#for some reason i forgot i can just. post my older art so here take these vash

[arilphys]

[selcaby]

So I saw Wish today and … Encanto is going to stay my favourite Disney movie for the foreseeable future.

But I want to talk about the wishes, because I've seen people on here saying that they're lame or vague or just silly. And I kind of agree with that, but I also think it's part of the point.

Take Sabino's wish. He wished to inspire people, apparently with his mandolin playing. We don't know if he wished this when he was 18 or whether he arrived in Rosas later in life and gave up his wish then. But given Magnifico and Amaya don't look very old, I'm guessing they are both older than they look thanks to sorcery, so they could have been ruling since before Sabino was 18. So for the rest of this post I'm going to assume that's the case.

So when Sabino was 18 the dearest wish of his heart was to inspire people with his mandolin playing. And then he gave this wish to Magnifico for safe keeping and forgot all about it. His mandolin's probably been gathering dust for the last 82 years.

Yes, this is an excessively vague wish. But the movie knows that. Magnifico says it: inspire them to do what? And although you can argue he shouldn't use this as a reason not to grant the wish, he's also not wrong.

And this kind of wish? It's the kind I think the creative team would have made themselves. Think about it: they work for Walt Disney Animation Studios, that world-renowned dream factory. I assume they're happy to be there and have passion for the work they do. If you'd asked them at age 18 what they wanted out of life, they'd probably have told you they wanted to be artists, animators, writers, composers ... that they wanted to make art (of some kind, maybe movies, maybe not) that entertained and inspired people. Now imagine someone taking those ambitions away from them, so that they forgot what they even wanted. Would they be making Disney movies now? No, they wouldn't have bothered going to film school or learning animation or whatever they did to get to where they are today. They'd be doing something far less interesting, probably. I imagine them imagining that kind of alternate life and seeing it as a nightmare.

The tragedy of the situation is not that Sabino never had his wish granted. (He still doesn't have it granted in the movie. He just gets to remember what it is.) The tragedy is that by giving it up and forgetting about it, he lost the chance to make it come true by his own efforts. He doesn't regain that chance for another 82 years. That's a long time to live directionless and lacking the drive to be what he once truly wanted. I wonder what he did in the meantime. We know very little about his life, and I do think that's a missed opportunity.

What we got instead was Simon. He's the only one of the teenage posse to be over 18. His friends know that giving his wish to Magnifico changed him, and not for the better. He's become boring (and perpetually sleepy, which might be a sign of depression stemming from his lack of direction in life). His friends don't seem to know what his wish was, but it's not clear whether he just never told them or whether Magnifico's magic made them forget as well. Simon is there to show us what it (theoretically) does to someone when they lose the memory of their wish. I say theoretically because the kingdom still seems to be functioning pretty well, and most people seem unaware of the negative side effects of forgetting one's wish ... but I suppose these things are necessary for the story to work.

This actually reminds me of Delirium by Lauren Oliver, a YA dystopia series where, on reaching adulthood, everyone has a surgical procedure that "cures" them of the ability to love. Afterwards they enter loveless arranged marriages, put in the work to bring up their children purely out of duty, and spend their working lives in jobs they have no passion for, assigned to them by the government. The only people who see anything wrong with this are those who haven't had the procedure yet, or on whom it didn't work. The protagonist is a girl who accepts the system until, not long before she's due to have the procedure, she falls in love. I never finished reading that series, but one thing I liked about it was how it made the effort to show what a society without love could look like and how it could work. Wish could have done with more of that sort of thing.

The woman who has her wish granted? She wants to make the finest clothes in all of Rosas. Since she's going to make them herself, I'm not sure what will make them the finest; does her talent get a magical boost? Isn't that cheating? What's the point of being the best at something if you're not the one doing it? So yeah, I think that wasn't particularly well thought out. They had to show it happening once so we could see what it looked like, but they probably could have picked a better example. (In Encanto, they similarly had to show what it looks like when a child gets a gift the way Mirabel didn't. But they picked a good example: Antonio, who gets the gift of speech with animals, plus a magical room that's a forest full of animals, and who loves this, and immediately makes friends with a bunch of animals who hang out with him for most of the rest of the movie, and spends his time trying to use his gift in ways that might help people, including in ways that affect the plot. For example, his gift is the reason why the rats can rat out Bruno.)

Remember, the wishes don't all get granted at the end. Mainly, people get their wishes returned to them, so they can remember what they were and do their best to make them come true, if they still want to and still can. The queen doesn't grant that woman's wish to fly, but she does introduce her to a man who dreams of building flying machines.

And so what if they're the dorky wishes of teenagers? That's also part of the point. Without their wishes, everyone's development is arrested.

I could complain about how someone really should have seen the problem with this before Asha did, but I need to get off the internet and have dinner. This post is already longer and ramblier than I intended, but never mind; right now I wish for some food, and I'd better make it happen and not forget about it.

[meikostan]

just solved a mystery that wasn't really mystery and didn't really need solving 👍 anyway i was going insane re:oshi no ko timeline because i forgot how old the twins are and what year this takes place in and needed to put all of my info in one place. in this essay i over-analyze the models of iphone as they differ from each other in the manga vs the anime. warning: very disorganized as i was sourcing all my evidence all this WHILE writing the post.

clickbait tldr: OSHI NO KO ANIME AND MANGA ARE IN SEPARATE TIMELINES⁉️ (NOT A PRANK‼️)

regular tldr: they're like 15/16 and the manga takes place in 2020 (but like including their childhood as well as their teenage years).

edit: the image formatting is broken :( idk how to fix it, sorry. they're still there, they're just huge and not next to each other for some reason

compare and contrast ruby in the manga vs the anime. now i will admit i am not an expert of identifying iphones but in the anime she appears to be holding an iphone 4; we can tell because there's only one camera lens, the power button is on the top, as is the headphone jack. it's also a bit rounded on the edges, which seem to have a little bit more meat on them compared to the manga. speaking of, compare with the manga: here, the phone has 3 camera lenses. the angle prevents us from getting a good view of the top of the phone, but there doesn't seem to be either a headphone jack OR a power button. it's a bit harder for me to tell but i think this is supposed to be an iphone 12 pro max.

compare. left: iphone 4, right: iphone 12 pro max

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL because aqua has an iphone too so of course we're looking at that

left: aqua seems to be using the same iphone 4 that ruby was using previously

right: looks more like an iphone x judging by the camera? compare:

ok so moving on. not from phones in general we'll still be talking about those but we also need to consider some other hints shown by the use of technology here. the anime seems to be pushing harder for us to view vol 1 as being set some time around 2010; if you saw my other post re:my thoughts on episode 1 you'll know that i talked about this already, but i'll restate some stuff here for completion's sake (+ add pictures)

compilation of flip phones being used throughout ai's death montage; while i did find some articles published in 2009 on flip phones dipping in popularity because of smart phones, they were definitely still being commonly used around that time. i know this because i was alive in 2009

also a wii, which was released in late 2006. it would have been incredibly common in many households, especially for non-gamers, which it was marketed towards. obviously a lone wii does not automatically mean oshi no ko vol 1 is set in the early 2010s/late 00's, but this in combination with the older models of phones does seem to point in that direction. also i have no proof of this but i feel like if it was set in modern day (2020s) that wii would be a nintendo switch instead.

bonus kana with an iphone 4 btw

you'll notice that these are all anime screenshots, and this is because pretty much none of this is in the manga. apart from the funeral we don't see any crowd shots, or anything of the public; it's all very focused in on aqua and ruby. what we DO see in terms of technology are ruby's iphone 12 pro max and aqua's iphone x, meaning in the manga either vol 1 takes place around late 2020/early 2021, the cast of oshi no ko is stuck in an eternal present, or this was an art oversight brought upon by early installment weirdness.

also, to cover the use of twitter: twitter was launched in late 2006. the website saw a pretty huge boost in popularity in 2008, and the mobile app launched in 2010. it would be very possible for the twins to go twitter viral and become the oshi no ko version of charlie bit my finger.

OK on to guessing how old they are in the present, which for now only exists in the manga!

DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS POINT IF YOU ARE AN ANIME ONLY AND INTEND TO KEEP IT THAT WAY, OR ARE OTHERWISE NOT CAUGHT UP WITH THE MANGA.

so, we know that ai had the twins when she was 16, and died a week before she turned 20. for simplicity's sake we'll just say she died when she was 20. that means the twins would be about 4 years old at this point.

what we're interested in is figuring out their age at present day. chapter 11 opens up with ruby filling out her idol applications; she list her age as being 14.

however, we know that she's been filling out multiple applications for a good while now, and aqua has continually been sabotaging her. this might not even be an application from present day. speaking of aqua, he mentions right after this panel high school entrance exams:

in japan, students enter high school (upper secondary school) around the time they're 15-16 years old. of course, aqua says they're "coming up", not that they're soon or currently happening. they could be on the lower end of 15 around here, or the higher end of 14.

additionally, in the next chapter, aqua is seen wearing what looks to be a gakuran (basically, middle school boy's uniform; middle school takes place ages 12/13 to 14/15).

from this we can guess that around 10 to 11 years have passed since ai died; they're about 14 to 15 here.

if we pretend that their childhood in the manga also took place in 2010, that means present day oshi no ko takes place around 2020.

mystery solved! but i like digging deeper this is fun. so let's continue.

skipping to the next volume!

lovenow time! here they outright state aqua's grade; high school 1st year, aka 10th grader, aka like 15/16.

can't grab screenshots of where 15 years of lies was established because mangaplus hates me and has locked the relevant chapters behind an app >:(

have to stop it here bc i don't remember as much as i thought i did and i also don't have access to chapters 95 thru 114 (thanks mangaplus👍) so uh yeah thank you for sticking with my rambles. again this was just me logicking through stuff because i forgot how old they are & is for personal reference. next time i do a reread i'll add more ^_^

[xiadz]

Long post, I found a comic book I wrote with friends like 25 years ago and I'm reading it and here are some thoughts lol

In 2nd grade myself and 2 other friends wrote a comic book called Robots Mission to Mars and I thought it was just lost to the ages, a memory where as I get older I'm unsure if I made it up or not. However 2 days ago deep in my grandmother's attic was a random folder that she found and it had 3 different comic books I made and a few drawings, and within it was Robots Mission to Mars. It's surprising cause 1) I was sure it was lost and 2) my grandmother kept NOTHING from my childhood, so it was a complete accident this managed to slip through the cracks. Half of the cover is ripped off but overall the important bits are there complete with elementary school drawings of robots and space ships.

The inside cover even has an advertisement for a future planned "The Star Rocket Robots".

It's obviously poorly written but I'm honestly surprised, we fully came up with a backstory of a spaceship crashing into a kids house, maiming him, or as I wrote, "his arms tore off and his knee down got tore off", and three robots (Musuci, Syber-X, and Gama) survived the crash, saving our hero Johnny by taking him into their underground lab (i mean technically it was underground since they crashed I guess) and the robots fixed him by turning him into a cyborg, they then named him J-7. J-7 then helps rebuild the space station and in the process learns to be a robot. "It had a lab with computers and all that science stuff". By page 4 we are introducing enemy robots with very clear motives, Deathmole, the main bad guy is creating the perfect spy robot, aptly named Spier so he can steal plans. There's a large fight with 3 other evil robots, but since they're robots, Deathmole just makes a stronger and bigger 2.0 version of them.

Anyways I'm just genuinely impressed that as 2nd graders we somehow managed to grasp the concept of semi coherent storytelling and literally the heroes journey, as crude as it may be. It's also ready to be sold to marvel because at one point their space ship blows up and one of the characters simply goes "Well what about our extra space ship Gama? 'Oh I forgot about that one' he responds" Aliens show up for no reason and are unexplained other than they're bad guys. So we're even ready for the MCU.

We even ended on a complete cliffhanger. The last page is just

"Now let the fun begin. Ok let's rock you guys! Computers. Check. Gama screen on. Check. J-7 desk. Check.

I think the desk is meant to be like.. a console lol.

I might scan this and upload it somewhere. Every once in a while I still talk to one of my friends that did the art for some of the robots and we talked about it a few years ago, he'd probably be so fucking stoked to see it. I also think it serves as a neat time capsule into my childhood brain.

In the folder I also have "Scotts Awesome Adventures", which is 2 pages of panel comics that was made by me. Then I also have Pumpkin Man made by the same few of us who made Robots, but I only have the cover for it sadly.

Honestly I think one day I'd like to revisit Robots Mission to Mars. Maybe I'll even finally make that offshoot of The Star Rocket Robots a few decades later, but I don't know if it can live up to the hype.

[semi-sketchy]

(I'm certain tumblr will be bought out by someone again. I mean, like. Been here since 2013 and I'm not moving however. There's pillowfort and cohost, spacehey, neocities, inkblot, there's older websites like deviantart but I forgot the name of it. It's some number? But I forgot the name of the site but it's really really good. Sheezyart is also coming back and being reworked with the classic layout with a mobile friendly theme. For a yt alternative bitview is pretty good :> (do NOT USE VIDLII.)

But if you want to keep your tumblr but use a different site close to it, pillowfort is right on the nail of similarity. :3

There's some twitter alternatives too but, I'm sure you know already about them.

Also :> i love your videos btw. Been watching for a long time, didn't know you had a tumblr.

Thanks! Glad you enjoy my content!

My attitude is still

The amount of work it would be to take roughly 500 of my drawings and photographs (not to mention all my text posts here) and migrate to another platform that has folders and proper tagging systems is too high for no reward.

Because at the end of the day, there is literally nothing stopping data scraping. They can crawl with a program or the site could sell it, either way it ends up in AI generation datasets. The only options that could stop it are if I took and hid everything behind an authorized account on a site like toyhouse (which is so drama-filled I don't want to touch it with a 10 foot pole) or stuck it behind a paywall, like Ko-fi or Patreon, which defeats the reason I post art online in the first place.

You might notice my DA has always been public and I've never turned anon off on here specifically because I wanted people coming from my YouTube who might not have a Tumblr account to be able to message and interact with me directly. I'm on these social platforms to share my work with the world and hiding it away in the hopes of protecting it completely destroys the sharing part.

I create what I do not just because I like it, but because it might make someone else happy. Hiding it away means less people see it, your work will make less people happy. It also makes it harder for others to discover you and let's be real, people interacting with your work is a special kind of dopamine.

Besides, who would actually pay for access my self-indulgent dog-kissing drawings

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n and ranboo

this is an extra part to the great adventures series

summary: part two to the angst imagine (the not so great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo) it’s a happier ‘ending’ please read what is written in bold

this is an “alternative ending” around 15 years into the future this doesn’t mean this is actually how the series is going to end im writing it now and including it as part of series as their friendship is already established i can confirm y/n and the group are going to have a happy ending when the series eventually comes to an end this also does not mean the series is anywhere near the end i plan on continuing the series as vlogs come out, i feel the need to confirm this now love between y/n and ranboo in this imagine is completely platonic

it had been about a month since you last streamed whereas ranboo continued to stream a few days after the fallout as he wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. even though ranboo knew this huge fallout would eventually happen, it still hurt him, especially since he knew there was no way to prevent it, the four of you in the same house mixed with the stress of being some of the most-watched content creators made living rather difficult. it was like walking on eggshells as you didn’t want to interrupt someone's stream, then there was the additional stress of obsessive fans finding out where the four of you lived, you still remember that day very vividly. you were sat in between tubbo and ranboo watching the office whilst Tommy was in an interview when you received a message from your mod.

Chris: hey y/n I received this message earlier I don’t want to scare you, but maybe get the locks changed. someone sent a message claiming this is your address *image of message from ‘fan’*

it didn’t take long for tubbo and ranboo to receive a message from their mods saying the same thing

“holy shit...”

“chances are Tommy has the message too. we shall go check around the house when Tommy is done with the interview.”

luckily no one ever showed up to the house, but the fact some people were so obsessed to the point they found your address was enough to put everyone in the house on edge. and now it was just you and ranboo in the house. you didn’t feel safe as even though ranboo promised to not let anything happen, you didn’t wanna risk it.

“we should move. there’s no point in having such a big house for two people, what are we going to use the extra space for heh? hide and seek with people who have our address. no thank you. I say we move leave this mess behind and start completely over, hell I’d feel safer in the us and that’s saying something”

ranboo agreed the house didn’t have the happiest memories attached to it anymore, it hurt walking past the hallway as it would bring back the memory of him crying into the crook of y/ns neck whilst tubbo left the house.

“let’s do it, I’ll do an early stream then we can look for houses. go take a shower. I’ll stay close to the door so you’re safe, then you can stay in my room whilst I stream, you can join me if you would like.”

“you’re being very protective all of a sudden...let me guess you got the message from our mods announcing the obsessive fans are at it again?”

“go take a shower.”

“no.”

ranboo ended up picking you up, carried you to the bathroom and turned the shower on before putting you on your feet.

“quick shower I’ll see you later.”

and with that he left the room shutting the door behind him, 30 minutes later you got changed and followed ranboo to his room ready to join him whilst he streams

“hey boo, can I join you? I kinda wanna get into streaming again.”

“I'm so glad you asked, I was going to do a face cam stream, if that’s okay?”

“of course.”

you grabbed his mask and glasses whilst he locked the door so you were both safe. “here you go.”

“thank you.”

the pair of you started the stream and it was honestly going well, you were having so much fun you forgot about all the negative things currently going on, you began to understand why ranboo continued streaming as for those 2-4 hours of streaming it felt as though everything was back to normal. 3 hours later the two of you ended stream and Twitter went crazy. tweets ranged from fans talking about how ranboo was streaming with you, how Tommy was in chat, and how tubbo was modding as people who mentioned anything about their address being leaked were banned by tubbo. the one thing that caught ranboos eye was fan art and a picture of you both from the stream captioned ‘they’re platonic soulmates your honour’ ranboo went as far to like, retweet and comment on it.

ranaltboo: glad you liked the stream it was great having y/n back, think I might make them play tattletail next stream

definitelynoty/n: isn’t that the Furby game that terrified you in 2021? bring it on boo!

Twitter went crazy over this interaction, you had finally come back to social media after months of being inactive, and it looked like you were here to stay. a month later you and ranboo moved out of the house and sold it to your aunt and her wife and their three adopted children, you explained the situation and even changed the locks for them all before they moved in.

“Please do tell us if anyone shows up who shouldn’t be. we changed the locks as you were aware- oh hello little one.”

you noticed one of their children decided to cling onto your leg

“I like your hair it’s colourful!”

“Indeed it is.”

“WOAH A GIANT!”

the little girl let go of your leg and ran to ranboo asking to be picked up, unsure of what to do he looked towards you. however, you were too busy laughing about the fact he was compared to a giant.

“I'm so sorry uh if you want to pick her up you can, you don’t have to.”

“pick me up, tall man... I want to be taller!”

ranboo ended up standing next to you with an arm around your waist whilst the child sat on his shoulders happily playing with his hair.

“ranboo do not drop that child.”

“I didn't- I didn't plan on it y/n.”

eventually, it was time to leave and the child reluctantly let go of ranboo.

“bye-bye!! hope to see you soon!”

soon enough you were at a smaller house, far away from the old house, leaving behind the negative feelings. it could only get better, a week later the pair of you had settled into the new house, it finally felt like home. you and ranboo were now streaming full time again, safe to say the two of you were thriving and closer than ever.

“so I’m thinking if I hit the sub-goal today I’ll let chat pick what colour I dye my hair.”

“make it higher, and I’ll let you cut my hair.”

“Are you being serious? oh my god!”

a few minutes later you took to Twitter to announce you were going live.

y/n: kidnapping children in the sims with ranboo psst check the subgoal.

within 20 minutes you had hit the sub-goal, chat ended up picking another random neon colour for your hair.

“right hair dye and the cutting stream will be this weekend, now let’s go back to kidnapping.”

tubbo, tommy, and jack felt awful for what happened and went back to the house where you used to live, hoping to see you there so they could apologise, tubbo knocked on the door only to be met by a young child.

“my sister watches you on twitch!”

“oh that’s lovely.. are y/n and ranboo here?”

an older woman came to the door.

