#also WOW it’s so much harder to put my thoughts into words than art

[eveningepiphany]

tease | H.S oneshot

summary: seeing harry tonguing his guitar last night has you finally admitting the state he puts you in. and that’s never good when you’re a tour photographer. especially now you have photographic evidence of the moment.

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, praise, swearing

a/n: can’t stop thinking about that fucking video? like it’s on loop in my head I can’t. he was so slutty last night it’s illegal. also this isn’t 100% proofread so enjoy I hope it’s okay!

———

Some days at work are harder than others for you.

Today, you knew was going to be rough the second Harry walked out in single-handedly the most revealing outfit he could have. Borderlining absolutely slutty.

And as his tour photographer, that is quite a bold statement to make when you’ve seen every single outfit— and when his top half is often found shirtless up on stage.

But tonight, out backstage when you were prepping your SD cards and ordering your camera lenses, he walked out of his dressing room adorning his stage outfit to show you, and your stomach dropped the sight of him.

It was a new style, something he hadn’t worn before. A cropped, tasseled blue vest, paired with low rise pants that looked like they were clinging onto his hips for dear life.

“Alrighty, what d’ya think?” He asked, doing a little spin to shake the tassels.

Your mouth opened and words struggled to form as your head fogged over from just seeing his body. And the way his ferns were fully out— along with almost all of his other ink on display. Arms, chest and all.

You had sworn this, many times, was just your eye for art. For people like him who made photography electric. But as time and the tour progressed on from its earlier start in 2021, it was getting harder to convince yourself. Because even if you didn’t acknowledge it, there was no way to justify the heat that stirred in your stomach as just admiration.

“Oh— wow— I like the tassels,” you paused, tongue swiping over your lips, “they’ll be really fun in the photos, I’ll try to get some motion blur type shots with them.”

Your hand reached out before your brain even computed what it was doing, grabbing one of the rhinestoned threads at the base of his vest and running down it. Knuckles brushing the side of his chest.

“Excited to see them as always, m’lovely.” He smiles, the pet name making you flush.

“10 minutes till you’re on, H!” Someone called out.

You laughed at the panicked expression on his face as he realised he was probably dawdling, and in fact behind on his own schedule.

“Alright!” He confirmed back, then chuckling as he whispered to you, “I still gotta brush m’teeth.”

“Well, cmon let’s go, I’ll see what behind the scene shots I can get.”

And you thought that the time spent with him pre-show would ease your racing mind a little, but now that you’re out on the floor you’re almost jittering.

He looks fucking delectable. And by the sound of the stadium around you, they notice it too.

As he steps out you have to force your camera up to your face, which is something you never have to do? But looking at him through your viewfinder is hardly enough to satiate you.

Especially a little later in the show, when your camera is aimed to the back of him— and he’s squated down to get a drink of water…

His pants slipping so far down his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Kleins are easily visible.

Some girls on barricade behind you are going feral simply at the sight. And you can hardly blame them, because the sight of them makes you a little light headed too. Tonight he’s really not leaving much to the imagination.

You feel obliged to take a photo of it, lens aiming up to him— hearing the girls from behind you as your cameras shutters open to capture the moment. They’re shouting clearly, “Y/N, you get that pic girl!”

Another one yelling from your left, “SHES ONE OF US!”

You laugh at them. The fans are always an amazing part of the show. You leave with an array of adorable bracelets, funny shirts, and always lovely compliments.

You snap a few more photos before someone calls your name again, and you turn. A brunette girl, in an incredible replica of his recent purple and black heart overalls from the recent Wembley show, is standing.

“Y/N!” She reaffirms when you’re looking at her.

“Hi lovely, your outfit is amazing.” You smile, and she has fresh tears streaming down her face— a common love on tour occurrence.

“Ohmygod, thank you so much. I made you this tshirt, i wanted to give it to you!” She pulled a white shirt from her feet, presumably from a bag.

She held it out, unfolding it to show off the print on the front.

You immediately couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at it. A big pink shaded heart, with 2 also heart-shaped photos on each side of it— of you and Harry. But the best bit was the bubble written font, “my favourite parents!” that is above it.

“I— can I please take a photo of you with it first.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, “No way, of course you fucking can.”

You take a few photos of her posing with the shirt, “I have 2, please feel free take them both!”

You can only assume one of them is intended for Harry. And even if it’s a little weird of you to take them, you do anyway because the girl was too lovely to even consider denying them.

“Thank you so much.” You chuckle as you hang them over your elbow. She still looks starstruck at the interaction that just occurred and you’re overly excited to edit the photos later on.

In the time of the short interaction, you turned to find Harry. He’s about to transition into she, and is over on the main stage.

You hustle to get yourself up from the floor and onto the stage area. Moving to chuck the shirts on the bench, where most of the bands essentials are for easy access.

Harry sees you over there and you decide to show him the design on the front before you can overthink it.

He’s beginning to sing the intro, and he chuckles the lyrics into the mic as he sees it. And fans around the whole arena scream at the shirt— which you didn’t realise was being displayed on the big screens.

You shake your head, struggling not to admire the tone of his laugh that just echoed around the stadium.

Also blushing a little at the fact you did genuinely just show him a shirt with both of your faces of it, deeming you both as a fans ‘parents’.

You go back to doing your actual job, moving to get a good angle, aiming to blend back into the background as you take more photos for the night.

Capturing the sway and jolts of his tassels as he sings. Getting a few shots that not only capture his energy but also his outfit perfectly.

You smile at yourself and at your work.

And you glance up as Harry joins in with Mitch while he absolutely shreds his guitar solo.

Sweat is beading on Harry’s chest and you’re all too aware how much money people would pay to see it from your angle. Thank god for Barcelona’s heat.

And, fuck, not only is it that. His arms look perfect as well. This outfit is really just showing as much of himself off as possible.

You change the settings on your camera hastily to alter the outcome of these next few shots.

He’d stepped away from the mic, turning to look at the band, mouthing something you couldn’t decipher.

He starts to lean down head getting closer to guitar. His tongue juts out…

Your eyes immediately pull back a little from your camera because, there no fucking way he’s about to let some kind of intrusive thought win here.

Time seems to slow. But not the movement of his tongue. It’s flicking fast, as if to mimic it playing the strings of his guitar. Or something like that anyway, because all you can think of is… well… something too inappropriate to even be entertaining in your head given he’s literally your boss.

You can hear the piercing screams around you, someone in the front shouting what the fuck loud enough you swear someone in the back of the stadium could’ve heard it.

You’re not even aware you bought your camera back up to your face and that you’d clicked the button a few times until it’s done and the moments over.

Harry’s laughing at himself, and Sarah is face palming at his lewd action. His smug smile after solidifies the fact he knows what the fuck he just did. And exactly the kind of effect it’s left on some people.

Just not aware you’re one of them…

Because you can’t deny the way you spent rest of the night with a nagging warmth between your legs. One that festered long after the moment was over.

After the show came to a close and you eventually ended up in your hotel room, freshly showered as you edited some of your favourite photos. Including the shots you’d captured of him and his guitar.

Which were fucking insane. You had just the right amount of contrast going on in them, and a certain degree of motion blur that indicated the movement his tongue was making.

The final product was amazing once you had edited it on photoshop. But you spent the remainder of the night in your hotel room ridiculously worked up. Left in bed toying with your clit lazily as you stared at the celling, acting like you didn’t have a specific person in your thoughts.

It got to the point in the next day where you stressed about what photos to show him. And whether or not that included the one you literally came to the thought of last night?

Usually you wouldn’t hesitate, especially since it looked incredible. But you were embarrassed internally. What would he think, or say? And could you even play off your sheer attraction to the image.

You placed your head in your hands with a groan, sat in the chair over by the window. You’re tired, and swear on your life your decision making is going to be impaired when he walks into your room.

Which you didn’t have much more time to stress much about it as a knock came to your door that you knew was him.

You rushed over to open it, finding him standing there, hair freshly washed and clad in much more clothing then you last saw him in. A plain white shirt and some gym shorts— that still made him look hot as fuck, without even trying?

He greets you with a good morning, voice a tad hoarse from last nights show. And he’s smiling as he hands you a cup, one you know is filled with hot chocolate. Just for you.

“I owe you like 100 hot chocolates for how many you’ve bought me just in this leg of the tour alone.” You laugh, letting him past you.

He glances at the unmade bed— you stopped making it a while after he started to come visit your room the morning after the show to pick which photos he liked best, and ones he also wanted edited. Sometimes he’d settle himself on it, legs crossed like a cute little kid.

“Think of it as a gift for all your talent. And putting up with me.” He chuckles, and plops himself down on the chair that’s opposite to the one you were sitting in.

So you follow suit, walking back over the your chair. Taking a small sip of the sweet liquid in your hands.

“Have any favourites so far?” He asks, taking a quick swig of his own drink— which you can only assume is hot tea.

Yes, you think, the one where you’re about to practically fuck your guitar strings with your tongue.

You substitute that for, “A few! The tassels were so fun to try and capture.”

You rotated the laptop screen to show him a cool shot you edited of him. It was a front on photo, his arms extended and washboard abs in their full fucking glory along with his tattoos.

He nods, a smile coming across his lips, crinkling the corners of his slightly tired eyes.

You showcase him a couple, all that he gives relentless praise on— regardless of if they had been edited or not. But you just want to show him your favourite.

You swallow as you stare at it on the screen of your macbook. Working up the courage to turn the screen to him as he waits cluelessly. Does he even know you took this?

“This one too…” you hesitate a little as you swivel the laptop around on your lap.

“Oh. I like this one a lot.” He says, nodding and then glancing up from the screen to your semi-flushed face.

“Didn’t know you took that.” He chuckles, shrugging and almost seeming… like he has more to say about this situation.

Like something is laying on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

You think he’s not going to though, after a beat of silence, you nod.

“Yea… what actually are you doing in this photo?” You nervous laugh, and wonder what kind of answer he’s going to provide.

He runs a hand through his curls, brows raised a little at your question.

“What did you think I was doing?” He quizzes, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“I- well it looked quite… everyone in the audience was going wild. Were you trying to be a tease?”

“I wasn’t! I swear. I was playing the guitar.” He confirmed, yet smirking like he knew there was a two-way perception of the event.

“With your tongue?” You sighed out a laugh.

“You still didn’t answer me. What did you think I was doing?” He backtracks, eyes watching you intensely as you’re both entering some rather dangerous, untouched territory.

You’re quiet again, and he raises his brows still expecting a response.

You flush under his gaze, hand coming to cover your eyes. “It just looked very…”

“Very…?”

“Inappropriate.” You laughed, feeling like you were emotionally torturing yourself by letting this situation happen.

“How so?” He continues to push, wanting to hear more. Secretly adoring the way you get all flustered about it. How badly he wants you to tell him exactly what the movement of his tongue reminded you of.

“It just— you know what I mean, Harry!” You say, now being the one trying to backtrack out of this entire situation. That in the end is still technically your own fault.

You distract yourself with other photos, going in and trying to find another possible contender for his new post on instagram.

“Don’t try and avoid the conversation, love.” He chuckles at your sudden shy demeanour.

“Harry.” You place your hand over your face again trying to mentally reset yourself. Put your thinking back in line.

“Cmon! I’m just curious.” He tries to brush it off, but if he has to resort to begging, he honestly wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know you are, but— it’s weird!” You whine, wanting to die at the fact you had let this happen in the first place.

“I promise I won’t judge.” He places his hand over his heart, face serious, like he was swearing it on his bloodline.

You thought about it a little longer. He clearly was not going to leave you alone if he didn’t get an answer. You could try and lie, but he already knows anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“You know, Harry. You just want to hear me say it.” You murmur, bringing up the chocolaty drink to your lips to distract yourself.

“Sure, maybe I do. I wanna confirm my suspicions.” He proposes, a small shrug of his shoulders. You place the drink back on the coaster, staring at him. Eventually caving.

“It— everyone definitely thought it looked like you were, uh, giving oral.” You rushed out, trying to now act as nonchalant as possible to avoid further questioning.

I didn’t work.

“So everyone including you?” He asked.

“Well… yea.” Your cheeks were pink, and he smiled at your flustered voice.

“Dirty thing.” He chuckled, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe you could move on and pretend as if this never happened, but he continues on.

“Had you a little worked up, did I?”

“May I touch on how unprofessional this conversation is?” You bring up, trying to save yourself. But it’s evident in your voice you hardly mean it. You are admittedly a little curious as to where he’s going with this. Equally, if not more embarrassed than anything, but still curious.

“I suppose you can, yes.” He nods.

“But may I bring up how you undressing me with your eyes yesterday was unprofessional? Because unless I’m insane, you definitely were.” He’s cocky, and overconfident with his accusation.

Not that it can be really labelled as an accusation, given he’s not wrong at all.

“I—“ you swallow, “Okay. Whatever. Point proven.”

He laughs at your surrender, shuffling forward on the chair.

“So you were— that’s the kind of stuff you were thinking about me?” He rests his elbows on his knees, watching you intently.

“You are really trying to get something out of me aren’t you? What do you want to hear me say?” You raise your brows, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Just want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, since we’re talking about being professional. I think that’s a good start.” He sounds so gentle yet firm, and your devouring this dominant kind of trait he’s showing you.

“Communication and honesty is very important when it comes to professionalism.”

Pleasure has been simmering in your stomach since he walked through the door, and his persistence is beginning to pay off, since you’re starting to let your guard down.

“So you want me to tell you how wet I got after your little stunt last night? That if I wasn’t your employee, after the show you would have found me in your dressing room bent over on the table.”

“Waiting for you to come in there, all sweaty and ready to strip that teeny fucking vest off, and put your mouth to use.”

He’s got a dusting of red over his own cheeks now, blood rushing to his cock as he realised he cracked you open now. Your dirty words spilling out of your mouth after holding back seemingly since last night.

“That what you would’ve done? Bent yourself over my dressing room table waiting for me like a pretty little post-show gift?”

“Maybe so.” You feed into it, watching as his eyes darken with desire.

He sighs out, standing up promptly, “Alright, darling. I’m gonna offer you something. You don’t have to agree, but if you do we can stop at any time. Okay?”

“What exactly are you offering?” You ask as leans his tall frame down to you, hands bracketed on your hips.

“For me to pick you up, put you on that bed and strip you until I can bury my head between your legs.” He stated, matter of factly.

Your thighs are shaking so hard you’re clenching them together— clit throbbing at the pressure.

You can only look up at him and nod, to which he doesn’t take as an answer.

“Baby, need you to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Harry. Want that please.” You whine, very quickly becoming delusional at his close proximity.

He grunts as he picks you up, his arms firm around your body and he carry’s you the few feet to the bed. His lips hot as they suddenly come in contact with your jaw.

He pushes your legs open with his thigh, making you moan and push your hips forward.

“Needy girl.” He whispers, voice dirty and hot near your ear as he sucks on the skin below it.

His hands cascade down your body, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging it down.

“Please, please touch me.” You’re wild, bucking your hips up. Wanting to get his tongue on you so bad.

He chuckles at your sudden spiral, how quickly you’ve unravelled before him. Truly like a present, all laid out waiting just for him.

He palms his hand over your damp front, “Soaking through already, fuckin’ hell.”

You groan as he rubs a pressured circle on your fabric-covered clit.

“Want to tell me who got you so wet?” He coos, slowly moving his fingers over you as he waits for an answer.

You give it to him shamelessly, “You. Want you so badly.”

He’s over the moon to finally have you like this. Because it became apparent rather quickly the crush he’d developed on you since you were hired. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist at the thought of getting to touch you.

“Oh, you’re being so good for me now. Because I’ve got my hand between your pretty legs I bet.”

You cant even respond as he slides your drenched underwear down away from your tingling core.

He audibly groans at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy. Watching as you squirm under his stare.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N. How long have you been hiding this gorgeous cunt from me?”

