#i looked back at some old art and remembered the sheer amount of times i crossed ddd's kimono wrong

[veveisveryuncool]

hello kirby fandom it is time to relish in the kirby artist experience (based on things i am all guilty of)

[sleepnowmychild]

From no belief in particular to Helpol

Just because I find it interesting that so many helpol people and pagans in general seem to be ex-biblical religions, here’s a slightly different story for you.

I never grew up religious. My dad is actually very anti-religion because of the sheer amount of people who use religion as a weapon to discriminate, and the way many churches can become almost like a tiny cult. But my mums side of the family is Italian Christians (don’t ask me how my parents were even together at one point because I have no clue). So on one side I had my dad telling me to never trust a pastor and that he’d never let me set foot in a church and my Italian grandparents going all in on Christmas family reunions with the nativity scene set up and crosses on all their cards and church Christmas morning.

It made me very neutral. I didn’t care what existed, I was just a kid who was exited to pick grapes on our vineyard (which looking back, the fact I lived in a vineyard and made wine is very,,, hello Dionysus) and get days off school for Christmas holidays etc. I didn’t believe in the Christian god, but as a kid I did believe in an afterlife. I think because it’s easier to process that as a kid than death being just nothingness.

In primary school, we did a whole term in Greek mythology. My first ever myth was echo and narcissus and I still have the painted tea towel I made with echo on it for the art potion of that class. I got very obsessed, very quick, as undiagnosed autistic kids do. I loved mermaids and sirens, nymphs and the sailing part of all the war myths. I’ve always had this deep link to the water, not just the sea but rivers and lakes, any water you can swim in. You’d think I’d end up a Poseidon or Aphrodite devotee because of that huh? Point is I heard the Greek myths young, and because those myths also have Roman equivalents, when my Italian family heard I was obsessed I’d get the Roman version of the stories from them.

For years I was just mythology obsessed with no particular beliefs. I didn’t like how hardcore my Italian family was in their ‘everything is a sin’ mentality and I also felt it was a bit mean of my dad to say every single religious person is a monster. As I came to realise I was trans and bi at around 15, suddenly I was privy to the sheer amount of queerphobia in religion. Turned me away from most of them hardcore. But by the time I was 17, I’d stumbled on the reason those shops with the crystals and little mythology statues exist. Because the old gods of mythology were still worshipped.

I don’t actually remember when I got claimed by Hypnos, but he definitely claimed me. I’d always liked him as a concept because he’s much more chill than some of the more intense gods, but he slowly started creeping into my life when I’d see something and go ‘Hypnos would like that’ or I’d jokingly be like ‘I’m so tired, knock me out Hypnos’ and I WOULD fall asleep easier that night. I can’t exactly explain why, but I’ve got this deep connection to the river Lethe as well. Although not in the sense Lethe is a god, in the sense of its connections to Hypnos. Like there’s a siren of the Lethe inside me screaming to go back home.

In all honesty, there was never a solid moment I was like “I’m helpol now” it just kind of happened. The gods, especially Hypnos snuck into my life back in primary school and slowly made their presence more and more known over the years. And I was fine with that, because this is what my Roman ancestors would have been doing, and this is a religion that doesn’t hate me for being queer.

This got long, I’ll cut it short here. But that’s a perspective from someone who never grew up religious for you.

[wachtelspinat]

Heya~

I often find it very difficult to find the right words, so I apologize in advance if any of what I have to say sounds dry or wrong, but I write it from the heart, I promise🧡

I know how you feel now and how much you get lost when that realization comes along. I learn art all my life, but I don’t succeed anywhere. No matter how long I try to do it, I still keep thinking “well I’m not good enough”. To be honest it scares the shit out of me every day, because if I’ll give up here… well there’s nothing I can do for life than. When I was in school, I was desperately clung to every fandom I had as my last hope to get rid of bad thoughts and I found those two silly characters that stole my heart immediately so of course it’s weird to say but since then Overwatch has become my “home”. It was not the perfect game but it was fun until Ow2 was released. Even if my love for OW is died, I understood that Junkrat and Roadhog took a much more bigger part in my live that I could ever imagine. I thought it was stupid, like come on that’s just a characters from the old and dead game but it turns out they’re not just characters, but in a way, my family or friends that helped me go through a lot of dark times, so it’s okey to love them deeply even if they are not real~

I always wondered, why do I make art? Is it what I really like and enjoy? Is it cost all the struggles and tears? But I found you and I fall in love with your arts immediately. I could have a really bad day in university but then I remember how I just go to your page to rewatch, for only gods knows how many times, your works. I love everything about them, how you can build a perfect shape with just one line, how many expressions and ideas your works have. Your knowledge of the anatomy is just… freaking olympic🤌🏻✨ you gave me the second breath in my path of an artist because looking at your works I was wondering if I ever be able to achieve such a high level and here I’m speaking not only about arts with Junkrat and Roadhog, I speak about every single one that I could find🧡 and I understood that art in general have much much more power in it that anyone thinks. It gives hope, inspiration, safety, emotions and so on~ even without knowing it, you can make another person’s life a little better.

All I wanted to say is - you are a fantastic person, highly talented and hard working. I’m sure everyone who follows your work will support every of your decision. I just wanted to say a big thank you from myself personally for everything you do🧡

hey ! i'm really sorry that it took me so long to respond, last week was just hell on earth. the sheer amount of words you put into this hit me right in the heart, and what you said made me tear up even more.

having a really hard time here to form my words, not only because my brain feels so fried, but because your ask is so sincere and i don't think i can possibly thank you enough. it's so weird, there is this constant battle in my head that everything is futile and trivial and i'm having a hard time seeing some kind of point behind my actions (not only art related). on the other hand, i know that WE give meaning to something. that it's the small things that tends to move mountains. i don't know if i'm making any sense here. point is. by telling me that - in my opinion - my irrelevant art has given you sth, if it's just a smile, new energy to try sth yourself, inspiration... you are shaking my world. and i'm grateful for that in a way i cannot describe.

and seriously, i don't know why we make art. because as you mentioned yourself it is always connected with doubts and despair. before i entered graphic design school back when i was super young i thought drawing was me. the one integral part that made me so ~special~. just to learn that a bunch of people draw, all around the world, and they often draw even better than i could ever achieve! in the last months of being in university i relied a lot on defining myself through my art again. because it immensely helped with my self-concept when everything around me just felt like i wasn't good enough. i'm kind of re-learning again that doing art is not the one thing that defines me. because i tend to heavily lean into that. it is after all the one thing i actually like about myself.

so yeah, thank you so much for reaching out. i love your art and the love you put into it, so i'm hoping that - despite the struggles we all share while being creative - you continue to draw, as so will i <3

(and junkrat and roadhog, man... yeah they're not just characters, they stopped being just characters from a game a long time ago for me. i know i'm a broken record at this point BUT their codependency and independency, the balance between grit and gross and sweet and off-kilter, sweat, tears, blood and some ice-cream on the side, begrudging and thankful - it seems stupid to me too because i know most people just see these comic relief mad max rip-offs but every time i think about their dynamics and some of the stories i've read in fan works it grips my heart and i think "holy shit i love them so. much." - i'm still not done drawing them by a long shot i think, it just feels like i've reached a dead end of some kind? because with little time at hand and even less energy left i struggle to form my thoughts into drawings. but i'm working on that. i'm working on doing some kind of tribute, like a zine with my art from 2016 up to today and some more stuff i've yet to draw (had this idea since 2022 and i've just recently learned SO MUCH about zine making and printing and i finally started putting the first files together). because that feels right, like a proper "here look at this i hope this explains why i love them so much")

[capow02]

why do i for the ask game [:

Interesting pick! While I do like this song, I don't really have any strong opinions on it.

I do have a story about this song though! Back when elsewhere was about to release, they changed the website to promote it, and they used an 8 bit version of this song as the background music. I instantly fell in love, weirdly loving it so much more than the 8 bit versions of their other singles. So much so, I actually downloaded it and listened to it on repeat every time I caught the bus back from uni. I was obsessed and so hyped for the song, but when the album came out and I heard the real thing for the first time, I was actually disappointed. I definitely overhyped it in my head, but don't worry, I soon overcame this bias and grew to like the song as it is.

The best part of this song is easily the second verse, from the line "a piece of shit" to the start of the second chorus. There's just something really satisfying about the harmonies and the way it all flows together. I also like the way the final chorus is stripped back, and the vocal improvs Cody does at the end. Other than that, nothing else really stands out to me.

I get the feeling that this song is overhated in the fandom, because of the sheer amount of attention it got from the boys themselves. I get it, and I definitely think they should've put more focus on some more obscure elsewhere songs (as good as it gets, taste of the good life and the magic 8 were right there) but I also understand the band's perspective.

Every time they did an interview, they were constantly singing its praises; Cody kept saying how proud of it he was, and how the chorus was the best thing he'd ever written. In a fan club qna where I asked them their favourite songs from the album, both Cody and Maxx said why do I (apart from Zach who said projector.) So while I understand it got a bit old seeing it all the time, I understand the boys wanting to give it so much attention. I mean if you'd written a song you were that proud of, wouldn't you want to show it off as much as they did? Wouldn't you choose that song to be the one to feature miku? (I still love the album cover art for that btw.)

Anyway. I loved the music video, the aesthetics were perfect, and getting a look at ego, karma and lady luck was thrilling. I remember spending so long on a piece of art for that video, and being so happy when they noticed it on twitter. Fun fact, I also used Zach's fight scene as an assignment for one of my uni modules. In any case, it's a fun song, and while I think it's a bit overhated, it's also not the best off the album. 6/10.

[acewithapaintbrush]

Hey @lunamadrigal I hope this tickles your Ash and Misty cravings

******************

"Tadaaaa!" 

Misty just stares. It's early. The sun has barely risen above the hills. One of her hands is still trying to untangle a knot in her hair while the other holds an empty coffee cup that she had been about to fill to the brim when the doorbell interrupted her. 

She is tired. She is grumpy. 

She is so not ready for whatever this is. 

Her visitor still holds his pose, his arms outstretched, a big grin on his face. The grin threatens to fall, but only for a microsecond. He keeps it right where it is by sheer force of will. After another second of uncomfortable silence he repeats his grand gesture, arms going to his chest and then spreading out again, with even more gusto than the first time. 

"Tadaaaaaaa!" 

"Yes, Ash. I heard you the first time." 

Pikachu is holding two small sparklers in his tiny fists, waving them around erratically. He is balancing on Ash's head. If Misty weren't so sleep and coffee deprived she might have felt a tiny bit of worry for her friend's hair. As it is, a single strand of black hair catches a spark and starts smoldering. The mouse pokemon notices and immediately starts to pat at it until the glimmer disappears. His eyes beg Misty not to tell and the girl can't help but snort, her mood lifting quite a bit at the familiar and beloved antics. 

Ash didn't even notice. He is too used to Pikachu patting his head from time to time in affection or annoyance. At the sight of Misty's upturned lips he bounces up and down on his feet. "You like it?" 

The girl sighs and steps closer to the monstrosity her friend has brought to her doorstep. 

It's a bicycle. At least she thinks it is? It's hard to tell under the horrible color and all the paraphernalia hanging off of it. The frame is bent but it actually looks intentional. Like an art student went to town on it. Maybe it's supposed to be modern? 

Her silence is loud. 

"You hate it." Ash concludes sadly and damn it, it was so much easier to be firm and resist his big teary eyes when he was still an annoying little kid who got on her nerves most of the time. 

"Hate is a strong word." she hedges. She lifts the cup to her lips to buy herself some time, too late remembering that there is nothing in there. She pretends to take a sip anyway. Ash, once again, doesn't notice, but Pikachu sends her a shit eating grin and she just glares back, twirling a single strand of her hair between two fingers. 

And because Pikachu is the smart one in this duo he gets the message loud and clear. 

"It's…" Misty tilts her head and purses her lips. "It's something else." 

"It's a limited edition. And it's in your favorite color." 

He sounds ridiculously proud so Misty does her best to keep a polite little smile on her face. She can't even tell what color it is. She's never seen a color like this. 