“oh no, I’m sorry dear they both moved out, but they left this box and said to give it to you if you returned.”

“do you know where they moved to?”

“I'm sorry dear, I'm not allowed to tell you that information for safety reasons.”

“I understand, thanks anyway.”

they ended up going back to jacks where the three of them had been staying.

“We should open the box.”

tubbo opened the box and emptied the items onto the floor, inside was the rocks y/n handed tubbo from every trip, photos of the group, a necklace y/n had gifted to Tommy a day before the argument, and a hat y/n had taken from jack during a trip to a zoo.

“what the fuck!”

“holy shit!”

“they really kept all these in hopes we would come back?”

“and now we’re too late.”

it was now the weekend you and ranboo were ready to stream, you stood leaning on ranboo who was significantly smaller than you as you lowered the chair he sat on.

“starting stream...now.”

after the starting soon intro played, you explained what was happening to any new viewers or people who didn’t watch the stream.

“so I’m about to become Edward Scissorhands...I love that film can we watch it later?”

“yeah mhm sure!”

you didn’t know this but your ex best friends were watching and ever so often would show up in the chat.

“so boo, what are we doing with your hair today?”

“just a trim please darling?”

“This is y/ns hairdressers you get what I’m capable of!”

you ended up doing a pretty good job of cutting ranboos hair, even he was impressed.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute!”

“mhm sure thing please don’t mess up my hair tall one!”

soon enough you had the dye on. 45 minutes later you left to wash it off, leaving ranboo to entertain stream,

“chat I think I missed some of their hair it’s okay, I own scissors, I’ll just cut it.. speaking of they did a great job, didn't they? I honestly expected them to mess up.”

a few minutes later you joined ranboo again and spent the next few hours talking with chat. tubbo, tommy, and jack stayed the entire time. they loved the fact you and ranboo were able to stay close after what happened, Tommy noticed you were still wearing the necklace he got you many years ago and spammed them chat with him tubbo and jack

Tommy: THEYRE WEARING THE NECKLACE!!

jack: so what? they clearly don’t wanna talk to us.

tubbo: shut up listen to them.

“chat why are we spamming platonic soulmates?”

“they’ve been saying it all over Twitter, look on trending y/n.”

you started to blush slightly at all the amazing artwork soon enough the stream came to an end, after saying goodbye the pair of you sat together going through fan art. unfortunately the one that caught your eye was this one twitter post where the artist had created a drawing of a piece of paper with you, ranboo, tommy, tubbo, and jack, however the paper was ripped separating you and ranboo from the others, captioned ‘it was never meant to be’ this clearly upset ranboo as he took off his mask and glasses placing them on the desk before going straight to his bed.

“boo…are you okay?”

“Are you tired of me? are you going to leave next?”

“what? no of course not! I could never get tired of you, why do you ask?”

“everyone else has left..i thought they cared about us, i knew it would happen eventually and i couldn’t stop it, i’m sorry, y/n, please don’t hate me.”

you sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the floor,

“come here.”

you watched him roll over to face you.

“you know there’s no one else who I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, right…if i hated you i wouldn’t have moved house with you. it’s not your job to fix everything and make everything better, you’re a streamer for christ sake not a therapist.”

“i guess so.. can we watch that thing you were on about for ages.”

“edward scissorhands? “

“mhm!”

you could tell he wanted to be distracted, so you agreed and put the film on, towards the end you began to get upset due to how overwhelming everything was.

“Why are you crying?”

“poor Edward.”

“come here.”

ranboo pulled you into a hug you laid there crying into his chest, he knew that wasn’t the reason you were crying, but he wasn’t about to make you tell him, luckily it didn’t take long for you to stop crying as ranboo quickly distracted you.

“ranboo..”

“yeah y/n?”

“I feel bad i didnt realise how much pressure was on you whilst everyone was arguing.”

“Hey, it’s okay, is that what’s upsetting you?”

“mhm.”

“don’t blame yourself, i’d do it all over again to keep you safe and happy..then again i didn’t do a good job on keeping you happy.”

“you did..you were always there for me even when i gave up on social media, you shared your room with me after i started receiving creepy messages from that obsessed fan, hell you even went on adventures with me even though it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping, just so we could spend time together and forget about what was happening. you mean a lot to me boo.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too bud, I’m tired.”

“go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“okay.”

“you just staying there?”

“yes.”

“oh, oh okay, goodnight.”

about a year later the two of you were still thriving, ranboo got you a promise ring a few months earlier.

“heh what’s this for?”

“as your best friend i promise to stay by your side and keep you safe and make sure that you’re happy, in other words you're stuck with me till the end of time.”

“boo…i really don’t know what to say.. thank you so much!”

“you don’t have to say anything!”

you ended up going out to buy him a promise ring when he started the stream and decided to take your cousins with you now that they were a little older. ranboo was doing a facecam stream when the door slammed open revealing you covering your three younger cousins ranboo not realising you were hiding them from the camera, instinctively stood up covering the camera

“ranboooooo!”

“yes you three and y/n ,what do you need?”

“we would like to watch a film!”

“Okay, i’ll go put one on, y/n will you entertain chat?”

“sure thing boo boy!”

once they left you sat fixing your hair forgetting you were wearing the ring chat noticed this and went crazy, so did Tommys group with tubbo and jack.

tubbo: that’s a ring, right??

jack: yeah looks like it.

Tommy: holy shit I always thought if anyone was gonna get married it would be tubbo and y/n, they were inseparable.

tubbo: hilarious.

jack: it could just be a ring, no one mentioned marriage tommy!

Tommy: we should congratulate them.

jack: at least let them explain fucking hell.

soon enough ranboo came back into the room,

“sorry one of them found it hilarious to steal my glasses...”

“they’re little shits i swear to god but i love them.”

you both noticed chat going crazy and both looked at each other before laughing.

“i'm sorry, i can’t take you serious in the mask and glasses!”

“i can’t take you serious with neon hair, but here we are!”

“rude!”

you and ranboo quickly put an end to the rumours,

“no we’re not engaged or married, it is a promise ring. no they’re not our children, they’re y/ns cousins they just spend a lot of time here..chat stop calling me and y/n parents and comparing us to phil that’s not..that’s not how it works okay!”

“parent arc!”

“y/n, don’t encourage them!”

“it’s a little bit funny!”

soon enough the bit came to an end and eventually ranboo ended the stream.

“hey boo look what i got you”

you handed him a little black box, inside was a ring similar to yours

“i promise to always stick around and be here for you”

“oh my god”

ranboo tackled you into a hug thanking you several times for his rings. you and ranboo were living your best life meanwhile jack, tommy, and tubbo were stuck dealing with the guilt of what happened, but they’re weren’t giving up that easy. they wanted you both back, that’s when you received a notification, tommyinnit has sent you a message request: hey y/n can we talk..please?

taglist

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! —  COMMISSION  — !

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

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

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

— masterlist |  posted; 17.08.2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

X – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way. No way.

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

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

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MINA!"

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

x- x - x

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

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

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

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

“y/n! Over here!”

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

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

It’s probably the butterflies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, there’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x   x   x   x 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a special performance, tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it made... for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 x    x    x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off you go, sweetheart!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 x - x - x

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

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

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

That you’d missed so much.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah!”

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

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

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

x - x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then had come the show.

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

Until tonight, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

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

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

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

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

You don’t even know where to begin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x - x 

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

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

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

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

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like this? Not likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click. 

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

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

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

“Jin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

“Are you ready, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to say no? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[artobotsrollout]

Also, I forgot to ask

Do you perhaps know where to get the physical copies of the comics?

I wish I could give an easy one stop online seller shop but tbh I'm still looking for one too.

BUT I CAN STILL HELP!

As a warning, I'm basically a baby Transformers fan I'm so new 😂. I've only really been around for a year and a bit and I've only just started reading the comics so others will probably have better tips than me.

@optimistpax knows way more about comics and comic theory than me so give her a follow for more comic related discussions/content! They're basically the entire reason I could figure out how they were organized so I could read and yoink the stories I wanted. BLESS

All of my physical comics came from checking out local comic book stores so these suggestions largely rely on in person shopping. It might be a bit harder to do depending on where you live bc of COVID. So this will probably come across as a broken record at this point but before doing any of this remember to get vaccinated and follow safety procedures!

TRANSFORMERS COMICS HUNTING

IDW 2 is P easy to find.

They can be found in comic books stores and they are still available (unlike much of IDW 1) for reasonable prices online. The IDW website allows you to order through them! Indigo/Chapters might carry them as well.

Here's The World in Your Eyes on the IDW site!

IDW 1 from my experience is harder to find.

If you don't mind spending a bit of time, look up local comic book stores in your city/area and go check em out and spend some time searching through their stock. A lot of them have some transformers comics. All of my collection was found in local comic book stores.

They might take a bit of searching and asking for help from employees since they are an older series but they might be found tucked away in a corner or amoung the shelves. Look for the IDW labels on the bottom.

A lot of places organize their comics by publisher first and then alphabetical after that!

Different series have different colours and styles but this is what MTMTE's (on the left) and Lost Light's (on the right) spines looks like:

INDIVIDUAL ISSUES:

I've mostly shopped for volumes so IDK if individual issues might give you an easier time? Some stores sell EXCLUSIVELY comic books and some sell EXCLUSIVELY comic issues and some sell a mix. I'm likely gonna buy the Windblade comics and the new Shattered Glass comics as individual issues so I'll post how that goes! They can take some digging but they feature unique pretty art!!

Final Notes

Ideally go for comic store runs and go for as many stores as possible (potentially including indigo/Chapters and used book stores). You might luck out in an unexpected location.

If you can only hit a few, go for comic specific stores that keep older stock as well as new stock or that do trade ins. Places with new comics may not have many or even any of the old TF comics.

Check if you live in a place that holds expos or shows. If a comic expo like Comicon is ever held it essentially puts a bunch of your local and even out of city comic sellers all in one accessible place making your hunt potentially more efficient.

You can try searching on Ebay but that could add a shipping cost and/or require patience as you wait for someone to put the specific one you need up for sale.

It can very quickly get pricy so make sure to go hunting when you can afford to sink some money into it.

I hope this helps! Good luck comic book hunting!

[tarantulas4davey]

hey do u wanna talk about the midnight mischiefs for a bit? i’ll sit and listen and nod -💥

ur the best and i love u

⚠️attention everyone:⚠️ rizz is a bad bestie and doesn’t know the name of the au. everyone shame rizz /j

i’m dumb so i forgot it originally but find jac ( @we-are-inevitable ‘s) original band post here cause all my thoughts are actually jac’s, fun fact

i’m gonna talk about them based on how they are once they’ve gotten to being a functional touring band, but if y’all wanna hear how they are when the band’s just getting started like they are in the first fic, just lemme know !! concept art for the boys and their instruments are included with the character descriptions under the cut <3

The Midnight Misfits 🤘🌙

Jack Kelly:

22

July 7th

lead vocals and rhythm guitar

sort’ve a little shit honestly

the adoptive son to Medda Larkin and older brother of one Racetrack Higgins, he’s the ringleader of a lot of shenanigans, and it translates well to being their lead vocalist, even when he doesn’t write much music.

he’s been playing the guitar since he was about 12, and he’s better now than he’s ever been, but Race is their lead guitarist for a reason. Jack likes to be able to focus on singing and interacting with the crowd, so he gladly takes the rhythm guitar line

he’s an entertainer, first and foremost. he loves everything about being on stage - the energy, the crowd, the music, his band mates, singing and playing, absolutely all of it.

he’s also an artist, in the most basic sense. his guitar was hand painted by him, and it’s one of the only material things in his life he considers a “prized possession.” he’s always got a sketchbook stored somewhere, and his band mates are more often than not the subject of his art, especially Davey.

speaking of Davey, they get together two or three after the start of the band, about two years before this point. he is so utterly smitten and has been since before the band was formed, and his other bandmates tease him RELENTLESSLY for it, even if some of them are worse than he is.

absolute short king that gets memed on twitter every time they’re at a red carpet because for some reason they keep putting Jack (5’7) between Albert (6’2) and Davey (6’4) during interviews, making him look Tiny

David “Davey” Jacobs:

22

May 13th

drums (and vocals, occasionally)

such an underrated icon in this ngl

he works really closely with Albert, considering how interconnected the bass and drum lines are, but also because as a unit these two write roughly 90% of all the band’s music

(younger) twin brother of Sarah, who also happens to be dating their touring manager, Katherine. Sarah plays drums when Davey’s singing lead for any reason, and they have a little brother, Les, who’s about 15 by this point

he’s been a drummer since he first learned hitting stuff made noise, but he got his first actual drum kit at age nine for his birthday and hasn’t looked back since

the most likely to get lost in the music and forget he’s on stage when he’s drumming, so there’s lots of fantastic pictures of him on stage taken by fans. he’s also got an unbelievable voice, but he hates being the center of attention and would rather just let Jack do the singing most of the time

expresses most of his emotions through song, especially the romantic ones, so if you track the songs he’s written from oldest to most recent you can literally follow the path of his and Jack’s relationship and how it developed from his pov

also he put a kick me sticker on his kick drum cause he thinks he’s funny n he’s right

Charlie Morris:

23

december 21st

keyboard and backup vocals

SUCH A KING

he’s the oldest age wise but he’s ALWAYS up to something and is honestly such a little shit. he is truly the enabling older brother even though he’s not technically related to any of the other boys, even by adoption

he picked up classical piano in elementary school, but he never really got into it until he learned how to play more mainstream music. he can play loads of other instruments, but an accident permanently damaged his leg, so he can’t stand to play most of them on stage for a full show without his crutches

he’s always so hype, playing off Jack to the crowd and getting everyone to sing along. if Jack ever starts just messing with the crowd on stage, Charlie’s always the first one to quip something clever back at him

he’s usually helping Albert and Davey write music, but he doesn’t have a ton of interest in writing the lyrics themself. he’s ace/aro, and he loves making jokes about how many love songs he’s forced to sing by his sappy ass bandmates.

started the tradition of going to 24h diners at 3am on their off days while they’re touring. it’s a time they’re least likely to get recognized by a lot of people, and who doesn’t love some good breakfast food? also the one that encourages Jack and Albert when they start bickering and wrestling in the parking lot cause he’s a menace

so many peolple are in love with him n he’s the most likely of the boys to get proposed to by a fan

Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins:

21

August 17th

lead guitar (and vocals, if he must)

this Race is one of my favorites tbh

he started playing guitar when he was nine, and he’s by far the best at it out of the band. he loves crazy complicated riffs and combinations, and his boyfriend writes all of them in just for him. he also came up with the original idea to start a band, even if he credits Albert with getting them off the ground

Albert is said boyfriend. literally half the songs in their entire discography are about Race. he literally gets named in the songs (by Toni, Race, or even Higgins) more than once

he LOVES being on stage but he usually hates singing. he still always has a mic in front of him, and he’s quite good, he just doesn’t like it. most of the time he uses him mic to laugh when Albert starts singing about him or to riff off Jack and Charlie’s jokes

their first hit single, Running Around, is a song about him, and it’s the theme of his guitar that he had Jack paint for him. there’s also a little reference that matches with Albert from one of the couple songs he’s written himself

He’s been with Albert since before they formed a band, and you can see it by the way they interact on stage even when they’re not looking at each other. they didn’t tell any fans they were dating for the first year, but a lot of people clocked them anyway based on the way they look at each other in interviews

so goddamn chaotic. at the beginning of their careers they used to have to turn Race’s mic off cause he wouldn’t stop interrupting songs to talk cause he was so excited there was that many people to listen to him

Albert Dasilva:

21

October 28th

bass and backup vocals

ANOTHER UNDERRATED KING

he didn’t start playing bass until high school, but like Charlie he plays multiple instruments. he’s just the only one in the band that can play bass, and they needed it for the type of music they make and enjoy

so fuckin in love with Race. he’s so down bad it’s not even funny. he wrote all of the songs on their first EP and literally all of them are about a certain blond haired blue eyed boy

like i said earlier, he works A LOT with Davey. they both understand each other’s processes really well, especially by now, and they’re just a good team. him and Jack get along like a house of fire, in the best way, and Charlie always takes his side against Jack out of spite

not really a fan favorite, although the people that love him LOVE HIM, and a lot of the boys in the band credit him with really getting the band started (against his will). he wrote their first original music AND offered up Midnight Misfits as their band name, which ended up sticking

he’s technically the baby of the band, but he acts like the oldest a lot of the time. he’s the one with the most difference between interviews and the stage, especially compared to Jack and Race, so people that watch concert clips tend to love him a lot more than people that just watch sit down interviews

there’s the boys !! this is so chaotic and such an info dump LMAO

i love u sm rizz !!! mwah mwah mwah thank u for letting me yell at you about these idiots

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 6

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3.8k+ [part 6] 

a/n: I am posting a bit later today. I am sorry but I hope you will enjoy this part!  I was too busy to check grammar, so I am sorry if you see any mistakes. English is not my first language. :) Enjooooy ♥

taglist: @njrwifey​ @danietoww04​ [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

You could see him smirking even in the darkness. His teeth were showing and the bright white colour pulled your eyes in. “That is not necessary,” He came closer to you and you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your body. The familiar voice made your knees go weak and you were about to fall down. With a scream, lord Black was ready to save you from falling but Jungkook’s strong arms held you still. He let go of you soon enough seeing the older man pulling the chair for you to sit down. “Are you okay?” Lord Black was worried about your well-being but your aunt hit her fist on the table. “Don’t spoil her, Lord Black.” You looked down on the chair and shook your head slightly showing him that you do not want to sit on it. Lord Black frowned and looked at your aunt. “I am sure she deserves to sit down after living with you. She deserves to relax.” With trembling fingers, he removed hair from your forehead. “You scared me, Y/N.” You looked into the lord’s eyes and whispered. “I am sorry.“ Suddenly you had the need to cover your already clothed body. You knew the feeling. You felt Jungkook’s hungry eyes on your body who was already taking off your clothes with the sight. You were about to say something but your aunt interrupted you telling you what to do. “Now tell us again what happened. Lord Black wants to know all the details because he wants to be sure there is no injustice towards captain Jeon. To put it simply, he does not want to make the captain Jeon father of your bastard when there is a possibility of it… well, not being his.“ Lord Black exhaled and pressed his lips together not wanting to sound rude. “Dear lady, I am sure I can speak for myself. So please, let me do that.” With that, he turned to you and held your hands in his. “Y/N, tell me.” He started hesitantly. “I have my honour and I cannot force captain Jeon to be the father of your child, while I am not one hundred percent sure, that he is the father. So tell me, was there some el-“ He wanted to continue but you shook your head as the answer. “There was no one else. When I left his ship, one man of his crew got me a carry and with that, I came to my aunt’s house. My aunt is the witness when I came there.” You looked down and your aunt stood up hitting the table once again. “And when she came in, I did not let her out of my sight.“ Your aunt smirked as if proud that she made you into the prisoner. “What about before that?” You shook your head and Jungkook who was the entire time completely silent tilted his head to the side and smiled proudly. “I am the father.” Your aunt giggled and turned to the lord Black. “See? He admitted that.” Lord Black sighed and nodded. “I should have taken Y/N away from you all these years ago, she would have not suffered with me.” The aunt’s eyebrows furrowed. “It is not my fault that she’s s slut. She shouldn’t have gone to bed with that man-“ She was mad but you could not take it. Not when you knew all she was saying was not the truth. “No!” You screamed which surprised everyone in the room but your aunt did not hesitate and walked towards you slapping you right across the cheek. She forgot she had a ring on her finger which caused your skin to tear a little near your lips and a little cut was filled with the blood.

You could hear a jar hitting the table loudly from behind you after the harsh slap. It surprised the lord and he backed away from Jungkook who placed his hand on the table and stared at your aunt. His cold deep voice caused you to run your hand down to your stomach. “Madam, I believe you are behaving more than inappropriate. You act like a savage, if you were a man, I would ask you to repay for what you just did. You touched something that belongs to me.” He was mad and you knew it. After that one night, you knew what you could do and could not, but your aunt did not know as much. “It will be better if Y/N went to the bed. She is tired and confused.” You were relieved that you might finally go since Jungkook said that he was the father and he wanted you to go. You stood up, passing by your aunt ready to leave the room but your aunt changed the plans. “No! She will stay here since she caused all of this! I kept on telling her that her body is the art of the devil. No normal woman would cause this trouble. Just look at her body.” She grabbed your dress and with a swift pull she ripped them apart letting the material fall to your feet.