“Too long.” You whimper.

His fingers slid through you, and he gathered up your arousal to play with your clit. Relishing the way it slides under his fingertips.

You were clenching around nothing as he gently rolled your clit between calloused fingers. Playing with it until you were a mess. Moaning and grinding up against his fingers. Begging for what he’d promised earlier.

“Your mouth, Harry. Need it. Anywhere.”

“S’that why your little hole is clenching so hard? Like it’s begging for me.” He watched, mesmerised as your hole pulsed around nothing, and leaked more clear arousal.

You look so delicious to him. And he took a moment to appreciate the fact you were about to let him clean up all that arousal pooling at your hole

He sunk down between your legs very slowly. Distracting himself a few times with mouthing over your fabric covered breasts.

Eventually making it there, so he could blow over your clit, letting you squirm at the teasing stimulation. You smelt amazing too, your sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

He was grabbing at his cock, pushing at it trying to relieve pressure down there as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

“Stop teasing, H. Please I— fuck.” You hissed as he bit the seam of skin of your thigh.

“Cant handle it huh? Are you gonna come before I even get my tongue on you.”

“Want to finish around your mouth.” You plead with him. And he shakes his head with a laugh, anticipating your reaction as he leans forward to drag a long stroke through your slit.

Your whole body shakes with a moan. His velvety, hot tongue immediately leaving you a wreck.

“Harryyy…” You cry out, bucking your hips into his face.

“Gonna ruin your cunt, darling.” He murmurs into you, and you know it’s true with the way your hole is clenching.

He sucks your clit into his mouth before placing fast strokes over it. Flicking and rolling it between his tongue and lips.

The sounds of him lapping up your pussy are echoing through the room, further fuelling the fire that’s started in you.

Your whole jaw goes lax as he moves further down, gliding over your hole— pushing his tongue past your entrance.

“Fuck!” You moan, hips jolting, causing his hands to slide up and hold them into place.

He slides it into you as far as he can, nose bumping your clit. Making you realise very quickly that you’re going to finish around his mouth.

He moans into you, again the vibrations makes you writhe in his tight grip. “I- Harry- more!”

It’s making your whole body shake, and he’s pressed so far into you that it’s all you can feel. And it’s obvious that you’re about to come, just with the way your cunt is pulsing around his mouth.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Harry, please, I’m gonna come!” You felt the burning spark fly through you, hitting you like a truck when his tongue curled and rocked inside you.

He’s humming and pressing himself so close you genuinely think he can’t breathe. And you realise immediately when the rubber band in snapped inside of you.

It gushed through your whole body, making you moan and cry in his grip. He couldn’t even explain the feeling of having you clenching around his tongue. It almost made him finish in his pants.

He lapped up every single drop he could. But he didn’t stop.

Your clit was so sensitive as he came back up to it with the same intensive pace.

You tried to push him off, “be a good girl, baby, give me another one.”

“So sensitive, Harry.” You whined, hand threading into his soft hair.

“Y’can take it.” He states, going back to sucking on your clit, and the outside of your entrance.

It made you a mess. A proper fucking mess.

You legs were being spread wide by the palm of his hands, and you were almost crying at how sensitive your pussy was.

You were always a five-minute-scroll-break kind of girl when it came to masturbation. So this came as a whole shock to your body. And it was so fucking hot from his perspective.

All he could hear was your filthy fucking whines, begging him one minute to stop and the next to go faster. And he was going insane at how sensitive your little hole was.

That was all he could feel. The clenching of your cunt, the absolute shaking mess your body was becoming.

His tongue flicked over your clit, just as you imagined he would after seeing him last night. And it was getting to messy, your arousal absolutely coating his mouth and chin.

“I-“ a deep suck of your clit, “I’m gonna fucking come!”

You writhed the whole way through your orgasm. Fucking into his face like it was a toy, grinding into it so hard your sure he was completely consumed by you.

And as you came down from the high, still shaking, he cleaned up down there again. Too good to waste, was his thought process. ‘You tasted like a dream’ you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter against you at some point.

His thumbs run over the dips of your hips to bring you back down to earth.

“Good girl, Baby. Took my mouth so fucking well.” He presses a final kiss on your clit as he stood up, your hands dragging up his back did.

“Feeling a little better too, i hope.”

“Yes. So good. H.” You panted, still in a bit of a daze.

“Next time,” he peppered a kiss on you shoulder, “tell me when you’re feeling all worked up okay.”

You nodded, hands sliding to rest in his hair.

“Or by all means, lay yourself out in my dressing room so I can make make come like you deserve.” He smiles at your little nod, still so out of it.

“My little gift, hm?” He coos, stroking a gentle hand down your face.

And he knows he’d do this moment a thousand times over with you. Just to see that smile flash over your lips.

———

[snailvibes]

How about some angst. After seeing how skilled Agent 4 is in defeating him, DJ Octavio has Maya kidnapped and uses his hypnoshades(he makes them harder to take/shoot off) to turn her into his perfect soldier. How would the squidbeak splatoon react.

Very funny fact I actually had a plot line like this in a splatoon fic I had YEARRSS ago like in my wattpad days😭 (it’s deleted on there now tho lol). I’ve also kinda made art for this idea with that one bad end agents piece I did ages ago but I never put more thought into it aside from drawing it.

Obviously this would be pre splat3 considering Octavio wouldn’t do this splat3 - post splat 3 cus busy in the desert and then redemption arc, so tldr this won’t include neo 3 or deep cut.

Most prominently Marie would fucking FREAK out. Since you word it as it’s after he sees how skilled she is at defeating him and we can see he’s obviously capable of getting out again, this would probably not be long after the end of splat2’s storymode and Marie who is still coping with losing Callie and just now getting her back would NOT handle this well, like even just realizing Maya is missing and Octavio’s out would completely set her off. Callie would be panicking almost as much as she’s also very much still recovering and now has to deal with facing Octavio all over again because there’s no way she’d let Marie get her back alone. Add Craig Eight and Three into the mix with them coming back from octo expansion; Ashley is essentially just like “oh wow cool new agent- anddd already a new member of the brainwashed club got it.” Lucky I think would choose not to get involved and leave it to the others and Craig is essentially just “WTF happened while I was gone.”

Going into a scenario where it’s farther in the future though so everyone’s already built connections: Ashley is PISSED more than anything because of her already strained and broken relationship with Octavio and this would make it a million times worse, along with being angry that their girlfriend has to go through another thing in her life. Seeing her actually brainwashed and being that perfect soldier would be what gets that anger to turn into just fear, because it’s a similar reflection of herself under Tartar’s control.

Lucky knows Maya can handle herself, but she’s more scared for her than she’s willing to admit, considering she has no memories of her former leader and only has the stories everyone else has shared of what he’s done, and she’s never gone out of her way to interact with him. Similar to Ashley, seeing her brainwashed from the glasses just reminds her of her fight with three in the elevator, but similar to then she’s more willing than the others to fight her to try and yank those glasses off her face.

I don’t think Marie would be able to even properly fight her. I think she’d still feel guilty about shooting Callie in the face even though it needed to be done, so having to actually go outright fight her daughter would be way too much to the point that I don’t think she could even bring herself to do it. Her focus would be more on trying to snipe down Octavio in the background of the fight if he’s there, and if not, letting the others handle Maya so she can go hunt him down while his “perfect soldier” is distracted, mostly because she can’t even stand to stay there and see her like that and she’d want to still be useful. Callie I think would be in a similar situation with Marie, but staying behind anyways. She knows how disorienting it is to come down from being brainwashed and I think she’d focus on that and staying behind at the fight to be there for Maya when they get the glasses off to keep herself distracted from how horrible she feels about this even happening to her.

[seeingivy]

THE NEWEST PART OF METHOD ACTING WAS SO GOOD YET IT IS SO BITTER SWEET TO ME😭😭😭😭 literally went from “omg y/n finally at peace” to “NOEOEHEIWEHIWWHJWWHWJB” at the ending….

putting that aside ur writing is geninuely so immersive and authentic and just aighwhwjwgsjsshjs u just get it

what im really curious about is eren’s pov during the time period between the rep comeback and the lucky ones interview because i have no idea what is going awn in that mind of his😀 i dont have a single clue on how we gon even get an eren redemption arc or a happy ending from this 😭😭😭

HELLO HELLO MY SWEET ANON! first and foremost - replying to you but also everyone who has sent me such kind, kind (and aggressive) words about the last chapter. I feel bad filling everyones feed with each individual ask (which idk why i feel bad this is my blog but I do I don't want to annoy my moots or my followers) so im gonna address MOST questions ive had with your ask <3 pls don't think I don't see and love + appreciate your words each and every individual person, bc they make me more and more motivated/excited to write

that being said, thank you SO SO MUCH for saying my work is immersive and authentic. this is such a harder write compared to roommates because rather than it being like roommates (which was literally just like fluff no plot romance) I feel like im trying really hard to pour more than JUST romance into this - fame/people pleasing, drugs/addition, female friendships, toxic men/workplaces/dynamics, etc. - and the fact that it's getting across and hitting for you and others makes my heart so so warm. I know it's a silly little fanfiction but it means a lot that people can feel the feels with me - triumphant when y/n gets to assert her boundary, heartbroken when marco dies, forgiving of eren.

especially on my lacy, oh lacy chapter - I was really feeling the depths of comparing myself to other girls and feeling so, like OBSESSED with this one girl who I just think is better that me that it fills me with resentment for her/me/how my brain works. I wrote it into that chapter because it was what i was feeling expecting people to hate on historia/her entire relationship with y/n and I almost cried when every single person was so like....loving of her, of their relationship and never once questioned why she felt that way. like wow, real. art is soothing sometimes. (I am not calling my fic about a 2d man art but you get what im trying to say)

that being said. I got fifty asks begging me to clarify/and or make a happy ending. GUYS I AM STILL THE GIRL WHO WROTE ROOMMATES I PROMISE YOU'RE GETTING A SWEET FLUFFY ENDING THEY ARE ENDING UP TOGETHER THEY ARE SOULMATES THEY ARE FISH TOGETHER.

on the topic of eren and his thought process - I thought hard of whether I wanted to make this a dual pov - more like roommates and decided against it. eren purposely (and sometimes with reason) withholds information from y/n. I have to emulate that for you as readers, but I promise that eren will tell his shit when he tells his shit. and not JUST in the period between reputation and the lucky ones, but all the way back at the start. we're talking met gala, we're talking their breakup, we're talking the reputation songs, the fights they had, and EVEN the interview. all in good time. baby boy is about to tell his truth. y/n makes dumb mistakes but so does he!!!

I hope that clarifies everyones questions and soothes your brains for now!

(and yes. y/n will still be in season four. im not a nutjob.)

[mumblesplash]

wait what's your dick characterization then? in a pervious ask you mentioned you had a pretty concrete perception of dick... do you mind sharing?

oh not at all, although it’s kinda hard for me to figure out how to put stuff like this into words so apologies in advance if this gets a little all over the place

this might be a bit of a weird place to start but given that i’m an artist i have an easier time thinking in terms of visuals, so first off: when i think ‘dick grayson’ i’m almost always referring to nightwing, but i consider ‘used to be robin’ such an integral part of his character that it informs a significant chunk of his design. like i usually draw his hair neatly cropped and parted symmetrically down the middle, reminiscent of but not exactly the same as this kind of hairstyle:

which is kinda funny considering when i do draw him as robin i just have his hair sticking up all over the place, but in my defense i think he’s too young to care about his hair here

it’s not all about surface level looks though, i see even modern nightwing dick as evoking the general vibe of golden age comics, if more in idealism than aesthetics. he’s got kind of a boy scout thing going on, and it feeds into his approach to vigilantism more than anything else. that’s part of why, if you’re prone to noticing these sorts of things, i always draw him as having better posture and more dramatic body language in costume than in civvies

might be as good a time as any to bring up that i think dick is a standout case among all the bats concerning his secret identity — i think nightwing and dick grayson are distinct aspects of his personality, but they are both equally Him. to contrast—there’s an argument to be had as to whether or not batman is the ‘real’ bruce, at the very least his two identities seem starkly separated from each other, i don’t see cass as being meaningfully distinct from black bat/orphan(?) at all, to jason red hood is a symbol and a statement and a threat, to damian robin is a legacy, etc. dick grayson and nightwing are just different genuine pieces of the same person.

as for more specific personality stuff, despite the Classic Superhero streak i think dick is ultimately more devoted to people than any kind of moral code. so like for instance the fact that he follows the no-kill rule has much more to do with loyalty to bruce than his own ideals. i don’t think he *wants* to kill in general (more than anything else i see dick grayson as just a deeply, profoundly Good person. not to say he’s perfect or can’t make mistakes, but in my more melodramatic moments i’d just outright say his real superpower is having the strongest moral compass in the entire dc universe) but his strict adherence to that rule isn’t due to personal conviction or some kind of necessary self-control

on an interpersonal level (and i’m keeping this within the batfam bc 1) limited knowledge and 2) this is already getting long) i’ve mentioned before i think he’s got a serious case of eldest daughter syndrome, but unlike most such cases he’s actually pretty well equipped for dealing with it. to an extent. he takes on responsibility almost automatically, and has an impressive capacity for managing people and anticipating what they need (emotionally or otherwise). combined with his experience leading a team, his training, and being a naturally gifted strategist, he has a hard time justifying looking the other way when his family needs him. unfortunately he’s also one of those people who keeps operating at peak performance right up until the second he falls apart entirely, and he’s much more cognizant of his physical limits than his emotional ones.

(relatedly but kind of a side note, i have a whole Thing about his relationship with damian i’m very in my feelings about it don’t look at me)

imo the fanon idea of him as The Fun One or the emotional one is wildly oversimplified and downplays his competence, but there’s a little bit of truth to it, in that a lot about dick grayson flies directly in the face of the darkness he’s surrounded by. tbh if i had my way he would always be written specifically as a slap in the face to anyone who sees kindness as naive, but i understand that my desire to weaponize fiction in response to things i find mildly irritating is “unsustainable” and “you can’t just do literally everything out of spite” or whatever

but also lowkey i think my joke character summary for him from way back in like january when i knew almost nothing abt dc and was p much just poking fun at the fandom still kinda hits

[alwaysmarveling]

The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them. 

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

[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. 

[here4theheartbreak]

Breadsticks & a Boyfriend (kth/jjk)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Taehyung Genre: smut, pwp Final Rating: Explicit Word Count (Chapter): ~3.4k

Tags (more added as needed): smut, PWP, strangers to lovers, rough sex, dirty talk, sex toys, face fucking, coming untouched, shy Jungkook

Summary: When Taehyung took a simple order of pizza, breadsticks, and a soda to a customer on a rainy day, he had no idea how good his tip would be.

A/N: This fic was written for the @bangtanwritingbingo Summer Bingo square Jungkook x Taehyung and also for @venusiangguk who requested TaeKook with prompt #11: “Is it an oral fixation or do you just not want to talk to me?”

The life of a pizza delivery boy was far more interesting than one would think. Though it was a lower end, minimum wage job, for someone like Taehyung, it was excellent. He was a natural social butterfly. Outgoing, bright, vibrant, always seeking to make new friends. This job allowed him to meet a whole variety of people. Who didn’t like pizza? Upper class, snobby elite individuals, right down to the barely surviving folks who managed to scrape together enough for a small delivery once in a blue moon – Taehyung loved meeting them all. 

It was a Friday. It was payday. It was a good day. At least, until the clouds rolled in, darkening the sky and bringing thunder. And unfortunate torrents of rain. But a delivery boy doesn’t get a day off, and orders tended to only increase when the weather was this cruddy. 

Taehyung didn’t mind. Not really. He could handle a little rain and he had a sturdy car. 