"Not that I don't… appreciate it," Wow, that was a hard sentence "but… why?" 

Ash plays with the handles and the bell (which sounds weird, how in Arceus name can a bicycle bell sound so weird?). He is still smiling but also not meeting her eyes. A bashful Ash is rare enough to garner her attention. 

"They finally transferred my prize money from the championship." 

Misty does a double take. In the back of her head she has always been aware of the prize money. How could she not be? No one really talks about the sum of it, but rumor has it that it's enough to set you up for life. A small fortune. 

Knowing that Ash will come into a lot of money and hearing that he did are two very different things though. At the same time she is not surprised at all that he is still wearing his old threadbare shoes and cap and is apparently still traveling by foot. 

Knowing him he's probably just transferred it all to his mother to do with it as she pleases and a big chunk to Professor Oak for taking care of his Pokémon. 

And a (hopefully small) amount apparently went towards a new bike for her. 

"You waited so long for a new bicycle. I wanted it to be a special one." 

It's the ugliest bicycle she's ever seen. The frame looks weird, the seat uncomfortable. No way in hell will she ever ride this thing through town.

"I love it." Misty says and pulls Ash into a tight hug. "Can't believe you found one in my favorite color." 

[aikoiya]

I was literally thinking the same thing!

I was thinking that, either the Far Frozen Yetis were a tribe of Yetis that found their way into the IR & began becoming more liminal over time. Or they could be the ghosts of the various Yetis from different universes & that some might even be from Hyrule.

Another thing I'm curious about is how Danny would react to the Bargainers. Hell, I'm curious how the entire Chain would react to the Depths.

Like, my theory is that it's actually what remains of old Hyrule from before BotW/TotK.

By that, I mean that the Deku Tree did what he said that he would in WW by using trees to reconnect the islands, which is what makes it possible for the Era of the Wild to be at the end of all 3 timelines, or indeed, be able to merge in the first place. This is supported by how there are so many massive roots all over the place. As well as the fact that the map inside the Forgotten Temple shows that there'd been more water in Central Hyrule during Rauru's time.

But, specifically, how would the rest of the Chain react to the sheer amount of Poe Souls, the Shadow Soldiers, whether they all can see the Poe Souls & Shadow Soldiers (because, remember, apparently not everyone can according to a Yiga journal & the only entities to really make mention of the Poe Souls are the Bargainers), the Bargainers, seeing the Heart Island with the green poe & the pink poe, & the Blupee Burrow?

Not to mention the implication that at least some of the Poe Souls belonged to people who died during the Calamity based on the Ancient Underground Fortress in Akkala. Also, how the triple stone mounds seem to correlate with monuments made by Flora on the surface meant to honor & remember soldiers who died fighting the Calamity. All being at what appeared to be places where great battles took place.

I think that the Depths are something of a liminal space where the dead of Hyrule just gather before moving on & that it has become a reflection of the Surface. "As above, so below" & all that. This is supported by, as mentioned before, the state of the Ancient Underground Fortress in Akkala & the fact that the triple stone mounds seem to be located at the sights of major battles in the Calamity.

This liminality could be partially attributed to having been saturated with magical water for millennia before the Zonai drained it.

Something to note is that we don't know how the Depths looked before the Zonai arrived, nor do we know how they looked during Rauru's reign.

Either way, I'd very much like to see someone go into this.

Hell, Danny may even be able to talk to the Poe Souls & the Shadow Soldiers. Or just hear their final wishes if nothing else.

My thoughts are that the Shadow Soldiers are sort of the echos of those who've already passed on. They manifested in an attempt to help the hero however they could & the reason that they disappear after Wild takes the weapon in their hands is because the last remaining remnants of those soldiers has been fulfilled. They are likely held together by their final most desperate wish, so they'd likely just sort of be whispering those wishes quietly under their breath from Danny's perspective.

Fudge... imagine Wild learning that one of those Shadow Soldiers was the shade of his father desperately trying to do whatever he can to help his son... Aaaangst...

And imagine the shame of still not remembering him or the sister he once had. (Based upon the concept art.)

Or, if he does end up getting his memories of them back & breaks down at the realization that he'd failed them. Obviously, it wasn't his fault, but let's be real here. Wild would absolutely take it that way. And imagine how much Wind would try to sympathize with him, but Wild might not appreciate it because Wind, at the very least, had been able to save his sister. Wild had failed his. (I know that it's implied that Wild's family had lived in the Hateno House.)

And imagine the shock & fragile hope of learning that last his father knew, his sister was still alive & that this meant Wild might have nieces & nephews.

And now suddenly he feels so very small & strangely desperate to have just one more connection to the life he once had. Because he might not have been the same man as he was & he may even be happier now, but that does not mean that his old life was bereft of joy & love.

Perhaps, he wants a little bit of that love back. Even if only in second-hand stories of the family he hadn't quite realized until this exact moment that he lost.

Just one more thing that the Calamity pilfered from his grasp.

Or perhaps she's still alive, just incredibly old & weak & unable to even get out of bed anymore.

Anyway, as far as the Bargainer Statues, Danny may be able to identify them as something I refer to as Psychopomp Effigies. Basically, statues of death deities that act as reapers/ferrymen & portals to the afterlife in the absence of an actual death god.

Sorry for dumping that on ya. I tend to ramble...

I don’t know the current status of Linked Universe, so if I need to delete this please tell me, but after seeing a drawing of Wild and Danny doing the whole “I think we need to kill this guy” thing, my mind went blank! But in a “How did I not think of this?” way!

Because imagine them finding him in the Lost Woods or something and thinking he died there! Or Danny feeling like he can breathe around these people because they fight several different kinds of monsters practically daily, so how weird can it be if their newest member is half ghost?! And Danny 100% takes a picture at some point! I know this might not be half as big as DC x DP, but still! I feel like this needs to be explored a bit!

And also, he’s definitely chill with Wolfie because for the Linked Universe fans who don’t know, Danny has befriended a ghost puppy (Cujo) who is capable of turning into a giant dog probably the size of a two or three story house, a large anthropomorphic ghost wolf who speaks Esperanto (named Wulf) big enough to hold Danny in one hand, and a ghost yeti also large enough to hold him in one hand (Frostbite), along with pretty much the entire village of ghost yetis. I think it’d be crazy if he was actually scared of Wolfie, especially if he sees him acting all friendly with the others first. If fact, he probably thinks he’s a husky or Alaskan malamute at first because of his white and black fur.

Also, like my old Link OC Modern, I bet that Danny can’t have potions or anything with magic because it doesn’t exist in his world or the ghost zone, so he never had the necessary biology or something to handle it and will most likely throw up any meals or potions with magic in them. This probably worries some of the group, but Danny doesn’t really care about his healing process possibly being slower without the potions and is more worried about consuming anything containing magic again.

I’m gonna stop before I ramble too much.

[cyborg-franky]

C0mmission

This took longer then I'd have liked it to but. Coms are open!

@childofblackmaria come get yo men <3 I hope you enjoy!

Roger x OC x Rayleigh N/SFW Tw: poly Word Count: 2,869

Roger sighed when he sank into the hot water, feeling the heat work its magic on his sore and aching bones, he may act like no force in the world could stop him but his body liked to remind him he wasn't as invincible as the world and himself would have him believe.

He splashed the water with one hand as he watched Rayleigh drop his towel and descend into the water next to him. The other man grabbed a floating tray and pulled it along the surface of the steaming water, letting it bob in place before him as he placed a fresh bottle of sake and three cups onto it.

“Remember, we can’t get drunk while in the springs, bad for you, the Doc’s orders,” Rayleigh warned as he poured the liquid into each cup.

“Oh, he’s always worried for nothing.” Came a third voice, feminine, with a hint of mischief that carried it through the warm steamy air.

Renge grinned ear to ear, fangs peeking from behind her lips, showing in her smile as she let the towel that covered her body drop slowly, sliding down her form. Both men couldn’t stop their eyes as their glances roamed over her with the appreciation one would show fine art or a flawless painting of an unknown beauty and a little nod to one another. 

She slipped in between the two, sitting on Roger’s knee as he pulled her closer, arm around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, we won’t overdo it will we, Kitten?” Roger smirked against the soft skin of her neck, his facial hair causing her to giggle as she nodded in agreement.

“Since when do you know ‘restraint.” she chucked and looked at him, admiration shining in her eyes.

“A man can learn in his old age, give me that at least.” Roger chuckled, voice gruff as he watched Rayleigh pull the tray of sake cups closer to them.

“I saw you playing with the boys back there, they adore you. Your like their mother,“ Rayleigh hummed in thought and jumped when Renge splashed him using her tail, giving him a look, pouting at his words.

“Please! Mother. The last time I checked dearest, it was you with the grey hair. We will be calling you Silvers Rayleigh before long!” she wrapped her arms around Roger’s neck as her expression softened, her lips curling into a smile, letting him know she was playing along.

“She’s more like a cool aunt!” Roger quipped, snickering as he watched the scene between his lovers.

“Exactly,” she said with a nod of her head.

“I do love those two though. Buggy is so smart and will be a real charmer one day, Shanks has a kind heart and is always a shoulder to lean on. We got some really great kids on this crew, they’ll both make us so proud.” Renge sighed thinking about the two fondly.

She thought about them, how they would often fall asleep against her as she read them stories, she didn’t want children of her own, it wasn’t written in her stars, same with Rayleigh. They weren’t the type and that was fine. Buggy and Shanks were all the children they needed. All they could cope with was if she was being honest with herself, thinking of the times she was exhausted from the sheer amount of energy the younger pirates had in spades. Not even Roger’s seemingly boundless enthusiasm and energy could match the two terrors. 

Her heart always felt so full of hope and love when watching them learn something from Roger or Rayleigh. How to sword fight, how to read maps, and chart the stars. She didn’t think there was anything she wanted more in life than what she was given here.

Thinking about those nights when she was without freedom, the nights she spent with tear-stained cheeks, hands clasped together, and begging each and every shooting star for a better tomorrow. It was as if all her wishes came true in the form of the Roger Pirates.

“Where did you go?” Roger asked as he brushed her hair behind her ears.

“I was just thinking about how lucky and happy I am. How I can’t imagine my life without either of you by my side. Our little family of misfits.” she smiled and Rayleigh moved closer.

She felt two sets of strong arms around her, holding her tightly, kissing the side of her head before one another. 

“We are lucky, aren’t we? Sometimes people spend their entire lives trying to find the one perfect person and we all got two perfect someones.” Rayleigh looked at the sky, the stars that littered the night.

Sparkling and watching over the lovers, the entire crew enjoyed their festivities. Renge knew they didn’t need a reason to party it was just a constant celebration of the ties and bonds that they all shared.

“You are my good karma for everything I’ve ever had to endure,” she said and let Roger set her down on the rock between them.

“No need to look at the past now, just look ahead to our blazing brilliant future!” Roger reached out an arm into the sky, the rising steam floating around him as he grinned ear to ear. The fire that burned so deeply within him showed in his eyes.

“We are reaching out towards the stars and one day we will be stars. All in a line, the three of us brighter than any that came before and ever will again.” He closed his hand as if he had reached out and plucked a star from the heavens.

Renge and Rayleigh couldn’t help but be captivated by this wonderful man, the passion that he had, the power and hope his smile along could bring. She felt breathless as she watched him, the smile on his face, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled.

She would die for him, for either of them.

“As long as I’m with you both I feel like a star regardless,” she said and Rayleigh playfully nudged her for her cheesy comment, sure, it was a little goofy but she meant it.

“Well then, to us! To the future stars!” he picked up his sake cup, holding it out.

Rayleigh and Renge grabbed their own, clinking them together and nodding, all three of them downing the sake, feeling the warmth run down their throat, their bellies along with the warm emotions that bubbled up inside.

–

Soft words and many sakes later the three were the last of the crew that remained lucid, hadn’t turned in for the night, enjoying the warm water against their skin. The fresh natural spring water wasn’t the only thing making them feel good or relaxing them but one another's lips, hands, grabbing, grasping, a delicate urgency as names whispered in hushed tones vibrated on tender skin.

