from jail he took a jet straight home to wisconsin . with the realization of how much harm he’d done to the bennett reputation he made the personal promise to stay away from the media ( no social media , no tv , nothing ) & be the son the political world expected from a politician . his mother ( who is emulated mostly after laura baker from all american ) nearly begged him not to halt his life as a way of personal punishment for his actions . but after months back home & away from the limelight , asher could see the tides turning back in his moms favor & no big network offer ( and there were quite a few that came his way after the news of his arrest subsided ) could pull him back out into the forefront . 

instead opening his second restaurant bennett’s  , an upscale bar & grill in the capital city of wisconsin . he also began work on a cook book that’s kind of taken on a life of it’s own but he’s yet to be anywhere close to finishing that . 

he has inevitably decided to come back & reunite with the bling ring a year later after his family sat him down & kind of had an intervention with him over his persistence to punish himself . claiming they feel he’s matured & gotten a good grasp on himself & that they don’t think he’ll fall into his bad behaviors again . ( spoiler alert: they’re going to be very wrong about this ... just saying / he’s going to return with the intent of being a better guy , being on the “ right track “ but lets be real it’s going to quickly spiral out of control as per usual ) . 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

as you can probably tell this boy is no good . he’s the guy your parents warn you about , i swear , he will get you into so much trouble & bask in the glory of being the one to give you such an adrenaline rush . he’s big on being here for a good time & not a long time . he just wants to have fun , at any cost . he’s extremely goofy , the kind of guy to whip out some mediocre wrestling moves on you for the sake of getting attention . he doesn’t take much seriously ... until he does ? what im saying is homeboy has one hell of a short temper and once he’s flipped his fuse , he basically blacks out . the reason for this is because no matter how happy & full of life he’d like to come off he has this deep well of anger that swells in him ever since he lost his dad . also a topic that can get him clenching his jaw , do not under any circumstances bring up harrison bennett . very much so a mama’s boy , though , catch him facetiming his mom once a day to tell her how much he loves her & see how she’s doing . he can come off very uncaring at times , it’s easy to say he’s probably one of the most misunderstood people around . he comes off like a douchebag , like someone who has little regard for others & don’t get me wrong he often is both of those things but he isn’t heartless ? when he has time to sit back and think about the damage he does ... it hits him like a mack truck & he goes into a pretty dark place of feeling like he’s a villain but he wants to be the hero of the story ? not very big on apologizing , verbally . if he says sorry you can bet a smug grin is following behind the words . instead he’s big on buying things & even cooking to show he’s sorry . probably not the best way to go about things but this is asher we’re talking about here . he is a flirt & will fuck anything . that’s all i have to say about that . onto his friends ? whew are his friends his world . he is a big proponent of bros before hoes & is an extremely loyal guy - to his friends . a true ride or die type a guy , he’d help he hide a dead body without any explanation at so what happened . a big move now ask questions later kinda dude .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

BREATHE BY JAMES ARTHUR : he has a soft spot for her . he always has . she’s one of the only girls who doesn’t drool over him , they’ve never hooked up to any extent and that’s due in large part to her telling him from the beginning that the only way she’d give him a chance was if he straightened up his act & proved to her that he was worth her time . if there is a girl out there who can asher for the better , it’s her . but everytime she thinks she’s gotten him on the right path , she catches him either acting out or reverting to his fuck boy ways & getting with girl’s who he doesn’t have to put so much work into .

SAME SQUAD BY P-LO : let’s be real these three originated “saturdays are for the boys” . they’ve been boys for as long as they can remember . if you see one of them around you can rest assured the other two are in the vicinity . they’re the best of friends . they know everything there is to know about each other . all a bit reckless , but that’s what makes them such a fun trio . a very homiesexual bond takes place between these three & nothing & nobody could get between them .

CLOSE FRIENDS BY LIL BABY & GUNNA : they were once good friends , things spiraled past the point of their control , lines got blurred & then they were dating . the relationship as a whole was one no one thought would last . to give them credit things were good at first but after he cheated & she found out from a friend about it things started to go down hill . things only got worse when he was persistent in lying to her about the situation . she inevitably took him back & not too much later the arrest in amsterdam happened . before he was even released from jail , she was sent a video of him & one of his friends talking about sleeping with a prostitute . although it never happened the fact that was his intent was enough for her . his expectation was that because she forgave him before she’d wipe away the pain of him once again not having regard for their relationship & forgive him but she just couldn’t . when he came out to her forwarding the video to him , he decided to ignore the situation completely . the two have not had any contact for nearly a year & never really broke up or spoke about the situation . 

NO FRAUDS BY NICKI MINAJ & DRAKE & LIL WAYNE : the perfect ride or die squad . the media likes to say someone in the trio is dating at any point in time but , that’s just not the case . these three are always getting into something . the true depiction of always having your friends back . they will lie for each other , fight for each other , anything to prove their loyalty to each other .  

i also have some musing posts here , if you want to give that a look !

[australian-desi]

Qurbaan Hua ~ Episode 5-9: Of IVF Being Horrible, Windchimes, Cunning Aunties and Disgusting Husbands

Gonna dive right in

Episode 5

Mans has gone from “me and Meera have been dating for 6 months” to screaming “I LOVE YOU MEERA” at the top of the mountain 

Time for another coincidance - it’s purnima so he’s going to go ask for a mannat and on this day different people from different faiths go to this certain place for their wishes and prayers - and we all know what that means

Also now that I’ve watched a few episodes, I have to say I really like the styling  for Chahat they’ve given her a mix of ethnic and western wear and the fancy clothes she wears are really pretty (so far) and I hope it stays this way

I am a complete slut for mannat scenes and this one was very pure

Why can’t these people say Saraswati, it isn’t that hard

Also it’s 2020, surely it’s time we understand just because a woman is pregnant doesn’t mean she’s disabled and needs to be carried everywhere

Also, Naveli (Anjali2.0 and Neil’s cousin) is superrr suss

SHE TAPED HIS FACE OMG IM MORE IMPRESSED BY HER BY EVERY MINUTE

And she’s given him meds to give to the people he interacts with coz he causes them headaches (and he’s held onto it the whole time coz Pehle Pyaar Ka Pehla Tohfa) 

Awww our OTP has ‘Bhags stamp of approval’ 

They’ve also touched her feet how cute

Episode 6

So Ghazala has ruined Chahat’s mum’s sharara and like this is what I mean they’ve written her horribly, like why would someone go out of their way to hurt a kid like that - her mother’s dead what more does she want

And daddy dearest has another pooja to attend so he’s said no to attending his daughter’s baby shower, something Neil is now salty about

For a doctor, Chahat’s dad is quite daft 

And for a pandit, Neil’s dad is quite mean

Nice touch by Ghazala by turning this whole thing on Chahat, and thankfully her dad believes her

Episode 7

So this Kamini wannabe of a mami has said that Saraswati’s baby is najayaz, and at this point I really have got to ask - how the fuck did she jump to that conclusion?????

Apparently coz she was barren for 8 years, so how can she be pregnant now, so something must be up 

The logic fails me here, IF SHE WAS BARREN/WAS UNABLE TO GET PREGNANT, HOW TF IS THE CHILD ILLEGITIMATE???

OMFLLLLLL SHE’S SAYING THAT COZ THE CHILD WAS CONCEIVED FROM IVF, THAT’S WHY IT’S ILLEGITIMATE 

I CANNOT

I’M SO CLOSE TO QUITTING 

DO THESE DUMBASS PEOPLE NOT REALISE THAT AN IVF BABY IS ALSO A BLESSING IN ITSELF, IT’S NOT 100% GUARANTEED TO GET YOU PREGNANT EITHER BUT IT HELPS 

By this logic they shouldn’t use annnnyyyy modern technology 

I understand Neil now, and why he’s so done with this bullshit

YAAASSS NEIL, GO FUCK THEM UP 

Look Chahat, I love you and all, but like listen to Neil when it comes to his crazy psychotic family

Also do not tell me like the Oberoi family, this whole family cannot have 1 smooth sailing function/party 

We love a sibling duo that had to raise each other because their parents were dead/useless 

I’m so fucking done, now not only does your doctor have to be of the same religion, he/she has to be from the same caste 

YEH DOCTOR DHOOND RAHE HAI KE RISHTA 

Neil’s trying to talk some sense to these people, but as usual, he gets shut down for talking sense 

OMG HE’S COME OUT WITH FACCSSSS AND HAS GIVEN HIS DAD AN ULTIMATUM - His daughter or his dharm 

Also by saying that if he’s so for modern technologies in other areas, why is he against iVF 

Omg daddy pandit finally got some sense - this was an exhausting feat

Poor tacky Kamini, unlike the og, this one’s plans always fall short 

Neil, take Saraswati and just get the fuck out of here, this dumbass mami has come with a plan and is not going to rest until one of these kids gets disowned 

Episode 8

So Vyasji in a twisted turn of events has accepted Neil’s gf, as long as their kundlis meet 

Let’s be real their stars ain’t aligning in this life 

Chahat is talking to her mother through this windchime she made with her mother’s jhumke (I guess its a coping mechanisms) about how she’s gotten a cake ordered and needs to pick it up

The windchime has told her that she needs to learn how to cook to get married 

Basically even if your Indian mother is dead, her ghost will still taunt you on your inability to get married even when you are a doctor 

She has decided she will marry a chef so that she doesnt need to learn how to cook 

The foreshadowing, the cluelessness

Omg Neil’s dad writes with ink and a peacock feather (why did I think this man would write with a pen like a normal person)

He’s literally whipped out a chart and started making Neil’s (ex)gf’s kundli RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS DAUGHTER’S BABY SHOWER BECAUSE #priorities 

Anjali2.0 is literally sitting there praying as if Vyasji is sitting there calculating her Year 12 results and not a kundli

And we’ve got an “asambhav”, but we all knew that - Neil’s literally smirking coz he knew no matter what, the stars won’t align 

Omlll he’s inherited the whole “I write my own destiny” from Arnav 

“Main uss ladko ko kabhi nahi apnaunga” “Toh kya faraq padta hai, main usse apna chuka hoon” Boisss I really like this dude 

I wish I had this confidence but alas, I do not

And Neil has decided to leave the chat, go to Delhi and get married there, while giving everyone a fuck you (except his sister ofcourse)

Little does he know he isn’t even gonna make it to the bloody bus stand before he ends back here 

Anjali2.0 is begging her dad to stop him, but he’s talking about the stars and shit 

And right on cue Chahat and Neil are walking on the same bridge, none of them paying attention, they crash and just like that, the cake has fallen into the deep sea, adding to the pollution 

OMGG THIS MAN TOLD HER HOW ALL DADS ARE USELESS AND SHE GOES “oh hello, tumhe bohot saare childhood issues hai, lekin mere baba aise nahi hai ... woh mere liye taare bhi tod sakte hai” 

THIS IS WHY WE NEEDED A FEMALE LEAD IN THE MEDICAL FIELD - SHE UNDERSTOOD WITHIN 2-3 MEETINGS HOW FUCKED UP OUR DUDE IS 

and now he’s sarcastically congratulating her on her father because “aur ek mere baba hai jo hamesha taaron mein uljhe rehte hai, aur vaise tumhe tumhaare taare todne waale baba, bohot, bohot, bohot hi ziada mubarak” 

LOLLL SHE’S PULLING AND DRAGGING HIM TO GET HER THE SAME CAKE AND HE TRIED TO GIVE HER MONEY TO BUY A NEW ONE, AND SHE’S LIKE NOPE, THE BAKERY I GET THIS FROM IS CLOSED AND SO YOU WILL PROVIDE ME WITH A NEW CAKE 

Lolll I never knew he will be stuck here because of a cake 

AND NOW SHE’S TAKEN HIS BAG AS HOSTAGE AND HE’S LITERALLY SCREAMING THAT SHE’S LOST THE PLOT 

But personally, I feel she gained it 

Turns out the shop that she got the cake from, is his friend’s shop, and now he’s baking the cake himself because my man is also a pastry chef 

And he’s friend has left the chat because he doesnt want to get beaten up 

So it’s time for the kitchen romance.tm

Omg he told her he’s a chef and she’s so turned on 

OMGGGGGGG IM DEDDD 

But should’t she tie her hair #justsaying

Now back to the Neil’s crazy fam, where the only other person with sense, Anjali2.0 has also said to her dad, that Neil was always right about him 

Yesss gurlll, give it back to him

She’s telling him off how he forego his religious beliefs for her, but why can’t he do the same for Neil

I actually like her so much and the way she’s written

She’s also telling him how she tried to make sure that Neil never felt their mother’s absence (a responsibility she didn’t to take up), because her dad never let Neil feel loved 

OMG SIS SAID THAT BY BEING HEAD PRIEST, YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN YOUR DUTY AS A FATHER AND SHE DID NOT STUTTER 

Everyone is shook (including me)

I was not expecting her to give her father an ultimatum

So she said, that if he does not give Neil and Meera his blessing, he will see her dead 

OMGGG WHYYYAYFOIHFBEI THE ANXIETY 

Episode 9

We’ve begun with some cuteness regarding her rubbing flour all over face 

And like the idiot he is, he’s told her that her face is completely clean 

OMGGG HE’S GUIDING HER HANDS 

HOLY SHIT SISSS IS ALREADY IMAGINING HERSELF BEING MARRIED TO HIM 

Like same, but I also cannot 

Also I’m lolling at the fact she’s imagining their Nikaah, like his family won’t kill him for that

OMG THIS DICKHEAD HAS GIVEN THE CAKE HE MADE FOR HER DAD TO THE GAREEB CHILDREN LIKE SHE GAVE HIS SANGORIA TO THE GAREEB CHILDREN 

Awww I spoke too soon, she left the cake at the shop and he was just messing with her 

Guysss I really love their chemistry

He said that he won’t sit behind her, coz he doesn’t sit behind girls *rolls eyes*, but she’s not having it and reminded him that she beat him in a motorcycle race so he should suck it up

And they’ve had their first ‘accidental’ pressed up on each other fall 

A trope I do love with all my heart  

NOW HE’S COVERING HIS CHEST LIKE HIS IZZAT HAS BEEN LOOTED 

I’m hoping that Shyam1.5 isn’t as bad as his predecessors, but I do realise that is wishful thinking coz the couple scene where he talks to Saraswati was quite sweet

OMG THERE’S AN INTRUDER IN THEIR HOUSE AND I REALLY DON’T WANT SARASWATI TO GO CHECK, AND I’M FREAKING OUT 

She’s found Naveli’s earrings on the ground, Shyam1.5 and her are having an affair aren’t they

I FUCKING KNEW THAT NAVELI WAS SUSS AND SO WAS THIS HARAMKHOR SHYAM1.5 

I AM SO GROSSED OUT RN, WHAT IS SHE 10 YEARS OR MORE YOUNGER THAN HIM 

OMG HE’S ACTUALLY YUCK, LIKE SHYAM WAS YUCK BUT AT LEAST KHUSHI WASN’T HIS SAALI

AND WHAT TYPE OF COUSIN DOES THAT 

Saraswati please go fuck him up 

OMG OMG OMG YEH PADA THAPPAD!!!!!!! 

Well that’s another week done

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

This is the last human mimic alien we have to fight.

He's realized he's lost because you people aren't running wild having orgies and you're listening to the DNA4U

And further more You all don't want to share.