The delivery was simple. A large pepperoni pizza, a small order of breadsticks, and a 2 liter of Coke. Simple. Probably a parent with a young child, a college age student, or a babysitter. Should be quick. Probably not a great tip for any of them, but that was okay; he’d had a big delivery to a house party earlier and had made a massive tip… And gotten a cute boy’s number. Taehyung was handsome, so it happened more than one would assume. The jokes about wanting to sleep with the pizza boy weren’t always jokes. Not that he’d ever go through with any of it. It was simple flirtation, it helped with tips. Taehyung figured he’d have to find someone pretty damn special to actually call them back. 

The rain seemed to come down harder as Taehyung drove to the address on his GPS. He reached a cute little house with a nicely kept yard. It was a little bit of a walk from where he was able to park to the porch… The driveway would offer a little more protection and a little shorter distance… Normally he didn’t park in driveways; people tended to sometimes get a little angry – but considering the circumstances…

Taehyung pulled into the driveway, nosing as close as he dared to the garage door. He grabbed the pizza bag and covered it carefully with a plastic sheet before pulling up his hood and getting out. He raced from the driveway to the front door, relaxing only when he was safely on the porch. He knocked once, putting on a broad smile. 

The door opened a crack, and then a little further, and then all the way. And Taehyung, for what it was worth, forgot how to breathe.

Standing in the doorway was the most stunning young man he’d ever seen. The man was just a little shorter than he was, with shaggy brown hair that swooped down nearly over his eyes, parted enough to peek his forehead. He wore thick silver hoops in his ears, two in his right and one in his left. His plush mouth and round nose matched his face perfectly, and dark eyes drew Taehyung in almost immediately. The man’s beauty wasn’t lowered or altered in the slightest by the fact that he was wearing a sweater and sweats, his feet bare. He smiled softly, his nose crinkling up. 

Taehyung beamed. “Hey. Pizza. You’re…” He glanced at the nametag on the receipt. “Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook nodded. He glanced over Taehyung shoulder, his small smile drooping. “Come inside,” he said softly, stepping aside. 

“Oh, thank you.” Taehyung stepped inside just enough for Jungkook to close the door, and crouched to take out the food. He handed it over to Jungkook quickly. “Pouring out there,” he commented.

“Flooding,” Jungkook agreed. 

Taehyung scowled at that. He turned, glancing out the window. As Jungkook had commented, the streets were nearly filled with water, pouring in rivets in certain areas. Taehyung’s body went cold. “Oh God, it got worse.”

“Doesn’t look safe to drive in,” Jungkook muttered. 

Taehyung sighed heavily. He turned back and smiled as best he could. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He turned to grab the doorknob, but Jungkook rushed forward, grabbing his wrist. 

“It’s a flash flood. News said it was dangerous. You should stay until it’s lightened up.” His voice was soft and timid, barely above a whisper. Either he was terrified, or truly the shiest man in the city. But he seemed genuine in his concern, and Taehyung felt a strange peace come over him at that.

“I’ll call my boss.” Taehyung turned and pulled out his phone, dialing his boss’ number.

“Kim Taehyung! Are you safe? It got so bad out there, I was worried sick.”

“I’m fine. I’m at the last customer’s house.”

“I shouldn’t have sent you out in this mess. Can you make it back?”

“The roads are pretty flooded. I was calling to ask if I could stay out. Until they clear up. I’ll work extra hours tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay safe. Do you know the customer?”

“No, but he’s letting me stay until it clears up. I’ll let you know when I make it home.”

“Thank you, keep me updated.”

Taehyung hung up and smiled. “She’s okay with me not going back. Uh… Thanks for letting me hide out here until the weather lightens.”

Jungkook nodded. He looked down at the food in his hands and turned, setting it on his table. He turned back, chewing his bottom lip. 

Taehyung blinked, unsure what to do. He watched Jungkook disappear through a doorway and then return, holding out a paper plate toward Taehyung. 

“Are you offering me lunch?” Taehyung asked. Jungkook nodded, pulling open the pizza box. 

“Thanks.” Taehyung kicked his shoes off and hung his hoodie before he stepped up, taking a slice of the pizza. “I’m Kim Taehyung.” He stuck out his hand. Jungkook smiled shyly and shook it. He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it, grabbing a breadstick and sticking it into his mouth instead.

Taehyung laughed a little.

He sat at the table, watching Jungkook eat.

“Do you live alone?” He asked. Jungkook swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and nodded, quickly adding more food to his mouth. 

Their lunch continued in that manner – Jungkook would answer yes or no answers, always adding food to his mouth, a drink, or biting on something to keep his mouth too full to give Taehyung much of an answer at all. Despite the one-sided conversation, Taehyung was thoroughly intrigued by Jungkook. He wanted to know everything about him. Namely, why he refused to speak. 

Despite his quiet nature, Taehyung could feel Jungkook looking at him whenever he looked away. A few times their gazes met, and Jungkook’s was intense enough that Taehyung found himself a bit flustered. For someone who refused to speak, he was certainly showing plenty of interest.

After lunch, Jungkook wandered over to the couch. He looked at Taehyung and patted the seat next to him. Taehyung smirked. He settled next to Jungkook, turning his attention to the television when Jungkook turned it on, flipping through the channels. He picked up the string on his sweatshirt as he did, sticking it into his mouth and chewing gently on it. 

Taehyung chuckled a little. He relaxed back against the couch, glancing over at Jungkook every little bit. Even relaxed like this – the boy was stunning. His profile was nearly perfect. He could easily be a singer or a celebrity.

“What do you do for a living, Jungkook?” Taehyung finally asked. 

Jungkook looked over, his eyes wide. He dropped the string from his mouth. “I— I’m computer. I program. Computers.” He stuttered. 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Taehyung grinned. “You must be super smart, that’s such a cool job.” 

Jungkook smiled shyly. He stuck the string back in his mouth, gnawing on it. 

“I’m finishing up college myself,” Taehyung continued, looking back at the television. “For photography and media design. I absolutely love art in all forms.”

He glanced at Jungkook from the corner of his eye, catching the other eyeing him up and down. A slow smirk crossed his lips. 

“You know, Jungkook… I’ve gotta ask.” He looked back at him and reached out, tugging the sweatshirt string from his mouth. “Is it an oral fixation, or do you just not want to talk to me?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He covered his mouth and tilted his head a little.

“No, I—I don’t not want to talk to you. I mean, I—” He squeaked a little, covering his ears. 

Taehyung’s grin grew. “Are you really so shy?”

Jungkook lowered his gaze and nodded. 

“Well you don’t have to be.” 

Instead of responding, Jungkook slipped his finger into his mouth, chewing the skin around the side of his fingernail. 

Taehyung reached out, pushing his hand down. He shifted over a little, staring until Jungkook looked at him.

“You’ve been checking me out all afternoon.”

“You noticed?” Jungkook squeaked. His cheeks began to redden in little blotches, chest rising a little faster. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“It’s creepy,” Jungkook muttered.

“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m pretty flattered.” Taehyung reached out, hesitating a moment before touching Jungkook’s cheek with his hand. “Not often a stunning young man looks at me like that.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Jungkook whispered. He looked away, but didn’t pull his face away from Taehyung’s grip.

“I’ve been looking at you too, Jungkook.” Taehyung paused, letting Jungkook look at him once more. When he did, Taehyung continued. “We’re both adults. If you do have an oral fixation… Well…” Taehyung wet his lips, leaving the question unasked. 

Jungkook’s eyes dropped down to his crotch, and Taehyung smirked. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Is that what you were thinking about?”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He bit on his lips, sucking them in until they formed a fine line. Taehyung pushed a little further, stroking his thumb over Jungkook’s mouth. 

“It’s okay if it was. You just need to tell me. So that I know how to respond.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened just enough to be noticeable. He released the grip on his lips, then bit his bottom lip once more, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “What if I was?” He kept the same soft voice, but there was something else. A rough, needy tone that sent the blood straight to Taehyung’s cock. 

“I guess I’d have no choice but to oblige your curiosity. I can’t deny a cute boy his wants, now can I?” Taehyung rose. He put his hands on his jeans, hesitating. “Is this what you were thinking about, Jungkook?”

Jungkook nodded, his eyes glued to Taehyung’s crotch. 

Taehyung undid his jeans. He could not honestly believe he was doing this. He pushed his jeans and boxers down, letting them pool around his ankles. His cock was already standing at attention, mostly hard at the prospect of having Jungkook in any way.

Despite his shyness, Jungkook responded immediately. He sank to his knees and stroked Taehyung’s cock twice before opening his mouth. Taehyung pushed his hips forward slowly, letting his smooth tip slide over Jungkook’s tongue. 

“Holy shit... Suck on it.”

Jungkook’s lips closed immediately and he began to suck, bobbing his head easily along the shaft. Taehyung’s toes curled. He buried his fingers in Jungkook’s soft curls, letting his head fall back. His cock hardened the rest of the way within seconds. Taehyung snapped his hips forward until the tip of his cock bumped the back of Jungkook’s throat. He looked down.

Jungkook gagged once, screwing his eyes shut. Instead of pulling back, he shifted, swallowing the spit pooling around Taehyung’s cock. He moved back a little and pushed forward. Taehyung felt his tip bump his throat again, and the convulsion of his throat, and then it relaxed. 

Taehyung shouted when his tip slipped into Jungkook’s warm, tight throat. He began to pump his hips gently, not wanting to hurt Jungkook, but wanting to savor that tight, unique feeling. He pulled his cock free, marveling at how slick with spit it was, shining in the lamplight. Jungkook let his mouth hang open, drool spilling out over his chin and onto his lap. His cock was tenting the front of his sweats obscenely.

“You getting off swallowing my dick, pretty one?” Taehyung teased, slapping Jungkook’s cheek with his cock. 

Jungkook nodded. He leaned back, pulling his sweats down around his knees. His cock wasn’t huge, but it certainly was hard, dripping precome the moment it was exposed.

“Can you come from this, sweetie?” Taehyung cooed. He rubbed his cock over Jungkook’s lips.

“Almost,” Jungkook whispered. “As long as I can finger my ass.”

“Do you have toys?”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Go put one in for me. One that will help you come. I want you to squirt without touching yourself.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jungkook rose. He tugged off his sweats and rushed off. Taehyung stroked his cock lazily, Jungkook’s spit slicking the way. 

Jungkook returned with a thick, curved dildo in one hand.

“Wanna stick it up my ass?”

“I’d love to.” 

Jungkook crawled onto the couch. He let his head hang over the edge, and slung his back and hips up the back of it, folding himself up so his knees nearly touched his chest. The angle exposed, and spread, his ass beautifully. Taehyung spit against his hole, smirking when it fluttered and Jungkook giggled.

“I was fingering myself before you came,” he explained. “Just stick it in.”

Taehyung did as he requested, sliding the silicone cock past his tight rim. Jungkook moaned contentedly, his dick dribbling precome onto his upper chest.

“Jungkook...” Taehyung said, nestling the toy neatly between Jungkook’s ass cheeks. “Can you come on your own face in this position?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Let me know when you’re close... I wanna see that.”

Taehyung shifted, rubbing his cock over Jungkook’s lips once more before sliding into his warm mouth. The new angle let Taehyung watch his cock slowly slipping in, each bob of Jungkook’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed, easing the way for the sensitive tip to finally slip into his throat. Despite having been there earlier - the feeling still caught Taehyung off guard. He lightly rested his hand on Jungkook’s throat as he began to pump his hips. Much to his surprise, right at the start of his throat, Taehyung could feel a little bulge on each inward stroke. He rubbed it gently, gasping at the sudden pressure. 

“Oh god, I’m really in your throat—“ he panted. He pulled back and Jungkook gasped in a breath. He grinned, his eyes shut. 

“Where’d you think I was putting it?” He teased. 

Taehyung slapped his bare ass, working the dildo deeper, and Jungkook moaned.

Taehyung slid his cock back into his mouth, gripping the base of the dildo. One hand rested over Jungkook’s throat, rubbing lightly each time he pumped his cock. The other he used to tug the dildo, not enough to pull it free from the clench of Jungkook’s rim, but just enough to tease. 

Jungkook moaned around Taehyung’s cock, the wet gulping noises adding to the obscenity - and sexiness - of the situation. 

Jungkook’s cock was leaking precome freely, dribbling clear streaks over his heaving, sweat slicked chest. He began to tap Taehyung’s thigh and pointed at his cock.

Taehyung pulled out, and Jungkook moaned loudly. He reached down, holding his ass open further, and pushing his hips up more. His cock twitched and throbbed visibly. Taehyung began to work the dildo quicker, angling it against where his prostate should be. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back.

“Stick it down my throat,” he begged. His voice was rasping and dry. He opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out.

Taehyung obeyed, sliding his cock in. Jungkook’s nose nuzzled against his tight, full balls, and he gagged, his cock twitching. Taehyung struggled to hold still as Jungkook began to swallow and moan around him. The squeeze was bordering on uncomfortable, but Taehyung barely noticed. Jungkook was moaning against him, the vibrations tingling up his cock and all the way to his toes. He almost missed the desperate tapping on his thigh for a second time. 

He pulled out, and Jungkook jerked hard. He burped, his cheeks pinking up even more, and his cock began to spurt. The first rope landed on his chin, milky and thick. Jungkook tilted his head just enough and the next two spurted into his open mouth. Taehyung went forward, sliding his cock in. The final hot rope streaked over his shaft, making him shudder. He pushed his cock deep into Jungkook’s mouth, feeling the silky slide of Jungkook’s come as it coated his cock. 

He began to pump his hips, chasing his orgasm. “Gonna come in your throat,“ Taehyung gasped, holding Jungkook’s head. Jungkook gave a thumbs up, moaning around his cock.

Two more pumps and Taehyung went still, grunting softly. His cock spilled into Jungkook’s throat, milked by the steady swallows, and urged on by Jungkook’s hands on his ass, holding him deep. The orgasm curled his toes, every nerve alight with pleasure. Each pump he knew he was spilling into the delicate, exposed throat of his pretty new friend. Jungkook’s breath was hot against his balls as he struggled to draw in air and not choke on the come. His own softening cock twitched weakly and dribbled onto his chest. 

Taehyung pulled out only when he began to soften, and Jungkook shot up, coughing and gagging. Taehyung sat next to him, rubbing and patting his back. He reached up, wiping away some of the stray come and spit streaking Jungkook’s face.

“You okay?” Taehyung worried. Jungkook nodded, clearing his throat. He smiled sheepishly. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, his voice raspy. Taehyung rose and grabbed the cup of soda from the table, bringing it over to Jungkook. Jungkook rose just enough to pull his sweats up before slumping back onto the couch and taking the cup from Taehyung. 

Taehyung fixed his jeans, glancing around. 

“So that was… Something…”

“Were you pleased?” Jungkook asked softly, staring into the cup. 

“Was I—Of course I was pleased, you were great. I’ve never had someone… So happy to do that. Do you really like it when people…”

Jungkook nodded again. “I don’t get the opportunity often. I’m too shy to really make friends, let alone proposition someone.”

Taehyung sat back down next to Jungkook. “Look, we just met… And I didn’t, obviously… Plan for any of this. So, you would be well within your rights to tell me to fuck off…” 

Jungkook looked over, tilting his head a little curiously.

Taehyung smiled. “God you’re cute,” he sighed.

Jungkook giggled a little at that, lowering his gaze. “I already sucked your dick,” he said softly. “You don’t need to butter me up.”

“What if I’m buttering you up for something else?” Taehyung asked. Jungkook looked back up.

“Like what?”

“A date.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, making them disappear into his shaggy bangs. “A date? W… With you?”

“Yeah, with me. I like you. I want to get to know you better. What do you think?”

“I—” Jungkook seemed to freeze, pinching his lips together in a fine line. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” Taehyung worried.

“No, I – I want to. I just… Why?”