“Do you like that?” Rayleigh asked against the shell of her ear as his hands wrapped around her, breasts cupped in his hands as she mewled and nodded, feeling her nipples teased between his fingers.

She glanced over her shoulder at Rayleigh, the enticing smirk on his equally tempting lips distracted her for a moment, Roger took full advantage of her distraction by their lover as his hand ran down her stomach, going between legs that parted willingly, wantingly for the future pirate king.

“I can tell your wet, even like this.” he cooed, his eyes locked with hers as the steam from the water made her face flush, darker in colour when a digit slipped into her slick folds, her head falling back against Rayleigh's shoulder as she arched her body for both men.

“What did I do to deserve this?” she said, voice breathy as she chuckled.

“We just want to make you feel good, Kitten,” Rayleigh replied seconds before his lips latched onto her neck, nipping at the skin, biting with a loving intensity that just had her closing her eyes and making sounds of blissed enjoyment.

“You’re so good to us we just wanted to make tonight about you,” Roger said, casual air in his voice like he wasn’t playing her with practiced diligence, the pad of his thumb rolling over the stiff bundle of nerves that lay hidden in the warm waters.

“I…If you're sure..” Renge mumbled as she felt teeth replaced with open-mouthed kisses, soothing the bites he’d laid claim to her with moments ago.

“Definitely,” Roger hummed as he slipped in another finger, her breath hitched and her body reacted, both men knowing her body more than she ever could.

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into the sky, watching the stars, not just the ones her lovers were making her see. She couldn’t stop herself from making the sounds she did, one of Rayleigh's hands left her breast, reaching around to grab Roger’s member, she felt the stiff prick bump against her thigh as he moved to let Rayleigh get better control over his hand motions.

“I- I need you both, please, I can’t take the teasing.” she pleaded, shocked at her needy tone as she rocked her hips forward, getting Roger’s fingers deeper inside her.

“Normally you love a good long foreplay, are you that desperate tonight?” Rayleigh teased and she shrugged her shoulders.

“The sake, the stars, just being with you both, something in the air, this moment captivating..” she said worried it would sound like the babbling of a horny drunk woman.

She saw the looks on their faces, how smirks turned into warm smiles, both kissing her cheek and nodding in agreement. They always understood her, the simple sequence of soulmates joined at the heart louder than any rational thought.

The added element that someone could turn the corner and see the three of them in a tangle of limbs and symphony of moans also did something to tingle down her spine, something she hadn't considered a turn-on until now.

It was Roger who left the water first, bare ass in the night air as he snickered to himself, going to his coat and digging through the pockets. He pulled out a tube and wiggled it with the biggest self-satisfied smile and waggle of his eyebrows either had even seen.

“Lube? You have lube in your pocket?” Renge said with a laugh as Rayleigh climbed out of the water and lifted her out.

Roger laid the towels out and nodded proudly. Rayleigh rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but be amused at the situation. Renege allowed the two men to box her in once more as Roger grabbed the tube and coated his fingers.

“You never know when we might need it.”

“Alright but here?”

“Hey, I'm about to use it.” he pointed out as he waited for the zoan to present herself, spreading her asscheeks, tail in the air proudly.

“Point taken..” 

He was gently preparing her, always was, the gentle care of a lover no matter how much he wanted to stuff her full of his cock, even a man as spontaneous and reckless as he knew where he needed to be considerate. He would never do anything to hurt her and she was relaxed as a result. Making a moan as a slicked-up finger entered her.

Rayleigh was kissing her neck once more, plastering bites and bruises on the other side of her neck as he carried on rubbing her clit between his fingers, teasing the engorged nub, her body was shaking, her hips wriggling as she didn’t know which sensation she wanted to lean into.

Another finger was introduced, scissoring her open while whispering words of encouragement, a husky voice with tender words that came with the delightful promise of a fucking she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Do you think you're ready for me, Kitten?” Roger asked as Rayleigh took the tube for himself, rubbing it across his cock, mingling with the precum that dripped from his slit.

“A-always,” she said with a nod.

Roger took the tube back, making sure he had more than a generous amount as he rubbed it all over his cock, making sure everything was going to go smoothly, wanting to only ever draw moans of pleasure for her pretty lips. Rayleigh was struggling to wait, watching as Roger pressed the first inch of his thick cock into her.

“Oh… oh like that… please…” Roger smirked, delighted that he barely had to move as his hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her flesh until the skin changed color under his grasp. 

Lowering herself onto this member she let out a long wanting moan which Rayleigh swallowed, lips pressed against hers as Roger fully sheathed himself inside of her. He heard the muffled moans as she deepened the kiss with their other lover, Rayleigh was pressing himself into her cunt.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she took a moment to adjust to them both inside her. The thought of them so close made her heart flutter, adding to the building pleasure she was already feeling. She felt Roger's grip loosen on her hips, his large hands stroking up her sides as he whispered into her ear ‘you're doing so good’

“Ready for us to start moving?” Rayleigh asked, his member pulsing within her warm and waiting walls. 

Words could barely form let alone fall from her lips, she could just manage a nod as she bucked against him, both men chuckled and nodded to one another. They worked in perfect tandem, practiced, and rehearsed like a beautiful play. 

His nails, and sharp claws dug into Rayleigh's shoulder as she gasped and groaned into the motion the two had set. Rayleigh grunted at the sharp needle of pain, enjoying the edge it gave the pleasure he was experiencing, the feeling of Roger’s cock grinding against his own through the thin wall. It made her toes curl, her tail wrapping around Roger’s neck loosely as he speed up.

Always faster and harder than Rayleigh yet it blanched out so perfectly and helped the pleasure completely take over her body. She cried out when Rayleigh moved one of his hands down, where their bodies connected, once again rolling her clit in time with his thrusts. Roger's arms gently caressed her hips, and sides before coming around to the front, pinching her nipples, pert and want for his attention.

“Oh!” she yelped as everything felt a thousand things in one crushing blow. 

Not one sense wasn’t set slight by her lovers, hands, lips, claws, and teeth. It wasn't just he zoan that had become a wild animal in the frenzy of passion, moans, and sweet words uttered that contrasted the rough and forceful thrusts she was at the mercy of.

She bit her lip as the coil inside her started to tighten, threatening to snap loose, to come undone in a crash of thunder and rolling waves of a storm of pleasure and emotions. Roger pinched her nipples as Rayleigh kissed the corner of her open mouth, she gaped and gasped and groaned.

Renge forgot her name at this moment and yet she could let their names slip from her tongue, her blessings, her praise, dreams, and desires simplified to a simple moan of their names and final buck and sway of her hips as they fucked her to completion.

“I love you!” she shouted, aimed at no one and both at the same time.

“I love you too, both of you,” Roger grunted as he wildly shook hips as the band inside snapped and sent him over his edge.

He stilled his hips, shooting rope after rope of hot cum deep inside her, he panted, breathless but his touching never stopped, wanting to tease her through her climax as she carried on rocking against Rayleigh despite her desire to rest, to fall apart and collapse in their arms, she wanted him to finish.

“R-Rayleigh….” she sighed as she met his thrusts, her lips crashing to his, teeth and tongues, her moans gobbled up by his hunger for her.

That was when he joined his partners, one final thrust as he came undone, filling her womanhood with his seed. She closed her eyes, she could have cried in joy as he senses cried out and her primal needs had been met. Her partners had filled her and she was content.

Panting, gasping, and aftershocks of their actions filled the otherwise peaceful early morning air of the springs. They pulled out, such care and delicacy compared to moments ago when the heat of their passion snuffed out the humidity of the air around them.

They laid down, Rayleigh cupping her face, kissing her forehead as she regained her breathing, Roger spooned her from behind and reached around to hold them both, a sigh, happy and dreamy, warn out and pleased.

No words needed to be shared, nothing else was needed at this moment as their breathing leveled, matching one another as hearts beat fast for one another. She cast her gaze to the stars, her tail swishing as she smiled at the pinpricks of light that stretched out for miles.

One day they would be stars. Together for eternity.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"A drunk villain topping a sober yet submissive hero?🙏"

Request #9

Warning: nsfw.

A fun little idea! This is also the last request from my old blog's inbox, which I'm glad about because my current inbox is already filling with new requests. (Keep 'em coming tho! I love your ideas!💖)

I also gotta say, I've been on fire recently! I've been writing so much I got drafts saved and ready to be posted! Hopefully, I don't jinx myself here lmao.

