#my sister can never say I don’t love her for standing in a merch line in 100 degree weather at noon 🤡

[kedsandtubesocks]

ERIKAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! <3

it's been awhile since we talked 🥺 how have you been?? 🥺🥺 got anything going on you don't mind sharing? :o

I appreciate you a lot!! <3 I'm sending you many hugs and forehead kisses!!

My darling Ru hearing from you always makes my day I’m not even kidding!!! 💖🌹🥺

Ughhhhhhhhhhhb i am just getting back from a very long concert day and as fun as I had I am so exhausted and wanna sleep for a week straight LMAO

The best part of the whole concert honestly was my sister made a poster that said “pick my tattoo!” and she had two flower options (they were mine and my mom’s favorite flowers) and one of the girls from the group pick a flower!!! And even better she picked mine 😌✨LMAO! It was so exciting seeing her interact with us and seeing my sister almost jump out of her skin with excitement & then the all rows around us freaked out too and were so excited?? It was just a super sweet moment that warmed my heart even though I was dying on my feet lol

But thank you for checking in with me bb 🥺 anything interesting happening with you right now!?? How are you glorious wips of yours going!?!

And PLEASE 😭😫 honey I appreciate you the most!!!!

I’m sending you so much confetti from the concert and all my love and wishing you the most beautiful rest of your day!!! 🩷💕

[tiedyeflannels]

Adventure of a Lifetime

Kim Taehyung x reader

Chapter 6 | Masterlist

A/N: We're in Busan!!! I like to call this "mock date #2" though it's not official... Anyway, the second part of the day will be in the next chapter which I'm super excited about! Enjoy!

“How would you feel about taking a little trip over to Busan for the day,” Jeong-Gyu asked as he came down the stairs.

Y/s/n and I were currently watching whatever was on the TV as Taehyung was making himself some breakfast. He plopped himself on the chair across from me and started to munch on his cereal as Jeong-Gyu sat down on the side of the couch that was adjacent to Taehyung.

“I would say yes, but let us wake up first,” I said and pointed over to Y/s/n, who was trying her hardest to not doze off on the couch.

“She can sleep on the way,” he excitedly said as he practically jumped to his feet.

“Come on! Get your stuff and let’s go!”

“Hey! Let me finish my food first,” Taehyung glared at his brother before going back to eating, but this time with an upset pout.

~

“We’ll meet back here… let’s say… 7,” Jeong-Gyu said.

We were standing outside of a convenience store, looking at a map of the city. Luckily, there were a lot of shops that were within walking distance from where we were at, the only problem was that Y/s/n wanted to do different things.

So here we are, Jeong-Gyu accompanying Y/s/n and Taehyung with me. I wasn’t upset that we were splitting up, but I could definitely tell that Jeong-Gyu liked this little arrangement.

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” I said, folding up the map and handing it over to Y/s/n.

“Be careful, okay? We’ll see you later,” I said, nudging her with my arm.

She smiled and nodded, “Okay. Stay safe and remember, if we see each other, we don’t know each other.”

I laughed and gave her a salute. “You got it!”

We curtly nodded before we turned to go our own way and started walking.

“You’re close with your sister,” Taehyung quiered as we were walking aimlessly for now, just looking around at what Busan had to offer.

I smiled, “Of course! We get along really well and though we might bicker sometimes, it’s never a big argument so we can bounce back to how we were before. What about you and your siblings?”

He lightly sighed, “Yeah, we were extremely close when we were younger, but then I moved out to be a trainee and was gone for a long time so we grew apart a little bit. And then Jeong-Gyu went to study abroad and my sister was off doing her own thing so even though we aren’t as close as before, I like to believe that we're still close.”

I nodded and continued to look around as a comfortable silence settled around us. There were some cute shops that lined the street that we were walking along.

It felt peaceful.

“What do you think so far,” Taehyung piped up.

I gently smiled at him, “It’s lovely!”

“Are you hungry?”

I thought for a second, “A little, why?”

“Well… I saw a cafe that I know while we were looking at the map, if you want to check it out?”

I nodded, “I would love to.”

~

“You’re not planning to kill me, are you? Because this would be the perfect place to do so,” I warily said while looking at the shady alleyway that we were walking through.

Taehyung laughed, “No, I’m not planning to kill you.”

“That’s what they always say!”

“Calm down, Y/n! The cafe’s over there,” he pointed to a building a yards away.

“Oh…” I drawed before I nervously laughed and started for the building.

As we were walking through the parking lot to the front door I looked at Taehyung, “So, how do you know about this place?”

We got to the door and he opened it for us, gesturing for me to go first making me smile.

“Jimin’s dad recently opened it up, but I love coming by whenever I can.”

I nodded and looked around the shop, taking in the peaceful atmosphere and the coffee smell in the air. Everything looked classy, but still felt cozy.

Then my eyes landed on the table a few feet in front of us that had a purple tablecloth with BTS pictures and merch laying around it. I walked toward it and looked around the table.

There were pictures of all the members and there were some solo ones that were scattered around, along with letters that ARMY’s have left.

I grab a couple and see that some were addressed to the band as a whole and some that were addressed to a specific member.

I didn’t read anything in the letter, so instead I looked over at Taehyung with a grin.

“Do you guys ever read these,” I asked, gently setting down the letters as he came to stand by me.

He grabbed some of the letters and smiled, “I know I do, but… Jimin, what about you?”

I looked up and finally saw someone poking out from behind one of the pillars.

He stepped out from behind it and walked towards us until he was standing across the table from us.

“How did you know it was me,” Jimin asked as he took off his sunglasses.

“Your vibes,” he deadpanned, making me snicker. “No dude, you’re wearing your Hawaii hat and sunglasses. It’s not hard to figure out that it’s you.”

Jimin sighed, “So they were just being nice.”

Taehyung sympathetically nodded with a sad pout, “Yeah.”

I softly chuckled before he shook the thought out of his head, “Anyway, back to your question, yeah I read them. Some are funny, but they’re overall very sweet! I read them whenever I get time to visit.”

I smiled at the answer. I could tell that he was genuine about it.

“Anyway, Tae…” he looked at Taehyung before turning over to me, “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, she’s Jeong-Gyu’s friend,” he said, looking over to me.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, “Jeong-Gyu’s home? I thought he was studying abroad?”

“I’ll tell you the story, but first… we should order something.”

“Oh yeah! I still owe you for last time, so tell me what you’d like and I’ll order it if you want to sit and talk for a bit,” I said, looking at Taehyung.

They both looked at each other and nodded, so we made our way to counter. I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what I wanted. 

Once I decided, I looked over at Taehyung, “Do you know what you want?”

He hummed, “I don’t know… Something without coffee, how about you surprise me?”

He smiled and I nodded before turning my gaze over to Jimin. “Do you want something too?”

He kindly shook his head, “Nah, I already had my drink before you guys got here.”

I nodded once more, “Okay, you guys can go take a seat and I’ll meet you when our orders are ready.”

They nodded and started to walk away, but Taehyung quickly turned back to me and dug around in his pocket. 

He took out his wallet and offered me some cash, “Here! For the drinks.”

I shook my head, “No, this one’s on me this time, remember?”

“Here you go anyway,” he said, softly taking my wrist and placing the money in my hand before darting away so I couldn’t give it back to him.

I sighed, shaking my head and then placing the orders.

Chapter 7

Taglist:

@maple-leaves-in-the-wind

[romiantic]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒕𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒙 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓!𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ࿐ྂ

彡 ❛ 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 ❜

彡 𝗳𝘁. ryota kise

彡 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff with very little angst

彡 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k

彡 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: suggestive theme at the end

彡 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: all characters are 18+. also can we talk about how BOMB this song is 🤧 y’all sleepin on this song fr

·˚ ༘ੈ✩‧₊˚ ╰┈➤ ❛❛ 𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘿𝙊 𝙄𝙏 ❜❜

❝ 𝐘/𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐘𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐏! You have two minutes till showtime.” Your manager, AKA, older brother, barged and announced to you like he didn’t update you almost five minutes ago.

You did your usual of sucking your teeth and rolling your teeth every time he barged in and interrupted your call, you replied with annoyance in your tone, “AJ I know! Can you wait a minute? Damn, so impatient for absolutely no reason.”

“I’m sorry who’s the one with hundreds of thousands of fans screaming their name and waiting for their ass outside? Me or you? Oh okay. Anyways, end yo little call with yo boyfr-”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You interrupted, becoming irritated with your brother and simply wanted him to shut the fuck up. A great manager and brother, yet way too uptight for his job.

AJ rolled his eyes and muttered something but you flipped him off and pretended not to hear him until he left your dressing room. You gave your attention back to your phone, giving a cheeky smile to the blonde boy on your screen. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a nervous look growing on you but from what you could tell, he was choosing what shirt to wear to his photoshoot. Leaving him to be seen with a no top on and a pair of denim jeans.

Though it was typical to see your best friend’s exposed upper body, it was a sight you never got used to. His well-toned body, results from years of playing basketball in middle and high school, making your face hot, adding on to the nervousness you were already facing from your upcoming performance. Along with the pearly white smile he flashed at you creating a sick feeling in your stomach, something that you made you clench onto it and try to ignore. Now was not the time to be drooling over your best friend, who interrupted your stare with a laugh and said, “Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna take a picture?”

Of course, he’d ruin it with some cocky line like that, you rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth. “Boy calm down, ain’t nobody wanna was staring.”

“Your nervous face said otherwise.”

“Akekeke, don’t you have a photoshoot to go to?”

Kise replied with the same energy as yours, “And don’t you have a performance to go to?”

You held up a finger to a screen then crossed your arms, “Aht aht, don’t worry about me now. Worry about yo lil pictures with that famous ass Russian model.” You wanted to roll your eyes just thinking about the brought-up woman but it would make it seem like you’re being jealous for no reason.

Kise let out a small laugh, adoring the irritated look that was starting to creep up on your face. “Somebody sounds jealous.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a scoff, “Oh please, like I would be.” You looked at the time on your watch and noticed it was about one minute until your performance. Your eyes widened at the time and hurried, you quickly ended the call with Kise, “Shit, fuck! I gotta go perform but I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“And I’ll be waiting for you beautiful when you get back.” The golden-eyed boy winked at you yet you cringed and scrunched your face. “You’re so fucking corny Kise.” You hung up the call, grab any other pieces missing from your outfit, and headed out of your dressing room.

You traveled quickly around backstage, passing by many coworkers and background dancers waiting for you, to head into the small tunnel for artists to come out on stage. You stopped at the exit and gulped as you scanned the stage. An outside arena with hundreds of thousands of fans cheering your name, waiting for your appearance.

Usually, you would be at ease with concerts this large but for some reason this time is different. Unknowing the reason nor cause, you started to feel anxious, your hands mildly shaking and your throat going dry.

There was something in the back of your mind attempting to not make you perform, something telling you to not do it, it won’t be good, people will hate you. A voice there to influence thoughts, hoping that you would fall into the trap and just give up on singing. Though of course, you wouldn’t listen to that voice, that voice always lingered around whenever you were brought to perform, no matter where you were.

The only thing to distract you and keep you safe from that tiny voice is someone who you’ve longed to love. One who just settles your nerves, bringing comfort, and removing all anxious thoughts. One who would deem you as one of the greatest artists he’s ever listened to, maybe it’s opinionated but he loves you too much to disagree.

The now dawdling thought of his soft voice whenever he spoke or his flirtatious nature when you two joked around made a familiar feeling grow greater than before. Something replaced the anxiousness that was growing, a feeling that replaced the nervousness and calmed your shaky hands. Something that was the thought of Ryota Kise, he was like the medicine to all the pain you’ve suffered. A remedy to your anxiety, one of the many causes of the cheeky smile social media often sees you with.

Someone who you grew up and spent all your life with, always noticing how protective he was of you or the way he hummed one of your pre-recorded tracks that he was the only one to listen to. Celebrating one of your songs had hit #1 on the Billboard chart and the way he helped out whenever you hit writer’s block.

Every single thing, noticeable or not, made you grown to love the boy, starting from a platonic, playground friendship blooming to many years of trying to figure out if you are romantically in love with him. Growing familiar feelings of butterflies mixed with the thought of just wanting to cup his face and kiss him whenever he was around.

Just the ultimate feeling of wanting to be buried in the blonde boy’s arms and explain the blooming love for him made you want to sing the song you wrote for him. A new single that you never wanted to put out since you wanted only Kise to hear it, including that the song was your way of telling him what you felt all these years.

Though something changed your mind, something in your brain told you to tell everyone around you that you’re singing solo, no backup singers or dancers, only you on that stage. In this performance, you just had to do it yourself, nothing but you, the stage, and the microphone.

Everyone was confused by the last-minute change of plans but went along with it. They rescheduled it to where your first “official” song to start the concert with was right after your solo performance. You gave thanks to your team and took some deep breaths. You made sure your Bluetooth set was on and working properly in your ear, AJ handed you a mic and brushed off any wrinkling from your outfit and any smoothed out your hair. Uptight about his job yet made sure his little sister was looking the greatest for her performances.

You took deep breaths again, shook off any bad nerves, and walked on stage. The already excited crowd enraged and their volume expanded as they saw you stand before them. Everyone waving their signs that said, “I love you y/n!!” or “Y/N is so beautiful!” You waved to the audience and stopped at the middle of the stage, walking closer to the front of the stage as well.

You turned on the mic and tapped it to see if it was working, “Mic check one two, can you guys hear me?” The crowd immediately responded yes, you continued on to talk to them, “Okay good, have been getting technical difficulties with my mic and I really don’t feel like switching mics three times. Anyways, afternoon to all my lovely fans who made it out here or to those that are watching me live. I love you all and thank you for supporting me, I truly am grateful for every single one of y’all.” Everyone screamed out how much they love you and adore you, showing off their merch that they bought and waving the homemade posters.

You smiled at their response and cleared your throat as you introduced the song, “Thank you, I love you too. This first song is one that has been sitting too comfortably in my heart. A piece that came from genuine emotions and feelings I’ve tried to bury yet couldn’t no matter how hard I tried. It’s something that I never planned on dropping but I just felt like the world had to hear what I had to say. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it cause I did when I was writing this song at two in the morning before I snuck into the studio and recorded it. Was it worth it? Definitely. Now I may introduce to you, Not Another Love Song. A contradicting title isn’t it?”

You took a large breath in and out, you took a position as you waited for the beat to drop. As soon as you heard the familiar melody start, you sang, “I don’t wanna mess this up, could it be too much to say I’m in?”

The crowd lowered down and became silent to hear your new single, grasping the beautiful new lyrics you were singing and just vibing along with it.

You yourself were placing emotion as you sang, not noticing how proudly you sang the chorus or how you were smiling at the crowd the entire time. One thing was clouding your mind to even pay attention to those details, the same thing that more than likely pushed you to sing the song.

As you sang, the feelings for your best friend grew stronger, butterflies in your stomach, and the deprivation of his touch grew on you. Not even realizing how much you missed him until you turned initially to smile at AJ and your team yet saw a familiar face appear as well. You questioned it but then turned back to continue singing to the audience, only thinking that mind is playing games with you.

“I'm finna take my time, my mind, my rules. This ain't no crimе makin' love to you, though you ain't say this. But I had a hard time waitin' for you, boy. Like ooh, boy, you, boy. Got me where you want, just gotta say and it's on, it's like, ooh, boy, do you know you got me like where do you go when you're alone?”

As you sang, you noticed the crowd growing silent, their eyes widening, and their jaws dropping. You were utterly confused at was catching their attention, you turned to your team and your brother pointed behind, giving you a goofy smile as well.

You turned around to what was the cause of this silent commotion and right along with everyone else, your jaw drop and your eyes widened. The flirtatious, handsome model that everyone knew of was standing in front of you with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He walked up to you and smiled greatly, closing in the large gap between the both of you.

Seeing him walk closer to you made you want to say forget concert and sing the rest to him. Half of your feeling was already poured out, not even knowing he was listening to all of it. You didn’t think he would even be here since he had a photoshoot, not standing on an outside stage with a bouquet of roses and dressed in casual attire.

He handed you the roses and kissed your forehead, telling you, “Alone with you, away from the world, where else would I be when I’m alone?”

No response came from you, not even a single gasp or a sniffle to signify that you might cry. The way you responded to his presence was something that shocked the arena, everyone watching you on live, your team, and even the two of you yourself. Who would’ve thought you would be bold enough to grab his face and kiss him right then and there? You snaked your arm around his waist and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. He responded back by wrapping his hands around your shoulders and hugging you tightly, holding onto you to make sure you wouldn’t separate from him.

You pulled back from the kiss and smiled, softly combed his blonde hair, and expressed, “I love you, Kise.” Saying his name like it was something you’ve been aching to say, a name that you’ve buried away yet brought out today. A name that sounded so lovely and romantic when you say it.

Kise expressed as well, “I love you too y/n. I’ve always loved you and I will never stop loving you.” He kissed you again, he removed his hand from your shoulders and trailed around to find your hands. He removed your hands from his waist and instead intertwined them with his.

He felt you smile when he held your hand and smiled back. He stated in between kisses, “You know I’m staying on this stage to hear you finish that song right?”

“It’s fine, I need someone to do my next performance on anyways.” He looked at you and you did nothing but wink and mischievously smiled at him. Kise had a small idea of what he could expect but suppressed it to enjoy the soft moment he wanted between the both of you. A moment that he’ll never forget and a concert that will always be remembered for everyone around you.

彡 it’s like 5 am and I’m tired 🦧 the only thing that kept me up was the fact that I don’t have school plus I loveeeeee kise

彡 also the show olivia

彡 I don’t think I ever mentioned to y’all how much I love his ass but now is definitely not the time 😁

彡 I’m convinced if it silent black hair blue eye powerful men weren’t my type, cocky and flirtatious ones would be runner up

彡 anyways hope you guys enjoy + pleaseee listen to the song, I highly recommend plus ella mai is VERY underrated

bye babes, drink your water, stay hydrated, and remember that you are the baddest bitch on the planet 🥰 no matter what ANYONE says

𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟏𝟖:𝟑𝟎 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟣 𝗄𝗈𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈. ���𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[let-me-luve-you]

Overlooked and Overworked

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: Being Tom Holland’s little sister was great growing up, but after his success she’s a little left behind. Y/N Holland is willing to do whatever for her family because she loves them.

Warnings: Angst, fluff ending, rude Tom, overworked, sleep deprived

A/N: I don’t think Tom or any of the members of the Holland’s would allow this to happen to any member of their family or friends, I just had this idea and wrote it. Also I wrote this back in like January and just now got the guts to post it!

MASTERLIST    BUY ME A COFFEE

The past couple of years for you have been an emotional roller coaster. You’ve been so excited and happy to see your brother succeed in his career. It’s always fun to see him on the big screen as someone else. But it’s also been tiring and sad because you feel left out. You don’t get to go to set often, you don’t get to travel with him, and you aren’t a part of his charity. The Brothers Trust is just him and your 3 other brothers. Given you help out way more than all of the brothers. Since you went to school for business, you help your mum and dad with both of their businesses and then run The Brothers Trust.

Tom is the oldest, then it’s you, the twins, and then Paddy. You’re only a year and a half younger than Tom. You were very close growing up, but once he started doing movies, you slowly grew apart. Him and the twins then grew closer. You loved him dearly but it just wasn’t the same since you never felt included. He took Harry to sets with him and on press tours. Sam would join along when he wasn’t working at the restaurant. Paddy would join during school breaks. But every time you would try to join him, he would say no. That he was too busy or too tired. You didn’t want to fight him but you were always crushed.

When he got the role of Spiderman, he decided then he wanted to move out into his own apartment. You offered to help him find a place since you had been looking for yourself. You offered to share a place and split rent but he said he wanted to be completely on his own. But shortly after he moved into his new 4 bedroom apartment, he had Harrison, Tuwaine, Sam, and Harry move in.

“The twins are moving in with Tom. Can you help pack and move them this weekend?” Your dad asked.

“What? They’re moving in with Tom? I thought he wanted his own space?” You asked him.

“He said he wanted to be around people because it was too lonely and quiet. Did you ever find a place? If so, you may want roommates too.”

“No I realized I can’t afford a place in a nice area to live alone. All my mates have moved off to continue their education or they have jobs else where.” You said sadly.

“Tom should of asked you then. I’m sorry y/n/n.”

“It’s fine. He hangs out with all four of them all the time. I would of just been in the way.” You said as you got up and left the room.

It’s been a couple of years and you still can’t afford to get your own place. Between helping run three businesses, you don’t have time to get a part time job. You pay your parents for rent and help pay bills so you are doing adult things. Plus it helps your parents financially. It’s busy season since your mum is picking up gigs for photoshoots, your dad is on tour for standup and his new book, plus you are planning a movie event through the trust as well as trying to get all the merch bagged and shipped. You have been working 14-15 hour days for the past 3 weeks without a day off. You are feeling the tiredness mentally and physically.

Tom has time off from the movie he is filming now. They gave him a month off for the holidays. Him and Harry have been home but all they have done is hung out with friends and go to the pub. You have been holed up in your office/bedroom for 3 days straight. Only to go out to the bathroom and kitchen to grab food.

“Where has y/n been? I haven’t seen much of her since we got home.” Harry asks Tom.

“She might be finalizing the Spies in Disguise event and getting things ready.” Tom responded.  

“Oh good. Y/n is great at getting a head start on things so I’m guessing she’s done with all the prep and souvenirs.” Harry smiled. Tom laughed in response.

On Christmas Day, you only came out of your room for breakfast and lunch and then went back in your room to work. No one noticed the bags under your eyes that you tried to hide with makeup. No one noticed you almost falling asleep at the table. No one thought twice about why you spent most of Christmas alone in your room. But you were behind. You still had a lot of orders to fulfill and send out. You still had get all of the souvenirs together for the event that was in two days. You still had to finish sending out your dads orders for his book as well as finalize his January travel plans and stand up dates. Your mum had booked 12 more shoots and you had to finalize times and dates. And everything was supposed to be done in the next week. You finally caved and decided to ask Tom for help since it was his event after all.

“Hey Tom can I have you help me out for a little bit?” You asked him Christmas evening.

“Do you need me tonight?” He asked.

“If you can that would be great.”

“Sorry y/n/n. I can’t. I’m meeting to boys at the apartment.”

“Well maybe they can help too.” You sounded hopeful to get more help to lighten your load.

“No can do. We have drinks and plans.”

“Well then can you come tomorrow morning or early afternoon?”

“Can’t. I have a meeting with my manager to discuss everything that’s coming up and then all of us at the apartment and Paddy are going into the city. Maybe I can help you after the event?”

“No it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” You said sadly as you turned to go back to your room.

“What about Paddy? Or mum or dad?” He asked.

“Paddy has football that mum is taking him to before she does a shoot tomorrow. Dad is working on some other stuff for his January shows.”

“Sam or Harry?”

“Well both will be with you tonight and tomorrow.”

“What about in the morning?”

“Sam has to work remember. And I think Harry is meeting with some mates to catch up with them or something along those lines. It’s fine. I’ve got it handled. Have fun tonight and tomorrow. Be safe. Love you.” You turned and almost ran back to your room. You wanted to break down in tears from being overwhelmed and for not being included in any of Tom’s plans of hanging out and catching up. You’ve barely seen Tom in the past year. Only when he’s in London. You shook the thoughts of your brother out of your head and pulled out a sheet of paper. You wrote down everything that needed to be done. Then on your white board, wrote them down in most important the least important.

First up was getting all of the brothers trust bags done. You went to the storage closest and pulled out everything you would need and set the boxes on your bed. Then you went and grabbed a tote to put the finished product in. It took you until 4 am, but you finally finished putting them together. You went into the kitchen and made you some tea. You went back in your room and marked the brothers trust goody bags off of your list. Next you started finalizing plans for your mum. That just involved organizing times and dates. You finished that around 1030 am. You marked that off the list as well.

Before you emailed all of the clients their dates and times, you went to the kitchen to grab and snack and drink. Your mum was in the kitchen.

“Morning love.” She smiled at you.

“Morning.” You said back waiting on your tea.

“So I’m going to drop Paddy off at football in 20 minutes and then Tom will pick him up to go into the city. I have to go to my shoot. Do you have the invoice I can give them?”

“I do.” You rushed to your room and grabbed it from a folder then went back and handed it to her. “Everything is on there. The deposit has been paid and it shows that as well as the price for the shoot and the editing. It also gives the timeline of when they will get the pictures.”

“Great. This is wonderful. Thank you. Also the theater called and said we can set it up today at 3 pm. Are you okay to handle that on your own?”

You sighed but answered, “yes I can handle it. I finished the bags last night. I just need to print off the papers to put on the seats as well. Plus get the itinerary finished which I will have by tonight so Tom knows what’s going on.”

“That’s great. I’ll be there to take photos as well as Harry but the boys will all be busy with fans and making sure they all feel special.”

“Sounds good. Have fun on your shoot.”

Your mum smiled as her and paddy left the house. You went back into your room and emailed everyone for your mum. Then you printed the brothers trust sheets that said what the event was supporting and how we were thankful for their donations. As those were printing you forgot you had to pick up an order of pictures so Tom could sign them for the guest coming to the screening. You looked up and saw that it was 130 and if you were going to be on time you needed to leave in the next 15 minutes.

After you loaded the goody bags into your car, you drove the 20 minutes to the print shop to pick up the pictures. You then went to the theater and set everything out. It took 45 minutes to lay everything out and make sure it was perfect. You then snagged some photos for Instagram and posted them. By the time you got home it was just shy of 5. You went straight to your room to finalize the itinerary. At 8 pm your mum knocked on the door.

“Hey baby. I’m back. How did everything go setting up wise?”

“It was good. Took longer than expected but wasn’t too bad for being the only one there. Also here is the itinerary for you and dad. I also have one for each of the boys.”

“Wow. This is detailed perfectly.”

“It kind of had to be since Tom has an event to go to tomorrow night and he can’t be late. I figured the more detailed, the less things can go wrong.”

“Fair point. Love I’m not sure if the boys notice the work you put in, but I do. Have you slept yet?”