“Because I like you.” Taehyung shrugged. “You want to?”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Great. Uh… Well, I mean… Obviously I’m already over but… Maybe this weekend?”

“I’d like that.” 

Taehyung grinned. He pulled out his phone and handed it over to Jungkook. “Your number, if you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jungkook took it and typed it in. As he did, Taehyung rose, peeking out of the blinds. 

“Looks like the flooding has gone down enough. I should probably get back to my work.”

Jungkook nodded. He rose, fixing his own pants. He handed Taehyung’s phone back. 

“Text me so I can get your number… Drive safe, okay?”

Taehyung nodded. He pulled on his jacket and toed into his shoes. Jungkook moved up to him, looking shy once more. 

“What?” Taehyung teased. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Can’t get enough of that oral fixation, eh?” Taehyung joked. He reached out, brushing his thumb over Jungkook’s bottom lip. “Of course you can.”

He pulled Jungkook into a gentle kiss, holding him close. It was funny, he realized, as they separated and he hurried out the door to his car. A simple twist of fate – a forced meeting – a simple call for a pizza on a rainy day – could change an entire life. 

[sariahsue]

Footsteps

Marinette’s about to get married to her soulmate, a man she’s never met before. Too bad she meets that cute groomsman in the hallway first. Rated G. 4,000 words.

***

Marinette bunched the white lace of her train into her fists and walked faster, eyes searching the empty marble hallway. Just keep walking. She could get through today. One foot in front of the other.

All she needed was some fresh air. She thought a building as enormous as this one would have at least one window that she could open. Instead, sunlight streamed through vaulted arches taller than the bakery she'd lived in her whole life, mocking her.

Marinette poked her head around a corner into a side hallway, saw nothing but closed doors, expensive paintings (that couldn't be an actual van Gogh, right?), and a plush white rug, and walked past.

All she needed was a few quick breaths, a little bit of air to cool off her flushed face, and a few minutes away from her hovering family and bridesmaids so she could pull herself together. And then she would get right back.

How big was this building? Each hallway she looked down offered a new way to get lost, with smaller hallways coming off of the side hallways and as many doors as there had been guests and staff just an hour ago. She gripped her train harder. Staff that had disappeared to the banquet hall to set up for the reception. Guests that were nowhere in sight because they were being seated in the chapel right now.

A door snapped shut somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, her heart in her mouth at having been caught, but no one was there. Her eyes traced crystal vases on marble tables only put there to break up the vast space the building contained. Nothing moved. And nothing looked familiar.

Can I even find my way back now? 

It was a problem she would have to deal with later. She didn't have the capacity for one more thing to go wrong right now, so she marched forward to continue her quest.

Her heels click-clicked as she walked across the polished floor, and she could have sworn she heard the door closing once again.

The shoes were going to give her away. With shaking fingers, she reached down and unstrapped them. They swung from her hands as she kept going.

Just a few days ago, Marinette had been so excited to finally meet her soulmate and get married. Why had the feeling deserted her today?

She knew the answer. All week it had been building, but now that the day was here, the swirling anxiety that had been simmering below the surface of her joy just couldn't be ignored any longer.

Most people gave themselves a few weeks or at least a few days after meeting their soulmate to get married, but her husband-to-be, Adrien, had insisted on being "traditional." No seeing each other until the wedding. She hadn't even talked to him on the phone yet. They would fall in love at first sight, as she walked down the aisle. If she'd met him before, maybe right now she wouldn't be so-

Marinette bumped into a glass-topped side table, sending the empty crystal vase on top tilting dangerously. Dropping her train, she managed to grab it before anything smashed. She stood there, frozen, listening, waiting to see if anyone would scold her, but no one was around. With a whispered "Sorry!" at the vase, she put it back in its place and kept searching through the maze of hallways.

It must have cost a fortune to rent this humongous mansion for the day. A new worry stuck in her throat. I'm not going to be able to fit in with my husband's family, am I?  Adrien would love her completely. That's just how it worked. But what if her in-laws hated her because her parents weren't rich too?

Her panic spiral was halted by the sight of a familiar blue rug pattern in one of the side hallways. Marinette made her way over, window quest forgotten, and she tripped over her dress the whole way there.

The long, white walls were filled with paintings of fruit and flowers, like the ones she used to make in art class (but with lighting skills so good it made her want to cry), and no… she hadn't been down this way before. Even as upset as she was, the artist in her would have remembered.

Marinette took a few seconds too long to glare at an apple, and by the time she heard the whispering, it was far too late for her to hide.

"Sneaking," a male voice whispered.

Marinette turned toward the voice. Had someone seen her? Did someone know she was roaming the building alone? She saw no one. And she saw nowhere she could quickly hide.

A few feet in front of her, the hallway turned a corner and continued out of sight. Some of the hallways had been like that, leading to more corridors and rooms that she hadn't bothered to explore. The footsteps came closer.

"Sneaking around the corner."

If she held very still, maybe he wouldn't notice? She walked backwards and pressed into the white wall, the fabric of her dress rustling loudly with every step, every breath she took.

His shoes squeaked as a hunched figure came into view.

"I'm not sneaking!" Marinette blurted out as soon as she saw him.

He jerked up straight.

She noticed three things instantly. He was blond. He was holding his hands around his eyes, like binoculars or a mask, and he was in the nicest tuxedo she had ever seen.

The man was also quite a bit taller than her, but he still jumped back in alarm when he saw her, and finally lowered his hands. Brilliant green eyes went from shocked to soft and warm and inviting.

"S-sorry," he finally said. "I was the one sneaking around. No worries."

"Oh," Marinette said, heart beating in her throat. "Right. I wasn't sneaking."

He smiled, and Marinette was glad she was already leaning against a wall. He had to be the single most beautiful human being she'd ever met her in life.

"Um, nice to meet you?" he said. When he held out a hand to shake, she quickly took it. His hand was soft and gentle and warm. No ring on either hand that she could see. Gorgeous and single!

Guilt swept through her, making her drop his hand. Here she was, getting married in literally a few minutes and ogling someone else. But he was still smiling at her. No, she had to stop thinking like a single woman. But he was so pretty.

"Of course. So, uh," He looked down at her dress. "You must be the bride, huh? Marinette? Nice to meet you."

Sweat prickled on the back of her neck. Judging by his outfit, she'd just been caught by a member of the groom's wedding party, a groomsman or a family member. Would he tell her future husband that she was out here getting cold feet? Not that it wasn't true, but she didn't want her soulmate to know about it.

"And you are?" she asked, hoping to divert attention away from herself. "One of the wedding party, right?"

"Yeah," he whispered and reached for her hand again. "I am. I was out here looking for you. I'm A-"

She shrank back. No matter how much she wanted to, she shouldn't be thinking about him this way. She was getting married to someone else.

The man dropped his hand quickly, eyes roaming her face, like he was looking for what he had done wrong. When he couldn't find anything, he ran his fingers through his hair and stammered out an apology. Marinette watched each lock fall back into place, the light catching each strand and making him glow.

"I'm-" he tried again, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Ni- W-winston."

"Winston?" Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little. That was the least French-sounding name she'd ever heard.

"Winston the groomsman," he said, not looking at her. "Yes, old family name. My father's name, and his father's name, and I think I have an old uncle. Because we're British way back there somewhere on my mother's side-"

"Nice to meet you, 'Winston.'" It was apparent he was nervous, and she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "What are you doing out here? You were looking for me?"

"Um." He looked around the hallway for inspiration, and Marinette immediately regretted her question as she watched his discomfort grow.

"I- He- The groom wanted to meet you before the wedding," Winston confessed.

"He did?"

"Yeah, he wanted to break tradition and see you, but Fa- his father is stifling stick in the mud."

"Yeah?" The knowledge was somehow both comforting and unsettling. She and her future husband had both wanted to meet first, but her father-in-law… she wasn't going to fit in.

"Yeah," he breathed. "He can't wait to meet you. But he couldn't get away, so I thought I'd come out here. And, wow, he's going to love you. You're amazing."

Marinette flushed at the compliment. "Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Love and first sight and everything?"

"Sure," Winston said, "but you know what I mean."

In the distance, an organ started playing softly, but Marinette barely heard it. This man would go through all that trouble for a friend of his? He was so kind, and she was going gooey under his intense gaze.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked quietly.

Just like that, the glow was gone. Would he believe the truth, that she was just hoping for some fresh air? He might be sympathetic. But he might not be. Who would feel sorry for a bride on her wedding day?

"I was… looking for the bathroom and got super lost." She adjusted her skirt with one hand to give herself something to do and then laughed nervously. "This place is such a maze."

Winston didn't answer right away. He studied the train of her dress, mouth a thin line of disappointment. Her shoes dangled from her loose fingers as she waited, and she adjusted her grip.

"You don't have to get married today, you know," he said. "You can call it off."

Marinette squirmed at how perceptive he was - or maybe she was just obvious - and pushed her hair out of her eyes. When it fell back into place, Winston reached out to tuck it behind her ear but stopped himself. His hand hung there awkwardly between them until he let it slowly fall.

"It's okay to be nervous," he said. "I know lots of people who didn't go through with their weddings. Loads."

Marinette smiled at the lie, grateful he was trying in spite of everything, though she was still a little worried he was going to tell Adrien about this conversation, or that word would somehow get to her future in-laws. She wasn't sure which would have been worse, giving her in-laws ammunition or disappointing Adrien.

"No, I really did get lost," she said. "I didn't mean to get all the way over here." And to make it sound convincing, she added, "Do you know the way back?"

"I can walk you." Adrien stood up straight, his smile returning.

"Oh, you don't have to," Marinette said quickly. There might still be a chance for her to find a window and that breath of fresh air she'd been hoping for.

"I insist." Winston held out an arm for her, and like the idiot she was, she eagerly took it. His free hand settled over hers, and they began to walk.

Her heels swung from her other hand, and without their added inches, the difference in their height was ludicrous. But Winston didn't comment on it, just matched her pace without making her feel rushed.

Together, they left the small hallway and stepped back into the still deserted main hallway. Sunlight poured through the windows, reflecting off the gleaming floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers high above. Winston's hand on hers was comforting, and he was so sweet to help her, but now there was no chance for her to get away.

Feebly, she said, "I think I recognize this part now. You can get back."

"Oh, they won't miss me," Winston said. "I'll make sure you get back safe. Is there anything else you need?"

Marinette sighed. As kind as he was handsome, and she hoped he never removed his hand from hers. Why did he have to be so nice and gentle?

After several more turns, she really did start to recognize things. How had she wandered so far? Her family must have been worried by now.

Marinette didn't bother to escape from him again, and Winston didn't let go of her, even when they stopped in front of the bride's room with its white and blank, gleaming, bronze plaque.

"I can't wait to see you coming down the aisle in a few minutes," Winston said. He lowered his arm, and her hand slipped away from his sleeve. She felt the loss of his touch immediately. "I mean, if you still want to," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine," she squeaked. "Thanks."

"Okay," he said, waving goodbye without moving away. "Great. See you."

Yup. He was definitely the most adorable, sweet, and beautiful man she'd ever met. "Why couldn't I be marrying this guy?"

Winston took a step back. "What?"

Huh? She'd said that out loud? She'd said that out loud! 

Fumbling for the handle behind her, Marinette said a hasty goodbye and launched herself through the door and slammed it shut without looking at his expression. What was she supposed to do now?

"Girl, where have you been?"

In seconds, Alya, Sabine, and Tom were gathered around her. Marinette leaned her back against the cool door, wondering if Winston was still staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"Are you all right?" her father asked.

"Just needed some fresh air," Marinette said, staring at their shoes. "Then I got lost. Have you seen this place?"

"Marinette," Sabine said, lifting her daughter's chin with one soft hand. "You can tell us the truth."

The tension in Marinette's body all came out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped, and she slid down the door two inches.

Tom brought over a chair, and Marinette tried to sit down, only to find that her dress was caught in the door. What else could go wrong today? Without peeking into the hallway, she opened the door and removed her train - to her relief, it didn't look like she'd ripped it - and then collapsed into the chair.

"It's okay to be nervous," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded, though that wasn't the entire problem anymore. She was supposed to be marrying a friend of "Winston's" in a few minutes, maybe his best friend or even his brother. He would be standing there, witnessing her marriage, knowing what she'd just said. How was she supposed to show her face out there now?

Her parents and Alya doted on her, trying to put her fears at ease, but it was only making everything worse. She couldn't ignore her anxiety while everyone was talking about it. They flitted around the small room, fetching her water, guiding her to sit down in front of the triple mirror vanity, offering to brush her hair out. "That always calmed you down when you were little," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded.

"If it makes you feel better," Tom said, "I'm sure he's just as nervous as you are. I was nervous, too."

"Everyone expects you to be a little anxious." Sabine picked up the bristle brush while Marinette avoided looking at herself in the mirror. "You're marrying someone without ever having met him. That's terrifying. But you're going to be okay."

Marinette nodded again, dumbly. They waited for her to say something, respond with her usual cheerful attitude, and when she didn't, Alya jumped in.

"Sabine, didn't you get married and move to France at the same time?"

All four of them knew the story. Marinette had grown up hearing it, had loved hearing her parents' own love story.

"I found out my soulmate's name two days after my twenty second birthday," she said. Marinette could almost mouth the words along with her mother, they were so familiar. "I couldn't believe he was so far away. I started teaching myself French almost immediately, but the first time we got on the phone to speak to each other, all I could say was hello!"

A tug on Marinette's scalp told her that Sabine had found a small knot. She set the brush down and started to pick at it with her fingers.

"I moved away from home to a strange country, and was learning a new language, and was nervous about meeting my soulmate, but as soon as I saw him, it didn't matter," Sabine said. "You're going to be fine. As soon as you see him, you'll love him, and everything will be okay."

"I know all that," Marinette said. "But I'm scared now!" Not to mention distracted by "Winston," and the crushing guilt that reminded her she shouldn't be.

"Well," her father cut in. "What do you want to do about it, Marinette? Do you feel like we should wait a little bit?"

"Yeah," Alya added. "We can tell them there's something wrong with your dress or whatever if you need a few more minutes."

"I'm sure Adrien would understand," Sabine said. "He seemed very kind when we talked to him."

A few more minutes sounded wonderful, a chance to collect herself, do delay the inevitable. Or a chance for her anxiety to get worse. She took a deep breath. "No, let's just get this over with."

"Very convincing." Alya picked her clutch up off the vanity and started fishing around inside it. "You sound so pumped. Let me just text Adrien." Alya pulled out her phone.

"No," Marinette said, covering the phone with one hand. Her fake nails clicked on the screen.

"Waiting's not going to make it easier. I don't need any more time to worry. It's like you said, when I see him, everything will be fine. So let's just so see him. I want to see him."

"All right." Alya dropped her phone onto the table and grabbed the eye shadow. "Come here, then."

Marinette sat as still as she could while Sabine finished her hair and Alya did her makeup and Tom hovered around, asking what he should do to make her feel more comfortable. When they didn't give him any ideas, he started telling funny stories from Marinette's baby days.

Marinette only half listened, making sure to smile when someone else laughed. Maybe Winston had asked "What?" because he hadn't heard what she'd said. She had said it quietly, after all. That was logical.

Eventually, Tom had to leave the room to check on how things were progressing. Marinette missed his voice and his stories. The silence was too easy for her anxious mind to fill.

If she could just make it a few more minutes, if she could just make it to the altar, then she'd fall in love with her soulmate at first sight and everything would be great. No more worrying. No more wondering.

The final piece of her outfit, her veil, was laid out neatly on the flower-print sofa, waiting for her. When Alya declared her face perfect and Sabine could find no hair out of place, Marinette strapped her heels back on and stood, knees shaking, and retrieved her veil. She seemed like another woman in the mirror as she watched herself put it on.