Anyways, enjoy! ^^

~~~~

Hero weaved through the crowd of criminals, wine glass in hand, as they kept an eye out for their target. They have been sent out on a mission by Organization. They were to find Villain, capture them, and at last bring them to justice.

The hero was currently at a ball being held by Supervillain. Their disguise consisted of state-of-the-art technology forming a hologram over their entire body, making them look like Other Villain, with whom Villain is on good terms. Combined with a voice changer, they would no doubt fool the villain and catch them off guard.

Hero's plan was pretty basic. They were going to find Villain, drag them off somewhere away from the party, pin them down, and cuff them.

"Simple, but effective." - they thought to themself. The hero's only issue now was that they still had no idea where the hell Villain was-

"Well, hello~." - a voice slurred from behind Hero, and before they could even turn around, an arm hooked around their shoulders, and Villain's ugly mug was right in their face.

Getting into character, the hero responded, "Ah, Villain! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Mmm, sure has. Hey, how's about we... make up for lost time, eh?" - the villain asked, leaning even closer to the disguised hero's face, running a finger down their jawline suggestively. The smell of alcohol wafting off them made Hero's eyes sting, but they played along nonetheless, "Well... I don't see why not~."

"Oh, this is perfect." - Hero thought. They have been preparing for this for weeks. They had to catch Other Villain a few weeks back, just so that they could pull this off. And out of all possible outcomes, this was the best and most convenient one.

"But perhaps let's go somewhere more... private." - the hero suggested, dragging Villain along down a nearby hallway. The other did not resist, letting 'Other Villain' pull them into a random bedroom as they drunkenly giggled to themself.

Hero locked the door behind them, and before Villain could react, they grabbed their arms and pinned them down on the side of the bed, turning off their disguise.

Villain looked surprised, then confused, and then something seemed to click in their head.

"Oh, my. Hero, if you wanted to have some fun that badly, you could have just asked~."

It was the wrong thing that clicked. Hero's face heated up at the other's words. They found themself at a loss. And in their surprise failed to realize that their hold on the villain had loosened.

Villain, drunk out of their mind, somehow noticed their slack hold, and before the hero knew it, their positions had switched. The villain was on top of them, pinning their arms above their head and grinning down at them, their bodies pressed against each other.

And as their crotches brushed, Hero's face turned beet red. They couldn't stop a shudder from running through them as the villain whispered in their ear, "So, how about it, Hero~? Wanna play~?"

The hero tried to stutter out an answer but found that they couldn't. They looked for a possible way out, and to their surprise, noticed that Villain's grip wasn't as strong as it could be. They have been pinned down by the other plenty of times in the past during their fights, so they knew that they could easily escape right now.

...

But did they want to?

Hero could feel their blood rushing down to their sex as the villain rubbed against them. They knew they shouldn't be letting this happen, but... Villain just looked so hot like this. And their touch was making the hero want more.

"F-Fine, let's play." - the villain only giggled in reply and locked their lips together, kissing hard and with need. The feeling distracting the hero's senses. They inhaled sharply as the other's grip suddenly increased. Have- Have they been pretending to be weakened?!

Hero could not escape anymore, and honestly...

...they didn't mind in the slightest.

As their kiss continued, Villain dragged the hero to the middle of the bed. Releasing their wrists, they ran their hands down Hero's chest and then began unbuttoning their shirt. In their drunken state, however, they struggled and tore the shirt open out of annoyance.

Hero whined a bit at the sight of the loose buttons flying and decided to ruin the other's shirt the same way. They went to grab the fabric and tear it off the other, only to have their hands pinned at their sides.

A "Tsk, tsk." sounded in their ear as Villain scolded them, "You don't get to touch me unless I say so." - the sudden chiding caught the hero off guard, and they couldn't stop the pit that grew in their stomach from the villain assuming control.

"Understand~?" - Villain asked, their lips brushing against the shell of Hero's ear, eliciting a small gasp from them. A wave of pleasure shot through them as the other nibbled on their earlobe.

"Y-Yes." - the hero managed to mutter out, somehow already breathless. Barely anything has happened yet, so why were they freaking out so much?! Why did- Why did it feel so... good to be below Villain like this?

Was it just the danger of letting their nemesis have control over them? The adrenaline of being at their mercy?

The excitement of being so close together?

"Good~." - the villain purred above them, running their hands across every bit of Hero's torso, dragging their nails down the other's back, arching it and making a shiver travel down their spine.

The hero had to bite back a moan as the other ground against them once more. They wanted to pull the rest of Villain's clothes off but knew that they couldn't, that they weren't allowed to.

That powerlessness only served to turn them on further. Hero clawed at the plush bedsheets below them, bunching up the fine material between their fingers. The villain chuckled at the sight, leaving a trail of kisses down the other's neck. Going down their chest, they bit the hero occasionally, bruising their flesh and making them whine needly.

Villain went even lower, tugging down the hero's pants, but only slightly, not enough to reveal their sensitive genitalia. They left even more kisses on them, licking their skin, making Hero inhale shakily and wonder what the villain's tongue would feel like just a little bit lower.

That pondering only worsened as Villain forced their legs apart and mouthed them through their pants, teasing the hero, who this time couldn't help the moan that slipped past their lips.

Hero tried to grab the other's head on instinct. They wanted to keep them there, for that sweet feeling to continue but stopped themself halfway, remembering how the villain forbade them from touching them. They grasped at the bedsheets once again, knuckles hurting from their hard grip.

"Good hero~." - Villain praised, making the hero blush even more, as they turned their head to the side, trying to hide and smush it into the pillows. Their face, however, was back on full display within seconds as the villain suddenly pulled their pants down further and took Hero into their mouth.

The hero couldn't stop the curse that left them alongside Villain's name, which they began to moan louder the more the villain licked and sucked at their privates. The feeling of the other's teeth teasingly dragging down them made Hero's back arch again, and the threat of Villain being able to bite down on them made their insides twist.

They whimpered as the villain suddenly pulled away from them, only to swallow the lump that had formed in their throat as the criminal stripped themself of their remaining clothing, revealing themself to the hero lying below them.

"Like what you see~?" - Villain asked, giggling. The alcohol in their system still making them giddy. Hero could only stare at them, impossibly red in the face as they answered, breathless, "Yes."

The villain leaned forward, once more looming over the other, and the hero whined at the sight, pleading, "V-Villain, please can I touch you? Please, I- I want to touch you, please."

"Aww, begging already?" - the villain teased, taking hold of Hero's hips and positioning themself against them. The hero went to beg more, but only a mixture of a moan and a whine left them as Villain slid into them without warning.

The villain's pace was slow and surprisingly steady, considering how drunk they were. Hero held onto the bedsheets like their life depended on it. They wanted to touch the other so, so badly.

Villain leaned down and caught their lips in a light kiss, running their hands up the hero's sides, making them squirm. A gasp left Hero as the villain hit them in the right spot. The other grinned and pushed against it, again and again, thrusting in quickly and roughly, but slowly pulling out and then repeating the cycle until the hero was begging them again.

"F-Fuck! Villain, please!" - Hero yelled across the room, their mind so clouded with lust that they have forgotten all the enemies that surrounded them, all the villains and criminals alike partying just a short distance away. So many people, which wouldn't hesitate to kill them on sight.

Villain merely grinned. They could feel their orgasm coming closer and decided that they have messed around for long enough, "Hero~..."

Said hero focused on them, as best as they could anyway, and exhaled weakly as the villain's words registered in their clouded brain.

"You may touch me~."

Hero wasted no time hooking their limbs around the other. They moaned as their lips crushed together, as Villain began to pound into them without mercy.

The feeling of their skin against each other, the sheer amount of intimacy, and physical contact quickly drove the hero over the edge. And as they yelled out the villain's name, they too felt their blissful finish wash over them.

As the two began to gasp for air, slowly coming down from their high, Villain slid off of Hero, whose eyes were closed as they tried to steady their breathing.

The hero's eyes snapped open, however, at the feeling of power suppressing cuffs locking around their wrists.

"W-Wait, what is-" - they tried but were interrupted as the door suddenly burst open, and Supervillain's henchmen flooded the room, followed by their boss.

"Are you quite done yet?" - the supervillain asked Villain, an impatient look on their face that only made the villain giggle, adding to Supervillain's annoyance.

"Yeaaah, I guess I am." - the villain responded, ignoring the shocked hero beside them as they got up from the bed and approached the supervillain.

"Unless you wanna have some fun too~?" - they asked, leaning against the other criminal, still very much but-ass naked.

Supervillain only pushed them off and growled out, "Ugh, don't touch me. You smell like heroism and righteousness. Disgusting."

"Aww, but then... don't you wanna make me smell like chaos and evilness, again~?" - Villain playfully pushed, stretching their body in a teasing manner.

The supervillain only grumbled under their breath, "Oh, you stupid fucking..." before turning to their henchmen and barking out some orders at them.

The henchmen grabbed Hero and left the room. Supervillain relocked the door behind them and proceeded to drag Villain back towards the bed.

[stuckylibrary]

Group Ask 187

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

AO3 Search Tutorial

Please reply to this post if you know one of the fics mentioned in this ask. Thank you so much in advance!

main-for-aspen asked:

hi, i'm looking for an mcu kidfic i couldn't find in my bookmarks-- all i remember is that bucky's arm is on the fritz, the kid climbs on it and gets thrown across the room, bucky runs away, and steve/the avengers put audio of the kid singing in a commercial while trying to find him, which i think prompts him to come back? i hope that's enough to track it down, ty!

Anonymous 1 asked:

hi! i was wondering if you had a stucky wedding fic that i remember reading but lost? it took place some place in the canon and i remember they went to different places through their childhood that had meaning to them for the proposal. they played baseball and they met this old lady who lived in the old apartment or something, and they also didn't remember anything about the bachelor party because they were passed out, that's really all i can say about it that i can remember.

Anonymous 2 asked:

Hi! I think i sent this already but not 100% sure. It’s a gang/mob au where bucky and nat are these big leaders and steve’s a small time gang member for a debt or something. Steve always watches bucky at some club and they finally get together at this hotel and hook up. One chapter i think. Thank you!

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hi! I read this one ages ago but it spans from pre-war to avengers time, and it starts with steve and bucky at some park and steve makes bucky a flower crown. It’s all about bucky trying to find a word to describe steve and has adorable steve scenes and avengers bonding i think.

Anonymous 4 asked:

I'm so desperate to find this one specific fic I've been searching for hours!! It's where Steve is retired or in 'hiding' from the rest of the avengers in a rural town and he has fencing around his land and Bucky doesn't know who he is, at one point they drive past a cop and he spots them and sends agents in or smth???

Anonymous 5 asked:

i lost a fic! steve and bucky live together and bucky’s recovering, and bucky asks steve if they were ever lovers, bc he can’t tell if the memories r real or some old fantasy, steve says they weren’t. It seems like steve is trying to avoid bucky for three days after this, but it turns out he was just doing some “research” and says that even if the memories weren’t real, they could be, then they have sex and it’s v soft, any idea what fic im thinking of??

frog-wearing-an-ugly-sweater asked:

Hello! I hope you are well :) There's two fics that I read and loved but lost and I was hoping you might recognize em. 1) everyone was some kind of supernatural, Bucky had been turned into a werewolf by hydra and was new in town. He comes across Steve's cafe which is full of plants and all the other avengers are regulars there. In the end hydra tries to get him back but they all help fight them off. 2) WS Bucky starts coming to cafe (owned by Becca) where steve works, is put on trial--- thank u!

natybug25 asked:

hello! i know you guys are prob super busy but i read this fic a long time ago think it was an a/b/o fic, and bucky wanted to be a single parent so he got a sperm donor and turns out it was steve who is the sperm donor and the father of the baby. it was so good and wanna read again. thank you so much!!

Anonymous 6 asked:

Hi I was wondering if you guys could help me find a fic Steve gets a text from Bucky asking to visit Steve goes and finds out he has a daughter and ends up staying with them then he eventually text Sam to visit and he stays for the girls birthday oh and Steve does window art for a shop in town

Anonymous 7 asked:

Hi, I'm looking for a specific fic where somehow, maybe aliens or smth, Bucky can now hear Steve's thoughts. And steve is constantly worrying over Bucky and it bothers Bucky the sheer amount of it. Also maybe in one scene when they're having sex Bucky calls Steve a caveman because of his thoughts. Whether you can find it or not, thank you sm!

jadenray64 asked:

I've been trying to find a hs/college au where steve is a cross country runner and wrestler, Rumlow is his abusive coach, and bucky, nat, and clint are his friends.

Anonymous 8 asked:

