#I commissioned the art over a year after the fic was written and boy I love it

[atomicraft]

a love letter to the jrwi community

before i freak anyone out, i am NOT leaving OR killing myself, i just got sappy in the shower after the merch update :’]

we started listening to jrwi when we were 13. we were freshly recovering from the height of the pandemic at a sleepover that we couldn’t manage to fall asleep at, and decided to start from campaign one: fated. we immediately fell in love with the style of storytelling that we were familiar with as a D&D player, but not just a listener. About four years have passed since that sleepover, and so much love and light in my life has come from it <3 Watching the boys grow and evolve as people and as characters has been awesome, and I’m so proud of what they’ve created (slash parasocial). I’ve easily made hundreds of artworks for this podcast, written my first novel-length fic for it, written over 200k words, made animatics, bonded with people, and have made friends that have made such a deep impact that transitioned from my screen to my real life /pos. Not only that, but I’ve somehow established a presence in this community ??? I’m not popular by any means, but people recognize me from my fics, my headcanons, my art, and it makes all the love I’ve poured into this feel so tangible.

Watching this new merch drop made me weirdly emotional, watching this podcast go from considering commissioning small peices of character artwork a big milestone to producing entire merch lines and having a production team. It has always been a labour of love, and I’m so greatful for how far it’s come.

I love my friends, I love this podcast and the people behind it, and I love the community that’s given me space to become the person I’ve grown into. thank you <3

[enchantedchocolatebars]

A HUGE sneak preview from Chapter 4 (Original Spinet Theme) of my big chapter fic "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human" (Fic is very canon divergent).

Commission cover art here.

Cover art poll here.

Chapter titles here.

A fun piece.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Redraw here.

First snippet, second snippet. (Read in numerical order for context.)

This is the final snippet that I will be sharing for the chapter.

Next up is the entire chapter.

Enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

As Kid Philip bolts into his shared bedroom, Caleb follows behind him at a slower speed, wielding a quill in his left hand.

The brunette proceeded to press his back against the wall behind his room door as he stood up straight, smiling fondly at his brother as he looked forward, sweet blue eyes gazing into warm brown ones.

Caleb, smiling back at his younger sibling, placed the pen horizontally above Philip's head, its tip facing the wall.

Moving the tip across the wall, the blonde creates a short, straight mark over Philip's head.

After Philip steps away from the wall, Caleb begins to record both his brother's height and age on it, with his height being written on the left side of the mark while his age is written on the right.

4. 5 feet - five-years-old

...

The early summer sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky, casting warmth across the atmosphere as Caleb cheerfully assisted his mother in churning butter on their farm, her hands over his as they cranked away at the churner.

Chirp-chirp-chee!

As Caleb gazes at the trees on the other side of the farm, believing that's where the chirps came from, the short, soft trills continue as a bird with vibrant red plumage flutters down and finds a comfortable spot to perch on.

Chrip!

Looking to his collarbone, Caleb spots a small male cardinal on his shoulder as he beams, brown eyes filled with excitement and wonder at the northern bird.

Patience gave a small, sweet laugh at her son's excitement, smiling fondly at both him and the cute little cardinal that he had.

She moves her hand over to gently pat the bird's head with her finger, being careful not to mess up his smashing hairdo.

...

The churned butter is quickly incorporated into a combination of wet and dry ingredients to create a cake topped with strawberries for Philip's 6th birthday, which is quietly celebrated in secret among the family.

...

Philip and his father exited a shop on All Hallows' Eve as the full moon illuminated the dark night sky.

The new carving knife Cadman had purchased to carve pumpkins at home with his boys was put in his pocket.

On their way out of town, the two heard a chorus of slow, lifeless moans coming from behind them and stopped in their tracks.

Cadman and Philip felt danger approaching as they slowly turned around and saw dozens of undeceased "witches" who had emerged from the dead, clearly seeking vengeance for their unjustified killings.

They were lumbering forward toward, in their eyes, two living sacks of human flesh that they planned to bite and have join in on their revenge crusade.

With wide eyes and a pounding heart, Cadman's instincts to protect his child quickly kicked in as he grabbed Philip's hand and soon bolted away from the pale green fiends.

Seconds later, Philip charges back at the death-dealing savages with his wooden sword, ready to send them all back to Heck where they belong, only for Cadman to bolt back after him.

Hurriedly snatching his son back with his right arm, Cadman takes off out of town, carrying Philip under his arm to prevent him from fleeing again.

...

With his boots and farm attire on, Cadman was ready to harvest his November crops.

His wife pulled out his brown leather hat from behind her back, placed it on his head, and planted a gentle kiss above his brow.

...

Cadman started cutting his crop stalks at a faster pace with his sickle as dark clouds surrounded the sky, not paying close attention to the sharp metal blade of his tool.

While working, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and the agonizing scream he exclaimed pierced the air.

As he slowly raised the hand he used to clutch his stomach, he noticed a dark crimson stain on his hand and quickly went wide-eyed.

He had a horrific look on his face as lightning flashed across the sky.

It was clear to him that his accidental cut could lead to more serious complications if he didn't return home promptly and have his wife take care of it.

As he stood, he made an effort to move quickly, but his injury was causing him to stumble while hobbling.

...

The furious storm continued into the night as Patience rested back in her rocking chair, reading a Bible story to her boys as they both listened keenly, sitting criss-crossed on the rug.

An urgent and loud bang on the door startled the three as Patience set her husband's Bible down and went to answer it.

The shrill scream from their mother caught Philip and Caleb off guard as she quickly rushed past them.

She directed the two to remain where they were while she went to retrieve a dampened cloth.

Although the boys had no idea what was happening, the sound of their father moaning in pain made their fret visible on their faces.

...

The dark, dreary skies matched the sadness that was brewing in the air as an undertaker laid Cadman's body to rest.

Patience sobbed heavily into her hands, unable to watch her beloved being buried as she and her sons stood on the side.

During her crying, her boys begin to shed tears.

They both clutch the lower half of their mother's dress, tightly holding onto the fabric as she wraps her arms around them for comfort.

...

Patience found it difficult to adapt to widowhood and life as an independent mother, but it was something she had to endure.

She frequently blamed herself for the death of her husband.

However, the presence of her boys made things less dreadful for her.

Caleb and Philip consistently assisted Patience with household tasks and always knew how to make her smile.

...

When Patience fell ill to an unknown sickness, it was up to Caleb to take care of her since he was the oldest child, with Philip occasionally doing what he could to help.

With the house's finances becoming more scarce, Caleb struggled to bring down his mother's fever, only with a wet rag at his disposal as Patience became more and more ill with every passing day.

...

One day, when Philip arrived home with a sack of apples that Caleb had instructed him to buy, he heard a faint echo of crying.

The reverberation spread throughout the hallway.

When Philip neared the dining room, he saw his brother with his head down on the table, wailing almost grievingly.

As Caleb slowly raised his head, he saw Philip and felt the weight of everything weighing heavily on him.

He stood up and ran to hug his brother tightly.

Philip was able to quickly understand what had occurred based on Caleb's emotions and was unable to move.

When the sack fell from his grasp and hit the ground, apples tumbled onto the floor.

Caleb was embraced with the same level of tightness by Philip, who quietly cried in his brother's arms.

...

At least Cadman and Patience were now buried side by side, as both Philip and Caleb couldn't imagine the two being apart even in death.

...

The death of their parents made neither boy want to remain in the house, as it was not the same without Cadman and Patience present.

Not only did the atmosphere lack the love of their parents, but the house's structure was starting to break down as well.

They needed a new house to live in.

...

Before they set off on their search for a new home, Caleb went into the chicken coop and said goodbye to all the birds that came into contact with him while Philip went into the stables.

Approaching his favorite brown stallion, the two proceeded to have a heart-to-heart as Philip reached up and gently ran his hand through the horse's mane while the horse pushed his nose into his palm.

A hug was soon given by Philip as he wrapped one arm around the horse's neck.

...

While the two brothers were walking hand in hand through the woods, they came across a brown wooden cottage at the end of the woods.

The wood was slightly worn, and shutters were dangling from their hinges on the two front windows, as observed by both of them.

As Caleb contemplated whether or not he and Philip should enter the house, an enthusiastic Philip ran toward the cottage.

Surprised by the sudden action, Caleb followed after, catching up with his brother as they entered the house.

Based on its current weathered condition, the wooden house seemed to belong to no one.

Well, no one except for the Wittebanes now.

...

At night, Philip had trouble falling asleep in his shared room as he heard Caleb's muffled cries, the blonde quietly sobbing into his pillow.

Caleb's current state left Philip feeling sad and sympathetic, prompting him to turn his gaze to the ceiling, fold his hands, and silently pray for God to bring his brother joy again.

Subsequently, he thanks God for taking care of the souls of his parents while they are in heaven.

...

Caleb awakens Philip the next day with a smile and eagerly urges him to get out of bed.

He wants to mark his height on their wall.

4. 6 feet - eight-years-old

Philip's growth excites both him and his brother as they cheer.

Caleb lifts Philip up and spins him around with joy, while the brunette giggles in delight as the music and montage come to a satisfying end.

[impala-dreamer]

~ Rebekah Jordan's Commission Info for 2024 ~

Have you ever had a dream that you wish you could save and relive over and over again? A story idea that you simply cannot flesh out or find anything that comes close to your idea already written? Have you always wanted to see Yourself Actually in a story? Have you searched and searched for a good story focused around your out-of-the-way kink and it just does not exist? - I can help.

Come chat with me and I will help your fictional dream come true! Or, at the very least, committed to paper in an amazingly written story that you will adore.

Read on for more info, and please reblog to spread the word :)

How does it work?

You send me a message and we discuss what type of story you’d like. If I think I can do it properly for you- it’s a go!

You provide details about the character (you, someone else, multiples). Stories can be OFC, Actual People, or Reader Insert.

You leave me alone for a little while and when I return, you’ll get a PDF file of your fic (usually including custom art) emailed right to you!

What fandoms are you writing for lately?

Any fandom can be negotiated provided I am familiar with it and feel like I would do the details justice. Ex: I’ve watched football, but I’m not going write a great football story because I just don’t get it. ;)

Fandoms I have written for and am comfy with:

Supernatural, Supernatural RPF (Mostly all ships and characters/actors)

The Boys, The Boys RPF

The Walking Dead, TWD RPF (Rick, Negan, Daryl)

Marvel (Cap, Bucky, Sam Wilson), Marvel RPF (Evans & Stan)

Criminal Minds

The Hunger Games

The Magicians (All Characters and Ships)

The Winchesters, The Winchesters RPF

Daisy Jones & The Six (Billy Dunne)

Random RPF Actors/Singers

What Kind of Story Can You Do?

Anything. No, wait. I’m afraid you don’t believe me. I mean… ANY T H I N G. You want hardcore smut that boarders on problematic? I’m in. You want the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed and would make Hallmark movies cringe? I got you. Angst? Dark stuff? General? Literally Anything you want. I only have one or two things I’m not comfortable with but that can all be discussed in private, and honestly, after 8 years doing this, no one’s ever come close to asking for them so you’re 1000% good to ask for whatever.

What’s the bottom line here?

Well, your story, which will be anywhere from 1,000 - 10,000 words depending on how wordy I get, will be a flat rate of $25. This includes my full attention to your story from start to finish, accompanying art, specific detail inclusion, and an emailed PDF file that you can print out or delete, or whatever you want. It’s yours.

I do not write for word counts, only for the story. If your complete story can be told in 1k words, that’s great. If it takes another 40,000 and we end up with a novel, we can discuss a little extra depending on how far we go! If you'd like a series... let's start at $30 and see what happens! I’m more worried about giving you the best story I can than worrying about word counts.

Commissions are not limited to type or fandom. It costs nothing to ask, and the worst I can say is "sorry, I can't write that".

If you'd like to discuss an idea that is NOT specifically fandom related, I'm open to that as well!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’m not scary.

You can also check out my Tumblr Masterlist for examples of my work incase you’re unsure. And… just a reminder, Patrons get a discount!

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

The Empty’s Curse

👉 Read it on Ao3

Characters – Dean, Castiel (Destiel eventually), Sam, Jack, Rowena, Billie/Death mainly. A few others.

Warnings – Angst, fluff (eventually). Dean having a hard time with his feelings (duh). Destiel fluff.

Summary – Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Words – 5390

A/N – Theme clearly heavily influenced by this week’s episode (14x07) (it was the one where Jack is sick and coughing up blood and they couldn’t find a cure)(And yes I wrote this right after 14x07 - Cas’ deal is in 14x08. So. !!!) A/N2 - Special thanks to @licieoic​ for the wonderful painting! Our soft boys were in good hands! <3

The entity from The Empty had had it. A number of people had risen from its depths over time, and the entity seriously had had enough. It knew it was all linked to Dean somehow and had decided to end this charade – it needed its sleep. And so, in a tongue-in-cheek fit of rage, it had cursed Dean to get a little more sleepy each day, losing his vital energy until there is no more.

It took a few weeks before anyone noticed something off. But at some point Dean fell asleep at the wheel, scaring Sam and Jack. The following days had been spent trying to figure out what’s wrong – and not letting Dean drive, which made him extra grumpy although he agreed.

They’d found nothing. They’d read every book in the bunker – again – and every book in the other capitum, and turned out nothing. Some Egyptian spells, some mesopotamian legends, but nothing really fit perfectly.

They’d taken him to the hospital. They’d found nothing.

They’d called Ketch, who, in spite of his vast knowledge, had no idea what could be wrong exactly. He’d contacted a few trusted old friends (much to everyone’s surprise) to try and search the Men of Letters library. After a few days, they hit jackpot – if a curse by The Empty’s entity can be called jackpot. Someone back in Egyptian times had had too much power and the entity had decided it was enough. The story said no god could change the entity’s mind, and the Egyptian man had withered away slowly.

So Dean was dying. Slowly. He was not in any particular pain, he was just tired, a little more each day. He would sleep a lot and, the little time he was awake, he would keep to his bed. He would not eat. He hardly drank a little water.

Sam was by his side almost every waking moment. Jack too. Castiel had gone to try and find some Shaman or anyone the Shaman would recommend. He called to check in every now and then.

Rowena had managed to get Death to come – without killing reapers – so they could talk to her and try to convince her to talk to The Empty’s entity. The tall, dark, timeless woman stood in the doorway. “Hello Dean.” “Hey Billie.” Billie – Death – stood there, unmoving. Dean added, “So, when you said, ‘see you soon’, did you think it would be this soon?” “Actually, no.” “Hah.” “But it is one of your possible deaths.” “Oh yeah, the books with all my deaths, I remember. Really?” “Yes.” There was a moment of silence in which Death walked to the side of the bed and looked down at Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean.” “Me too.” Sam, who was sitting by the bed, asked Death, “Can’t you do something about this?” “No. This death is one of the possible ones. Things will keep in balance if this death happens. It is sooner than I thought, but, then again, I’ve come to expect the Winchesters to live much longer, or many more times than the usual Joe.” Dean didn’t like the answer. “So you’re not going to help us. But you said to me, I remember, you said I was important. That I had work to do. And there is still work to do.” Death turned to Dean. “You have a point. I’ll try to talk to The Empty. But I can’t promise anything; I have no power over it.” Her gaze became unfocused a moment. She blinked. “It said no. And it said it’s claiming you. I’m sorry, Dean, I am.” So Death couldn’t help. The Empty wouldn’t let Dean live. That meant Castiel’s search wouldn’t do anything to help. But even with this news Castiel just kept pressing on, hopelessly trying to find a loophole, something they could try that they hadn’t thought of. He literally scoured the Earth for any specialist in supernatural matters. Yet his hope was his only; everyone else had understood Dean was dying for real, for good, forever.

The first few days after they all realized the inevitable, Sam had cried in silence by Dean’s bed. A lot. He had tried to keep it in when Dean was awake but sometimes Dean was only half asleep and a tear would roll down his cheek as he heard his brother’s muffled sobs. Days passed, and Sam simply felt numb. A kind of routine settled in, a familiarity with seeing Dean bedridden. Dean had told Sam to get out, go on hunts, get some air. Sam had tried, but had botched the jobs, unable to focus. He even got a few bad injuries. So Sam stayed at the bunker. Dean didn’t have enough energy in him to tease him about being a sloppy hunter.

One afternoon, Dean waited until Jack had left to run some errands to talk to Sam. “I’m sorry, Sammy.” “For what?” “I promised I’d look after you, and here I am, dying on you.” “Dean, don’t say that.” “Still…” “Dean… It’s not your fault.” “But it’s not what I wanted.” He looked at nothing in particular, and said, mostly to himself, “Plus, I’m a hunter, a warrior. I shouldn’t go out like this. This is unfitting.” Sam couldn’t come up with anything to say to that, really. So he just sat there. Dean laid in silence. Sam had his head down, his hands white with clasping them together too hard, his mouth a thin line. “Sammy.” Sam looked up, his hands regained a little colour. He waited. “Sammy, I wish we’d spent more time together.” Sam cocked his head. “But… we’re almost always together.” “That’s not what I mean. I mean, we should have done things together, have a little fun. Not just work. When’s the last time we played pool just for fun, not to hustle anyone?” Sam looked down at his hands. “I honestly can’t remember.” He looked up in Dean’s direction, his eyes unfocused. “But… you know… between everything that’s happened… When’s the last time we actually had time to even think about doing… anything, really?” Dean looked away. “I know.”

Days passed, and turned into weeks. Sam still couldn’t hunt. He felt the more time passed, the closer they must be to the end, and he couldn’t bear thinking of being away when it would happen. Castiel checked in more often, but kept searching still.

Ketch had come by and had told Dean he had pulled every string and every favour to try to find someone who could help, without any success. Dean had thanked him for his efforts. Still, Ketch insisted he was profoundly sorry. He added, with more emotion than both thought possible, that he had hoped he could have made it up to him and he had hoped they could have been partners, even friends. Dean had just said, “alright, alright” but had shook his hand nonetheless, adding, “sorry man, we’re out of time.”

Other people had come – Jody, Donna, Claire… Most didn’t know what to say, cried, held Dean, he cried, held them, they tried to find something to say, couldn’t find much, sat around a while, told stories, memories they’d keep with them of time spent together on hunts and whatnots. Made promises of being badass and keep helping people.

Who took Dean’s going away the hardest? It was not a contest anyway, but Claire sure stood out. She kept apologizing for her behavior, Dean kept telling her it’s fine, she’s turned out a strong, capable, resourceful woman, whispering he’s proud of her into her hair as she held on to him, trying to calm down between sobs.

With people coming and going, Sam and Jack had taken turns watching over Dean, who slept even more. After people had stopped coming, they’d kept to this habit, with Rowena popping in from time to time with some spell she’d found to give him more energy or keep him more awake – the effects of which would be very short-lived, at best.

Castiel finally came back. He looked exhausted, but the kind of exhaustion that goes beyond the body. Sam and Jack welcomed him back, hugs were exchanged, news of Dean’s state given. Sam warned Castiel, “Don’t get too startled, he’s lost quite a bit of weight. I kept his beard a little longer so he wouldn’t look too scary with his sunken cheeks. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I don’t want him to worry about it.” Castiel had assured him he could not be scared by Dean and proceeded to go see him. Sam and Jack let him go alone. Watching Castiel walk away, Sam coughed down a lump in his throat.

Castiel came into Dean’s room. Dean was sleeping. Castiel usually stood around, forgetting altogether the use of chairs, but this time, he pulled a chair, wanting to be close to Dean, knowing he’ll be there a while. Dean was lying on his back, seemingly sleeping peacefully. There were a few comforters on top of him; he was probably cold, what with his lack of energy. Castiel touched his shoulder. Indeed, Dean was colder than a human should be. He tried to warm him up with his grace, but it didn’t work. Dean didn’t even wake up. Castiel looked at him, his hair grown out, his beard short, but effectively covering some of the sunken in cheeks. Dean wasn’t scary, Castiel thought. He was heart-wrenching. He took Dean’s hand in his, looking at his face.

He felt a squeeze of his hand as he saw Dean’s eyes open slowly. “Cas…” Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand harder. “Cas…” “Hello, Dean.” They looked at each other with horror and sorrow, realizing those two words were probably spoken for the last time. They both knew Castiel wouldn’t leave Dean’s side a single instant now.

Castiel was surprised that, in spite of his state, Dean’s eyes were still a most vibrant green. Castiel didn’t understand why, but he had the sudden urge to get a few strands of hair out of Dean’s face. It was unnecessary – Dean’s hair wasn’t that long – but he wanted to touch him, to feel he was still here. He was already holding Dean’s hand, but it didn’t seem enough. He bent over a bit and smoothed out the hair out of Dean’s face, gently. Dean closed his eyes and turned his face ever so slightly into Castiel’s touch.

Castiel let his hand rest by Dean’s head and, with his thumb, stroke his hair by his ear. He shifted his weight, knowing he’d stay like this for a while. Dean leaned in a little. Castiel looked at his beautiful face, still beautiful in spite of the weight loss. “How did we get to this?” Dean opened his eyes, but didn’t look at Castiel. “You know. It seems I managed to piss off a cosmic entity.” He looked up at Castiel, and, with a sad smile, said, “seems we have something in common.” “Yes, but I pissed him off to come back to you.” Dean closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, his face a grimace of sadness, as he leaned more into Castiel’s hand. “I’m sorry.” “That’s not what I meant – Dean…” Castiel took Dean’s face in both hands. “Dean, don’t… I’m not saying…” He let go of Dean's face. Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and pulled at his trenchcoat. “Cas…” Castiel, without even thinking, bent down and took Dean in his arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, sobbing. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” “It’s not your fault.” “Yes, it is.” “It doesn’t matter.” “Don’t go.” “I’m not going anywhere.” They stayed like this for a while, Dean going from calming down to panicking again because he knows this is the end and there’s nothing he can do. The powerlessness was unbearable. Abandoning everyone in his care was unbearable. Focusing back on Castiel’s arms around him made him forget his guilt for a moment. But then it came back in waves and he panicked again. Castiel would hold him closer then and Dean could feel Castiel’s eyelashes brush close to his own.

Sam, having heard nothing for a while, thought Dean had fallen asleep again. He went by to talk to Castiel but, as he came to the door, he saw his brother holding on to his angel for dear life. The joy of seeing Dean finally letting his walls down about Castiel filled him with tremendous joy. And knowing the timing was the worst filled him with immense sadness. He didn’t know if he was smiling or crying, but his heart was the heaviest it had been in a while. He closed the door silently.

Inside, Castiel felt Dean’s arms fall to his sides. Exhausted, Dean had fallen asleep. Castiel straightened up, stroke Dean’s cheek softly and tucked him in. He took Dean’s hand in his and watched over him.

Dean’s eyes opened. How much time had he slept? He couldn’t tell. The light in the room was the same, Castiel was the same, sitting by the bed, holding his hand. Cas. The only true constant in his life. Cas. Castiel, looking at Dean waking up, didn’t go for his usual 'Hello, Dean.' He couldn’t anymore. Every 'Hello, Dean' would feel like it was the very last one, as if it could provoke Dean’s end. Instead, Castiel smiled at Dean. Dean smiled back and gave Castiel’s hand a little squeeze. Looking into his angel’s blue eyes, he felt his heart grow in size, his breath hitch. “Hello, Cas.” Castiel smiled even more. “Hi. Did you sleep well?” “I dreamed you were holding my hand everywhere we went.” “We’re not going anywhere, but it is not a dream, I am holding your hand. I’m not letting you go.” “It felt nice in my dreams.” Castiel stroke Dean’s hand with his thumb. “It feels nice right here.” “We should go somewhere.” “What?” “We should go somewhere. I’d like to be with Baby again, ride in her.” “You can’t drive.” “You can.” “You never let me drive her.” “Soon I won’t be around to keep anyone from driving her. Hell, I even taught Jack to drive with her. So, you know, of course you can drive her.”

On the front seat was Dean wrapped in blankets, buckled up tight so he didn’t have to spend too much energy sitting up. Castiel was at the wheel. Sam was leaning on his arms into the window, asking where they were going and how long. Castiel didn’t know. Dean didn’t know. “For a drive.” was the only answer. Sam made sure Castiel had his phone and wished them a good afternoon.

Castiel kept his eyes on the road. Now and then, he’d glance to see if Dean was still awake. Invariably, he’d see him leaning against the door, not unlike a human burrito in all his blankets, his eyes half closed against the sun, a soft smile on his face. Sometimes Dean would close his eyes and breathe deeply as he listened to Baby’s engine as if it were the only music he’d ever cared for, and then he’d open his eyes again, looking at the scenery through his eyelashes.

Castiel wondered how far they’d go like this. Not that he minded going to the ends of the Earth with Dean. And he liked driving Baby, he realized. He turned to look at Dean again and saw a flash of green staring at him contently. He looked like he had been staring for a while. “Cas, do you think you can drive with one hand?” Castiel didn’t know what to make of that question. “Um…” “Cas…” Castiel saw Dean undo his blankets, lean a bit closer and offer his hand. “I’m tired, Cas.” Castiel took Dean’s hand in his. Dean looked down at their hands, his eyes drooping. He unbuckled himself and scooted closer, and he laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder. He interlaced their fingers. The touch of Cas. The smell of Cas. The low rumble of Baby. He fell asleep with a smile.

Dean woke up in a hotel room at the crack of dawn. The weight on his chest… Cas’ arm. His left side being warmer than his right side… Cas is… Oh. Cas is lying against him, holding him. “Dean…” “Hello, Cas.” Dean closed his eyes as he moved to hold Castiel closer. He almost fell back to sleep. “Did you sleep well?” Dean opened his eyes again. “Better than in a long time.” Dean turned his head to rest his cheek against Castiel’s forehead. “If I’d known I’d sleep so good with you by my side, I think I’d have done it sooner.” Dean closed his eyes, and turned his head a little more to brush his lips against Castiel’s forehead. He absentmindedly gave him a little kiss.

Castiel shifted a little and looked up at Dean. They stayed like this, lost in the green, lost in the blue. In that very moment, Dean had no concept of the bad luck that had befallen him. There was no curse from the entity from The Empty. There was no having lost so many people over the years, there were no epic battles against demons and angels. In that very moment, all of Dean’s universe was Castiel’s eyes and Castiel’s touch. Dean, without even thinking about it, cupped Castiel’s cheek. With his thumb, he stoked his eyebrow and trailed down his cheek to his jaw. He slid his hand to the back of Castiel’s head and played in his hair.

Dean suddenly stopped, his eyes wide. “Wait. How did we get here? Last thing I remember, I was falling asleep in the car.” Castiel smiled. “I kept driving, seeing you slept so soundly. As the sun started to go down, I spotted a lake nearby. I carried you by the lake and sat us on the shore, holding you close so you wouldn’t fall. I thought, if you’d wake up and see the sunset, you’d like it. Then night fell and there were so many stars it was beautiful. I thought, maybe you’ll wake up and see the stars. At some point, I couldn’t keep you warm enough, so I found this little hotel and got us a room. I did my best to keep you warm. You don’t seem so bad.” Dean thought for a moment. “You mean… You took me on a date and I slept through it?” Castiel was confused. “Is that what a date is?” Dean laughed softly. He started playing in Castiel’s hair again. “And a good one, too. I’m sorry I slept through it.” “It’s alright, Dean. You can’t help it. And, I saw you smile a few times in your sleep. You never smiled in your sleep.”

Even if Dean knew Castiel had watched him sleep often, so often, it dawned on him that Castiel didn’t do that with anyone else. Since the very beginning, Castiel had watched over him, making sure Dean is alright. Maybe Castiel didn’t know human emotions at first, but his care for him was already present, very present. He always came when he called. He even came when he didn’t really call, but just… thought of calling. Dean had been demanding sometimes, and Castiel had been very busy with angel wars, but Castiel had come and helped Dean. Dean realized that even if Castiel had been grumpy or even angry at him sometimes, he never felt Castiel would stop being his friend, ever. And then he realized how stupid it is to use the word 'friend' when you’re holding each other, in a bed, looking into each other’s eyes, playing in his hair. Dean thought about the things he’d done without thinking about them – holding on to Castiel, holding his hand, that little kiss he just gave him, being calm whenever he felt Castiel close to him. And Castiel never shying away, always welcoming every one of Dean’s touches, sometimes giving him what he needs before he even knows he needs it.

“Cas…” “Yes, Dean.” “Do you…” He couldn’t say it. Love. He just can’t say it. If Castiel said no, he’d die, for real, right here, right now. Castiel squinted a little. What was it that Dean wanted to know? “Do I what, Dean?” Dean was stuck. It all seemed ridiculous. Here they were, in each other’s arms. But, then again, Castiel always did exactly what Dean wanted or needed, nothing more. He responded to Dean, but did anything come from Castiel himself? Did Castiel want any of this? Dean’s head started spinning with questions, doubts, fear. He let go of Castiel and shifted on his back, looking at the ceiling, sighing.“

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel propped himself on his elbow, looking down at Dean. “Dean. What’s wrong?” Dean passed his hand in his own hair, looked up at Castiel. His question came soft, almost a whisper. “Why do you do all this anyway?” Castiel cocked his head. “All this what?” Dean gestured vaguely, looking about the room. “This. All of this. Everything you do, everything you did. Like, watching me sleep. Or, I don’t know, running complicated errands to get stuff for us. Or… You know, all the things you did. Every time you came when I called. You know. Everything.” “You ask me why do I do all of it?” Dean looked intensely at the wallpaper. “Yes…”

Castiel took a moment, looking into Dean’s eyes until Dean looked back into his. “I love you, Dean. Always have.” Dean seemed surprised. “Since we first met? But I stabbed you.” Castiel smiled. “Before that. Since I rescued you from Hell.” Dean’s eyes were wide. “Whoa… Really?” “The angels were right when they said I was lost as soon as I laid a hand on you. I had never felt emotions like this. I was, indeed, as an angel, lost.” Dean was speechless. Tears brimmed his eyes, he didn’t know why. Castiel continued, “Everything I did, I did for you. I still do. You’re the most important thing in my eternal life.”

