#inter tutor

[tutorinkarachi]

Home tuition in Karachi 0313-2287896

In Karachi, home tuition has become an increasingly popular educational option, providing students with personalized learning experiences tailored to their individual needs. This approach offers the flexibility of receiving lessons in the comfort of one’s own home, allowing for a more relaxed and focused environment. With the city’s diverse educational landscape, home tuition services cater to a…

[asahicore]

all i see is gold - pjs (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. Pretending to be your number one's rival girlfriend to please his parents isn't how you would usually spend a Thursday night, but you really owe Jay a big one this time. You'd sworn this was just a one-time thing - and yet when his parents ask you to come again, the word 'yes' is out before you can stop it. Before you know it and much to your dismay, your feelings for Jay start to change, and you're in too deep to backtrack.

genre. college au, academic rivals to lovers, fake dating au, rich rich millionaire ceo's son jay x poor ass scholarship part-time job reader

warnings. heeseung is a mega asshole sorry to this man, slight violence like the girls are fighting, these two are pathetically in love w each other it's laughable actually, rich people being annoying slightly and also y/n's friends having way too much knowledge about fanfiction tropes... i like my fourth walls broken

word count. 27.1k

a/n. hi sisters user asahicore is back with another repost because she can't be asked to come up with anything original... sorry! i did add a new scene to this fic for.. character development. hope you guys enjoy it, as always let me know your thoughts otherwise i will find you and hold you at gunpoint, have fun love you stay healthy keep slaying bye bye!

“Actually, I think what you just said is complete bull.”

Jay rolled his eyes for the thousandth time in an hour and a few sniggers were heard around the room.

Your tutor sighed and, in an exhausted tone, asked you to “keep it polite, please. This is still a classroom setting.”

“Right, sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straighter. “I completely disagree with your statement, Jongseong. Just because a movie has young teenage girls as its target audience doesn’t mean it is completely insipid and has no value, like you’re insinuating. If you look at Mean Girls, for example-”

Jay scoffed. “Oh please, you’re not actually going to use Mean Gir-”

“Ah, would you look at the time? Class is over,” your tutor interrupted. “You can all go home and ponder the riveting discussion Jay and Y/N led today.” 

You were pretty sure you heard a general sigh of relief from your classmates. After all, you couldn’t really blame them: it was only the first tutorial of the semester for that course and Jay and you were already at each other’s throats, having something to say about every idea the other put forward, no matter how small.

“Oh, and Jay, I do have to side with Y/N here. There’s a surprising amount of things that can be said about that film,” your tutor admitted with an apologetic smile. You, however, were harboring a triumphant expression. Nothing better than having the tutor agree with you against Jay. 

As you packed your stuff away, mentally patting yourself on the back, Jay approached you, looking visibly annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N? Symbolism in Modern Cinema? Since where do you even care about movies?”

You gasped dramatically and put your hand over your heart, feigning shock. “Why, I’m offended that you think you’re the only one who’s allowed to love cinema, Jongseong.”

“Yeah, it’s my thing!” he whined like a child, and you gave him a look that hopefully made him reflect on what he’d just said.

You started walking out of the room and he followed, a step behind you. “I mean, there’s no way you didn’t know I was taking this class. Are you like, obsessed with me or something?”

“Yes, Jongseong, that’s exactly the case. I’m sooooo obsessed with you, I took this class just to see you.”

You were obviously joking, but he looked at you with a smirk and said, “I wouldn’t put it past you. I wouldn’t put it past anyone, to be honest; I mean I am the most good-looking, smartest, richest guy on camp- Ouch! That hurts!”

You had just punched him in the shoulder, not wanting to listen to his self-indulgent ramblings. “Get your head out of your ass, Park. I just thought it would be an interesting class. Why are you even taking it, anyway? I don’t think a cinema course is gonna teach you much on how to run daddy’s company,” you asked him, a smirk teasing your lips.

He rolled his eyes (you thought they might stay stuck at the back of his head, with how often he did that) and took a tone one might use to speak to a child. “You see, Y/N, I also major in Visual Studies. I’m not a single honors Econ major like you. Loser.”

He’d added the last word with a playful smile on his face, purposefully trying to rile you up. You were about to reply with an equally petty remark when you heard your name being called out. 

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Your heart started beating a thousand times a minute and you felt your hands get clammy. As you turned around, you forced a relaxed smile and told yourself to stay calm, but as soon as you made eye contact with the boy, all rational thought left your brain.

“H-hi, Heeseung.” You heard Jay snort behind you but were too entranced by Heeseung’s presence to tell him off.

Clearly enjoying your nervousness, Heeseung smiled at you and bent down so that he came directly face to face with you. “It was nice seeing you last Friday. You should come to our parties more often, not many people can set fire to the dance floor like you did.”

Your cheeks had already turned bright red when he’d called your name, but now you probably looked as crimson as a fire extinguisher. Over the weekend, you’d tried so hard to forget about that party where you had gotten black-out drunk and made a fool of yourself on the dance floor. Sure, you’d had a lot of fun, but when you remembered that Heeseung literally lived in the frat house that had hosted the pre-start of term gathering, you’d felt so embarrassed and wanted to never have to face him ever again. Yet here he was, and he had obviously seen you.

“O-oh, right, haha. Um, I was pretty drunk, but, yeah, um, it was f-fun.” You cringed at yourself. Where was the Y/N that had torn down Jay’s every argument just moments prior? You were usually self-assured and confident, but whenever you were around Heeseung, you didn’t know how to act.

Heeseung stood up straighter and patted your head. You thanked yourself for having washed your hair that morning. He chuckled and said, “That’s good to hear. Guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah!” you replied with a tad too much enthusiasm. 

“Great.” As he walked past you, you didn’t need to turn around to see the nasty looks exchanged between Heeseung and Jay. 

“Jongseong.”

“Heeseung.”

The venom with which they had spat the other’s name would’ve sent a chill down your spine any other time, but right now, you were too busy mooning over what had just happened. Like many girls on campus, you’d had a crush on him since freshman year; but unlike most, you’d never actually tried to do anything about it. Realistically, you could probably bag him - Heeseung could be seen with a different girl at every party and didn’t seem to be too picky about who he finished the night with. But you also couldn’t stand the idea of being just another drunk fuck to him. So, you’d never revealed your feelings to him, although he could most definitely see the effect he had on you.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jay burst into laughter. You turned around and looked at him, arms crossed, waiting for him to be done with an impatient look on your face. When he finally caught his breath, he had tears pooling at his eyes and was holding onto his belly.

“H-hi, Heeseung,” he breathed, trying to imitate you by making his voice higher in pitch but laughing too hard for it to come out properly.

“There’s nothing funny about this, Jongseong.”

“Oh, but there is, Y/N. And you know what the worst part is? You could do so, so much better than that guy. I mean, he’s a Business major, for fuck’s sake.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” you asked hotly, starting to get defensive.

“You’re studying Econ, Y/N. Dating a Business major, that’s like, the highest betrayal possible.”

You rolled your eyes at his stupid values and started walking towards the exit of the building, bumping into his shoulder on the way. He started following you again and added, “It’s not even just about that, Y/N. You know his reputation, he’s clearly bad news. There’s no point in liking a guy like that.”

Because you knew how much he hated it, you always made sure to call him Jongseong instead of Jay. But right now, you didn’t feel like joking around. You turned around abruptly, Jay almost bumping into you, and looked at him pointedly. “Look, Jay, I know you and Heeseung have this weird competition between the two of you of whose dad can make more money. But that doesn’t give you the right to tell me I shouldn’t like him.” And with a mumble, you added, “I can’t help liking him, okay?”

You went on your way again and Jay caught up with you so that the two of you were now walking side by side. Sighing, he said, “Whatever. When he inevitably hurts you, though, I’ll say I told you so.”

—

After flipping off Jay as your way of saying goodbye, you joined your friends in the cafeteria. You told them about your encounter with Heeseung, and as much as they wanted to support you, they couldn’t help but think your behavior at the party on Friday was hilarious. 

“I wasn’t gonna show this to anyone, but I can’t hold it in anymore…” Sunoo said, pulling out his phone.

It wasn’t hard to guess what he might be hiding in there, so you quickly protested, “It’s been three days, Sunoo. I’m sure you can hold in whatever it is longer than that.”

He looked at you with a sheepish smile and said, as if he didn’t have a choice but to show everyone, “It’s so funny though.”

Sieun and Keeho were urging him to show them, so you just hung your head as Sunoo pressed play. You didn’t even need to look at the video to know what it was: even in his drunken state, Sunoo had had the foresight to film you as you danced like there was no tomorrow, knowing this was a special occasion. Your friends tried to reassure you that you didn’t look that bad and you just seemed to be having fun, but the sniggers they tried to hold back in vain told you otherwise.

Keeho seemed to take pity on you when seeing your defeated expression. “Y/N, I promise you it’s not that bad. You were very obviously drunk, and so was everyone else. If anybody remembers this, they’re probably thinking that you were fucking awesome. Can’t you see how everyone is cheering you on in the video?”

With an exasperated sigh, you replied, “I don’t care that everybody saw me. I care that Heeseung did. I only started drinking that much because I thought it’d help me relax and talk to him. I didn’t think I’d go wild on the dance floor.”

Your friends exchanged a look and immediately burst into laughter. You wanted to get mad at them, but even you had to admit the whole situation was pretty funny. You let them make as much fun of you as their hearts desired, then, to change the subject, told them about the tutorial you had in the morning with Jay and how much fun it had been arguing with him.

Sieun was looking at you thoughtfully, until she said, “You know, I think it’s…” she paused for a second, trying to find the right word, “interesting, how much effort you put into getting into the same class as Jay when you could’ve directed that energy towards getting into one of Heeseung’s class.”

The sudden statement took you aback. “Well, I wouldn’t say I put that much effort into it…” you stammered in an attempt to defend yourself.

“Y/N,” Keeho started, an accusatory tone to his words, “you literally asked Jake to tell you what courses he was taking this semester and when his tutorials were, and when you somehow managed to be enrolled in a class that’s supposed to be reserved for Visual Studies students, you emailed the tutor to make sure you’d be in the same group as Jay. I’d say that requires some effort.”

You huffed, mildly offended. “I- Well- I just thought it’d be fun to argue with him about something else than economics, you know. There’s only so much to say about that.” Your friends didn’t look very convinced. “Plus, there are no classes that Heeseung’s taking that seemed interesting, and even if they were and I managed to get into them, I just would’ve stuttered trying to answer easy questions. At least if I’m in a class with Jay, I know it’ll be fun.”

After that last sentence, Sieun looked at you like you had proven her point. What a smartass, you thought. What was she even trying to prove? 

“Is no one gonna say it?” Sunoo asked, bewildered, looking around at your friends. “It sounds like you like him, Y/N.”

Oh.

Your automatic response was to go, “Pfffft,” but when Sieun and Keeho didn’t disagree with Sunoo, you looked at them, wide-eyed. “Are you guys serious? I don’t like Park Jongseong, that’s ridiculous.”

Sure, you liked arguing with Jay, that wasn’t a secret. That didn’t mean you liked him, or anything like that. Just the thought made you shiver. Dating Jay had never even occurred to you; as soon as you’d met, you had taken on a rival-like relationship, arguing about everything and anything. Sure, he was smart, and not too bad-looking, and he was really rich, and when he wanted he could actually be quite nice - but that was not the point! Most of the time, he was just annoying and argued with you for no reason other than to rile you up, and had the most unreasonable opinions you’d ever heard. He took his wealth for granted and sometimes came across as so privileged it made you want to puke.

Sieun took your hands in hers and tried to convince you with her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But think about it, Y/N. It’s the enemies to lovers trope!”

You snatched your hands out from her grip and gave her a pointed look. “This isn’t Wattpad, Sieun, this is real life. And Jay and I aren’t enemies, we’re merely rivals.”

“Even better!” she exclaimed.

“I completely agree with Sieun,” Sunoo said. “Y/N, you’re such a rivals to lovers type of gal.” You rolled your eyes, but Keeho was fervently nodding his head in agreement.

“By the way, did you guys hear about his parents’ company throwing a fundraiser?” Keeho said. This piqued your interest, but after your friends’ accusations, you couldn’t look too excited about anything Jay-related, so you nonchalantly asked him to go on. “It’s for some charity, they’ve invited all the big names, and apparently it’s gonna be huge so they need some people to waiter. I’m thinking of applying. It pays really well and it’s gonna be so fancy. It’s not like I’ve got much else to do that night anyway.”

“When is it?” you asked, still trying not to sound too interested.

“Friday in two weeks.”

“Well, if it’s a Friday, I’ll be getting wasted, so count me out,” Sunoo replied.

“I’d come, but the idea of serving rich people as they give out ten thousand dollars when they could give a million and it wouldn’t even affect them in the slightest, not to mention having to do it with a smile on my face, makes my skin crawl, so no thanks,” Sieun said. She wasn’t wrong, but this was also Jay’s parents you were talking about. Not only would Jay be there, and your presence would surely piss him off, but his dad’s company was one of the top of the country and being introduced to their world, maybe even getting to know some people there, even just as a waitress, could really benefit you in the long-term. You’d never admit it to him, but you’d been dreaming of working there ever since you’d first heard of it. Nothing might come out of this, but it was worth trying.

“What about you, Y/N? You in?”

You looked at Keeho and said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

—

The next time you saw Jay was for your Economics of Cities and Regions lecture a couple days later. As appropriate of the top students, you two always sat at the very front row along with only a few other brave students. Keeho was always bugging you to sit with him at the back, but you liked being able to look the professor in the eye so they could see how much attention you were paying to them. You listened carefully to the whole lecture, and when it ended, you turned to Jay and called his name in a sickly sweet voice, smiling as warmly as you could. He turned to you with a horrified look on his face.

“Please never do that again.”

Your smile instantly dropped. You should’ve known there was no point trying to be nice to him. “So, I’ve heard about your dad’s firm’s fundraiser…”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he interrupted you. “No. No way. You’re not working there. Nope. Not happening.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because this is an important night for me to make myself known as the CEO in line and I can’t have you distracting me.”

You didn’t question why he considered you a distraction and just pressed further. “C’mon! I promise I won’t be in your way.” He looked at you as if to say I don’t believe you. “I need the money.”

“Then get a part-time job.”

“I already have one! And it doesn’t pay very well.”

He looked at you and crossed his arms over his chest. No, you didn’t notice how his shirt tightened around his biceps. Shut up. Exasperated, he asked, “Do you even know what this fundraiser is for?”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Why did you need to know what it was for? All you needed was to work there and make some money. You just shrugged “No.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “You’re unbelievable. It’s to help students in need of scholarships. You know how my parents sometimes pay for students’ tuition fees? Well,” he sighed, and started to pack up his stuff. “This is to encourage CEOs of other companies to do the same. They’ve invited a few students to talk about why scholarships are important for them.”

Interesting, you thought. It’d have been nice to be one of those students, but being a waitress was already good enough. You’d have to be quicker to get the role next time. “I’ll be part of the waitering team, so I won’t embarrass you, don’t worry.”

After a beat, Jay asked, “Why are you even telling me this? I can say no all I want, I’m not the one deciding on the staff. I’d just really, really appreciate it if you didn’t come.”

You eyed him for a second until realization hit you. Right. It wasn’t like Jay had any say in this, so why were you trying to get him to agree? It had just seemed natural to you that you’d talk to him about this.

You shook your head and said, “Well, I’m gonna go anyway. I just thought I should let you know. That way you know you’re gonna need to bring your best game to impress me.”

You noticed Keeho waving his arm impatiently at you, waiting for you to leave the lecture theater. Jay watched you walk away, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face. 

—

“So… Y/N will probably be working at the fundraiser,” Jay said, looking down at his notes. As on most days, Jake and Sunghoon were over at his place, half-studying, half-messing around.

The two boys in front of him groaned in unison. He raised his head and added defensively, “What? I’ve barely said anything yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about Y/N. Again,” Jake said, as if stating the obvious.

“You know, I’m actually surprised he’s managed to not mention her for that long. It’s been what, fifteen minutes since we got here?” Sunghoon half-joked.

Used to his friends’ teasing, Jay ignored them and continued. “On any other occasion, I’d be more than happy to have her around” - cue another groan from Jake and Sunghoon - “but I really have to impress my parents and all the guests that evening. If I don’t, I’m gonna have to work twice as hard.”

Indulging his friend’s rant, Jake asked, “What’s wrong with her being there? She’s not gonna go around and tell everyone you’re a little shit as she hands them champagne glasses.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “No, of course not, but I’m gonna be hyper-aware of her presence and I don’t want it to distract me.” A third groan. “Plus, I don’t like the idea of her being there as a waitress. She should be with the students who talk to the guests, she deserves it more than anybody I know.”

After a beat, Sunghoon, with gracious subtlety and tact as always, added, “You know, if you had just manned up and asked her out in freshman year when you still had the chance, maybe you could’ve taken her to the fundraiser as your girlfriend and not have her go there as a waitress. Just saying.”

“It’s 2022, Sunghoon, nobody says things like ‘man up’ anymore.”

“You dumbass, is that all you’re hearing from what I just said-”

“What I think Sunghoon is trying to say,” Jake cut in, “is that this could have been avoided had you had the guts to tell her how you feel. But rest assured, my friend, it can still happen. No such thing as too late.”

“You always say that, but how the fuck am I supposed to ask her out when she’s only ever seen me as her rival? Plus, she’s head over heels for that prick.”

Sensing that Sunghoon was getting ready to deliver another one of his punchlines, Jake quickly replied. “Who cares about Heeseung? It wouldn’t be hard to make her see what an asshole he is. And once that’s done, you can just give her the Park charm,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sunghoon fake gagged at the thought of his friend trying to flirt, and even Jay had to admit he hated how Jake had formulated his sentence. “That’s all I do though. As soon as we met, we got into arguing, and that’s just how we communicate now. She wants competition, so I give her competition. I don’t know what else to do.”

His friends sighed, unsure what to tell him after having had the same conversation hundreds of times. “Did you ask her why she took that cinema course? I thought it was weird she asked me for all that info. She wanted me to keep hush-hush about it, too,” Jake asked.

Jay thought for a second, then answered, “I did ask her if she was obsessed with me.” A fourth, deserved, groan. “She just said she thought the class seemed interesting. She didn’t even know I was a double major, by the way.”

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled, both thinking but not daring to say that, indeed, no one knew Jay also majored in Visual Studies. The three boys continued chatting for a while until they fell into silence and finally started getting some work done.

Jay managed to get you out of his head for a couple hours, but when his friends left and he was alone, his thoughts immediately drifted back to you. When the two of you first met in freshman year, you had become instant rivals, both top of your class, and always disagreeing on everything. He hadn’t minded the dynamic at first: he thought your ideas and the conversations that stemmed from them were always interesting, and he had a lot of respect for you. He wanted to know why you thought that way or what made you say certain things, and soon enough he wanted to know everything about you. He’d noticed things like how you chewed on your pen when you were in deep reflection, or how you’d look intently at anyone who was talking, as if you were making mental bullet points of their arguments only to break them down afterwards. When he finally realized his feelings for you (not without help from Jake and Sunghoon, who thought he couldn’t get any more obvious), he felt like your rivalry-almost-turned-friendship had gone too far, and you’d think he was stupid for liking you. It didn’t help that your confident attitude always broke down in front of his arch nemesis Lee Heeseung, making it painfully clear that you had a crush on him.

That night, he kept tossing and turning in his bed, trying to fall asleep. He hated the idea of you having to be there as a waitress, handing out drinks and mini toasts to entitled guests who probably wouldn’t even look at you. There had to be a few strings he could pull, right?

—

In all twenty years of your life, you had never been to a place like this. As soon as you’d entered the lobby of the building in which the fundraiser took place, you’d been overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance of the room. Every surface was shiny marble, the ceilings were at least fifteen meters high and the whole place was lit up by tiny wall lamps. You were almost scared to see what the actual ballroom would look like.

The fundraiser started at 8:00 p.m. but the staff had been advised to come earlier to prepare everything. You went further in, and now that you had somehow acclimated to your surroundings, you noticed how busy everyone was. People were running around, going from the kitchen to the back room to the main hall in quick strides. You tried getting one woman’s attention, hoping she could direct you to where you were supposed to go.

“Sorry, hi, where do the wai-”

She stopped dead in her tracks and barely looked at you as she whipped out a sheet of paper from her blouse pocket and asked for your name.

“Um, Y/N-”

She checked something off and looked up at you and smiled. “Great, follow me.” You had no time to ask anything else before she swiveled on her heels again and marched towards another room, you in tow behind her. “We’ve got a script ready for you. You just need to learn it in time for tonight and then use your charm on the guests. Oh, and don’t worry about your outfit and all that, we’ve got it covered. Good luck!” And with that, she was off. 

Script? Outfit? What was all this about? You panic-texted Keeho, telling him some lady had dragged you somewhere and told you to learn a whole script. When he didn’t answer after five minutes, you assumed he must be busy helping out, but it made you panic even more. You looked around the room and noticed a girl you thought you recognized from one of your classes. You walked up to her, and after saying hi, asked her what the hell was going on here.

She looked at you a bit oddly, as if it didn’t make sense you didn’t know where you were, but clarified things nonetheless. “Basically, the six of us are going to be wearing these tags so that the guests know who we are, and we’re gonna give them a pity story about how we’re so poor but also so smart and able to change the world if only they give us money. That’s what the script is for, it just makes it a bit nicer.” Right, that’s what Jay had told you. But why were you here when you had signed up to be a waitress? It was what you had wished for, but it made no sense whatsoever.

Registering your still confused expression, the girl went on, “They’re also gonna give us nice outfits and make us look more presentable. But not too much, you know, cause a thousand dollar gown wouldn’t really fit with the scholarship kid aesthetic.” You laughed with her. You had to admit the whole situation was a bit ridiculous, but if it could help you out, you would take it. You had needed to take out a loan when you started studying, and the enormous debt you would be in as soon as you stepped out of college already stressed you out.

You learned your script, which was actually just more like detailed examples of the things you should say and what direction your conversations with the guests should take, until somebody called out your name, telling you it was time to get you ready. You were led to another room which was full of clothing racks holding fancy dresses and suits. Your immediate thought was that the clothes in this one room were probably worth more than your entire house. 

You could only admire the room for a few moments before a stylist threw a dress in your arms and practically pushed you into a dressing room. You took a good look at black dress before putting it on. It wasn’t overly fancy; the girl you had talked to was right, it wouldn’t make sense for you to look like you were the richest person there. With its modest cleavage and mid-thigh length, it was what you assumed to be formal enough for this type of event, and surprisingly fit you like a glove. It made you look put-together and accentuated your features in the subtlest way. 

When you walked out of the dressing room, the stylist eyed you up and down, adjusting the dress here and there, then stepped back and mumbled absent-mindedly, as if thinking out loud, “Wow, he does have good taste.”

You didn’t have the time to ask her what she meant as she had already turned away, looking for jewelry to finish off your outfit. The earrings, necklace and ring she gave you weren’t huge 20 carat diamonds, but you’d never worn such delicate jewelry before, you were almost too scared to move with them on you in fear of breaking them. The stylist, however, didn’t seem too fussed, and as soon as she was done, said, “Well, that’s all for me. Off you go to hair and makeup now!”

Hair and makeup? You were going to get your hair and makeup done by professionals? You felt like a celebrity. Your whole life, your mom had cut your hair, and you bought your makeup at the drugstore. 

While they didn’t make you look like a Hunger Games Capitol citizen, when they were done with you, the reflection that looked back at you in the mirror was uncanny. You were still you, there was no doubt about that, but you looked like a perfect version of yourself, which only makeup expertly applied could create. Although they’d never seen you before, the makeup artist had managed to accentuate or make disappear lines you had never noticed on your face before, and the hair stylist had done your hair in a simple but very flattering manner, letting it cascade naturally down your shoulders.

The stylists let you admire yourself for a few moments, knowing you probably weren’t used to such pampering, but soon ushered you out to the ballroom; the fundraiser was just about to start, and you needed to be there for the beginning of it. You were made to sit at a table with the other students at the front, close to the stage. An organizer came to see you and explained how the evening was going to go down. Most of the evening would be spent standing, chatting to the guests and persuading them to donate, except when the main course was served. There was no fixed seating chart, so you could go with whomever invited you to sit with them. All in all, your goal was to be as likable as possible, and get guests to understand why scholarships were important without sounding desperate, just like the script indicated.

Tapping your foot nervously, you watched as more people trickled in, each looking richer than the previous. Soon enough, the whole room was seated, and a man you recognized as Jay’s dad arrived on the stage, welcomed by polite applause. You listened intently to his welcome speech, and you could see Jay’s presence and charisma in him; every word of his seemed to be thought out and to have purpose. He did a spectacular job at kicking off the fundraiser, and you were clapping enthusiastically when he was done, not expecting what he was about to do. 

With an extended hand, he pointed at you and the five students you were sitting with. “Of course, this wouldn’t be possible without these six brilliant students whom we have the honor of welcoming tonight. Would you all come up on stage with me?” he asked warmly, although you knew it wasn’t really a question. You all looked at each other bemusedly, but you didn’t have much of a choice, so you all got up and walked up the stairs to the stage.

You hadn’t realized how many people were attending until you were standing right in front of them. The bright spots lighting the stage made it hard to distinguish anyone’s face in the crowd, which only made your position more intimidating to you. Thankfully, you didn’t have to introduce yourself; Jay’s dad did it for you, and after a few minutes, you were free to walk off the stage and start mingling with the guests. Whew.

As soon as the six of you stepped off the stage, guests started approaching you, engaging you in conversation right away. You were a bit taken aback, but remembering you needed to be perfect tonight, you put on the most genuine smile you could muster. Them coming to you was better than having to chase after them. 

An hour and a half passed, and you had been engrossed in so many conversations that you hadn’t noticed so much time had already gone. The only time your attention had been pulled out was when Keeho came to your group, offering you toasts of caviar and bubbly champagne, and discreetly (or at least as discreetly as Keeho could be, which wasn’t very) gave you a wide-eyed look, which you returned. You had no idea why you weren’t working like him either. 

When somebody announced the main course would soon be served, a lot of guests went to sit down, so you were now stuck with the most pretentious man you had ever talked to. All the other guests, no matter how rich or famous or successful they were, had managed to stay somewhat humble and not flaunt how much higher they were in society than you, but it seemed that it was all this man knew how to do. You knew you needed to stay polite even in front of scum like him, but it was hard giving him your undivided attention when he was going on and on about basic economic principles you had learned in your first year of college. Your eyes started drifting around the room, until they fell on a certain someone.

Lee Heeseung was here. Of course he was; his parents, although they were rivals to the Park family, were still huge names in your country’s economy, and they couldn’t not be here tonight. Heeseung’s presence wasn’t required, but you imagined it couldn’t hurt his image to be seen by many adults at a gathering like this one. He was standing by the bar, talking to a girl who was clearly trying to flirt with him, but he didn’t seem to be into her. You hadn’t meant to stare, but his eyes soon met yours. You immediately felt heat rise to your cheeks. He didn’t break eye contact, even when he replied to whatever the girl was saying. His eyes started drifting down from your face to your body, as if he was undressing you with his gaze. You opened your mouth and let out a small gasp at the sheer indecency of the way he was looking at you. The sound you made made you snap out of your daze, and you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, who hadn’t even noticed you weren’t listening to him anymore, so enthralled he was by his own conversation.

You excused yourself, not wanting to be in Heeseung’s sight anymore. You weren’t sure what to make of the interaction - you loved the idea of Heeseung paying so much attention to you, but there was something about the setting and the fact that he was talking with another girl the whole time which made you a bit uncomfortable. Disheveled, you sat down at the nearest table, not paying much attention to who was there.

“Everything alright, miss Y/N?”

That voice was too familiar. Of course, you just had to sit next to Jay’s dad, a.k.a. one of the richest CEOs in the country, a.k.a. the man behind this fundraiser. You changed your expression from distressed to spirited, not wanting him to think you weren’t handling tonight well. Before you could say anything to reassure him, he added, “Not easy, is it, entertaining so many people? I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

Relief immediately washed over you. You looked down and said, “It hasn’t been too bad, just depends on the person you’re talking to.”