You looked at her shocked, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that I can tell you are exhausted. I woke up at 2 am last night and heard you in here and saw your light was still on.” She paused and looked at your long list on the white board. “And by the looks of it, you have a long to do list. Do you need help? After we get through the event I can help. I don’t have a shoot for a couple of days.”

“I appreciate mum, but this list needs to be done by then. And everything you can help me with will be done already. But thank you.”

“Did you ask your brothers to help? I mean this is there thing. They should be helping you. Not leaving it to you to do yourself.”

“I asked Tom to help so I could have him do the goody bags for tomorrow but he had a guys night with Sam and Harry and them last night. Then they were all busy this morning and then went into the city. But it’s fine. I did the bags last night. That’s what you heard when you woke up.”

“I’m sorry baby. I’m going to have a talk with him. Have you had a break to just hangout with Tom. I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“No he’s always in a meeting or with the boys. But if Tom wanted to see me, he’d make time but when I try, he can’t. But with all this work, I haven’t really done much outside of this room in a while so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You both used to be so close. Almost like you were twins. Weirdly enough closer than the twins have ever been. I hope you two can work whatever this is out.”

“Me too mum. Me too.” You looked at her as she slowly walked out.

After your mum left the room, you got back to work finalizing your dads stuff. Thankfully it was only 12 am when you finished. Deciding to pack all of the orders so you can drop them off to be shipped in the morning, you went and grabbed everything you would need from the storage closet and got to work. You stayed up all night working. You finally finished all the orders at 9 am. When you realized the time you rushed to get dressed and cleaned up as best you could. By 10 am you were out the door to go to the post office to ship the orders and then you were off to the theater to make sure everything was set. By 1pm the rest of your family showed up. And by 2 the theater was full of people who were excited to see the brothers and the movie.

People knew who you were. Everyone knew Tom had a sister. But you did great staying out of the eye of people. None of your brothers posted much about you on social. Your dad mainly posted about Tom and the brothers golf adventures. Your mum would occasionally when she made you model when she was trying something new. So when people arrived, they walk past you and straight to the four brothers who were ready to greet everyone.

When the event started, you weren’t really needed so you went to a back room they had set up for your brothers to relax away from people and sat on the couch. Not sleeping since Christmas Eve was starting to catch up with you but some how you forced yourself to stay awake.

“Y/n we have a problem.” Your youngest brother said as he came in the room. “The movie hasn’t started yet and it was supposed to 15 minutes ago.”

“Okay I’ll go see what’s going on.” You went to the manager of the theater and she explained to you how the light in the projector went out and it was going to be another 20 minutes before it started. She apologized multiple times.

“Hey Tom. Can you do a q&a for 20 minutes or so?”

“No the movie is supposed to be on.”

“They are having technical difficulties and it’s going to take 20 minutes to fix it.”

Tom got annoyed because he knew this was pushing the entire timeline back and it was now be pushing it for him to be on time for his event tonight. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when we are good to go.”

After 30 minutes. The movie was finally ready to go. Every one was enjoying it and all four of your brothers moved around the theater so the kids felt like they were watching the movie with them personally. When it was over everyone was ushered into a lobby where there was a meet and greet with photos. By the time the boys were done with everyone, it was 20 minutes until Toms next event.

“Great. I’m going to be late. Thanks for that y/n. Why didn’t you have them check everything yesterday?”

“Because I didn’t think of it.”

“So stupid. How could you not think of it? It’s literally the first thing on the list of things to check when prepping the theater. Do your job better. Thats what you are paid to do. I’ll see you later.” Tom rolled his eyes and stormed off. You just stared feeling humiliated since the theater staff and your family had witnessed that. You were holding in your emotional breakdown until you could do it in private.

“Sorry guys. Y’all can go ahead and head out. I’ll clean this up and bring home whatever is ours.” Sam, Harry, and Paddy saw this as a get of jail free card and booked it out of the theater. Your dad came by and kissed you on the head and said I have to finish up some work and headed out. Your mum looked at you sadly.

“I’ll help you baby.”

“No it’s okay mum. Go edit the photos so we can get them sent out.” You smiled at her.

“It’s okay. I can do them later tonight.”

“Mum seriously. Go home. I got this. I’ll be home later. You kissed her on the cheek as you walked back in the theater. You thankfully left the tote yesterday which made it easier to put everything in. You put the tote in your car and headed back in the theater to sweep and clean up the mess. By the time you got home, it was 9 pm. You had been up for 61 hours straight. You were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep. But Tom was home and he was livid.

“What the hell?” He asked.

“What?” You asked back.

“You know I got yelled at by my manger for 30 minutes about how I was irresponsible and immature for being almost a hour late to the event tonight?”

“Why did you get yelled at? You were doing stuff for charity. He should get over it.”

“He was mad because SOMEONE told him I would be done with our event in plenty of time to go to this other one. And when I told him there was technical difficulties because that same SOMEONE didn’t do their job, he got even more mad.”

“I get that I probably should of checked but things happen Tom. Okay? Things I can’t control. Things the theater can’t control. I did this entire event by myself. Sorry for not checking but other than the delay the people loved it and we raised money which is okay because our charity now can help so many more.”

“You didn’t do this by yourself. We all help. And our charity? Our? You mean mine? Sams? Harry’s? Paddys? It’s our faces that make that charity. And when something goes wrong we are the ones that look bad. Not the person behind the scenes that only does some of the work.”

You looked at him like he was a stranger. What he said broke your heart. That’s what he really thought? You just shook your head lightly and walked to your room. You shut the door and locked it.

“Really Tom?” Your mum asked as her and your dad walked in during the argument.

“Yeah mum. We do all the work and she’s trying to take the credit. We’ve all noticed and it’s getting out of hand. You do more than she does.”

“Tom I’m extremely disappointed in you right now.” Your dad said.

“Tom she does all of the work. The planning, the scheduling, the packaging, social media, distributing the money, and figuring out all the ways we can make money to help those smaller charities.” Your mum added.

“She does?”

“Yes Tom. On top of helping me and your father with our businesses. We’ve seen you more than her this past month because she’s been so busy.” Your mum said.

“Wow.”

“Did you know she was up until 4 am on Christmas night so she could finish the goody bags before we had to prep the theater. That she had those pictures printed so you could sign them for the guest. That she made an itinerary so detailed that nothing could go wrong. Except she didn’t account for technical difficulties. She set up the theater and cleaned the theater all by herself. None of us helped her. We just showed up for the event.” Your mum said.

“Tom have you not noticed how exhausted she looks? It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She’s trying her best to handle everything so we can have everything run smoothly for us. She even mentioned your event and how she needed to get you out of there so you wouldn’t be late. We’ve all been horrible to her by letting her do this by herself.” Your dad said.

“I... I didn’t know. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Tom got up and knocked on your door. He couldn’t hear anything so he tried opening it. He noticed it was locked and went to his old room and found the key you gave him years ago. When he unlocked it he noticed the mess around your room of boxes, plastic, mail bags for packages, and stacks of papers. He saw you on your bed and saw you were asleep. He went over and tucked you in. He went to your desk and saw the white board with everything marked off under the to do list. He then looked on your desk and saw how your mum and dads plans were finalized. He knew you mentioned everything when you asked him for help Christmas night and now you were done with it. Even all the orders were done and he saw the receipt from the post office proving the orders were shipped. He felt horrible knowing the only way that you got everything done was by staying up all night.

He turned and walked back to you and finally noticed the bags under your eyes. As well as tear stains that he knows he’s the cause for. It broke his heart knowing he was the cause. It also broke knowing that you asked for help so you wouldn’t fall in the deep end, but by saying he couldn’t help, he pushed you in and watched you drown without even realizing.

He gave you a kiss on the head and got up and quietly walked out.

“What time did y/n wake up on Christmas Day?”

“From what we know, maybe around 8 or 9.” Your dad said. Tom sat there quietly while doing the math in his head.

“61 hours.” He suddenly said.

“What?” Your mum said.

“61 hours. That’s how long she went without sleep. She asked me for help and told me why and I said no. She’s finished the list. She’s organized both of your stuff. She’s packed and shipped out all of the orders. She did everything for the event. She hasn’t slept. She’s asleep now but it was 61 hours. How could I let my sister do that? How did I not see it?” Tom asked his parents. They looked at him in shock.

“My poor baby” your mum said.

“We will talk to her tomorrow when she wakes up.” Your dad said.

“I want to be here when she wakes up so I can apologize. I’m going to go see her again.”

He got up and walked to your room. He quietly started cleaning up the mess left from packaging orders. He then laid on the other side of your bed thinking about how he messed up so bad. Shortly after he fell asleep too.

-——————

Around 7 am you woke up still exhausted but you needed a glass of water. When you went to throw the blanket off of you, you saw Tom asleep in your bed still in his clothes from the night before.

You were confused as to why he was in your bed, but you chose to ignore him. You stood up and went to the kitchen. Your mum was already cooking breakfast.

“Morning baby. How’d you sleep?” Your mum asked.

“Alright. I’m probably going to catch a few more hours. Just needed water.” You said. “By the way, do you know why Tom is in my bed?”

“He felt bad about how he has treated you lately.” She said. “He figured out you went 60 something hours without sleep.”

You looked at her shocked and sat down. She came over and gave you a hug.

“Why did you do that to yourself? Why didn’t you ask for help?” Your dad said as he joined both of you in the kitchen.

“You were working on new stuff. Mum had shoots and a house to run. I asked Tom and thought maybe him and the boys could help but they had plans. It needed to be done before the new year and definitely needed to be done before the event.”

“We appreciate you so much baby girl. I hope you know that. You do a lot for this family and this family isn’t great at giving back. We do love you.” Your mum said as she gave you a kiss on the head. “Now please go get some sleep. Sleep all day if you’d like and I can bring you food later.”

You smiled at her and walked back to your room. Tom still hadn’t moved. You sat your water on your bedside table and crawled back under the covers. You turned your back towards Tom. You were still really saddened by his words last night, that you didn’t want to face him yet.

“Y/n/n are you awake?” You heard Tom whisper.

“Go back to sleep or get out.” You said back not opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry y/n. What I said last night was wrong. I didn’t realize you do everything for our trust. I thought mum and dad did it all. I know you’ve been killing yourself to try and catch up then get ahead, but you can’t do that to yourself. You need proper rest. I’m going to make sure you never do the 61 hours straight again. I’d rather myself do it before I let you do it again.”

“Tom it’s okay. But seriously. Leave or go back to sleep.”

“No it’s not okay. I’ve royally fucked up. I’ve let us get so far apart we are almost strangers to one another. I have a charity that doesn’t even have your name on it and you do all the work. You make sure my fans are happy as well as making sure we help other small charities. You’re absolutely amazing and I’ve treated you like shit for the last few years. I don’t even give you the time of day. I promise you this, I will do better. We will be like we used to. Even if I have to kidnap you and take you with me different places. I love you and I don’t want to be the one hurting you anymore.”

You rolled over and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Your brother finally recognized you for you. He finally realized what he’s done.

“Thank you Tom. I love you too.”

He smiled at you and leaned over to give you a hug and kiss on the forehead.

“It really means a lot that you said that. But can I please go back to sleep. I’m still exhausted.” You said.

Tom pulled you to him so your head was on his chest and shoulder. And he cuddled you so you felt protected from all the horrible things that can go wrong for you.

“Get some sleep and when you wake up, me and you will hang out. Just the two of us.” Tom said. You smiled as you drifted back to sleep.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part five

An unexpected phone call from Harry while he was out of town certainly wasn’t what your rising level of hormones needed. You were seven weeks pregnant, nauseous at random times in the day, and still incredibly tight lipped about the tiny pea-sized human inside of you. 

But the phone call wasn’t really what had you in tears--it was his request for a FaceTime call so you could meet his mum and his sister. He promised that they were shocked but excited nonetheless, happy that you weren’t a complete stranger and certainly not just a random hook up. 

Okay, so I guess he’s a liar, Lexi laughed, unintentionally dredging up the embarrassment that slept in the pit of your stomach. 

But he swore they were excited, especially once he promised you that he didn’t make it sound like you were a longtime friend or a girlfriend. Don’t lie to them about how we know each other, Harry, don’t make it sound like this wasn’t an accident. 

So when the call came across your phone, you swallowed the panic and the nausea and hoped for the best. Lexi and Glenne sipped margaritas at the counter and pretended they weren’t there. They wrote notes on paper and slid suggestions your way. Ask about what they’ve done as a family while he’s home. Say you can’t wait to meet them in person!

It was fine enough--they wished you well and promised to meet face to face soon. His mother cried a bit and said she was happy--shocked, I’m not going to lie, but happy nonetheless. 

So you didn’t expect to hear from him for a few days. He’d be home on Sunday--he’d mentioned it in passing on the FaceTime call--so you were sure you’d have time to settle and prepare for whatever was upcoming.

But when your phone rang on the counter Thursday night, Lexi was eating a bowl of cereal in her underwear in front of an SVU marathon. You slid your thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?”

His voice was quiet, you tried to do the math of what time it was there. “Hi--s’me.”

“Hi,” you paused to stand over the sink, your back to Lexi for whatever sliver of privacy your apartment could afford. 

“What are you up to?”

“Just got home from work, actually. We’re just gonna hang out tonight, kind of tired, honestly.”

He hummed in response, you could hear the sleep in his voice. You wondered where he was. In bed? About to brush his teeth? You didn’t ask why he called.

“Do you feel alright?”

“Yeah,” you reassured. “I’m fine. Kind of nauseous and just more tired than usual--but I think that’s normal.”

“Right. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know,” you laughed. “It’s been a minute. What have you been up to?”

“A lot of meetings, honestly. Spent a few nights in London for a photoshoot for the album cover, merch stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

You held the phone in place with your shoulder, shifting over to the fridge to find an appetizing snack. “That sounds cool--better than getting angry emails about your font choice.”

“Yeah I can’t say I’ve experienced that. But look, I, uh, I’m glad you got to talk to my family the other night.”

You paused, a swell of emotion in your eyes. It might not have been your most cherished social interaction to date, but he hadn’t said anything to make you think it had crashed and burned. “Me too, it was almost sort of fun--aside from all the crying I’m doing.”

Lexi’s ears perked up at that, she made a face from the living room. If she didn’t know who was on the phone, she did now.

“Right,” he laughed. “S’the hormones, I guess, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “When do you think I could, you know, see you again?”

“Dunno,” You sighed, a rush of heat on your cheeks. “You’re back Sunday and it’s a busy week at work, next week. So, maybe next weekend or something?”

“Yeah--okay, I just, miss you, is all.”

“Oh--uh, yeah, it’s been forever,” you looked over at Lexi, still pretending like she was watching TV and not eavesdropping. You didn’t know if you should say it back. Did you miss him? Sure--maybe you felt a little weird not knowing what he was up to or not wanting to text him about new symptoms, but--you didn’t know if that counted as missing him. In all honesty, you were kind of surprised he said it. 

So you settled on something in between. “Yeah--I can’t wait for you to come home. Or, back to LA, I guess.”

“I can stop by, when I land, if you’re around Sunday.”

“Yeah--I should be here, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“What time is it?”

“One in the morning,” he stifled a laugh. “I saw my dad for dinner tonight--hung out with my sister. Just getting to sleep now and wanted to see how you were.”

You licked at your lips, trying to ignore the spark in your veins when you realized that he was thinking about you. You were out of sight, but not out of mind. You expected to be out of both.

“Alright--well, I’m fine. You can sleep, you sound tired.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay--so I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then, Harry. Night.”

You hung up and set it down on the counter, surprised at the smile on your face.

Lexi looked up from the bowl of cereal she had on her lap. Eyes wide, she held your gaze for a second. “You are so catching feelings, homegirl.”

You made a face, a scoff before you retorted. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are!” She put the bowl on the coffee table and crawled over on the cushions to get a better view of you in the kitchen. “I had fun too, that sounds so cool, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

You rolled your eyes--her impression of you wasn’t too far off, but she managed to raise the octave of your voice when she twirled a piece of her hair around a finger. 

“I’m being nice to him, he’s the father of my unborn child, is that okay?”

“More than fine,” she laughed, waving a hand at you. “That’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard.”

You settled on a spoonful of peanut butter to hold you over until dinner. You uncapped the lid of the jar. “It’s nothing, okay? We’re friends. Don’t you think we need to be friends if we’re having a baby?”

“Y/N, look--” she stood from the couch and came over to the island, watching as you dipped a spoon inside. “I love you, with all my heart. I love the little lump of cells in your uterus--and I would regret it if I didn’t say that you and Harry falling in love would just about make my 2019 altogether.”

You shoved it in your mouth and spoke around it. “Alright, well, don’t hold your breath.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, dismissing your comment before she turned to go back to the couch. “You’re obnoxious.”

“I’m reasonable and rational. Just because I got over my whole hating him phase doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

“Okay, first off, you never hated him. So I don’t even know who you’re trying to play.”

“Well I didn’t really like him at first. And I definitely didn’t like the idea of being pregnant with a stranger’s baby, okay? This has been a weird two months.”

“Exactly. You’re two months pregnant with a popstar’s baby--one who happens to be cute and rich and charming as fuck! And you’re saying you’re not gonna catch any feelings.”

You shook your head. It wasn’t like that. “I’m co-existing with the father of my child and being friendly. We’ve hung out, what? Maybe like, seven times? And two of which were to sign paperwork about how I won’t sue him or blackmail him and another two were for doctors appointments? That’s not exactly for fun, Lexi.”

You didn’t mean to sound so defensive--but maybe you were saying it for your good as well as hers. No one needed to get their hopes up, especially not you. 

She laughed, reached for the remote to unmute her show. “Okay--well, when you wake up one day and realize you’ve got it bad for him, don’t say I didn’t call it.”

“Okay,” you promised sarcastically, “I’ll be sure to tell you when that happens.”

**

He didn’t stop by after the airport like he’d said. His flight was delayed and by the time he landed you were fast asleep, though you did wake up to a few messages. 

Harry (11:56pm): I just landed, took so long, I’m sorry. Are you up?

Harry (12:02am): I’d still love to stop by if you are. 

Harry (12:04am): I’ll see you soon xx

You replied the next morning, promising that it was fine and you were asleep and you’d definitely, certainly see him soon. You didn’t tell Lexi that you really wanted to. 

So you had to make an excuse when she asked if you wanted to meet her for dinner on Melrose, and then you had to dodge Simone on your way out of the office on Monday. 

“You were such a help today,” she said, catching up with you when you flicked off the lights in your office and shut the door. “I never thought Carson would admit that he made a mistake, but, there’s a first for everything.”

You had your work bag over your shoulder, sunglasses on your head when you laughed. “I’m glad he took me seriously, for once.”

“You’ve been busy lately--I feel like you’re never here.”

Her comment wasn’t loaded, Simone was always encouraging everyone to have a better work-life balance. 

“I know--I’ve had a lot going on, but I’m all good.”

“You sure? Do you need help with anything?”

“No--I finalized that ad today for the new line of home tech, so--we should be fine.”

“Okay,” she smiled, a sliver of skepticism in her eyes. “Where are you off to now?”

“A friend’s,” you said casually. Not a lie. “Haven’t seen him in forever, so--just catching up.” Not completely a lie. 

She raised her eyebrows a bit. “A male friend? That’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not, I swear. But I should go--the 405 is already a shit show, so.”

“Yeah, okay,” she fell into step beside you, pulling off at her office door that was only a few steps down the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The parking lot was full and the Southern California sun beat down on the pavement--you called your mom on your way to Harry’s and asked if hot flashes came along with being pregnant. She was glad you got to FaceTime with his family, but jealous, she admitted. I’ll come to town when they do, she promised. We’ll all go out to brunch!

The drive up through the hills was nice, windows down, radio hummed and made you feel as if all was normal. The butterflies didn’t kick in until you parked and walked up the front steps. 

He greeted you at the door, hair coiffed in the afternoon sun. He squinted, lips turned up at the corners when he let his eyes sweep over your figure. “Hi,” an outstretched arm to offer you a platonic side-hug. “How was work?”

“Fine,” you said, stepping inside the air conditioned walls. You let your work bag fall onto the floor beside you. “My coworkers definitely know that something is up.”

You were surprised when a look of panic didn’t cross his face. He laughed, headed over past the stairs and into the kitchen. “Yeah--why’s that?”

“Cause I’ve had to work from home a fair amount and I don’t tell them why.”

His forehead creased, worry on his face as if something was wrong.

“Just when I have a doctor’s appointment or something,” you reassured. “But normally I’d tell them why and I haven’t and then today when I was leaving, Simone--she’s on my team--asked why I was in a hurry to leave.”

“And?” He grabbed a glass from a sleek black cupboard, placed it beneath the faucet. 

“I just said I was seeing a friend.”

He handed the glass over, now filled three-quarters of the way with water. He raised his eyebrows in a triumphant smirk. 

“What?”

“You called me your friend.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think that baby daddy would be appropriate.”

“Fair,” he leaned his head to the side and watched as you sipped the water. After a second, he turned his back, stopped to look over a piece of paper on the counter. “Well, I’m gonna make us some dinner. Figured you might be sick of In N’ Out and seeing as take away is the only low key option, prepare yourself for a culinary masterpiece.”

You swallowed the water quickly, trying to hide the shock on your face. “Do you cook, like, ever?”

He turned around, offended. “What? Y/N are you kidding? Of course I cook.”

“Well I didn’t know if you have someone do that sort of thing for you.”

He made another face, blinked a few times as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Take a seat,” he said finally, motioning to a stool on the other side of his island. “Watch.”

He diced onion, chopped up carrots. What is this? You teased. Chicken soup? 

But you were close--a roast chicken dish that his grandmother had passed down to his mom. My specialty, he promised. So you sat there for a while, you told him about Carson and the rude emails, about the possible promotion and your nervousness about what would happen when--you know--there was someone else involved. 

“Someone else?”

“A child,” you said. “You know, that thing in my uterus that we saw the other week. It’s gonna be super different when it’s here. He or she or they or whoever. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be Team Lead if I have a baby on my nipple.”

Another smirk, then a shrug. “We can get a nanny.”

“No--I don’t--we don’t need that.”

“Well--if I’m going to be on tour at some point next year and you’re getting promoted, we might need some help.”

You hadn’t ever thought that far ahead. Not past the possibility of being pregnant at work and eventually having to tell everyone that you were, in fact, pregnant. “We have friends and family, though. I don’t want my baby raised by a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t be a stranger, love,” he picked up a pair of tongs, stirred the contents inside the pan. “It’d be a nanny.”

“Well, I think it’s too soon to go there.”

He let the tongs rest on the counter. A moment of silence passed between you. 

That’s when you looked around, looked over your shoulder at the living room behind you. The arm of the couch you sat on in a tight dress--the coffee table you’d left your drink on that night when he showed you the bedroom upstairs. 

“I haven’t actually been in here since that night,” you said, your words floated towards the ceiling, large windows overlooked the backyard, a pool, sleek white chairs to lay in the sun. 

“You stood in the foyer when you told me.”

You laughed, looked over your shoulder at him. He was leaned against the counter, sunlight giving you a good look at the ink on his arms. “I kind of wiped that day from my memory.”

“I can show you--upstairs--if you want.”

“The scene of the crime?”

“The conception of our child,” he said, pointed a finger in the air to correct you. He motioned with his chin towards the stairs, started walking before you agreed. “Come on.”

So you hopped off the stool, followed him up the large staircase that twisted around itself, bringing you up to a hardwood landing and a long hall. The master ensuite was at the end, apparently, he pointed out guest rooms and a home office before he opened a set of double doors.

“Wow,” you said, almost more to yourself than to him. 

He snickered, “you’ve seen it before, remember?”

“Yeah, but, I was drunk and it was dark.”

You didn’t remember the view--but you did remember him pressing a button on a remote somewhere to draw the curtains. He laughed and fell onto the bed that night, insisting that you must have been a real trooper to put up with Lexi running lines at all hours of the night prior to big auditions. 

“Yeah--well this is it,” he said, a few steps forward towards the end of the king sized bed. “Bathroom’s over there, good tub.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable, like somehow you were both back in that night, ghosts of your past selves tangled in the sheets.

“Yeah--definitely quite a romantic spot, so, I don’t blame us that night.”

You laughed at that, rolled your eyes when he walked over to the floor to ceiling windows, crossed his arms and took in the view of Los Angeles. You shrugged. “I mean--we could have done a few things better.”

“Hey,” he chastised, turning around with a smirk on his face. “It was a magical night!”

“Right--if you count the drunken fumbling and then, you know, the whole conceiving a child thing.”

“We were drunk but it was still--good.”

An awkward beat, pink on your cheeks before you turned around to look at the white duvet. He had to say that, right? He definitely couldn’t say it was bad or he didn’t remember or something.

“I remember almost falling off the bed at one point.”

“Right after I took your bra off--you tried to make sure it wasn’t improperly folded,” he choked back a laugh, a knowing look on his face about how you tended to be with neatness. “But in full transparency, Y/N, I wasn’t really worried about how it was folded. I was more just trying to kiss you.”

You ignored the look on his face, one that made you feel like he was flirting with you. “Then I remember you putting on a condom--like you should.”

“Right, grabbed it from the bedside table,” he went over and opened the drawer, pulling out a black and gold box, tiny foil squares inside. 

You sighed at the sight of them--the tiny devices that should have kept this from happening. A few steps forward, an extended hand to look at the box. “99% effective my ass.”

You flipped it over in your hands, he let out a sigh. 

“Harry, hold on--is this, it says expires 2018. It’s 2019.”

“What?” He reached for the box and took it out of your hands quickly, holding it closer to his face this time to look at the tiny, black numbers on the side. “Fuck.”

“Are you kidding?” You stepped back from him. “You had expired condoms and we had sex with an expired condom and that’s why this happened?”

You weren’t as angry as you sounded, mostly shocked and annoyed and honestly, sort of nauseous from all of the scents that followed you up from the kitchen.

“I didn’t know--I obviously wouldn’t have used them if I knew--I just, I hadn’t been here in a while before then!”

You let out a sigh and squeezed your eyes shut, pinched at the bridge of your nose.

He stepped towards you, his voice filled with concern. “Is something wrong? Are you sick?” 

You opened your eyes quickly, offered him a death glare. “No--I just can’t believe you’re that stupid!”