Do you know the fic where Bucky works in the mail room or something and then spills coffee on Steve’s divorce papers ? I can’t find it :/ thank you !

peppermenttea asked:

Hey, I’m not sure if my ask got eaten by tumblr but I figure I’d send it again. There’s a fic you guys recced a while back and the description was like “Steve helps the winter soldier by going on an adventure” I think it mentioned an ice castle and hydra was the villain entity? I never got to read it and I really wanted to.

Anonymous 9 asked:

i’m looking for a fic where bucky has just come home from the war and steve has a girlfriend but they had a fling before bucky left. sorry this isn’t much to go off

[fanartandfanfiction]

I don't know if anonymous people get notifications when I respond, so I hope they see this. It will go into the meatball story, eventually!

“I think something is wrong with Melody.” Meatball said, curling up in Ominis’ lap. 

“What makes you say that?” He stroked the large snake’s head.

“She hasn’t wanted to cuddle me like usual. The last time I tried, she jumped and asked me to get off.”

“That IS odd.” Ominis pulled out his phone. “I’ll talk to her.”

Ominis: It’s a lovely sunny afternoon, want to do something?

Melody: Um, sure. Where do you want to go?

Ominis: How about we meet at that oak tree you like on the path to Hogsmeade? I’ll bring Meatball.

Melody: Ok.

“She does seem like something is the matter. She’s usually much more cheerful. Come on, we’re going to meet her.”

Ominis held his arm out and Meatball slithered up it and around his neck. They left and began walking towards the oak tree.

“Wow. She doesn’t look good.”

“That’s not polite.” Ominis said to Meatball.

“If you could see her, you’d agree. She looks tired.” 

“Hi.” Melody said as they approached. 

“Hello, Melody. Here, Meatball wants to see you.” Ominis extended his arm and she stepped back. 

“Um, I don’t feel like holding him today. Sorry, Meatball.”

“Melody, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Melody responded quickly. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Melody, I-” He reached out and grabbed her wrist and she hissed in pain. Ominis quickly dropped her wrist, then reached out more gently and took her hand. He ran his hand up to her wrist and she whimpered quietly. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Do you need a healing potion? Because I-”

“Ominis, drop it!” He heard her suppress her tears. He stepped closer and brushed his hand against her cheek.

“Melody…please. What’s wrong?”

“Please, just leave it.”

“I won’t.” He said sharply. “How badly are you hurt?” She didn’t answer, so he took both hands and placed them on her face. He felt a small cut on her left cheek. He ran his hands down her her arms and felt her flinch, so he knew her injuries were worse than she’d admitted. “Come with me.”

“Ominis, don’t make a big deal out of it, I-”

“Please.” He took her hand again. “Melody.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Alright. Just…not the hospital wing.”

“I have another place we can go. I’m going to take Meatball back first.”

“Aw, why?” 

“Because.”

“What?” Melody asked. 

“Sorry, I was answering Meatball.”

They took Meatball back to his terrarium and Ominis grabbed the small first aid kit he kept in the room. 

“Why do you have that?” Melody asked. 

“Because my roommate is Sebastian. That should be explanation enough.” 

He led her down to the defense against the dark arts hallway and to the stairs. “What are we doing here?” Melody asked. 

“This is kind of a special place.” He tapped the old clock with his wand and the gears whirled and the door swung open. 

“Woah!”

He gestured for her to enter and closed the door behind her. “Welcome to the undercroft. It’s a special space just for us. Sebastian, Anne, and I, I mean. Has he told you about Anne?”

“Yes, it’s very sad.” She responded, taking in the space. “Kind of dark and depressing down here.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ominis smiled. “But Anne did force us to put some nice furniture in here, so there’s that, anyway. Have a seat. So go on, where are you hurt?”

“Um, kind of all over? But especially my back and arms.”

“Alright. This may be a bit awkward, but I’m going to need you to remove your top. Please remember that I’m blind, and I’m just trying to clean your wounds and bandage them.”

“Ok.” Ominis heard the quiet rustle of fabric before her shirt hit the floor. He used his wand to scan for the injuries and his stomach churned at the sheer amount of them. “Good lord, Melody. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She was silent as he began cleaning the wounds. “I’m not going to let this go, you know.”

“Because I deserve them, alright?!”

Ominis paused. “Would you like to explain that idiotic statement?”

“No need to be so rude.” She snorted. “But I do. Deserve them, I mean. I do bad things, Ominis.” She said quietly.

“I don’t follow.”

“I- ow! That stings. I hurt people. Those poachers…what they’re doing is awful, but am I just as bad? I’m hurting them. And some of them die because of me. So I don’t heal myself. I leave them, they’re a reminder of the hurt I’ve caused.”

Ominis didn’t respond at first, he was focusing on cleaning the numerous scrapes and cuts on her back. “I understand the thought process, but you can’t ignore your injuries, you know. Melody, you’re doing a good thing. You’re helping creatures that are unable to help themselves.” His hands brushed against the bare skin of her back, causing her to shiver. “Those poachers…they’re committing a crime. And they are making the choice to do so, no one is forcing them. The ministry turns a blind eye to it all. If people like you didn’t step in and save them, no one else would. So if those people get hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for it. It’s what they’ve chosen to do. They’ve chosen to capture beautiful living creatures and kill and trade them for money. You’re making a difference, Melody. THAT is what you should remind yourself.” He finished with the last injury on her back and moved to her arm. 

“But isn’t responding to their violence with more violence just as bad?” Melody asked, as she watched Ominis delicately wash the wounds before bandaging them. 

“Well, I don’t think they’ll stop doing it if you ask nicely.” Ominis smiled at her. “There’s not really another option, is there?”

“I know, but…I just hate causing pain.”

“Well that’s a good thing. Because if you enjoyed causing pain, I’d be quite concerned about you.” He gave her a teasing smile and she chuckled. “Let me see your other arm.”

“That one is fine, but, um, the worst one is on my side. My ribs.”

“Alright. May I?”

“Yes.”

“Turn on your side for me please.” She did as she was told, rolling over on the couch. Ominis ran his wand over the wound and gasped. “Melody! You’ve been walking around with broken ribs?!”

“Um…yeah.” She said sheepishly. 

“Good lord. I have some wiggenweld you can drink but it may not be enough. I’ll do what I can for the surface injury.” He handed her the green vial and she drank it.

“That feels a bit better already.”

“You know, if Sebastian had a broken rib, he’d be howling and crying and not letting anyone hear the end of it. And here you are, going about your day.” 

“He’s a bit of a baby, isn’t he?” Melody grinned. She felt like her skin was on fire as Ominis’ hands gently touched the bare skin of her side.

“Oh definitely. How’s that?”

“Much better. I have a few on my face, but I can do those.”

“Nonsense. Sit up.” She sat up on the couch and he sat beside her. He ran his hands across her face, feeling a few small cuts.

“I have one on my lip too.” 

He brushed his thumb across her full lips. He hoped she didn’t notice that his hands were shaking. He held both hands on her face as he began his work on the injuries. Both of them were hardly breathing. Ominis wanted so badly to close the gap between them, to kiss away every little cut and scrape. But instead, he focused on his work, and soon her face was healed.

“Alright. We’re done.” He hadn’t moved his hand and Melody brought her hand up to his. 

“Thank you, Ominis.”

Ominis felt a knot in his throat. “You’re welcome.”

The tension between them was thick. “Ominis, I-” They heard the gate of the undercroft opening and Melody quickly put her shirt back on. 

“Melody?!” Sebastian said in shock. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was hurt, and I didn’t want to go to the hospital wing. Ominis brought me here.”

“He’s a pretty good healer, isn’t he?” Sebastian said with a smile. “Now that you know about this place, we can hang out down here!”

“You’ve got to let me spruce it up a bit. It’s depressing!” Melody protested.

“Fine, fine, it could use a woman’s touch. Just like Ominis.” Ominis’ face turned bright red as Sebastian laughed. “Sorry mate, it was too good an opportunity.”

Sebastian flopped down on the couch between them and put an arm around both his friends. “What do you say we go to Hogsmeade tonight?”

“Sure.” Melody replied.

“Sounds fun.” Ominis answered. 

“In the meantime, I brought gobstones!” Melody and Ominis groaned. “Come on! What’s a little gobstone juice between friends?”

Since your requests are open, I thought I'd ask you the same thing I asked @spaceyaceface (https://www.tumblr.com/spaceyaceface/719538223021457408/hi-this-is-me-officially-begging-for-some-ominis-x?source=share), cause I crave moreee

Ominis finds out that MC hasn't been healing their wounds because they feel bad about hurting others (not intentionally, just the whole Ranrok situation and they feel that everything is their fault).

Ominis finds out by realising that MC has been acting strange (or Meatball says something to him about them acting strange and not wanting to cuddle with him anymore) and tries to stop them to talk, but they don't want to and try to get away, so he catches their wrist and MC hisses in pain, so he takes their arm in his hand to see what's wrong and why it hurt MC and feels countless cuts and wounds.

MC feels embarrassed and bad, so they try to get away, but his hold on them is firm.

Ominis asks what it is (the wounds) and they try to brush it off, but he's persistent.

Eventually Ominis explains to them how it's not their fault and makes them drink some Wiggenweld potions and helps them bandage the wounds (and it gets very cute and fluffy and wholesome).

If you don't feel comfortable with doing something like this, it's totally okay, do it ONLY if you want to.

As someone who struggles with self-destructive tendencies, it's weirdly therapeutic.

I'd really appreciate it if you responded even if you don't want to write anything like this (just so I know you got it), but you don't have to!

I REALLY love your work and appreciate your creativity.

You're very talented.

Anyway, I hope you have an amazing day life and never stop doing what you love!

First of all, thank you SO MUCH for sharing this with me.

I really love the idea. Can’t decide if I want to include it in the meatballverse (I’ve decided that’s a thing now) since I haven’t mentioned ancient magic. Maybe a separate one shot? Idk, what do y’all think, should it go in the meatballverse? It would bring some angst into the story. Maybe I’ll exclude Ranrok and do poachers since I’ve mentioned she fights those.

That was a totally unnecessary train of thought to share 😂 but anyway, I do love the idea, and I’m glad you sent it! Many of us (🙋‍♀️) have self destructive tendencies .

You’re wonderful, you’re a delight, thanks for reading, thanks for messaging ❤️

[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. 

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E134 & 135 (April 27, 2021)

It's late, it's great, it's... Talks Machina! Tonight's guests: Ashley Johnson & Taliesin Jaffe! Immediately, I distractedly pour beer onto my steak instead of steak sauce. It's been one of those weeks, what can I say?

Taliesin has a new rule for 2021 - no passively wearing t-shirts. Button-downs only! I appreciate this from a distance. Caduceus had a very hard time saying goodbye to his family. The vision from the Wildmother helped a lot in giving him peace. He also is conflicted because Caduceus knows he should stay, but really didn't...want to stay, which surprised Taliesin.

Ashley laughs that sometimes during voiceover recording or recaps, she has moments of thinking - "I wasn't there for this scene! And then I remember that Travis was playing her, or Matt was playing her. Oh yeah, I totally remember this!" Even now Blindspot's reach...reaches.

It's so intense being the focus of Matt's attention in one-on-one situations. "It's so stressful. Math goes out the window, everything goes out the window, it's like woo-woo-woo." There's intense pressure not to fuck it up. Right before they started the game, Travis made some offhand comment about her being ready to die, and during the whole Stormlord scene he kept making eyebrows to remind her of it.

Being the Stormlord's champion gives her a feeling of purpose, a special reason to exist. She thinks about how much longer she would have been in the service of Oban if the Stormlord hadn't saved her.

The whole Clay family didn't leave all at once, it was one every few years. His sister was the "hypnotized version of Danny Kay in the Court Jester," who was ready to get out as soon as possible. She was the "anywhere-but-here" sibling and was the smart one. Taliesin feels bad that she went out and immediately turned into stone.

Ashley is super excited about the Holy Avenger. If she can roll well and actually hit something, she's very happy to be carrying it around.

Caduceus has just connected his dream with the plot/the Mighty Nein. Tal's embarrassed it took him so long to figure it out, especially since he wrote it & had intended it to be a nice connection to Mollymauk!

Yasha is holding onto her last request just in case it comes up in game again.

Cosplay of the Week: a spectacular Astrid in black velvet by @shelflifecosplay on Twitter. She looks amazing!

Caduceus doesn't really care about the intent of these people not caring about/believing in the gods in their location. Especially since he follows a nature god, he thinks "clearly you guys have taken this as far as it's gonna go, and clearly you all couldn't get over your shit and are now causing problems hundreds of years later." He's not one to take offense.

In a similar vein, exploring this place is very wild to Yasha as she's already working on navigating her relationship to the Stormlord.

Both Caduceus & Yasha (and Taliesin & Ashley) are disappointed that Charlie can't follow them through the rest of the dungeon. :( "There was a sidequest. We deserve a robot!"

Caduceus has embraced a certain amount of "fuck it" practicality and has been willing to bend certain personal rules to keep everyone alive. He is less and less conflicted casting Speak With Dead when bodies in dangerous situations might be able to reveal information.

Taliesin was Dani's last hug over a year ago. :(

Aeor in general is very hard for Yasha to wrap her brain around. She's a little frightened by it. The eyes on Beau and Caleb are really freaking her out. She's a little like the group's border collie: "I'm gonna keep you all together! I'm gonna keep you all safe!"

"Matt is the kindest, most wonderful soul, but there is a darkness sometimes...Where does that come from?"