Jungkook who was sitting the whole time stood up so quickly it caused the chair to fall. With fast steps, he walked towards the opposite side of the room. Your aunt got scared when she looked at him, she remembered that she always called you a slut and witch, but this man was Lucifer. She tried to put oh her hand to protect herself but Jungkook swiftly pulled down his cloak ignoring her. The captain wrapped the material around your body after seeing you wrap your arms around yourself to cover the nakedness. You felt the heaviness of his cloak which was soaked due to the heavy rain. You were shaking but not because of the coldness but because he was so close. Him being close scared you more than anything else in this world. “Enough,” Jungkook said coldly. “This woman has my child and I am responsible for everything. I will not return home right away but will stay here for a bit more. I will look for the house for her and for the stuff that will serve there. I will provide everything for Y/N.” He turned away from you looking at your aunt. “I wanted this to be my last voyage, but I will return once a year to provide for her and my child.” He walked towards the aunt and frowned. “I have to do that because she cannot stay with her abusive family anymore. I am worried they might hurt my child too. I am warning you madam, do not touch the girl while she is in your care, or you will regret it.” Then Jungkook’s sight when to the older male in the room and sighed. “I am done here, when you will need something, then find me on my ship.“ With that Jungkook walked out of the room. As he passed you by you noticed his handsome face that was frowning and realised there he did not talk about the marriage. He said that he would take care of you and your child but never mentioned the word marriage. He will make you a mistress. Just as he wanted. You froze still once you heard your aunt’s words. “Once we will be done with him, he will not act to mighty.“ You heard her giggling and lord Black’s sigh. “I hate doing what you want, madam but I have to. For Y/N. But let me tell you, you should listen to captain Jeon. He is hot-tempered. It would be better if you did not touch Y/N anymore. Not like you had any good reason to anyways.“ He looked at you once he heard your aunt. “He has no right to command me around. I will do whatever I want. I will do whatever I want to her.” Lord Black come closer to you and pat your head gently turning again towards your aunt. “You are wrong, madam. He has every right to do so. He is the father of the child and in a few hours, he is going to be Y/N’s husband.“

The gentle sun rays came through the windows that still had residue raindrops of last night’s rain and touched your face. You covered your face with the right arm and turned to the side groaning. You covered your head with the blanket and tried to continue dreaming about your father and mother who were smiling.  You knew you were awake and were not happy about it but you uncovered your face and inhaled the fresh air that came through the window. For the first time in a long time, you did not feel morning sickness and it honestly surprised you. You sat up opening your eyes wide. You realised where you were and looked to the side to see Jungkook’s cloak on the arm of the chair. “Idiot,“ you mumbled remembering last night’s event where you met him once again. “He thinks, that he can just buy me a home and keep me there as a mistress. I’d rather chose to give birth to my son as a prostitute than being his …well whatever.“ You said to yourself, thinking about Jungkook and his plan. I am sure he is thinking of how he is going to take me to his bed again. He for sure thinks that I will be glad for everything and I will let him do anything he wants. But he is wrong! You huffed and hit the innocent blanket then pushed it away. If he thinks that I will let him touch me he is wrong. I will not let him see his child grow inside me. The anger was speaking but even more the fear. You were scared that he would not be gentle and might hurt a little baby inside you. He wanted to take you as a mistress saying that he would treat you nicely, but you were sure if by any chance they will make him marry you, he would hate you. He would be angry and he would take you right there, even if it would be in the middle of the room.

Soon you could hear the soft knock on the door and because you did not want to wear his cloak, you pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped yourself into it. With that, you walked towards the door and opened them. You saw an older woman standing in front of you. “Hello miss, I am Ms Moon,” with a smile she introduced herself and made her way inside the room. When you were about to close the door, she pointed at the door. “these girls are going to help you with anything you need.” Suddenly a few girls bowed to you that you did not notice before. “We came here because lord Black asked us to help you with the wedding.” You weren’t sure if you heard her correctly. Wedding? You felt a stinging pain in your heart and you had to hold the door handle tighter to support yourself. The fear came back and you tried your best not to show Ms Moon how scared you were. Your legs were shaking, but she did not notice it. Instead, she looked around the room not looking at you and asked happily. “Have you eaten already, my dear?” She turned to you waiting for the answer. A little “No,” escaped your lips. You walked towards the closest chair and sat down on it, not knowing if you would be able to stand any longer. The older woman did not notice your pale face and decided to make your bed while explaining to you. “Don’t worry then, I will send one of the girls to get you something for breakfast. We cannot let you be hungry during the most important moment of your life.“ Your expression was blank. You knew what was happening but did not want to accept reality. You covered your face with both hands and rubbed them frustrated. “When is the wedding?” She turned to you confused wondering why did you not know about your own wedding. “In the afternoon,” She smiled and realised they may have wanted to surprise you. How foolish of the woman but after all, not everyone had to know the real reason behind your quick marriage.  You sighed and nodded. “I think they did not want to tell you exactly when because they want to surprise you. I bet your groom is eager to marry you. You are so beautiful, my dear.” She giggled but you did not listen to her. Your only thoughts went to the man you feared and how soon you will be laying in his bed again. How you are going to feel his breath on your lips and his hands on your body. Even though you were scared, the thoughts brought a blush to your cheeks at the imagination. He won’t be gentle. he won’t care if he hurts me. Nervously you stood up and walked to the window. When you realised you caused the tension in the room, you bit your lower lip trying to calm yourself. You wished there would be more time before it actually happens but here you are, just a few hours before the wedding ceremony.

It was lunchtime when the maids brought to you your last meal as a single woman. You were pretending to be hungry and took bites of the bread and kept throwing other things to the stay dog that was on the street through the window. When they took the dishes away and started brushing your hair, Ms Moon came closer and sprayed you with perfume. “I know you are beautiful, but either way this perfume will make your husband want you even more.“ She winked at you took out the white dress wife of lord Black sent you. You looked at the beautiful dress sighing. It was beautiful and if there would be another occasion, you would be happy to wear it. You would feel like in a fairytale in that kind of dress, but this is not the fairytale and you were not even hoping for a happy ending. They finished putting on your clothes and you did not even realise they were done until you heard the older lady gasping. “There is no prettier woman than you, my dear.” You were apathetic. You did not care how you looked like since you know what is going to happen to this dress. It is going to be ripped apart once I walk into the same room as my soon-to-be husband.

You turned to the door once you heard a knock and nodded to the maid letting her know that she could open them. Your aunt walked in and smirked when she saw you. “I see that you are all dressed up. I bet you are thinking how beautiful you look, am I right? But honestly, you don’t look any better than you looked like in my dress. Still like trash!” Ms Moon who was smiling at first frowned and stood in front of you. “Excuse me, madam, but I believe what you are saying is highly inappropriate. I have never seen a more beautiful girl, than Y/N.” Your aunt tilted the head to the side raising her eyebrows and replied. “She is the devil’s daughter. Her beauty is his work and no man that will see her will find peace. She only brings disaster. The man she is marrying is the devil just like herself!“ She spat the last sentence and Ms Moon held your hand squeezing it. “This girl is an angel” You were honestly glad that someone thought of you like that but when your aunt opened her mouth again, you froze. “Angel?! I bet you do not know the real reason why she is getting married so quickly!” She was about to continue but Ms Moon interrupted her. “Because her husband wants her to be his as soon as possible. That is why!”  Your aunt was ready to tell her the truth but stopped. You wondered if it was because she did not want to embarrass herself or because of the fear she felt thanks to Jeon Jungkook’s aura. The aunt inhaled as if to try to calm down and smiled fakely. “I have to admit, I will be happy once you are gone out of my life.” She spat looking at you. “Taking care of you was no pleasure.” You backed away after she hit you with hateful words. You did not expect that even though you knew she was always harsh. The tears in your eyes caused you to turn to the window once again. You did not want her to see how much the words hurt you. For the last ten years, you did not feel any love from your family. You wanted to feel it but was okay with no affection. Now all you wanted was love for your unborn child, but you were also worried Jungkook would not love him. You did not want your child to hate you just because you forced his father to marry you. You wished for your little baby to always love you. You were worried you would not be loved again in your life. You closed your eyes tightly preventing the tears to fall down and your hand slid down to your belly. You wanted to protect the little one growing inside even if it meant throwing yourself away. “It is the time, my dear.”  Ms Mood said smiling but there was also a hit of worry in her eyes. She was sure you were going to better hands than your aunt’s but it still did not sit right with her. She shook her head wanting to throw away the useless thought and pat your shoulder. “Come on, my dear. Your beloved awaits. Let's not keep him waiting anymore.”

“You look wonderful,” whispered the older woman who you met just in the morning and you slowly nodded thanking her. She did the last touches on your hair and moved the diadem on your head a bit to the side so it would look right from all the sides. “Like a queen.” She pinched your right cheek and smiled which you reciprocated. The music changed to the traditional ceremonial and your heartbeat got suddenly faster. “Is he inside, already?” you asked softly not wanting to look inside the church. “Who? Your soon-to-be husband?” She laughed and continued. “He is waiting for you inside. I think he is ready to marry you. Well, who wouldn’t be?” She asked not expecting the answer. She looked at you with a motherly look and sighed. “Y/N, listen to me.” She said not wanting to sound too serious. “Everything will be alright. He loves you, otherwise, he would not marry you. You don’t have to worry too much. Calm down and go find your happiness.” Her words were encouraging but she did not know the whole truth. She did not know that he raped you and that you were expecting his child. She also did not know that the made him marry you. She did not know anything, but her words calmed you down a little. “And let me tell you, he is handsome. If I were younger, I would have stolen him from you.” She winked at you and you smiled. She turned to the door and pushed you softly forward. You knew it was the time.

When you walked inside the church, lord Black lent you his arm to hold onto as a replacement for your father. You did not look at him, because your eyes were locked with Jungkook’s burning dark gaze. He looked wonderful. The satin dark green suit went well with his dark eyes. You bit your lower lip as you walked closer. When you finally stood next to him, you felt so little compared to Jungkook. At that moment no one looked taller than him. The light from the candle was showing up on his face that was frowning the entire time. He looked so cold and you tried your best not to run away from there. Nervously you clenched your teeth and quickly looked away from him. You found comfort in the priest’s face who smiled at both of you and nodded. The ceremony did not take a long time as usual but instead, the priest asked the most important question a few minutes after everything began. Jungkook was the first to answer, but hearing his cold voice sent shivers down your spine. “I, Jeon Jungkook, take you Y/N Y/L/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife…“ You could not hear him finishing the sentence, thinking about his face and the tone of his voice. He really must hate me for what they did. For what I did. When you realised the was a silence you widened your eyes knowing it was your turn to repeat Jungkook’s words. You did so quietly as if not wanting others to hear it. Jungkook took your hand into his and put a ring on your finger. With that, both of you turned to the priest and bowed down to show respect. When you both turned to each other, Jungkook looked into your eyes still holding your hand. He whispered#. “I think it is the tradition for a husband to kiss his wife,“ you nodded a little agreeing with the statement. You looked away, not wanting to look at him. Your heart beat rapidly and even though others could see it because it was slightly showing on the dress how nervous you and your heart were. With long fingers, Jungkook pulled you closer to him and placed his hand on your jaw squeezing it a bit, to hold you in place. The other hand sneaked behind your head and then he pulled you into his embrace. He held you so close as if wanting to show others that you were his. That he now owned you. The colour of your face disappeared and you opened your eyes wide. His arms felt like burning steel when he pulled you close. He leaned down to your face and opened his lips. You inhaled and he connected your lips in a heated kiss. It was the same kind of kiss as he gave you on his ship. It was full of passion, lust and need. You could feel the eyes of other people on you, but Jungkook did not seem like he really minded that. When you pushed him away from you blushing looking at the others, Jungkook smirked and tilted his head to the side licking his lips. Finally mine, little one.

Part 7

a/n: So they are married. Geezzz, looks like there is no way to run away now. Anyways, I have a question for you guys. Do you want me to post longer chapters but only once a week or three shorter ones  a week? ♥ Please let me know! 

[youwontlikethisblog]

The Art of Subtlety in YSBTLF

Now I have yet to really talk about Betty and her development. Currently I'm on the episode where Betty goes to the bank to secure a loan through Terra Moda and it got me thinking.

Slowly we've been seeing the change from Armando's behavior towards her. Now it's been very subtle. One of my favorite scenes that display's the subtlety of his behavior is when Betty and him are being driven around by Don Hermes.

Right as they are leaving the building where they went to sign some documents to start the process of Terra Moda seizing Eco Moda Betty and Armando are talking.

She often jokes about her ugliness and as a person who in society has been outcaste by the mere fact I'm fat, I get that. We don't use it as a way to downplay our worth, better yet to find the humor in something that hurts us deeply. This is something Betty does often. Usually Armando agrees or goes along with it. The scene however caught my attention because after Betty jokes that she didn't get hired due to her ugliness she laughs and walks away and Armando stays behind and nods slightly, as if understanding that her ugliness could cause that BUT we then hear Don Hermes lovingly say "My beautiful daughter, did everything go well?" and Armando's face lights up. He sports a slight smile and stares at Betty as she laughs and tells her dad that everything went well.

The more I watch this show the more I realize that we see a lot of contrast between Betty and Armando's personal lives. While Betty's parents are very present in her life, constantly at the fore front of her ethics and morals as well as there to keep her grounded and realistic, though at times one can assume over baring and over protective, her parents love her deeply and you can tell. They treat her as their most precious possession.

However Armando's parents are a different story. His father always expects the worst of him, his mother coddles him but with conditions. His parents are only ever shown or involved when it comes to the company and/or his relationship with Marcela. Often when they do talk it's always about the company or again the relationship he's in with Marcela. It never goes more than that. We don't see them interact outside of that which causes that parental relationship to seem cold and distant. Kind of like a trophy child. Not really there to celebrate or show love when times are bad. Just there when things are on their terms. They show more interest in Daniel, Marcela, and Beatriz than they do to Armando and even then it's not saying much. In shorter terms, they suck.

So this scene in particular is one of my favorites for that reason. We see Armando, who at first was annoyed and being all pipirs nice to then engaging in conversation, joking, and letting his guard down and that's the thing. Often we see Armando with his guard up but around Betty slowly we begin to see him let his guard down.

Now in particular the reason why I bring this up is because from the get go I've always been interested in the complexities that Armando's character offers, but Betty is this different story. While Armando is complex in dark ways, Betty is complex is light ways. Her complexities aren't a form of harm rather a form of self preservation but still seeing the best in people, while Armando's complexities are in self preservation at the cost of others.

They both struggle in a sense with self worth. While Betty's self worth is rooted in her image and the way society treats her due to her not being societies beauty standers, Armando's self worth struggles are deeply rooted in his person's worth. Meaning that he doesn't find himself worthy as a human if he isn't succeeding, which makes him extremely arrogant. Betty's insecurities make her extremely humble and though being humble isn't a bad thing when there is no balance, her self worth is to the ground and due to this she allows people to step all over her and she often is a people pleaser because of this.

She lets people push her around and doesn't stand her ground when people are rude to her about her appearance. She does when it comes to her work but not as person and because of this she begins to idolize Armando because, unlike everyone before, he sees her as a person, when it comes to work.

This draws the lines, clean and crisp lines.

At work Armando defends her. He defends his decision to hire her. He defends her degrees and her experiences as an economist. This means a lot to her, because as mentioned before, she wasn't getting hired due to her "ugliness" and here comes a man that looks past that and hires her over the pretty one. We understand Betty's crush. We understand why she begins to idolize him even though he shows really crappy behavior at times.

First he constantly yells at her, laughs behind her back, allows his best friend to secretly see her as if she were this attraction in the tent of strange and ugly phenomena at the circus. To then being subtly annoyed when certain people mock her and make fun of her, though this gets him half points because he still allows his best friend to do this.

To end my analysis of Armando's behavior towards Betty up to this point I'll say that as this continues Armando begins to soften up towards her and while no one else picks up on it, Betty does. Which feeds her idolization of him.

Up to this point of the show Betty has been unconditional, even when she has needed to set aside her true feelings for him, she places his before her own. With Claudia, instead of ruining his night she stayed in the room all night long to which later we see Armando feel guilty over it but he gets no gold stars over that. That was a dick move.

Betty constantly shows loyalty, unconditionality, support, and most of all, team work. When he fails she always places herself to take the blame with him. She doesn't let him feel alone in his failures. Betty truly shows to love him. As a friend, as her boss, and as a girl who idolizes him and this moves him because to this point Armando hasn't had that. His parents do not show him unconditionality. His fiancé shows no team work or support and his best friend... he sucks. He is a terrible friend. Here is this girl who gives him all of this and for what? She doesn't ask for anything in return except to work for him. That's why we see the subtle change in him and Betty deserved that and more.

When they went to that cocktail with RagTela, where Armando started to hit on Ms. Colombia, I forgot her name, Betty doesn't seem jealous or hurt by that. In fact she seems unbothered and stayed in her lane, once again the lines being crisp and clean. However later on, when Betty tells Armando that they've got a meeting with Macro Textil and she sees Armando's face light up and ask how he looks, we see a subtle change, jealousy. She showed some of that with Claudia but Armando probably interpreted that as Betty being frustrated that due to that she had to sleep in the office that night. Here he doesn't pick up on it. She laughs dry only to cover her tracks and gets the man his cologne and throughout their meeting with Macro she shows to be a good wing-woman, minding her business of course.

Now let me skip some scenes. They're trying to negotiate a payment plan with Macro Textil. At this point what Armando has said isn't very convincing and Betty steps in, our bright Betty manages to say stuff that makes them think over their offer. At this point Armando has had all eyes on Ms. Colombia but he turns to watch her, with a slight smile on his face, a brief second of staring at her lips and completely absorbed into what Betty is saying and doing.

Now I want to bring us back to the main scene of this post. Betty sitting across her old boss. We have seen two scenes of her old boss and her interact before. Not only to drive the plot, but I believe to show the difference between a boss who was fond of Betty, after all he did say he was happy and pleased to help her with Terra Moda after being her boss for two years and a boss who is... more than fond of her but confused about it(to be fair Armando is so stupid when it comes to feelings the dude isn't even aware he's got them to begin with.) Betty's behavior is respectful and friendly towards her old boss. You can tell she's comfortable talking to him and so on and her old boss is the same. He's respectful and friendly towards her.

Why do I think this is important to the plot of the story?

It got me thinking. When I was working I got pretty close to my manager. He was married and older than me and we got along great. We talked, we joked, we had work discussions and we'd talk about life and stuff. However it was always very respectful and friendly, like a boss and their employee. My manager was very gentleman like. He didn't let me carry heavy stuff(As a fat woman I'm not used to that lol) however the line was there, Boundaries were there. Obviously we didn't have conversations that were too personal or even that personal at all. I could see Betty and her ex-boss being the same. A simple boss to employee friendship but if I had a... ship of sorts with my boss like Betty does with Armando my sensors of red flags would be blaring.

Think about your greatest friendship with one of your bosses. It's respectful and friendly but you don't cross lines, right?

Now I keep comparing their behavior to my manager's and mine.

That is why they show us, unlike with all the other Banks Betty has talked to, their interactions. To show a clear and distinct line of work related ships. Her ex-boss is truly fond of her but he doesn't cross boundaries and neither does Betty.

My ex-manager was respectful and we talked like an older brother and younger sister would. That was our work dynamic.

Betty's behavior has always been respectful and friendly towards Armando. Their work dynamic has been that she's the smart one and he's the pretty one and it works for them.

Betty's emotions start to blur when Armando's behavior towards her starts to blur. We go from seeing back to back scenes that show separate life styles and personal lives to having them blend in and once their personal lives begin to blend in so do their work lives.