He chuckled. “I thought I saw you talking to CEO Jung. Or rather, CEO Jung talking at you. Sorry about him, he’s just the kind of person you have to learn to deal with.”

You continued talking to Mr Park, and he even invited you to stay at his table when the main course was served. He was surprisingly easy to converse with; he intently listened to you, even though he probably met infinitely more interesting people than you every day, and bounced off of your words naturally. You wondered how such an easy-going man could give birth to an argumentative boy like Jay.

You suddenly wondered where Jay was. You hadn’t seen him all evening, and he wasn’t sitting at his dad’s table either. You assumed he’d be busy with other people, but you couldn’t help being curious about his whereabouts. Not wanting to look around the room searching for him and appear disinterested in his dad, you just asked him directly if he knew where his son was.

Mr Park quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Oh, you know my son?”

“Yes, we’ve had a lot of classes together since freshman year,” you explained.

He seemed deep in thought for a second, until he started slowly nodding his head as if he’d just figured something out. “Of course, you’re Y/N. I knew that name was familiar.”

Why would your name be familiar to Jay’s dad? “Oh, did Jay mention me or some-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Mr Park said, “Ah, there he is,” gaze directed behind your shoulder. And indeed, as you turned around, you saw Jay coming towards your table.

 “Dad, mind if I steal Y/N for a second?”

“She’s all yours,” he replied, sending a wink his son’s way. You looked at Jay and he seemed just as confused about his dad’s words as you. But then his eyes found yours and he motioned for you to get up and follow him with a tilt of his head.

“It was really nice talking to you, Mr Park, thank you so much for your time.”

“Of course. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough,” he said with a knowing smile. 

You didn’t even try figuring out what he meant, and just walked with Jay as he took you to a quieter area of the ballroom. Most people had finished eating and had stood up again, so you’d needed to weave through them, and Jay put a hand on your lower back to guide you better. You ignored the warmth that spread on your skin where he touched you, blaming it on the glasses of champagne you’d had. 

When you’d reached a spot where you could talk easily, he turned towards you with a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re already charming your way up to my dad. You’re definitely ambitious, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes but then remembered where you were and thought it might be best to not give in to Jay’s taunts here, so you kept your voice low when you replied. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I just sat there, and he happened to already be at the table.”

His smirk only grew wider. “Right.” Then he stepped back a bit, and took a good look at you. Unlike Heeseung’s gaze earlier, the way Jay looked at you in that moment, like you were the only thing worth looking at in this beautiful ballroom, made butterflies erupt in your stomach. God, you really had had too much champagne. “I knew that dress would look good on you.”

You should’ve been flustered by the compliment, but you were too confused by Jay’s words: how could he have known about this? Why did he make it sound like he had chosen the dress? The stylist’s words from earlier suddenly pop up in your mind: “he does have good taste.” There was also the fact that you had applied to work as a waitress tonight but ended up as one of the scholarship students. Slowly, things started piecing together in your mind, and you looked up at the well-dressed, smirking boy in front of you in disbelief.

“Jay. Did you do this?”

“Do what?” he said, an innocent tone to his voice, but a mischievous look in his eyes.

Your eyes widened and you lightly slapped his arm. “You did! I- You- Ugh. Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, looking down at your shoes. You were beyond grateful, but your ego stopped you from being too showy about it.

He smiled at you, and you ignored how much you loved it. “It was no big deal. Just had to change your name from the waitering group to the student reps. Took me two seconds,” he said, following your gaze down, bashfully admitting to helping you out.

“Why’d you do it?”

Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and the world should know about it, was his immediate thought. But of course, he’d never say that out loud, so he opted for, “I just felt bad for you, really. I know you like to think of us as rivals, so I thought the least I could do was to put us on equal footing tonight.”

Although you had a feeling he wasn’t telling you everything, you weren’t going to press any further. You chatted for a bit longer, the both of you enjoying a relaxed conversation after hours on being on your best behavior, and your ability of talking normally to Jay and not wanting to claw his eyes out surprised you, not to mention the fact that you were… enjoying yourself.

“Anyway, I’m doing the closing speech soon. I’m gonna be awesome, so look closely, yeah?” You knew he wanted to look cool, but you thought he sounded like an excited kid who was about to put on a show for his family. How cute, you thought, and immediately chased that thought away from your brain. That damn champagne must’ve been laced with something.

You both went back into the crowd, and quickly your name was called out by someone you had talked to earlier who wanted to introduce you to someone else. You quickly waved goodbye at Jay, a smile on your face. If anybody had seen him, they would’ve noticed how his cheeks fired up and how he waved excitedly back at you.

And indeed, he had been seen.

His dad had been talking with one of his business partners, but tried to keep some of his attention on you and Jay. He couldn’t help but be curious as to why his son, who had previously never expressed any romantic interest in anyone, was suddenly making sure you attended the fundraiser as a student rep and not a waitress, and why he’d even gone the extra mile and chosen your dress for you. He hadn’t missed the way his son’s face lit up when he was talking to you, and how his gaze lingered on you as you walked away. But he also hadn’t missed how you’d followed Jay without hesitation, and how relaxed you’d looked talking to him. He thought the both of you acted as if it was just you two in a room full to the brim with people. When his wife joined him at the table, he’d told her about their son’s unusual behavior, and she said that she had noticed him looking around as if searching for someone a few times during the evening. They exchanged a knowing smile.

Heeseung had also noticed Jay leading you away from the crowd, and had intently watched your interaction, not even trying to make the girl he was talking to think he was still paying attention to her. He knew you had a crush on him; you couldn’t make it any more obvious. But he also knew how comfortable, how yourself you were around Jay; he’d seen the two of you banter around campus, always arguing about something, whether it was the new law that was being put into place or whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not. Heeseung wasn’t stupid, he’d seen enough rom-coms to know that the girl always ended up with the friend she joked around with and not the hot popular guy that made her feel nervous.

Jay and him had been rivals since he could remember, and not rivals like you and Jay, but proper rivals, who actually had to fight for something. Well, technically, it was their fathers who were competing as CEOs of some of the top firms in the country, but since they were bound to take their place at some point, it had felt like their competition as well. Nothing was off-limits when it came to their rivalry, and you were most definitely not an exception, not to Heeseung. He couldn’t stand seeing Jay have something he didn’t. At that moment, he made up his mind.

Heeseung had to have you.

But before that, Jay needed to give his closing speech. As soon as he’d stepped on the stage, the chatter started to quiet down, and everyone turned their attention to him. Much like you earlier, he hadn’t realized how bright the lights were when standing onstage. He could only see over a hundred people staring right at him, and his confident demeanor from moments ago crumbled at his feet. He scanned the crowd for your face, desperately needing something, or rather someone, to anchor him. When his eyes finally found yours, he felt strength regaining his body. His mother followed his gaze and found you looking right at her son, sending a reassuring smile and thumbs-up his way.

Jay’s speech went very smoothly, and everybody congratulated him for it as they left the room.

—

Back home after a stressful but rewarding evening, all Jay wanted to do was take a shower and pass out in bed. But his parents had other plans.

“So…” started his mother, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So?” Jay asked, already fearing whatever his mom was about to say.

“Y/N’s a nice girl,” she simply stated, hoping Jay’s reaction would give her more to go on.

And oh boy did it. He immediately started blushing and stuttering at the sudden mention of your name. He knew you’d spoken with his father at the fundraiser, but he hadn’t thought his mom would bring you up.

“Y-Y/N? Yeah, I guess. But what about her?” he said, looking away and trying to sound uninterested, but blatantly failing.

His parents exchanged a look. “C’mon, son,” his dad picked up, “you don’t need to hide something like that from us. We’re very happy that you’ve found a nice girlfriend like Y/N.”

A nice… girlfriend? Had Jay heard that correctly? His parents thought you two were… dating? 

As he stared at them wide-eyed and mouth agape, they just chuckled softly at him. “It’s okay, Jay, really. She made a dazzling impression on all of the guests tonight, and on us. She’s exactly the kind of person you should be dating, so don’t worry about us getting in your way of anything. We approve of your relationship.”

Jay started laughing in disbelief, and his parents just took it as a sign of his relief. If only they knew. “Right,” he said between chuckles, “thanks, guys.”

Why he didn’t deny what his parents were saying was beyond him. A part of him didn’t want to disappoint them by telling them the truth - his mother had always urged him to get a girlfriend, saying he wouldn’t have the time for dating later on in his career, that he should enjoy his college years as much as he could. Another part of him loved the idea of dating you, and it hurt him too much to shatter that thought.

So he just nodded along, saying he was glad they liked you.

“We really did,” said his father. “In fact, you should bring her over for dinner sometime this week. It’d be nice getting to know her in a less formal setting, don’t you think? Ask her what she likes, I’ll ask the chef to cook it specially for her.”

“S-sure,” Jay said, already panicking - he’d either have to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t come to dinner, or with ways to convince you to be his pretend-girlfriend for a night. If he actually did ask you, he’d have to be very careful about it, otherwise it’d end up with you trying to pull his hair out.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

—

At 10:43 a.m. the next day, you were waiting for Jay in front of the library. Right when you were about to turn your bedside lamp off, you’d received a text from him, asking to meet. Apparently, there was something he needed to tell you, and whatever it was, you were absolutely dreading it. Jay always had a lot of things to say, but he’d never felt the need before to warn you in advance that he needed to tell you something. Those kinds of messages were never very pleasant, and even less so when they came from Park Jongseong. Rereading the messages, you really couldn’t figure out what was so important that required you to take a break from your weekly Saturday morning study sessions.

00:44 archnemesis: Hey Y/N

00:44 archnemesis: Are you still up?

00:44 you: do NOT fuckboy text me jongseong

00:44 archnemesis: Sorry

00:45 you: go away im trying to sleep

00:45 archnemesis: Not trying hard enough obviously

00:45 you: shut up

00:45 you: what do u want

00:45 archnemesis: I need to tell you something.

00:45 archnemesis: Can we meet up tomorrow morning?

00:46 you: wtf

00:46 you: what is it ???

00:47 you: cant u just tell me now??

00:49 you: jay ???

00:49 archnemesis: Um.

00:49 archnemesis: I’ll tell you tomorrow!

00:49 archnemesis: :D

0:49 archnemesis: library 10:45?

0:50 you: ughhhhh

00:50 you: yeah whatever

00:50 you: this better be worth it istg

00:51 archnemesis: Good night Y/N <3

00:51 you: EWWWW

You’d stayed awake for a while after that, trying to figure out whatever it was he needed to tell you, but the only thing you were sure about was that it had something to do with the fundraiser, since he’d texted you after it. Had he finally realized how superior in every aspect you were to him and would finally bow down to you? That seemed pretty unlikely. Did one of the guests there really like you and had spontaneously decided to pay for your studies and offer you an internship at their company? Were they impressed by your intellect and wanted you to become their kids’ private tutor? Possible. Or even better, maybe it was Jay’s parents whose attention you had particularly caught, and they wanted to reward you in some way. Maybe they thought you were amazing and that you’d be a perfect girlfriend for their son, and Jay, ever the daddy’s boy, would now shower you with gifts and attention in order to capture your heart.

Ha, as if, you thought, laughing to yourself. It was a lot less funny when Jay told you about the little misunderstanding.

You were sitting at the library café with Jay, who’d wanted to postpone delivering the news as much as possible and had bribed you with the promise of free hot coffee. Well, free for you, at least. Not that a coffee would create much of a dent in his bank account. After five minutes of chit-chatting, you were getting annoyed with him and didn’t understand why he was being so uncharacteristically awkward and asked him to cut straight to the chase. When he told you his parents thought you were his girlfriend and wanted to have you over for dinner this week, it took all you had to not spit the coffee right in his face. Not only was it ridiculous, it was practically exactly what you had imagined.

“Are you kidding me, Jongseong? I can barely pretend to be your friend, how the hell am I gonna pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Your words were like bullets piercing right through his body, but he had to ignore the pain, telling himself you were just shocked by the sudden news. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just- I panicked, and I didn’t know how to tell them the truth. They seemed so happy,” he said, head hung low. You knew he was genuinely sorry, because he’d almost never actually said those words to you, so he had to mean them. The only other time you could think of was when he’d dropped his water bottle all over your laptop. The next day, he’d offered you a brand new MacBook with all of his notes already downloaded on it.

You sighed, unsure what to make of the whole situation. At any other time, your first reaction would’ve been to flip Jay off and tell him to get out of his own mess, but you felt like you owed him after what he’d done for you at the fundraiser. Even though he made it seem like no big deal, it still meant a lot to you that you’d gotten to spend the evening making yourself known to the guests and not serving them smoked salmon toasts, and that was all thanks to him.

“I guess I do owe you one, Jongseong.” His head snapped up and he looked at you with the most hopeful eyes you’d ever seen. “But before you get carried away,” you warned, “this is a one-time thing. Find an excuse, say we broke up or whatever. Fake dating is like, the most predictable trope ever,” you said, remembering all the heated discussions you’d had on the topic with Sieun.

But Jay paid no attention to that last sentence - he leapt up from his chair and came over to your side, engulfing you in a surprisingly warm hug. He muttered thank you over and over into your hair before realizing hugging wasn’t something you guys did and he might have just made things way worse. To his relief, when he took a sudden step back, you didn’t look upset at all, but rather amused at his sudden burst of excitement. 

He returned to his seat and cleared his throat. “Right. Thanks a lot, Y/N. My dad likes to have family dinners on Thursdays, so it’ll probably be then. I’ll, uh, I’ll take you there, so don’t worry about that.”

You chuckled at him. “You know I’ll never let you live this down, right?”

He sighed and shook his head, saying, “I know. But I’d rather have that than disappoint my parents, to be honest.” He smiled at you as if to take away some of the gravity of what he’d just said. You thought it wasn’t something he wanted to delve into, so you took a sip of your coffee and brought up the topic of this week’s tutorial for your cinema class, knowing it was a surefire way to start an argument with him. 

—

On Monday at lunch, you were sitting at the cafeteria with your friends. Keeho was telling them how fancy you’d looked and how you’d managed to charm everyone.

“I feel like I should be jealous, but what you did looked a lot more tiring than what I did, to be honest. When you’re a waiter at that kind of event, those rich people don’t even register your presence, so they just say the wildest shit in front of you. Apparently, CEO Cha is having an affair with CEO Liu’s wife, whoever they are.”

You chuckled at your friend, feeling even more thankful towards Jay that you didn’t have to spend your evening like that. The four of you continued chatting, which mainly consisted of complaining about how you already had so much work only two weeks into the semester. You were intently listening to the niche topic Sieun was learning about in her Bio class when someone dropped a bag on the table right next to your tray. The letters ‘Gucci’ were written on it in the iconic but simple font.

Your gaze went from the bag to the person holding it, and of course, it was none other than Park Jongseong himself.

“Hey, Y/N. Hey, guys,” he said, giving your friends a simple nod. They all replied with a confused hi. You were just staring at Jay, wondering what he was doing here.

“I got you something for Thursday night,” he explained. “Gotta wow the parents, you know?” he added with a wink.

“Uh-huh” was your very clever reply. You could feel your friends’ gaze ping-ponging between you and Jay.

Jay looked around the table, an awkward silence spreading between everyone. He cleared his throat. “Well, let me know if it fits or not. See you around.” And with that, he was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. You turned back to your friends, and their confused faces echoed your own. 

“What are you waiting for?” Sunoo nudged your arm. “Take a look inside!”

You took the bag on your lap and pulled out a magnificent green satin dress that was a lot more elegant than the one you’d worn at the fundraiser. You guessed Jay really did want for you to make a good impression on his parents. It seemed to be quite long and to not show too much skin, which you appreciated. You could only hope it would look as good on you as it did seeing it like this.

As soon as you’d taken it out, you’d heard your friends gasp. 

“Oh.”

“My.”

“God,” they’d said in turn, obviously mesmerized by the gift. 

You handed the dress to Sieun, who clearly wanted to admire it up close, and looked into the bag in case there was anything else. You were maybe hoping for a pair of earrings or a necklace, but it was wishful thinking. Instead, you found a sticky note signed Jay, which read, Wear the accessories and shoes from last week. I can’t spoil you too much just yet.

You hadn’t even noticed Sunoo was reading the note over your shoulder until he put his hand over yours in what seemed to be a confidential manner and said, with all the seriousness in the world, “Y/N, be honest with us. Is Park Jay your sugar daddy?”

Sieun and Keeho’s head snapped up and they stared at you expectantly. “What the hell? Why is that the first place your mind goes to?” you said, almost laughing in disbelief.

Bewildered, Sunoo replied, “How can it not? The wink, the Gucci gift, the note? It screams sugar daddy!”

“Wait - didn’t he say something about his parents? I’m not an expert, but I don’t think meeting the folks is sugar daddy etiquette,” Keeho mused, taking this way too seriously.

You took a deep breath. There was no point in not telling your friends what had happened, so you explained the events of the past few days to them, from Jay changing your role at the fundraiser, to his parents thinking you were dating, to dinner with them on Thursday.

When you were done bringing them up to date, they all looked at you with incredulous looks. After a moment, Sieun broke the silence: “Y/N, you’ve become a real walking rom-com. I’m so proud of you.” 

Keeho was tearing his bread apart, throwing chunks into his mouth. “I don’t know. Fake dating is kinda boring, to be honest.” Sieun let out an offended gasp and Sunoo nodded in agreement. 

“We’re not gonna be fake dating. Just for this one evening, I’ll pretend to be his girlfriend, and it’ll be over as quickly as it started,” you said, hoping that’d be the end of this conversation, but your friends wouldn’t back down so easily. 

“Y/N, that’s literally the whole concept of fake dating. You’ll think it’s only that one time, and before you know it, you’ll be married with three children, and it won’t be fake anymore,” Sieun warned, but you just shook your head and laughed, stealing Keeho’s other piece of bread from his tray.

“You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

“And you’ll be blowing something else soon…” Sunoo muttered, just loud enough for your table to hear. You let out an offended gasp but Keeho and Sieun just burst into laughter.

“Sunoo!”

“What?!” he replied, imitating your outraged tone but sporting an amused smile. “Your whole rivalry thing is too cute, I can’t take it seriously. You won’t admit it to yourself, but you clearly like Jay a lot more than you do Heeseung,” he said with a shrug, as if it was all so obvious. You tried to find support in Keeho or Sieun’s eyes, but they avoided your gaze, guilty expressions on their faces.

“Guys, come on, you can’t be serious. Jongseong and I are just- we’re just-” Rivals? Friends? Soon-to-be fake boyfriend and girlfriend? Who knew anymore. You took a deep breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo sighed, but to your relief that was the end of the conversation. Your friends quickly moved on to another topic, but their words gnawed at the back of your mind like rabid bunnies. Either they were completely insane, or you had gravely misjudged Jay this whole time. 

—

When Jay rang your doorbell at 7:00 p.m. sharp on Thursday, you were just done applying a thin layer of gloss on your lips. That morning, he’d texted you to ask for your address and tell you to be ready at seven. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror and headed down the stairs to get the door, but your mother had beat you to it. 

Not used to keeping secrets from her, you’d told her everything. She’d looked at you curiously the whole time, a slight smirk on her face as if she knew something you didn’t. And sure enough, when you were finished talking, she’d said, “I knew there was something between you and that Jay boy. You talk way too much about him.”

Not her too, you thought, but you didn’t need to encourage her delusions by telling her your friends thought the same, so you’d tried to defend yourself. “Mom! I just told you, I’m only pretending, I’m not actually his girlfriend. If I did like him, you’d be the first to know.”

She looked at you with a knowing smile that moms loved to wear. “I do know. You’re the one who doesn’t.” You’d dismissed her with a roll of your eyes. Everybody around me’s going crazy, you thought.

When she opened the door, it revealed a very smartly-dressed Jay (but when was he not?), bouquet in hand. He immediately handed them to her and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Kim. I’m-”

“Jay, I know. Y/N’s mentioned you.”

“Has she?” he asked, a genuine grin blooming on his lips. You ignored how the glint of surprise and - hopefulness? - in his eyes tug at your heartstrings.

“Just once or twice, and never positively,” you interrupted, appearing next to your mom. Taking your appearance in, she nodded at you approvingly, but Jay just stood there, mouth agape, seemingly transfixed by you. He only snapped out of his daze when you called out his name.

“You ready to go?” you asked, and hoped that the heat that had traveled to your face was hidden by your makeup.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Let’s go. It was nice meeting you, Mrs Kim.”

“You too, Jay. Thanks for the flowers. I hope Y/N will be a good fake girlfriend to you tonight.”

“Oh, you told her?” Jay asked you, looking somewhat disappointed. 

“I wasn’t gonna lie to my mom about my boyfriend,” you said, nudging him out of the door. “Bye, mom!”

You ignored her reply (“Don’t have too much fun!”) and walked speedily towards Jay’s car, which looked far too expensive for this neighborhood. As you got closer, he took a few quick steps in front of you and opened the passenger door for you. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to let on how the gesture made your stomach flip. “No need to go that far, Jongseong. Don’t try to woo me.”

He hurried to the driver’s seat, looked at you with a grin and said, “Might as well get into character now.” His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, and you started feeling self-conscious when his eyes moved up and down over your body. When you coughed, he suddenly turned his attention back to the front and gulped, then started the car. He looked taken aback himself, as if he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at you. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I really do have good fashion taste.” 

Although he was technically complimenting himself, you caught yourself hoping he also meant you looked good in the dress he’d chosen for you. “You could have included shoes and jewelry, you know. I wouldn’t have taken it the wrong way,” you said with a playful tone. 

“Sounds like you’re already getting used to a lavish lifestyle,” he retorted, making you smile sheepishly. 

“I’m just not used to dressing up nicely like this. It’s nice,” you said truthfully. You weren’t sure where the honesty was coming from, but something about being in a car with Jay made you feel like you could say anything - it felt safe, like whatever you could tell him would stay between the two of you. What happens in Jay’s car, stays in Jay’s car, or something along those lines. 

Jay wanted to tell you that if you gave him a chance, you could do this anytime you wanted. He’d buy you all the dresses you could dream of, and give you a taste of his world, which he so often found bland and shallow, but that he was sure you could light up in the blink of an eye. But he couldn’t say that, so instead, he said, “Yeah, I noticed. I don’t think anything you’ve ever done or said offended me more than that one time you showed up to class wearing a ‘where the hell have you been, loca?’ t-shirt.”

“Shut up, that shirt is amazing!”

“Maybe, but the movie it’s quoting is an absolute trashfire of a film, if you can even call it that,” he claimed, knowing it’d get a reaction out of you.

“Don’t talk shit about Twilight, Jongseong, or I’ll mess tonight up and your parents will think you’re dating a psycho.”

He turned to you with a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

You’d always known Jay was a confident man. It’s obvious in the way he holds his head high whenever he enters a room, or how he manages to stay calm and collected during an argument with someone who’s practically shouting at him (you, usually). And while he was always self-assured during your debates, seeing him act like this to practically flirt - could you describe it like that? - with you rendered you speechless. And you hated being speechless.

So you crossed your arms with a hmph and looked out the window, turning away so he couldn’t catch your fluttered state. 

You finally arrived at his parents’ house after a half-an-hour drive (“You live so far away, do you seriously drive to campus and back everyday?” “Yes, Jay, not all of us can live in a three-bedroom flat in the middle of the city”). As soon as you walked in, his mother greeted you with a warm hug, telling you how pretty you looked, and his father clasped your hand tightly, the lines around his eyes showing as he smiled at you. By the looks of it, you wouldn’t need to do much for them to like you.

You could tell Mr Park was a businessman by the way he didn’t beat around the bush when talking to you. As soon as you’d sat down in the (or at least one of the) living rooms for drinks and small appetizers, he asked, “So, Y/N, tell us about yourself.”

Having anticipated such a question, you started, “Well, I’m an Econ major-”

“Yes, but I know there’s more to you than just academics,” Jay’s dad interrupted with a well-intentioned smile.

You looked at Jay, hoping he could help you out. He just looked back at you as if he was waiting for your answer as much as his dad was. “Right. Um. Where should I begin?” you said with an awkward chuckle. You felt a bit put on the spot, but there was only genuine curiosity in all three pairs of eyes looking at you, so you felt comfortable enough to go on.

“I’ve always lived here. Or, technically, in the suburbs. Since I spend most of my time either studying, working at my part-time job or commuting back and forth between school and home, I don’t have much time for hobbies. I just use my free time to spend time with my friends or my family.” You looked at the three people in front of you, wondering if you’d said enough. After a beat, you added, “Sorry, was that too depressing?”

Mr and Mrs Park chuckled at you, and he instantly reassured you, saying, “No, no, not at all. Tell us about your family.”

You were expecting that one too. “Well, it’s just my mother, my little sister and me. But she’s at boarding school right now, so I only see her during the holidays.”

“Boarding school - that’s pretty impressive,” commented Jay’s mom.

You smiled fondly at the thought of your little sister. “Yeah, she’s a smart cookie. Got there on a scholarship and everything. She likes it most of the time but she does complain about how the people there are all-”

You stopped yourself before your tongue could slip up and potentially offend Jay’s parents. But to your surprise, they smiled and, in turn, said, “Rich and self-centered?” 

“Little kids who think they run the place when they’re only fourteen?”

A chuckle escaped you, not expecting them to share that kind of opinion with you and your sister. An amused tone in your voice, you nodded your head and said, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, I know all about those. Your boyfriend here might have been born into wealth,” he started, and you tried not to choke on your drink at Jay being referred to as your boyfriend, “but my father’s company, the one I’m in charge of now, only started being successful when I was in high school. My dad worked his way up from the ground, so he and I both know what it’s like to not be well-off. I’ve tried to not turn Jay into one of those rich kids who think they’ll rule the world just cause they have money, and… well, I hope I did a good job.”

You looked at Jay with a grin. He looked right back at you as if to say, I dare you to tell my dad he’s wrong. If this was anyone else in any other situation, you definitely would’ve told them Jay is one of the most privileged people you’ve ever met. You thought for another second - yes, Jay was definitely privileged, but there was a sort of innocence about him. He’d never used his wealth to make you feel inferior to him or anything of the sort. When he’d bought you that MacBook, it was to apologize, not to show off. It was as normal for him to have his meals cooked and laundry washed as it was for you to sigh in defeat every time the price of milk went up, even by just a cent or two.

So, still looking at him, you replied, “Yeah, I’d say you did a pretty good job.”

The way Jay’s eyes looked in that moment, fond and soft, made you want to never look away. But you didn’t want to make it awkward, so you turned back to his parents, who were watching the two of you with affection. Maybe Jay and you were a little bit too good at this whole fake-dating thing.

A maid came into the room to announce dinner was ready, and you all headed to the dining room. When plates of your favorite food arrived, you looked at Jay, astonishment written all over your face.

“How did you know?”

“You might’ve mentioned it here and there…” he sheepishly answered, knowing fully well that he’d gotten the information from a tweet you’d made eight months ago.

As conversation picked up again and you exchanged with his parents over a bunch of different topics, from childhood memories to that weird new Netflix show that’s strangely addicting, you tried to ignore Jay’s stare that was burning into the side of your face. 

“What about your dad?” he suddenly asked, catching everybody in the room off guard. Noticing your confused look, he continued, “Earlier. You said it was just you, your sister and your mom. What about your dad?”

His mom furrowed her eyebrows at him and said, “Jongseong, leave her be. If she hasn’t told you, she probably doesn’t want to talk about it.”

You took a deep breath. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind talking about it, I just don’t usually bring it up cause it makes people think of me differently? Like they start to pity me just because my dad’s out of the picture, when, really, it hasn’t affected me that much. I’ve never known him, my mom has always raised the two of us on her own.” You looked down at your hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been fiddling your fingers. “It just seems too cliché, the poor girl who lives in the suburbs and is on a scholarship and doesn’t have a dad and redeems herself by having good grades. Which is why I like to usually keep it to myself.”

