#that was like. our first taste of tumblr fame

[snarrybang]

This is it, folks - the whole SnarryBANG! 2023 smörgåsbord is fully posted on AO3 and in our #snarrybang23 tag. Fics, playlists, podfics, art... Seventeen Snarry collabs!

All kinds of Snarry flavours for all tastes :D

Banner Description: This is a black and white picture. Harry and Severus are framed in a Polaroid-like photographed, taped to the banner. Both have their eyes open and smiling slightly, although Severus's is more like a smirk. Event name and info are to their right. By @flymetosnarryland !

Below the cut lies the treasure :D

Promises, promises... Fic by @serenaew , art and banner by @acydpop General Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 4,990

Summary: Healer Harry Potter has been pining after his former-professor-turned-occasional-consultant-colleague Severus for a while now, but he doesn't believe anything will come out of it. Turns out, his children, Jamie, Al and Lily, have a surprise for his birthday — will he like it? Tumblr post

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where the sky meets the sea Fic by @peujeune, art and banner by @flymetosnarryland Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 11,664

Summary: After the Final Battle, Severus disappears to South England leaving the wizarding world to believe he's dead. He'd meant to live the rest of his life out alone, dying in obscurity, but a pesky siren who's decided he's Severus's new best friend puts a dampener on that plan. And Severus, surprisingly, does not seem to mind at all. Tumblr post

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Eavesdropper Fic by Wendymarlowe, art and banner by @acydpop Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 2,439

Summary: Severus Snape never really learns to play the violin, exactly. There wouldn’t have been the money, even if his father wasn’t tippling away his occasional paycheques. That doesn’t stop Severus’s violin from being his earliest and most prized possession, though - summoning it from thin air had been his first accidental magic, pulling it to and from wizardspace as easy as breathing, and he guards his secret jealously for years. The music comes from somewhere inside him, set free the moment he set bow to strings. Tumblr post

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The Curse of Anteros Fic, playlist, and banner by @danpuff-ao3, art by @mrviran Explicit Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 52k

Summary: When Harry is cursed, he seeks out Severus Snape. They have a long history behind them, after all, and they've always had so much between them. Tumblr post

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Love from the Past Fic by @maraudersaffair, art by @stopme Explicit Underage Words: 14,447

Summary: When Harry loses his magic, he seeks out a cartomancer for help. She tells him his other half is dead and his future lies in the past. When he uses the spell she gives him, he accidentally Summons a teenage Severus from 1977. Tumblr post

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The Secret Life of Portraits Fic by @whimsyckle, art and banner by @acydpop Teen And Up Audiences Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Words: 6,462

Summary: Severus Snape tries to live the rest of his after life as a portrait as uneventful as possible. Enter Harry Potter. Tumblr post

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A Shrouded Encounter Fic by @corinalannister, art and banner by @stopme Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 5,179

Summary: Harry has relationship issues because he is the Chosen One and everyone wants something from him—whether that’s fame, money or status—and Harry has had enough. He just wants a normal relationship. Harry asks his friend Neville for advice, and Neville recommends anonymous sex, his reasoning: if people don’t know he is Harry Potter then they can’t ask him for anything. This results in Harry visiting a glory hole and having the time of his life with someone who hates his guts. And, what better way to possibly start a relationship? Harry knows that if they don’t like him, then they certainly don’t want anything from him. Aside from sex. And Harry is fine with that. It’s a win-win. For both him and Severus. Tumblr post

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Detention with Snape Fic by @danzanelfuoco, art and banner by @acydpop Explicit Underage Words: 6,987

Summary: “You shouldn’t look so pleased about getting detentions, Potter,” Severus told him as soon as the boy opened the door and waltzed in. Severus didn’t need to raise his head from the homework he was marking to know the boy had the same expression he had always donned for their detentions. He looked up nonetheless. Potter took a second to reign in his smile, biting his cheeks to avoid it spreading even further and utterly failing. “You shouldn’t look so pleased about giving me detentions, then. Sir,” he replied, grinning broadly. Tumblr post

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dream a little dream of me Fic by @dandelionstars, art and banner by @acydpop Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 4,562

Summary: While Severus was not a strong enough Seer to receive complete soulmate dreams, unfortunately, he had just enough power to catch fleeting moments of his soulmate. These flashes of intense joy were more of a curse than a blessing. Despair was suffocating when his hopes were dashed again and again like carved crystal, inevitably shattered on the floor. A Snarry Soulmate AU Tumblr post

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Shapes in the Deep Fic and art by @ac1d6urn, podfic by Cailynwrites. From a draft by Taxonomic! Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 20,068

Summary: In Greater Marrow, there are but a few simple rules to survive the night: porch lights stay on till dawn, quirky fish dishes are a standard fare, and the fog keeps everyone inside after sunset. Newcomer Harry learns this from the gruff bartender who tends to the lighthouse beacon. What lurks in the fog -- surely, not monsters? Would the press discover Harry's private hideaway? And why does his new acquaintance remind Harry of Severus Snape? Let's find out. Tumblr post

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Restitutio ad integrum Fic and banner 2 by @danzanelfuoco, Art & Banner 1 by @anaki-boo Teen And Up Audiences Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Words: 7,800

Summary: Harry writes a list, pros and cons of abandoning a career path that has already been laid in front of him, served on a silver platter - he’s the Boy Who Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, he’s up to become Head of the Auror Department in less than five years, and he’s seriously thinking about quitting, and going back to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's foolish, so Harry writes a list. Severus Snape figures in both columns. Tumblr post

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Fidelitas Fic and art by @serenaew, art and banner by @ac1d6urn Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 3,228

Summary: fidelitas, atis, f noun 1. faithfulness, fidelity The long-awaited happy ending to the Halcyon Days series!And as she watches the two ethereal kingfishers dance their song around one another, enfolding their owners in a world of their own, she finds herself thinking: Yes, this is how it should be. Tumblr post

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In Search For Harry Fic by @goddess47 , art by @flymetosnarryland Mature No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 15,533

Summary: The Horde has reason to search for Harry Potter, who has chosen not to be found. But the Horde did find a connection between Harry and Severus... is it enough to allow Severus to find Harry? Tumblr post

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Legato Fic and playlist by ONYX_TWILIGHT, podfic by Cailynwrites, banner by @acydpop General Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 3,555

Summary: This wasn’t the first time he’d gone for a walk at night, though normally he’d always end up back at Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t sure why this time was different, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Tumblr post

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The Still Year Fic by @titconao3, banner and art by @ofnightsndsongs Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 34,299

Summary: Severus wakes up after the war, but that had never been part of the plan. He's lost, but he's not the only one who has to find himself now Voldemort is defeated… Or: how Severus learned how to choose life. Tumblr post

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Wish not for a soul that is full of sin Fic and playlist by @serenaew, art and banner by @hereiamwithmyninjaclan Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 3,852

Summary: After all, a flighty soul could not return to the water, or to the earth, as they maintained all life eventually should. (What one did not have, they believed, could not be broken.) Prologue to the merman!Snape, amnesia AU no one asked for. Tumblr post

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The Boggart Fic by @sinick and @ac1d6urn, banner art by @ac1d6urn Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 30,282

Summary: Imprisoned and out of options, Severus encounters a friendly Boggart. Adrift after Voldemort's defeat, Harry allows his worst nightmare to become his guilty pleasure, that is until Severus asks for his help. Harry remembers the advancing Dementors and the Patronus cast on the night of Voldemort's final attack, but what really happened between them? And why does he keep suspecting that nothing will ever be the same? Tumblr post

[clementineofmine]

"Some Things Just Take Time," #2, 4, and 14

Woohoo, thanks @rockinlibrarian for another ask for Some Things Just Take Time!

2: What scene did you first put down?

This is the second fic in a series, so by this time I had an idea of what the characters were doing and what I wanted to happen so I started with the first scene with Five and Dolores! And then I did actually attempt to plot this out chapter by chapter, but of course that changed wildly over time. I'm a panster, not a plotter, at heart, so even my best laid plans are often waylaid by the characters making their own decisions and not telling me ahead of time.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Yay, I wrote much more dialogue for this fic than I ever had before, so I'm glad I get to answer this again! One of my favorite scenes is Five and Diego in the aftermath of some shenannigans. In this scene, Diego's been pissed at Five for some valid and some not very valid reasons for quite a while now, and I wanted to give these two a chance to connect and potentially heal old grudges. Sorry this is more than dialogue but eh I get to answer it how i want :)

“Remember that stupid board that Dad had? That he insisted on those stupid bullshit scores?” Diego asked. “I didn’t think they were bullshit,” Five shook his head slightly.  Diego looked at Five, and had to do a double take. Whether it was the resurgence of memories or the way Five’s hair had fallen across his face, Five looked incredibly young, and so much like the teenager Diego remembered.  Diego blinked to clear that thought. “Yeah, well that’s because you were usually on top, asshole. Half the time you cheated.”  Five scoffed. “Technically, using our powers wasn’t cheating.”  “Technically,” Diego scoffed back, “means bullshit and you know it.” Five looked at the ceiling before he spoke next. “You and Luther were always so full of yourselves. Allison, too. Like, just because my number was five, instead of one or two, I was supposed to let you beat me or something.” “Well, I—” Diego bit back a smart retort and started again. “No. It wasn’t that. Dad just always seemed to like you better. And then when you left…” he swallowed the rest of that sentence, tasting the bitterness of the words.  When Five had left, their father spent the next three years pushing the rest of the siblings, as if they had to make up for the loss of his favorite. He had pushed them to achieve, pushed them into fame, but it was always with a sneer on his face, always with a taste of bitterness. It was untenable, and Ben had been the first to break. After that, they had all found their way to leave.  “...it was like he was punishing us. For you being gone.” 

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

YES THERE IS. I'm not the first or the last author to do this, but what drove me to write this fic is wanting to show the siblings working together, working through their dysfunction, to succeed. And secondly, for them to realize the value in working as a team. I also wanted to showcase Five as I see him, as an old and tired, half-mad, flawed person who makes mistakes but is never going to stop, never going to give up until he saves his family. He's a character driven by love, even if he doesn't quite understand what that means.

Thanks so much for the ask! It was fun. And, it forced me to remember my tumblr password so I could do this on my computer, because doing asks on mobile is bullshit.

Fic ask game

[clairelsonao3]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you to @winterandwords for tagging me in this one! I love Q&As, I don't care what the questions are!

1. What motivates you to write?

The pursuit of fame and fortune.

Just kidding. No, in all honesty, there was a time when I was obsessed with writing for the market. I still want to make money with my fiction someday, I'm not gonna lie. But actually, it's always been about telling stories that I know no one else will tell and that need to be told. If I'm that invested in a story, nothing will stop me from finishing it.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This is the last section of the opening chapter of The Adored. And it's going to get changed, so don't get too attached. But the gist of it has stayed through all drafts:

CW: Mention of teen females (consensually?) groping a teen male:

Hell, before this year, he’d never left the state of Minnesota. He and Afton didn’t eat pie on a boat on their first date, either. They didn’t even have a first date. But he’s let the world believe it, along with a million other lies that look pretty under pastel filters and amazing in 200 characters or less. Lies that dance center stage, that come alive under the lights. The lies are Afton’s truth. Thayer’s truth. Social media’s truth.

But they aren’t ours. Micah's and my truth is different. It’s underground, rotting in basements and prison cells, and all the dark places he still prays never to have to go back to. It’s about the night I saw Afton with a man in a dark Jaguar that turns Micah pale when he sees it, about the chains that still choke his heart and soul. It’s the jagged puzzle whose pieces he relied on me to put together, then told me never to reveal — the whats, but not the whys.

It’s why we’re really quitting.

But there’s one last truth. It’s what he’s trusting me to find. Me, the gawky giraffe in borrowed Balenciaga, with a bass she can barely play. The blurry face in the background. The tacked-on name at the bottom of the story. Bandmate Isley Nash.

I want to ask him, why me?

But before I can, it’s over. He throws himself backward off the stage. His body arches through space like a supernova. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for. They caress him, groping his hair, his legs, his junk. His eyes close. He’s lost. He’s theirs. For them, there’s only tonight.

And unless I find that truth, tonight is all there will ever be. 

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Micah (see above) is a reluctant teen rock star, a defiant rebel, a deadpan snarker, a (probable) murder victim, and my OG sad boi, so I'm always going to go with him.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Editing. Drafting is trying to make something out of nothing, which is torture. Editing, meanwhile, is sculpting something you create (which is almost always terrible to start off with) into something good, which is fun and fulfilling. I will vomit unreadable, ungrammatical crap onto the page just so there's something there to edit when I go back. For me, that's where 99% of the real work of writing gets done.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialogue! I think my dialogue is often funny and entertaining. Can I say that? I'm saying that.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Getting tagged to fill out Q&As like this and ramble about myself ad nauseum! No, seriously, the community I've found on Tumblr has amazingly changed my life in the best way -- and I've really only been here a few months! Here, I've found talented writers, engaged readers, and all-around wonderful human beings, who do not only NOT judge me for my bizarre tastes, but in many cases actually share them. Finding a community like that is rare enough in the internet hellscape where we often find ourselves, let alone IRL, and I will be grateful for it always.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I've reluctantly come around to Grammarly, even though I snobbishly thought I didn't need it. Oh, and chatGPT. No, I'm kidding. I have tried it out, though. (Haven't we all?)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

CW for discussing slavery in a clinical, dispassionate way (IDK, might be a trigger for some).