Marinette did want to meet Adrien. She did. A few days ago, she'd felt excited. Just his name was enough to put a smile on her face. Her parents had met him, and she'd devoured every detail of him they could give her. Elation had bubbled through her chest as she had designed her wedding dress. It had taken weeks to finish simply because she was having so much fun designing it that she hadn't wanted to stop. If she could remember what it had felt like then, maybe she could recreate the feelings now.

The door creaked as it opened, and Tom walked back in. "It's time," he said, extending his arm for her.

Marinette plastered a smile onto her trembling lips and leaned on his arm to compensate for the weakness in her knees. No one else needed to know about her struggle, least of all Adrien.

The walk down the hallway to the chapel didn't take as long as Marinette thought that it should have. The organ music was too loud, but still not loud enough to drown out the breathing and whispers of a room full of hundreds of people, everyone who was ever important to her, and more that she would get to know well in her lifetime as Adrien's wife.

The processional song began to play, and Marinette walked in, staring at the pink petals on the carpet in front of her. Pews creaked and fabric rustled as everyone stood for her. And she kept her face down.

Don't make eye contact with the groomsmen. You're getting married to Adrien, so don't look for adorable "Winston."

Marinette forced her face up, searching out the people she knew. For her bridesmaids and Alya, her mother in the front row. Her school friends throughout the year, aunts and uncles who had flown from all over the world. A few held tissues, some waved at her. They were all smiling.

Everyone was smiling except for her.

She should be looking at her new husband - her soulmate - for the first time. He was probably looking at her. Had he already fallen for her? Was he wondering why she wasn't looking at him?

That curiosity was nothing compared to how much she wanted to look for the man she'd met in the hallway. There was something seriously wrong about that. It went beyond the guilt that she felt. It was a strangeness in the situation that she didn't have time to think about.

The line of petals thinned and disappeared halfway to the altar, and the organ music swelled.

The temptation was too great. Marinette raised her eyes, looking at the groomsmen first, looking for the friend that shouldn't have liked as much as she did. Because she was marrying someone else, she reminded herself as she quickly scanned their faces. And because she had only known him for about two minutes. What was wrong with her?

Her gaze skimmed them all twice, three times, but Winston wasn't there. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt before taking a big step to match her father's long stride. The hand holding her bouquet started to sweat.

Could he not bear to watch her marrying someone else? No, that was ridiculous. He didn't feel the same way. He wasn't feeling torn like she was.

He had definitely been part of the wedding party. He'd said so. So who was he?

The carpet ended, and Marinette heels clicked on marble as realization clicked into place. He was part of the wedding party, but not one of the groomsmen, so that must have meant…

For the first time that day, her heart pounded from something other than anxiety.

Marinette held her head high and looked for him. And she found him. "Winston." It had been a ridiculous name anyway. Adrien suited him much better.

Adrien smiled broadly at her. That wonderful smile she first saw out in the hallway was now a hundred times brighter, focused solely on her. He had snuck out to see her, had so gently guided her back when she was lost, had made sure she was comfortable, and offered to call off the wedding.

No wonder she had liked him so much. Love at first sight, just like everyone said.

He reached out a hand for her as she took the last few steps to the altar. Marinette slid her fingers into his, and they fit perfectly.

"Hi, Winston," Marinette whispered as she nestled herself into his side. "Could the groom not get away again? Are you getting married for him too?"

"I said the groom was going to love you," he said. "And I was right."

The last notes of the organ faded away, and a hush settled over their friends and family. This was it. They stepped together up to the altar. The first step of their lives together.

***

Author's note: Merry Christmas! You're getting something completely un-Christmasy. Huge thank you to @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs, @vivalasaturn, and @noirshitsuji for reading over my outline of this and making sure everything made sense!

[bts-reveries]

expect the unexpected | 20

(the images are pretty scattered so be careful in scrolling !)

You couldn’t sleep after your video call with Jin.

He seemed like he had a rough week, with each day that passed by, the kids got more impatient with him and so did he with them.

You were very much aware that Jin was a full time business man, he had time for the kids after work but during work he had to focus. It’s not easy when you have three kids to take care of while you’re also taking care of a company and over a hundred employees.

Of course Jin knew it was his duty as a father to take care of his kids (with you there or not) and he didn’t want to complain, but some days are harder than others. He still loves them, don’t worry.

The two of you talked about asking for help, but remembered how busy all your friends are at this time. Especially knowing how they all have their own kids to take care of, asking them to babysit three kids would be difficult. Not to mention, they all work too.

You gave Jin the idea of taking Haneul to Taehyung’s while his siblings are at school. Taehyung does classes with younger kids at that time which would be perfect for Haneul to join. He’d both be watched over while Jin gets things done at work and he’d also be kept busy. You’re guessing one of the reasons why Haneul liked to cling on to his dad is because he doesn’t have much to do while Jin’s working. His siblings aren’t there to play with him and his toys can only do so much.

“I’ll text Taehyung and let him know I’m taking Haneul in the morning,” Jin says in a tired voice. “While I’m kid free, I’ll get all my meetings out of the way and so by the time I pick up the kids, we could go home and just relax. Then I’ll do all the paperwork when they’re all asleep.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. See? Easy fix,” you say, smiling up at him.

“Easier said than done,” Jin frowns. “I miss you, life was easier when you were around.” You laugh at what he said out loud.

“Yeah because the kids were always with me,” you say. “It’s good that I’m gone for this one week so that you can spend more alone time with the kids. They won’t be little like this forever you know..”

“That’s true,” he sighs. “I don’t know. It’s just… I thought I’d have this down by now. Minseok is eight. I thought it would be easier now that they’re older. But then again, Haneul’s only three. But Minseok and Soojin were never like that when they were his age. I thought it would be easy, working and taking care of three kids. Especially since two of them are old enough to know and listen. But it has been everything but easy… I haven’t asked any of our friends to come over and help. The most help I got was Yeonjun.. Here at work and when he came over our house when I fell asleep and forgot to pick up the kids.” He laughs. “You make it look so easy. How do you do it?”

You look up, thinking to yourself. “Well first, I spend more time with them since I work from home. I know them pretty well. What they like, what they want. We have a routine at home. So we follow it as best we can. But my job is more flexible than yours. I’m not running a whole company and holding meetings. So it’s okay. You’re just going to need a routine to follow I guess. The kids are good with that. You’re doing great right now babe. I know it’s hard, no one said being a parent is ever going to be easy. We have three kids.. right now.” You hesitated in adding those last two words. “They have three very different personalities, and they’re constantly changing. We’ll get through it.”

“I hope so. Come back home soon, okay? You could work from my office or I can work at home from time to time and you can teach me,” Jin says, laying to the side and holding his phone in front of him so it looks like you two are laying in bed across from one another.

You laugh, “okay, I will.”

“And let’s stick to just three kids. I don’t think I can handle any more changes.” Those seven words woke you up so fast. You try to laugh it off.

“Not even a puppy?” You joke. Jin shakes his head.

“We can get a goldfish, maybe.”

You weren’t typically an overthinker, but when you were pregnant with Haneul that’s all you were.

It was around 11:30 in the evening. You ended the call with Jin about half an hour ago because he was getting too tired. It was a long day after all.

You decided to get up and go to the kitchen.

“Mom,” you say, surprised to see your mother sitting at the kitchen counter. “What are you doing up? Are you feeling okay?”

Your mom smiles up at you, gesturing for you to come sit next to her.

“I’m doing great, I just can’t sleep. What about you?” She says, watching you walk up to her.

“I can’t sleep either. I was pretty sleepy until I ended my call with Jin.”

“Why what’s wrong? Did anything happen between you two?” She asks worriedly. You shake your head no.

“Not really… It’s just.. He’s been having a hard time with the kids. You know, there’s three of them and one of him and he’s working full time. It’s difficult.”

“I understand--”

“But that’s not all. He said he only wants three kids. No more. Not even a dog, mom. He said maybe to a goldfish.”

Your mom laughs, in a confused tone. “You’re sounding a little defensive hon, is there something… else? Do you want more kids? Three seems like a good number.” You bite your lip as you listen to her, turning away to look down at your fingers. “What’s wrong?” She asks again. “You’re acting like you’re a teenager again,” she laughs. “You always play with your fingers when you have something to tell me but you’re not sure if you should. I still remember when we had that talk when you had your first kiss.” You roll your eyes.

“Mom,” you say, turning back to look at her, steering the conversation back to where you were in the first place. “What would you say if I told you you’re going to have another grandchild?” Your mom gasps. She puts a hand over her mouth.

“Is your sister pregnant? Did she tell you?” She says, making you laugh.

“No, I’m just asking.”

“Oh,” she says, putting a hand on her heart. “Well, then I’d be happy! I love my babies and my babies’ babies,” she laughs. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because,” you say, turning away again.

“Oh, just tell me,” she says, nudging your side.

“Because.. I’m pregnant.. again,” you say, turning to look at her face. Again, she puts her hand over her mouth and you don’t know if she’s shocked, or happily surprised.

“What?!” you say, “is that bad?” You groan, looking forward and dropping your head onto your hands.

“Nonono! I’m just surprised, I’m sososo happy for you!” Your mom says, leaning over to hug you. “Is that why you’re upset? Because Jin doesn’t want anymore? Does he know?”

“No,” you say, it was muffled by your hands. “No one knows. You’re the first person to know, I just found out.”

“Ohh I feel so special,” she laughs. “It’s going to be great hon, you and Jin make the best babies. Everything will be okay.” She plants a kiss on your head. “You should go ahead and go back home,” she tells you, making you sit back up.

“What?”

“I’m feeling great already, there’s no need for you to stay here and away from your family. Go celebrate this good news with them. I’m sure Jin and the kids would be so happy to see you and are even going to be happier to know they’re going to have a new addition~”

-

~The Next Morning~

“I’m sorry to wake you up so early, Yeonjun,” you say sheepishly. You were currently on the train back home and you called Jin’s secretary, asking him for a favor.

“I was already awake Noona, it’s no problem!” he answered energetically. “Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, I’ll be coming home today, but don’t tell Jin! I wanted to surprise them,” you say.

“Oh that’s great! Jin hyung will be so happy to have you back,” he says.

“I know, but I need you to tell Jin that you’ll be picking up Minseok and Soojin from school later, but really I’ll be picking up the kids and we can go surprise him at work.”

“Okay! No problem, Haneul will be at The Scenery though, so should I say I’m picking him up too so you can get him?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“Okay! No problem Noona. Oh and also, do you need me to pick you up from the train station?”

“Oh no it’s okay, I’m just going to get a cab.”

“I can pick you up before I head to the office, it’s no problem,” Yeonjun says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, noona I’m sure. I’ll see you in a few hours!”

-

It was around 9 in the morning and you had just met up with Yeonjun. You sat in his car, leaning back with your eyes closed. He looks over at you and laughs.

“Are you sleepy noona?” He asks, stating the obvious.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, nor could I sleep on the ride here,” you say.

“Ah, I see. Well, you have a lot of time to nap when I drop you off at your house.”

“Kind of,” you say. “I have a few errands to take care of actually.”

“Like what?” he asks. Well you made an appointment to go get a check up with your obstetrician this morning. Then afterwards, you plan on going to 24/7 Heaven to get a few treats for the kids that you all can share when you get home. Then you’ll go to The Scenery to visit Haneul and take him out on a little date before you two pick up his siblings.

“I have an appointment,” you vaguely tell him. “Then I plan on going to my friend’s bakery to pick up a few things for the kids. Then I’ll go to my friend’s art school to pick up Haneul and take him out on a date.”

“Oh wow, you have a few things on your plate then. Go ahead and nap, I’ll wake you up when we get to your house,” Yeonjun says, focused on the road. You laugh at him.

“Thanks Yeonjun.” He’s your favorite secretary.

-

-

After your appointment, you headed straight to the bakery. You opened the door, instantly being greeted by your friend.

“YN!” Rina yells, waving at you frantically at the counter. You laugh as you get closer to her.

“Hi, you missed me?” You ask, winking at her. A habit you got from your husband.

“Duh,” she says. “Just like how Jungkook has separation anxiety with Jin, I can’t be away from you for too long! I have to at least know you’re in the city.”

You laugh at her, pulling her into a hug over the counter. 

“I thought you were going to be gone for a few more days?” she asks as you two pull away from one another.

“I was. But my mom suggested I come back home since she was feeling a lot better,” you tell her, eyeing a cake on the side. “Can you save that for me by the way?” You point.

“Sure, I’ll put it in the back,” she says. “That’s good though, that your mom is feeling better,” she says as she walks to the back room. She’s yelling so you can hear her. “And also I heard from Jungkook that Jin has been super stressed lately? I’m guessing the whole three to one thing?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “He’s been having a hard time splitting time between work and the kids. They keep clashing.”

“I see,” Rina says, walking back to the counter. “At least your back, they’re still out numbering you but nothing you can’t handle huh?” Rina was the first one you met out of all the girls, you helped her when she was pregnant with Sian since you already had experience and you two basically grew up together. As mothers. She’s practically your little sister. You don’t know this, but you’re her role model. Someone she has always looked up to.

“I guess so,” you laugh. You wish you could tell her right now about number four, but you want Jin to know before any of your friends. 

“Yn! Rina!”

The two of you turn around and see Byul running in. 

“Hey!” you say, turning around to give her a hug. She hugs Rina next. 

“Where’s Sohyun?” She asks, Rina turns around and points to the back room.

“Baking,” she laughs. 

“Oh, duh,” Byul says, smacking her forehead. “How about Taehyung?”

Rina laughs at her, shaking her head. “At his art school. The Scenery? Ring a bell?”

“OH. I--”

“So I’m guessing you haven’t had sleep again?” Rina asks.

“Why what happened?” You ask, feeling like you’re out of the loop.

“Namjoon is working on his new book and he’s let me read some of it! I spent half the night reading the drafts he gave me and I spent the other half crying my eyes out,” Byul tells you with a big smile on her face. Gosh, you love her.

“Are you allowed to tell us about it?” you ask. Byul shakes her head no. 

“Boyfriend said I have to keep my mouth shut,” she says, pretending to zip her lips. 

“Well she didn’t lock it!” Rina laughs, knowing Byul will spill it soon enough. “Should I get you two some coffees?”

“Yes please!”

-

After your little date with Byul (and a little bit of Rina and Sohyun came out later on), you finally made your way to The Scenery. After a quick stop at home to drop off the cake. 

“Hey~” you wave as you quietly walk into the room. 

“You’re back!” Taehyung says, walking up to you to give you a side hug, careful not to get paint on your clothes. 

“I am~ Where’s my kid?” You ask, looking around, not being able to see Haneul.

“Oh Yuna and Bora are in the bathroom with him and Mingyu. They got paint everywhere,” Taehyung says sheepishly. “I swear we were watching them but the second we turned… well you know.”

“That’s okay, thank you though for watching him,” you say with a small laugh.

“Mommy!”

You turn to see Haneul excitedly running towards you, his white sweater stained with red. You let out a laugh. “Haneul, oh my goodness you look like you killed someone.” Probably not the right thing to say to a three year old, but he giggled.

“Me and Gyugyu paint together,” he tells you, turning around to point to his cousin. 

“I know, auntie told me,” you say, pulling him in for a hug. Not caring about the paint. “I missed youuuu,” you tell him, placing kisses all over his cheek.

“I misschu too,” Haneul giggled.

“Hi Gyu,” you waved, extending your arm out so that you could hug him too. Your nephew comes running towards you hugging you tight. 

“I want a hug too!” Bora pouts, running towards you with Yuna right behind her. 

-

“Did I tell you?” Bora says. The three of you were now sitting on a separate table, talking before you and Haneul leave for a mommy-son date. 

“Tell us what?” You ask.