He rolled his eyes at that, tossed the box on the bed and let his hands fall against his sides. “Well, my apologies, then. It’s all my fault.”

“No--I’m not, I’m sorry, it’s just,” you opened your eyes now, rubbed at them a few times before letting him come back into focus. “That explains it. Now we know. It’s no one’s fault.”

He sat on the bed, a tiny laugh from between his lips. “I mean, it’s sort of mine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, dimples on his cheeks when he looked up at you. You sat beside him on the bed and let your back hit the mattress. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You stared at the ceiling, hoping that deep breaths would quell the nausea inside of you. In, out, in, out. Another plane was visible out the window, taking off this time, nose pointed towards the sky, bringing the people inside far away from a busy Los Angeles.

“You know,” he turned around, pulled a knee up onto the duvet when he stared down at you. His voice was quiet and the sun that seeped through the windows gave him a bit of a glow. “I have a feeling that one day we won’t regret it as much as we do right now.”

The word already left a bad taste in your mouth--regret. It was that stupid tracking app--as soon as you started seeing fruit sizes, you were done for. You could regret it or wish it hadn’t happened but the truth was that you were here and it was real and you already felt a growing love for the lump of cells that had attached to your uterine lining. 

“I know,” you said quietly. 

More silence. He watched you for a second until you stood up, heading back to the kitchen, suddenly hungry for dinner and desperate for more water. 

“This is bullshit,” you said later that night, feet up on the coffee table when he flipped through channels on TV. “Haven’t you seen those things where the guy doesn’t drink throughout the pregnancy either, cause he’s a good partner?” You caught the word as soon as it slipped out. “Not that--you know--just that most people are married in this situation.”

“I know what you mean,” he didn’t even look over at you, settled on Jeopardy before he put down the remote and picked up the glass of wine that he’d nursed through dinner. “That’s a big ask, Y/N.”

“Having your child because you used an expired condom is a big ask, Harry.”

He raised his glass of wine towards you, as if to cheers. “You’re not wrong. But I thought it was no one’s fault?”

“Well--it’s your fault I can’t have a glass of cabernet.”

He leaned over, let a hand rest on your thigh and looked you in the eyes. “When she’s here and you can drink, I’ll buy you all the wine you want.”

A thump in your chest--you’d kept yourself from taking a guess. “She’s a she?”

“Don’t you think?” He let go now, moved back to his seat and picked up his wine casually before he reached to check his phone. 

“I hadn’t thought at all, really, about it. One way or another.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

“Do you want it to be a girl?”

He pushed his lips out in thought. “No preference. Just a feeling.”

A pause--the daily double logo flashed on the screen. “Do you want to find out at some point?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. I don’t know when they can tell, so.”

“Me neither. We don’t have to.”

He changed the subject, then. Asked about Lexi and promised you that Jeff wasn’t upset. He had another glass of wine and showed you pictures from his trip home. One of him and his sister on a hike--another with his mom and her cat, socked feet on their couch one night after dinner. 

His world was a strange one--far away from yours but somehow it had already fully collided. At 9:30pm you decided it was best to head home. Traffic would be light if you were lucky, but a 7am wake up call was waiting on the other side of sleep. He handed you the work bag you’d dropped on the floor and offered a closed lip smile. “Can I see you again soon?”

You hesitated, slung the strap over your shoulder and tried to come up with the right response. “Yeah--I mean, if you want. I know you’re busy, you don’t--like--have to hang out with me, remember?”

He shook his head, his tone a bit harsh when he searched your eyes for an answer. “I want to--why is that so impossible for you to swallow?”

“It’s not impossible--I just, I don’t know. We don’t really know each other and we don’t have to pretend like this is anything other than what it is.”

“I want to know you. You’re the mother of my child, Y/N.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay,” you said, defeated. You didn’t know if you believed him. You wanted to. But the hormones in your system were likely untrustworthy. Getting to know him meant you could like it, like him. It meant you could get attached and getting attached meant you could get hurt. You pushed the thought out of your head. You were thinking about it too much already. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

**

Jeff watched as you sat in the chair, a rubber band tied tight around your arm. “He’ll be here,” he said. “He’s just running late, I guess.”

You nodded, hoping the nurse with blue gloves wouldn’t get excited when she saw who Jeff was referring to. 

They’d decided the paternity test would be done by a third-party lab. Another doctor’s office, this time in Burbank. Jeff watched as the needle slid into your vein, a vial in the nurse’s hand soon filled. 

A knock on the door, another nurse with Harry in tow once the first vial had been replaced with a second. “Hi,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Sorry--I was doing some stuff with Emma at the house.”

You waved awkwardly, left arm still held in the hands of the nurse. She smiled in his direction, you’d watched her sign the NDA that Jeff had brought, a letter from Dave’s office, a watermark made it official. 

How awkward, you thought. Various people here and there now knew. Dr. Weston’s office. These nurses. You wondered when there’d be the inevitable meeting about coming out with it. What would be said when something finally leaked? How would you keep your privacy or your sanity when people wanted more information from you? 

“Okay,” the nurse smiled, a wad of gauze over the crook of your elbow. “All set.”

“Am I up?” Harry took a step forward, ready to climb into the chair. 

“Just a cheek swab, from you,” she replied, setting the second vial in a stand beside the first. She stuck a label on to each of them, reached for a long q-tip and then turned around. Harry opened his mouth, looked around awkwardly when she held his chin and then rubbed at the inside of his cheek. 

You crossed your arms, “everything the man has to do is easier with this stuff, isn’t it?”

Jeff laughed at that, shrugged a bit before the nurse let go of Harry’s face. He moved his tongue around a bit, smacking his lips together as if the swab had a bad taste.

It was awkward, the whole thing. Apparently Dave had decided that Jeff should chaperone, watch you get poked and prodded to ensure that the results were accurate. Nothing had changed in Harry’s demeanor, and if you took his words at face value, he trusted you. Believed you. So why, of all people, was Jeff not?

Pam--that’s what the nametag on her scrubs said--set the swab in a tube. “So we’ll send this off now and the results will be mailed to the address you listed in 5-10 business days.”

“It’s going to Dave’s office,” Jeff informed the two of you. “He’ll call you both with the results.”

You grabbed your purse and you were all on your way to the parking lot to find your separate cars in the warm sun. You wanted to ask them if they really thought you were lying, ask if you were allowed to say I told you so when the results came back. Glenne promised it was just a legal requirement. Nothing to do with you, she said. They’d make anyone do it. 

“I’m supposed to meet Glenne for lunch,” Jeff said, a hand over his eyes when he turned around. “If you guys want to join.”

You looked over at Harry, were they your friends or his? If you’d been worried about people having to choose sides, now was the moment it came to fruition. Harry stood in the parking lot, sunglasses on his face when he seemed to wait for your response. Could you both go? 

“Oh--I don’t--you can go, Harry. I should go home anyway. Lexi and I said we’d clean today.”

“I think Lexi’s coming,” Jeff pulled his phone out of his pocket to check a text. “Yeah--Glenne said we’re meeting at Fin’s for brunch.”

“You can ride with me, Y/N,” Harry stepped forward now, still waiting for you to make a call. Hesitation, a nervousness in your stomach about what Jeff thought of it all. Would he allow you to go in the same car? Or was that somehow against something you’d signed? 

But the nervousness felt like nausea and the nausea sometimes felt like hunger. So you went.

Not because your apartment wasn’t a mess, but mostly because you knew Lexi’d give you shit if you bailed. You promised yourself you’d give her shit for roping you into a group outing. She knew what she was doing. When she agreed to tag along she knew she’d signed you up for it, too. 

“If she’s not then I’m not,” Harry smiled up at the waiter, shut his menu in front of him before smiling over at you.

“You can get a mimosa,” you rolled your eyes in response. Lexi’s manicured hands clapped together when Glenne ordered a pitcher for the table.

“M’fine, water’s fine.”

The waiter disappeared and you ignored the smirk on Lexi’s face. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he turned to you again, voice quieter as if the rest of the table wasn’t listening. “I can definitely go nine months.”

“Without alcohol? Yeah, right,” Glenne laughed. “You’ll make it two weeks before you want a glass of Merlot.”

“I’ll be fine,” he scoffed, sunglasses still on his face beneath the terraced patio. “I don’t even like Merlot.”

Glenne made a face and Jeff leaned forward. “You really think you can go nine months without drinking?”

Harry set his elbows on the table, narrowed his eyes. “Care to make it interesting?”

“Place your bets, everyone,” Glenne let out a laugh and reached for the water that had already been delivered. 

“Two weeks,” you said quickly. Another shocked look from Harry when turned to see you. 

“Two weeks?! You think I’m spineless, don’t you?”

“I watched you house two glasses of wine the other night after dinner.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows at that--Glenne seemed to give Lexi a look. You tried to backtrack, suddenly worried that maybe they weren’t supposed to know you and Harry had spent some time together outside of meetings and doctors appointments. 

“Whatever, how long do you think you can go?” You pushed the attention back to Harry, he shifted in his seat beside you.

“Nine months,” He nodded. “I think I can do it.”

“I give you two months,” Jeff sighed. “Tops.”

“I vote eight months,” Lexi said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “I think your downfall will be Christmas and New Years.”

“That counts as nine months if it’s New Years,” Harry said. “She’s due in January!”

“I vote halfway. Four or five months,” Glenne leaned back and watched him. 

You sipped at your water, a bit resentful about all of it. Here they were, all talking as if everything was normal. As if Harry’s lawyer hadn’t painted you to be a liar. As if the problem here was your negligence or greed, not the expired condoms in Harry’s bedside table. As if you didn’t feel out of place at a fancy restaurant in North Hollywood, likely the only person at the table who couldn’t afford an early retirement. 

Harry het a land rest on your knee beneath the table. “I’ll do my best, and whoever’s closest, I’ll buy you a nice dinner.”

“That’s all?” Jeff teased. “No yacht or car?”

“I’ll take you to Nobu,” he raised his eyebrows, giving Jeff a look he apparently couldn’t resist. 

“So I have a question, then,” Glenne changed the subject, her voice quieter than it was before. “Have you thought about any names?”

“No,” you said quickly, hands folded in your lap. Harry fumbled with his napkin but watched as you spoke. “We don’t even--we don’t have the results yet.” You motioned back to the street--back towards the chair and the tiny room with fluorescent lights--as if you couldn’t do any sort of planning until it was settled. The parentage, as Dave had said. 

Glenne nodded, lips pursed in a line. She knew where you stood with it--she thought it was just as shitty as unfair as you did, but she was stuck in the middle. “Sweetie--we know you wouldn’t lie about it, it’s just--”

You looked at Jeff quickly, pulled your eyes back to Glenne. The waiter appeared with three glasses, placed them right in front of Lexi as if she’d drink all three. She rubbed her hands together when they were poured. 

Jeff shrugged and offered you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s shitty and awkward,” he said. “But just think about what a shit show it could be if we didn’t test it. I mean--it’s you, I get that. You’re not just some random person or something, but--we’d be stupid to not just make sure.”

“I know,” you said. “I get it.”

“Once the results are back next week Dave will lighten up,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Harry was quiet, watched as Lexi handed the last mimosa over to Jeff. After a second, he shrugged. “I like Vienna.”

You turned to look at him quickly. “Vienna? As a name?”

He nodded.

“No,” you said. “I don’t like it.”

“Or Jane. Simple, pretty.”

Lexi looked at him like he had three heads. “You already decided it’ll be a girl?”

He nodded, shifted to look at you as if he couldn’t be any more serious. “She knows I’m right.”

“No I don’t,” you laughed. “He’s crazy. If you’re worried about one of us being a nut job, it’s him,” you looked directly at Jeff. 

Harry held up his glass of water, pushed it towards the center of the table. Glenne raised her mimosa, she laughed when Lexi took a gulp before clinking hers into the circle. 

“Here’s to me being a nut job, then,” Harry laughed. “Even though I’m right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I’m posting off schedule right now cause I know folks are home and looking for some positivity. So if you’ve got nothing else to do, read some fanfic!! Stay the fuck home, y’all. I’m a nurse. I mean it. 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat  @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey  @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles  @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo 

[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 

[buckleyirondad]

8. Where Did Everybody Go? “Don’t Say Goodbye”

Natasha's final wish, is granted, by the universe - it allows Tony, to live, following his sacrifice - he gets the one thing he never thought he'd have, a normal life - from, getting to see his daughter, grow up, all the way, to witnessing Peter and Michelle on their wedding day.

AO3 Link

The energy of the gauntlet channeled through Tony’s arm and sent shockwaves, down his spine.

It was all too much at once.

It felt like he was being torn apart, limb by limb, experiencing every injury he’d ever endured, since the start of time, simultaneously.

He lifted his arm, presenting the stones, to his enemy, “And I—” He cried out, “…Am Iron-Man.”

He brought his fingers together and snapped.

He was welcomed by a blinding, white light, which was ironic, considering all the fairy tales and visions that were recorded, about death.

The pain dissipated, and suddenly, all he could feel, was comfort, like he was enveloped by it.

The light shifted, from white, and a welcoming orange.

He blinked, clearing his vision.

He looked around, quickly realizing, that he was no longer standing, on the battleground.

He wasn’t somewhere new.

The skies and ground stretched on, for miles, perhaps for infinity. They never met, it was a continuous spiral of orange.

It was a new realm, but Tony had seen it before. The space was his old house, well part of it. The gym room to be specific, the boxing ring, was right beside him.

He ducked his head, “What the hell?”

“Hey, Tony,” A voice, he knew all-too-well, called out, “Did you miss me?”

He spun, on his heel.

Natasha was standing, a few paces away, wearing a smile, from ear-to-ear, “You’re an idiot.” She moved, with a  slight skip in her step, “An absolute dumbass.”

She broke into a run and crashed, into his chest, tangling her arms around him.

“Nat—” He curled his hands behind her back, “Nat—” He breathed, holding onto her, as tight as he could, “Oh, my—”

“I can’t believe you,” She leaned back, taking his hands, “You know, a long time ago, I wrote a profile on you.”

“Ah, yes –“ Tony chuckled, “Tony Stark, not advised, for the Avengers Initiative.”

“People said the same about me, once,” She smiled, “Now, look at us.”

Tony grinned, “We saved the day.”

“Who’d a thought it.” She raised a hand, pressing it against Tony’s cheek, “I didn’t approve you, for a reason though.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “What reason?”

“I saw something, in you, that I don’t even think you saw in yourself.” She sniffled, “You care, so much. For Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and now, those kids. Somewhere, under all the front, you’ve always wanted a simple life. I tried to give it to you, but—” She stammered, “The universe needed you.”

“Thank you,” He smiled uncertain, “Thank you for trying.” He let go, on her hands, and stepped back, caught up in his own head.

She watched him, worried, “Tony?”

“Peter’s back.”

She nodded, “I know.”

“He has no idea, what it’s been like.” He shook his head, “He was, the same kid, and seeing him, it felt—”

“Like everything was falling into place?”

“Yeah. All the right places too.”  He rested a hand under his chin, “I’m never gonna see them together. My kids.” He laughed, “Oh, the things they’ll do.”

Natasha tilted her head to her shoulder.

“Nat, I think I might have made a bad decision,” He admitted, “I’m scared I’ve made a mistake.”

“Me too,” She reached out, grabbing his wrist, “It was hard to let go.”

“How’d you do it?”

“I tried not to think about it.” She spoke softly, “What about you?”

“I had to.” He shrugged, “This is the vision that Strange saw.”

“He only saw fourteen billion futures.” She pointed out, “Time is infinite, right?”

“I guess, but it’s done.” He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, “For the longest time, I haven’t cared, if I live or if I die, but I didn’t wanna do this, Nat.” He held onto her hand, “I wanna see my kids grow up. See Morgan, go to school. Peter, go to college. I wanna grow old with Pep. I wanna be, in the same old people’s home as Rhodey and Happy, so I can annoy the shit out of them.”

Natasha laughed, but stopped, “You wanna live.”

“Yeah.”

“Everything’s going to be all right,” She grabbed his hands, “I have an idea.”

“What?”

She darted her eyes up, “You know where we are?”

“No, I—”

“It’s called the Way Station,” She explained, “I didn’t know anything about it until I died, but it’s connected, to the soul stone.”

Tony's forehead creased, “Okay…”

“The soul stone is living, it’s aware of the universes, around it.” Natasha said, “It knows what I did, the sacrifice I made, and it’s granted me a wish.”

“That’s—"

“You’re not seeing,” She interrupted, “It owes me, and I know what I’m gonna do, with that debt.”

Tony frowned, “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna give you a second chance.”

“What—” Tony crumbled, realizing what she was saying, “What do you mean?”

“You’re not dead yet,” She beamed, “I can save you.”

“You can’t use it, on me,” He stuttered, “Save you—"

“I can’t do that. It's not within the agreement.” She leaned up, resting a hand on his cheek again, “I wanna give it to you, and everyone else. You’ve fought so hard, you deserve this.”

“Nat—"

“You can’t stop me,” The determination in her eyes, was unfathomable, and he knew he could never turn her down, not when this was her last wish.

He looped his arms around her, pulling her off his feet, in a hug, “Thank you.” He muttered, resting his face against her shoulder.

She stepped back, tears welling in her eyes, “Don’t waste your life.”

“Never.” He smiled, “You’ll be okay, you won’t be lonely?”

“I could never be.” She vowed, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Remember me.”

He blinked away tears, “Trust me, nobody is ever gonna forget you.” He opened his mouth, "Goo--"

"Don't--" She interrupted, "Don't say goodbye, please." 

He nodded.

She smiled, “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

He bent down, pressing a kiss against her cheek, “Yes, thank you, Miss. Rushman.”

There was another blinding flash, and Tony was standing, on the battlefield, once more.

He was fine.

His arm was slightly numb but other than that, he was okay.

He stepped out of his suit, letting his stones fall to the ground.

“Easy peasy,” He brushed his hands against his undersuit, “Thanks, Nat.”

Rhodey landed, opening his mask, with teary eyes and a dropped jaw, “What—”

Tony chuckled, rubbing his hands together, “Crying for me, platypus?”

Rhodey stepped over, reaching out to poke Tony, in the chest, “Nah, I don’t like this,” He recoiled, “This is too much, for me.”

Tony held out his hands, “I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t be okay,” Rhodey’s eyes widened, “Unless, you’re an alien, and I never knew—”

Tony shook his head, “I wish.”

“Tones, this makes no sense, how—”

Tony slouched his shoulders, with a smile, “It was Nat.”

Rhodey’s face dropped, “What?”

“She saved me.”

“What do you—"

A familiar swoosh came overhead, as Peter swung over, landing nearby, “Mr. Stark!”

Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Kid—”

Peter strode over, but it was quickly apparent, that he wasn’t in the mood for a hug. He reached out, slapping Tony’s arm away, “You could have died!” He yelled, “You promised you’d never leave, not for anything! You can’t do that—”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” He gently pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on top of his head, “I’m fine, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

Peter cried, “I can’t lose you too.”

He kissed his curls and held him close, “I know.”

“Tony!” Pepper landed, retracting her mask, “How—” A flood of relief washed over her, she looked to Rhodey, who simply shrugged, “Jesus.”

Tony reached out, taking her hand, “We’re gonna be okay, Pep.”

She chuckled, leaning in, to kiss his cheek, “Yeah.” She placed her hand on Peter’s back, “We are.”

Peter stepped back, “We won?”

“Yeah, we won, buddy.”

***

Life went on, for everyone.

Peter and Morgan met, it wasn’t long until they were as thick as thieves, ready to take on the world together.

Peter started dating Michelle, a few weeks after going back to school. Tony loved the awkwardness of it, from both sides.

When Peter, tried to admit his feelings for her, she thought he was telling her, that he was Spider-Man. A confusing mishap, but it worked out in the end, because, from the get-go, neither of them kept a secret from the other.

Suddenly, in a flash, it was the week before Christmas.

Morgan jumped into bed, grabbing her Piglet bear, hugging it under her arm, “Tell me a story,” She laughed, turning to look at Tony.

Tony perched, at the end of the bed, “A story?”

The door cracked open, and Peter poked his head around, “Hey, Tony—”

“Petey!” Morgan squealed, “Come on, Daddy’s telling a story!”

“A story?” Peter smiled, “I can’t turn that down.” He squeezed into bed, next to his sister, who instinctively curled up, over his lap.

Morgan threw her arms up, “Mimi too!”

Tony shrugged, with a laugh, “Let’s just invite everybody.”

Peter leaned to the side, “MJ!”

A door clicked open, and footsteps followed, “Hey—” Michelle stepped inside, “What—”

Morgan shouted, “Daddy’s gonna tell us a story!”

“Oh…” She raised an eyebrow, “You want me to join?”

Morgan nodded frantically, “Yep!”

Michelle chuckled, turning, “Stark?”

Tony motioned his head back, “Come on in, I’m improvising.”

Michelle cackled, “Should be entertaining.”

Tony joked, “Should we call Ned, while we’re at it?”

Peter shook his head, with a chuckle, “I mean, he’d love it, but he’s working.”

“Maybe next time.”

Michelle nudged Peter’s arm, “Budge up.”

Tony noticed that Michelle’s pajamas, had an old print of Black Widow on, the old merch line from before the fall of the Avengers.

He smiled, looking up at the trio.

“Have I ever told you three, about how I met Natasha?”

Morgan beamed, “Auntie Nat?”

“Yeah.”

Peter shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

Michelle held out her hands, “No clue.”

Tony leaned over, “It’s a fun story.”

Morgan bounced, up and down, “Tell it, tell it, tell it.”

Tony smiled, “Okay.”

Morgan rested on Peter’s lap and laid her legs over Michelle’s lap.

“She was the first member of the Avengers, that I met,” Tony started, “It was way before we assembled. It was, around the time of the Stark Expo.”

Morgan grinned, “When you met Petey!”

Michelle turned, “Wait, what?”

Peter waved a hand, “That’s a story for another night.”

Michelle rolled her eyes.

Peter nodded his head forward, “You were saying?”

“She was an agent, hired undercover, by Fury, to keep an eye on me.”

Morgan rocked, “Why?”

“I was being a little stupid, at the time,” He admitted, “I didn’t know, she was a spy. She called herself, Natalie Rushman. I didn’t know, at this moment, that I’d met one of the most important people, in my life.” He looked up, with a grin, “My little sister.”

From that night onwards, Tony told story after story, until Black Widow became Morgan’s favorite hero, and Michelle, did her thesis for college, on Natasha's life.

They kept remembering her, they never stopped.  

***

Eight years later, Peter and Michelle were married.

Tony couldn’t see the ceremony, not properly, through his tears. Neither could anyone else, for that matter.

After eating, came the speeches, Tony’s favorite part of any wedding.

Michelle’s parents, went first, followed by May, three hard acts to follow.

Happy raised, hitting his fork, off his glass, “It’s time for the groom’s mentor?” He raised an eyebrow, “Father-figure?” He placed his glass down, “Let’s cut to the chase, here’s Tony Stark.”

Tony wiped his eyes as he stood, “Not sure if I’m gonna top May’s one.”

They all laughed, May jokingly nudged his side.

“Ha,” Tony straightened his back, “Well, you all know who I am, so I won’t bore you with introductions.”

Peter laughed, leaning his head on his hand.

“I, um, I’ve been scratching my head, about what to say today,” Tony rubbed the nape, of his neck, “There’s so much, to say, about my kid.” He leaned, resting his hand against Peter’s shoulder, “Too much to say, in one speech. Jones, too.”

Michelle smiled.

“You’re both amazing,” Tony turned to face them, “No other way to put it. I look at you, and know, that the future, is in very safe hands. Which is strange now, because one of my fondest memories, of Peter, was a few months after we first met.”

Peter buried his face, in his hands.

“He was starting to feel, at home, at mine and Pepper’s place, so he’d thought he’d try and see if he could sleep, like a bat.”

Peter raised his head, “To clarify, it was Batman.”

“Not helping your case here, kiddo,” Tony barked a laugh, “Anyway, long story short, we spent the night, at the Infirmary.”

Peter hid his face against Michelle’s arm, as laughter travelled across the room.

“A broken arm, but an infectious laugh, of embarrassment.”

Tony swallowed, a lump in his throat, studying the faces looking back at him.

“I haven’t known Peter, since the beginning, I can take no credit for that, but we are all family, from every inch of the universe, from among the stars themselves.” He said, motioning to the Guardians, “We prove, that family, is what you make it, and how you love it. The universe is much bigger than most of us thought, twenty years ago. But, mine, was very small, for a long time.” He placed a hand, on his chest, “My fault.” He sniffled, “Then I met this kid, who showed me, how to love life again.”

Peter looked up at him, teary-eyed, with a smile.

“Even when he wasn’t here. You helped me, become a better man, and father,” Tony smiled, “The day, you came back, everything clicked into place. Then, Jones, you came along, and you fit in, from the get-go.” He laughed, “I remember, how giddy, Peter was, whenever he spoke about you.” He turned his attention to the room, “I never believed, in young love, but these two make it impossible to denounce it because you are the real deal.”

People nodded, in firm agreement.

“It can’t go unrecognized, that I would not be standing here, with you all, living this fantastic day, if it wasn’t for Natasha Romanoff.”

Clint met his gaze, with a grin and nod.

“She saved my life, like many of you know, and she gave me this,” He held out his hands, “I owe her, a lifetime. I know, whenever she is, watching over us, she’s telling us all, to drink the night away, and embarrass the hell out of one another.”

The room erupted with laughter again.

Rhodey raised his glass, “To Natasha Romanoff.”

“To Natasha Romanoff!”

Tony raised his, “To the bride and groom!”

“To the bride and groom!”

Peter jumped up, hugging Tony, “Thank you.”

***

Eighteen months later, Peter and Michelle welcomed their first child.

A half-asleep May, and Michelle’s mother, Madeline, woke Tony, who was passed out, on the Infirmary couch, in the Relative’s Room, and they told him, it was time to meet his granddaughter.

He circled, into the room, with a smile, “Hey—”

Peter hopped up, heading over for a hug, “Hey, Tony—”

“Hey, kiddo—” Tony bent down, pressing a kiss in his curls.

Michelle was sitting in bed, cradling her daughter, “Hey, Stark.”