During this day, before Betty goes to talk to her old boss, we are shown the scene when she tells him that Macro Textil was on their way to sign a contract with them that very day. Armando is between Betty and Mario and he talks to Betty. Constantly saying "Betty we did it!" and things along those lines but after each sentence he goes to Mario and repeats the same thing up until he goes to hug Betty.

[EDIT: This allows us to view Armando's personal dilema. Your brain often blurts the first thing that comes to mind and seeing as Armando isn't that bright when emotions are involved, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind and that is Betty. His first thought is to talk to Betty, to celebrate with her (since she is the reason why that business deal is even happening) but he is prioritizing her, picking up on it and then going to his best friend to celebrate it as well. It shows us subtly the change in him.]

He doesn't even do that to his best friend. Once again, the lines blur. Armando is the first person in this work related relationship to blur the lines and Betty follows suit.

Yes, the hug was work related. Yes he was excited over the fact they could release the new fashion collection they'd been working on BUT he hadn't done that for other deals that they had managed. He didn't do that with the first collection he launched. He's hugged her, up to this point, two other times. Once after the meeting with Daniel where Betty gave him lessons on economics and later when Betty was crying.

This is their third hug. I'm not reading into that hug but what follows before and after.

As I said when writing we're told to keep what drives the plot, character development, and overall story; everything else is thrown out the window. So these subtle changes, behaviors, and quirks we begin to see coming from Betty's interactions with Armando explain why it was so easy for her to be manipulated by this man. They are important because they are meant to show us what is okay and what is not. What is normal and what is not and in small ways their work dynamic begins to shift and the first person to do that is Armando.

because he didn't feed the illusion of love when that sinister plan was created, he fed it when he started to get confused about her. When he started to blur the lines.

Betty didn't just idolatrized him because he defended her work. She did it because he fed her feelings towards him. When Betty showed loyalty he showed to be more fond of her. He went from constantly yelling at her, being indifferent towards her, to trying to watch his tone and temper. When Betty showed unconditionality he showed kindness. When Betty showed support he showed loyalty and little by little we begin to see these two blur the line between personal and work.

The changes are really subtle that they fly over your head but when you pay attention to the actual story and not the romance you can tell when they start and that is one reason why I love this novela because very much like real life these changes are subtle.

Betty's love was really subtle and you can pick up on when she starts to fall in love, whereas with Armando his change goes from being so subtle that you're confused yourself to it being so bam in your face you can't deny it.

In any aspect their relationship begins to blur during these episodes and the clear contrast of that is with seeing Betty interact with her old Boss at the bank.

In the future episodes this theory is proven right when we no longer get clear cuts of scenes that show the difference between their personal lives better yet we get a very muddy and blurry view of their personal and work lives.

Betty's moral, ethics, and emotions begin to change when Armando begins to change. Up to this point Betty has been consistent with her morality, though close to stumbling her father has been there to keep her on the right path. She has been the sweet and loving person she's always been but her character has been consistent up to this point and it's important to note that and why everything that happens after this is the way it is because as an audience we have been warn over and over again and so have these characters but just like in real life we don't always pay attention to the subtle changes until their domino effect starts to make too much impact.

also sorry if this doesn't make any sense it's currently 6:40 am and I've been writing this since like four lol.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: would you be so kind Ship: obikin Second: Ten years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi met Anakin Skywalker, a charming young mage from Naboo, but as fate willed, they could not be together. A decade and thousands dead later, Alderaan’s High Court Sorcerer meets a Forger and his excited apprentice. AN: I forgot to post this on tumblr apparently, but here’s the first chapter of my second long WIP I am working on!

Then

The ship was crammed, filled to the brim with people clinging to one another, staring either at the home they’d lost or the home they hoped to be sailing to. Hundreds of ships had left Dromund Kaas already, carrying refugees across the ocean to safer harbors. The tension was high and sharp enough to cut as they sailed away from the doomed country and only relaxed when the pressure of the country’s shields finally left their shoulders.

“An awful sight, isn’t it?”

Anakin startled, instinctually pulled his coat around himself. Were he in a better shape, he would have lashed out immediately, winds, bindings, blood—

But the power flowing through his veins was too constricted, caged like a wild beast. Instead, Anakin just turned to look at the person who’d addressed him. An old woman with snow-white markings and long lekku stared at the dying country just as he had moments before, grief and resignation painting a sorrowful picture. “I never thought I’d leave this place. Did you?”

Wordlessly, Anakin shook his head. No, he certainly hadn’t thought he’d ever leave this place again. He’d been ready to be buried under the ashes of marble altars, not see this new dawn.

“I was born here, married too. All my children were born within the boundaries of this country and perhaps that is the reason they all left,” the woman continued. “I am glad that they weren’t here. If I think about what could have happened to them were they anywhere near the capital… I apologize; I hope you don’t mind my rambling. You looked like you needed company. Are you traveling to Naboo?”

He opened his mouth to reply, to give an affirmation, but stopped. He hadn’t quite thought where he’d go, except as far away from this place as he could. Naboo was certainly an option; Padmé would be glad to see him, he was sure. She’d take him in without asking a single question and defend him against the storms that were sure to come.

But Padmé was his friend and Anakin couldn’t allow her to shoulder his burden.

“No,” Anakin heard himself saying. “I’m not traveling to Naboo.”

“They are quite defenseless right now, yes, you are right. The fact that it’s the first stop of this ship is tempting enough for most to disregard what troubles might find them there.” The woman nodded in understanding. “I’ll be going to Alderaan myself. My eldest lives there, and in a country as strong as that, a tragedy like this can’t strike.”

She turned to look at the remains of Dromund Kaas again. The coastline used to be covered by beautiful large trees; his Master used to tell him how vital they were for its defense.

Now there was nothing but ash and darkness. Even here on the outskirts, where it had taken the longest for the remains of the catastrophe to reach, nobody was safe from it. Dromund Kaas had been in a pitiful state after the last war, which had made it an easy place to hideaway in. Alderaan might be stronger, the blooming center of magical education, but Anakin doubted they’d be able to defend against an attack like this. Nothing could save them from an attack such as this.

But Alderaan’s distance to this cesspit of disease was enough to provide a different kind of security.

Thousands of refugees would search for safety there, and Queen Breha was as cunning as she was kind. No one would be turned away and Anakin could slip in just right with them.

“I’m going to Alderaan as well,” Anakin replied.

The woman looked him over, then she beamed as if she were a young child and not already among the older members of her species.

Her smile was the first Anakin had seen in weeks. “Looks like we’ll be traveling companions then! You must tell me your name, young friend. I’m Raya Tano.”

She held out her hand and Anakin awkwardly shook it with his own left.

“My name is—”

Now

“Anakin Skywalker! Your automaton is ruining my kitchen!”

Sighing, Anakin let the spell sink back into the metal and settle into it. So much for working on his commissions today. A quick glance around the workshop told him that it was not one of his automatons running wild. Artoo was currently charging up and Threepio was keeping himself busy cleaning up. All the other small automatons Anakin crafted when he was bored were either asleep and charging or hurrying around the workshop, washing up the floors and putting away the tools Anakin had been using.

Anakin tugged off his gloves and threw them to a tiny and eager little automaton before picking up his softer everyday gloves. The leather was still quite resistant and had more runes stitched into it than most people dared to weave into one cloth, but they were nowhere near as excellently crafted as his work gloves. The dragonhide gloves were worth a fortune and so they never left his workshop unless Anakin had to. Anakin watched the little automaton put the gloves in their usual compartment until he could hear the click reassuring that the lock was in place. At first, that had only been a measure against thieves as he hadn’t had much to his name, but by now, it was a habit.

And it discouraged Ahsoka from stealing them for her own projects.

Anakin walked out of his workshop and crossed the courtyard to the small cottage he called his home, finding a kitchen in disarray, Raya standing on a chair with a small red automaton attempting to clean the floors.

“Look what a mess it’s making!” Raya said accusingly. “Instead of polishing my floors, it’s dirtying them!”

“I can see that,” Anakin hummed. He waited until the small automaton had reached his feet, then he bent down and pressed his hand flat on its small back, stopping it. Ahsoka’s handiwork was getting better; this little guy had kept moving for a while despite her absence. Anakin had no idea what the formal apprenticeship for forgers entailed, when they ought to hit what milestone, but he was willing to bet that Ahsoka was years ahead of her peers. Her spells were strong, her rune work fantastic, and very few actual weaknesses were left to explore in her automatons.

But Anakin was still a Master and Ahsoka only an Apprentice. Her work was not yet good enough to keep out foreign interference. Without much thought, he deactivated the automaton completely.

“This was your granddaughter’s handiwork,” Anakin commented. “She’s improving in leaps and bounds.”

Raya huffed and stepped from her chair. “I’m glad to hear that, but weren’t you meant to teach her control?”

“I am,” Anakin said, the argument an old and fond one. They returned to it frequently, mostly to annoy the young Apprentice. “And were she still as much of a mess as three years ago, she hardly would be able to craft such a fine automaton. Can’t do anything about her manners.”

Especially since she’d become a teenager. Anakin didn’t remember being as much of a pain as Ahsoka could be.

“And here I was thinking Masters were supposed to teach their Apprentices a medium of decorum.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s what she has you for, doesn’t she?”

Raya’s expression softened. “That she does.”

Anakin sometimes wondered how Raya managed to stay so kind and calm when the world had taken so much from her. Her husband, country, her children— and yet she still stood straight, caring for the fellow traveler she’d never allowed to leave and the granddaughter that had been dumped on her with just a warning for Ahsoka’s generally explosive tendencies.

“Where is Ahsoka anyway?” Anakin asked, looking around the kitchen as if she would jump out in the open any moment. “I sent her on an errand earlier this morning, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

Unfortunately, Raya couldn’t tell him either. “I have no idea where that girl is running around—”

“Anakin!”

Speak of the dark and it shall appear. The door was thrown open and Ahsoka rushed inside, tracking even more dirt all over the floor, causing Raya to throw up her arms in defeat in a way Anakin knew meant Ahsoka would be left with all her favorite chores for the next week.

“Welcome back, Ahsoka,” Anakin said. “You’re late.”

“Yes, yes,” Ahsoka replied and rolled her eyes, obviously disinterested in what he had to say. “I got all you asked for and ordered the new metals, but look at this!”

Ahsoka raised her hand, revealing a ripped-off poster. It was tasteful in design, fine cursive writing on light blues, gold ornaments in the corners and, of course, the royal crest right in the middle of it.

Her Majesty the Queen of the Kingdom of Alderaan, Breha Organa, invites all Alderaani Practitioners of the Mythic Arts to attend the festivities in the capital of Aldera—

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said before he could even read the rest of the text. “We’re not going to Aldera to some festival.”

“Why not?” Ahsoka shot back. “It’s no summit, but it would at least be something.”

Her bitterness did not go unnoticed. Ahsoka had begged for months to attend this year’s summit. Every five, all magic practitioners gathered on Tython to exchange notes on their craft and pretend they were not also discussing the politics of their respective countries, forging alliances and the like. Anakin hadn’t been to the last summit, it having been just after Dromund Kaas, and the one before were tainted by the memories that followed, no matter how sweet the time had been. Ahsoka, of course, had begged to attend this year’s one, but it would only be foolish and reckless. He couldn’t just walk into the biggest gathering of mages in the whole continent and expect to get out of it without anyone realizing who he was, asking questions, concluding what he’d done.

Anakin had too much to hide, too much to lose, and he wasn’t going to risk his little Apprentice for it.

Not that Ahsoka knew any of that and wasn’t in the least satisfied with Anakin’s reply and immediately made her displeasure known.

“What would you even want to see there?” Anakin asked, trying to downplay how entertaining such an event was. “It’ll just be all the posh court sorcerers showing off with their fancy focusing crystals. It’s utterly boring and uncreative.”

“Like you wouldn’t use a focusing crystal if you had one,” Ahsoka muttered, arms crossed. “It’s just— there’s nobody else around here who can do magic. And all you ever do is work on machines.”

“Which requires a lot of concentration as it’s not just the manipulation of one aspect, but—”

“—but many, yes, yes, I know the speech,” Ahsoka said and dutifully listed all elements that went into their craft. There was a reason why not many forgers existed. Most mages lacked the talent, patience, and education to learn this craft, or were just plain afraid that they’d permanently damage their ability to use magic at all.

And with the speed technology was evolving and magic weaponized to terrifying new heights, not too many people still had use for forgers. Where two-hundred-years ago, you wouldn’t have gone out to hunt a dragon with a simple sword, but only with one crafted by a Master forger, nowadays you didn’t necessarily need one. Battle magic was on the rise again, especially with more and more countries growing uneasy, peace treaties falling apart. Combined with the threats from the northern continents, it was no wonder people cared less and less about expensive forgers when they could mass-produce and enchant simpler items.

“I just hoped you’d allow at least this,” Ahsoka finished. Her shoulders dropped. “Should have known better. I’ll go finish my readings.”

Ahsoka turned around, her shoulders still hanging, her head low.

Damn it.

Anakin knew that she was doing it on purpose. His Apprentice was cunning and had learned how to play into his every weakness. Slowly she marched into the direction of the door, dragging her feet behind her for effect and dramatics.

Raya raised a brow at him. She usually stayed out of Ahsoka’s tutelage, knowing next to nothing about magic herself, but even with his past being little more than a mystery to her, she could read him better than anyone else.

“Urgh, fine,” Anakin heard himself say. “Fine, we can go to the festival.”

Ahsoka turned around quicker than light and jumped up. “Yes!”

“But that means you’re not going to bring up the summit again!”

“Yes! Of course!” A moment later, Anakin had an armful of an apprentice. “Thank you so much, Master, you’re the best!”

Once she let go of him, she went to hug Raya and hug even her dirty automaton to her chest, still radiating happiness. “I need to go pack my bags immediately!”

“The festival is not for another week—”

Ahsoka obviously didn’t care. So caught up in her joy, she rushed upstairs, heading to her room to start packing. It shouldn’t surprise Anakin that she was so motivated. Ahsoka was a person who thrived on interaction, being surrounded by other people. While the people of their village were friendly, none of them were mages or even just sensitive to magic. It was one of the reasons Anakin had decided to stay without too much fight. But growing up so far removed from other mages had made Ahsoka twice as curious to meet others.

The thought made his stomach churn. He’d have to give Ahsoka formal lessons about their trade now, just if somebody asked questions that were too pointed. She’d also need a bit of the know-how on how you usually interacted with other mages and which pretentious bastards to call sorcerers before they threw a hissy fit. All these capital folks were much too sensitive about terminology after all. Anakin had never bothered to tell her the differences before, but Ahsoka would kill him if she accidentally embarrassed herself because he hadn’t seen it fit to instruct her properly. Forget teaching Ahsoka how to improve her automaton, the next week would be full of etiquette lessons. Skies, there’d be people trying to steal their spellwork too. Had he even mentioned that kind of theft before? Anakin honestly couldn’t recall.

“Already regretting it?” Raya asked, her voice just a touch amused.

“Just a bit,” Anakin replied.

“It’ll be good for her,” Raya said, convinced and confident enough for the both of them. “And good for you as well. I’ve known you for years now and you’ve never even brought a friend over. I’m not going to be young forever, you know. I do expect to be introduced to your future spouse at some point.”

“And this is my cue to go packing as well,” Anakin announced and followed Ahsoka up the stairs with Raya’s laughter following him.

He had no intention of being with anyone, ever, unless he could find glamours that held up even when majorly distracted. On his way up the stairs, Anakin caught a look of himself in the window, saw black vines curling around his neck, inviting someone to take a closer look.

It was better this way.

[lee-scribbles-and-doodles]

My Top Ten Overlooked Movies With Female Leads In No Particular Order

Note: When you see this emoji (⚠️) I will be talking about things people may find triggering, which are spoilery more often then not. I mention things that I think may count as triggers so that people with them will be aware before going in to watch any of these.

Edited: 3/16/21

Hanna (2011)

So, before I get into why you should watch this movie, I just want to take a moment to say why it's near and dear to my heart. Growing up as a queer kid in the early 2000s, seeing portrayals of people like or similar to myself on anything was rare at best. It was mostly in more "adult" movies or shows that my parents would occasionally let me watch with them that I'd see any lgbtq+ rep at all. Often times they were either walking stereotypes, designed to be buried, evil, or all three.

Then here comes this PG-13 action thriller with a wonderfully written main female lead who, at the time, was close to my age, and who got to kiss another girl (her very first friend, Sophie) on screen in an extremely tender and heartwarming scene. To say the least, it was a life changing moment for me personally.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Hanna is a suspenseful movie about a child super-soldier named, you guessed it, Hanna (played by Saoirse Ronan) and her adoptive (?) father Erik Heller (played by Eric Bana) exiting the snowy and isolated wilderness of their home and taking on the shadowy CIA operative, Marissa Wiegler (played by Cate Blanchette) who wants Erik dead and Hanna for herself for mysterious reasons.

It also has an amazing soundtrack by the Chemical Brothers, great action scenes, and it has an over arching fairytale motif, which I'm always a sucker for.

⚠️ Mild blood effects, some painful looking strikes, various character deaths, and child endangerment all feature in this film. However, given its PG-13 rating, a majority of viewers are presumably able to handle this one. Still, be aware of these going in.

Sidenote: It's recently gotten a TV adaptation on Amazon TV, although I have not watched it, and do not know if Hanna and Sophie's romantic/semi-romantic relationship has transferred over.

A Simple Favor

A Simple Favor is a "black-comedy mystery thriller" centered entirely around the relationship between two mothers, the reclusive, rich, mysterious, and regal Emily (played by Blake Lively), and the local recently widowed but plucky mommy blogger, Stephanie (played by Anna Kendrick). When Emily suddenly goes missing, Stephanie takes it upon herself to find out what happened to her new best friend.

It's a fantastic and entertaining movie throughout, with fun, flawed and interesting characters. The relationship between the two female leads is also implied to be at least somewhat romantic in nature, and they even share a kiss.

⚠️ The only major warnings I can think of is that the movie contains an instance of incest and one of the main plotlines revolves around child abuse, although both of these potentially triggering topics are not connected to each other, so there is thankfully no csa going on.

Edit: I legitimately forgot there was drug use in this movie until now. So, yeah, if that's a trigger, be careful of that.

I Am Mother

I became mildly obsessed with this movie when it came out. I Am Mother is a sci-fi film that centers entirely around a cast of two woman, and a female-adjacent robot who is brought to life on screen with absolutely amazing practical effects.

The plot is such, after an extinction-level event, a lone robot known only as Mother tasks herself with replenishing the human race via artifical means. She begins with the film's main protagonist, Daughter. Years go by as Mother raises her human child and the two prepare for Daughter's first sibling (a brother) to be born. However, on Daughter's 16th birthday, the arrival of an outsider known only as Woman shakes Daughter's entire world view. She begins to question Mother's very nature, as well as what's really going on outside the bunker she and her caretaker call home.

⚠️ This movie features child endangerment and reference to child death.

Lilo and Stitch

When I decided to add a single Disney film to this list I initially thought it was going to be hard but almost immediately my brain went to Lilo and Stitch, and specifically about the relationship between Lilo and Nani.

On the surface, this film is about a lonely little girl accidentally adopting a fugitive alien creature as a "dog," but underneath that the story is also about two orphaned sisters and the older sister's attempts to not let social services tear them apart by stepping up as the younger sister's primary guardian. Despite its seemingly goofy premise, Lilo and Stitch has a very emotional and thoughtful center. It's little wonder how this movie managed to spawn an entire franchise.

Despite the franchise it spawned (or possibly because of it), I often find that Lilo and Stitch is overlooked and many people only remember it for the "little girl adopts an alien as a pet" portion of its plot, and I very rarely see it on people's top 10 Disney lists.

⚠️ This movie could be potentially triggering to people who were separated from their siblings or other family members due to social service intervention. There's also a bit of child endangerment, including a scene where Lilo and Stitch both almost drown.