You looked back up at them and were relieved when you found understanding and not pity in their eyes. If there was one thing you didn’t want to happen, was for them to think you were leeching off of Jay or trying to get his money. Even though you weren’t actually dating, it would’ve still damaged your ego if they had seen you that way.

A few hours later, dessert was finished, and you could tell everyone was starting to tire (or had had too many glasses of wine) by the way the conversation was starting to make less and less sense. Jay was looking at the three of you in amusement, stone cold sober, as he knew he’d have to drive you home later.

“Well, Y/N, son, we’re not going to hold you hostage here any longer. You still have classes tomorrow,” Jay’s dad said.

His parents led the two of you to the door as you gathered your coat and bag. “It was so lovely getting to know you more, Y/N. You truly are a sweet girl, and we can tell you’re making our Jay very happy,” his mother said, pulling you into a hug.

“You better treat her well, son,” said Mr Park. Jay looked over at you, and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite explain; all you knew was that it sent shivers straight down your spine. “I will,” he simply said, but with so much honesty, it made you wonder if he actually did mean it.

“Oh, and Y/N, there’s an event this Saturday. It won’t be as fun as ours last week, but I’m sure you could find a way to enjoy it. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt for people to see what a nice, hardworking girlfriend Jay has,” his father said, beaming down at you.

Jay and you exchanged a look, and the panic at the sudden invitation made you say, “Yes, I’d love to attend!” instead of finding a palatable excuse.

You exchanged final goodbyes with his parents, and as soon as you were in the car, you let out a hearty groan.

“My God, what’s wrong with me? Why did I have to say yes to that?”

Jay started the car. “I’m surprised too. If you had given me three seconds, I could’ve come up with an excuse for you. But I mean, I’m not gonna complain.”

You turned your head towards him, a pout on your face. “What do you mean?”

Jay kept his eyes straight on the road as he answered. “Well, like he said, it won’t be a bad look for me to have you on my arm. As much as it pains me to admit, you’re charming and intelligent, and,” he glanced quickly towards you, “I have good fashion taste, so you don’t look like an absolute fool in that department either.”

You snorted at his coyness. “Just say I’m pretty and move on, Jongseong.”

“Is that what I said, though?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face. 

You gasped dramatically, trying to appear as offended as possible. “Your dad literally just told you to treat me well, I’ll have you know.”

“They really fell for it, didn’t they?,” he said with a sigh. “I have to say, you did a pretty good job tonight. Almost got me wondering if you’re not used to being people’s fake date for the night.”

“Yeah, it’s my side job actually.” You smiled at each other, and when the eye contact lasted a second too long, you both quickly turned your head to the road. “So, what’s Saturday night about?” you asked, wanting to break the silence.

“Oh, it’s probably just another boring event where the grown-ups go to socialize and flaunt their wealth or their children’s prowess.”

“Wow, look at you being all critical. I thought you lived and breathed that kind of stuff.”

“I like it when it has a purpose. Like a fundraiser, or a company opening, or whatever. But this is just another excuse for people to show themselves off. You don’t have to come, you know. I can probably find a way out for you.”

Once again, without thinking, you immediately answered, “I’ll come.”

Jay glanced at you quickly, an eyebrow raised. “Wh- Really?”

You shrugged, trying to stay casual. “I mean, I don’t have anything on Saturdays. Might as well keep you company. Turns out you’re not always insufferable.” You’d lowered your voice for that last sentence, only half-heartedly admitting it. But of course, Jay wasn’t going to let you go with it.

“Huh? What was that? I don’t think I heard you,” he teased, leaning slightly towards you.

You gently nudged his shoulder, saying, “Shut up, you heard me. Just because I tolerate you slightly more doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being my number one rival.”

You’d never seen Jay smile that much. You sometimes caught glimpses of it when he was with his friends, but with you, he usually had an arrogant smirk, so seeing his genuine grin made your heart swell with joy you couldn’t explain. 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t assume anything else.”

He dropped you off at your house and made sure you were inside before driving away. When you told your mom about your night, she watched you with a smile, that knowing glint in her eyes still there. When she tried hinting at you having feelings for the boy, you’d gotten off your chair and shouted good night! before heading to bed. 

—

Saturday quickly rolled around the corner, and you were in your room with Sieun, trying on the two dresses Jay had given you to pick from. “They’re both good, I just wanted to see if you’d choose the best one,” he’d said. This time, he’d also included a new pair of shoes and a set of matching jewelry. Your friends kept teasing you about him being your sugar daddy (“you can’t deny it anymore, Y/N”), and you had to admit you were starting to feel a bit like that, even though you weren’t really giving him any sugar. He was just spoiling you like it was his day job.

He was right; both dresses were gorgeous. They were both black, but one of them was body-fitting with an open back, while the other cinched in at the waist and had puffy sleeves. You couldn’t deny that you looked good in the first one; Sieun had let out the loudest gap when she’d seen you in it. But you both agreed that it was on the riskier side, and it was probably more appropriate to wear the second dress.

You were laying on your bed, talking about this and that. It’d been a while since it was just the two of you, and it was nice catching up with her.

“So…” she’d started, an impish tone to her voice. You knew immediately what she wanted to talk about and let out a loud groan, but that didn’t deter her. “Wanna tell me about Jay?”

It was obvious what she was trying to get at, but you weren’t going to give her what she wanted. “Well, he’s rich and has a huge house. Not surprising. He drives well. He’s not half as annoying when he’s in front of his parents. Probably not trying to be as much of a smartass. He seems to think he’s all that. He-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she said, laughing. “What I mean is, has anything changed between you two? Have you finally come to your senses about the boy?”

You thought about it for a second. Something had definitely shifted in your perception of Jay. You felt it in the pit of your stomach every time he smiled at you. But it was scary: this wasn’t you and Jay. You and Jay argued, and riled each other up, and got on each other’s nerves. You didn’t crack jokes so you’d hear the other laugh, or agree without thinking when they asked you for a favor. It was confusing, so instead of voicing out those concerns, you lied. “No. Not really.”

But your friend wasn’t buying it. “C’mon. The guy buys you dresses, gets your mom flowers, drives you to his parents’ for dinner. I know it’s not for realsies, and you’ve got integrity or whatever, but you can’t completely be indifferent to it, Y/N. Even you’ve got to admit Jay’s hot.”

You laughed at your friend’s reasoning. “Fine. Maybe he’s not just someone to beat anymore. I guess that’s what fake dating will do to you. But that doesn’t mean I have to say he’s hot.”

She turned to fully face you. “Not even when he’s all dressed up? Or when he hands you a bag that has contents worth thousands?”

Her eyes were telling you that you had to agree with her. You tried to suppress a smile, still not wanting to admit anything. Just because you and Jay had been rivals since you’d met didn’t mean you went blind every time you saw him. Of course, you knew how attractive he was. But you had conditioned yourself to never see him that way, so letting on that you didn’t think he was completely repulsive felt like betraying yourself. 

Sieun laughed at your reaction. “C’mon! Say it!”

You pursed your lips together, suppressing a smile, and shook your head. The tilt to Sieun’s head and the devilish glint in her eyes told you your friend was up to no good - and indeed, a second later, she was on you, tickling your sides and asking you to “say it! Say it!”

“Fine, fine!” you said between breathless giggles. She finally relented. “I think Jay’s hot.”

“Do you, now?”

The sudden male voice made you and Sieun shriek. You sat up in your bed and found its owner - sure enough, Jay was standing in your doorway, leaning against the wall and clearly liking what he’d just heard. Your mother soon appeared behind him, explaining that he’d knocked and she let him in, telling him to go up to your room. She mouthed sorry and quickly scurried down the hall.

“I’m not sure why it took you so long, but I’m glad you’ve finally opened your eyes, Y/N.”

Sieun’s eyes were going back and forth between the two of you, until she stood up and said, “Well, I guess that’s my cue to go. Have fun you two, and tell me all about it on Monday, Y/N!”

Before you could protest, she had already left your room, sending Jay a wink as she passed by him. It was silent for a few seconds as you sat there in embarrassment, cursing the Gods for your awful timing. He walked in and sat down at the edge of your bed, comfortable and keeping his distance at once. The sentence there’s something perfect about him flashed in your mind but you were quick to brush it away. “So, which dress did you choose?”

“The one with the puffy sleeves,” you replied, unable to look him in the eye.

He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Wrong choice.” You rolled your eyes. “Show me?”

This made you look at him. His smile was taunting, but his eyes were soft. With the way he looked right now, you thought he could ask you anything and you’d say yes. You hadn’t imagined that him sitting on your bed would make you stammer like a schoolgirl in front of her teacher crush, but here you were, almost rendered speechless by the mere sight of him. The fact that he was manspreading and leaning back on his hands, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his trousers stretching against his thighs, wasn’t particularly helping. More shyly than you intended, you told him to turn around and close his eyes, then quickly put the dress on. You were thankful for its lack of zipper - you don’t know if you could have handled Jay zipping your dress up for you.

“Okay. You can turn around now.”

This was already the third time Jay was seeing you all dressed up, but his gaze managed to make the heat rise to your cheeks every time. The corners of his lips rose slightly. “Wrong choice,” he repeated, “but you still look really good, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop the smile spreading on your face as you coyly replied, tugging at the hem of your dress, “Why thank you, Jay.”

“You gonna be ready to go soon?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, just need to put on jewelry and shoes, and I’m good. Sieun did my makeup for me earlier.” You put on the thin silver earrings and ring Jay had gotten for you and checked your reflection in the mirror. You put a hand to your collarbone, thinking the area looked a bit empty without a necklace.

“Should I wear the necklace from last time? It looks a bit weird without anything right now,” you asked Jay, keeping your gaze on the mirror. 

“Um, I’ve got something, actually. I forgot to give it to you with the rest of the things.” He fished a small box out of his bag and got up to stand behind you. He took out the necklace and put it around your neck, asking you to hold your hair up. You complied, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hands slightly brushed the back of your neck as he locked the necklace, and you had to keep yourself from visibly shivering at his touch. This was infinitely worse (or better) than him zipping up your dress.

He absent-mindedly let his hands slide along your shoulders until they came to a halt on the sides of your arms. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and with a smile, he said, “All done.”

—

Nothing, not even the fundraiser of the previous week, could’ve prepared you for how lavish this party was. Whereas the fundraiser has been in an 18th century ballroom, in the old part of your city where most of the architecture was traditional, this event was taking place in the newer, richer part of the city where skyscrapers constituted most of the area. You were at the top of one of those skyscrapers, and from the huge windows that made up two of the four walls of the spacious room, you could see the whole city laid out right in front of you, as if it was yours to take. If having money meant seeing this everyday, you thought you could understand why rich people got addicted to it. 

As Jay and his dad had warned, the atmosphere that evening was very different from that of the fundraiser. Instead of gathering for a cause, this just felt like an excuse to get drunk and eat tiny, tiny appetizers that probably cost a hundred dollars each, all while looking rich and fashionable. The room was quite dark, only the moon outside and the small LED lamps on every table bringing light in. You’d never seen such an impressive collection of alcohol (to be fair, you’d only ever been to frat parties where most of the alcohol was cheap beer and dodgy brands of vodka), and you were really going to have to restrain yourself from trying out every cocktail the barman offered. Although most of the people there were in their forties to sixties, and the younger people were only there thanks to their parents, the dress code wasn’t as formal as you’d have imagined it to be, and Jay’s assessment of your dress as the “wrong choice” now made more sense. The women wore dresses that showed quite some skin, or didn’t leave much to the imagination, and the men had left their suit blazer behind and hadn’t buttoned their shirt all the way up.

It was all a bit mind-boggling at first, but you soon got used to it, and Jay’s warm hand on your lower back reassured you. At first, the two of you walked around together, talking to different people, and hoping you were making your “relationship” clear to them. You were glad Heeseung or anyone that would’ve recognized you wasn’t there: you could handle pretending to be Jay’s girlfriend in front of his parents and other random people, but in front of the whole school, that would’ve been a whole other level of fake dating.

Watching people slowly slip into a drunk state as the hours passed was just about the only source of entertainment you got that night. The two cocktails you’d tried out were way too strong to your liking, so you didn’t feel like drinking anymore, and Jay couldn’t because he was driving you home later on. When most guests were beyond the point of being able to hold a coherent conversation, you and Jay took it as your cue to leave. You found his parents among the crowd to tell them goodbye, and you could tell they weren’t completely sober by the way they kept telling you you were amazing and made you promise three times you’d attend more of these events. Guess you couldn’t back out now.

And indeed, as weeks passed, it became a normal thing for you to accompany Jay every time he had an event to attend. Your wardrobe was going to burst from all the outfits he kept buying you, but you weren’t going to complain. Jake and Sunghoon, as sons of CEOs of smaller but still important companies, were sometimes present. They usually ditched these types of events, and you couldn’t blame them, but they still made the effort from time to time. You were already friends with Jake before; the two of you had lived in the same dorm building and kept finding each other in the study room late at night, then started to bond over insolvable questions and watered-down instant coffee. Sunghoon, on the other hand, you hadn’t had many chances to talk to, and you couldn’t lie, judging by his appearance alone, you had first thought he was even more self-centered than Jay. But after talking to him for just a minute, you found that that cold facade quickly broke down and he was easy to talk to and very funny - in his own way, but funny nonetheless.

Heeseung wasn’t always at these events, but whenever he was, you couldn’t miss him. He always garnered attention, especially from the female guests, but he always kept his eyes trained on you. In all your three years of liking him, he’d barely spoken a word to you, so why the sudden interest? Usually, you’d have craved his attention; but for some reason, at those parties, you felt indifferent towards it. You hated how he was always with a different girl and never approached you, yet wasn’t trying to keep his glances towards you discreet at all. Jay noticed it too, and a couple times you’d even had to stop him from going up to Heeseung and asking him what the hell he wanted. 

Since you didn’t have money to bedazzle people with, you always tried to make a good impression with your conversation and intellect, but some nights you just weren’t up to it and spent most of the time laughing with Jake and Sunghoon, as Jay was often too busy talking to someone else. Tonight was one of those nights; half an hour into the party, an important businessman approached Jay and started talking to him, completely ignoring you. He always ended up apologizing later on, but you didn’t reproach him for it - you knew he had a reputation to uphold and that these events were important for him. Plus, it wasn’t like he owed you anything - you weren’t his girlfriend after all, even if the line between real and fake had started to blur more and more often as of late. 

Feeling out of place, you looked around the room and found Jake and Sunghoon at the bar, six shots lined up in front of them. You had never gotten drunk at any of these events, not wanting to risk embarrassing Jay or his parents, but tonight seemed like it was gonna be the most boring one as of yet. So you gestured to Jay that you were leaving and joined the two boys.

“Room for one more?” you asked when you reached them. They turned around and smiled at you; this was clearly not their first drink of the night. 

“Of course!” replied Jake excitedly, beaming at you. You could tell he already had a few drinks in his system. Without further ado, you each took a shot glass in your hand, clinked them and brought them to your lips, dipping your heads back. The burning of the alcohol as it glided down your throat was both repulsive and intoxicating, and you were soon reaching for the second one. The boys cheered you on and quickly mirrored you. 

Although you’d promised Jay you’d always be on your best behavior, as the evening went on, you never refused a drink that the servers approached you with or the boys offered you. Without Jay to make snide remarks about the snouty guests with, the evening was a lot less fun, so you couldn’t help but down every glass of alcohol that came near you; since Jake and Sunghoon were doing the exact same thing, none of you were realizing exactly how drunk you three were getting. At least, you weren’t going around the room, mumbling drunkenly to everyone; you were staying at a table in the corner, mumbling drunkenly to each other.

Jay was observing you from afar, trying not to worry and stay focus on the conversation (no matter how mind-numbing) he was having; but when he saw you almost fall out of your chair and burst into laughter right away instead of regaining your senses, he thought it was time to come check on you. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for having left you alone for most of the night, and he knew Jake and Sunghoon never stayed sober through these events, but in his defense, he didn’t think any of you would go that far.

He took a seat in the chair next to you, leaning close to you so you could hear him over the music and chatter of the guests. He asked you how you felt, and you gave him a lopsided smile in response. “Me? I feel great. This place is awesome once you’ve had-” you hiccuped, “a few drinks.”

Jay sighed but had an affectionate look on his face. “Right. I think it’s time to get you home.” He saw you open your mouth in what was probably going to be protest, so before you could say anything, he added, “And don’t even argue with me. I’m taking you home, let me just go let my parents know first. You two figure it out on your own,” he told Jake and Sunghoon, who had already started to doze off on their chairs.

He got up and headed towards his parents, and you watched him walk away with a pout on your face. Your vision was blurry from the alcohol and you could barely make out any faces, but you waved in what you hoped was the general direction of his parents. 

“She just keeps getting better, doesn’t she? Even when she’s drunk, she doesn’t embarrass herself,” said Mr Park when Jay announced your departure. “I’m glad you have her, son.” Jay was glad for the dimness of the room, which meant his dad wouldn’t notice how hard he was blushing. Even if it was all an act, thanks to his parents, he had gotten closer to you than he thought he ever would.

He bid goodbye to his parents and a few other guests, including Jake’s and Sunghoon’s parents, making them aware of their kids’ state, then went back to get you. The trek to the car wasn’t the easiest as tiredness had started to hit you and your body grew heavier against your will. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the back of the passenger seat and Jay couldn’t help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He then realized how far gone he must be to think you still looked precious in your current state.

The car ride was silent, your quiet snores and the soft chatter of the radio the only sounds filling up the space. Jay thought you were dead asleep as you didn’t wake up when he fished your keys out of your bag and carried you bridal style out of the car and to the door, but really, you just didn’t wanna have to walk. When he got to the door, though, you thought it would’ve been unfair to make him struggle that much, so you opened your eyes and quietly told him to let you on the ground. He walked you to your room, tucked you in bed and even got a wet wipe to take your makeup off for you. 

As he gently swiped it over your eyes, trying not to hurt you, your drunken state got the best of you and you asked, voice barely over a whisper, “Why are you doing all this?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and you thought he might not have heard you, until he replied, “Because I want to.” You were too tired to press the matter any further, although you desperately wanted to. You’d have to wait until you were sober - if you’d have the courage to bring the subject up then.

When he was done and got up from your bed, the sudden absence of his presence around you made you panic, so you called out, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” he said, and you hoped you weren’t imagining how expectant he’d sounded.

“Will you stay?”

Your eyes were too heavy to even open, so you couldn’t see his reaction. After a second that felt like an eternity, he answered, “Of course.”

You heard him steal a pillow and lay down on the carpeted floor next to your bed. Maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in your system, or the fact that spending so much time together, especially as his girlfriend - fake girlfriend - had made you see him in a new light, or the fact that you felt like your whole world would collapse if you didn’t have him next to you at that moment, or all three of those things. All you knew was that something beyond your control made you whisper “come here” in the quiet of your room, and, when he got under the covers with you but kept his distance, made you wrap your arms around him and cling onto his shirt as if he would disappear.

You slept like a baby that night, but Jay barely got a wink of sleep, the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably keeping him awake.

—

You woke up that Sunday morning with a ringing headache, an upset stomach and a thirst you knew you wouldn’t be able to quench no matter how much water you drank. Your bed was empty, and the only thing that reminded you Jay sleeping overnight wasn’t a fever dream was his scent lingering on your pillow. The pang in your heart at his absence was hard to ignore - you were definitely curious about what it’d be like to wake up in Jay’s arms. 

The busy chatter coming from the kitchen forced you out of your bed, although you would’ve rather stayed there all day. As soon as you opened your bedroom door, the smell of pancakes and sizzling bacon attacked your nose, and you hurried downstairs.

The sight of Jay cooking breakfast for you and your mother alone was enough to cure your hangover. You sneakily watched from the staircase as he expertly flipped pancakes and cooked eggs at the same time, all while holding a conversation with your mom. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee before taking a seat next to your mom, trying to but failing to suppress a smile. “I didn’t know you were also a housewife, Jongseong,” you said, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I thought it was the least I could do after making you attend such an awful event,” he answered, and you had the suspicion he was only being nice because your mom was there, even though she knew you two weren’t actually dating. 

He kept that energy all throughout breakfast, making your mom laugh, and you watched him play his charm on her, glad you didn’t need to participate in the conversation. Any mom would be lucky to have him as a step-son, you caught yourself thinking.

Your mother hugged him when he left, and turned to you with a smile as soon as she’d closed the door. “Y/N, there’s no way in hell you don’t wanna date that boy. Hell, if he wasn’t half my age, I probably would.”

You took a cold water bottle from the fridge and said, “We’re not talking about this,” then headed up the stairs to your room. You ignored her calling after you and laid down in bed. Last night had given you a lot to think about.

—

You never got as drunk as that night again, not wanting to repeat that situation. Your relationship with Jay had already changed so much in so little time, but now, there was a lingering tension that always kept you on edge, and it wasn’t due to the constant arguing. It was due to the way you couldn’t get his scent on your sheets out of your head and the way he couldn’t forget how you had held onto him that night. You two had always said whatever was on your mind to each other, especially if it was something that would annoy the other, but now unspoken words constantly lingered between the two of you.

Your friends saw right through you; even though you tried to play it cool, it was painfully obvious that Jay was much more than just competition to you now. You hadn’t told them about the time he’d slept over and made you breakfast, knowing you’d never hear the end of it; but they didn’t need to know about that to see something had changed. It was clear in the way you talked about him, which had gone from irritated to excited, or how you never mentioned Heeseung anymore. One time, you’d even said “dating Jay” instead of “fake-dating,” and Sunoo had immediately picked up on it.

“That-that’s what I meant!” you’d exclaimed defensively, but they’d all looked at you with teasing smiles.

Jay hadn’t been very discreet when he’d given you bags of designer clothes all over campus, like in the cafeteria, in a random hallway, or in a lecture hall, and given his immense popularity (you know, being handsome and rich and all that), a few rumors about you two dating were being spread around. But they hadn’t really blown up, since the both of you always denied them whenever someone asked you if they were true, because you didn’t need to keep the pretense at uni. 

The pretense - because that’s all it was, of course. Play pretend. Fake dating, keyword fake. But everything with Jay felt too real - the laughter in his car on the way to and fro the events, the smiles you exchanged from across the room, his hand brushing against yours when you sit next to each other during lectures. It wasn’t enough to have his arm around your waist once or twice a week, and it drove you crazy that you had him in bed right next to you but that you’d let him go. You needed to have him close, and for it to be real.

It was a sunny March afternoon when you realized this. Your week was surprisingly unbusy - along with the preparation for your lectures and tutorials, you only had two small online quizzes to complete, and all your bigger deadlines were so far away that even you didn’t see the point in starting on them already. So, armed with your favorite book and plenty of snacks, you’d decided to head to the park next to campus and spend a relaxing afternoon in the sun. It went as planned for about an hour, when an all too familiar voice called out your name - a voice that used to make you sigh in annoyance and roll your eyes automatically, but that now made your heart skip a beat in nervousness, you realized with some alarm.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He sat down next to you on your picnic blanket, beaming at you like you were his good old friend he’d just run into. He had a professional-looking camera with him, something you’d never seen him carry around. You were so taken aback by his excitement at seeing you that no words formed in your mind, and you just raised your book and waved it stupidly.

Jay chuckled when he saw what you were reading. “Twilight, of course. And that’s the last one, isn’t it?” He shook his head in mock-disappointment at you. “I can’t believe you would put yourself through the torture of reading four of those books, Y/N.”

You just mumbled something about them being fun to read, turning your gaze back to the cover of the book you were holding. What the hell was wrong with you?! Usually, you’d be quick to shoot an answer back at Jay, either defending yourself or attacking him on one of his own weird preferences (you’ll never forget the day they had corn at the cafeteria and Jay had scarfed down at least five cobs in one sitting). But right now, Jay’s presence next to you turned your insides to liquid and rendered you unable to think properly. You hated it.

But then you noticed something on the book cover - “Jay, how do you know this is the last one?” From the corner of your eye, you saw Jay’s head snap up while you turned the book in your hands. “There’s no number on it.”

“O-oh,” he started, and judging from the growing blush on his face, you knew you’d caught him. This brought some of your usual confidence back to you. “Isn’t it common knowledge that Breaking Dawn is the last book in the series?”

You giggled at that. “Absolutely not.” His guilty expression only made you want to press further, and you added, “That’s something you’d only know if you’d watched all the movies and made the effort to remember the separate titles.”

He looked away, letting out a small hum as he found sudden interest in his camera. You were still smiling at him in disbelief. “Jongseong, have you seen all five Twilight movies?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and kept avoiding your gaze. “Pffft. No.”

“Jongseong.”

At the sound of his name, he abruptly turned his head in your direction, and his glare only made you smile even more. “You’ve actually seen all five movies, I can’t believe this,” you said, almost laughing. Jay’s eyes softened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He turned his attention back to his camera, but he was smiling down at it as he spoke this time.

“It’s just that you’ve mentioned them so often, I thought I should check at least the first one out. Turns out they’re pretty addictive,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So you watched them for me?” you asked, and your voice was more admirative than you’d had intended it to be - you wanted to tease him, not let him know that what he’d just said actually touched you.

“I watched them for… research purposes,” he conceded. Your eyes met. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the intense smiling this conversation was bringing you, but you couldn’t help it. This time, you were the one to look away.

“Research purposes, of course.” A short silence ensued, the sort of silence you should’ve been used to with Jay by now but that always made you feel giddy - the sort that’s awkward in a lighthearted way, the sort where you’re repeating all the words that have just been said in your head and committing them to memory. The sort where you hope the other is feeling all the things you’re feeling.

You broke it first. “What about you, what are you doing here?”

Jay raised his head, looking like he’d just remembered he had come here for another purpose than just talking to you. “Right. I have a project for this elective I’m taking, so I need to film some stuff and I thought it’d be nice to do it here,” he explained, shrugging.

“Sounds cool,” you said, and you hoped he knew you actually meant it. He looked at you again, and he seemed surprised. “Tell me more,” you added, and from the way his features lit up, you could tell you had said the right thing. You positioned yourself more comfortably on the blanket as you listened to him.

“Oh, well, our professor’s a bit of a romantic so the project is all about finding beauty in the small things, the happiness around us, love…” 

Your gazes locked the moment he said that word, but it only lasted a second. Jay was quick to clear his throat and go back to his explanation, but it took you a few more seconds until you could focus on his words again. When you snapped out of it, he was showing you some films he’d already taken. They were all very short, just three or four seconds long, but a peacefulness emitted from each of them. An encouraging message scribbled into a lecture hall table, a cat laying on a windowsill, enjoying the sun, an old couple walking slowly hand-in-hand, teenage girls celebrating a birthday at an ice cream parlor, the metro passing quickly through the frame as the sunset paints the sky orange in the background. All beautiful moments that make up life, but that you never take the time to fully appreciate.

“This… this is beautiful, Jay,” you breathe, mesmerized by what he’d manage to capture.

“Yeah? Not too cheesy?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Not at all. I think your professor will love this, you completely grasped the subject.”

He let out a shaky breath of relief, his smile getting wider. “Nice,” he said under his breath. Then he suddenly turned his head to look at you, an intensity in his gaze you hadn’t expected. “Would you mind if I took a video of you? Add you to the film?”

“W-what, like here? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Jay said, and when he smiled at you like that, who were you to say no?

“Okay, sure.” You tried to shrug, play it cool, but something about Jay looking at you through his lens and adding a video of you to all those beautiful ones he’d just shown you made your heartbeat speed dangerously.

“Great,” he beamed. “Just read your book. Pretend I’m not here,” he instructed. As if you could be anything less than hyper-aware of his presence, you thought.

Thankfully, the video was shot in just a few minutes as Jay searched for the best angle to take it from. Before you knew it, he was already back next to you, mirroring your position on the blanket as he laid on his stomach. You tried to ignore how his shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned on his forearms, showing you the video. You had to admit, it looked really nice - from this angle, the sun shone down on you perfectly, and you could see the wind blowing through the tree leaves in the background. It fit perfectly with the other videos.

“Beautiful,” Jay whispered, looking at the film with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

You didn’t linger on his words too long, just took the chance to tease him: “Are you complimenting me or your videography skills?”