When i posted the video of Miss Shawntae telling snoop it was time to snoop her body up... And then Snoop went all seductive to the camera...

122895x1000= men that said "Nigga ima beat your ass you know my wo/man gonna see that. You ain't need to be showing yourself!".

76584284×1000= said "ew i hope i don't have my any asking me to do anything tonight after what i just seen. My imagination gonna kill myself! And i know that's just wrong wrong wrong!"

Now multiply the digits together before the multiplication sign and that is approximately minus 1000 That supported Snoops message.

I did all 3. I had to advert my eyes even. Although he couldn't even see me.

Now Snoop and i know each other over 8000zillion years. So i can easily put myself in his shoes.

So he would walk in and I be having sex and he just sit down and start having a conversation. Like we having BBQ ribs and not sexual intercourse.

His wife tho .... He would make sure "the white boy was covered" and tease her don't look. She look at the carpet... Eventually it kept going on so i took a picture off the wall and put it on the floor where she always sat.

She said "why you do that?"

"I realize the kids keep jumping on the bed and knock it off. Snoop stare at you If you move your face. And unless you're on LSD it's no fun staring at the carpet. So i gave it to you where it seems you always be looking although i had to take a pretty healthy guess. I just felt you was having the most miserable time of all and as my friend it was my honor to trip out and give you a gift"

She used the reflection to put on her makeup and slept in bed later.,Snoop quit being so paranoid. Cause she would face the wall and lean against him.

Point is... Snoop be all like he was watching sports to make sure we got the score.

I mean. Man. Earth. We tried everything we could to stop these aliens from wanting to habe orgies. Even,took,away,their dicks!!!

We did everything. Planet.

Y'all locked up with your soulmates made little difference on this kick of his.

I been doing it. I been riding like I been going around the world 500 times. I love sex.

82% of y'all all around the Earth been having sex.

4% have watched porno

18% have had 1 wild orgies of those 18% -- 32% had s second one. Of those 0.00004981% have gone onto a third.

Of those having 2 or more orgies 92% were aliens

Leaving 8% Of 18% of the entire world interested enough in watching or having sex with other people than their soulmate.

Who saved the world?

100% of humans.

You all get $5 and that includes children.

He's done all he could and he's failed. 100%

I think Edgar might be human... Looking at his alien structure in the film.

But he treated me like an alien. Im still a POW.

Alex had to sell a bed because he acted non human. And Alex worked hard on it to make it perfect for me.

I would been fine gloating from it. Fighting and being sassy to aliens.

But then someone claiming to care about me,most of all abandoned his son and law and daughter. And i hear stories of him being evil.

Some time ago they asked me "do you want a dad or mom?"

"No"

"We need to know because the future of the,Earth,depends on it. And the future of you. Now do you want a dad or,not?!"

"The question is will i remain needing a dad or father figure in the future. No i am fine. I have male role models to keep the species alive. Males. (Species not gender) I also have my mom in Mrs Harriet Tubmam. And if that fails then at that time i should be able to get the rest of me. But she's fine. I'm fine. I just got to remain stable. But adding a father or another mother i don't know just yet can remain disasterous."

Luckily Alex didn't burn the bed down. But it was,bugged and bombed by "Edgar", to me 'its just another one of those things we have to clean"

Do i care? Nothing. He doesn't affect me. I worry about Alex having to,deal with it. But,hes being,and,staying clean,and,then when he's,scared he stays by other cold turkey or non users. He was,around Crystal meth yesterday and he tasted 1/4 of a gram. Like when you would put your finger in the sugar jar. Then lick it. The other guy smoked 4.9876 ounces and blew it all in their faces including the babies. Thus Alex got 7.698 grams ingested via second hand smoke.

I didn't notice but we got in a fight with each other. Just like we always do.

Alex and i power punched him and his eye socket -- ocular bone -- was crushed like glass in 17 cracks.

His jaw I punched more alone but with Alex and total both sides he lost 9 teeth. And had to be wired shut after 72 stiches because i split his upper palate in two. I cracked his lower palate in 8072 places. So if you found a skull it would rest on powder of his lower jaw and then you'll find the upper. After decaying..

Then Alex on the top of his head had 49 stitches to repair his soft tissue from his frontal lobe when he crashed to the floor after the super punch to eye hit the coffee table.

He did get one "good" punch in -- his skull hit Alex right in the right eye.

It fucking hurt but it hurts in a good way. Its weird it's like "reward!" Pain. No suffering. Fucking got him good tho. We feel it every now and again. May be it is when he realises we will kill him for good. He keeps remembering that sudden silence of death.

He's currently on life support. "Medically induced coma" is our non panic code words. But it's basically life support but usually not full life support. It isn't 100% life support medical machines. Its 75% or less.

So technically it's life support and coma mixed. So we csll it medically induced coma. This way you understand if your family is the one on the machines -- it's only 25% body life.... However there's a 75% of recovery via healing machines.

The CIA. Willl decide when to pull the plug. Usually medically induced coma is someone evil or someone bad with the ability to be good. Usually aliens go straight to coma status.

If an alien will die it's 1st life support then coma. Your friend or family will die.

They said medically induced coma. But at this time. His brain is incapable of human thought so I am putting him on life support.

This makes it the family's wishes.

Most of the time "next of kin" is spouse then parents/siblings. Then children last.

Which is wrong. It should be the future. Thus Erica and Steven will ask the babies. And together they will decide.

Last night as a CIA operative while he was in a medically induced coma i was told by at least 1 child and 2 adults to pull. I reviewed. While they spoke from shock and relief their true feelings.

Knowing that the children escaped life with Eric once. I don't feel the right to allow Eric to live. I know the consequences of his actions caused two children to leave my planet in fear and terror and disgust because of Eric.

Erica was my 3rd pregnancy to abort and hold souls.

I hate Eric. That's why i punched him in the fucking face. I was happily surprised that Alex did it. Too in person.

Since the infants are involved and already resurrected. And had a nightmare of a time in less than 36 hours on Eaerth.

I allow them to be there to pull the plug, they can actually yank and pull the plug themselves.

So that is what i want and what the children need.

It will show Eric he doesn't belong here and has no,reason to,be at 25%

It makes life easier for all of us.

Eric was an outdoor kid. Like John and Jason and Greg. Etc. He never went into my school.

They didn't have to. And actually weren't ever enrolled. They liked the man work to learn to survive on their own.

While i taught the children the indoor stuff. The expansion of the mind.

I taught them the economy so the men working to increase their own economical structure could be helped to be taken in under their wings.

I left no one behind.

But he refused confirming.

1. Alcoholic system to drop other drugs. -- he uses crystal meth. Without cut backs. Without moderation

$5 if yoh remember and realized i said make smoothies without alcohol to share with your kids.

2. He blew it in their faces on purpose them injesting over 2.4 grams each.

Erica and Alex would cover their faces with thick blankets when the smoke came towards them.

It was quite a hostage situation. Knowing he could take the newborns and kill them in front of them.

Its happened to me 985 Point 2 times. I'm 35 years old.

875.8 times it's been with a knife.

Take the numbers and multiply by 10 million. For the last some kinda lots of 8 thousand zillion years.

It even happened to Alex. He he has the scars. From,this and last life., it,has happened.

So for me they're terrifying. Unless I'm there... I have saved 900 billion times 30 thousand. I those situations.

But i always remember the ones i lost.

So don't worry when I'm suicidal. Just leave me alone. Don't talk to me. I need silence.

So dead babies y'all.

Dead aliens.

It will be done

I seen that actually quite beautiful meme of April 2020 the clouds and UFO.

I don't get mad or violent because I'm stepped back to watch y'all cope.

But I say to y'all "fuck no that's not happening" I say to that UFO "Fucking try it you will all die" i just scroll on because I get so angry. I get so mad. Its a beautiful photo but i refused to repost it because it isn't something i support.

Most reposts of memes are supported unless i type something on the bottom. Saying it's not.

So my dad. I didn't care until i saw The Rock, "her dad is alive" all happy and in support.

Then i was bothered. Then I cared. Then i felt something about it. But until then i felt nothing.

I didn't feel shame..i felt that were all made of glass.

Because I was happy to have a dad.. One that seemed good. I was actually happy.

And it was kept personal to me... But then I saw the Rock felt it. Then I began to feel..

Broken. But Alex kept it together and started getting rid of the bed. Taking it down. Removing bombs. And fixing all that ass hole did "my dad"

I know the Rock.. He can handle. His dad just died. And we did a lot for him.

So for him to be elated. I get through the day thinking no one really cares what i feel and they don't pay kuch attention..but the Rock in that moment in time.

He was happy. And i knew then i had to Destroy a light of happiness inside him and he looked away from the camera to say "we are all happy. The while world"

DNA4U list one person as my father. He's my uncle..

Edgar claimed it was his 18th cousin.

You know, it doesn't matter.

Donate. Mr Lee Tubman. And more. They're my dads. They kept me safe. Taught me to be wiser and more caring about myself. Donte was 2 years younger than me. But he was a father figure. Guy was the fun dad. Fred Flintstone i called one friend's dad was the fishing buddy. We were not close but he was a silent father figure.

I stole all my friends dads. Borrowed them. Their moms, too.

I have 1800 moms that I call mom.

I know who my moms and dads are.

Just like Erica called me mom the other day and Brittany will too. And Alex my cousin's son. Candy. Brandy. Declan.

So i know i have a family that understands it doesn't matter how I got here. It matters who treated me well. Matthew McCognohey. Kid rocks. They're like my dad's and my kids. Uncles and Cousins.

Blood doesn't matter. Shit half the time Snoop is my God or dad or bother or husband or little kid i have to save. He's my friend.

Snoop is too much of everything. He is my co-nigger. My partner in many crimes against humanity (practical jokes)

I call him my Friend. But my family wouldn't be complete without him and Shawntae.

Harriet. I call her momma all the time. It feels natural. Sometimes i call her old lady.

So while i was joyful for a moment thinking I found someone that actually cared to find out he didn't.

I myself wasn't affected until i knew others would be

Its just a lesson in life. Don't trust people.

I told Alex abandon ship, fuck that place. Ain't no one can go in there!!

He understood and agreed then took the role "no,one is driving me and her from our home." He decided to defend the homestead. That is the role a man takes

Im all you gotta sweep the whole place,then,rest and do,it again,2 more times at least.,Then,again when,I,get there. If i get there.

But i feel good to know my lover isn't gonna let anyone drive him down. Just turn around. Learn a lesson. Clean the mess.

Why do i need a father when i have a man?

Clearly i am an independent woman and always have been.

But i need a family. Otherwise I have no point to live.

And that is why i am suicidal.

I don't see s point to live. Not when Alex and i fight and i don't want him to talk to me cause some alien got in our way once again.

He was double attacked by aliens.

So if their desire is for me to die... Then they should keep,doing it.

If,not they need to stay out of my way so i can,get my family,together again.,in,real life.

My family that I know is my family. Not aliens. Not fans. Not someone that needs to apologize to me or needs an explanation.

People that can think on their own and not be reminded they need to have love in their spirit.

Now Snoop sometimes plays the role of my brother. And we are competitive. It just makes us proud of each other and ourselves for surviving a challenge. I do it to him too but I play old hard skill. He plays old new remember when. I do ancient V-Ball and he does pop and country experience.

So his spirit is of an ego -- which salutes the fact we will grow.

Often we do the spirit of mischievous. To remind danger still exists but we will have fun and love in the end.

Friend. Someone that is gonna fry you but the end od what matters.

Sometimes we relax and chill. But them old cogwheels of the mind never quit rolling. Advance. Advance. Lets keep it going don't stop.

He's like me. Suicidal.

But he used to release his inner poison. Now he makes it not exist by doing something else ....

But me? Nothing helps but the mimic of death itself. Silence.

People are what causes it. Alien people.

So you humans. Keep on being you.

Its you that is gonna save the world

I gave you guidelines to help us out this mess.

Because I can't even see y'all because the aliens surrounding me trying to get my last breath.

Show me you. Save us. You're doing good

I got $5 on y'all that we make it.

[uhpeach]

oof personal rant about boy and relationship shit below the cut it’s way too long sorry

finally had a talk with boy last night... it started bc they are having a stoplight theme party tn where you wear green if ur single, yellow if it’s complicated, and red if ur taken and he was like “so what color are u thinking of wearing”... and i was like “green i guess bc im single”. but i said it as a joke.... and he was like... “oh well i was thinking yellow”. and i was like “ya me too i guess”... and he was like “ya idk i think most people will either be red or green so we’ll be some of the few yellow ppl which is kinda fun”. and i was like “ok. ya whatever cool”. and he was like “but i’ll wear whatever u want like if u want me to wear red i will”. and i was like “no. no pressure. yellow makes sense.” but then i was making sad girl face i guess and he was like “nooo stop with that face. you’re thinking about something what’s wrong” and then we like went innnnnn with like a convo about “us” or whatever the fuck.

anyways like the things he’s worried about when considering making us official is that he:

1. says he is an extremely jealous and controlling boyfriend? and he does not like who he is as a boyfriend so if he isnt technically a “boyfriend” he has no reason to get that way/can stop himself from being like that. which i like.... dont see at all. and like maybe he had a reason to be like that with his ex but honestly i dont do much or like get hit on so i see it as a non-issue honestly? like im too into him to like even need to be “controlled” like i genuinely want to do whatever he wants bc i just want to see him happy ? but then he said that when he sees me happy it makes him happy and when i keep crying like i have been it makes him really sad and scared that our relationship would be built on a bad foundation. and i see it as the opposite like in spite of what he has done and how he’s hurt me we’ve gotten past it and grown to know each other better and like each other a lot and im still here spending time with him so like idk we think about these things very differently i guess. 

2. he was thinking like soooo far in the future for some reason like... when i met him he was pursuing a finance degree in the business school but he like decided music was something he was really passionate about last year and since then he’s been like learning how to use like music production software and how to play piano since then. so he was saying like he doesn’t want me to see him as like a jobless bum loser when i could be with a guy has a secure upwardly mobile job making 60-70k right out of college while he’s like.... working as a DJ and practicing like music production stuff. and i was like..... what r u talking about like i don’t need you to support me? and if ur worried about how i’ll see you like i just want to see you happy i would rather see that than someone complaining about how much they hate their job and life every day bc like.... idk when you l*ve someone all you really want is to see them happy. and then i told him how i have bragged about him to people who like wish they could change majors about how he’s actually doing something he’s interested in rather than sticking with business school which he hatesss. 

