#and try to be pretentious about it n act like experts on music

[pissmoon]

I actually dont like being mean about peoples tastes in music but how are you supposed to not do that on this website when people say shit like that to you. Mcr invented punk, hamilton is rap and warped tour is for metalheads

[deja-you]

times new roman | episode nine

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige.

word count: 2.4k

A/N: this chapter contains smut! if you’re not comfortable with that feel free to skip this chapter, it not technically necessary to the next part. 

also this is my first smut,, so read at your own discretion. wrote this all in one sitting idk what to think. but at least it was a fast update or something??

masterlist | previous | next

Y/n ended up picking out a sparkly, blue minidress. Peggy had insisted she buy it months ago, and now she finally had an occasion to wear it. Now that it was on, Y/n wondered why she had never worn it before. It fit her snuggly, accentuating all her best features. And when paired with heels? She felt like some kind of runway model. 

If the smile on her face when she looked in the mirror wasn’t enough to boost her ego, the look on Thomas’s face would have sent her over the edge. When she opened the door, he was wearing a confident smirk, but it dropped from his face when he saw what she was wearing. 

“Wow. I just... wow.” He stared at her with his mouth open. 

Y/n stepped out into the hallway and turned to close the door so he didn’t see the proud smile she has on. “Hm? Have I finally brought Thomas Jefferson to a loss for words?”

Thomas blinked a few times, shook his head, and attempted to recover. “I’m always at a loss for words when it comes to you, angel.”

“Annnndddd he’s back,” she laughed. “Let’s get to that speakeasy now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

This time there was no awkward silence this time like there had been before their first official date. Thomas had asked Y/n out a few times since then, sometimes it was just for lunch or coffee, sometimes it was front row orchestra tickets. Despite all the dates, Y/n nor Thomas tried to define the relationship, both seemingly happy to have a casual thing between the two of them.

That didn’t change the fact that every time Y/n’s phone buzzed, her serotonin levels raised, and if the text did happen to be from Thomas, she wouldn’t even try to hide her smile. She had attempted to hide her smile before, but discovered it was too tiring an ordeal. 

It was true that they had grown quite close over the span of a few weeks, but they still insisted on keeping whatever their relationship was a secret from their friends, co-workers, and family. 

“Are we really making a detour to a bookstore?” Y/n asked as Thomas tugged her into a rundown shop. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow and glanced back at her. “Angel, what do you think a speakeasy is?”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was trying to insult her or set up a trap. “It’s a secret bar.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “and it wouldn’t be much of a secret if the entrance was in an obvious place.”

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ when the realization struck her. In the back of the store, Thomas approached a bookstore employee and tapped them on the shoulder. Thomas exchanged a few lines of a Shakespeare sonnet with the employee (a pretentious fact that Y/n made a note to make fun of him for later), and the employee was sliding open a bookcase a few seconds later. 

Thomas turned back to smile at Y/n, easily slipping his hand through her’s, and tugging her inside. The bookcase slid shut behind them. Y/n was shocked that a moment ago she had been standing in a quiet bookshop, and now she was standing in a lavish speakeasy. 

In one corner of the room, there was an arrangement of opulent lounge chairs. There was a bar in the back of the room where a bartender was mixing up elaborate cocktails, and a small crowd was gathered around him. Jazzy music filled the air, and occupants found any room in the small space to dance wildly with each other. 

Y/n wrapped her hand around Thomas’s arm, pulling him closer in case she lost him in the sea of dancing bodies. 

“I don’t know if I was expecting it to be so lively,” she spoke loudly in Thomas’s ear.

He shrugged. “It’s the grand opening, I doubt it’s always like this. Want to grab a drink?”

Y/n wanted to say something about the last time she had gotten drunk around him, but the truth is, she did want a drink, so she just nodded. Thomas gripped her hand and they journeyed through the sea of drunken dancers to the bar. After a few minutes, they were able to place their orders for drinks that sounded good in theory, but were more intimidating when the bartender lit the drink on fire. 

“So what do you think?” Thomas leaned against the bar, his eyes watching her carefully. 

Y/n grinned widely. “I love it here. Glad I didn’t decline your answer to go out tonight.”

“Did you really consider declining?” He laughed, feigning an offended expression. 

“The point is, I didn’t,” Y/n said, leaning forward and gripping his arm. “C’mon, let’s go dance.”

Thomas was in no position to deny her, and he happily allowed Y/n to pull him away from the bar and into the lively crowd. Y/n wasn’t an expert dancer, but Thomas made her look good, spinning and swaying in time with the music. She had her arms thrown around his shoulder, her fingertips lightly tapping a rhythm into the fabric of his back as she hummed along to the song playing. 

This close to him, Y/n could distinctly smell the scents of cedar and amber on him with a faint trace of cherry blossoms. It was like he had just walked out of the Library of Congress, and she would have believed him if he said he had. Thomas’s hands dug firmly into her skin, pulling her hips so they were flush against his. 

They continued dancing like this for a few songs, but by the time the third song came to an end, both of them were nearly out of breath.

“I think I need some water,” Y/n laughed, as their bodies parted slightly.

“I think you’re right,” he grinned. Something caught Thomas’s eye beyond Y/n’s shoulder, and he tapped her hip lightly. “I think I see my client over there, angel. I should go say hi. Would you mind getting me a glass of water as well?”

She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “don’t take too long.”

Y/n released him and sauntered over to the bar, making sure to swing her hips with every step, knowing exactly the effect she had on Thomas. He cursed quietly under his breath and shook his head. 

Thomas wasn’t planning on spending too much time thanking his client for inviting him to the speakeasy, but now he had even more reason to make the conversation short. He couldn’t have been parted from Y/n for more than five minutes when he found her once more at the bar. 

The sight that greeted him wasn’t a pleasant one. A young blonde guy had found his way to her side, and he was leaning in a little too close. Y/n didn’t pay much mind to him, occasionally rolling her eyes at some cheesy pick-up line he was attempting. She felt Thomas’s gaze on her before she turned to see him staring at her a few feet away. 

One glance was all she needed to see how worked up he was just having another man talk to her. Y/n sent Thomas a coy smirk and turned to the blonde beside her with a newfound interest. 

“What was that you were saying, handsome?” She asked the blonde in a soft tone, her hand reaching up to lightly trace over his tie. Y/n glanced at Thomas, her grin widening a little when she saw his eyes narrowing and his fists clenched at his sides. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come home with me tonight,” the blonde said, stunned at her change in attitude toward him.

“Hm, that’s an interesting off--”

Y/n felt a hand tightly grip the wrist of the hand she had absentmindedly playing with the blonde’s tie. She looked up to see a seething Thomas glaring at her. 

“Sorry, she’s already got plans for this evening.” Thomas didn’t waste anymore breath on the blonde, placing his hand on her lower back and leading her away from the bar. 

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” He growled softly when they were out of earshot. 

Thomas brought her back into the crowd of dancers, but the mood had changed immensely since the last time they had been dancing. His hands were holding her body tightly as if he was afraid she might slip away. Y/n could feel the heat of his breath while he slid his hands up and down her body.

“I’m an adult, you don’t have to babysit me,” she shut her eyes momentarily, enjoying the feeling of his body against her’s. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t act like a child.”

Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him. “Bite me.”

Thomas didn’t miss a beat. “Where?”

Y/n gasped softly, her eyes going wide. Thomas didn’t wait long for a reply, pulling her body closer, if that was even possible, and placing his lips on the exposed skin on her neck. He lightly nipped at her skin, and Y/n refrained from letting out a deep moan, swallowing roughly instead. Her hand found the back of his neck and she pulled him closer to her. 

“Don’t talk to other guys like that,” Thomas’s voice was raspy as his lips pressed kisses against her skin. 

Framing his face with her hands, Y/n brought him up to look her in the eye, an eyebrow raised. Realizing his mistake, Thomas quickly rephrased. “Wait, no. I’m aware I can’t tell you what to do. I just... please don’t talk to anyone else like that. Not in front of me.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone but you. You’re an idiot,” she smiled, “now kiss me.”

Thomas didn’t need to be asked twice. He held Y/n’s face in one hand, the other hand resting on her lower back. Thomas pressed his lips against her’s like her kiss was the oxygen he needed to breathe. His knee slid between her thighs, and she grinded against his leg on instinct. He groaned into the kiss, and the next thing Y/n knew, he had pulled away from her completely.

“We need to get out of here,” Thomas panted.

Y/n nodded. “Your place?”

“My place,” he agreed.

They exited the speakeasy in record time, and the cool air outside seemed to momentarily sober them up. Thomas was sure the Uber driver didn’t appreciate how handsy they were being in the backseat, so he made sure he tipped generously. 

When Thomas had closed his apartment door behind him, Y/n nearly jumped on him, your lips latching onto his. His hands slid up her legs, the electric blue dress she had been wearing began to bunch up around her waist. Thomas’s fingers slipped expertly into her panties, sliding them down her legs and to her ankles.

Thomas got down on his knees in front of her, tearing down a wall Y/n had tried so hard to keep up with every kiss he placed on the inside of her thighs. Y/n could feel her heart racing a hundred beats per minute in her chest as her head hit the the wall behind her. She reached a hand down to thread through Thomas’s hair, gently guiding him to where she needed him the most. 

He took the hint, his tongue sliding against Y/n’s pussy lips, once, then twice. Thomas successfully elicited an unrestrained moan from your mouth. Enjoying the sound, his tongue darted into her folds once more, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.

Thomas brought her close to the edge, then in some kind of telepathic way, he pulled away just as she was about to reach her climax. He continued this pattern a few more times until she couldn’t take it anymore and tugged at his hair.

“Thomas, please,” his name sounded like a prayer on her lips. “I need you to stop teasing me. I want you. All of you.”

He nodded in understanding, standing up and pulling her into his bedroom. Thomas’s hands found the hem of Y/n’s dress in the dark and pulled it over her head. Y/n began undoing Thomas’s belt buckle while he unclasped her bra and flung the garment into some forgotten corner of the room. His hands traced her body, memorizing every curve and indent and Y/n tugged down his pants. 