The look in his eyes didn’t change as he turned his head and gazed down at you. “You, of course.”

A smirk tugged the corners of his lips up as he took in your flustered expression, your incoherent mumbles. “Whatever,” you mumbled when you regained the ability to speak. 

Another comfortable silence settled between the two of you as Jay busied himself with his camera while you read the same paragraph over and over, unable to concentrate on the words. You desperately wanted to say something, but had no idea what, so you were grateful when Jay broke the silence.

“Just need to edit this all together on my laptop, and then I’m all done. Thanks for your help, Y/N.”

“I didn’t do anything, though,” you said with a small smile. His compliment from earlier was still ringing in your ears.

“But you did. I think that shot of you will end the film perfectly.” 

Sure, Jay had gotten nicer and nicer to you as time passed - but today, he was really laying it on thick. He was making it hard to breathe properly. All you could do to save yourself was change the subject.

“So, this is for the Visual Studies part of your degree, right?”

For the second time today, Jay’s expression went from surprise to delight - you remembered, he thought. “It is, yeah,” he replied, with a wide grin he couldn’t control. He seemed to hesitate for a bit, as if deliberating whether he should say whatever it was he wanted to say or not. You were happy to see he opted for telling you. “If it was up to me, it’s the only thing I’d have done.”

You studied him for a bit. With just this simple sentence, you realized Jay’s life wasn’t as simple as you’d always imagined it to be. “But it’s not up to you, I’m guessing.”

He smiled sadly, and you had to resist the urge to take him in your arms. All these things you had been feeling for him, they weren’t supposed to be there, and you were getting really tired of fighting them back.

“It isn’t, no.” He turned over to lay on his back, and you imitated him, so that you were now both staring up at the sky. He sighed before speaking again. “My father isn’t a particularly conservative man, but he does like tradition. He wants to keep the company in the family, and as his only child, I’m the one the responsibility falls upon. He’s never even asked me if this was what I wanted to do, just assumed I’d be happy with it.”

In your three years of knowing Jay, you’d thought how unfair it was that he wouldn’t have to go through the hoops of job applications and job interviews. He already had a top position waiting for him as soon as he got out of college. But now you realized that he was completely trapped in the position - all of the decisions you’d taken academics- and career-wise had been your own, while Jay’s had been chosen for him in advance.

“I picked up photography as a hobby to get away from it all and ended up really falling in love with it. I have control over my camera even if I have zero control over anything else in my life,” he explained with a defeated chuckle.

You let your head fall to the side and looked at him. “I had no idea about any of this.”

Jay met your eyes and smiled. The sun was right behind you, so he had to shield his eyes from it to look at you. “Of course not. I never mentioned it.”

“I feel like I should’ve known, for some reason.”

His smile got wider. You looked away. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause. Maybe I would’ve gone easier on you if I knew you were also struggling.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.” He bumped your shoulder with his, making you let out a chuckle.

A beat passed before you spoke again. “Guess we both have a lot of pressure on our shoulders, huh? Even if they’re different kinds.”

“Guess we do.”

“Then we’re more similar than I’d thought,” you said, and looked at him again.

“Guess we are.”

A smile bloomed on your lips, and Jay’s eyes drifted down to it. That simple action made you panic, and you suddenly sat up. He didn’t have time to ask if everything’s alright, you were already throwing your stuff back in your bag and mumbling something about the time and having to go. You stood, and turned to Jay before scurrying off. “I’ll see you around.”

Jay chuckled, slightly confused, but let you go. It wasn’t until he left himself that he’d realized you’d left without your picnic blanket.

— 

After that afternoon, you tried to pretend nothing happened, and that you hadn’t run away just because of Jay glancing down at your lips. You were already getting worked up over things you shouldn’t even be thinking about when it came to him - you didn’t need to have Jay kissing you on your mind.

Thankfully, Jay didn’t bother you about it, and you got back into your routine of arguing by class and pretending to be a couple by night. Everything was fine.

That is, until Mr Park happened.

You had waited all week, hell, all month for this: Jay’s dad was about to give a special talk for the School of Business on how to get a company started and efficiently run it, but most importantly, he would announce how to apply for a summer internship at his firm. You’d made sure to get there early so you could get a good seat. He noticed you when you walked in the amphitheater, and motioned to you to come see him.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you, thanks for coming,” he greeted, beaming down at you. It always surprised you just how similar his smile was to his son’s.

“Of course, Mr Park! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Come and see me after the talk, yeah? There’s something I want to tell you.”

God, what was it with Park father and son to announce things like that? Why not just say it straight away? You kept those thoughts to yourself and nodded, then sat down at a seat in the front.

You listened intently the whole time and took down rigorous notes. When it was over, you had to wait another twenty minutes as people asked him questions, until he finally announced that was all he had time for today. You headed down towards the stage, and complimented him on his talk. Most people in the room had started trickling out, but there were still a few students waiting at the doors, hoping to catch him before he left.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said with a chuckle, before taking a deep breath. “I realize now what I said earlier might have made you nervous, but don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.” 

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Good. “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good girlfriend to Jay. I’ve always been proud of him, but I know he has a lot on his shoulders, so it’s nice to see that he has someone like you to rely on.”

You smiled at Mr Park, saying it was nothing, but you felt guilty. He truly believed in you and Jay, when the two of you were only pretending. Even though it didn’t always feel that way anymore. 

“Oh, and for the internship, I’m sure you’ll understand that it wouldn’t look too good if I gave it to you. But don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you wherever you decide to apply.”

A second passed. Then another, and another, until your lack of answer was becoming weird, and you had to say something. “Oh. Right. Of course, I understand,” you replied, hoping the disappointment in your voice wasn’t too obvious. You exchanged a few more words until you said you needed to get back to studying.

As you turned around to exit the room, you noticed everybody who had been waiting for Mr Park was staring right at you, wide-eyed. You tried to ignore them and get to the doors, but a girl stopped you. “So the rumors are true, you really are dating Jay?”

You’d never seen her in your life and were a bit shocked that a stranger could demand information about your love life, but you nonetheless shook your head and started to say, “What? No.”

“Why are you lying? We just heard everything,” said another voice.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter anyway, just don’t lie.”

You turned your gaze away from the students to look behind you at Mr Park. Or more precisely, at the lecturer mic wrapped around his waist. From where you were, you could make out a tiny red light on the mic, signaling it was still on.

Crap.

—

As soon as you were outside, you called Jay. He picked up after a few rings, groaning, “What? I’m at the library.” Ah, there was the Jay you knew.

“I’ll be here in two, come outside.”

“But-”

“Right now,” you said sharply and hung up. 

Jay had wanted to scold you for disturbing him like that, but as soon as he saw you, eyebrows furrowed and biting your lip nervously, worry overcame him. “Hey. You okay?” he asked gently, placing his hands on your forearms.

“Yeah. I’m fine, but, um, everybody knows. »

He looked at you questioningly, and when you wouldn’t explain further, he asked, “Knows what?”

“You. Me. That we’re dating. Well, they think we’re dating.”

“What? How do they know?”

“Your dad. We talked after his presentation, and he thanked me for being a good girlfriend, except his mic was on. So everybody heard. And you know how gossip travels here, so everybody’ll know by tonight,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

Jay thought for a while. “Well, who cares if they know? We don’t have to change the way we act with each other. That’d be more suspicious, if anything. We’ll just have to not deny it when people ask if we’re dating.” 

Your frustration got the best of you and you scoffed, giving Jay a harsher look than you wanted to. His hands left your forearms. “How far is this gonna go, Jay?! How much longer do we have to-” You realized how loud your voice was, and switched to whisper-shouting instead of just shouting. “To pretend? I can let you parade me around those CEOs and whatnot, but I don’t wanna have to keep the charade up on campus, too.”

Jay’s law locked. He looked like you’d just punched him. But he didn’t say anything, so you dropped it. “Anyway, that’s not even the bad part. Your dad told me I wouldn’t get the internship.  And it’s fine, I guess I can get one somewhere else. But I wasn’t expecting it, and I was really looking forward to working at your dad’s firm.”

Again, he was silent for a small while, until he muttered, “Right.”

You looked up at him, and he was avoiding your gaze. Why wasn’t he surprised, or angry? Why wasn’t he reacting?

“Did… did you know?” you asked, unable to keep your voice from shaking.

Nothing.

“Jay. Did you know?” you repeated, tone harsher, more impatient.

“Um. Yeah, I knew,” he mumbled. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. 

You shut your eyes for a few seconds, trying to grasp the situation. “Wh- you knew? And you didn’t say anything?” 

“Sorry,” he said, eyes trained on his shoes.

“Sorry? That’s it?” You shook your head in disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh. “How long have you known?”

“Since the beginning, really. My dad’s not the type to do favors, and he wants to keep up that image. So if you’re my girlfriend, he wouldn’t give you the internship.”

You couldn’t say anything. Not getting the internship was one thing. You could get over it. But Jay knowing from the start and keeping it from you, that was what really hurt you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you walked away before Jay could see just how much he’d upset you.

“Y/N!” he called after you. He grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks and turn around. The sight of you, teary eyes and staring at him with fury in your eyes, and knowing he was the reason behind it, made him indescribably angry at himself.

“Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t wanna hear it, Jongseong.” He tightened his grip on your wrist before you could snatch it away from him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know you wanted that internship. If I did-”

“If you did? Then what? You wouldn’t have asked me to be your pretend girlfriend? You would’ve let me have a chance at the internship?” You shook your head. “Of course not. So save it.”

You managed to get out of his grip and continued walking away, ignoring him as he called out your name again. When you were a few meters away, you turned around and said, venom only in your voice, “I hope you realize how selfish you are, Jay.”

That’s when his heart broke.

—

Jay had been right when he said people wouldn’t care about the two of you ‘dating.’ However, the people who did care, your friends, were more confused than anything: you had gone from bickering non stop, to denying couple rumors, to not talking to each other. It’d been a week since your argument with Jay, and you still didn’t want to hear him out. You didn’t want to have anything to do with him: you straight-up ignored him every time he tried to get you to talk to him, had blocked his number and shut down your friends and mom whenever they mentioned him.

You missed him; you missed his stupid arguments, and his stupid jokes, and his stupid face, and how it had started to feel like he genuinely cared for you. Or at least, that’s what he’d made you think. And he’d made you think it so well, that you thought you might have been starting to genuinely care for him as well. Which only made his betrayal a hundred times worse.

You’d decided to drown your sorrows in textbooks, and spent most of your time at the library. On Thursday, you were searching for the week’s essential reading in the Econ section, and as you took out the book in question, you saw a pair of eyes staring right at you. You tried not to shriek but you felt like your soul had left your body. You’d barely had time to gather your spirits when the culprit had come round to your side of the bookshelf, and of course, it was none other than Lee Heeseung. God, you thought, could that boy get any weirder?

“Trouble in paradise, or so I’ve heard?” he asked in lieu of a normal greeting. Whatever happened to hello?

“That’s none of your business, Heeseung,” you replied curtly, opening the book.

He tried not to be taken too aback by your attitude. He was used to stammering and blushing Y/N, not you-better-not-give-me-any-shit Y/N. He wouldn’t say he disliked the change.

“I’m not sure why you thought dating a guy like Jay was a good idea in the first place, anyway. You could do a lot better, you know,” he said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. When you didn’t answer, he went on. “You know, we’ve missed you at the frat parties. I know you’ve been going to all those boring company events, but don’t you think it’d be more fun to let loose with us? Tomorrow night?”

This made you look up at him. He had that gaze again, the one you’d seen all those times, and you remembered why you’d liked him for so long. Something about his eyes, about the way he was waiting for you to say yes, made you reply, “I’ll think about it.” You returned his smile and headed back to your seat. You did think going to his party would be fun, and you definitely needed some of that right now.

Plus, you had the perfect dress for the occasion.

—

So here you were, standing in front of the frat house’s door, Sieun, Sunoo and Keeho at your sides, in the tight black dress Jay had given you but you hadn’t chosen for that one event. They were all used to this kind of party, but you’d only been a few times, and although they’d all hyped you up for it, you suddenly felt yourself deflate. 

“Guys, what if I just embarrass myself like last time? I don’t think I could live with that-”

“Nope! We’re not having this conversation again!” Sieun exclaimed, already pushing you inside. “You look hot as fuck, and tonight you’re gonna have so much fun and forget all about Jay.”

Keeho and Sunoo gave her a stern look. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized, but you barely heard her over the bass of the booming music. It was 11 p.m. and the party was well into motion. People were drunkenly dancing on the designated dance floor, and you tried to not conjure up memories of that last party. There were people everywhere you looked: on the staircase, in the backyard, in the kitchen. 

Your friends and you headed first to the mini-bar and shot down some vodka for liquid courage. As you started chatting, trying to see who was there, Heeseung approached you.

“Y/N! You came! And you look really good,” he said, taking in your figure. He pulled you into a hug which you returned warmly. The vodka was already having its effects on you, apparently.

“Can I get you guys a drink?” he asked you and Sieun. Keeho and Sunoo had already disappeared to the dance floor. 

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at Heeseung.

Sieun looked between the two of you, and said, “Actually, I’ll join the others. Come dance with us soon, Y/N!” And like that, she was gone, giving you no time to protest. She thought she was being slick, that one.

You and Heeseung chuckled. He got you a red cup and you watched him as he expertly poured different juices and liquors in it. “So, what made you decide to come?” he asked, handing you your drink. You took a sip of it and nodded approvingly.

“I just needed a good party. To let loose, like you said. Plus, who am I to deny an invitation from the great Lee Heeseung?”

Neither of you was sure where all the confidence was coming from. As soon as you’d said that, you looked down at your cup and smiled shyly. Heeseung looked at you curiously, but he couldn’t help but grin as well. You chatted a bit more, drinking one, two, three cups of the heavenly concoction Heeseung made for you. 

“Wanna dance?” he suddenly offered, extending his hand. Right at that moment, you saw Jay enter the house with Jake and Sunghoon. You saw him look around the room until his eyes zeroed in on you and the boy in front of you. Perfect, you thought. You smiled at Heeseung and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Somebody had dimmed down the lights and Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd was playing loudly, creating a sensual atmosphere in the whole room. Your body started swaying to the music, and you were thankful for the alcohol in your system, ridding your mind of any negative or self-conscious thought; you were just enjoying yourself, exactly like you’d wanted to do tonight.

You were getting lost in the music, when a pair of hands on the sides of your waist brought you back to reality. Heeseung got so close to you, you could feel his lips on your ear as they moved to whisper, “Having fun, princess?” 

You nodded fervently, leaning your head back on his shoulder, closing whatever gap there was between your two bodies. His hands traveled from your waist to your hips and you could feel his broad chest against your back as you two moved to the rhythm of the music. From where you were, you had a view of the living room. Jay was sitting there, a girl sitting so close she might as well have been on his lap, but he was staring right at you. You knew never hooked up with random girls at parties, so he had to be doing this to get a reaction out of you. You hated that it worked, that it only made the fire in you burn harder - so as a response, you started grinding your ass against Heeseung.

When the girl actually sat on Jay’s lap, you couldn’t look anymore, so you turned around and put your arms around Heeseung’s neck and faced him. His eyes had glossed over and he was looking at you with a hunger you’d never seen before. Well, that wasn’t true - you’d seen him look at other girls that way, and you always knew what happened after that, but you chased the thought out of your mind, forgetting all about that promise you’d made to yourself of never becoming another one of his drunk fucks. Now that his attention was on you and you only, you felt yourself wanting more. His hands traveled further down your body as he grabbed at your ass, bringing your hips closer to his. He bent down to press wet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear. 

“Wanna take this upstairs?” he asked. It sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t tell whether they were good shivers or not. You willed away your hesitation, smiling at him as he took your hand once again, this time leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom. As you walked up the stairs, you scanned the room and sure enough, found Jay sitting on a couch, staring right at you. You thought the beer can in his hand might explode, he was holding it so tight. Feeling you slow down, Heeseung tugged at your hand, and you detached your gaze from Jay’s, trying to drown out the feeling of guilt that was creeping up inside you.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind you, Heeseung wasted no time in pressing you up against the wall and kissing you hungrily. You hadn’t been kissed many times before, and surely not with such energy, but you were sure it was supposed to feel better. Heeseung was in no measure a bad kisser, he seemed to have the technique down to a T and kept a perfect rhythm. But you felt no fireworks, no butterflies, no light-headedness you’d always hoped would come with a good kiss. There was just no passion to it.

After a few minutes of making out, when you were starting to hope he’d get on with it, he said, breath irregular, “What would Jay say if he saw this, huh? Probably hates the idea of me kissing his precious girlfriend, don’t you think?”

The mention of Jay hit you like a ton of bricks. “Wh-what?” you stammered, not letting Heeseung kiss you when he leaned in again.

“Jay? Your boyfriend?” he repeated, looking at you bemusedly.

You chuckled once. Then twice. Then you just started laughing. “Oh, Jay? We’re not actually dating,” you revealed, your filter completely gone because of all the alcohol.

“What?” Heeseung took a sudden step back from you. His confused gaze had turned cold.

“We’re not dating, I said. It’s all fake, it was to make his parents happy,” you explained, yourself confused by Heeseung’s sudden attitude change. 

It was his turn to laugh. “Wow. That’s impressive. You managed to fool me.” His smile dropped. “Now get the fuck out.”

“Excuse me?” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“You heard me. Get the fuck out. There’s no point in fucking you if you’re not Jay’s girlfriend. You’re just a random loser.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, until you started laughing. It only seemed to make him angry. “What the fuck are you laughing about? I told you to get out.”

You sighed amusedly as if Heeseung was just joking around. “I just think it’s funny that you won’t fuck me because I’m not actually Jay’s girlfriend, when that’s not stopped you from getting with a different girl every single weekend. Whore,” you said, adding that last part in a whisper. You didn’t actually care that Heeseung slept around, not anymore, at least, but you wanted to get a reaction from him after the way he’d treated you.

But perhaps you went too far, because Heeseung’s eyes turned even angrier, and he pushed one of your shoulders harshly, making you almost hit the wall. “I’ll tell you one last time. Get out, you pathetic little bitch.” 

Just at that moment, the door burst open, revealing a very angry Jay. 

“What the fuck did you just call her?” he growled, heading straight for Heeseung and grabbing him by the collar. The other boy didn’t seem fazed, a smile back on his face, as if this whole situation was funny.

“Aw, Jongseong is mad I’m not being nice to his little fake girlfriend?” You guessed Jay must’ve looked confused, because Heeseung continued, “Yeah, she told me. To be fair, I should’ve known even you wouldn’t date a fucking beggar like her.”

You weren’t quick enough to stop Jay from bringing his fist up to Heeseung’s nose. You swore you heard something crack. But as soon as you saw him get ready for another punch, you ran to him and held his arm, shouting, “He’s not worth it, Jay!” and God, you almost wanted him to punch you because of how cliché that had sounded, but you truly thought Heeseung wasn’t worth losing any energy over.

Your voice seemed to make Jay snap out of his fury, and he looked at you, worry written all over his face. However, that only lasted a second, as his expression then shifted to something you’d never seen on his face before, and he grabbed your wrist, leading you out of the room. The commotion had gathered some attention, and you left the house under a bunch of people’s curious looks and chatter.

What was it with men grabbing you and leading you wherever tonight? You were tired of it, so as soon as you’d reached the front yard, you got your wrist out of his grasp, and demanded to know where he thought he was taking you. He grabbed your wrist again, and said, “To my place. We need to talk.” 

The tone in his voice told you it was better not to test him, so you got in his car. Jay was always a safe driver, but this time, he sped through the whole city, even burning some red lights, reaching his apartment on the other side of town in a matter of minutes. You quickly texted your friends your whereabouts so they wouldn’t have to worry. The whole car ride had been silent but you could feel him fuming next to you, and you had no idea what to expect when you entered his apartment.

His place was exactly like you’d imagined it: modern, spacious, and way more organized that any other university student’s flat would be, but also had a lot of personal touches. It was very Jay, and if it hadn’t been for the tension between the two of you, you’d have immediately felt at ease there.

Jay walked through the dark apartment to the kitchen, where he turned on a single light. You followed him, unsure what else to do. He leaned against his hands on the island counter, head hung low, and you went to stand on the other side of the counter, waiting for his next move. When his head snapped up and he peered straight at you, you could barely decipher the look in his eyes, but thought it contained a mixture of jealousy, anger, and… hunger. He’d never looked at you that way before, and his gaze itself created a ball in the pit of your stomach. You told yourself it really wasn’t the moment, but you couldn’t help but feel desperately attracted to him.

“What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You scoffed. “What the fuck were you doing with that random girl?” 

“I wanted to make you jealous.” He hadn’t hesitated a second before answering, and his confidence destabilized you. You’d guessed that had been his plan, but hearing him say it made you feel weirdly shy. “Now answer me. What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?” 

You couldn’t hold eye contact anymore, so you looked down at the counter, and replied, “I um, I was drunk, and I… I wanted to make you jealous too, I guess.” You looked back up at him, wanting to gauge his reaction. He was now wearing a smug look, like he’d won something over you. He slowly walked over to your side of the counter, and when he reached you, he put his hands on the counter on each side of you, making you lean back against it. You gulped at the way he towered over you

“And why did you want to make me jealous?” He was so close to you now that when he uttered those words, voice barely over a whisper, you felt his breath fan over your face. As much as you tried to keep eye contact, your gaze fell down to his lips, and you saw him smirk. He caught your chin between his index finger and thumb, nudging your head up. “Eyes up here, doll.”

Your eyes met his again. He was looking at you so intently, you thought your knees might buckle under you. He cocked an eyebrow, patiently waiting for your reply. “Because I…” 

It was so obvious, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to say it, or even let yourself think it, before. But it needed to be put out there, once and for all. There was no point in fighting it anymore. “Because I like you, Jongseong.”

To your surprise, his smirk turned into a cheeky grin. It made some of the tension dissipate, but not enough for you to breathe properly again. “I like you too, Y/N.” You sighed out of relief at his words and mirrored his smile. 

“Can I kiss you?” he said, the thumb that had been holding your chin caressing your bottom lip.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you breathed, and he leaned in, your lips meeting delicately. It stayed that way for a few minutes, until the pent-up feelings that had been threatening to come out finally did, and hunger and passion took over the kiss. Jay was kissing you like a man starved, and all you could do was return everything he was giving you. This was nothing like you’d imagined it; it was infinitely better. Talk about fireworks, or butterflies, or light-headedness, you felt like you were on another plane of existence, like a kiss that felt this good and was this freeing wasn’t humanly possible. 

Your hands slipped under his shirt and the sudden contact of your cold hands against his warm skin made him shiver. You were glad to see you had as much effect on him as he had on you. Never breaking the kiss, he led you to his bedroom and sat down on his bed, gesturing for you to straddle his lap. Your dress rode up your calves a little bit, and he used this opportunity to pull it further up until it bundled up around your hips, leaving your lower half almost naked. You could feel how hard he was getting underneath your clothed core, and as the kiss grew needier, you started grinding against him, getting the both of you off. When you heard him groan against your lips, something snapped in you, and you wanted to hear that sound over and over, so you doubled down on your actions. 

His hands, which had been resting on your ass, came up to the nape of your neck, and he grabbed you by the hair, exposing your neck to him. He started pressing down eager kisses along your jawline, throat, and collarbones. When he found a spot in the crook of your neck you particularly liked, he started attacking it like crazy, sucking at the skin and turning you into a moaning mess. One of his hands came to cup your breast and he was very glad to find you were not wearing a bra. Your nipple had hardened through the fabric, and he started playing with it. That, as well the feeling of him in your neck and against your core, was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to pass out because of how good it all felt. You didn’t know what to do with your hands so you alternated between running them over his arms and tugging at his hair.

As your lips met again, teeth almost clashing because of the intensity, you started unbuttoning his shirt. When it was off, you couldn’t not stare at him. You’d had an idea already, but you still couldn’t believe how toned his arms, chest and abs were. You thought to yourself, God, he’s so hot, and hadn’t realized you’d actually said it out loud until he jokingly said, “Yeah?”, looking up at you with the biggest smile. His hands ran over your calves, your thighs and your ass, sending shivers along the way, and he said, “You’re not too bad yourself, doll.” He kissed you with much more gentleness than before. “In fact, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You kissed him so he wouldn’t see the blush spreading on your face. He put his hand on your lower back, and guided you down on the bed until you were laying on your back, him hovering over you. He pulled your dress all the way up, helping you get rid of it. You were now left in only panties in front of him, and you would’ve imagined that to be intimidating, but his gaze was truly making you feel like a goddess. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to be the only one naked, so you tucked your fingers under his trousers’ waistband, gesturing for him to take them off. He chuckled but immediately obliged, getting rid of them in a matter of seconds. You had an even better view of his now fully-hard cock, and its size made you gulp. Your mind was quickly off of that, though, as he started trailing kisses all the way down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as his hand came up to the other. Your back arched at the sensation, and you only wanted more, more, more. Your fingers tugged at his hair and you breathed out his name between moans. 

After a few minutes, he traveled further down your body, until he was face to face with your dripping core. He hooked his fingers under your panties, looking up at you and asking you if this was okay. You nodded impatiently and he chuckled at your reaction. How could you be so cute even in this moment? He took your panties off excruciatingly slowly. You wanted to take your time, but you also wanted him where you needed him the most.

You did feel a bit shy when he stared at your sex with the utmost wonder, musing to himself, “So pretty.” He slid a finger between your folds, making you moan in relief and pleasure, and added, “So wet, too.”

You had lifted your body onto your forearms so you could take a good look at him. He peered up at you and, with a small smile, asked gently, “Tell me if it feels good, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, nodding fervently.

Without wasting another second, he licked a stripe up your core, making you moan again, louder this time. He took that as confirmation to go on and continued exploring your pussy with his tongue. You practically screamed out in pleasure when he found your clit, and by the time he started sucking on it, your thighs were shaking like crazy. You didn’t have any strength left in your body and your forearms gave out under you, so you just lied down on your back, fingers still tangled in and pulling his hair. You hadn’t been able to actually tell him it felt good, but you were sure he understood that much.

One of his fingers, and then a second, entered you, filling you up. “Shit, doll, you’re so tight. How are you gonna handle my cock?”

He curled his fingers inside you and they hit a certain spot that made you see stars, and you were coming all over his fingers and tongue in a matter of seconds, screaming out his name and a string of blasphemies. You had to physically lift his head from your core, telling him it was too much, otherwise he would’ve kept going. He gave you a sheepish smile and you couldn’t believe the boy grinning at you was the same one who’d just said and done all those lewd things to you. He pressed a small kiss on your inner thigh, then lay down next to you on the bed, taking in your flushed cheeks and blown-over eyes. He couldn’t believe he got to have you like this, in your most vulnerable state, all to himself. 

When you’d calmed down from your high, you managed to say, “That was amazing, Jay.”

He let out a soft chuckle and kissed your forehead, then trapped your lips with his own. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t mind. After a few minutes of lazily making out, you threw your leg over his to position yourself over his hips, and started pressing feather-like kisses down his neck. He’d made you feel so good, and you intended to return the favor.

You felt him sigh at your touch, but before you could go too far down, he stopped you by bringing his hands to both sides of your face, making you look up at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” you immediately asked, worry laced in your voice.

“No, no. God, no, you’re perfect.” he replied. “I just… I still feel so guilty for what I did, and I feel like I don’t deserve you right now.”

“Jay…”

He hid his face in the crook of your neck and held your waist tightly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re right, I was being selfish. I should’ve known you wanted that internship, and I knew you wouldn’t get it if my dad thought we were dating, but… I’ve wanted to be with you for such a long time, and when I had the chance to have you, even if it was just pretend, even if it meant lying to you, I couldn’t bring myself to not take that chance. I’m so sorry.”

You had completely forgotten the events of that week, and of that night. Your argument with Jay and Heeseung’s words seemed light-years away. “How long have you liked me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You should’ve been surprised by Jay’s confession, but for some reason, it made sense - what didn’t make sense was how you hadn’t noticed it, or how you’d thought it wasn’t possible that you might like him, too.