Nausicaä and the Valley of the Wind

Unlike the above entry, I did struggle a little bit with picking a single Studio Ghibli film. Most media of the Ghibli catalogue have strong, well-written, unique, and interesting female leads so selecting just one seemed like quite the task.

However, I eventually settled on this particular film. In recent months, Princess Nausicaä has become my absolute favorite Ghibli protagonist and I'm absolutely enchanted by the world she lives in.

Set in a post-apocalyptic world overun by giant insects and under threat of a toxic forest and its poisoness spores, Nausicaä must try to protect the Valley of the Wind from invaders as she also tries to understand the science behind the toxic forest and attempts to bridge the gap between the insects and the humans.

For those who have never seen the film, I think Nausicaä's personality can best be described as being similar to OT Luke Skywalker. Both are caring, compassionate, and gentle souls who are able to see the best in nearly anyone or anything. She's an absolutely enthralling protagonist and after rewatching the film again for the first time in well over a decade she has easily become one of my all time favorite protagonists.

Whenever I see people talk about Ghibli films, they rarely mention this one, and when they do mention it, it's often in passing. In my opinion it's a must watch.

⚠️ This movie contains some blood, and the folks who either don't like insects or who have entomophobia may not appreciate the giant bugs running about throughout the movie. (Although most insects do not directly relate to real life bugs, and are fantasy creatures).

A Silent Voice

A Silent Voice is an animated movie adaptation of a manga of the same name. While I've never had the pleasure to read the manga, the movie is phenomenal. It covers topics such a bullying, living in the world with a disability, the desire for atonement, social anxiety, and depression in a well thought out manner that ties itself together through the progression of the relationship between its two leads, Shoya and Shouko. It's also beautifully animated. Although very popular among anime viewers, I've noticed that it's often overlooked by people who watch little to no anime. So I suppose this is me urging non-anime viewers to give this film a chance.

⚠️ As mentioned above, the movie deals with bullying, anxiety, and depression (with this last one including suicidal thoughts and behaviour). If discussion of those topics are triggering to you, than you may want to proceed with caution or skip this movie all together.

In This Corner of The World

Another manga adaptation, this one taking place during WWII-era Japan. In This Corner of The World follows the life of a civilian Japanese woman, Suzu Urano, as she navigates simply living and her new marriage as the wartime invades nearly all aspects of everyday life. I think this movie is a good representation of what it must be like to be living as civilian in a country at war where the fight is sometimes fought on one's own soil. It was also an interesting look into pre-50s Japanese culture in my opinion. It's also beautifully animated featuring an art style I don't see often.

Despite it being well known among anime fans, I never really see it be brought up, even among said anime fans themselves.

Side note: I've seen many WWII dramas centering around civilians but they've almost always been about American or UK civilians. This was the first movie I'd seen that features the perspective of a Japanese civilain.

⚠️ Features the death of a child and limb loss. There's also a disturbing scene featuring a victim of one of the atomic bombs near the end.

Wolf Children: Ame and Yuki

This film follows Hana, a Japan-native woman who fell in love with a magical shape-shifting wolf-man, and her trials with raising their children, who can also magically shape-shift into wolves, on her own. It's a very heartfelt movie about a mother's love and the struggles of doing right by your children when you have limited resources to actively guide and care for them. All the characters feel unique and alive in my opinion. Also, the animation is so good that my sister and I initially mistook it for a Ghibli film.

Again, like the previous two anime entries, I don't see it ever brought up outside of anime circles.

⚠️ There's some child endangerment present in the film, although none of it is the fault of Hana as far as I can remember.

Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday is about the fictional Princess Ann (played by Audrey Hepburn), who while on a whirlwind tour of Europe, finally reaches her breaking point over having her entire life be one big schedule and all her words and actions being rehearsed. In the spur of the moment, she runs away in hopes of experiencing what life is like for other women. Unfortunately, she was previously given a sedative, meaning she doesn't get too far before it takes effect. Fortunately, she is found by the kind reporter Joe Bradley (played by Gregory Peck). Believing her to be drunk and unable to get an address from her (because she has none) he ends up taking her home for safety's sake and allows her to sleep off her suppose drunken stupor. The next day, he realizes who she is, and decides to take her on a fun sight seeing trip across Rome in hopes of getting the big scoop. Along the way, they begin to fall for each other.

This is my favorite black and white, old romance film. I think the relationship between the main characters is absolutely beautiful and I have a lot of fun watching it.

⚠️ I'm not entirely sure what kind of warning this film would need. However, it was released in 1953, so values dissonance will probably be at play for many viewers to at least some extent. For example, early in the film Ann is given sedation drugs by her doctor for her behavior, something that is very unlikely to happen today. Also, Mr Bradley deciding to take Ann home to keep her safe rather than call the police or an ambulance is a very pre-90s decision in my opinion.

[peaches-writes]

seven hundred and one

description: seven centuries and you always seem to bump into hyunjin at least once in every one of them member: hyunjin genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers au, slow burn (technically it is), historical au, vampire au (vampire!skz, implied incubus!hyunjin idk yall decide), witch au (immortal!reader), a sprinkle of established relationship towards the end, implied fem reader word count: 10.3k warning: explicit language, mentions of blood, murder, death, trauma, arson, suggestive (i turn 19 & suddenly i get brave lmao) note: hyunjin playing a thousand years on his post-mucore vlive that happened to fall on my birthday did things to my feelings + took a lot of liberties w the history & nature or vampires if that’s okay + if the narration is confusing just tell me lmao + established relationship au’s in detail makes my head spin ew cheesy stuff

zero

You have always been a traveler even in 1319 when you were still twelve and mortal. Being born and raised into a coven of witches at a time when witchcraft and other non-conforming practices were punishable by death, you naturally had to be for your own safety. Growing up, you had to move from village to village with your family, helping villagers in secret as your main source of income then leaving before word would inevitably and uncontrollably spread; thus leaving you with little to no room to grow intimate attachments with people who are not kin.

Not that you minded the last, anyway, because your mother would always remind you that you can always go back after some time. Korea was vast, then, but there were only a few places you could go to in a cycle. Then, you met Hyunjin.

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a prince, but especially in 1319 when he was still twelve and human. Besides his undeniably regal looks and naturally graceful disposition, he was also a noble in King Taejeong’s court. Of course, you’ve already forgotten his exact title at the time after centuries of living but you do have an inkling of a memory wherein he mentioned something about being related to the king somehow—this said memory being the first time you met him.

You don’t remember all the specific details now but you’re quite certain that you moved to the capital Hanseong in the first place because your mother’s services was requested by the king himself to treat one of his daughters, the only time the monarchy acknowledged you. You can also faintly remember being allowed to wander on your own at the marketplace right outside of the palace courts on the day you arrived only because you competed with your cousins over who can unpack their belongings the fastest and won.

Even now, over seven hundred years later, you’re still thankful that Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong somehow forgot some of their bags in your carriage that day or else you would’ve missed bumping into Hyunjin completely.

He was receiving his chosen bouquet of carnations from a flower stall at the market entrance when you approached, the bright colors of the display chrysanthemums initially catching your eye. As you asked the stand owner about the blue flowers, you noticed that Hyunjin didn’t seem to have any intentions of paying, prompting you to stop him from walking away to ask, “Aren’t you going to pay for that?”

Hyunjin momentarily froze in his steps before turning around to you with raised eyebrows, his head slowly turning from you to the pink flowers in his hands. After this brief pause, you then heard him laugh in amusement for the first time, confusing you further in the moment. “I, uh, I don’t have to. It’s—it’s free for me.”

Ever the curious child, you then asked next, “For you? Why?”

Hyunjin would confess to you later on, some time when you briefly met at an art exhibit in 1880s Spain, that he only entertained you because no one has ever asked him such question in a long time when you did. Because of his status, people both inside and outside the court would leave him alone to do whatever he wants and so he thought it was refreshing that you did otherwise when you first met. He also mentioned something about finding you cute in the fashion of your time but you always dismiss this in embarrassment. You were only seven, for crying out loud.

And so, taking a step closer to you, he then lifted the bouquet up to the level of your faces after he leaned down to your height and, with a mischievous smile, loudly whispered to you, “I’m from the palace courts—an important person to the king!”

Hyunjin still insists at present that he did tell you exactly what his title and relation to the king was but every time you challenge him to tell you what he said, he would clumsily steer the conversation away to something else. Besides this, you have always agreed that you furrowed your eyebrows deeper at him in response and replied, “Still, you should pay. Earning money is difficult these days.” which piqued Hyunjin’s interest in you further.

“I will,” He assured you smoothly, bringing the bouquet down after and turning to the stand owner. Gesturing to the chrysanthemums you’ve been eyeing, he then continues, “if you let me pay for your chrysanthemums. The reason why I couldn’t pay is because my money right now is too big, anyway.”

You protested against his offer politely, reasoning out that you had no intention of buying, but with Hyunjin’s status as a noble also came a persuasive charm to him. “Didn’t you just move here? I can tell with the travelling hanbok.” He pointed out to you, already gathering the best-looking chrysanthemums before he could even hear you say ‘yes.’ You started showing signs of giving in after some five minutes of friendly banter, prompting his optimism. “Consider this as a welcoming gift!”

You had no choice but to accept the flowers in the end with the promise of giving him something in return when you meet again around the palace courts after briefly mentioning your reason for moving to the capital. Holding your bouquet on your left hand to mirror Hyunjin’s bouquet on his right, you then extended your right hand to him before you could part ways. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” You then introduced yourself, already too focused then on thinking of how to repay Hyunjin. “In case I forget and you want to look for me.“

“Hwang Hyunjin. I would definitely not forget but really, you don’t have to repay me.” He smiled as he took your hand in his, reluctantly letting go only when older passersby gave you curious looks. “I just hope you have a good stay here in Hanseong!”

You then made a bracelet out of one stem of the chrysanthemums almost a month later as payment, preserving the petals inside transparent beads with an enchantment that would prevent them from losing their vibrant blue. By this time, you have been seeing Hyunjin almost every day around the palace grounds and with this, he has been slowly piecing together the entire reason for your court presence. With the bracelet, you indirectly confirmed your true nature to him and he wholeheartedly accepted you with a hug behind the hallway pillars.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

You‘ve been best friends ever since, even when you had to leave two years later. At present, Hyunjin still wears the bracelet—even when you insist in making him a new one.

“I like it.” He always tells you whenever you would bring it up. “I liked it then, I like it now, and I’ll like it forever.”

“It’s ancient.” You would scrunch up your nose in response. “You could literally sell it at the local museum.”

“Well, that says a lot about your age, doesn’t i—ow! Ow, I won’t say that ever again just sto—ya, stop hitting me!”

seven

Your family briefly returned to Hanseong five years after your stay to attend one of the elder princesses’ wedding, the same princess your mother has been tasked to treat when she was hired by the king. You were eighteen and almost ready to part with your coven in the event that your mother will ask when you turn nineteen in the fall, having grown particularly proficient in brewing potions after you first left the capital. Hyunjin, on the other hand, became a more prominent public figure in the courts at nineteen as talks of the king appointing one of his sons as crowned prince become more frequent, thus initially making your first reunion awkward.

“Should I address you as Your Highness?” You asked between your teeth as you carefully curtsied back at Hyunjin, glancing on the corners of your eyes in case the passing servants were sparing you looks. “I don’t really know how these things work.”

“No, no need, I don’t think anyone really cares.” He chuckled with a shake of his head as the two of you then simultaneously stood up straight. Looking around the two of you after, his grin then grew wider when he looked back at you before he engulfed you in a hug, startling you— even more when he lifted you up slightly from the ground and spun you once. “Oh, Y/N, I missed you!”

“Y-Ya! Hyunjin, p-put me down, someone could see!” You scolded him instinctively while frantically looking around for any signs of his or your relatives. “Hyunjin!”

“Don’t mind them!” He countered back at you, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale after putting you down. “I missed you. You haven’t written since late Spring!”

You shrugged, feeling strangely cold when he pulled away after. “I’ve been—well, we‘ve been busy. It’s the summer so a lot of people are asking for us and most of my cousins, um, parted with us after my last letter.”

“Oh.” He frowned, having thought of it negatively at first. “I’m sorry about that.”

You remember distinctly shaking your head reassuringly at him over his apology, waving your hand dismissively in front of him at realizing that he misinterpreted. “No, it’s alright. When you turn nineteen, you’re given the choice as tradition—most of my older cousins just so happened to choose parting ways with us.” You then explained, even giving him a small smile. “It’s nothing personal. It does give us the younger ones more work, though, hence why I couldn’t write.”

With your explanation, Hyunjin then smiled. “Oh, oh, I see.” He muses. “Then, I’m glad we meet again after a long time! I really was starting to worry you were taking longer to reply!”

“Well, we’ll be staying here for two weeks—that should be enough time to catch up.” You then matched your smile with his, following him to the palace gardens when he offers you to, ‘for old time’s sake’ he reasoned. “Then at the end of the week, we get to attend a wedding! Honestly, I’m really excited, I’ve only ever seen weddings from afar when my aunt would perform rituals for good weather.”

“Then you’ll be in for a great time! Weddings are absolutely lovely, especially here in court!” He promised you that afternoon before proceeding to recall to you the countless weddings that have happened within the confines of the palace courts in his life.

Only, the wedding somehow ended in catastrophe when the day actually came because of a group of hired assassins who managed to get to nearly every one of the royal family in attendance including Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin!” You cried for him amidst the stampede and the fire that has somehow started from one of the guest tables, Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong tugging you in the opposite direction by your arms and waist waist and preventing you from running back to his bloodied body. “Hyunjin!”

“Y/N, no, we have to leave!” Chaeryeong scolded you countless of times that night, tears streaming down her own face in fear as your mothers and aunts ushered your entire coven to retreat back to the woods. “We have to go!”

“B-But Hyunjin!” You insisted in between sobs every single time, your attempts at escaping your cousins’ grasps becoming weaker and weaker until they eventually managed to reunite you with the rest of your coven after. “We can still save him—I can save him! He’s still conscious, for God’s sake!”

Hyunjin received two fatal stab wounds to his chest and stomach that night as one of the assassins’ last few victims before fleeing because of the fire, pushing him on his stomach to the ground in his own pool of blood. Even with the fear and panic coursing through your veins and your blurry vision as you navigated your way through the chaos, you knew that you could heal him quickly with the right enchantments and potions and that you could carry him with you all the way to the forest where your needed herbs could possibly be available but your cousins wouldn’t listen to you, forcing you to abandon your friend that night for your own sake.

You remember vividly, even to this day, this particular image of Hyunjin seemingly dying on the ground, eyes pleading you to follow your cousins as he clutched his chest and choked on his own blood, because it still gives you nightmares every night despite the assurance that he was eventually saved. Hyunjin laughs at you over this now but whenever you would scowl and hit him in the arm for making it seem as if he thinks of his human death as a joke, he would immediately pull you into his embrace and apologize.

“I’m sorry.” He always whispers in your ear at present, stroking your hair and hugging you significantly tighter each time. “It’s just that it’s all in the past now and I’ve let it go way back. I just hope you do too because I’m still here—and I’ll always be.”

“I don’t think I can—not in a hundred more years, I think.” You would frown in response, also recently acquiring the habit of gathering fistfuls of his shirt in the process. “It’s too—it’s too—“

“I understand. Shh. I’m sorry, again...”

nine

In the event that a family member turns twenty-one, your entire extended family gathers to perform a ritual on the full moon after their date of birth in order to grant them immortality which can only be broken by willful death. It was an ancient and seemingly controversial tradition unique to your family, the elder generations were close and wanted to be close with everyone in this fashion.

When you were younger, with your innocent sense of adventure, you’ve always looked forward to being the recipient of this particular ritual at the thought that it would give you more time to explore both in and, hopefully, out of Korea. But when it came to the first full moon after your twenty-first birthday, you felt nothing but dread throughout the entire night.

“I just think it’s meaningless!” You cried into Chaeryeong’s shoulder once you’ve managed to return to your lodgings, pulling your knees closer to your chest as the two of you sat in your bed. “Why should I continue living when I have nothing to look forward to anymore? When someone else deserved to live?”

Chaeryeong still feels guilty about it even at present, often apologizing to Hyunjin whenever she would come across him, but she felt this feeling the heaviest in this moment hundreds if years ago as she stroked your back comfortingly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N...I know anything I can say right now wouldn’t make you feel better or make what happened right but I’m so sorry. It was you or him and Chaeyeon and I had to make a choice.”

“But w-we could’ve—we could’ve s-saved him!”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry...”

“Hyunjin, my best friend—“ You sobbed until morning despite Chaeryeong’s pleas for you to sleep. “My Hyunjin, he’s gone because of me.”

And until morning, Chaeryeong kept an eye out for you in case you did something to yourself as you mourned. “None of it was your fault. If anything, it was mine.” She told you over and over again until you fell asleep at sunrise. “Y/N, please...”

Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon ended up watching over you closely for the two months that followed, wary of your actions until you confronted them again about it and assured them that you weren’t thinking about doing something else that could potentially harm you.

You then completely parted ways with them after.

eighty-eight

You have already travelled the entirety of Korea on your own once when you unexpectedly meet Hyunjin again. Eighty-one years after his supposed death and with a new king already on the throne, you‘ve almost forgotten all about your childhood best friend because of the passing time that it completely startled you when you saw a glimpse of his face in the crowd of a village somewhere in Pyongyang.

He smiled at you from afar in the brief second your eyes first met, even subtly tipping his hat as he walked towards you from the opposite direction which effectively froze you in the middle of the street.

Shaking your head in thought, you frowned and look away at the seemingly random remembrance of the past. You’ve always thought then that you’ve already forgotten most of your childhood, especially those that ended in tragedy, and so you instantly felt a wave of disappointment in yourself at suddenly seeing a familiar face of the past in the crowd.

But when you looked up and see that Hyunjin has already reached you on your spot, your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes began to sting in the moment as tears threatened to fall at the sight of seeing your best friend’s smile again in person. You then instinctively held out a hand to touch his hanbok. “Y-You—y-you’re—“

“I-I’m alive...” He stammered out almost in the same fashion as you, his grin only growing bigger after the longer you stood frozen in front of him. When you don’t respond immediately in prolonged shock, he then lifted you up in a hug, planting your feet right on top of his this time as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. “I missed you, very, very much. I thought I’d never see you again.”

It took you a long moment to hug him back, making some passersby look. “I thought I—I thought that I’d never see you again.” You reply once you find your voice again, warily lifting your hands up to his shoulders as if he might disappear. “How are you—h-how are you alive?”

Pulling away briefly to examine his face, you then added, “A-and you look the same...”

At first, Hyunjin only shook his head at you, still overwhelmed at finally seeing you again to care about explaining. “I’ll, uh, I’ll explain everything later.” He whispered to you, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes as he sighs in relief. “Please, just...let me hold you for now.”

After this scene in public, Hyunjin then took you to the lodgings where he was staying at with his friend, Seungmin, whom you would eventually came to realize was the vampire who saved him that night along with the fact that your best friend was now a vampire himself. “I was passing by the palace grounds on the way to a safe passage to the next village.” Seungmin elaborated further on Hyunjin’s story over a cup of tea and buckets of crying. “When I saw the fire, I got curious and approached then I saw Hyunjin trying to crawl out to safety so I helped him up, took him to the forest, and turned him.”

Seungmin would also tell you much later on, when you meet again by chance centuries later in 1930s Thailand, that he also didn’t know first-aid at the time so his immediate alternative was to turn Hyunjin in panic, having seen another friend of his, Chan, do it in a similar extreme emergency situation. Hyunjin also laughs at this at present, especially when he first found out, and you’d let yourself giggle occasionally but you always make sure to thank him sincerely after, even when he always assures you that it’s nothing. “You helped me reunite with my best friend.” You would tell him, your voice always low enough so only Seungmin would hear even with Hyunjin’s enhanced hearing. “You didn’t just saved him that night, you saved me too—just eighty-one years later—so thank you.”

And so, you ended up travelling with the two for almost a hundred and fifty years, eventually meeting Seungmin’s other nomadic friends while helping Hyunjin adjust better to his new lifestyle and developing skills. You only had to forcibly part ways after because your mother sent you a letter all the way from Xinjiang, China, requesting for your presence at a family member’s funeral.