Dean’s vision blurred. He felt the tears rolling down. He blinked, trying to keep Castiel in focus, trying to not lose a single instant of his blue eyes looking at him. Castiel didn’t understand the tears. “Dean, are you OK?” “Yeah, I…” He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders. He didn’t pull him in, he just held on. “Dean… What’s wrong?” “Nothing, I…” Dean lifted himself up on his elbows and reached up to Castiel’s lips, but stopping right before he got to them. What was he doing? He looked at Castiel, who hadn’t moved, seemingly waiting, looking into his eyes. Castiel passed an arm around Dean’s back to help him stay up. Dean’s mind went blank. He closed the distance and pressed his lips against Castiel’s. He saw Castiel close his eyes, felt him press his lips against his, but nothing more.

Dean fell back down to the mattress. He didn’t know if he did something he should regret or not. Castiel’s voice came low. “Well, that’s new.” Dean looked up at Castiel. “New? You’ve kissed before. You even…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Castiel laid back down by Dean’s side, took Dean’s hand in his. “It’s new because I thought my heart would explode. It’s a strange effect.” “But did you like it?” “Yes, it’s strangely pleasant.” “Do you want to try it again?” “Yes.”

The first kisses were soft. Dean’s head was spinning so much, he felt he’d never kissed anyone before Castiel. Sometimes they’d stop mid-kiss, their mouths still open, catching their breath. ”Dean?” “Yes, Cas?” “Is my heart really going to explode for real? It’s beating really too fast.” Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry. Mine exploded a couple times already.” Castiel opened his eyes in horror. “How…?” Dean laughed. “It’s a manner of speech. Hahaha… God I love you, you’re the best.”

Dean froze. He said it. He told the words to Cas. He started to panic, but Castiel had already his lips on his, kissing him harder. He felt Castiel’s hands in his back, gripping at him. Soon all that mattered was Castiel’s mouth, his tongue against his, hearing their breaths hitch, a low moan escape from… who, he couldn’t tell. Dean’s lips got numb from kissing, but his longing for Castiel just made him kiss him harder, slower, longer.

Dean woke up in his bed in the bunker. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam sitting by the bed. Only Sam. As a reflex, he tried to sit up, panicking. “Where’s Cas?” Sam put his hands up. “Hey, it’s fine, he just left two minutes cause Rowena wanted to talk to him.” Castiel appeared, having visibly ran to the bedroom. “Dean!” He went around the bed, ignoring Sam. He sat by Dean, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. Rowena wanted to tell me something, and…” Dean put his other hand on Castiel’s. “It’s OK.” “But I promised you…” “It’s OK. I’m sorry I panicked.” Castiel bent down, kissed Dean’s forehead. Dean closed his eyes. Castiel kissed Dean’s lips, softly. Dean kissed him back. “So I guess it wasn’t a dream, then.” Castiel cocked his head. “What wasn’t a dream?” “The car ride, the hotel room…” They heard Sam clearing his throat. It didn’t seem to register with them. Castiel answered, “No, it wasn’t a dream. You just fell asleep in the middle of…” They heard Sam really, really clear his throat behind them. “Um, guys, I’ll just…” Sam stood up. Castiel turned to Sam and stood up. “No, you stay, Rowena’s not done with me.” He turned to Dean. “I’ll be right back.” Dean smiled. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Castiel pursed his lips, not laughing at Dean’s joke. Dean looked fondly at Castiel. “Hey, love you.” Castiel’s expression softened. “Love you too.” And he left.

Sam sat back on the chair, looking at his brother who was smiling stupid to himself. Sam couldn’t help but smile, too. “So, you two, uh?” “Yup. Who’d have thought!” Sam chuckled. Dean turned to him. “What?” “Well, Dean, come on. You guys have been into each other for… well, forever it seems.” “You’re kidding me.” Sam only laughed softly. “I’m happy for you two.” “Thanks. I’m happy too.” Dean’s smile faded. “It’s just… the timing…” Sam’s smile faded, too. “I know. But, you know, at least…” “Yeah.”

“So when did Cas bring me back here?” “Um, three days ago.” “THREE DAYS?” “Yeah. It’s the longest you’ve slept so far.” Both brothers got lost in their thoughts. They knew that meant the curse was progressing. Dean broke the silence. “And I’m awake less time each time.” “How long were you awake last time?” Dean rearranged his blankets, thinking. “Well, the ride in Baby, I was awake maybe three hours. Then I slept for about 14 hours. Then I was awake for maybe one hour, and then – he gestured to the room – slept for three days.” “Fuck.” “Yeah." Dean scoffed. "Actually, no.” “What?” “I’m too tired, I can’t.” It took a moment for Sam to make the connection. “Really, Dean? You’re really telling me that? Seriously?” Dean chuckled. He added, more to himself, “Cas probably doesn’t even know how with a guy anyway.” Sam leaned in a little. “And you, do you?” Dean looked at him sideways, a smirk lifting his lips. Sam threw his arms in the air. “Shouldn’t have asked!” Dean chuckled.

Rowena came in with Castiel. Castiel sat by Dean on the bed, their hands finding each other. Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, Rowena has an important message.” Sam got up and offered his chair to Rowena, and stood by the bed. Rowena looked at each man in turn before speaking. “I’ve been keeping in touch with Death and a couple more people, to try and see if the entity from The Empty changed its mind. As it turns out, it seems the entity is waiting for Dean and so it’s been awake the whole time. And it hates being awake.” Castiel added, “Oh yes. It really does.” Rowena nodded. “Yes. And so it’s gone out of patience and it seems it’s going to claim you sooner than later.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “How soon?” “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. Really, really soon.” “Rowena.” “Tonight.”

The news dropped like a bomb. Castiel felt his hand squeezed so hard he winced but didn’t move. He turned to Dean, whose face was already wet with tears, his eyes wide in despair. Sam walked to the door. “I’ll get Jack.”

When Sam got back with Jack, Dean was sitting up, holding Castiel, his face buried in his shoulder. Rowena was still sitting on the chair, her head down, hands folded in her lap. She looked up at Jack. “Jack…” “Yeah, I know, Sam told me.” Dean, hearing Jack’s voice, let go of Castiel. He looked up and extended his hand. “Come here, kid.” Castiel got up and went to the foot of the bed. Dean took Jack in a hug. “You take care of them, alright?” “Yes…” “And of yourself. OK?” “Yes.” Dean patted Jack on the back, broke the hug. He looked at him, patted his shoulder. “Alright.”

“Hello, Dean.” Billie – Death – stood in the doorway. Dean looked at her, eyes wide. “What? Rowena said ‘tonight’, aren’t you early?” Billie walked in as she answered, “We are officially at night, now.” “But…” “Dean, I’ll let you say your goodbyes, but I have my orders. Sorry.” Dean turned to Sam, whose face was red, tears rolling down his cheeks. Dean opened his arms. Sam sat on the bed and took his brother in almost violently. They held each other for a moment, immobile. It seemed they almost had stopped breathing. “Come on, Sammy…” “No.” “You’ll be alright. Come on.” Dean broke the hug, took his brother’s face in his hands. “I’m proud of you, Sam. You’ve become a great man. I’ve always been proud of you.” “Me too.” Dean pulled him in again shortly. They finally let go, and Sam stood up and walked out of the way.

“Rowena.” Rowena went to Dean, gave him a hug. She was so small in Dean’s arms, in spite of him being but a shadow of his former self. “Well look at me, I’m crying too. For a Winchester!”, she laughed, sobbing, trying to brush off the horror of the overwhelming emotions that come with loving people again, and losing them. “I did everything I could, Dean, I swear.” “I know, I know.” Rowena broke the hug, looked at Dean and stood up to go back by the chair.

Dean turned to Castiel, still standing at the foot of the bed. “Cas, help me stand.” “But you’re too weak.” “Cas, come on. Help me. If I’m going, I’m going standing. Not like a bedridden wuss.” He shook his hand in Castiel’s direction. Castiel helped Dean out of bed and held him up. “Alright, Billie. But before you take me, tell me, what will happen with me?” “Part of your self will be scattered throughout the universe of every dimension. Part of your self will be in The Empty.” “Wow, no chance of coming back at all, then.” “No. Not this time.” “Alright.” “Are you ready?” “No, but do I have a choice?” “Not this time, no.” “Let’s go then.”

Dean turned to Castiel, and, losing himself in his blue eyes one last time, kissed him, leaning his body into Castiel, Castiel holding him tight. It was a long, silent, soft kiss. Dean stood there a moment more, his forehead on Castiel’s. In barely a whisper, he said, “Cas, never forget I love you.” “Never,” came the answer, more calm than both thought possible. “And I love you too.” Dean closed his eyes against fresh tears, kissed Castiel one last time, trying to imprint the taste of his lips in his mind for eternity.

Dean finally let go of Castiel and started walking towards Death. But Castiel still held his hand. Dean turned around. “Cas, you gotta let me go.” Billie and Castiel exchanged a look. Dean caught it. He asked Billie, “What’s going on?” Billie nodded towards Castiel, saying, “We have an agreement.” Dean turned to Castiel. Castiel stepped in closer to Dean. “I’ll go with you.”

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[leslie-lyman]

Stranger At My Gate - Chapter 7 (Pero Tovar x modern!OFC)

A time-traveling Pero. A modern woman trying her best. A kitchen full of possibility. A helping of Midwest kindness. A dash of magic. And a lot of Christmas spirit.

pairing: Pero Tovar x modern!OFC

rating: E 🚨 [18+ ONLY, minors DNI]

warnings: hoo boy. fingering; oral (m & f receiving); cum eating; a little sorta hint of D/s dynamics (dom!Pero/sub!Tessa), but also both of them are switches; I don’t care that he’s from a thousand years ago Pero Tovar is a Consent King; a whole lot of teasing; a whole lot of tickling/tickle kink (I think? Is that a thing? Oh god don’t look at me)

word count: 4.2k

a/n: Hi everyone! An extra special thank you/forehead kiss to all who let me know how much they liked the last chapter - seriously, the relief I felt over the response y’all had was immense and I appreciate it so, so much. So here’s some more sexy times, as a treat! (I may or may not have had the bulk of this chapter written MONTHS ago and there may or may not be a small part of me that constructed the entirety of the rest of this fic just so I could get to this part and share it with y’all…) I also tried to weave some plot into this chapter but Tessa and Pero seem determined to ignore the plot for the moment so I decided to ignore it too. Also we are deviating from my usual mediocre moodboard at the top here because there is a moment in this chapter in which Pero makes that exact expression at Tessa (see if you can figure out when it is 😉).

One more thing! If you have not already seen this SAMG artwork that I commissioned from @shite-art, PLEASE go have a look at the incredible job Maia did with bringing my babies to life!!!

Previous chapter.

Masterlist.

———

Seven.

They really should talk about…this.

But they haven’t. Yet.

Tessa means too, she really does. But every time she thinks about it her mind inevitably drifts instead to how amazing Pero makes her feel when they fuck, how good he feels over her, under her, around her, inside her -

Talking about it means confronting both their feelings and the looming deadline on Pero’s time here, and Tessa isn’t sure what to do or say about either.

She doubts Pero can be relied on to start that conversation. He’s no more or less talkative now than he was before they started having sex; he’s not terribly good at asking for what he wants from her, but now that she’s made clear that she welcomes his attentions, he doesn’t hesitate to show her what he wants.

Tessa barely gets any work done over the next few days, the two of them hungry and wild for each other in the insatiable way new partners often are. It’s how Tessa finds herself in Pero’s lap after lunch one day, riding his cock with the aid of his strong, massive hands on her thighs as he sucks bruises across the tops of her breasts. It’s how they’re woken up in the middle of the night by one of them grinding against the other in their sleep, neither being sure who started it but only caring how they finish it, in a sweaty, breathless tangle of limbs between Tessa’s sheets and both of their come drying between their legs.

Tessa hasn’t said anything to her family, but she suspects they all know by now, given the texts from Moira she’d received the morning after her and Pero’s first night in bed together. Tessa really should not have expected any less after her aunt’s machinations; there’s no way the nosy woman wouldn’t have made sure to see them kiss and then leave hastily together, and while Tessa can’t bring herself to be all that upset about Moira’s meddling given the result, she does regret teaching her aunt the naughty double meanings of certain emojis.

But owning up to her siblings and Moira about Pero are all additional conversations Tessa is determined not to have, at least for several days. They’ll inevitably ask her questions she can’t answer.

Just let me enjoy this, she begs the universe. For just a little while, let me not worry about anything else, let me just have this, this man who wants me, who likes me, who calls me angel and makes me come so hard I see stars.

It’s like living inside a delicate bubble, warm and cozy and ever so fragile, and neither Tessa nor Pero seems inclined to risk popping it.

Everything is different between them now, and nothing is.

Evenings still typically end with the two of them on the couch, a fire in the fireplace and something on the tv, but now they spend it cuddled together, Tessa curled underneath Pero’s arm, or with her head in his lap, or with him spooned up behind her.

A handful of nights into this new dynamic, Tessa ends up laying mostly on top of him on the couch, head turned to one side to face the tv.

“Not to bias you before you’ve seen it,” she whispers to him before hitting play, “but this is my favorite movie of all time.”

Pero grunts noncommittally in response. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to pay attention to the story being told on screen with Tessa snuggled into him like this, each soft curve of her body gently molded to his, the sweet scent of her hair right under his nose.

But the film draws him in more than he’d expected. It’s easy for him to follow, set mostly in a fictional kingdom and time period not that dissimilar from his own.

Tessa’s whole body trembles as she tries to suppress her laughter during a scene where two characters trade witty barbs over poisoned wine. She turns her face so her mouth is half-pressed into his chest. He can feel her smile and move her lips along with each line of dialogue and it has him far more enraptured than the movie.

“That is actually not bad advice,” he murmurs towards the end of the scene.

“What do you mean?”

“In my experience, land wars in Asia are indeed best to be avoided.”

It takes Tessa a moment to process what he’s said, but then she fully buries her face into his chest and positively shakes with laughter. When she can breathe again, she tilts her head up to look at him, eyes bright with a mirth he put there, and the knowledge floods Pero with an odd, electric kind of warmth he’s never known before.

———

“So?” She asks when the credits start to play. “What did you think?”

Pero hums, considering.

“An entertaining tale, though obviously leaving the prince alive at the end was a mistake.”

He can feel Tessa roll her eyes and his lips quirk up. She turns the tv off and settles back down on his chest.

“Sometimes a story doesn’t have to tie up all the loose ends, Pero. Sometimes a story will just end with the assertion that they all lived happily ever after, and you just choose to believe that that’s true.”

Pero idly runs his hands gently along her back, tracing over each notch in her spine with his thumb.

“That can be a comforting thought, I suppose,” he says.

“Mhm,” she replies, growing relaxed and sleepy under his touch.

Pero slowly slides one hand under the fabric of her shirt, wanting to feel her soft, warm skin against his palm. He drags his hand up and over the dip of her waist, then trails his fingertips back down her side -

And suddenly Tessa squeaks, her whole torso jerking away from him. Pero stops instantly.

“Tessa? Are you alright?”

She nods.

“Yeah, sorry,” she says, her voice breathy and higher pitched than usual. “I just, I wasn’t expecting -”

“Is it possible,” Pero replies, a devilish little smile carving across his features as understanding dawns, “that you are ticklish, angel?”

Tessa freezes atop him, holding herself perfectly still. Her answer takes a beat too long to come to be the truth.

“No.”

“No?” Pero shifts his hand a fraction of an inch, a little test, but it’s enough. Tessa scrambles to get away from him but she’s too slow. In the blink of an eye he reverses their positions, easily flipping her underneath him on the couch, straddling her hips to hold her down.

“Pero, don’t you dare -” she shrieks, wriggling beneath him in a way that has his cock, half-hard since she cuddled into him at the start of the movie, rapidly swelling.

“Easy, angel,” he says, capturing her wrists and bending down to nip at her throat in reprimand. “If you’re not ticklish, prove it.”

She huffs at him, clearly preparing another indignant retort, but stops when she notices his eyes blown black with desire. There’s a smug wickedness written all over his face, and she swallows, considering what he might have in mind, then whispers, “Okay.”

Pero’s smirk is positively feral. He pulls her shirt slowly up and off, revealing her naked chest to his gaze, then takes her hands and positions them so she’s holding onto the couch arm above her head.

“These stay here.” He presses down on her wrists for emphasis. “Or you don’t get to come. Understood?”

Tessa nods. Pero catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Tell me you understand, angel.”

“I understand, Pero.”

His cock twitches at the sight of her, bare from the waist up, spread out beneath him, the picture of submission. He starts by splaying one hand over her tummy, reaching his fingers as wide as they will go, just to see how much of her he can cover.

Then he gently places just the pads of his fingers along her sides. He moves slowly, telegraphing what he’s going to do before he does it. He doesn’t want to startle her; that is not the goal of his game.

He hears her inhale, feels her tense underneath him.

“Not ticklish you say, angel? Are you sure?” She nods, a tiny mhm escaping her lips.

“Not even here?” One by one, he lifts each finger and walks them up and down her waist. She quivers underneath him, but shakes her head no.

“What about here?” He works his way up, tracing the underside of each breast, then running a fingertip up and over each of her stiff, pointed nipples. Goosebumps follow wherever he touches her, but again, she shakes her head no.

“Hmm,” he hums, frowning in faux consternation. “Perhaps…here?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he runs the backs of his fingernails up the outside of her breast and up into her armpit. Tessa shuts her eyes, biting down on her lower lip as she whines, her grip on the couch going white-knuckled.

“Shh,” Pero hushes her. “I know it’s a lot. Look at me.”

She blinks up at him, chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

“There you are, angel. Should I check the other side, do you think? Just to make sure?” He ghosts his fingers up under her opposite arm and he can feel her breath stop, feel how hard she’s trying to keep still, to be good for him. He keeps going, all the way to her elbow, before retreating back the way he came.

“So far, angel, looks like you’re telling the truth,” he murmurs.

“Please,” Tessa whimpers. Pero stills.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, though he’s almost certain she does not.

“No.” She shifts her hips under him in protest of the very notion, arching her back to push her breasts closer to his face. The light from the dying fire and the dim glow of the tree lights near the window paint her skin in warm washes of orange and pink and blue, carving out places of shadow along her body and he’s determined to know every hidden inch of her.

“No,” she says again, “Pero, please, I need you to touch me.”

He trails his fingers down her sternum.

“But angel,” he coos, “I am touching you.”

A noise of frustration works its way out of her throat.

“Though I do admit,” he says, dragging a hand over her stomach to the waistband of her sleep pants, “there is much I have yet to explore, no?”

He moves back for just a moment and peels off her pants and underwear in one movement before gently parting her legs.

“Oh angel,” he breathes, eyes fixed on where her pussy glistens with arousal. “Look at you.”

A moment of indecision plays out across his face as he stares at her. He could end this little game right now, if he wanted. Stop the charade and have himself buried in Tessa’s tight, wet heat in a matter of moments. But he decides he’s enjoying the buildup too much. He gathers his wits, sitting up on his knees and bringing her right leg up to rest on his shoulder.

“Let me see,” he murmurs, watching Tessa’s eyes widen when she realizes what he’s about to do. He wraps one hand around her ankle, his grip firm but not so tight she could not break away from him if she wished.

“Are you ticklish…here?” His other hand softly skims along the arch of her foot. The motion draws an anguished moan from her. Without his weight to hold her down, her hips buck, leaving her writhing in the air just inches from where his aching cock tents the front of his pants.

But she shakes her head no, and doesn’t let go of the couch.

Pero chuckles, his hand traveling slowly up her leg.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he tuts at her. He trails his hand up and around her calf, then traces tiny circles behind her knee.

“Pero, please,” she says again, lifting her hips once more as if to say look, please, can’t you see how much I want you?

“Patience, angel. I pride myself on being a thorough man.”

The lightest touch of his fingernails down the back of her thigh leave her trembling, but in response to his question of “here?” her answer is the same it’s always been.

“Well then, angel,” Pero says, leaning forward, “it looks like there’s only one place left to check. Are you ticklish…here?”

He brushes the tip of a single finger across her clit.

“Yes.” It comes out a sob, Tessa’s whole body arching off the couch.

“Oh?” Pero attempts to mock her, but his voice breaks on the single syllable. He drags his thumb through the wetness dripping from her folds and starts rubbing softly against the swollen bundle of nerves.

“I thought so, angel.”

He dips a finger into her, making a little satisfied sound when he slides in easily to the knuckle. She bucks into his hand, desperate for more.

“Pero, Pero, please -”

“What do you need?”

“Please,” she whines, “let me - let me touch you -”

“Come for me first,” he tells her, adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his thumb on her clit. “Come for me and I'll let you have anything you want.”

Tessa’s so worked up it takes no time at all to drive her right to the edge of her climax. He watches her pleasure break, every muscle going taut as her cunt flutters and pulses around his fingers.

When she’s come down from it he withdraws, taking a moment to trace the lips of her pussy in slow fascination, painting her in her own wetness. He pushes gently against her clit with slick fingertips and she flinches away, exhaling a little breathy ah at the overstimulation.

She lets go of the couch and sits up, pushing at his shirt and pants with shaky limbs until he’s as naked as she is. She leans forward, their positions and height difference allowing her to place open-mouthed kisses across his stomach while her hands trace the muscles in his back. His thick, hard cock brushes against her chin a few times, and Tessa pulls back slightly so she can wrap a hand around him and give him a few slow, teasing strokes. His eyes fall shut and she takes a moment to admire the length and heft of him, the way she can’t quite make her fingertips reach each other at the thickest part of his cock.

There’s a fat drop of precum gathered at the tip, and before she can overthink it she dips her head down and swipes her tongue across it.

Pero’s eyes fly open and he makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut, his entire torso contracting in a flinch.

“Sorry, I - ”

“Did you just - ”

They stare at each other for a moment, then Tessa sits back, moving her hand to his knee.

“Sorry,” she says again. “I should have asked first if that was okay -”

“Do it again.” And even after all he’s already done to her tonight it must come out more commanding than he intends because he immediately softens it with, “please.”

And she almost does, she almost moves to obey him without another thought, but then Tessa decides he’s not the only one who can tease.

“Do…what, Pero? This?” She starts stroking him again, moving her hand lightly up and down his cock, neither her grip firm enough nor her pace fast enough to have any real hope of getting him off.

“No,” he growls at her, “you know what.”

“I do,” Tessa says sagely, finding immense pleasure in watching this broad, powerful man above her lose his mind a little. “I do know, but I need you to tell me.”

She squeezes him just a bit harder, and through clenched teeth he says,

“Please put your mouth on me again.”

Tessa grins and takes the entire tip of him into her mouth this time. Pero nearly shouts at the sensation as Tessa slowly starts to work her hand and mouth in tandem. Once she’s coated as much of him as she can in her spit she trails her lips up and down his shaft, teasing him with quick little kisses and kitten licks. He’s so tense and trying so hard to hold himself still she can practically hear the strain in his body.

She keeps up a steady rhythm with her hand and glances up at him. He’s squeezed his eyes shut again and almost looks like he’s in pain.

“Pero?” She calls softly, concerned.

He exhales a shaky breath and blinks down at her.

“You know you’re supposed to enjoy this, right?” She tells him, not unkindly. “If you aren’t, we can stop?”

“No.” He shakes his head sharply. “No, it’s not that, it’s just, I - mmm -” He loses his train of thought for a moment as Tessa rolls his foreskin up and over the tip of his cock and back again. “It’s just that -”

And even in the low light Tessa can see his skin flush and darken, his mouth pulling into a familiar scowl, and she’s pretty sure he’s…embarrassed? And there’s something in his tone that makes her wonder…

“Pero, has anyone ever done this for you before?”

She almost misses it, the minute jerk of his head no.

“It is not - it was not - commonly done. I’d heard stories, from men who would brag about women who would do such things, but only for a much higher price than I was ever willing to -”

He cuts himself off and won’t meet her eye. Tessa reaches up and grasps his arm, running her thumb back and forth over his bicep to try and soothe him.

“You don’t have to explain or justify anything to me, Pero,” she tells him, and it’s true. The admission that he’s paid for sex in the past neither surprises nor bothers her. Instead a shivery thrill runs through her at the thought that she could be the first person to ever do this with him.

“Do you want me to keep going? Do you want me to keep sucking your cock?” The innocent, questioning look on her face is at odds with her filthy words in a way she knows he likes. “Because I want that. I want to make you come with my mouth. Will you let me?”

Pero whimpers and his cock twitches in her hand. Barely has the word yes left his lips before Tessa leans forward to take as much of him in her mouth as she can. He brushes slightly trembling fingers over her cheek before sliding one hand into her hair, the other gripping the back of the couch to keep himself upright.

Tessa’s practically folded herself in half to do this and her quickly neck starts to hurt like a bitch but it’s more than worth it to feel Pero get closer and closer to his peak. She typically isn’t even a big fan of giving blowjobs, but she loves this, to be able to give Pero this experience, to see and feel and hear and taste this man come apart just from her hands and her mouth.

She digs one hand into the meat of his ass to urge him closer. Her nails leave little half-moon impressions and even though he hisses a bit at the pain Tessa feels him harden even further and she tucks that knowledge away to examine later.

“Tessa, angel, I - oh fuck - ”

The warm, salty taste of him fills her mouth and she hums in encouragement as she swallows it all. Pero shakes and sputters and when he’s spent Tessa drags her tongue in one final sweep up and over the tip of his cock before letting him go. She leans back and rests on her elbows, wiping her chin on her shoulder.

“You okay?” She has to bite back the urge to giggle at the slightly dumbfounded expression on Pero’s face.

In answer to her question he falls forward, catching himself with a hand on either side of her and crashing his mouth into hers. His kiss is rough and demanding but it also tastes like gratitude and trust and all the things Pero wants and feels and can’t find a way to say out loud.

Then he surprises her, shuffling himself down the couch and pulling her legs apart, his mouth mere inches from where she’s already starting to drip for him again. Tessa resists the urge to squirm away; Pero’s never given her any reason to feel self-conscious about her appearance - just the opposite, in fact. Still, he’s never had his face quite this close to her pussy before and she can’t help but be a little nervous about what he might think.

“I’ve heard tell of men who do this, too,” he says, “though it always seemed a far rarer thing than women pleasing men in such a way.”

“Still is,” Tessa mutters dryly.

“But I’ve thought about this,” he whispers against the skin of her thigh, his voice rough and cracked with the confession. “I’d always heard it spoken of as some wicked, forbidden thing, but every time I see your pretty cunt, angel, every time I feel how wet it gets for me, I can’t stop wondering - ” He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against her leg, fighting against the internalized shame of admitting to such a desire, “I can’t stop wondering what you taste like.”

It’s a raw admission, and Tessa realizes she isn’t the only one who feels vulnerable right now. She cups his cheek in her palm, brushing gently over his scar.

“You’re welcome to find out,” she says, and there’s no humor or wit to it, only gentle permission, and he groans and tightens his grip on her thighs until it’s nearly painful.

“You will have to help guide me here, angel,” he warns, looking up at her with eyes grown dark and sharp with desire.

“I think I can do tha - fuck!”

Pero parts her folds with his thumbs and swipes his tongue in a broad stripe all the way up to her clit in a way that temporarily robs her of speech.

But after having him as her de facto sous chef in the kitchen lately it should be no surprise at all that he takes direction well, instantly responding to her breathy requests of a little higher up and you can go faster, that’s it and gimme your fingers too, please Pero, let me feel you inside me. What he lacks in experience and finesse he makes up for in eagerness to please. He grows bolder and more sure of himself as she drenches his face and fingers with more and more slick and her words eventually become limited to right there and oh god yes and don’t stop, Pero, don’t stop don’t stop -

He hitches one of her legs up higher over his shoulder and waits until she’s looking at him. Then he holds her gaze with a wry glint in his eye and gently runs his fingertips up and down the soft skin behind her knee.

It’s enough - the barely-there tickle along an erogenous zone, the rapid swipe of his tongue on her clit, and the stretch of his fingers inside her provide a combination of sensations Tessa hasn’t even realized she needs and her orgasm washes over her. Pero’s hand leaves her leg as he quickly slings his arm across her hips to hold her down as she comes with a wail, her release soaking him and dripping down his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he’s cleaned up every drop and she’s limply pushing him away.

He slowly makes his way back up her body, pausing to mouth at her breasts, laving at the damp, salty skin of her sternum.

Tessa nudges him further up so she can kiss him. It’s lazy and messy and slow, a soft brush of tongues and swollen lips and a sharing of tastes.

“So what do you think?” She asks, still a little out of breath.

“You will have to let me do that again sometime, angel,” he says, and Tessa lets out a weak laugh.

“Anytime you fucking want, Pero.”

He could go another round, his cock starting to harden against her thigh, but instead he gently settles most of his weight on her and silently revels in the feeling of her hands running idly up and down his back. She reaches up to comb her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and it pulls a pleased rumble from deep in his chest.

They stay like that for a while, until at last the log on the fire has completely burned out and Tessa’s voice pulls him back from his half-asleep state.

“Pero?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s go to bed.”

He reluctantly disentangles himself from her and stands, bending down to gently scoop her up into his arms. She clings to his neck, nearly asleep herself, and he heads for her bedroom, whispering so softly into her ear he’s not sure she hears him,

“As you wish.”

Chapter 8.

———————————————————————

a/n: if you know what movie Tessa and Pero were watching, we are friends now. I don’t make the rules.

Also, a quick note about the end of this story: I know a lot of folks in their comments and reblogs have been anxious about the solstice deadline and whether Pero is going to stay or go and whether he and Tessa will have a happy ending or not. And every time I want so badly to say something in return about it, but I’ve been playing coy because I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone when they may not actually want to be spoiled, and also of course don’t want to prematurely give the endgame away regardless.

That being said! I personally avoid reading fics that have angsty, unresolved, or otherwise unhappy endings myself, so I get if some folks would actually like to know in advance how/if things work out. If that is the case, you can do one of two things: 1. Send me a DM and ask (I won’t give you details or anything, but I will give you the general vibes) or 2. Take a look at my masterlist. There is a pretty big clue in there as to the general nature of how this is story is going to end. 😉

[justalarryblog]

Hi, I was wondering if you have any fanfic recommendations with art in it? Like maybe one of the boys is an artist or a writer in the fanfic

Hi, love. I do have a few! I collected here all fics I have with them as artists, writers, painters and photographers. I hope you like them!

The Charles Compass Trilogy by @sadaveniren (8k) | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson is a successful writer who rents a beach house on the Cape to try and finish the final book in his successful Charles Compass trilogy.

Hint: I want to be yours by @greenblueish / bluegreenish (11k) | Mature

Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay.

“Are you cold?”

While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?”

Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though.