Thomas picked her up and threw her onto the bed. He tugged off his shirt before climbing onto the bed after her. Thomas pressed his lips to hers firmly, and Y/n willing returned the kiss. She ran her hand down his back, and Thomas’s hips bucked forward at the feeling. Y/n’s eyes widened slightly at the feeling of his large erection through his boxers. 

“You have protection?” She asked with a hoarse voice. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, climbing off of her to retrieve a condom from his nightstand. 

Y/n heard the crinkling of foil, then a few moments later she felt the bed dip under his weight and he was once more above her. He lined himself up at her entrance then paused, thumbing tracing the outline of her lips and eyes staring into her’s in a moment of raw intimacy. 

“You’re sure about this?” He said softly. “I’ll stop right now if you say the word.”

Y/n admired the way he searched her features for any trace of hesitance or doubt. She shook her head. “Don’t stop. Please, I need you--”

She was cut off with her own moan when he pushed his length inside her. Y/n gasped as she struggled to accommodate his large size. Her nails dug into his blood, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she drew blood. 

“Oh, angel, you feel so good around me,” Thomas panted as he pumped in and out of her. 

Y/n didn’t even try to restrain her scream of his name when he began to pick up his pace, gaining speed and working through her body skillfully. His neighbors would not be happy with Y/n tomorrow, but she couldn’t care what they thought. She was in bliss.

“Thomas... oh god, Thomas...” Y/n struggled getting any coherent words out as she neared her climax, and Thomas wasn’t having any more luck. 

Thomas kept up at his rapid pace, and a few minutes later he was riding her through her orgasm. Y/n screamed out his name once more, and that seemed to push Thomas over the edge as he reached his climax as well. 

Y/n and Thomas stood still for a moment, panting. Finally, Thomas pulled out and got up long enough to throw the used condom in the trash before collapsing down at Y/n’s side where he belonged. 

“You’re perfect, angel. You’re perfect.”

tag list:

@dovesgrangers @lovelymrvl  @wiffle-snuffles @thisistrashperson @comingupwithacoolnameishard @wordvomit-foryourmind @newtonslawoffuck @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor @i-know-i-can @imperial-martian @fangirling-central @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @justahappylilblog @fanfic-addict-98 @a-hopeless-fan @and-claudia @nicolemelton @youtxbemusic @reidcult @eirenism @fantasy-of-fiction @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @rycbar-221b @bethanymccauley @fanworrior @gggamingz @nemesis729 @ibeaesthethicc  @yodas-padawan @sabbrriiinnaa @micaiahmoonheart @beautifulfound @moondustmemories @ct-salad @teenwaywardasgardian @bj-is-a-graduateof-julliard @ruebx @katierpblogg @speedypartyducksuitcase @fangirling-central @idkkbaleighh @ballerinafairyprincess @spn-pogues @gryffin-claw @elegantbutedgy @1elysium @sierraisnotreal @ssanjuniperoo @collectivefandom @lilbabyhoneypot @lunariasilver @justcallmemama @atleastidontdotiktoks @mistrose23 @checkurwindow @fluffydmonkey @pettyjayy @rosesinmars @cubedtriangle @itsjube @zeelmol @ems-alexandra @yavin4andor @daveeds-whore @someinsanefangirl @theatrenerd86 @poetnstuff @ohsoverykeri-blog @im-sidney @omgyouburtmyeggos @astralaffairs @nyxie75 @mydearestlaurens @janessawonderwall @the-middle-oldest-child @emtinuviel​ @elizard-hamilton​

let me know if you want to be tagged :)

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[gukyi]

plant boy | jhs

summary: after seven years of doing it, you’d like to think you’re an expert at skipping class. stay hidden, stay quiet, and act inconspicuous. but when you accidentally draw the attention of jung hoseok while you’re camping out on the benches outside the greenhouses, you begin to realize that all it takes is a boy with sunshine at his fingertips and a particular affinity for herbology to change things.

{hogwarts!au, opposites to lovers!au}

pairing: hoseok x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff, light angst warnings: playing hooky - stay in school kidz! a/n: happy lunar new year, everyone!!!! here’s my gift to you as a blessing for the new year. hope y’all lucky as hell. aside from that, a couple notes:

1. i know it’s literally been 84 years since i last posted a part for my sorted series. my bad! anyway, here is the much awaited plant boy, and the rest of the parts should be following shortly.

2. this takes place before the events of tutor! that’s why namjoon’s still kind of a dick in this one. sorry for any confusion!!

3. dedicated to this fic’s numero uno fan, 陈 anon!

Time seems to pass by extra slowly on days like this.

Days where you’ve earned yourself another detention, adding it to the list of the ones you go to (and the list of the ones you’ve skipped), trapped in a classroom that you can’t Alohomora your way out of, one designed specifically for troublemakers like you. Back in your first and second years, they used to give you detentions that sent you into the Forbidden Forest to do some other teacher’s bidding, or they’d make you clean out and reorganize the Potions closet, or tidy up the disastrous greenhouses at the edge of campus, or sort the library books or wipe down the tables in the Great Hall.

They learned after the first two years that even menial tasks such as those can’t be trusted to be placed in your hands.

Now, in a punishment seemingly designed for irritable, easily-bored, fidgety, vengeful students just like you, you sit in a classroom supervised by a snotty teacher—or even worse, the Head Boy or Girl—and watch as the seconds tick by.

It’s normal; you’re used to it at this point, but that doesn’t make it any less soul-sucking. All you can do is wait with your chin resting in your palm, the wooden pencil you use (because quills are archaic and weird) tapping against the desk. It’s not much, but at least the noise distracts you from the ticking time-bomb in your brain, on the verge of explosion. Not to mention, it does tend to drive the person who has to keep watch over you just a little bit mad.

Deduction of House Points doesn’t seem to have any effect on you whatsoever. You pity the poor folks who share the same house with you, the same blue and bronze decorating their robes and ties, having to suffer through watching their House Points decrease and decrease until the professors felt so terrible they stopped punishing your House and started punishing you instead. It worked out for everyone, really. The teachers stopped having a guilty conscience and the rest of your House-mates stopped giving you the stink-eye whenever you passed by them in the hallways.

You’re in today because Potions class is a joke and that’s that. You can’t really be too sure what you actually did in Potions today, anyway, because anything you’re taught really does just go in through one ear and out the other. You spent the entire class, rather than focusing on the actual lesson, brewing a Confusing Concoction so potent it permeated the air, causing everyone else to fall into a bewildered stupor and turning the lesson into chaos. All it really takes is double the amount of sneezewort. Simple, when you think about it.

Regardless, the lesson ran amuck and who else was to blame except you, of course. Imagine everyone’s horror if it had turned out that it wasn’t you who claimed the blame for the overwhelming scent of pure, unadulterated befuddlement. The day someone else is as disruptive as you is the day the entire Hogwarts campus bursts into flames.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your feet have started to join in, creating a rhythm that surrounds you as you match up the beats to the ticking of the clock above the doorway. It’s natural for your hands to turn to this, resorting to music as your immediate form of entertainment—you played piano all throughout your childhood and even now, music seems to be one of the only things that hasn’t abandoned you entirely, alongside your disregard for structured education and your charm.

Tap, tap, tap.

How much longer? It seems like you’ve been here ever since classes ended at three. It feels like you’ve been sitting in the same desk in the same empty room for the past three days. Your stomach grumbles. You think you’ve forgotten what food tastes like. You might die in this room, to be honest.

Tap, tap, tap.

It’s a real shame they don’t trust you to do the other standard detention tasks. Not that their judgement is misled in any way, because it’s not, but even rearranging the Potions closet would be more intellectually fulfilling than this. There’s more to life than rewards and punishments. You’re just waiting to see when they’ll actually realize it.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Y/L/N.”

Interrupted from the sick beats you were laying down, you look up to see Kim Namjoon, your designated chaperone for the afternoon, appearing severely disgruntled. The thick-rimmed glasses he’s wearing have slid all the way down his nose bridge, and he’s clutching onto the quill in his hand so tightly you think it’ll snap in half.

“Yes, Namjoon?” You ask sweetly, resting your chin in your interlaced hands as your elbows press down into the desk. You know he hates when you call him by his first name. It’s just another reminder that he is in no way superior to you. Just because he gets good grades and all the professors fall to their knees at the sight of him. His so-called academic excellence doesn’t excuse him from being an asshole.

“This might be a particularly difficult concept to get through that empty head of yours, but have you ever thought of being quiet for once in your life?” He asks, peering over the top rim of his glasses. It’s clear he wants to be here as much as you do. But you’ve been graciously handed the opportunity to torment who is probably your biggest enemy on campus, and you won’t pass it up.

“But we’re having so much fun, Namjoon,” you continue, condescending tone thick on your tongue. “You wouldn’t want to just sit here in silence, would you? I can hear you thinking from all the way over here, and trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“Are you treating this as some kind of joke, Y/L/N?” Namjoon asks with a frown, looking more and more like an angry, eighty-year-old professor who eats his students’ hearts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  

Truth be told, the last time you took detention seriously was in your first year here. Back when you were a little baby of a student, intimidated by all of the teachers and older students and desperate to make a good impression. Now, you like to think of detention as an opportunity to clear your mind, maybe meditate for a bit, and of course, be a nuisance. It’s one of your most favorite hobbies.

“It’s only a joke because you’re here,” you singsong, making the kid at the desk roll his eyes behind the thick lenses that he’s wearing. “You take everything so seriously, you should learn to lighten up once in a while. It’ll do wonders for your grades.”

Namjoon stiffens. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling me how to manage my grades,” he quips. You force out something between a chuckle and a cough, disappointed but not surprised that Namjoon would whip out his superiority complex about his academics as a means of shooting you down.

“You humor me, Namjoon,” you hum to yourself.

Namjoon continues scowling. You think that if he frowns any more the expression will be permanently etched onto his face. “Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you end up in detention all the time is because nobody likes you?”