(he started crying sometime during point two into point three)

3. he was worried about not being able to give me the level of attention ur supposed to give someone ur dating. like he was saying how he practices his music stuff in his free time but like when ur dating someone ur supposed to spend like all ur free time with them but i’ll have to like share that time with his music and he like doesn’t want me to feel like he has no time for me? but i was like dude i dont need you actively paying attention when we’re together like the other night i was doing my homework in his room while he practicing and i was just so stoked to be in the room with him even though we were doing our own things. and also like the people in relationships who spend allll their time with their significant others are people i get SO ANNOYED BY i was like dude... i dont want to be like any of those couples like of course i want to spend as much time as possible with you but i have other “relationships” i need to maintain that im not just gonna drop like some of my other couple friends have. like my friendships are super important to me, probably bc i have never been in a relationship so i like really do love and put a lot of focus on my friends, so if he needs time for his music and did need some private time to focus i would just spend that time maintaining my friendships because i love and want to spend time with them too? like it’s not that deep and i’ve been alone for so long im used to it.....

i think there was more but anyway he was thinking SO FAR AHEAD and asking me like what i want to do and where i want to go after graduation and im like ????? i .. dont know ??? omg ???? what does this have to do with like dating right now like are u never gonna date anyone again until ur ready to date them until marriage im ? confused? i.. legitimately was NOT thinking this far ahead ? but then he kept bringing up how like feelings fade and he like want to make sure his college friends are lifelong friends and how a breakup would make it so that’s a more difficult thing for us to be and im like i get it ? i have brought up that point to so many people like it used to be that i cared more about having him in my life forever like at least as a friend just bc i like him so much but now it’s harder to be like that bc i like him SO SO much like... idk imagining never having been official a few years down the road and just being that girl he had a “thing” with in college. bc that’s not what i want to be to him. like if we do stop liking each other i dont want to have to meet his future girlfriend or fucking wife and be like hi im olivia.. his friend from college. like just calling what we have “friendship” hurts so bad and if i had to look at someone he like loves in the future and call myself just a friend from college that would fucking kill me. like at least if we were exes i would be like hey im his friend-ex-then friend again from college. ya haha things didnt work out but i’ll always care about this guy ur lucky to have him. ya know. there’s a difference.

and all the things i was concerned about were suchhhh immediate issues like... im only not satisfied by the relationship status of like being a “thing” bc i want to actually be taken on dates..  and have someone who would be happy to like bring me coffee if im having a rough day (and like so it wouldnt be weird if i did little things like that too) and so we could like go on a trip together or like as it stands it would be weird for me to like bring him home for a few days and be like “hello family this is my good friend :) we are going to share a bed bc we are... friends :)” like you cant tell ur family about ur “thing” bc like o ur really good friends that care a lot about each other and have sex but ur not dating... like that gives parents too much to think about it’s gross.... and it would be weird for him to bring me to like his hometown to meet his friends and what not bc we are just like ... a thing? and i WANT to do that stuff like it would mean so much to me. but like you only do that with ppl ur dating and i want to be with someone who can like share their life with me and i can share mine with them if that makes sense. also u know what i think it’s fair of me to want to be able to call someone my boyfriend like. that is a word i have never gotten to use and when i like hear it in movies and tv shows and even when friends say it i feel like im being fucking stabbed. like i have never gotten to be a girlfriend and i feel like people see me as less of a person because of that, especially being in my 20s now. idk just like societal pressures are getting to me i hate being a sociology major im like super analyzing like the roles i am “supposed” to take to live up to what it is to be a woman in our society. like i have been a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a sister but i have never been a girlfriend and that is something i feel like an innate internalized NEED to experience idk like it’s just beat into you by media and peers and parents from when ur like a kid until you actually do fulfill the prescribed gender based roles... like if i am not a wife or a mother in my life i might fucking kill myself like ik roles and labels are meaningless but i NEED THEM to like give me identity and security. anyways. uh that was a lot. if u read all this and i don’t sound insane lmk!

[a-kayy47]

Learning to Live

I never knew how to be on my own until it was the only option I had. My childrens father had pushed me past my limits. I had let a lot slide in our relationship of the last 7 years, the drugs, the cheating, the occasional beatings, but when I came home and find him in OUR bed with his little tart of a girlfriend and drugs in the house I was officially done! That was our one agreement nothing was to come into our home and be around the kids. I silently thanked God for never letting me marry that man. As soon as I walked in and saw that I calmly turned and walked out and into my daughter's room and started packing her stuff. "Anna she doesnt mean anything to me!" Johnny said as he entered Rayne's room. I scoffed "Isn't that what they all say, Johnny you know Im not even mad anymore. We haven't loved each other in a long time and the only reason I've stayed is because I never thought I could make it on my own. But being on my own would never be as bad as watching the father of your children and a man thats supposed to love you do this right in front of you're face." I said folding Rayne's clothes and putting them in her duffle bag. "Come on dont do this! The kids won't understand." Johnny said grabbing my arm and trying to pull me up. "Let go of me Johnny!" I seethed. "You're not taking my kids away from me!" He said tightening his grip on my arm. "Like you spend time with them anyway." I remarked which earned me a backhand to the face. "Go ahead Johnny slap me around some more it wouldnt be the first time, but it'll sure as fuck be the last!" I said through gritted teeth. That earned me a black eye and a bust lip along with a few cracked ribs I'm sure of. After he was done he gotdressed and left for his afternoon shift like nothing ever happened.

Setting against my daughters bed holding my newly brused ribs all I could do was laugh, how could I be so foolish to stay in a relationship with someone like this for so damn long! I had no more tears to cry. I pulled myself up off the floor and went back to packing my daughter's duffle bag, if I wanted to have our stuff packed by the time the kids got home from school I only had a couple hours. I finished packing Rayne's duffle bags and set them by the top of the steps and moved to Jameson's room to start packing his. After I got everything packed I carried the 6 bags down to the garage and packed them into my Tahoe. After putting the bags into the suv, I went and sat on the front steps waiting for the kids to get off the bus.

Three o'clock rolled around and the bus stopped in front of the house. I watched my two beautiful babies get off and run full force towards me. "Hey momma" Jameson my seven year old greeted me as he sat down beside me. "Hey babies how was your day?" I asked trying to be as normal as I could before I completely up rooted their lives. "Good. Momma whats wrong with your eye?" My 5 year old daughter Rayne asked. She's always been the one to notice the little things "Let's go inside babe and I'll explain everything." I told them getting myself up letting out a wince from my ribs being moved.

"What's going on momma?" Rayne asked. Jameson and her looking intensely at me. "I hate to do this to you babies but...we have have to leave. There is a lot about your dad that you don't know and momma feels that this isn't a safe place for you anymore. So we're going to go on a little roadtrip." I told them holding back tears and trying to make this 'little roadtrip' fun. "Where we going?" Jameson asked. "Where do you guys wanna go?" "Let's go see Aunt Brit!" Rayne said excitedly. "Yeah, I miss her and we havent seen her since she lived in Georgia and thats been like 2 years ago." Jameson replied giving me puppy dog eyes. "Well I guess I could give her a call and shee where she living now and if she'd be up for some company for a while." I told the kids. "Yayyy!" The kids high fived and celebrated with each other. "Okay, Now I already packed your clothes so go grab whatever else you want to bring and put it in the duffle bag that's laying on top of your beds. And remember we wont be coming back here for a very long time so get the stuff you absolutely cant live without. While you guys do that I'll call Aunt Brit." I told them and they scurried up the stairs.

Setting at the bottom of the stairs I dialed Britni's number. After three rings I get an answer. "Hello" Brit greets me. "Hey B how ya been?" I asked almost on the brink of tears. Britni and I haven't talk for a couple years ever since she found out about me knowing that Johnny was cheating on me and using drugs to her I was a fucking idiot and derserved better and she wasn't going to sit around and watch it happen. Good thing she didn't know about the occasional beatings. "Annie?! That you?" She asks halfing yelling. "Yeah it's me, this a bad time?" I ask. "Absolutely not! Let me step out of the garage so I can hear ya better. So what's up? How's the kids?" "They're good. But I do have a favor to ask." I tell her getting straight to the point. "Sure, anything for you and those babies!" She told me. "I'm leaving Johnny and I have no where to go." I muttered out feeling ashamed that it's took this long for me to leave. "Baby girl you know you and those kiddos always have a place with me. I'm just glad you finally left that basturd! I'm working at a garage out in Cali and got a two bedroom apartment just around the corner from the shop. You come on out babygirl I got you!" She told me which brought a smile to my face. Knowing that someone that isn't even related to me could be there for me at the drop of a hat. But then again she always has been since kindergarten. " Thank you so much. You don't even know how thankful I am!" I told her. "Shut your mouth bitch and get your ass out here I miss you and the squrits!" Britni said chuckling. "As soon as they come down from packing toys I'll be on the road! We miss you too something fierce." I told her hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. "Okay, I'll text you the address to the shop cause I'm here 75% of the time." She said inhaling sharply. I figured she was taking a smoke break while talking to me. "Awesome love you babe see you soon!" I told her standing up and turning around to see the kids standing there holding their backpacks ready to go. "Love you to babe. I gotta get back to work keep checking in through." She told me sternly. "Promise." I told her and we ended the call.



"Well babes it sounds like we're heading to California!" I told the kids laughing seeing their jaws drop. They've never been further than Georgia and that was the last trip we took. "That's clear across the country!" Jameson explained. "It sure is baby we have a very long trip ahead of us." I told them walking towards the garage. Coming from West Virginia to California was about a 40 hour drive with no stopping. "Alrighty do you have everything you need or want?" I asked one last time before we got settled in the car to start our journey. "Yepp we got everything momma." Rayne answered. "Let's get buckled in then and get going."

By now it was already 5 o'clock and we haven't even left the county. I figured we better stop and fill up with gas and get some snacks and about 10 ice coffees if I was going to drive through the night. By the time we got back on the road I received a text from Brit with the address of the auto shop she was working. Brit may be a bit ditzy but there was one thing that bitch was good at an that was fixing cars. She had the life that I had always wanted. Getting to travel all over, not being tied down, now don't get me wrong I love my kids to death and would go to war for them but it was never in my agenda to have two kids and an a steady boyfriend at 25 but there I was watching my best friend living the life I had always wanted.

After about the fifth hour of being on the road the kids was fast asleep and that gave me time to drown in my thought. Was I really doing this? Where the hell had I grew the balls to leave? I'm on my own rasing two kids. I'm going to be alone forever, no man in his right mind will ever want a plus size single mom with baggage. I mean I'm not huge at least I don't think so but after having two kids and a love for some good food I'm about a good 16,18 jeans of course my big ol' ass and hips takes up most of the room. And if I do say so myself I've got a pretty nice full rack, and have two full sleeves of tattoos which I've always got compliments on. That and my long black hair with my olive complexion is what first attracted Johnny to me. Wait fuck Johnny dont think about that prick. After that thought is when I turned on my favorite station and started to drown out my thoughts.

Stevie Nicks' voice filled the vehicle and pushed all the negitive thoughts out of my head making me focus on her voice and the road. After another 3 hours of driving I decided it was probably a good idea to stop and get a hotel room for the rest of the night.

Pulling into the rundown motel parking lot, I looked back at my two sleeping kids and thanked the lord of giving me such wonderful blessings even though their dad was a dick, they was perfect. Getting out of the car I opened Jameson's door first and gentley nudged him awake. "Wake up baby." I whispered. "Mommy where are we?" Rayne asked waking up rubbing her eyes along with Jameson. "We're at a motel somewhere in Missouri." I told them unbuckling Jameson then moving to Rayne. None of us slept well in that shitty motel but it was better than nothing. The next morning around 10 we got back on the road. I drove for about 12 hours straight that day and only pulling over at a truck stop to sleep. It wasn't that I was really watching my money since I had been saving all of my tips from the salon for the last 12 months for this trip and working at one of the best salons in three county I made bank. It was the fact that I couldn't sleep in hotels, everytime I would fall asleep I would wake back up thinking that Johnny had found us. Not that he would come for me but he'd come for the kids. This driving for 8 sleeping for 8 had become a routine for us for the last couple of days. And was working pretty well.

After four days of driving and sleeping at trucks stops we was finally in Navada. "Alright kids, you can get unbuckled let's go in and get some snacks!" I told them as I got out. Walking in the the gas station I noticed about four bikes on the opposite side of the gas pump's and smiled it had been so long since I'd been on the back of a bike.

"Okay, now you can get whatever you want but remember you have to eat good food before your candy." I told the kids. As they went picking out their snacks I grab a bottle of water and a blue powerade. When I gathered the kids up I noticed two of the bikers were standing in front of us in line. 'Sons of Anarchy' I thought to myself taking in the kutte. Hearing a Scottish accent they drew my interest more, making me think of Brit she was always a sucker for a man with an accent especially a Scottish one. I watched as the men payed for their gas and cigarettes and walked back out to their bike.

Putting our stuff on the counter for the cashier to ring up and prepaying for gas I handed her cash and picked up our bag.

I got the kids settled into their seat and the snacks passed out then I went to pumping gas still kind of being to nosy for my own good. I couldn't help it though there was something about those bikers that drew me in. As I was eavesdropping I heard the sexiest voice I have EVER heard. Peaking over the pump to see where that husky voice was coming from I looked into the darkest eyes I've ever seen and from that moment on I was hooked. All I got was a subtle wink and I was weak in the knees. I finished pumping and got back into the car and immediately called Brit to tell her about this dark eyed mystery man.

000000000000000

"Talk to me. " Brit answered after the third ring. "Holy Shit I think I'm in love!" I said with a smile on my face. "What the fuck are you talking about? You smoking again?" She asked full out laughing. "Bitch this ain't funny I'm dead serious! We locked eyes over the gas pump, his eyes were so dark it was like he was looking straight to my soul!" I told her with excitement. Good thing the kids had their headphones on so they couldn't hear me gushing about this mystery man. "Chick you really are sex deprived aren't you." She replied to the statement. "Yes but thats beside the point, Im fucking serious. Plus he was with a MC, had Sons of Anarchy on his kutte, along with the other three that was with him. And his friend had an Scottish accent so I can bang dark eyes you bang the scot!" I said acting like we was in highschool again making a plan on how to bang these random guys we didnt even know. All I heard on the other like was Holy Shit and Britni laughing hysterically. "Whats so funny bitch?" I asked "Was you in Navada when you seen these guys?" She asked me. "Yeah why?" I replied confused as to how she knew that. "You'll see when you get here horndog." She said laughing and then hung up. I looked at my phone disgusted. What the fuck was this bitch talking about? Now not only can I not get this mystery man out of my head but now Im thinking about what I'll have awaiting me when we get there.

- In Charming

Brit's POV

Hanging up with Annie all I could do was laugh, Bitch had no idea what she was walking into. As I was walking across the lot from the garage to the clubhouse the guys that we had just been talking about pulled in. "Hey baby how was the run?" I asked my ol' man leaning in for a kiss. " Good as can be expected lovey." He answered in that deep Scottish accent I love oh so much. "Whats goin' on here?" He asked wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leading me into the clubhouse. "Well...there is something I need to talk to you all about." I said sweetly. "What did ye do know lovey?" He asked taking the shot of whiskey the prospect gave him. "You remember me talking about my best friend Annie and her kids? And how her kids sperm donor is a piece of shit and beats on her and is a druggie piece of shit?" I asked getting angry and clenching my teeth just thinking about what all he's done to her. "Easy there darlin' might blow a fuse." Tig joked. "I just hate his fucking guts. She deserves so much better." I told them. "Okay well what about her?" Chibs asked trying to get me back on track. "Well she finally left him and she'll be here." I was telling him before my phone interrupted me. "Well actually she's here now." I said with a little chuckle. "Listen don't worry she knows how this life works, we grew up in my Uncle's clubhouse so she knows the part and let me tell ya she plays it way better than me." I said laughing. "Well fellas I guess lets go meet the lass." Chibs said as Happy and Tig followed us out to the lot curious to see whonthis Annie was.