“You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega.

or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis’ alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry’s affection doesn’t end.

All That Matters by @Centa0592 (12k) | Mature

Harry comes to NY with a bag of clothes, and lots of dreams. Tired of sleeping in Niall’s spare bedroom, Harry decides to get a job. When Harry applies for Louis’ bartender position he gets a lot more than what he bargained for after falling for vampire Louis Tomlinson.

Photograph by @UnicornSoldier (13k) | Explicit

AU where Harry is a professional photographer and Louis is a tattoo artist. They meet through a project and this is all so fluffy, you can from now on call me Flufflepuff. :P

As there is too much drama in reality, there is no drama here. Promised.

I absolutely love Louis, Harry and London and I hope you can feel that.

Well obviously this is all made up and pure fiction based on my imagination. :P

(I really don’t know what else I actually have to put here…)

Niall, who is only mentioned shortly, is a member of the LSO in this fic, which is my personal tribute to this wonderful and perfect fic LIARB by Gloria Andrews and 100percentsassy.

Thank you LolaTommo for being an inspiration with your beautiful collages!

This fic is what happens when you don’t have a lot of uni courses because you should be writing your thesis in the spare time. Guess what, I haven’t written a lot for that thesis so far…

No Bunny But You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (13k) | Explicit

“So you saw the bunnies then?” Harry clarifies, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, those were a bit of a surprise,” Liam huffs. “I mean, they definitely weren’t part of what we commissioned from him, but they’re kind of cute, right?”

Harry sputters a laugh.

“What?” Liam asks, the furrow in his brow deepening. “They are cute little bunnies!”

“Cute little bunnies that are fucking,” Harry snickers.

“What?” Liam gasps.

“Liam,” Harry says, trying to school his face into a serious expression. “Those bunnies are fucking.”

A slow Monday night behind the bar turns into something else entirely thanks to a new mural and a new customer.

What do you mean he’s coming? by @mediawhorefics / MediaWhore (15k) | General Audiences

When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson.

Harry is screwed.

hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss by @icedwaters (27k) | Explicit

Louis would like to know when his life became a huge romantic comedy, because he’s starting to get tired of being the butt of every joke. Harry’s already at the club when he, Zayn, and Liam arrive. He’s got on the tightest jeans Louis has ever seen in his life (including his own), and this flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, the buttons mostly undone to reveal the majority of his chest and a few tattoos. Louis’ eyes are first drawn to the big butterfly inked above his abs, then to black lines drawn on his shoulders, partly hidden by the edge of his shirt. He can’t help staring, his eyes clinging to Harry’s exposed skin.

(or louis is a 22 year old photographer in his third year of uni, and harry is his 19 year old cat-loving neighbor.)

can i be him? by @amory (29k) | Mature

Louis is twenty years old and has been waiting for his soulmate and true love to come along since the day he was born. Harry is an eighteen year old youtuber who is skeptical of soulmates and the pressure of being the person someone else has been dreaming of their entire lives.

They meet at Playlist Live

heart born out of fire by @bloody_blade0 (31k) | Mature

au where louis is a sad, sad omega in hiding who hides from everyone and trusts no one. until he does.

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by @ missandrogyny (31k) | Explicit

“So, I guess we’ll go?” Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. We could make it an adventure.”

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He’s fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry’s gaze–he probably knows that Harry’s mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he’s not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he’s also Harry’s best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he’d still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He’s got Harry’s back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they’ll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. “We’re going,” he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

(And Things Will Be) Hard At Times by @lululawrence​​ (34k) | Mature

Louis and Nathan had been talking about marriage and kids and a family for years now, but it had never felt right. If anything, the talking about it had petered out over the past while because they were busy living the lives they had settled into. It wasn’t that they didn’t think they’d ever have kids, just that they weren’t to a point where they were ready for it yet.

Well. Ready or not, it was happening.

Or the one where Louis and his boyfriend of five years unexpectedly find themselves pregnant and Harry is the paternity photographer that makes everyone think twice.

Hidden Gardens by @pinky-heaven19 (41k) | Mature Harry burst out laughing, the sound mixing with the loud chatter as more people entered the pub.

“I knew you'd say that! It's just too easy to get you riled up, isn't it?” Harry took another sip of his beer, cleaning a little foam off his upper lip

“Why do you like to piss me off so much?” Louis said, rubbing his closed eyes with the tip of his fingers. He didn't feel as angry as he looked, but apparently he had a reputation to keep.

“Believe me, the only time I did it on purpose was just now. Hey, is this going to be our dynamic forever? I come here, you snap at me for no reason at all, throw me out and I come back? It's getting pretty predictable.”

“Why do you keep coming back, exactly?” Louis said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I like your pretty face. And Niall has sick jokes. The beer is fine, too."

OR the one where Louis owns a pub and Harry is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Louis is grumpy, Harry is not. Louis has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff.

Show Me Life Like I've Never Seen by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer (42k) | Mature

Louis never expected to leave the small art studio three blocks down from his job with anything besides the painting he caught a glimpse of and simply couldn't forget.

Falling Slowly by @ LHStylinson (43k) | General Audiences

You’d be surprised how much you can have in common with someone completely different from you.

Or

Louis is a quiet and shy famous football player who has a secret obsession with fish and Harry is a photographer who talks enough for the both of them.

the impossible now by @stylinsoncity (49k) | Mature

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) orphan_account (52k) | Mature

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who’s trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

Hamartia by @tomlinvelvet (66k) | Explicit

“Your scent lingering on my pillow… oh Honey, If only you knew that the moment I dread most every time you leave… Is when it fades.”

Six years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He’s far from expecting the alpha he loved to be struggling in the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn’t take long for them both to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.

Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled_halo (76k) | Explicit

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

*

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k) | Explicit Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time. An amnesia au

Behavioural Ecology Series by @turtlekz (92k) | Mature

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k) | Explicit

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! —  COMMISSION  — !

❥ — pairing: namjoon x reader x seokjin ❥ — genre: poly, 1950s au/rockabilly au, smut, childhood f2l, angst, fluff, musician!namjin, burlesque!mc ❥ — words: 24.5k+ ❥ — rating: 18+ ❥ — warnings: light angst, pining, smut !!!; oral (all kinds), anal, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, edging, light switch!joon, light switch!oc, harder dom!jin, double pentration, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl etc.... if I forgot sometihng I will add it later but for now this is it fellas. ❥ — notes: oh my god I am FINALLY ejecting this fic from my brain !!! part of the reason this took so long was, of course, the current circamstances across the world mixed in with a few personal factors, but also because I haven’t written a ‘historical’ fic before and I wanted to make sure I got it right ! of course, that somehow ended with me going way over word count so i am so sorry for that, but i truly hope you like it! I haven’t gone over it yet but i will do that later, i just wanted to post and get this fic out of my asshole

Returning to your hometown for a week is something you’ve managed to avoid for three years, but when you can finally put it off no longer you find upon arrival the very thing you were scared of encountering. When the two famous childhood friends you haven’t spoken to in years have returned at the same time as you, you can’t quite tell whether you’re going to be able to make it out in one piece or emerge with a heart more wounded than before.

Especially since it turns out the feelings you thought you were over never quite went away.

— masterlist |  posted; 17.08.2020

You didn’t really expect to find yourself back here so soon, but here you are— everything in your room is in exactly the same state as it was three years ago.

The covers on your bed, the magazine cuttings, faded posters and hand-painted canvases that mark the phases of your youth hung on your wall—even the light-toned floral wallpaper and the little knickknacks atop your dresser are the same. It makes something like nostalgia rise within you, a reminiscent haze filtering through your thoughts. It has been too long since you’ve been back here, and the guilt that always lingers in the back of your mind now pushes its way to the forefront. You feel bad, not having been back to your childhood home in so long, despite the reasons you had for moving away.

You haven’t been here all that long, but as soon as you finished talking with your parents downstairs your feet had carried you here, more out of habit that anything. Absentmindedly, you brush your hand over the oak of your dresser, curious when your fingertip comes back without a single speck of dust. Your mother must have come through often to clean. The realisation both warms your heart and compounds the guilt you feel, making you frown.  In an effort to distract yourself, you turn your gaze back to the rest of your old room, catching sight of a few photographs plastered above your study desk. You know what they contain, and still you can’t seem to help yourself as you draw closer and peer at them anew. They’re just as familiar to your eyes as you expected.

Of course, in this house you’d be lucky to find a photograph of you that didn’t also have these two in it. 

Your eyes skip over the older ones with yellowing glaze and curled corners to focus on the most recent-looking image, drinking in the two boys you’d spent the entirety of your childhood and teen years with. Easily your best friends, until… well, until three  years ago. A fond smile fights its way to your lips; you remember when this was taken. Your mother had lined the three of you up for a photo in the yard but at the very last second they’d pushed you into the pool. Both boys stand tall in the image, but you’d recognise the taller one with the goofy grin anywhere, even if his face wasn’t already plastered across newspapers and featuring on the television every other evening. Namjoon is just as boyish in the image as you recall, and next to him where they stand laughing over the pool is Seokjin, appearance every bit as neat and clean as you’ve glimpsed in recent years when he has featured in a magazine or program that is particularly popular with the youth. It was always a bit weird to you, a little hard to process, that the two boys you’ve known since the three of you were in diapers are now pretty much, well… celebrities. Something bubbles in your chest, the pressure of a sigh but the weight of something you’re not quite ready to name yet. Distantly, in the back of your mind, a tiny part of you whispers that it tastes a little like regret, and sounds a little like yearning.

Growing up, the two of them had discovered an affinity for music, and you for the arts. You suppose that small difference is what eventually led to the distance that grew between you, before you left— if not for the fact that they found the limelight so naturally and built popularity quicker than anticipated after their individual musical debuts. It really didn’t take them all that long to begin steadily growing their fanbase within the youth of your town, their songs played more and more often on local stations. Before long people even a few cities over caught wind of them, but you didn’t get to see it. By the point they had spread their wings that far, you were already gone.

You wrinkle your nose, not liking this sudden trip down a particular lane in your memory that you’ve been avidly avoiding the past three years. Taking a step back from the desk that the photographs hang above, you desperately search for something else to capture your attention. Fortunately for you, a voice sounds behind you before you can flounder too long.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually came. How long has it been, forty years?”

You jump slightly, the familiarity of the voice and sheer amount of attitude in the words allowing you to recognise it instantly. You spin, eyes quickly locking onto the familiar head of straight blonde hair and cherubic features that belong to your sister. You’ve kept in touch with her via letter and the occasional call, but other than that this is the first time you’ve seen her in years. She’s a little bit taller than you remember, and she’s filled out a little more now that she’s no longer a gangly teen. You are surprised though to note the absence of the usual distressed denim that she favoured throughout the years. Instead she’s in a neat pair of capris that rise to the dip of her waist, where she has tucked in a bright red blouse beneath a belt. Out of habit, you look down to her feet and catch a glimpse of red canvas shoes that instantly make you want to laugh; your mother never could get her into a pair of heels, even if she managed to get her out of the dungarees that she used to love so much.  Lisa smiles cheekily beneath your scrutiny, opening her arms wide. With a laugh, you throw your own around her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you retort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “Of course I would come to celebrate my own sister’s engagement. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it.”

“Why does everyone say the same thing when I talk about it?” Lisa groans, pulling back with a familiar pout that seems to have survived her transition into young adulthood. She slips her arm through your own,  giving your bicep a smack as she leads you from the room. “It’s not that hard to believe that I’m getting married! Also— what on earth have you been up to all these years? Have you been attending classes? You’re in such good shape, oh my goodness—”

Unwittingly, your cheeks flush; you probably shouldn’t tell her the real reason for your current physique lest she blab with champagne-loosened lips about it to the rest of your family at her party. Sober Lisa is the only one that knows how to keep a secret, as you’ve found out through a number of shamefully scrawled confessions in the letters she would send you. A number of things you’d confided in her over the years have since been aired like dirty laundry to some of her friends, much to your mutual regret.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you say dismissively, quickly returning to the previous topic as the two of you descend the stairs. “And it’s probably because of all those things you said when you were younger, like how you’d rather live in a mud hut on a deserted island than ever marry a smelly boy riddled with cooties—”

“Ah, yes,” Lisa sighs, the sound more fond and less ashamed than you were expecting. “Those were the days— I was such a badass little ankle-biter. What has become of me? I must be the one riddled with cooties at this point.”

“Probably,” you muse, catching sight of your mother behind the kitchen counter and shooting her a smile as you move past. Lisa is lucky she hadn’t spoken too loudly or else she’d be getting a light smack for her language. It never seemed to stop her when she was younger though, so you doubt it would have an effect now either.

“A skirt at the knee, y/n?” Your mother lets out a dramatic, scandalous gasp upon seeing you. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“These are the clothes that you greeted me in?” You give her a pained look; apparently you need readjusting to her oddball sense of humour. She’s always been a little out of place in the straight-laced, conservative society that marks this day and age; your father too, except he was just a bit more sneaky about it. Actually, now that you think about it, Namjoon and Seokjin’s parents were always a little more on the liberal side too… What an odd coincidence that the three families ended up in a row at the end of the same cul-de-sac.

You’re not deigned with a response, your mother smacking her hands onto the apron she has tied over her baby blue skirt and turning to the oven. You think you hear her muttering about ‘time’ and ‘darn apple pies always taking too long to cook’ and can’t help the way your mouth waters in response. Gods, is it bad if one of the things you missed the most while away is the apple pies your mother makes?

You turn to Lisa, about to ask her whether the apple pie is something you’re going to be able to steal a piece of, only to find that she’s disappeared into thin air. Fantastic. You’re not staying here while you’re back in town, so you’re unsure whether you’re going to be able to cash in on dinner or whether your mother will hold it over your head a little first. You wander over to the  edge of the kitchen, sticking your head into the living room to peer around; you’re curious as to just how much has changed in the time that you’ve been gone. Not as much as you might have hoped, to your chagrin.

“You still have that ugly old thing,” you observe, unable to help the way that your nose wrinkles in response to the sight of the monstrosity still wearing holes into the carpet of the living room.

“My love,” you mother says, giving you an (affectionate) sharp smack on the shoulder as she slips past you, shooting you a bright grin when the thickness of her skirt knocks you slightly. Apparently she’s finished in the kitchen for now; you glance back to see a bowl of nuts joining the bowl of fruit that had been on the counter earlier. “I’d sooner perish than give up your grandmother’s armchair. Besides…. I do so adore how it never fails to draw your ire.”

“I do hate that thing,” your father utters suddenly from the kitchen behind you, his hand reaching for the bowl of fruit; he has his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, so you figure he must have retired to his study to read after greeting you earlier. He moves just as fast as you remember— your mother didn’t even have a chance to stop him before he was gone as quick as he came, hands full of whatever fruit he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

“You—!” 

The sound of your father’s laughter tumbles off the walls, and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You did miss this; the liveliness, the feeling of home. 

“y/n, dear, darling, light of my life…”

You turn to your mother, already knowing what is coming next from her tone. One thing you definitely didn’t miss—

“I forgot when I went past earlier, but could you go and fetch some cream from Barb’s? You know, that little store on the corner, down the road from the diner you always used to—”

You’re already turning towards the front of the house, heading for where you’d left your purse with a fond roll of your eyes. “I know where Barb’s is, Ma! I only went away to study, I didn’t lose my memories!”

Your mother’s cheeky laugh is what bids you farewell as you duck out the door and start on your way.

X – x – x

You’d forgotten just how tempting the treats in Barb’s are.

When you exit the small corner store around an hour or so later (it was hardly any distance to walk, but of course Mrs. Park was keen to hold you hostage long enough to squeeze every single detail out of you she could about your time away) it’s with an overflowing paper bag in your arms that holds more than just the cream your mother sent your for. One look at the apple Danish pastries and cinnamon-sprinkled goodies behind the glass of her counter and you’d been unable to help yourself. Your mother did always say that your sweet tooth would be your undoing. 

Walking through the streets that you grew up becoming so familiar with breeds a certain kind of yearning that swells in your chest and borders on painful. This, you suspect, is because most— if not all— of your memories of this place are intrinsically linked with those of the two men who used to take up such a big part of your life; and that therefore then left such a big hole when they were gone. 

It’s hard not to fall into them, the memories. The candy store where the three of you would scrounge up as many coins as you could and pile them all together to get the best sweets on the shelves; the library where you spent as much time goofing off and getting scolded as you did studying in your senior years; even the drive-in cinema, where you used to take your parents cars for the evening and sit on the hood while poking fun at the latest flick to grace the screen. Being back here is making you face something that you have somehow skilfully managed to avoid up until now—

You miss them, Seokjin and Namjoon. You miss your best friends.

This is something that is hammered home further when you reach the point in your journey home where you pass the place featured most in your memories. Dana’s Dinery, probably the only thing more constant in your life than those two boys and your own family. The pink and red hues of its name and the exposed bulbs decorating the signage are something you remember clear as day, and just the sight of it alone has your mouth watering for the burgers and other fried goods they loved to serve there. The kind of food you know is terrible for you, but that you also just can’t get enough of nonetheless. You’ve spent so many nights there that at some point every single member of staff there knew you by name. Of course, since the three of you were barely seen apart at that time, they knew Seokjin and Namjoon, too. 

You’re tempted to duck in and say hello, and before you can even give it much thought your feet are already angling you in that direction, short heels scuffing against the pavement. Through the window you can see the familiar shiny red booth seats and the similarly upholstered stools that line the counter; behind it is a woman with wild, dark curls thrown back in a bun, a pencil behind her ear. Ah, so Mrs. Cara still works there. A petal of affection unfurls in your chest at the sight of her, but drops to the ground in the next second as your gaze slides to the side and halts on two figures currently seated at the counter.

No way. No way.

You freeze, eyes wide as you stand rooted to the spot for just a moment. You know that logically, they can’t be here, but the profiles you can just barely glimpse from this distance are so eerily familiar to that of Namjoon and Seokjin that you think your heart skips perhaps one too many beats. For some reason, your stomach roils with the urge to flee; you just got around to admitting that you miss them, and yet the second you think you might be seeing them, you want to run away? Honestly, it doesn’t make sense—wouldn’t make sense to anyone else privy to the thoughts currently whipping through your mind. 

But you’re a master at stewing in your own thoughts and feelings, familiar with dissecting them until you understand them to the best of your ability at the time. So you know why you promptly turn on your heel and begin hastily back on your way home, abandoning any plans to go inside the diner. You know why, but you’re not quite ready to dwell on it yet, so you push it to the backburner and do your very best not to think about it the whole walk back.

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

A huff escapes you, your eyes boring into the ceiling, unfocused. After delivering the cream to your mother (and promptly having the extra sweets confiscated until after dinner, lest you snack away your appetite—you guess that answers your question about whether you’re staying for supper) you decided to retire up here for now. You’d thought that your room might feel a little alien to you after all this time away, but when you’d dragged yourself in and shucked your shoes off at the door, it had welcomed you back with an air of nostalgia and open arms. You’re sprawled across your bed now, arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. When you were younger, maybe fourteen, you had decorated it with little stars and planets that you’d painted. Well, it wasn’t just you—some of the more crudely decorated renditions towards the wall are courtesy of Seokjin and Namjoon. You wouldn’t say they’re bad at art, just that they have… well, a distinct style that is very them.

Wait, you’re getting distracted—back to the matter at hand: you’re ashamed. 

At this point in your life, if someone had asked you why that particular emotion might be plaguing you right now, then in all honesty you would have a vast array of reasons to give them. But the answer as to why you’re ashamed right now, lies in the two people you could have sworn you glimpsed earlier. 

Now that there is a little temporal distance between you and that particular moment, you can use logic to assure yourself that there’s no way you actually just saw Namjoon and Seokjin at the diner that you all used to haunt in your youth. But in the moment, when you thought you’d seen them, you fell into a bit of a panic. This, you have determined, is because you are ashamed. It’s a little harder to determine why you’re ashamed in relation to them, but what you’ve managed to discern so far is that you feel to blame for the way things went, at least partially. Or, perhaps its that you fear they blame you for the way things went. In reality, from what you remember, they first began to grow apart from each other, and then they began to grow apart from you. That, of course, isn’t something you can blame yourself for. But, what you can blame yourself for – and here is what you think may be the root of your shame – is that you were the one to up and leave suddenly. You were the one to disappear without even a goodbye, almost. You could have kept in touch if you tried, but you’d basically disappeared off the face of the earth.

You wonder if they blame you, or if they might even resent you because of that.

Well, if they even remember you, that is. They’re pretty much in the big leagues now, you remind yourself. They’re making it mainstream and they’re hot on the heels of the most renowned names in the business. 

You’re not very good at comforting yourself. Not that you really attempted it this time, but usually whenever you do you just end up stewing in your thoughts a little. You don’t even realise you’re glaring at the ceiling in the midst of sorting through your mental mess until a knock at the door jerks you out of it. You turn towards it just as it opens and a head pops inside, a gleam you instantly decide you don’t like shining in Lisa’s eyes.

“Come downstairs,” she says cryptically, beginning to ease back out. She only chimes once more when she’s out of view. “If you don’t, I’ll eat all those pastries you brought back! Keep that in mind!”

What on earth… you’re left absolutely confused for a moment, before her last words sink in and you throw yourself from your bed with haste, not even bothering to put your shoes back on before you dart out of the room. The trip downstairs is treacherous in stockings, but you don’t have time to lose. You’re sister isn’t one to bluff, and you don’t want her anywhere near those pastries!

“Don’t you touch those!” you call in warning as you slide across the hardwood floor in the hall and fly down the stairs. “Lisa, I mean it! If you lay a single finger on those pastries you’ll lose it!”

There’s laughter in the direction of the kitchen, and you’re angled to follow the sound when your eyes catch sight of movement to the side and you freeze on the spot. 

“y/n!” your mother cries, clearly ecstatic that you’ve come down to join her. She’s standing in the hall that leads the front door, talking to some people you can’t yet see. “Look who’s here! My, I haven’t seen these two in almost as long as I hadn’t seen you!”

Something like dread, mixed with an odd spike of anticipation, begins to trickle into your abdomen. All too suddenly you remember exactly who you thought you saw earlier, and realise she can only be talking about two people in particular. 

Nervously, you smooth down your skirt and blouse, shooting your mother a look that you hope isn’t too panicked. She is, of course, oblivious, and simply grabs you by the arm to drag you around the corner. 

“I haven’t seen the three of you together in so long! I missed your handsome faces around here, too. Perhaps the height as well— now there’s no one in the house that can reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

Your mother is babbling, but you can’t bring yourself to mind when it saves you from having to speak yourself. As you’d feared, there are two very familiar people standing before you, hovering on your doorstep with almost nervous energy.

“It has been a while,” a soft tone with the luxurious depth of velvet— Seokjin smiles so charmingly at your mother that you think your heart really might have stopped for a second. When his dark eyes turn to you, there is something swirling in their depths that is in such contrast to the winning smile on his lips that you almost feel your knees shake. “y/n, it’s a lovely surprise to catch you here— we didn’t know you were in town as well.”

“Oh, and what brings you two boys back here?” Your mother asks, all too excited to hear exactly what has been going on in their lives since she saw them last. Thankfully, she saves you from having to answer straight away. “Are you back for long?”

“Just a week,” Namjoon answers, bashful smile juxtaposing the beaten leather of the jacket over his shoulders and the low, rough melody of his voice. Oh dear— “We’re actually here celebrating something with a close friend of ours; we were invited to a… party of sorts, you could say.”

You think you might be safe, that he might not say anything to you just yet, when he turns to you and his eyes flick along your form. He smiles again, this time with his dimples making an appearance. 

“It really has been too long, y/n. I’m glad we managed to run into you.”

You know it’s not a dig at you, but you feel your cheeks flush with shame nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me the three of you haven’t seen each other since she left,” your mother gasps, sending you a look that tells you she is going to be wringing information out of you later.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation that tells you it’s your time to chime in. Before you can, though, Seokjin speaks— still with a smile, despite the slight bite of his words. 

“Ah, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back slightly, switching his weight to the other leg and crossing his arms over his chest— you try not to look at the way it makes his chest and shoulders strain against the material of his button-up. “We wanted to write, or call, but we didn’t know where she was staying to send it. Made it a little hard to keep in touch.”

Your heart squeezes; that was a dig, that was definitely a dig. And you deserved it, but damn you didn’t realise it would hurt that much. And he hadn’t even said anything direct!

“Oh, well this is perfect then!” Your mother smacks you on the back, a little rougher than necessary, making you cough. “y/n is here for the week, why don’t you all catch up? Lisa’s engagement party is on Saturday so any day other than that should be fine— oh, you two should come, by the way! And invite your mothers too; it’s been too long since we’ve all sat down for tea.”

“That would be wonderful,” Namjoon agrees amicably, nodding his head to your mother. “I’m sure they’d love to take you up on that invite— I did get an earful about how lonely she was when I got home earlier.”

You have to fight a smile at that— Namjoon’s mother does have a penchant for the dramatics. You turn your gaze to the side to find Seokjin’s own already boring holes into you— it takes all your willpower not to jump. When he sees he has your attention, he smiles once more.

“We’d love to catch up,” he says, eyes still holding you captive. “How about dinner tomorrow, at Dana’s? I miss the burgers there.”

You catch Namjoon nodding from the corner of your eye, agreeing with the idea, and swallow your nerves down to flash a smile back. “Of course, that sounds fantastic.”

The two men nod, satisfied for now, and Namjoon pipes up once more as they take a step back.

“Well, we should probably get back— if we’re late for supper today we mightn’t be alive for dinner tomorrow,” he jokes, earning a laugh from your mother. His eyes flick to you, unreadable but holding such heat you almost gasp, “We’ll meet you there at seven tomorrow, y/n. I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“See you, boys!” Your mother waves farewell, jabbing you with her elbow until you join her. “Hurry home!”

They nod with a laugh, and you watch them retreat to their respective homes on either side of yours until your mother closes the door and cuts off your view, turning to you with a look that could mean a number of things. She’s distracted from unleashing a verbal flood on you in the next moment, however, when she catches sight of your feet.

“y/n!�� she gasps, tone scolding. “Go put your shoes on! Walking around without them— this isn’t how I raised you, my goodness. You’re going to wear holes in your stockings! Go go go!”

Startled by the way she raises her arm in promise, you yelp and scamper away, back towards the stairs. “Okay, I’m going!”

You’re about halfway up the stairs, petticoat and skirt swishing violently from how fast you scaled them, when she calls after you.

“And don’t think you’re off the hook, missy! You and I are having a long, in-depth chat after dinner!”

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

“I’m in trouble, Mina. Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“It can’t be anything more than the trouble you’re going to be in for wearing holes into the hotel room carpet— stop that! You’re making me anxious!”

You halt mid-pace, sending your friend a pained look. She’s sprawled across the second bed in your hotel room, reading some magazine that touts the latest in makeup and jewellery from some of the more big-name brands.

“Please, just this once, let me be the one having a Diva moment,” you say, almost begging— to your own distaste. You just need someone to vent to, but she’s not exactly being helpful.

“What is this about?” she asks, closing her magazine to pin you with a borderline-grumpy look. “What has your knickers in such a— oh, I love those shorts! Are those new?”

“Uh, yeah. I bought them the other week,” you answer, looking down at the light blue shorts you’d slipped into for comfort’s sake this morning. They’re so comfortable, in fact, that you regret that you’re unable to wear them in public. You quickly shake your head when you realise you’re getting off-topic. “Hey— I told you what this is about! Did you listen to a single thing I said since I got back last night? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mina utters under her breath. “Yes, I was listening! I was just checking we were talking about the same thing!"

The look you give her is dubious at best, "Okay, then what am I talking about?"

"Those two hot cats you grew up with," Mina says, waving her manicured hand dismissively. "What about them is giving you such grief?"

"I ran into them yesterday," you say, eyes unfocused as you fall back into your thoughts once more. "They want to meet for dinner, to catch up."

"Oh, well that's fine," Mina says. "You don't have feelings for them anymore, so it should be alright, yeah?"

You bite your lip, wincing and giving her a look that could only be described as a mixture between sheepish and remorseful.

"Oh, y/n," She sounds a lot like your mother with the tone she's taken now, "Don't tell me..."

"I thought I was over it!" you say, wailing almost, as you throw your arms into the air. "They were already so distant before I left, you know? And it's been so long that I thought the feelings went away."

You huff, one hand on your hip and the other splayed over your face. "But then I saw them yesterday, and I think I nearly had a heart failure. I don't think... that those feelings went away."

When you manage to glimpse her way, Mina is wincing, teeth visible. She reaches up to scratch her hairline, almost dislodging one of the curlers she has wound in her hair. "Well, it's just one dinner... When is it? I'm sure you have plenty of time to get rid of those feelings before you--"

"It's tonight," you say with a certain level of resignation, walking over to your own bed and finally throwing yourself onto it in defeat.

"Tonight?!" Mina positively squawks, scrambling into a sitting position in her disbelief. "Uh, y/n, I do hope you haven't forgotten, but we have a show almost every night Saturday--"

"I know," you bemoan, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the odd marks there-- you don't have the brain space to wonder how they even got up there in the first place. "The dinner will be finished in time, I'm not worried about that. I'm just... worried about what will happen during, you know? It's kind of stupid but... what if they hate me now? I didn't even tell them when I left, didn't give them an address to write me or a number to call..."

"Yeah, that was kind of a rude move," Mina says bluntly, "But I don't think they would invite you to dinner to catch up if they hated you, y'know? They were your best friends, they probably missed the hell out of you."

You ponder her words, unable to pick them apart with logic. "Maybe," you mutter, picking at a loose thread on your blouse."... I did miss them."

"See?" Mina says knowingly, giving you a look before falling back on the bed and reaching for the chunky romance novel that she has perched on the headboard above the bed.. "And who knows— you're a hot catch, they might end up returning those feelings and you might come out of this a lucky woman! Well, probably a bit sore in certain places, but lucky nonetheless—”

"MINA!"

The pillow you threw smacks her square in the face, but does nothing to muffle the cackle she lets out after. God, she's not the first choice to come to for advice, but to her credit you do feel a bit better now.

x- x - x

Seven o’clock that evening finds you hovering nervously outside the doors to Dana's Dinery, hand outstretched to take the handle but unable to follow through completely with the movement. For the moment, you're stuck in your thoughts, and your thoughts are stuck on the same thing that had plagued them earlier in the day.