“I’m designing Rina’s wedding dress!” She whispers excitedly. You and Yuna’s eyes widened.

“No way! That sounds so much fun,” Yuna says, putting a hand on Bora’s wrist. “Are we allowed to see it?”

Bora smiles, shaking her head no.

Hmm.. deja vu.

“Rina doesn’t want anyone to see it until the fitting,” she says. You already knew you were going to cry when you see it on her. 

“I bet it’s beautiful,” you say. “Rina’s been dreaming of this, I bet it’s perfect.”

“I hope it is. She gave me a few photo inspirations and I drew it out for her and she loves the design so far.”

“Oh I bet you’re going to design our bridesmaid dresses too huh,” Yuna says, looking at her with wide eyes.

“She’s right,” you say, getting excited.

“Maybe,” Bora answers, looking up. “I don’t know though.”

“Okay, so she is!” Yuna says, the two of you laughing. Bora wasn’t good at hiding things. 

-

“Where we goin’,” Haneul says as you two walked back to your car. He held tightly to his little painting as you held on to his other hand. 

“Well first we’re going to go home and get you changed so we can go on a little date. Where do you want to go?” You say. The two of you got to your car, you had a close parking spot. 

“I wanna play at the park,” he says as you carry him up into his car seat. “Look at my painting mommy.” He says, turning it around. Taehyung had a stack of white paper out for him and Mingyu as they were both painting so much, but Taehyung gave them both one canvas each to paint on and take home. “It's for daddy,” he says. 

“Aww it is?” You say as you buckle him in. “Well you can give it to daddy later, I’m sure he’s going to love it.” Haneul happily smiled at you, then down at his drawing. He was super excited to give it to Jin. 

-

“Okay let’s go change,” you say as you two finally get home. There was a bit of traffic. Haneul immediately runs off, but not to his room.

“Haneul where are you going? Come on, we need to change your sweater,” you say, walking into his room. Haneul tippy toed to reach the door handle of his dad’s office, sneaking inside. He giggles as he runs to his desk, placing his little present on top.

“Haneul?” You called. Your son looks back as he hears your voice, immediately running to his room. “I’m here!” he yells.

“Okay come on, arms up,” you say. You pull his sweater off of him, changing to a clean one.  “Mommy will also pack some snacks to take to the park okay?”

“Okay~” Haneul says as you pull his sweater over his head, making him giggle. He’s such a happy baby whenever you’re there.

-

-

“Thank you everyone, this concludes our meeting.” Jin has finished his last meeting of the day, just in time for the kids to get off of school. 

“Yeonjun,” Jin says. “I’m off, I’m going to pick up the kids now. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he quickly says, grabbing his things and walking out. It was just then when Yeonjun remembered that he was supposed to pick them up. Well, you, but he was supposed to tell Jin that he was so you could. Yeonjun panicked, it completely slipped his mind. After dropping you off back home, Jin had a lot of things for him to do.

“Oh hyung, it’s okay, I’ll pick them up,” Yeonjun says with a forced smile. He grabs his things, about to head off. Jin furrows his brows at him, tilting his head at the younger one. 

“No… it’s okay, I’ll do it. I finished everything I had to do anyways,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you.” Yeonjun knew he couldn’t say anything else to change his mind. Jin had nothing else to do at the building, picking up the kids for him just for him to go home right after was useless. 

“What am I going to tell noona,” he says to himself, watching Jin leave.

-

“Mommy!” Soojin yells as she gets in the car. “Why are you here already?” She says with a huge smile on her face.

“You’re here early,” Minseok says, a smile on his face as well. Haneul is waving at both of them right beside him. 

“I came to surprise you three,” you say. “And now we’re going to surprise daddy at work. Do you think he’s going to be happy?”

“YES!” They all yelled.

-

“Hey Taehyung,” Jin says as he walks into The Scenery. His older nieces and nephews were now there as school had just finished. 

“Hey hyung,” Taehyung says, patting Jin on the back. “What brings you here~ Kidless.” Jin frowns at him.

“What do you mean? I’m here to pick up Haneul, where is he?” Jin says, looking around. 

“Haneul’s not here,” Sian says, looking up at Jin. Jin’s heart stops for a second. 

“What do you mean he’s not here?”

“He was already picked up,” Taehyung says, not knowing that you haven’t told Jin that you’re back.

“By who?!” Jin yells, sighing loudly as he turns around, exiting the room quickly and heading straight to his car without a word from Taehyung. 

“He didn’t even let me answer!” Taehyung exclaimed, watching Jin get in his car from the window.

-

“He already left? Wait, you didn’t tell him?” You say, standing in your husband’s office with your three kids. 

“Jin hyung had me do a bunch of things when I came here! It slipped my mind!” Yeonjun says, freaking out. “I’m so sorry, he’s probably so worried right now but I tried calling him but he left his phone in here.” He says pointing to Jin’s phone on top of his desk. It had about 10 missed calls and 30 messages from Taehyung. 

At that moment, Jin comes barging into the room.

“Do you have any idea who picked up Haneul? Because I came in there and he was gon--” 

The five of you turn around with wide eyes after hearing his voice.

“DADDY!” Haneul yells running towards Jin and reaching his arms up to be carried. 

“HOW DID YOU GET HERE?” Jin yells, he sighs loudly, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “I almost called the police thinking someone stole my child but I didn’t even have my phone with me,” he says, dropping his hands down to bend over and pick Haneul up.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot the other kids.”

“It’s okay! We’re right here!” Soojin yells, making Jin finally look up towards the four of you. Yeonjun smiles and waves sheepishly at his boss while you do the same. You literally didn’t mean to stress him out even more. 

“Yn..” He breathes out.

“Sur.. prise?”

-

expect the unexpected

♡ part twenty: sur.. prise? ♡ 

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: sorry this took so long 😀

also! just to let you all know ~ at this point in the story it’s going to be majority written but will still include some smau pics!

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball  @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @ygbubs @catspancake  @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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[babayagakeanu]

How Will I Know? -part two

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs/reader

Summary: In which the reader finds out that Gibbs is in fact, in love with her too

Warnings: smut, NSFW 18+, oral receiving(female)

It’s been three weeks since your discussion with Gibbs, and he’s been giving you the silent treatment all those 21 days. It was agony, and you felt so small whenever you were near him. His hard gaze towards you made you overthink and regret ever opening up to him like that, and it made it even harder to do your job with Abby. Forensics was hard enough, Gibbs made it even harder when he kept entering the office every hour. 

“Abs! What do ya got?” He says, entering your shared office in a swift motion. You watch the two as they interact, Abby sharing the details of the prints you two had found on the Vic’s jacket. 

“Great job, Abs. Y/n, I expect you to do the same.” Your blood boils at Gibbs’ remark, but you swallow your pride and continue to work on finding DNA matches. Abby looks over to you and grimaces. “He didn’t take it well, did he?” He didn’t at all, you think, acted like a big baby about it. 

You sigh, looking down at your sample and face her. “No he didn’t. He’s been giving me harder tasks and giving me the silent treatment for almost a month.” You swivel in your chair before getting up to continue your rant. “Abby, I thought  Gibbs and I were close. He opened up to me about more than he’s ever opened up to any of you guys, no offense.” 

“None taken!” She responds. “Maybe he’s processing it, giving it some time to swish around in his little noggin. If it gets to a point where you can’t take it anymore, talk to him, y/n. You deserve closure, at the least.” She hugs you, patting you on the crown of your head before getting back to work. The work day proceeds the same, catching the suspect before the two day period runs out. 

———-

It was midnight when you guys had finished, and you and Gibbs were the only ones left at your desks. It’s been hell working in silence; usually you two would find something to talk about, maybe you would ask him about his boat or he would ask you about your latest puzzle. Either way, it was awkward and uncomfortable. 

“Gibbs?” You ask, the waver in your voice instantly detectable. 

He doesn’t look up from his paperwork. “Yes, y/L/n?” He hasn’t said called you by your last name since you were a probie, and that was the last straw.

You shift in your seat, “I think it’s about high time you give me an explanation!” His head snaps up, a glare already storming in his steely blue eyes. “I’ve been honest with you on how I felt about you. Was it the perfect time and place? No. But I don’t regret it. The only thing that I regret about this is letting you leave without telling me the truth.” He’s silent for a moment, trying to call your bluff; only to be found with tears in your eyes and the devastation wreaking havoc on the color of them.

It’s not long until he gets up, reaching to your desk in a few long strides. You can feel your heart hammering in you chest, and the nervousness ate at the pit of your stomach.

“Jethro, are you-?” He yanks you up with one hand, not too rough, but enough to pull you flat to his chest , the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. You smell him; sawdust and bourbon. Smoky with just a hint of manliness.

“I have tried incredibly hard to keep my distance from you because all I want to do is kiss you.” You knew Gibbs wasn’t one for words but even the simplest of sentences behold the deepest meanings. You looked into his eyes, memorizing the image of yourself reflecting back at you, hoping that you will be for his eyes only now on.

“Then kiss me,” you say, craning your neck for him as he dips into your mouth, growling at the taste of your lips against his. His hands travel further, cupping both of your ass cheeks and pressing you into him. You gasp into his mouth, scratching at the base of Jethro’s neck.

“Jethro, please I-“ You whine, backing up into your computer desk, careful of knocking down the computer. “What do you need, babygirl?” You could feel the corner of something digging into your back but you didn’t care. 

“I want you. All of you.” You say, against his lips that were still currently attacking yours.Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the warmth and rigidness of his muscled back. His lips leaves yours, dragging a whine out of you from the loss of contact. 

“Meet me at my place, tomorrow evening. Dinner’s on me, you bring the bourbon.” He leaves you a sweet kiss, another following on the corner of your mouth. You pack up and are about to leave when he stops you. “By the way, you were never just a friend to me.”

You sigh, grinning up at him. “You sure you don’t want to come to my place? I can think of a few ways to prove myself to you. Well, more or less, show you.” He smirks, chuckling before playing with the strap of your bra, peeking out from underneath your short sleeve top. 

“Well, as much as I believe you can show me, I also believe in the art of suspense and surprise. So, tomorrow at eight.” 

——————————————————————————————————

The time to go over Gibbs’ place tonight was almost upon you, the hour hand reaching 6:30. You were in the shower, currently listening to every power-up song there was, and scrubbing your skin until it was red. Once you knew that you’ve been in the shower for way too long, you stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around you and hurried to your bedroom to pick out your outfit. You didn’t want to dress up to much, knowing that Jethro would most likely be wearing a button up t-shirt and jeans. You settled on a tight black shirt, paired with simple blue jeans. You had opted to curl your hair, letting it fall into loose waves and for your makeup, simple but with a bold red lip. It was 7:30 by the time you were done getting ready, so you packed up the bottle of wine and headed to his his house.

The phone rang a few times before he picked up. “Yeah, Gibbs.” 

“You still answer your phone like that with your significant others?” You say, smiling as you turn down his street. 

“Who said you were my girlfriend?” He asks, the joking evident in the way he chuckles at the end. 

“Well, what I’m wearing under my clothes and the way you kissed me last night said otherwise.” You park your car in his driveway. “Now open up Marine or I’m leavin’.” The phone call ends and the door opens, revealing Jethro, who actually looked like sex on legs. He donned a jean button up, and cargo pants. 

“Wow.” Is all he says, watching as your chest gleamed under the light of his kitchen. “Wow, yourself.” You respond, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “You looking like that makes me wanna skip dinner and get to the fun stuff.” He smiles, looking down at your smirking face. “Well, if you keep talkin’ like that, I might end up being hungry for somethin’ else.” He leads you to the kitchen were he made an excellent dinner of steak, potatoes, and some veggies. 

“Why did I known you were a meat and potatoes kind of guy?” You quip, watching as he smirks at you before cutting into his steak. 

“I’m a simple man, y/n. I know what I like.” You knew that his last sentence has a double entendres, and it makes the corners of your mouth quirk up a bit. 

“I don’t doubt that you do.” You say, and the two of you eat your dinner in a comfortable manner, it felt natural, like you knew that fate had brought you together, but you wouldn’t tell him that, not yet. You still had the fear of losing him, of him pushing you away like he did with his ex-wives, and you didn’t want to ever be referred to as Jethro’s ex-wife. 

“Something on your mind?” He asks, cutting through the silence and shaking you out of your head. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking.” You shrug, forking more veggies into your mouth. 

“Nothing is always something. What are you thinking about?” he puts his fork down and rest his elbows on the table, folding his hands. You sigh, putting your fork down.

“It’s gonna sound embarrassing if I tell you.” 

“No, it won’t.”

“Well,” you begin, the fear in your throat rising. “You know how I feel about you, and I’m just thinking about why I took this job in the first place. I love forensics and working with Abs is just one of the many perks of the job.”

He laughs, “ She is a character.” 

“But, I think the biggest perk there was, is you.” You look up at him, and find him walking up to your chair, and lifting you up from it. “Yeah, I think I’d agree too.” His hands ghost up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips find your neck, leaving wet, hot kisses causing you to moan softly and grab his biceps in an attempt to stable yourself. 

��Jethro...” you mumble, watching as he stares down at you with his steely blue eyes, looking at how the icy blue ring deepens with lust. His lips are on yours in a flash, and something tells you he couldn’t handle not kissing you for long. You match his pace, a kiss full of gnashing teeth and hot breath. Your hands reach up to wrap around his neck. “God, you taste so good, J.” You feel his shit-eating grin on your lips before you pull away.

You grab the bottle of wine and two glasses. “Meet me upstairs in ten minutes.” You wink at him before walking off upstairs, not without adding an extra sway to your hips. 

———————-

The Marine had finished cleaning up dinner in record time, and you had finished putting lotion all over your body, brushing your teeth, and positioned yourself in just your panties on his bed; they were lace, of course. It was when you heard Jethro coming up the stairs that the excitement starts eating at the pit of your stomach. You’re sipping on your third glass of wine when he opens the door and stops in his tracks when he sees you.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He states, his eyebrows raised with a smirk. “you’re looking real pretty right about now.” He can tell your nipples are perked, and are in desperate need of attention. “Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth open, come put it to good use, mister.” He smirks, his hands in his pockets as the tightness in his pants grew, he felt it as he was walking towards you. Shoving his socks and shoes off, he climbs on the bed, taking your wine glass and sipping it with once again, a smirk. Setting your wine glass on the bedside table, he envelops your lips in a fiery kiss, licking into your mouth and tasting the Cabernet on your tongue. His hands find your hips, squeezing as he breaks contact with your lips. He sits up as you climb into his lap, your arms ghosting over his broad shoulders meanwhile grinding into his bulge. 

“I love you,” you remind him, watching as his lips turn into this wide smile, as if the heavens opened up to him, and that would be alright because he could die a happy man right about now. 

“I love you, too.” He kisses you, and maybe you were just in a daze but you felt every emotion in his kiss. As if he was telling you something without actually telling you. His lips trail further down your collarbone, sending chills through your spine and when he reaches your taut nipples, it causes you to let out a high-pitched gasp. His tongue swirls around your teased bud, nipping it a little.

“For years, I’ve dreamt of knowing what was under these clothes of yours, and you know what? My imagination is nowhere close to the real thing.” He lays you down, watching as your hair cascades against his pillow. “I’m gonna show you what it’s like to be with a man, sweetheart.” You giggle at him, but it’s suppressed once he dives into your pussy. Licking and sucking at the small bundle of nerves you know most men can’t find. 

“Oh, Jethro!” You gasp, hands tangling themselves into his short silver locks. “Just like that... just like that” you mumble, his fingers working your tight hole, hot, wet, and tight. You were nearing your release when he releases his fingers and mouth, coming back up to kiss you before shedding off the rest of his clothes. “Wha-” he smirks down at you, before tugging at his cock, entering you  in a swift motion. Your gasp was swallowed by another kiss, but he didn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his larger size. Once you tap his shoulder, he moves, slowly but gradually picking up pace once he hears your tiny whimpers and mewls.