“Jones.” He walked over, “How you are doing?”

“Just a little tired.” Michelle shrugged, “Peter passed out.”

Peter circled the bed, sitting down, “I didn’t pass out, I sat down.”

Michelle snorted a laugh, “Dad shock.”

“I was the same,” Tony reassured him, leaning over to get a look at the baby, “Can’t believe you two managed to pull this off.”

His granddaughter looked up, at him, with wide eyes.

“She’s perfect.”

Michelle moved, “Do you wanna hold her?”

“Of course.” He reached down, carefully taking her, out of Michelle’s arms, “Wow.”

Peter bobbed his head, “He’s already planning ways to spoil her.”

“Ha,” Tony rocked her, “I’ll be looking for cars soon.”

Michelle waved a hand, “You’re a grandparent, you’re allowed.”

Tony looked down, at his granddaughter, “Hey there…”

Peter smiled,  “Natalie.”

“Natalie Parker.” Tony’s heart skipped a beat, “That’s a good strong name, and we’re gonna take on the world together.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead,  “All of us.”

[skelebonecentral]

Hothouse rose chapter 1

a reverse harem with the lust boys

first we gotta meet the basic skeles

words under cut

Frisk was your cousin.

They’d run away, a week after their mom passed away. Your aunt, their other mother, was frantic and your whole family had gone out searching, as well as most of the town. You’re so glad it was your dad’s oldest sister who first caught sight of the monsters and not the sheriff or someone not quite as sensible.

Frisk came back from the mountain that loomed above your town with a whole civilization behind them.

Yeah, they tried to hook their mom up with Toriel, the strong, kind, and welcoming goat woman who was the Queen of the monsters, but Frisk was just a very romantic kid in general. They flirted as a hobby, it was hilarious and you were so glad they were back and safe to continue cracking you up with it.

They hugged everyone and apologized for scaring them, that they figured out that just because they were hurting didn’t mean it was okay to hurt other people, when they finally got the chance to exit the monsters’ camp after the police and government and all kinds of things showed up.

Still, you had to admire them for how much they grew up if that was what they wanted to say right away. Well, sign. Frisk was mute, after all.

Having them home was so nice, and their new friends were awesome.

You met Toriel first, of course, and her ex-husband, Asgore. You felt sorry for the big fluffy guy, he looked so hopeless and sad when Toriel would glare at him. And Frisk called him Dad, that was so cute, cause he just lit up. It was weird, though, feeling so pitying toward a ten foot tall goat man with huge horns and a long golden beard who had been alive for centuries longer than you.

Still, you liked both the goat people, and Monster Kid, Frisk’s new bestie who ran around with them. He was…well, he was a monster kid. Lizardish, with a tail and yellow-orange scales, but no arms to speak of. It made him top heavy, since he was humanoid, so he fell over often. Frisk seemed very fond of him, and you were glad. They hadn’t had a lot of luck making friends with other human kids at school before all of this.

But Frisk, being the eternal matchmaker they were, decided YOU needed to get in on this whole monster friend business.

Of course, you didn’t realize it until Gyftmas. It was a monster holiday from Snowdin, a small town Underground, that centered around gift giving and involved Santa for some reason? Anyway, the monster community was holding a carnival inside the local event center (it was mid-September so there weren’t any OTHER holidays to do) and your little cousin, being the ambassador, was of course invited and they brought you as their plus one.

Did you forget to mention that Frisk was the ambassador for monsters? They are. Well, at least in name. That’s their official title, is Ambassador, but they’re more like a figurehead while Toriel and Asgore handle the actual statecraft. The adults do let them cut ribbons and make speeches, but they’re just not ready for something that complicated. They are only six, after all.

But back to the carnival, Frisk brought you, and took you to a particular booth.

The booth was decorated with several action figures from an old 80’s cartoon that you used to love watching reruns of, and the sign above said, “THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ TRIVIA BOOTH!”

Frisk beamed as they dragged you, and looking in the booth, there was a very tall soldier-looking fellow who seemed to be a skeleton.

“HELLO, DEAR FRISK! I SEE YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN WITH YOU!” he called exuberantly, waving with bright red mittens. He had a black something or other on under the white chest piece of…oh that’s not actually armor. As you got closer, you’re now aware its made of fabric and the lines and emblem on the front are felt pieces sewn to it. The big round shoulder pads are attached, too.

Frisk signs eagerly, “Hi Papyrus! This is my cousin, Y/N! I wanted them to try your trivia!” Their hands are going very fast, and they’re bouncing, so they’re very excited about this.

“OH!” the skeleton stands up, showing his very obvious spine in his black whateverthatis and the odd ultra-short shorts that match his chest piece. “HELLO, HUMAN Y/N! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET A RELATIVE OF MY DEAR FRIEND, FRISK!”

He holds out his hand, and you shake it, feeling the long fingerbones underneath and finding yourself grinning like an idiot. Holy heck, an actual skeleton was talking to you. Your inner child was screaming with joy in their Jack-skellington slippers. Frisk had to have known…well, how could they not, your room is covered in Halloween and skeleton themed knickknacks.

“H-hey, Papyrus, I’m super glad to meet you, too!” you didn’t mean to stammer but you’re trying not to freak out as your arm is nearly shaken from its socket. He’s so STRONG!

Frisk giggled and signed something too quick for you to parse, and Papyrus let you go, “OH, ALRIGHT! HAVE A GOOD TIME, FRISK! YOUR COUSIN AND I WILL HAVE A BATTLE OF WITS!”

They scampered away and left you with the skeleton, who pulled out a fold out chair, setting it in front of his booth and then sitting in his own behind the counter, “ALRIGHTIE THEN! HUMAN Y/N, YOUR CHALLENGE SHALL BE TO ANSWER TEN QUESTIONS ABOUT MONSTER CULTURE. THE MORE YOU GET CORRECT, THE BETTER YOUR PRIZE! BEING FRISK’S COUSIN, YOU SHOULD DO VERY WELL!”

“Don’t be so sure, Papyrus. I have some wicked test anxiety,” you joke, and he blinks his sockets at you.

“NO NEED TO BE NERVOUS!” His smile seems set in his long jawed skull, but it actually tilts up a bit more, “SOMEONE WHO LOVES OUR FRISK IS BOUND TO BE A GOOD LISTENER AND KIND SOUL, SO I HAVE FAITH IN YOU. FIRST QUESTION!” he whipped out a set of cards, “WHAT IS KING ASGORE’S FAVORITE DRINK?”

You smile, happy it’s one you know, “Golden Flower Tea. He likes tea in general but that’s his favorite.”

“CORRECT! WOWIE, AND SO CONFIDENT!” Papyrus seems just as pleased as you are, “NEXT ONE! WHAT WAS THE FIRST SECTION OF THE UNDERGROUND CALLED?”

“Ah,” you had to think a moment, then said cautiously, “I think it was the Ruins?”

“YOU’RE RIGHT.” Papyrus then set two further action figures from the same set as his decorations, “THESE WILL MARK YOUR SUCCESSES! ALRIGHT, NEXT!” He shifted his sockets in a comical manner that you had to fight your instinct to laugh at, “HOW MANY MOVIES HAS METTATON, OUR BELOVED STAR, PUT OUT AS OF TODAY?”

You blink…and you have to guess because you honestly don’t care for Mettaton’s version of movies, “28?”

Papyrus’ jaw just falls open, and he sets another figure on the counter, “I THOUGHT FOR SURE THAT WOULD STUMP YOU! I’M FLABBERGASTED. YOU MUST BE A VERY DEDICATED FAN OF METTATON, JUST LIKE MYSELF.”

You blush, “N-not really. His music and dancing are great, but the movies go over my head, I guess. I only watched one because Frisk wanted me to…”

He chuckles, “AT LEAST YOU ARE HONEST. I WATCH THEM FOR THE FUN OF SEEING EVERYONE ELSE’S REACTIONS, HONESTLY. AND THE SET DESIGNS! THEY’RE VERY WELL DONE, AFTER ALL.”

“Oh, yeah, I did notice that. I bet a lot of Broadway plays would love to get his input on that front.”

Papyrus perked up, “BROADWAY? I KNOW A STREET BY THAT NAME BUT I GET THE FEELING YOU’RE REFERRING TO A THEATER OR SOMETHING SIMILAR.”

“Kind of?” you quirk your mouth a bit, not really smiling but thinking about it, “It’s a street in New York City with lots of theaters on it that’s famous for having the best in plays and musicals in the country. It’s really a cool place, from what I hear.”

“OOH! I SHOULD LOOK UP MORE ABOUT THAT LATER. ANYWAY!” He gets out a set of note cards, “I WROTE ALL THE QUESTIONS DOWN SO I COULD HAVE LOTS OF CHOICES. YOU’RE DOING A LOT BETTER THAN SOME PEOPLE!”

You were getting excited now, wondering what he could ask.

“OKAY! WHAT WAS THE NAME OF OUR LOST PRINCE?”

You frown. That was a serious question, and you think back to Frisk’s descriptions they would give you now and then of their time under the mountain. “Asriel.” You remembered thinking his name sounded angelic.

“ANOTHER FIGURE FOR YOU!” Papyrus plops the next figure on the desk and…

“Is that the villain? I didn’t know they even made a figure for him.” You can’t help yourself, not when you’d loved his antics as a kid. “Lord Verminator, looking good.”

Papyrus gasped, “YOU LIKE ALIEN WARLORDS OF JUSTICE?! I THOUGHT HUMANITY HAD FORGOTTEN THIS CLASSIC SERIES! I HAVE EVERY FIGURE EVER MADE EXCEPT FOR THREE, AND EVERY EPISODE ON VARIOUS VHS TAPES. I WILL HAVE TO ASK FOR FRISK TO BRING YOU OVER AND HAVE A MARATHON!”

You nod eager, “I know I haven’t been able to see every episode. I only got a few episodes they put on an old cable channel but it was so good. I managed to salvage some merch from antique stores, but it’s never been enough.”

“THERE WAS MORE THAN ACTION FIGURES?!” Papyrus is awestruck, orange sparkles appearing around his skull. “OH THIS HAS TO BE FATE! MY FIRST HUMAN FRIEND HAS A GROWN-UP COUSIN WHO LOVES THE SAME SERIES AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS? SERENDIPITOUS!”

You finally laugh and nod, “You’re so peppy! How did Frisk manage to keep you a secret? I wish we’d met sooner now.”

His sparkles increased, and he began pumping his fists up and down eagerly, “DO YOU REALLY MEAN IT? BECAUSE IF SO, I AGREE WHOLEHEARTEDLY! LET’S GET THIS QUIZ OVER WITH SO WE CAN GUSH ABOUT OUR FAVORITE THINGS INSTEAD!”

He takes a notecard and asks, “WHAT IS THE SYMBOL OF OUR KINGDOM CALLED?”

“The one Toriel wears, right? I think…it was the Delta Rune?”

“YES!” the card was set down, a figure was placed, and another card picked up, “WHO IS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”

“Undyne.” You sigh, “She tried to suplex me the first time I had to go to Toriel’s to pick up Frisk.”

“OH, THAT WAS YOU?” Papyrus tilts his skull, and you notice his sockets are slightly uneven. You also notice you like hearing him talk, even though he’s very loud. “SHE TOLD ME SOME HUMAN CAME AND MANAGED TO DODGE HER GRAB. SHE’S BEEN TRYING TO GET FASTER AFTER THAT.”

You want to comment, but Papyrus gets another card, “WHO CREATED THE CORE?“ he stops, frowns, then tosses the cards behind him, “THAT ONE WAS ACTUALLY A TRICK QUESTION, BECAUSE NOBODY KNOWS WHO DID IT! AND AS MUCH AS I LIKE TRIVIA, I’M MORE EXCITED ABOUT TALKING WITH YOU.”

Smiling, you take his elbow when he offers it, despite him being two feet taller than you, even in his flat bottomed red rain boots, “That’s pretty flattering. What was the prize for the quiz, though? I’m curious.”

“A DATE WITH YOURS TRULY!” Papyrus laughed, “NYEHEHEHE, BUT I HAVE A FEELING HUMANS WOULD BE RATHER INTIMIDATED BY SOMEONE AS HANDSOME AND CAPABLE AS MYSELF, SO GIVING YOU A TOUR SEEMS MUCH NICER.”

Papyrus led you around the event center, pointing at the various booths and explaining them, even sometimes introducing you to the monster manning it. You didn’t see hide nor hair of Frisk for the rest of the evening, but you didn’t really notice. Papyrus’ enthusiastic rambling and genuine glee at showing you around kept you glued to his side gladly.

When the crowds had thinned out considerably, you asked, “Papyrus, this has been the most fun I’ve had at a fair in years. I’d really like to do more cool stuff like this with you, so maybe we could exchange numbers?”

He froze, then turned, big sparkles appearing again, including inside his sockets, “WOWIE, REALLY?! OF COURSE WE CAN! I REALIZE IT IS LATE AND HUMAN BEINGS NEED PLENTY OF SLEEP TO BE HEALTHY, UNLIKE THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SO LET US HURRY!”

He shoved his phone into your hand and you gave him yours, typing in your number and naming yourself with a balloon emoji on the end to remind him of the fun fair you’d shared together. You get your phone back as you hold out his, and it says “THE GREAT PAPYRUS” with a skull emoji and a gold medal one on the end.

“Perfect! Feel free to text me whenever, but I might not answer if I’m busy or sleeping.”

He nodded, “I UNDERSTAND! I WILL PROBABLY BE TEXTING YOU QUITE OFTEN, BUT FEEL FREE TO TAKE YOUR TIME. UNDYNE SAYS I TEND TO RAMBLE WHEN I’M EXCITED. AND I’M ALWAYS EXCITED! ESPECIALLY WHEN I MAKE A NEW FRIEND.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, getting a back-cracking hug, before he rushes off into the fair and you head toward your car. Frisk had texted you earlier to say they were going home with Toriel, so you rode back alone, glad for the break so you could process your night with the personification of optimism that was Papyrus.

--

You got texts from Papyrus every day. Multiple texts in a row, about ten different times a day, and about just about any subject that was on his mind at the time.

“JUST GOT BACK FROM MY MORNING JOG! I HOPE YOU’VE HAD A GOOD MORNING SO FAR!” at 5:30 am.

“IF YOU NEED ANYTHING AT THE STORE TODAY, I WORK AT SMILE MART! MY SHIFT IS FROM SIX TO TWO, SO FEEL FREE TO SWING BY FOR A VISIT.”

“I LOOKED UP BROADWAY FINALLY! THERE’S SO MUCH TO LEARN! IT’S BEAUTIFUL!”

“UNDYNE IS STILL DOING SPEED TRAINING TO TRY AND OUTMATCH YOU. I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TWO TO OFFICIALLY MEET ON BETTER TERMS!”

That was the general gist of his messages, just little windows into his day and topics that related back to earlier conversations.

You would answer him between classes, since you were a freshman in the local college, and once you were off around noon, you’d head to Smile Mart and see Papyrus in action.

The first time you actually were able to see him at work, he was meticulously arranging the dairy section, making every gallon of milk have the handle facing the same direction in his white button up, black pants, and bright pink apron.

Hearing you approach, he snapped upward and his face lit up, “HUMAN Y/N! HELLO!” Standing to hi full height and brushing himself down, he posed like a soldier at parade rest, “HOW DO YOU LIKE MY DAPPER WORK ATTIRE?”

You smirk a bit, just in an effort not to laugh out loud at that pose and speech combined, but answer honestly, “You make it look good.”

“THANK YOU! I’M AWARE!” he grinned, then got back to his task, “THANK YOU FOR COMING IN. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR TODAY?”

That sounded suspiciously like a work script rather than just Papyrus being himself, but you shrug it off, “I don’t need anything in particular at the dorm, so I’m just gonna grab one of those yogurt and fruit smoothie drinks over there when I head out. best breakfast treat.”

He looks at the items you’re pointing at, then nods in approval, “FRUIT AND YOGURT ARE GOOD CHOICES FOR A MORNING BEVERAGE. AND DORMS? ARE YOU PERHAPS A MEMBER OF THE CLERGY?”

You do laugh at that, “No! No, I’m a first semester freshman at the university. You have to spend your first semester on campus if you live more than a certain distance away and unfortunately, my house isn’t in the right range.”

“OH. THAT’S QUITE INTERESTING!” He rubs his chin, “I WAS ACTUALLY CONSIDERING GOING TO THE COLLEGE MYSELF, BUT SANS ISN’T EXACTLY A FAN OF IT.”

“Is that the brother you told me about at the fair? The one who sleeps?” Papyrus had mentioned he had a brother who was lazy and slept a lot, but not the name.

“YES. HE NAPS ALL NIGHT AND FREQUENTLY DURING THE DAY ALSO!”

You grin as he waggles his brows. He had noticed how you didn’t like his wording when he’d said the same line about “napping all night” at the fair, and now he teases you with it. “Still called sleeping, Pap.”

He chuckles good naturedly and shrugs, “WHATEVER IT’S CALLED, THAT’S WHAT SANS DOES. SLEEP, EAT, AND EMIT SLIME.”

“He emits slime?”

“SOMETIMES. FRISK SAYS THAT IS ACTUALLY CALLED DROOL UP HERE. NOW I’M WONDERING IF MY BROTHER IS RELATED TO DOGS BECAUSE THEY’RE THE ONLY ONES I’VE SEEN WHO DROOL QUITE AS MUCH AS HE DOES WHILE SNORING.”

The visits become routine after that first one. When you get a break during his shift, you just go to the store and buy some kind of single serving drink. Yeah, you wish they were in cardboard cartons or glass instead, but all your bottles do go into your recycling bucket at your dorm. It’s more an excuse to talk to Papyrus, anyway.

He asks more about the university, and when you ask him what he’d major in if he did attend, he has a very good answer already, “SPORTS MEDICINE! I’M A VERY GOOD HEALER NATURALLY, AND I LOVE ATHLETICS OF ALL SORTS, SO WHY NOT COMBINE MY TWO PROCLIVITIES INTO ONE CAREER PATH? UNDYNE DOESN’T NEED ME ANYONE ELSE IN THE GUARD NOW THAT WE’RE UP HERE, AND I WANT TO BE HELPFUL.” He scratched his chin a bit before adding to the end, “WELL, MORE HELPFUL THAN I AM CURRENTLY ANYWAY.”

That’s a great idea, you think, and you encourage him to go for it. After all, he’s got so much energy, you’re sure any course of study will be a breeze.

It’s kind of surprising when, a few weeks later, he texts you excitedly, “I GOT MY ACCEPTANCE LETTER! NEXT SEMESTER WE’RE GOING TO BE CLASSMATES! ONCE IT’S TIME, LET’S CHOOSE OUR SCHEDULES TOGETHER!”

Wow, he really does go for what he wants, doesn’t he?

--

Great was definitely the least you could say about Papyrus by the time you two were meeting up on the first day of the semester.

He had already invited you over to his house several times, Frisk had dragged you along on lots of outings with the skeleton, and you had braved a meeting with Undyne and her adorable wife, Alphys, as part of a celebration for Papyrus’ acceptance into college.

So when his unique figure came striding up the sidewalks on campus, you immediately ran to meet him and got scooped into a twirling hug with your mutual giggles echoing off the old gothic revival buildings around the ovular clearing.

“Papyrus!”

“Y/N!”

As you were set down, you beamed up at him, “I’m so glad I didn’t start my gen ed until now. We have all semester together.”

“I KNOW! SURE, I HAVE TO TAKE THAT ONE NUTRITION CLASS WHILE YOU’VE GOT CHEMISTRY, BUT OTHER THAN THAT!” He’s bouncing on his heels and utterly pleased, and noticing his bouncing is what draws your eyes to the shorter figure next to him.

Another skeleton, about your height and blinking at you with white lights in his large, round sockets, stood next to Papyrus and waved lazily at you, “heya.”

“Oh my gosh, you must be Sans!” you were excited to finally meet Papy’s brother. “I dunno how it took this long for us to end up in the same place but I’m so glad to meet you!” You offer your hand and it gets taken with a long “pffffffffffffffffft” sound.

“SANS! I TOLD YOU NOT TO BRING THAT TODAY!” Papyrus sounds equal parts furious and embarrassed, as the bright orange glowing on his cheekbones betrays.

“had to, bro. can’t skip the classic gags,” Sans takes his hand back, revealing a small red whoopie cushion in it.

You stare, surprised, “Oh my gosh? I didn’t know anybody even used oldies like that anymore. Or did actual harmless pranks like that. Consider me impressed; you’ve got better taste in humor than most of MeTube.”

That seems to shock the smaller skeleton before you, making him lower his hand slowly. He was wearing a blue hoodie jacket over a white shirt with small stains on the chest, and black basketball shorts with white socks and pink house shoes. “uh. thanks.”

“DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM,” Papyrus huffed, “HE’LL START PUNNING AND THEN WE’LL BE HERE ALL DAY.” He pulled you forward, away from Sans, and waved at his brother, “HAVE A GOOD DAY DOING WHATEVER ODD JOBS YOU HAVE TODAY, BROTHER! I WILL BE ENJOYING MY TIME LEARNING WITH MY BEST FRIEND!”

“I thought Undyne was your best friend?” you say as he speeds away from a perplexed looking Sans, who you wave to with a helpless expression.

“SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND, TOO. YOU CAN HAVE AS MANY BEST FRIENDS AS YOU LIKE!”

--

Classes go smoothly, but you begin to notice….

Well, you see Sans pretty much everywhere.

Leaving your one class you don’t have with Papyrus, you see him snoozing on a bench outside.

While leaving your part time job sorting all the incoming books for the library on campus, there he is again, at one of the computers looking up jokes.

Even while you’re out getting a haircut, you find him running a little hotdog cart. Finally, you have to ask him what he’s doing.

“Heya, Sans,” you go up to the stand, which is currently empty. “Been seeing you around a lot.”

“why didn’t ya say hi, then, kiddo? my brother sings your praises daily, wouldn’t have minded saying hello.” He’s just got a green apron on over his outfit from before, and you smile.

“I don’t wanna intrude. Just thought I’d ask what was up, y’know? Normally it’s just students at the library. How’d you even get in the computer without a student id?” That had been bothering you for a bit.

“oh, easy. I’m faculty.”

Your brain shorted for a moment, “You…are?”

“yep,” he chuckled, waving you to a seat next to his cart. “turns out a monster phd converts pretty well to a human one. Just consulting with the physics department right now, but once the political climate settles some more, who knows?”

Something bubbles up to the front of your mind, “Oh. Oh! Papyrus said you liked physics once. I guess it’s more of a passion for you than he let on.”

“heh, used to be. might be again. dunno yet.” He looks across the street, away from you. “anyhow, frisk and pap both seem to think you’re the bees’ knees.”

You tilt your head a bit, but then see the little buzzing insects around a flowerbox on the other side of the street. “Oh! hahah, good spot. Yeah, I’m pretty lucky two really cool people decided I’m interesting enough to look after.”

Sans hummed as you both watched the bees, “yeah, they’re both kinda neat folks. My bro’s the coolest though. biased, I know, but it’s true.”

“I can’t argue there,” you feel happy thinking about Papyrus, “He’s taken to school like a fish to water. I really love finally having a friend who’s so positive. Not that my roommate’s not cool, but she’s as tired as I am usually.”

“you got a roomie?” he hums, “then why spend time with my bro? surely you’ve got more in common with her?”

“Hah!” you actually laughed. “I’m a linguistics major, Sans. She’s a botanist. Her side of the room is covered in so many plants I have to take sinus medication 24/7. Nah, she’s a good person but we have nothing in common other than living space and shared love for cheesy family-friendly rom-coms.”

You had gotten so involved with watching a particular bee rolling around a tulip that you didn’t notice when Sans faced you again. “so if she decided to get into a fight, you wouldn’t back her up?”

“Oh, no, I’d pull her out and tell her off for fighting. But she’s always in the greenhouses or labs, so I doubt she’d find anybody to fight with even if she wanted to. More likely to squeak like a dog toy and hide, if we’re being totally honest,” you turn to Sans smiling, but his expression makes you freeze.

His lights were out and the haunting blankness of his huge sockets made you shudder.

“kid, you better be telling the truth. My brother’s the best, but people take advantage of his kindness. If you hurt him, you’re gonna have a bad time.”

Nope, you were not going to stand for that. Getting up, you bolted, and as soon as you made it back to your dorm, you texted Papyrus.

You: Papyrus, we need to talk about your brother.

Papy: WHAT HAS SANS DONE NOW? YOU TWO HAVE BARELY EVEN MET!

You: We talked today and he threatened me.

It takes more than two seconds for an answer. Clearly you’d managed to rattle Papyrus (heh).

Papy: TELL ME EVERYTHING.

You explain yourself, how you kept seeing Sans around when Papyrus wasn’t there, and the incident after your haircut today.

Papyrus doesn’t answer in text, and after a moment or two you get a call from him.

“Papyrus-“

“I AM MORE SORRY THAN WORDS CAN SAY FOR WHAT MY BROTHER DID TODAY.” His voice was hard and serious, something you’d never heard before. “I DON’T BLAME YOU IF YOU’D RATHER NOT TALK ANYMORE AFTER THIS, BUT I ASSURE YOU I WILL HAVE A SERIOUS DISCUSSION WITH HIM ABOUT WHAT HE DID. APPARENTLY, FROM WHAT I GATHER, HE DID THE SAME THING TO FRISK.”

He’d threatened a child?! Not just any child either, your COUSIN! Who saved his people from captivity! You were about to ask about that when Papyrus continued. “FRISK SAYS IT WAS JUSTIFIED, BUT I’M NOT SURE HOW. BUT YOU? YOU HAVE NEVER HARMED ME, NOR ANYONE ELSE, AND HAVE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE IT. SO, NOW THAT I’VE SAID MY PIECE, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

You have to turn your brain back on to think for a moment. Papyrus was very dear to you, he was sweet and lifted your spirits no matter what. Still, with a scary protective brother, you weren’t sure if you wanted to be near him anymore.

“Papyrus, I like you. You’re my best friend. But I can’t feel safe around Sans and I’m kind of scared to come to your house ever again. We still have classes together, but I think if we’re going to be friends still, we can only meet out in public or at my place.” Even saying that makes you nervous. Nobody’s ever done this before, threatening you just out of nowhere.