I've long thought you can't really understand or write about slavery without understanding the basic economics behind it, whether historically or in a fictional context. In most fiction with institutionalized slavery, it's either completely controlled by a dystopian government or by one single, massive company. To me, neither seemed realistic, and I think this is where this world differs from other related ones. In the world of GSNBTR, slavery is like any other sector under capitalism: it's multiple businesses of various sizes and with different niches competing against each other for customers, while being regulated (relatively lightly) by the government (as lobbied for by special interests, of course). And that also means thinking hard about the kinds of roles slaves would be likely to fill in a modern society built on that system, where they come from (likely many different places), who would own, trade, and manage them (whether government, corporations, or individuals) and how they would be likely to be used -- ie., it's not just domestic servants and sex workers, in fact, those are likely the minority of slaves. The majority are fast-food workers, landscapers, cleaners, dishwashers, farmworkers, general laborers, etc. etc. I suspect some are also used in the entertainment industry in some capacity (i.e. some actors/musicians/athletes are literally owned by movie studies/record companies/sports leagues), but I haven't really puzzled this out in detail. This stuff isn't necessarily fun to think about, but it's a must in a story like this, and I definitely did spend a lot of time thinking about it.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Are you writing what you really want to write? Always write what you want, not what you think you should. And if you can't write just for yourself, write for just one person. The rest of your audience will come naturally.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I have to of course start with the talented writers whose work was so amazing it drew me in and got me to stay: @little-peril-stories @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

And then, to my astonishment, they reached out to support me and my own work, at times in ways far beyond anything I ever could have imagined. 💕

And then! On various levels, I've been lucky enough to know and interact with @i-can-even-burn-salad @whither-wander-whump @rickie-the-storyteller @mysticstarlightduck @painful-pooch @tabswrites @burntcoffeewhump, and @winterandwords!

And there are so many more great folks that I'm only just starting to discover, such as the following I'll gently tag (as well as OPEN TAG for anyone I mentioned above -- since you're already here, after all -- and anyone else reading this! 😂)

@romanceandshenanigans @digital-chance

[likeadevils]

Hi! This is probably annoying of me to ask at this point, but can you explain the platypus milk thing? I haven’t been on tumblr since pre-rep 2017, so I feel like I’m missing something!!

the anniversary of the First Platypus Cult Meeting is coming up in february— the 24th i think? maybe 25? and @imhereonthekitchenfloor has all of the posts from that queued if you want to see the start of the joke, but the basic is

swiftie tumblr was pretty slow and had been for months

a few blogs were fucking around having food discourse (specifically about milk funny enough) earlier in the night but nothing was really taking off and people had mostly gone to bed

@singlethread was like. hey you guys wanna hear a fun animal fact? platypi don’t have nipples! instead they sweat milk!

queue the obvious question. what does platypus milk taste like

(here’s my claim to fame in the cult: nobody fucking knows. the only written record i can find of it on google is this guy richard owen (inventor of the word dinosaur, certified weirdo in MANY ways) who tasted, get this, the milk from a taxidermied platypus. he said it tasted mostly like nothing and a little bit like the alcohol-y scent of preservatives. i can rant about this for hours.)

(further research has yielded that platypus milk is high in fat, and thus naturally much more creamy than cow milk. this is still just an educated guess though nO ONE HAS TASTED IT AND THEN DESCRIBED IT ON THE INTERNET)

so that gets tossed around a bit and lots of very silly barely comprehensible jokes were made about everything and anything platypus related and it all had big like. sleepover past midnight everyone has lost their MINDS energy

god this is so chaotic i love you guys so much i want to send you all a friendship bracelet

a friendship bracelet with PLATYPUS MILK in it

hey guys we’re sounding a bit culty

oh my god guys swiftie blood cult

oh my god what if we make friendship bracelets with platypus milk and a little drop of our blood ❤️

and it was one of the first big fandom nights in the post-taylor tumblr sphere and kinda ended up defining what we were gonna look like and brought people together in a really wholesome way and is also just. a really funny topic of discussion so every few weeks we just start talking about it again! there’s a few Notable Cult Members (@thenighttrain lived in australia at the time and this was tasked with acquiring the platypi, @whoisidsbanyway-ewww and @imhereonthekitchenfloor were making a ton of funny jokes, i’m sure there’s like half a dozen other people i’m forgetting) but mostly the cult is nebulous and always accepting new members and jokes

[nancypullen]

Where Do I Start?

Ireland is beautiful. Beautiful. My mouth drops open at every curve in the road (and there are so many curves...). We've already roamed three castles and communed with fairies. I've groaned over the deliciousness of Irish stew and, though I'm not really a bread eater, slices of warm traditional Irish soda bread smeared with local butter that is out of this word. Ireland does simple pleasures in the very best way.

So. We landed, collected our bags, and picked up our rental car. Mickey has done an incredible job of driving from the right side of the car on the left side of the road. This country is filled with round-abouts and entering them by heading left goes against every natural instinct we have. I'm so impressed with his steady hand and ability to adapt. It's not for the faint of heart and he's gotten us safely to every spot for the last three days. We haven't even been honked at yet. Maybe our sign helps.

Our first day was spent in Dublin. After an overnight flight we did what we always do - got out in the fresh air and waked around! We visited Merrian Park and saw Oscar Wilde's monument.

As well as the tribute to Dermot Morgan (of Father Ted fame). We absolutely oved him. HIs memorial is called The Joker's Chair and a plaque nearby reads, "….and all the rest is laughter, laughter liberating, laughter to be remembered."

We roamed the beautiful grounds of Trinity University.

That's a former provost, much beloved, who once said that women would attend Trinity "over my dead body". It's now tradition for young women graduating from the school to have a picture snapped with him on their special day. Be careful what you wish for, sir. We strolled and got ourselves good and tired. It's important for us to get on local time/bed time the first night. Makes the rest of the trip so much easier.

Our first day ended with a dinner of fish and chips for Mickey and Irish stew for me.

Talk about comfort food. I've never tasted a stew so good. Ever. Those carbs helped me sleep like a baby. The next morning we pointed our car south and headed out of Dublin.

Our first stop was Rock of Cashel. It's been the seat of Irish kings since the 4th century. For many centuries it was pagan kings, then Christianity arrived, religion rued the and, and there were "Bishop Kings". The interesting man who provided us with a tour before we roamed around on our own was a wealth of information (I mean, it's his job...) and kept stressing that it's not a castle, it's a religious compound. He repeated this over and over, and as soon as we got back in the car we agreed that if kings lived there until 1749, it's a castle. Yes, there's a chapel and a cathedral, but it was the castle from which Ireland was rued for centuries. Look at us arguing with the experts. Anyway, it was gorgeous.

Hang on, Tumblr isn't letting me add more photos. Might have to do a part two. Don't want to lose this post! Stand by.

[yourgodeater]

As we're here on the cusp of the Tumblr-held Sexyman Poll Finals, part of me wants to reflect back on what's come up during the voting that I think is fun: the evolution of the modern Tumblr Sexyman.

Welcome to Nightvale and Cecil Palmer is probably the first queer representation that a large portion of Tumblr users circa 2012 that was genuine (Especially during the age of SuperWhoLock and peak of western fujoshi(?) culture).

That was when we were teens or preteens, but a lot of us have stuck around on Tumblr for a long time. We joke about how the userbase has aged and that's true! So, our tastes must have changed in some way, naturally.

Using a podcast example, we saw this is the popular depiction of Jon Sims of The Magnus Archives fame. Typically we see Jons that are any combination of POC, more middle aged, varying levels of facial hair, general GNCness, ect.

Those who are fans of WTNV look at those traits and can draw similarities with modern Cecil designs that are usually more true to things we know about Cecil in canon (as little as that is).

So, what the hell were those paragraphs even for, stranger? Right, what makes a Tumblr Sexyman.

We're all familiar with the Tumblr Sexyman Wiki traits. Well, guess what! We're throwing all those out, because the overcomplicated, categorized nature of those 2010s Sexyman don't have to hold weight in this modern day.

At the end of the day, a Tumblr Sexyman is a character that a large (or loudest) percentage of Tumblr users find attractive in some way that has a significant influence on Tumblr culture in some way.

Now, that feels to broad and I am aware of the general ambiguity. Hell, you're probably thinking I am giving this too much heart and it's just supposed to be fun!

And, you're right! Not everyone likes not having traits to objectively compare their options to. Not everyone thinks this even matters and really, it doesn't.

But we have to draw ourselves back from the hype and the jokes - to strip back all the over complication to remember that the Tumblr part is the most important part.

The Twitter poll was never a true answer because it included more of the Twitter userbase's bias.

No matter how funny the bit, it's the Tumblr userbase that knows what it likes.

And - realistically - the fact the Twitter poll lined up with the death of the Queen was just a coincidence and most likely will not happen again even if Sans wins.

TL;DR : the idea of the Tumblr Sexyman is directly tied to the website's userbase and the modern day Tumblr Sexyman has fundamentally changed as we have aged. Cecil Palmer just has the influence on most of the people who stuck around and is a beloved queer rep.

Remember to have fun, don't send death threats, learn queer history, educate the younger/new users who don't know our history, and don't be cruel to the other team - no matter who wins.

(also, I'm tried so don't feel the need to dissect my writing much. I'm just think this is a topic that's interesting and wanted to stop lurking for a sec to share my thoughts)

CECILSWEEP

[angel-fruitcake]

i literally just now wrote out an entire post about this, had it queued up and everything, when this lovely post by @rocksalt-and-pie from last year popped up on my dash. so, if it's okay, i'd like to expand a little bit upon this-

for supernatural season 16, or revival or reunion (preferably a miniseries at the very least) or whatever, if there ever will be such a thing...

the writers absolutely need to turn to the fans. i mean, think about it. they have 15-20 years worth of fan-made material to peruse for plot lines. and everyone knows, there have been so many genius, well thought out concepts and story arcs and complex character situations (like the ones mentioned in that post^^) that have been dreamt up by this expansive fanbase.

respectfully, there are only a handful of spn writers. but there are thousands, tens of thousands, of creative and imaginative fans that have been pouring their hearts out for this show all over the internet for almost 2 decades. the sheer amount of content to pull from is staggering. not to mention, incredibly easy to access and explore.

of course they don't need to follow those ideas to a T. in fact, they would need to tweak and adjust things at least slightly, so as not to be sued. but they could definitely gain abundant inspiration from the vast wealth of fanfics, edits, fan art, tiktok/tumblr/twitter posts, you name it. and they could have so much fun with it, too.

would they be able to please everyone? of course not, that's impossible. but there a number of popular, well-established obvious elements that they could easily incorporate, and a general direction that they could take the story, with a huge potential to make an extensive portion (dare i say the majority) of the fandom very, very happy.

and in doing this, they would not only be showing their recognition of and appreciation for their very talented fanbase, but it would also serve as the ultimate redemption of this remarkably impactful tv show. they have a chance to essentially wipe the slate clean, end things on a good (great) note instead of a sour one. the bad taste that the series finale left in nearly everyone's mouth could be washed away and replaced with the best gift a series could ever give to their fans- respect, gratitude, consideration, and devotion in the form of fan service

additionally, they would be the first ones to do this (to such an extent). it would be groundbreaking, earth-shattering, never the same totally unique completely not ever been done before

the internet would be in shambles. again. the already decent amount of fame that this show has amassed over the years would skyrocket. and we as fans would be having the time of our lives experiencing it.

so to the spn writers, if you're out there working on/planning to work on season 16: I BEG YOU, DO NOT WASTE THIS OPPORTUNITY

just food for thought.

and please, for the love of god. do not let the cw take any part in it.

TLDR: the supernatural writers should actually, legitimately listen to the fanbase and draw from their brilliant ideas when writing the revival/season 16.

[xo8ball]

OK OK OK FAVR SONG FROM EVERY FOB/MCR ALBUM (if I listed MV's too I'd be here all day :] )

FOB

TTTYG: Dead on Arrival (my grandpa likes this one so I like it too!!)

FUTCT:Dark Alley, or Get Busy Living!!

IOH: I'm Like a Lawyer, or G.I.N.A.S.F.S!!

Folie á Deux: Headfirst Slide, 27, or West Coast Smoker!

SRAR:,,,the entire album,,,

AB/AP: ...the entire album is such a fucking banger

MANIA: The Last of the Real Ones, HOLD ME TIGHT OR DONT, Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea

SM(F)S: THE ENTIRE ALBUM IS SUCH A FUCKING BANGERRRR AUGH

MCR

Bullets: Honey, This Mirror isnt big enough for the both of us, Our Lady of Sorrows, and vampires will never hurt you!!

Three Cheers:The Ghost of You, To The End, It's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish (it's not on the actual thing but I love Desert Song)

Black Parade:This Is How I dissapear, Dead!, Mama

DD:TLOTFK: EVERY SINGLE SONG ON HERE FUCKS.

Conventional Weapons: Boy Division, Tommorows Money, The World is Ugly, AMBULANCE

Black Parade/Living With Ghosts:All The Angels, Emily, Not That Kind of Girl!!

(Sorry if this list is kinda long, I'm just normal about these albums :]]] )

you're on tumblr who is normal here :3 (positive)

granpa has taste me thinks!!!!! AND I GETTT ITT its so hard choosing from srar and abap theyre INSANELY cool <3 SMFS MY BELOVED THEY DID DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT AND PRETEND I WAS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT. NO IM NOT I'M BETTER THAN EVER

for mcr, YES desert song deserves that spot from here to the moon (and from the earth to the morgue) ALL THE ANGELS AND EMILY MY ULTRA BELOVEDDDDSSS <3 love that living with ghosts is there you just get it buddy

nows my turn heehaaa!

fob

tttyg : postcards specially has my whole heart, sounds so... TEENAGER. special mentions to : saturday, chicago, dead on arrival, and calm before the storm

futct : i definitely have a fave and it's XO can you see.... but as corny as it is, i love dance dance, and also nobody puts baby, 7 minutes, snitches and talkers, music or misery, and get busy! never gets old :]

ioh : SO HARD BECAUSE ITS BANGER AFTER BANGER ..... defo hum hallelujah because i love her so bad! golden too, carpal tunnel, fame > infamy, youre crashing, ive got this ringing, after life of the party and dont you know who i think i am :3 (DID I LIST ALL OF THEM IDK... LOL LMAO)

FOLIE... you cabt do this to meeee..... literally cant stop listening to the whole album its all good! but top top top Mega Top faves are headfirst slide, suitehearts, 27, what a catch, shipped gold standard and disloyal order, but cant pity 13 queens against eachother<3

ON SRAR ITS SO BAD FOR ME its really good but the mighty fall wins by far it just does it for me. ALSO I REALLY LIKE THEM ALL but tmf.. shes special

abap is crazy good and twin skeletons will always kill me as uma thurman dances on my dead body. cant choose too much, Novocaine, 4th of july and jet pack blues also are very <3 IRRESISTIBLE WINS MV CATEGORY HERE first time i saw it i almost frew up from laughing its so good for my humor

mania will be forever my close to first fave post hiatus! wilson expensive mistakes GETS IT and also sunshine riptide <3

on a special note : believers never die! dear future self and from now on we are enemies are ingrained so bad in me <3

for the newest addition in the family, smfs is a good album back to back! so good right now, i am my own muse, flu game, what a time to be alive and the title track are the ones i find myself singing the most, but i do like every single one!!