What's going to happen when you walk in there? When you're seated at the table with them and in the process of catching up? You shouldn't be as fearful of it as you are, but you can't help it. The evolution your feelings for them undertook a few years ago aside, they were still very much your best friends. Their opinion of you... well it sucks, but it still matters to you.

Didn’t stop you from doing what you did though, did it?

Huffing and deciding to ignore the nasty little voice that is attempting to make an already stressful night even worse, you force your limbs into action and simply resign to bite the bullet. If they are upset with you, then being late to dinner certainly won’t help things. 

“y/n! Over here!”

With how quickly they spot you, mere seconds after passing through the doorway, a part of you wonders if they saw you hovering outside like a coward. Shame flushes across your neck and ears at the thought, but you do your best to remain at least outwardly unaffected.

Over in the booth at the very end of the diner, nestled against the window and the wall, the two men who have been haunting your thoughts for more than a day sit. You recognise the booth— it’s your Corner, you always sat there with them, to the point where if the staff saw anyone else sit there when they knew you were coming, they’d politely usher them to a new seat. It makes something shift inside you to see them there again. You don’t feel like you’re in school again, but something else feels akin to that time…

It’s probably the butterflies.

Namjoon is grinning at you widely, waving his arm; he’s ditched the leather from yesterday and is now donning a fitted black button-up that brings a nice contrast against the sun-kissed hue of his skin, though his hair is still swept into its style somewhat half-heartedly. Seokjin next to him is in a tan knit turtleneck sweater, glasses perched on his nose and hair attended to much more neatly than the man next to him. Both men are looking at you as you approach, but their stares (especially Seokjin’s) are a little too intense for you to handle, and you end up looking away as you take a seat across from them. 

The booth is less squeaky than you remember, but somehow just as plush. You place your purse and cardigan onto the red leather next to you, clasping your hands together and offering a tentative smile. The soft rock tumbling from speakers around the diner isn’t going to fill the lull in conversation for very long. “Hey, sorry to have kept you waiting…”

Seokjin raises a brow, and you know in that moment that they did indeed see you hovering outside the diner. You don’t have time to process the embarrassment that follows that realisation, though, before Namjoon begins speaking with a warm smile. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he informs you, eyes glimmering like he’s just happy to have you here. It makes something painful throb in your chest. “And loosen up, would you? You’re sitting like you’re at a job interview.”

To your embarrassment, a brief internal examination of your posture tells you that he is right. Sheepishly, you allow the tension to drain from your body, leaning forward onto the table slightly. “Sorry,” you mumble, offering a smile. “Guess I’m just a bit wound up from being home. I forgot how chaotic it is here…”

To your surprise, Seokijn snorts; your fears that he was truly upset with you are dispelled somewhat as a lopsided grin tugs his plush lips, eyes meeting yours levelly.  “Tell me about it. My mother had my aunt and the cousins over when I got home. I haven’t felt as exhausted as I did after that night in, well, years.”

You don’t notice the smile Namjoon shoots to the man beside him when he first speaks, but you do notice when he lets out a laugh and beams so brightly that his eyes almost close and something you completely forgot about makes an appearance. His dimples have always been a weak spot of yours, and you’re slightly horrified to find that glimpsing them now has led to a skipped beat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach. 

It’s not looking very good for the state of your old feelings right now…

“You never unwind properly,” Namjoon says, somewhat chastising despite his playful tone. He doesn’t pursue it further, though. Instead, he turns to you with a soft smile. “So, y/n, how was college? If you have replaced us as best friends, I will never forgive you.”

You can’t help the laugh that tumbles from your throat at both his words and his face, Seokjin chuckling to himself in the corner. Still smiling, you tell him that no, you haven’t replaced them, and sort through the events of your first year for something they’d like to hear. 

Just like that, and definitely much easier and less stilted than you feared it would be, the three of you seem to sink back into something like the old dynamic you used to share, conversation beginning to flow and laughter beginning to tumble. There are some small differences, of course. Namjoon, who used to be much more clumsy and prone to blushing in his fluster, now seems to have come into his own and his presence commands your attention whenever he speaks or gestures, each movement sure and with confidence. While Seokjin used to be the more blatant joker between the three of you, now he seems to sit back a bit, observing conversation contentedly until he sees the perfect opportunity to chime in and elicit a few laughs. 

And then, there’s you.

Well, you suppose you haven’t changed all that much. When Ms. Cara comes around to take your order (amongst gushing about how grown up and handsome and beautiful the three of you look), you still order the same thing from the menu, go about eating it the same way (fries before burger, being sure to leave some so you can slip them under the bun), and feel the same butterflies running amok in your stomach as you did years ago. You know that you’ve changed a lot, an almost scary amount, but sitting here in this diner with the two men who used to be your best friends, you’re only realising just how much of you is the same.  

“I still don’t know how you can eat that,” Namjoon says, pausing in scarfing his own dessert down to judge you for yours. “You always used to get it— aren’t you sick of it?”

“Hey!” Seokjin intercepts, pointing his spoon at Namjoon. “The Fun Sized Sundae with the Triple Sauce Special is a respectable choice of dessert, and I won’t have you shaming it when you’re just sitting there with pudding and custard!”

You chuckle at Seokjin’s avid defence of your choice— the two of you were the only ones with a big enough sweet tooth to be able to combat the sugary monster that is your choice of dessert. He hadn’t braved it tonight, though, opting instead for apple pie.

“I actually haven’t had it since I was last here,” you say, without even thinking. Another spoonful is already on its way to your mouth as you continue, “It’s one of the things I missed most after I—”

You cut yourself off, realising your blunder too late. The looks in their eyes tell you they know what you were about to say. After I left. Ah, how could you forget? You’ve been here over an hour and this is the first time it’s crossed your mind since you entered. You left— you. Not them, but you.

Your appetite suddenly begins to fade, and you place your spoon down as gently as you can. It still tinks against the bowl, but does little to break the tension beginning to seep into the air.

You clear your throat, growing a little antsy in your seat. Even as you ask, you’re unable to meet their eyes, “Ah, what time is it? We— I got a little carried away…”

The question had mostly been to dispel some of the awkwardness, but Namjoon’s response had you shooting up ramrod straight. “It’s five-to-nine.”

“Oh, shoot,” you don’t even think about the words escaping your mouth, just that way more time had passed than you thought and if you stay any longer then you’re going to be bordering dangerously close on being late for your other very important commitment tonight. “I— I have to go. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.”

You hurry to gather your cardigan and purse, starting to shimmy out of the booth, when Seokjin speaks up, “Is everything alright? Where are you off to in such a rush? If you need, we can walk you—”

“No!” you burst, regret swallowing you moments later when you see how taken aback the two men are at your sudden rise in tone. “No, sorry, it’s okay. I just, um… I just have to pick up something, for Lisa’s party.”

“At nine o’clock at night?” Jin verifies, brows drawing down.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, voice small as you manage to finally get out of the booth and stand somewhat sheepishly at the end. “I’m so sorry, it was so lovely meeting you two again and catching up. I’ll, um… I’ll see you, at Lisa’s party.”

You barely allow them enough time to bid their own farewells before you’re turning on your heel and hightailing it out of there before one of them comes to their senses and offers to walk you again. 

You definitely do not need one of your old best friends walking you to the entrance of a club.

A fifteen minute cab ride is what you choose instead, and it isn’t long before you’re slipping into the building from the back entrance and dashing through the halls.

“FINALLY,” Mina erupts dramatically when she catches sight of you bursting into the dressing room, brows raising so high they almost meet her bangs. “I almost thought you were going to stand us up, Miss Luna.” 

Your eyes sweep over her form, alarm filling you at the fact she’s already mostly dressed, from her netted stockings to the many fluffy and feathery layers that she’ll be discarding on the stage tonight. She’s currently sitting at the dresser, putting the final touches on her makeup with small detail brushes.

“That lip colour is too orange,” you inform her, hastily rushing over to the chest that you know contains your outfit for tonight. Mina halts in her motions, staring at herself in the mirror for a long moment before she tilts her head back and lets out a loud, torturous groan.

“I knew it! Momo, you lied to me! I asked you if this colour was too orange or warm and you said—”

You shake your head, slinging the clothes you retrieved over your arm and making your way over to the screen in the corner to get changed. You feel a little bad for the girl currently on the receiving end of Mina’s whines, but on the other hand you’re now free to rush about and catch up to the rest of your co-performers. 

Within the next ten minutes you’re dressed and ready to go, dropping into a seat next to Mina and reaching to begin powdering your face.

From the tingle of excitement beginning to thrum in the air, you can only assume it won’t be long now before the show begins.

x   x   x   x 

Burlesque. It’s something that you know from experience, something you’d sadly gained before you grew more skilled at hiding your profession from the judging eyes of others, has some quite divided views and opinions. Despite how open-minded and liberal as your parents are, you know even they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that their beloved daughter had moved away for college and somehow come to perform in burlesque theatres on the side. 

You don’t even have a clear explanation as to how or why you’d ended up down this path, just that you had. Contrary to what a majority of the population would likely hope, you aren’t ashamed, and you don’t regret it. This is something you love, and you think part of the reason you had been so drawn to it in the first place was the promise of power nestled within a certain kind of anonymity.

Your act, after all, is a masquerade performed beneath the security of an intricate lace and silk colombina disguise.

When you’d first left, you’d felt… well, there wasn’t any other way to put it but rejected, and abandoned. You might have been the one that left, and it’s something you regret now, but at the time it was Namjoon and Jin who had grown distant from both each other and you. Coupled with their increasing popularity and the way their lives seemed to be picking up speed in the direction they’d always dreamed of, it made you realise that their world was getting a little too big for you, and in the scheme of their lives you no longer held a starring role.

So you’d packed up and moved away, and in the midst of your aimless moping in another city, you’d stumbled upon this… and from the first taste of empowerment it gave you in the wake of all you had been feeling, you quickly decided you weren’t going to be letting it go anytime soon. 

And now here you are; an act with such high regard and admiration that you had been called to perform it in other cities. It was a stroke of fortune that one of the stops was your own hometown, at the same time as your sister’s engagement party no less. You had wondered at the time what the catch had to be, and now, of course, you know.

It’s that in an instance of divinely aligned misfortune, the two people you’d planned to avoid indefinitely happened to be here as well.

It’s been a few days since the night you spent catching up with them, and there is enough distance between then and now for you to have calmed significantly when thinking about it. It had been kind of weird, sneaking away from the diner to come perform that night. Even though years have passed, you’re still so used to telling them everything whenever you see them, that holding something back feels foreign, and oddly enough… you feel a little guilty. The first excuse that comes to your mind in your defence is that  ‘they wouldn’t understand anyway’. You know that is baseless, though. Both of them have become popular and risen to fame not just because of their natural musical talent, but for the topics that their music so brazenly broaches.

The truth is that you know they wouldn’t judge you for anything you do, and you’re not quite sure why you’re so resistant to them knowing. The human mind is a mystery, and yours is no exception.

A slow, smooth saxophone melody brushes your ears, a lower note capturing your attention and bringing you back to the present moment. Amongst the faint tendrils of smoke that reach you from the seating area, an itch rises at your brow and you fight to contain it, not wanting to rub off the thin arch you’d drawn on so carefully earlier. It was always like this; you always got itchy before performing, for reasons unknown to you. One of your friends had theorised that it was due to nerves, or something similar. It drove your manager mad, because you’d ripped your costume pantyhose a few times while scratching your thighs in the past.

Mina’s act precedes yours, usually, and tonight isn’t any different. She’s good, and you can’t help but marvel as you watch her. Her movements are fluid, full of a certain zest and allure that mix into a single heady cocktail that has the crowd enraptured as she allows her skirts to drop ever so slowly with each smooth swing and sashay of her hips. When the ruffled fabric hits the floor there are hoots and whistles from the crowd, and Mina’s beaming face peeks over her shoulder to deliver a wink. The room eats it up.

It’s a special performance, tonight.

Due to confidentiality, none of the performers had been told exactly who was attending tonight, just that they were Very Important People, and they were to be shown the best performance they would ever see in their lives. It was an ambitious set of instructions, but you know that both yourself and the other girls in the show are some of the best in the business, so you aren’t too worried about meeting expectations. You plan to exceed them. 

You always put effort into your appearance, but tonight you admit that you did try the tiniest bit harder than usual. Your hair is pulled back from your face, twisted and pinned into curls at the top of your head; the rest of it you simply allowed to hang to its natural length and shape, though you took care to make sure it was soft and silky enough to gleam beneath the stage lights. At Mina’s insistence, you’d allowed her to pin a few small glittery ornaments amongst the curls, and as you peek out and see just how full the room is, you find yourself thanking her mentally. It’s the little details that really pull together a performance and hammer home the effect it has on the audience, and it looks like a full house tonight that you’re going to wow. Though, none of the faces seem to jump out at you so far— you still don’t know who tonights VIPs are. 

Even though tonight is meant to be a big, important night — as it had been emphasised to you so many times — you still find your thoughts wondering back to a certain two men and the reappearance of the feelings you’d once harboured for them. You’re conflicted, as anyone might expect of someone in your situation, but you can’t say you’re very fond of the feeling. Hence, despite your best efforts, your thoughts just keep coming back to your current predicament. Lisa’s party is tomorrow, and you know from yesterday’s visit to your home that your mother had already extended an enthusiastic invitation to both families on either side of the fence. So you know that there is absolutely no way that those two aren’t going to be there, since even if they hadn’t already expressed their intention of attending, their mother’s would drag them over by the ear.

You’re not sure why you’re still worrying about this. You already met and caught up with them! And it went well… or at least it did, until the topic of your abrupt disappearance from their lives was brought up. 

Perhaps that is why you’re so conflicted still. That is an issue that has yet to be resolved.

When you tune back in to the moment and catch your manager sending you a whithering look, you shake your head and decide to try and ground yourself so that you’re not off with the fairies by the time your cue to perform rolls around. You bring your gaze back to the stage, finding that in the time you spent in your own head, Mina had managed to strip down to just her shelf brassiere and the panties and baby blue garter belt with straps that stretched over her shapely thighs and attached to the top of her stockings.

You get lost in the moment, watching as the spotlight follows her across the stage and illuminates each small gesture she makes that draws the audience further and further under her spell. Her hair is perfectly curled and with each flick of her head and bat of her lashes, the strands slide over her shoulder and bounce against her back. As she reaches for her final garment to discard, it isn’t long before the light fades in tandem with the last note of her song, and the audience gets only the barest glimpse of Mina’s almost bare form before the stage is blanketed in darkness. Cheers and applause break the beat of silence that follows, and then Mina is hurriedly rushing past you, beaming with pride and holding most of her discarded skirts bunched up to her chest. Soon, the applause fades out, the hollers nonexistent, and the stage is cleared.

Now, it’s your turn to wrap the audience around your finger. 

Taking a deep breath and revelling in the light fluttering of your stomach that never seems to fade no matter how many shows you perform, you listen for the first few strumming notes of the song that accompanies your routine. When the low, bass riff of guitar finally brushes the air, you make your way slowly onto the stage and let yourself fall into the familiarity of the show.

It’s kind of ironic, you can’t help but think to yourself. Considering the events of this week, the song you’d chosen to tailor your routine to is kind of funny. For the first few years of their careers, you’d seen Namjoon and Seokjin simply go their separate ways. You thought that would be it, that your friendship had broken up for good, but to your complete and utter surprise, at the beginning of this year there had been a new record to grace the radio and enrapture young fans across the country. An unexpected collaboration between two of the biggest figureheads of the rock and rebellion movement that had started to sweep through the youth. 

When you had first heard the song, you’d done a double-take. It wasn’t anything like the rapid, upbeat rock that came to be synonymous with Seokjin’s name, or the heavier, laidback tune that usually accompanied Namjoon’s records. The beat that lay beneath the lyrics was sultry, deep and dark and made your heart skip a beat and your stomach dip. However when the lyrics registered in your mind, you’d had to fight the urge to cry. They weren’t strictly sad, per se, but to you… they had spoken a little deeper. It felt paranoid to think it, but a part of you had to wonder at how… targeted… the song had seemed to be—

Was it made... for you?

You wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it aloud to anyone or even yourself, but you liked to think so. It helped, when you found yourself missing them and yearning for the way things had been. It soothed the traitorous aching of a heart that didn’t seem to remember that the choice to leave hadn’t been theirs, but rather yours.

In the version that accompanies your performance, there are no vocals. Even so, the beat is easily recognisable and as it begins to play, an excited murmur sweeps through the crowd. Something about it is a little odd, but currently your back is turned to the audience, so you don’t get to investigate the feeling. Instead, you let each note that enters the air and brushes against your skin to soak into your being, closing your eyes for the barest second to centre yourself before you feel the heat of the lights begin to grace your skin, and you start to slowly swing your hips.

It is only instruments that brush your ears now, but you can hear the opening lines of the song so clearly in your head you can’t help but mouth them in time.

We're part of the moonlight, Ain't a fantasy...

Can't breathe in the sunlight, Gotta hide your heart...

Following the rise and fall of the beat, you turn your head over your shoulder to deliver a sly smile and a wink, moving your hips all the while— a round of catcalls and surprised murmurs results. You are the only one of the performers to wear a mask after all, so you’re not surprised by the response. Turning back around, your ease yourself into the familiar motions of your routine and let the song and atmosphere carry you away.

At any other time, you would probably find it funny how second nature stripping yourself of your clothes has become. The silky gown that drapes over your shoulders and ends in faux fur ruffles that trail across the floor is the first to go, revealing the entirety of your stocking-clad legs through a sheer petticoat, and the corset and cushioned bandeau that hides a sheer, cheekily embroidered bralette beneath. The audience eats the reveal right up and at the enthusiastic response, your chest swells with pride. You’re smiling, but with a flick of your wrist you snap open a fan and use it to cover the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes to peer out at the crowd from behind the mask. You’d discovered early on that a little bit of mystery keeps them intrigued a little longer.

You don’t pay much mind to the audience as individuals; more often than not, when you perform they become a faceless blur. But as your routine goes on and your body follows each sultry move to the beat, one item of clothing discarded after the other, you find yourself paying a little more attention than you usually would. 

It’s as the top part of your corset meets the floor and your sheer bralette is exposed that your eyes sweep over a certain portion of the room, and you realise very suddenly and abruptly who the guests of honour are tonight.

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

Two familiar faces return your gaze from the centre-back portion of the room, in one of the deluxe booths. It’s a wonder you can recognise them through the haze of smoke created by cigars and cigarettes, but you think that you’d be hard-pressed not to, at this point. Seokjin and Namjoon sit back comfortably in the booth with two unfamiliar men on either side of them, their eyes lit with a certain kind of intrigue and focused solely on you. For a heartbeat, your chest feels so tight you can’t take in a breath, stomach fluttering. Just barely, you manage to maintain your face and stop yourself from stumbling in your routine. The beginning of panic begins to bubble beneath your lungs, but in a split-second it is stopped in its tracks as something seems to snap inside you and you come to a realisation.

You’re wearing a mask. They don’t know it’s you.

It strikes you again, the way they eyes are trained on your every move, and it knocks you breathless once more, though for a different reason this time. Exhilaration begins to course through you— you feel powerful. When you were with them the other day, the weight of the knowledge of your wrongs and your guilt held you on unequal ground. But now, here in the heady allure and smoky seduction in this room, you have them in the palm of your hands and the dynamic is switched, if only for a moment. 

With barely a moment having lapsed since your initial realisation, you slip right back into the next move in your dance, each shift of a limb accompanied with just that little bit more oomph than before. This is their song, the song you suspect they wrote for you, and since you don’t think you will ever be able to forget it, or them, you will make sure they won’t forget this.

One fluid movement leads to the next, the beat picking up ever so slightly as you bend, legs straight and behind pointed at the crowd, before easing your way back up and unclasping the hooks that keep your corset together. When it falls, you turn and bend once more, this time facing the audience so that they see it when you push your breasts together and wriggle your shoulders, a cheeky wink accompanying the resulting jiggle of your chest. 

More hoots and hollers, as expected of an audience that seems to completely consist of men tonight, and you’re pleased to see that the two guests of the hour aren’t completely unaffected either. Namjoon is leaning forward slightly, gaze intense, and Seokjin’s eyes have narrowed in focus as they follow you across the stage. 

Following each note in the song, you strut across the stage, and when there is a pause before it picks up once more, you drop to your knees and reach forward to the floor, arching your back with your behind to the audience again. Using the strength you’ve built in your thighs over the years, you slide one leg up and turn yourself around, using the momentum to slip into an abridged version of the splits. While in this position you bend backwards, one arm reaching back to unravel the ribbon that keeps your flimsy bralette up. When you feel it come loose, you bring your hands to each piece and make a faux-shocked expression, ever so slowly peeling the sheer fabric down and revelling in the way the room is watching with bated breath. 

Your breasts bounce as you yank the bralette all the way down, the tassels that were hidden beneath and keep the barest remainder of your dignity intact jiggling with the movement. Using the cheers that result as a distraction of sorts, you deftly remove the bralette with one hand and discard it slyly on the floor, bringing yourself out of the splits but moving to another position on your knees, sliding your legs apart. There are a few soft gasps and sharp inhales that echo from the front of the crowd, and you can tell from the way their eyes are focused on the inside of your thighs that they’ve glimpsed the pretty picture inked into your skin there. You don’t leave their gazes to wonder too long though, reaching up to pinch the dangling ornaments of your tassels and using them to lift your breasts. You ignore the low, pleasurable tingle that shoots through you at the sensation of tugging on your nipples, fighting to keep your legs open, and release the tassels from your grip. Your breasts bounce generously once more, cheers sounding across the room at the sight. You deliver a wink, before bringing yourself off of the floor in a fluid movement, hearing the final notes of the song beginning to play and a low, sexy saxophone drawl emerging to intertwine with the rest.

The end of your routine passes in a blur, your mind slipping into a haze as you simply move, barely aware of the way you dance and sashay across the stage. A feathery boa situated strategically to the side becomes incorporated in your final moves, allowing the audience peeks at what they can’t have and drawing them further and further in until the music hits a crescendo and with it, you fall into your final pose.

The last thing you see, as the lights begin to dim and the crowd erupts into applause, is the way Seokjin and Namjoon’s eyes are boring holes into you, transfixed on the place where your hip meets the inside of your thigh and the intricate depiction of a crescent moon and a rose that are inked into the skin there.

 x    x    x

 “...sweetheart? Is there a reason why you haven’t gone outside yet? Everyone is by the pool with those wonderful finger foods your Aunt brought with her!”

You startle at the sound of your mother’s voice, almost dropping the grape that had been en route to your mouth as you stared into nothing, rooted in place in the middle of the kitchen. The day of your sister’s engagement party has come, faster than you were able to prepare for, and now that you’re no longer on the stage staring down your two ex-best friends from behind a mask, you’ve lost a lot of your gall. In fact, it could even be argued that your spine had slipped right out of your body the second you stepped off the stage that night. It’s the early afternoon, and Namjoon and Seokjin have been here for about… perhaps half an hour. You don’t claim to be perfect, but the way you’ve been skulking about and hiding in the kitchen is pathetic even to you. 

It’s just… how do you face them after that? They’ve technically seen you almost completely in the nude! If your grandmother ever caught wind of the fact that a man had seen you without clothes then she’d marry you off immediately— not to mention if she ever found out Seokjin and Namjoon, of all men, had seen you like that, she would have an absolute field day!

It was bordering on disheartening, but at this point, even after all this time, you’re pretty sure most of your family loves those two more than they love you.

“I, um… just wanted some grapes?” you blink, offering a sheepish smile that you hope your mother doesn’t find suspicious. That is quickly shot down when you see her brow raise and her bright cherry lips quirk to the side, eyes flicking to the empty glass by the grapes that reeks of gin. What can you say, you thought downing a glass would help you cope, but you’d been wrong. 

“Uhuh…” Your mother says, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the bench; the fullness of her skirt swishes behind her in an echo of the movement. “Well, now that you’ve eaten half of the vine, maybe go outside? Mrs Kim has been asking where you are, I think she missed you almost as much as we did.”

Your brows furrow, “Wait, which Mrs K—”

“Off you go, sweetheart!” 

You don’t even get to finish whatever you were saying because your mother moves into the kitchen solely to chase you out of it. You drag your feet as she herds you out— or at least, you do before she reaches for the kitchen towel by the oven and starts twisting it.

“I’m going!” you promptly flee after grabbing a handful of grapes to-go, holding up a proverbial white flag. Your mother is a little too good at turning mundane household items into a weapon. Now she’s put the fear of god back in you, you find yourself thinking that it’s no wonder your father has always been so well-behaved compared to the stories some of your friends would tell you about their own parents.

It’s a beautiful day, really. It’s part of the reason you were annoyed at yourself for hiding inside, even if it was only for about half an hour. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and while the sunlight warms your skin there is a cool breeze every so often that keeps you from overheating. Some of your younger cousins are in the pool, and have probably been there since around ten minutes after they arrived an hour or so ago. You’d barely gotten a hug in greeting before they were off, the backyard pool held a little more favourably in their eyes for the moment than their own flesh and blood.

They’re cute, though, so you decide that perhaps just this once you will let them get away with it. You’re going to rain down a storm of kisses on them before they leave, though. No one ignores you for an inanimate object and gets away with it!

As you exit the house and step beneath the sun, the skin of your arms and lower legs warming instantly, you just barely manage to dodge as one of your cousins comes bolting past you, followed barely a second later by his mother, your aunt, who is hotter on his heels than you might have anticipated for a woman her age.

“Jackson! You better get back here with those patties, boy, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You know you shouldn’t laugh, because it will encourage the bad behaviour, but the sight is so funny you just can’t help the way you burst into giggles, shaking your head and turning in the direction of the large gazebo that is rooted by the pool and is currently sheltering most of the guests from the sun. A quick scan also reveals that the lady of the hour, your sister, is over there too. Your eyes narrow when they catch sight of the champagne glass in her hand; hopefully she’s forgotten any and all things you’ve told her in confidence recently, or else they’re about to become public knowledge.

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!” 

You pause in your steps, turning just in time to catch in your arms the plate of small pastries your mother shoves into your hold. 

“Wh—” you don’t get to question her, as she simply flashes you a bright grin and nods her head to the table. “Take these over there, will you? And make sure Jin and Joon get some, I made their favourite!”

And then she is off, shooting back into the house and leaving you on the grass. At the delicious smell that wafts up to your nose, you send a cursory look down at the plate and hum in recognition,ignoring the way your mouth salivates. Ah, these are their favourites. This plate probably won’t last very long when you bring it over there. 

You’re on your way once more, now with the plate of sweets in tow, and the closer to the gazebo you grow you catch the sound of the radio, on one of the channels most popular with the youth and playing one of Lisa’s favourite songs. She’s dancing, dragging her friend Rose with her, giggling like a madwoman as she does so. It brings a smile to your face without you even realising. 

“Oh, y/n! There you are! Where have you been? We thought you might have gotten lost!”

Your attention is drawn to the side of the gazebo closest to the pool, where a few people are lounging in the chairs there, beers and glasses with clear, bubbling contents that you can only assume is gin and tonic on the table and in hand. The older woman who called you over with such a teasing tone is Mrs Kim— well, one of them. Both the Kims are here, and you realise belatedly that of course, their sons are too. It was Seokjin’s mother that noticed you, and as you make your way over you see Namjoon’s mother next to her, and the two men in question in the lounging chairs opposite. They seem to light up at your arrival, and you try not to think about the way their reaction makes your stomach flutter. You aren’t here for them, you’re here for their mothers! 

“Sorry,” you apologise, leaning and placing the plate down on the small table in the middle of the seats. Straightening, you dust your hands against the patterned skirt you have buttoned over your matching swimsuit. “I did get a bit lost, there’s so many kids here right now I thought I might have turned up in the wrong house.”

Both women erupt into laughter at your words, and you take the opportunity to smile at Jin and Namjoon, offering a timid wave. They return it, before following your finger as it points to the plate and they realise you’ve brought them their favourite baked goods.

“Cinnamon scrolls!” Namjoon croons, material of his navy button-up creasing as he hastily leans forward to swipe one off the plate. “And they’re shaped like little fish, like she always used to do! I can’t believe your mother made them today.”

“Of course,” you say, snorting lightly. “She’d do anything for her two favourite sons. She made it because they’re your favourites.”

The two of them beam in pride at that, before proceeding to consume the plate of sweets.

“Ah, and she sent you too, sweet y/n! Our favourite daughter! And even more stunning than I remember, right Soo-ah?”

Seokjin’s mother, Jia, hastily reclaims the conversation and succeeds in making you flush pink at her words. Jisoo, Namjoon’s mother, instantly nods, her short curls bouncing with the action, and shoots you a devious grin. 

“It’s been so long since we saw you last, y/n. You didn’t get a husband while you were away, right? We still want you as our daughter-in-law, you know.”

This time it’s not only you that feels the embarrassment heat your cheeks— to your side, both men choke on the mouthful of scroll they’d been in the process of devouring, Seokjin’s face going bright red as he brings his fist to hit his chest and attempts to dislodge the pastry. Amongst his own struggling, Namjoon reaches to smack his friend on the back, clearing his own throat.

“Ah, no…” you say, awkward and smoothing your skirt to distract yourself; it feels like the eyes of the entire party are on you, despite the fact you know better. “I’ve just been focusing on school…”

“Oh, tell me, dear, do you still do those wonderful paintings? I still have that one you gifted me for my birthday before you left.”

Namjoon follows up on his mother’s question, shooting you a smile that somehow is a combination of both bashful and proud. It makes a dimple pop in his cheek. “She still has it displayed above the dining table, actually. She nearly killed me when I almost knocked it by accident a few days ago.”

Jisoo doesn’t even bat a lash, smiling at you brightly— though a bit drunkenly, if the almost-finished glass in her hand is anything to go by. You’re surprised— you know from all the dinner parties your three families held over the years that despite their petite stature and classy, ladylike countenance,  both Kim women can outdrink their husbands and your father. You wonder just how much they must have had already to have such silly grins on their faces.