“Since we met,” he admitted shyly. “I would’ve told you, but you seemed to enjoy arguing with me so much, I was scared you’d just make fun of me.”

Since you’d met… so, three years? And he’d never said anything? “To be honest, I probably would’ve made fun of you at first,” you agreed light-heartedly. “But I also think it would’ve made me realize what an amazing person you are earlier. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s okay. I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I could have you at the end.” Butterflies erupted all over your stomach at his words. You kissed him like you’d stop breathing if you didn’t.

Now that Jay had gotten what he wanted to say off his chest, you’d hoped you could continue your previous actions, and started pressing kisses down his neck, but he soon stopped you again.

“I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me to go down on you,” you said, half-joking.

He grinned and closed his eyes, as if fighting himself back. “I do, I promise you, I do.” When he opened his eyes again, they were full of affection. “But we’ve got so much time for that later. I just want to feel you around me right now. Would that be okay?” he asked, voice soft.

Your core pulsed at the thought of Jay inside you, and you nodded, breath growing erratic again. Jay gently lay you on your back, and took off his black boxers so that the two of you were finally completely naked, revealing his throbbing cock. He was right, how were you going to handle it? He rummaged around in his bedside drawer for a condom, and put it on with nervous hands. 

He lined his tip at your entrance, pressing soft kisses all over your face and neck before pushing in as if to get you to relax. He kissed you gently on the lips. “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away.”

He waited for you to nod again, and finally entered you. It immediately stretched you out like never before. The sound of you taking a sharp breath in made Jay stop in his tracks. You wrapped your hands around his biceps for support, then, letting out a deep sigh, told him to go on. He pushed in inch by inch until he finally bottomed out. You both let out a hearty moan at the feeling. It was so perfect.

He didn’t move for a few minutes, letting you adjust to his size. You had your eyes closed and were focused on relaxing, until all at once the pain of the stretch turned into pleasure, and you breathed out, “Please, move.” He obeyed and started rocking in and out of you, making you feel each inch of his length inside you. The sensation was intoxicating. You couldn’t stop any of the moans escaping your throat, and Jay took that as a green light to go gradually faster. Your bodies were moving at the exact same pace and you thought the two of you molded together perfectly, as if this was what you had been meant to do your whole life. His fingers were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you harder and harder, making you moan so loud you were practically screaming in pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he said, throwing his head back and letting out a deep moan himself. Your hands roamed all over his body, unable to stay in one place at a time. He suddenly changed the angle of his hips and started hitting that spot inside you he had found earlier with his fingers, making your mind go hay-wire. 

“Fuck, right there, Jay!” you screamed out, as he brought your hips down to his faster than you thought was humanly possible. Soon, you were coming again, and the feeling of you clenching down around him made him shoot his release into the condom. He fell on top of you, unable to carry his weight on his arms anymore. He only had enough strength to pull out and discard the condom, before nestling his head between your breasts. Tiredness seeped through your bones, and you both fell asleep in seconds, completely naked and arms around each other.

Jay woke up a few hours later, a cramp in his arm because of how you were laying down on it - the two of you had apparently switched positions at some point during the night. He softly pulled his arm away, trying not to wake you up. He checked his phone; it was 4:29 a.m. He looked down at you, admiring how soft you looked when you were sleeping. He still couldn’t believe his luck, it all felt like a dream to him. But then you shifted slightly, letting out a small whimper, probably because of a dream, and Jay knew this was happening for sure. He hugged you tightly, breathing in the scent of your hair, and, knowing you were fast asleep, murmured, “I love you.”

—

The sunlight peeking through the curtains and hitting your face softly was what woke you up the next morning. You were relieved to feel Jay’s arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind. You gently turned around, curious about what he looked like in the morning.

As expected, he was perfect.

You observed him for a while until his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, handsome,” you whispered, pushing away the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he replied, smiling sleepily. “Creep.”

Quietly, you gasped dramatically and said, “Is a girl a creep for looking at her boyfriend as he sleeps in the morning?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh?” he teased.

You grinned at him. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he said, returning your grin and tightening his grip around your waist, “my girlfriend can look at me all she wants.”

You’d technically been dating Jay for over three months now, but knowing it was finally real and not just pretend made you giddy. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and kissed him there, trying to hide your shy smile. 

He took your head and lifted it to place a delicate kiss on your lips, which you returned like it was second nature. When you pulled away, you jokingly said, “Mh. Morning breath,” but Jay’s eyes opened wide and he immediately put his hand over his mouth, asking, “Seriously?”

You laughed at him and pulled his hands down, going back in for a kiss. It soon escalated, and you were reminded of the fact that neither of you had clothes on when you could feel Jay’s hardness pressing against your thigh. He apologized shyly, but you told him it was fine, and that you’d take care of it. 

This time, when you two made love, it was much slower and light-hearted than the previous night, as if the two of you had finally realized that you had all the time in the world and could enjoy every single second. It was the perfect thing to wake up to.

You two lazied in bed, alternating between slowly making out and daydreaming together, until his stomach rumbled loudly and you really needed to pee. When you joined him in the kitchen, he was heating up waffles on the stove. You hooked your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his back, and he hummed softly.

“Jay?” you whispered, lips just millimeters away from his ear.

“Yes, doll?”

“I love you too.”

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl (ask to be removed/added!) © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[respectthepetty]

Happy Birthday, Kanghan!

I may be easy, but I'm not cheap, so I always like seeing how wealth is displayed in these BLs.

Max got Kanghan a limited film camera imported from the United States.

but . . . Kanghan isn't into photography.

Nawa got him a Liverpool jersey, No. 8, from the 2005 UEFA Champions League, but I'm going out on a limb and assuming Liverpool is not Kanghan's favorite team (Messi is Inter Miami now, so forget those European team, and come on over to the United States side of life, sir).

Pimfah painted him a portrait

Which he liked the most.

I think Kanghan likes Pimfah, so obviously he would like her gift, but . . . *put a pin in it*

Kanghan's dad got him the motorcycle, but he picked the model for Kanghan instead of letting Kanghan decide.

Sailom sang Kanghan "Happy Birthday" and grabbed a cake from Kanghan's fridge for him.

Kanghan isn't even aware of what is in his own fridge, so he was surprised that Sailom had asked the staff for it, but he was genuinely thankful for it.

Because it isn't just about liking the person (IF Kanghan does, in fact, like Pimfah), but about the effort. *take that pin out from earlier*

When Kanghan's friends ask what Sailom got him

Sailom answers that he wasn't aware it was Kanghan's birthday (even though they spent the entire day together *put another pin in it*)

And this could be a subtitle choice, but it's interesting that Sailom says he didn't "prepare" anything rather than he didn't "buy" anything.

We know Sailom doesn't have McDonald's money, but Pimfah didn't purchase anything and Kanghan liked her gift the most because it took effort.

AND IT WAS SURPRISING!

But why not skip tutoring, so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends? Why spend all day with Sailom, yet not tell him that it was his birthday? *take the second pin out*

Because he wanted to spend his birthday with Sailom without making it about him. And this possibly started the night before.

The boys didn't leave the school until after 10 pm; then, Kanghan detoured to the restaurant "just cause", so it had to be late when they left there.

A few people have written that Kanghan isn't lonely. He has a grandmother who loves him. He has friends who want to hang out with him. So why did he want to spend the night going into his birthday with Sailom?

Then proceed to spend all night with him the next day?

Because he enjoys spending time with Sailom, sure.

But it's because the time he spends with Sailom is full of surprises.

Every interaction he has with Sailom surprises him. Kanghan, who is bored with his life and money, finds Sailom unpredictable, for good reason.

Sailom brings up a lot of feelings™ in Kanghan because Kanghan never knows what to expect, so Kanghan is acting out in less predictable ways as well.

Because he doesn't know how to describe what is happening, but he knows the feelings™ Sailom evokes in him are real.

And that's what Kanghan is really craving - something real.

He has his kingdom of cardboard and trash.

He could buy anything he wants, so he wants nothing.

His two best friends get him gifts that he doesn't even care about. His father makes decisions for him, so he doesn't have to think. But Sailom gives him something different, something new, something real, and something worth the effort - Sailom gives Kanghan himself.

Sailom has nothing else to give Kanghan but himself. The cake comes from Kanghan's own fridge. The guitar for the song is borrowed. But Sailom gives Kanghan his attention, which is all Kanghan really wants.

So Happy Birthday, Kanghan!

I hope you enjoy your present!

[raelle-writing]

Jin lying and police corruption

This is cross-posted from my co-run fan account on Twitter, @.DFF_Fanatics. Co-credit for this thread goes to @kerrikins the co-admin of Fanatics.

I think we inter fans should keep in mind that we don't have all the cultural context. People are mad that Jin didn't tell the police about Non's disappearance, but they forget that police corruption is very real - both within the narrative of DFF itself, as well in Thai culture in general.

It's shown a couple of times throughout episode 8 that the police can't be trusted. Once, when Phee's dad is threatened for sticking his nose into things and told to close the case, and basically says there's nothing he can do against that...

And again, when we see that Tee's uncle has a high-ranking policeman in his pocket.

The police are investigating Non's disappearance, yes. But the people pulling the strings of those investigations don't want him to be found. The mafia were the ones who made Non and Keng disappear, and there are businessmen behind that who are in on the money laundering. If Jin had spoken up about what happened in the forest, he likely would've disappeared as well - or been killed.

Not to mention it would've been just his word against the others. Fluke wouldn't have backed Jin up, and Por went so far as to delete footage to erase evidence. They would've immediately turned on him. They would've said it was all his idea, that he drugged Non and sold him off. They would've sold Jin up the creek to keep themselves safe.

Also from Jin's point of view - he just watched his friends drug Non, then take him away and then Non vanished. He knows he has no one he can trust, no one he can turn too. And he also knows that Tee's family is in the mix, that Tee is the one behind the money laundering they all got caught up into. I don't blame him for being scared.

We've seen what these people will do to those who get in their way. Not only to Non, but also to Keng. If they didn't hesitate to make a famous tutor disappear, then why would they hesitate to make another high schooler disappear? Jin would've been next if he'd said anything, and likely he knew that.

Did Jin do what's right? No. But arguably there was no right choice in this scenario. It was lie to the police because he didn't know who he could trust, or risk that he would be the next to disappear. And given that he's 17 years old, has no evidence, no one to back him up, and doesn't know who he can trust AND he knows that the mafia are involved? Yeah. I understand why he bent to the pressure and lied to the police.

You can see on his face that he hates himself for it, for taking that side. But considering the alternatives, I don't blame him in the slightest for not trusting the police, or his friends.

Police corruption isn't just a problem in DFF, it's been addressed in other Thai BLs such as Manner of Death or Not Me. My co-admin and I also gathered some tweets from Thai DFF-watchers that talk about this, because you can tell that it's a very real issue in Thai society.

Disclaimer that it's not to say that ALL Thai fans are on Jin's side, there's some that are definitely not. I just selected a few so that you could see that DFF isn't just spinning a narrative, it's relying on real-world issues too.

Please also check out this anon I got about police corruption in their country, for further perspective...

[bloodywankers]

Trigger Warning! Yandere behaviour! Toxic Relationships! Slight NSFW! Mention of past injuries!

1.5k words | unedited | Yandere OC

(I don’t think it’s very Yandere, just toxic)

“You know papa doesn’t like it when we make a mess.” Your eldest hushed his younger sibling. A finger to his lips and brows furrowed as he instructed them to not make a ruckus.

Had it been up to you, you’d have wanted them to make a mess. Make as many messes as their little hearts desired, be as loud as they could, even if your ears bled.

But you had little say on the matter. “A wife’s duty was not to contest her husband.” Or so your husband said as he insisted a nanny and tutors would do much better at raising your children than you ever could, he ensured you were as much a stranger to them than he was.

Just there to smile and fret over them when outside the privacy of your home and watch them ushered along by their nannies the moment you were home.

Your heart broke seeing how quickly your younguest stopped in his tracks. Trying his best to pick up the pieces of the ceramic he had broken, trying his best to help his older brother clean, not yet aware of your presence.

Creak.

You cursed the wooden floor as just a shift in your weight alerted them of your gaze. Eyes wide as their little faces drowned in utter dread.

“Mama?”

You couldn’t think of what to say at that moment, the maids probably already heard the noise, they’d be here soon. So you remained silent, carefully kneeling as you picked up as many pieces as you could. Careful to throw them away, leaving as little proof of the accident as possible. Making sure you check both the boys for any injuries. While such a cleanup was futile, your husband meticulously had every last ceramic planned, it wouldn’t take much for him to notice the missing ceramic if the maids didn’t immediately inform him of it. You reckoned it was better than watching their faces filled with terror.

“Madam?” You couldn’t help but jump at the maid who interrupted you, looking up to see her indifferent, if not slightly annoyed expression.

“I apologise, the young masters ran off before I could do anything.” She said, snatching their hands right from yours. She said something about history lessons but you were far too lost in your thoughts by then to care. Your children both looking back towards you, one final time before the nanny rushed them along towards whatever their schedule had in place now. You weren’t sure what to call the look in their eyes.

/

Dinner was always the worst. Every day, without fail at 7pm sharp, you’d all be gathered around a table. Food you were allowed no part in cooking, displayed skillfully in front of you, every last detail taken into account by the cook.

And there you would sit, in front of your husband who seemed more focused on the off placement of the cutlery than anything else, instructing the butler to deal with whoever was in charge of it.

Then polite conversation would take place. Your husband would ask about your day, your children’s, their studies and what-not. Mention something about his own day as well if he was feeling talkative, just passing comments, really.

Back always arched straight and posture stiff, you mustn’t take too big a bite, chew at least 30 times, elbows shouldn’t be on the table… There, you did it again, got lost in your thoughts and drifted off to god knows where.

“You’re slouching.” It was Viktor’s voice that brought you back to reality. So smooth and enticing but you knew better than to be deceived. A quick apology as you straighten your posture again, you didn’t have it in you to look him in the eyes, not when his scrutinising gaze would be waiting for you.

The rest of the dinner was a blur, always the same, without fail.

“I want you two to in office later.” Viktor said, referring to your children. Your youngest gripping his brother's sleeve, the eldest muttering an ‘understood’ before leaving the room. It was a pitiful sight, especially when you couldn’t intervene, not when you met eyes with Viktor, faces with a look that knew exactly what you were thinking.

There was little for you to do during this time so you would read. It was a respectable hobby, one that didn’t earn you criticism from your husband and kept your thoughts at bay. But today you couldn’t help but think of what Viktor had to say to the children.

He was probably informed of the broken vase. It was quite valuable if you remembered correctly. As were most things in the house, you supposed, nothing too special. But you were sure it wasn’t the value your husband was concerned with.

He wouldn’t hit them. You knew that well, your husband wasn’t the type to do that. Not when he insisted on calling the best doctors to help your son through the healing process last time he got injured while playing. It was a common fracture any old doctor could have dealt with but the scarring is what worried him. "What difference would that leave between him and damaged goods?” You thought it to be a cruel thing to say over a measly scar.

He wouldn’t yell either, it was unbecoming. He’s never liked loud noises, whether it be his own voice or otherwise. Always leading to a wince, followed by a stern glare and warning. “I’m sure you were taught to use your indoor voice as a child, no?”

But sometimes you felt like his way of dealing with such matters was much worse. The silence felt like torture, the look in his eyes made you feel small and the calm tone of his voice would be unnerving. You weren’t sure how such young children could handle him when the thought of it had your hands shaking. The heavy rain hit against your window as you looked out the window, a final attempt to distract yourself. It had become a habit to day dream, of a life your husband wasn’t part of, one where you could take your kids to play, speak to them without the watchful gaze of the nanny, laugh along with them and… and—

“Madam!” The sudden voice led you to drop the book in your hands, barely holding in a shriek as you looked at the maid that had entered your room.

“The master asked for you.” You followed the maid into the dressing room, a night dress neatly laid across for you.

It wasn’t something you would have found yourself wearing before your marriage.

As you entered the dark room you were met with Viktor, his eyes focused on the buttons of his pyjamas. He’d do much better with the lights on but he had always insisted on keeping them closed, especially on such nights.

“You’re late.” He said, still engrossed in the final buttons of his shirt.

“I must have gotten sidetracked, I apologise.” It was better to say as little as possible, not give him any more to criticise you on.

You could feel the bed dip in the bed as he joined you.

“You were there when they broke that vase.” Unlike the day where he would barely spare you a glance, his eyes bore right into yours at night, his face so close to yours you could almost see past the emotionless wall he painstakingly kept. Almost.

“It was an accident, they’re just children.”

“You also encouraged them to cover it up.”

“Because I knew you would—!” There it was again, the expression you couldn’t quite recognize, the hand’s instinctively covering his ears—you don’t remember your voice being that unbearable. But you didn’t have much time to linger on it.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning.” His lips had inched closer, only a hairs length away from your own. Crashing into yours before you had time to register.

Perhaps his only saving grace was how good he was in bed. However, even then, he did things with a surgical precision, leaving behind no traces of his finger that ghosted all over your body and no marks of any sort to serve as proof of what you had done.

And while you would have loved to do the same, you couldn’t help but dig your nails into his back as he thrusted inside you.

The slight ridges of scars that cut far too deep to fully heal could be felt on it. Even in the barely lit room, with only faint rays of moonlight, you could see the scars that marred his skin, everywhere from his chest to his legs. Impossible to see when he donned his usual attire. Placed strategically enough to be invisible to an outsider, only in the comfort of the night could you see what the day reduced this man to.

As he finally slowed down his pace, you could feel his weight shifting, instead leaning into you as his arms wrapped around you, one of his hands brushing the hair off your face.

By the end of it, you weren’t sure who to pity more.

Masterlist

[houserautha]

I need interactions between Feyd and her grownup daughter.

In the original story Ghanima has a concubine in addition to her brother husband (in name only, but still). I wonder what the Harkonnen Princess’s love life/sex life/married life would be and how Feyd behaves in all that

I think Feyd would have exactly one weakness — his daughter. (I’m naming her Annora because it means honor and because I can. Also, as preference, a whipping boy was used in early Europe. They were tutored alongside a prince or noble and instead of the prince being punished for his transgressions, the whipping boy would be punished in front of him)

Annora is his only daughter out of eleven sons. She can do no wrong in his eyes. As a child, she was elected a “whipping boy” to receive her punishments because Feyd could never imagine hurting her. But this only taught her to be cunning and secretive with her less desirable behaviors, which translated into an adult na-Baroness who is extremely pampered and goes to any lengths necessary to get what she wants and avoid her father’s (selective) wrath.

You see, unfortunately, Annora has fallen for her whipping boy. What should’ve made them enemies only made them closer, a childhood friendship blossoming into something more.

Her brother knows this well.

They’re forced into a marriage together, in title only, and he does his best to protect his sister’s secret. Feyd-Rautha would never allow his precious daughter to be with him, the whipping boy, someone lowly and of poor status. So Annora fields a large array of concubines to keep up the facade for her father, some in which she indulges (she is a creature of pleasure like her father) but none who satisfy her like her lover.

I think Feyd would be fine with his daughter having concubines and torrid affairs — she is married to her brother, after all, and he knows the perils of inter-family relationships. But he absolutely loses it when he accidentally discovers Annora engaged with the whipping boy, who he thought his daughter kept around for nostalgia sake. He appointed the whipping boy because he was a child from a slave couple, unimportant and certainly not good enough for Annora.

“Why do you shame me?” Feyd hisses at his daughter, pulling her away as she fumbles to lace up her dress. He leaves the whipping boy to be dealt with later.

Annora, twice as fierce as her father and just as stubborn, says, “You don’t know anything.”

“You take up with that…with that rat?” Feyd sneers. More than anything he is concerned for his daughter, for her reputation and her heart, the future life that the whipping boy would give her. If anyone would find out…

“He’s not a rat,” Annora bites back. Her hands form into fists at her side, single braid swaying as she shakes her head in disbelief. “He’s been there for me through everything. He loves me for me, not for my status or my power or my money like all the others.”

Feyd snorts. “He loves you because you have kept me from slaughtering him like a lamb.”

“You put him in my life.”

Feyd tightens his grip on her arm. “Because I could not bear to harm you. Do you understand that? I cannot stand the thought of —” his voice breaks, flushed with emotion. Feyd clamps his mouth shut in order to fend it off. When he speaks again, his face has taken on a softened expression. “He will hurt you, Annora.”

“He’s never hurt me,” Annora breathes, touched by her father’s rare display of vulnerability, however fleeting it might’ve been.

“He will.”

“He won’t.”

Feyd’s brow, looking far more wrinkled than Annora remembers it being, furrows. “Men are liars and beasts, I know this well. How can you separate him from them?”

“You must get to know him,” Annora says. Her eyes shine with regret. “Aside from how he looks when you strike him.”

Feyd does not give in to this obvious attempt at making him feel guilty. He has no qualms about harming the boy over his own daughter. He considers this. “Fine. Invite him to dinner tomorrow and we shall…talk.”

I think I’ll leave the rest up to your own discretion😜 Does it go well?? Poorly?? Tell me what you think

[nambnb]

On the Topic of Patroclus’ Funeral

So I really wonder how excessive the funeral rites for Patroclus were in the context of who he was, society-wise. And sometimes I just have to scream out my thoughts about things, so be warned about a very long wall of text.

Patroclus was the son of Menoetius of Opus, who may or may not have been a king, making Patroclus a possible prince of Opus. Due to having killed a boy over a game of dice when he was young, Patroclus had to be exiled and became subservient to Achilles. He seemed to have played the role of an older playmate and mentor, although Achilles is said to have taught him things, too (e.g., the healing ways of Chiron). Serving as Achilles’ companion, he is seen to cook and care for Achilles and serve food to guests, delivering messages and ordering slaves to do Achilles’ bidding.

(This fits with the meaning of the word therápōn, which Patroclus is described as (acc. To Wiktionary, which references various dictionaries, the word therápōn (θερᾰ́πων) can mean: 1) companion of lower rank, comrade, attendant, aide and 2) servant, slave.)

On the other hand, Achilles has no problem giving Patroclus his 2.500 men strong Myrmidon army to lead, even though Patroclus is not mentioned* as a captain or general of his troops (these are his nephew Menesthius, Eudorus, Peisander, his tutor/second father Phoenix, and Alcimedon). (*Outside of The Iliad, Patroclus is also listed as a leader of the Acheans by Hyginus, contributing ten ships from Phthia to Agamemnon’s war on the Trojans.) This might have to do with his other titles, as Patroclus is also called a tamer of horses (or rider of horses), specifically Achilles’ horses. These were immortal steeds with a great temper, described only to be able to be restrained and guided by Patroclus. Patroclus was also Achilles’ charioteer (the horses were so sad about his death that Homer made them cry and unwilling to move over his death). Aside from that, Patroclus is also called the best spearman of the Myrmidons.

So we have an exiled prince demoted to servant/squire status to another man (also a prince, but of nobler lineage) and a competent soldier and charioteer/horse tamer.

And this is what he’s getting when funeral rites are being performed for him:

 >>The laying out of the body<<

Achilles orders that Patroclus’ body be washed of the blood (and dirt) caking it. Patroclus’ body has two spear wounds – one between his shoulder and a fatal one on his belly – but has also been tugged around like a ragdoll by the Greek and Trojan soldiers as they were fighting for him, and features other mutilating wounds given to him post-mortem.) The wounds are filled with unguent, and his body is laid on the bier, shrouded with a linen cloth from head to foot, with a white robe on top.

Achilles and the Myrmidons mourn him all night long. Achilles goes out to kill Hector the next day, but hesitates because he fears maggots and flies might defile Patroclus’ corpse. His mother, the goddess Thetis, infuses ambrosia and nectar through Patroclus’ nostrils to preserve it. So his corpse will look fine for a while.

After Achilles has killed Hector, Patroclus beseeches him in a dream to give him to the fire, as he cannot enter Hades with his body in its current state. He also asks for his ashes to be buried together with Achilles, so they may be together in death as they had been in life. Achilles agrees and plans a burial mound for the two of them to be built (Achilles knows, by prophecy, that he will not live to return from Troy alive).

 >>The funeral procession<<

Achilles takes on the role mainly performed by relatives, mostly by women, during the funeral rites. (If you look at their family tree, they are related by Aegina, who gave birth to Menoetius with Actor. Aegina is also the mother of Aecus by Zeus, who fathered Peleus.) Possible kinship with Achilles aside, Patroclus does not have relatives with him where he died. So his comrade in life and arms, Achilles, is the closest thing he has. Aside from that, Achilles is also the supreme commander of the Myrmidons, and if Patroclus was their best (and possibly noble) (spear)man, this might play a role, too.

Achilles orders the Myrmidons to don their armor, and a procession of charioteers mounted on their chariots and a host of foot soldiers marches with Patroclus in the midst, carried by his (non-specified) friends. Achilles walks behind, supporting Patroclus’ head. The Myrmidons also cut off the locks of their hair and threw them on the corpse until they covered Patroclus like a garment.

After being set on a wooden structure, Patroclus also gets Achilles’ locks of hair placed in his hands, which Achilles had grown in the context of a planned offering to the river-god Sperchious. Achilles then rouses the Myrmidons to weep for Patroclus almost until sunset.

Achilles then sends most of the men away (to take a meal) until only the closest mourners are left to manage things, but he asks the Achean leaders to stay. They then piled up wood to make the 100 ft.²  pyre with the corpse on top of it. Then Patroclus received the following offerings to his pyre:

numerous sheep and cattle placed around the pyre,

fat from the livestock offerings wrapping the corpse from head to foot,

two-handled jars of oil and honey,

four horses,

two of the nine dogs Patroclus fed beneath his table,

twelve noble sons of the Trojans (an unusual type of sacrifice).

Achilles prays to the winds, Boreas the North-wind, and Zephyrus, the west wind, as the pyre would not catch flame. These gods step away from a feast to fulfill Achilles’ wish while Achilles pours libations (untold amounts of wine) for them all night long while grieving for Patroclus.

>>The interment of the cremated remains.<<

After falling asleep next to Patroclus’ pyre, Achilles is roused by his gathering comrades. He orders them to quench the pyre’s last flames and collect Patroclus’ ashes from the middle of the pyre, separating it from the rest.

Per his wishes, Patroclus’ ashes are placed in the golden urn Achilles received from his mother, which is sealed with a double layer of fat. The urn is then covered in linen and brought to Achilles’ hut (Patroclus did not have a hut of his own and slept in the same room across from Achilles).

Achilles tells the others that the urn should remain sealed until his own death comes. He bids Patroclus’ funeral mound be built and whoever of the Acheans survives Achilles to build their joint mound broad and high.

 >>The funeral games<<

The other men want to leave, but Achilles also decides to hold funeral games for Patroclus. He sponsors many prizes for them, such as cauldrons, tripods, horses, mules, oxen, female slaves, cooking and offering dishes, armor, and gold.

The games consist of:

a chariot race,

a boxing match,

a wrestling bout,

a foot-race,

armed combat,

a throwing competition (with a mass of iron),

an archery contest (pigeon shooting).

And that concludes Patroclus’ funeral. This part of The Iliad spanned an entire book of the 24 books the Iliad consists of (Bk XXIII, covering 897 lines of text).

In comparison, Hector’s funeral – from Priam bringing back the body to Troy (Bk XXIV:677-717) to the end of Hector’s funeral (Bk XXIV:776-804) consists of only 127 lines of text.

Now, one could argue that the reader/listener of The Iliad would be bored with another excessive description of yet another warrior’s funeral. But even if Homer summarized the events, they only consisted of men gathering wood (for nine days), placing Hector’s body on top of the pyre, and setting it ablaze. Yes, mourners (e.g., Hector’s brothers and friends) are mentioned before and during the proceedings. They also gather Hector’s ashes from the pyre the next day, place them in a golden urn, wrapped in a purple robe, and put the urn in a hollow grave. The grave is covered with large close-set stones; above that, a barrow is piled up with sentinels posted outside in fear of the Greeks. Afterward, Priam holds a funeral feast.