ANNIE'S POV

I pulled into the lot and it was stepping back in time. It reminded me so much of Uncle Tommy's clubhouse. "Alright darlings we're here." I said letting out a breath I didnt realize I was holding. "Mommy why are we here?" Jameson asked. "This is where Aunt Brit works. We have to meet her here first then we'll follow her to her house." I explained to both of them. While the kids were getting unbuckled I quickly checked my hair and put on some mascara and chapstick. I took one more quick glance in the mirror and saw Britni followed by three guys making their way toward us. I decided it was time to get out, as I got out I pulled the distressed demin shorts down a little in the front so they wouldnt look so short and pulled my shirt up a little so I wasn't showing so much cleavage. "Bitch!!" I heard as I was opening the back door for the kids to get out. I automatically got a huge grin as soon as I heard her voice I had been to damn long since I had seen my best friend. I turned around and immediately stopped when I seen him. It was him dark eyes from the gas station! I was frozen. My heart was pounding out of my chest! As I stood standing there like an idiot the kids took off running to Britni.

"Hey kiddos! You've gotten so big look at you!" Britni said talking a good look at them.

"I'm seven now Aunt Brit!" Jameson told her a little cocky. "Well you're almost a man!" Brit said with a slight chuckle. When I heard her laugh I snapped out of my trance and started paying attention to the exchanges between my children and the Aunt they haven't seen in years. "And look at you babygirl I can't believe how beautiful you are! I'm so glad you took after your mother and not your ugly ass daddy." She said laughing and looked at me. I just rolled my eyes and laughed. Why don't you kids go play over on the swing set while me and your momma talk?" Britni said looking at them. "Can we momma?" Rayne asked. "Go on." I said smiling and kissing both of them on top of the head before they took off running for the pay ground.

"How was the trip?" She asked pulling out a cigarette and handing it to me with a look knowing that I needed one. "It was good the kids were great. They're actually excited about starting over." I remarked taking a hit of the Marlboro red. "So you gonna introduce us to this beautiful women or what?" Tig said looking me up and down. "Shut up Tig you pervet fuck!" She told him. I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Annie this is my ol'man Filipe or Chibs as most people know him by." She said with a smile plastered to her face. "Nice to meet you!" I said as I studied him a little better, then my eyes went wide! He's P the guy with the accent I thought to myself. " Aye, nice to meet ya lass I've heard lots about ya and thee rugrats." He said with a smile shaking my hand. Yepp that's confirmed, I thought to myself. "That pervet there is Tig." "Nice to meet ya doll." Tig said as he grabbed my hand and kissed it. Dark eyes just rolled his eyes at Tigs gesture. "And that's Happy the grouchy fuck." She said and looked at me with a shit eatting grin on her face. My heart stopped. I could not believe that he was here she knew exactly who I was gushing about! That bitch. "Hi." I said shyly. All I got was a head nood but that was good enough for me.

[horansqueen]

BabyGirl 8.0

NOTES:

♥ this is based on a concept i received a few weeks ago and ppl asked that i made a story with it. ♥ i planned 3-4 long parts but i think it’ll be 8-10 short parts ♥ 3.5k. fluff. ♥ there may be smut but i doubt it and IF it happens it wont be as explicit as my other smut works. ♥ i didn’t proofread and if you read my stuff you know i never do because im a lazy ass. ♥ please tell me if youre still interested in this story? i feel like its dying slowly lol ♥ if you have any questions please dont hesitate.

♥ PART 1  // PART 2 // PART 3  // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6 // PART 7

                      8.0  PIZZA SAUCE & VESTIGE OF LOVE

HIM

When the doorbell rang, I was not sure if it was the pizza or Louis and I was surprised to see Louis holding the pizza I ordered with a incredibly huge grin. Freddie was looking at me, his head laying against his father's shoulder and when I reached to grab the pizza, Louis pulled away and moved his son closer to me.

"Take Freddie, I don't trust you with the pizza." he joked, making me roll my eyes with a smile.

I took Freddie in my arms and walked inside, taking off his coat and stuff while Chelsea was looking at us excitedly.

"Where is the most beautiful princess on the planet?" Louis asked a bit too loud as he took his own coat off, putting the pizza on the couch.

"Uncle Louiiiis!"

"There she is!" he let out with a grin, crouching down to her level and opening his arms.

She threw herself at him and they hugged tight, making my heart twist in my chest. I was still mad at him. Mad that he hid my own daughter from me. Mad that he lied to me all these years. Mad that I couldn't trust him anymore. And also jealous. Jealous that he formed a bond with my daughter, a bond I desperately wanted and needed.

He got up, bringing her with him as he kept on holding her tight. I don't know if it's the way I was looking at him but when our eyes met, his smile faltered and he put my daughter back on the ground.

"Okay kids, how about we eat that pizza?"

Freddie's face seemed to light up while Chelsea just threw her arms in the air again with an other "Yessss!". Louis made his way to the couch and I bent down from behind it.

"Not in the living room, Lou, they're kids and this is pizza."

With a low sigh, Louis got up again and grabbed the box as the kids stared at him. I was aware Louis knew how to take care of a kid but we were very different persons and he knew me well enough to be aware of my habits. I did eat in the living room, of course, and with adults it could always pass, but kids were an other story.

"Come on guys, let's go in the kitchen!"

They followed him obediently and he helped Freddie on a chair as I grabbed a few plates. Louis joined me and search for a pair of scissors before cutting small pieces of pizza for his son. I watched him and did the same on a different plates and we brought them to the kids who started eating with their hands. I grimaced but decided to keep my mouth shut as we both took a few pieces of pizza, joining them at the table.

It's only when they were done that my heart seemed to literally stop in my chest. The table was covered with pizza sauce and while trying to get down from her chair, Chelsea gripped it and left red traces on the white wood.

"Chelsea wait!"

She didn't listen and kept walking, making me hold my breath. I almost tripped to catch her and grabbed one of her wrists gently, making her look up in my eyes.

"I'm going to the bathroom to clean." she explained, blinking a few times.

I stared at her, my heart still beating hard against my rib cage. It was hard to remember that kids don't think like us and I obviously knew my daughter didn't mean wrong, but it was something I was just not used to yet. I looked up when Louis joined us, extending me some wipes and keeping a few.

"Chelsea, you know the rules, darling, don't you?" he let out, grabbing her free wrist and moving it up while cleaning her hand.

"I forgot."

I remained motionless for a few more seconds before imitating him, wiping the grease from her other hand until it was completely clean.

"Are you done eating now?" he asked again, letting go of her wrist as she nodded. "Okay, you can go back to the living room to watch the movie. Freddie will join you soon.

My eyes followed her until she was out of sight and finally moved back to Louis.

"Thanks.." I said as he grabbed the dirty wipes from my hands.

"You're welcome."

We walked back to the kitchen and Louis cleaned his son too before putting him down from his chair and telling him to go join Chelsea to watch the movie. It took Freddie longer to walk away but we remained silent until we were all alone.

"Don't worry mate, that kind of thing is easy to remember." he just said, grabbed a few more wipes to clean my chair. "It's everything else that's complicated."

I got out of my thoughts and walked to the sink to grab a cloth, wetting it quickly and bringing it back to the table. Louis and I both cleaned in silence and when we were done, I turned to him again, leaning against the counter.

"It's going well though, she called me 'uncle' a few days ago."

Louis smiled wide and sat back at the table, his body still facing me. I didn't know why I wanted to share all this with him, but he was pretty much the only person I could talk about it with besides my ex girlfriend.

"Chelsea calls people like that when she loves them." he explained.

"I know. I feel lucky she already considers me family." I admitted with a small shrug. "I just... I just dread the day I'm gonna tell her i'm actually her father."

He sent me a sad smile and nodded, fixing his hair by moving a lock on the right, over his eyes. I slipped my hands in my pockets, glancing in the living room's direction, hearing the movie in the background.

"I can't say I know how scary it must be, but I have no doubt it is." he expressed with compassion. "Just trust yourself, and trust Chelsea. I know you noticed already, but she's a very smart little girl. She's already suffered enough from not knowing her father. You getting in her life is the best thing that could happen to her, Niall. I'm serious."

I wouldn't have had to get in her life just now if they hadn't lied to me. Chelsea wouldn't have suffered from not having a father if they didn't hid her from me all those years. I swallowed those thoughts and inhaled deeply before sighing. I knew I would have to let go of this grudge at some point but clearly, I was not ready.

"Yea, maybe you're right."

"I am."

We remained in silence for a while and Louis finally got up, opening my fridge and grabbing two beers, handing me one. We opened them at the same time and took a sip. It immediately made me feel a bit better and I put it on the counter, lost in my thoughts again. How was I going to let go of this incredible anger I had inside?

"So, how is it going with her?"

I tried to focus on Louis again and looked up at him, shrugging.

"Very well, I think. We get along great." I pointed out. "Like you said, she's amazing. And her imagination is so surprising at times."

I thought of all the things she had told me earlier and it made the left corner of my lips move up. Maybe I was biased, but I truly believed Chelsea was the most extraordinary kid in the whole world. No, I was not biased. She really was.

"She's fascinating." I just added.

"She is, but I was not talking about her."

As if on cue, my phone started vibrating in my pocket and I took it out, noticing a message from my ex girlfriend. I quickly typed an answer, telling her where we were, and put my phone on the counter next to my beer.

"Not well." I just confessed with a sigh, rubbing both my hands on my eyes. "She tried to kiss me and I backed away."

When I opened my eyes again, Louis was staring at me, grimacing.

"Ouch."

"I know, there's just no place for this in my head right now." I continued. "I don't know how I feel, I'm all over the place, and I don't want to start something with her if it's to end again. I don't even know if she wants to be with me for the right reasons, or if we just want things to go back to how they used to be. Because we can't go back, it's impossible."

"Niall, listen to me." Louis ordered in a low voice, taking a step closer. "You love her. You've loved her all along. And I know she loves you too. I don't think she ever stopped."

My heart skipped a beat at his words and I looked up in his eyes, trying to discover is he was sincere. Why did I want his words to be true so fucking bad?

"You should give it a chance. Who knows where it can lead you?"

I shook my head and turned around, taking a few steps away.

"It could lead to hurting Chelsea. It could lead to making her believe she's going to have a family, and then making things worse if it ends up not working. Do you see all the wrong it could do to her?"

"Niall!"

I turned back to him in a swift movement and stared at him. He was serious in a way I hadn't seem him be very often. He put his beer gently on the table and moved closer to me, grabbing both my arms.

"No matter what happens, you will always be Chelsea's father, and she will always be Chelsea's mother. Those are facts. No one and nothing can take this away from you, you understand?"

The truth behind his words made something jump in my throat and I swallowed what felt like an emotion lump. I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in and he kept talking.

"You don't have to tell Chelsea about it now, you can give it time. But you should give you two a chance."

We looked in each other's eyes for a few minutes and I finally sighed, moving out of his embrace.

"I'll think about it."

"You know what they say, 'it's better to regret doing something, than regret not doing it.' Or something like that."

Maybe he's right. Maybe I should give it a try, maybe I should kiss her, maybe I should give Chelsea a family. Maybe I should do it for the three of us, and maybe it would make all of us happy. But maybe it wouldn't, and this possibility was constantly flashing in my mind like the red light of an alarm. And I couldn't seem to forget about it.

HER

I drove to the address as fast as I could and parked in the driveway, a bit taken aback by the house in itself. It was impressing, and bigger than I imagined, but I tried to push the thought away and walked quickly to the door. Sometimes, I forgot Niall was rich and famous. In fact, I forgot about it most of the time. He's always been the laid-back guy, hanging out with the same friends he's always had, doing the same things he's always loved, and enjoying a night at home in front of the tv or with a few friends at the pub more than anything else. It was something I always liked about him, and that's probably why Louis and him get along so well.

I rang the doorbell and tried to listen to what was happening inside. I couldn't hear Chelsea but after a few seconds, I heard steps coming my way and the door swung open. I expected to see Niall but my smile fell down slightly when I saw Louis. It only took half a second to smile back and walk in, wrapping my arms around my friend.  He pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek gently right before I pulled away.

"Hello darling, how are you?" he asked in a low and gentle tone, making me feel at ease immediately.

"Just happy the day is over."

Louis glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows.

"Weren't you supposed to get out earlier than that?"

I grabbed his wrist to take a look at the time and finally sighed, nodding slowly. 10 pm.

"Yes, but Carly was late and I had to wait until she got there." I explained with a grimace, letting go of his arm. "Why are you even here?"

"Niall needed company." he let out with a smirk just as Niall walked in the room.

The atmosphere switched suddenly and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I was so mad at myself for feeling Niall's presence with every fiber of my body. It was becoming a problem and I had no idea how I would be able to wean myself off of him. It was worse than a drug.

"I didn't need anything, you sort of invited yourself." Niall laughed, slipping his hands in his pockets.

Louis started laughing and Niall's eyes finally met mine and like an idiot, I looked away, feeling my heart hit against my rib cage. Maybe I should have let him kiss me a few days ago. Maybe I was wrong, maybe a pity kiss was better than no kiss at all. I breathed in and looked up again at Niall. He was still staring at me and my lips curled despite myself.

"How's Chelsea?"

"She's good, she fell asleep on the couch with Freddie." he explained, making me nod.

"Okay guys, I love both of you very much, but i'm just gonna grab my kid and leave."

Louis moved between us to reach the living room and I looked down at my hands, trying to calm down the erratic beating of my heart. I wanted to talk to him, to tell him something clever or interesting, but I simply licked my lips and cleared my throat, nervous for no apparent reason.

"Thanks again for today, Niall." I just said, shaking my head. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Hey," he let out softly, bringing his fingers to my chin to move my head up.  He waited until my eyes met his to send me a smile. "You can call me any time, really. I was happy to help."

It was hard to focus on anything but his fingers on my skin but I nodded after a while as I finally made sense of his words. Louis reappeared with his son asleep in his arms and Niall's hand fell down only to hug Louis cautiously. I saw my best friend whisper something in his hear, making Niall frown and nod but quickly pushed the thought away when Louis turned to me, taking me in a close hug.

"Don't be too hard on him but mostly, don't be so hard on yourself, will you?" he whispered, his breath hitting gently my neck and making me smile.

I nodded and kissed his cheek before doing the same to Freddie. We both watched Louis leave and when the door closed behind him, I inhaled deeply, realizing my heart was still beating harder than it should.

"You look like you could use a drink."

His voice was soft, and I desperately wanted to say yes. I knew it was a bad idea, I knew I would probably end up even more hurt than I already was, and my whole body was telling me to run away as far as I could from him, but I knew it wouldn't change anything. It was simply a way my heart had found to save itself, some sort of survival instinct I had to fight against.

"Do you have wine?"

His lips curled into a fond smile and he nodded slowly. I followed him to the living room and gently, he took Chelsea in his arms and brought her in the hall. I didn't follow him. Instead, I sat on the couch and leaned my head on it, closing my eyes. I was exhausted and my body was begging to sleep but I wanted to stay awake, just to spend some more time with Niall and maybe explain what had happened a few days ago. I still felt embarrassed and stupid for hoping we could have a chance but it was stronger than me. I had feelings for him I couldn't seem to smother at all.

I only opened my eyes again when I felt him sit next to me on the couch. I smiled when I saw he was handing me a glass of red wine and thanked him, taking a long sip of it and sighing louder than I should have, making him chuckle.

"I knew it would make you feel better."

I sent him a smile and drank again as he placed his beer between his legs. I've always thought it was a cute habit but tonight, the wine must have been strong because I thought it was hot.