Never has Namjoon been so rude to you. Granted, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re certainly not the most popular kid on campus, by a long shot, too. You know that people like Namjoon, with good grades and fake attitudes and quirky little characteristics are the ones that will go on to succeed within these walls. But Namjoon seems to be particularly hostile to you today. Maybe he drank something strange this morning.

“Damn, and here I was thinking we were best friends,” you deadpan, unfazed. “You know, unlike you and everyone else here at this school, I don’t really care what people think of me.”

“You think you’re so special because you’re rebellious and alternative and you don’t give a shit about what others think of you,” Namjoon taunts. “But you’re not. You’re just another reject Hogwarts kid that doesn’t have a future outside of these walls. Maybe if you learn to conduct yourself properly, then you will.”

The belltower in the courtyard chimes, signaling the end of your detention. Wordlessly, Namjoon gathers his belongings and struts out of the room, turning the corner sharply to go and gossip with his other bratty, pretentious friends that dislike you as much as you dislike them. The things Namjoon said to you pale in comparison to other things you’ve been told by disgruntled professors, angry students, and everyone in between. But it’s a modern day tragedy that Namjoon gets to treat you like a buffoon and still gets hailed as the king of the school, meanwhile you telling it like it is earns you weekly detentions.

With a groan that reverberates off the walls of the classroom you’re in, you pull yourself to your feet and head back to your dorm, where you plan on wallowing in self-pity, ignoring anyone who does try to talk to you, and of course, not doing your homework.

Some things never change.

The next day finds you strolling right past the stairwell that leads down to the dungeons at half-past twelve, thinking that maybe your professor won’t be too happy to see you after the previous debacle. You wouldn’t be surprised if the scent of the Confusing Concoction still lingered, not strong enough to make your head spin but just enough to leave you a bit in the dark. You imagine not many people were productive in the Potions classroom that day.

It’s not that you skip class on purpose, per se. It’s more a result of the snowball effect, one thing leading to another and another until human confrontation seems like it’ll worsen the problem, rather than alleviate it. Even if the professor doesn’t berate you in front of the entire class, being there immediately after one of your… incidents stirs people up, makes them whisper about you. You don’t care what they have to say, but you’d rather not hear them try to mask what they’re saying while right in front of you. You have ears, too.

So, electing to go to the place that is practically the entire opposite of the dingy, dark dungeons, you head up the stairs at the end of the hallway, towards the greenhouses. You’re not too sure if Sprout has a class right now, but even if she did, you’d just go hide on one of the benches and wait until your next class. If you felt like going to it, of course.

Whenever you do skip class, you don’t allow yourself the luxury of holing up in your dormitory and sleeping the hours away. If you aren’t going to be in class, you’re going to at least be productive elsewhere, whether it be hidden away in the library bookshelves or taking one of the hidden passageways to Hogsmeade or now, camping out by the greenhouses and letting the fresh air clear your mind.

You find a bench to settle in on, stretching out your legs as you lean against the glass, hidden from the inside by a wall of plants. Shuffling through your belongings, you pull out a muggle book that had been left in the Great Hall for a week without anyone laying claim to it. It’s a little too fantastical for your liking, a story about a futuristic world where children have to fight each other to the death as payment for their ancestors rebelling against their capital city, but it’s an alright read. It’s certainly much more enjoyable than anything you’re assigned to read for class.

You’re not worried about getting caught—in fact, it’s probably the lowest on your list of concerns—but at this time of day, when all classes are in session and students are only roaming the hallways if they’re in need of a bathroom break, footsteps do catch you off guard. Not that another detention will do you any harm or good.

Rather, when you look up from your page you see, through the fogged up glass of the greenhouse, a Hufflepuff boy from your year looking back at you, a watering can held in his hands. Red-handed, you feel yourself forcing a smile his way, hoping he doesn’t think much of another student being here, let alone you. Maybe he doesn’t know who you are at all, though you doubt that entirely. Frozen, you watch as he places down the watering can and heads towards the back door of the greenhouse, right by the bench you’re sitting on.

Without the foggy glass to blur his features, you recognize him instantly. It’s Jung Hoseok. In your fifth year, you often had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs in your year, and he stood out far more than anyone else. You didn’t pay much attention to him, but you’ve seen enough to know that he has quite a knack for the subject, not to mention Sprout wrapped around his finger. He would open his mouth and already she would be handing ten points to Hufflepuff.

Needless to say, him walking towards you makes you a little nervous, as you suspect the first thing he’ll say when he sees you, clearly skipping class, is Sprout’s name. You’ll be handed another detention in no time.

You turn back to your book and pretend that he’s not there, acting like you’re engrossed in the novel as you hear the footsteps along the cobblestone path getting louder and louder. Within no time, you feel his presence next to yours, looming over you like a cloud that spells out doom. Turning the page, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

Then, “What book is that?”

You look up at Jung Hoseok, who is peering down at you not with disdain or contempt, but with pure, unadulterated curiosity. Straining his eyes to see if he can make out a title on the front cover.

“Uh, just some muggle book,” you say casually, hoping you can get through this conversation without being punished.

“Really?” He asks, eyes lighting up with interest. “My friend Tae is muggle-born, maybe he knows it? He’s a fifth year.”

“Cool,” you say, nodding. The faster this conversation is over, the better. Before he recognizes just exactly who you are and runs away screaming to tell a teacher on you.

“Do you come here often?” He asks, motioning to the greenhouse behind you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an undercover interrogation. With seven years of constant trouble under your belt, any sort of questioning seems to turn into a court hearing whenever you’re involved.

“Less often than I should,” you respond cryptically. It’s true—the greenhouse is definitely one of the more peaceful places you frequent when you should be attending class, always so calm and serene. Nature seems to have that effect.

“It feels that way, doesn’t it?” Hoseok muses to himself. “No matter how much time I spend here, it’ll never be enough.”

This piques your interest. “How often are you in the greenhouses?” You ask somewhat accusingly, like you’re in total disbelief at the idea that the greenhouse goody-two-shoes would even suggest such a thing as skipping class. Someone like Jung Hoseok? Impossible.

Hoseok smiles sheepishly. “I know every inch of every greenhouse, from the roots of the plants buried deep in the soil to the cracks in the panes of glass on the roof. I have etched the feeling of the dirt beneath my palms into memory, memorized the makeup of every plant that this school grows. But I have no idea what’s going on Arithmancy right now.”

His self-awareness makes you laugh, chuckling as you smile to yourself. “Hey, that makes two of us.”

“You’re Y/N, right? I’m Jung Hoseok. Mind if I sit?” He asks, pointing to the empty space on the bench next to you. There’s more than enough room for it to not be awkward or invasive.

You motion for him to go right ahead. Nothing in the conversation has raised any red flags, and as far as you’re concerned Hoseok’s a nice person to chat with, someone to keep you busy as the two of you avoid your legitimate responsibilities.

“Surprised you’d want to be seen out in the wild with me,” you joke, trying to make light of the situation. “I’d hate for your reputation to be ruined.”

“Yeah, my reputation as Nerdy Plant Boy would be soiled,” Hoseok says. He pauses for a moment and then bursts into laughter. “Get it? Soiled? Because I like plants?”

Maybe his pun was the worst thing your ears have suffered through in a while, but his happiness is electric and his joy is contagious. You find yourself grinning at the mere sound of him enjoying himself, laughing his head off at the pun he just made.

“I mean, you are technically skipping class right now. Just saying,” you remind him.

“Yeah, under the guise of Sprout asking me to help maintain Greenhouse 3. It’s totally overgrown with ivy; she can hardly use it for any lessons. Transfiguration was never really my forte anyway,” Hoseok comments. “But you skip class often, don’t you?”

“Is that a problem?” You challenge.

“Only if you make it one,” Hoseok responds casually. “I mean, you do you. Didn’t you make some superhuman Confusing Concoction the other day?” You nod guiltily. “Oh my God, I walked into Potions that afternoon and felt my head spinning! I had to run down to the greenhouses to get some air. I never made it back to Potions.”

“So neither of us actually knows what happened in class that day?” You ask with a smile.

“Nope,” Hoseok says, shrugging. He doesn’t really seem to mind the fact that he doesn’t attend his classes either. In fact, kind of just rolls with it. “I’ll probably have to ask Namjoon about it.”

The mention of who is probably your biggest enemy makes you inwardly groan. “Oh, don’t tell me the two of you are friends.”

Hoseok chuckles. “He’s certainly not keen on you, that’s for sure,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms. “We’re not close, but I guess you could say we’re sort of friends. I just see him around a lot, and sometimes he asks me for Herbology help. ‘S all.”

“The great Kim Namjoon? Head Boy? Best grades in the class? Asking for help? Unheard of,” you say dramatically, making Hoseok chuckle.

“I doubt he has the best grades in the year,” Hoseok says. “There’s that girl that McGonagall loves that does better than him, I think. He told me he has a massive crush on her.”

“That’s… grossly adorable,” you admit. “But you’ve always been good at Herbology, haven’t you? You were in my class fifth year. You know, when I went to class. Sprout loved you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really think I’m that good at Herbology. Sprout’s way more educated than I am, and sure, that comes with experience, but really, I just love plants. I love nature, more broadly. I’m a certified tree-hugger,” Hoseok tells you proudly.

“Hey, listen, there are worse things to be,” you reason out with him. “For example, you could be the girl that made a superhuman Confusing Concoction and earned herself a detention for it.”

“Oh, her? I think she’s pretty cool, though,” Hoseok says, pearly white teeth on display as he smiles at you.

“Do you really?” You ask, only a little skeptical.

Hoseok leans back against the glass of the greenhouse a little too heavily, making the wooden bench wobble as you both sit on it. You jump slightly before the two of you regain your balance. Like a Disney prince, he reaches up next to him and plucks a flower growing on the vines along the outside of the greenhouse walls, twirling it between his fingertips before handing it to you. “Yeah, I do.”

Meeting Hoseok outside Greenhouse 3 becomes a regular thing for the two of you. More often than not it ends up being because either one or both of you are skipping class, but what the rest of the world doesn’t know won’t hurt them. It’s strange, in a way. You’re an incredibly independent person as it is, but you never realized how much of a sanctuary you can find in another human being, even if it is just for a little bit.