In any other circumstance, Cad would have been doing Superman loops in that ward's flight. He was disheartened by the sheer scope of what they were looking at. Brian is loving the art coming out of these scenes.

Brian laughs that we are now seeing the "push-the-button" side of Ashley the way we know Travis does. She tries to hold back where Yasha would, but she really likes the element of chaos. She loves the robe she pulled out.

Fanart of the Week: Molly leading the Tombtakers by casukaga on Twitter.

Brian has put an old-fashioned typewriter on a modern DJ stand for a bit. I am both stunned and utterly unsurprised.

Taliesin talks about various museums he's been to: The Twinkie Museum, the Museum of Miniatures, a dollhouse museum, the Museum of Jurassic Technology...Brian tells us about an exhibit he and Ashley saw a history of STDs & the effects on the body over time. "There were a lot of jars..."

Taliesin has been thinking about Cad's conversation with Veth a lot since they had it. He stands by everything he said, and notes that Veth is a very difficult character to play asking very difficult questions. He wonders where Sam is at with the war between what you want to do and what you feel you must do.

How does Yasha feel about an Official Relationship with Beau? Great! She was worried about how to make the transition from friends to significant others & was very excited for Yasha to be able to share this openly with her friends. She likes being embarrassed by Beau's PDA.

Caduceus is comfortable heading out with the team because he is convinced that even if he dies, this is what he was intended to do. Yasha loved that they had one last family dinner.

Caduceus doesn't really register the Aeor effect as magic, just general weirdness affecting his attempts to keep people alive.

Ashley & Taliesin are both super conscious of the time they are spending in every choice. Ashley does feel like she's trying to eke out a few more moments here and there where she can. It's such a wonderful game and she wants to get the last few moments with her friends where she can.

And that's that! Is it Thursday yet? (Yes, yes it is!)

[lepusrufus]

Do you have a picture of how your drawing improved over time?

Alrighty, first off, apologies for having had this in my inbox for so long. In my defense, my old art is usually buried into the deepest pits of hell as to not make me die of cringe, BUT I decided to clean yesterday and ended up going down the memory lane for about three hours trying to gather everything into a box for safekeeping and this ask popped into my mind. So what better time to answer it.

Now, I'm gonna preface this by saying two things. One, I don't have anything from before 2012-ish as a lot of my childhood art stayed in my hometown when I moved. Two, while a lot of this is... well not good per se, it's definitely not as bad as it got since I'm not particularly keen on putting my very bad art on blast. I'm not embarrassed by it, quite the opposite, since seeing the progress and remembering just how proud younger me used to be of these makes me actually fond of them. But still.

Also no cringy fanart for y'all . Which in hindsight may not be much better as you get cringy ocs. Enjoy (???)

Alright starting off with 2012/13- ish? God this is so bad. Definitely couldn't draw a person to save my life but like.... kudos to me for trying to learn fur??? Emphasis on trying

Around 2014 tho Frank I'm not even sure. Ugh why did young me not sign anything between 13 and 16 this gave me headaches.

Pretty sure this was 2015. Woo for teen me giving human faces another go. Still a long way to go but hey gotta start somewhere.

2016! Back to signing my shit thank you so much younger me. This oc isn't even that bad kinda wanna redraw it ngl but the fur is atrocious

2017. Wtf was wrong with how I drew eyes. Ok tbf I still place them wonky as fuck sometimes oh well

2018 with a badass shark mermaid. Can't draw hands for shit tho lol

2019. Looks like I got some lineart skills finally.

2020. Oh! Faces! Finally getting the hang of that are we!

And, as a final note, I also gathered all the binders, file holders, sketchbooks and everything in between, in a pile because frankly even I was baffled at the sheer amount of art I did since around 2013 up to today. And this doesn't even include the things I drew as a child, school projects or things that I've missed (because I'm certain I missed some) or even the ungodly amount of digital art.

That's to say, art like any other craft, is something that requires time and effort and blood and sweat and frankly a couple loose screws, because all of us who dedicate so much time to this are some kinda flavor of masochistic.

Anyway, I would've loved to show more but unfortunately there's a 10 image limit, though if anyone else is curious in the future I may add to my short gallery of past cringe

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

Pairing: Suit Saeran x Non Gendered Reader

Description: A little fic based on that gorgeous Suit birthday title screen CG we got this year. Go on, put on that dazzling outfit. There is one problem here with Suit’s plan though…you don’t know ballet to perform for him. Guess you’ll just have to dance together </3

Little note for readers who don’t identify as female: On stage, EVERYONE wears makeup (lipstick, eyebrows, all of it) in order to emphasize features for the audience to see. And costumes are also very important, including ones with glitter! Suity here doesn’t discriminate, everything here is following performing arts rules. Feel free to think of the costume in any way you like as it isn’t referred to as a dress! It’s anything! Local theater kid here isn’t a lier promise.

I wrote this pretty much exactly after the CG was revealed :3 so it’s older

————————————————————

“Perfect...what a well behaved doll~”

Saeran crossed his arms in front of him, showing you his signature smirk in a smug look of victory. He studied you, traveling down from your face to the outfit you so graciously modeled for him, admiring the way it hugged your waist and fell with such a poof at the bottom, black feathers adorning the soft silky material. He coughed upon noting the exposed bit of skin the outfit left in your chest area, and he made it painfully obvious that where his glance landed up was the cause of the tiny loss of composure.

You couldn’t help but feel rather flustered under his gaze, relief washing over you as his eyes finally met yours again.

“So...it took it being a special day for you to finally listen to me? Well? Did you enjoy the show at least, toy? Wasn’t it cute? The little dolly made of my little doll finally doing what you’re supposed to do. Entertaining me! That is your purpose! And today…,” he huffed through his nose with laughter. “You’re finally going to do that properly! That wasn’t just any old puppet show...but a demonstration of how today is going to go. You’re going to dance for me as I sit back and enjoy my cake in front of you...and if the performance is good enough, you can have a bite. Aren’t I generous today?”

He snickered as you tried your hardest not to sigh tiredly, not necessarily completely annoyed by him but…needless to say this wasn't something you’d have planned. There was a short pause as he tapped his foot a few times impatiently. Clearly you weren’t getting his message.

“So then, toy? Dance for me! And dance for this sugary treat~”, he cackled, sliding the small plate in your direction before pulling it back, taunting you much like a toddler. Perhaps waving a reward in front of your face would light a fire under you.

It was moments like these where you found yourself wondering what good you initially thought you’d get from blindly following a complete stranger to a hidden location in the mountains. Truth be told, today you were mainly humoring his whims because of the sheer amount of detail and effort he put into this charade, and because you were curious to try on that exquisite costume. Birthday boy or not...this couldn’t become a regular thing of his.

“Oh..oh oh oh and one more thing.”

Saeran rather excitedly crouched down for the blue present box underneath the table, easily popping its lid off and pulling out the final piece of your outfit; the same feathers and golden crown worn by your doll.

“Aren’t you excited? You get to be royalty for the day...my prince(ss)..my birthday present to play with! Why else did you think I’d instruct you to wear your hair like that before I came?”

Sending someone in to do your hair for you that evening and pamper you was the proper explanation for what actually went on. It wasn’t like it would be an easy feat to add such a lovely jeweled hair piece to your do alone. The timid believer who assisted you even brought you a perfume sent by him...so you, according to the note attached, “wouldn’t smell so awful”. On the bright side, you really did feel dazzling, the pearls in your hair matching the ones on your new attire.

“Well...come closer so I can put it on you. I won’t bite...as long as you listen,” he teased, bringing himself forward to close up more of the gap between you two.

You bowed your head slightly in response as he fiddled with how the headpiece sat, occasionally feeling his hands smooth down and readjust little parts of your hair. Once he was confident the job was done, he took a step back to admire his work of art. He seemed proud of his accomplishments; his ability to get you to play dress up for him and how the puppet show went so perfectly after so much practice...and now was the time for his hard work to pay off. He expected you to make every bit his birthday fantasy come true, which was evident in everything from his expressions to body language. But there was a problem. You didn’t know ballet.

Saeran took his birthday hat and placed it upon his head grumpily before plopping in the seat you once previously enjoyed his performance in. He sat with a slouch, bringing his plate of cake to him, noming down on a small bite before speaking again with his mouth a bit full.

“Come on, toy! I’m waiting now that you’re all ready!”

He tapped his foot impatiently again.

You decided to address your concerns slowly.

“Uhm...Saeran..? The dance you made the puppet do was ballet…”

“Yes, aren’t you clever? So do some ballet for me.”

“That’s the thing...I haven’t done ballet since I was practically a baby. I’m not sure how to...and you’d have to turn on the music-”

Rational thinking interrupted your nervous attempt to reason a proper way to do this. “And hey...why am I dancing for you anyways?”

He tilted his head, raising a brow in disapproval.

“Because I say so, and because you value your life and your stomach. Remember? I can toss you out at any time,” he puffed, “and this cake will save you from your misery of having an empty belly. You will work for your food and convince me you deserve it!”

“...Ok..? But again...I don’t know how to do ballet anymore-”

Saeran cut you off with the sharp screeching of his chair’s legs dragging backwards against the ground, standing swiftly.

“Did I ask for excuses..? Hahaha...most people would be more pleasant on their birthdays..”, he stepped towards you. “...Is that what you’re expecting from me? Hmm? To be all sweet and sappy because it’s my big day? Extra nice to you? I still won’t tolerate disobedience...in fact, I have less patience today!”

He finished his march to you until he could make certain his dominance was well established through a face-to-face threatening scowl, towering over you best he could. He cupped your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet him in all his fury.

“You’re going to dance today. You’re going to dance today because I ordered you to do so, little airhead. Even if I have to force you!”

Releasing his hold on your face, he then grasped your left hand, intertwining your fingers, giving you a good yank forward into him. He caught you on his chest as you gasped in slight shock, the feeling of his hand making its way to the side of your waist; the unexpected cold touch making you shiver as you felt it through the fabric of your outfit.

There was an awkward pause as the two of you stood together in silence for a moment, Saeran just watching you with bated breath. The quiet was eating at you, feeling your heart clamoring against your ribs as you waited for him to initiate something. Your stare drifted down to his chain which sat within your outfit’s front feathers before moving back up. It was cute that he’d pick out a gold one for his birthday. You piped up as you heard him finally swallow saliva.

“We uh...need music..if you want to dance together. I think this is a good solution, actually.”

You gave him a smile, the same gentle look he’d cursed dozens of times before for making him feel so gross in the stomach. He kept quiet this time, but your expression made him feel no different than usual, if not more so.

“I knew that. Obviously we can’t dance to nothing. Tch, don’t get smart with me…”

Sure he knew that.

He let go of your hand to reach out and press play on the little radio he’d tucked away behind the little stage, contorting himself to stay close to you before returning to your old ready to dance position. He pulled you to the right with a shuffle together away from the set to a clear space in the room, closer to the window, the glow of the soft moonlight catching on the intricate glittery details of your costume.

Saeran stared for a mere moment, stiff as a statue as you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You could tell from the shifting of his eyes he was trying his best not to gawk now that he was getting a solid look at you up against him, clearing his throat with an “akhem” to collect himself. He’d never admit the tips of his ears felt hot to the touch.

Finally, with your prompting, the inviting melody which drifted through the room allowed the two of you to begin swaying together; Saeran watching your feet to understand the 1-2-3 step movements you did. He got the hang of it pretty quickly, grinning confidently as he took more lead and a firmer hold on your waist. It was a simple dance, rocking a tad and moving in a circle, the expression you showed him sweet and caring as he peered into your reflective (e/c) pools, (and perhaps it was flustered and nervous too). He, on the other hand, wouldn’t allow his mask of cocky satisfaction to be taken off so easily, despite the rosy hue his pale cheeks took on.

“My my...such a warbled little smile I’m receiving from you~ are you enjoying this, doll? Don’t lie, I can see just how red you are..pfft- is dancing with your prince something you’ve day dreamed about before? You and your delusions-”

You decided to outright call him out. He can’t just tease you like this when he came up with this whole plan in the first place, now can he?

“Says the one who made a detailed puppet set of the building we’re in. And two dolls of us. And got me a costume. And got me ballet shoes, which my whole outfit matches the doll’s exactly, by the way. And you even put on a whole show, plus made me do my hair the way you like...who’s day dream are we actually living out? Oh and don’t forget...you’re the one who took my hand to dance too~”.

You winked at him, eliciting a low growl which rumbled in his throat. His face grew redder, perhaps with rage.