“The mourning period for our family is is fifty years,” You explained to the two on the morning you had to leave them. You were staying in Beijing during this time in 1657. “and she was my mother’s favourite sister, I have to be there for her, especially.”

Hyunjin had a slight frown in his face until you left on a horse-drawn carriage that day but he straightened it out into a thin line and pursed his lips once: when he came to hug you goodbye as you were packing, wrapping his arms around your waist in a back hug. “Write to me, please?” He pleaded over your shoulder. “If we really have to be apart again for a long time, then at least write to me.”

You nodded at his request, swiftly turning around to prperly hug him back. “I will, promise, just tell me where you’ll be next.” You instructed him, pulling away after to hug Seungmin goodbye. “Please take good care of yourselves and always be careful.”

“We will.” Seungmin assures you sincerely, having grown fond of you in a familial way over the years. “You take care, too.”

“I’ll see you again very soon!”

Hyunjin received a letter from you almost two months later, thus beginning your hundred years long correspondence. 

three-hundred eighty-eight

When the fifty-year mourning period for your family ended, your mother asked you to stay with her longer, prompting you to write to Hyunjin that you’ll have to extend your time away before being free to meet him again. Simultaneously, Hyunjin began writing to you about his and Seungmin’s adventures with Chan, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin around Asia, especially the possibility of him and his friends of the same nature forming a coven amongst themselves and how he had somewhat developed a vampiric gift, the latter of which he couldn’t write to you about explicitly until you accidentally met again in person a month before your extended stay was over.

Well, you’re still not sure at present if you really did meet in person at the time because, besides some subtle inaccuracies in the memory itself, there would be times at present when Hyunjin would insist that you did and times when he would deny it completely in embarrassment. “You know, maybe you were just fever dreaming me up, then!” Hyunjin would tell you now whenever he feels like denying it as a slight blush creeps up his cheeks, coughing awkwardly in between and making sure to run as far away from you as possible. “Or maybe—ha!—did you have a crush on me as early as the 1600s? You know, they do say that distance makes the heart grow fonde—ow!”

But dream or not, this memory is still burned at the very back of your head even hundreds of years later and it’s embarrassingly awful that all of your telepath and clairvoyant friends either joke or complain to you about it from seeing fragments of it replay in your thoughts often.

In this memory, you met Hyunjin in your house at Xinjiang while your mother was away to run errands. You consider this as one of your biggest hints that this was a dream since Hyunjin and his friends were in Laos until you met with them halfway later on along with the fact that he appeared in your bedroom of all places when you have long made it a habit of placing all kinds of protective charms in this particular space of yours.

“H-Hyunjin?” You called out for him when you saw his reflection in the mirror as you worked on your desk, glancing over your shoulder with a fond smile on his lips. Turning around, you then jumped up from your seat and right into his arms, laughing in disbelief when you felt him encircle his arms around your waist. “Hyunjin! When did you get here? How did you get here? I thought you’re in—”

His laugh that followed still echoes at the back of your head occasionally, even more the feeling of his lips pressing a feathery kiss on the fabric draped over your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, I’m here.” He dismissed with a sigh, pulling away from the hug after in order to gently cup your face in his hands. Tilting his head down slightly to level with your eyes, a smirk then formed on his lips as he studied your features carefully and added, “I missed you. You look even more beautiful than when we last met.”

Hyunjin insists that you’re exaggerating this part but his closest friend and current roommate, Jeongin, is a mind reader and the poor boy accidentally sees through your thoughts that it isn’t every time he brings it up, making everyone in the vicinity feel awkward and embarrassed. It also doesn’t help that, in this memory, you’re quite sure that Hyunjin surprised you with a kiss after, urgently crashing his lips onto yours and backing you up to your desk.

You always make sure to keep it in a part in your thoughts that Jeongin can’t read but, besides your genuine shock, you initially didn’t pull away from the kiss because of the feeling that the gesture somehow affirmed your previous doubts on your almost four hundred years-worth of feelings for your best friend. You didn’t kiss him back with as much force as he did, even when he almost drew blood from biting your bottom lip or when he smoothly slipped his tongue in your mouth as his hands took hold of yours on the sides of the desk, but you thought a lot about him in the moment—mostly about how you were questioning your feelings for him prior to when he appeared out of nowhere.

It also definitely didn’t help that he kept whispering ‘I missed you so much’ in between gasps of air too. It still makes your heart melt to this day (and Jeongin disgusted whenever he passes by you and accidentally hears your thoughts. “Can you two please just stop being horny over each other all the time? It’s been 700 years.” “Yang Jeongin, get back here!”) 

You realized, as Hyunjin moved to trail desperate kisses down your neck, that maybe you did have a crush on your best friend and it was okay even if it was just because of the longing to see him after years or the loneliness of eternal life. You liked him a lot, maybe you even loved him as early as this moment you’re not even sure anymore but you’ve always been certain from that this very moment, you never wanted to be apart from him for too long.

But it still scared you after a while, even when you already felt assured over your previous qualms, and you unknowingly pushed him away because of this, right as he tugged on your clothes and snaked a hand up your dress. “Hyunjin, stop!” In a wave of fear, you pushed him away with an enchantment, making him fly all the way across the room until his back hit the opposite wall. “S-Shit, I’m so sorry, I—“

In response, you remember him shaking his head reassuringly. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” He assures you, his voice just barely above a whisper. “It’s just that I—nevermind, I should be sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N...”

Before you could even say anything else, however, he vanished into thin air right in front of you, leaving you even more confused than before.

When you do actually meet Hyunjin and the others a month later, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it somehow even when you were quick to notice that he was avoiding you after Minho proudly boasted to you that he started training Hyunjin to navigate other people’s dreams. Besides the fact that it made heat rise up to your face alarmingly that Changbin started joking about you trying to lure all vampires within the vicinity into sucking your neck dry, you also didn’t know how to approach Hyunjin in the case that you had to inevitably tell him your feelings. Though you had a clearer idea of your feelings then, you still weren’t ready to confess it to him yet.

So, reluctantly, you had to part ways again because of this, you coming up with a lame excuse to see your cousins all the way in Europe at the thought that you wanted to think your feelings through again while also giving Hyunjin his much needed space. You ended up leaving the group in 1763 somewhere in Shanghai, a hundred and nineteen years after the incident.

“Ah, I don’t think I’m suited for the coven life anymore.” You pointed out awkwardly at Hyunjin as you hugged him last at the ports. “It’s just—not the same, I guess. I think I have to travel on my own for a while...”

Even with the awkwardness, Hyunjin still hugged you tightly anyway and even planted a familiar kiss to your shoulder. “Write to me again, okay?”

“Always.” You assured through the frantic beating of your heart. You notice him catching your hand in between the two of you when you pull away from the hug, almost rendering you speechless. “I’ll see you when I see you. It’s just goodbye for now.”

Jeongin once spilled to you one day that of all the similar situations after that Hyunjin has let you go after seeing you again, he always thinks about this one in particular the most and how he should’ve asked for you to stay; and you hit the younger boy with one of your books in response for snooping. But still, it has also made you start wondering lately if things would’ve changed if you parted ways differently then.

“Yes, it’s goodbye for now.”

four hundred ninety-nine

The next two hundred and four years would then be spent in an unconscious game of cat and mouse between you and Hyunjin. Whenever Chan and Minho would let him, he would follow you by your letters around Europe and Africa and he would more often than not miss the opportunity of approaching. When he did manage to catch up with you, you would go to lunch with him and show him around the place you’re staying at until the tension eventually died off as you occupied yourselves with other things.

Hyunjin first saw you again in Crete in 1818 when you started to learn foreign forms of witchcraft, missing the chance to approach you only because you disappeared from his watch because he chickened out last minute from recalling your previous incident in his mind. He would then see you again in 1825 Austria, studying the stars with Chaeryeong and a friend, Yuna, until he missed you by a boat ride to Egypt, then again in 1861 Congo when he would got in the wrong carriage and somehow ended up in in Algeria.

You eventually noticed, of course, how his return addresses seemed to pattern yours but you never brought it up until you he first caught up with you in 1884 Spain, when you went to the same art exhibit and ended up talking for hours until the tensions from almost a hundred years before completely vanished. “Are you following me?” You asked him teasingly mid-conversation as the two of you observed the Spolarium. “You have accumulated wealth from 400 years and you spend it by following me?” 

Hyunjin froze instinctively, an easy giveaway from him in your years of knowing each other. “What? No! I’m just—ya, you’re not the only one who can like travelling!” He quickly denied until you giggled in amusement, making him confess everything truthfully later on over lunch. 

You then ended up dedicating two hours to recounting all the times you almost met, laughing at almost every one of them because of Hyunjin’s undeniable clumsiness. By the end of his tales, he’s pouting at all your teasing in defeat as he asked, “Can’t you really live with us again? We’ve all moved back in Korea, you know—well, except Seungmin since he’s back in his trying to get all kinds of educational degrees in the world phase again.”

You didn’t want to admit it to him then up until now but you’ve thought about the exact same thing countless of times in your travels. Learning new skills and travelling the world has always been something you thoroughly enjoyed, you are a traveler after all, but you also couldn’t deny that you’d miss seeing Hyunjin more than anyone else you’ve met in your whole lifetime.

Without you knowing, you’ve realized that somewhere in between the correspondences you’ve managed throughout the centuries and the frequent meetings around the world, you’ve completely fallen in love with your best friend. You were sure of it then. 

However, before you parted ways again three years later to head further West while Hyunjin had to hurry back East for sneaking out from Minho this time, you answered his question with, “Let me think about it.” 

And, surprisingly, he understood. When you wrote to him from Brazil six months later, he replies with a long letter detailing his adventures halfway across the world in New Zealand as well as Middlemist’s Reds pressed in between the papers—one you would scold him later on once you found out that they were extremely rare.

 “Where did you put those rare New Zealand flowers, by the way?” Hyunjin asked you just last week, almost as if he remembered at the same time as you. 

“It’s somewhere.” You mused absentmindedly over your cup of coffee, hand instinctively going up to fiddle with the pearls on your ears where you discreetly hid the flowers. 

six-hundred eleven

When you met Seungmin by chance in 1930s Thailand, you immediately asked him about one of the earliest models of the 35 mm film he acquired from his own travels and the photos he took. Since Hyunjin was in California with Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix while Chan, Minho, and Changbin stayed behind in Korea, Seungmin showed you how the film worked by letting you see the photographs he took of your friends, especially Jeongin and Felix who were still new to their family at the time but you’ve immediately welcomed as your little brothers. The photographs mostly depicted them candidly in their day-to-day and though you have countless of similar photos now in your own smartphone, you couldn’t help but tear up at seeing these photos in particular at the time. 

“Hey, don’t stain my photos now, the film’s expensive.” Seungmin chuckled as he patted your shoulders comfortingly with one hand while the other took the photos from your side of the table. “What’s wrong?” 

You sobbed into his shoulder that afternoon, attracting the attention of some passersby at the restaurant you had breakfast together at. “I-I, uh—I missed everyone.” You told him, the first time you ever confided in someone else these very thoughts. Not even Chaeryeong, whom you would stay with every five years or so, knew this. “It’s just—it’s so lonely now and I...I love travelling but it just feels empty now—”

“Then come home. Come home when you think you’re ready, we’ll all be waiting for you—Hyunjin will be waiting for you.” Seungmin finished your thought for you gently, momentarily removing his hand from your shoulder to separate Hyunjin’s photos from the pile. Passing them to you again, he then adds, “If it makes you feel better, you can keep his photos if you want but for a little request.”

You then left Thailand to live with your mother in India four years later with Hyunjin’s photographs tucked neatly in the pages between his letters you’ve collected over the years in an enchantment pouch, acquiring them from Seungmin in exchange for photographs of you he would pass on to Hyunjin later on. 

Along with the other photographs you would collect of Hyunjin and your other family and friends, these particular photos now line up almost all walls of your apartment in Seoul. 

Hyunjin, on the other hand, though you’ve never confronted him about it, keeps your photos in his wallets and at the back of his clear phone case. Every time someone from the art gallery where he works in would ask him about it, he would always say that he DIY-ed them with his grandparents’ film and a coffee staining technique he got from YouTube. 

six-hundred forty-eight

Your mother willfully passed away in 1967 by ingesting a concoction of poisonous herbs you reluctantly helped her make. She was 2,022 years old and surrounded by all of her daughters in her deathbed on that fateful Sunday morning—some of whom you’ve only met when you came to live with your mother again. Your relatives then came a week later for another 50 years of mourning and, as one of the elder daughters, you were tasked in helping cater to everyone in the time that you had to be secluded from the world in old rituals and traditions; thus, halting yet another plan of reuniting with Hyunjin. 

It impacted you greater this time, not only because your mother was the one who passed away but also because you’ve already planned on returning permanently to Korea and reunite with Hyunjin this time. After six hundred years, you’ve finally sorted out your feelings for your best friend and fifty more years of being apart suddenly felt too long with this. 

And, as if he had read your thoughts, Hyunjin visited you in your dreams on the night before you would enter into the fifty-year mourning period. Having gained more experience in honing this gift of his by this time, he somehow managed to fashion your dreams into happening against the backdrop of the familiar 1300s Korean landscape. 

You dreamt of approaching Hyunjin at a flower stall in front of a marketplace akin to when you actually first met. Instead of having his back turned to you to pick on the carnations, however, he was waving at you with his arms outstretched for a hug, hanbok and everything. 

“How did you do all this?” You asked in disbelief as you hugged him back, taking in all the detailed scenery from his shoulder. You knew that, in the real world, he was back in Korea by this time and helping Seungmin set up his own film company, easily giving away the dream nature of your meeting. Still, you touched all of the flowers and the fabric of his favorite red hanbok anyway, marveling at how his gift has grown since the last and only other time you experienced it. 

“Lots of practice.” He shrugged with a proud grin, reluctantly letting you go after to take a good look at you. “I didn’t do anything weird to practice though, I mostly just terrorized Jisung in his dreams.” 

You scoffed at him, hitting his chest playfully. Looking around again and even chuckling at how your dream was even filled with people, you then commented, “It’s beautiful.” 

“I thought you needed some cheering up after what happened with your mom.” He explained, picking up a handful of carnations from the stall. Passing them to you, you were quick to notice how he didn’t let go of your hand after, prompting you to encourage him by lacing your fingers together. “I’m so sorry again. I’m sorry I can’t be with you right now, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You assured him with a shake of your head, mustering up a smile. “Just reading your e-mails and receiving your photos were already comforting for me.” 

"I can hop on a plane right now, if you need me.” He offers only to receive more assurance from you otherwise. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand after. “I’m sure just...let me dream with you right now.” You confirmed, earning you an understanding nod from him. Smiling at this, you then asked, “So, what do you have for me here?” 

Hyunjin then led you around your dream for the entire night, happily taking you to places you frequented when you were still children. You ran around the palace grounds, recounted village stories, ate popular foods of your time period, and laid in the grass of the palace gardens until you had to leave for an early start of your day when you suddenly felt someone shaking you awake from the physical world. 

Reluctantly, you parted ways at the marketplace at the end of your dream. 

“See you in 50 years?” He smiled sadly at you as you bid your goodbyes, awkwardly standing in front of you with his hands on his back. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

You nodded with a hum, a stray tear suddenly finding its way down your cheek. “I’ll come home in 50 years, I promise.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at this, his mouth hanging agape as he stuttered, “W-Wha—?” 

Before he could even coherently form his thoughts, however, you’ve already reached up to his cheek for a kiss before disappearing, leaving him alone in his own thoughts. 

Before you could enter isolation with the rest of your family in the morning that followed, you then made sure to e-mail Chan and Seungmin instructions to arrange your flight back to Korea in 50 years, asking them to not tell Hyunjin towards the end of your long message. 

six hundred ninety-eight

You returned to Korea on February 18, 2017 just as Chan and Seungmin have arranged for you, moving into one of Minho’s old apartment buildings where you still live at present. Following their further instructions, you then spent a whole month visiting all of your friends in their respective homes all around Korea (even Jeongin whom you met right under Hyunjin’s nose by visiting him in their home while his roommate was away for work) with your money you’ve entrusted Changbin to manage for you until you returned. You made sure to meet Hyunjin last, timing your reunion right on his 719th birthday. 

Your closer group of friends threw him a surprise party in Gangnam on this year, renting an entire hotel building for yourselves and your other friends from all around the world. When you met Hyunjin that night, you had helped Felix bake and deliver his seven-tiered birthday cake for him, casting a spell on the candles so that they would explode in colorful fireworks and dust sprinkles all over the red velvet cake before they eventually fade. You eventually made your presence known to him when Jisung and Minho turned off the lights to the halls as he made a wish, standing next to him when he opened his eyes. 

“Happy birthday!” You greeted him with a sheepish smile, laughing nervously when he jumped back in surprise. 

Hyunjin, however, quickly recovered from his initial shock and lifted you up the ground easily, moving the two of you away from the cake so he could spin you around twice in a hug. “You’re here!” He exclaimed happily to your shoulders before putting you down, hugging you even tighter now that you’re stationary. “You came!” 

“I’ve actually been here for a month.” You confessed bluntly, hugging him back by his shoulders. Your friends all cooed and gushed around you, eliciting heat to rise up your neck again (especially when Seungmin took out his camera to take photos) but Hyunjin only moves you away from everyone, still hugging you close. “I, uh, I moved in Minho’s old penthouse and everything. I’m staying this time.” 

At your last revelation, only then did Hyunjin pulled away from you, his hands moving down to your elbows as his eyes widened in disbelief. “R-Really? You’re staying this time?” 

“Permanently.” You answered with a smile, chuckling when he releases a relieved sigh and turns to everyone, happily telling them of your plans to stay. “I told you I was coming home.” 

“That was what you meant?” He repeated, earning him a nod from you. With that, he then hugged you again. “I’m glad...finally.” 

You then spent the rest of the night catching up with everyone at the party but most especially the birthday celebrant himself whom you couldn’t seem to get off of your side throughout most of the night. You ate, drank, sang, and danced with until early morning, until Hyunjin pulled you away from the naturally dying festivities to watch the sunrise with him at the rooftop. 

“I wondered why you’ve rarely replied to my messages on social media lately.” He frowned at you once you’ve reached the rooftop, settling on a random bench with the perfect view of the rising sun. “You could’ve told me you already arrived! I wanted to show you the gallery I’m working in these days!” 

“I’m still getting used to social media!” You defended yourself with a chuckle, pinching his cheeks and pulling them up to a smile which immediately makes Hyunjin laugh. “And I wanted to surprise you! I planned it with Chan and Seungmin 50 years ago—actually, even way back with Seungmin when we met in the 30s.” 

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you with this. “Hm? You did?”

“You remember when Seungmin and I met in Thailand in the 30s?” You asked, Hyunjin nodding along in response. “Before we exchanged our photos, he sort of talked me into it. I figured that I was getting tired of travelling for a really long time and he assured me that I can come home when I want to...that I can come home to you and everyone else...” 

Next to you, Hyunjin smiled as you spoke, the side of his face glowing faintly in the oranges and pinks of the early sunlight as he sat with his body turned completely to you. When you trail off with your words, he then muses, “Yeah, you can always come home to me...I missed you so much.” 

“You always say that whenever we reunite.” You point out without any hint of malice in your tone, pulling your legs up to the bench and pressing them close to your chest. 

“Don’t you miss me too?” He frowned teasingly, poking you on your sides. 

“Of course, I missed you too. I missed you everyday when we’re apart.” You assured, shrugging. “It’s just...” 

When you turn to Hyunjin, your eyes widened when you realized that he has leaned in closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours when you finally meet his gaze again. “Can I confess something?” 

Speechless, you could only muster a weak nod then. 

“I’ve always missed you, even from when you first left me when we were younger because I’ve loved you even then.” He whispered just inches away from your lips. “I’ve loved you and waited for you for almost seven hundred years.”