In a trade for the muggle book you had been reading when he first stumbled upon you outside of the greenhouse, he brings you a little succulent for you to take care of.

“It’s just a normal succulent,” Hoseok says with a laugh as you nervously take the pot from his hands. “Nothing magical about it. Just a cactus’ weird cousin.”

“Don’t you know how irresponsible I am? What makes you think I can take care of a plant?” You ask skeptically.

“Succulents are so easy even irresponsible people like you can handle it,” Hoseok says with a wink, making you fake gag. His false sleaziness makes you a little sick. It’s just difficult to reconcile Greasy Hoseok with Nature Hoseok, who legitimately raps to the plants he’s taking care of. One time, you got to the greenhouse a bit early and found him transferring a plant to a larger pot and spitting some sick fire while he was at it. It was, admittedly, incredibly endearing.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that statement,” you say as you stare down at the succulent in your hands. It’s small—your palm can easily cup the entire pot, and it looks sort of like a very green lotus flower. Unsure of what to say next, you look back at Hoseok, helplessly.

“Well, aren’t you gonna name it?” He asks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why in Merlin would I name it?” You retort.

Hoseok pouts, lips turning into into a little mountain peak as he frowns. “Because naming plants makes them real. Without it, they’d just be plants. Name it!”

“Do you name your plants?” You challenge, though you’d be entirely unsurprised if he said yes. He seems the type. Not that that means anything.

“Only the ones that are important to me,” he tells you. You make a mental note to explore the greenhouse with him one of these days so you can learn which plants matter to him. Which ones he cares for the most. “Are you going to name your succulent?”

“What would I name it, though?” You ask. You’ve never been super… creative when it comes to things like this. Sure, you’re good at coming up with the occasional prank or two, but nothing of any sort of artistic substance. “I’m not too good at naming things.”

Hoseok thinks for a moment, humming to himself as he searches for the right name. He taps his foot on the cobblestone, one beat per second, when his eyes widen. “Oh! I know. How about One?”

“One? As in the number one?” You ask, a little disappointed. You thought he’d whip out some fancy name in a foreign language that you’d probably have a bit of a difficult time pronouncing at first.

“Yeah, One. So that you can keep track of all of them,” Hoseok says with a grin, beaming into himself, radiating like the sun that beats down on the bath.

“What do you mean ‘all of them’?” You interrogate. “Are there more?”

Hoseok smiles, reaching out to hold the pot in his hand, letting the edges of his palm rest in yours. “There just might be.”

What ends up happening is, by the end of the month, there are at least five more pots of succulents sitting on the windowsill by your bed in the Ravenclaw dorm rooms, each of them named accordingly. They look a little bit like an army, a succulent soldiery, if you will. The rest of your dormmates have said nothing about the brand new additions to your corner of the room, luckily enough, seeing as you haven’t the faintest clue how they’d respond to you suddenly acquiring six tiny cacti. Hoseok had told you that they need cold water once a week, and you haven’t done something so faithfully since the time in your sixth year where you attempted to get a detention over the winter holidays.

The thing is that you’d just hate to let them die. Hoseok gave them to you because he believes you’re qualified enough to take care of them, and while you most certainly don’t think you are, you’ll be damned if you don’t follow through.

It’s nice. Having someone like Hoseok around is nice. He is, by nature, one of the brightest people you’ve ever met, both intellectually and emotionally, just the right amount of humor, confidence, and self-deprecation. It’s like he’s the person you’ve been waiting for at Hogwarts, someone who isn’t obsessed over grades and looks and popularity. Someone who just is. Existing, being, is humanity’s simplest task and yet so many people seem to overlook it.

You’re camped out in the Great Hall, sitting alone at the edge of the Ravenclaw table as other students wander in and out, completing bits and pieces of their homework and taking handfuls of the provided snacks, trying to accomplish everything before the weekend’s up. You’re doodling in the margins of the used textbook you have for Charms, working tirelessly on a stick figure flipbook comic. Whoever gets this textbook after you is in for a treat.

The eraser at the tip of your wooden pencil furiously scrubs at a flubbed-up bowtie (how can one side of it be larger than the other—it’s basically just two triangles and a circle) when someone, a very familiar someone, interrupts your thought process.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok asks, eyes wide as he stares down at the writing utensil in your hand.

“Um, drawing?” You respond, albeit a little unsure.

“But—but what is that you’re drawing with? I saw you just a second ago, you drew something and then you removed it!” Hoseok says, sitting down across from you. You suck in a breath and pray that no one’s noticed the Herbology king himself, actively engaging with a delinquent such as yourself.

“This?” You ask, holding out the offending object. “It’s a pencil. Muggles use it all the time—I had a friend smuggle me a few last year. They’re much more convenient than quills, no ink, no mess.”

“Fascinating,” Hoseok says, sketching a couple of lines in your textbook. “It’s much lighter than ink.”

“It’s graphite, I think. Less pressure,” you say.

“And what’s this?” Hoseok asks, looking down at the rounded eraser at the end of it. He puts it up to his nose and sniffs in hard, coughing at what is probably a strong whiff of rubber in his nostrils. “Oof, it smells awful.”

“It’s an eraser,” you say, carefully taking the pencil back and showing Hoseok how to get rid of the lines he just drew. “It… erases things.” You don’t really think you have a better way of explaining it.

“Amazing,” Hoseok says, still awed by the pencil in your hand. “But I didn’t come here for you to show me this muggle creation. I have a treat for you.”

“Don’t tell me it’s another succulent, Hoseok. I can barely keep up with the ones I already have,” you say, pleading a bit. You’d hate to sound ungrateful but Hoseok really has been piling it on with the plants and you’re starting to get the slightest bit overwhelmed.

Hoseok chuckles. “It’s not, I promise. Are you busy?”

“Eh…” you respond helplessly, staring down at your half-finished flipbook comic.

“Please,” Hoseok says with a snigger. “No offense Y/N, but you and I both know you weren’t going to do any of your homework.”

“Touché,” you concede, shutting your textbook roughly and standing up. Hoseok grins, leading the way out of the Great Hall (you attempt to ignore the stares and strange looks the other students are sending your way, especially as you pass Namjoon and that girl that he’s got a crush on, arguing about something) and directly to the greenhouses.

Hoseok’s got a bit of an extra skip in his step today. Maybe he has something extra special to show you. Is he upgrading you from succulents to actual cacti?

“If you wanted me to come to the greenhouse, we could have just met up at our usual time,” you remind Hoseok, citing the scheduled noon meetup you have almost daily, at this point. You don’t think Hoseok will ever go back to Transfiguration if you can help it. You’re rubbing off on him.

“I know, but this is different,” Hoseok says, grabbing onto your hand as he unlocks the greenhouse door. You pay little attention to the way his fingers fit between yours, holding on tightly, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll vanish. With a shake of the knob, he opens the door to the greenhouse and walks you inside to reveal what you would consider a fairy’s dream home.

He’s strung up little lanterns all over the place, hanging from the ceiling and taped to the wall in strands. There’s a peaceful sort of aura, the warm yellow lights of the lanterns mixing with the clear daylight outside, giving a sort of ethereal glow to anything inside the greenhouse. Besides just the decorations, Hoseok has a collection of various plant species on the tables in the center, all of different shapes and sizes, and next to it, a pile of the gardening tools you use in class.

“What’s this, Hoseok?” You ask in awe, fingers dancing along the strings of lanterns taped onto the walls.

“Just a little something,” he says bashfully, curling into his Hufflepuff robes slightly. “I just thought that maybe you wanted to see what I get up to in here when I’m supposed to be in class.”

“So scandalous,” you chide jokingly. “But that sounds lovely, Hoseok. What do you want to show me?”

Hoseok’s brushing his hand along the plants on the table like they’re his own children. In a way, they sort of are. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t necessarily make frequent appearances in our Herbology class in fifth year, did you?”

“I did not come here to be attacked like this,” you claim defensively.

“Well, since you skipped so much, I thought that I could teach you what you missed. Show you the proper way to care for plants, not the way that the barbaric students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry do. If you want, that is,” he says, smiling shyly. As if you were going to tell him no.

“I would love that, Hoseok,” you tell him. Hoseok beams and the golden of his robes seems to shine a little brighter.

Quickly, he scurries over and gets to work, pulling on some gloves and motioning for you to do the same. Once you’re all prepared, gloves and thick lab coat on to protect your robes, he begins to show you all of the plants he’s lined up, young trees that are still small enough to fit in pots, flowers with magical healing properties. One by one, he introduces you to them, tells you their name and their age like he’s showing you his children.

Ah, so these are the plants Hoseok cares for the most.

Normally there would be some snarky comment on the tip of your tongue, maybe a self-deprecating joke if you’re feeling extra spicy, but you don’t dare interrupt him as Hoseok’s talking, gestures animated and smile wide as he tells you everything he knows about the things he loves. There isn’t a word that even thinks about leaving your lips, not wanting to take away from the love Hoseok holds for these plants and the trust he has in you as he tells you about them.

“And this one only likes direct sunlight when the sun’s rising or setting, otherwise it gets too bright,” Hoseok says, a hand brushing along one of the thick, floppy leaves of the flower. It’s far past blooming season, so all that’s left of the annual blossom are the green bits that are holding onto the remnants of seasons past. “Keeping up?” He asks, leaning into you slightly with a hand on your wrist. “I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him honestly. “The fact that you know so much about these plants… spent so much time with them… it’s incredible.” You don’t think you’ve ever held so much dedication to anything in your life.

“Ah, well,” Hoseok says with a shrug, like the achievements he’s had in a subject like this mean nothing. Not everyone can do this—not everyone can speak the language of plants, of greenery, of nature. Perhaps Hoseok doesn’t notice this, but you do: the way that even just in his presence, the plants seem to perk up a little, drawn to him, to his existence, like bees to honey.

It’s like that, sometimes. Sometimes there are people so electric that you can’t help but be closer to them.