“Hey...I never said I didn’t like it. The detail is incredible, and I’m being honest. I’m not sure how much work you put into it all...but I can tell it was a lot. You, sir, have a hidden talent. I’d like to see what else you can do with more free time for yourself….”

He sneered, “I’m not going to keep humoring you with more stuff like this, if that’s what you’re implying. Maybe with more free time, I’ll only find myself coming up with new ways to make you bend and break! But, I will take your compliment as you can at least appreciate this all as a work of my geniusness. I’m a busy busy man, but I found free time to set up a playdate with my toy. So stop pushing my buttons! You should feel lucky I graced you with my presence! It’s my birthday...and I’m stuck looking at your stupid face!”

“Hmm...again, with all that planning I think someone wanted to see ‘my stupid face’. And I do feel lucky, because I get to spend your birthday with you, although I wish I could have organized something myself. And what I meant was...Saeran this is a work of art. The dolls look hand crafted and painted, including the outfits which must’ve been sown for today in order to match perfectly. I also noticed the pearls on my costume match the ones on your birthday hat. And the set...some of the paint even appears as if its liquid leaf...which it might not be but still. Once we’re finished dancing, I want to go and admire your efforts. Especially the cute little replica of yourself you made~!”

Saeran sputtered angrily.

“You….are certainly an A grade weirdo. Don’t you hate this, even a little? Isn’t it sucky for you? Having to be my puppet today!”

“I’m no one’s puppet. I’m enjoying myself because I get to dress up, dance with you, and learn about a new skill of yours.”

He stopped your swaying with a halt, and you could feel his once icy hand in yours growing hotter by the second. His grip tightened as if to warn you he might hurt you with a squeeze, but within a second, it softened, and he let go momentarily to run it through his poofy locks. He grumbled.

“I don’t know why I even bother with an airhead like yourself. You didn’t even use the stamps I left so clearly out in front of you.”

You grinned at the opportunity suddenly presented to you. You hadn’t given him a birthday gift yet, and here was the chance to give him something small, but memorable.

“Hey Saeran...do you like the shade of lipstick I’m wearing today? It’s kind of purpleish..you know, a combination of red and blue. Like your stamps if the ink is mixed.”

He gulped, furrowing his brows.

“What are you getting at? I don’t care about your silly stage makeup I instructed the believer to do...”

You faked a sigh, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll make sure to get on that last bit right now about the stamps, since we’re no longer dancing.”

Without hesitation, you took him by the open sides of his striking suit jacket, pulling him to you to turn and plant a quick but firm kiss on his cheek. You then let him go, drinking in his wide eyed blushy appearance, raising his hand to touch the prominent lipstick mark you left on him. He wiped the area as if to show he didn’t like it, only to look down at the swipe of purple on his fingertips.

“See there? A stamp! And there’s more where that came from~”

[e-milieeee]

the stars know (you and i are meant to be)—ladynoir

Summary: Between akumas and school, Ladybug and Chat Noir find some time in between to sit back, have a picnic, and stargaze. And perhaps learn a little more about each other. 

Notes: happy birthday @edendaphne! your art was some of the first i saw when i joined the fandom and i love it sm (this oneshot is based off of this). i hope you have a great day <3 

written for day 2: stargazing and day 17: future for @ladynoirjuly2020.

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Marinette begs to differ. It’s just a meal, after all. There are three meals a day, and she finds it pointless to assign some sort of underlying worth to all of them.

But now, painstakingly arranging the bento boxes she’d made for Chat Noir, she begrudgingly understands what her mother means. She wraps them in picnic cloth, shouldering her bag full of supplies, and then drops out from her balcony to meet Chat.

They find each other halfway; Ladybug spots a familiar streak of black darting between rooftops. She knows he sees her: he always does.

Sure enough, Chat Noir turns up behind her in the span of five seconds and shoots her his usual blinding grin. “Good evening, m’lady!”

His smile is contagious, and Ladybug doesn’t even try to contain her own. “Hungry?” she asks him as they start to move again, racing over buildings at a breakneck speed. “You better not have eaten dinner before this, because I cooked a lot.”

Chat feigns offence. “I can’t believe you would even suggest I’d do such a thing. I’d eat the food you cooked me even if it’s burnt and cold, you know that.” He pauses, a contemplative look crossing his face. “Though I am expecting some world class cooking.”

Ladybug thinks back to the five hours she spent cooking their dinner, and the careful arranging she’d done of the bento boxes and the wide array of food she’d made sure to cook. It’s a fusion of both Japanese and Chinese cuisine—Chat’s favourites. Preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Perhaps her mother is right, but it’s still just an intimate gesture between friends. Yeah, that’s what it is.

“World class cooking pales in comparison to mine,” Ladybug jokes, although she also feels obligated to add on, “don’t raise your expectations too high.”

“With you, my expectations are always high.”

She shoves him just for that comment, inciting nothing but a slight falter in his movements and a large grin. With a shake of her head, Ladybug moves on, if only to hide her own smile. 

***

They set up their picnic on top of a hill.

It’s secluded, and that’s the best part of the location. Ladybug unpacks her bag to start tugging out the blankets she packed: some to sit on, others to huddle under when the night starts getting chilly. Then, even more carefully, she begins to lay their dinner bit by bit in front of them, until she finally spreads the feast out in front of Chat.

His mouth drops open, and he does not even attempt to close it. Saucer-plate eyes blink at her.

“For me?” Chat finally manages after at least thirty seconds of gaping. “I mean… you made all of this for me?”

Ladybug has to admit she’s pleased by his reaction, and even more so pleased by the fact that their slightly rough journey hadn’t ruined the aesthetic appeal of most of her dishes.

“Well, for me as well,” she teases, reaching over to tap on his bell.

He’s undeterred. “This is unbelievable,” he whispers, more to himself than her. “M’lady, I can’t believe you made this to eat with me.”

Something about his tone tugs at her heart. In an attempt to snap him out of it, Ladybug points out, “It’s kitty themed.”

“I know.” His voice wobbles slightly. “Are those cat cookies supposed to be me?”

“Yeah. They turned out kind of ugly, though.”

“No, they’re beautiful. I wish I could look like that.”

“Chat, you don’t have a nose in those cookies. You really don’t.”

He sniffles once more, and Ladybug realizes belated that he has teared up. “Chat,” she tries, this time in a gentler tone. “Are you… crying?”

He rubs his eyes rather violently. “No.”

“Kitty…”

“Fine, yes. I’m just very happy. These are happy tears. It’s okay.” With one last painful looking scrub over his face, Chat Noir lowers his hands. “You can introduce the dishes and we’ll eat.”

Knowing better to push, she obliges the request, even if Ladybug has her doubts on happy tears. There’s a certain melancholy in his words, the sort that carries an old sort of pain. So instead, sitting side by side, their knees touching and sitting just close enough that she feels the warmth radiating off him, Ladybug starts to name the dishes.

“These are the appetizers,” she tells Chat, who listens attentively. “Those are pork potstickers—they might not be as hot as they were before, though. That one’s called… um, lang… liang ni?” The words don’t sound like how her mother says them, but her Chinese is lacking in more ways than one and Ladybug can’t remember the name of the dish for the life of her. “Honestly, I have no clue what it’s called. I think it roughly translates into cold noodles.”

Chat leans over to scrutinize the dish. “It looks familiar.”

“The noodles are store-bought, but I made the sauce. There’s carrots, beansprouts, and cucumbers. And those tofu things. It’s also spicy, but I put the sauce in a container so if you can’t handle spice, you don’t need to add it.”

Never one to admit defeat, he folds his arms. “I can handle spicy food easily.”

“Okay, tough guy, I’ll take you up on that later. Anyway, I made us both bento boxes for the main meal, and…” She opens the box, and Chat’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Cats?” he demands. “Rice cats? Oh my god, Ladybug, you’re unbelievable.”

Cats, indeed. She’d spent an hour shaping them: sticky rice balls shaped into little kitten heads, with ears sticking out at the side. There’s one made from white rice and another from purple rice, and the faces are styled from carefully cut pieces of dried seaweed, then sprinkled with sesame seeds. Ladybug’s certain that beneath the suit, her hands still smell like the seasoning she’d rolled the rice with because of the sheer amount of time she had spent on them.

“I made both Taiwanese fried chicken and teriyaki salmon for meat, then fried some vegetables. For health reasons. And kimchi, because we had some in our fridge and I thought, why not?” With that, she sets his bento box into his lap and gestures at the cookies. “Dessert. And something else afterwards, if you’re still hungry.”

“Something afterwards…?”

“You’ll see later,” she mumbles. “Anyway, dig in before it gets cold.”

Ladybug’s never been that great at accepting compliments, and Chat doesn’t lay off on them today either. He picks up the chopsticks with care and carefully picks up a piece of Taiwanese fried chicken. He pops it into his mouth, chews thoughtfully, then swallows.

Ladybug is never not in awe of how Chat’s eyes can literally light up.

“You weren’t lying,” he gushes. “This is world class cooking.”

“You’re laying it on a little too thick there,” she laughs.

“I speak only the truth, m’lady. This is amazing. Just like you.”

“Chat…”

“Okay, okay!” He’s still smiling as he moves to the rice ball. “I almost don’t want to eat them. They’re too perfect.”

Ladybug reaches over with her own chopsticks, stabbing one of his rice balls to split it in half, also tearing off one of the seaweed-eyes in the process. “There you go,” she declares sagely. “Ready to eat.”

Chat’s mouth drops open. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I-I didn’t even get a picture!”

Ladybug pats his back. “Life is full of disappointments, isn’t it, chaton?”

He stabs her rice ball just for the hell of it before returning to his meal.

***

By the time she and Chat have practically cleaned out all the food (how he’d eaten nine cookies after the meal is beyond Ladybug), she’s so full that any slight movement hurts.

“Oh my god,” Chat is saying, tilting his head back. “I don’t think I’ve eaten so much for years.”

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Ladybug agrees. She’s lying back on the picnic blanket, staring at the sky. The sun had set twenty minutes ago, but traces of its light still peek out at the edge of the horizon, dyeing the sky a lovely indigo colour. Only the brightest stars are visible right now, but the others start to blink into existence one by one as day rests and night awakens.

“I feel like I’m going to die too.” He props his chin on his hand. “But it’s the good sort of dying. How privileged I am to be able to die next to you.”

Laughing hurts, but she can’t help but do so anyway. “Drama queen.”

He bats his eyelashes at her. “Only for you, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug wrinkles her nose at him in mock disgust, but a laugh is threatening to spill yet again and she’s not in the mood for another stomachache. Instead, she turns her attention back to the stars. The breeze that breathes over them is soothing.

They don’t do much for the next couple of minutes, simply gazing at the stars, wrapped up in a thick blanket of companionable silence. It’s easy like this, next to Chat Noir: Ladybug doesn’t have to read into these gaps of quiet, instead settling into them—because with him, they’re simply natural.

When the dark settles in completely and the sky alights into a patchwork of stars, Chat speaks up.

“Ladybug,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t turn away from the sky. “Mm.”

“Isn’t it funny that we’re here because of Hawkmoth?”

She pauses her stargazing to look at her partner instead. “What do you mean?”

Chat gives a little shrug, slightly sheepish. “If this… if none of this happened, or if Master Fu ended up choosing somebody else, or a million other possibilities, would we have met? Maybe we’ve passed each other on the street a thousand times and never knew who the other was. That thought has always bothered me, but I’m just… I’m just so thankful right now I can sit with you like this, even with the masks between us. I’m thankful that every time I transform, I know that I’ll see you again. I hate Hawkmoth as much as any other Parisian, but perhaps I have him to thank, for letting me meet you like this. And I hope that no matter what my future will bring, you’ll still be there in it.”

Ladybug can handle the flirtatious remarks, the casual confessions he peppers her with. But this—this is much more intimate, something she can’t help but cradle close to her heart. “Chat—”

“I know you don’t feel the same,” he replies. “And that’s okay. But for so long, no one’s really cared about me like you have, m’lady, and you mean everything to me and I hope you know that.”

Words evade her for a couple of moments. Then Ladybug extends her hand to him, and Chat’s fingers slip around hers, interlocking. It feels right—it always feels right with him.

“Me too, chaton,” she whispers into the sky. “I’m so glad I met you, and I hope that you’ll be there too, in my future.”

She can see his smile in her periphery.

***

Her mother tells her that preparing a meal for someone is an intimate gesture.

Ladybug is inclined to agree, but she thinks that sharing that meal together (and what happens afterwards) is what really makes it so.

Notes: Fics masterlist here! 

[sindrafalcone]

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 3

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Fluff for now, but it will evolve into something steamier in a later chapter. You’ve been warned!

Author’s Note: It has been entirely too long since I updated this story! My apologies... But I finally think I’m un-stuck on the storyline, so hopefully I can finish it in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1   Part 2

You had only made it about half a block before Seunghyun stopped dead in his tracks. When he quit moving you did as well, peering at him to see if he was okay. Between the dim city lights and his face mask you couldn't make out very much, but he was still holding on to your hand so that had to count for something. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “This place that you're taking me...” his deep voice trembled a little bit. “Is it going to be very busy?”