“I do!” You answer, feeling your chest warm in affection. It was silly to have ever doubted it, but it made you feel somewhat eased to know that you haven’t lost your place in their lives despite your departure. “But, actually, while away I actually took up sculpting. I’ve been doing that a bit more…”

“Oh, are you talking about your works, sweetheart? Ah Jisoo, Jia— they’re absolutely wonderful! I have photos that she brought, here let me go get them—”

You feel heat flush to the tips of your ears, greeting the arrival of your mother with an embarrassed look. “Alright, let’s not bash ears about it—”

“Oh!” Jia and Jisoo perk up at your mother's exclamation, and you shrink into your seat as you watch her reach into one of the hidden pockets in her skirt and pull out a handful of small photos that you’d printed to show her. Your hubris seems to have come to nip you in the bottom. “I forgot I popped them in my pocket to show you earlier! Here, see— isn’t she just so talented? My baby girl must have been the absolute queen of her department.”

All three parents are oblivious to the way you’re shrinking into your seat in mortification, but Seokjin and Namjoon are anything but. They’re grinning at you, relishing in your discomfort much like they used to. 

“Hey, y/n, could you get us another drink? I’d go get it, but your mother actually told me earlier I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen until she’s finished with the pastries…”

You shoot him a grateful look, shooting to your feet and slipping out of the little seating area. “Yup, doing that! Getting drinks! Be right back, don’t wait up!”

Though you doubt any of the adults heard you, they didn’t wait anyway. In fact, in the time it took you to head into the kitchen and bring back three drinks on a tray, your mother has since downed her glass and has started on another topic of conversation. Thankfully, the victim is no longer you. 

“Oh, Namjoon, where are your peepers?!” Your mother gasps suddenly as you return, pointing at the man beside you. There’s the barest slur accenting her words, and you resign yourself here and now to a night of loose-lipped blabbering from both your sister and your mother. “I’m not goin’ crazy am I? You used to run into things all the time when you were a kid ‘cause you were blind as a bat!”

Namjoon winces, but Seokjin bursts into laughter. Glad for the conversational shift, you take one of the last remaining chairs and settle down, your own drink now in hand. Namjoon reaches for the refill you had brought him, using the opportunity to hide his face, and only when Jin has settled down does he manage to wipe his eyes and claim his own glass.

“I’m tryin’ out something new,” Namjoon answers after a hearty gulp, clearing his throat. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck bashfully. “Lenses, I think they’re called. They’re convenient, especially when I’m performing, but they’re expensive and so dang fragile I’m gonna need to take out insurance on them or somethin’.”

“Isn’t this your last set?” Seokjin queries knowingly, laughing as Namjoon grimaces. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in the peepers you know and love by the end of the week. If he doesn’t break them, he loses them.”

You half expect Namjoon to be irked but he just sighs with a small smile, apparently having made peace by now with the clumsiness and two left feet that have haunted him since childhood.

Your mother decides to tease Namjoon a little more, before she changes the topic and starts gushing about their career, and how she can hardly go a day or two without hearing one of their songs on the radio. All three women are beaming with pride, and though slightly bashful about it you can see Namjoon and Seokjin’s chests swell slightly. 

Lisa, the star of today’s show, happens to walk by right when your mother is interrogating them about where they’ve chosen to settle down for the meantime, and eagerly joins the conversation.

“Ah, cool cats like you must be absolutely rolling in dough by now! How many mansions do you have already?” Lisa laughs, looking for a free seat and simply sitting on you when she doesn’t find one. She’s quite a bit heavier than you remember, and you feel your breath wheeze out of you at her abrupt drop onto your legs. 

“Unfortunately, none,” Namjoon laughs, gesturing to his mother, “Though, the pressure is on. I think ‘Ma wants a nice place to retire before my career is over.”

Jisoo takes a sip to hide her sheepish grin, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt afterwards. Seokjin lets out a soft chuckle before he turns to your mother and answers the question she’d asked earlier.

“We have a sweet pad back in the fat city, actually. We both were leanin’ to the same penthouse with the best view but in the end decided to compromise and split it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you mother exclaims, eyes alight. The last time she’d looked this excited was when you told her you were staying for the whole week. “It’s so good to hear that the two of you stuck together even though you’re such big news now!”

Guilt. You bring your glass to your mouth and take a large gulp in an effort to drown it, the tart fizz of gin and tonic barely disguising the familiar curl of guilt in your gut.  Perhaps if you ignore it, it will go away. 

“Oh, speaking of— that latest record the two of you released together, it really does razz my berries like nothin’ else!” Lisa gushes, throwing a hand out to wriggle her fingers for emphasis. “It’s real hip and different from all your other tracks. Trust you two to be settin’ trends!”

Starting to get slightly tipsy now from the generous downing of your drink, you can’t help how you chime in with little thought,  “Oh, I really do love that one. It’s perfect to dance to.”

“A dance?” Lisa queries, turning to pin you with a confused look over her shoulder. You realise your slip up in that moment, when you glance to the side and see both men looking at you with unreadable expressions.  “It’s a bit slow for a dance, I think.”

“You can dance to anything,” Namjoon swoops in and unknowingly saves you, shrugging nonchalantly. The expression that was present on his face earlier is gone now, but it takes a split second longer to fade from Seokjin’s features.

Sinking into your chair as much as you can with Lisa’s weight pinning your legs down, you bring the glass to your mouth once more. 

Slip-up aside, you can only hope it won’t be as difficult to get through this party as you thought. 

 x - x - x

The day has progressed nicely and as daylight begin to bleed into night, your father emerged to help man the barbecue and dinner was served —  it was a somewhat rowdy affair, given how much alcohol the party had consumed up until that point. After eating their fill, most of your relatives and small cousins went home — they have a strict bedtime to uphold, after all. You made good on your promise to smother the little ones in kisses as they left, and it was with pink cheeks and bright grins that they bid you farewell. 

It’s getting well into the night at this point, and only a few guests are left. Lisa is inside with a cluster of her friends and her fiance, your mother and the Kims are underneath the gazebo with their husbands— this has left you by the pool with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’d gotten a little bold earlier and when you’d teased them about something, you’d had an unceremonious reunion with the pool. It was startlingly similar to what occured right before your mother took that photo hanging in your room, and made an odd mixture of affection, nostalgia, and something a little bit bittersweet settle in your abdomen. 

Just as it had the other time you’d met with the two, any tension and awkwardness had quickly melted away as the evening progressed. A few drinks in your systems and anything and everything is now water under the bridge. All too easily the three of you had fallen back into the same comfortable, playful air that you’d always known—

That you’d missed so much.

You’re lounging now in one of the rubber duck-shaped floaties your mother bought recently (she’d made you blow it up, gushing all the while about what a bargain she’d gotten on it and the companion swan floatie). Your head is more than pleasantly fuzzy, and you decide as you finish this glass that perhaps you’re done drinking for the night. You kick your legs lazily, feeling the heavy material of your skirt swish in the water as you propel yourself around the pool. Normally, the skirt is meant to come off before you take a dip. However given the nature of your entry into the pool, you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discard it. 

“No, no— I remember it cleary— clearly.” Seokjin waves his hand, finger pointing at Namjoon— the man in question is cackling in the deep end, falling off the swan floatie that he was attempting to climb onto. Both men are at the point in the night where they are beginning to slur their words, and to be fair you’re not much different. You’d lost count of how many times either of them have slipped up in their words.  “It wasn’t me who fell and broke y/n’s coffee table. From what I remember, it was your buttocks that hit it.”

“But you pushed me!” Any attempts on Namjoon’s behalf to hide his grin and even pretend to be angry prove to be fruitless. He has the same dumb dimpled grin on his face that you remember from your teen years. “It was uncalled for, assault!”

“You!” Seokjin’s mouth drops open, his legs kicking in the pool in his outrage. Namjoon’s eyes almost disappear as he cackles, throwing his head back. It melds into the sounds of the festivities over by the gazebo, where the radio and Lisa’s own gleeful laughter echo into the night. “y/n can confirm, it was Joon, right?!”

You put your arms behind your head, pretending to lounge back on the floatie despite how tentative your position is on the slippery rubber. “I don’t recall, suddenly I can’t think.”

“Yah!”

Your jubilant laughter means that you don’t see it when Seokjin slips completely into the pool, diving beneath the water to where you’re lounging and coming up beneath you. A scream rips from your throat as you're flipped from the floatie, tumbling backwards and into the water with a hefty splash to boot.

When you come back up, gasping breaths above the surface turning into laughter, it takes a moment for realisation to reach you through the sluggish fog in your brain that your skirt has detached. Still laughing, you catch sight of it and reach for it where it’s floating across the pool, recognising the sound of the two males guffawing behind you. When you slip on the bottom of he pool for a moment and get water up your nose, you decide that perhaps it’s time for you to call it a night soon.

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

When you slip again, a strong arm catches around your waist like an iron bar, holding you to the surface. Blinking the water out of your lashes, you turn to see the owner; the breath is startled out of you as your gaze meet the dark depths of Seokjin’s own. His hair is still dripping, an inky wayward mess atop his head, and the t-shirt he’d donned as he first entered the pool so long ago is clinging to each line and plane of his body. 

For a moment, yearning and a feeling all too familiar takes up the space of your lungs, and you find that you can’t breathe. 

“I think… I think it’s time to call it a night,” you manage to say, a new kind of lightheadedness emerging to addle your thoughts. You turn, breaking the hold Seokjin’s gaze has on you to seek out the edge of the pool. You feel his eyes bore holes into you for a moment longer, before two hands come to grip your waist and he moves you through the water to the rim of the pool. 

“Probably for the best,” Seokjin says, grip tightening in a split-second of warning before he heaves you up and onto the brick that lines the poolside. Off-kilter and unexpecting of the movement as you were, you have to balance yourself with your legs, which almost end up smacking Seokjin in the side. Through your inebriation, you don’t realise the way your thighs have parted in the process, the detached skirt in your hand doing little to cover you where it is laying sopping wet on the brick.  

“You’re being almost as clumsy as—” You’re also so busy trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach and find your bearings you also don’t notice the way Seokjin’s eyes move unwittingly down your form, falling to your thigh at eye-level. “...Namjoon.”

You blink, eyes finally focusing but heartbeat still thrumming in your ears.

“I don’t know if I will ever be that clumsy,” you manage to say, as comprehensible as possible. Seokjin’s hands leave your waist as you stumble to your feet, wringing out your skirt before attempting to button the drenched garment back up above your hips. 

“Hey!”

At Namjoon’s outcry, you grin and bring your hand up in a wave. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you drunkenly promise, completely forgetting that in a few days, you’ll be out of this town and out of their lives once more. “Goodnight, you two.”

They return the sentiment, and you grab a towel from one of the poolside chairs, wrapping it around yourself and making your way back in. You miss the way that their eyes follow you as you leave their sight and reenter the warmth and light of your home.

x - x - x - x

The night has drawn to a close, and the two men have long since climbed from the pool and dried off with the fluffy towels your mother so generously laid out for them before she got too tispy. A sharp look from their own mothers reminded them earlier that there are still plates to clear and things to tidy, so despite being guests they do their best amongst the alcohol-induced fog clouding their minds to help clean up the aftermath of Lisa’s engagement party. 

As they do so, the same thing is true for both of them: there is a lot on their minds.

Seokjin had to turn to Namjoon earlier to confirm what he’d seen, and when he saw the man in question already looking at him with wide eyes, he knew he hadn’t just drunkenly imagined it. They both saw it, the glimpse of a strikingly familiar picture peeking from the inside of your thigh. They’d seen that very same tattoo in the very same place just a few nights ago, only last time the owner had remained a masked mystery. Now, they’d glimpsed the same image on the body of their childhood friend, the girl they’d both fallen in love with and subsequently drifted apart over only years ago because they were young and jealous and stupid. But, things are different now; they’re now only two of those things, and after they made up over a year ago their friendship is stronger than ever, in… more ways than one.

But despite how much has changed over the years, there is still one thing that has remained constant; and that is their feelings for you.

Truthfully, after not seeing you for so long, they had started to think perhaps they were finally getting over you. Impossible as it had seemed, considering how smitten they were. A cold realisation washed over them the second they saw you again, though, that those feelings hadn’t disappeared like they had suspected, but simply remained dormant. Seeing you at the diner and finally getting to catch up after being apart so long, missing you so much, had pretty much cemented that. When they’d returned to their hotel room after, they didn’t need to say a word and only shared a look to know they had both come to the same conclusion.

They were both irrevocably, pathetically, undoubtedly still in love with you, even after all these years. 

Then had come the show.

It was the reason they’d returned to this town, technically. An important friend of theirs had invited them both to celebrate the success of their latest record and talk about future opportunities; the location happened to be a club currently hosting a highly regarded burlesque set. They’d felt the second the final masked performer had come on stage that there was something odd, something special about her. She had used their song, on her thigh had been a tattoo that tickled something in the back of their minds, and there was something in the way she moved that had been so jarringly familiar, but neither had been able to pin where they had seen her before.

Until tonight, that is.

It hadn’t been an intentional reveal on your part, but there on your thigh had been the exact same tattoo they’d glimpsed in the club, and they’d known the second they saw it that it wasn’t a common design. At first, on the night, Seokjin thought that it might have struck them because it was drawn similarly to how you always used to doodle moons on all of your schoolbooks, and now it all made sense. 

The only thing left to consider is, what do they do now that they know?

“Oh, my boys— my precious, helpful, lovely boys!”

The two men turn in tandem, easily catching sight of your mother as she stumbles her way over to them. They were in the process of moving some of the plates to the kitchen before they heard her drunken cooing, and Seokjin finds himself thanking the heavens they’d put them down quickly because in the next second your mother is throwing her arms around them and they’re being yanked down to her height from the sheer strength of her grip.

“I missed you two, we all missed you two,” she blubbers, hugging them close like she’s worried they might slip away into the night the second she loosens her hold. A second shy of suffocating them, she finally releases her grip, and they straighten with warm faces. Namjoon knows without even having to check that he’s got a real goofy grin on his mug right now. 

“We missed you too,” Seokjin says, and he means it. Your family and Namjoon’s family are both pretty much his own at this point, and he’d found himself missing every single member while he was away. Each time he returned home, he was sure to visit the other two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac, though the times he’d been able to actually make his way back to his home town were unfortunately few and far between. The same is the case for Namjoon, as he knows, except likely a bit worse since he knows Namjoon has always been a real Mummy’s boy.

“But I doubt it was as much as we missed you!” Your mother argues, and it makes both men smile. The next few words to escape her mouth knock the expression straight off their faces, though.  “y/n especially. Oh, I remember she was so heartbroken when you three started growing apart. I think part of the reason she left was to get away from it. The way she used to talk about you boys…” Her gaze slips to the side, eyes slightly hazy in recollection. “I thought for sure that she was going to end up marrying one of you.”

They don’t even get a good second to unpack that, before the haze leaves your mother’s eyes and she is giggling, leaning forward with a cheeky glint in her eyes that they know for sure they’ve seen in your own. She brings her hand up to shield her mouth as she whispers in a voice that is not at all as quiet as she likely thinks it is, “It’s a bit improper, but I think she used to like both of you.”

Namjoon chokes on his own spit, and Seokjin’s mouth falls slack. “What?”

Your mother merely giggles, leaning back and spinning on her heel. “Thank you so much for your help, boys, but you ought to be on your way! Your mothers are about to head home and neither of them are walking in a very straight line.”

She halts, turning over her shoulder to shoot them a wide grin. “I’m glad you two came. Thank you.”

And then she is gone, and a blanket of silence falls over the kitchen. Seokjin and Namjoon turn their heads, locking gazes. 

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

 You swear there is something odd in the air of the club this evening. 

It’s something subtle, and none of the other girls seem to have noticed it; they continue as always, tittering away in the dressing rooms and giggling amongst themselves when one of them makes a joke that probably shouldn’t be repeated outside the room. It’s the last night you will be performing here, and also the last night you will be staying. You were planning on making a quick visit home tomorrow morning to say farewell to your parents and congratulate your sister once more, before being on your way. You hadn’t decided yet whether you were going to go out of your way to track down Seokjin and Namjoon to say goodbye to them as well, but the idea of it… well, it sets your belly alight with nerves. You have no idea what you would say, and you know — you know— in your gut that doing it would revive the elephant in the room that you’ve all been ignoring up until now. 

But if you don’t, then you’ll be doing the exact same thing you did last time, and this time around you don’t know if you’ll get their forgiveness, let alone deserve it. 

By this point in the evening, you’ve already slipped into your costume and powdered your face. Since you wear a mask while on stage, you don’t really need to apply any heavy makeup around your brows and eyes; you usually settle for accentuating them naturally. 

Mina has disappeared since you last saw her, which is odd since she usually lingers to talk your ear off about any handsome faces she might spy in the crowd as the room beyond the stage begins to fill. You’d started to look for her earlier, seeking a distraction from the depressing inner monologue you have running, but hadn’t managed to find her. This means that for the past half hour or so you’ve been left to your own devices, fiddling with different parts of your dress and costume like a child twiddling their thumbs in the principal’s office. Part of that time, you spend trying to ignore the events of last night and any feelings that may have resurfaced as a result of your return to this town. For the rest of it, you attempt to think about what you’re going to do tomorrow when the rapidly-approaching hour comes when you have to leave again. God, where on earth did Mina get off to? You’re going insane here.

Oddly enough, it’s her that finds you a few minutes before the show is set to start. By this point, it’s a wonder you haven’t torn your hair out of it’s meticulous styling.

“Where did you pop off to?” you ask her before she even has a chance to say hello. She raises her brows, laughing at your rapid questioning. 

“Big boss wanted me for something,” she supplies, cocking her hip and resting a hand there. “Actually, I was asked to pass on a message to you.”

The confusion must be evident on your face, because Mina is quick to wave her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad— though it is a bit odd. He just asked me to tell you to meet him in one of the private rooms in the VVIP section. I think it was the very last one…?”

That is odd, considering she’d apparently just come from meeting him. Private shows aren’t something you do, so you can’t think of a reason why the big boss would ask you to meet him there. 

“Huh, ok. So soon before the show…?” you ask, just to be sure. You don’t have your mask on you right now, so you need to calculate how long it’s going to take you to return and get it. Mina shrugs, nodding. 

“I suppose so. Don’t worry,” she smiles, something indecipherable yet oddly devious entering her gaze. “You won’t be there long enough to mess anything up. The show will go on, Miss Luna.”

You could almost swear there is something hidden in her words, but don’t have the time or the thought to dwell on it. Instead you return her smile and turn to be on your way; the VVIP rooms are on the other side of the establishment, and you don’t want to keep the big boss waiting. You’d only met him once, the owner of this club, and he didn’t strike you as anything in particular. The only thing you’d thought to note is that he smoked perhaps a few too many cigars, because his office was almost always filled with curling, coiling smoke that leaked into the hall  each time you moved past. But he was quite mild-mannered and polite as far as men in this business go, so you’re not particularly concerned for your wellbeing as you make your way to meet him.

It takes a little longer than anticipated, since you ran into one of your co-performers and they cornered you for help with their outfit, but finally you’re arriving in the second-floor wing that houses the VVIP rooms. Instantly, it’s evident where you are. The carpet is a little more plush, the wallpaper a little more maintained, and the hall decorated a little nicer than the rest of the place. Spotting the room on the end, you make your way down there and knock on the door thrice before grasping the handle and easing it open.

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat before it even has a chance to reach the tip of your tongue, feet freezing mid-step as your eyes fall upon the occupants of the room. For once, you don’t have any sort of instinct that kicks in to save you; you simply stand and stare with wide eyes.

“Took you long enough, bubs.” Seokjin straightens from where he had been leaning back against the plush crimson leather of the circular lounge. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

A myriad of thoughts suddenly flood the blank space in your brain, all in contention with each other. Oh no, they’ve seen you— no, you have a mask, they don’t know who you are— no, you don’t have your mask—

Dressed in your performing attire and standing before Seokjin and Namjoon, in one of the VVIP rooms in the club where they attended your show, you aren’t a faceless dancer. You’re y/n, and it feels like they can see every single bit of you there is to see.

You don’t even know where to begin.

“I…” You attempt to say something, anything, but your tongue has suddenly turned to lead in a pact with your stomach, sinking down and refusing to dance for your words.

It takes you a moment to realise as you watch them straighten, but neither of them look surprised. It leads you to believe that somehow they figured it out on their own, though you have no idea how. You don’t really have the presence of mind to ask them right now, either. In fact, it could even be argued that you’re almost panicking.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon speaks up, offering you a smile that holds neither judgement nor disdain. “We wanted to catch you before you inevitably skipped town without saying goodbye.”

That stung, just as much as the guilt that struck you for the truth of his words. You’d been contemplating it, leaning towards it even, but suddenly you feel you have to defend yourself. 

“I hadn’t decided that yet,” you say quietly. You let the door fall shut behind you, silently acquiescing to the unspoken demand weighing heavy in the air.

“Don’t lie.”

Your eyes shoot even wider, if possible, at the sound of Seokjin of all people snapping at you. His tone was sharp, and you half expect him to look furious, but when your eyes flick to his face it gives nothing away. When he continues in the next second, though, you see it in the depths of his eyes. Hurt.

“We used to tell each other everything, back then.” It could have been a trick of your mind, but you swear you heard his voice break slightly. “I don’t want that to change. So no lies tonight, y/n. We’re going to talk as adults, openly and honestly.”

For reasons beyond you, something about the promise woven through his tone makes you nervous. A tremor fights to shudder its way down your spine; for a moment, you feel akin to a small, cornered forest animal, even though they are the ones sitting against a wall and you are in the open. You don’t know what to say. 

Namjoon steps in, saving you from fumbling for a response as he always seems to do. “You don’t have to stand there, ready to bolt, you know. You can come sit down.”

You shake your head, suddenly recalling your commitments outside this room and feeling relief flood you at the realisation that you have an excuse to remove yourself from this situation you’d tried so hard to avoid. “I can’t. I have to go p—”

“We already talked it over with your boss, he was happy to take you out of the performance tonight. It’s okay, the others know too.”

You deflate, looking at Namjoon with a sinking feeling in your stomach. He doesn’t hold your attention all that long, though, before the sound of Seokjin’s voice brings your gaze to him once more.

“Why did you leave? Without even saying goodbye, or telling us where you went?” You feel rooted to the spot, pinned first by the weight of Seokjin’s gaze and then his words as they slam into you, unfiltered. 

“Hyung.” You think you hear Namjoon murmur softly, giving the man next to him a pointed look. Seokjin is unphased, looking at you expectantly, “Be honest.”

It’s just as panic begins to seep into the bottom of your lungs that anger sparks and sets it alight, transmuting it to something red and hot in your chest. 

“You want me to be honest?” you ask, heat beginning to colour your voice and sharpen the tip of your tongue. “I left because of you— both of you. I don’t know if something happened between you or if I just wasn’t enough, or you felt I was holding you back, but you drew away and you left me. You both left me before I ever left you.”

You see it the second your words enter the air like a whip, the hurt and guilt slipping across their features. Anger bubbles in your throat, stings your eyes, and urges you to let loose everything else rising to the tip of your tongue, “I left because I couldn’t handle the pain of my two best friends slowly easing themselves from my life, like— like I was old news. Like I no longer had a place in that shiny, brand new world they’d stepped into.”

More rushes to escape, feelings kept bottled up tight for three years suddenly flooding forth with the force of a tidal wave, but you bite it down, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath that rattles through your chest. When you’re sure you have a firmer grasp on your emotions, you allow yourself to speak once more. “If an apology is what you want, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry for my part in hurting you. But you… the two of you hurt me, too. You meant the world to me and when you pulled away you made me feel like nothing.”

Your eyes remain closed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you will yourself not to cry; silence sinks over the room, only broken as your ears adjust to the thin buzz of electricity thrumming through the walls. One moment, another-- you try and focus on breathing in, and breathing out.

“Something did happen between us, you know. We fought over you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto Namjoon. He stands, dusting his legs as he straightens and adjusts his jacket. Slowly, like he’s worried he will spook you, he begins to step closer. “I’m sorry, y/n. We never meant to hurt you, and didn’t realise the way our immaturity was hurting you, too. You took up such a big part of our lives, and after you left it was painfully empty… when we saw you again this week, it was the first time we’d felt whole in years.”

Stunned, you’re rooted to the spot and can only watch as he comes close enough to touch, hands reaching for your own; faintly, you register the sound of Seokjin getting up from the couch as well. When he reaches your side, you risk a glance to his face and are surprised by the soft, remorseful expression resting upon his handsome features. 

“I’m sorry, bubs, for hurting you.” He lifts a hand, the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek. “You are irreplaceable to us, and we will always want you as a part of our lives. No one meant as much to us as you did then, and no one means as much to us as you do now. The two of you are my world, and I know the same goes for Joon.”

There’s something different hiding in the depths of his tone that makes your heart patter faster against the confines of your chest, something in the way they share a look so full of something warm that your own cheeks heat in response. Both of them… with each other, too? 

 “Why are you saying this?” Now, you meant to tack on. Why is he saying this now?

Namjoon’s eyes are warm as they meet your own. “Because we should have said it three years ago. Plus… we got a tip from an anonymous source that our feelings aren’t as unrequited as we once thought.” 

You don’t even need to wonder who it was that could have exposed such a thing; your mother had been mysteriously avoidant of your gaze this morning, almost knocking a few things off the bench in the extent of her effort to evade meeting your eyes.

“If nothing else, please just tell us before you go,” Seokjin implores, voice a low murmur. “Whether it was true then, or....”

You have a feeling you know what he was going to say: or even now. You’d known it the second you glimpsed them back in this town that those feelings you’d harboured for years and years weren’t ever going away. Even seeing them a handful of times has made your heart ache with the revival of your love and the magnitude at which it had bloomed once more in the tender soil of your being. The words rush to the tip of your tongue, but even now when the two objects of your affection have all but confessed to you, fear barrs them from leaving your mouth. Because it’s not appropriate, a voice murmurs it’s familiar tune, It’s so unlikely— what if you are just reading too much into it and are mistaken?

Honesty, Seokjin had requested. You take a deep breath before admitting the words that will seal your fate, for better or for worse.

“I did love you, then,” you say, catching it as they both seem to tense. “I should have known better than to think those feelings would just go away.”

It takes a moment, but soon both men are erupting into bright grins. In his glee, Namjoon folds you into his arms, smacking a soft kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips— the suddenness of the action brings a gasp to your lips, but you’re definitely not going to complain. Especially not when the way his mouth moves against yours lights something bright deep within you. 

You don’t get to enjoy the sensations for longer than a moment before Seokjin’s voice is parting the air, a completely different tone underlying his words than what you expect from seeing his stupid grin earlier.

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, little miss. “ You meet his gaze over Namjoon’s shoulder and a shudder shoots down your spine at the look in his eyes. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, wouldn’t you say?” 

x - x 

Barely ten minutes and a private car ride filled with scandalous touches and even more scandalous noises later, you’re being pressed against the wall in the bedroom of the penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel your town has to offer. Namjoon’s mouth is on yours with a kiss so impassioned that it pulls the air from your lungs and the strength from your knees; you don’t even realise that the lights hadn’t already been on when you entered and it was Jin responsible for illuminating your path into the suite.

A part of you expects some internal resistance — it had been three years since you’d last seen them, before this week — but instead you’re simply overwhelmed with how right it feels. Soft, fluttery warmth like sun rays on a winter’s morning fills you up to the brim, the feeling so foreign you’re worried your heart might actually burst. 

Namjoon’s hands come to your hips, pressing them to the wall before sliding up to the dip of your waist. He isn’t overly bold in the way he moves his mouth against yours, but it makes a whine build in your chest nonetheless. A part of you disagrees with it, and when you recall that you’re still here dressed in the costume that usually gives you the power over men, you push back and turn the two of you around. 

When his own back meets the wall, the softest gasp escapes Namjoon’s mouth and you swallow it down, your hands coming to cup his jaw. You take the lead in the kiss and he doesn’t put up a fight, grip tightening on your sides as he holds you closer. 

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

An unwitting squeak escapes you as two large hands find purchase on your waist and you’re pulled apart from the man panting against the wall. You blink and before you know it Seokjin has you falling onto something so plush and soft you know immediately it’s a bed. Your eyes are quick to find Seokjin’s, and the raven-haired male shoots you a stern look that is only contradicted by the heady mixture of affection and lust in his gaze.

“You don’t get to call the shots tonight,” he informs you simply, striding closer to where you’re laying on the bed and tugging on the string that holds your silken gown together. It’s designed to come undone, and so it’s no surprise that at the lightest pull the silk is sliding off your body, revealing the outfit you’d paraded on the stage before them barely a few nights ago. Faintly, you register the bed dipping behind you, but your attention is otherwise occupied when Seokjin reaches for the bedside table and retrieves something long and black. 

“Her wrists?” Namjoon asks, unknowingly answering the question you had forming in your head. Seokjin nods, tossing the tie  to him. Your gown is slipped from your shoulders completely, sheer petticoat ruffling as you’re scooted backwards until you feel the firmness of Namjoon’s chest against your back and Seokjin is sliding between your legs, in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Do you know what you did to us when we saw you that night?” Seokjin asks, voice smooth as honey. It’s a struggle to remain focused on his words when Namjoon brings your hands together in front of you where you’re propped against him, beginning to bind them a little too expertly with the tie Seokjin had passed him. Your heart beats a little faster, thighs trembling as heady anticipation whirls within you. “What you do to us?”

“Just seeing you was already dangerous enough,” Namjoon murmurs, husky tone brushing the shell of your ear. “But you danced to our song, the song we wrote for you. It’s like you knew what it would do to us…”

It makes something swell in your chest, the confirmation that they had written that song for you. You catch something fond flick through Seokjin’s gaze before he tuts, shaking his head. He pushes your now-tied hands up and over your head, back until you feel the side of your thumbs grazing the back of Namjoon’s neck. Lips brush your neck, eliciting a shiver that Seokjin eagerly drinks in. Long, deft fingers work to undo the top part of your corset, the cushioned bandeau, and slip it from your form. You can visibly see it as his eyes darken, drinking in the sheer bralette barely supporting your breasts. You also know the second he glimpses the tassels pressed beneath, because his teeth sink into his lip and he takes in a sharp breath. 

Namjoon’s wandering hands come to trace the underside of your chest, breath catching in your throat when he takes their weight into his hold and kneads. Warmth shoots to your core, the hints of pleasure curling your toes. You feel breathless as they work in easy tandem, Seokjin slipping your petticoat over your legs and Namjoon removing your bralette. You shiver once your chest is bare, not from the cold but from the intensity and the weight of their gazes as you feel them fall upon you. 