Well that's a lot! now for the vampires :3

bullets : this one album hits close! but early sunsets made a home in me, as well as drowning lessons, headfirst for halos, skylines and turnstiles and well demolovers too because!!

revenge : BOMB album will say that. every single song is SO good<3 i never told you will always be mine mine and forever mine! but i really like every single song in there, jetset life is good too, helena and ghost of you also win! oh no THEYRE ALL GOOD also best demo is i never told you. "covered in blood and piss" forever.

tbp is my second favorite album ever, the theatrics, the feeling, the instrumentality....... <3 i dont love you, the sharpest lives, mama and sleep go by far to be my adored most repeated ones, but cant really choose! mcr you put a curse on me

dd is AMAZING the comics are CRAZY GOOD it was the FIRST INTRODUCTION I HAD TO MCR whatever so cool so dancey so party <3 SING IS MY BABY GIRL NOBODY TOUCH HER everynyan hates her but i love her. save yourself, destroya, scarecrow are soooo good too.......... my baby girls

conwep IS MY girl she gets me. gun is the only one i dislike as i said but mdhfjejemwnwb <3333 so much love to her <33333 ambulance, surrender the night, burn bright, kiss the ring and make room! my babies

living w ghosts KILL ALL YOUR FRIENDS FOREVER <3 emily, my way thru home is you and all the angels get it<3

mention to foundations because i still cant heal and cope I LOVE FOUNDATIONS REALLY REALLY BADDDDDD SO MUCH WO M7CH IM SO PUMPED UP FOR MCR5 <3

oh thats longer now. OKAY ALRIGHT drop me your fave era or looks :3

[facelessmemories]

Summer Memories

First Tumblr post wooo! Decided to post an old fic I had never posted, hope you guys enjoy.

Warnings: Kinda angsty, bittersweet ending, fluff

wc.6k +

Childhood! Kitsune! Miya twins AU x afab reader (she/her pronouns used)

---

Waves lapping against the shore, cicadas chirping as they nest on dappled trees, the smell of the lilting breeze and bitter goodbyes; golden sunsets tinting our summer memories.

It was summer again. This was made clear to the melancholic nine-year-old as you watched the trees blur past the back seat SUV windows. You never liked summer. To most children, summer was an exciting escape from scholarly activities; a time to visit beaches, wear flowing floral dresses with straw sun-hats or eat chilled melon by the lakeside- but to you, summer was hot and unforgiving. The sunshine that should have brought you joy only stung your eyes. To you, summer tasted no better than bitter orange rinds. 

Ma didn’t like summer either. You had to spend the entirety of it away from her. 

“You ought to be a big girl now” she would say. “Spend time with your Pa, it's only for a few months”.

A few months felt like forever- forever with a stranger. Pa was never home when you were young, even less when your Ma spoke through tears telling you he was never coming back. 

Di-vor-ce. Divorce? You had a hard time wrapping your head around the pronunciation, but you reckoned that ‘divorce’ was what your Ma had meant. You had heard a few concerned teachers talking about it in the hallways, only ushering you off frantically when they saw your head peeking from the corner. You scoffed. Adults were always hiding secrets. You guessed that they didn’t think you would understand because you were ‘too young’. 

The juxtaposing jubilant melody of summer hits hummed quietly in the background, the occasional rhythmic clicking of the turning signal or the jolt from bumps in the road served as a distraction from your stewing feelings of pensive sadness. You didn’t like summer, and you didn’t really like your Pa. 

I wish I was home.

----

The crunching of gravel and the slow swaying of an ending turn woke you from your stupor. Your father briefly opened his door to stretch before giving you an awkward smile. 

“Hey squirt, we’re finally here. Let me get your things and put them into your room”. 

When you gave no answer and only stared at the collar of his shirt with empty eyes and pressed lips, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

Laughing to fill the silence, he smiled again- no less awkwardly before, but a little more dejected, you noticed. 

“Say what- how about I fix you a bento and you can go explore in the woods?” he gestured to the bountiful nature attached to his property. “There’s a frog pond close by and there’s some pretty nice weather today- leave the boring adult stuff to me”. 

Still silent, you nodded, to which upon noticing, the tension in your father’s shoulders lifted slightly. 

“Sounds good squirt”. 

You watched as he disappeared from the car and into his cottage home, leaving the trunk and car doors open. A good way to let in flies, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

Trees shifted slightly in the warm breeze, the dappling of the evening sunlight casting shadows of foliage onto the warm wooden deck you had retreated to while waiting for your promised bento. 

Your father was wealthy, you supposed. You constantly heard the prim ladies of your mother’s office gossip about his famed writing career- something to do with traditional Japanese literature and poems- (though you noticed that the ladies gossip was snide regarding your Ma, which is why you never brought it up). You knew nothing about poetry or writing but you could definitely see the connection between your estranged father and his esteemed job. It simply made sense that he was eccentric, yet reserved and awkward. Most artists seemed to be that way, like Ms. Maraday; a European woman dressed in vibrant purples and eclectic, clashing, patterns that lived next door to your flat in Tokyo. She often wore long feathered caps and copious scarves, chemises, and silks. Your Ma told you she was an ‘interior designer’ (‘someone who made houses look pretty’-she later said when you told her you didn’t understand). 

If you remember correctly, you were now in Hyogo. It was a simple village with an emphasis on nature. The traditional Japanese home that laid amongst the towering trees made it look peaceful. You supposed that is why your father moved here, away from the bustle of the glowing city where he could concentrate on his work and be inspired by the elements that simply weren’t of abundance in a place like Tokyo. It made sense why he left-you knew this. People with passions like him needed suitable places for creation, yet this reasoning didn’t seem to cure the bitter ache that left a taste too pungent in your mouth. 

The sliding paper door caught your attention when your Pa returned, a cloth-wrapped bento in hand. 

“Go explore, squirt, just be careful and come back before it gets too dark”. 

He gave you an unappreciated head ruffle and limped back to the car to unpack (he’d always had a funky waddle- your Ma always called it his ‘penguin walk’). 

‘Time to explore’ you thought before stashing your bento into your yellow backpack and trekking down the forest pathway leading away from the house. 

---

The warm breeze flew past you gently, stringing along stray leaves and bending the branches above you in a graceful arc. It was more shadowy now; the shade from the canopy casting flowing shadows akin to when sunlight hits the sea. These woods seemed quite magical. Quiet; yet unexplored and imbued with mystery. You enjoyed the silence away from the reality of summer, and the fresh air that filled your lungs brought you temporary relief. 

You were no longer following any sort of pathway, having strayed from the main areas in a moment of distraction whilst looking at the rays of vibrant light peak through the leaves. This didn’t bother you much- you were keen on exploring and any bought time away from the house was time well spent as far as you were concerned. Birds chirped and creatures scurried along the tall blades of grass. Perhaps you would find a fairy- that would certainly make your adventure more exciting. You continued on, unwavering heat beating on your brow and causing gleams of sweat to form.

How long have you been out? It didn’t matter you supposed. It was just fun to wander in an unfamiliar place- plus you had been hoping to come across the frog pond your Pa had mentioned so you could hold them. There weren’t many frogs in Tokyo for you to hold. 

Though, despite your efforts to trudge on, you couldn’t ignore the rumbling in your stomach. The bento was looking more appealing by the second, and eventually, your hunger outweighed your determination to continue, as you settled by a sunning rock and dug around your belongings for the wrapped bento. 

Untying the pink patterned sheet, you unveiled your lunch, the rice from your tuna onigiri sparkling in the sunlight like a polished stone. You couldn’t wait to eat. 

Before you could even take a bite, a harsh rustling from a nearby bush caught your attention. You narrowed your gaze on the shaking bush, fear making hairs rise along your neck. Surely it was just a woodland creature- a rabbit perhaps? You wanted to find a fairy, not a monster, but when you creeped closer in fearful curiosity, the two identical pairs of glowing brown eyes within the shadows of the bush-branches made you leap away with a yelp. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your chubby little arms to brace yourself from the bush-monster. 

Two small shadows with pointed ears loomed over you and the bantering whispers of hushed voices made you peek cautiously. 

“I told ya I smelled food!”

“You said ya smelled something, not food.”

“Did not-”

“Did too!”

“Yer a liar-”

“Ya? Yer justa’ scrub.”

Two brunette boys around your age stood over you, bickering as their colored kimono- blue and red respectively- swished with each dramatic flair of their arms. The two were perfectly similar, like looking at your reflection in the mirror, and even more odd than the traditional clothing they were wearing, was the pointed fox ears and matching orange tails they donned. Were they real? They looked eerily realistic and the fact that the red kimono-wearing boy’s tail was flicking violently, affirmed that they were. 

Perhaps they were the mischievous kitsune fox-spirits from folklore. You gulped. They were talking about food- you just hoped they weren’t meaning you. 

“P-please d-d-don’t eat me” you stuttered quietly. 

Your meek voice managed to catch the attention of the twins as they gazed upon your crumpled form. 

“Ha- we don’t eat humans, ya scrub.” The red kimono-wearing boy said, gazing down at you with a look that said ‘you’re an idiot’. 

“We want soma’ that onigiri ya got there.” Chimed the second boy, his face stoic; a contrast from his more fiery counterpart. 

You hesitantly put down your arms and stood back up from the ground, getting a better look at the twins who gazed at you with intensity. 

“What are ya waiting for, human?” the red kimono boy hollered “Stop ya starin’ and share yer bento with us”. 

You listened, grabbing your bento and holding it out for them to take. 

The two wasted no time (you noticed the blue-kimono boy was the first to snatch a bite) gobbling up the tuna onigiri. You were safe for now, you hoped, and so you sat along with them near your rock and began to eat as well. 

“Uwahhhh~ these re’ delicious!” the boisterous red-boy spoke rudely through a mouthful of tuna and rice. You could practically see stars in his eyes as he chewed in delight- it reminded you of Ms. Maraday whenever she saw ‘handsome younguns’ pass by your neighborhood (you didn’t quite understand, but your Ma said you would when you were older-you weren’t too sure).  

You were very curious about these strange boys and who they really were. You desperately wanted to know, but you remained quiet, afraid to bring more attention to yourself. 

“We’re kitsune” the quieter one spoke, rice grains littered around his mouth. When you gave him a look of confusion he replied with a mouthful of onigiri “Ya looked like ya wanted to ask”. Nodding in understanding you smiled at the two, which caused them to stop chewing. 

“What’cha smilin’ for, human?” 

“Just happy that you aren’t monsters- and that you’re not gonna eat me”.

The boys gave each other a mirrored look of shock and proceeded to burst out laughing. 

“This again? Of course we aren't gonna eat ya, human,- yer probably not even tasty” the red boy cackled, showing his miniature pointed fangs. 

“Yer such a scrub” he added. 

“Super scrubby” his brother agreed. 

Ignoring the insult, you started to feel more comfortable around them. You didn’t think that they were going to bring you any harm. 

“What are your names?” you asked, chewing on some grapes.

“I’m Osamu,” the blue-wearing boy pointed to himself  “and Atsumu is my idiot brother over there” 

Atsumu lit up in indignation as he swatted his tail to flick his brother- ending in a small tussle between the two that you awkwardly witnessed. 

“I- my name is Y/N!” you exclaimed quickly, hoping to break up the fight. It thankfully worked, as the two separated (albeit glaring at each other) and nodded along, ears flicking in irritation. 

“Sounds likea’ pretty scrubby name to me” scoffed Atsumu as he dusted off his Kimono. He looked at you deeply, his more golden-flecked eyes searing into your mind. 

Though Atsumu seemed to be the more loud of the two, Osamu was just as intense. He had this aura of coldness and aloof eyes to match, despite his age. 

“Let’s call ya froggy instead. Ya look like the dopey frogs by the pond.”

Atsumu agreed with his brother, snickering at the suggestion, while you simply nodded in indifference. 

“You know where the frog pond is?” You asked.

The two boys quit their teasing and looked at you with identical squinted eyes of suspicion. You felt a little nervous. 

“Can you show me where the pond is? My Pa said it was close by but I can’t find it” you continued, hoping they would lead you so you could see the frogs they had named you after. 

“Hm… I dunno Froggy, that’s mine and Samu’s secret spot…” he trailed off with a pout on his lips and a mock-questioning expression, and you looked crushed. 

Atsumu quickly realized your fading expression as he piped up quickly with feigned disingenuous interest “I guess ya can tag along Froggy. Yer a scrub, but yer kinda cool I guess”. 

“-Cool enough ta’ give us onigiri” Osamu joined, hands folded inside his kimono sleeves. 

Your eyes sparkled like river stones in the sun as you gripped your yellow backpack straps in excitement.

“Let’s go ‘Samu-’Tsumu!”

The two boys bashfully looked away with pinkish faces, but you were too stoked to notice. 

The three of you traversed to the pond, you doddling behind the two twins as they playfully told you to hurry up. 

----

Meeting up by the frog pond became a regular occurrence throughout the summer spent at your father’s cottage. No longer was it ‘Tsumu and Samu’s secret spot’- it was your secret spot as well. Times when your father had to work on manuscripts, became times for the three of you to explore the plentiful woods together and gather by the frog pond for a lunch of tuna onigiri (you made your Pa pack extra routinely, and though he was confused at first, agreed- you were a growing girl, he reckoned). 

“I’m going to catch the biggest frog today!” Atsumu beamed with unwavering confidence. You giggled and cheered him on despite Atsumu frequently proclaiming this and never living up to it. 