“THAT’S REASONABLE. I CAN HEAR HOW SCARED YOU ARE, Y/N, AND I’M….WELL, INCREDIBLY ASHAMED TO HAVE BEEN PART OF WHY YOU’RE FEELING THAT WAY. THIS WILL NOT GO UNSEEN TO, I SWEAR IT!”

Tears were starting to leak out of your eyes at this point, your adrenaline leaving you tired and scared, but you smile, “I have faith in you, Papyrus. Just…I’m just scared now. I’m gonna try to calm down and I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“YES, THAT IS A GOOD PLAN. TRY TO BE KIND TO YOURSELF UNTIL I CAN BE KIND TO YOU INSTEAD…” There was silence, and then a very soft, worried, “I love you.”

That was enough to get you sobbing, “I love you, too. Be safe.” You had to hang up now, and you curled up under your covers to hide from the world.

--

As soon as he hung up the phone, Papyrus quickly wiped his sockets. He, too, was crying at the thought of his dear friend, who he loved fiercely, being terrified and menaced by HIS BROTHER of all people. But he was going to fix this.

Yes, he’d been far too late to fix what happened with Frisk, and Frisk themselves didn’t seem too upset by it, but YOU certainly were. He could feel it in the way you’d spoken, how very close he’d been to losing his best friend. He still might lose them.

But he’s going to make the effort to try not to.

Taking several deep breaths, Papyrus left his room and went down the stairs. Sans was on the couch as he’d expected, flipping channels on their TV.

“hey bro, what’s up?” Sans had his normal expression, and it made Papyrus furious.

“BROTHER. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.”

Sitting up, Sans looks confused, “what do you mean?”

Papyrus took another breath, feeling his ribs fill to capacity with the cooling air that helped calm him, “SANS, I JUST GOT SEVERAL VERY FRIGHTENED TEXTS FROM Y/N, AND THEY WERE ABOUT YOU.”

Ah, there, the permanent smile on Sans’ face drooped significantly, “oh.”

“YES, OH.” Rubbing his sockets, as they had started burning like he was going to cry again, Papyrus asked, “DID YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT THIS WOULD DO TO ME BEFORE YOU THREATENED THEM? DO YOU EVER CONSIDER HOW THIS COULD HAVE MADE THEM SO FRIGHTENED THAT THEY NEVER SPOKE TO ME AGAIN? OR IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? DO YOU WANT ME TO BE ALONE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, SANS?”

“n-no, no that’s…I don’t want you lonely, paps, I just want you to be safe.” Sans’ voice and eyelights were both small and shaky. Good, he realized how serious this was.

“I KNOW YOU DID THIS TO FRISK, TOO, AND I’M JUST…SANS, YOU CAN’T THREATEN PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!” He wanted to move, to do something dramatic, but Papyrus just couldn’t with the weight of his frustration and disappointment. “I LOVE THEM BOTH, AND YOU…YOU DON’T SEEM TO CARE WHAT YOU BREAK ON YOUR WAY TO WHAT YOU CONSIDER MY SAFETY. I’M AN ADULT, SANS, NO STRIPES ANYWHERE, AND I’D LIKE YOU TO TREAT ME LIKE ONE. I KNOW I’M OPTIMISTIC, I KNOW I’M SILLY, BUT THAT’S HOW I LIKE TO BE. I LIKE BEING A GOOD INFLUENCE FOR PEOPLE, AND IF THAT MEANS SOMETIMES I GET MY HEART BROKEN, THEN I LEARN, DON’T I?”

Sans was just staring at him, but he finally found his voice, “but paps, they aren’t like other folks. They’re humans, they have a lot more power and-“

“I KNOW THAT.”

Closing his mouth that had opened to argue, Sans listened. “SANS, DO YOU THINK I WASN’T SCARED WHEN FRISK CAME? I WAS TERRIFIED! I KNEW THEY COULD DUST US BOTH WITH A MOVE, BUT I HAD TO AT LEAST MAKE THE EFFORT TO SHOW THEM THAT WASN’T WHAT HAD TO HAPPEN. I WANTED TO CAPTURE THEM, YES, BECAUSE THAT WOULD HAVE MADE UNDYNE AND EVERYONE ELSE SO PLEASED WITH ME, GIVEN ME MORE OPPORTUNITES TO MAKE THE FRIENDS I WANTED. BUT…THEY LIKED ME.” Papyrus was at a loss. “THEY PLAYED ALONG WITH MY ACT AND SEEMED HAPPY WITH IT. SO I CHANGED MY MIND. I DIDN’T FORGET WHAT THEY COULD DO, WHICH IS WHY I TRIED TO GET UNDYNE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM, TOO. I DIDN’T WANT HER TO GET HURT EITHER, OR FOR HER TO HURT FRISK.”

Oh the tears were back and Papyrus scrubbed them away angrily, “BUT NOW I’M WONDERING IF I SUCCEEDED IN SPITE OF YOU! I’M WONDERING IF YOU DIDN’T THREATEN EVERY PERSON I’VE EVER TRIED TO BEFRIEND JUST OUT OF SOME TWISTED SENSE OF PROTECTION!”

Sans just looked at his hands, bones looking ashen as Papyrus tried to hold back his sobs. Had…had he been hurting Papyrus more than helping him all this time? Yeah, Frisk had posed a threat but the kid had made good. Really good, if he had to be honest. And he had seen nothing to really make Y/n any more dangerous than they were. And now Papyrus was crying.

“SANS, I DON’T BLAME YOU FOR BEING AFRAID OF WHAT HUMANS CAN DO TO US, BUT I AM DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DON’T TRUST ME ENOUGH TO MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS ABOUT FRIENDS. IT HURTS, AND…AND EVEN THOUGH I’M SURE YOU DID IT OUT OF LOVE FOR ME I JUST CAN’T FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT RIGHT NOW,” sniffling a little, Papyrus couldn’t even look at his brother. “I’M GOING TO STAY WITH UNDYNE FOR A FEW DAYS. I HOPE YOU CAN LEARN HOW TO…WELL, NOT DO THIS AGAIN. THINK ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES MORE. SOMETHING.”

Escaping back up the stairs, Papyrus quickly packed three days’ worth of clothes and essentials, then ran out the door. He just couldn’t believe his older brother had betrayed his trust like this.

--

It was pretty awkward with you and Papyrus after that.

You tried to talk like normal, but he was sad, and you were scared.

Two months after the incident, you got sick of it. “Papy, let’s go to Bungle Land.”

“OH?” he perked a little, “WE HAVEN’T BEEN FOR A LONG TIME. OKAY.”

Grinning, you took his hand and ran to your car, giving him the option to drive if he wanted. He had his license, but just hadn’t gotten around to buying the perfect car for him. But he refused, wanting to save driving for his own dream car, so you let him move the passenger seat back as far as he liked while you drove to the local theme park.

And you had fun. Papyrus was an adrenaline junkie and took you on every ride, while you were a game shark, trying your hand at the carnival games and loving the useless and low quality plushies you won from them. You both had a lovely collection of little birds, though Papyrus had exchanged five of his for a larger plush of a super hero, more to his tastes, from this trip alone. Thank stars for your yearly pass, and the lovely guest vouchers that came with it.

Finally, as the sun was going down and you were hungry, Papyrus guided you toward one of the stands before a familiar voice made your heart freeze, “hey you two. Pretzels and lemonade?”

Papyrus’ expression soured, “SANS, DO YOU REALLY THINK THIS IS THE TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR ODD JOBS? WE WERE HAVING FUN.” He’d gotten an apology from Sans a while back now, and a Promise not to repeat his blunder, but he still wasn’t sure of Sans’ intentions for Y/n.

“I really didn’t think you’d be here today, pap, swear on my bones,” Sans looked exhausted and held up his hands. “but tell me what you want and I’ll make it while I do something I’ve been meaning to.”

You just say you want a pepperoni pretzel and a cherry lemonade, and Papyrus goes for a normal pretzel with a blue raspberry lemonade, but you’re nervous. The skeleton had threatened you, after all, even if your fear of him had mostly shifted to annoyance at his cheek in doing so.

Getting your food, Sans said softly, “I know I’m nobody’s favorite person right now, so I’ll make it short. I realized I’ve been overbearing, stepped over a lot of lines, and need to work on myself. I’m really sorry, y/n, for acting like you were going to hurt papyrus when I don’t even know you. it was wrong, and I’m going to try and see a therapist to get a hold on my…paranoia.”

That…was honestly one of the best and most sincere apologies you’d ever had. You can’t help smiling, and you can almost feel the pride radiating off Papyrus for his brother. “Okay, Sans. That was a proper apology, and you haven’t done any stalking that I’ve noticed so…apology accepted. I hope your therapy goes well.”

He looks so relieved, shoulders sagging noticeably, but his smile turns more genuine and he nods, “okie dokie. Go have fun, and I’ll see you at home, paps.”

“YES YOU WILL! YOU’RE GETTING THE IMPROVED VERSION OF SPAGHETTI TONIGHT FOR THAT!” It’s heartwarming to hear the excitement in his voice, and the brighter smile on his face, “YOU DID A GOOD THING! BYE, SANS!”

“Bye, Sans,” you add, and he waves you both off. Even if he was the one who finally apologized, you felt a weight off of yourself as well, and his gaze no longer made you feel like demons were on your back.

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song Ch. 3: don’t need no reason or happy hour

Chapter 3 of my Country Singer!Emma AU is here. I added a tag on AO3 for alcohol abuse, because while I don’t think we have true alcoholism here... Emma’s coping mechanisms are shit and the heavy drinking isn’t the healthiest. I wanted to make sure that I added that warning here as well. Please don’t use alcohol like Emma does here. I know from experience it’s hella bad news. Find a therapist! This is actual advice, not a joke. For reals. Emma should have just gone to a counselor instead of making appointments with Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. If anyone has treated you the way this iteration of Neal treated Emma, talk to someone. If you can’t afford a therapist, talk to me. Seriously, no lie, no joke, I’m only alive today because I eventually adopted a dog and sought counseling to cope with life’s many traumas.

Mmmmkkay enough babbling. 

Also on AO3

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Their next few gigs were some of the best in Emma’s (admittedly tequila-hazed) memory, and for once that glimmer of hope for that future of fame and fortune… well, it felt like a hell of a lot more than a glimmer.

The crowds had been rowdy, raucous, and ready to sing along to every song on their whole set. A few people even more some of the merch Killian had started selling at the door, nothing fancy of course, but it made her heart burst with pride nonetheless.

It had all gotten so real, so achievable, so close to everything she’s been dreaming about before she ever really knew that dreams were a thing that could come true.

So of course something was about to bring back the quasi-comfort of her life always reverting to being a waking nightmare.

That was a deeply melodramatic way of putting it – it’s not like she was being beaten or shamed or any of the daily torments her tiny town had ensured were burned into her brain. But that was the problem with the past, wasn’t it? It wasn’t over, even when it was. Those days were past but they would always somehow be present, replaying in her brain and aching in her heart no matter how far from Pennsylvania their little van puttered.

(Whoever said you can’t go home again neglected to mention how hard it was to leave it, even after you’d physically gone.)

It had been a Tuesday. In some chain grocery store outside Virginia Beach, the sun glowing through the big front windows and the icy chill of the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her bare arms. Emma had only echoes of a hangover, so Ruby’s constantly chatting wasn’t nearly as grating as it could be. They moved slowly through the aisles, tossing various food and supplies in their cart, more than fulfilling the list Graham and Mary Margaret had given them.

They were still struggling artists but some weeks the struggle was… less. This was one of them and if they decided to celebrate with Patron instead of Jose Cuervo and fresh, organic honeycrisp apples instead of Great Value brand dried apple chips, well, it’s because they damn well deserved it.

They couldn’t have been more than a few feet away from the checkout when the radio (a constant calming presence, most days, being the object of their ambition and all) caused her heart to drop to the deepest pits of her gut, twisting her insides until she was nearly dry-heaving to get the gross sensation of feelings out of her body and in the sewer system where it belonged.

They say scent is tied to memory, and it surely is, but there’s something, too, in sound. Music had a distinct way of tying itself to a moment, to a feeling. For some people that feeling was joy, was love, could be better than the best drug to intoxicate them with no risk of hangover. But for Emma, for this song in particular, it was all hangover, no high.

I’m set on cruise control

I’m slowly losing hold of everything I got

You’re looking so damn hot

The lyrics were innocuous enough. Sweet. Loving. There was certainly some couple out there – many, probably – who smiled fondly at each other when it came on. But for her, it was just a reminder of how pathetic she’d been, once upon a time, how deeply manipulated she’d been. And oh, the consequences she’d suffered for falling for a sweet voice and a pretty face and a moment that had felt like a country song.

And I don’t know what road we’re on

Or where we’ve been, from starin at you, girl

All I know is I don’t want this night to end

It had been a song she’d listened to in Neal’s truck, on a back road, the moon high and the stars bright and her heart hammering in her chest before he leaned over the center counsel parked in his daddy’s field and kissed her like she was precious, like she was, like he could love her through this life and the next.

And even today, half-hungover in a Piggly Wiggly or whatever the fuck this place was, she still felt the whisper of butterflies in her. She still remembered how much she’d believed the lies and even hoped the bad stuff wasn’t actually real, holding on to nights like that first one, her and Neal seemingly the only two people on Earth and all she’d ever need to feel whole again.

Emma Swan was a fighter, a survivor, a strong, badass woman that no man would ever hurt again.

But one Luke Bryan song on a clear Tuesday afternoon had her so torn up in shame, she almost forgot her best friend was standing beside her, her little “family” of a band and crew waiting for her back at the block of hotel rooms down the road.

She wasn’t in Pennsylvania. Neal wasn’t anywhere near her. But she could practically smell his cologne and the exhaust of his truck and the fact that there was a tiny part of her that truly still wished it had all worked out, that he’d been the happily ever after she’d wanted, and she wanted to slap herself silly for how stupid one smart girl could be.

“I think we can afford some Reese’s mix, right?” Ruby asked, already tossing two bags in the cart as they entered the self-checkout line.

“Yeah,” was all Emma could respond, her traitor brain still wavering between wishing for an alternate ending to her stupid, sad tale and coming totally clean to Ruby about what horrors she’d suffered and hitting the road with her on a revenge-fueled quest to keep that fucker from ever hurting another sweet, could-be-innocent girl ever again.

“Emma, you with me?” Ruby’s voice was hesitant, her eyes wide as she took in Emma’s likely ghost-pale complexion and battle-ready stance.

(She was always fighting those internal ghosts and damn could those things travel.)

But she didn’t want to think about Neal or the bruises long-healed or how she wishes she could time travel back and prevent the most painful part of what that monster had done to her, the part where for a pretty little minute she truly thought she’d loved him.

No. The past might be doing its damnedest to creep into today but she was not going to let it.

Fuck you, Luke Bryan, and all your pelvic sorcery.

“God, I hate this song,” Emma finally croaked out. “I think we should celebrate today.”

“Celebrate how much you hate a song that I’m fairly sure David would kill you for hating?”

“No, Rubes. Celebrate this,” Emma motioned all around them, somewhat erratically, only serving to further confuse Ruby. At least for a moment. “We’re really getting somewhere, aren’t we? I mean, three hotel rooms. That’s, like, a record. We’re getting somewhere. You and I, we came from some shit, right? And now we’re headed toward something good and I think we should celebrate.”

“And how exactly do you propose we celebrate this? Because if it’s by having a four-way with Graham and Killian I’m absolutely in, with just a couple ground rules – “

Emma cut off her teasing before her brain had enough time to make any visuals of that: “Ew. God, no. Why does your brain even go there? No. I just meant, you know, hitting some bars or the beach or something. Day drinking. It’s the ultimate in enjoyment and not giving a fuck.”

“So you’re suggesting we celebrate the good the same way we drown our sorrows in the bad?” Ruby mocked, tossing the groceries on the conveyor belt and a packet of mints at Emma’s head.

“No, you drink your sorrows in the dark. You drink your celebrations when the sun’s out,” Emma said like it was the most normal, accepted thing in the world, like she was reciting it from a code of conduct instead of having made it up on the spot to cover for the fact that she very much, one hundred percent was drowning her sorrows but just didn’t have the patience to wait for the sun to set.

“Sure, Ems. Let’s go with that.” Ruby clearly wasn’t buying her bullshit – she always did have an excellent bullshit detector – but she went along with it all the same.

Emma paid for the groceries and hefted as many bags to the car as she could possibly carry, the burn in her arms like the warmth of the sun as she flip-flopped her way to the awaiting van, a great day of drinking and forgettingahead of her.

The usual six of them turned into seven that day, Killian’s old buddy from the service having been stationed at the naval base in Norfolk and here for a visit. Will, that was his name, and he was a pain in the ass in the very best way. He had been matching her shot-for-shot in the hotel room before they hopped the Uber to The Cove, a beachside bar favored by locals and tourists alike. He would tease her and taunt her and buy her drinks, but with absolutely the energy of a brother and not a I’m looking to get into your pants kind of way.

David saw her as a sister, sure, but he tended toward the serious, the protective. He cared so much and knew too much, and it kept him from being totally lighthearted or even downright rude. And Graham, well he never paid Emma quite that much attention, always on his own quests and whatnot. She couldn’t blame the guy, and truly she didn’t usually want attention, but there was something about today, something about the casual nature of her exchanges with Will that allowed her to just be free.

Killian wasn’t quite on board, though. Ever since she and Ruby had floated the idea of some casual no-show-tonight fun, he’d been weirdly quiet. Mary Margaret and David were notably excited, seeming to view it as an opportunity for date night, even with the five other tagalongs. And Ruby was pretty much always up for a party.

But Killian seemed to be cranky at her and she couldn’t figure out why.

“Let loose, why don’t you, Jones!” Emma shouted across the bar, Killian nursing a rum and coke while Ruby, Will, and Emma had joined another group of probable-tourists in a limbo competition.

“Eh, let him sulk,” Will had suggested, stumbling a little after returning to the upright position. He was suspiciously good at the limbo. Maybe he’d been a gymnast in another life?

“I’ll get him, Em,” Ruby promised, having fallen flat on her ass after the last round (the responding ooooohhhhhhshaving more to do with her skirt riding up to her waist as she fell than it was about the fall itself).

Ruby had spent the next hour or so in the corner with Killian, both steadily drinking but never really coming to re-join the party. So Emma and Will kept socializing with strangers while Graham flirted hard with a pretty girl and Mary Margaret and David found another grossly into each other couple to apparently double date with, because of course they did.

After a few drinking games, a few messy dances, and definitely too much liquor for before 5pm, Emma finally took a break, she and Will sidling up to the bar and ordering some nachos.

“Y’know, you’re not nearly as pretty as Killian described you,” Will said after a few minutes of nacho-focused silence.

“Hey! I think you’re insulting me and I don’t appreciate it,” Emma responded, cheese dripping down the corner of her mouth.

“Way he talks, you’d think you were a bleeding fallen angel or something. I definitely didn’t expect a hot mess who talked with her mouth full.”

“Hah! You said hot. I still got it,” she joked, chomping down on another cheese and chili covered chip.

Emma had become pretty good at reading people – people tended to adapt after you suffering the consequences of falling for it – and Will definitely wasn’t flirting with her. At least not with actual intent. So why on earth had he brought up her looks?

She was happy to play along with whatever game he had going, was even feeling a little bolder and more confident than usual with his carefree attitude and his backward compliments.

But his next comment was the proverbial bucket of ice on any of those feelings.

“He’s a good man, Emma. I hope you don’t toy with him.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly was this fucker accusing her of? She hadn’t even talked to Killian since they’d been at the hotel and she certainly hadn’t been mean. No, even at her most prickly, she was never all-out mean to him. He was a good guy, the type to hold your hair when you puked and nearly the opposite of her initial assumptions about him. Of course she’d never ‘toy with him.’ The fucking nerve of this dude.

“I don’t think you know me enough to continue those thoughts, Scarlet,” she warned, shoving the nachos away and downing her fruity drink.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like you, Emma. You’d make a good mate. But I’m more like you than you realize, and I know how many people I hurt before I got myself straight. Just … keep that in mind, won’t ya?”

And then the bastard just… left.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone – not even to Killian – and left Emma pissed as all hell and sitting alone at a tourist trap in the worst city in all of Virginia.

So much for that attempt at celebration.

But before her thoughts (and actions) could turn to the dark side, Graham and David were approaching her for a friendly tournament of darts and after a couple bulls eyes and a little light taunting, her carefree spirit had returned, just in time to kick Mary Margaret’s ass and move onto the championship game between her and Killian.

“So, that friend of yours is something,” Emma observed, tossing her first set of darts and landing them with soft thunks into the felt.

“Will? Aye. He’s… he’s been a friend for quite a long time. There for me for some pain. So I choose to keep his pain-in-the-ass existence around.” His tone was light and his words sincere, but there was a weight to his expression that Emma didn’t quite understand.

He took his turn, little glints in his eye and mini-fist pumps when he hit his intended target. It was adorable, to be honest. But there was definitely something wrong and despite Will’s seeming accusations about her and her abilities to be a good friend, she wanted nothing more than to take away whatever pain he was reliving at the moment.

So she lost – yes, intentionally – and dragged him to the bar, ordering him some straight whiskey to loosen him up and hopefully to help him forget like she already was.

“Why, Swan, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” he practically purred, breaking the flirty tone with a gentle boop to her nose. “Which is usually my tactic.”

“Easy, Captain,” she joked with him, fiddling with the prosthetic ‘hook’ contraption he wore when they went out (it’s a perfect beer holder, he’d said, to which she’d responded yeah, right, you just want to play pirate).

Despite the fog of the liquor, a few facts clicked into place. He’d suffered some bad shit in his past, shit Will apparently witnessed. Killian had also lost his hand, probably in the Navy. And this town, it wasn’t far from a navy base. Could that have been his navy base? Had they inadvertently brought Killian to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

The way she never wanted to go back to her ‘hometown,’ the place she’d lived the longest and suffered the most… what if that’s how he felt here? What if she’d suggested they celebrate over the grave of whatever and whoever he lost?

God, she was a hot mess and she was dangerous, the way she sank into her pain without looking into anyone else’s.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wanted to apologize. Or something. “I’m sorry about this. Or, I guess, about whatever led to this. Or accompanied it. I’m just… I’m just sorry?”

“For the ungodly amount of liquor you’re pressuring me into drinking? Don’t worry, love, I’m a big boy.”

Ugh, the deflection. She knew that tactic well. “No, I mean this,” she said, gripping the elbow of his damaged arm. “I don’t know what happened and I’m not asking, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Not in the fault kind of way. Just the way where I wish it hadn’t happened and I know there’s pain and you didn’t deserve it. Or don’t. Currently. You know what I mean.”

“I think you’re drunk off your ass, darling.”

“Call me darling one more time and you’ll be the one on your ass.”

“So defensive, jeez,” he quipped, finishing another drink and slamming the glass back down on the table, his face melting into something a little more serious, if only for a moment. “Thank you, Swan,” he said finally, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

Her heart about stopped as his eyes bored into hers. It was much too much, the closeness, the feel of his hand, the heat of his body, the truth in his eyes, and all she wanted was to go back to teasing and laughing and strangers who didn’t have feelings or at least didn’t share them with her and why did she even bring it up, anyway? Just because Will had made her feel bad? Why shouldn’t they drink away their pain if it quieted the demons for one blessed day? Why should we have to suffer the same memories over and over when instead we could just fucking let go.

She should have just stuck to letting go.

But his intense sincerity washed away in a blink, his flirty near-pirate persona back with a vengeance. “Now, Swan, what game shall I best you at next?” His gentle caress on her cheek turned into a full grip, his fingers scrunching her face almost comically.

“Name it, Jones. You’re on.”

Turns out their little crew had signed them all up for a cornhole tournament out on the sand and Graham had called dibs on Emma as a partner, for which she was thankful. He was pretty boss at all bar games, and she had a competitive streak even without her BAC being higher than her high school GPA.

But get her drunk and she’d pretty much lie, cheat, and steal her way to bragging rights on whatever silly game they were playing.

So of course she and Graham had made it to the finals, their opponents two bikini-clad college girls who could trash talk like no other.

Which is why Emma was totally fine with the little plot she had brewing in her head.

“Graham, we need distractions here.”

“What do you mean, like have Mary Margaret set something on fire again?”

“Oh, come on. Pretty girls. Fun, happy, drunk, pretty girls. I saw them ogling you earlier so they’re probably straight. Take your shirt off. Now!”

“I always said I’d reject your advances when you inevitably tried to get me naked, Swan, but you drive a hard bargain.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but Graham did as instructed, stretching lazily and pantomiming sweat before pulling at the neck of his t-shirt and whisking it over his head.

The girls missed their next shots, and Graham had the chance to win it with this last toss and Emma was ready to bust out her victory dance just a tad prematurely.

Until the brunette untied her bikini top and let the fabric fall to her waist just as Graham was taking his shot.

He missed, of course.

Damn, these girls were good.

“Can I be of assistance?” a husky voice offered, his breath ticking her ear lobe.

Killian, of course.

“What exactly can you offer, Jones?” Graham swooped in to ask, clearly annoyed that his bare chest hadn’t yet won them the game.

“Well, Graham, Emma here assures me that you’re one ‘fine specimen of man’ but sadly to those girls you’re all talk and no action, across the beach from them, separated by this very game. I think they need something a little more… tactile.”

Killian was over-confident when he was drinking, but it’s not as if he were wrong. If she were one of those girls and Killian came up to her, with his sultry accent and his maddening smirk and the way he’d run his fingers through her long hair…

Yeah, it would work. Definitely. Yup.

“Go for it, Jones, but don’t come crying to us if they don’t take to your charms the way you want them to,” Emma warned, rolling her eyes and banishing all inappropriate thoughts of Killian Jones to the dark recesses of her mind with her knowledge of calculus and the memory of that time she walked in on Mary Margaret sucking David off in their shared kitchen back in Pittsburgh.

Killians voice alone proved distracting enough for the blonde girl to miss her shot and Graham, his ego now challenged, sank his with ease.