“Herbology is really all I have going for me,” Hoseok says, and even though it’s supposed to be a joke it sounds kind of sad. Sad like Hoseok really thinks the only thing he’s good for is agriculture. Sad, because Hoseok is so good at so many things that it’s turned his heart into gold. Priceless.

“That’s not true,” you respond instantly. You stop in place, making Hoseok turn to you from where he had been looking down at the pots, looking at you with a kind of helpless expression on his face. “There is so much more to you than Herbology.”

“Like what?” He asks somewhat skeptically, chuckling to himself.

“Like your smile,” you tell him immediately, making him grin a little bit, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “And your laugh. People don’t go to you to ask for help because you’re good at Herbology. There are plenty of kids who are good at Herbology at Hogwarts. But they go to you, Hoseok, because you are someone who can teach them something. Because they know that you will treat them with respect. And because you’re good company.”

He’s silent.

“At least, I think you’re good company,” you add on. Knowing the students that walk the hallways of this magical school, there are people who take Hoseok’s gift for love for granted, coming to him just so they can get a better grade on this essay or finish this lab report. And maybe you don’t really care for grades and you haven’t done a lab report in years, but that doesn’t matter, because instead of knowing Hoseok as your homework helper, you know him as your friend.

“You do?” He asks, hopeful tone evident in his words.

“Yeah, I do,” you say back, meeting the dark brown of his irises with your own as they twinkle like stars, the fairy lights reflected in a sea of chocolate.

Hoseok smiles like it’s the last time he ever will and pulls you closer to him, handing you a freshly-filled watering can as he continues on with the lesson. And maybe, just maybe, the feeling of his arms wrapped around yours as he guides your grip on the watering can, showing you exactly how to hydrate the plant in front of you so as to ensure maximum consumption, makes your heart beat a little bit faster. Just maybe.

Something that’s come along with plenty of experience as a class-skipper is extensive knowledge of the best ways to get off of campus. You’ve heard tales, legends and fables, of this magical map that shows everybody’s whereabouts at every point of the day, alongside all of the secret passageways out of the castle, but unfortunately you don’t have your hands on something like that, so you’ve had to learn on your own.

Sometimes there are just days where even the wide, open hallways of Hogwarts are too suffocating to stay in.

Because of this, you’ve become a frequenter of Hogsmeade on the average weekday, when students are definitely not supposed to be Hogsmeade regulars. But you never really fit into the status quo, anyway.

Besides, you don’t think anyone in your standard Hogwarts classes will miss you too much if you’re gone for the day.

Hoseok is in Greenhouse 2 when you find him right before the noon classes are in session. Specks of him, little glimpses of his figure are visible through the ivy that covers the walls as he speaks with Professor Sprout about something, watching as he towers over her much shorter frame. You’d probably join in on the conversation, but you and Sprout haven’t necessarily had a great relationship the past few years (re: skipped her class all the time) and though she’s kind, she’d rat you out in a heartbeat.

Instead, while you wait, you wander into Greenhouse 3, its walls still lined with lanterns and all of Hoseok’s favorite plants waiting on the table. Slowly, almost instinctively, you begin to brush your fingers along their petals, their leaves and stems, just as Hoseok does. It only feels natural—to treat them as gently as Hoseok does. You’d feel as though you’d be doing him a disservice if you didn’t.

Perhaps it’s because the skies are overcast today, but the plants look a little sad. Not in the sense that they’ve been poorly taken care of—because you know for certain that that’s not the case—but more that they seem to be drooping, like their moods are down.

“I know,” you hum to them softly, looking at them like you relate to them. “I feel better when I’m around him, too.”

You pick up the watering can by your feet, still half-full, and slowly begin to water the plants in front of you, remembering that this one prefers having the water drip down its massive leaves rather than right at its roots. As you do so, you hear the door open behind you.

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Hoseok muses.

“Guilty,” you say fondly, finishing up the last few drops of the watering can.

“Hey, you remembered how to water them!” Hoseok exclaims excitedly, watching as you empty the can and place it back on the cement floor. “I saw you waiting outside while I was talking to Sprout.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what we you two chatting about?”

“Oh, she was just telling me about one of her old students that I remind her of,” Hoseok says with a shrug. “Said he was really good at Herbology, too. During the Second Wizarding War. Said he helped kill Voldemort.”

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re cut out for war,” you joke, making Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Oh, God. If I had to help kill Voldemort, I think I’d just die instead,” Hoseok responds back with a chuckle. “Anyway, what’s up?”

With a cheeky grin, you turn to face him, eyes alight with something devious waiting in them. “Do you want to go on a little trip with me?”

A little trip consists of telling Hoseok to look as inconspicuous as possible as you run through the hallways of Hogwarts, scurrying around corners on your way to the passageway to Honeydukes. Acting inconspicuous is already much more of an issue for Hoseok than it is for you—most people don’t ever want to bother you if it appears you’re in the middle of something, whereas Hoseok will enter the Great Hall, laden in his yellow robes, and have a plethora of people waving to him.

But the idea of doing something so blatantly against school rules (re: sneaking out to Hogsmeade) seems to have no effect on the boy as he follows you around the courtyard, hand held tightly in yours until you reach the entrance to the tunnel. He’s paid no attention to the glares you’re getting, the confused stares sent your way as the two of you scamper through the campus. To him, this isn’t something bad. It’s something fun.

“Wow,” Hoseok says as you’re creeping through the passageway. Though it’s dark, it’s clearly been heavily used. It’s probably been here for centuries. “How long have you known about this?”

“Since third year,” you respond, boasting a bit. Your creativity when it comes to your delinquency is something you pride yourself on, ever so slightly.

“You’ve been sneaking out to Hogsmeade since third year?”

“Yes,” you admit casually. “This leads right to Honeydukes’ cellar. But you’re the first person I’ve ever shown this to, so don’t spill any of my secrets.”

“Really?” Hoseok asks. You can’t turn around to make out his face, not that you’ve even be able to in the darkness of this tunnel, but you can hear the way he smiles, lips curling upwards. “I’m honored.”

After a few more minutes you finally reach the trap-door into Honeydukes’ cellar, pushing it open with all your might until it pops unlocked, allowing the two of you to climb out of the tunnel and take a quick respite amongst the boxes and boxes of treats.

“Smells like…” Hoseok says, taking a quick survey of the room. “Smells like Honeydukes.”

What he means is that it smells like sweetness.

Before any of the workers can come down here and find the two of you hiding out amongst the storage compartments, the two of you sneak up into the store’s main room, pretending to be customers rather than stowaways. You don’t suspect Hoseok’s got any money on him, but you’ve brought enough for the both of you, knowing very well that you will probably end up purchasing something on this outing. Maybe you have little regard for school rules, but you’d never steal something.

“Want anything?” You ask, giving Hoseok a nudge when you catch him staring down some Pumpkin pasties.

“I don’t have any money on me,” Hoseok says sadly. “Next time, give me a day’s warning so I can prepare accordingly.”

“I’ll buy something for you,” you say, already reaching into the pocket of your robes to pull out a couple Galleons and a few more Sickles. You’re craving something as well, though you keep eyeing The Three Broomsticks for a nice cup of butterbeer.

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Hoseok says immediately, but already one of the Honeydukes workers behind the display case has spotted you, smiling to himself as Hoseok insists that he doesn’t want you to buy him anything.

“Come on, please? You showed me all of your plants, the least I could do is buy you a pasty,” you try to reason with Hoseok, smiling up as the fond looks from the worker cause his cheeks to redden, a little embarrassed.

Hoseok seems to grumble his consent, knowing you won’t really take no for an answer when it comes to buying him something from Honeydukes. You end up purchasing two Pumpkin Pasties and escape any sort of questioning as to whether or not the two of you should be in school right now. It seems as though you aren’t the first group of Hogwarts students to play hooky for a day to go to Hogsmeade instead.

Hoseok’s already beginning to bite into his as you make your way out of Honeydukes and onto the single street that stretches down all of Hogsmeade, thanking you through a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

“Let’s sit down before you finish that entire thing within the next three seconds,” you suggest warily, eyes wide as Hoseok opens his mouth for another bite. “I’m craving some Butterbeer.”

Hoseok nods in agreement, wrapping up his pasty and placing it back into the bag that the Honeydukes worker packed your purchase in, hand reaching out for your own. Instantly, your fingers interlock, and maybe it’s because you aren’t cooped up in a stuffy classroom, or a dingy dungeon, but it feels like a breath of fresh air.

You’re seated at a table in the back corner, far from anybody who may be suspicious of two student-age customers trying to be as unmemorable as possible. You order butterbeer for the table and immediately begin to dig into your own Pumpkin Pasty, a little crushed from all of the moving around. It still tastes just as nice as it always does.

“How often do you come here?” Hoseok asks after taking a sip of butterbeer.

“Not super often,” you reassure him. “I swear I don’t just… leave school all of the time. But when Hogwarts starts to get especially suffocating, I’ll come.”

“You feel it too, huh?” Hoseok asks, more to himself. Like he’s telling himself that he isn’t the only one who feels this way. “Like being there is almost… choking you to death.”

You nod in understanding, knowing fully well that there are some things that can’t be explained through words. Hogwarts is wonderful and you’re incredibly lucky to be there, but sometimes it feels like… like it’s pressing down on your shoulders, hands wrapped around your neck. Like you’re stuck in an endless cycle, rinse and repeat of the same exact day, no freedom or autonomy to do what you want and be who you are. Combining that with someone like you makes for a very poor recipe.

“Hogwarts has always been like that for me,” you tell him. “It’s kind of obvious why. I don’t really… fit in with the crowd.”

Hoseok nods. There’s a reason you were wary of befriending someone like him, someone who is well-liked and popular and not a public nuisance. Someone who is the complete opposite of you.

“And I don’t mean to say that in a cool, alternative way that makes me better than everyone else because I’m not some pretentious asshole. I mean… I love being a witch but being at Hogwarts makes me feel isolated. And that’s kind of my fault, too, because I’m probably the bothersome student in our year, but there’s no way for me to change anybody’s minds about me.” You sigh. Stuff like this—you hate talking about it. After spending seven years building up the walls that surround you, brick by brick, conversations like this make you feel as though all of that work has gone to waste.