"Why do we always end up discussing together, sitting on a couch with a drink, Niall?"

It made him laugh and he passed his hand in his hair, making my heart jump as he shrugged.

"That's a good question." he pointed out, looking away before diving his gaze in mine again. "Probably because we're both a bit lost, and we're trying to understand what exactly is happening to us. Seeing each other again after so many years and, with Chelsea and everything, it hasn't been easy on us. I guess it's gonna take a lot of discussions."

He grabbed his beer and swallowed almost half of it as I did the same with my own glass, putting it away when my glass was finally empty.

"I never wanted to hurt you, or make you feel bad, you know that, right?"

I knew it so I nodded, but that didn't mean I didn't feel like shit. For everything I put him through, but also for being rejected. He didn't have to love me, it was true, and it was not really surprising that he didn't anymore, but the thought still dug a hole inside my chest.

"I didn't want to hurt you either. I promise my intentions were good."

"I know." he breathed, putting his beer away, next to my empty glass, and shifting a bit on the couch to get closer to me.

I didn't know what he was doing but I liked it. However, I couldn't move. I just stayed motionless as he brought both his hands to my cheeks again, exactly like he had done a few nights ago, and I expected what he was going to do, or at least hoped for it. This time, though, I didn't back away. I waited impatiently until his lips pressed on mine and closed my eyes. My hands reached for his shirt slowly and I gripped it like I was holding on to him to stay alive, and perhaps, I was. His lips parted mine and I allowed him to kiss me deeper. He tasted exactly the same, and I hadn't realized just how bad I had missed it until that very moment. I couldn't think of anything better, and it suddenly hit me. That's why I thought it would be worse. Now that I had this again, not being able to get it again would be too hard and I had no idea how I would be able to recover from it. His warm mouth pressed more against mine and as crazy as it sounded, I could feel the beating of his heart against the palm on my hand against his chest. I didn't want this kiss to end but when it did, he remained close, his lips still brushing against mine.

I don't know how long we stayed close to each other but we both moved away slightly after a while, breathing in deeply and looking away, a bit embarrassed by what had happened.

"Do you want an other glass?" he asked in a low tone.

I could smell his cologne, mixed with the unique sent from his skin, and it made me feel dizzy, but perhaps it came from the way he had kissed me only a few seconds ago.

"I can't, I have to drive home."

I tilted my head, watching his facial expressions change a few times and a few seconds later, he shrugged and looked back in my eyes.

"Maybe you don't have to." he whispered. "Maybe you could stay the night."

[happinessinthedarkest-times]

avengers endgame reaction (spoilers!!!)

**if youre on mobile scroll fast bc idk if the keep reading works

holy shit holy shit fuck fuck fuck

i am an emotional wreak right now

ahhhhh it was so good im crying still

tony fucking stark my heart i guess ill start there 

tony stark i love you three thousand. he got his happy ending with morgan and pepper for 5 years they had 5 years together and he knew that the time heist (lol) would jeopardize that and he still went and helped

that scene where he had it out with steve at the beginning fuck my heart was breaking and i was crying .

i cried a lot in this movie. legit sobbing when nat died but ill get to that

that scene was everything i wanted it to be and perfectly executed. of course hes angry and lashing out because they were supposed to do it together and lose together and the emotion behind that ughh rdj killed it

he literally hands steve his heart the arch reactor

tony and howard ugh everything with them together. tony got closure with his dad 

everything tony was great. 

steve 

he got his happy ending. he got his dance with peggy (now im crying again) fuck. and he PICK UP MJOLNIR omg that scene was amazing and everything i never dreamed could happen when the hammer started moving ughhhh omg i was cheering so loud in the theatre and i dont normally do that. that whole scene ugh theres so much to react to

and he got to say assemble. 

ok now from the beginning. 

i started to cry literally before it even started. the screen was black and i was already tearing up but when clint and his daughter came up and then his family disappeared i was full on crying.

carol coming in clutch and saving tony and nebula yessss

steve and tony’s conversation right when he gets off the ship was everything i wanted it to be. (crying again) everything. 

when they go to thanos’s house thing and thor chops off his arm . its what ive been saying they shouldve done on titan 

and then he went for the head! 

five....... 

years later

fuck them. literally when the ‘five’ came up i was like no no no dont you dare do it dont you dare and then they did it. fuck them

five fucking years?!?! they made them live through 5 years of that trauma?!?!? 

nat was everything in this film. she became the leader and keeping track of everything and her moment of breaking down was just so human. she couldnt move on in those 5 years and it just shows how much the avengers had become her family. 

scott and cassie omg cassie all grown up made me so emotional 

tony and morgan i love you three thousand she is the cutest and sweetest thing 

tony fucking stark figured out time travel. he did that. 

when tony gives steve his shield back my heart could not take it

the scenes where they were trying to pinpoint the exact time to go back and it was like a sleepover sesh and all the domestic avenger fanfics 

going back a little bit

clint killing all the people that should have been killed and deserved to be killed and being a total badass showing up all those people who said he was just really good with an arrow and every scene he has with nat.

‘dont give me hope’

thor. oh where to start. he really did lose everything and he was blaming himself for all that happened so i get where hes coming from. every time you could see him remembering and tormenting himself about what happened broke me. his scene with his mother (crying again)

also hulk/bruce was an interesting choice (not a huge fan of it but ok) 

the time traveling

everything about the new york scenes were amazing. the aftermath of the end of the avengers, loki turning into cap for a second, seeing rumlow and sitwell come out, steve getting into the elevator and channeling that winter soldier energy (i was slapping my sister on the arm so hard at this part) hail hydra and outsmarting them all. cap fighting cap “i can do this all day” lmao i was dying ‘bucky is alive” again dying they really nailed it with this. i was worried beforehand because like it would change how we would see the og avengers but i still think it works

also can talk about how tony (and scott) was checking out steves ass????

“i forgot how that suit did nothing for you ass” (be still my heart) “i like to think of it at america’s ass” (or whatever the line was) 

loki getting away with the tesseract (is that in this timeline im confused about that hopefully someone will explain bc does that mean loki is alive in this timeline or not? lol)

them going back to the 1970s (do you trust me? i do) and tony meeting howard and introducing himself as howard potts. again i know i talked about howard and tony already but i loved their scenes. and JARVIS FROM AGENT CARTER MAKING AN APPEARANCE OMG

PEGGYYYYYYY (crying) when steve walked into her office (grabbed my sister again) and when he was watching her through the window and you could feel his pain. 

thor and rocket are the pairing that i never imagined but amazing none the less. i loved that we got the return of mjolnir here even though idk what that does to the timeline (again who knows at this point) 

rhodey and nebula again another pairing i didnt expect but are great together. everything about nebula in this film. she really has a great arch. i was stressing out so hard when the alternate timeline thanos found out that they came from the past. the scene where peter quill is dancing and singing to no music was great.

clint and natasha. this pairing thie duo the og. fuck my heart. when they started going off to vormir i knew. i knew it and i cannot handle it. the whole scene where they are fighting each other to sacrifice themself i was SOBBING. LEGIT SOBBING. ‘let me go’ i loved this so much and also hated it. she deserved her happy ending too. after everything she gave up everything to save those people. her arch is so good too. im excited for her origin. i kinda want to see her when shes a bad guy and killing everyone and her journey to shield. i hope thats what we’ll see in her movie. 

but also that scene emotionally fucked me up hard. 

the og avengers (minus nat) sitting on the edge of the lake 

thor trying to put on the glove and redeem himself (in his own eyes not my own bc he doesnt deserve the shit he gets for not going for the head)

hulk doing it and the calm before the storm where everything goes back before that missile comes firing down. 

steve tony and thor facing off with thanos. everything about this scene. tony getting a juice-up from thor and lightning to max out his powers. steve jump kicking on thanos’s ass. thanos beating up thor and steve coming in with FUCKING MJOLNIR AGAIN CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I WAS CHEERING AT THIS POINT HE IS WORTHY MY BOY STEVE IS WORTHY

also on that note tony coming up to steve and saying “theres my man” or something and giving him back his shield again. 

steve standing there with his broken shield ready to face off with thanos’s army and sam coming in on the comm. and then EVERYONE COMING THRU AND KICKING NAMES AND TAKING ASS

legit cheering and crying so much 

valkyrie with her pegasus

shuri with her blasters 

peter parker and his reunion with tony was heartbreaking. tony looked so broken and complete at the same time. he got him back. 

PEPPER FREAKING POTTS 

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE (YEESSSSSSSS)

peter quill’s semi-reunion with gamora and how she doesnt know him but he gets her back

also gamora, nebula and still-evil!nebula was a great scene. nebula killing her past self is some symbolic shit right there AND to protect her sister who she hated

CAROL FUCKING DANVERS COMING TO SAVE THE DAY AND KICK THANOS’S ASS 

im sad that she wasn’t in the film as much but i get why they did it and it also makes me really excited for her future films

but carol getting the gauntlet and peter saying “i dont know how youre gonna get through that” 

and ALL THE BADASS MCU WOMEN COMING UP BEHIND HER READY TO FIGHT AND REPRESENT FOR THE FEMALES (CRYING) 

this is something that couldn’t of been done a few years ago because there weren’t a lot of female superheroes in this universe and just the fact that this scene can make such an impression and become probably one of the most badass scenes of the mcu is one of the best things that came out of this movie.

side note: ‘activate instant kill’ great callback 

and then we get to the sacrifice.

i knew it. i expected it. i read it in fanfics.

i was still not prepared. 

‘I am inevitable’

‘I AM IRON MAN’

FUCKKKKKKKK they really know how to write these movies. 

he knew he would die. he knew he would never see morgan again. but he knew what he had to do. 

his character arch from a selfish man to a selfless man has been the most profound and powerful story. 

rdj and tony stark have really carried this franchise. they were the start. and it makes sense that his death closes out this era of the mcu. 

to rdj: i will never forgive my mom for telling me that she didn’t like you way back when. that really influenced how i thought about you and about tony stark for years. and i limited me from really appreciating and loving iron man and those movies and tony’s character. but as i continued to watch more of you in the mcu and in real life and have seen how you have grown and who you are today, i have so much love and respect for you and your character. im just so upset at the time i lost where i could have fallen even more in love with you. thank you so much for everything you have done over the last 11 years for this franchise. thank you for the time thank you for the memories and the laughs. the journey has been amazing. 

the funeral scene with ‘proof that tony stark has a heart’ 

(also was the the kid from iron man 3 in the back?)

VALKYRIE BECOMING KING (queen? i say king but who knows) of new asgard. look at my killing baby all grown up and being the leader they need.

thor becoming a guardian basically. 

also was quill looking for his gamora? where was the gamora from this timeline on the ship? she wasn’t there in the scene so idk

also fighting with knives to see whos in charge lol

im glad people mentioned/mourned for nat too 

steve rogers 

steve.

i knew he wasn’t coming back.

bucky knew it too.

im wreaked

but at least he got his happy ending. he got his peggy (again idk what that does to her timeline) 

captain sam wilson america in the house.

(old steve looks like joe biden or is it just me lol)

they ended it with a steggy dance and kiss

it really was a perfect end to his story and it wrapped up his character really well. he got that life he deserved 

to chris evans: as this is probably the last time we will see you as captain america let me thank you too for the years and joy that you have brought to my life. youre it for me. you are the reason i became so invested in this world. when you jumped on the fake grenade i was in it with you. chris you are and will always be the best chris in my heart. your passion for this character and understanding of steve rogers and his motivations have created such a memorable performance. steve rogers will always be the og. he will always have my heart. i am so thankful that you took this opportunity and used it and made this character your own. you live up to the standards that steve holds for himself and i am so excited for your future. i am also so glad that you didn’t die in this movie bc i definitely could not have handled it if i had to watch both my favs die. i love you three thousand.

i literally cried throughout the whole movie. there were laughs, cheers, groans, stress, tears, and love throughout this film. i am so grateful that i am alive during this time in cinematic history. there will never be something as great or momentous as this film. a true culmination of 22 films. its never been done and i doubt itll ever be done again

i am also so impressed and amazed by how well this film turned out. it is just amazing how everything fell into place 

im sure ill read other people’s reactions and they will bring up points or problematic things that will taint my view on this movie but i dont want that to ruin my own experience

and for me, this was truly emotionally draining and fulfilling. the feeling of being in that theatre with all those people who love the characters as much as i do and experiencing this film for the first time is something i will never forget. 

people talk about how they remember lining up for star wars.

well i remember sobbing my eyes out when nat died, cheering along with everyone when cap picked up mjolnir and whipped thanos’s ass with it and when carol and the rest of the badass women of the mcu ready to kick ass, crying with everyone as the light went out in tony’s chest and eyes, watching as history was made in front of our eyes.

and the end credits with the og avengers getting recognition with their photos and autographs. 

i love this franchise and these films and these characters i dont know who i would be without them. 

one last thing

thank you to the og avengers. steve tony thor nat clint bruce. chris robert chris scarlett jeremy mark. you will always have a special place in my heart. you were there at the start. you were the reason this all could happen you were the reason i became so invested in these movies. you brought these characters to life and embodied them. you are all so much like your characters the casting is perfect. thank you for your dedication to your work to you fans and to your characters. it means so much that you all stuck through this together and that you are such great friends in real life and i can only hope that one day i can be so lucky as to meet you all and thank you in person. 

[writing-parker]

Walk Me Home, Ch. 4

Walk Me Home, Ch. 4

Summary/Pairing: Joanna Taylor finds out Tony Stark is actually her dad. Peter Parker X OC

Word Count: 10.1k

Warning: Mentions of death, drugs, and alcohol. Suicide Warning. Gun Warning This is rated M for language and smut. 

Ch 1: Walk Me Home, Ch 1

Ch 2: Walk Me Home, Ch. 2

Ch 3: Walk Me Home, Ch. 3

A/N: Here’s chapter 4. I had to repost because of formatting issues, so im sorry if there’s any confusion. Also, thank you all soooo much for all of the comments and reblogs and likes and messages! It makes writing this so fun. PS. excuse the angst!

This has only been edited by me, so excuse any errors.

“Fuck,” Peter mutters under his breath

“Get out!” Jo yells at Sam and Bucky, quilt clutched to her chest, “Now!” They both back out of her room slowly and Jo falls back against her pillows, groaning. Peter chuckles a little, “Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

“Two Avengers literally just kicked in my front door, I’m sure that I’m having a pretty normal reaction.” Jo pushes some hair out of her face before cocking her head up at him, “Wait, you can hear that?” 

“Only because it’s really quiet in here,” He explains with a soft smile, “I’ve gotten pretty good at tuning that type of stuff out. The suit does it for me automatically, but at first, when I wasn’t wearing it there was just so much sight and sound stimulation it drove me crazy.” 

“I didn’t know that.” Jo tells him truthfully. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He points out. 

“Should we change that?” She asks breathily, butterflies forming in her stomach at the seriousness of these words. One of Peter’s hands comes up to clutch her cheek, thumb tracing her bottom lip. In the morning light Peter notices that her brown eyes have a ring of gold around them. The weight behind Jo’s words hang in the air. After last night, it’s clear that whatever they’ve been doing isn’t working. 

There’s a loud clang from the kitchen and they’re pulled from their reverie. Peter sighs and stands to re-dress, “I guess we should deal with that.” 