Emma cheered far too loud and leaped into Graham’s arms, her legs around his waist, Ruby rushing up to high five them and pass along a few more shots to keep the day rolling.

By the time the sun sank behind the bar, the ocean in front of them streaked with the deep blues and purples of twilight, Emma was well past drunk and definitely no longer thinking of any painful backstories or traumas or anything, really, but the cinnamon burn of the Fireball and the feel of Killian’s arm around her as they walked down a set of stairs to a fire pit so much like those that she’d built on the banks of the Allegheny and yet so different, the smell of the salt of the ocean and the leather of Killian’s jacket keeping her brain from connecting the present to the past.

“Jones, haven’t you ever heard you’re supposed to keep your hands to yourself in the presence of a lady?” she teased, wiggling her shoulders where he was grasping her.

“Aye, but I see no ladies here!” He chuckled and she elbowed him and he bowed his head to her ear as they stepped down the last stair. “Besides, love, what if you’d fallen and no one was there to save you?”

She rolled her eyes again, shrugging off his support now that there was no excuse for it, solid ground beneath their feet. “Oh, I’m a loud screamer. Someone would have come for me.”

“Oh, how I’d like to experience both of those things for myself…” Killian groaned, his mind of course solidly in the gutter.

Emma just laughed it off and stumbled toward the fire, joining Mary Margaret and David on a log clearly only meant for two.

Tomorrow was going to be hell, definitely more than just the echo of a hangover. But they had hotel rooms and each other and now and really those things alone made every minute of tomorrow’s inevitable headache more worth it than she could ever have fathomed in any stage of her life before this one.

[i-looktothe-stars]

thanks @s-ongbir-d for tagging me!!

1) what is the colour of your hairbrush?

pink and green

2) what's a food you never eat?

mushrooms are awful and I hate them

3) are you typically too warm or too cold?

I'm usually really cold, my friends joke that I can't thermoregulate because I'll be wearing 5 layers (including 2 jumpers and a coat) and still be shivering)

4) what were you doing 45 minutes ago?

listening to the latest episode of rusty quill gaming! I binged it all in...less than a week(? idk time doesn't exist anymore) so now it's frustrating having to wait for new episodes

5) what's your favourite chocolate bar?

crunchies are top tier and I will fight about that if I have to

6) have you ever been to a professional sports event?

nope! my mum wanted to get tickets to the olympics in 2012 though

7) what's the last thing you said out loud?

"all the doors are open now" (I was singing along to red signal okay)

8) what's your favourite ice cream?

okay the Ben and Jerry's ice cream with the caramel in the middle is So Good, but I also like mint chocolate and coffee (not together obviously)

9) what's the last thing you had to drink?

...probably a blackberry tea this morning? (it's 8pm. hydration? I don't know her)

10) do you like your wallet?

ehhh it's fine, it's just this embroidered black purse with a zip. its juuust big enough to keep my card, train tickets, and some physical money, so it's good enough. I don't really need a bigger one

11) what was the last thing you ate?

I'm snacking on jaffa cakes as I write this

12) did you buy any new clothes in the last week?

for once, yes! I bought the very cool and sexy new magnus merch. unfortunately it's too big so I need to send it back and get a smaller size :/

13) what was the last sporting event you watched?

uhhh idk probably the races at my school's sports day 3 years ago? I skipped two of them because sports day is The Worst, then y11 ended early so I didnt have to watch it

14) what's your favourite flavour of popcorn?

my friends hate me for it but I looove salty popcorn. I can't stand toffee because it's the only one my sister likes, so I got sick of it when we had to share during movie nights when we were younger. (same with ham and pineapple pizza)

15) who was the last person you sent a message to?

my dnd discord! love you guys 💜

16) ever go camping?

my dad lives in wales so yes. a lot. it's fun when it's not raining?

17) do you take vitamins?

no but I probably should

18) do you go to church on sundays?

nope, I've only ever been to church for christingle services with brownies/guides, and that was mostly for the orange with sweets on it

19) do you have a tan?

ahahahahah no, I look like a dying victorian child. last time I tanned, it was because I got sunburned at pride and I had tan lines around my glasses

20) do you prefer chinese food or pizza?

love me some chinese takeaway! (although spicy meat feast pizzas are also very good)

21) do you drink soda with a straw?

only at fast food places, although I usually get iced tea instead of something fizzy

22) what colour socks do you wear?

I have multiple pairs of this one kind of grey fluffy socks, that's like basically half my sock drawer. the rest are either black, or super brightly coloured

23) do you ever drive over the speed limit?

I can't drive yet so no. i was supposed to get lessons for my birthday in march but uhh. that couldn't happen for obvious reasons. i probably wouldn't though? because the speed limit is a Rule and breaking a Rule is Bad

24) what terrifies you?

going outside, phone calls, answering questions in class, windows at night ("because what if there's Something there?")... more like what doesn't terrify me? although honestly, I'm not scared by horror media, as long as it doesn't have any jumpscares

25) look to your left! what do you see?

my book collection! (specifically my regular sized paperbacks. I have a pretty weird organisation system? I split paperbacks and hardbacks, then sort by size, colour and alphabetically by title in that order)

26) what chore do you hate?

washing up. Wet Food Bad

27) what do you think of when you hear an australian accent?

australia I guess? idk, what else would i think of

28) what's your favourite soda?

probably apple tango? I don't really drink anything fizzy. except sparkling water because it's great fuck you

29) do you prefer going into fast food places or using the drive through?

none of my friends can drive yet either so going in

30) who was the last person you talked to?

my mum, she wanted me to come and look at the pond she made today

31) what's your favourite cut of beef?

I don't know?? I don't ask what cut it is when I have beef, I just eat it

32) what's the last song you listened to?

red signal by the mechanisms, because sometimes you just need a little bit of eldritch chanting to make everything okay

33) what's the last book you read?

stuff matters by mark miodownik! it's about material science and it's one of my favourite books

34) can you say the alphabet backwards?

lol no what kind of sorcery--

35) how do you like your coffee?

2 sugars and a bit of milk, but I prefer those sweet iced coffees you get at tesco. those were basically the only things getting me through sixth form until quarantine happened

36) what's your favourite pair of shoes?

ok I currently only have 2 pairs, my black and white trainers and a pair of heels that I haven't worn since new year 2019. so the trainers I guess

37) what time do you normally go to bed?

I usually go to bed around 10, but i stay up at least until midnight, usually closer to 2 am

38) what time do you normally wake up?

for school I wake up at 6:30 and get up at 7, because I physically can't get out of bed until I've snoozed my alarm at least 3 times. although at the moment,,,,,,,,,,,probably around 10:30? I set alarms to try and keep some kind of structure... and then sleep through them

39) do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

absolutely sunsets. I live about 10 mins away from the beach, so watching the sky change colour and the stars come out as the sun sets over the sea, with a mug of fruit tea warming my hands... fantastic

40) how many blankets are on your bed?

just one, but I have wayyy too many pillows

41) describe your dinner plates

my parents just get plain black or white sets from ikea or wherever

42) what's your favourite alcoholic beverage?

I Am A Minor And I Have Never Drunk Alcohol I Don't Even Know What Alcohol Is Ha Ha Ha

43) do you play cards?

no, although I used to play solitaire A Lot because it was one of the only games I had on my shitty purple ipod

44) what colour is your car?

train coloured (I don't have a car yet)

45) can you change a tire?

nope

46) what's your favourite province?

I'm english what does this mean

47) what's your favourite job you've had?

I've only really had 3 jobs: I answered the phone when my parents ran a takeaway from home, I work in their cafe every now and again doing washing up or sometimes waitressing, and I used to have a paper round. I Do Not like any of them, but the second is probably my favourite

48) what's the biggest scar you've got?

a surgery scar from my appendectomy 6 years ago,,,,,,,,,,,,I thought it was just really bad food poisoning for maybe an entire week

49) how have you made someone happy today?

I hope I made my friends happy? I really enjoy talking to all of you in our discord server, y'all make me smile so much and I hope I can return the favour

i tag @johnathansims @spookyhetero and @two-am-art if y'all want to get involved

[harryandmolly]

i could write it better than you ever felt it - two

Summary: fuck growing up. this is freedom, this is life, this is youth -- 2007 Warped Tour style.

Warnings: Language, a lot of tongue

Word count: 5k

Valentina forgets, just briefly, why the fuck she agreed to this around the time she unloads the 30th box from the truck.

And then the gates open.

Val’s never been to Disney World despite the fact that she and her family have lived in Florida all her life. Her parents never thought of it as a suitable vacation or activity for their children’s growing minds. But she imagines this is what it looks like, feels like when the gates of the Magic Kingdom open in the morning.

She’s watching from afar when they start letting people in. Swarms of teens and young adults with multicolored hair and vibrant graphic tees pour in searching out solace and togetherness. They’ll find it here, she’s sure. She always did.

The first bands were on at 11:30am. She’s camped out at her now fully functional merch tent and the initial door opening rush has ceased. She’s officially back in the saddle, and officially exhausted.

Her feet are propped up on the table and her sunglasses are drawn low down her nose as she surveys the area and tells herself she’s not looking for that guy, the one she saw during load-in. The one with the legs.

A hand clamps down over her eyes and her instincts tell her to drop her feet and squeal. A low rumbling laugh falls over her shoulder. Her racing heart settles.

“Alex, you’re a prick.”

And there he is. All 6’1”, 130 pounds of him. Alex Gaskarth, lead singer of All Time Low, her second favorite goofball.

She looks over her shoulder at him and grins despite her grating words. He takes his cue to step around the table and present himself to her. He’s wearing a smirk and a douchey white snapback. He lifts his thick dark eyebrows.

“But I’m your prick,” he reminds her. She shakes her head and stands. He holds out his long, gangly arms for her to wrap herself up in.

She sways them back and forth and lands a friendly kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe it took you this long to come visit. I half expected the bus would run over you when we pulled in here this morning.”

“Following you around the venue like a puppy is so 2005,” he chuckles, alluding to the not-so-secret crush he harbored pretty famously on her during her last fall tour with Streets. Despite the potential for awkwardness, Alex and Val remained friends. She even wrote with him sometimes when he was in the Miami area.

She claps him on the back and releases him. “What time are you on? Hurley.com, right?”

He grins proudly, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, can you believe it? Fuckin’ Hurley.com! We’re on at 4 today.”

She bobs her head. “That’s a good slot. Long enough after lunch that people will be looking around for a set to catch.”

“Exactly. Rian’s out with the posterboard now walking the line.”

Val tossed her head back with a laugh. Walking the line was a time-honored tradition at Warped Tour for smaller bands. They designate members to walk around the grounds with a posterboard announcing their stage and set time. It’s a duty no one particularly likes because it’s hot and a little humiliating but the ATL boys always did it with gusto. Val’s pretty sure it had more to do with meeting girls than with the pride of convincing potential fans to come catch their set.

“I don’t miss that shit,” she admits.

He shoots her a look. “You must miss the rest of it, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Psychoanalyzing me already, Gaskarth? Buy me a drink first.”

She gently backs him off with her sharp wit. The truth is, Alex knows more about her than she’d probably care to realize. He’s perceptive as hell, which makes him an amazing songwriter. But here, at the merch table, where she can feel the heavily lined eyes of 17-year-olds staring at them curiously, she doesn’t much feel like getting into her personal life. Especially since she knows he has the ear of Raf.

“I will definitely buy you a drink at the barbecue tonight!” he offers with a glint in his eye.

“The booze is free at the barbecue.”

“That’s perfect, free drinks are my favorite kind to buy. I gotta bounce, I’ll see you tonight, kid.”

He bumps her fist with his and jogs off, holding the saggy ass of his skinny jeans up with one hand as he waves at a giggling group of fans.

When the smell of his Axe body spray and sweat fades, the watchful eyes remain. Val is used to them, had gotten good at ignoring them, but she’s a little out of practice.

They feel sharper than she remembers. She blinks hard, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She swallows uncomfortably and reaches for a water bottle.

Despite the 50/50 male to female ratio of attendance at Warped Tour and the general understanding that women are more a part of the scene than ever before, female band members, especially female drummers, are not widely accepted. She was bothered by it for a time, unsure how anyone could mistake her drive to write and make music as a way for her to sleep with band and crew. She kept everyone at arm’s length, desperate to keep from gaining a reputation. But it never mattered. She got one anyway.

Val shoots a glance at the gaggle of teen girls in Delia’s jeans and Paramore t-shirts. They pretend to be doing anything but gossiping about her. She turns her attention back to her chipping navy nail polish and smiles. Some things never change.

+

Shawn pulls the fabric of his t-shirt from where it clings to his abs and pulls a face.

“I’m fuckin’ drenched,” he mumbles. Seth nods, squinting against the sun. They’ve just come off their first set playing to about seven people from the Smartpunk stage.

“California is hot,” Francis whines. Shawn beans him with a plastic water bottle. Francis grabs it out of the dust and throws it back, but it goes wide when he gets distracted by something behind Shawn.

Shawn turns his head to look. Through the straggling crowd, he sees Raf and Val Moreno at the Streets of Gold merch tent looking like the casual rock gods they are. Shawn’s smile is shy and cornered on either side by a blush.

“Should we go say hi?” murmurs Vince, their guitar and drum tech.

Shawn winces. “Well we shouldn’t stand here and strategize about it, that’s fucking weird.”

But they do stand there for another minute or two, quietly hoping Raf will spot them and wave them over so they feel like the kids getting invited to sit at the cool lunch table. But he’s embroiled in what looks like a heated discussion with his sister, so they slouch off for a break under the merch tent with Dan and his battery operated fans.

Shawn’s a little relieved. He’s not sure he can be around either Moreno twin without making an ass of himself. He knows Raf, yes, they’ve been first openers on more recent Streets shows when they’ve come through Toronto, but that doesn’t make him any less of a total fucking dweeb around him, given how long he’s been a Streets fan. And Val, Val he’s never met and probably never should. Shawn’s not bad around girls but he has a funny feeling he’d go full idiot motor-mouth if he got to look deep into the soulful brown eyes of Valentina Moreno. Maybe he can go the whole summer without talking to her? Is that possible?

He contemplates the likelihood under the tent with his eyes closed. He hears some female giggling and looks up. There are about six 14-year-old girls staring at them shyly.

“Hey, Shawn!” one of them greets, shoved forward by the others to be their mouthpiece despite the shakiness in her voice.

Shawn beams and stands, looming over them. “Hey, guys! Did you catch the set earlier?”

The leader of the group looks annoyed. “No, only Carly did,” she gestures to a petite Latina girl behind her who looks horrified that Shawn Mendes knows her name now, “We were stuck at soccer camp until noon and couldn’t get here.”

Shawn ducks slightly to seem less large and intimidating. He looks around a girl’s pink hair to catch Carly’s eye. “Did you have fun?”

Carly blinks and clears her throat. Her friends look awe-struck. “Yes. Yeah, you guys were great.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Thank you. You guys wanna take a picture?”

They agree and hand him a little pink Razr. They gather around him as he squats partially to fit them all in the frame. He turns the phone around and expertly positions it to snap the photo. With hugs and a couple purchased t-shirts later, they’re off to bask in the glow.

“Shawn Mendes: setting teenage loins on fire since 1988.”

Shawn smirks at Francis. “Are you jealous about the 14-year-olds, Frank? Do we need to have a talk?”

The band guffaws. Francis’s face goes flat. “Fuck off, you know I love older women.”

“I do,” Shawn chuckles, shaking his head.

“This year is the year I marry Hayley Williams,” Francis reminds them all. Shawn tips his head back and lets his eyes shut again, resting up before the first barbecue of the tour.

“This is the year I fuck Bigfoot,” Seth chirps.

It’s the last thing Shawn remembers hearing before he drifts off in a nice post-show nap.

+

Val can’t really explains the bubble of nerves she feels as she sits in the front lounge of the Streets bus with her make up bag. She’s freshly showered and applying a cat eye when Raf steps out of the bunk area with a resigned smile.

“You look pretty,” he comments half-heartedly.

“Don’t sound so bummed about it,” she chuckles, sparing him a glance as she raises her eyeliner wand with a steady hand.

“I’m not. Sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry about earlier. I was being weird,” Raf mumbles, collapsing into the booth seat across the table from her.

Val gamely lowers her hand to focus on him. She sweeps a wave of almost too shiny stick-straight hair over her shoulder and regards him carefully. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not. It’s not your shit. And I always make it your shit,” he sighs.

Val bites into her lower lip, flipping through her lip gloss options. After a moment, she looks up at him. “It’s just… it’s been a couple years, Raf, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Raf swallows and Val feels his embarrassment in her gut like it’s hers. She winces.

“I don’t know why I still can’t be around her. I feel like such a fucking kid,” he rasps. He nervously adjusts the Taking Back Sunday snapback on his dark curls and huffs.

“It’s not like there’s a rule. You and Bea, it was fuckin’ complicated. And it was so hot and cold and on and off for a long time. You’re not a robot, you can’t turn it off because you want to. And even if she pretends she can, she can’t.”

He looks up. “Did she say something to you?”

“Jesus Christ, Raf, stop. I’m talking to you now as your sister, not as Bea’s friend. I cannot be your informant or your go-between. We’re not doing that again.”

Raf held up his hands. “Right. Yes. I’m sorry. Old habits. Cool. We’re good.”

Raf stands and heads for the door without another word. Val opens her mouth to stop him but his long legs carry him faster than her brain can come up with something comforting to say. She wrinkles her nose and pouts at the magnifying mirror.

With any luck, she’d get her hands on enough Jack Daniels not to be worrying about keeping 15 yards between her brother and his sometimes-girlfriend. But if she wants any booze at all, she’d better leave now.

She follows stragglers from the bus grounds to where they’ve set up the grills and stereos. There’s something romantic about wading through trampled grass, following bonfire smoke and pop-punk to get to where she wants to be. And when she arrives, she’s welcomed with open arms and open containers of booze.

The New Found Glory guys and Bea pounce on her first, doling out hugs and swigs of gin. Val feels her heart pounding against Ryan Key of Yellowcard’s chest as she hugs him because she’ll never be fully over that little crush. She flips off the Streets band and crew as they holler at her from a stack of strategically placed hay bales. They’re surrounded by a younger band she doesn’t recognize.

She gathers a plate of food, high fives Kevin Lyman and snags a beer before she strolls over to join her family. As she stands over them, she sees a familiar face.

“Val, these are the Forefront guys. Guys, this is my sister Val,” Raf introduces, pointing out Francis, Bobby, Seth, Vince, Carter and Shawn.

Val slides on a smooth grin and plops down next to Shawn, Blue Jays skateboarding boy from this morning. Because when life hands you lemons.

“Hi,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes at him when his eyes go wide. He chokes slightly on a bite of hot dog and mumbles “hi” through a mouthful of bread.

She’s undeterred. From this close, she can see the little freckles on the base of his neck and the way his sideburns are curly like the rest of his hair. It’s refreshing – curls aren’t a thing in the scene. It makes him stand out. That and the foot of height he has on anyone that comes near him.

She’s heard of Forefront from Raf. She knows some of their music. They opened a few shows after her tenure as Streets’ drummer, so her familiarity is limited. She likes his voice, though. It’s the kind of voice that makes you want to close your eyes and live in it for a while, let it take you somewhere. She has half a mind to close her eyes and just listen to him talk now.

But he’s gone quiet. She wonders if maybe she threw him off by planting right next to him. Val knows as both a confident woman and a female scene drummer she can be an intimidating presence. She doesn’t so much mind that, but it does throw off her game sometimes.

She drinks a little harder. He does the same. As he does, his body, previously turned away and closed off from her, opens up. He starts looking over at her when she laughs at something Francis said or when she makes her sly cracks that have the whole group roaring. Just once or twice she catches him staring just a little too long. If their faces weren’t bronzed out by the light of the fire, she’d catch his heavy blush.

Some of the group breaks off until it’s Francis, Shawn, Val and Naveen sitting around listening to Francis blabber over blink-182’s Take Off Your Pants And Jacket in the background. Shawn and Val are both picking at straw from a hay bale when the song changes to First Date.

Their heads shoot up like meercats. Val looks at Shawn with a grin. He goes noticeably pink at noticing the same song she has.

“I love Take Off Your Pants,” she confesses, “It was like, a turning point album for me.”

Shawn nods eagerly, tossing his straw aside and licking his lips. She watches the black ring bob distractingly. “Totally. God, Stay Together For the Kids? So fucking good.”

“Oh my god, legendary,” she agrees, pressing her lips into a gentle smile.

He gets his first good look at her for the night. He’s been trying to keep his eyes down, trying not to be weird, but she’s a little magnetic.

He notices her long, rounded fingernails and wonders if she wore them that long when she was still drumming. He wonders if she straightens her dark hair or if it’s that shiny all on its own. He looks at the fullness of her lips and imagines what flavor her lipgloss is. He stops himself when he realizes he’s thinking about how her flared hips would feel under his hands when she’s dancing to Beverly Hills by Weezer.

Now, though, since they’re talking, he has invitation to look at her. She’s a classic kind of beauty with a soft round face, deep, dark eyes and cupid’s bow-shaped lips. She’s kinda tall for a girl at 5’8” but still petite enough to make you wonder how she hits those drums so hard. Or, used to.

She’s beautiful. She’s been beautiful for years. He knows because he’s been a Streets fan since he saw them by happenstance at a little club in Toronto when he was a moody 14-year-old. They had only just gotten signed and were opening for Bayside at the time. He remembers quirking his eyebrows when she took the stage, that little hint of a smirk on her face, that look of “just you watch.”

She plays hard. She’s a damn good drummer. Naveen is a decent replacement, but Val Moreno was special. She is special. And she’s pulling on his hand.

“C’mon, Mendes, I need a refill,” she announces, tugging on him as she turns toward the tables of booze. His eyes fall to the snug back pockets of her hiphuggers. He licks his lips again and follows willingly.

“What can I make you?” he offers gallantly, holding his arms out to the bottles of booze.

Val’s eyebrows lift as she leans against a lamppost. “What is this, “Cocktail?””

Shawn grins at the reference and ducks his head. “I’m a bartender when we’re not on tour. Try me.”

This time Val’s the one licking her lips at the implication. Trying him doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend time.

“Whiskey sour,” she requests with a nod. He beams at the proffered challenge and reaches for a fresh solo cup, expertly whipping up her drink the way he makes them at The Copper Bar back home in Toronto.

He hands it to her with a raised eyebrow. She takes a sip, watching him as he watches her. She approves.

“That’s good. You know your way around a bottle.”

“I do what I can,” he says without a hint of false modesty. Her heart smacks against her ribs. She fights to soothe it as he leads her not back toward their friends but around the perimeter of the barbecue.

“So. First day. You shitting yourself yet?” she asks.

Shawn laughs and adjusts the backwards cap on his head nervously. She blinks and thinks of Raf for a flash of a second.

“Today was rough,” he admits, “We’ve been opening for some cool bands so we’ve had a lot of kids to play for recently. When they’re not trapped in front of you, when they can just walk past your stage to go catch Pennywise on main, I mean yeah, it’s disheartening.”

Val knows the feeling well but gets the sense the sage older sister vibe wouldn’t be appropriate here given how not subtly he’s brushing their hands together as they walk.

“I actually heard people talking about your set today,” she says. He lights up. She brightens up right with him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Some girls at my table said you were playing a keyboard. They acted like they’d never seen one before.”

Shawn shrugs. “I like the keyboard. Feels a little elevated sometimes. It’s different.”

Val slugs back another sip of whiskey and notices how light she feels. She hopes if she starts to float away he’ll catch her.

They make another turn around the perimeter and their cups are empty by the time they get there so they refill. By the time they come back again, Shawn is stumbling lazily, holding Val’s hand high as she twirls toward the table to grab a beer. She’s singing along, and not at all badly, to Pardon Me by Weezer. He watches her with a close-mouthed smile and sparkling eyes and he’s half in love and the other half is three sheets to the wind.

When they reach the table, she drops his hand and before he can feel dejected, she hands him a beer and drags him away from the rabble and the music and the cloud of weed and cheap booze toward the buses. It’s not subtle, it’s public, people are definitely taking note of who’s skulking off with who, and Val seems to pay it no mind. Shawn swings his head back to look at what they’re leaving. He avoids Raf’s watchful gaze and instead stares at Francis who looks a little impressed and a little fucking flabbergasted.

“Do you like touring, Shawn?” she asks, continuing to drag him by the hand like she knows exactly where they’re going. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t.

“I love touring,” he says honestly, hiccupping over the last word. She giggles and turns, walking backwards up the hill with a beer in one hand and his hand in the other. He wants to memorize this moment.

Val Moreno isn’t just looking at him. She doesn’t just know his name. She’s dragging him up a hill to god knows where with beers and it occurs to him there’s no bus call tonight because they’re only driving to Ventura in the morning. What the fuck is going on.

She’s plopping into cross-legged position on a patch of mud. He notices that she doesn’t seem to do much very gracefully, other than hit the drums. He lowers next to her and she releases his hand.

“I like touring sometimes. Other times it makes me… crazy,” she confides, narrowing her eyes at the fairgrounds below being broken down by venue staff. She blinks slowly. He watches her wet her lips and sip her beer.

“It can be a lot,” he agrees softly, unsure of how to answer. He finds himself wanting to be helpful to her in some way, in whatever way she might need.

He gets like this around girls sometimes. He wants to be whatever they want him to be.

She ignores his confused glance and drops her cryptic topic. Instead, she stares out at the floodlights painting the grounds pale colors against the charcoal southern California sky.

“Do you miss drumming?” he whispers.

She doesn’t blink, doesn’t hesitate. “Every day.”

He’s quiet for another minute. “Why did you stop?”

She looks at him warmly. He feels it down to his toes. She puts her beer down and turns to face him, shuffling between his bent knees. She plants her manicured hands on the tears in his black jeans and looks him over carefully. He feels himself go a little hard against his thigh under her study.

“Val?” he whispers.

“Hmm?” she hums, looking up from his impressive arms to his even more impressive face.

“You gonna kiss me?” he croaks, his mouth going dry.

Valentina grins wide. “You’re goddamn right I am.”