“Good luck catching a frog ‘Tsumu. Yer ugly face scares them all away”. Osamu sneered, grinning cattishly. He stood knee-deep in the muddy pond with his kimono robe hitched up into undershorts and his sleeves rolled to his shoulders.

“Ya have the same face as me ya scrub!” Atsumu barked back, similarly in position like Osamu, but on the opposite side of the small pond. You simply sat on the banks, dipping your toes in the luke-warm shallows as you didn’t want to dirty the yellow sundress your Ma had given you. 

“Just ya watch ‘Samu! Yer gonna be cryin’ once ya see the fat toad I catch- Froggy! Watch me!” his fluffy orange tail flicked around as he wriggled like a cat in a hunting crouch. His eyes were focused on the water underneath him as his brother merely rolled his eyes with an irked huff. 

“Y/N could catch a bigger frog than ya and she’s not even in the water, ‘Tsumu.” 

The boy gave Osamu a deadpan glare and returned to his concentrated form.

A quick fox-like dash of a hand and an unceremonious splash (not appreciated ‘Tsumu) later, Atsumu cupped his prize delicately with both little hands, trodding out of the water towards you with Osamu following. He unveiled the grayish frog to you, basically the size of his entire palm.

“Ha! What did I tell ya ‘Samu? Look at my frog!” 

Osamu paled when you cooed, fascinated at his brother’s catch, and rolled back his sleeves preparing to go back into the water- this was a competition now. 

Atsumu had looked pretty pleased with himself, a cocky smirk and high-raised tail, only feeling his ego inflate larger when you complimented his frog-catching prowess. This was only temporary of course, as Osamu reappears by your side, cupping a perfectly same-size frog to Atsumu. 

“Ah- my frog is still bigger than yers ‘Samu!” Atsumu stomped bitterly, the puppy fluff by his ears riled. “Froggy- ya measure ‘em up. Tell us which frog is bigger!” 

You analyzed both frogs carefully. They were utterly identical- a lot like the twins facing you with beaming anticipation for your decision. 

“They’re both the same” you concluded, bringing faces of disappointment as the two bickered about which frog should have won the competition. 

“Here-” they stopped their fighting to look towards your smiling face as you stood to perch a daisy-link crown around the two ears between them. “You both can win the prize.” 

They stood tensely with synchronized blushing faces- both frogs long gone by now from the lack of watchful eyes. 

“Yeah…w-whatever. I guess we can both win..” Atsumu pouted as his hands fidgeted with your gift. Osamu similarly looked bashfully, whispering a ‘thank you’ and playing with his damp kimono sleeves. 

Despite their many differences, you could definitely see their brotherly similarities as they stood with mirrored shyness. You could only giggle. 

----

“I’m King of the rock today!”

Osamu huffed, a frown on his rounded face. 

“Yer always King of the rock ‘Tsumu!”

Breeze ruffled the long fronds of grass, the sound akin to brushing the fur of a large pooch (you imagine that such a pooch would need to use a pool as a bathtub and a rake as a comb). You pleasantly tuned out the background noise as you relaxed in the golden evening, serenaded by the season’s cicadas. This had been going on for a while now, the sharp tang of clashing voices sometimes pulling you out of your sleepy daze. 

Two twins perched on the highest ledge of the sunning rock, billowing tails irate and ears pinned flat against their brown locks, bickering about who would be crowned the prestigious title of ‘King of the rock’. This was often a game the three of you would play, Atsumu and Osamu rotating between the ‘King’ role and you faithfully claiming your position as the court advisor (neither of them knew what that meant, and you only knew about it because of your father’s habitual tendency to spout oddities at the dinner table). Though you certainly had no opinion on the matter, you knew for certain that the two trouble making brothers would rope you into it somehow. 

“Froggy!” “FROGGY” (said simultaneously) 

And here it was.

“Ya agree don’t ya? ‘Tsumu would make a better princess than a King”.

You held in a laugh at Atsumu’s blinking shock as the twins pounced on each other; frolicking fox kits in the summer sunlight. You could tell there was no real malice behind the two’s actions, they were brothers- hearts intertwined and spirits invigorated by each other’s energy. It almost made you envious. You grew up relatively lonely, only enjoying the presence of Tokyo and your imagination; the subway was your carriage, the chimes of streetlights your music, and the songbirds and alleycats, your friends- you wondered if a sibling would help fill that void. 

“OW! ‘Tsumu!”

You snapped out of your reverie, lying up from the flattened grass you nested on. Osamu sat on the mossy rock, eyes watering, lip quivering, and little hands nestling the bottom of his foot. You got up immediately, looking back to see Atsumu guiltily shuffling beside his brother, wringing his hands. He looked unsure what to do, and you could see tears beginning to well in his eyes as well, as he saw what he caused to his brother. 

Gently you took Osamu’s muddy foot into your hand and inspected the scrape from the fall. It was bleeding slightly, running a crimson pathway down his heel and pooling between the crevices between his toes. Running your sleeve along his heel to wipe the blood, you caught him wince- you tried more delicately this time, removing residual grime as well, seeing as the two fox-boys never wore footwear. 

You turned back to Tsumu who by now was sitting on the opposite end of the rock, looking ashamed and wilted like an unwatered houseplant. “‘Tsumu-” you called for his attention. 

He turned.

“Help me bandage your brother up?” You pawed around your yellow backpack looking for the small first-aid kit your mother insisted you carry around- finally the heavy tin box would be put to use. 

You instructed Tsumu to hold up his brother’s foot while you held up two bandaids- a hello kitty one with polka dots, and a blue one with patterned hearts. Both brothers grimaced at the ugly choices, but you gave them a look that got them to settle down. 

“Hello Kitty or hearts?” 

Osamu sniffed and chose the blue one (of course), to which you complied and stuck it to his heel. You prodded Atsumu who had returned to sulking, and whispered at him to apologize. 

It didn’t take long for his pride to break. He started to sob as he hugged his brother in a tight embrace and tugged at his kimono sleeves “Sorry ‘Samu! I didn’t mean ta hurt ya!”  

Samu pouted his lips pretending to still be offended, but you could tell it was all forgiven as he flicked his tail atop of his brother’s head like a strange hat and patted his arms. 

“Ya ya. Yer alright ‘Tsumu”.

It was genuinely heartwarming to see them interact and you began to enjoy your summer a little more while watching your friends. Atsumu’s sniffling ceased, as he looked up at the two of you bashfully. 

“Hey ‘Samu?”

“Ya?”

“Ya can be King today”.

----

The smell of cedar is strong in the midnight forest as you trek with your fox-eared friends. Cicada’s chirp loudly, framing the sounds of wooden sandals and calloused feet on the grassy pathway. 

“‘Saaamuuu, how long till we’re there?” You complained for the nth time that night. 

Looking to the right, with a mopey face to ‘Samu, posture slouching from what seemed to be hours walking in your young body, you were interrupted by the wrong twin.

“Keep it down, ya, Froggy?! Yer gonna scare the buggies with all ya groanin’!”

Osamu flicked his plume of a tail and nipped his twin’s ear at his snappy response. Atsumu only shrugged it off, but clearly looked peeved, taking the heel of his palm and smoothing out the fur of his ears with a huff. 

“We’re nearly there, Froggy. Don’cha worry ya little Froggy head, ya?” 

You giggled as ‘Samu ruffled your hair like a wet umbrella. Only to giggle louder when ‘Tsumu joined in the attack- the two boys relentlessly tickling you and making you forget about your aching tiredness. 

They two stopped only when spotting a scooping hill in the distance. 

“C’mon, Froggy! The night waits fer no one!”  

You attached yourself to the racing twins by holding on to their obi, venturing to the moonlit meadow just outside of the forest. 

You sucked in a deep breath as you gazed upon the endless expanse of the glittering indigo sky. Arcs of night clouds circled the pearl moon, trees bending in a graceful embrace around the tickling sweet grass, the scent of chill and clarity enrapturing the senses. The flickering stars reflected in your irises; gleaming with some wondrous awe the two boys became utterly fascinated with, as their own sharp eyes studied your tranquil ease. 

Placid lips, once silent, parted to speak- though it was clear your focus was still diverted to the summer heavens. 

“This place is so…” you paused; gentle winds jostling your locks and chirping creatures filling the silence. 

“Beautiful” you finished. 

The sway of the long grasses caressed your body as you laid to stargaze in the meadow. The twins, still entranced by your contentment with their surprise location, sat on either side of you- mirroring cheshire grins of success lacing their canine smiles.

The more boisterous fox chirped as he flattened his arms behind his head like a pillow. 

“Just ya wait. The best part hasn’t even started yet”.

You directed your starlit gaze to ‘Tsumu, wondering what else could be more magnificent than the ether above. Anticipation paid off, as in the corner of your eyes (next to a pair of smirking foxes), golden, floating, stars started to come from underneath the grass. 

“They’re stars!” you burst out in excitement. You look at the faces of your two cherished friends, watching them giggle at your unlady-like outburst. They didn’t bother correcting you, as you looked like you were having too much fun hopping like a grasshopper in the meadow, a huge grin on your face as you attempted to catch the floating stars. 

“‘Tsumu! ‘Samu!” you called. “Come catch the stars with me!” Atsumu was the first to wriggle his tail and pounce like a hunter towards you, tickling you as you absolutely beamed. Osamu watched on, laughing identically with his brother at your giddiness. When was the last time he and his brother had a friend like you?

It had always been him and Atsumu, facing the world together. Foxes are solitary creatures, and it’s rare that Inari, the fox goddess, would send such young kits to work in the human realm. You truly were a treasure. A glittering golden stone like the bright sun; something so ultimately precious to them, as if you were worth more than the tastiest fatty tuna onigiri or the high of winning against his brother- you were family. No longer was it two unlucky twin fox kits facing the shadows of the earthly plane- it was ‘Tsumu, ‘Samu and Froggy-forever. 

“-forever” Samu turned to your voice, you and ‘Tsumu panting and tired after chasing each other, and lying in the ticklish grass. 

“Let’s stay together forever” you repeated, turning to face Osamu with glittering fireflies reflected in your endless gaze.

“Forever” the twins agreed in unison.

---

“Ya know, Froggy” Astumu chirped, hands lazily folded behind his fox-eared head, “Those weren’t stars, they were buggies”. 

You gaped, eyes wide. “EHHHHHHH!!??”

---

The last day of summer vacation came too fast, and it also just so happened to land on the rainiest day in years. The weather was torrent, trees lashing by aggressively amidst the sharp drops of rain and the howling wind. Roads were closing, trains were halted- all in fear of the upcoming storm.

“You can’t go out today sweetie, I’m sorry-” your father tried to placidate your rising temper. He gestured his hands towards you, in a friendly embrace, only for you to whip out of his grasp in anger. 

“It’s not fair!” you cried, fat tears rolling down your soft face. “Why can’t I go out to see my friends?- I won’t-” you paused to catch your breath as you continued to choke on your emotions. “I won’t be able to see them for a long time!”

Battling his confusion at the mention of your unheard of ‘friends’, he ached in sympathy to see you in such a state, but your safety was his uttermost priority “Now, sweetie-”

“NO!” you stomped your foot in utter outrage. You couldn’t believe the audacity of your Pa, to try and stop you from seeing your friends-no-your family- before you left. You hardly spent the summer with our own father, as he was too busy, and now he wanted to take you away from your only reprieve of loneliness? 

“You can’t tell me what to do when you’ve never been there- you- you’re barely my Pa anyways!”

Your father looked on in horror, not only at your stinging words,but your small form dashing away quickly past the paper doors and into the unrelenting storm.

“Y/N!” he shouted- you didn’t listen, quickly evading him even as he attempted to chase you on his bum leg. 

The wind clawed at your tiny body- rain slicked your floral summer dress and chilled you to the bone. The bending trees, once so welcoming, were being tossed around like marbles in a dish, and the sun that watched over you all summer- gone without a trace in the pluming smoke-like clouds. You continued to run as fast as your legs could take you, every once and a while slipping on the wet stones and skinning your knees in the gritty mud. You couldn’t tell if it was the rain pouring down your face or your tears. 

“‘Tsumu! ‘Samu!” you cried, eyes blurry, and snot dripping onto the bib of your yellow collar. Your socks were beyond ruined at this point, and the tears from the sharp branches and many tumbles you took, only worsened the burning sting of the raindrops and buffeting gale. 

A gnarled, slippery root brought you to your bleeding knees, and you felt as if you couldn’t possibly continue any longer. You were there- at your secret hideout, but the absence of your foxy friends made your heart drop. 

You were wet, bleeding, scared, and alone. Your small little paradise was crumbling, and the angels that once played such sweet melodies to lift your lonesome spirit had faded away into their now-melancolic tunes. 

“Froggy!” You whipped your head with re-invigorated energy as you heard the voice of your twins. “Tsu--m mu-Sam…” you cried incoherently as they bent to hug your shivering form. 

“I- I just want to go home”.

The twins looked at each other, and with a saddening, but newfound resolve, spoke.

“We can take you home, Froggy- if that’s your wish”

You nodded, feeling defeated, but also confused at how a gangle of small children would be able to pass through the bitter storm for the second time. 

“Don’cha worry ya little froggy head- yer safe, with us- always-”

Chocolate eyes met yours in a teary gaze. You were caught in a spell; the familiar slitted eyes communicating their immense sadness, yet, determination as they continued explaining.

“We heard yer wish, ya know, the one about ya wantin’ to go home, and Inari sent us to fulfill this wish, as spirits of the forest”.

Osamu chimed in- “That’s what kitsune do- we grant wishes” he paused and took your frozen hands in his. You noticed he was still wearing the bandaid you put on his foot. “We can help ya, Froggy, but after, our mission will be done…and once ya step out of the forest- you’re gonna forget everything that’s happened…”

“No!” you interrupted, your gaze flicked between the two soggy-haired, solemn boys as you balked in disbelief. “N-no- I’d never forget you guys!” The tears that had slightly dried before came back tenfold as you squeezed ‘Samu’s clawed hands. “The frog pond, the buggies, sharing onigiri?? I’d never forget any of that!” you proclaimed. “We- we promised to stay together-forever! I won’t go home if I won’t remember you two- you are my home!”