“Guess so,” Jo shakes her head and rummages around her room for a pair of lounge pants before putting on the same undershirt she had on the night before. Jo groans as soon as she steps out of her room. The door to her apartment had been torn from the hinges and thrown across the loft into the opposing wall, like someone with super powers had kicked it in. For a second, Jo almost laughs. How was this her life? 

Peter leans against the frame of Jo’s bedroom and surveys the damage in front of him. She was going to need a new door frame, a new door, and to repair the damaged wall them door flew into. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks across the room at Bucky and Sam. 

“Why?” Is all he asks them. 

Jo is still openly gaping at the hole in the wall where her door used to be, “Why?” she repeats, glaring at the person nearest to her, which happened to be Sam. “Don’t look at me,” Sam says, hands in the air defensively, “He’s the one who kicked the door in.”

“Dude.” Bucky throws Sam a look, “You told me to.” 

“Why?” Jo repeats, teeth clenched. 

“Your dad-” Sam starts. 

“Is in Singapore!” Jo yells, “What does he have to do with this?” 

“If you would let me finish,” Sam gives her a pointed look. “He got an alert from FRIDAY that you left the apartment and didn’t come back. FRIDAY also alerted him that you were under some sort of distress when you left. He called your phone about 100 times since then and you didn’t answer. So. He sent us to save you.” 

“From Peter?” She sounds defeated, looking at the mess in front of her. Jo considers Sam’s words. It was true, she had left, incredibly upset, and just not come back. She hadn’t realized she left her phone at the tower or that anyone had been trying to get in touch with her. 

“Tony convinced us that a bad, bad man had you and we were racing against time to find you.” Sam says. 

“I hate you both.” Peter says from his spot in Jo’s doorframe. 

Bucky and Sam’s direct their attention to Peter and Sam laughs out loud, “This is your, fault kid. How were we supposed to know the girl you told us about was Jo.” 

Jo’s eyes snap to Peter, “You told them?” She asks him defensively. 

“Not that it was you.” He says pointedly. 

“This is a mess.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair. 

Jo decides to ignore anything Peter may or may not have said to his roommates about their fight. “But why didn’t you just knock first?”

“This could have all been avoided if you knocked.” Peter continues. 

“I told you it was only a matter of time before the teenagers turned on us,” Sam muttered to Bucky, who nodded beside him. 

“Oh, my god!” Jo lets out a frustrated groan, “Forget it! Can we just clean it up?” The four of them begin to pick up the area quietly. Jo moves to her supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan and stands out of the way until the others are done with the heavy lifting. Bucky grabs hold of the industrial style door that’s currently stuck in the wall across from the entrance to her apartment, and with a little bit of effort pulls it out of the wall. More concrete and drywall fall to the ground loudly and Bucky gives Jo a sheepish look. 

Peter and Sam quietly pick up the larger pieces of concrete that surround the doorframe and wall, piling them up in the hallway outside Jo’s apartment. “So,” Joanna says casually, sweeping up the remaining dust and debris, “You obviously saw Peter and I here, uh, together,” Sam lets out a snort and Jo shoots him a glare, “Did you tell Tony he was here?”  

Peter and Jo exchange a look. Jo hadn’t known Tony and Peter very long, but she was able to learn that the two of them had a special relationship, even if Tony was hard on Peter sometimes. And Peter saw exactly the way Tony had changed since Jo came into his life. He was better in every way. Peter also knew that Tony was aware of his less than stellar reputation when it came to women. If Tony found out that Peter was sleeping with his daughter he would send him on a year-long mission in South America. Or to work in a lab in Switzerland. Or maybe he’d just kill him. 

Peter coughs a bit and looks at them, “You can’t tell Tony.” 

Sam takes one look at the two of them and laughs out loud. They both wear matching expressions of embarrassment and fear. “You guys are so fucked.” “Sam.”

“We didn’t tell him, don’t worry about it.” Bucky tells them. 

“Yup. As far as he’s concerned you just left your phone at the tower.” Sam reassures, looking between the two, “But ya’ll gotta figure whatever this is out.” With that, the two men make their way out of Jo’s apartment. Sam’s words hang between the two of them. 

“He’s, uh, got a point, Jo.” Peter tells her, gingerly picking up the door and trying to place it in front of the hole in the wall is. “You should call Happy about this.” He says as an afterthought. 

Jo stares at him for a little, unable to express her thoughts to him. 

“Okay, I’ll go first I guess.” Peter moves to stand in front of her, “Look Joanna. I know it’s hard to put a label on this, but it just doesn’t feel casual to me anymore. I thought it could pretend I cared less than I did, but it drove me insane. I just need you to know I’m crazy about you.  I don’t even know where I’m going with this.” Peter rambles.

“I get it!” Jo finally gets out, “I get it, I feel the same way. This is special, ok?” She grabs one of Peter’s hands, lacing her fingers with his. “You’re all I’ve thought about since I met you.” 

“I haven’t even been able to look at another girl since you,” Peter laughs a little. “We still can’t tell anyone.” She reminds him. 

“Yeah, but at least we aren’t pretending that friends with benefits is working anymore. Maybe, eventually, we can tell Tony and-“ 

“Any then what?” Jo asks, getting a little defensive, “Then you put your arm around me in public and then the whole world thinks they own us? No way.” Peter sighs. Jo has a point, but he decides that this just isn’t the time to talk about that. “Look,” He says, pulling her close and leaning down to ghost his lips along her jaw, “as long as you know how I feel, I’m fine.” 

“Remind me how you feel again?” Jo gives him a mischievous smile, but there’s something in her eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. Insecurity, maybe? 

Peter softens, kissing the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver, “No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel.” He pulls back and puts his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye, “It’s just you, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jo whispers, feeling the weight of his words. “Can you hear my heart right now?” She’s overwhelmed by her feelings and she’s not sure she’ll be able to properly articulate them to him. 

Peter nods. 

“Then you know.” Jo swallows, “How I’m feeling right now.” 

Peter lifts a hand and ghosts it over the skin above her heart. “Just for you.” Jo tells him. Peter nods again and presses his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily. The two separate eventually and continue to clean the area. When they’re satisfied with their work, Peter pulls Jo to the couch with him. “I’m taking a mental health day today.” Peter declares to Jo. “Do you have anything on your agenda?” 

She looks up at him and shakes her head. “Literally nothing.” Jo smiles up at him. 

They spend the morning drinking coffee and talking. Jo gets wrapped up in every story Peter has to tell her. It’s the first time he opens up to her like this. About his high school friends that are away at college and what Tony meant to him and the crazy missions he’s been on. 

Jo hesitates to ask him about his parents, but Peter easily explains the situation to her. His parents died when he was very young. He was raised about his aunt and uncle. Jo wasn’t embarrassed to admit to him that he had read an interview that he had done with GQ. He had gushed about his Aunt May, but didn’t mention an uncle. 

Peter looks anywhere but Jo when he says, “He died.” 

“Oh.” 

“Like four months after I got bit. He was stabbed in a robbery.” 

“Peter…” Jo sits up to look at him. She can tell he’s trying keep his face indifferent. 

“I couldn’t stop it.” He finally looks at her. “I was there, I wasn’t fast enough.” Jo knew the pain of losing a parent, of course. But she cannot imagine that coupled with the belief that it had been her fault that her mom died. She reaches for his hand and plays with his fingers and waits for him to go on. 

“I think about it every day…. If I had gotten there a second earlier.” Peter shakes his head, “He would be here still and May would be happy.”

“You were barely 15. You can’t,” Jo pauses, “You shouldn’t carry this burden around.” 

“I know, Joanna.” He gives her a sad smile. 

Unsure of what else to say, Jo leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. She goes to pull away but Peter anchors a hand in her hair and pulls her closer to him. Jo thrills at the feeling of Peter’s calloused hands running down her arms and over her waist. 

Peter pulls Jo closer and she straddles his waist. One of his hands travels down to her ass, squeezing lightly. Jo gasps into his mouth and grinds her hips against his. Before Jo can react Peter hooks an arm around her back and flips them so she’s on her back underneath him, Peter’s hips between her thighs. 

“I wish I could spend every afternoon like this,” Peter tells Jo, pushing some hair out of her face. 

“Quit your day job and drop out of school,” Jo says cheekily, “And I think we can work something out.” 

Peter rolls his eyes and kisses his way down her body, effectively cutting off all conversation for the rest of the afternoon. __________________________________________________________________

Friday night rolls around. Both Jo and Peter decide to ignore invitations to go out with their friends to stay in and hang out at Peter’s, something that Jo has grown fond of doing with him. It’s nearly 1AM when they decide to put a frozen pizza in the oven. 

“Crazy Friday night.” Peter laughs from behind Jo, wrapping two arms around her. 

She leans back against his chest and nods, “It’s nice.” 

Peter hums in agreement and rests his chin on the top of her head. The two are comfortably quiet for a few moments until they’re both pulled from their thoughts by the elevator door opening and loud, raucous laughter coming from the inside. 

Peter drops his arms and steps away from Jo, who moves to take a spot on a stool around the island as Steve, Bucky, and Sam saunter in the room. 

“The kids are still awake!” Sam declares as he walks into the kitchen and immediately opens the fridge and pulls out a 6 pack, immediately tossing one to Steve and one to Bucky. 

“It’s gotta be past your bedtime,” Steve says to Jo with a teasing smile. 

Jo gives him a crooked smile back, “Are you guys drunk?” She had never seen Steve with the glassy look he has in his eyes. 

“No, we just went to happy hour.” Sam explains as Bucky takes a seat next to Jo. 

“Happy hour ends at 7.” Jo accuses, narrowing her eyes at Bucky. 

Bucky reaches out and pokes the tip of her nose, “Happy hours.” He corrects. “You’re all wasted!” Peter laughs, pointing at Steve. 

“Needed to blow off some steam?” Jo asks, resting her chin on her hand. “We were trying to get Bucky laid.” Steve slurs a little looking between Jo and Peter. “The man needs it and he won’t talk to girls himself so… wingman.” Steve points at himself. 

“Wingmen!” Sam corrects. 

“But Bucky’s not with a girl… he’s here in the kitchen. You guys aren’t great wingmen.” Peter notes, taking a look at Bucky, who is bright red. 

“I didn’t have a say in any of this,” He explains with a smile. Jo, surprised to learn that he’s a happy drunk, smiles back at him. 

“Well we can’t all be lucky enough to live in the same apartment as the person we’re banging,” Sam says. Steve gives him a curious look. 

“Who are you talking about?” Steve asks. 

Jo tries very hard not to show any emotion on her face, but she feels her eyes widen at Peter. Peter shoots a glare at Sam, who doesn’t even realize how bad he messed up. In the same moment, the oven timer goes off loudly, startling everyone in the room. 

“Did you guys cook for us?” Bucky asks, not skipping a beat. 

Peter and Jo both let out the breath they had been holding when Steve walks over to the oven, “You made us a pizza? How sweet.” And with that Sam’s comment is forgotten.

Steve passes out on the couch after a couple more hours of beer and shit talking. Jo Peter Bucky and Sam stand in the hallway by the elevator. “You suck!” Jo whisper-yells at Sam. 

“This is why I don’t tell you anything!” Peter says in the same tone. 

“Is this about what I said about you guys bangin’? I’m sorry. I forgot Steve didn’t know.” Sam shrugs, still drunk. 

“This is why we can’t have nice things.” Jo mutters under her breath. “I’m going to bed, I hope you old men don’t have hangovers tomorrow.” 

“Rude.” Sam acknowledges her comment before pressing the elevator button for Jo. Bucky gives her and Peter a kind smile before making his way to his room. When the elevator opens Jo looks at Peter, “Come sleep in my bed?” She asks, holding a hand out for him. He grabs it and brings it to his lips. 

“I have to get up early tomorrow. Meeting with Tony.” Peter explains. 

“That’s fine. I won’t keep you up.” She says, pulling him into the elevator. 

“You say that now.” Peter rolls his eyes. 

“I’m serious!” Jo laughs.

“You’re insatiable.” 

“I’ll let you sleep.” Jo promises. 

The pair make their way to Jo’s bedroom slowly, a little drunk on beer and sleepy. Jo had wondered how the older men would react when Peter grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Jo, but they didn’t even blink an eye. 

One thing she was shocked to find out about her newfound fame was how easy it was to get illegal substances. She never had to ask or go looking, if she went to an event or a party or a press release- if there were a group of celebrities there, there was alcohol, among other drugs that Jo had more than her fair share of. 

She wasn’t a normal 16 year-old girl and Peter wasn’t a normal 19 year-old boy, so she guessed that they could have a beer whenever they damn pleased. Jo changes quietly, swapping the pale blue dress she was wearing for one of Peter’s discarded shirts before padding to the bathroom to quickly wash her face and brush her hair. She crawls into bed and waits for Peter to join her. 

No matter how tired she is, seeing Peter with his shirt off still makes Jo feel things. His defined muscles sort of came as a shock to her, because he was so slim and quick, but they were a welcome surprise. She was used to dating skinny boys and Peter was already built like a man. She supposed that when you were on Captain America’s training regimen that was the result.  

Her eyes follow him as he approaches the other side of the bed, “Like what you see?” He teases. 

“I like looking at you,” Jo tells him unabashedly, “You’re really nice to look at.” 

Peter climbs into bed next to her and presses his lips to hers, “You’re not half bad yourself.”

______________________________________________________________

When Jo wakes up the next morning the other side of the bed is cold and empty. She scrolls through Instagram and Twitter for a bit before growing bored and making her way to the kitchen. She’s shocked to see Peter sitting at her kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee. He’s dressed in blue slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled and tie loosened, with his jacket strewn across the back of the chair he sits in. 

Peter’s too wrapped up in whatever he’s reading to notice Jo enter the kitchen. She leans against the wall and watches Peter read, enjoying the sight of him all business casual. After a few moments she clears her throat. 

“I thought you said your meeting was really early. It’s already 9.” She says. If she startled Peter he doesn’t show it, “I’ve actually been back for a half hour already.” He says smugly, lifting a coffee cup to his mouth. 

“Does Tony make you wear a suit for meetings?” Jo asks, making her way over to the stool next to his. Peter gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before returning his attention to whatever he’s reading. 

“No, but Tony’s always in a suit when he’s in his office. Seems like the professional thing to do.” Peter mumbles as Jo picks up his coffee and takes a sip. One of Peter’s hands finds her thigh and he absentmindedly runs his fingers across her skin. He’s so focused on whatever he’s doing he’s barely looked at her.

“Hmm.” Jo hums next to him, not trying to distract from whatever he’s reading. After a few moments Peter lets out a sign and turns to face Jo. 

“Sorry,” He laughs a little, loosening his tie a little more, “I thought you would be asleep longer.”

Jo shrugs, “It should be illegal to have meetings before 9am.” She tells him. Peter laughs in earnest, “Jo, Tony starts his work days at like 6 in the morning. I’m just happy he didn’t have me come in then.” 

“Fair enough. What are you reading?” Jo peeks at the papers curiously. “Mission briefing.” Peter says as he stands to get more coffee. 

“Are you going somewhere?” She rests her chin on her hands and appreciates the sight of him making coffee in his work clothes in her kitchen. 

“Marrakech.” He doesn’t look up from the coffee filter he’s fiddling with. “Morocco? Peter that’s so cool!” Jo’s eyes light up. 

“Cool?” Peter snorts, “Glad you think so. I’ll be getting shot at.” 