“So fucking tight,” he adds, his sharp and heavy thrusts causing your breasts to bounce, and his large hand moved from the pillow by your head to capture your breast. You left out a high-pitched moan as his thrust sends you into overdrive, nails scraping at his shoulders while you moan out his name like a mantra.

“Good girl,” he moans, getting close to his end as well. His thrusts start to sloppy and with a guttural groan, he comes, spilling his hot seed inside you.

——————————————————-

Your fingers were trailing his face, committing his looks to memory, as if one day you’d wake up and he wouldn’t be there. You’re figuring he’s doing the same since he’s looking at you like you’re the only one in the world who’s made him feel so strongly about someone. There were no need for words, because everything has already been said.

———————————————————————-

Taglist: @minninugget @bandgeek88

[thestarswhim]

You know, with Animaniacs having been getting a whole lot more attention again, and with me and my sis reading Scoob and Shag, it got us thinking about what the Warners’ ballyhoos might be. 👁️👁️

So, please take a seat, get comfortable, and read what me and my sister have come up with~

Our first idea was that their ballyhoos would be connected in some way which I'll expand more on as we go. For now, I'll explain how each of theirs work.

Starting with,

✨Yakko Warner✨

Ballyhoo: "Manifest Melody"

As we've seen, this fella likes to sing and tries to at any given opportunity. A lot of songs when it comes to these types of cartoons are either informational, or just tell it how it is (i.e, the events that are happening at the moment, what a character is feeling, like telling a story; basically a musical to put it all simply).

So, whatever Yakko sings, it'll basically happen. If he sung about an anvil falling on someone's head, well then an anvil will appear out of nowhere and fall on that person's head, if they don't manage to dodge in time, that is.

He can only go as far as manifesting physical things into reality and being able to alter the area in some ways (if he were to sing about someone about to fall into a ditch, then a random ditch can suddenly appear in the ground and the character would most likely fall in).

It’s possible he could change the way someone feels. The character would still have full control of themselves, but if Yakko were to sing about how sad and frustrated they must be feeling, then their emotions would embrace that feeling which would possibly make it harder for the character to focus on what they were doing before.

Yakko can’t, however, make it so that he could instantly win. Singing about a character losing won’t just make a character lose, it’ll take a lot more than that, sadly (he doesn’t mind, though, it wouldn’t be fun that way lol). He can’t just make a character simply die, either. 

So, it’s all based on physical things, and he’d only be able to affect a character themselves by emotions alone. If he wanted to physically hurt the character or something like that, he would have to sing out about that anvil or that ditch in the ground, etc.

His singing has to have a flow with the words and rhythm and such, because if it doesn’t, then it simply won’t work. Whatever he made happen while he was singing will reset after he stops using his ballyhoo (meaning, whatever items were there would go away, but stuff like the ditch would stay. It is only physical objects that would disappear). It’s similar to how once a song is over, everything that happened during it would kinda be dismissed and the characters would move on as if they didn’t just have the grandest dance number in the middle of the street. 

Of course, the best way to stop him would be to just find a way to keep his mouth shut which many find difficult because it’s flippin’ Yakko Warner.

All right!! His took a lot to explain, but the next two will be more shorter. ^^

Next sibling is...

✨Wakko Warner✨

Ballyhoo: "Infinite Crave”

It's literally like how Kirby works: his stomach is a huge, never ending, spatial void, a whole other dimension.

Wakko can eat anything and it'll just, y'know, stay in that stomach of a void until he brings it out whenever he wants. It's like a hammerspace except that hammerspace is his stomach LOL

He could spit things out like bullets if he wanted to, and yes, he could inhale things up like a vacuum.

The possibilities on how he'd use it are endless~

He only has a void when he's using his ballyhoo, other than that he has a regular ol' stomach.

Wow that was much shorter LOL, I'm sure there's more to be said, but for now we'll keep it as is. 👍

And now, last, but definitely not least...

✨Dot Warner✨

Ballyhoo: "Lady's Purse"

We both noticed that Dot is the one to use her hammerspace the most (at least in the reboot). She just whips out whatever at any given time. So, we thought she would be the one who perfects the technique of the whole thing; has a better grip on the concept.

Just like a lady's purse, anything can be in it, and so Dot could have anything on her, and bring it out however. Her main weapon is obviously her trademark hammer.

Just for fun she would bring out the smallest, slimmest hand purse ever and take out a car out of it or something just ironically huge and bulky.

Her "hammerspace" isn't as vast as Wakko's "whole other dimension," but whatever she can think of, she's able to bring out (while Wakko has to collect all his stuff externally and store them up).

She can only bring out items, objects, and the like. It can't be an actual person, if anything, it'd be a figurine of the person or something. 😂

Whatever she brings out can't be placed back because, though she can use whatever items as they should be used, they're only basically based on her imagination, so once she uses it, it'll just poof away afterwards, as if it didn't exist (similar to what would happen with Yakko). Just like how certain gags work in cartoons.

If she didn't want to worry about an item being poofed away, she'd use whatever Wakko's got as he can keep using the same items over and over again since he'd just bring whatever out, and after he's done, eat it.

Okay! After describing everyone individually, lets talk about how they could be connected in certain ways.

I kind of already explained it in Dot’s section how she would sometimes use whatever Wakko has got, and mostly he’d have to bring whatever item out and she’d use it.

Buuut, she’s also able to connect to Wakko’s “dimension” and use whatever items from there by taking it out of her own “Lady’s Purse.” It only works when they’re both together, so if they’re separated, she won’t be able to do that.

It’s a good trick to use on an “enemy” if said enemy already knew about how Dot’s ballyhoo worked and be surprised when whatever item she brought out doesn’t poof afterwards.

It’s the same case with Yakko. If he had to get specific about some things, and if Wakko was with him, then Yakko could bring out whatever items from Wakko just by singing, and it would pop up wherever Yakko sings it would pop up (no need for Wakko to spit it out, yaaay). The items used from Wakko would then stay after, like I said with Dot.

Basically, Wakko’s their storage unit LOL And so they’re all aware with what Wakko has stored, but only when they’re together.

Nothing is different when it’s Yakko and Dot, but they do work well together (despite all the arguments that may ensue). She joins in on the singing, helping things happen with her in the mix of it, and it also helps her think up some items to use. Of course, Wakko joins in on the singing, too, and all three of them are just nuisances and we love them.

They’re also more aware meta wise when all three are together. They might notice a speech bubble once in awhile, or look to the audience like they’re in The Office, but it’s nothing serious, they just have fun with it.

Also, I’m pretty sure being locked in the tower would do things.

-

ANYWHO That’s all! I’m sorry if this looks all messy, or if I didn’t explain things well enough, we’re still figuring out some things in the process ourselves, but I think we got the general thing out all in all. 

With all that said, YA WANT SOME ART MADE BY MY WONDERFUL SISTER? These are just sketches more so on their designs, and she gave the okay to show them! :D

Warning: instances of blood are shown

-

She said she might draw more stuff for it, and I'll force her to make an account LOL (/lh), so tune in next time!!

Goodnight, everybody!!

[wormstacheangel]

Smiles with a Christmas Kiss

Merry Christmas @professorerudite 

Summary: Dean and Cas are left behind in the bunker on Christmas Eve. A regular movie day is planned but it slowly becomes a lot more.

It’s Christmas Eve and the bunker was quiet. It was just him and his best friend in this big place, their footsteps echoed the halls like no other time before. When it was just him and Sam the place always felt okay. It was home and it was nice but with Cas - finally human and finally staying - the place felt warm. It was a damn home again. 

Jack followed Sam and Eileen on a holiday trip to Ireland. Of course, Dean had to refuse. Thinking of the long plane ride alone was making him feel sick. Though he insisted Cas should tag along with them - go see the world and all that jazz - he didn’t budge. Insisting he just wants to stay in the bunker. 

Dean didn’t argue. It was nice not to be alone during the holiday season but at the same time, he hoped Cas didn’t stay behind just for him. Dean would have done what he always did for Christmas. Go to a bar full of lonely people and find someone, or someone’s, to have some fun holiday party on a motel bed. 

Well, that’s what he would like to think he would have done, heck maybe a long time ago he would have done just that, but now it’s different. He hasn’t gone to a bar looking to hook up with anyone in years and he wasn’t going to start now. After throwing excuse after excuse at himself about why his libido just went into a downward spiral, fighting God and all that shit really wasn’t a good excuse for him apparently, it all came down to one angel. Well, person now. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas walked into the kitchen, dragging his bunny slippers across the cold floor and towards the coffee machine. 

Dean watched as Cas poured himself a big mug full and then sat across from him on the kitchen table to join him. Dean already had the sugar and creamer on the table, prepared for Cas who always gets up a few minutes after him. 

As soon as he took a sip he smiled into his mug and Dean rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched. Enjoying the way Cas’s eyes crinkle at the side when he smiled with his eyes closed. He even shivered just a little as the hot drink ran down his body, holding the hot mug in between both his hands and close to his face. 

“Morning, Sunshine.” Dean finally tells him as Cas placed his mug down on the table to smile back at him. 

He could live like this for the rest of his life. As much as Dean wanted more, he was okay with this. Having Cas like this. Seeing him like this. Shaggy hair that curls up at the tips and stubble that was already too long but must feel so good against Dean’s skin. Cas’s baggy sweatpants that fall too low on his hips and Dean’s old band tees that were exclusively worn for sleep cling to his muscled frame. 

Cas was just art that he could enjoy looking at but not touch. At least not the way he dreams to touch.

A happy sigh escapes Cas’s lips as he rolls his shoulders back and reaches for the untouched toast on Dean’s plate. “Merry Christmas Eve by the way.” He took a bite of the toast with butter and then made a face before he reached for the jam. Sweet tooth. He took another bite before he started talking with his mouth full. “I know you don’t celebrate but I still hope we can watch that movie you wanted to show me.”

Dean hummed in response as he sat up straighter, reaching for his coffee to have his hands do something. “We can do that.”

“Which reminds me we also need to go grocery shopping. We’re running low on supplies.”

“Cookies?”

“Exactly.” Cas winked at him.

Dean laughed and it always felt like he was floating when it was Cas who made him laugh. Yeah, he can live like this. If he can have these mornings everyday then he can live with Cas as his friend.

Grocery shopping took a while even though the place was mostly empty. Dean had a list and Cas kept ignoring it to add random junk he wanted to taste. Some of the stuff Dean hasn’t even tasted himself, “Then we can experience it together.” Was all Cas said and Dean couldn’t argue with him on that.

“What do people do on Christmas Eve?” Cas asked when they walked back to the car to load the groceries. “That child looked at us with pity when we told him we didn’t have any plans for today.”

“Dude, how am I supposed to know?”

“You know more than me.”

“The last real Christmas I had - I was three, Cas.” Dean opened the trunk of the Impala to start stuffing the bags. “Plus, I’m pretty sure that I imagine all those happy memories I had with my Mom and Dad.”

“I’m sure some were real, Dean.” Cas placed the last of the bags in the trunk as he looked at him with a small smile. Pity smile. “You’re Mother loved you so I’m sure she would have done her best to give you-”

“Cas,” Dean sighed as he closed the trunk with a loud thud. “I just want to watch some movies and sit on the couch with you and a tray full of nachos. I don’t want to psychoanalyze my childhood.”

“Ah.” Cas nodded, another smile. This one was softer and warmer. A smile that felt reserved for just Dean. Cas’s cheeks were even rosy from the cold wind piercing through their many layers. “Understood. I’ll take the cart back and you start the car then.”

Dean watched Cas walk away, scratching the back of his head when he saw him walk back into the grocery store. He was going to go after him but decided to do what he was told and just start the car. Maybe they needed a quick getaway.

Cas returned a few moments later with nothing in his hands.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Cas just shrugged and put his hands up to the heater. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That was the only response he knew he was going to get from his angel - oh wow! Not his. Not even a damn angel anymore. 

Dean drove them home while Cas turned on the radio. Tapping his fingers on his knee to the beat of the music. Dean wondered how Cas would react if he just reached over and twined their hands together but instead he gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

It was already late when Dean called Cas over to watch the movie. He was going to go with Die Hard, his childhood Christmas movie he watched with Dad, but Dean had a feeling that Cas wanted a movie where it was actually about Christmas. So he picked his other childhood Christmas movie. A Christmas Story.

Cas walked in, his blanket already in tow, and took a seat on one end of the couch. Dean sat on the other with the nachos tray right in between them. Cas sat with his legs crossed and tucked into a corner, almost facing Dean, while he reached into the food before the movie even began to play.

“So you watched this as a kid?” Cas said, mouth full and head tilted as Dean settled on his side of the couch. 

“Yup.” Was all Dean said as he handed Cas a beer and pressed play.

It was only the first few minutes when Ralph walked in with a full cowboy getup that Cas laughed and when he met Dean’s curious eyes, enjoying every second of that rare laugh. Cas pointed at Ralph and then him. “Dean that’s you.” He laughed harder as soon as the words left his mouth and Dean hit him with a pillow. 

The nachos were moved to the table in front of them, where Dean had his feet propped up.

Cas continued to make little comments as the movie went on.

“Ah, reminds me of that whoopee cushion prank you did on me.” Cas noted as he took a sip of beer. 

“All of that for a damn tongue on a pole?” Cas sounded so annoyed that Dean spits out his beer laughing.

They somehow moved closer on the couch with every little comment Cas made. From the mention of yellow eyes. To ask what was put in Ralph’s mouth after he said fudge. (“Dude he said fuck.” “So? You say it all the time.” “I’m a grown man.” “Oh. Children can’t say it?”)

As soon as Ralph said son of a bitch Cas was somehow already shoulder to shoulder with Dean. He laughed, his shoulders shaking, before turning to look at Dean with that big smile again. Dean never thought anybody could look as beautiful as Cas did when he grinned at him like that.

“Dean, I told you that’s you.” He smiled and Dean didn’t have it in him to argue, even as a joke. Instead, he nodded, smiling back at Cas, while his grinch heart grew three sizes. 

This was supposed to be a safe nonromantic movie but Dean hasn’t watched it in a while. He forgot the ending when the parents sat in the dark, just like they were in now, and enjoyed the snow falling. With only the Christmas lights shining. 

A few years ago he wouldn’t have thought it was romantic - there was no kissing or grunting in this scene what so ever- but the soft touches is what he craves now. He was already so close to Cas as it is. Feeling the warmth radiate off his best friend while his blanket was now over both their laps, he doesn’t even remember when that happened. 

He was already so close. Dean could turn his head and his nose could be buried in Cas’s hair, the smell of nature still follows Cas around, and he could hold him. Hold him like he has always wanted to hold Cas, with no immediate danger or death hanging over them. He just wanted to hold Cas because he wanted to hold him. No reason.

Cas leaned into him a little more, untucking his feet from underneath him so he could lay them flat on the ground. Dean noticed every fidget of Cas’s fingers and he wondered if Cas was uncomfortable with the closeness but then in a sudden move Cas had an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Cas cleared his throat as he squeezed Dean’s shoulder closer to him - trying to act like this was a normal thing for them- while Dean stared at him with wide eyes. 

Dean couldn’t find the words. He wanted to say some dumb joke or push Cas off but he stopped himself. Instead, he relaxed under the touch and leaned into it. 

“Oh, um, the movie ended.” Cas cleared his throat while he started to pull his hand away.

“I’ll, um, I’ll just - let me pick another one.” Dean reached for the remote and picked a random movie in the Christmas category and pressed play. Then he leaned back into the couch again and Cas’s arm was around him again. 

Dean doesn’t remember how many movies they watched that night or how he ended up falling asleep on a couch too small to hold two grown men. But he didn’t care because now he had Cas’s fingers making small circles on his back and the touch was so gentle.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Cas must have known he woke up. 