“Froggy.” Atsumu silenced you, tucking the stuck hair off your forehead, to behind your ear. You had never heard the jovial boy so serious before. “Ya need to go back to your own world- to grow up in Tokyo-” “-to experience the other seasons-” Osamu added. “-to be with yer Ma and Pa and that crazy hag Ms. Maraday…” They could go on, but by the defeated look reflected in your eyes, they could tell you understood. 

You shakily stood up. 

“Let’s get ya home, ya, Froggy?”

With their hands joined with yours, they steadied you. Like a beautiful dance, they conjured ghostly blue flames with their spare hands and you watched as the foxfire shot up into the sky like bullets, and returned as glowing orbs leading a pathway through the forest. 

Slowly, the three of you began to run through the rain, laughing as you splashed into cold puddles. This was it, the last you’d ever hear of their laughter, so you couldn’t help the tears that mixed into your giggles as they gazed upon you so fondly. 

The trail of glowing sky-like fire reached an opening in the forest and you could see the engawa of your father’s summer home shadowed in the near distance. 

You dug your heel into the mud and spun around right before the drop off out of the forest pathway. Your face glowed with the slick rain and the heavenly light emitting from the globes of fire that still surrounded the three of you. 

The twins cried. You cried, but your signature smile overtook your face. They let go of your hands. 

“I’ll never forget you two. We’re friends- forever”.

“Forever”, they agreed, smiling through their tears. You took one last look at their identical faces, tall pointed ears, and their plumes of fluffy white-tipped tails- committing it to memory. You’d remember them. That was a promise.

And with a leap, your muddied sock passed the border between the trees and the outside, and you looked back, seeing the two figures holding hands and grinning caddishly, fading away like transparent ghosts.

As you landed, you suddenly blanked. What were you doing here? You can’t remember, but all you know is that you’re wet, aching, and feel overwhelmingly empty- like something was missing. 

“Y/N- thank god you’re okay-!” your Pa hugged you tightly, looking over you as you faded back into reality. Police officers, sirens, and a gaggle of old adults who bore the fireman’s uniform huddled around you and your father, making sure you were okay. You didn’t really understand what was going on, but you hugged your father tighter as your daze looked back at the empty, dark forest. You were ushered inside immediately to get warm, and though the forest seemed to have some sort of significance in your brain, you let it slip your mind as you were being coddled. 

----------------

And though you could not remember quite everything that happened during your adventures in the forest by your Pa’s home, you were left with an uneasy feeling in your gut like something was missing. As the familiar crumble of gravel marked the beginning of the journey back to Tokyo, you couldn’t help but gaze upon the slowly receding forest. The tall trees swayed mystically in an enchanting embrace like they were reaching out for you; saddened by you leaving. You wanted to reach back too- only being separated by the pane of the SUV’s car window.

To you, summer was about catching frogs, playing king-of-the-rock, gazing upon fireflies, eating fatty tuna onigiri in the summer warmth, and oddly enough- about two orange foxes with identical brown eyes. To you, the feeling of summer was like home. 

The trickling streams of the frog pond, fireflies fluttering in the dimming night sky, the smell of the deep amber woods and yesterday’s rain; vibrant dusk tinting our fading summer memories.

End~

[julieandthe-stan-toms]

You Shook Me All Night Long | Luke Patterson x OC

Request: No, I literally just thought of this and decided to give writing something on here a try

Word Count: 3705 words

Summary: Caleb Covington’s daughter sees something she wants and goes after it

Warnings: heavy make out session, almost handjob, cursing, possibly horrible writing

A/N: This is literally my first time writing anything for tumblr. Feedback will be greatly appreciated. If you think this is good and want a part 2 let me know.

I watched from the side of the stage as Willie came walking down the staircase with three new delicious-looking ghosts. He paused and spoke to them for a moment before sliding down the railing with a laugh. He gestured to the ballroom in front of them as the guys all looked around the room in amazement.

“Your father wants to know if you’re ready for showtime,” One of the twins said to me with her hands on her hips.

“You are not the one to be asking me if I’m ready for the show, Rosie, when you don’t even have your wig on your head yet,” I told the dark brunette, not taking my eyes off of the boys.

Rose huffed at me in annoyance before leaving my side to return to her sister and inform my father that I was ready.

I watched one of the waiters escort Willie and the three boys to a table front and center of the stage and smirked at the thought of giving all of them a show.

“Ladies and gentlemen, back from the dead by popular demand, please welcome Caleb Covington,” the voice announced over the speakers.

Applause echoed through the ballroom and I laughed at Willie’s cheering from the front of the audience. I watched as dad poofed in, floating above the stage and looking over the audience with his award-winning smile.

“Did you miss me,” He called out to the crowd, calling all of them to cheer. “I did too!” I rolled my eyes as the crowd laughed at his statement before he continued speaking. “Welcome… to the party of your dreams!” Everyone cheered once again and dad began floating closer to the boys as he started his monologue. “From the Egyptians to the Druids, to the person sitting next to you, we’ve all wondered, “where do we go when that final light is snuffed out?” Allow me to show you.”

Dad began singing and I prepared myself for my queue to join the show, as did the twins behind me.

Let me introduce myself 

We got some time to kill

Consider me the pearly gates

To your new favorite thrills

We could go make history

Or you could rest in peace

But here there ain’t no misery

‘Cause on the other side we live like kings

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Let your body loose, Let your body loose

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Show you a thing or two ‘cause you ain’t seen nothing

The twins appeared along with the band as dad continued singing. I waited for the twins to get close to dad and put their feather fans up behind him before appearing behind them. The two of them moved their fans with a spin and I poofed in. My dad moved to the side and gestured to me, causing the usual people to cheer for me with glee. Dad grabbed my hand and spun me before dipping me. He then brought me back up and helped me walk down the stairs towards the boys in the front. 

I split off from him to grab his cane from the side as the waiters danced around him and showed the boys the food from the club. 

Everything has got a price but happiness is free

Just so happens you’re in luck we got a vacancy

I walked up to the side of him with his cane and tossed it to him. I then walked up to Willie’s table and took the décor off the top of it swiftly before walking away. I watched as dad grabbed the tablecloth of the table and lifted it, causing a dancer to appear on the boys table.

We can set the night on fire and break out of the scene

Your soul print on the walk of fame

On the boulevard of your wildest dreams

What you gonna do? What you gonna do, boys?

Let you body loose let you body loose

What you gonna do? What you gonna do, boys?

It ain’t bragging if it’s true

Now, you ain’t seen nothing

More dancers appeared on top of the tables after the waiters took the table cloths off the top of them. I walked back to the very front of the group and smirked at the three boys as I danced with the rest of the dancers. I quickly made my way up to the stairs where my father is at and took his cane from him. I waited for him to poof up to the top of the stage again before tossing the cane back towards him.

The rain don’t blind the rising souls

They got too much to see

I got your glamour, got your gold

Got all you’ll ever need

Let me hear you now

I then joined up on the pedestal he was standing on and clapped and sang with the rest of the dancers as dad continued singing. Dad made his way off the pedestal and helped me down before we started our way down the stairs again. 

Yeah, I said, watch me make a move watch me make a move, boys

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

I said, watch me make a move

No, I don’t disappoint

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Amen!

Watch me make a move I’m your number one choice

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Dad and I stood in front of the group and danced as the boys looked at us in amazement.

Watch me make a move

Come on, now give me that noise

A tomb with a view

Ain’t it something

Dad said, pointing up to the ceiling where trapeze artists began to dangle on rings. I watched as the boy in the leather jacket began to rise from his seat before the boy in the denim jacket grabbed him and pulled him back into his seat. Dad then grabbed my hand and began walking me through the dancers back to the stage as we sand the chorus of the song. We stood in the middle of it and the twins came over to us with a black sheet. They laid it down and began lifting it up in front of the two of us.

Ain’t it the best?

Long live the dead

“Bye-bye,” The twins giggled out as dad and I poofed out then dropped the sheet back to the ground.

I smiled with satisfaction as the crowd cheered for us loudly. I looked out at them from the wings of the stage, especially the three boys and watched as Willie talked to them.

“Darling, go mingle while I handle some business, will you,” Dad told me as his assistant helped him remove his jacket.

I turned and smiled at him before nodding and making my way out from backstage. I started making a b-line to my desired table as soon as I was in view of it.

"Willie," I yelled out with a giant grin, waving at the adorable skater.

"Charlotte, hey," Willie greeted me with a grin that was bigger than mine.

The young ghost stood up from his table and pulled me into a hug warmer than any of the ones I've ever accepted from my father. I pulled away from him and straightened out his suit jacket as he turned back to the three other boys sitting at his table.

"Charlotte, this is Alex, Luke, and Reggie," he pointed to all three boys.

Alex waved at me with a giant grin on his face while Reggie stared at me in awe and Luke looked completely speechless and wide-eyed.

"Guys, this is-"

"Charlotte Covington, it's a pleasure," I cut Willie off as I grinned at the three boys seductively. "I've gotta say, I wouldn't mind having myself a little taste of each of you. Although I must admit, blonde is one of my favorite flavors," I told all of them with a smirk before winking at Alex.

Alex looked at me in shock before shaking himself out of it and then clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm gay."

I let out a little giggle and shook my head before looking at him smugly. "Oh, honey, trust me. One night with me and I'll have you playing for both teams," I whispered to him, leaning in close and grazing my hand along his cheek.

Alex gulped and stared at me wide-eyed much like Luke and Reggie.

I heard a throat clear behind me and felt a slight pinch to my side, causing me to stand up straight and place my hand on my hip.

"However, it seems that Willie has already claimed you. Shame. You two, however… " I trailed off, looking over at Luke and Reggie, starting to walk around the table to stand in between the two of them.

The two of them stared up at me silently. I looked in between the two of them before smirking and moving behind Luke. I leaned down close to his ear and smoothed my hands over the shoulders of his denim jacket.

"I love it when my boys have green eyes and curly hair," I whispered in his ear, running my hand up into the back of his hair and giving it a little tug. I smirked as Luke swallowed back a groan of pleasure and stood back up straight. I looked over at Reggie and gave him a wink. "I'm afraid you might just be too sweet for me. I'd break you," I told him honestly, running my finger down the side of his face.

"Charlotte."

I sighed before looking up at the man standing behind Reggie. "Yes, father."

"Why don't you go and mingle with our other guests? Make sure they're enjoying themselves and are being properly entertained," he told me with a pointed look.

I sighed in annoyance before nodding. "Yes, sir." I turned around and faced Luke again. I smirked at him and leaned down so we were face to face and placed my pointer finger under his chin to hold it up. "Save me a dance, will ya."

Luke gulped and nodded, causing me to breathe out a laugh. I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek before standing straight and moving towards the back of the ballroom. However, before I was far enough away I heard a voice breathe out a quiet "holy shit" causing my smirk that was previously on my face to widen.

I stepped back in shock as Reggie went rushing past me with sadness written all over his face. I looked back in front of me to see Luke standing there with annoyance and his arms crossed across his chest. I took the time to admire the veins popping out of them before walking towards him.

“What’s wrong with Reggie,” I questioned him curiously.

“He found out about the new Star Wars movies and how they killed Han Solo,” He explained to me simply with a sigh.

“Awe, poor guy. So does that mean he knows about Jar Jar,” I asked, looking up at his green eyes.

“No, and please don’t tell him. That’s a whole other mess I don’t have the strength to deal with,” Luke begged me, causing me to smirk up at him.

“So you have the strength to deal with… other situations,” I asked him cheekily.

Luke looked down at me and smirked confidently. “If they have anything to do with you I can promise you I can handle any situation.”

“Really? Are you sure about that,” I questioned him confidently with a hint of seduction.

I could see Luke’s confidence falter, causing my smirk to widen. This is going to be fun.

"Luke, I want you to do something for me," I told the green-eyed brunette, stepping closer to him and running my hands along his chest and up to his shoulders.

Luke stared into my eyes and swallowed thickly before nodding at me. "Anything."

I smirked and stood on my tiptoes to reach his ear. "Imagine you and me in my room. Just the two of us. You are sitting on my bed. I'm standing in front of you in nothing but your denim jacket," I whispered into his ear. Luke reaches forward and grabs me by the waist, pulling me closer to him. I could feel his fingers pressing into my waist and a bulge pressing into my stomach. Luke began breathing heavily into my neck and I could hear a little groan leaving his lips. "Imagine the fun we could have together if we got ourselves alone," I whispered to him before taking his earlobe in between my teeth and giving it a nibble. Luke gave my neck a kiss before I pulled away from him. I smirked up at him and slowly ran my hands back down to his chest. “Still think you can handle any situation with me,” I whispered to him smugly before slowly letting my hands travel down to his pants. I let my hand graze over the bulge in his pants before walking away from him with a sway in my hips.

I looked up to the front of the ballroom to see my dad on the stage once again. I moved back up to the front of the room and stood a bit to the side of the boy’s table as my father began speaking again.

“I take it you’re all enjoying the feast,” Dad said, causing everyone in the audience to cheer in response. “So many delicious sights, so many tantalizing sounds. But… your eyes still hunger for more. Something sweet.” The crowd cheered at his words. “Something… savory.” The crowd laughed at his words. “How many newcomers do we have in the club tonight?” The crowd cheered and a few people, including the boys, raised their hands up in the air. “Ladies, let’s show our guests how we do dessert. A one, two, three, four!”

The swing music starts up again and the dancers move to the dance floor to show off their moves to the audience. Willie cheered and I watched dad lay across the top of the piano as he started singing.

Shoo bada papa roo bada bada

Hey, um bum bum bum bum baram, hey!

Shoo bada papa roo bada bada

Hey, um bum bum bum bum baram, hey!

Arum bum

Hey!

Arum bum

Hey!

Scoo bi doo bap bap

Hey!

Bap bap

Hey! 

Dad climbed from the piano and danced with the twins in the middle of the stage. He turned and the twins dipped him backwards as he sang.

