#this is from some time ago i just forgot. i was supposed to post commissions and then i got busy 🥲

[aka-indulgence]

A Nightmare’s Comfort

Thank you @skylarrikuyt for the commission! Here’s some nice Nightmare comfort for you :>

(Nightmare Sans x F!OC)

Reixe was supposed to be having a rest day, a day to herself relaxing. But that was all ruined when someone tried to impose himself in her life. Now it’s up to Nightmare to swoop her away from her predicament.

CW: Stalking and harassment (via phone). (The stalker is not Nightmare)

Ao3 Link

—————

Reixe was supposed to be having a good day. A long, arduous work week at the music studio that she managed to tackle without any huge hiccups- aside from the existence of her manager, of course. He was an unavoidable part of the job, but she’s learnt to deal with it.

Still. It was exhausting. Today was finally her day of sorely needed rest, and that was the plan. She already cleared her schedule so she could be alone today. Her only company would be a book or a long video to watch, while sipping warm lemon tea to soothe her throat.

She even asked Nightmare to give her some space. She loves him of course, but sometimes you needed to take a day just for yourself.

She had been sunk into the sofa, scrolling through her phone, cuddled under a blanket when it started to buzz. A horribly familiar contact appeared on her screen.

Dont answer: Reixe?

Dont answer: I told you to be available today.

Dont answer: We’re meeting for lunch.

Her face scrunched, shutting off his call as soon as her phone first rang. It was a shock, but after a while of ignoring the paranoia he caused, she managed to forget about it- about him. She was going to see him again come the next work day, and she was not going to waste it worrying about him. He didn’t get to ruin her day off after ruining so many of her work days.

Ignoring him the first time, she hoped he’d lose steam. But an hour or so later, the notifications come back with a vengeance.

Dont answer: Reixe this isn’t funny.

Dont answer: Do you really think you can ghost me like this?

Dont answer: I know you like hanging out at the bookstore this hour. Where are you??

Disgusting. Reixe would’ve been at the bookstore at that time, usually. She would stroll about the town, through the little side-street shops in the afternoon. It was relaxing as a pass time; she would window shop, and live in her own world for a moment. A world where she controlled where she went and what she did. She decided not to go this day, when she found out the creep was actually stalking her. You met him ‘on accident’ too much for it to be a coincidence. It’s a relief she never told him where she lived when he demanded it when you started working with him.

Dont answer: I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes

Dont answer: You hear me?

…

Dont answer: Reixe

Dont answer: REIXE

Missed call 1:54PM

Missed call 1:56PM

Missed call 2:01PM

Missed call 2:03PM

Missed call 2:05PM

Dont answer: ANSWER ME

Reixe snapped.

“I’m not answer you, idiot!” She shouted at her phone, like it’d morphed into the man in question. She finally had a day where she was away from him, where she wouldn’t be able to ‘accidentally’ bump into him and he’d try to pull her away from the crowd or take her home with him, with all the pressures he put on her. She had to do so much just to avoid him, just to tolerate him, and it still wasn’t enough to keep him out of her mind.

Her chest turned tight, her eyes became blurry. Like a predator waiting for her to be vulnerable, her phone started to buzz, no doubt he was spamming her. She pulled on her hair.

“Stop that!” She yelled like her phone could obey her, throwing it across the room. It bounces off the wall and thuds onto the carpet. The infernal thing was still buzzing, a sound that felt like it invaded her mind, and she sunk into the ground. She clutched her skull, feeling like ripping her hair out.

She hated him. She hated him so much. She just wanted him to leave her alone forever, is that so much to ask? Why was it so hard to be rid of him? Why did he have to enter her life when it was already hard enough without him?

In her suffering, she doesn’t notice a presence had entered her living room.

“reixe.” A voice called out, not too far from her. She spun her head around to look at the intruder.

A dark figure stood in the light of the window, tentacles casting shadows on Reixe, a cyan eyelight looking down at her, his pupil shrunk.

Nightmare’s face fell. “what’s happened?”

Reixe didn’t respond. She only stared back at the prince in silence, her heavy breaths the only sound she made.