You thought he’d kiss you after his declaration but he only looked up at you in anticipation after, as if he was expecting you to say something. Caught off-guard, you let a brief pause pass by first before replying, “I-If you’ve always had, then why did you let me go each time?” 

“Because you’ve always been a traveler.” He answered, slowly closing his eyes and leaning in again. At this point, it felt as if he was only waiting on you to lean in on your own accord, the realization knocking out the air in your lungs. “And I’ve always hoped that you’d come back to me forever when you wanted to, if you wanted to—and now here we are.” 

“Here we are.” You repeated slowly, finally closing the small gap between the two of you with your hands going up to his hair. 

Unlike when Hyunjin first kissed you centuries before when you were still unsure of your feelings, this particular kiss was slow and almost feathery against your lips but somehow it also felt similarly urgent and heavy, bearing all of your hidden emotions of seven hundred years. Hyunjin only deepened the kiss when you whispered ‘I love you’ to him when you first pulled away to catch your breath, smiling uncontrollably when you kissed him again. 

“I love you too.” He replies when you have to catch your breath again, pulling away completely this time so he can gaze down at you fondly with his hand on your cheek never leaving your side to pat your head affectionately. “Always.” 

Hyunjin didn’t ask you to be his significant other afterward, not even when he took you home, but you both agree that there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you that day, especially when he didn’t leave immediately after dropping you off, preferring instead to trap you in between himself and the back of your front door while peppering kisses all over your face.  

“Still not cool, though.” Jisung teases every now and then at present, making Hyunjin roll his eyes every time. “You could’ve at least been a little more romantic with a confession or something! You’re from the 1300s, for crying out loud! Didn’t you guys court people and stuff?!” 

“But we’re in 2020 now.” Hyunjin has resorted to replying to this lately, even doing as much as chucking something at the younger boy (often Seungmin’s baseball bat for some reason). “Anyway, I’ve known Y/N for 700 years. It’d be even more uncool when you say you’ve pined over each other for 700 years and have only been dating for a year.” 

“Yeah so better start now than never, ri—ow, Y/N! I’m trying to defend you and you hit me with a pan?!” 

Without anyone knowing, however, Hyunjin did formally asked you to be his significant other when the summer came, sending you all of your letters for him by the traditional post. The delivery man looked at you weirdly when he arrived at your doorstep, there were seven boxes full of old all kinds of envelopes and bundles of papers after all, but you only smiled sheepishly at him and tipped him extra. 

“Ya, why did you send me all of your letters?” You feigned complaint at Hyunjin once he arrived at your place and successfully helped you getting all the boxes in your living room. “The shipping company probably thinks I’m stealing museum artifacts right under their noses or something.” 

“I thought it’d be cute to do send it traditionally!” He pouted before pulling you down on your sofa next to him and opening the first box. “I didn’t even know it was gonna arrive today!” 

“What are we doing with all these anyway?” You asked, carefully picking up a random envelope. “You know some of these could break from the air, it doesn’t take a Chemist or a Curator to know that.” 

“Ah, yes, but I did got these scanned on a hard drive in case they do break! We have to keep up with the times, Y/N! I’m going to have to scan yours one of these days.” Hyunjin grinned proudly as he swiftly swapped your envelope for the chronologically correct one. “Now, we’re going to look through these letters in the right order!” 

As it turns out, Hyunjin had hidden his original unsent letters in between the letters you gave him, reading them aloud to you and using them to ask you to be his significant other. “We could’ve been dating ages ago!” He commented playfully in between the more intimate ones, giggling when you frowned or tear up in response. “Ah, Y/N, don’t cry please! Shh, it’s okay, baby, I’m reading these to you just how much I love you, okay? Don’t cry...”  

“T-That’s exactly why I’m c-crying!” 

“So, does that mean, you’re, you know, you’re saying—”

“You didn’t even have to go through all this trouble!” 

Hyunjin still teases you for crying then, mostly because he feels proud that you think he outdid Changbin’s lavish proposal to his fiancé in the Maldives with this gesture.    

seven hundred one

Though most of Hyunjin’s family of vampires have had and/or currently have their own history of relationships, Changbin is the first of Hyunjin’s coven who announced plans of getting married. His fiancé, Haseul, insisted; something about having waited 900 years because they weren’t ‘as lucky as some people.’ 

You know she’s subtly hinting at you, even going as far as winking at you from across the room when she repeated the words at rehearsal dinner earlier this evening, but you only rolled your eyes at her playfully, dismissing the thought. 

“Why did you even sleep for 900 years? I still don’t understand.” You asked her after once you’ve gotten her alone, sharing a bottle of champagne on the side of the dance floor while giggling at Jeongin and his date trying to out-fluster each other on the dance floor. The DJ Chan hired has long shifted the songs from lively EDM tracks to slower love songs so, with everyone assuming that her and Changbin are busy dancing together, no one would bother the two of you for a while. 

Haseul only shook her head as she chugged down champagne straight from the bottle, making you wonder if older vampires really just act as casual as she and Changbin do by default. “It’s really complicated stuff, the practice probably died down when you were born.” She waved her hands frantically in front of you, pretending to stumble after and laughing when you don’t fall for it. You’ve had enough experience living with the boys to know that vampires don’t get drunk with alcohol. “Anyway, that’s not the point! Point is, don’t wait for a sorcerer to curse you with ancient blood magic and make you sleep for 900 years before you decide on taking a big leap in a relationship like getting married! Do it now, especially now while wedding fashion still looks cute!” 

You only pouted at her, taking the bottle from her hands and refilling your glass. “You know how I feel about weddings.” You pointed out in a smaller voice, effectively turning her teasing smile into a serious thin line. “And it’s not like we actually need weddings. It’s just an old ceremony that doesn’t even hold up much for us since we’ll be spending the rest of forever with each other, anyway.” 

“Yeah, but...you know...” Haseul opened her mouth to counter your argument before pursing her lips at seeing your now downcast expression. “...Sorry, I...that was insensitive of me.” 

You glanced over at her for a moment, furrowing your eyebrows before mustering up a reassuring smile and a shake of your head. “I—no, it’s fine. It’s just—I respect weddings for people who want them...I think I might even want them for myself if things from the past didn’t turn out the way they did. Because of that, I don’t think I’ll be in one myself...maybe if Hyunjin wants to but I don’t know how he feels about marriage or how he feels with how I feel about it...does that make sense?” 

Haseul really wanted to tell you right there and then that Hyunjin personally asked her to ask you about it in exchange for him to tone down his groomsman’s speech at the wedding next week. Instead, she only slung a comforting arm over your shoulder. “I get what you mean. I wasn’t sure about how to bring up marriage to Changbin at first, too—being in a relationship even when I woke up a century ago.” She comforted you with a lighthearted chuckle towards the end, rubbing small circles on your shoulder blades. “But whatever you and Hyunjin decide to do together, I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.” 

But still, the thought lingered at the back of your mind for the rest of the night, especially when Hyunjin asked you to dance later on. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you curiously once you’re facing him again after twirling you once. “You know you’ve had that same thinking look since you and Haseul started drinking champagne. What’s wrong?” 

You looked up at him from your daze, eyes widening momentarily as you processed his words. When you regain composure, you shake your head and answer, “N-Nothing, I’m just, a bit sleepy.” 

Hyunjin frowned slightly, slowing your movements. “Must be the punch, I knew we shouldn’t have let Felix put in that weird blood mix on it.” 

“There’s blood on the punch?” 

“Type AB, I think—”

“—What? Gross!” You scrunched up your nose in disgust, making Hyunjin laugh. 

“I was just kidding, at least now you’re awake!” He pointed out in between laughter before going back to being serious. “But seriously, what’s wrong?” 

You took a moment to respond, eventually settling for a sigh. “Haseul just talked to me about marriage...” 

“Oh.” Hyunjin mused out loud and you’re quick to observe the way his expression falters ever so slightly, as if expecting the worse out of your next words. “What did she say?” 

“She just told me again how marriage and other ‘big leaps in relationships’ need to be timed correctly or something.” You answered, pursing your lips in between. “So I told her that yeah, I agree, but I don’t know how I feel about it on a personal level.” 

Hyunjin’s gaze then softened from the corner of your eyes. “Is it because of what happened before?” He asked carefully, tucking the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“A bit, yeah.” You nodded. “But if you’re—i-if you think otherwise, if you want to get married or something, then I’ll be okay.” 

“I’m only following you, Y/N.” He reminded you, halting the two of you from dancing altogether as he becomes much more sincere with his words. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll follow.” 

You smiled up at him appreciatively, lacing your fingers with his in between the two of you. “I was hoping it’d be the other way around, you know how indesicive I could be sometimes.” 

“But do you want to get married?” He asked nervously after, slowly inching the two of you away from the dance floor now and into a quieter area on the sides of the hall. “Or...anything of the sort?” 

“Maybe...I don’t know...” You frowned, more to yourself in frustration. 

But Hyunjin only nodded in understanding, patting your head before pressing a kiss to your temple affectionately. “It’s okay, I understand. Don’t beat yourself too much over it, okay?” 

- 

Now, a week later, while you and Hyunjin were spending the Saturday afternoon in his bed, he suddenly pulls you on top of him so you’re laying on top of his chest, taking out a single blue chrysanthemum from his bedside table. “I bought this last week and asked Jeongin’s new friend to preserve it with an enchantment.” He hurriedly explains before you could even scold him for suffocating a flower inside the drawers of his bedside table. “Hear me out first.” 

“What’s this for all of sudden?” You ask curiously, taking the flower and picking on the petals as Hyunjin then lifts you up with him while sitting up straight, moving you to straddle his lap. 

“I’ve just been thinking...mostly about what Haseul said.” He explains, his hand then moving over to something else in his bedside drawer. “...and, of course, she has a point, I’d take someone’s word for it especially if they’ve been asleep for a huge chunk of the years humans have been on Earth but I also know that we’re a little different from her and Changbin because of what happened in the past.” 

You’re immediately rendered speechless from the very start of his speech, even more when he finally finds the velvet box in his bedside drawer. Opening it in between the two of you, you wanted to laugh at the way an extra copy of the keys to his new apartment peeks out from the cushions supporting the main purpose of the box, a ring with a simple round cut diamond and two sapphires, but you end up crying first before chuckling, easing Hyunjin’s own nerves. 

“Is the key really that visible? I thought I hid that pretty well when Changbin and I picked this up.” Hyunjin pouts, briefly turning the box in his direction to examine it properly and take the key out before directing it to you once again with a chuckle. “Anyway, as I was saying, marriage is cool and all but it’s not like one of us is being chased by a psycho sorcerer like Haseul so we can definitely take our time if we eventually want to.” 

“But still, a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt so...will you move in with me?—or just wear the ring, come over more often, and maybe tell me you love me more than you usually do; that’s also fine.” 

You hit him on his shoulder with a laugh, making him lean his head back in laughter too at his own silliness. “You really aren’t that romantic when it actually comes down to it, Jisung was sort of right.” You muse out loud, taking out the key from the cushions. 

“Ya!” He protests, taking your hand anyway and sliding the ring on your finger. “If it was still the 1300s, I would’ve had to ask people’s approval, carved ducks, and everything and it would’ve taken forever! It’s been 700 years so cut me some slack here!”    

Still, no matter how much you laugh after, you say yes anyway but not without making him promise that he’ll re-do his ‘proposal’ again so Jisung would stop roasting him about it. 

“I will, I will,” He assures dismissively, pulling you in for a kiss. “when you’re actually ready to marry...or say cheesy vows in front of everyone, whichever you prefer.” 

“That’s going to take 700 more years.” You joke against his lips with a giggle, making him scrunch up his nose in disapproval. 

“Fine, I guess I can wait a little more.” 

[asweetprologue]

Geralt decides to retire to Toussaint. He takes Jaskier with him.

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retirement, Getting Together, Domestic, Fluff

I promise I’m still writing stuff!! this is a soft little one shot I wrote a while ago and just cleaned up. read on tumblr below the cut!

In the end, it’s the weariness that does him in.

Once when they were both younger men, Jaskier had asked him about retirement for witchers. If they retreated to Kaer Morhen in their old age to train the new pups, or if they settled down across the Continent, or gave up the hunt to have families of their own. Geralt had snorted. “We don’t retire,” he’d said, mixing potion ingredients by the light of their camp fire. Jaskier had looked at him with wide, curious eyes. “We get old, and slow, and something kills us. We don’t - buy seaside cottages, or whatever.”

Jaskier had hummed at that, a mournful note that seemed to resonate in the air. It was unfair, Geralt had thought, that his friend managed to convey so much in such a sound while the witcher always managed to say so little. “Seems a bit unfair,” Jaskier added.

Geralt had blown out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s life, bard.”

But now, three decades and countless battles older, he just felt tired. Jaskier no longer traveled with him as frequently, and the Path was a lonely place. He and his brothers no longer met at Kaer Morhen to winter, not once Vesemir had passed. They would stop occasionally to meet up on the road, but never for too long. Even Ciri was going her own way nowadays, though he saw her the most frequently. As the years wore on, Geralt found himself visiting Oxenfurt more and more often. Itching for companionship, for a cease in the ever grinding motion of the Path. The routine that had once been a comfort was now grating.

Maybe it was time to take a break.

It was with this mentality that he turned to Jaskier on the last day of his stay in Oxenfurt and said, “Come to Toussaint with me.”

Jaskier blinked at him owlishly, the expression making him look ten years younger. These days his hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and when he chose to grow out a beard it was as silver as Geralt’s. “What’s so important in Toussaint?” he asked. They were seated at a table in the rooms Jaskier had been provided, for accepting a temporary lecturing position. The term had ended a few weeks ago, hence Geralt’s visit. Jaskier shuffled his gwent deck as he spoke, the cards weaving together like a cascade. Geralt found himself watching the bard’s slim fingers dance through the motions with an old fascination.

“I have an estate there,” he replied, pulling his gaze from the cards. He meant to look Jaskier in the eye, but a brief moment of contact with the bright cerulean had him turning his head, his heartbeat growing ever so slightly faster. It was too hard to ask this if he could see Jaskier’s face. Instead, he looked out the small window, overlooking the red tiled roofs of Oxenfurt. The city was painted a rich gold in the light of the evening sun, reflected warmly off of the river beyond the docks.

Jaskier spluttered across the table. “You have an estate? Since when?”

Geralt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “It was payment for a job,” he said. “There’s a vineyard, gardens. I can send word ahead for them to start renovations on the guest bedroom. Come with me,” he said again, softly. He wasn’t above begging, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Jaskier looked at him with a confused but affectionate look spread across his fine features, and said, “Okay.”

~

Geralt sent a letter ahead to warn the staff of their plans to summer at the estate, and they began their journey to the Duchy.

It was a long journey, but not an arduous one. For once, Geralt allowed them to stick to the main roads, and at this time of year even Velen was bearable. The sweeping fields spread out around them in swaths of green and gold, punctuated here and there by defiant patches of wildflowers. Jaskier wasn’t as quick as he used to be following Geralt on the Path, but they weren’t on the Path anymore. They purchased a second horse and rode side by side at a leisurely pace. When the day grew hot, they would post up in a convenient spot of shade and let the horses graze, lunching on sun warmed bread and sweetmeats. Jaskier rambled the hours away with stories of his students and old antics at Oxenfurt, and Geralt responded with his own tales of hunts and growing up in the keep with his brothers. It was good to have another voice on the road again after months of traveling alone. It was good that it was Jaskier. Geralt had missed him. Once he wouldn’t have been able to admit it, even to himself, but it seemed silly now to hide it. A wall put up against someone who had been inside for years.

They slept beneath the stars and in cramped inns, sharing small spaces like they had for decades. It was different, Geralt thought. Something had released in his shoulders when Jaskier had agreed to come with him. They weren’t in a rush - there were no contracts to fill, no galas to play at. Jaskier’s purse was heavy from his time spent lecturing, and Geralt was able to pick up a few simple contracts as they went. Easy jobs that would put some extra coin in his pocket and lift the tension from the shoulders of the locals. But for the most part it was just the two of them, drinking sweet summer mead and browsing morning markets, getting accustomed to each other’s presence again.

Sitting across the fire from him one night as they camped, Jaskier said, “You’re different, you know.”

Geralt lifted his head from where he’d been skinning the pheasants for supper. “Hmm?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, maybe not that different.” At Geralt’s odd look, he went on. “You told me once that witchers never change. That they’re set in their ways. I think you were talking about something like your potions routine when you said it at the time, but I thought it applied to the whole of the witcher experience.”

Geralt hummed again. “It’s true. We age slowly. Get set in our habits.”

“But you changed,” Jaskier said. “I’ve seen it. After Ciri, and now, since we’ve left Oxenfurt. You’re different.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. They’d never been on the road together like this, just the two of them as companions. Before Geralt had been focused on the Path, and Jaskier had been cataloguing his deeds as if he were some kind of hero of legend. He knew Jaskier admired Geralt’s drive, his ability to push on towards the next contract. Maybe the bard would think less of him, knowing that he was content to leave the Path behind for so long. “I’m still me,” he said aloud.

Jaskier gave him another smile, warm and honeyed. “I know it’s you, daft man,” he said. “It’s good. To see you… put down the torch for a bit.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave an agreeable rumble in his chest. And then, because he’d spent so long learning how to use his words around his daughter, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaskier.”

A brief moment of surprise passed over Jaskier’s features, his eyes widening. Though Geralt had become better at voicing his affections over the years, he knew that the bard was always taken aback by the behavior. After a second Jaskier’s smile became a grin, and Geralt felt something in him relax even further. “I’m glad to be here, my friend. You know I can’t resist an adventure.”

~

They arrived in Toussaint quickly after that, both eager to end their days on the road. The countryside spread out around them slowly transformed from the muted colors of the north into the vibrant greens, purples and reds of the vineyards and forests. Geralt always forgot how stunning the Duchy was, with its colorful houses and flashy clothes. For once Jaskier fit in with the crowd flawlessly; it would take more than a bright doublet to stand out in Toussaint. Geralt had always liked it here. The peasants tended to be less prejudiced against non-humans, witchers included, and the knights he’d met always treated him as a brother in arms rather than pest control. The winters were mild and the summers sweet, and the wines were rich even if they were impossible for him to pronounce at times.

Of course Jaskier proved to be fluent in the local language - “What do you think the Seven Liberal Arts even entail, Geralt?” - which was helpful when they passed through smaller villages. Those away from the common crossroads or larger settlements tended to have fewer people who spoke the common northern tongue. They made their way to Geralt’s estate through a series of inns, barns and guest bedrooms as Jaskier relentlessly charmed the locals in grandiose displays of hospitality.

As they approached the estate, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop at the top of a hill. “This is it,” he said, nodding to indicate the view.

Jaskier gaped, craning to look out over the small collection of buildings and the dozens and dozens of grapevines that were nestled in the valley below. Geralt could see several workers out tending to the fields; his majordomo must have been overseeing things as agreed upon. They would have to get to know the rest of the staff while they were here. “This is all yours?” Jaskier asked, snapping Geralt’s attention back to the present.

“The house, most of the fields. I’ve not paid all that much attention to it before now, honestly. The house needs work. Never had any reason to sink funds into it before now.” He’d sent a fair sum of gold ahead to Barnabas-Basil to get started on renovations, but it likely would have only been enough to make the main complex habitable. Geralt was confident that he could undertake much of the repairs himself, in time. It would be good to have a project.

“It’s expansive. You produce wine here?” Jaskier asked, turning back towards him.

“Yes, but you’ll have to ask the majordomo which ones.”

Jaskier nodded to himself as they continued down the hill, soon approaching the main gate to the small villa. Members of the staff bustled throughout the property, though many stopped to look as the two of them passed by. As they settled their horses near a storage shed, the majordomo approached them, apparently already made aware of their arrival.

“Ah, Master Geralt, I trust that your travels were smooth? Please, come inside - I will have someone come and tend to the horses.” Barnabas-Basil Foulty was a clean shaven, bald man with sharp, almost bird-like features, and the head of the estate in Geralt’s stead. He stood at perfect attention at all times, shoulders back and head held high. A proud man, if not also an extremely polite one. Geralt liked him immensely, because he was good at his job and could keep up in the cups the one time the two had drank together.