“Leave her corset,” Seokjin instructs, flicking one of your tassels and eliciting a yelp. He settles back further between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs; his gazes falls upon the tattoo on the inside of your leg and the corner of his lips curls up. 

The plush of his lips presses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, the sensation tingling along your nerves. He doesn’t comment on the picture, but when his mouth touches where it is inked into your skin you feel your heart skip a beat nonetheless. 

Your mind is pulled from the sensation of fingers slipping beneath the edge of your panties when Namjoon’s fingers play with the tassels attached to your nipples, tugging and pulling and eliciting all sorts of heady sensations that make your thighs shake. “Joon,” you breathe, something else resting on the tip of your tongue only to be replaced with a whine when Namjoon pulls a little harder, soft open-mouthed kisses pressed to the sensitive column of your neck.

It’s like all of your nerves are alight at once, each touch and brush of their skin against yours heightened and making your heart race and your breath come a little quicker. Seokijn quickly slips your panties off, but leaves the pantyhose and garter belt. His eyes drag a trail of heat up your body, halting where Namjoon has begun to suck marks onto your neck like an artist decorating a canvas. For a moment he is mesmerised, and you can’t help the words that slip from your lips.

“You like what you see?” You ask, curving your back ever so slightly to emphasise your position. Seokjin pins you with an unreadable look, jaw ticking for a moment. 

“Very much so,” he answers, pulling away from you for a moment. He reaches behind him, retrieving something you hadn’t even noticed before now, and when you realise what it is he has in his hand you feel your stomach simultaneously drop and flip in excitement. His eyes meet yours for a moment, an unspoken question whether what he is about to do is okay, and had it been anyone else you know you would have refused, but you trust him. You trust them. You offer him a small nod and you receive the smallest smile in return before he is bringing the camera up to his eye and lining up his shot. 

Flash. Click. The camera isn’t as bulky as you’re used to, and you figure it must be one of the newer models you are far too poor to afford. One picture seems to be enough for him for now, but you know as he places it well to the side that it won’t be the only appearance it makes tonight. 

“Just in case you decide to fly the coop on us again,” he says, a sly look on his face. You scoff, knowing that he’s joking, and hold up your hands, still bound. 

“Like this? Not likely.”

He chuckles, and you feel Namjoon’s chest rumble with a soft laugh against your back as well. The lighthearted moment is over as quick as it arrives as Seokjin settles back between your legs and hardly waits for you to orient yourself before dipping his head down and delivering a broad swipe of his tongue up your slit.

“F— Jin!” you yelp at the sudden shock of pleasure, wriggling in Namjoon’s arms slightly; he nips at your skin in light reprimand, and Seokjin lifts his head only for a moment to scold you with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

“Careful now, bubs,” he cautions, delivering a small kitten lick to your clit between utterances. “We might have the penthouse but there are still people below us.”

Surprisingly— or perhaps unsurprisingly, when taking the rest of your life and profession into account — the idea of being heard has the opposite effect on you than one might expect. You bite your lip, tipping your head back as Namjoon’s fingers begin to play with you once more and Seokjin begins to bury his face between your legs in earnest. 

It gives you a bit of whiplash, when you think about it; you don’t think you ever would have expected to end up here, in this situation. Crushes or no crushes, you hadn’t even expected to see them again let alone become the meat in a famous musician sandwich. 

It’s almost shameful how quickly the heat and pressure builds within you, Namjoon managing to tug the tassels off completely to roll your flushed buds between his fingers. The noises that sound from Seokjin’s ministrations between your legs are so downright lewd you can feel your face flush with heat, your thighs trembling either side of his head. You attempt to keep your own moans and whines in until Seokjin delivers a smack to your thigh and sends you a warning look. 

Just when you think you might be about to reach your peak, Seokjin stops, pulling back and licking your cream from his lips. The look you send him must be devastated, because he looks absolutely smug. 

“Now, this isn’t just about you,” Seokjin says, carding a hand through his hair before he finishes undoing his shirt and slips it from his form. Your breath catches at the sight of his sculpted torso, and the ink that decorates it in pretty splotches of imagery. You feel so ridiculously naughty, finding the tattoos on him as attractive as you do, and you’re aware of the irony but you just can’t help it. Seokjin could manage to make a potato sack look good. “Hasn’t Joonie been good? Been making you feel so good, with nothing in return? I think we should pay him back.”

It’s all the warning you get before you’re flipped over, braced on your elbows and knees. There is rustling before something plush is slipped beneath you, and Seokjin lowers you down between Namjoon’s legs with the pillow propping your hips up for him to continue where he left off.

Dazed from the sudden shift and beginning to lose yourself to the feeling as Seokjin returns his mouth to your soaked centre, you tilt to meet Namjoon’s dark gaze and offer him a brief smile. You can’t deny, the angle you’re viewing him from is nice, especially as he wrangles his shirt off and you catch glimpses of firm abs and chest. Namjoon, too, has decorated his skin, and it’s somewhat ridiculous how viscerally you’re reacting to it but you really think you might be about to drool. 

The pleasure quickly beginning to build in you once more from Seokjin’s plush lips and agile tongue leaves you no room for pleasantries, “Can I suck you off, Joonie?”

You hear his breath catch before he tips his head back and lets out a soft groan. “Do you even have to ask?”

His response only fuels your eagerness, mouth beginning to feel empty when your face is so close to his crotch you can feel the heat of his body. Considering the state of your hands, Namjoon makes quick work of his belt and slacks for you, shimmying them down with his briefs just enough to let his member spring free, almost completely hard at this point. 

“Holy shoot, Joon,” you curse, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and lust. God, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone as much as you want these two men.  Namjoon shoots you a cheeky, if somewhat dazed, smile that makes his dimples pop out.

“It’s not just me you have to worry about.”

Well that’s a condemning statement if you ever did hear one, considering how you’re hoping this night will go. One of the more open and liberal girls that worked the show with you had once said “god gave me two holes for a reason, girls!” and right now you find you couldn’t agree more. 

You’re sick of your mouth being empty, you decide, and so you forego further foreplay and simply reach for his cock, taking the length into your hands and promptly enveloping his tip in the heat of your mouth.

“Fuck!” Namjoon swears loudly, thighs tensing against your shoulders. The yelp that escapes you as Seokjin smacks your ass melts into a moan that elicits a throaty noise from Namjoon, as well. 

You press and drag your tongue along the underside of his length, gradually working your mouth lower and lower until your nose is brushing the dark patch of curls across his pubic bone, a surprisingly pleasant mixture of musk melding with his cologne and brushing your senses . Even without the pleasure flooding your nerves from Seokjin’s tongue and the way he latches his lips around your clit, the deep, throaty noises tumbling from Namjoon’s mouth are reward enough. Since your hands are bound, your mouth has to do most of the work; when you sink down enough that his tip bumps the back of your throat, you do your best to fight your gag reflex from kicking in fully. 

Namjoon swears once more, just barely stopping himself before it gets too reminiscent of a sailor’s vocabulary. The sensation of your throat constricting around the head of his member makes his hips twitch and buck up ever so slightly, his hands winding into the hair at the nape of your neck. Struggling to keep on task through the haze in your mind, you do your best to build up a rhythm that has Namjoon’s abdomen trembling from the effort of keeping his hips still.

In tandem, the two of you seem to be rapidly approaching your highs— unfortunately for you, that same attention to detail that makes Jin’s ministrations so mind-numbingly good is what alerts him to that fact. Right when you feel yourself tense up in the prelude to your orgasm, Seokjin rips his mouth away, the bed shifting behind you. “Not yet, bubs.”

You can’t help the whine that sounds from your throat, the vibrations making Namjoon jerk.

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click. 

Another whine, different in tone this time, escapes you at the knowledge that Seokjin has added another filthy memory to his collection. 

“Joonie, you better not cum until I say so. y/n, off.”

Namjoons nails scratch lightly against your scalp, almost making your eyes roll back as he whines lowly in protest. You know you should listen and do as Seokjin says, but you can’t help but push a little, taking your sweet time as you pull your mouth slowly from Namjoon’s length, sucking all the while. The noises that tumble from Namjoon’s mouth as a result are incriminating enough, and even though you knew Seokjin wasn’t going to let it slide it still comes as a surprise when there is a sharp, painful smack against the globe of your ass. It’s hard enough and loud enough that your back arches slightly, mouth leaving Namjoon with a pop so you’re free to cry out. 

“Jin!”

Seokjin’s hand is cool against the smarting flesh of your behind as he rubs soothingly over it, raising an eyebrow as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. “I told you off, bubs. Let’s not make me repeat myself.”

Somewhat petulant despite the giddy butterflies in the pit of your stomach, you allow him to grab you by the hips and yank you back with a pout, breathless with anticipation when you feel his fingers drag over the dips and curves of your body as though mapping them out. He makes you sit up, your back against his chest as he explores your front, drinking in each gasp and whine as he pinches and tugs your nipples and rolls them between the pads of his fingers. Down, down, down he goes— when his finger drags along your slit and slips over your swollen clit you cry out, unable to help the unwitting buck of your hips. 

“After all the effort I went to to clean you up, you’ve gone and made a mess again,” Seokjin murmurs, pillowy lips brushing the edge of your ear. You quiver in his hold as he rolls a lazy circle around your bud, thighs threatening to close around his hand. You’re suddenly aware of how empty you feel, surprised that you’ve almost orgasmed twice without even being penetrated. 

You try and cant your hips up, not above whining and begging at this point— if he denies you your high one more time you just might go insane. “Please, Jin, please—”

Namjoon, who had taken a moment to recover after almost blowing his load earlier, shifts forward on the bed to join the two of you. His lips find your neck, your jaw, until they finally meet your lips once more and he swallows your sinful noises down. 

“What, you want more? You want my fingers? Look at you. You want to be filled so badly you’re willing to rock against anything with a pulse...”

Heat flushes up your neck to your cheeks, Namjoon’s kiss muffling your whine; you hadn’t thought you would be one to fancy this sort of thing, but if the wetness gushing forth at his words is anything to go by then apparently you do. 

Namjoon parts from your lips, waiting until your eyes focus on him so that he can hold your gaze. “Baby girl,” he murmurs, voice rough. His hand slips down to join Seokjin’s, finger dipping ever so slightly into your slit. The true meaning of his question isn’t lost on you.  “Who do you want?”

You feel almost unhinged with how much raw, restless desire is coursing through you right now— you couldn’t have stopped your answer even if you’d wanted to. “Both… both of you…”

There is a moment of silence following your response, but you don’t have time to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. In the next second Seokjin is swearing lowly under his breath, pressing his lips to your throat to hide his groan.

“Joonie, bedside table. You’ll have to prepare her.”

You’ve never seen Namjoon move as fast as he did the second Seokjin spoke, flying from the bed; he’s back within seconds after retrieving something from the drawers to the side, placing them on the covers. A small rectangular tin and a slim bottle. 

When he sits, waiting eagerly with his cock still flushed and hard and bobbing from the movement, Seokjin turns you around in an abridged version of the way you were before. Taking note of the uncomfortable angle of your arms, he undoes the tie, but doesn’t discard it after slipping it from the reddened skin of your wrists.

With your ass now pointed in Namjoon’s direction, it isn’t long before his hands find purchase and your most intimate area is revealed to him.

“Fuck,” he swears, “You’re so wet, baby. We might not even need the extra help, hyung.”

“Use it just in case,” Seokjin instructs, before turning his attention to you. “Now, if you want to cum later I think you should earn it now, hm?”

Your hands were already moving towards his belt and fly before he’d started talking, but his words renew your vigour. When you free Seokjin’s crotch from the confines of his slacks and briefs, you quickly understand just what Namjoon meant earlier. Namjoon has length, but Seokjin is thick. You wrap your hands around him and can’t help but marvel at his size— you’re a little ashamed of how excited it makes you.

“Ah!” Your plans to engulf Seokjin’s cock in the heat of your mouth are interrupted by a sensation at your rear. You wiggle slightly, unable to help it. “That’s cold!”

Namjoon places a featherlight kiss to your cheek, thick, slippery finger beginning to ease into your hole now that it is sufficiently lubricated. Suddenly aware that your attention is in the wrong place, you do your best to hurry back to what you were doing before you earn yourself another smack. 

“Perfect, bubs.” The groan that rumbles from Seokjin’s throat in praise is so raspy and low that it makes a shiver roll down your spine. As teasingly as you dare, you’re suckling around the flushed head of his cock, feeling it twitch and throb in your hands in response. It’s already a tight fit in your mouth, you can feel your thighs quaking in anticipation as you imagine what it would feel like filling you up. The thought takes you by surprise.

Since when did you start thinking like such a wanton whore?!

Well, you suppose, there is no time like the present. 

Seokjin’s hand threads through your hair, his hips rocking ever so slightly; you watch the way the muscles in his abdomen undulate at the movement and fight to keep your saliva in your mouth as you begin to bob your head down his length. Considering his girth, it’s hard to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, but you somehow manage; when the time comes that he reaches your throat you’re in a better condition than you were earlier for it, but it’s still a bit of a shock to the system.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin’s thighs quake for the slightest second against you. “Fuck. No wonder Joonie almost blew his load. Look at you. You do this often, huh? Look how well you swallow my cock…”

You moan around him, his words and the oddly pleasant sensation of Namjoon working his fingers in and out of your asshole melding into a pool of heat in your abdomen.  Your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus on making Seokjin feel good, and you’re only distracted by a muted flash behind your eyelids.

Click.

Another shot saved. You take Seokjin further into your mouth, trying to go as far back as you can without gagging. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your throat constricts around his length though, if the noises escaping his plush lips where they part are anything to go by. Namjoon gradually adds one finger after another, making sure you’re accustomed to the stretch at least a little before the next joins. By the time he has squeezed in three fingers and scissored them a few times, you find yourself shaking a bit from the sensations. It’s odd, different to what you’re used to, but oh even with the light burn that accompanies each finger it still feels so good. 

You’re so focused on the sensations that you don’t even realise the attention you’ve been giving Seokjin has strayed, lips sucking a little harder and your hand stroking a little tighter. The salty taste of precum coats your tongue and you have half a mind to be ashamed of the way it makes you long for more. It proves to be a little too much for Seokjin at once, though. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you gently off of him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Not yet, bubs,” he says, voice rough. His eyes are like magnetic pools as they draw you into their depths, their hold only broken when Namjoon slips a final finger in and you shut your eyes on instinct, mouth dropping open at the sensation. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

Namjoon’s voice makes your stomach flip, his free hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. You find yourself nodding before you even have the thought to do so, and with that Namjoon shifts on the bed behind you. Seokjin helps you move backwards, your eyes trained on his length somewhat longingly. There is the sound of something tearing softly behind you and you find yourself thankful that they took the initiative and you don’t have to ask them about protection.

You’re moved so that you’re straddling Namjoon’s hips with your back to him, still facing Seokjin. The two of them have since discarded their slacks and briefs  and are now presenting themselves in all their naked glory. Namjoon mutters a tender warning, informing you it might burn a bit, and you’ve heard of that but aren’t about to turn tail when you also know it’s going to feel so good after. You feel his tip press against your ass, alarmingly bigger than his fingers, and Seokjin helps ease you down slowly, inch by inch, with a firm grasp on your hips. 

True to the warning you’d received, it does burn; Namjoon had made sure there was more than enough lubrication for an easy glide, though, and by the time he has seated himself fully in you, you’re making noises you don’t think you ever have before. The line between heady pleasure and light pain is so blurred that you’re worried you might have fried your nerves at some point tonight. 

“Oh—” you take in a shuddering breath, shifting your hips ever so slightly and moaning in tandem with the man beneath you. “Joon…”

“Ride him,” Seokjin instructs, hands leaving your hips to reach for his camera once more. “Let’s make him feel good, hm?”

Who are you to say no? 

You pride yourself on having a lot of strength in your limbs, thighs especially, but still they tremble as you roll your hips up until just the tip of Namjoon’s cock remains in you, and then ease back onto him again. It takes a second before you realise the low moan you hear is coming from you, mind so addled with pleasure at this point you almost feel like you’re floating. Bracing yourself on your thighs, you do your best to set a rhythm and maintain it, ignoring the fatigue of your muscles and focusing on how good it feels and the noises tumbling from the man beneath you. 

When there is a sly touch against your swollen clit, you cry out loudly— Namjoon almost shouts at the way you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place for a moment. You look to Seokjin with wide eyes, panting slightly.

“Didn’t you wanna cum so badly, earlier?” he queries, fingers slipping down to slide through the slick mess around your entrance. You moan as he easily sinks two fingers in, pumping lightly. “Don’t stop, fuck yourself on my fingers, bubs.”

It feels so good you think you might tear up; obediently, you resume the pace you set earlier, now riding both Namjoon’s length and Seokjin’s digits. Each time you sink down he curls them, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this out before your legs become too akin to  jelly to support you.

The answer is: not much longer. Seokjin quickly grows tired of it when your movements slow, thighs trembling from the effort. With a hand to your stomach he pushes you back, shifting your legs so they’re folded with your feet flat against the covers. You scramble for purchase, Namjoon quickly supporting you from behind. 

Seokjin tuts, muttering playfully about having to do everything himself, and it’s all the warning you get before he adds another digit and begins to finger your sopping entrance so hard and good that for a moment your vision goes white.

“S-Seokjin!” you drop your head back, nails sinking into the bedding as he begins to curl his fingers into that delicious spot inside of you with each pump. You had been slowly but steadily climbing back up to the precipice of your orgasm earlier, but now you’re heading there at breakneck speed. Before you know it the coil of pressure is snapping inside you and you’re shaking, pleasure numbing your limbs and making you whine.

By the time your high fades and you tune back in to the moment, you quickly become aware of two things— one, that you’ve somehow managed to coat Seokjin’s whole arm in your fluids, and two, that Namjoon has gone so tense and still beneath you that you think you might have almost killed him.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises, sucking your cream off the tip of his fingers before wiping the remaining excess on your thigh so he can reach for his own rubber. “Do you need me to wait another moment?”

Assessing your current state, you find yourself shaking your head. You might have thought you would be too sensitive to continue, but Namjoon is still fully seated in your ass and now your pussy feels too empty for you to bear. Seokjin is only too happy to fill that void. 

Nestled between your legs, when he lines his cock up at your entrance and begins to slide in, you all but lose the ability to think. You clench unintentionally from the sensation of being filled so completely, making both men groan and Seokjin halt in his movements. He waits until you relax again before continuing his motion. 

When both men are fully sheathed inside you, you think this really might be what bliss is. Soft, panting whines and moans tumble freely from your throat as Seokjin pushes your thighs to your chest and begins to set a mind-numbing pace. It’s borderline brutal, the way he slams into you and splits you open so hard and good; each time his hips hit home you feel your whole body jostle.

“You can move, Joonie,” Seokjin somehow manages to articulate, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and dampen the strands falling over it. You don’t know how he can talk, because you know if you tried at this moment you’d likely end up biting off your tongue. 

You feel Namjoon shake his head, hair brushing the space between your shoulder blades. “‘m close,” he mumbles in explanation, a short moan following his words. “Wanna cum together.”

It’s such a sweet desire in the midst of such a lewd situation that you almost get whiplash between the swelling of your heart and the pleasurable ache filling your insides. You feel that he will get his wish soon, because despite your recent high you’re already well on your way to reaching it again— Seokjin’s hips have begun to stutter, too, and you know he isn’t far behind. 

It all reaches its peak when Seokjin slips his hand down, following the angle of your hip bone to your core and rolling your bud with his thumb. It proves to be too much for you, because in the next moment you’re letting out a loud train of expletives and clenching tightly around them as pleasure floods your system once more, mind absolutely blank. The tightness of your heat around them is their undoing and barely a moment after you reach your high they follow suit, the sounds tumbling from them borderline sinful against your ears. 

It takes a bit longer for you to come back to earth, this time. By the time you do, Namjoon is winding his arms around your waist and rolling to the side, taking you and Seokjin with him. You let out a noise of surprise that curls into a laugh, hands gripping his arms as you hit the bed; both men are still inside you, and while you secretly wish it could stay that way for a bit longer, you know you should probably clean up. 

“No,” Namjoon says before you even go to move, a pout in his tone as he buries his face in the back of your neck. Seokjin nestles closer, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. “Stay, just a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous request, especially considering the way your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy after the events of the night. For them, too, you can hear the way their breathing has already begun to even out. You couldn’t be mad if you tried, though, because just being here in their arms feels so right that you don’t ever want to feel anything else. 

“I guess we can nap…” you say, sounding tired enough that it elicits a chuckle from Seokjin. You let your eyes close, nestling your cheek against the top of Seokjin’s head and enjoying the light scent of his shampoo and cologne. You let out one last warning before you let yourself fall into the abyss, though. Just so they know who’s boss.

“If I see those photos anywhere near my house, Seokjin, it won’t just be me getting disowned.”

The laughter that tumbles forth in response just adds to the warmth flooding your being, and you let yourself relax, contented and truly happy for the first time in three years. 

[hd-fan-fair]

THE MASTERLIST OF H/D SEX FAIR 2020 FANWORKS

View the full list on [AO3] or under the cut below!

( Fanwork posted in chronological order by type )

ART

1. How hard can it be? (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary: 

Harry and Draco have to stay over at their friends' places for a few weeks, since the renovation of the Grimmauld Place hadn't been completed by the time they were back from their honeymoon. That creates a slight issue with being intimate but the newlyweds are nothing if not creative...

2. Revelio! (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

It's that time of year again for Witch Weekly's annual charity event! By popular demand, this year they have prepared a calendar featuring the sexiest studs in the Wizarding World. Gracing the cover in style, the Hogwarts staff is represented by none other than DADA Professor Harry Potter and Potions Professor Draco Malfoy. Grab one before they're gone! Reserve your copy by owl today!

3. Handling Dragons (Digital, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry brought over dragons to Hogwarts for a new Triwizard Tournament or for a class. Draco is hopelessly turned on by the resident Professor or Hogwarts Medic. Draco wants his dragon tickled by Harry. Unknown to him, Draco is the only dragon Harry wants to manhandle.

4. I plan on getting very wet. (Digital, Mature) Summary:

When they arrived at their private beach holiday, they didn't expect it to rain all the time. Oh well, boys can still find a way to have fun.

5. The Dragon's Boy (Digital Comic, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is chosen to be the next sacrifice to the dragon, but it turns out this dragon is interested in Harry for entirely different reasons.

6. The Art of Trust (Digital, Mature) Summary:

One piece of rope offers what Harry and Draco seek the most from each other.

7. (Intimidating) Brand New World (Digital Comic, Mature) Summary:

Draco's nervously perusing a sex shop for the first time when he sees a flash of dark hair across the store. He'd know it anywhere, but why is Potter here? And what on earth is in that box he's buying? Years of uptight parenting from his parents have left him woefully lacking in knowledge about his newfound interests. Potter's always been rather uncaring of public opinion, perhaps he could be the one to help Draco figure it all out...

ART & FIC

8. as much a light as a flame (6303, Explicit) Summary:

His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again.

His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it.

9. Starkissed (32631, Explicit) Summary:

“Your tattoos!” The intruder says, boldly stepping over Ron’s chaise and crossing in front of Hermione to get to Harry, eyes wide and hungry. Harry immediately sits up, pulling the towel draped across the back of his chair down over his shoulders.   “No! Don’t cover them. They’re beautiful.” Harry hopes an indulgent trip abroad will help shake him out of the doldrums of his life. What he finds once he gets to Venice is more than he ever expected.

  PODFIC

10. Infuse With Affection, Enchant With Love by bafflinghaze (1.5 Hours, Teen and Up) Summary:

It starts with Draco making protective pendants for himself, his parents, and his friends, after the war. Something that would watch their backs—and their fronts—as people spat on them in the streets and hexed them in the alleyways. Draco gets better at it, does a course on it, and takes enough commissions for charmed jewellery that he eventually opens his own shop.

But Harry doesn’t know any of this. So when he sees Malfoy in a shop of charmed necklaces, he immediately tries his best to uncover Malfoy’s machinations.

11. Things Worth Paying For (1.5 Hours, Explicit) Summary:

After leaving post-war Britain for Paris, Draco is finally happy, with friends and a job he loves, But then his newest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and everything changes.

  FIC

12. Three Wishes (10161, Explicit) Summary:

Draco meets his fairy godmother and is granted three wishes. Unfortunately, they all keep coming back to the same thing.

********** Pop! 

"Oh, wow," Vince says, and is that sarcasm Draco hears? "I never saw that coming."

"What?" Draco opens his eyes. He's prepared for the theatrics of the puffs of smoke—Vince, despite the sudden career change, was never blessed with an overactive imagination—but what he was not prepared for was the sight of Harry Potter, bare-chested and dressed in arseless chaps, his hands bound and mouth wrapped around a ball gag while lying face down on Draco's sofa.

13. H.A.G.S. (Hogwarts Alliance for Gender and Sexuality) (9517, Explicit) Summary:

When Hermione decides Hogwarts needs a LGBTQIA+ club, of course Ron and Harry are roped into helping. After a rocky start, Harry begins seeing the club as an opportunity to educate students and celebrate diversity and sexuality at Hogwarts. He also starts seeing it as an opportunity to snog Draco Malfoy.

14. You Don't Know Me (Like You Used To) (33106, Explicit) Summary:

"Buy me a drink as compensation for maiming me?" he asks.

"And why the hell would I do that?" It’s a perfectly valid question. A drink invitation from Harry Potter is about as likely of a scenario as me streaking down Piccadilly in broad daylight. Consider me completely thrown off.

Sometimes it only takes a week to change everything. The story of how twenty-five-year-old Draco Malfoy hit one Harry Potter with a door and knocked both of their lives into somewhere entirely new.

15. the best treasure is up Harry’s arse (2891, Explicit) Summary:

Harry and Draco probably had a tumultuous time getting together, filled with angst and denial and pining and brooding. However, this is not that story. Here, Draco makes Harry come (more than once).

16. Breakin' the Rules (3146, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry and Draco are Auror partners. They're in a relationship that they've been forced to keep secret due to relationships between Aurors being forbidden. Harry is okay with this, as he hasn't come out to anyone other than Draco, but after a mission goes awry, their relationship is exposed.

17. The HogShagMan (31685, Mature) Summary:

Professor Potter is called upon to teach the first-ever official course on Magical Sexual Relations at Hogwarts and, in the process, must navigate the pitfalls of relationship-building, the nefarious schemings of those entrusted with school funding, and the uneven tempers of his boss and several co-workers. Clearly, only ‘the’ Harry Potter can pull it all off.

18. Let's not wait for France (17714, Teen and Up) Summary:

All Harry had wanted from his Eighth year at Hogwarts was a little peace and a little privacy but, from the moment that he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, it was obvious that nothing was ever going to be that easy.

An accidental bond with Malfoy that resulted in them having to stay together at all times was the final straw.

Things couldn't be worse. So much to a quiet year in Hogwarts.

19. Take All That You See (19666, Teen and Up) Summary:

Draco Malfoy has only two goals for his eighth year are Hogwarts: 1) stay as invisible as possible, and 2) get enough NEWTs to be accepted at a university abroad and get the hell out of the UK. Everything is going according to plan until he is unceremoniously outed by the Daily Prophet and subsequently disowned.

Finding himself the unexpected focus of unwanted attention and harassment, he is suddenly dependent on the good will and protection of the last people he would have expected — Harry Potter and his gang of do-gooder Gryffindors (plus Luna Lovegood). With his world turned upside down, how will Draco make it through the rest of the year? And worse still, as he grows closer and closer to Harry, how will he get out with his heart intact?

20. True Children Still (34240, Explicit) Summary:

After years of dancing around each other, Draco and Harry have finally begun to date, though they're taking things slow. They've got enough to figure out as it is, and the last thing Harry needs is an unexpected introduction to desires he's not quite ready to face.

21. Asking For A Friend? (13734, Explicit) Summary:

Asking for a friend? Don't be shy! I'm Genna Russ with advice! Draco Malfoy, drag queen and agony aunt for the Daily Prophet, is very happy with his life. He loves his job. He loves his drag queen persona. And he loves the fact that the wider Wizarding world doesn't know who is offering them sassy advice with their morning news.

When he starts receiving letters from one Harry Potter – letters that are too racy to publish – he does the only thing he can do: he replies. His carefully constructed secret life is at risk of being blown wide open, but he just can't help himself. Draco never did have any self-control where the Prat Who Lived was concerned.

22. All I Have to Do (9575, Explicit) Summary:

The Patented Daydream Charm (Adult Edition) allows you to enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute sexual fantasy. Solitude and privacy spells advised.

Or: Draco finally has some alone time; Harry just needs to nip in for a book.

23. Take My Wonder (3949, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter is the author of very well-written children's text books. Joshua Starkweather is the author of not-so-well-written erotic fiction. Only one person knows that they are one and the same.

24. (There Is Nothing) More Than This (5431, Explicit) Summary:

Harry Potter returns home past midnight, distressed and anxious about the multiple murder case that he is leading. His husband Draco looks after him, comforting Harry with his hands, his mouth and his unwavering love.

25. the space between (what you want and what you need) (13601, Mature) Summary:

As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

26. Walk in the sun (18233, Explicit) Summary:

Harry is perfectly content with the life he built for himself; simple and private, it helps him heal the wounds from the war. He then accepts to go out with one of Neville’s acquaintances, never expecting that decision would bring him back to his obsession for Draco Malfoy.

“That was his cue. Had Harry stopped to think about his situation, he could have left. Malfoy was nibbling at his neck, he had his hand down his pants. All things considered, a disaster incoming. And yet, his feet still refused to move. After all, he was not the stop-to-think-of-consequences kind of guy.”

(Features drunken confessions, bathrooms, a lot of smut, sexy pictures, panties, cats and only one bed)

27. You Need to Just Do Whatever You Want (7998, General) Summary:

Draco's confused when he receives a manual explaining his magical inheritance. Being a veela would be good (at least he would be prettier), and a vampire would have been fine (another excuse to hide himself in the Manor). But a descendant of the God of Love, complete with arrows and a love quota? Now that's just bonkers.

A story in which Draco is Cupid (sort of).

28. Under my Skin (8258, Explicit) Summary:

One year after the war and after Hogwarts restorations, Harry is back at school to finally finish his education. He wasn't expecting McGonagall to assign him to protect Draco Malfoy, in case he was bullied during the classes. Although really just wants to relax on his last year in Hogwarts, he'd seen how Draco had changed at the trials. He knew being around him would be easy enough... Wouldn't it?