Watch me make a move watch me make a move, yeah

I watched as some of the dancers got down on the floor in front of the boy's table as they sang.

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

I say, watch me make a move watch me make a move, oh

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

I say, watch me make a move what me make a move, yeah

What you gonna do? What you gonna do?

Watch me make a move best you ever knew. Hey, yeah!

I moved from my spot on the side and moved to Willie’s side. I placed my hand on his shoulder, causing him to smile up at me. He looked back at Alex and pat his shoulder before jumping up from his seat and joining me on the dance floor. The two of us joined the dancers with big smiles as my dad started down the stairs of the stage once again. Once my father was behind us I moved from my spot on the dance floor back to my spot to the side of the boy's table. Willie grabbed Alex and pulled him up, causing Luke and Reggie to join them quickly. I watched as the same dancer dressed in pink that appeared on the table earlier snaked through the boys, kicked her leg up in front of them with Luke holding her up, and then danced on Reggie a bit before running her hand along his face. Said boy fainted a bit and Luke caught him and pushed him back up as Alex helped him stand correctly.

I watched as my father walked up to the boys with the twins on each side of him. I stood to the side and winked at Rose as she looked over at me. She smirked at me before my dad twirled her and her sister towards Reggie and Luke. Rose spun Luke around into my arms before she turned around and joined her sister in dancing with Reggie.

"Hope you saved me that dance," I smiled up at him.

"I'm saving you a lot more than just a dance, trust me," Luke smirked down at me confidently.

I hummed at him in amusement. "I hope you brought your dancing shoes. Think you can keep up?"

"I think I should be asking you that," Luke told me before pulling me close to him.

"I'm not the one that doesn't know the moves," I told him, beginning to lead him in a dance.

We ended our dance with Luke grabbing my hand and spinning me into him. My back pressed to his front and Luke's arms wrapped around me. We continued swaying back and forth as Luke buried his face in my neck. I tilted my head to the side to give him more room as he took a deep breath in and began leaving soft kisses up and down the span of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath when he started nibbling and sucking here and there too until he would get to my ear and give it a little lick before taking my earlobe in between his teeth and nibbling. During our swaying, I began pushing myself further back into Luke and grinding my ass into his pelvis as discreetly as possible. When I felt his bulge against me the two of us let out small moans of pleasure in unison.

"What I would give to be alone with you right now," Luke whispered huskily into my ear.

I moaned at the thought of what we could do together. I pulled one of my hands out of his and spun around to face him. He wrapped his free arm around my waist and brought me close to him once again, causing me to feel his bulge even more. Our chests were pressed together and both of us were breathing heavily as Luke began swaying us again. I looked up into his eyes to see them lust blown with want as he stared down at me and bit his lip and I smirked knowing I looked the same as him. 

I began taking steps backward slowly and he followed me with no problem. Once we were off the dance floor I stepped away from him and tightened my grip on his hand before leading him to one of the darker corners of the club. As soon as we reached our destination I pressed my back up against the wall and pulled Luke towards me, pressing my lips against his. Luke immediately began reciprocating the kiss and pressed himself against me. He placed his forearms up against the wall to lean against them as our kiss because more heated with our teeth clashing together. I wrapped my arms around Luke's neck and lifted one of my legs up to wrap around his waist to bring him even closer to me. Luke groaned as his bulge pressed against my heat with the new proximity. Luke broke apart our kiss for air and began leaving messy kisses up and down my neck again as I moaned and began grinding against him. 

"Luke," I moaned out, bringing my hands up into the back of his hair and giving it a tug as I did earlier.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Luke groaned out before lifting his head out of my neck and pressing his lips to mine once again.

Luke ran his tongue along my lip, asking for entrance, but I denied it with a smirk. I could feel Luke's irritation at the action and moaned when he pressed himself further into me. Luke tried again, and I smiled as I gripped his lip between my teeth and tugged on it. Luke groaned at me and I smirked as I pressed my lips to his once again and gained the entrance that he so desperately wanted myself. Our tongues fought each other for dominance before I relented and let him win the battle. I allowed my hands to leave his neck and begin wandering down his toned body to his pants.

"If you start that, I won't be able to stop," Luke whispered to me between kisses.

"Good," I breathed out, moving to tuck my hand into his pants.

Luke groaned at my action, but I didn't get far due to the chiming of the bell in the front of the ballroom. 

"The haunting hour is upon us," Dad announced mysteriously.

Everybody in the club let out little "ooh's" of amusement as I rolled my eyes. Luke smiled at me in amusement before looking back at the front of the room. Everybody went back to dancing, causing me to grab Luke’s cheeks to bring his lips back to mine, but Luke fought against me as he stared at the clock wide-eyed.

“12? How… how’d that happen,” Luke said in shock as I briefly glanced at the clock again before trailing my hands from his face down his body once again to his pants. I bit my lip as I started tucking my hand into his pants once again, but a pout took over my lips as he moved away from my hand and grabbed it with his own, gently slipping it back out of his pants. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Wha-,” I started before I was cut off by him.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” He breathed out before rushing away from me and towards Reggie.

I huffed as I watched him run away and crossed my arms over my chest with a pout. “So much for having fun tonight.”

[demoniqt]

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match

Summary:

Zhou Zishu was supposed to get married under the decree of the Emperor but he has yet to find a suitable candidate. Most of the matchmakers in the capital has given up on him until this trendy matchmaker that's been gaining fame catches his attention.

However, to the frustration of the matchmaker, Lord Zhou is rejecting every candidate he proposes, not knowing that the one that Zhou Zishu wants to marry is HIM.

Cue lots of misunderstanding and courtship fails.

Notes:

This came about because of Ep 23 where ZZS asked WKX to matchmake him with someone and the two of them shared a secret grin lol. It's your fault, ZZS!

Chapter 1: Meet Wen Kexing

Zhou Zishu was deep into his third bottle of wine by the time the matchmaker made an appearance. He wasn't late per se. Zhou Zishu came ahead of time for an early start in his drinking. He felt he needed it after the day he just had.

The servant led the man in white into the room and the first thought that came into Zhou Zishu's head was:

'Shit, I didn't know that this was an interview with a candidate or I would have changed before I came here.'

The man was a beauty, that was for sure. And though Zhou Zishu himself was no slack, he had a long and stressful day at work which culminated to him arguing passive aggressively with his cousin aka the asshole of an Emperor that he had helped put on the dragon throne. The one that decreed for him to get married by the end of the fucking year.

Was he sour about it? Yes, very much so. And he's going to make that very clear every time his cousin brings up this sore topic.

So what if he is single and ready to mingle? He likes it that way.

But his interfering cousin likes to stick his nose into his business.

His salty thoughts were redirected when the young man settle onto the seat opposite him and instead, went directly to: 'Shit, he's beautiful.'

"Zhou-daren, I presume," the young man said with a smile, opening a white fan to cool himself in the summer heat.

Insanely, Zhou Zishu noticed that he had an extremely attractive beauty mark. And when the young man opened his lips, Zhou Zishu's eyes went directly to his red lips and his dirty, dirty mind wondered how it tasted like. Or felt like.

He must have been more exhausted than he thought. He never used to be so... horny. He wasn't Duan Pengju.

"I am Wen Kexing," introduced the young man. "I am your matchmaker."

Everything in Zhou Zishu's distracted mind came to a screeching halt.

"What...?" came out of his mouth involuntarily. Oh, he's so disappointed his usually expedient mind couldn't even garner a more intelligent reply.

"I'm your matchmaker," the young man repeated, looking a little concerned at him then at the bottles on the table.

"No, I heard you," he replied quickly. "I just thought... never mind."

"Alright," Wen Kexing agreed amiably. "Would Zhou-daren go through with me what kind of candidates you are looking for?"

"I want a beauty," Zhou Zishu said, staring intently at Wen Kexing, who involuntarily blushed.

"Of course, someone who will match Zhou-daren's beauty is a must," replied the matchmaker coyly and Zhou Zishu's lips twitched.

"Someone well-read," Zhou Zhou continued, reaching out to touch the white fan where a lovely poem was written with beautiful calligraphy. Wen Kexing looked down to see what he was indicating and smiled.

"Did you write that?" Zhou Zishu asked.

"Yes," Wen Kexing replied. "Do you like poetry, Zhou-daren?"

"I like literature of all kinds," Zhou Zishu answered, still charmed by the matchmaker. What a pity he wasn't a candidate.

"What else are you looking for?" the matchmaker redirected their conversation again.

"Someone who can cook," he continued. Then he asked, "Can you cook?"

"Fairly," the matchmaker answered, seemingly unaware that HE was being interviewed as well. "My parents passed away when my sister and I were quite young so I had to learn to cook for both of us quickly or starve."

"Oh," Zhou Zishu said, more pensive now. "She's lucky to have you."

"Well, I'm lucky to have her too," Wen Kexing replied him. "If it wasn't for her, I would be a mess."

Then seemingly realising how far from the topic they were, Wen Kexing visibly snapped back to their original conversation.

"What else?"

"I hope they don't mind travelling," Zhou Zishu replied. "I travel for work sometimes and I would like to bring my significant other with me. It'll make travelling more enjoyable."

"Travelling sounds nice," Wen Kexing said, with a wistful smile.

"You don't travel much?" Zhou Zishu asked the matchmaker, wanting to know more.

"Like I said, I raised my sister after our parents death, so I didn't have much opportunities to travel," the younger man answered.

'Marry me and you can travel all you want', his inappropriate mind supplied and Zhou Zishu actively squashed his mental quip by taking a gulp of his wine.

"What about your manor? Wouldn't your spouse need to stay back to care for your household?" Wen Kexing asked as he took a sip of his own wine.

"Oh, my shidi will run the household in my absence," he said. Then thought for a while, "Though if my future spouse can help me with the burdens of the household, it'll take a load of my shoulders."

"So, someone who is responsible for running a household as well," commented Wen Kexing. "I will look through the candidates and see who I can suggest for you, Zhou-daren."

"Take your time," Zhou Zishu said, pouring a cup of wine for himself and then for the matchmaker. "I don't mind the wait."

"Didn't Bixia give you a time limit?" Wen Kexing asked, nodding in thanks for the wine.

Damn. He knew about the decree.

"I don't believe in making hasty decisions when it comes to marriage," said Zhou Zishu. "It's why so many matchmakers say that I'm difficult to work with."

"Well, of course you have to take into account who you're marrying," said Wen Kexing in an outrage. "Marriage is for life."

Damnit. He was looking more and more attractive by the second. Why did he have to be the matchmaker!?

"In anyhow," Wen Kexing continued, completely oblivious to Zhou Zishu's internal despair. "I will do my best to provide you with the perfect bride."

End Chapter 1

Because I like this series, so I'm posting it on tumblr. Hahaha.

[nevenabadr]

Sebastian Stan X Reader, Leather Love, Prologue

This is a prologue to Leather Love!

Note: English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

· Bliss, a novel about a magical baker.

· A Dash of Magic, a novel about a magical family of bakers

Word count: 2003

Warnings: Romance, fluff, sweet words, and few explicit words

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 🖤

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Sebastian met at the Met Ball, an annual fundraising gala for the benefit of the Metropolitan, and you were their choice for creating the patisserie masterpieces for the evening.

As for Sebastian, the gala was enjoyable till the moment he was running away from the press.

Also, you were running away from the pressure of catering for your foremost important event of the season.

At the calmest corner of the hotel. You sat calming yourself down speaking to yourself, "I am seven stars rated Baker. One of the best around the world."

Little did you know that someone was taking a few steps and heading to that same calming place.

You were so close when you noticed that man lighting a cigarette "want one?"

He smiled at you.

"You know, that could kill you." You frowned.

"Better than anxiety" he scrunched his nose.

Smocking was something you tried once or twice for fun but never thought of as a tool for calming your nerves.

"I am Y/N by the way."

"Sebastian" he extended a hand to shake yours

You did not rush to tell him you know him and his works. You are a fan, but you still respect that he is already anxious.

"Can I ask, what are you so anxious about?" You calmly asked.

"Too many cameras, I am used to them, but I needed a moment for myself too."

You smirked "A fellow introvert, are not you?"

"Maybe," he giggled and kept smocking, "I did not get your name?"

"Your/F&L/Name, please to meet you, Sebastian." You smiled softly and noticed stars in his eyes.

"Are not you the owner of Bliss, the antique-styled bakery café in New York?" His voice was jammed with excitement.

It surprised you to be personally recognised by a star. It is always the brand that gets the enthusiasm, not you.

"Yes, in the flesh," you shrugged.

He was excited as a child just found his favourite lost toy "I love your patisserie. I even treat myself from Bliss each Sunday."

You were excited that he likes what you serve. "Have you tried our coffee?"

He hesitated "I am a Starbucks guy, sorry."

You laugh "even I, a Starbucks girl, just don't tell my workers." You winked.

"Well, look, I should prepare my surprise for the evening."

The cigarette was almost finished, and the conversation was not over, so as you started walking away, he called you back "Y/A, can I ask you for a favour."

You turned, "anything, Sebastian,"

"Can I take a VIP tour? That special thing, for me, please." He asked with puppy eyes.

He seems to be still nervous about going into the crowd. He is in the sport because of his new PR company. Adding, his ex-girlfriend fame and breakup impact was hard, especially the buzz all over Tumblr. He could not be around the media at that moment.

"Alright, come along, but no cameras or sharing my secrets." You seriously ordered

Indeed, that VIP tour was in a crowded kitchen. Everyone is busy creating a piece of heaven.

"There you are," a young man ran to you. His face draws worrying emotions and anger.

"Frank, what's wrong?"

"It is 30 minutes to delivery."

Frank started walking by your side, describing something that was going wrong and you pointed "we have time"

It surprised Sebastian that Frank did not even notice him. There in the kitchen, you were the star to be followed and the boss to be obeyed.

"Sebastian, I need you to put on gloves and follow my lead"

It surprised him to take orders now

"Frank, you go being the rest of the cupcakes, I am preparing the icing myself."