It might be possible that the funeral proceedings of the Trojans are not the same as that of the Greeks, even if Homer is a Greek author. Yet, Hector was the son of King Priam of Troy and the Trojans’ crown prince and best warrior. He defended Troy honorably and slew many of the Achean warriors. If anyone deserves a lavish funeral, it would be Hector. While the reader/listener can assume the proceedings were as luxurious as can be, it isn’t written that way.

It is also interesting that Priam held funeral games for Paris (when he thought his baby boy had been killed as a sacrifice to save Troy), but he does not hold funeral games for Hector. Maybe no funeral games were held because the city was full to bursting with refugees fleeing the marauding Greeks over the years, so there was no space left to do this. It could also be due to the Greeks possibly overrunning the city at any given moment (after the twelve days of truce Priam and Achilles had agreed upon for the funeral rites of Hector were over), so the Trojans did not dare hold any games.

But this is also not mentioned anywhere in The Iliad.

Even if funeral games had been held for Hector, the rituals would only be comparable to those for Patroclus and would not go beyond them.

 As it is, Patroclus’ funeral rituals seem excessive compared to his social standing. From Achilles’ point of view, they were probably just the right amount of excessive, measured against how much Patroclus meant to him.

[worms-i-think]

Silliest little guys:

HES SO MEAN aaaahdikkkhwdkj I love Vyn, how in the world does this man treat people’s mental conditions when he loves to jab at his coworkers this much

Also Artem, who is apparently Mr. hobby collector extraordinaire according to canon, worrying he will be bad at this activity because it involves being relatively creative is so funny to me. He has no confidence in creating anything that lacks a step-by-step guide. He hates things being open to interpretation.

(Good thing Lukie is so eager to help people make things. You could walk into the shop and ask what he’s gonna do to repair your antiques and he would show you and let you help if you want. I would love to see him interact with Artem more! Then again, there would also be the interesting dynamic created at the begging of the game where Luke urges Rosa to decline his offer to join the NXX. The possibility of that tension! Anyway.)

Like?? I need to sit in on one of their tutoring sessions.

Also, this past chapter that was released was super tense in terms of inter-NXX relations, so it’s fun to see them get along as well as they can, but then there’s the lingering undertone that the four of them don’t feel they can trust one another at all. I’m super excited for chapter 10 >:)

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Harry/Draco Humor Masterlist | Works With Less Than 5k Words

find the full masterlist directory here

last updated: 08/14/24 | links last checked: 08/14/24

*Come as You Are by peachpety [E, 3k]

If asked, Harry Potter would categorize his high school senior year as normal: football, friends, and one devastating crush on his tutor, Draco Malfoy. When presented with an opportunity to help Draco, Harry rises to the occasion. Unfortunately, so does his dick. Sparks fly and alarms blare… and the Hogwarts Owlz Gossip twitter feed blows up. Or: the one where an inconvenient erection brings them together.

*Draco's Emotional Uprising by XxTheDarkLordxX [T, 3k]

“For the love of—really Draco? Artificial leather?” The horror in his father’s tone was amusing. “You have money, use it. And what’s with the color scheme? Is that—oh Merlin it is—floral print? This is worse than I thought. You need to move back home. Clearly allowing you to venture out on your own was a mistake.” “I’m an adult,” Draco yelled, still laying on the ground, not bothering to care enough to move. He had chosen his furniture knowing it would haunt his parents. Petty spite did wonders for the soul Revenge, friendship, and a surprising romance kindle after Draco experiences a recent breakup. He just wants to discover who he is, and maybe the knowledge was there all along.

Harry Potter and the Incredibly Organized Personal Assistant by megyal [T, 2k]

Harry Potter's new assistant is snarkily organized.

Leave Sleeping Dragons Lie by DorthyAnn [T, 846]

Interhouse unity could fuck off, was the last thought that went through Harry’s mind when he went to break Malfoy's perfect nose. They had ended up in a tangled heap of rage on the floor, eventually separated by an irate Headmistress McGonagall who informed them that they had two choices, two weeks of detentions with Filch or they could hold hands for an hour. Harry was very tempted to take the detention but the look of inordinate glee on Finch's face changed his mind. Apparently, it had the same effect on Malfoy because now they were stuck, side by side in two chairs in the middle of the Great Hall, holding hands.

Meeting The Guardians by jlpierre [T, 3k]

Will Draco meeting the 'Dad's', Sirius and Remus, go down well for Harry?

Pet Names by snacc__daddy [T, 2k]

Mostly everyone has returned for their eighth year at Hogwarts and McGonagall tells Harry and Draco to stop calling each other by their last names to promote house unity. Hilarity and misconceptions ensue.

Real Texts by Affectiion [G, 2k]

Kingsley has decided all his Aurors need muggle mobile phones. Draco has finally learned how to use his, and gets a hold of Harry's number.

Ron Weasley: Accidental Matchmaker by Phoenix_Waves [T, 2k]

"There's not a sexual tension out there that the man can't accidentally detect!" George beamed. "And then ask the stupid arse question that's going to light the spark and fan the flames." Lee added matter-of-factly. A fluffy Christmas one shot featuring our favorite older Gryffindors.

Spin the Wand by WrittenSins [T, 2k]

In the spirit of inter-house unity, the eighth years have a small party. In an attempt to get Harry and Ginny back together, Hermione and Ron come up with the plan of a rigged game of Spin the Wand, but not all goes as planned.

The Proposal by dracogotgame [T, 4k]

Draco's proposal is a night to remember

The Talk by WolfstarPups90 [M, 1k]

Sirius and Remus think it's time they give Harry "The Talk" when they find he's been sneaking out at night to see someone special.

They Don't Know About Us by weasley_bee [G, 1k]

Harry and Draco are in a secret relationship. When they are both invited to Ron and Hermione's house for dinner, will they give the game away?

Welcome to the Family by Jencala [M, 2k]

Remus turned to face his husband. “Your godson is engaged to a Malfoy. He’s used to the finer things in life and I, for one, would like to make sure this dinner is not only pleasant, but that he knows we are not peasants.” Sirius barked a laugh. “So the truth is, you want to show off for the little bugger!”

*denotes personal favorites

[femivi]

uhmm would it be rllie insane of me to ask you to answer ﾉ all ﾉ those selfship questions for haimi . . ? ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა i just rllie wanma know more about you two wehh 🥺 but if it is too much hehe , then i would be overjoyed to learn your answers to lace + zzz + cosmic 💌

oh my sweetest coco how do i ever thank u for this haha. . . i got all giddy nd happy to talk abt him nd me :3 im sorry this took sooo long to answer, i was quite busy :")) forgiv me if it's a bit incoherent . . i tried my best to give shorter answers ! ☘️

raspberry ౨ৎ how did the two of you meet?

– our ‘first meeting’ was at the akademiya's library, where i was chatting with tighnari, who introduced me to haitham. it was a bit awkward though . . me having the wrong impression of him being cold n harsh nd it didn't rly help with us later having to cooperate on our inter-darshan research project ! ! hmph ! ! ㌥(ง ⸝⸝ ᵕ⌓ᵕ)ว㌥

wine ౨ৎ how did your first date go?

– i don't know if study dates really count, but other than that, we didn't really have an official ‘first date’. we often spent a lot of time chatting in razan gardens, trying to find some peace and quiet around the akademiya. . . and then he would offer to tutor me in that cute gazebo at pardis dhyai :3 which i take as a sort of ‘first date’ - it was very cute ! but still a little awkward to be completely honest . . we talked about the classes we're taking, our interests and just were nerds together for a while . . but it started raining on our way back to sumeru city and he hold his coat over both of us so we don't get soaked by the rain . . 🌧️ ( we totally did )

vanilla bean ౨ৎ what does a day off with your lover look like?

– depends on the weather, really! we're usually home, just taking it slow and enjoying each other's company quietly. if it's colder ﾉ rainy we stay in and i either clean or nap . . haithie is reading, or maybe exercising ! and if it's warm we go out for a stroll along port ormos, maybe a picnic in mawtiyama !!! and sometimes go for a swim :–)

ballet slipper ౨ৎ do you have any pets?

– we don't :”–( sadly i'm allergic to both cats and dogs, nd i don't think either of us would have the time to take care of any other animal . . but i love seeing & feeding the rainbow parrots around sumeru ♡

coconut ౨ৎ relaxing bubble baths or refreshing showers?

– we both prefer the shower ! ! :–)

teacup ౨ৎ are the two of you morning people or night owls?

– for me, it really depends on how i feel, but once the sun sets i'm already getting sleepy, waking up early too. meanwhile al haitham has a strict routine he follows, going to bed around 11pm and then waking up slightly later than me. i think that makes us both morning birds, i suppose? neither of us would voluntarily stay up long into the night unless necessary.

bubblegum ౨ৎ any hobbies the two of you share?

– aside from the obvious, which is reading– we like to exercise or do yoga together, spending time in the kitchen . . cooking, baking etc :3 nd he often teaches me some new words in the languages he's studying at the moment ! !

wedding cake ౨ৎ what was your wedding like?

– . . we had a very small ceremony in the cute gazebo at pardis dhyai, but the wedding itself took place close to vanarana . . ( with the approval of nahida and aranara, of course ! ) it was small, and private, nothing grand– whimsical and quaint, very cozy :–) !! we wore our traditional wear for the ceremony ♡

honeymoon ౨ৎ where did the two of you travel? and how was it?

– we travelled to fontaine !! rented one of the small cottages on the countryside, staying there for a week . . relaxing, taking morning swims in the river . . amongst other . . naughty stuff

crêpe ౨ৎ what are your breakfast orders?

– for me, i don't have breakfasts very often, unless i wake up late ( ironic, i know ) i'll have some tea and fruit or something very light . . haitham views breakfast as very important and would often encourage me to eat with him . . he'd have some kind of bread with sarsheer ﾉ paneer and also fresh cut veggies like cucumber or tomatoes.

lipstick stain ౨ৎ where do you love to kiss them? where do they love to kiss you?

– i really luv to kiss his fingetips and the tip of his nose . . though haitham is usually a bit timid about physical affection he likes to kiss the top ﾉ the temple of my head.

rose petal ౨ৎ what does your home look like?

– our home is very cozy, to say the least. i imagine we asked kaveh to help with the interior design ? ( bc we both knew he wouldn't visit if he didn't like it . . ﾉhj ) making it a small mix of art nouveau & middle eastern furniture, cluttered, a lot of book piles and greenery, breezy curtains, overall very soft & quaint atmosphere . . and of course a small porch with a cushion swing in the front !

champagne ౨ৎ how do you celebrate new years?

– i don't like drinking nor fireworks ( stereotypical new year celebration ) nd i think haitham is not very enthusiastic abt it either. but we would- either meet up with closest friends during evening, or visit mawtiyama to sit on top of those big mushrooms, watch sumeru city fireworks from afar, lighting sparklers nd maybe even kiss under the stars hehe ♥︎

lace ౨ৎ what’s their favorite outfit of yours?

– tbh he likes when i wear the most homeless looking outfits hahaha . or something like a small tee ﾉ tank top and shorts, with a thin dupatta over it ! loose nd frilly shirts nd dresses with big ﾉ low back window haha . . it's not rly an outfit but i also wear indian anklets with bells nd he really likes the soft ringing around the house . . .

cupcake ౨ৎ do you and your lover frequent parties/clubs/social gatherings often?

– neither. we're both on the introverted side and don't like crowds or anything of that sort. we enjoy planned meetings with friends, though :3

zzz ౨ৎ what are your sleeping positions like?

– i get warm ﾉ overwhelmed by touch quickly sometimes, so we don't rly spoon a lot . . alhaitham prefers to sleep on his back, like a true victorian child, meanwhile i am always sleeping on either side, curled up under the sheets ( . . usually with one leg out haha ) often just touching his chest with my forehead, or just having my hand placed on his arm.

cosmic ౨ৎ who said i love you first? and how did that go?

– al haitham >_< it was rly awkward ﾉ accidental but in an endearing way ? i got back from an expedition in fontaine, and he invited me out for an evening stroll at razan gardens. we sat down under those beautiful gazebos, talked for a bit, and somehow it slipped him . . he quickly apologised for it :( . . but i said yes hehe ♥︎ nd surprised both him and myself with this.

wistful ౨ৎ what’s your sex life like?

– err next question ! ! ! just kidding . . well um overall, we're not intimate much – at least not before moving in together – after that . . we keep it slow and gentle, not too often. we prefer to show our affection through different ways, but ofc enjoy being intimate with each other ‘every now and then’ :3 ( ← liar. like twice a week cough. cough. what. )

sorbet ౨ৎ what does aftercare look like for you and your lover?

– i have really bad stamina, so there's a high chance that i'll just fall asleep afterwards ( skill issue tbh . . ) but mostly we just cuddle or massage our bodies :3 which is not smth we do very often, so it's always a nice treat ♥︎

love letter ౨ৎ what are your love languages? and how do the two of you execute them?

– both of our "main" love languages are acts of service and quality time. he is very thoughtful and often does things without me asking to do so ( like cutting fruit for me, reminding me to drink or doing something i've mentioned off handedly ) he would be reading with me sitting in between his legs crotcheting or drawing . . sometimes, i also give words of affirmation like “you're doing well..” or saying something i sense he needs to hear at that moment ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ .

[heliosthegriffin]

I got thrown across the multiverse, and all I got were these lame scars

Summary: Jaune’s doing .... alright, better than before at least. Currently, he’s living with his sister and her wife in Argus doing odd jobs, catching up with his education and paying his tutor, while also trying to remember how to read and write properly in Remnants tongue and script.

It’s not easy settling back in, especially after how his trip was, and his was pretty bad, the multiverse is a brutal place, and he had a extended seven year trip that started when he was just twelve. 

Now at least, it seemed he was back for good, and as far as worlds went, Remnant was far from the worse, at least they’re wasn’t anybody plotting world destruction, right?

------

It was rare, or at least was rare, that Saphron and Terra got to enjoy a night out, ever since Adrian had been conceived they were too busy planning and adjusting they’re lives for when he would be born.

Party nights, going out with friends, drinking and having sushi, that was all forgotten about, they had a new life to care for and grow together, and they needed to prepare for him and make sure he would be healthy.

And, that life style continued for almost two years, including Terra’s pregnancy, them practically becoming hermits, as they cared for they’re son together, it was tough, but both of them considered it a high-point of they’re relationship, and sign of how well they went together.

Then, he showed up, Saphron’s long-lost, presumed dead, little brother, Jaune Arc.

Everything changed, immediately, it had been sheer coincident that they met at a diner he was working at, Greasy Eddie’s, Terra thought it was called, they had been leaving the port, and were hungry enough to not care how bad the food was for them.

Then Adrian started crying, like he was trying to get they’re attention, and then Terra saw those blue eyes, that same eyes as her wife, and Saphron dropped her scroll, and in a blur of motion, she hugging him, bawling her eyes out.

Terra could hardly believe her own eyes, the last time she had seen him, he was a little boy waving to her across a scroll screen, and then, Saphron turned around for what was must have been five second, and he was gone, just gone, not trace or sign, with the footage at the CCT Terminal they had been at just showed him there one frame, and gone the next.

It was impossible to rule it as Semblance based interference, as no signs of Aura were found, and Semblances, as random and powerful as they were, followed physics in some weird way, and based on evidence, or lack there of, it was judged that it would have to be several different powerful semblances at work at once to pull off.

Something impossible, considering this was a CCT that was guarded by several people with Huntsman training, someone would have to sensed something, anything, and yet nothing.

And, all that for some kid, of a huntsman yes, but not even a particularly well-known one. It just didn’t add up.

It made inter-kingdom news, from Vacuo to Mistral, with even Menagerie chimed in on the case. Specialist from across the world tried to solve the case, not all of them out of the good of they’re heart, others for the fame, and others to have a trained huntsman in they’re pocket.

They all failed.

The case was closed, and Jaune was consider dead by the world at large.

Saphron and her sisters, the rest of her family, all the Arcs, they never gave up.

And, her he was, in some dingy diner next to the port, that smelled of rotten fish, vomit, and urine.

Terra couldn’t believe her eyes, or his reaction.

He froze, not he didn’t freeze, he jerked back, trying to gain distance and for a couple moments, Terra feared for her wife’s life, as she saw the glazed, cold look in his eyes, his hands a blur, before the words that she was sobbing out, hit him.

She didn’t even see where he got the knife from.

Then he froze, stiffly, as though a hug was a unfamiliar gesture to him. He looked at her, like he was seeing something familiar, and putting together the pieces, mumbling out a dozen different words, that Terra had no clue what they could mean.

It was several long moments before Terra understood what he said, as he said the right word. “Sssisster?” He asked awkwardly, in a very odd, untraceable accent.

Saphron only tightened her hug, and Jaune moved to hug back, with both arm, but stopped himself, letting his right arm fall away, and hugged her tightly with his left.

Then she essentially dragged him over to the table, and little Adrian practically jumped into what should have been a strangers arms. Terra probably should have expected that, Arc’s were just weird like that, she sword they could sense each other via proximity, or to that effect.

Terra was stunned and quiet listening to her wife fire question after question at her brother, all while he cradled his nephew for the first time, awe upon his face looking at the child.

Then it came time to leave, and they didn’t, Saphron made them wait until his shift was over, then told him, in a tone that offered no other option, he was coming back with them.

He seemed confused, it took her a couple tries to get the point across, it was like he had trouble understanding they’re words, well Saphrons words. Terra had found herself too, unbelieving she supposed, to say anything.

It seemed to good to be true. Everything changed, her brother in law was there, living in they’re spare bedroom, when he wasn’t doing ... something, he was cleaning they’re house, cooking, or helping taking care of Adrian. It was like she had suddenly gotten a little brother and housekeeper in one package.

And, they could start going out and having a social life again.

Like tonight, going out with a couple from her work, eating at a fine restaurant, and walking home.

Terra was disgusted with herself at the fact that she didn’t trust Jaune as far as she could throw him, and he was much heavier than she was strong.

“I don’t like this,” Terra said, after they were within sprinting distance of they’re house. “Adrian’s still young, we need to be careful who influences him, he needs his mothers around to give him good examples while we still can,”

Saphron gave her wife a side-long glance, her eyes digging into her. “Are you saying that my brother’s a bad influence?”

Terra wanted to say yes, so badly yes, but Saphron was no longer rational around her brother, no Arc was around Jaune, so she had to pick her words carefully. “He needs help Saph, you know this,”

Saphron look at her with icy eyes for a half-second, before looking away softly. “He needs his family, Terra, I need him. Adrian deserves to know his uncle, and they say, boys need a strong male figure in they’re lives, Jaune can be that figure.”

“It’s not that he can’t,” Terra linked hands with Saphron, holding her hand tightly. “But, he’s off, his mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be, I mean, when was the last time you saw him sleep? Or when he does, when did it look like he hadn’t been crying?”

Saphron made a bitter expression. “I haven’t, but I don’t even want to imagine what he was like when he was alone, how painful that must of been, enduring what he had too by himself.”

Terra had too look away from Saphron’s genuine expression of concern for her brother, she had always been far more caring than Terra was, as far as she was concerned, that amount of people she loved was two.

But, even she had to admit, she felt immense pity for her brother-in-law.

It took her a moment, but she found another rebuttal. “Then, how painful must it be, if he doesn’t ever get himself treated? He can’t get better by himself, and we’re delaying the inevitable. What if he snaps and hurts-”

“Terra-Cotta Arc, don’t you ever! Ever! Say that about my brother!” Terra was force on the back foot, as Saphron rounded on her with a absolutely visceral snarl. “He would die for us! Kill for us, before he ever even consider the possibly of thinking about hurting Adrian, me, or you! So, take that nasty, terrible thought and lock it up, where the sun don’t shine, or so help me, I will show you the fury of a woman of the clan Arc!” Saphron panted red-faced, and Terra would admit she was death afraid of her wife when her temper was roused.

Also, attracted and very painfully aware of how shaky her legs became when she got like this.

“Are we, understood?” Saphron said with a tone that would be measured in the negative degrees.

Terra nodded, cheeks blushing.

“Good,” Saphron leaned in and took her hand, “Glad that we got that sorted out, now lets go check up on the boys, ok?”

Terra nodded weakly, she doubted she would be able to bring this topic up again, anytime soon, if ever.

It took mere minutes to get back home, and unlock the door, then disarm the security, and the tripwires, and the other defenses that Jaune had installed, much to Terra’s displeasure.

She was frowning as it happened, but the moment she stepped in, she was frozen, a soft lullaby was being sung, one that Terra had never heard before, one that she didn’t understand, as it sounded like it was being sung in a half-dozen tongues.

Her eyes watered, and she trembled, Saphron was openly crying, Terra noticed, and they followed the sound of the voice into the living room, where Jaune lay on the couch, cradling a sleeping Adrian a look of avuncular love on his face, singing what was both gibberish and a deeply moving song, if one knew the words.

Saphron tightened her grip, and Terra turned to look at her, a look of pride and smugness on her face, and Terra realized, that she was right, Jaune would never hurt them, any of them, not in any amount of years.

She knew that, as she and Saphron went to bed, but it didn’t change the fact, she didn’t trust Jaune, couldn’t trust Jaune, he set her hairs on end, and made her shiver with a look, he was trouble, and even if he would die for them, what did that mean, if they all got killed too?

He was dangerous, and she did not want danger around her baby, any mother would feel the same, if only Saphron could see that. It wasn’t the fact he had disappear for the better half of a decade, or the fact her nearly killed her wife, or that he might stunt Adrian’s social ability by talking to him in a language that only two people on Remnant would understand.

It was the fact, that trouble always attracted trouble, and Terra had a deep feeling, that Jaune was going to cause them so, so much trouble.

[xjulixred45x]

Faz Billy Hargrove x Yui Komori ou Steve Harrington x Yui Komori?

uau! e apreciador de Stranger Things?? E DE YUI KOMORI?! VOCÊ FALA MINHA LÍNGUA! (quase literal, sou uruguaio😅 saudações, a propósito!)

wow! an enjoyer of Stranger Things? and of Yui Komori? you speak my language!

I definitely think that Yui could not fall in love under any circumstances with someone like Billy (maybe in a school context where she knows him either because of Max(Yui being her tutor) or even both of them going to the same classes?), more than anything because of his attitude towards the others and ESPECIALLY Max/the main group of ST.

But that doesn't mean Billy wasn't interested in someone like Yui! On the contrary, I think he might have something of a Crush in her and would try to get her attention by being his normal obnoxious self, trying to be "cool" and for her to treat him with her characteristic kindness (he's like Max Jagerman with Grace Chastity in a way, but more genuine? He wants her to notice him so bad--).

Yui may feel sorry for Billy, but she can't really return his interest. It's something one-sided.

STEVE ON THE OTHER HAND, I can definitely see them interacting differently and much friendlier, especially after Steve comes to his senses and becomes a better person. Yui is definitely someone who is easy to fall in love with, and Steve is no exception!

With the good number of jobs that Steve has throughout the seasons, he probably has the good (or bad) luck that in all his jobs he runs into Yui, and VERY rarely manages to act normal, but Yui is so patient and so SWEET that everything ends well somehow.

definitely something much more likely and nicer if they get to know each other.

___________

wow! un fanatico de Stranger Things?¿y de Yui Komori? hablas mi idioma!

definitivamente creo que Yui no podria enamorarse bajo ninguna circunstancia de alguien como Billy(talvez en un contexto escolar donde ella lo conoce ya sea por Max siendo Yui su tutora o incluso ambos llendo a las mismas clases?), más que nada por su actitud con los demas y ESPECIALMENTE a Max/el grupo principal de ST.

¡pero eso no quiere decir que Billy no se interesara en alguien como Yui! todo lo contrario, creo que el podria tener algo asi como un Crush en ella y trataria de llamar si atención mediante ser su yo normal odioso, tratando de ser "cool" y que ella lo trate con su característica amabilidad (es como Max Jagerman con Grace Chastity en cierta forma, pero mas genuino?).

Yui puede sentir pena por Billy, pero realmente no puede devolver su interes. es algo unilateral.

STEVE POR OTRO LADO, definitivamente puedo verlos interactuar de forma diferente y mucho mas amigable, especialmente después de aue Steve recapacita y se vuelve una mejor persona. Yui definitivamente es alguien del que es facil enamorarse, y Steve no es la excepción!

con la buena de trabajos que Steve tiene a lo largo de las temporadas, probablemente tiene la buena(o mala) suerte de que en todos sus trabajos se topa con Yui, y MUY pocas veces logra actuar de forma normal, pero Yui es tan paciente y tan DULCE que todo termina bien de alguna forma.

definitivamente algo mucho mas probable y lindo si se llegarán a conocer🥺

[nusta]

Oggi ho letto quasi tutto il pomeriggio, strategicamente posizionata tra condizionatore e ventilatore per resistere al caldo del tutore che mi farà da giubbino per almeno altri 20 giorni. Ieri alla visita dopo la tac mi hanno un poco spaventata prospettando addirittura due settimane in più, ma voglio restare ottimista per ora.

Leggere libri era una cosa che facevo soprattutto in spiaggia in questi ultimi anni, quindi pochissimi giorni all'anno di inmersione totale per ore intere, ma da gennaio, complici degli improvvisati book club con delle amiche, ho preso l'abitudine di leggere di più anche "a casa" e spero di non interrompere il ritmo.

Oggi ho finito The Puma Years di Laura Coleman e mi è piaciuto un sacco, mi sono immersa nella giungla boliviana con Laura e Wayra, mi sono commossa più di una volta e spero che arrivi presto un'edizione italiana da poter regalare a chi non legge in inglese.

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names - 20 - Changeling Child

Author's Note: In which Ashan helps out a fairy that just realized they aren't human and draws uncomfortable parallels to his own experiences. Also, Lacuna horrifies everyone with mad science. There were a lot of delays with life generally getting in the way of this chapter being written, but I am a little proud of myself for just barely squeezing this in before the year ends, as per the goal I set for myself a month ago (in my home time zone anyhow). That said, I didn't manage to give this chapter my usual once-over full reread before posting, so I won't be too surprised if I edit this post later, if only to add the spoiler commentary to the tags. Hope you enjoy, and Happy New Year, everyone. Minor edits to wording/typos have now been made and additional commentary has been added to the tags. Word Count: 11,337 Content Warnings: Fantasy fight scene violence. Attempted (but failed) mind control. Passing reference of blood and gore without detail. Mild body horror. Deadnaming and misgendering a trans person (not Lacuna for once).

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It is a strange thing, to suddenly obtain a new material possession when one has previously made a point of keeping as few as possible.  Stranger still when that new possession is slightly too big to fit into the folded space within the sleeves of your robe to keep safely on your person at all times.  Eris did however include a white carrying case to go along with the matte-black laptop she gifted to Ashan last week, so that is something.  It is not quite the same shade of white as his robe, but it is close enough that Ashan appreciates the thought.

For the time being, that laptop has stayed hooked up inside the guestroom within Bridgewood Manor that Ashan has been occupying since that first mission with Road nearly two months ago.  At Lacuna’s urging he has tried to incorporate it into his morning and evening routines, if only to check the electronic mail.  Thus far that has mostly just consisted of messages from Lacuna containing images with humor he is still grasping, the occasional suggestion from Eris regarding educational resources, and one from Bridgewood congratulating the three of them on connecting to the Manor’s WiFi.  That last part had been nearly as esoteric process as Lacuna’s explanation of memes, and that had rapidly devolved into a rambling lecture about long cats, defunct deities, a philosopher called Plato, dual linguistic meanings lost in translation, and the ultimately futile and deceptive nature of the written word.

Whether it had been Lacuna’s intention or not, that extended feline rant led to his spending even more of his downtime on the computer than in the Bridgewood library since then.  Not for the memes, but to find out who Plato was.  That reference to an (apparently) historic figure as if familiarity were assumed once more drove home the fact that being stolen away before even completing an elementary-level education made him a foreigner in his own homeland.  True, Aliana had tutored him on mathematics, logic, literary analysis, and other such skills in addition to magic, but none of the history or philosophy he learned under her guiding hand came from Earth.  And why would it have?