29. Glory, glory! (16898, Explicit) Summary:

It's 2005 and Harry has recently purchased a new mobile phone so he can easily keep in touch with his friends. Little did he know that the Muggle technology would lead him down a path of self discovery and safe exploration that would lead him into the soft recesses of the last person he ever expected. As it turns out, very good things can be found in the dark.

30. Husbandly Duties (2108, Explicit) Summary:

Draco and Harry leave their wedding after-party early for some quality one-on-one time.

31. Sex, Relationships & Love (3873, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy runs an anonymous sex advice column in the Witch Weekly magazine and gets hundreds of letters asking him for advice on sex, love and relationships. How was he to know that the advice he had given in response to one of those letters would result in Harry Potter showing up at his flat at 6 in the morning?

32. Disparate (6022, Teen and Up) Summary:

Ever since he went to Hogwarts, Draco realized that he wasn't quite the same as the others.

Or: Draco Malfoy over the years as he tries to understand and accept his sexuality.

33. Silver Scales in Pools of Green (26603, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is one of the last sirens of the seas, who escaped to the human world looking for friendship and food, but captivity found him instead. For seven years, he's gotten used to his life as human entertainment, and prides himself in his ability to make humans fall in step to his song.

That is, until everything falls apart when he has an audience with green eyes...

34. It's So Hard (9170, Explicit) Summary:

Draco has posed for some interesting photos, and it is currently making things very... hard for Harry.

35. On Your Shore (35113, Mature) Summary:

Clearing out a remote house full of cursed collectibles in the Outer Hebrides? Not a problem for an experienced curse breaker like Harry Potter. Spending a week with the straight, happily-married man that he’s starting to have feelings for? And sharing a bed with him at night? Surely Harry can handle that, too. But both the house and Draco Malfoy have secrets to uncover, and Harry might be in deeper water than he thought.

36. A Little Less Broken (6417, Mature) Summary:

After the war Draco thought he would never feel again. But a mix of revenge gone wrong and Harry Potter, might help him to feel just a little less broken.

37. Always (20147, Explicit) Summary:

In which Draco is the (in)famous erotica writer H.J. Belladonna, writing successful scandalous novel after successful scandalous novel and hiding his true identity, and Harry is questioning his sexuality after reading one of Belladonna’s books. Until ten years after the war their paths cross again, and Harry doesn’t only question his sexuality, but also the meaning of his obsession with Draco Malfoy.

“You look like something my cat dragged in,“ Blaise said from the sofa. Draco’s sofa, in Draco’s tiny flat. “You don’t have a cat, because you’re too vain, Blaise. A cat would get hair all over your expensive clothes,“ Draco replied and then ignored Blaise in favor of going into the kitchen to get some hot sweet tea into his system. Maybe that would make his day better, even if it had just started and the potential for disaster was high. Blaise followed him. “I’ll take one too.“ “You can’t use my home as your personal hotel, Blaise,“ Draco said, but he was already grabbing two cups out of the cupboard. He was too tired to use magic, after writing the whole night, he felt like all the magic had been absorbed by his parchment. Some of his sanity maybe too.

38. Absurd. (3773, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco discovers a kink that Harry's been hiding from him, he has no choice but to explore said kink, right? Right.

39. For Want Of Five Minutes (And a Locked Door) (4333, Mature) Summary:

It’s hard enough to get five minutes to yourself in a house of five kids, nevermind getting five minutes with your boyfriend for anything else.

40. Let Out the Beast (9649, Explicit) Summary:

In the wizarding world where alphas are looked down upon for their lack of control and unseemly aggression, it is generally accepted that they are not allowed to work in places like schools and hospitals where their nature could risk the people there. When Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up at Hogwarts smelling strongly like an alpha, Harry is beyond baffled. The fact that no one else seems to catch his scent only adds to his confusion. But, of course, the most puzzling part is how Harry’s body reacts to that scent.

41. Flowers, Dildos and Other Courtship Gifts (15853, Teen and Up) Summary:

Harry Potter is the Ministry's star auror trainee, and Draco Malfoy is the cute florist in Diagon Alley who Harry stares at through the window during lunch breaks and leaves. That's all they are and all they would ever be. (Really.) Until Harry accidentally mails Draco an autumn themed dildo (among others). Cue: bad planning, owl kidnapping, and flangst.

Or two emotional gay disasters fall in love in the middle of autumn.

42. he touched me, so I live to know (4729, Mature) Summary:

Five times Harry Potter is unsure about touching someone and one time he isn’t.

43. cut my name into your lip (6321, Explicit) Summary:

Harry can't take it anymore. Seriously. If Malfoy chews on the end of his quill/licks his spoon/sucks on the papercut on his finger one more time, Harry's going to put an end to it.

44. Realities, Unfurling (45487, Mature) Summary:

Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

45. The Delicate Balance of Light and Shade (13288, Explicit) Summary:

With the war finally over, Harry tries to find his own path in a world where he is free to make his own choice. On a holiday in France, he unexpectedly falls in love with art and painting. Returning to Hogwarts to help rebuild it, he is paired up with Draco Malfoy to restore the Room of Requirement - and unexpectedly falls in love with Draco. When the rebuilding efforts are done, Harry disappears.

Years later, Draco goes to Muggle London at Pansy's suggestion to visit an art gallery. The name of the Muggle artist is unknown to Draco, but the subject of the erotic paintings is shockingly familiar: it's Draco himself. It's time to confront the past and make some long-due confessions.

46. Tonight's the Night (Gonna Be Alright) (9181, Explicit) Summary:

Sex is hard to come by when you're 40 and have kids.

Or: Five times Harry and Draco tried and failed to have sex and one time they were successful.

47. The Spoiling of Sex From Enthusiastic Ignorance (6079, Explicit) Summary:

Draco is going to lose his virginity, so help him god, and he's going to lose it to one Harry Potter. Why? Because of his big cock, his status as The Top Five Quidditch Players in England, and Witch Weekly's Most-Eligible Bachelor for eight years straight. At least that's what he tells himself. Too bad first times rarely go as one plans, and now Harry is looking miserable and Draco doesn’t understand why.

48. you killed me on the moon (4906, Explicit) Summary:

'You barely know me. We do not know each other.’

‘Beyond this overwhelming need to submit to you, completely and utterly?’ Potter raises his eyebrows, stretching his scar. ‘Beyond this bone-deep awareness that you are made for me, and I for you? That our destiny was written in the stars, in the very foundation of our known world?’

An A/B/O Royalty!AU wherein a desperate Slytherin prince faces a proposal from the conquering Gryffindor king.

49. i just want your extra time and your... (9058, Explicit) Summary:

Ron should know better than to speak Latin in a magical library. If he’d just left well enough alone, instead of trying to badger Malfoy for the details of his newest novel, Harry wouldn’t have to listen to all of this chatter about how bloody decent Malfoy is, and he wouldn’t be dealing with all of these...feelings. Really, it’s all Ron’s fault that Harry’s mind is stuck on Malfoy like this again.

50. The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows (41492, Explicit) Summary:

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

51. You Do Your Body Work, I Feel My Pulse Working Overtime (1627, Explicit) Summary:

Harry did not have an addiction to watching Draco masturbate on camera. He could stop any time he wanted to. Really.

52. Right Romantic Setting (6266, Explicit) Summary:

On the twelfth day of their romantic relationship, Draco and Harry take Albus, Scorpius and Rose on a weekend trip to Muggle London that Ron and Hermione were supposed to lead. At the fully-booked hotel where they'll be staying for the night, they're surprised to discover that their rather plain room has only one bed. It's definitely not the right romantic setting for their first night together but, as Draco comes to realise, there's good in taking things slow.

53. Portrait of a Marriage (130627, Mature) Summary:

Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug.

Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible.

54. Regardless of desire, life hands you who you are (29803, Explicit) Summary:

When Draco finds himself wrongly accused – of course it's Potter who swoops in to save the day. Isn't it always Potter?

[shera-dnd]

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness. 

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets. 

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there. 

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes. 

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck. 

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

[strawberrycamel]

Fic Writer Review

tagged by: @aj-itated <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 30!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 46,254 words

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? based on my Ao3 and my old ff.net account: 3 - Fairy Tail, BNHA, DP (though I haven't written for Fairy Tail or bnha in years)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? in order, that would be How to Take Out a Ghost by TooFineFoley, Bad Luck Tuck: The Sequel, ignorance is your new best friend, What Could Have Been, and, surprisingly, A Connoisseur of Fine Art (all DP or DP crossover fics)

5. Which of your fic do you want more attention for? both they're siblings, your honor and Big Boy Tucker. i can't choose, they both need love

6. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? i used to respond to them as often as I could at the start, but i kinda slacked off sometime around the beginning of summer classes. I used to respond to them because they made me really happy and i wanted to let the commenters know I did actually read it and am very grateful for their comments, but after a while it became... idk, draining? I felt bad about leaving the same response to each commenter and got caught up in my own head so I just kinda,, stopped all together. I wanna start responding again at some point, but uh, probably not anytime soon.

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oh definitely One More Time; I think that's the only fic I've written without some kind of happy ending (anything in the Not Your Son series doesn't count since it's not finished yet :3) and I can't tell you how much it pained me not to make it happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved writing that for going angst week but hole-y shit did it fuck me up

8. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you’ve written? I do write crossovers! The craziest, I think, is my Strange vs. Work: Wife Swap AU, it's not done because I'm seriously stumped for it right now, but it's essentially a DP Marvel crossover where Clockwork and Dr. Strange are forced by a TV host ghost to switch bodies and mentor the other person's 'apprentice'. Peter and Danny have to help them get adjusted to their new environments/bodies and they all have to figure out how to turn things back to normal. This whole series is meant to be based off the show 'Wife Swap'. I have fun making Stephen suffer >:)

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic? not that i can remember? like i think it was more grammar and dialogue punctuation nitpicking on my old ff.net fics, never hate

10. Do you write smut? if so what kind? not really, but i have a singular wip that im working on that's definitely spicy

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no? (i was working on something a while ago but we havent finished so, I'm going with no)

13. What’s your all time favorite ship? i don't think I really have one. Usually I just read whichever fics have cool summaries or tags and just dive right in, ships be damned. Lately I've been reading a few TimKon fics and I've been thinking about Dark Ages, UFS, and Gray Ghost stuff a lot over the summer

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? oh, oh god. I'm going to say it and I'm going to feel real shitty about it because it's such a good fucking concept, but I can't bring myself to write anything more than what I already have written and all the notes I just randomly add onto it every once in a while. It even has a title: "Ectoplasmic Pudding".

It's a DP DC crossover fic wip and the plot is about Danny being called by Batman to help with a kidnapping case he suspects to involve ghosts; he needs Danny's expertise and help to capture the ghost. Danny agrees and he meets Batman and Robin (Dick Grayson) on the roof of the police station (after dropping face first onto it because he got blinded by the bat signal). They go by Batmobile and arrive at the scene of the crime where Danny confirms a ghost is involved. A bunch of different scenes of Danny and Robin having a blast while Batman's trying his best to stay on task and then, eventually, they find a warehouse where the box ghost is interrogating a bored looking Mr. Trand, the victim, about some fancy box commissioned by Vlad.

Danny figures out this guy is Bertrand in disguise and since Bertrand's essentially on vacation, they both agree to lie about how they know each other. And then I got stuck around here, but I imagine it just ends up being a series of dumb events where Batman, Robin, and Danny have to 'protect' Bertrand until they catch Boxy and throw him back into the Ghost Zone while the disguised ghost tries to make the most of the rest of his vacation.

Batman and Robin definitely don't believe whatever lie Danny came up with to explain how he knows Mr. Trand, but they go along with it until it's revealed in probably the worst way possible and leads to both of them trying to take the former kidnapping victim to the GIW while also trying to keep Danny from stopping them and barely listening to a word he says (maybe they think he's being threatened somehow or being controlled or smth, idk). Absolutely no clue how that whole fight goes, but in the end Danny kicks Box Ghost into the Zone and Bertrand is told very explicitly never to bring Spectra to Gotham.

15. What are your writing strengths? evoking emotion in my writing? yeah i'm going with that

16. What are your writing weaknesses? planning out plot ahead of time. I can write outlines and write a bunch of notes about what i want to include, that's not the problem. My problem is that all my motivation to write just drains away the moment I have a somewhat concrete plot planned out for a fic- this applies to one-shots and longfics exactly the same. And past that, sometimes I'll make one change to the planned plot and feel like tossing the whole thing out the window and going freehand without the 'constraints' of an outline or anything ..........

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? try not to offend anybody? like, look at good examples of how others have done it and do a lot of research and stuff. Also, be aware that not everything will translate perfectly from the original language you wrote the fic in and whatever language you're translating it to.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fairy Tail

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Hellbent. A few others come close, but I seriously cannot express the joy i felt writing that first chapter (and when I'm done my minibang fic, I literally cannot wait to get back to it)

20. What fic are you most proud of? that's a tough one, there are a bunch i fucking adore but i think it's tied between The Big Dipper and ignorance is your new best friend

Tagging: @guardianrex, @shinygoldstar, @cleanlenins, @princessfanonanona, and @ghost-pasta!

[dusksmote]

2020 in perspective...

i originally got into south park in 2010, left the fandom in 2011, then nearly a decade later in december, 2019 i came back again. 

January: butters sketch

i hadn’t been in a serious fandom for years, hadn’t drawn or written anything seriously in years. i went on a trip to denver, colorado, and came back ready to get fucking into it. i started writing the longest single work i’ve done to date, Ecstasy (130k, not yet posted). this piece was the first drawing i did this year, while riding the train home from my internship. a shitty little sketch of butters from the fanfic, with mohawk and glasses.

February: latex tweek

still traditional art only. started getting serious about shading, and drew LATEX TWEEK (also from Ecstasy). Finished the 1st draft of the fanfic this month and went into the editing phase.

March: juggalo stan and kyle

why? did i forget to mention everyone in Ecstasy is a juggalo? long story. finished the current (final?) draft of Ecstasy. 

April: stan and mpreg kyle

STILL doing traditional art. started working on my next fanfic project, a prequel to Ecstasy--BUT FIRST i read @blesspastacraig​‘s fanfic Best Laid Plans and it inspired me to write my oneshot Our Fish Alien (2k, complete). Got my Ao3 account this month and decided to post it with some art. hence, style mpreg art. started incorporating prop elements (hospital bed), but still too spooked to try backgrounds. 

my friend @cola-fiend​ convinced me to make a tumblr and post some sketches, ergo here we are. this eventually lead requesters to ask for more mpreg, which snowballed until i made a fucking discord server for it, but i’m getting ahead of myself.

May: fat kyle

the last time i did digital art was 2015 when my tablet broke, then in may i found out there’s free phone apps for drawing. so my first digital drawing in half a decade was fat kyle and his skinny boytoy 😂 by now i’d scrapped my plans for an Ecstasy prequel and had started writing Eat That Lunch (27k, complete), and wanted the art to look better. i started by drawing the lines traditionally then coloring the picture digitally 😬 yikes

June: crimson dawn

now we’re cooking with gas. i watched a few art tutorials and tried drawing something serious with digital line art. i was working on my tiny fucking iphone 5 screen and this piece took over 35 hours 🤘😔 no backgrounds yet

July: tweek and baby

my first commission! @blesspastacraig​ and i are now collaborators and friends and i got to illustrate some of her fanfictions. this one’s from Algorithm! (which i totally helped inspire >_>) blurry ‘baby’s first’ background in there too. i also started writing the sequel to ETL this month, What They Say About Us (50~k, incomplete), but didn’t publish it until september.

August: boxer tweek

first attempt at a lineless, painting style. did this one for tweek’s birthday. not a great first piece for a new art style, but a very important design shift that’s changed how i color completely. also switched to an ipad instead of my small-ass phone screen phew

September: boys eat at shakey’s

posted WTSAU! i wanted to make this fic look super fucking good and probably put more effort than i should have into all the art. BUT, forcing myself to illustrate it is what’s really helped me gain more artistic skills. this is my first scenic piece with full color background. i also started writing my next big fic, Wayward Son (50~k, not yet posted), based in the same universe as @blesspastacraig​‘s fanfic Hungry. it was supposed to be a oneshot and now it’s 95 pages long dammit!! 😭

October: broflovski passover

resumed online classes and creative progress suffered for it 😔 i still managed to put out a lot of work i’m proud of, like this seder scene from WTSAU chapter 3. full background and 8 characters? pssh, can’t scare me. i showed this drawing to my boss, who named it ‘the confused gentile’. oh stan.

November: gunslinger kyle and stan of many moons

honestly? not sure how i survived this month. but i knew the start of december was gonna be worse so i jumped on style week as soon as they put the prompts out (this was the second one i drew). at this point i enjoy painting backgrounds more than the figures in them.

December: style clubhouse

i drew so much stuff this month it’s hard to pick one thing to represent it all, but--the seventh day of style week has a bit of everything i’ve learned. background. colors. lighting. concept. crazy when you compare it to january.

now i’m back to work on putting out WTSAU chapter 5. after that’s done i’ll pick which fanfic to post next and get cracking on art for that. Wayward Son’s in it’s final pages, so i’ll be picking up a new fanfic project in the coming weeks too. 

overall? 2020, you were a wild south park year, just like 2010. i honestly can’t believe how far i’ve come as an artist considering i spent the first 1/3rd of this year sketching on napkins and shit, and here we are. looking forward to all the improvement in 2021 💚💙

[storygirl000]

ML Fic: Never Had A Friend Like Me

Summary: Lila’s making good on her promise, and Marinette is finding herself increasingly isolated from the class. At least she still has her best friend by her side.

Ao3 link here.

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

A/N: So guess who’s sick of Alya and Nino getting the short end of the stick in salt fics?

Seriously, guys. “Chameleon” was a poorly-written episode in regards to every character it featured, but everyone still treats it like it’s the final word on what Alya and Nino are like. All I want is ONE salt fic where they actually support Marinette throughout Lila’s reign of terror.

And then I thought, “Well, if you want something done right...”

So enjoy this rare pro-Alya salt fic!

00000

The day after Lila had threatened her in front of the school, Marinette opened the bakery door to find Alya there, tears streaming down her face.

Marinette brought her inside, asking her what had happened, and listened intently as her friend poured her heart out to her. In a way, she wasn’t that surprised by what she heard.

Apparently, Alya had finally thought to do some research on Lila, and (naturally) had discovered that all of her claims of meeting various celebrities were false. This had led to her deleting Lila’s interview from the Ladyblog, posting a lengthy apology to her readers, calling Nino (who had been equally horrified by the revelation), and concluding that she was an irredeemably horrible person who didn’t deserve the friendship of someone she threw under the bus for a stranger.

Touched, Marinette told her that she forgave her, and that they could still be friends as long as she’d truly learned her lesson. Alya accepted that, and the two of them spent the rest of the day eating cookies and discussing various things.

Like how they were going to break this to the rest of their classmates.

00000

Four weeks after Lila’s threat, school had become more difficult.

On the upside, most of the class accepted the evidence Alya had provided and cut ties with Lila. And as it turned out, several of them were close to discovering the truth themselves beforehand.

On the downside, Lila still had several members of the class (Kim, Max, Ivan, Mylene) and several teachers under her thumb. And Ms. Bustier’s “set a good example” policy meant that if any of them tried to argue with Lila or question her authority, they’d get punished.

And frustratingly enough, Adrien still stuck by his original mindset. No matter how many times the others tried to convince him, he kept insisting that Lila wasn’t doing any harm and that they were in  the wrong.

Needless to say, his friendship with Nino and Marinette’s crush on him disappeared.

But, for all the friends they lost, they gained some new ones. Aurore and Mireille became a part of Marinette’s inner circle after she designed some outfits for them. Nathaniel and Juleka brought in Marc and Luka, respectively. Kagami joined them as well, slowly being eased into the idea of having friends. And – most surprisingly – Chloe and Sabrina joined them, both having long seen through Lila’s facade. While there were still the occasional clashes, Chloe’s relationship with most of the group soon became a vitriolic friendship (and maybe a little more with Kagami, though she wouldn’t admit it for a long time).

Alya was confident they could make it through Lila’s reign.

00000

Two years after Lila’s threat, Alya discovered that her best friend was Ladybug.

Hawk Moth and Mayura’s attacks had only gotten harder to deal with over the years, and it didn’t help that Chat Noir had become a horrible hero, refusing to help out unless Ladybug gave in to his increasingly unwanted advances.

The heroine needed some permanent help. Someone she could turn to when the times got tough, someone she could trust with her secret identity. Someone who could help when Chat Noir refused to.

She chose Alya and Nino.

Now, Rena Rouge and Carapace regularly joined Ladybug on patrols, helping her fight akumas and sentimonsters. The Ladyblog quickly received a boost in popularity, thanks to the increasingly common interviews with the heroes themselves.

As the time passed, more and more heroes would come and go – the indomitable trio of Queen Bee, Ryuko, and Good Girl, the brother-sister-sister’s girlfriend team of Viperion, Tigress, and the Pink Princess, the genre-savvy Gallus and Chevre Blanc, the crowd-pleasing Cloudjumper and Souris, and the ever-mysterious time-traveller Bunnyx – but the core trio of Ladybug, Rena Rouge, and Carapace remained.

Chat Noir’s popularity dropped like a stone. Alya made sure of it.

00000

Six years after Lila’s threat, Marinette finally launched her brand.

With the help of a website designed by Alya and positive word of mouth thanks to Jagged Stone, MDC Designs quickly grew in popularity. Soon, celebrities across the world – ranging from the children of the popular businessman Bruce Wayne to singers like Clara Nightingale and Austin Moon – all wanted an MDC Original in their closets.

Eventually, Gabriel Agreste himself reached out to her and asked to do a business partnership. Not only did she refuse, she went on to do an interview detailing exactly how badly Gabriel’s heir and his girlfriend treated her in high school.

Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi became the biggest punchlines in the entertainment business since Lindsay Lohan. Marinette, meanwhile, met the love of her life doing a commission for the president of Okumura Foods, who introduced her to one of her close friends.

All in all, Alya figured they were doing well for themselves.

00000

Eight years after Lila’s threat, Chat Noir lost his Miraculous on live television.

From what Alya could piece together, Chat had seen Marinette and Ren interacting while the former was in-costume. Naturally, the entitled brat had decided to seek out Ren and threaten him, all while spouting his beliefs that Ladybug was destined for him.

Hawk Moth promptly took advantage of Ren’s anger, creating one of the most powerful akumas the team had ever fought.

The akuma had immediately gone for Chat, stripping him of his ring in front of a live news crew and revealing to the world that he was none other than Adrien Agreste. He then verbally tore into the former golden boy, revealing every horrible thing he’d done as both a model and as Chat Noir.

The team managed to purify the akuma and rescue Ren, but Adrien escaped in the struggle and disappeared. Not that it mattered; they had the Cat Miraculous back, ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to misuse it anymore.

Five days later, the public was introduced to Kuro Neko.

Two days after that, Hawk Moth publicly announced his and Mayura’s retirement from supervillainy.

One week after that, Monarch and Pavone Cristallo took their place.

Life went on.

00000

Ten years after Lila’s threat, Alya was in Los Angeles, watching the Oscars live.

Marinette had been nominated for Best Costume Design for her work on a movie that had been nominated for several other awards, and she had invited Alya, Nino, and Ren to come with her to the ceremony. Naturally, they’d accepted.

As the various announcements and performances went on, Alya thought over what the past ten years had been like for her and her classmates.

Rose and Juleka had gotten married practically as soon as high school was over, and their wedding had been a gothic fairytale straight out of a Grimm Brothers book. Juleka eventually became one of Marinette’s top models, while Rose became a teacher, striving to be better than the one she had in high school.

Marc and Nathaniel had started publishing their Mightillustrator and Reverser comics, which soon became popular for their positive portrayal of a gay couple and the general lack of angst most superhero comics at the time had. A movie adaptation was currently in the works.

Chloe had taken over her father’s hotel business, and was still doing her best to become a better person with the help of Kagami (her girlfriend, now a world-class fencer) and Sabrina (now a politician on the campaign trail). She also modeled for Marinette on occasion.

Luka was currently on tour as one-half of the musical duo Fangs, alongside his fiance (a lovely girl named Avril that Alya was, regrettably, not well-acquainted with). Their wedding was scheduled for next year, and everyone was dying with anticipation.

Aurore and Mireille had also gotten married, and both had become regular models in Marinette’s lineup. Aurore had also gotten a job as TVi’s weather girl, and Mireille was the new host of KIDZ+.

Alix had become a popular street artist, with her art regularly being featured in Parisian museums. She’d also taken over as Collège François Dupont’s new art teacher after Mr. Haberkorn’s retirement, which kept her in regular contact with Rose and Juleka.

The ones who had followed Lila’s word to the letter back in high school eventually managed to break free from her influence, though they knew nothing would ever be the same between them and the rest of the class. Kim and Ondine had gotten married, and they now worked as coaches in the same school as Rose and Alix. Max had managed to get a job as a scientist for a major computer company, and worked hard on various projects. Mylene and Ivan had also gotten married, the former becoming an actress on a popular TV show.

Lila and Adrien had both opted to stay out of the public eye after all the scandals they’d been a part of. Alya had no idea what they were up to these days, which was probably for the best.

And Alya herself? She was quickly climbing through the ranks as a journalist, and the Ladyblog was as popular as ever. She and Nino had finally tied the knot last year; he’d become a successful DJ, and was recently breaking into directing, with Nath and Marc’s film being his first job.

Her musings were interrupted by a cry of joy coming from her right.The winner of Best Costume Design had finally been announced.

As Alya watched, Marinette walked up to the stage to accept her award, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Everyone in the hall started applauding her – Alya, Nino, and Ren doing so the loudest.

She took the statuette, cradling it in her hands, and started on the speech she’d been rehearsing before they’d gotten here.

“The first person I want to dedicate this to is the person who’s stuck by me all these years, through thick and thin,” she said. “My best friend, Alya.”

Alya felt Nino’s hand on her shoulder, and she smiled.

They made it. Together.

[runaway-train-works]

I'm happy to see you are possibly writing again, I love your fics! What WIPs do you have at the moment?

Oh Nonnie! This is so lovely, thank you! I’m really glad you enjoy my fics! 

I have had a lot going on this last year with pandemic fucking up my life in more ways than one, as well as suffering from a severe case of writer's block, so I’ve been annoyingly dabbling in lots of things but failing to actually get anything finished. However, I’m hoping the winds of change are finally going to give me a break and so I might actually complete something soonish!

In answer to your question about my WIPs, I fear you might regret asking this question because I have so many! I’ve had to put them under the cut but if you fancy reading more about them then you can check them out, and feel free to ask me any questions about any of them!

And All Because I’m Mad About The Boy

The 5th instalment of my Ad Au series. It’s going to be a long one I think, and will feature them going on their stag dos (bachelor parties) as well as a decent bit of angst! I’ve written the first section as well as some notes on later sections. 

Black Mirror

This is the fic I go on about but have never written more than the opening scene of. It’s kind of Black Mirror meets Total Recall - Harry goes to a company that downloads holiday experiences straight into your brain, and he has a holiday romance with ‘Louis’ A year later, he sees Louis in real life and it all unravels from there. 

Boxer ABO AU

Louis is a sassy omega who is quite snobby when it comes to ‘alpha thugs’ that box, but gets dragged along to a boxing event by Liam and meets boxer Harry. Harry asks him out, and Louis turns him down, however, he’s unreasonably miffed when Harry takes the turn down a little too well and precedes to do all the chasing, much to Harry’s amusement. 

Cursed Is The Fool Who’s Willing

My ABO fic I have already written 70K for. I need to get back to this, I’ve just come to a point where I’m so stuck with the plot that it’s a real struggle, even though I know how it’s going to end. Very frustrating, but I will finish this if it kills me. The general plot is Louis regularly offers himself up as an omega for alpha ruts, but has a strict no real names, no repeats policy. That is until he meets Harry who gets under his skin.

Dreams ABO

I actually wrote about 10k of this after my very first fic, but haven’t really returned to it. Harry is an alpha in his last year of high school, and Louis is a new omega who decides on his first day that Harry is his alpha and they’re meant to be together. Harry isn’t so sure. 

Gotta Blame It On My Juice

I started writing this for the ridic fic exchange but had to drop it and pinch-hit another fic at the time. I even have commissioned artwork for it! The prompt was ‘Louis is a registered sex therapist and he is pretty sure his new next-door neighbor, Harry, has a fetish for old women because he keeps having elderly women over and they always leave his house in a wheelchair (seriously where does he get all these wheelchairs?), turns out he's just a vampire who likes old lady blood the best (that is, until he tastes Louis) 

Grumpy Neighbour

This was meant to be a fest last year but never got it finished, based on Harry being Louis’ grumpy neighbour who Louis is pretty determined to win over, so when his shower breaks, he keeps going over to Harry and Niall’s flat to use theirs and walking around in just a towel. 

Harry/Troye

Haven’t got a title yet, but based on a Tik Tok of Troye’s where he gets flirted with by the receptionist when he’s getting his sexual health screening, 

Housesitter AU

I have a 4K outline of this and I’m pretty into the idea actually. Fake relationship AU based on the film with Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin but a few differences. Louis is high school hearts with Liam, and when he buys a house in the village they grew up as a surprise for them to live in, Liam tells him he’s actually been wanting to break up. Louis has a sort of rebound one night stand with Harry and tells him about the empty house. A few weeks later, he turns up to sell it to find Harry’s been living there and has told everyone he’s Louis’ fiancé as a cover. Cue a fake relationship to help mend Louis’ broken relationship with his parents as well as win Liam back by posing as the perfect husband material, but it doesn’t quite work out like that. 

I Was Just Tongue Tied

Gay disaster Harry meets Louis in a sushi restaurant and tells too many fish puns. 

If You Bring Your Blue Skies Back

Gay disaster Louis meets Harry on a plane and repeatedly embarrasses himself.

Let’s Get Into Physical

Liam meets Harry in a yoga class and is pretty oblivious to Harry’s advances. 

Lumberjack

I was writing this a while ago for a Christmas fest and wrote about 10K, but then other lumberjack fic came out and I gave it up. Based on writer Louis going to his usual remote Scottish getaway to finish his new book, but the new local maintenance/lumberjack type guy Harry is very good looking, very distracting and very NOT into Louis. 