Maybe Hoseok is the kind of person worth breaking your walls down for.

Hoseok nods, the mutual feeling going unspoken.

“I know where you’re coming from,” he says, and it feels like a slight shocker, hearing something like that from a boy who seems to have almost everything. “I know our situations are different but… oh, I don’t know. I feel sort of… empty? In a way? God, this is hard to explain.”

“Not to sound fake deep but believe me when I say I know what feeling empty is like,” you say, sort of joking, even as you reach your hand out across the table. He takes it instantly. Maybe things are beginning to feel different.

Or maybe this is how they’ve always been.

“Let me put it this way,” Hoseok says, taking a deep breath and another sip of butterbeer to clear his throat. “If people only know me for my aptitude for Herbology, then do people really know me at all?”

And then what happens is it clicks. The gears shift into place like a key into a lock, and you realize that even if you and Hoseok are nothing alike on the outside, you being a delinquent with an affinity for rule-breaking and him being a Herbology nerd who tutors first years in his free time, there’s a reason the two of you found each other. A reason that you ended up locking eyes on the bench outside Greenhouse 3. You don’t believe in prophecies, destiny or any other higher powers that act outside free will, but it feels sort of like that. Feels sort of like you and Hoseok were always meant to find each other. Even if it did take seven years.

“People know me for what I’ve done and not who I am,” Hoseok says. It feels sort of familiar.

“People know everybody like that,” you remind him.

Hoseok’s eyes gaze to where your hands are resting upon each other’s on this hard, splintered wooden table, and then he looks up at you. Suddenly, it’s as though you’re drowning in them. In his being. In him. “Not you,” he says.

Maybe things are beginning to feel different. But maybe this is how they’ve always been.

Like in the real Wizarding World, news spreads around Hogwarts quickly. For the past few weeks or so, you and Hoseok have been meeting up at relatively quiet times during the day at Hogwarts, where very few students are out and about and even less are at the locations you frequently meet up at. But with your meetups becoming more and more plentiful, what has also increased is the number of students around you when you do spot Hoseok.

It isn’t a problem when you’re the subject of their whispers, their stares and pointed fingers. It’s never really been a problem anyway, not when it’s been this way for seven years and counting. You’re used to it.

But it is a problem when you begin to notice that it’s happening to Hoseok as well. That you being around him is like losing popularity in a shitty video game, where suddenly less and less people are interested in the both of you. He hasn’t seemed to notice—not yet, at least, he hasn’t—but when you’ve spent the past seven years of your life watching as other people glare at you, you begin to pick up on it.

It’s the small things. Small things like Hoseok walking into the Great Hall for lunch and instead of being greeted with waves, being greeted with whispers. Small things like him telling you, in the greenhouse one day, that he’s getting fewer requests for Herbology tutoring from the underclassmen. Small things like Namjoon barely saying hello when Hoseok greets him in the halls one day.

The real tragedy is how obsessed everyone at this school is with titles, with labels and popularity and association. How not only do you have to have the best grades and the coolest extracurriculars, you also have to have friends who are equally as high in Hogwarts status as you.

And it’s bullshit no matter who the vicious cycle ends up targeting, but it’s especially maddening when it’s someone like Hoseok. Someone who is only kind and giving and considerate, friendly and reliable, who, even with his faults, is still one of the best people to walk through the front gates of Hogwarts.

In the greenhouse the other day, as the two of you were caring for his plants, Hoseok told you he thought he was beginning to lose his touch with Herbology, as less and less students were asking him for help. And shit like that—that’s unacceptable.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe, if you begin to be the person everyone expects you to be, it won’t be like this anymore.

Hoseok’s always been too good for you, anyway. What made you think this would be any different?

“You’re just another reject Hogwarts kid that doesn’t have a future outside of these walls. Maybe if you learn to conduct yourself properly, then you will.”

Things won’t change unless you do.

For the first time in years, you wake up in time for your first class. In fact, you wake up a healthy hour before, having completed your homework early the previous night and tucked in before anyone else. Before you leave your dorm room to go and get breakfast, you make sure to water all of your succulents, the number of pots sitting on your windowsill now up to nine.

All of this is for Hoseok. Even if you didn’t realize it at first, everything you do is for him.

Your roommates don’t seem to know what to do with themselves when they see you, a full stack of the proper textbooks in your hand, as you walk out of the dormitory with your head held high, heading straight for the Great Hall. Despite what people may think, you are actually on top of most academic events in your life. Whether you choose to act on them or not, well, that’s always a toss-up.

You hope to get to breakfast early, as you have a test in Transfiguration today. It’s a written one with a single spell at the end, the one you’ve been working on perfecting for the past week. Granted, you, didn’t necessarily attend all of the Transfiguration classes in your schedule that were held in the past week, but you know enough. At least, with a bit of last minute studying, you do.

Hoseok’s begun to meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, but by the time he’s strolling up to where you normally sit, you’ve already packing up your belongings.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” He asks playfully as he swings his body over the seat, sitting down across from you. “Or are you actually doing your homework?”

“I have a test today,” you say simply, turning back to finish gathering your books.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about going,” Hoseok says with a disbelieving chuckle. “You hate tests. You always say they’re a poor measure for actual intelligence and proof of learning because knowledge from books isn’t the same as the knowledge required for survival in the real world. Or something like that.”

“I’m rubbing off on you,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I really do have to go, Hoseok. I need to get to class.”

Hoseok seems a bit in shock, like he can’t believe the conversation he’s just exchanged with you. You’re normally much more playful, joking around and smiling. Even still, he sends you sort of a shocked wave, bidding you goodbye as you walk out of the Great Hall, trying your very best to ignore the stares sent your way. You feel your heart thud against your chest, as if it’s just fallen slightly.

Your noon class is Charms, whose tower overlooks the courtyard with all of the greenhouses in it. Before your professor calls everyone to their seats, you quickly peer out of the window, just out of curiosity.

Below, waiting on the very bench where you first met, is Hoseok, clearly looking for someone.

Your heart sinks a little more.

You get the highest grade on the Transfiguration test. As your professor is handing back your exams, she stops by you to congratulate you on a job well done. You look down at the E written in dark red ink on the front piece of parchment. As you page through, noticing the lack of red marks and slashes in comparison to the papers around you, you can’t help but feel yourself frowning. Sure, you did well on a test, but it means almost nothing in the grand scheme of things. All it tells you is not that you’ve mastered the material but that you’ve mastered the system.

Namjoon approaches you after your Transfiguration class. You had almost forgotten he was even in it to begin with—not because he’s quiet, but because you seldom attend your Transfiguration class in the first place. His angry red robes and loud, obnoxious personality are relatively difficult to ignore.

“Y/N,” he says, coming up to you as you’re headed out the door. You have to take a different path to Charms now, one that doesn’t take you anywhere near the greenhouses.

“Can I help you?” You ask politely, albeit bitterly. Namjoon isn’t necessarily one of the friendliest people you’ve met.

“I heard you did well on that test in Transfiguration,” he says casually.

“Yeah, I did,” you respond. There’s no point in boasting any further—Namjoon wouldn’t be talking to you if he didn’t already know you received the highest score.

“Good job. I’m impressed,” Namjoon says, and if that isn’t the world’s worst backhanded compliment. Suddenly you receive a decent mark and you’re being showered in false attention by one of the smartest kids in your year? No, thank you.

“Is that all? I really do have to get to my next class,” you say, trying to break away, but Namjoon is bigger and faster than you, and catches up quickly.

“Wait, Y/N, I wanted to ask how you knew Hoseok. Is he helping you get your grade up in Herbology as well?” Namjoon says, pulling you to the side of the hallway so the two of you can chat. You know you can’t necessarily make a break for it now.

“We’re friends,” you say stiffly. Your heart seems to plummet. Just a little.

“Oh. That’s interesting. You know, if you ever want to hang out with us and my friends, you’re welcome to.”

“Because I got the highest grade on our Transfiguration test? Because you suddenly realized I had more to offer than being a nuisance? Because suddenly, now I’m smart and worthy of your time?” You challenge, making Namjoon take a step back in shock. You’ve taunted and teased him before, but never like this. You’ve never directly shouted at him. “News flash, Namjoon. I don’t want to be a part of your crowd. I don’t need all of that fake validation and clout like you do. If grades are all you care about, talk to someone else. I will not be taken advantage of, especially not by you.”

In pure anger, true unadulterated rage, you storm off, leaving Namjoon standing at the side of the hallway outside of your Transfiguration room, speechless. Almost immediately do you find yourself heading towards the greenhouses, ready to rant to Hoseok about how much you hate this school and the people who attend it.

And then you reach Greenhouse 3 to find all of the lights off and the door locked, like it hasn’t been visited the entire morning.

It’s been over a week since you last exchanged more than three sentences with Hoseok. He hasn’t spoken to you in two days. You haven’t even seen him in one.

And yet, here you are, waiting for him like a fool. Like a desperate fool who’s lost the only friend you’ve had in a very, very long time.

Like a fool in love.

When you walk into Charms that day, the very first thing you do is peer out the window. You know it’s hopeless, at this point, to be holding out for someone you’ve all but abandoned, but maybe. Just maybe.

Just as you reach the window, you spot a figure in yellow robes walking inside, not even bothering to spare a glance behind him, but it’s enough. Quickly, you pull out the homework assigned and leave it on the professor’s desk, rushing out of the room and bounding down the stairs, much to the displeasure and slight confusion of your fellow Charms classmates.

You reach the greenhouses in no time, banging on the door to Greenhouse 3 as you begin to catch your breath.

The door creaks open.

“Y/N?” Hoseok asks, looking only slightly worse for wear as he looks at you, almost as if he’s in shock that you’re even here. “Did you… run here?”

“It’s the most exercise I’ve done since you tricked me into getting on the Whomping Willow,” you joke, making him laugh slightly. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Slowly, the Hoseok you know is beginning to return.