She doesn’t so much kiss him as maul him. She launches into his body, securing her hands by his where they’re planted behind him to hold them up. She plunders his lips, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, teasing the piercing to make him moan. She licks hungrily into his mouth. He pushes off his hands to pull himself up right and hold her tight against him, wanting to feel her chest against his, see if their hearts were pounding in time, if they were as in synch as their lips.

She sinks her fingers into his hair and tugs. His body tightens along with his grip on her. He whimpers loud into her mouth, sucking gently at her tongue. She cards her fingers through his hair like she’s desperate for something but he’s not sure what it could be because he’s given her everything he has in this kiss. He bites down on her lower lip when she makes to pull away to his neck.

She tastes like whiskey and beer and her hair is impossibly softer than it looks as he plays with the ends, the fingers of his other hand flirting with the hem of her shirt. She wiggles in his arms until his fingertips nudge underneath. His hands wander up over the perfect caramel skin of her back, over the band of her lacy bra, brushing the downy hairs on the nape of her neck. He thinks about lifting her arms and pulling off her tee but he resists, dropping a hand down to slide into her back pocket instead.

She gasps a little into his mouth at his teasing squeeze. She nips at his lips playfully, giggling into the kiss in a way she hasn’t with anyone in a long time. She knows she’s drunk, they both are, but this feels like its own intoxication.

She pulls back slightly to breathe, tucking her hair behind her ears. Shawn’s lips are swollen and his pupils are blown out. She flicks gently at his bottom lip with her tongue, enjoying the way his breathing hitches whenever she uses her tongue on him. She pecks at his lips, wriggling back into his hand as he experimentally massages her ass through her skinny jeans.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he hisses, grunting when she drops her lips to the freckles she noticed on his neck earlier.

Val smiles against the gently tanned skin, sinking her teeth in to hear him yelp.

“Oh, fucking Christ,” he mutters, gathering her in closer, unwilling to move his hands from her ass.

“Wanna leave a mark,” she murmurs, tonguing his throat. He nods without hesitation.

“Please, fuck, yes,” he rasps, already picturing how it’ll look in the mirror tomorrow morning, how long it might last on his sensitive skin.

Val nibbles and sucks like she’s got a formula in place and maybe she does but he definitely doesn’t care. It feels fucking good. It feels even better, somehow, when she leans back to survey her work and smiles. She likes claiming him.

“So sexy, Shawn,” she whispers into his lips through another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He groans in agreement. Her teeth bump up against his piercing and she pulls back to lick at it playfully.

“This is sexy, too,” she comments, pecking at the corner of his mouth, feeling the enamel dig into her lip.

“Yeah?” he pants, blinking his eyes open to see her looking at him with a Cheshire cat smile and hooded lids. He licks the taste of her off his lower lip.

“I like piercings,” she tells him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her finger. It quivers under her touch. He keeps his eyes level with hers.

“What… what else do you like?” he nearly gasps. Her eyebrows lift.

“You wanna know what I like, Shawny?”

The low tremor of his voice has him nodding eagerly. He squeezes her ass again for emphasis. “Yeah.”

“I like your hands on my ass. And I like your tongue in my mouth,” she replies smoothly, hooking her fingers back into his curls and tilting his head to stroke her tongue against his.

He moans loud, obscenely, and tips back into the dirt with her on top of him. Her weight is comforting somehow, and the motion kicks up a breeze through her hair, sending a distinctly citrusy scent at him to overwhelm him further.

He hears himself speaking but isn’t sure why he feels the need to, especially since he’s literally talking into her mouth. “You smell good.”

She giggles and their teeth clash and Shawn feels a shiver rip up his back. It’s so casually intimate, feels couple-y and sweet, it makes Shawn a little dizzy. He grunts and tries not to rut into her like a teenager since she’s just lying on top of him and not making any moves to grind against him or take his clothes off. Which he’s fine with, he can totally handle himself. The raging hard-on in his cage-like jeans tells him otherwise, but fuck it. When’s he going to have this chance again?

Val likes feeling him solid and warm underneath her, between her and the briny-smelling dirt. She’s just interested in kissing him, in exploring the way their lips fit together and the noises he makes when she flicks at the tip of his tongue or scratches at the curls on the back of his neck. He’s not pushing her either, which is nice. He’s not yanking at her shirt or shoving his hands down her pants. He’s making her feel like he’ll take what he can get from her when she offers it. That’s kinda nice.

The flood lights go out below them. The party is over. The venue is broken down. They both jerk upright when the world around them goes absolutely dark.

Val pants. Shawn sits up with her between his knees. He groans.

“How are we going to get back? We can’t see anything.”

Val winces. “Yeah, bad planning,” She hops up and takes his hand, yanking him to his feet, “C’mon, baby steps.”

They do get back down the hill to where the buses are. It’s not easy, and they both fall a couple times, and by the time they reach the bottom they’re both certainly more sober. He walks her to her bus and swings her hand playfully, feeling like a kid dropping his date off and wondering who’s watching them from the windows as he kisses her goodnight. She gives him one last little peck on his lip ring before sending him away and crawling into her bunk.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway @accioalena @randi-eve

[taylorverse]

My Taylor Swift Story

@taylorswift 

hello taylor! can i just make a big point to say how incredible you are. so i don’t really make these sorts of posts because it just seems unrealistic to be not just noticed by you but by any other swifties. You, Miss Taylor Alison Swift are the actual reason why some people are still living their day to day lives. I have literally grown up listening to your music and there’s always been an element of happiness that it brings me, whether its the vibe of the song or the melody or the lyrics or the sweet and pure way your voice echoes the words. I have had every single album of yours on repeat for all the times i’m hovering over the bath shaving my legs, procrastinating doing revision and literally jamming to old tswift songs in my bedroom. I have spent hours laying in my bed looking up at the ceiling playing all too well whilst i cry my eyes about relating the lyrics to how hard life can be and how difficult it is to keep going. But your music has always been a huge element of my well-being as it just provides a sense of stability; the songs you’ve sung is the poetry of my emotions and the lingering thoughts that I just can’t seem to say. My younger self didn’t even realise what a toll you had on me growing up, I always bought every single calender and all the albums. I remember my dad buying me the signed version of RED and it was just the happiest day of my life. I so clearly remember just holding it in my hands and feelings so happy in that moment. The years where i was beginning to get a bit older and things started to shift, your music was the constant that was always there and never left. I had dance parties where I would be alone in my bedroom singing with the huge poster of you hung above my bed (which once actually fell on my face in the middle of the night and was absolutely terrorfying). My favourite memory was sitting downstairs late at night, when I was like 9 and watching the livestream for RED when you sat in nashville and played acoustic songs on your guitar. I was so happy in that moment, to be able to just feel so connected to a woman who didn’t even know I existed was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Then came my birthday where my dad surprised me with Red tickets I LITERALLY CRIED. The night came and it was my first concert, it was one of the London nights and we sat right at the back. My most vivid memory of that night was the two people behind us who were obnoxiously going on about how they were gonna meet you after and that the show didn’t matter as much. Me and my dad would look at eachother with a jealous smirk and enjoyed the show. To be honest, I can’t actually remember that much but of what I do, I could have sworn you waved at me (even though there were probably about 4894 people in my direction) and the small kid i was held onto that as we trecked our way back on the train at midnight. As this was my first concert and I was so young, it felt so cool to be awake so late and I was in awe of the night I had experienced. 

Being at school, I was always known as the swiftie. I bought the drawstring Red tour bag from the concert because my dad said i couldn’t buy a top as he said “there’s no point in buying it if you’re going to grow out of it”. Anyway i used it as my PE bag and still do to this day. Everyone would tease me and I used to just SHAKE IT OFF and ignore the haterzzzz. My life was completely altered by that night, I wouldn’t stop thinking about it and I remember doing a show and tell in class where I played the videos I took of the concert on the big screen to my whole class as I passed around the rubber wristband I had too bought from that night. Everyone was so amazed by my experience, I was just so happy that I had seen my role model and that my life felt fulfilled at that point. 

I’m now in secondary school, I have never ever stopped playing your music. I even got an app to see how many times I had replayed songs and it turns out i have listened to Speak Now all the way through 800 times (not including the years of listening to it on my iPod). Then when one day I was sitting watching greys anatomy (wink), I got an instagram notification that you had posted a picture. My heart sank as I began to wonder WHAT THE HELL YOU POSTED since you had disapperred from earth. Seeing the what i know now as the snake, I literally jumped out of excitement & an overwhelming burst of confusion built up as I tried to figure out what the hell was happening. More pictures posted and my lil swiftie inside of me came rushing out as I just skipped around the living room. I still remember staying up late to watch LWYMMD music video. It was insane. I lay in my bed with my headphones plugged into my phone and quietly shrieked at the BEAUTY of it. At this point I wasn’t as indulged in the online fandom as I am now, so I started to follow accounts like @marthaswiftie on instagram to be more involved and find out all these crazy theories. The reputation album came out the year right before my life kinda went downhill. I remember the tickets came out for the tour and I didn’t even ask my parents to go because we were going through such a tough time that my own selfish wants were not the priority. 

So beginning 2018, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. We soon found out that it was terminal, which just broke our family individually in different ways. Our family is extreamely close and for something like this to happen, it was such a huge surprise that we just didn’t know how to react. My closest memory was sitting Physics class, just staring into space and all of these horrible thoughts were flooding my mind and all of the worst case scenarios just ruined me. Yet my naive self was so unaware of my emotion that I just carried on with my life, instead trying to be overly happy about life. At this point, my dad was is hospital most of the weeks spending time having his radiotherapy and chemotherapy done. I tried so hard to not think about it, that I ended up having so many breakdowns of which I spent crying my eyes out in my room just trying to hold onto hope that seemed so far away. Selfishly, I so wanted to see you on tour just to give me a pick-me-up but i felt so bad about wanting something for myself since I shouldn’t even be thinking of anything but him. Yet instead, I was so broken that I just ignored what was going on around me. This is what I’ve been learning to cope with and i think at points i felt so defeated. The tour month came up, i watched endless clips of people going and felt so hopeless in seeing you. I was in such a rut of trying to feel happier, yet trying to cover up the way I dealt with things by watching every Youtube video under the sun and literally all the shows on netflix to exist. Even writing this now feels so narrow-minded but it was just the way I was going through it. The literal day before the tour, my sister surprised me with tickets and i canNOT TELL YOU the rush of happiness I felt. I sobbed so much, I did not sleep as I lay thinking about what I was going to wear and the fact that i was going to see you in the flesh. 

The day came, and there are truly no words to describe it. I left school early, rushed home and did my makeup and hair. We hopped on the train and made our way up to london. I remember getting into Wembley and as soon as we walked out of the station I saw a huge group of people wearing merch tops and that’s when it started to kick in. We had a few hours, so we walked up and down the streets, me noticing all the outfits from music videos and award shows that people were dressed up in. Then we sat in nando’s, literally starving and as we ate our food just kept repeating to eachother, “we’re gonna see TAYLOR SWIFT” and every time it gave me goosebumps. A little girl came in as we were finishing, she had little cat ears on and a tutu. She had a top that she had DIYed herself that said I LOVE TAYLOR on it. My heart melted as we made our way out of the restaurant and grinned our way up to the stadium. The closer we got, we saw so many people with VIP necklaces and we looked at eachother rolling our eyes because we were jealous haha. I was so shocked by the diversity of people there, literally every type of person was surrounding us obviously in awe of the event that was about to occur. My favourite bit was walking up the huge pathway to the door entries, we came super early so I could get merch and our route was filled with girls screaming at the sight of eachother. My sister was so confused so I filled her in on the details of how so many people meet online through fan acounts and these concerts are where some of them finally meet. The merch queue was huge, but i had saved enough for a hoodie so we made the decision to stand in it. There were a few girls behind us complaining about the outfits people were wearing, we were annoyed because they kept saying “why do they dress up so much she’s not gonna see them” and my blood just boiled as their remarks piled on top of eachother. As we reached the front of the queue, we heard Charlie playing from the stadium because this line ended being 2 HOURS LONG. I didn’t care though, I said to my sister that the whole fun of it is to wait the long hours and dedicate our time to this day as it was a once in a lifetime. I bought the black hoodie with the zipped hood, they didn’t have small so I got Medium which ended being HUGE, but I love it because I snuggle in i every night. Straight after, my sister took a cute pic of me in the hoodie to send to my mum right before we were about to go through security. It was my first time at wembley so I had no idea what I was doing, but I just followed my sister as we got our bags checked and prepared ourself for the view we were about to whitness. My heart began beating so fast, I was in complete shock and my sister gripped my hand as we found our entry doorway. My first thought was, WHAT THE HELL. I had never been in such an overwhelming place. IT WAS HUGE. the amount of people there just left me in a sedated state for a second before we trudged down the stairs to find out seats. We were in block E, on the floor. It was my first time not being super high up, so i felt so privileged as i strut across the metal walkway feeling so happy about where i was. The struggle to find our seats was REAL. We spent ages when they ended up just being right in front of us the whole time. As soon as we scooted through the others, we sat down and just took a second to realise that we were about to whitness TAYLOR SWIFT PERFORM. My adrenaline was going crazy, my sister took tons of pictures and videos to send to my parents and they were so jealous! Then Camila came on, she was incredible. Everyone stood up as my short height meant I was staring at the huge screen, miming to lyrics to consequences and never be the same. She left and the stadium began to flll up and it just got so much louder. Anticipation grew, every single person in that stadium was just so happy. The Ready for It tune started and that’s when it all kicked off. I lifted myself from my seat, screamed to my hearts content as my sister sang along whilst also watching me give a performance in front of her. Every song was just so amazingly performed. Then when the b stage was next, the whole floor just legged it to get closer. I was nervous to lose my sister or the bags so i remember turning behind me as my sister grabbed the bags and said ‘go’. Little old me bent through the crowd, I ducked beneath and tried to get as close as I could. I remember standing on a chair and as I did i realised that i was less than 5 metres away from TAYLOR SWIFT. I sang along to So it goes and turning back every now and then to see where my sister was and I kept saying ‘Emma, I AM SO CLOSE I AM GONNA CRY’. Every now and then I would pull my phone out for videos but I wanted to grasp this moment as I let all my worries wash away and I whitnessed the most insane moment of my life. As the move for the next stage came, I followed the movement of the crowd as the security officers began to strictly tell people to stop standing on chairs. There I was, spinning around every now and then to see the crowd. Dress was the current song and my eyes lit up at the beauty of Miss swift. The concert followed with so much energy, the seats we had were right at the back of the floor but it was amazing to feel the lit up souls of everyone around me. There was just so much energy, so much love. One thing I remember was grooving to a song when the confetti began to float over us. We were so far back that it didn’t quite reach us yet this one piece was slowly floating mid air quite far back. I followed it with my eyes and reached to grab it as another girl took my opertunity. I was slightly annoyed, but the scenery of lights and idea of my idol being in the same room brought me back to happiness. The night ended with me and my sister talking on the phone to my mum, praising the show and just feeling so blessed. The nightmare of getting home began, as we got on the wrong train and then as we finally settled we were so tired that we almost got lost. My sisters boyfriend picked us up and we got home in a blur of sleep.

That night was unforgettable. It was just all my needs in one place, i felt so satisfied and i watched the videos I filmed of it months and months after, remenising on it. Coming back to present, TS7 is on its way. I woke up at 5am to see the ME! music video as soon as it comes out and see all of the hype. This has been the best day in ages. I have bought the song on itunes and streamed it on every device & app. My fingers literally ache from typing this in one sitting, but it was amazing because I just went through that night all over again from writing about it. But my point is. Whoever is reading this, Taylor or even just my grandma; there is happiness out there. I live by Taylor Swift and her music, she will always and forever be my role model, I LOVE YOU @taylorswift

[foreverhauntingme]

BTS LY 10/3 GA EXPERIENCE

I was in the GA for the October 3rd BTS Love Yourself Tour in Chicago at the United Center and I want to document my experience not only for myself, but because I want to help other people who are debating about possibly doing GA in the future. If you don’t want details, Skip to the very end…

Let me start by saying that if you ever get the chance to do it you seriously SHOULD. What I’m about to talk about sounds like a lot and there were dozens of moments I thought “what did we do?!?!?” but I have to say, the moment a member is 7 feet in front of you NOTHING ELSE MATTERS! Not recording. Not how much your feet hurt. Not the ARMY BOMB by you ear. NOTHING. It’s incredible. So now that I have that out of the way let me tell you about my experience.

I was 10000% lucky and I managed to get 5 GA tickets on May 5, the day they came out, within 10 minutes of the sale starting. My mom’s iPad saved my life where 5 laptops could not. I’d never bought tickets before so I was nervous as hell and was on my phone with my friend, http://dingdangdiggity.tumblr.com/, starting 2 hours before hand and I NEVER let the screens go dark. It was tense and the fact I got it never registered until a month later.

Oct 2, Britt and her sister, Val ( http://missvalerieann5.tumblr.com/ ) came up and spent the night since I’m not far from Chicago and they are. Oct 3, we were up at 4. I am not a Chicago driver and I wanted to beat traffic and I mean, GA line am I right??? So friend number 3, Jax https://average-jax.tumblr.com/ , comes over because she lives near me and we head up, stopping on the way to pick up our newest edition to the friendship, Megan https://warmyoon.tumblr.com/ and we are off.

Now parking was supposed to be weird. Rumor was lots opened at 10 and we were getting there at 7:30 so the day before I used Spothero to get a spot in a garage 15 mins from the UC. I had planned to move the car to a closer lot when it opened but chose instead to extend the time where it was from 6pm-12am for another $5 so in the end parking was a 15 min walk down the street for $20 instead of the $25-29 they were charging at the venue. Plus it was going around lot C would open at 8am and other would open at 5pm and like no I was not fucking around with that.

So we did end up in the merch line on accident before we realized GA was on the other side of the building. Even with wasting a half hour though, it wasn’t a hug issue since we saw people who passed us in merch were only like 2 people ahead of us when we got in GA. Now here’s the thing with GA. People camp out. In this case, they started camping Friday for Tuesday’s concert as well as Wednesday. Some of them did both concerts some just did one. Either way, people were annoyed. The venue said they would honor the unofficial line, since official started at 10 am on D-day, if everyone was organized. So they handed out unofficial bands with numbers until they could get the official ones. Let’s just say after waking up at 4am, I didn’t give a single shit where I was in line and it was like 8 am and I had to pee so fucking bad. So Jax, Britt and I walked the length of the line towards the building because rumor on Twitter was security was letting us use the bathrooms inside. Holy. Shit. The tension was insane. These people were so pissed like we got GLARED AT for walking towards the front. I got pissed back and started screaming “I don’t give a shit about your line, I have to fucking pee!” and “I stopped caring about you’re line when I woke up at 4, I have to piss!” I guess some crazy bitch tried yelling at us. Whatever. It was hell up there. People were yelling about not bothering with the numbers since it was’t official and others were all about those numbers. I was happy to be in the back. But yeah, we got to pee and return to the back with the horror stories about the crabby pre-campers.

Val had guessed being 804 which was funny cuz we got #799-803. Rule was be back in order at 4 pm, doors opened at 5:30 and concert at 8. So we had agreed to run straight to the LG experience thing. We wanted to do the thing where the screen shows your bias like they’re next to you so bad, but for Chicago it was a raffle. You either reached in and got the pink ball to do that, a yellow ball to record a message for BTS or a blue ball where you got NOTHING. Rumor is LA let everyone do the picture. So that pissed me off. Other than that, it was still cool to take pics with the cut outs. We checked out merch and saw the line wasn’t terrible so we tried it and yeah a lot was sold out, but it went by so quick compared to the Wings tour in Rosemont. The whole C lot was set up for merch, LG, dancing, and pictures so it felt like a convention and it was really nice.

My biggest advice apart from BRING MONEY is HAVE WATER and make sure you HAVE FOOD. Snacks. Sandwiches. Anything. We had chips and water bottles and decided to walk down 15 mins to the Mcdonalds, which sucked cuz it was 85 degrees and sunny, and when we came back we went right back to where we’d been that morning so it would be quicker to get organized…which was a cluster fuck. Everyone was tired. It was now 5 pm but listen, second biggest advice is DON’T BE A DICK! Seriously. Security wanted single file order and they delayed letting us in because people would rather bitch with the fans trying to help. Rule of thumb, if you’re number 1400, don’t bother standing where the 300s go. Security wanted us in order and they fucking MADE SURE we were so it was pointless to refuse to move to the back cuz you had to wait anyway. So when someone is trying to put 600s here and 700s here and 800s move back, don’t bitch about it. Just fucking do it.

Now this is what you really want to know. Number 800, how close was I. Pretty. Fucking. Close. So the stage has the main stage, a jut out in the middle and then another lengthy stage (you know what I mean). We were off to stage left, audience right at like………if you’re on the farthest jut out in the center, we were on your 9 0’clock. Now I am 5’4” so when they performed songs on the main stage, I couldn’t see shit without being on my tip toes or looking at my camera or the screen. So that did suck. I wish we’d been closer. We were about 5 rows back from the barricade and below will be pics to show you my views. But like…I was 5 feet from every single member at one point. They could see me. They are so fucking handsome. It made the entire experience worth it. Seriously. even with 1400+ people in the pit, it was fantastic. I probably won’t do it again for money, time and stress sake unless a ticket fell into my lap, but it was a wonder thing to do and I suggest it for sure.

Now that you’ve read it all here are my tips for any GA goers:

Get their early if you want first dibs but remember that you’ll still be closer to them than you have ever been before and that once it starts and they move around, you will be shifting constantly throughout the night.

Scout out the area before hand whether you go there and drive around or check it out on Google Maps. Know what kind of food and stores are around and how far of a walk it is.

BRING WATER!!!!! You will need it all day so you don’t faint. I took in an empty bottle and filled it in the bathroom before the show. Not all venues will let you but better to throw away an empty bottle later than to go in and realize you could have had it.

PORTABLE CHARGERS!!!!!!!! Make sure your phone has space and enough charge for the whole day and night without an outlet. We charged ours at MCDonalds. Mine got to 33% by the end and had storage issues so I couldn’t record the end. Everyone else’s died.

Bring FOOD! Anything will do as long as you snack. I don’t eat during events like this but I make myself just in case.

If it’s hot and sunny, bring a cheap umbrella to block the sun and catch any breeze. It was 85 F during the day.

If it’s cold, bring a cheap blanket. It was only 60 F when we got there.

HAVE FUN! Be comfy! Make friends. Ask about biases. Remember there are people there with legit tents. Bring whatever you want as long as you can either throw it away, keep hold of it, or have someone get it for you to take home.

The line goes up and around the corner all the way to the building

So yeah hard to see when they were back there

Joon was by us a lot

Hobi was by us the most

Jimin was apparently checking on a fan who was about to faint.

I didn’t get a lot of Tae, Jin, or Kook but Hobi and Joon were on our side a lot and Jimin and Yoongi bounced around. But yeah...that was my experience. 

Any questions? EDIT: Britt just did this to her’s and I forgot but I put blood, sweat and tears into this pictures so you BETTER CREDIT ME if you share them. 

[blossomingx]

Aside from watching the reputation stadium tour last night, this entire weekend has been HORRIBLE. So I’m just going to rant a little to blow off some steam.

Friday - the day before the concert - I plan to do all the last minute things I need so I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I double check my room reservations, flights, rental, tickets... all the necessary things. I got my eyebrows threaded and it’s a new lady at the place I go to, and even tho I was hesitant on weather or not I should do them with her, I still did. Big. Mistake. She CUT MY EYELID. I was full on bleeding. And to top it off, she thinned the hell out of them after I told her NOT TO. Everyone with a face knows that bad eye brows equal a bad time. So there’s Bad Thing #1.

Next day, we get up early and make our flight in time. Everything is going smoothly. My sisters came with me and we always fight. But I guess the excitement of seeing Taylor kept us in a good mood. So, we land in Dallas and o call to confirm my rental (just to be EXTRA sure) and the dude says there’s no reservation for me for that day even though I paid for it over the phone when I booked. He said he’d return my money. Uh! I need a car! So, now we have to bust out money for an Uber. There’s Bad Thing #2.

Finally we figure out how to work Uber (we never used it before because is not available in our town) and we get to our hotel. We got a good rate for a night, so when the receptionist tells me to hand my card over and she will be charging me TRIPLE what I booked the room at, I flipped out. Bad Thing #3. (Side note: after yelling like a psychotic mother we got our room at the price I initially booked it at, but still. It took some arguing and embarrassment.)

We finally get ready and head over to the AT&T Stadium. Got there just in time with a few minutes before doors open, and didn’t even have to wait in the heat for long before we got in. FINALLY WE’RE HERE and it’s such a relief! We get in line to buy merch and the whole time the family behind us are talking about how ridiculous it is that a whole group of 4 girls are in front of them. (We were that group.) Why, I don’t know. The lines were long everywhere, and to say that lines existed at all is a lie. It was a crowd of people pushing and shoving trying to get to the front. And for some reason, it was OUR fault for the huge crowds and unidentifiable lines. Standing in line with a obnoxious parent behind us brings us to Bad Thing #4.

We get to our seats and are enjoying the environment, you know, getting hyped for Charlie XCX to come out. We were on the side where people are going back and forth from back stage to the front, so we try to get their attention in hopes of getting upgraded to the pit. A group in front of us got upgraded by chance and we were a bit upset because they were just sitting there on their phones and we were actually enjoying ourselves. The same man that upgraded them came up to us and told us he’d be back to get us in to the pit. We were EXCITED. We were actually going to get to be in the pit! He said he’d return so we waited.. and waited... and waited... he never returned. We were heart broken! Just our luck I guess. Bad Thing #5.

Charli XCX comes out and she was great! We didn’t know all her songs but her set was great and I loved her energy. Crowd was so loud already; I couldn’t wait for Taylor any longer. Suddenly three girls drink out of their minds pile into one seat next to me and are bumping and grinding on themselves - and on me - while Charli is performing and it kills my mood big time. I don’t know why or how they got away with that, but they did. As soon as her set was done, they disappeared. But they managed to leave behind their beer all over my shoes. Great. Bad Thing #6.