As Frank left, you give Sebastian an explanation "my staff got something wrong, I have 30 minutes to icing 500 cupcakes."

"This is better than expected. I would love to help." His soothing voice calmed down your anxiety.

He took off his jacket. He looked stunning in everything, as you thought to yourself.

He was laughing and motivating everyone around him "coming people there is a Gala to conquer."

You were icing the side of the cupcake by side, forgetting how exhausting it was to do all of this work in a short time, yet the joy on his face made this worthwhile.

"I don't remember having this much fun in my life," he was icing a chocolate cupcake

"Are you sure this is your first time?" You said playfully

"I don't even know how to cook," he shrugged, "maybe, you can teach me."

The icing went well, but both of you stayed talking and he ignored the time

"Oh, look at the time, I have a to attend that dinner."

He was fixing his clothes and hair, running too fast out of the kitchen. "Thank you Y/A."

You wish for him to stay longer, as he made this chore easier for you, at least mentally.

As he was rushing out "can I book you for a private lesson? A date maybe?"

"I thought you would never ask." Giving him your private card and going back to your staff.

The next morning, he woke up thinking of how alive he felt around Y/A. He juggled her card between his fingers, thinking whether or not to call her. He settled on calling her after mid-day or at lunch.

He took a shower and got prepared for his morning run. It is never too late for one.

He took his usual route of running passing by the Bliss, something made him stop and look for her. Maybe you were tired from all her work, but it is Sunday and he deserves his weekly treat.

Behind the counter there you were, beautiful as he remembers her from the night before.

"May, I have a cupcake please,"

You were busy talking and giving instructions to one of her staff members, yet a familiar voice turned her head "Why not trying the Bakery choice of the day?"

"If the baker herself agrees, then I am sold." He flirted.

"On the house, sir,"

You served him English cake with coffee at his table.

He stood up when you approached "oh God! You brought it yourself!" he tried to give her a hand and serve himself at the table.

"Anything for my favourite guest." You smiled as did not sit.

He was puzzled and clueless "Y/A, wait."

"Anything else?" You smirked at him.

"Will you go out with me tonight, please?" He used the charm of his puppy eyes again.

"I would love to." You glowed.

Later that day, he texted

Sebastian: You did not take my number! 🧁

Y/A: Sebastian, hey, thank you! 🙏🏻

Sebastian: tonight, when and where?

Y/A: Sushi, maybe???

Sebastian: I was thinking of an Italian fancy restaurant, gotta impress the girl. 🤷🏻‍♂️

Y/A: Not this one lolz. Just anything you like. Surprise me.

Sebastian: Fancy, it will be!

Y/A: next time, I am choosing.

Sebastian: there will be next time, huh? 😉

Y/A: haha, I've got to go. Sunday means work.

Sebastian: see ya tonight.

At your house, you are confused about what to wear.

"It is a fancy date with a handsome man that happens to be a star" you were worried, every ex you had was not even close to Sebastian's sweetness. You know that there is always a catch. This time, it might be you and your busy schedule.

You texted him your address. He arrived before his time with ten minutes holding flowers at your door.

He was dressed in a slim fit navy suit without a tie.

"You look beautiful," he complimented your little black dress and heels.

The dinner went well. Both if shared stories from your past, trying to make a career, and how hard the world is becoming.

"Baking is great but applying for investment is hellish," you discussed the situation with coming at the top.

"Your food should be decorated with prizes. I believe you won many."

He teased, as he knew that you were part of a reality show for bakers.

"It was a phase, now this is the real world." You exhaled gloomily.

Your phone ringing cut off your conversation. You excused him for taking this call.

You left the table, yet, arriving with a miserable 10 minutes later.

"Is everything okay?" He nervously asked.

You looked down at your food "I am sorry, Sebastian, I have to go"

You were anxious and irritated

"What's wrong?" He tried to soothe you.

"My angel investor is having a party. He needs me to prepare the cakes and cookies by myself." You were about to cry.

"Okay, you are pressures." He smirked playfully, trying to change your mood.

"He needs them tomorrow by noon." You asserted upon the last word.

"See, I was going to ask you to teach me, so why not today,"

He called for the check.

Sebastian drove you back to your bakery. It was almost empty by that time. Just two workers and you took Sebastian to the kitchen.

You prepared the ingredients on the counters. Sebastian asked if he can help with getting the blenders and mixing bowls. You pointed at a higher shelf opposite to you.

"Thank you, Sebastian," you were about to leave his car.

"Not yet, doll, we have cookies to prepare," he said as the cute dork he is.

You were guiding him to which thing is to add to the blender first and he was a curious student.

"Exactly, why are you hand blending that?" Pointing at the chocolate mixture in front of you.

"Because we make these with a dash of magic and bliss," you spook magically and seriously.

He paused for a moment "and I am not magic"

You raised an eyebrow, "you are my apprentice, yet, hand blend the cookies."

You came by his side, your chest at his back, and guided his arm to hand to blend the cookies.

He was blazing with fire and excitement. Ultimately, he felt at peace.

“An excellent exercise to those guns.” He teased you.

"Not as a baker's," you guided his free hand to something, "now take a pinch of magic... chocolate chips and add them."

Both of you rounded up and finished everything was in the oven. You sat on the floor drinking wine and chatting further, till the alarm of the oven called it done.

"My cookies" Sebastian pulled them out of the over, "taste what the master baked."

"Apprentice," you asserted as you pulled your cakes out of the other oven.

You let everything rest. It was almost the morning.

"They will come I pick them at 9 am, no time for home." You yawned

"Can I drive you?" He yawned too, and his eyes were sleepy.

"Cookie, you looked exhausted." It was the first time to call him so, he was surprised and delighted.

"I have a coach in my office."

Both of you laid tired and exhausted from the long day. Spontaneously he put a kiss on your forehead, you whispered at his lips "I have a better one" you took his lips on your own and shared the sweetest romantic first kiss.

"Sweet dreams, apprentice Cookie." You laid to sleep in his arms.

"Sweet dreams Y/A." He smiled against your lips and laid a kiss goodnight on them.

Yet, Sebastian had to make the last thing before he sleeps.

Guys, I made cookies

That was his message to the group chat with his best friends.

Chris: cookies, is that's a new term for sex?

Anthony: WTH @Cheis. If Sebastian mentions cookies, then he really made cookies.

Sebastian: I baked cookies

Christ: good for you, pal.

Anthony: you are waking me up at 6 in the morning for cookies.

Sebastian: and a kiss.

Anthony: my man, you should have gone for the pussy 💪🏻

Chris: language!

Sebastian: Good night oldie issues and smarty pants. 🤣🤣🤣

Sebastian looked at your peaceful face, laid another kiss on your forehead, then departed into a deep sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@221bshrlocked (awaiting your feedback)

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@buckys-fairy

[stark-tony]

tododeku fic recs

* = incomplete

meet you again someday (after we take the long way ’round) by theroyalsavage

summary: Midoriya Izuku's life is saved by a boy with the strongest Quirk he has ever seen. 

Eventually - inevitably - he falls in love.(An AU in which Todoroki never attends UA, they never clash at the sports festival, but they come together all the same.)

pairings: tododeku

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

that is just the way by celestialfics

summary:  Shouto has his first sleepover.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff

warnings: none

what is right and what is easy by theroyalsavage

summary: Midoriya Izuku is not chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament. He does not slay a dragon, or rescue innocents, or brave a maze of dark magic. He does not win accolades, or fame, or glory.

Instead, Izuku meets the son of the greatest dark wizard of the age, a Durmstrang student with hair like a sunrise and eyes like a war. And maybe, he just might win something else.

pairings: tododeku, kiribaku, tsuchako

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: none

First Time For Everything by kazzarole

summary: Midoriya is the catalyst of many of the 'firsts' in Shouto's life--it just makes sense that Shouto should share his first kiss with him, too.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff

warnings: none

alone together by celestialfics

summary:  Five times when other Class 1-A kids notice Todoroki and Midoriya in their own world.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff

warnings: none

A Simple Warmth by patster223

summary: “I’m trying to make Todoroki a sweater for his birthday, but…” Izuku pokes at the tangle of yarn. “It’s more complicated than I thought it would be.”

In which Izuku sucks at knitting, his classmates are eager to help out, Todoroki finally gets to be cozy, and knitting is a vector for romance.

pairings: tododeku

tags: 

warnings: none

Conventional Taste by WowBoring

summary: He didn’t think it would matter if Midoriya were taking him to a sewer convention; it was probably still going to be the highlight of his Golden Week.

In order to avoid a visit from his unpleasant grandparents Todoroki attends a hero convention with Midoriya, and learns a few things along the way.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff

warnings: abuse

pls respond by Esselle

summary: 'Midoriya: UR SO CUTE

Shouto chokes on nothing. How is he supposed to respond to that? Is he supposed to respond at all?

Midoriya: Look at your big head aaaaaaaaaaaaah Midoriya: *Image Attached*

Oh, Shouto thinks. He was talking about Shouto's Nitotan, which is now smashed to one of Izuku's cheeks in the image Izuku just sent, as Izuku squeezes it joyfully. Even if Izuku wasn't talking to him directly, the butterflies in Shouto's stomach feel a bit joyful, too.

He types out: I wish I were that Nitotan right now. Then he snorts, and erases it.'

--

Izuku has a wide variety of special moves, but his Key Smash might be the most powerful of all.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

i can keep a secret, could you? by handcrusher (ameliafromafairytale)

summary: The last thing Todoroki wants is for his father to figure out that 1) he's gay and 2) he's dating the boy he's supposed to overcome as a hero. So, he and Midoriya devise a plan.

Just how long can they keep it up?

pairings: tododeku, tsuchako, momojirou

tags: 

warnings: 

hold on tight by lunalou

summary: "What are you doing?" Shouto asks.

"Hugging you." Midoriya returns in a patient voice. His arms tighten around Shouto's waist and he presses his forehead more firmly against his back. "You know it's a hug, Shouto-kun. Don't play dumb."

or, five times somebody from 1-a hugs todoroki and the one time he hugs them first

pairings: tododeku

tags: 

warnings: 

If I'm Being Honest.... by I_dont_know_man

summary: Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself. 

  In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

pairings: tododeku, kiribaku

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: 

Guiding Light by furihatachlookie

summary:  It was his mother's idea to enroll him at the local elementary school. His father believed a private tutor was better, but nobody can argue with a mother who's made up her mind, and a balanced exposure to kids his own age sways his father's judgement enough to agree and sign the papers.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: 

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu's Elite Study Club by hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)

summary: “Well, as I see it, we have two options.” Shouto holds up two fingers. “We can either ignore this and pretend it never happened or... not.” He doesn't know which one he wants. “What does not entail, exactly?” Yaoyorozu asks. “...I don't know.”

In which Todoroki accidentally learns something about Yaoyorozu, Yaoyorozu accidentally learns something about Todoroki, and they spend a considerable portion of their study sessions... not studying.s

pairings: tododeku, momojirou

tags: fluff, humor

warnings:

Do What You Will, If That's What You Want by stanzas

summary: “What do you mean you’re retiring?” Bakugou asks nicely, or at least as nicely as someone like Bakugou can ask. The question is phrased more like a demand.“

Call it a mid-life crisis,” Shouto answers, like Bakugou asked him what the weather would be tomorrow, and takes a deep sip from his coffee. “I’m thinking of changing careers.”

The world of heroes is quick to adapt to surprises, but Pro Hero Entropy’s (very premature) retirement announcement throws almost everyone for a pretty impressive loop.

pairings: tododeku

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, humor

warnings:

extra, extra! by rythyme (pugglemuggle)

summary: Shouto & Creati: ACTUALLY Dating?! by Hitachi Hitomi at September 18, 2047 3:42 pm."Ever since heartthrob 

Todoroki Shouto and the Everything Hero "Creati" made their official debuts, the two 22-year-old heroes have been nothing but professional towards each other. But was this all a sham to cover up the truth?" 

Or: The media thinks Shouto and Creati are dating. Hint: they aren't. A multimedia TodoDeku & MomoJirou fanfic told through news articles, gossip columns, twitter, tumblr, text messages, and more.

pairings: tododeku, momojirou

tags: fluff, humor

warnings:

you broke the dark and my whole earth shook by aloneintherain

summary:  Shouto had imagined himself as the country’s top hero for decades. Endeavour had put those images in his head when he was a child, and they had stayed there, growing like a fungus, until Shouto had reached adulthood. Even now, he was only just beginning to realise he didn’t have to live his life according to almost thirty-year-old decisions made by his abuser. He could do more. Be more. Outside of the hero community.

Izuku gets a job offer in America. Somehow, this brings Shouto and Izuku closer than ever before.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings:

count your blessings, not your flaws by PitViperOfDoom

summary:  Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

pairings: tododeku

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

call the fire department (i'm burning up with love) by Edgedancer

summary:  An (abridged) list of things Todoroki Shouto did not have before U.A.: Loud neighbors. Fire alarms. Friends. Midoriya Izuku.

pairings: tododeku

tags:

warnings:

long nights and daydreams by dreamtowns

summary: According to the public, Pro Heroes Deku and Entropy are an amazing Hero Duo, best friends, and the most eligible bachelors in the world. According to their fans, they’re head over heels in love with one another yet oblivious to the others’ feelings. According to their friends and family, they’ve been in love with one another since high school, but, for reasons unknown to them, refuse to act upon said feelings.

According to said heroes, they have been (secretly) married for six years.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: 

extra-salty/twitter-verse series by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)

summary:  In his third year at UA, Todoroki Shouto works in a burger place, catches on fire and falls in love. Only two of those things are on purpose.

Or...Todoroki Shouto's exciting adventures in customer service.

part one of the extra salty/twitter-verse

pairings: tododeku, kiribaku

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: none

More Than Skin-Deep by Emmeri

summary: It was a fact, really. That he was ugly. Having a scar which takes up half his face kind of does that, in Todoroki's eyes. So why does he overhear the girls call him the class pretty boy?

He'll just have to ask Midoriya about it; he has too little filter to tell anything but the truth.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: 

Your Biggest Fan by Latios

summary: He opens the bag on the floor to see what could have been left in there-- and promptly freezes, staring at the contents inside.