So Dean folded his arms over Cas’s chest and looked down at him. He could feel the dumb smile on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“I know it’s customary to give gifts now.” Cas started reaching for something on the floor while Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas looked at him with those just-shut-up-Dean raised eyebrows so he listened. “It’s something small I got at the grocery store so I’m sorry it’s not something you may want but I believe you deserve a Christmas gift, Dean.”

They both sat up when Cas pulled out a small shiny gift bag with a Christmas tree right out front. Dean wondered when Cas even had time to get this or sneak it in as he sat crisscross back on the couch while Cas copied him. Handing over the present with a wry smile.

“I didn’t even get you anything, Cas.” Dean started saying, hesitant to get the present. 

Cas shrugged. “You can make it up to me later. Now take it.”

Dean took it and it didn’t even have tissue paper to hide what was inside. Dean laughed as he pulled out a few Reese’s shaped like a Christmas tree, some DVD of a movie he hasn’t even heard of so it must be new, and a gift card for Dominos pizza.

“These are great, Cas.” Dean laughed looking down at his gifts. “Looks like you already planned our next date night.”

“I did?” Cas looked down at his presents before looking back at Dean with wide eyes. “Date night?”

“I mean, only if you want to-”

“I want to!” Cas quickly leaned into Dean’s space again and he probably didn’t mean to lean in so close but Dean was also not thinking as he met him halfway to press their lips together. It was just a quick kiss before they pulled apart. 

Dean didn’t say anything as they sat back on their seats. Staring at anything but each other. 

Cas cleared his throat. “Was that my Christmas gift?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I’m cheap.”

“Can I have another gift then?” Cas asked, leaning his head down so he could catch Dean’s downward gaze. He was blushing -fuck he was blushing- as he smiled at him again and Dean was taken back to that morning. Where he thought that he could live with just having that smile in his life but now he knows how that smile felt against his own.

Dean only nodded once before Cas fell back into him. Their lips smashing together into a grinning kiss, teeth smacking together, as Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist to pull him closer. Then he pulled away just enough to kiss Cas again, slowly as he took everything in. Cas’s weight on his lap. Cas’s fingers on his face while he held the back of his neck. The soft noises Cas kept making at the back of his throat as they moved against each other that was making Dean crazy. 

He can have this. Can have Cas and it was a damn Christmas miracle that Cas was dumb enough to want Dean the same way. And fuck his stubble did feel great against his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean said when they pulled apart to breathe, their foreheads touching. 

Cas grinned, a small laugh shook his body and Dean felt every shake that was in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Thanks @destielsecretsanta2020 for this fun project! 

[klanceficatalogue]

Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

-

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety 

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

[blue-bird-kny]

How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

   ↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.                               

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji  groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had  nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.  

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist 

[maneskinrollercoaster]

~ And All That For a Lighter ~

Pairing: Damiano David x Naomi (fictional character)

Word count: 3035

Warnings: none

Summary: Naomi meets Damiano in a café for the first time.

Naomi entered the café all soaked, her cheeks red from running and her hair messy and wet from the rain. It was pouring outside which was the thing she despised the most. Surprisingly tho she felt good. Fresh. She loved walking around Rome in the morning and for the first time in her life she admired this rainy weather. Little drops of water flowed over her cheek. Her life was a big mess and you could say she needed something new.

When a month ago she found her boyfriend cheating with her best friend she felt like her whole life collapsed. That’s when she decided to change something. Start a new life. She started admiring things she’s never liked before, she started dressing differently, she became more confident in her own body. She even started working out which was the most unexpected thing since physical education was her least favorite subject in high school.

Naomi always thought love was the most essential part of everyone’s life, but a sight of Alessandro having fun in their bed with Sofia made her hate love more than anything. She decided to move on and live life completely and only for herself.

- Buongiorno Joey - she said reaching the bartender standing behind the counter.

- Buongiorno piccola, what can I get for you?

- One espresso please, and one brownie - the bartender nodded and started preparing her order.

She decided to sit down since she would probably spend a lot of time working on her laptop and enjoying this rainy morning. The inside of café was warm and welcoming, comfortable couches, puffy pillows and a lot of plants. She visited this café every day for the past two weeks and she found herself enjoying this place maybe even more than her new flat.

Naomi went to sit in the corner on a cozy red couch. She took off her soaked jacket and pulled out her laptop with a couple of notebooks. She was a student of economy and since she had to find herself some more things to do she decided to actually try harder to have a better degree at her college. She wasn’t so fond of the direction she chose but she knew it’s gonna bring her a prosperous life. In fact her favorite thing in the world was art. She started painting when she was 8 years old. Since then she really enjoyed staying all day alone in her room painting everything she could, from beautiful portraits to mesmerizing landscapes. She had a huge talent but she was too afraid to chase her dreams.

When she met Alessandro he quickly bashed her ideas of becoming a professional painter, saying that it’s not something she will build her life on and that she will be only wasting her time. She was mad at him for a couple of days but then she quit her painting dream and chose economy for her main subject.

- Ecco a te, one coffee and one brownie - said Joey bringing her order to the table and putting it right in front of her.

- Grazie mille - Naomi answered and smiled to him.

She took a sip of coffee and smiled. It was delicious. That was another reason why she kept coming back here every day. They made the best coffee she’s ever drunk.

Two hours passed and Naomi was still working on her assignment she was supposed to give in till next Monday. It was about lunch time so she decided she will pack her things in an hour and she will go find a place to eat something. She took the last sip of the coffee and finished her first task when someone pulled her out of her little trans.

- Ah shit! I’m all wet! - she heard someone saying and moment later she saw a guy reaching the bartender.

He was tall and had slightly longer, dark brown hair. She could only see his profile but only that was enough for her to admit that he was really handsome. He was wearing black trousers, black Dr. Martens, white tank top and an oversized black jacket. He looked good and Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

- Damiano! It’s so good to see you man! - Joey said and shook hands with the new guy.

Damiano. The name really suit him. Naomi didn’t take her eyes off him even once.

- Ciao, ciao, Joey! - his voice was attractive as well. Raspy and deep but really calm.

Naomi didn’t know what was happening. Usually she didn’t pay attention to any guys after Alessandro but he was different. He looked edgy and bold but he seemed nice too. She was staring at him. And not in a polite way. She was literally eyeing him from up and down and she didn’t even realize.

- Give me an espresso man, I’m so tired, I just woke up. Yesterday we had so much fun. Victoria came up with this new idea of the song and we all stayed up late till 4 am trying to figure out how to pull it up together. - Damiano said.

So he’s into music. Nice. Naomi was still staring at him so rudely but she didn’t care at this point. Music is also art - she thought and smiled slightly not letting go of his person.

- Typical you, Dam, you’ve never slept a full night, did you? - Joey said and they both laughed.

- Do you have a lighter maybe? I forgot mine. - Damiano said and started searching his pockets.

- I don’t man, sorry. Let me make your order. Anything else for you?

- No, no that’s all. I’m gonna go search for a lighter and I’ll be back.

He turned around searching for people but at this time the café was empty. Only Naomi sitting in the corner. He started walking towards her. Oh shit, he’s coming here, stop staring, stop staring, stop staring - Naomi thought and looked at her laptop trying to pretend that’s she didn’t just checked him out for 10 minutes straight.

- Scusi, I’m.. - he reached her table and started speaking but stopped when she looked at him. - I’m sorry to interrupt but do you have a lighter maybe? - he said after a second.

- No, I’m sorry. I don’t smoke. - Naomi blushed and smiled lightly.

- Okey, grazie. - he smiled and started walking away.

- But there’s a store at the corner, I think they might have some. - Naomi said

- Grazie, grazie. - he laughed slightly and waved at her.

Naomi went back to her tasks still blushing not knowing why. 15 minutes passed and Damiano entered the café again carrying two bags. He came up to Naomi smiling.

- I uh.. Sorry to interrupt again but.. Do you want to maybe eat lunch with me? I just thought that it’s lunch time and you’re sitting here alone and since you helped me with the lighter.. - he couldn’t stop speaking and Naomi blushed again laughing. He looked a bit nervous.

- Of course, I would love to eat lunch with you. - she said interrupting him.

- I’m Damiano - he said pulling out his hand.

- Naomi - she said and grabbed his hand to shake it but he turned it and kissed the top of her palm.

She felt something weird in her stomach, like butterflies but she pushed them aside and only smiled to him. Damiano sat on the couch opposite Naomi and put two bags on the table.

- I didn’t know what you like, obviously because I don’t know you, yeah very clever Dam, whatever.. - he started speaking and Naomi couldn’t stop but laugh at him loudly

- Don’t worry, I’m not a peaky eater - she said sending him a reassuring smile.

- Alright, well, I ordered pasta with shrimps and some pesto and cherry tomatoes. - he said taking out the box with food from the bag. - I also got you a cherry smoothie but we can switch if you’d like.

- Wow, and that all for a lighter? You really didn’t have to. But thank you so much, I was about to go for lunch anyways. - she said grabbing the box that he handed her.

- Yes well, you’re really beautiful.. I mean, no.. I mean you are beautiful but I just wanted to say that you’re really nice and yeah I don’t know I just thought you might like to eat something.. Not that you look like you’re starving but yeah..

- Heyyy, thank you, really, that’s so nice of you. - she said smiling widely.

Naomi took the first bite of her pasta and it was delicious. She remembered her grandmother cooking shrimps every Saturday and all her family gathering together for a family dinner in the garden. It tasted just the same.

They ate everything and after two hours of talking and laughing and getting to know each other it was time for Joey to close the café. Naomi stood up and packed her things, said goodbye to Joey and together with Damiano they stepped out of the café. It stopped raining and instead there was a full sun and a fresh breeze.

- So what are you gonna do now? - he asked standing in front of her.

- Umm.. I think I’m just gonna go back to my flat, make myself some snacks and watch Netflix till I fall asleep - Naomi laughed.

- Alright well, do you mind if I walk you home? - Damiano asked steeping a bit closer to her.

- Sure, why not, we can take a walk.

That day Damiano walked Naomi to her house and they exchanged numbers, planning to meet again. He kissed her cheek for goodbye and squeezed her hand and Naomi has never felt like that in a long time. She was happy and Damiano, even tho she met him today, made her feel really good. Naomi couldn’t sleep that night still thinking of him and wondering why she felt so different around him.

*3 months later*

- What do you mean you don’t like Star Wars! - Damiano shouted to Naomi while they both walked towards the beach where they were supposed to watch sunset and have a little picnic.

Since the day they met they spent almost every day together. Damiano surprised her with multiple occasions to go out together, either for lunch or dinner or even breakfast when he woke up earlier than usual. He found himself falling for her. In fact he realized he fell for her the day he first laid his eyes on her. He found her funny, spontaneous and really kind and caring. When she told him about her painting dream he was so shocked she gave up, that he argued with her till he convinced her to chase the dream even if she thought it was too late. Naomi really enjoyed his company, he made her feel really happy and safe and most importantly - loved. She knew she developed some feelings and she didn’t want to admit it but at the back of her head she knew she fell in love. He made her laugh and supported her when she was having bad moments. He became her best friend at some point. Both of them were taking things a bit slower tho, they were both afraid, broken-hearted after rough ended relationships.

- I just don’t, I don’t understand how they made so many movies out of such a lame plot. - she said defending herself.

- How can you even say that! The plot is amazing! The space action scenes, come on! - he said offended but smiling.

- Yeah I just don’t see the point of filming it, that’s all.

- I don’t know how Victoria can still be friends with you, we’re both huge fans of Star Wars! You’re lucky I like you - Damiano started laughing and put his arm around Naomi’s shoulders.

She got to meet Victoria, Ethan and Thomas. Bassist, drummer and guitarist of their band Måneskin. Naomi wasn’t really into music so she didn’t really know them and didn’t know they’re pretty known here in Italy. Victoria was the kindest person Naomi could ever see. When her and Damiano stepped into the studio where they were recording, Vic was the first to reach out to her. She hugged her tightly and was clearly really happy to meet her. She then introduced Thomas and Ethan to her. Thomas started joking around that Damiano finally found himself a girlfriend and Ethan was really polite, he kissed Naomi’s hand and hugged her too, smiling really kindly. They were all so nice. They started inviting her over for dinners or just to hang out by the pool. She also listened to them playing and recording their new songs. Damiano told them that she wanted to be a painter and they all started reassuring her even more, that chasing her dream is the best thing for her and that she should never give up. Naomi really felt like she finally found her place.

Naomi and Damiano reached the beach, they put the blanket on the sand, put out all the food from the basket and they sat opposite each other. They were both smiling widely and chatting about everything. They drank some wine, ate some pasta and then they sat next to each other admiring the sunset.

- I really like you, you know? - Damiano said glancing at Naomi. - And I mean, I like you a lot. You’re really an amazing person with so much talent and you’re just so caring and loving. You really make me happy. - he said not taking his eyes off of her.

- Dami.. - Naomi started but she was interrupted.

- What I want to say is.. - he took her hands - I fell in love with you Naomi. I fell for you hard and I’m pretty sure since the day I saw you at that café. I care about you so much and any time with you is my favorite time in the world. So if you want to.. We could try, you know.. Being together, like, in a relationship. - he said in one breathe.

Naomi was speechless, her stomach was squeezing and she felt her cheeks turning red. She never would have though that someone will make her feel like this again. She knew that he cares for her but she didn’t know that he would feel the same way she felt about him.

- Dami.. Of course I do want to try, you make me the happiest, and honestly I didn’t know you feel the same way, that’s why I didn’t say anything. And also because.. - Naomi wanted to tell him about Alessandro but she was scared that Damiano will back off, saying that he will give her time.

- What’s wrong, bella? - he said gently squeezing her hand.

- I was in a relationship before. His name was Alessandro and we met before I started college. We were together for 3 years and everything was going just fine. But then.. One day when I came back home earlier than usual I found him cheating with my best friend, Sofia. Since then I just decided to not get into any relationship and live only for myself because I was too afraid to get hurt again - Naomi said looking down at their intertwined hands.

- Oh bella.. - Damiano pulled her into a tight hug.

He stroked her back and her hair and he was whispering to her ear. A single tear fell down her cheek but not because she was hurt but because of how gentle and caring Damiano was. He hugged her and made her feel better and she couldn’t find herself with anyone else right now than with him. He pulled away, looked into her eyes and smiled slightly.

- I was in a relationship too a while ago. It turned out we didn’t match and our life goals and perspectives were so different that we decided to end things. Maybe it wasn’t as harsh as your breakup but I felt awful for at least a month. I didn’t go out of my room and I lost all will to write music. Victoria brought me food every day but I just didn’t want to eat. But it all passed.. Listen, if you need more time it’s all good, I’ll give you space and I’ll wait till you’re ready.

Naomi was silent for a couple of seconds. In her head there was a battle. She wanted to let go of bad memories and trust Damiano completely, start a relationship with him, but on the other hand she was scared to get hurt again.

- No Dami. I don’t need time, I know what I want and I know how you make me feel and that’s why I want to try. - Naomi said hugging him tightly.

She knew she just overcame her fear and she felt free. Like a huge stone fell off of her heart. She felt amazing and she wanted to live this moment as long as she could. Damiano pulled away and cupped her cheek with his hand. He pulled her closer and she could feel his breath on her face. Slowly, but slightly Damiano leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Naomi touched his cheek and pulled him even closer. And then they both intertwined their lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

Naomi felt her stomach squeezing when Damiano put his hand on her back. It was their first kiss and the sunset was almost turning into the night. They pulled away after seconds and smiled widely at each other.

- I promise, I’ll always take care of you. - Damiano said leaning his forehead against hers.

- Always. - Naomi said grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers together.

That’s when they both knew that they found soulmates in each other.

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.