Camila is next and my sisters and I agree to ignore what happened and not let it ruin the night. Camila comes out and two of the three girls come back. One of the girls seems a bit out of it, but we don’t let her keep our attention. Camila was soooo great I loved her set so much! You can see her emotion during her performance and just how passionate she is about her music. I loved her! During her last song, I felt a huge hit in my thigh and look to see it’s the girl that was completely out of it. Her head. Was on. My. Freaking. Thigh. What in the world?! I pushed her off only to realize she is passed out wasted. Bad Thing #7.

During the intermission between Camila & Taylor, this girl is making a scene for herself. Her friend is telling her to eat or drink something, but she won’t budge. I’m livid. Is this really going to be the person that ruins what I’ve been looking forward to for the past year!? Her friend is yelling now. “Get up!! What the fuck are you doing?! I hate you! GET UP!” You guessed it people, this girl was on the floor. Our entire section is freaking out. Security is now surrounding this girl. She isn’t awake anymore, but she isn’t asleep either. Security told us that as soon as she stands up we need to tell them so the can escort her out immediately. Once security leaves, the functioning girl full on BEGS us not to call them because she loves Taylor and blah blah blah. I wasn’t having it. So this mess of a scene is Bad Thing #8.

The group behind me taps my shoulder and says to me - jokingly, “you’re on baby sitting duty tonight!” Uh, what? Hell no I’m not. I quickly responded “she’s moot my friend and I didn’t pay $200 to watch some one that can’t handle alcohol” and they gasp. What did they want me to say, yesill watch her? HELL NO. Anyway, Taylor comes out -FINALLY. We see her right as she walks into the stage then the lights go down and we’re screaming for Taylor. The moment is finally here! I’m looking forward to the intro because it is ICONIC. I press record on my phone and 20 seconds in I hear and feel it all over my legs and feet. Yup, she just vomited. All over me. I’m PISSED at this point I could punch her in the face. I missed the whole intro. Her friend is yelling I HATE YOU STUPID BITCH and yelling at me PLS DONT CALL SECURITY. What was I supposed to do!? Bad Thing #9.

Taylor was amazing. Breathtaking show. It was literally sooooo perfect. & I love to record everything so I couldn’t wait to replay the show when I got to the hotel room. After an hour of repetitive Uber cancellations (Bad Thing #10), we finally get to our room. I’m looking for my favorite performances of Taylor so I can post, and in every single video you can hear this girl yelling at her drunk friend about how much she hates her. Every! Single! Video! I have no good content except for my memory. Bad Thing #12.

Next morning (today) we miss our flight because someone in our flight security line was making a scene. Greaaaat. They couldn’t let us go and handle the man on the side? Nope. They make countless people miss their flights. Bad Thing #13.

So now I’m writing thing long post because we’re on stand by for the remainder of the day praying we get to go home today. I just want this weekend to end. I miss my kids!!! If you got this far down my post, I’m going to assume you’re bored, or you are evil and find humor in the awful weekend I’m still experiencing. I’ll feel better when I’m home!!!

[crinkled-emotions]

Autumnal Asks

I was tagged by @its-me-theicequeen

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

So, I met my oldest best friend when I was 7 (I'm 17 now damn) and basically we started talking because we both liked horses I think. We fought like crazy and we're in completely different states of Australia now but I still love her heaps and love talking to her when I get the chance.

The second best friend I made when I was 12. We actually didn't talk until I was 13 or 14 when I properly became friends with her. To this day I still consider her one of my closest friends. Fun fact; we hated each other for a period of time.

Oof, now the girl I could seriously consider my second sister at this point- we met at the start of the year due to being one of the only four new kids in our dorm at school. We met during orientation, and haven't separated since. She's hilarious and always up for a fight, but luckily the mum friend in me always stop her before she does something stupid haha.

frost - if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?

Mate, you've got a lot to learn. I know it seems like your life is great and you know everything there is to know, but tone down the know it all and actually give people the time of day to talk to you. You never know, maybe you'll stop being lonely.

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

You know, I actually really love netball; the sport, if you haven't heard of it before. My friend plays it and I got to be good at it when I was younger, but I hated the girls at my school therefore I didn't pursue it, so my netball career never exactly started off. Would definitely give it a good go now, in fact I'm starting next year. It's never too late!

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

I can't answer this. Personally, I relate to Georgie from Heartland; gosh, I love her. She is mature and level headed, but underneath that calm personality shows a girl who doesn't know what she's doing the next day, let alone with her life.

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

Hm. My style is really simple, so it'd probably be full of comfy t-shirts, 5sos merch, SuggLife hoodies, black skinny jeans and Converse. Maybe a pair of vans or my slippers. Life would be great my dudes. Ooh, actually I would love to have a shit ton of makeup just to experiment and play around. It's a lot of fun tbh.

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

I was going to say nothing, but then I thought about this tomato pasta thing my mum makes and I used to HATE it- like my mum would threaten me with bed or eating it and I'd just go to bed- but now I actually adore it and it's probably one of my favourite meals; especially with heaps of parmesan cheese. Yum.

amber - share an unpopular opinion that you may have.

I'm one of those people that doesn't really have unpopular opinions- either I think of them right before they become popular, or I see someone say something and I just agree with it. That being said, I ship Joe and Byron hardcore and no one really seems to so I guess that counts?

fog - how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?

I would die on the first day. I'm no good when I'm camping, I can't imagine how I'd be in that kind of situation. I'd probably hide somewhere and never come out.

jack-o-lantern - if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?

Anna Maynard! She is so humble and shy and relatable and GORGEOUS. Her eyes look gorgeous against her blonde hair, and she always wins with her makeup. Total babe, 10/10 would recommend. Also super happy for her with her new gig hosting a talent show, that sounds awesome!

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

Yes, actually! I used to dream that the house on the end of my street was haunted- I moved before I could explore it sadly. I might try when I go back there for the Summer

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.

Well actually, it's spring for me oops but hey. I can join the Americans/ the Brits for a while. Honestly, this spring for me would be the prime time for me to work on my horse riding, especially my jumping since that's my favourite thing. I'd also like to start my first full- length Joe x Byron story after my exams.

crow - which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for?

Math. I HATE math and I'm the dyslexic where I only struggle with math (I mess numbers up constantly, can't keep track of formulas, think a 7 is a 1 sometimes etc etc...) so if I could improve anything it would be my math. My ATAR score would soar up. That or my plant production course- I'm not the best at that course and I don't enjoy it but I'd like to try harder in it and improve my grades.

bonfire - describe your dream house.

I'm one of those sad people who are either in the middle of the city with everything accessible, or a farm with a tiny town fifteen minutes away. I'm kind of leaning toward the farm (I'm at agricultural school so I'm biased lmao) so that my kids have plenty of room to run around, get dirty, and learn how to take care of themselves. I'm big on independence but also being able to scrape your knee etc. I'm not a bubble wrap-type of person, I don't think.

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

You know what? This is going to sound so random, but I would love to visit the 1850's during the gold rush in Victoria, Australia- a lot happened and I would have loved to experience it. I've done a lot of research about those times and they were rough, but I think it'd make you a better person in the long run.

cobweb - (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school?

I graduate next year lol, not sure I'll miss it for a couple of months after that.

cranberry - what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on?

My eyelashes and my eyes! Since I'm Irish, my hair is really thick and it's dark so my eyelashes are naturally long and thick. I always get lots of compliments on them which is really nice for an insecure little shit like me. My eyes also get lots of compliments since they change with my mood hahahaha.

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

I was standing in line for Maccas and one person tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and she complimented me on my SuggLife hoodie! It was really nice of her but super sudden. I can't really call that weird but I still remember it. It's either that or the time a guy pushed me out of the way as he ran from the cops. That was terrifying.

quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?

I hate tea (with a passion), and I don't drink normal coffee since it reacts badly with my anxiety medication. I drink decaf though, and I put in two teaspoons of both coffee and sugar, sometimes a little more sugar than coffee. I'm more of a hot chocolate person to be honest.

pumpkin - do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?

I've seen a lot of shit, been through a lot of shit, but I don't believe humans are inherently bad. I think there's always a breaking point for everyone, and once it's reached it's hard for someone to go back to the way they were.

moonlit - are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly?

I'm freakishly neat a majority of the time, but when I'm sad I don't clean my room or change my sheets and it gets really gross. That reminds me, I need to clean my room again.

flannel - have you ever gone on a bad date?

To go on a bad date, you have to have been on a date right?

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

I wish I still had my long hair! I recently chopped all the ombre off and now my hair barely goes past my shoulders which sucks. I'd love to redo my ombre when my hair is a lot longer and healthier. I want it healthy before I damage it again.

ghost - is there someone that you miss having in your life?

Yes, actually. It sounds random but I grew up with this guy since we were born (he's two months older than me) and we sort of hated each other but I was honest with him and he was honest with me, we had a good system. Our parents were close friends and I haven't talked to him at all since I moved from Victoria, but I wish him all the best. He was one of the rudest, asshole-ish guys when I was a kid, but it kept me on my toes so I guess that's a good thing.

I'm also tagging people on Wattpad! For Tumblr, I tag: @seductivebuttercreams. Good luck

[lady-une]

Where in the world is Kiseok

Oh boy, so after that little chat with @ssamdominic I went ahead and wrote up the Kiseok story lol. I wrote it quickly last night before sending it off the beta @tears-of-orphans to read through it. Now before anyone jumps all over me this is sooooo a/u lol and I doubt any of the guys would act like this. So just keep that in mind while you are reading it. I also made a cute little moodboard too for the story. Everyone knows where’s waldo right? well this is the where’s Kiseok edition so have fun finding him lol. As always please drop me some love even if its anon style lol and share away.

Word count: 4314

Theme: Friends

Rating: E for everyone lol who the fuck am I EA games? Mature for language

Pairing: Jung Kiseok/Simon Dominc x Reader (F)

Six months, that’s how long it’s been since I have heard from Kiseok. I left a year ago for work, as an attorney my company was hired on to accompany another company over to London to assist them with opening a new branch there. I didn’t want to leave but knew it was best for my career. I convinced myself it wouldn’t be that bad as I was able to fly home often to see my family and friends. Yet somewhere during the first six months I noticed Kiseok was slowly pulling away before he completely cut off communication. It wasn’t just me either, it was all of our friends outside of his work life. I tried my best to get some kind of information about him from everyone at AOMG but they all said he was fine and just working. He wasn’t posting on social media either and the only time I ever saw his face was when he was caught in a picture with Jay or one of the other guys. It was as if he was being locked in some dungeon and only brought out now and then to remind people he was still around. With this stupid contract over I was finally going home and I planned on getting some answers.

When my plane finally landed I quickly collected my bags before grabbing a cab to my apartment. During the cab ride I tried calling him again but was met once again with his voicemail. I left my millionth message before I sent him a text telling him I was home and to call me. When I arrived at my apartment it was already too late to do anything tonight so I just decided to just get settled in. I washed my clothes and made a call to my mom thanking her for filling the fridge with food as I was too tired from my flight to try and grocery shop. After I ate a small dinner and showered I laid down in my bed looking at the pictures on the night stand. There was one of me and my parents and then one of me and Kiseok. Even with all the trips back home the past year I never once got to see him, in fact the last time I saw him was when he brought me to the airport the day I left.

Kiseok was carrying my backpack on his shoulder as he walked me to the security check point. I walked next to him with my eyes trained on the ground, the thought of not being home for a long time made me emotional. The whole morning I was regretting this decision even if it was the best move for my career, I really just didn’t want to leave now. I glanced up just as we reached the rope closing off that area to people not boarding a plane. I turned to Kiseok and glanced up at him only to see him smiling down at me.

“This is where I leave you Y/n, here take your bag. Do you have everything you need? Did you remember your ear plugs and your nausea patch?”

I nod my head yes, he was always the one reminding me of things I probably would have forgotten about. Just as I was the one to make sure he didn’t get lost in his work, we always kept each other grounded and took care of each other.

“Hey now, no tears.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until he reached out to brush the tears that were slowly making their way down my face. With the touch of his finger on my skin it was as if the dam was broken the I launched myself at him dropping my bag to the floor as the tears fell freely down my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. Kiseok wrapped his arms around me and ran his hand down my hair trying to comfort me.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Don’t say that Y/N, you know this what’s best. You need to go and show them how amazing you are at your job. It won’t even be that long, you said you can come back and see your family, so it won’t feel that long. Plus we can call and video chat. It will just be like I am on tour.”

“Who is going to be here to make sure you aren’t working yourself to death? Who will make sure you are eating actual food and not just snacks? Jay and the others are too busy to make sure you’re not killing yourself. You won’t rely on your family either and you know it.”

“Don’t worry about me ok, I am a big boy and will take care of myself. Just promise me you will do the same over there. Don’t over work yourself either, I know how you get and you will stay up all night working and then will try and work off a couple of hours of sleep and loads of caffeine. I am not the only one who doesn’t know how to stop working.”

I laughed and pulled back to look at his face, I took in every curve every inch of him trying to put him to memory as best as I could. Yeah, I would be back here and there but I had a bad feeling. Kiseok was staring back at me as if he was doing the same thing, trying to put my red puffy face to memory and it only made my tears come faster. His hand reached back to my face to brush the tears as they fell.

“Please don’t cry, I want to see your face smiling before you go on that plane. Can you do that for me? If I don’t get a smile I am going to right to your apartment after I leave here and I will burn all of your Bigbang merch, especially your TOP pillow.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Smile for me or I will.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, the tears had finally stopped. That man knew exactly how to handle me when I fell into my cry baby mode. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw how smuged he looked.

“Good girl, now give me a hug and get your little cry baby ass on the plane.”

“Oppa you don’t play fair.”

He hugged me tight to him and I breathed him in making sure to remember the way he felt and smelt.

“Please be safe and come back to me.”

“I will oppa.”

Kiseok released me from his hold so I could pick up my bag. I walked towards the security entry and right before I walked through the door I looked back once more at him to see him smiling and waving at me.

The memory brought back a fresh wave of tears, I missed him so much. Everyone always wondered why we weren’t together, we were really good together but it just never happened. He only saw me as his little sister while I saw him differently. I truly loved him with all my heart but I kept my feelings to myself. We had been friends since grade school, my family moved here and I would have been an outcast if it wasn’t for him. My father was part of the underworld of crime, so naturally the other kids kept their distance. Except for Kiseok who approached me and took care of me and kept me safe from the bullies. Eventually the other kids came around and started talking to me. Kiseok was also the one to help me when I announced my plans on becoming a lawyer to my family. My father wasn’t happy but my mother was proud of me for wanting to better myself. After some years my father ended his criminal life and opened up a chicken restaurant, he didn’t want to put my career in jeopardy. Kiseok was there to help on the opening day even with him trying to make his own way in the music world. Kiseok was there for everything but now he wasn’t. I reached out grabbing the picture and holding it close sending a silent prayer up that he was ok.

The next day I woke up and ate a small breakfast before I got dressed and headed towards Kiseok’s apartment. I figured it was pretty early in the day so he might still be there sleeping. I rang his bell and called his phone but got no response so I used the passcode to enter his apartment. When I walked in the lights were all off and there were no sounds coming from anywhere. I walked into his room and the bed looked as if it hadn’t been touched in days. His closet was also empty of his clothes. I sat down on his bed and let my head fall into my hands, as far as I knew he had no tours or had anything going on that would take him from home. I pulled my phone from my purse and saw it was still too early for anyone to be at the AOMG office so I decided to just stop by my parent’s house and kill some time there.

Around early afternoon I decided to head down to AOMG to get some answers. As I was walking into the office I happened to run right into Chase and Seonghwa.

“Chase!”

“Y/n when did you get back?”

“I got back last night, say is Jay here yet?”

“Yeah he is up in his office why?”

“I wanted to stop in and say hi.”

“Alright, hey why don’t we all go out for dinner tonight?”

“Sure that sounds good, I will talk to you guys later.”

I quickly turned toward the stairs trying to remain calm and not run up them like a mad woman. I was finally going to get some answers and I wasn’t going to let Jay out of my sight until he gave them to me. I stopped at his door and took a deep breath before giving a light knock.

“Come in.”

I opened the door walking in to see him typing away on the computer not even lifting his head. When I shut the door behind me he finally looked up and smiled at me.

“Y/n when did you get home?”

“Last night.”

“Sit sit, would you like something to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

I sat down in the chair across from his desk as he poured me a glass of water and sat it in front of me.

“So what brings you here?”

“I am going to get right to the point, where the fuck is Kiseok?”

“Ah so that’s why you are here.”

“You had to know this was going to be the first thing I did when I got back. I haven’t heard from him in 6 months Jay. SIX FUCKING MONTHS! I have called you and you feed me the same line that he is fine. Now I want the truth, where is he? I went to his apartment this morning and it doesn’t look like anyone has been there. He isn’t answering any of my messages, it’s like he just disappeared. The only time I see him is if he is in pictures with one of the guys otherwise he isn’t showing up anywhere. So tell me where he is.”

“He is fine Y/n please don’t worry about him.”

“Stop telling me that! Just tell me where he is. Is he sick?”

“No he isn’t sick.”

“Then just tell me.”

“God Y/n it’s not like I have him locked up in some dungeon.”

“Well it sure feels like it because you just keep giving me the run around. If you don’t tell me where he is I’m going to tear this place apart looking for him. I won’t leave without answers Jay.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Kiseok always said you had a dramatic side but this is my first time seeing it.”

“Tell me where HE IS!”

“He isn’t sick and he isn’t in trouble ok, that’s all you need to know.”

I could feel the anger rising and I closed my eyes trying to calm myself down as I held onto the glass of water.

“Jay I am asking you one more time, where the fuck is Kiseok.”

“I am going to tell you one more time, he is fine and don’t worry about it.”

I stand from my chair and hurl the glass over Jay’s head making it hit the wall and shattering it into pieces. Jay sat back in his chair crossing his arms over his chest looking up at me with a smile on his face.

“You can take the girl out of the gang but you can’t take the gangster out of the girl.”

“I will show you a gangster if you don’t produce Kiseok right the fuck now!”

“Ok ok, just relax. You have to know I wasn’t lying when I said he was working, he really is working. You are going to feel really silly after all this.”

“As long as you show me Kiseok I will apologize for all this but until then you are still the bad guy.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are but friends don’t keep friends from each other. Now where is he?”

“You are lucky I don’t have anything planned for today, come on let’s go.”

Jay stood from his desk and grabbed his stuff before ushering me out the door and to his car. The whole care ride was spent in silence and the air was thick with tension. I had no idea where we were going and I didn’t know what I would be walking into. I had always feared Kiseok was sick or in trouble because that was the only explanation that I could come up with that would make sense for him to cut communication for this long. Jay eventually pulled up to a building that looked to be a mix of apartments and business spaces. We exited his car and walked into the building taking the stairs down to the lower floor. Jay stopped outside of a door and turned towards me.

“Please just know none of this was my idea ok, this was all on him.”

“Open the door Jay.”

Jay entered the passcode unlocking the door and we stepped in. The lights were dimmed down so Jay turned them up revealing the space. It was the size of a small one bedroom apartment, there was a small living room and kitchen. There were two doors one labeled as a bathroom and one that had a light over the door that was currently on.

“Jay what is this?”

“Just a little space we use when we need space from the main office.”

“What’s behind this door? What is with the light?”

“That’s the recording room, when the light is on that means someone is in there recording.”

I reached for the doorknob turning it but noticed it was locked from the other side.

“He is probably recording.”

“Why is he here Jay? This doesn’t explain anything!”

“He was working on his album but he said he couldn’t concentrate with everything and said he needed to log off from everything. He was stuck, he couldn’t get anything out for weeks. So he turned off everything and packed some bags and came here. He made me promise not to tell anyone where he was. He didn’t want to be distracted with anything because he just wants to get this album done.”

I let out a frustrated growl as my hands went to my hair pulling on it. I took that moment to fully look at my surroundings. A pillow and blanket was thrown across the couch and there were cans and trash laying around. I walked past Jay to the small kitchen and opened the fridge and cabinets only to see more junk food and snacks.

“Jay there is no food in here! Have you not been checking in with him? Jay he needs actual food!”

“He is a big boy, I am not his mother. He can get his own food.”

“You are the only one who knows he is here! He is your responsibility to make sure he is taking care of himself.”

“Now you know he is ok we can go.”

“The hell I will, I don’t know shit. All I know is that he is in this small cramped room that smells. I am not leaving until I see his face.”

“Well then we are waiting.”

We both sat on the couch pushing things away to make room. Minutes went by as we waited for the light to come off, the room was sound proof so I couldn’t hear much from it. I glanced over at Jay to see him on his phone messing with it, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes with how annoyed I was with him. After some time I pulled my phone out to check the time and noticed it has been an hour since we first came here and that light was still on. I reach down and grab my purse having had enough of this waiting game. I walked over to the door and grabbed some things from my purse before I proceeded to pick lock the door.

“Look at you full of all kinds of tricks.”

“This is nothing, we use to unlock the doors to the teacher lounge room to get the good snacks back in school.”

After messing with the door I was finally able to unlock it and opened the door leaving my purse on the floor. I expected to see him in the middle of a song but instead I found him slumped over his keyboard. I rushed over to him and tried to shake him gently to wake him. From the looks of the room it’s as if he was sleeping in here as well with a sleeping bag on the floor and more snack bags and water bottles on the floor.

“Oppa wake up, please wake up. It’s me Y/n, wake up.”

Kiseok slowly stirred in his chair before slowly opening his eyes and looking up at me with a confused look on his face. It took him a minute to register that I was actually there.

“Y/n.” He said with a smile on his face.

“Oppa come on let’s get you up.”

I slowly helped him to his feet but he was still unsteady on his own so I put his arm around my shoulder and helped him out of the room.

“Jay I am taking him out of here. Is his car here?”

“No he didn’t bring it.”

“Then drive us to my place.”

Jay helped me get him to the car and sat him in the backseat where I also climbed in after him. Kiseok leaned up against me before closing his eyes and falling back to sleep.

“Jay what the fuck. How could you let him get this way.”

“I am sorry Y/n, I mean he said he was fine. Whenever he came out he was fine, I had no idea it was like this.”

“I swear to god Jay if there is anything wrong with him I will kill you myself.”

When we arrived at my apartment Jay helped me bring him in and sat him down on my bed before excusing himself. I left him on the bed as I walked into the attached bathroom and turned the shower on. I then walked out and over to the dresser grabbing his sleep pants he always left here. I laid them on the bed and bent down to look at Kiseok.

“Oppa, I need you to get up and shower. Can you do that?”

He nodded his head and stood walking over to the bathroom entering it and closing the door slightly. With him in the shower I decided to make him some soup as he probably hadn’t eaten anything home cooked in who knows how long. The soup was pretty basic and didn’t take long to make, just as I was taking it off the stove I heard the shower finally turn off. I poured some soup into a bowl and also served him some rice before setting it at the kitchen counter for him to eat. As I was cleaning up the kitchen I heard his shuffling feet coming down the hall and couldn’t help but smile. Before I could turn to face him I felt him come up from behind me and hugging me close to his body. I stayed that way letting him hold me and heard him sigh before I felt him relax which allowed me the chance to turn around in his arms putting my arms around his waist. I looked up at his tired face and felt my smile slip.

“Oppa…why? Why did you do this? You don’t even look like my oppa, you look like a zombie.”

“I had no choice, I needed to get this done. Everyone is pressuring me for this new album and it was so much stress. I had a mental block and nothing was coming out.”

“You should have told me, I would have helped you through this.”

“I couldn’t tell you, you would have jeopardized everything and came home. I didn’t want to do that.”

“That’s not important, you are what’s important. I knew this was going to happen. No one was here to take care of you.”

“Your back now.”

“Yes I am and you are not allowed to ever go back to that place. In fact you are not allowed to leave this apartment until I say so. You need REAL food and rest. If anyone gets upset with this I will take responsibility, I will put them in their place.”

“My girl grew up, who is this strong woman standing in front of me.”

“Oppa I am still that little scared girl but I need to be strong right now, I can’t stand to see you like this.”

I pulled away to drag him to the chair making him sit down to eat. I sat down next to him and watched him devour the food before he asked for another bowl which I happily served him. He asked me why I wasn’t eating and I just replied that I was full from just watching him eat. With his stomach nice and full he sat back in his chair and rubbed his belly with a silly smile on his face.

“I missed your cooking Y/n.”

“Go lay down in bed, I will clean up in here.”

“No leave that for tomorrow.”

Kiseok stood and grabbed my hand before leading the way back to the bedroom. He pulled the covers back before climbing in and dragging me along with him. I smiled as I snuggled into his chest.

“I missed you Y/n.”

“I missed you too oppa.”

“You’re really not going to let me out of this apartment?”

“Nope, you better deal with it. This little stunt of yours is not cool oppa. I am very mad at you and at Jay for going along with this stupid plan. Do you have any idea of how worried you had me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worried. I won’t do it ever again.”

“Good cause I don’t plan on ever giving you the chance to do this again.”

“Oh really? How are you going to do that?”

“Well you will either have to move in here or I move into your apartment.”

The room was silent and I felt maybe I had gone too far. This whole time apart made me realize I didn’t want to waste any more time apart from him. I needed to make a move if I wanted to be happy.

“What are you getting at Y/n?”

“What I am trying to say is that I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I am probably going to be way out of line here but to hell with it. I like you Kiseok….no I love you. Not just as a friend but like in the way that the thought of you with another woman drives me crazy.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“I would never lie to you oppa.”

“Wow I had no idea.”

“I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

I try to move away and off his chest but he held me close to him not allowing me to escape.

“Where do you think you are going.”

“I went too far, I was just trying to give you some space.”

“You didn’t do anything of the sort. If anything, I feel little ashamed that you made that confession before I could.”

“What?”

“Y/n I have been in love with you for years but never made a move because I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, wow I feel silly. I should have said something first not you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

I looked up at him as he looked down at me and smiled before bending down and taking my lips with his. The kiss was soft and sweet, his lips felt like home and I smiled into the kiss before we broke up apart.

“Oppa don’t think you are off the hook just because you kissed me.”

“Hmm, maybe I need to do something else to get you to forget about my little stunt.”

I laughed as he brought the blankets fully over us. The world felt right with him wrapping himself around my body. Nothing could top this feeling right now, but he better be prepared for an encore performance because I knew I wouldn’t get enough of him.