“Midoriya.” He calls.

“Hm?”

“You bought our hero merch?”

~

Aka, Class 1-A starts to see themselves appear on merchandise in their local stores. Todoroki tries not to buy things, and fails.

pairings: tododeku

tags: fluff, humor

warnings: 

Marry The Mole by Haurvatat

summary: “You're going to break up with him before he can propose.”

The hands went down and the steel wall of Midoriya's entire being went up. “...Excuse me?”

“And in return-” Enji gritted his teeth, “-I will deposit 20 million yen in your checking account.”

-

The gay drama fic based on a tumblr post absolutely zero people wanted to see but YOU'RE GETTING ANYWAY

pairings: tododeku

tags: humor

warnings: 

ascended fanboy by aloneintherain

summary: “I want to honour them,” Izuku said softly. “When I cosplay, I just want people to see how amazing these heroes are.”

Shouto brushed a thumb over his cheek, careful not to smudge his makeup. “They do. I promise.”

Or: Izuku and Shouto attend HeroCon, five years post-graduation.

pairings: tododeku

tags: 

warnings: 

[shinymooncolor]

Sweater weather chat #12 part 2

Hi all!!! 

As promised - here’s part two to chat #12!

First of all - massive thanks to @lumosinlove for giving us this world! 

Also thanks to @frombeauxbatons for giving me ideas, support and just generally letting me vent and rant <3 

the amazing @paulian03 cleverly came up with Sirius giving the boys the nickname O’Knutzy in the story and that features both in this chat and the next. :) 

link to part 1 here :) 

So, 

Sirius is hiding in a closet. Remus is sarcastic. Kris is worried. So much love for single dad Kris <3. Dumo wants to call PETA. Blizzard doesn't judge. Olli has opinions. Olli is the best. Timmy is offended. Alice is a boss. Finn has ideas. They involve glitter and rainbows. Mental health awareness is important! Natalie is precious. We establish that consent is EVERYTHING! 

Sweater weather chat #12 part 2

--

Tuesday 2.54 pm 

Sirius <3: re!!!!!! Help. I’m in the green closet. 

Remus ❤️: I’m not gonna make a joke. But. It’s right there. Which green closet? I lost you around the beds. Thought you were behind me. How’re you sneaking away so quietly? 

Sirius <3: someone put it on Twitter. That I’m here. These ladies followed me. Hat to throw my hat down on the floor as a way to distract them. Never seeing that again 😭 

Remus ❤️: sneaky....... you could just sign their bras and get on with your life.

Sirius <3: really? Sarcasm. I was being hunted by cougars re. It’s scary. Help me.

Remus ❤️: alright. Send me a pic. 

Sirius <3: *pic* 

Remus ❤️: I sent you to get a lamp. You ended up on the first floor somehow? In the kids section. And no we’re not buying that massive shark. 

Sirius <3: it’s for Ava. 🥺

Remus ❤️: really? 

Sirius <3: she told me Jackie is her favorite (I assume Jackie is Nado?) and I need to be the favorite. Logan already beat me with the Dumais’ kids. I need to win somewhere. 

Remus ❤️: and bribing her is the way?

Sirius <3: of course it is. How else? Can’t dazzle her with my hockey or money or fame. Need some real firepower and a big shark is a winner. 

Remus ❤️: I’m here now. Which closet are you in? 

——

Tuesday 4.31 pm

Nadotheman: guess who’s trending on twitter for hooking up in Ikea.

Blizzard: my first guess is always you? But as you’re texting you’re either oddly proud or it’s not you. Kuny? 

RussianGod: not me 

Timmyforrealz: @blizzard you’re not even thinking about me? Could totally have been me. Nado not the only one who’s got crazy girl skills. 

Ollibear: skills? Buddy you’ve had a three month drought. 

Timmyforrealz: DONT listen to Olli. He’s a baby. He’s still a little virgin. 

Ollibear: first of all. There’s nothing wrong with not being into sex. Asexuality is a valid thing. Also I’m not a Virgin. I just prefer a partner who either has no idea who I am or likes me for me. 

Ollibear: also, the three of you are easy @russiangod @nadotheman @timmyforrealz. You literally sell out for a pat on the ass and a wink. I could get with either of you with very little effort. 

Nadotheman: oi! I’m not easy. I have an acquired taste. 

Talkiewalkie: acquired taste = anything human with a pulse and the ability to consent. Literally. I’ve watched you pick up. 

RussianGod: as long as consent. What’s big deal? They say yes it’s ok. 

Prongstar: I JUST SAW THE PIC WTF?????

Prongstar: also, Olli? That’s the spirit. 

LeWilliam: cap?!!???? 

Logantremblayzzz: whattttt 

Talkiewalkie: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA WELL YOU CERTAINLY CAME OUT THE CLOSET..... LITERALLY

CarbO’Hara: damn!!! I was gonna say that 

Newt-leo: I said it first. You just type like a madman.

Krisvolley: is that the shark you dropped off for Ava? 

DumoDad: better call peta. Poor shark. 

Siriusly: it’s not whAt it looks like. Someone tweeted I was in there and the cougars descended upon me. I had to hide. Someone actually ripped my shirt and Remus was gone to look at pillows. I had to hide. It was scary. 

Blizzard: so you didn’t do a quickie in Ikea with a plushie shark watching? 

Siriusly: no. We didn’t, also, sirius had to put his shirt back on in a Hurry. Someone did rip it (re here) 

Blizzard: I’m not judging. Whatever makes your skates fly cap. Never had Re as an exhibitionist tho . 

Siriusly: he’s not. We didn’t do anything. Some lady ripped my shirt and I hid in the closet while the nice Ikea girl distracted them with some sort of family offer I think or free ice cream whatever. But they’d actually ripped my shirt. Re helped me put it back on... you guys are idiots. 

Logantremblayzzz: heheheh whatever you say. 

Krisvolley: so you didn’t do nasty things to or near the shark my daughter is now refusing to give up? She’s named it fluffy. I’m worried. She said it’s just smiling? Should I be worried? 

Siriusly: ew no of course not. Promise. 

Nadotheman: sure. Also I see what you’re doing cap. I’m favorite. Back off.😫

Siriusly: no idea what you mean. JACKIE 

Blizzard: Jackie? That’s cute. How’re you today Jackie? 😘

Nadotheman: shut up kasey. Or I’m gonna spank youuuu 

Krisvolley: you guys do realize she’s literally calling whoever gives in to her whims and tantrums her favorite right? Also I’m her dad. I’ll always be her number 1! ❤️

Nadotheman: awww we know. Best single dad!!! 

Siriusly: we’re not trying to steal her kris! You’re doing amazing! 

Ollibear: yeah man she’s so lucky she’s got you!!! 

Blizzard: we love you kris 💖💖💖

—-

Wednesday 1.33

Alice: alright. Ikea confirmed that there was a situation involving fans and we were able to mostly control the narrative. You have to prepare for some chirps and a few memes. 

Sirius: what’s a meme? 

Alice: I swear to god sometimes you’re a grandpa stuck in a young man’s body. Ask the rookies. 

Sirius: you’re really mean. 

Alice: I’m also really good at my job. So suck it up captain. You’re a hockey god. I’m a PR god. We work together and magic happens.

Sirius: I’d think that was flirting but I’ve seen you make heart eyes at frank. So. We’re good right? I swear I won’t roll my eyes for the next, like, three interviews 

Alice: you better not love. And yes, frank is rather into me, isn’t he? Time I put him out of his misery, I think. 

Sirius: good luck! (To frank) 

Alice: I’ll tell him 😜

—- 

Finn: hey Alice!! 

Alice: O’Hara, how can I help? 

Finn: I just had an idea ok? 

Alice: I hope it’s better than take your dog to work day. 

Finn: that was a great idea. Not my fault that skates and jersey are easily confused for chew toys. 

Finn: but I thought we could do a charity skate or something? (Need your brain here) so all Star was a massive success so maybe we could do like a charity thing soon and get money for like lgbt+ mental health awareness right? Like. Cap is of course new to this but I can speak up, my brother is happy to support too and I bet the team would too! We could invite young people on the ice and do like a you can play thing? I know it’s not pride but like. We could wear rainbows and glitttee and????  I really wanna support cap!! 

Alice: I like your enthusiasm and the idea. Give me a few days with my team and we can work on something? I also believe congratulations are in order? For your and your boys? 

Alice: also. you typed about 100 “like” in there. I’m worried about the state of the American school system. You're a Harvard graduate.... 

Finn: I love you! I’m terrified of you but I also love you and thanks. I want to get us jerseys saying O’Knutzy? That’s cute right. 

Alice: it’s easy to make happen but Finn, maybe sit down with your boys and heather first ok? Maybe cap too. Coming out is a lot and I want to make sure you’re okay with the consequences. There’s a lot of bigoted people out there and it breaks my heart I can’t protect you better than I do! 

Finn; hey we know you’ve got our back! 

Alice: I’ll see what I can do. Is the team ok with this? 

Finn: yeah most of them I’ve asked and the rest will follow I’m sure. 😀

Alice: you’re a good kid! I’ll do my best! 

Finn: 😘😘😘

Alice: I’d say that’s inappropriate but I know you mean well! 

——

Finn: NAT!!! She said she’ll look into it! 

Nat: I love you finn and we’re gonna make this event explode in a shower of glitter, love and rainbows. 

Finn: 💖🏳️‍🌈💖🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Nat: 😘 also sent you some stuff on email about poly. 

Finn: wait? You and kasey???

Nat: No but I’m a musician baby, me being in a het relationship is the weird thing in our community 😜

Finn: maybe I hang with the wrong crowds. 

Nat: hopeless hockey boys ❤️

Finn: you’re dating one. 

Nat: I know. And I ship your poly arrangement harder than fangirls on tumblr. If anyone says anything tell me and I’ll relieve them of their knee caps

Finn: I get why you and kasey works. His threats are also oddly specific. He made the Boston rat cry when he detailed his imminent death via goalie pads. It was eerie. 

Nat: that’s my man 😍

Finn: weirdos. I’ll let you know when Alice is back ❤️

Nat: 😜🏳️‍🌈💖🙏🏻🌍😇

[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 

[realpersonfacts]

Finished the Broken Earth Trilogy. Cried. Finished listening to The Way of Kings audiobook. 45 hours, worth it. SUCH a ride. Waiting on the rest of the series. Any fantasy (or sci-fi) books you'd recommend? I think I just happened to be reading/listening to the same books you happened to recommend to others, so now I'd love to get some recommendations if you have any.

yes!!! hello!!!! most of what I read is fantasy so I definitely have recs!

first of all I want to say that the broken earth trilogy is the best thing I've read in years it was sooo so good. I just got a physical copy and I'm thinking about rereading soon even though I read them for the first time less than six months ago hahaha. and the stormlight archive is just SO much fun.

Older stuff that I have loved for a long time:

The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud: if there's one YA series that I could give Tumblr Fame it would be this one. it's about an au London where the politics are controlled by magicians, who in turn get their power from the spirits they can summon and enslave to do their work for them. DELIGHTFULLY funny. the main characters are a djinn with a soft spot for humans (despite his claims to the contrary) who has the Best narration ever, a young magician who is incredibly unlikeable but his life is juuuust tragic enough to keep you invested, and a commoner girl who joins a revolutionary movement against the tyranny of the magicians.

Howl's Moving Castle (and others) By Dianna Wynne Jones: if you haven't read howl's moving castle you should! it's different from the movie and I like it better. really enjoyable characters/setting/plot etc and one of the books that just gives me good feelings whenever I read it. also Dianna Wynne Jones just writes fun books in general! I don't remember a lot of them except for The Dark Lord of Derkholm which is really really entertaining, the premise is that there's a fantasy world where every year tourists from our world pay to visit and defeat the Dark Lord so every year a wizard from the fantasy world has to dress up and act as the dark lord for all these tourist groups and everyone in the fantasy world is SICK of having to do it.

The Earthsea books by Ursula K. Le Guin: I am currently in the middle of rereading these too! they are all fairly short and while technically they are YA they really don't feel like it? they are older books and they are written in a more slow and contemplative style than a lot of the other stuff on this list. the first three are all coming of age books but in slightly different ways. ursula k le guin is super smart and I found her afterwards really interesting too; she has a lot to say about the nature of fantasy stories.

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman: i'm biased because i read these at a really formative age but they are probably my favorite books ever. i love the journey that the characters go on and the ending makes me cry every time.

Newer stuff that I have read for the first time recently:

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang: I am currently halfway through the third book in this trilogy and it's very good. Note that it is a LOT darker than the rest of the stuff on this list (to give you some idea, the author is a Chinese historian and the war in the books takes a lot of inspiration from the Japanese invasion of China during WWII) but idk I don't usually go for super dark/sad stuff and I am still enjoying it a lot? The premise behind the magic system is that people can forge bonds with gods to call upon their power, but the gods are impossible to control so after a certain point you basically become just a vessel for the god as a being of destruction. I'm expecting it to end tragically but the well-written kind of tragedy where it's cathartic because you saw the characters' fates coming so we'll see!

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune: in direct contrast to the poppy war this book was SO sweet. like almost TOO cute and charming if you know what I mean. it's about a case worker who goes to assess an orphanage of Ragtag Magical Children and their mysterious caretaker. I am not hugely into kids but I wanted to adopt all the kids in this book. will make you Feel Good.

Finally, just a blanket rec for the rest of N.K. Jemisin's work! I am currently two books into The Inheritance Trilogy, her first series, and while I'm not enjoying it as much as the broken earth trilogy it's still good! It has a lot of similar themes about systems of power and oppression and the worldbuilding is fun. I think it's really interesting too to read this one after the broken earth trilogy because you can really see how much she's developed as a writer in such a short time! I haven't read her other books yet but my mom (whose taste I trust and who read the broken earth on my recommendation) has read the Dreamblood Duology and The City We Became and said that The City We Became was her favorite of all of Jemisin's stuff that she's read! so i'm really looking forward to reading them when I get a chance.