Moments

Louis is a married man but goes to a gay speeding dating night with Liam for moral support but meets Harry and his world turns upside down. 

Pretences

My Big Bang from last year I never finished (sensing a theme yet?) Got to about 20k but it just got so big. I thought from my outline I had it all worked out but when I actually started writing it, it just seems like such a huge fic that I struggled. Based on Louis being a doppelgänger for the Prince and he’s asked to step in for the royal wedding day when the princess is getting married. Harry is the one that helps him through it all. 

Sad Songs Say So Much

Girl direction fic based on Louis knowing when Harry is upset because she always plays the same sad songs playlist so goes out her way to make her happy, and Harry has no idea. 

Sharry

Adore You/Lost In Japan canon fic about Harry and Shawn hooking up in Japan. 

Shiall

Fake Relationship AU based on Niall asking Shawn to go to a work dinner party as his fake boyfriend, but Shawn plays the role a little too well. 

This City’s Gonna Break My Heart

My Narry fic that I’ve been chipping away at, which is disgustingly overdue. Based on the song Heartbreak Weather, where Niall hooks up with Harry one night and it becomes a casual thing but Niall’s more into it than he would like to admit. 

Wouldn’t It Be Lovely

Based on My Fair Lady, Harry is an art curator that must turn Louis into a ‘respectable artist’ rather than the tracksuit wearing chav he is. I kind of gave up when I realised that it wasn’t the nicest storyline and Harry would have to be an insufferable dick for most of the fic. 

[caffeinetheory]

Everything Stays

Big thanks to @theatreandcomicfreak for helping me work out my idea!! Can’t thank you enough <3<3<3 

This is a Jasonette song fic to Everything Stays from Adventure Time, had this idea like a week ago and I’ve been working on it for almost 2 days now. It is the longest thing I’ve written so i hope you enjoy, and I didn’t check over it to much so sorry if there are many errors, but otherwise I hope y’all enjoy :>

///

Here she stood, it made it all to real. ‘Here lies Jason Todd, may he finally have peace’ A sob wrecked her small frame, Marinette no longer had an excuse to accept the inevitable. Years had past yet she still didn’t want to believe he was gone, it still feels like yesterday when she first met the boy with attachment issues. 

It was a busy day in the bakery, the family was preparing for the massive gala they were catering. Marinette was now 12 so her parents let her help with preparations, they would need all hands on deck, this wasn’t any gala it was the Wayne Gala. Bruce Wayne himself had come in with the request a few months prior, it was to celebrate some achievement the Paris branch had achieved, it was something had gone completely over Marinette’s head at the time, she was just happy to help her stressed parents. The gala was tomorrow and they were finishing the decoration on the treats, everything from cupcakes and small pastries to thousands of macaroons still needed the finishing touches. To say it was hectic would be an understatement but the family had done it, 2 am everything was ready for transport to the venue. 

Mari had dressed in a simple but elegant baby pink gown for the gala, her parents had dressed in formal attire with pink accents to match their branding. After the family with the help of the buildings staff set up Sabine and Tom decided to let Mari enjoy the gala, all the dresses of the high class event was sure to be an inspiration to the little fashion designer. As the doors opened to the massive ballroom a little girl was sitting off to the side to absorbed in drawing designs out of the Gothic architecture to notice. The gentle music was calming and helped inspire her more, once she had filled many pages she looked up and it was then the man himself made his grand entrance.

Bruce Wayne made an extravagant entrance after finally getting his new ward to put on his clothes presentably. Jason was hiding behind him, he had been living with Bruce for a few months now but that didn’t mean he was used to the attention, let alone positive attention.  The large crowds combined with Dick not being there, Jason clung to his pseudo-brother like a lifeline, was getting to the young boy. Blue eyes surveyed the room, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to hide or sneak out, currently no luck came his way as he clung to Bruce’s leg, the older gentleman lightly petting his head, noting the kid’s distress. 

Bruce quickly looked over the room, remembering that a little girl around Jason’s age was here with her parents who were catering. The parents seemed kind enough so when he spotted their child he subtly pointed Jason her way right as she was getting up. Jason nodded and while reluctant to leave the one person he knew, made a beeline to the wall where the small girl was. She had just finished smoothing out her dress when Jason reached her. Hand on the wall, slightly out of breath, he looked at her. A kind smile graced her lip, her hand already out, “Hi, I’m Marinette.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship, while it lasted at least, the two were attached at the hip for the rest of his stay in Paris. She made him feel at ease and Mari was more than happy to make a new friend her age. The pair spent hours getting to know each other and became inseparable. It was a pleasant surprise for both sets of guardians, but not an unwelcome one. The call Dick got the night of the gala was not the one he expected, but one of Jason telling him all about the kind girl who told him stories about her life. Dick was happy Jason was able to find someone to be with while he wasn’t able to make it due to classes starting up again. When the Wayne’s had to go back to Gotham tears were shed, but promises to talk everyday and tight hugs were shared. 

It wasn’t until almost two and a half years later that Marinette’s heart broke. She had been trying to contact him for a few weeks with no response, not totally unusual but still worrying, that she finally got a response that broke her. The news was playing in the background, but she couldn't hear it anymore, “Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne has died today as a result of fatal injuries” that was all she needed to hear to break down. She couldn't look at the screen when they showed his face, she didn’t read the letters she got from the Waynes, or acknowledge the invitation to his funeral. The pile was growing on her desk, the dust forming a noticeable layer, she couldn’t, it she did it would be all to real. For over a month she didn’t leave her room, her sobs could be heard from the living room. It took her almost two months before she would return to school, two weeks more before she said a real sentence to anyone besides her parents. Everyone who knew the sunshine that was Marinette was worried about her but didn’t want to make it worse so they just gave silent hugs and support where they could. Three and a half months after the funeral she was more or less back to her former self, though anyone who knew her before knew what things to avoid. 

Six months later, she had caught up on all the work she missed and the new school year was starting Mari saved the life of an old man by the bakery on her way to class. It was later that day Ladybug and Chat Noir made their first appearance, almost 16 and she was tasked with saving the city she loved from a maniac who controlled people with butterflies and bad emotions. It was a good thing she learned how to keep her emotions in check before she was given this mantle. Chat and Ladybug decided to break to rule of not knowing each other's identities after it was clear they would need more help and had to call on other heroes. Fu wasn't happy about it but trusted their decision, it was about this time he started to teach Marinette how to become the next Guardian. 

Six months after becoming heros the duo knew each other’s identities, a year after there was a team of full time heros. It was after they had been fighting for over a year and a half that the team agreed they needed more than themselves, they called the Justice League. At first they were ignored but through persistence they got the back up they needed. Two and a half years after becoming Ladybug Hawk Moth was tracked down and  in cuffs before he could transform. The Watch Tower had been monitoring the Akumas and traced his location down to the Agreste manor, Nathile had put up no fight, and gave herself willingly to the authorities. 

Three years had passed since she had been given earrings that changed her life when a note appeared on her balcony inviting her to the Watch Tower. At 19 years old Marinette was apart of the Justice League, the rest of her team had moved on. They had lives to live, and while they didn’t regret being heroes they had other obligations. Adrien fell off the map with some help, he didn’t want or need the spotlight any more he was done, Luka was Touring with Jagged Stone, Kagami had become a world class fencer and had to carry on her family name, Alya was becoming the next Nadja so she was the face of the Tv network, Nino was well on his way to being a famous DJ, Alix had extreme sports to compete in and street art to make, Cholé had began to take over the hotel business and working to make it international, Kim was an Olympic swimmer and Max was on his way to being a  head engineer at one of the leading technology companies in the world. Marinette was the Guardian and while they all said they would continue to help she couldn’t ask them to do that. 

For the next 2 years she spent most of her time at the Tower, slowly building money from commissions to buy a house of her own. MDC was known around the world and was commission only, you had to know someone who knew someone to even get a chance to get a design. Close to her 22nd birthday she finally started to look for a place of her own, she needed a proper place for the Kawmi after all. After many long nights Marientte decided to move to the last place she knew he was. It hurt but she had put it off long enough, and to Gotham she went.

When she told Batman where she planned to move he was surprised initially but helped her find a place to call home. She ended up settling on a home in the outskirts of the city, isolated enough for privacy but plenty of room and ways to get to the city. When Bruce got a call from the girl about 2 weeks after her 22nd birthday asking if he could tell her where Jason was he was shocked to say the least. ‘Does she know’ was the first thing going through his head, granted it had been almost 4 years since Jason had come back from the dead but as far as he knew, no one outside of the BatFam inner circles and the Outlaws knew that. The fact that she hadn’t gone to the funeral and never mentioned him until now perplexed him as well, what had suddenly changed. Sure both had learned the other’s identity when she joined the League but that was a while ago, why now. The choked sobs brought him back to reality and the young women on the other side of the line, he gave her directions to the former grave. They left it there because they couldn’t bring it in them to remove it, it was a reminder.

Let’s go in the garden

Today was the day Marinette told herself. It had been years, she could do it, no matter how hard it was. She picked some marigolds, lilies and roses before leaving her home. If she was going to do this she might as well bring something to leave there. Marigolds, why did she ever plant those, must have been because subconsciously it was something he always called her. A single tear fell down her cheek before she wiped it away and tried to smile.

You’ll find something waiting

Right there where you left it lying upside down

Marinette’s small bag didn’t hold much; just her keys, phone, some tissues and the letters finally opened. She had finally opened them the day she asked Bruce where she could see him again, but couldn’t make herself read them until the night before. She cried reading about it again, condolences and an open invitation to stay with the Waynes for a while if she needed to. She felt 15 again, crying alone in her room. Only this time she wasn’t alone, she had the Kwamis and they helped her sleep. The tear stains still noticeable on the one she couldn’t bear to open from Jason himself. It was to be given to her if he ever died, she still wasn’t ready to full accept he was gone. She may be older but it still felt like there was a hoel in her heart that she couldn’t fill.

When you finally find it, you’ll see how it’s faded

The underside is lighter when you turn it around

Marinette finally did it, the tall gates towered over her. She hesitated as she reached to open the last barrier keeping her from the inevitable. A hand absentmindedly went to the earrings. She had thought about it once, using the wish, but she knew better. The cost could have been anything and while she missed him she wasn’t that selfish. How was she to know that is even what he wanted, it wasn’t right so she only had the thought once on the anniversary of his death after she found out about the wish. 

Everything stays right where you left it

The metal was cold when her hand finally made contact, this was happening. Almost 6 years after and she was finally going to have to admit it to herself. But it was okay, that is what he would want, wasn’t it? Shaking her head before she went down that rabbit hole again she followed the cobblestone path to the Wayne plot of the cemetery. No backing out now. The whole area was varying states of care, you could tell who had family that loved them and who was the last of the line. Many headstones had vines covering them, clearly older than the pristine graves with fresh flowers and candles still burning. How the candle stays lit in a place where rain seemed more common than the sun she wouldn't know. 

Everything stays 

The sizable plot had a small black fence around it. There were five distinctive burials. The tomb of Martha and Thomas Wayne was white and while simple it was elegant. Not a single crack and a single dying rose laid beneath the inscription ‘May Martha and Thomas Wayne rest in peace, hand in hand forever’, it was sweet. Truly loving parents taken from this world to soon. Next to the tomb was a far more simple Romanian burial, the grass still growing a healthy green. Mary and John buried how they would have been back in their home land, Bruce insisted they rest in the same place his family did. It was the day it was clear how much Bruce really valued family. 

But it still changes

Mari finally brought herself to look at the last grave.  ‘Here lies Jason Todd, may he finally have peace,’ seeing the words made her break down. It was all to real, the dirt was even looking recently moved. Her sobs must have been heard from the other side of Gotham, her legs gave out. Lightly tracing his name she finally let out everything she had been holding on to for years. Her broken heart was allowed to properly feel the hurt it had locked away so long ago. The flowers forgotten by her side, she stayed kneeling on the fresh dirt crying her eyes out for what must have been hours before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways, when everything stays

Dick Grayson was doing his monthly flower change at the graves when he heard broken sobbing. His slow pace suddenly was a light jog, someone sounded broken, he had to help. Turning the corner he saw the unmistakable midnight hair and crumpled figure of the one person he never thought he’d see again in civilian life, let alone here. The one place he swore she’d never be, on his brother’s grave. He did the one thing he could think of and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair from her tear stained face and pulled her into a comforting hug. “It’s good to see you again Mari,” she held him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to this realm. 

Let’s go in the garden

“You want to come back to the manor with me, I’m sure Bruce would love to see you again. Alfred too,” her small head nod and last sniffles was enough of a confirmation to him. Helping her up, Dick took Mari’s hand and lead her to his car. During the ride he brought her up to speed about the new members, (Tim, Damian, Stephine, Cass), about how many pets they had, about really anything in their lives. Throughout she was slowly perking up again, laughing at his anecdotes about his siblings, completely avoiding bringing up Jason. Dick had already warned those at the Manor she was coming with him, and not to mention Jason.  By the time they had arrived everyone was filled in and Mari had a smile on her face and a soft laugh as she heard about Damian bringing a cow home.

You’ll find something waiting

The movement the dark wooden doors opened Mari was engulfed with the smell of fresh cookies and a welcoming embrace of none other than Alfred. “Long time no see,” she patted his back and she returned the hug, the slight guilt in her tone immediately washed away when he held her tighter. 

The family led her to the living room, she meets the other members of the house she was told about in her way there. Everyone was kind in their own ways, though those who had not heard of her before that day were wary of the newcomer. She livened up the room, it seemed that comfort and warmth followed her wherever she went. Alfred had brought tea and cookies for everyone and they talked about where life had taken them since they had last talked, then the topic came up.

Right there where you left it lying upside down

Damian didn’t mean to make the slip août Jason being a prick, he really hadn’t but the second Mari quieted he knew he said something he shouldn’t have. ‘How you you know’ was all that went through her mind, but quickly brushed the thought off, this could help. Everyone in the room held their breath as they waited to see how she would act, Dick had warned them and they didn’t understand until now. To say they were surprised when she had a small smile on her face after whipping a single tear would be an understatement. 

When you finally find it, you’ll see how it’s faded

Marinette started to tell stories of her and Jason, about their close friendship. Everyone who knew the edgy man in question were in awe that he was once a ‘normal’ kid without problems expressing his feelings. She told them about the late night calls, the constant letters and gifts they would send each other. She spoke so roundly of him they couldn’t figure out why she had never come up until Dick had found her at his grave, what fallout must have happened caused her name to never be said, why were Alfred and Dick so happy to see her, so many questions went through the newer members’ heads.

The underside is lighter when you turn it around

Throughout her stories she had started to mess with the chain around her neck, it was going to need to be replaced soon, the daily wear was getting to it. When Marinette finally took it out to show, Dick’s eyes widened, he knew pendant. Mari gave it a sad smile before exhaling it was the last thing she had of him, it was the thing she valued most. It was the last gift he had sent her, a silver pendant with a warn robin resting on a blossom branch. Dick had helped Jason pick that out so many years ago. She told the group how she never took it off, only to fix the chain or replace it.  Eventually she admitted, both to herself and the people in the room, her still existing feeling, “I think that’s why I couldn’t let it be real, let him go… I always wanted to be by his side, with him through thick and thin.”

Everything stays right where you left it

Everyone in the room heard the helmet thump when it hit the hardwood floors. Standing in the doorway was one Red Hood, domino mask still on with his mouth hanging open wide. Marinette was quickly out of her seat ready to strike should he pose a threat, but Dick’s gentle hand on her shoulder made her relax slightly, still not taking her eyes off of the new comer. “Jay-bird…” Dick wasn’t able to finish what he was saying or stop her when Mari launched herself at Jason, crying openingly again as she held onto him for dear life. 

Everything stays 

After the initial shock of finally seeing her again he returned the hold, just as strong petting her hair lightly, “I’m here, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” the pair didn’t care to notice when the rest of the Waynes left the room to give them privacy, nor did they care. They were finally in each other’s arms after so long, the dam broke all over again for Mari but this time her tears were joyous, her Jay was back in her arms. It didn’t matter how what mattered was he was there and he was real, actually here not some joke or illusion but the real thing, nothing would take him from her again if she had a say about it.

But it still changes

Finally pulling back to look at each other they took in the small changes. Marinette’s hair was longer and to her mid back hanging in a low ponytail, her freckles seemed more prominent. She stood tall and confident, it was clear she was built and while the years had been tough she had come out stronger because of it. Her eyes were still the most beautiful blue Jason had ever seen. Jason had become tall and puberty did him many favors. His muscles would show in pretty much any shirt he wore. And while those were big changes the most noticeable to Mari was the unnatural white streak in the inky mess of hair he had and the supernatural green that seemed to move in his eyes. It was still him though, nothing could change the fact he was still the Jason Mari had fallen for and couldn’t bring herself to let go.

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

Mari took his hand, leading him to the couch so they could properly catch up. The helmet forgotten and domino mask on the coffee table. If anyone had walked in they didn’t stay. They talked for hours and hours, the sun was rising by the time Mari had yawned for the first time, it had been a long day. “I could take you home if you’d like,” reluctant to see her leave. “Why would I go anywhere, you’re right here,” she made herself at home on his chest snuggling ever slightly closer. The light breathing lulled Jason to sleep not long after. 

In little ways, when everything stays

Tim was the one who found the pair sleeping, in what looked like the first time in a while, peacefully. Sneakily taking a picture to send to the family chat he left the room to get more coffee, they deserved to sleep.

Marinette woke up to slight nudging and warmth, “Come on Mari, we should eat.” Startled she jumped up, almost hitting the table, forgetting where she was for a second she panicked but seeing his face brought back memories from the night before. “Oh thank god it’s you,” and with that she pulled them both in the direction of what smelled like food. Alfred had left out some food for the two before going out for the day. Marinette left after eating leaving her phone number with him and in return she got a small business card from him.

Do down to the ocean

Two days later and Marinette sat kicking her legs of the dock in the warehouse district. The card just told her to wait on this dock today and to be there by 6 in something casual but flexible. Is here she sat, waiting with light blue jeans, black vans and a dark red hoodie, music played in her ear as she waited. Being early she had nothing to worry about, she trusted he’d show up and it’s not like if something did happen she couldn’t protect herself.

They crystal tide is rising

The cargo ship in the dock next to the one she was sitting on was almost finished unloading its crates. A horn behind her brought her out of her thoughts, a motorcycle was waiting for her expectantly.

The waters’ gotten higher as the shore washes out

Grabbing the extra black helmet Mari held on tight to the person already on the bike. Once she was secure they sped off down the docks and to the amusement park all the while she was having the time of her life. Speed was something she loved and he gave it to her, taking the scenic route so they admire the view of the ocean and enjoy the ride.

Keep your eyes wide open, even when the sun is blazin’

The moon controls the tide, it can cause you to drown

Skitting to a stop in front of the waterfront amusement park Jason took off his helmet, a sly smirk as he watched Mari jump up and down in excitement. “That was the most fun I've had in years!!!” she handed him the helmet taking in the lights of the park, they were like stars on the dark night sky, shining in a rainbow of colors. “Well Cream Puff, we are just beginning, I got a lot of missed dates to make up to you,” Jason slung an arm around her shoulders and lead her into the park. They stayed up all night playing the carnival style games, winning each other prizes until they couldn't hold any more. As the sun rose they ended up back at Mari’s home collapsing on her bed in a fit of giggles, it was just like old times. Their prizes surrounding them as the two as they looked in each others eyes, they felt like they were 14 again. Maybe they could make this work, not maybe they would.

Everything stays, right where you’ve left it

Everything stays, but it still changes

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways

When everything stays

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Carry On Countdown Master List

I enjoyed participating in the Carry On Countdown this year, even though I didn’t hit as many of the prompts as I intended. My first two fics were written during nanowrimo (my first time trying that) and I may not have hit my word count but I’m content that I managed to write those two stories. Here is my entire list of Carry On Countdown 2019 fics. Don't be surprised if some of my ideas for prompts I didn’t fill end up as fics this coming year! 

Day 1: Sun and Moon

Always The Sun 

Non-magical AU. In the high pressure world of international fashion Baz Pitch is a well recognised face and name. He finds himself unexpectedly thrust into forced proximity with Simon Snow, the inexperienced model who has become Watford's new face and director Mage's new protege. Thrown together for the frenetic events of Fashion Week across the globe, Simon and Baz find themselves spending more time together than either of them expect and revealing more to each other than anticipated. Fluff and mutual pining, soft boys in love. 

Day 2: Role Swap

Mirror Man 

Simon returns for eighth year at Watford but to his dismay the roommate he's been pining over for three years is nowhere to be found. Simon searches for Baz, avoids Agatha and tries to come to terms with the long-term feelings he has for his missing roommate.

(I fully intend to come back to write more of this one)

Day 9: Pattern

Strangeness and Charm 

Simon and Baz favor the same coffee shop and engage in a competition over who is the most loyal customer. The competition grows heated but so do their emotions. A non-magical coffee shop AU of boys plotting, pining and falling in love.

art by the wonderful @sanexiah on Instagram 

https://carryonsimoncarryonbaz.tumblr.com/post/189458794323/glorious-art-commissioned-from-sanexiah-for-my

Day 11: Angst (this fic also filled the Magical Creatures and Carry On Prequel and Parental Figures prompts)

Scary Monsters  

set pre-Carry On. Young Baz deals with his concerns and anxieties about his eventual transition to full vampire state. There is support for him, from unexpected sources, but it doesn't make the realizations and realities all that much easier to face. But sometimes it's good to know you aren't completely alone. Originally written for the Carry On Countdown magical creatures prompt but then it expanded to a Carry On prequel with an added a dash of parental figures to finally end up solidly in the angst category. Consider this a combo fic for all of those prompts.

lovely dragon art by @fight-surrender 

https://carryonsimoncarryonbaz.tumblr.com/post/189499641093/carry-on-countdown-day-11-angst

Day 14: Favorite Trope/Cliche (this fic also filled the Music/Song prompt)

Let’s Dance 

Simon and Baz are old schoolmates, roommates years ago at Watford. They're both out of uni now and both undeniably single, which their friends find completely unacceptable. Penny has a solution for Simon's doldrums and Baz was inebriated enough to agree to a bet with Dev and Niall. The boys end up on a blind date for Flirty Dancing and find they are as obsessed with each other as they ever were. But there's something more there than either of them expect. Mutual pining, blind dates, Dev and Niall banter and sexy dance moves. Simon and Baz Flirty Dancing fic--If you aren't familiar with Flirty Dancing it's a UK blind date show where both contestants are given choreography and their first date is a performance of that dance. Look at this video on youtube--it was the inspiration for this fic. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfCmCX1tdNQ

beautiful art of their hands by @penpanoply 

https://penpanoply.tumblr.com/post/189884006564/lets-dance-chapter-1-tbazzsnow-artescapri

Day 20: Fairy Tale/Myth Retelling

Stand By Me Simon and Baz as Orestes and Pylades, from the Greek myth and play The Oresteia, the story of trials and tribulations of Orestes (the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra) and his faithful companion Pylades. Set after the Trojan War.

glorious art for this fic by @krisrix 

https://krisrix.tumblr.com/post/189669908762/ill-take-care-of-you-simon

Day 30: Christmas Celebration

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

A glimpse of domestic Baz and Simon soft morning moments on Christmas Eve day, set after events of Wayward Son. Ficlet written for the Carry On Countdown Day 30 Christmas Celebration. Based on art of Simon and Baz in Christmas jumpers by dancingwithdinosaurs on tumblr.

Glorious art inspiration here: https://dancingwdinosaurs.tumblr.com/post/189812265440/i-ve-been-crazy-busy-lately-so-this-took-forever

[sonatanotwo]

Well... I barely slept. 😂 Least I’ve got coffee... Gonna try to fumble out some words... (Spoilers ahoy!)

I didn’t quite expect the emotional roller coaster this has turned into... and not entirely cause of the episode itself. 😂 It’s feeling ever so bitter sweet... mostly in that experiencing something so emotional without a lot of the people that made up this sorta... fandom home? that it was to me. All the friends I love and care about. It’s... been feeling kinda lonely... Even though I’m not alone of course, but... yeah. It’s hard to explain. 😂 And then with this looking like the end (...though I kinda doubt ITV is gonna shelve the franchise for another 10+ years... least I sure hope not. That’d seem VERY dumb to me. But what will they do with it? That’s the real big question, ain’t it? XD I was a bit agape after attaching ‘Season’ to every time they spoke of ending that today they finally changed their tune and was like THE END. What the ever loving heck, ITV. Seriously. 😂 BUT I digress...) ...IDK if any of that feeling will ever come back now. Shit changes... god, do I ever know it does... but I guess... I just wasn’t ready for it yet. ;A;

...And boy is my body telling me that. 😂 Anxiety is such an asshole.

ANYHOO.

SO.

This ep.

As I mentioned when I gif’d it (opening my gif making stuff was first thing I did XD) that HUG man. That old hug art I did, the original version (the one you see commonly around now is the tweaked one) was one of my first finished (ish) TAG piece (only few rough doodles and half coloured things were before that lol) that I posted June 10th 2015.... so long ago. (My first post that was some sketches was June 2nd XD Yeah, I’ve been around a long while now, blimey. Not quite the VERY very start, but nearly!)

BUT YEAH. I was wanting this hug for a VERY, VERY long time. XDDD Just, back then, didn’t think it’d involve their Dad too. lol

And then, gosh... Scott in this ep... Last ep was def more Scott heavy... to balance he was stepped back a bit, but... it did make sense? Scott just seems quietly basking in the feeling of having his Dad back. Him hanging back from the hug for a moment having that exchange with his Dad feels a bit like a... passing back the torch? Here they are Dad. I took good care of them. :Db Does that make sense??? IDK. I’m so tired you guys. 😂 But it didn’t feel like Scott needed to say anything. It was written all over his face. He must have been so happy... and relieved. It’s pretty overwhelming in all the best way to hear from someone you haven’t in awhile... so... in this case, it must be turned up to like... an 11. ^^a

Man, I don’t think I can go through this in order so, bear with me if I bounce around.

There’s been so much wondering what this version of Jeff would be like all these years... and in such a short time, we definitely got a LOT to go off of. He’s a Dad who definitely doesn’t hesitate to hug his sons. :3 Fears Grandma as much as the boys, lolololol HUGS HIS ENGINEER. I actually really just... LOVED that scene with Brains. That casual, ‘Hi Brains.’ And then just calling him PARTNER and going right in for a hug... and lol Brains’ lil happy sound. Jeff and Brains were certainly friends in TOS, but there was still a kinda distance between them in that Brains is working for Jeff, but that was definitely laid out to be much different in TAG. I’m not surprised by it, cause Brains is def part of the family, but it was lovely they took the time to show it.

ALSO just how he picked up Virgil was dwelling on something... we don’t really get a window into what exactly... but after all those years, he just... picks right up on Virgil’s in some turmoil. (As said in a tag... MAYBE MOM RELATED? He seems to think Virgil’s worried if he’ll really be okay, which is why I wonder... GONNA DEF WRITE SOME FIC THOUGH. XDb) Like. GOSH. I’m sad we aren’t likely to see more of this Jeff, cause with this single ep, he was absolutely sold on me. And I love he was a total presence... but he did sit back quietly and other than dealing with ‘Brains’ and largely just *watched*. Scott was still in charge here.

So as for the end and what role Jeff is gonna play... WELL... I mean. To be fair here at the end, John is probably changing and heading to the elevator... and I mean, we’ve seen Grandma fill in several times for John... he can’t be awake CONSTANTLY, so I’d always felt a bit like maybe they’d gradually gel into a team with just... one more member. And that seems more likely now that we’ve seen he didn’t just... jump to take command. He sat back and let them do their thing.  

And now we can see Jeff is def a bit younger... and as kinda already implied, is definitely one to get his hands dirty, so sometimes (once he’s recovered a bunch) maybe he’ll even go out with the boys. That’d be my guess. ^^a I mean, might be a little kinda jostling at first to settle into a new routine... but while he certainly has a strong presence... he’s also did kinda feel... a bit gentle too? He’s not nearly as stern as TOS!Jeff. It felt like a good balance??? IDK. I’m rambling up a storm. XDDD (...and making walls of text... I should... break these up more lol...)

OKAY ALSO...

WAIIIIT wait. WAIT. This looks familiar. V E R Y familiar... Bridge... rockety thing at bottom... explody warning? Two people inside... *squints* DAY OF DISASTER? IS THAT YOU?

I HAVE A FEELING... If so... //CHEF KISS//  VERY NICE. A+ XD

OKAY. WHAT ELSE. Uh. Glad they did end up using Fuse’s (or I guess I could say Clarence’s :D) mixed feelings, which was good and gave Grandma a heck of a moment of awesome. They also served to give some action for Kayo, Penelope and Parker which was good else I suppose they’d have been standing around worriedly. lol Which isn’t really suited to their characters. XD YEAH just lotta nice moments, especially with Kayo and Grandma. ANd just. YEAH. GRANDMA MAN. YOU TELL HIM. and also OMG she was a doctor?! THAT sure explains some things. XD And that’s awesome, gosh.

ALSO the number of HUGS in this ep were A+ Getting a moment with Jeff and Grandma was lovely. :D

LIKE REALLY. LOOK HOW HUG HAPPY THIS DAD IS. I AM PLEASED. A+

And just lol... ‘I don’t even have a car yet.’  ‘You have a rocket.’ ‘...oh yeah. That’s true.’ LOLOL SUCH ALAN. He is too cute.

...AND yeah. IDK. I feel like I’m forgetting things. I’ll ramble them into another post if I think of things. I gotta pop out for a bit. 😂

BUT YEAH. Yeah, there’s few things they didn’t get to addressing, but there were hugs and emotions which was what was really the important thing, right? :Da I don’t really feel like nit picking when had all that. XDDD

(It is kinda interesting how in a way the ending reminded me of Legacy’s a bit with a ...Oh we got an emergency. It’s a good note to leave off of... but goes to show when maybe S1 was written, it was largely on the assumption that it could be the only season... but then were able to hint of S2 in an additional scene. But if S2 hadn’t been commissioned, it was sorta ready to be a finale if it had to. In a way S2 was the same, though with bit more hints of S3 were there so... Just kinda interesting. =Oa But also nice that Rob has left it in a way that NEVER SAY NEVER (to quote Rob) is definitely open. ^^)

ANYHOO. That’s all my rambling for now. ^^