You were a little taken aback by the clear apprehension in his voice. But then you remembered how happy he'd been when you had given him his space back at the museum. Maybe he just didn't like crowds.

“Sometimes it can be.” you admitted. “Usually around lunch time, but this late at night I doubt there's very many people in there. It's just a small Mom & Pop shop.” He seemed to take a moment to think about what you said & you patiently waited  for what he was going to say next. Perhaps he was getting cold feet about having dinner with you and just wanted to go back to the hotel instead.

“I still want to go with you.” he said, as if reading your mind. “I just... um, do you know if they have a private room?”

“Yeah...” you answered him hesitantly, not really seeing where he was going with this. “There's a medium sized room in the back of the restaurant that can be reserved for parties or large groups.”

“Do you think maybe you could call ahead and ask if we could eat in there?” Seunghyun shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot nervously. “I'll be happy to pay extra if they want. Or if that's not available, we'll need a table in the very back, preferably as far away from other people as possible.”

You looked at him closely for a bit before taking out your phone. You decided he was being completely serious and you had the fleeting thought that he might actually have a phobia about this. “Okay... give me a minute.” you relented & you could finally see the tension in his shoulders relax as you did so. He let go of your hand so you could make the call and you found that you missed his warmth more than you wanted to admit.

Luckily for him, you were very good friends with the owners. You had been eating lunch there almost every day since you'd found the place a couple years back. The food was good and relatively cheap, especially once they had started giving you the 'family discount' even though you had tried to object. In a matter of minutes, you had secured the private room for you and Seunghyun to use. You brought up his willingness to pay a fee, but the owner just laughed at you. Telling her that you'd be there soon, you hung up only to find him looking at you anxiously.

“We can use the private room.”

“Oh, good.” he sighed, relief obvious in his voice. “That usually works out much better.”

You really wanted to question him about this whole thing, but decided that it might be better to wait until you were actually in the restaurant or maybe even back at the hotel before deciding to pry into his apparent agoraphobia. This time Seunghyun held his hand out for you to take & you stared at it in shock for a few seconds before gleefully interlacing your fingers again and setting off once more towards your destination for food.

When you rounded the corner and pulled him in the direction of the restaurant, he stopped once again.

“Pho?” he said, a curious tone to his voice. “You're taking me out for Pho?”

You turned to face him, not letting go this time. “Is that a problem?”

“No...” he smiled & you could see it in his eyes, despite the face mask he still wore. “I'm pleasantly surprised. That's all.”

“Well come on then.” you told him, playfully tugging him along towards the door. “I'm starving!”

He chuckled and the two of you tumbled into the warmth of the Pho shop holding hands, laughing and pink cheeked from the cool outside air.

“You didn't tell me it was a date!” the woman who stood at the counter exclaimed loudly. “_______! You should have warned me.”

“It isn't... we're not...” you stammered, looking down at your interlocked hands. You attempted to pull away, but Seunghyun just held tighter and chuckled louder.

“Nonsense! I know a date when I see one.” she dismissed as she motioned for the two of you to follow her to the room in the back. “I wondered why you wanted to use the party room. You should have just said, dear!”

Thankfully you noticed that the restaurant was mostly empty as she walked you through it, so there weren't very many witnesses to your embarrassment and none that you recognized.

She opened the door and gestured the two of you inside. “Here, just sit at the smaller table in the middle of the room. It will be more intimate that way.”

Beside you, Seunghyun made a small choking sound as she continued fussing. “I wish you had told me it was a date when you called. I would have set up some candles or something.”

“It's fine.” you told her, voice cracking a bit. “It'll be fine just like this.” You all but ripped your hand away from Seunghyun's and started to take off your coat, but before you made it very far you felt his hands slide over yours to remove it for you. Then he draped it carefully over a nearby empty chair before he set about sliding out of his own outerwear.

“Such a  gentleman!” the old lady exclaimed, hearts practically dancing in her eyes as she backed out of the room. “I'll be back with your drinks shortly.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you rounded on Seunghyun and hissed. “What the hell was that?”

He held his hands up innocently, face mask still dangling from one long-fingered hand. “What?” he asked, laughing slightly, his eyes lit with mirth.

You plopped down into a chair inelegantly. “I was trying to let go of your hand and explain to her that this wasn't a date...”

“Is it not?” he interrupted, setting his mask down on top of his coat. “She's right, it does look like a date. And, you have to admit, it's slightly less awkward than the truth... that you're my babysitter.” he put a special emphasis on that last word that made you squirm in your seat a little bit.

“True...” you agreed.  “I suppose when you put it like that...”you started, but Seunghyun held his hand up to you again just as he had earlier in the evening at the hotel. And, just like before, you stopped talking.

“But that isn't what's important right now.” he told you as he pulled out a chair and sat down in the seat across from you.

“It isn't?”

“No.” he said, his face utterly serious, all traces of joking gone. “It's probably best that she thinks it's a date. But I have to tell you something before she gets back.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table so you could give Seunghyun your full attention. He leaned forward as well, until your faces were mere inches apart.

“___________.” he whispered your name. “I have a confession to make. I'm not...” he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I'm not who you think I am.”

“A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, spilling all the details that you'd managed to piece together over the past few hours you'd spent with Seunghyun (or at least all the observations that you were willing to admit to him, anyway).

He flashed you a dangerous smile. “Well, yes... I am those things. But that's not all of who I am and you need to know the vital details before...”

The door the room slid open again, interrupting whatever Seunghyun had been about to say & he cursed quietly under his breath. You watched as he leaned back in his seat and winced, seeming to brace himself for something he knew was inevitably coming. From the pained expression on his face, it didn't look as if he expected it to be pleasant.

“I've got your usual right here. Iced Vietnamese coffee and a glass of water. I brought the same for your gentleman, I hope that's okay.” the older lady said as she bustled over towards you. “Now, do you two love birds need menus or...” her voice trailed off as she finally made it to the table and caught a clear view of Seunghyuns face, without his mask. “Oh my...” her voice faltered, the tray immediately started shaking in her hands.

“Ma'am...” Seunghyun said tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes still closed.

“Oh my goodness!” she practically yelled, her voice echoing slightly in the almost empty room. “Y- y- you're... T.O.P!” she whispered those last three letters as if they were some sort of secret.

You just looked between the two of them, completely lost as to what was going on. “Um, Mrs. Tran?” you placed a hand carefully on her arm to get her attention away from Seunghyun.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, still looking at him with sheer disbelief written all over her elderly face.

“You might want to set the tray down before you drop it.” you told her gently.

“Oh, yes... good idea.” she replied, voice weak.

She did finally manage to set the tray down on the table with a little help from you.

Seunghyun sighed, opened his eyes & smiled at the old woman. It was a polite smile, but tight. Something that someone who hadn't spent much time with him probably wouldn't notice as a fake smile, but you could see it nonetheless.

“Mrs. Tran...” he soothed, having picked up her name from when you'd said it. “Tonight, I'm not T.O.P. I'm just Seunghyun, trying to enjoy a normal date with the lovely ________,  here. I'm happy to sign as many autographs as you want and I'll even mention this restaurant on my Instagram if you'd like a boost in business. But I'd appreciate it if you could keep my visit here a secret for now. And please, no pictures.” Seunghyun gestured over to you. “I'd like to keep our date as private as possible.”

You were so confused right now, but Mrs. Tran seemed to understand what was going on. It was as if a light bulb immediately went off over the little woman's head and she smiled knowingly. “Oooohhhhh, I get it. Don't worry, you aren't the first celebrity we've had in here. It's just been a very long time and you caught me off guard, that's all. I know how to be discreet.”

“Thank you.” he said with a little bow towards her that made her giggle like a school girl and blush.

“Now that's settled...” she clapped her hands together excitedly. “Menus?”

“I think I'll trust __________ to order for both of us. She obviously knows this place quite well.” Seunghyun said with a wink in your direction.

“Um...” you faltered, still reeling from their entire conversation, not to mention the fact that he had just referred to you as 'lovely'. 'Celebrity?' you thought quickly to yourself. 'What the hell is going on here & what have I gotten myself into?!?' you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Is there anything you don't want to eat?” you asked him. “Or are you allergic to anything?”

Seunghyun smiled. “I'm allergic to peaches & I don't eat intestines. Other than that, I'm fair game.” he said, already reaching for a glass of water from the tray.

You nodded at him at turned back to face Mrs Tran. “Just double my usual then.”

“So...” she pulled out an order pad and pen from her apron. “A double #4 and two medium # 45's?”

“Actually, make those #45's a large please. We're both kinda hungry tonight.” you said without thinking of the implications of that sentence.

“Oh, I bet you are.” she sassed under her breath as she walked away, causing Seunghyun to almost snort water out of his nose. Mrs. Tran merely hummed happily to herself as she walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, you could hear her yelling in Vietnamese, presumably to her husband who was in the kitchen.

You briefly thought about immediately grilling Seunghyun about this whole “celebrity” business, but as you remembered the look on his face as he braced himself earlier, you paused. You never wanted to see that look from him directed at you. So instead, you settled for pouring the coffee that had just finished steeping over the ice & sweetened, condensed milk in the other glass.

“Are we going to talk about this or would you rather pretend that whole scene never happened?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at him.

A few seconds ticked by before he answered quietly. “You'd be willing to do that? Just ignore everything she said about me?”

You shrugged, stirring your coffee to combine it with the milk. “I mean... I'll admit to being curious. But it obviously bothers you & I was just fine with not knowing before.”

Seunghyun sighed heavily before pouring his own coffee. “Right now, I'm just Seunghyun to you. A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art.” he smirked. “If I tell you everything, that changes.” he said, his voice melancholy.

“It doesn't have to.” you told him softly. “Let's try this... You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine.” you said, finally looking up and locking eyes with him.

That statement seemed to intrigue him and he arched an eyebrow up at you. “You have a secret double life too?”

“Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm a superhero or something.” you laughed & smacked him playfully on the arm. “But, yeah... there are things that you don't know about me yet. Maybe not as big of a bombshell as yours, but still... something that might change the way you see me too.”

“How about we wait until after dinner?” he asked tentatively.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Interrupting the conversation, Mrs. Tran came back into the private room, bringing two large bowls of pho over and deposited a plate with bean sprouts, sprigs of basil and quarters of limes on the table; along with four egg rolls and two bowls of dipping sauce.

Seunghyun inhaled deeply. The aroma of the broth and the slices of rare beef and shrimp wontons floating atop the long rice noodles making his stomach growl once again. “This smells amazing.”

Mrs. Tran just giggled at him again. “You know, I didn't even realize Bigbang was in town...” she started before he held up a finger to his lips.

“Technically, we're not.” he whispered. “We're just... having a bit of a vacation that's all. Very hush-hush.”

“Ohhhhhh.....” she nodded knowingly. “I guess everyone needs a break sometimes. Well, I will just leave you two alone. I'll be back later to check in on you.” and without another word, she was gone.

Seunghyun started plucking the basil leaves off one of the sprigs, rolling them up and then ripping them into little pieces and dropping them in his soup while you watched him, completely mesmerized by the movements of his fingers.

“I guess you've had Pho before then?” you asked, taking an egg roll from your plate before tearing it in half, dipping it into the sauce & taking a bite.  

Seunghyun nodded, “It's been a while though. So, thanks for bringing me here.” he told you sincerely, picking up an egg roll with his chopsticks and dipping it before taking his own crunchy bite.

“Show off...” you muttered, grumpily picking up your own chopsticks and spoon just to show him that you did, in fact, know how to use them.

Seunghyun merely laughed.

The two of you spent the next hour simply eating and discussing the art and artists from the museum exhibition. Conversation flowed between you effortlessly & before you knew it, Mrs. Tran was bringing in the check and fortune cookies.

Seunghyun pulled out his wallet and when you tried to object, reminded you that you'd paid for the taxi earlier. You caught a glimpse of the black card he held between his long, slender fingers & swallowed hard, nodding your head in acceptance.

You both made the decision to take the fortune cookies back to the hotel and, after Seunghyun spent some time signing the promised autographs for Mrs. Trang, you left the restaurant the same way you'd come in... laughing and holding hands.

Only this time, you were headed back to the hotel and a discussion that could possibly change everything between the two of you.