But now this strange little bifurcated box offered a way to, if not fully amend, then at least mitigate that ignorance.  While Ashan had long been aware of the Internet and its theoretical use as a store of knowledge and a communication medium, between a childhood in a home without a computer and adolescence spent in world without electronics he had never really experienced it until Eris showed up at the Lonely Walk office and handed him a surprise gift.  To hear about it is one thing, but to actually scroll through the pages upon pages listing titles for tens of thousands of transcribed books free for access and hyperlinked inter-referencing encyclopedia articles tracing an interwoven tapestry of conceptual linkage from ancient philosophers to arboreal bearcats was another thing entirely.  Ashan had known scholars on Orthon who would weep with joy and envy at the mere idea of such a library. 

Admittedly, there were some complications with exploring the wider Internet caused by his translation charm not knowing how to handle trying to use a keyboard.  Writing words by hand had been bad enough ever since the onset of his condition, causing whatever he wrote to come out as a pidgin of a dozen or so different languages - many of which he had never even personally encountered before - that was effectively gibberish to anyone without translation magic of their own or a very intense interest in linguistics.  Trying to force his thoughts through a single achingly unrecognizable symbol at a time to try to form words specifically in a language that had been stolen from him was… distressing.  Speech recognition software had proven no better, with the device - as Eris explained it to her - responding to specific physical sound patterns without any true perception happening for his charm to tap into.  But he still has the collection of links and bookmarks his friends had sent him, and that is proving to more than suffice.  Just those first two resources Eris provided him with were more than could be read in a single human lifetime.

Friends.  What a wonderful thing to be able to call someone.  How had he never realized what he was missing?

So now, on this particular morning, after his long-standing morning rituals of exercise and meditation (and a breakfast that he is perfectly capable of remembering and not putting off when there are not more pressing matters to attend to), Ashan turns on his laptop and checks his electronic mail.  There is one new message, sent from Lacuna at two in the morning.

Its subject line reads “Simulations are done.”

Ashan is not normally one to hurry or rush things.  Ashan barely takes the time to skim the full text of the message before closing the laptop and departing from Bridgewood Manor and the surrounding Estate at the quickest possible pace that will not leave him visibly winded.  The brief time that it takes to reach the tree bridge that will transport him to its twin tree across the street from the office feels like an age in his excitement, and he tries to remind himself that after this long of a wait a few extra minutes will not make a difference.  It is certainly nothing worth breaking decorum over, even with no one else around.

An eager grin the like of which has not graced his face in years creeps in all the same as he steps out of the Bridgewood Estate’s secure transit between the trees and into the early morning sunshine.

He crosses the street and then the sidewalk, and then the outermost of the security wards surrounding the Lonely Walk Outreach Agency.  Invisible to the mundane or inattentive eye though they might be, after all the time he has spent adjusting and fine tuning them it is difficult for Ashan not to perceive them as a shifting rainbow lattice-work overlaid in concentric bubbles around the refurbished antique building.

The front door is unlocked, indicating that Lacuna must already be inside, given that Road and Eris were not expecting to be back from the followup to their most recent mission for another day or two.  Ashan heads straight downstairs towards Lacuna’s basement lab; the woman is hardly ever anywhere else these days.

And yet, when the door slides open he finds her usual chair unoccupied despite all the computer monitors surrounding it being turned on.  Ashan’s first thought is that she has simply stepped out for a moment to feed or relieve herself, but then he notices the figure displayed on the monitors.  Eight different cameras at eight different angles and levels of zoom are displaying eight live feeds split across two screens  Eight mechanical eyes watch a faceless white mannequin in worn and baggy clothes standing almost perfectly still in the middle of an evenly-lit blank white room.  Its chest and shoulders rise and fall to the rhythm of slow and steady breaths despite the lack of mouth or nose.  A timestamp on one of the video feeds tells Ashan that the recording has been running for nearly five hours now.

Ashan crosses the lab to the testing chamber door where he finds the clothes Lacuna was wearing yesterday lying crumpled on the floor.  Curiosity morphing into concern, he hits the large red button to open the testing chamber doors and steps inside.

The mannequin takes no notice of him.

“Hello,” Ashan softly calls out to the figure.

No response.

“Lacuna, is that you?” Ashan asks, sliding his wand out of his sleeve and into his hand in a practiced gesture.

A shudder runs through the mannequin.

“Lacuna,” Ashan emphasizes the name, “are you alright?”  Cautiously easing closer, he realizes that the mannequin is making a fist around something in one of its hands.

The mannequin twitches and jerks, contorting its limbs.

“Lacuna, may I see what that is you are holding?”

The mannequin goes still again before slowly turning its head down to eyelessly look at the hand it has brought up to chest level.  Its fingers uncurl to reveal a sphere of interwoven plastic tendrils that rolls off of its hand and shatters when it hits the ground.

In an instant, the mannequin grows three inches, shifts its skin from blank white to a mere sickly pale with the occasional freckle, sprouts hair, and contracts its blank face to reveal the contours of features.

It surprises Ashan just how light Lacuna is when she falls forward into his arms.  He is barely even eye level with her shoulder on the rare occasions she stands up straight, but he realizes now just how much she is skin and bones beneath the loose-fitting clothing she always seems to favor.

“Don’t tell Eris,” Lacuna breathes into his ear before passing out.

*******

“I’m sorry,” Lacuna apologizes for the tenth time since waking up.    The first three times had come in quick succession upon regaining consciousness a minute or so after fainting.  The fourth came when asking for a moment of privacy to change back into her clothes from yesterday, and the fifth when emerging from her lab some minutes later.  The sixth was a part of turning down Ashan’s advice to put herself into the autodoc suite.  The seventh was instigated by her stumbling on the stairs ascending out of the office’s basement, which in turn led to the eighth when accepting Ashan’s offer to help her up.  The ninth took the place of thanks when Ashan unstuck the cap she was struggling with on the bottle of apple juice she retrieved from the refrigerator.  What this latest one is for is less immediately apparent.

Now she sits at the other end of the kitchen table from Ashan, staring down at an empty wrapper of plain salted crackers.  Stripes of morning light cut between the window blinds and divvy up the space between them.

“For what are you sorry this time?” Ashan prompts.

Lacuna flinches at the question, withdraws momentarily, and hesitantly answers, “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?  That must be annoying, sor- Gah!  Why do I keep - I mean -” She stumbles over her words a few more times before closing her eyes, holding up one finger, and taking a long drink to drain the rest of her glass.  Setting down the glass, she opens her eyes and tries again while drumming her fingers on her arms in a rolling motion.

“I should have gone to bed and gotten a decent night’s sleep after sending you that message.  So that I’d be able to help you today.  Instead I got over-excited and tried to squeeze in a little bit of time now that the server load was free.  For a personal project.  Selfish.”

“Apology accepted,” Ashan says, keeping the disappointment out of his voice.  He tries to tell himself that just one more day of waiting will not hurt him.  And if Lacuna is a reckless enough enchanter to run some manner of botched transmutation ritual on herself, perhaps it would be for the best that he does not let her try to experimentally “help” him.  “But why did you not want me to tell Eris?  Friends are supposed to aid one another when distressed, are they not?”

“I don’t want her to worry about me.  Same for Road,” she mumbles.

“You mean to say that becoming stuck as a faceless imitation of a human being all night is not cause for concern?”

“It’s fine!” Lacuna snaps defensively and then shrinks back from her own raised voice.  “It’s fine,” she says more quietly.  “I’m fine.  I’m fine.  It’s a problem I’ve been working for a while now and that’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to me so far.  And the enchantment had a safety timer built in, so I would have been fine.” She raises her head, looking through Ashan rather than at him.  “Compared to some of the other mishaps, this one actually felt… nice?  It was quiet.  Like all the thoughts going in my head all the time finally shut up for once and let me just be.  Awareness without a sense of self to be aware of and in a room with no external stimulus.”  She slaps a hand to her forehead and laughs.  “Okay, wow, that does sound bad when I say it aloud, but I promise I’m fine.  It was actually about as restful as sleeping, I’m just a bit frazzled right now from the sudden jolt back into things.  And probably dehydration.  And maybe low blood sugar.  But I’m good now.  Mostly”

As Ashan opens his mouth to form a reply to that, several other noises interrupt him at once.  The sharp ringing of the outer barrier detecting an intruder with violent intent.  A shout of fear.  A howl of pain.

Before Lacuna can even make a surprised exclamation of her own, Ashan is already out the kitchen, past the repurposed check-in counter, and throwing open the door.  The frightened and haggard individual sporting a denim jacket covered in enamel pins on the other side stops dead in their tracks at the motion of a wand coming within an inch of poking their eye out.  Looking under and past the unexpected visitor’s placatingly raised arms, Ashan catches a glimpse of a smoking pantherine shape on the sidewalk dissipating in a sparkling green haze.  The tree-lined street is left empty except for fallen petals and parked cars.  The blue electric hatchback with claw marks on the side parked nearest to the former bed and breakfast had not been there when Ashan arrived barely half an hour ago.

Ashan’s eyes flick back to the individual standing in front of the door, locking gazes.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I was hoping you could tell me.  Now please, you gotta let me in.  Before it -” 

They double over groaning in pain.  With effort they crane their neck up to reveal a face flickering between two forms.  One of an unremarkably average brown-eyed human with two or three days of unshaven stubble, and the other violet-eyed with smooth, waxy leaf-green skin.  Violet eyes or brown, the look of desperate fear and confusion is the same.  It strikes Ashan how young they are.  No more than late teens.

“Help me,” they gasp.

Ashan guides them to a couch in the nearby living room, locking the door behind them.  They recover quickly enough after lying down - Lacuna catches up just in time to see the surprise guest’s face flicker for the last time - but even after their face settles back to human their left arm remains green.  They cradle it to their chest, as if it were still in pain.  Or as if they were trying to hide it.  Shame?  Fear?  Embarrassment?  All of the above, Ashan guesses.

“Name,” Ashan says, instruction more than question.  He remains standing, alert for the first sign of treachery from whomever he just invited in or of another attempt at entry from whatever that was outside.

“Tam,” the individual on the couch stammers.  “Tam Lin.”  Their green left hand clutches tighter at the utterance.

Ashan stares this Tam Lin down.  On the one hand, that sort of fear - the bewildered fear of having been abruptly thrust Backstage for the first time - is as difficult to fake as it is recognizable.  On the other hand, that which he suspects them to be are known to be excellent actors and none of their kind would so easily give away their Name.

“Tell me Tam Lin,” Ashan asks, “what brings you here today?” 

The green hand twitches at the Name’s emphasis, even without any attempt at nominal magic infused into his voice.  Yes, definitely one of the fair folk, but why the guileless deception?  Why take such risk with a Name freely spoken, as sensitive as their kind are to that?

“The website,” Tam says,  “it said you can help with weird stuff like this.  You can help me, right?”

“Most likely,” Ashan answers, “but first we need to know more specifically what your problem is.”

“If I may,” Lacuna speaks up from where she has perched on an ottoman at the other end of the couch from Tam.  As she slips her phone back into her skirt pocket and intently looks Tam up and down all her earlier disorientation has vanished completely.  Ashan knows that eager, almost hungry look.  It is a look he has seen on experimentally-minded wizards presented with a unique specimen and alchemists greedily eying rare reagents.  And on children seeing their favorite animal in the flesh for the first time.

With only the slightest misgiving, Ashan nods in assent.

Lacuna’s eyes light up and she leans in even closer.  “Right.  So.  Tam.  Let me know if I miss the mark anywhere.  As a kid you saw all sorts of fairies and similar magic.  When you got older you wrote them off as childhood make believe, but ever since you had strange and vivid dreams about them.  Maybe you even were one in your dreams.  When you hit puberty, those dreams got more frequent.  More intense.  Easier to remember.  Almost a second life whenever you were at your lowest points.  Still just dreams at the end of the night though.  Nothing you couldn’t put out of mind and focus on the ‘real world.’  And then one day.  A recent day.  I would guess.  One or both of your parents died.  Ever since, you’ve started having those dreams every night.  And then every time you closed your eyes.  And then when you looked in the mirror, wide awake, you looked like you did in your dreams.  That’s when something started following you.  Not knowing where else to turn, you turned to the Internet, and found us.  No one answered your calls or the message you left.  That’s my bad.  Real sorry about that.  So you hopped in the car and drove all night to our address.”

Tam stares at her, eyes wide and jaw agape.  “My moms are still alive, but everything else is - how did you know?”

Ashan tilts his head, surprised and curious to know himself.

Lacuna slips back into her usual discomfort, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.  “Sorry.  That was weird of me, wasn’t it?  Got carried away.  Touches on a… special interest of mine.  So.  Basically.  You’re a changeling.  A fairy swapped with a human baby to be raised in its place to take its Name.”

“You’re joking,” Tam denies.

“You were quite literally shapeshifting in front of me,” Ashan points out.

“Not intentionally,” Tam says.

“It wouldn’t be,” Lacuna says.  “Historically speaking, most children accused of being changelings were just some flavor of neurodivergent.  The real ones tend to blend in as normally as the baby they swapped with would have, fooling even themselves.  Not that there isn’t overlap between the two from time to time.  A Name isn’t just the name it’s tied to, it’s a whole identity, physical and mental.  Most changelings have no idea they’re not human until something triggers a change, at which point whatever fae liege made the bargain will come to retrieve them.  Or send a servant to do so.  Kinder ones will be upfront about it and explain things.  Maybe even make an offer to continue living as you are.” 

“And crueler ones will send a hunting beast to drag you back kicking and screaming,” Ashan posits.

Tam’s nervous nod is all the confirmation Ashan needs as to what tripped the wards around the office.

“What I’m still hung up on,” Lacuna says, “is what triggered your change.  Normally it’s the death of whichever parent made the deal, but…” She trails off as her eyes alight on one of the pins adorning Tam’s denim jacket.  A heart of four stripes.  Yellow, white, purple, and black.  “How long ago did you start calling yourself Tam?” she asks.

“A little over three years ago.” Tam answers.  “Just before I turned sixteen.  But, come to think of it, the dreams actually stopped for a while when I came out, if that’s what you’re getting at.  The therapist my moms had me see told me it was probably just a repression thing that didn’t need an outlet anymore now that I’d accepted myself.  I’d just about forgotten about them until this all started out of the blue a couple weeks ago.”

“You said ‘moms,’ plural,” Ashan observes.  “What about a father?”

Tam shakes his head.  “I asked about it once and they told me they went through a fertility clinic.  Anonymous donor.  No legal way to know who.”

“Oh, that’s clever,” Lacuna says.  “Dirty dealing and a really messed up way to get around the classic ‘firstborn child’ contract, but clever."

“Clever or not,” Ashan says, “I suspect it is beside the point at the moment.  The more pertinent question is this:  What do you want Tam?”

“What do I want?  I want to stop being chased by a giant monster cat!  I want to stop randomly turning green!  I want my life back!”

“Do you truly want that?  Even knowing what you know now?  Even with the knowledge that it may not be your life to begin with?”

“Of course it’s my life!  So what if I was switched with some other kid at birth?  It was me that everything happened to.  It’s me that everyone in my life knows.  My moms, my friends, my experiences, and my life!”

“And you are not the least bit curious about what else your life could be if you found more answers and embraced what you really are?”

“Oh screw you and your mind games.  Do I look like I give a shit about some absentee fairy king dad wants for me?  I know who I am and don’t you dare imply that my life hasn’t been real.”

“Good answer,” Ashan says.  “Now hang on to that conviction.  You shall need it.”

“What for?”

“For when we go tell a fae liege unused to being told ‘no’ that they cannot have what they want.”

*******

“Last check if you want to wait until Road and Eris get back,” Lacuna’s voice says through Ashan’s earpiece as he stands just inside the picket fence marking the border of the office and the unwarded sidewalk.

“Road left me behind for the express purpose of helping any clients that show up needing help while they are away, and that is exactly what I am doing now,” Ashan responds.  “We have taken the necessary precautions and I see no reason to doubt my ability to resolve the matter.  Or are you saying that you would rather wait?”

“I’m nervous, not gonna lie, but what else is new?  You’re the one with the hard job here, so we’ll be fine.  Anyway, mirror charm’s still holding strong on this end.  Tam still looks like you in here, and you still sound like them.  Let’s just hope it fools everyone else as well as it fools me.” 

According to Tam, the beast that has been hounding them for weeks now only shows itself when no one else is around, which presented a complication for any plans to assist them.  Fortunately Lacuna had been able to dig up a pair of bracelets she had enchanted some time back as part of one of her ever-vague “personal projects.”  Allegedly they operated via a modified perception filter to cause observers to perceive one wearer as the other while leaving the wearers’ perception unaltered.  That last part had caused Lacuna to deem the bracelets “an experimental failure but exactly what we need now,” while leaving Ashan and Tam to take her word on their efficacy.  While even now Ashan can tell that the bracelet is doing something whenever he glances down at his wrist, actively focusing on it is nearly as nauseating and disorienting as that concealment ritual of hers.  

The same goes for the little metal rectangle engraved with a not-quite-fractal on either side now hanging from a cord around his neck and tucked beneath his robe.  According to Lacuna it is supposed to provide protection from anything trying to get into his mind.  It was the one amulet out of the whole clinking mass she had tried to foist upon him that he accepted, and mostly just to placate her, if he is being honest.  She had been busy these past weeks with enchanting trinkets from her library of pre-recorded rituals from her old job and if Ashan had hung all that she had offered around his neck the combined static noise of their auras that close to him would have run the risk of making him sick.

Once again, he wonders how she has not accidentally killed herself already.  Or at least blown up her lab.

But enough of that.  What comes next requires a clear mind free of distracted musings.

A static tingle runs over Ashan as he steps through and beyond the outermost ward and onto the unprotected sidewalk.  He continues forward, past the car Tam hastily and crookedly parked on the curb.  The claw marks on the vehicle are long and deep, and numerous enough to indicate multiple attempts at retrieval. He comes to a stop with one foot on either side of the painted divider line bisecting the empty street. 

“I am ready now,” Ashan says to no one.  “Guide me to your master and I shall follow of my own free will.”

A sudden breeze carries the scent of dry leaves and kicks up a swirl of sparkling green dust.  The same synesthetic mapping that allows Ashan to “see” the wards around the office shows him a rapidly growing ring within the verdant haze.  A low growl rumbles out of the hole within the formless ring and a pantherine shape slinks out from behind the breeze. 

The great cat sharing the street with Ashan would be longer than he is tall even without the tail that coils and unfurls as it slowly sweeps back and forth.  The beast’s baldness only accentuates its bulging muscles and the isolated shock of dark hair atop its head. The brown eyes that stare up into Ashan’s look just like Tam’s.  It snarls, barring too-human teeth for the shape of its head, and then turns away. 

Ashan follows the hunting beast across the street to a fairy ring of white mushrooms near the bridge tree that most certainly had not been there when he arrived earlier this morning.  It pads around to the far side of the fairy ring, looks back to Ashan, gestures downward with its head, and flexes its claws.  Its front paws have thumbs. 

The message is clear enough: Step into the ring.  Run again and claws will catch. 

If the earlier swirl of dust was a tunnel, the fairy ring is a hole beckoning him into its depths.  Ashan knows better than to let himself fall in. 

He leaps. 

He does not look before nor during the leap.  Such transitions do not wish to be perceived.  It takes longer than it rightly should for his feet to touch the ground.  He keeps his eyes closed and tries not to heed his less biological senses lest nausea take him as he falls.  Not that “falling” is the correct word for it. That would imply an up or down. 

His arrival is signaled not by an impact but by the smell of dry leaves and the tickle of inhaled dust. He pinches his nose to stifle a sneeze and opens his eyes. 

The space he finds himself in cannot seem to decide if it wants to be a forest or a castle.  He is surrounded by pale-barked twisted trees.  He is standing in a solid-walled narrow corridor.  Fallen leaves crunch under his feet as he shifts his weight to look around.  A neat carpet stretches behind him off into shadows and before him up to an ornate beaded curtain.  A cloud-muted sun filters down through a canopy of desiccated foliage.  A star-backed moon shines through a high vault of stained glass.  Either way, motes of dust catch the weak light, shifting through the slow motion gyre of a breeze too weak for flesh to feel. 

“Are you alright?  We lost the feed for a minute there.”  The static crackle of signal decay does little to conceal the concern in Lacuna’s voice.  Is that not the tone she normally reserves for Eris?  Are she and Ashan closer than he realized, or does she worry like that with everyone she considers a friend?  He has little basis for comparison to correlate sensitivity of concern for safety with emotional investment. 

It is a distraction. 

He wants to ask her what she sees through the filter of the camera atop his ear.  To verify the chimeric nature of his environs that shifts with every turn of his head and blink of his eyes.  To tell her that her charm of mental protection does not work to shield his senses.

But he is playing the part of Tam Lin right now and Tam would have no reason to ask such questions of the empty air. 

He nods and hopes she takes the cue to be silent when the hunting beast pads past him toward the hanging moss (beaded curtain).

For all that Ashan prides himself on stepping as lightly as any thief or dancer, he cannot help but stir up puffs of dust from the carpet (pulverize dry leaves into blooming clouds) with every step.  The hunting beast’s guiding passage leaves no such trace.  It is its master’s creature within its master’s demesne.  Unlike Ashan, it is not showered with gray powder when passing through the moss (curtain) and into the throne room (parched glade) beyond. 

The hunting beast crosses the space and seats itself on its haunches in front of a tangle of roots (a bas relieved throne), from atop which presides the fae liege with whom Ashan has come to bargain.  It/He/She/They/Fae wear(s) wears robes of gray that are in the active process of becoming moth-eaten before Ashan’s eyes.  Fingers and forehead alike are adorned with bechained jewelry; metals tarnished and patinaed, gemstones dull.  Its/His/Her/Their/Faer face is an overlaid multitude that blurs expressions into an indistinct haze of imperfectly aligned features. 

Ashan nods his head and sweeps an arm in a gesture of respect.  It is not something Tam would do, but while Ashan has not dealt directly with the fair folk before he has been trained well enough to know the danger of losing oneself to a role in a place such as this and a true wizard bows to no higher authority.  Fortunately, this lukewarm obeisance does not seem to perturb the figure on the throne.

“The Seventeen-Named Count of Curses and Dust bids you a welcome homecoming and congratulations on joining the ranks of the Named, Carter, my little changeling.”

With that proclamation one of those seventeen unspoken Names is chosen for temporary prominence and a conceptual waveform collapses.  Ashan’s surroundings solidify into a single hybrid of a forest woven together into the shape of a castle.  Tight-packed trees interlace branches to merge into solid walls.  Leaves fallen from the canopy above have been carefully arranged into patterns on the forest floor. The fae liege now sits upon roots that have been expertly coaxed into the shape of a throne and wears only a single grandfatherly face.  The hunting beast at the foot of the throne winces.

“You honor me with this audience, great Count,” Ashan says.  “Pray tell, what next lies in store for a newly returned changeling?”

“So you do still recall the tongue of your true people in waking as well as dream.  That shall save us much time in preparing you for your role as one of my emissaries.  Once you have resworn your oaths of fealty to me your training in the ways and arts of my court shall commence.  There shall be no time wasted on pointless festivities, for ours is the dominion of the dust to which all things return.  To be my emissary is to weave the curses that will hasten that return, especially for those foolish enough to believe they can postpone it indefinitely.”

“Well, there’s your offer,” Lacuna says to Tam on the other end of the comms link.  “Magic and probably a bit of world-hopping.  Still want out?”

“Hell yeah I want out,” Tam exclaims loudly enough to be picked up by Lacuna’s microphone.  “Screw this dust-to-dust reaperman crap.”

Ashan nods in silent acknowledgment of the expected response and addresses the fae lord in front of him.  “O great Count, thank you for your answer, but I must now take my leave.  To be one of your emissaries is not my place.”

“You misunderstand your position, little changeling,” the Count says, “your role here in my court was ordained long ago.  Now Carter, kneel before me and renew your oaths.”

The hunting beast crouches and growls.  Ashan stands unbowed and serene.

“I do not answer to you.”

“Such impudence!  Have you no gratitude for your liege who saw fit to grant you a Name purchased in fair contract?  By that very Name, Carter, I command thee kneel and renew your oaths!”

The Count’s voice echoes through the forest and shakes the dust from the trees.  The roots of the throne writhe and the leaves stir from the floor.  The hunting beast yowls and Ashan stands unbowed and serene.

“I do not answer to you.”

Another of the Count’s Seventeen Names takes prominence and the parched forest glade closes into a vaulted stone audience chamber.  Fallen leaves sew themselves together into a threadbare tapestry of a carpet.  Soft wrinkles stretch smooth and tight over a sharp-featured skull.  From atop a marble throne embossed with arboreal motifs, the steel-eyed Countess of Curses and Dust glowers down at Ashan.

“You are mine.  You.  Shall.  KNEEL!”

A will that is not his own claws at the edge of Ashan’s consciousness, ancient and vicious.  The mental wards he was taught early on and has diligently kept up ever since fray and fracture.  The invasive presence reaches in and touches a stray surface thought, withering it down to a vague sense of something forgotten.  Perverse delight seeps in from the outside at the prospect of doing the same to every other thought until his very self is reshaped by erosion into an ideal servant.

The amulet beneath Ashan’s robe oscillates between burning and freezing against his skin.  The intruder in his mind recoils and retreats.  The Countess of Curses and Dust lets out a scream from her throne that sends the feasting moths fluttering away from her regalia.

“I.  Do not.  Answer.  To you.”  Ashan gasps.  He has denied the fae liege for a third time.   By the Law of Threes he should be safe from that avenue of coercion for now.

“What trickery is this?”  The Count(ess) asks.  Their face and hall flickers between aspects on every third word.  “You are not my changeling.  What are you?  You are full of shards of glass and shattered iron that writhes and drips with rotted ichor.  I will have no dealings with mad and broken gods or spawn of the eldritch.”

Suppressing a shudder at the thought of what Lacuna has hung around his neck and wrist, Ashan slips off his bracelet and the glamor disguising him as Tam Lin with it.  With an audience gained and the nature of Tam’s would-be master displayed, there is no further need for that ruse.

“I am the student of Aliana Glassgaze, wizard, warder, and master of the Dancing Dream Paints style.  I am here as the appointed champion of Tam Lin whom you would call Carter to speak on their behalf.  I have judged the treatment you would afford your vassals and would now negotiate their release from your service.”

The room settles back into a hall of stone.  “Interloper,” the Countess accuses, “you have no grounds on which to negotiate.  Carter was one of mine when still Nameless and accepted the offer to become a changeling with full knowledge of and agreement to the terms that would come after.  Whether or not he still remembers that agreement is immaterial.”

“Contracts made before a change in Name are not binding except between the Name’s new and original owners, and you were merely a middleman in that exchange.  Elsewise you would not require a renewal of oaths.”

“You argue semantics of the general where it is the spirit of the specific that matters.  Changeling contracts are always between intermediaries for neither the unreal Nameless nor the unborn Named are fit to negotiate.  This contract was made and fulfilled in accordance with custom.  All services to the blood father of the prior Name-holder were rendered as contractually agreed upon and fairy was swapped for child as payment rendered.”

Ashan puts one of the practiced smiles he copied from his mentor; the narrowing of eyes and lopsided upturn of the lips that lets an opponent know they have just walked into a trap.  He never was able to muster the emotion she put behind it, but it remained an effective tool of intimidation and unbalancing provocation whether applied hot or cold.

“You would invoke the spirit of tradition, but this contract violated even that.  You failed to account for the realities of modern anchor world humans.  The exchange of child for changeling as a valid price is predicated on the bond between parent and child, but no such bond existed between the contract holder and child in this case.  This so-called blood father was a mere anonymous donor of seed who met neither mother, child, nor changeling.  It is doubtful he was ever even aware of the stolen child’s existence and certainly had no part in the bestowing of a Name.”

The audience hall shrinks down claustrophobically close.  Peeling wallpaper faded to gray surrounds the empty and dust-covered royal nursery.  The petulant Heir of Curses and Dust pouts from atop a pile of broken toys.

“That doesn’t matter,” they insist.

“Does it not?  You were tricked into providing your curses to a human for free and in the process inflicted harm upon an uninvolved third party.  That Name was not sold but stolen and was given to the changeling on false pretenses.”