“Hey, I promised that I knew how to control it, alright?” He says, letting you inside.

“That didn’t make it any less terrifying,” you tell him pointedly.

A silence settles around the both of you, neither of you knowing exactly what to say next. Hoseok seems to drift towards the watering cans, fingers itching to care for the plants behind you, but then he says, the most bitter you think you’ve ever heard him, “Don’t you have a class right now?”

“Hoseok…”

“Tell me the truth, Y/N,” Hoseok demands, turning to you. “Was it me? Am I the reason you stopped hanging out with me, coming down to the greenhouses? Is it something I did?”

“No—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me,” he pleads. “Why didn’t you explain what happened? I waited for you, right here, for the past week, and you never came. Every time I tried to talk to you, you dismissed me and went off to do your homework. I had to hear from Namjoon that you did well on your Transfiguration test. Why didn’t you want to tell me those things? I wouldn’t have told you the bullshit that Namjoon said to you. You know that I wouldn’t have.”

“Hoseok—”

“Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve always been waiting for you. Why?”

“Because you’re too good for me!” You shout back, voice desperate, hoarse. “Because you are way, way too good for me. Don’t lie to yourself, Hoseok. You know that we’re different people. We started hanging out and people began to talk about you. You know that I’m the reason you stopped getting less tutoring requests? Because people began to associate you with me?”

“I don’t care! I don’t care about shit like that, Y/N. I hate that you’re always putting yourself down because you and I are different. That doesn’t make you worse than I do. You, of all people, should know that,” Hoseok responds, equally as distraught.

“I can’t help it! Everyone talks about it; I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening! Sure, I hate that this is how it is, but I can’t change that. You know I can’t change how this world works. But I can change myself, if you’d just let me explain—”

“You turned into a different person overnight, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a frown. “Suddenly you were doing your homework and going to class and being on time and it felt like you didn’t have time for me anymore! It was like I didn’t know you at all,” he trails off, looking down at his feet. “Why did you suddenly turn your life around? To impress everyone else? I never thought you’d turn into one of them, Y/N.”

Red flashes before your eyes. “You want to know why I changed?” You shout. Hoseok nods, furious. “Because I love you, Hoseok! That’s why I changed. Because I love you and you’re too good for me and I thought that maybe if I was a bit different, we’d have a better chance.”

Hoseok is speechless.

“I’m sorry,” you say, much quieter. “I hated the way people were treating you because of me and I know you probably don’t even feel the same way but I just felt like I had to do something, so I—”

Within the second, Hoseok is storming over to you, footsteps heavy, and planting his lips atop yours.

It catches you by surprise instantly, making you gasp into his mouth before you feel his hands come up to hold onto your waist, pulling you in tight. It’s not a deep kiss, no tongue or anything else, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. Doesn’t make the rays of heat that radiate off of his body bleed into your skin, warm you from the inside out. His hold feels like home and his lips taste a little bit like strawberry chapstick and pumpkin.

Eventually, you part, and all of the fight seems to have drained out of the both of you. Like you had forgotten why you were shouting in the first place.

“Do you mean it?” Hoseok asks, holding you close, hands having moved from your waist to your cheeks, to cradle your head in his palms.

“What?” You ask.

“You know what,” Hoseok says, rolling his eyes at your defiance.

“I do,” you hum softly, lips curling upwards.

“Good,” Hoseok says. “Because I do, too.”

“What, exactly, is it that you also do?” You ask cheekily. You really just want to hear him say it.

Hoseok groans, but follows it up with a gentle kiss, a simple press of lips against your forehead. “I love you, too.”

You end up spending the rest of the day in the greenhouse with Hoseok (old habits die hard), caring for his plants and having the civil conversation you were probably meant to have before the whole argument from earlier in the day. You’ll never know what you missed in Charms that day, but that’s alright.

“I never got to congratulate you on getting the highest grade on your Transfiguration test,” Hoseok says.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“You know, Y/N. You don’t need to 180 your personality if getting good grades and doing well in school is what you want.”

You stiffen at the implications of this conversation, hidden beneath Hoseok’s words.

“I’m serious,” he says, dropping the watering can in his hands on the ground and coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to embrace you from the back. “I know it goes against your whole ‘school is a societal construct that ranks us via arbitrary values that are meaningless in the real world’ but you’re actually a genuinely intelligent person. You could stick it to someone like Namjoon, if you want. I’ll tell you he was floored when he found out you out-scored him on that test.”

“Was he, now?” You ask, interest piqued. Nothing quite like sticking it to people like Namjoon. You’re their worst nightmare: a public nuisance with brain cells.

“You bet,” Hoseok says.

“I may… consider it,” you tell him, feeling relatively keen on the idea. Sure, it’s the latter half of your seventh year, but it’s never too late to start getting good grades.”

“You better. I want to walk around and tell everyone about my genius girlfriend,” Hoseok says.

“Is that what I am now? Your girlfriend?” You tease, turning around in his hold so that you’re facing him.

“Is that what you want to be?” Hoseok asks, looking down at you.

“I may consider it,” you taunt playfully, making Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Consider it done,” Hoseok corrects you, pressing a kiss to your lips before reaching down to tickle you, ruthless as always. You burst into laughter, tears falling from your eyes as you shout at him to stop.

Maybe things are different now. But if you think about it, maybe this is how they’ve always been.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

[mchqsebastian-blog]

Character Information

Full Name. Sebastian Adrien Smythe

Age & Birthday. 16, July 26

Gender Identity. Cis-male

Preferred Pronouns. He/Him

Romantic Orientation. Homoromantic

Sexual Orientation. Homosexual

Hometown. Originally from Chicago, recently moved back to the US from Paris, France, where he’d spent about three years living with his grandmother.

Family Information

Mother. Natalie Smythe

Father. Adrien Smythe

Siblings.  N/a, only child

Pets. None currently, though he had a betta fish as a child named Ollie, after Oliver Twist.

Other Family Members of Importance. Émilienne Cordier - Grandmother, mother’s side, lives in Paris; Gregory Cordier - Grandfather, mother’s side, deceased; Anna Smythe, father’s side, deceased; Richard Smythe - Grandfather, father’s side, deceased

Financial Status. Upper Class

Please describe your character’s family dynamics. Sebastian has never had a close relationship with his parents. Things became even more distant between them when he came out at the age of thirteen, and, after not getting the support he was hoping for, Sebastian moved to Paris for three years to stay with his more accepting grandmother. He’s only recently moved back, and while, from a push by his mother, is trying to work on mending things, so far they the three of them haven’t gotten much further than polite, yet awkward, pleasantries.

Personality Information

Positive Traits. Charismatic, Intelligent, Determined, Witty, Athletic

Negative Traits. Callous, Shallow, Pretentious, Cynical, Hedonistic

Star Sign. Leo

Likes. Classic novels, red wine, coffee, rainy afternoons, his grandmother, hot guys

Dislikes. Being talked down to, mediocre sex, getting rejected, losing, jelly beans

Pet Peeves. Loud talkers, people who can’t keep up with him

Most Embarrassing Memory. Not just one particular memory, but several incidences where kids used to mockingly call him gay, before he came out, in middle school.

Hobbies. Reading, dancing, journaling, cooking/baking, revenge

Guilty Pleasure. Mint chocolate chip ice cream, pop music, kissing

Unusual Talents. Juggling, ability to wiggle his ears, sleight of hand tricks (mostly just pick-pocketing)

Habits. Smoking (cigarettes and marijuana, particularly when stressed), using sex as a distraction

Schooling Information

GPA. Sebastian takes his grades seriously, and has straight A’s. He’s very bright for his age, skipped a grade when he was younger, and is in several advanced placement classes. Since he was a young child he has been praised for his intelligence, and was frequently referred to as “gifted”. After graduation he plans on attending an Ivy League school, and getting a degree in law or business.

Extracurriculars. New Directions, Lacrosse Team, Debate Team

Character Development

Canon Integration. The little we know about Sebastian’s canon life outside of Dalton Academy is more or less the same, like his father’s job and his time living in Paris, though  I have added lots of details to his story and filled in blanks.

Lived in Paris

Promiscuous behavior

Played (and will continue to play) lacrosse

Enjoys nights out at bars and clubs, and uses a fake ID to get in

His father is a state’s attorney

Sebastian’s commitment issues/lack of respect for commitment in terms of relationships: On the show, Sebastian had no problem chasing after Blaine despite him being in a relationship. When he found out that he was, without hesitation Sebastian replied “Doesn’t bother me, if it doesn’t bother you” and “He doesn’t need to know”. I think this shows that the examples of relationships he’s seen have also not been taken seriously, which could mean that one of his parents is unfaithful, and he’s aware of it. I do, however, see him as being loyal, if he were to ever actually enter a committed relationship.

Sebastian’s relationships with older men: On the show, Sebastian mentioned that the “man of his dreams” was a man he met at a bar, meaning that he has had at least one “relationship” with a (presumably) older man. He does have an attitude of someone who sees himself as being above silly high school romances, (and some daddy issues) which may be why he seeks older men out.

Plans for Development

I would like for Sebastian to work on his relationships with other people, to let himself trust and open up more to them, as well as being less selfish.

For a plot from canon, I would like for him to have a moment of clarity, like in On My Way, where he realized that his words and actions towards other people have consequences, and for him to try and be more conscious of the way he acts towards others.

Other. N/a.

Character Biography

Sebastian Adrien Smythe was born on July 26th, 2002. The only child of Adrien and Natalie Smythe, Sebastian was incredibly spoiled since day one, but mostly with material items, and not the attention from his parents that he so craved and needed. With their demanding jobs, his father a lawyer, and his mother an event planner, Sebastian was raised almost entirely by a series of nannies. However, when his parents were around, they always pushed him to not only do his best, but to be the best of every group he was in. And as the rewards for Sebastian’s achievements were often family trips all around the world, he worked hard to make sure he got nothing less than first place, even if it occasionally meant having to play a little dirty.