“Ah, this must be the famous Barnabas-Basil. Fantastic to finally meet your acquaintance, my good man,” Jaskier said, jumping in to give the majordomo’s hand a firm shake. “Geralt has praised your skills from here to Redania and back.”

Barnabas-Basil inclined his head towards Geralt, though his spine did not stray an inch. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words. Please, allow me to show you the progress that we have made on the main house so you might get settled.”

The domo walked them through the estate, giving Jaskier a brief tour and pointing out new additions to Geralt. He’d not been to the estate in at least two years, but it was clear that the workers were making good use of the space. The small collection of colorful houses down the road had fresh coats of paint, and children played in the courtyard below the main house. A garden flourished in the space between the manor and the vineyard, dominated by root vegetables and herbs.

“If you would like, we can have it cleared out so that you might use it for your own purposes,” Barnabas-Basil said. His face betrayed no feelings on the issue.

Geralt grunted. “No need. The staff can use it as they wish.” He refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze as the bard beamed at him proudly. After decades of friendship Jaskier still seemed to find it a delight anytime Geralt did something he thought was particularly chivalrous. Geralt was not eager for him to meet the knights, with their virtues and heroic deeds.

The house, as he suspected, was functional but only just. “We’ve done what we could in a short amount of time, sir,” Barnabas-Basil said, his tone politely apologetic. “I assure you renovations are far from complete.”

“It’s fantastic,” Jaskier said, already darting off to explore the other rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and an upstairs loft that could be made into a second bedroom. The additional bed wouldn’t arrive for another week or two.

“We can share,” Geralt said without looking at Jaskier, and did not elaborate further. “Show me what else needs done.”

~

They fell quickly into a routine. Geralt spent his days working with the locals on renovations, slowly breathing vitality back into the old manor. When he grew tired of working with lumber, he waded into the vineyards, to help pluck the delicate grapes from their twisting vines. A pair of women admonished him for his sloppy work on the first day and taught him how to gently cut the branches away and check the grapes for ripeness. Jaskier fluctuated between helping out with the building work and composing, though he also made the occasional day trip into the city to perform. In the evening they would retire to the house to eat, drink and chat over games of cards. At night they would curl up in Geralt’s bed, as they had when sharing quarters on the road.

It was a strange new intimacy, to learn what Jaskier was like in his bed. They had shared bedrolls many times over the years, but never with any consistency. When the nights were too cold or the inn too full, they would sigh and grumble and agree to share a space for the night, as a matter of convenience. But as soon as they had the coin or the resources to do so, they would always put distance between themselves again. Geralt supposed it had been a kind of self preservation instinct, but he now found little threat in the warmth of Jaskier next to him at night. He learned that some days Jaskier woke before the sunrise, throwing himself out of bed in a tangle of limbs to scramble for a quill. Other days he slept late, sprawled out across the sheets and dozing until the heat of the day forced him up. Often Geralt woke to the bard curled around him, an arm thrown across his broad chest, nose tucked under the witcher’s jaw. Those times always made something tighten in Geralt’s throat. No one should trust a witcher like Jaskier did, but he was grateful for the bard’s foolishness. Jaskier had always believed that Geralt would keep him safe, even when the witcher had refused to even admit that they were friends. Jaskier deserved better, but it didn’t stop Geralt from turning into his warmth each morning, wishing to reach out.

When the second bed came, Jaskier made no effort to relocate to the guest room. Geralt didn’t bring it up.

It only took a month for him to openly think about it, but when he finally did he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. He looked up from where he was carving a notch in a new post for one of the fences and saw Jaskier sitting on the steps of the manor, the end of his quill hovering near his lips. His mouth moved around abstract syllables as he reached for the next lyric in a new song. The soft, repetitive notes rose and fell in the still summer air, and Geralt could see a small spot of ink on Jaskier’s cheek where he’d tapped himself with the quill by accident. Later that night, Geralt would point it out and they would both laugh, and Jaskier would play at being angry Geralt hadn’t brought it up sooner, and then Geralt would offer to help him clean up. Jaskier looked up from his place on the stairs and met his eye, feeling the attention on him as he always did. When he saw Geralt looking he smiled, as brightly as if he’d not seen the witcher in months, instead of moments. Geralt’s chest swelled with an unspeakable feeling, thick and heady affection and trust and something else even beyond that, and he thought, Oh, I love him.

~

Geralt suggested a picnic. Jaskier was ecstatic, though he tried to act as if he had to consider the notion.

“Will there be wine?” he asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, fondly exasperated, “we live on a vineyard.”

So they grabbed some bottles from the storeroom, packed a light cotton blanket and some food leftover from lunch and set off up the nearby hill. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the top, but once they did they were quite near the place they’d first stopped to look over the estate. It was nearing evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and making the shadows of the workers coming in stretch out long across the fields. The two men spread out their things, sitting to watch the landscape move below them as they uncorked one of the bottles.

Geralt let Jaskier chatter away about nothing for a while, letting the sound wash over him as they shared the bread and wine. After a while Jaskier fell quiet, leaving them both to gaze out at the beauty of the land around them. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier. The sweep of his brow, the soft bow of his lips. The smattering of freckles he’d collected from weeks on the road, lying in fields and letting the sun kiss his cheeks. To be jealous of the sun, Geralt thought wryly.

Jaskier turned to meet his gaze, realizing that he was being watched. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why did you come with me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier chuckled a bit, leaning back on one hand. His shirt was unlaced a ways down the front, leaving his dark chest hair exposed. Geralt wanted to put his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe there for a while. “I’m not one to turn down a free holiday, my dear.”

“No,” Geralt said, trying to ignore the way the pet name made his stomach flip. “I mean, why did you always come with me? Everyone… People come and go. But you always came back. Why?”

Jaskier gave him an admonishing look. Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. “You know the answer to that,” he said, and his tone held a warning that the witcher didn’t understand.

“I know you value our friendship,” Geralt replied, “but I could say that of many. It’s not the same.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, his face full of fondness and exasperation and, strangely, an old sort of grief. “You truly are the most unobservant man in the land. You’ve been far more than a friend to me for many years.”

Geralt felt his heart rate pick up at that, the slow thud speeding up to match Jaskier’s. “You’re saying…” He found himself unable to complete the thought. Even after so many years of trying to do better, it was still impossible to form words past the thundering in his ears. This moment felt delicate, like the wrong phrase might shatter it apart.

“I assumed you knew,” Jaskier said with a shrug. The line of his shoulders was just slightly too tense, his body radiating faux casualness. Anyone else may have been fooled, but Geralt had been watching Jaskier for years. “I would never have let it change anything between us, you must know that. You were always involved with someone else - Yennefer, and then Triss and Shani… I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Something that could make you happy.”

“I thought it would,” Geralt said honestly. His gaze flickered over Jaskier’s impassive face. The bard rarely showed his nerves in his expressions, too much a performer for that. Instead it made its way to his hands, twitching over his thighs and worrying the fabric of the blanket, and his heart, which raced in his chest. “I wanted to be the right person for them. Yen wanted me to be useful. Triss wanted me to be a knight in shining armor. They made me feel like I was better than just a witcher.” Jaskier’s lovely mouth twisted slightly, a note of bitterness in his gaze as he looked out over the vineyards. Geralt hurried on. “But you’re the one who made me feel like being a witcher was already good enough.”

Jaskier turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “Well of course it is,” he said, and naturally the bard had missed the point, honing in on his favorite subject: the reputation of witchers and Geralt’s sense of self worth. “You’re already useful, and noble, and good and kind besides all that. You don’t have to be more than what you are to deserve - fuck, basic human connection and love.” He settled slightly, his gesturing hands falling into his lap once more. “Is that why you left them?”

“The Path always calls,” Geralt said with a shrug. “No one but you ever wanted to follow me.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing. Geralt watched the color rise up over his cheek bones with something like fascination, or maybe hunger. “Well, now you know why,” he continued, with obviously false cheer. He gave Geralt a rueful smile. “I promise I won’t make things awkward. I’ve had decades to practice. I mean, it’s been thirty years. If you were going to fall in love with me you probably would have done so already, hmm?”

“You’d think so,” Geralt agreed. “Sorry it took me so long.” And then he leaned into Jaskier’s space and kissed him.

It wasn’t a very good kiss. Barely a kiss at all, really, considering that Jaskier had frozen under him. Geralt pulled back, lifting a hand to run it gently over Jaskier’s side. The bard was absolutely still, his eyes closed tight. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that Geralt wanted to kiss away, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. It was unfair that a man could have beautiful eyelashes, Geralt mused, but here they were. “You mustn’t toy with me, witcher,” Jaskier croaked. His voice was raw, as if he’d been singing for hours.

Geralt moved his hand to the bard’s face, his thumb following along the line of his jaw and up to trace across his cheekbone. Freckles like stars under his fingers. “I’m not,” he rumbled. “I swear it, Jaskier. I just -” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You were always there. No matter how shitty the Path was, or how miserable people were to you because of me, or how much I pushed you away. You stayed. You made me feel like I was worth something, and you made other people think that way too. Every day without you on the Path was always misery. I should have realized sooner, but I’m not… good at this. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s head dropped forward, his brow resting on Geralt’s collarbone. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the span of a minute,” he said, voice thin. “This is a lot to take in. Are you saying that you… that you love me? You, Geralt of Rivia, are in love with me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, smiling into Jaskier’s hair. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Jaskier pulled away to stare at him. Geralt tried to let his affection through, drinking in Jaskier’s beloved face like he hadn’t allowed himself before. The last rays of the sun played over Jaskier’s hair, turning some of the strands to brilliant amber. His eyes were over bright. Whatever the bard saw in Geralt’s expression must have been enough, because the next moment they were kissing again.

It was, Geralt thought, a miracle that he had ever gone so long without doing so. Now that they’d begun, he never wanted to stop. Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft against his, and when Geralt licked slowly into his mouth he tasted of old wine. They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt holding Jaskier close, decades of tension not so much breaking as releasing like a quiet sigh of relief.

Finally they pulled apart, Geralt nosing at Jaskier’s cheek as he hummed contentment into the bard’s skin. He could feel deft fingers petting through his hair, easily working around the tangles that had formed on the walk up the hill. “I love you,” he said, pressing the words below Jaskier’s ear as if he could speak them into his core that way.

Jaskier shivered once under him. “I love you too,” he said, and Geralt could feel him smiling in the way his jaw moved. He knew Jaskier in his bones. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know.”

Geralt pulled back, pushing Jaskier’s fringe back with one hand as he met his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stop running from you,” he said, smiling. Jaskier grinned back, and neither of them mentioned that his eyes were slightly damp. Geralt pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to his bard. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

[ghastspidergwen]

I love @doctorsiren's dadskall au, and I thought I'd write a little fic about it. basically, the dadskall au is where xisuma and ex (alex)'s dad is doomguy, but some sort of accident/crazy magic/whatever made him and iskall share a body, go check out doctor siren for the whole story, she has great art, too!

disclaimers (you can completely ignore this section if you want): I have played about 15 minutes total of all the Doom games, read none of the books, seen none of the movies, but the ost is great, so this will probably be ooc for doomguy. xisuma and alex are more based on the featherweight au versions, not the real hermitcraft versions. this story is not part of the dadskall au nor any of dr siren's other aus, it's just a break for me to write some fluff. it takes place ~3-4 years after where fw currently is (s7 election era) but is not set in the fw au world. link to the post part of this is based on. ...and I think that's everything, onto the fic!

.

Xisuma took a deep breath, “I think dad’s alive.”

“You said you saw him die,” Alex, previously known as Evil Xisuma, said, turning to his brother, “They told me he died”

“He wasn’t exactly dead, it’s hard to explain. It’s more like...the horcruxes in Harry Potter. When dad died, I think there was some magic at play that made it so his ‘soul’ transferred into the nearest healthy, person. And I think I found them.”

“Uh-huh, and who might that be?”

“HALLO!” Iskall burst in, “What did you need me for?”

“Iskall? Seriously?”

“He was there that night and I have no reason to believe-”

“You really think Iskall-”

“It’s my best guess, everyone else was injured, and the magic had to choose the nearest healthy person, so it must be Iskall.”

“What must be Iskall?”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Iskall?”

“No, Iskall86,” Xisuma said, sarcastically, “Of course this Iskall, how many Iskalls do we know?”

“I still have no idea what we’re talking about, can -”

“No!” The void brothers turned to him and responded in sync. Xisuma pulled his brother into a side room, “Stay right there, thanks Iskall.”

“What?”

Xisuma exhaled and closed the door behind them, “Phew, OK, I have reason to believe that 13 years ago, Iskall was present the night that dad-y’know-and since everyone else there was either corrupted or injured, as the only uninjured person, dad’s spirit ended up inhabiting his body, but’s been so weak that it was only using Iskall as a means of staying alive, not influencing him or trying to take control of his body at all. Do you get me?”

“A little.”

“And I think I know the spell that will separate them, and give dad his old body back,” They went back into the main room with Iskall, “Should I do it now?”

“Blast ‘im,” Alex backed out of the room, putting a protective wall between him and the magic.

“WHAT?!”

A glowing green ball of energy swirled between Xisuma’s hands, and Iskall backed into the wall, “H-hey Xisuma, what are you doing?”

“This...shouldn’t hurt.”

Iskall held up a hand in a stop gesture, “SHOULDN’T?!”

Xisuma blasted him with the magic. Iskall glowed green, floated into the sir, then split into two people who fell down.

“I...think it...worked,” Xisuma muttered, collapsing to the floor.

Doomguy looked up, and noticed someone lying, unmoving, on the floor. His saving-people instincts kicked in, and he pulled himself over to the person. “C'mon, don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” he said, shaking them.

Someone was shaking Iskall. He sat up and opened his eyes, “Holy heck, it’s Doomguy!”

“You’re alive!” Doomguy said relieved, and pulled Iskall into a hug.

Absolutely starstruck, Iskall sat there, frozen. It’s Doomguy, I love Doom, Doomguy is right here, and he’s hugging me, it’s Doomguy! Iskall’s mind looped.

Pulling out of the hug, Iskall spotted Xisuma crumpled on the floor, “W-wait, I got-gotta check on my friend.”

Doomguy turned around, and spotted his son on the floor.

“Xisuma!” He stood up and stumbled toward him.

“Wait, you know Xisuma?”

“He’s my son. Well, your son, too. Our son.”

“Wha-”

“Short answer, I am you. You are me. We’re the same person.”

Looking at his hands, one thought crossed Iskall’s mind, I’m Doomguy. It was closely followed by “I HAVE A SON?”

“Two sons.”

“TWO SONS? And one of them is dying!” Iskall sprinted across the room and cradled Xisuma’s head, “I don’t know what to do!”

“Health potion?” Doomguy suggested.

“Oh, yeah,” Pulling a potion of healing out of his inventory, Iskall splashed it onto Xisuma. He held his breath and waited to see if it would work.

Xisuma opened his eyes. He sat up.

“Dad!” He jumped up, and buried his face in his dad’s chest plate, giving him a hug the same way he did when he was younger.

“I’m your dad, too,” Iskall said.

“You know?” Xisuma asked, breaking off the hug.

“Yeah, Doomguy told me. So give your poppa a hug,” Iskall uncrossed his arms and gave a very confused Xisuma a hug.

“Oh, OK,” Xisuma awkwardly pat Iskall’s back until he stepped away.

“Is Alex here?” Doomguy asked.

“He should be right outside, he didn’t want to be in the same room as an untested spell.”

“Wait, you didn’t test it? Then why did you cast it on me?” Iskall asked, panicked.

“How many people do we know that have another person living inside them?”

“Wels/Hels, I’m pretty sure Ren did for a while, a pregnant lady,” Iskall ticked off on his fingers.

“Different circumstances. Wels and Hels are one person, like two sides of a coin, Ren-I don’t know what happened with Grimdog or The Red King or whatever, but I definitely don’t want to mess with those, and did you just compare yourself to a pregnant woman?”

“Uhhh...nevermind.”

“You said Alex was just outside?”

“Yeah,” Xisuma pulled the door open, to reveal Alex sitting on a bench outside, drumming his fingers against the seat

“Did it work?”

“Yeah.” Stepping out of the doorway, Xisuma revealed their dad standing behind him.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Dad?”

“It’s me,” Doomguy sat next to his other son.

“Dad!” Alex hugged him, and they pulled Xisuma into the hug after a second. They sat there before the hug was interrupted by another pair of arms joining in.

“Family, together again,” Iskall sighed.

“What’s up with him?” Alex asked, glancing at Iskall.

“I’m part of the family, call me Dadskall.”

“OK...Dadskall, can we have awhile alone with our dad?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. See you later.” Iskall trudged out of the room.

“I haven’t seen you guys in forever! How long was I…”

“15 years.”

“So that would put you guys in your mid-30s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anything big happened in the last 15 years?”

Alex pulled off his helmet, “Nothing too bad. I was imprisoned for a bit of it,” he glared at his brother.

Xisuma also removed his helmet, “I said I was sorry, how many times do you want me to apologize?”

“I wasn’t saying it’s your fault, I was just making the point that-”

“I get it! I was an idiot and I didn’t listen to you when you were clearly right.”

“Just like old times,” Doomguy chuckled, he examined his son’s faces, “You look so much older, like real adults. I’m so sorry I missed out on the last 15 years, I would’ve loved to see you grow up.”

“It’s not like you could do anything about it.”

“I know you would have been here if you could.”

“Also how did you guys get those scars?”

“Someone needed to keep slaying the demons after you left,” Alex shrugged.

“I angered some Watchers years ago.”

“You angered some Watchers?” Doomguy asked, standing up.

“I just realized someone was right, but it was too late to save them.”

“Darn right, I was.” Alex and Xisuma also stood up.

“I...forgot how tall you were,” Doomguy said looking, at up at Alex, who was only a few inches taller.

“Oh, yeah. Xisuma was jealous he never got this tall.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Sure,” Alex smirked.

“So, anything else new?” Their dad intervened.

“Daisy’s still alive.”

“Should’ve guessed,” he chuckled.

“Oh! You’re a grandpa!”

“What?!”

“Yeah! I adopted a guy named xB. I’ll call him over, so you can meet!”

<Xisuma> hey xb, can you come on down to my base, I’ve got something to show you

<xBcrafted> ?

<xBcrafted> yeah, be there shortly

“How did you meet this xB?”

“I was doing some exploring between seasons, looking for a good seed, when I found a small single player world. xB was alone in there. Poor kid was only 13, didn’t know where his parents were, said he had been handling himself for the last 2 or 3 years, so I took him back to Hermitcraft with me. He’s a great kid, you’ll love him.”

“Xisuma has practically adopted the entire server.”

“Server? You’re an admin?”

“We both are. I’m main admin of Hermitcraft, Alex is the backup admin.”

“I’m so sorry I missed out on all of this stuff. I really wish I could have been there for you two.”

Something thumped into the outside of the building they were in, and the door opened, “Freakin’ rockets, stupid friggin’ elytra,” xB mumbled. “Oh, hey Uncle Alex, hey, dad.”

Doomguy gasped, “I love him already!”

“Wha-”

“xB, this is our dad, Doomguy.”

“Wait, I thought he was dead.”

“Wonky magic stuff.”

“OK then. I’m xBcrafted,” xB said, offering his hand for a handshake.

Doomguy scooped him up in a hug, “Hello, xB, you can call me Grandpa Flynn, or just Grandpa, or just Flynn, I don’t care. I have a grandson!”

“Nice-to-meet-you,” xB gasped.

“Dad, I don’t think he can breath.”

“Oh, right,” Flynn released his grandson, “sorry, got a little overexcited.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back.”

“Do you want to go meet the rest of the server? There’s just under 30 of us, total.”

“Oh, you’ll love all of them. There’s me, of course, but Hypno and Jevin and Wels and False are all set up near me, Stress and Gem are also pretty close, and Doc and Ren are just past them, and…” xB rambled as the other three grabbed their helmets.

“You ready?” Alex asked, pushing open the door.

“Let’s go, I want to meet the rest of your family.”