Jo’s face drops and she looks at her hands, feeling chagrined. 

Peter takes one look at her and immediately feels like shit. “Hey,” He walks over to Jo and puts a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to force her to look at him, “I’m sorry. It is cool that I get to go to these places. I usually even have a full day to be a tourist.”

Jo’s eyes search his and she says nothing, not sure what to make of him snapping at her like that. 

“May has me really stressed lately,” Peter explains, “She worries a lot and it freaks me out and I had just gotten off the phone with her when you walked in.” 

“What you and Tony do… I mean I know it’s dangerous, but like, what are you even walking in to? You don’t get to wear a bulletproof suit like Tony and I mean you’re so much younger than them and Steve and Bucky and Sam fought in actual wars, it doesn’t seem right that you-”

Peter cuts Jo off by pressing his lips to hers. She runs a hand through his hair and kisses him back gently. When he pulls away he smiles at her, “You’re cute when you’re worried.” Jo grunts in his direction, annoyed he won’t take her seriously. 

“Jo, I’m always safe, okay?” Peter nuzzles behind her ear, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.” 

Of course, that’s all she would do, but he doesn’t need to know that. “When do you leave?” 

Jo squeals a little when Peter pulls her from her stool and into his lap, “Later this afternoon. We’ll be gone maybe four or five days.” 

“Oh.” Jo’s face falls a little. 

“What is it?” Peter asks. 

Jo leans back and away from Peter so she can look at him better. One of his hands reaches around to steady her back so she doesn’t fall off of him. “Maria’s getting married.” 

Peter smiles. Maria Hill was getting married in a ceremony upstate. They rented a big pretty barn with a huge field for the ceremony and reception, and even rented the Inn on the property for their small wedding party and closest friends. Just about every field agent he knew was going to the wedding and all of the Avengers had been invited to stay the weekend. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” Jo tells him. Peter has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He learned pretty quickly that if a girl says something isn’t a big deal, it probably is. Jo continues, “Well, for some reason she invited me to come along. And I was wondering if you were going.” 

Peter frowns, it’s Tuesday. Everyone had been planning to drive up on Friday morning in a few of the Stark Industries SUVs that Tony had provided on, but Peter had been planning on traveling up separately the next day. “I was going to go Saturday depending on when I got back. Why?”

“My birthday is Sunday. And I can’t go Friday with everyone else because I have some Spotify thing.” Jo tells him. 

“I know. Maria picked out a cake to bring out on Saturday at the end of the reception.” Peter smiles at her. 

“So you’re going upstate, too?” Jo asks. “I wasn’t sure if I should even go…” “Yeah. Sam and I were going to drive up Saturday morning-ish, depending on when we get back. Come with us. I want to see you on your birthday.” Peter says, kissing her on her temple. 

Jo bites her lip, “You don’t think anyone will think it’s weird that we’re coming together?” 

“No, and besides, Sam’s coming too. We can be out together, Jo, no one will think a thing of it. It might be weirder if we pretend we don’t know each other.” Peter laughs. 

Jo thinks about it for a minute. Over the past year, every single boy that she’s been in public with has been speculated to be her boyfriend. This wasn’t any different. “No, you’re right.” She tells him, “We can be in public together. I feel like we’re expected to be friends.” 

“You know,” Peter laughs, “People always say shit about Tony being a ‘father figure’ to me. Before it didn’t really bother me, but now…” 

“Ew.” Jo says, “No, that’s weird, right?” 

“That’s totally weird.” Peter agrees. He pulls Jo close she rests her head on his chest. Peter runs a hand through her hair, enjoying the feel of her on top of him. He never really felt this way with any other girls, like he needed to be close to them or he couldn’t breathe, but everything he felt with Jo was just so different than anything he had ever experienced. But he couldn’t tell anyone that because they would say he’s 19 and young and stupid. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and rests his chin on Jo’s head. 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Peter asks Jo eventually. 

“Oh, nothing.” She says without hesitation. 

“C’mon, Jo. Gimme something.” Yeah, he had really strong feelings for her, but he still had no clue what she would want for her birthday. Perfume? Jewelry? No. Everything traditional seemed wrong. 

“Peter, I don’t want anything. I definitely don’t need anything.” Jo says with a heavy eye roll. “Just get home safe, okay?”

Peter nods and scoops Jo up in his arms, ignoring her yells of protest, and deposits her on the large couch in the living area. “You’re so easy to throw around.” He laughs. 

“You have superpowers it’s not even close to a fair fight.” Jo pushes herself into a sitting position. 

“Life isn’t fair, Taylor.” He says, her last name rolling off his tongue. 

“Whatever, get over here.” Jo laughs and pats the space on the couch next to her. 

“Jo, if I don’t finish the reading Tony gave me he’s gonna be so pissed.” Peter tells her. 

“Well bring it over here.” 

Peter does as she says and takes the spot next to her on the couch. They’re both quiet for a bit, Peter finishing his work and Jo scrolling through her phone. Peter feels her eyes on him, quietly appraising his form. 

“What?” He asks Jo. 

She shrugs and say nothing, but continues to stare.  She takes in his face- the curve of his nose, his strong jaw, soft eyes- his hands, the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, driving her crazy. Not even realizing what she’s doing, she pulls the papers he’s reading from his hand and drops them on the ground and straddles his hips, fingers toying with the loosened tie around his neck.  

“What are you doing?” Peter asks, sounding a little annoyed, but his hands find her waist nonetheless. 

“You can read on the plane.” Jo tells him, slipping his tie off and pressing light kisses down his jaw. Once the tie is gone, she makes quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt. Jo pulls off the shirt she’s wearing- one of Peters- leaving her only in an impossibly tiny pair of panties. 

Peter leans back against the couch cushions, drinking in the sight of her on top of him like that. Soon Jo has his dress shirt unbuttoned and pushed aside. She kisses and bites down his body. When her teeth scrape one of Peter’s nipples, he moans loudly, bucking his hips. 

Jo climbs off Peter and settling on her knees in front of him. She can see his growing erection underneath his slacks, and she makes quick work of his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down over his cock. 

She grasps his thickening shaft, and Peter groans as she pumps him, watching her through slitted eyes.  She glances at his flushed cheeks and the taut muscles in his neck, feeling herself get turned on as well. Then she fists her hair over her shoulder in one hand and bends over him to suck the head of his cock between her lips.

“Shit—you… god,” he sighs as he collapses back into the couch, both of his hands grip the cushions tightly. She watches his face from the corner of her eye and hesitantly swirls her tongue around the tip. His skin is salty, and when her tongue swipes through the slit, the flavor of his precum bursts across her taste buds. It encourages her, and, releasing her hair, she grabs the base of his cock and opens her mouth wider, taking him in farther.

One of Peter’s hands releases the couch to fist in her hair. Jo tries to maintain eye contact with him as much as possible; his pupils grow fatter, and his nostrils flare, his mouth parts as he breathes deeper, faster. It makes her wetter.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Peter whispers, eyes shut, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Just...a little harder.”

Tightening her fist, she sucks his cock into her mouth. He grunts, hips jerking slightly. The hand in her hair tightens and he pulls harshly. She cries out, her own hand releasing him to pull his fist out of her hair.

“Oh god,” Peter says, sitting up a little to look down at Jo, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She tells him reassuringly, “I just don’t think I liked that. Don’t pull.”

When Jo’s mouth returns to his cock, he gently weaves his hand into her hair, but just to keep it out of her face. She flicks her tongue over the head, along the ridge, obsessively studying his face as it twists in pleasure. Reassured, she slides her mouth back down on him. She can’t take him too far or deep, but she tries to make up for it with a tight, stroking hand on the bottom half of his cock, tugging on his flesh when she pulls her lips and tongue up to the head.

“God, that’s so good,” Peter grunts, voice choked, abdomen flexing. She splays her free hand over the muscles, feeling them quiver under her touch. Suddenly, his other hand finds her shoulder to gently push her away and he gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” Jo’s mouth remains on him.

Peter struggled to keep his eyes open, and she locked gazes with him, her lips wrapped tightly around him. His balls tightened, and she instinctively thrusts her tongue back to catch his semen as he comes with a grunt.

When he’s done, Jo releases him and pulls his boxers up over his cock before kissing her way up his body again. He sits with his head back against the couch, eyes closed, breathing still ragged. When she kisses under his chin, both of his hands frame her jaw and bring her lips to his.

“You’re incredible,” He says, one hand tangling in her hair, fingers gently rubbing her scalp, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” His fingers apply a little more pressure.

“It’s okay. I-I” Jo stutters, then takes a deep breath, feeling embarrassed for some reason, even though Peter’s cock was literally just in her mouth, “I’m still figuring out what I like, I guess.” Then she looks down, “Was that… good for you? I mean I’ve never really…” Jo struggles to find the right words.

Peter’s eyes flutter all the way open, “You’ve never… really?” Considering the way she just made him feel, he finds it hard to believe.

“No, well, yes, I mean,” She’s flustered all of the sudden, not sure how to talk about her ex or the guys she brought home when she went off the deep end after her mother died.

“Just with one person. My ex. When I was still in school, before all of this,” She says referring to her album and tour and the fame and Tony and Peter. “There was him and, I mean, I was really young and we weren’t exactly adventurous in bed. Then we broke up not long before my mom died. After that I just went home with anyone, any warm body, and I wasn’t exactly eager to do that with them.” She’s suddenly a bit shy, eyes cast downward toward her hands.

“I didn’t sleep with all of them, just a few. So uh, yeah, I’m not really good at this.” She manages to stutter. “I think I sort of put on this false bravado when we met and started fooling around and stuff.” Jo shrugs.

Peter things back to the first few times they were intimate together. She had been the one to initiate it, but he remembered noticing how timid she really was.  He looks at her, tucked up against his side, mostly naked, and blushing hard, “Hey, you know I’m not expecting anything from you right?”

Jo cocks an eyebrow at him.

Peter, a bit frustrated, runs a hand through his hair, “The way we started this fucked everything up.” He sighs, and Jo looks at him curiously, “We shouldn’t have made it just about sex. I just wanted you any way I could get you, and that was selfish of me.

“But I don’t-I’m not…. Look, I like it. That you haven’t been with that many guys. But I also wouldn’t care if you slept with everyone in New York City. I just like you.” Peter pauses a moment, “And you just made me feel really, really good. So don’t ever worry about that.”

Jo blushes deeper and nods, “Okay.” She whispers to him.

Peter runs his hands down her body, leaving goosebumps in their trail, “Thanks for the unexpected blowjob.” He gives her a crooked smirk.

Jo laughs out loud, pushing his chest back a little so she can slip out of his grip, and Peter makes a sound of protest, “Oh, sush.” She giggles, dropping his mission briefing back on his lap and pulling Peter’s big t-shirt back over her body.

Peter watches Jo flit around her apartment cleaning the mess she’s left unattended for the last couple of days and suddenly wishes that he didn’t have to go anywhere this week. Or ever. He could watch her in his t-shirt forever, and never get tired of the sight.

___________________________________________________________

Jo hops up on the edge of the low stone wall that surrounds the patio where the make-shift dance floor is set up. Maria’s ceremony was beautiful and quick, and now the party was in full swing. She watches some of the drunker patrons dance very poorly with a small smile on her face.

Peter stands by the bar, drink in hand, pretending to listen to whatever Tony and Natasha are talking about. Really, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off Jo since the ceremony when she and Natasha, who were sharing a room, sat next to him.

She had on a green dress, the color of sage, that made her tan, summer skin literally glow. It was short, maybe a little too short for a wedding (not that Peter cared), with thin straps and a very, very low back that showed off the curve of her spine. Her hair was as wild as ever, cascading down her back. He had to force himself to look away from her, she was so radiant.

Tony watches Peter watch his daughter. The young man hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her, and literally every single person talking to him noticed. Tony wanted to be annoyed, but the protectiveness, the softness in Peter’s eyes was something he’d never seen before, at least not with any of the girls Tony had met.

Tony sighed, figuring he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. The music slowly changes from dance music, to the oldies and Bing Crosby blasts over the speakers. Natasha quickly grabs Peter, “We’re dancing, маленький паук,” She says, using the nickname she gave him when he was still in high school.

Peter laughs, shrugging at Tony, before following her to the dance floor. Jo eyes follow them, soft smile playing on her lips. Peter looked so good in a suit, and she was just the right tipsy that everything had her smiling. She’s pulled from her thoughts when someone next to her clearing their throat.

Bucky Barnes stands in front of her, right hand extended, “Let me show you how to dance properly.” He smiles at her.  “To good music.” He winks.

Jo smiles at him and takes his hand. While she was always nervous about Sam saying something about her’s and Peter’s secret relationship, she knew she could trust Bucky to keep it a secret.

“I really like Bing Crosby, you know. But I think you’d like 60s music better.” She tells him truthfully. “I’ll make a playlist.”

Bucky smiles at her. They find themselves on the dance floor with Peter and Natasha and Steve and Wanda. Steve and Bucky try to teach the girls how to dance the right way, as Steve explained. Bucky twirls Jo, her hair flying around her face, laughing, before she stumbles right into Peter.

“Oof,” She grunts, hitting his solid chest, Peter steadies her, letting one hand rest on her hip just a little too long.

The song switches to a slow song and Jo goes to pull away, but Peter looks over her head at Bucky and says, “I’m gonna steal your partner,” before turning to Jo, who is about to open her mouth in protest when he rolls his eyes, “Don’t make it weird, ok? No one’s paying attention. I just want to dance with you.”

One of Peter’s hands find Jo’s waist, and the other grabs her left hand, pulling her close, but not too close. She rests her free arm over his shoulder, around his neck. He smells like whiskey and honey and the cigar he smoked with Tony.

“Have I told you how great you look tonight?” Peter asks her, eyes boring into hers.

Jo blushes, “You like the dress? I wasn’t sure if it was exactly wedding appropriate….”

“You look so fucking good, Jo.” Peter laughs airily, ghosting his hand down her spine. Jo tries not to shiver. Peter looks around, making sure no one is watching them.

Jo almost moans out loud when his teeth scrape her ear. She pulls back and smacks him in the chest lightly, “You’re drunk.” Jo giggles, cheeks rosy.

“Baby,” He looks at her, “Your legs in that dress are doing things to me, I’m sorry I can’t help it. And besides, you’re drunk too.”

Jo giggles again, taking note of how much she liked it when he called her baby. The song dies down and she and Peter make their way off the dance floor to one of the empty tables surrounding the area. Jo kicks off her heels and rests her feet at one of the empty chairs. Peter takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over Jo’s shoulders before making his way back over to the bar.

Jo follows him with her eyes, barely noticing someone sit next to her. “Hey, kid.” Tony says, sitting down next to her with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar.

“Tony! I’ve looking for you since I got here!” Jo laughs, grabbing the cigar from him.

“That can’t be good for a singer.” Tony says, and Jo rolls her eyes. “You know, as your father I should probably be telling you that you cannot, under any circumstances, smoke or drink until you are of legal age.”

“But?”

“But, it seems like that ship had sailed. Are you having fun?” Tony laughs, taking a swig of whiskey. Jo doesn’t miss the way his eyes cut to where Peter is standing at the bar.

“It’s beautiful here.” Jo tells him truthfully, “And everyone is drunk and happy. I love it.”

Tony’s hand finds her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, “I’m glad you’re doing better.” He tells her. Jo covers his hand with hers.