When Sebastian was in middle school, he discovered that he wasn’t looking at girls the same way his friends were, and eventually realized that it was because he was looking at them that way. The day after his thirteenth birthday, he came out to his parents, but when he didn’t get the reaction he hoped for, he made plans to live with his grandmother, in Paris. Shortly after arriving there he started to experiment with other boys, and by the time he left, had declared himself to be quite the expert at it. It took nearly three years of his mother trying to convince him to come back to the United States, but eventually, once the school year had ended for him, shortly before his sixteenth birthday, he finally decided to come back. He’s been living back at home all summer, and though things haven’t quite been fixed yet, he has noticed slight progress in his father, and more in his mother, in their acceptance of his sexuality.

However, one thing Sebastian definitely isn’t happy about, is the fact that his parent enrolled him in public school this year. The reason they gave him is that they want him to have more “real life” experience, but Sebastian doesn’t buy that, and instead believes that it’s a way for them to try and get him bullied out of being gay, or at least punish him for it. He finally agreed to it once his mom offered to buy him a new car for his sixteenth birthday, a BMW, if he would at least try it out. So, even though Sebastian isn’t thrilled to have to attend public school, at least he knows that he’ll be the envy of the other kids as soon as he arrives. And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters, right?

[superstringstudio]

Mottos, Mantras and Mission Statements; 4 Steps to Branding Your Studio

Recently I’ve put a lot of thought into how I want my studio to be perceived by others. I’ve asked myself: What are the attributes that make Superstring different to the slew of other indie devs? What values will unite all the games that are born out of my studio? What does Superstring stand for?

I can almost hear the gags and wretches – this subject matter unavoidably gets into quite guffy, saccharine territory. It sounds like a load of bollocks, doesn’t it? Not long ago I would have agreed and written anything like this off as pretentious busy-work – a fat waste of time.

In retrospect, that thinking was naïve. I’ve come to realise how important this positioning work can be in the long run; it’s a vital step that a lot of smaller developers and studios are overlooking.

Taking the time to properly position your studio/company will cement your creative vision – it will give the games that slowly fill your catalogue consistency and a stamp that is undeniably yours. It will help you hire likeminded folk, and – most importantly – it will allow you to shape what the masses think when they see your studio interacting in the wild. This work is easy to rush and difficult to nail, but it’s not expensive. Anybody can do this work. Everybody should do this work.  

I want to say up front, by the way: I am by no means an expert in the world of indie development - Superstring is still a very young studio, and yet to release its first game (Headspun is out later this summer, releasing on PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch, PC and Mac). I have A LOT to learn about development. I have, however, worked in the games industry for over a decade, with the past four years in a global brand role at an AAA publisher. Recently, I’ve been trying to leverage some of that big-publisher-thinking on a smaller scale.

Today I want to share that work here.  

In this first entry in the Superstring Journal (get updates here!) – a new monthly blog exploring various aspects of indie dev life – I wanted to walk through the four steps I’ve taken with Superstring in terms of building a brand for the studio. I’m not claiming Superstring is the best example of any of these steps, merely an example.

Note: in an ideal world, the below would be worked up alongside the birth of your studio. It should influence the name you choose, the icon you design, the language you use when communicating with the world. I’d imagine lots of people skip over all this and just get cracking developing their dream game – I know I did. Much of the below can be figured out at a later date, however – it just needs a step back, and some dedicated time to figure a few things out.

Ok, here we go!

1 | DEFINE YOUR STUDIO’S MISSION STATEMENT

This should be an easy place to start, but wrapping language around the aims of your studio/business is surprisingly tricky. “Because I want to” doesn’t cut it, sadly.

Your mission statement isn’t a slogan. It doesn’t need to be catchy or clever. It just needs to lay out what you’re trying to achieve. If you’re a tech company it will simply outline the solution that your product offers to a problem. As game developers, our mission statements are more likely to be rooted in the experience we’re looking to give to our players.  

Some examples:

Supergiant Games “We want to make games that spark your imagination like the games you played as a kid.”

Dropbox: “to unleash the world’s creative energy by designing a more enlightened way of working.”

Blizzard: “Dedicated to creating the most epic entertainment experiences...ever.”

Doublefine: “committed to making high-quality games with an emphasis on originality, story, characters, and fun​”

Giant Sparrow: “[to create] surreal experiences people have never had before. Our dream is to make the world a stranger, more interesting place.”

Superstring: “To bring narrative to unlikely places through genre hybrids and experimentation.”

Try not to skip this step, as it segues directly into the second.

2 | DEFINE YOUR STUDIO’S VALUES

Yeah, the second step is equally as vague and woolly as the first. Sorry. But again, it’ll unlock a lot if you can really nail this. Knowing the three values your studio stands for will help you to hire staff who share the same virtues, and thus develop games in accordance with a unified vision. It will help write your studio’s signature.  

It’s all too easy to rush this step and fart out a few quaint sounding words - but if they’re not reflective of traits you genuinely believe in, they’re meaningless. ‘Honesty’ might sound like a lovely value on paper, for example, but in an ideal world this would be true of all companies and brands. It’s hardly a virtue to shout from the rooftops, is it? “We don’t’ lie!” Brilliant. Even if this is, in actuality, less common than we know to be true, it’s just a bit shit and generic. Dig deeper.

In an effort to minimise ambiguous bollocks and show how these values can directly affect your ongoing work, I’ll share Superstring’s values alongside examples of how these values help in practice.

Superstring is:

T R A N S P A R E N T This might sound similar to ‘honest’ on paper, but it’s not. It’s about being actively open in all facets of development. It’s about sharing, and keeping very open channels of communication. In practice: transparency will inform the content we create and share outside of core development - hence this blog! It guides how we interact with other developers, and – hopefully – shapes our games, which will benefit from the outside perspective we otherwise lack as a small team. I think this is really important for small studios where you can easily end up working in a bubble. Transparency is a two way street.

G U T S Y There were several words I flirted with here – spirited, daring, adventurous – but they all relate to being bold. As Superstring is a one-man team, and a side project (I have a salary and full time job if things go pear-shaped), I’m happy to take risks. If an idea doesn’t pan out, nobody loses their jobs. Nobody goes without food or accommodation. In practice: Riskiness as a value means that experimentation is built into the studio’s DNA. Our games don’t need to be approved by a risk committee. We will actively pursue ideas that are more out there.

R E B E L L I O U S   This sounds try-hard, but I’ve always been keen to weave a little attitude into Superstring’s persona. I don’t want the studio to walk or talk like a traditional developer; I want it more in line with a band’s brand, for example. Specifically, I want to tap into the themes and visuals of the synthwave music scene – which I feel embodies this attitude nicely. In practice: rebellion as a core value gives nice constraints for visuals, tone of voice and language. This value has directly influenced the visual identity work I'll outline later.

3 | WRITE YOUR STUDIO MOTTO/TAGLINE

The first two steps involve language that – should you wish – need never be public. They’re the invisible tracks your studio will run along. Your motto (or tagline), however, is the slightly more succinct and catchy embodiment of the first two steps. It’s the language you’ll whack on your website and Twitter bios and whathaveyous. It should succintly convey what you’re all about.

Here’s what I landed on for Superstring (after many iterations…):

“(Superstring is) dedicated to abusing the boundaries of game genre.”

I like this because it a) reinforces my mission statement of experimenting with genre hybrids, and b) introduces a little hint of attitude. It sounds progressive – a little rebellious, even.

Note: With the motto complete, I’d also recommend building out a long and short description for your studio, too. There’s countless uses for these (website about page, press release boiler plates, etc etc) , and having a long and short versions prepared will save you a lot of time.

4 | DEVELOP YOUR VISUAL IDENTITY

With the first three steps nailed, you can start building the core assets that will reflect your aims. All that introspective ethereal rubbish can now be converted into some lovely eye-candy! This final step is a big, complex one, in truth; the extent to which you’ll be able to act on it may be limited by budget (it certainly is in my case – there’s plenty more I’d do with a bigger wallet), but there’s a lot you can do to bring your intention and values to the world.

A – by no means exhaustive – list:

L O G O What is your studio logo? How does it reflect your values? Does it reflect your tone of voice? Does it take advantage of accompanying iconography? Does it work in both black and white? How will it animate in video form?

P R O F I L E  P I C T U R E S What is your Twitter/FB/Insta/Discord/IndieDB profile image? Does it use your logo’s iconography? Is it still readable at a teeny-tiny resolution? Perhaps there’s no better representation of your studio than your own beautiful face.

K E Y  A R T I wouldn’t say your studio needs bespoke key art (unlike your game, which most certainly does), but it can help establish your values and convey what you’re all about. I was really keen to have something more than just a logo for social headers / website backgrounds etc.

C O L O U R  P A L E T T E   This will likely fall out of your key art & iconography – but having a defined colour palette will help tie everything together across the many platforms you’ll likely use. Continuity is key. Whenever I set up Superstring on a new service or social media, I ensure the colour themes are set to purples/blues/pinks; whatever is closest.  

F O N T What font or lettering are you adopting for studio communications? We all know how poor font choice can lead to wrong impressions...

O T H E R  S T Y L E  E L E M E N T S e.g. D O U B L E  S P A C I N G  I M P O R T A N T  T E X T //Branded bullets Signature Emojis

W E B S I T E How does your website bring together all of the above to perfectly convey the brand you've tried to cultivate? This is the one place you have complete control over, and it should accurately portray what you're all about.

Note: I see lots of developers leaning on imagery from one of their games in relation to the above. I think it’s important to separate your studio imagery from game imagery as soon as you’re able. Let your studio stand on its own legs and exist outside of individual game branding.

There’s a lot more to it than just this, of course. The language and tone of voice you adopt is also born out of all this positioning work, but there's enough to talk about here to dedicate a blog of its own. I won't go into it now.

I still think a lot of the above can feel pretentious and without substance, but going through the motions of each step honestly unlocks a lot. Give it a bash.

Thanks for reading – I hope somebody finds some use in this. I am more than happy to chat in more depth about any of the points here – come chat with me on Discord - and if you found this helpful, please do subscribe to the Superstring newsletter for the next dev journal.

Jamin