“Liar!”

“If you truly thought I was such, you would not be wearing that face.”

The Count of Curses and Dust regains his composure and returns to being an old man on a throne of roots.  The moths return to resume their eternal feast on his regalia.

“All of this is beside the point,” the Count says with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “By my station, it is well within my rights to compel any courtless fairy whose Name I have command over into my service.”

“Then let us make a bargain,” Ashan suggests.  “What is your price for leaving Tam Lin whom you call Carter and their friends and loved ones alone in perpetuity?”

The Count stares into Ashan’s eyes for a long moment and once again the young wizard feels an alien touch brush against the edge of his consciousness.  This time the Count’s will does not seek ingress but instead traces the outermost border.  An assessment of general shape if not interior contents.  Twice Lacuna’s charm grows warm and twice the presence momentarily retreats before returning more cautiously.  On the third time the Count breaks the silence.

“You would deny me the return of a changeling whose Name I bargained for, so it is only fair that I receive the means to create another in return.”

“My Name is not for sale.”

“Neither of them?  You have two, do you not?  One you wear now and one you have all but abandoned since childhood.  A childhood name for a new changeling child would be most fitting indeed.”

“My Name is not for sale.”

“Are you sure?  I would think I would be doing you a favor to unburden you from it.  I can tell that all the recent times you’ve worn it have been marked by loss and longing.  Wouldn’t it be better to let that pain go?  To allow yourself to be fully the you that you are now?”  The Count leans forward with a smile that is kindly at first glance.  “Think about those loved ones you wish you could be with but cannot bring yourself to embody that old Name like you would need to.  They could have the you that they remember back and the you that you are now could finally move on.  You would be doing them a kindness.”

“My Name…” Ashan hesitates.  It would be a kindness.  As he is now, he cannot possibly hope to return to his parents without causing more pain than healing.  But a changeling with his old Name unburdened by everything he has been through?  A fae liege of the Count’s power could probably even alter memories and spin a story well enough to avoid a Masquerade breach.  Without that wounded Name, perhaps he could even find it within himself to forgive Aliana and they could travel together again the way things were.  Maybe he could even talk her into joining with Road and working with his new friends.

Maybe…

*******

“Maybe we’re wrong,” Eris said to Ashan the night after their mission with the vampire crypt beneath a suburban basement.  Hot drinks late at night in the office’s kitchen had become something of a post-mission ritual between the two of them.  At least when the two of them were both well enough to stand.

“Wrong about what?” Ashan asked.

“About family.  Love.  Broken bonds.  All that stuff.”

“I am not sure I follow.  Perhaps having been drained of blood is still affecting your cognition.”

“Eh, I’m mostly fine.  What I’m saying is the Masquerade's done a number on both of us.  You feel like you can’t go home after running away and my parents straight up disowned me after I came home covered in blood I couldn’t explain one too many times.  But maybe we’re wrong about not being able to go back.”

“That is highly doubtful.”

“Doubtful, but not impossible.  Look, let’s make a deal.  If you ever change your mind and decide to try talking to your family again, I’ll go with you to support you and back up whatever you decide to tell them.  Masquerade cover story or the truth, doesn’t matter.  Then after, we’ll go see my folks.  If it works out, then great, and if not, at least we tried and we’ll still have friends here to come back to.  So, what do you say?”

“I say that blood loss and blunt force trauma are impairing your judgment, and even if I were to accept your deal I would not change my mind on this matter.   But…”

“Buuuuut…?” 

“Maybe I am wrong.”

*******

“My Name is not for sale,” Ashan says for the third time to the Count of Curses and Dust within his wilted forest glade.

“So be it,” the Countess of Curses and Dust proclaims, her voice echoing throughout her gloomy stone audience hall.  “In that case, let us balance the deal with a more finite service in exchange for the denial of a servant.  A favor of my choosing to be decided upon and called in at a later date, as is the most traditional price of contract between fairy and mortal.”

Ashan imagines the way Aliana would laugh off such an offer but chooses not to mimic it.  “Do you think me naïve?  Once again you invoke tradition, but this is a tradition that any knowledgeable mortal would know to avoid.”

“Then this negotiation is at an end, for you have nothing else to offer me.  If you will not offer me your lesser Name, then you would certainly not part with your far greater one, and if you would refuse a single favor then I cannot hope to extract any other oath of service from you.”

“I have access to the library of the sorceress Bridgewood,” Ashan proposes.  Any payment out of the Bridgewood Estate would need to be negotiated with the current Bridgewood of course, but this fae lord does not need to know that.

“So that is why your mind is so hideously warped and sharp to the touch.  Speak that name no further in my presence.  I have never known a more unclean thing with a refusal to return to dust than that sorceress, save for the attack dog she made her consort.  If you claim to be her ally, then we truly have no more to negotiate”

“If you truly put such stock in tradition, then let me make one final offer on behalf of Tam Lin whom you call Carter.  Let us both put forth the prices we would otherwise be unwilling to pay as stakes on a wager.  My aforementioned request for noninterference against your request for a future favor.”

“The favor, and your childhood Name.  As the price of mentioning that hated sorceress in my home.  What is to be our game?”

Aliana’s way of doing things it is then.  Yet again.  Did she too try and fail to avoid this route time and again before giving in and making it her first option at every occasion?  Unlikely.  She always enjoyed it too much.

“I invoke the rite of trial by combat between appointed champions, to be held on neutral ground.”

*******

Hours later, after extensive negotiations regarding the precise wording of the terms of the duel and subsequent prices the loser must pay, Ashan finds himself standing on one of the few level rooftops in Crossherd’s outskirts.  This far out from the pocket dimension’s heart geometry and geography get strange.  The buildings here were dreamt up to give the impression of an endlessly expansive city skyline, not for use or habitation, so while they look normal enough from a distance upon closer inspection they quickly become nonsensical.  Overlapping windows tilted at odd angles, doors that open up to the outside seven stories in the air, fire escapes that connect to neither windows nor the ground, sometimes even whole buildings intersecting with their interiors leaking into one another and corners erupting from each other’s faces.  The interiors are even worse; where they are not completely hollow facades they are unnavigable mazes of doors that open into flat walls, stairs that recursively loop back on themselves, and floors with no route between them.

This particular rooftop however has become something of a fixed point in the city’s inconstant periphery owing to its repeated use giving it a firm place in the collective consciousness in a certain portion of the city’s residents.  In other words, while Ashan was handling the contract negotiations, he had to send Lacuna out ahead to make sure that no one else was already using the rooftop to violently settle a dispute away from potential collateral damage today.  Or rather, Lacuna sent one of her remote drones which even now hovers on paratech repulsors above the scorched and pitted ring of concrete where the half-formed air conditioning units and ouroboric ductwork has been cleared away to give would be duelists, pit fighters, and blood feuders room to do their work.

Crossherd has ever been a city built on symbolic stereotypes and tropes, and the climactic rooftop showdown is a powerful one.

Ashan’s opponent - the very same hunting beast that had been sent to retrieve Tam Lin for its master - impatiently paces the far side of the rough ring.  Someone has clad the nearly hairless felid in ill-fitting pale gray plate armor and strapped a rusty sword that it has no good way to wield to its back.  If it were not for the anger burning in its too-human eyes every time it glances his way Ashan might pity the poor creature.

Behind their two designated champions, Tam Lin and the Count of Curses and Dust stand witness.  In the Count’s case he is possessing the body of one of the Nameless fairies under his command.  Much like the surrounding buildings, the empty-eyed wretch looks normal enough at a glance but the illusion falls breaks apart and tumbles down into the uncanny valley under scrutiny as if someone described what a human looked like to some skilled alien sculptor who had never seen one in person and thus thought the eye whites and teeth should be the same material and was left to guess as to whether clothes were part of the body or not.  The fact that Tam has been having trouble maintaining human form every time he looks at their distant cousin whose fate they presumably once shared has not escaped Ashan’s notice.

“This is your last chance to put aside this foolishness,” the Count says through his Nameless vessel.  “Call off this farce of a duel Carter and renew your oaths to me.  Do it now and I will not hold this tantrum against you, for you are young and confused.  You do not realize the value of what you are and what you would be with me.”

The emphasis of the Name elicits a scowl from Tam and a growl from the hunting beast.

“That’s not my name anymore, old man!”  Tam shouts back.  “So you can shove your offers.”

“Nonsense,” the Count says.  “You cannot simply create a new Name for yourself.  That is a privilege reserved for mortals, and no matter how much you believe you are one that can never be.”

Ashan tunes out whatever further barbs Tam has to exchange with his erstwhile and would-be master.  He slides his wand into his hand and takes a stance, already envisioning the anchor points from which he will draw his conjurations.  He focuses on the hunting beast, the way it moves, the range of motion of its joints, the places where the armor hangs loose.  Which way will it dart once the duel begins?  Can he incapacitate it before it gets the chance to close the distance between them?  Should he open by tying it down with point restraints or start with a loose encapsulation and tighten his grip from there?

No, do not overthink it.  Remember Aliana’s advice: A duel is a dance and he must adjust his rhythm to that of his partner.  He has already avoided the mistake he made with Logos and set the stage in a locale that does not favor his opponent, now all that is left to do is wait for the signal.

Somewhere in Crossherd’s heart, a clocktower bell tolls the changing of the hour.

The hunting beast lurches forward, then to the left, then to the right.  It leaps with claws out and fangs bared.

Five fingers on one hand point to five points on the rooftop.  The hand makes a fist and five threads tie themselves to four limbs and a neck.  A wrist twists and the threads pull tight enough to keep claws from reaching throat.  The fist falls and the hunting beast is dragged crashing down to the concrete.  A wand draws a circle in the air and a shimmering disk appears.  The wand slashes downward and the disk falls onto the hunting beast pressing it further into the rooftop until the conjuration molds to its target’s shape, sealing off any struggle.

The duel is over before it begins.

But then the threads go slack and the disk goes flush with the concrete below.  

The hunting beast is gone but for a shimmering emerald haze.

Ashan spins a glass cocoon around himself just in time to block the claws seeking to tear out his spine.  The hunting beast disappears once more from behind him and then reappears to his left.  Then to his right.  From behind again.  In front of him where the prior conjurations have since dissipated.  Each time it reappears it strikes at Ashan’s conjured barrier, probing for weaknesses and finding none, then disappearing again in a cloud of green.

Ashan holds steady and examines his foe’s movements for a way to counter them.  The delay between reappearances rules out true teleportation.  No sign of active cloaking magic or illusions, so probably not invisibility.  No active magic signatures at all save for a fraction of a second when the green haze appears.  A phase shift then, or possibly stepping in and out of its master’s demesne.  Either way, he can work with that.

He pushes outward on his translucent cocoon, turning it into a tight bubble just big enough for him to properly move his arms and legs, but too small to fit both him and the hunting beast lest it try to reappear inside the barrier.  Bending down, he begins drawing the first of a sequence of glistening symbols on the ground to turn the surrounding area into a planar-locked ward.

“Arise, my servant!” the Count’s name echoes across the rooftop.  “Be not a savage beast, but my noble knight!  Become my Champion of Curses and Dust!”

Bone cracks, pops, and knits back together.  Skin stretches, tears, and heals.  The armored hunting beast stands upright on its still-feline hind legs and hisses through its muzzle protruding from beneath its helmet.  It reaches a forepaw-now-hand behind its back and unslings the rusty sword.

The Champion of Curses and Dust charges Ashan once more.  The wizard speeds up his drawing of the ward and begins the chant for the spell to activate it.  The air inside Ashan’s bubble grows cold and frost covers the ground.  The sigils flash.  The spell completes.  No more teleporting to worry about.

When the rusty sword makes contact with the conjured barrier it passes right through, melting a hole that causes the rest of the conjuration to unravel.  Ashan barely manages to spring backwards in time to keep from being impaled.  Instead the rusty sword cuts through the ward’s central sigils and into the concrete beneath.  

Staggered as he is by the dual backlash of two actively maintained spells being violently disrupted, Ashan fails to press the opportunity presented by his opponent’s blade getting lodged in the rooftop.  As the Champion of Curses and dust works the sword back and forth the concrete cracks and crumbles with a century of erosion passing in the blink of an eye.  When the sword is at last prised free, a hole in the rooftop the size of a grown man’s torso collapses into the room below, exposing rusted pipeworks and corroded wiring.

With the ward destroyed before it even got a chance to do anything the Champion disappears into green haze once more.  By reflex, Ashan throws a hand behind himself to conjure a shield in anticipation of the next strike before realizing his mistake.  He jumps to the right quickly enough to dodge the worst of the blade’s path when it reappears and once again passes through his barrier as if it were nothing, but the tip of the rusty sword manages to clip the edge of his arm, just above the wrist.  The wound itself heals before blood can be spilled but his hand grows old and wrinkled before his eyes and he can feel the same happening to his arm beneath his sleeve.  Arthritic pains flare up from his fingers to his elbow as joints seize and grow stiff, forcing a strained gasp from the otherwise young wizard’s lips.

A twist of his heel sends Ashan spiraling into the air to gain distance from his attacker but the corkscrewing conjuration propelling him is cut down, disrupting his trajectory and crashing him into one of the remaining air conditioning units halfway across the rooftop.  He rolls to his feet but still finds himself on the back foot with precious little to do but avoid and evade.  Bereft of his usual kinetic barriers he resorts to retooling his technique to conjure streams of fire, wind, and lightning, but even those do little to deter an opponent that can effortlessly shift in and out of this plane of existence, and is an inefficient enough power draw that his breath quickly stings his lungs from the cold air.  

All in all, it is nearly as bad as trying to fight Eris when she is wearing those dispelling gloves of hers, a sparring setup that Ashan is yet to emerge victorious from in their regular matches between missions.  

A memory flickers in the back of Ashan’s mind of waking from unconsciousness when his mentor thought a monster had just killed him.  In her cold fury she had filled the cave with conjured wires and floating shards of glass.  The monster’s own weight had forced it through the deadly web like so much cheese over a grater.  And then his mentor had set the wires and shards in motion and it became more like meat through a grinder.  The sight had given the young Ashan nightmares for weeks afterward, but maybe if he could now duplicate the technique at a lesser scale to merely injure…

Ashan begins to envision and draw the net of monomolecular wires and spinning blades around him for his opponent to cut itself on but hesitates just short of funneling in the energy to make them a reality.  Unfortunately, a lifetime of being careful to never kill nor maim with power that could easily do both deeply ingrains inhibitions that are not so easily overcome.  That hesitation very nearly costs him the use of his other arm.  Fortunately, a lifetime of training for blows coming from the periphery of vision ingrains reflexes that are not so easily overcome.

Another burst of flame buys him some breathing room at the cost of a chill seeping into his bones.  If only he could buy himself a moment to draw another planar ward.  If only that sword could be taken out of the picture.  If only the Count of Curses and Dust hadn’t transformed his Champion mid-fight.

If only…

Gods take him for a fool.

“I call foul play and outside interference,” Ashan manages to say between dodging sword strokes.  “By the agreed terms of the duel you must either forfeit or allow a counterbalancing interference.”

“Counterbalance accepted,” the Champion of Curse and Dust laughs from the mouths of Nameless servant and hunting beast simultaneously.  “Let us see what my wayward changeling can do to earn his freedom.”

Ashan locks eyes with the frightened Tam Lin watching from the sidelines and shakes his head.  No need for them to act.  They are not Ashan’s only ally present to act as witness and second.

“Lacuna!” Ashan shouts.

“Already on it!” her voice calls back from the hovering drone above.

The projector mounted on the underside of the drone flickers on and shines a ritual circle down onto the rooftop in the center of the designated arena.  The shifting glyphs spiral into a nauseating self-recursive mess that makes the incomprehensible guts of the building beneath seem logical by comparison.  The drone’s speakers begin screeching an ear-piercing white noise and the accelerated, computer-generated ritual begins.

The second sight of a well-trained wizard and the sensory organs of a beast tailor made to hunt prey across dimensions are sensitive things capable of picking up on the subtle shifts, folds, stains, and cuts in the fabric of reality that make up what is known as “magic”.  Whatever Lacuna is doing is anything but subtle.  From the sensation of hooks digging into his skin and intestinal lining, Ashan would guess that it is meant to be a combination of planar lock and teleportation anchor kicked up to a degree that would be overkill for anything short of a demigod or one of the eldritch.  Or perhaps a fae liege.  Even without that, the sudden chaotic mess of metaphysical noise is enough to set him clutching his head and retching out his breakfast.  Blurry glimpses through tear-filled eyes suggest that neither Nameless vessel of the Count/Champion of Curses and Dust are faring any better.  Tam Lin however seems unaffected and comfortably human once again.

Having experienced a few of Lacuna’s abominable rituals before - although none nearly this horrific - Ashan is the first to recover.  A flick of his wand is all that it takes to wrench the rusty sword from his howling opponent’s grip.  By the time the Champion of Curses and Dust is back on its feet, Ashan has already conjured chains linked to each plate of its armor.  He stabs his wand forward then pulls it back and the chains strip away the armor in a single motion.  His opponent attempts to disappear but there is no green haze to vanish into, only the pain in its gut and the noise in its bones as it drops back down to all fours.  A simple dome is all it takes to contain it to the point of being unable to fight any further.

Ashan staggers over to his trapped opponent.  Doing his best to ignore the wretched droning of Lacuna’s ritual he asks, “Do you yield?”

The hunting beast in the dome whines.

“I said, do you yield?”

The hunting beast looks up at him with human eyes and whimpers.  Once again Ashan is struck by the similarity of those eyes to Tam’s when they are in human form.

“My champion yields,” the Count of Curses and Dust says through his Nameless servant on the sidelines.  “You have bested us both, now stop that accursed spell.  Not even that hated sorceress would resort to a distortion so vile.”

“Lacuna, please stop,” Ashan says.

The noise, audible and metaphysical, cuts out and the projector goes dark.  The drone drops down to eye level with a flurry of apologies from its speakers.

“Was it really that bad?” Lacuna’s voice asks.  “It took a bit out of me, sure, but I didn’t think it was that far off from standard parameters.”

Ashan merely stares into the drone’s camera at a loss for words.

“I did not know the sorceress had made constructs that could speak and work magic,” says the Count.  “Little wonder such a thing is insane.  As are any who would trust it.  No matter, the duel is done and the contract sealed.”  The Count’s vessel turns to face the approaching Tam.  “Enjoy your freedom, Carter.  Love and lose those mortals you think you can be one of.  And when the pain of outliving everyone -”

“For the last time, old man, that’s not my damn name!” Tam shouts.  “My name is -”

“I introduce to you, Tam Lin,” Lacuna interrupts while maneuvering the drone between them, “whom my friend and ally Ashan Glassheart has acted as champion for today.  Tam and Ashan, for whom this formal introduction serves to prevent the accidental giving away of Names by acknowledgement, you know the rules, don’t blame me, oh goddess that was incredibly rude of me I can’t believe I just said that to a fae lord please forgive me just trying to help just ignore me and forget I exist I’m going now.” 

There is an audible pop of static from a microphone being turned off and the drone rises back into the air.

“A thoroughly insane construct,” the Count mutters before turning his attention to the still-recovering hunting beast.  “Enough of this.  We depart.  Now.”

“I’m not done yet!” Tam says.  “Yes, that’s my Name.  The one I chose for myself.  Because ‘Carter’ was never my Name.” They turn to address the hunting beast.  It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare,” the Count threatens.

Tam ignores him and kneels down eye to eye with the fallen beast and touches hand to shoulder.

“I return to you the Name of Carter, which was wrongfully stolen and passed into my care.  I return it to you, its rightful owner.  I return this Name to to you, Carter, my brother.”

This time the shifting of Carter’s form to a more human one is smoother, not wood being hacked apart and nailed back together but water poured into a new container.  When the transformation is done the two fall into a tearful embrace.  Hoarse “thank you”s choke out between sobs from a throat that has never been allowed to make its own words but now knows how thanks to the experience of a well-used Name.  Carter’s nails and canine teeth are still a little too sharp, his body's muscles still bulge from years of hunting prey, and the vestige of a tail still protrudes from the remaining cloth scraps of underarmor, but otherwise he could very likely pass for being fully human with minimal effort.  He and Tam could even pass for twins who just happened to take very different paths in life.

It occurs to Ashan that that is exactly what the two of them are.

“Remember,” the wizard says to the Count, “the terms of the contract include non-interference towards family as well, and non-retaliation towards the winning participant or participants of the duel.” 

The Seventeen-Named Count(ess) of Curses and Dust scoffs and its/his/her/their/faer Nameless vessel steps behind the breeze to depart without further comment.

“So, now what?” Tam asks.  They and Carter both look towards Ashan expectantly.  The fear of the unknown future for a life that has just been turned upside down thrice over is already beginning to creep into their relief at their ordeal being over.

“Now, we return to the Lonely Walk Outreach Agency.  We have multiple guest beds there where you may spend the night in safety.  When our leader, Road, returns they will be able to help the both of you find a way to return to the life that was stolen from you.  Or to help you find a new one Backstage now that you are in the know.  Balancing the two is always difficult, but it is also an option.”

The new twins nervously nod in unison.

What would Aliana say here?  Better yet, what would Road say?

“Not that either of you need to worry about any of that just yet,” Ashan says with a nearly genuine smile of reassurance.  “You have both had a long day and deserve to rest.  Tam, you have handled the sudden revelation of the existence of the supernatural as well as anyone ever has.  You should be proud.  Carter, while I hope you never have to do so again, you fought well today and I am honored to have faced you.  May that strength keep you safe in the future.  Now then,” Ashan looks around to hide his sudden embarrassment with the act of searching, “let us find a way down from this rooftop.”

“Hey,” Lacuna’s voice says directly into Ashan’s ear through the comm piece he forgot he was still wearing, “you did good too today.  The real hero here.”

“Thank you,” Ashan whispers back.  He conjures a platform to take him and the new twins down to the ground and suppresses a shiver.

“You’re welcome.  And sorry if this is weird to say, but if you ever want to talk about whatever that was with you having two Names, I’m here for you.  I don’t think it’s quite the same thing, but I’ve got some experience with that.”

“I will keep that in mind.  Thank you, my friend.”

No, it is not the same, not nearly.  But a friend’s experiences need not be identical to share a burden.  And who knows, Ashan considers while looking at Tam and Carter already smiling with wonder and comparing memories of mothers that only one of them has met in the flesh, perhaps a change in Name and a foot Backstage need not be the end of everything.

Maybe he is wrong.

Today is not the day to find out though.

He has plenty of time.

Maybe one day he will be ready to find out for himself.

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[dhr-ao3]

Private Tutor

Private Tutor https://ift.tt/MdWX8Zb by allofthelights11 When they come back for their 8th year, all students are paired with students from other houses for coursework and assignments - in the name of building inter-house unity. Professor McGonagall pairs Hermione with the youngest Death Eater in history as he tries to rehabilitate his image. Across a reluctantly burgeoning friendship, Hermione comes to learn that Draco has almost no experience with girls since the age of fifteen. In light of his desperate crush on Daphne and his defeated prospects re: making a move, she offers to help. or That time Hermione offered to give Draco Malfoy some much-needed sexual experience. Words: 3738, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: POV Hermione Granger, POV Draco Malfoy, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Exploration, Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, erotic tutoring, Professor Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger Teaches Things, Sexually Experienced Hermione Granger, No one is a sex god at eighteen, Realistic Learning experiences, patient hermione granger, eager draco malfoy, Draco Malfoy Learns Something, Lots of things, Draco Malfoy catches feelings, Hermione Granger catches feelings, Humor and sex, Humorous Sex via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/4GlFIL8 December 10, 2023 at 12:38AM

[penguin--person]

Solstice (srs/lttm from rain world)?

im so fucking normal about them you have no idea im so fucking normal im so normal you have to believe me i swear im normal i fuckings wear man im normal im so fucking normal

going along with the popular 'suns is treated like a god in their colony' headcannon, i dont think suns liked being worshiped - but, i do think he misses it. he knows it wasnt healthy, but he still does. this isnt me saying he wants moon to worship him, No, he Doesn't . and i mean that. slash serious. in my headcanon, moon's colony was religious too, but unlike suns' 'we can indulge in wordly pleasures as long as suns is ok with it and as long as its for him', there were more monks there. didn't starve themseleves, no, but. they did deprive themselves of lifes joys n shit . like the typical ancient. so. nothing irregular.

i think they'd date before the events of the main game

they meet through pebbles, maybe. suns mentions talking to pebbles not long after he was activated in one of the broadcasts in spearmasters campaign. maybe when pebbles talked about moon, how he wanted to be independent n all that, he went and spoke to moon herself.

and! while he understood pebbles' frustration. i think. m. he foud moon's kindness comforting. sweet lady. i headcanon them to be somewhat of a group senior, too, though maybe like.. not the oldest. moon gen1, suns gen2, smth. so. i think he'd find her comforting. and. he'd keep talking to her.

he'd maybe mention it once to pebbles, but wouldn't mention how their friendship is turning into a romantic one !! though like. qpr. ive got so many thoughts on how iterators perceive relationships you dont even know... like, i think the lines are blurry for them, what is platonic and what romantic. so i think it's not comparable to any relationship any human being has had.. though, maybe.. in the neolithic age n shit.. broken femur... "life is cruel but i'll stand by you and love you even when you're doing bad" n shit. whateverrr no one look at me. though efel free to ask me about my thoughts on the iterator relationships:3

so !! so . i think. moon would find him silly. she'd be happy pebbles has someone as kind as him as a friend, tutor.. . she'd see that suns is hurt, that they're depressed, don't see much point in trying to find the solution, but still try, because, what else is there to do? i think she'D try to help them see the joy in life. and maybe she'd succeed a bit. but, you can't drag a person out of depression on your own, ya know? not to say moon doesn't have her own problems - she also defineely has some kind of depression, i'd bet all iterators do, even if they don't know it. they've got mental illnesses we can't even fahtom.

so !! m. i also think they'd just be silly. moon would give a lot to the relationship, but, she's bad at setting boundaries, yea? like. take the whole pebbles thing as an example. she didn't force communicattions until she absolutely had to . i think she lets a lot of things slide, but, she's not oblivious! she just. i dont knowww i dont wanna mischaracterize her. shes not stupid. shes not dumb. she tells suns if he goes too far. but i dont think she's mean about it. moon never kills the slugcat. i don't think she'd ever really get angry with him - upset, yes, but she understands what he's going through.. and, as group seniour, even though they're not in the same group (but considers him part), wants to help him get better.

i don't think it'd be interely healthy, but, it'd be interesting! like. like. when you're climbing out of depression, you sometimes latch onto something that brings you joy soo much that you don't even care about the side effects. like. you don't fcare if you're depriving yourself of sustance, you don't care if you're harming yourself or the thing, or if the thing is harming you, you don't care if its unhealthy. it brings you joy! and joy is so hard to come by. for me, at least. this is filled with so much projection and self indulgence if u couldnt tell lol

but. they do love each other! they care for each other!! suns isnt using her, and moon isnt stupid and ignoring his faulst ! she knows they are there! but she trusts he'll get better. and suns hopes he will, too.

he'd help moon, too. he'd listen to her frustrations, encourage her to share her feelings. and she would. i dont think suns would know how to help her, really, but he'd listen - and sometimes, even that is rlly helpful.

he sends spearmaster to her, one cycle, with a pearl. an engagement:) old ancient way, exchanging jewelry.

he feels even shittier when the main events of the game happen. because. they weren't publically engaged/married/dating/qpr/whatever the fuck theyve got going on. so he can't. talk about it that much. he does tell nsh eventually n they're like, "why didnt you tell us. like literally its fine. i get pebbles would be upset, but, its fine" . and. m. so. relationships were tabboo in ancient culture, yes? ties you down to the cycle, turns you into an echo and shit. karma three, family and friendship. moon wouldn't be as aprehensive - she knows the local group wouldn't shun them, or at least would come around eventually. but she respects suns' boundary !! i think. he'd be scared. that the ancients would be disapointed in him or something. that iterators would shun and hate him.

i can't explain more of that without evolving this into a longer rant than it already is. so i wont. but feel free to send more asks:3