“Cause of you.” She tells him, eyes clear and boring into his. There will always be a lot more to say, but for now this is enough for both of them.

“Jo!” Peter interrupts, sauntering into view, “I got you a whiskey sour, ‘cause they’re out of oranges and old fashioneds without oranges are gross I guess. Well, that’s what the bartender said. I think they’re gross all the time.”

“Because you have the pallet of a 13 year old.” Jo rolls her eyes.

They laugh and keep drinking, until soon the whole table is full and Natasha has a tray of tequila shots and everyone is laughing because Steve can’t keep a straight face drinking it. Things get a bit blurry for Jo after that, but she remembers Sam and Bucky bringing out a cake sometime after midnight and everyone singing happy birthday and blowing out candles and being really happy.

It’s nearly 3am and Peter and Jo and a few others are keeping the party going. Peter can tell that Jo’s getting tired by the way her eyes flutter and her body sags into his. He pulls her closer to him, arm around her shoulders, not really caring who sees. Tony had gone back to the city hours ago and Peter was too drunk to care about the looks that Natasha was giving them.

Peter watches Jo pull his jacket tighter around her body and laugh at something Sam said.  Peter leans down to whisper in her ear, “Good birthday so far?” He asks, wondering if she’ll remember in the morning

Jo looks up at him with starry eyes, “So good.” She tells him, leaning her head into his chest. “I’m really tired.”

Peter hums, taking a sip of his drink and slipping his arm around her. Jo closes her eyes and lets the vibrations from his voice and the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep.

Jo is startled awake not long after by Peter pulling her into his arms and lifting her easily off the bench and grabbing her shoes, “I can walk.” She tells him, but despite her words she nuzzles her face further into his neck.

Peter just laughs and continues walking towards the inn. When he finally makes it to his room he sets her down gently. Jo sways a little in front of him. He puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her and she looks at him with complete adoration.

“Peter,” She whispers, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek.

Peter leans into her touch, smiling down at the drunk girl in front of him, “Jo.” He whispers back.

Joanna doesn’t say anything, just moves to wrap both arms around his neck before standing on her toes and pressing her lips to his. The kiss deepens quickly and Peter’s hands are roaming her back, down her arms, sliding up her waist to cup one of her breasts. Jo palms the front of Peter’s dress pants and feels him start to harden under her touch.

Peter pulls her down to the bed and kisses down her neck and Jo tries to make quick work of his belt. Her usually deft fingers fumble with the belt buckle and she huffs in annoyance, looking up at Peter. “Help.”

Peter notices the glassiness in her eyes and her slow words, “Baby-”

“Love it when you call me that,” Jo interrupts, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

“You’re drunk.” He says around her mouth.

“Want you.” She tells him, still kissing his face.

“Jo!” Peter puts both hands on her shoulders, “I’m not doing anything with you that you won’t remember.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go to sleep, it’s almost four in the morning. I think you had one too many tequila shots.”

“I only had one!” Jo retorts.

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” She huffs, stumbling a little when she stands. With a smile, Peter rolls his eyes and stands to follow her. She walks around for a moment before turning to look at him, “Can’t find my bag.”

“We’re in my room. Your bag is in your room.” Peter explains, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. She leans her head back against his chest with a pout.

“Can we go to my room and get it?” She asks.

“I mean we could,” Peter smiles at her, “But I think Bucky and Natasha would be a little annoyed if we interrupted them.”

“Bucky and Nat?!” Jo exclaims. Peter nods. “At least Nat’s boyfriend wants to fool around with her.”

Peter rolls his eyes at her, deliberately ignoring the word boyfriend. “Nat can hold her liquor.” He retorts. But then he pulls her close, “And just so you know, I always want you.”

Peter slowly helps Jo undress, dress pooling at the floor around her feet, leaving her in front of him in nothing but a tiny pair of black panties. He scrubs his hand over his face, wanting to throw his Not-Sleeping-With-Wasted-Girls policy out the window. But he shakes his head and quickly unbuttons his shirt and helps Jo into it.

Peter tucks some hair behind her ear and looks down at her. Even drunk and messy and stumbling she’s still perfect. He pulls her close, just needing to touch her.

“Dance with me?” She asks Peter, eyes wide.

Peter almost melts at the sound of her voice, “There’s no music.” And then Jo is out of his grasp and her phone is playing Sinatra and she’s grabbing his hands again.

They’re quiet for a few moments, swaying off-beat to the music. Eventually Jo speaks, “None of the other guys ever wanted to dance with me.” She says so softly that Peter almost missed it. Not sure what she’s trying to say, he waits for Jo to go on. “They wanted my body, most of the time. Or they liked how many followers I have on Instagram. They didn’t know that I like to dance to Sinatra when I’m drunk.” Her voice shakes.

“I would do anything you asked me.” Peter tells her truthfully. “I could do this forever.”

“You’ll like me even when I’m making you dance with me at four in the morning?” She asks, not able to look him in the eye. The implication behind her words is obvious to him. “What happens when I’m not shiny and new anymore?”

Peter suddenly feels so angry at whoever made her believe that she was only worth wanting for the fame, the celebrity. Or just to say they’ve slept with Joanna Taylor. He has to make an effort to keep his hands from shaking. He’s pretty sure that in this moment he could kill anyone who made her feel less.

“Joanna,” Peter breathes, “I’ll always like you. I’ll always want you. Okay?”

Jo is quiet for a moment, searching his eyes, trying to decide if she’ll believe him. She nods.

“Use your words, baby.” Peter looks down at her. “I need to know you understand I’m not going to hurt you.”

Reaching up to touch his face, Jo nods again, “I know.” She whispers.

For Peter, it’s enough. He presses a soft kiss to her mouth before he says, “Let’s go to bed.”

They crawl into bed, Jo’s body curling into Peters, her back to his chest. He wraps an arm around her middle and pulls her as close as he can, fingers splayed over her abdomen, one of his legs between hers. He buries his face in the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing her in deeply.

Peter thinks Jo’s asleep already, until he hears her voice, “Hey Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’ll always want you too.” She says, so low, that if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing he wouldn’t even have heard.

“Okay,” He whispers back, breath tickling Jo’s ear. He doesn’t tell her how badly he needed to hear her say that, just pulls her closer and lets the sound of her steady breathing lull him to sleep.

_______________________________________________________

Jo’s hands are shaking. Peter watches her clench them into fists to quell the tremors and almost gives in and pulls her to him and tells her everything is fine. Almost.

But, he’s fucking livid at her right now, so he doesn’t.

It had been nearly two months since Maria’s wedding. Something shifted between the two of them that night, they stopped dancing around their feelings and realized that their relationship was something serious. As serious as a couple of teenagers could be.

They even told Tony, who was shockingly cool about the whole thing, but still liked to give Peter a hard time about. In the nearly 6 months it’s been since they met, Peter had fallen absolutely head over heels for Jo, and she wasn’t far behind him.

But this was their first fight. Like actual Screaming-Across-The-Apartment fight. They had bickered before, but nothing like this.

It started when Jo opened the freezer for some ice and a large candle fell from the top, clipping her on the shoulder before shattering at her feet. She had just gotten back from a whirlwind week in Los Angeles a few days ago, and Peter had been so busy with work they’d barely gotten to talk.

“Oh shit, baby, are you okay?” Peter asked from his place on the couch.

“Did you put this there?” She hisses at him.

“Yeah, I-” Peter starts, but Jo cuts him off.

“Did you ever maybe think that maybe that would be a stupid place to put it?” She snaps, voice raised.

“I was cleaning up the mess you left out here last night. I forgot I put it there. What the fuck’s your problem today?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen

“Well I didn’t fucking ask you to do that.”

“I was just trying to help, jesus. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.” Peter retorts.

“Whatever.” Jo snorts, trying to brush past him to her bedroom, but Peter steps in front of her.

“No.” He crosses his arms in front of her, “You’ve been acting like this since you got back from LA. What’s up?”

“Maybe I’m just a bitch.” She sneers at him.

Peter scrubs a hand over his face, trying not to raise his voice, knowing how easily it could escalate, “Jo…” He warns.

“What?!” She explodes, “You’ve barely fucking looked at me since I got back! You didn’t answer any of my texts or calls while I was gone, and now you’re gonna act all pissy because of this? Get out of my way.” She shoves past him, shoulder hitting his.

“Sorry I’m busy!” He yells after her, grabbing her arm, “Don’t fucking walk away, it’s immature. Not what you do when you’re in a fight.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She spits, “And you didn’t seem busy when you were out in the Village this weekend.”

“You’re kidding. This is what you’re mad about? I really don’t have the time for this.” Now it’s Peter’s turn to walk away.

“No. I’m not kidding. It felt pretty shitty when I tried to get ahold of you all day Saturday and heard nothing and then I woke up the next day and you’re on my fucking Instagram discover page and you’re at some club with pretty girls hanging all over you. That sucked.” Now Jo’s yelling and her hands are shaking and she feels like she’s about to cry.

“Jo, that’s ridiculous. Some friends dragged me out. Sorry I didn’t know you needed to be made aware of my every move.” He says condescendingly, “I’ll send you my schedule.”

“Fuck you.��� Jo turns on her heel away from him.

“Jo-” He says, exasperated.

“No!” Jo yells, whipping around to look at him. “Don’t tell me my feelings are ridiculous. Even if you didn’t mean to, what you did hurt me and you don’t give a fuck.” Tears spill down her cheeks. “I can’t do this right now. I’m leaving.” She says through her teeth.

At that moment the elevator door pings and Steve Rogers comes striding out, shit-eating grin on his face, “Hey, guys, so Bucky and I have this bet-” He’s cut off by Jo all but barreling through him to the elevator.

“Joanna!” Peter calls after her.

“Don’t fucking follow me!” She yells back, jamming her finger into the button that will take her to the residence exit on 45th Street.

Steve looks at Peter, eyes wide, “You gonna go after her?”

Peter snorts, trying very hard not to direct his anger at Steve, “Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Look- I’m not sure what that was about, but take some advice from an old man. She wants you to follow her.” Steve tells him.

Peter blows some air out through his nose, “Not now, Steve, please.”

“Alright kid, let me know-” The shrill ringing of Steve’s own phone cuts him off. He accepts the call and presses the device to his ear, “Rogers.”

Peter knits his brows when a look of concern crosses Steve’s face, “I’m with Parker, we’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” Peter asks.

“Situation in one of the labs. We gotta go.” With that, Peter pushes all thoughts of Jo and their fight out of his mind and follows Steve out of her apartment.

¬¬¬________________________________________________________________________

Across town, Jo sits in Jungle City by herself, still stewing in anger. She knew it couldn’t possibly be healthy for her to be dwelling on their fight like this, but Peter was a dick this morning and she was already in a bad mood, so why not?

She’s busy feeling bad for herself when the door to the studio she’s in flies open and slams against the wall.

Jo sits up, eyes wide, “What the fuck?!”

Sam Wilson looks down at her, “We have a problem.” He tells her. “Get your stuff, let’s go.”

Jo’s heart drops to her stomach, “What is it?” She asks.

“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” Sam demands, already walking out the door.

Jo runs to catch up with him, “What? I turned it off, me and Peter got in a fight… Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam doesn’t say anything, just strides quickly out the front door of the studio. When they’re both in the large black SUV, Sam shifts to drive and peels away from the sidewalk. “Sam,” She sounds so small, “What is it, is it Tony…”

“Turn on your phone, Jo. We’ll tell you more when we get back to the tower.”

She turns on her phone and is immediately greeted by about 50 missed calls from Tony, Steve, and Nat. She also has a myriad of texts from them asking where she is and that she needs to get to the tower. “Sam…” Jo trails off.

“There’s a hostage situation in one of the labs.” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he swerves through the traffic, “An old employee with a grudge brought a gun.”

“Is everyone okay?” Panic creeps through Jo’s body.

“Jo, we had to send Peter in. He’s the only one that could get in through the vents undetected.” They pull up to the garage. “He’s okay right now. But he was shot in the shoulder. He’s still trying to talk this guy down.”

“He’s okay?! He’s not okay, he was shot!” Joanna is frantic. All she can think about is the last thing she said to him. Fuck you… don’t follow me. Her vision is blurry and she feels nauseous, but she follows Sam to the elevator that will take them

“Hey, hey, hey, try to calm down okay? We’re going to handle this.” Sam puts an arm around the girl and leads her to Tony’s office, which has become a makeshift war room.

“Tony!” She pulls away from Sam as soon as she sees him, “What’s going on?” All the TV’s and other devices are streaming a live feed from the security cameras of the lab that’s on lockdown. “Why aren’t you going in to help him?!” She demands.

“Jo, this is a delicate situation. There’s civilians down there.” Natasha approaches Jo like she’s a wounded animal. “Peter’s gonna be fine.” But she looks worried herself.

Jo focuses on one of the screens in front of her. She sees a man standing directly in the middle of the lab flailing a large gun around. Directly in front of him is Peter, in his Spider-Man suit, hands up in a non-threatening manner. There’s a group of about 10 people who Jo assumes are lab employees.

“Why?” Is all Jo can ask.

“We don’t- we’re not sure. Eric Sittman. He’s unstable. Used to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, desk jockey, but based on his file it looks like he wanted to be a field agent. Failed the evaluation three times.” Tony doesn’t look away from the screen.

Jo isn’t 100% sure about what he’s saying, but she gets the jist. “Oh my god.” She whispers. “What’s he saying? Can I hear?”

“We just have him on comms. He’s trying to diffuse the situation, make Eric trust him. We’re giving him a few more minutes before we escalate.” Steve tells Jo, putting a hand on her shoulder.  

“But if you do that, he’ll kill those people.” Jo says dumbly.

“We’re starting to think he might do it anyway.”  Tony sighs.

On the screen, Peter pulls off his mask, revealing his face to the man. His hands are still up, and he’s speaking frantically. She can tell he’s trying his best to remain calm, to distract Eric from the hostages.

“We just lost comms.” Tony groans, frusturated, shoving some papers off his desk. Jo flinches when they hit the ground. “We have to go in there.”

“Give him a minute, he can handle it.” Steve looks at Tony.

“He’s 19!” Tony yells.

“He’s an Avenger!” Steve yells back. “He can handle it.”

Jo, feeling nauseous, sits in the closest chair she can find, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment before she looks back to the screens. Peter looks pale and his hair is damp with sweat. There’s a growing red stain on his right shoulder from the bullet wound.

“Look.” Steve gestures.

Although they can’t hear, it’s easy to see the demeanor of the gunman change slowly. The gun remains in his hands, but drops to his side. His shoulders sag and his head drops. Peter holds his right arm gingerly at his side, and takes a step toward Eric, left arm extended. She’s sure Peter’s asking Eric to hand him the gun.

Jo lets out a breath. She finally feels like it might almost be over. She’s not sure if she’s been sitting in the room for 15 minutes or 15 years. Everyone in Tony’s office holds their breath as Peter slowly walks towards the gunman.

Then, suddenly, with no warning at all, Eric is tense, waving the gun around with his right hand. Peter jumps back instinctually, and she sees the desperate look on his face. She’s able to read his lips, please he’s begging Eric. Don’t. Eric is yelling, looking more and more strung up, backing into a corner like a caged animal.

Then, so quickly that if she’d blinked she would have missed it, she watched Eric lift the gun to his own temple and pull the trigger.

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