Nightmare’s negative-laced soul still thrummed at her, crumpled to the ground like she was going to fall apart any second, shaking like a leaf. It didn’t take long for Nightmare to realize the issue, seeing the dent on her wall and her phone directly below it, buzzing like a swarm of angry hornets.

Picking it up with a tentacle, Nightmare scowls upon seeing the screen. That good for nothing manager was brainlessly blowing up her phone, demanding her company and attention– as if the worm deserved it. Nightmare really ought to get rid of him once and for all one of these days, if only Reixe hadn’t opposed it the first time he mentioned removing him.

But there was someone more important to him than a pathetic worm that demanded his attention right now.

Like countless times before, Nightmare blocked Reixe’s manager and shut her phone off, then hovered to the skeleton spilling anxious magic around her.

“reixe,” Nightmare called her in a calm, even tone. He wasn’t even sure if she was able to listen to him in this state, but he had to try. “i’m taking you to the castle. no one can bother you while you’re there,”

As he suspected, she wasn’t listening. She continued to shiver in response, her eyelights unstable and looking far away from him… but she wasn’t outwardly rejecting his offer either, so Nightmare takes it as permission. He makes it quick, connecting his magic to hers with a light tap on the shoulder, transporting through the floor and into his realm.

He took her to the bedroom reserved just for her. Immediately it’s quieter, with none of the things that disrupted her life present. Soft light drifted in through a big window, casting soft shadows throughout the dark room. The new environment looked like it’s already had an effect on Reixe, her eyelights stabilizing and her panting quietened.

Seeing that, Nightmare approached her with open arms to hold her.

A mistake, evidently.

“Get away!” Reixe yelled, throwing his arms away.

Nightmare spoke softly. “reixe, it’s me. it’s nightmare,”

She still couldn’t hear him.

“Get away from me, I don’t want you here,” she hissed, crawling away from him. Nightmare would be lying if it didn’t sting a little, but this wasn’t the first time he’s encountered her like this.

Her eyelights were bright and wild, painfully so; their edges fuzzy, like they were frayed. Her magic was released from her in uncontrolled sparks, and she had her teeth bared to him- he wasn’t really seeing Nightmare.

She continued to hiss like a frightened cat, so Nightmare lifts his hands to show surrender. That he wasn’t a threat, he wasn’t here to fight.

“hey… it’s ok. there’s no danger here, just you and me,” he made sure to keep his voice low and soft, crouching near the ground to be closer to her eye level. “you’re safe. and i know you might get worried about this later, but this is fine– i’m fine. we’ve went through this together before, we can go through it again. i’m here for you, when you need me.”

She still didn’t look like she was listening, her eyes showing fear rather than aggression now.

“What do you want form me– I don’t have anything for you.”

“i don’t want anything from you. i just want you to feel ok, that’s all. take your time.” Nightmare smiled.

Reixe made a wibbling sound, backing away from him. She wasn’t outwardly threatening him anymore, which was something. But she started backing away from him like he was something that would hurt her, which wasn’t what he wanted. There was still unstable magic in the air, a broken cable sparking anxieties, fears, stress. It was pungent in the air for a being like Nightmare, he could sense the turmoil in her mind. He didn’t like seeing her like this. He didn’t like that someone he cared for so much could be in such anguish.

It was an itch, knowing Nightmare could make that pain go away if he could just get close enough to consume those negative emotions. But he knew if he had to pin her down and forcefully ate her emotions, it would be an unending cycle and– she would start associating him with more negative emotions.

He had to be patient.

“it’s ok, everything’s ok.” Nightmare hushed. “i promise you, there is nothing here that can harm you. i won’t will it. we’re not in your universe anymore, we’re home in my dimension. i am lord here, and i don’t permit any harm to befall you. you’re safe… nightmare’s here. your nightmare. i’m here to protect you. please, look at me,”

Though Nightmare could see the difficulty in her movement, she still tried to look at him, from behind trembling hands sunk in her hair.

“breathe. listen. you’re safe. you’re… you’re not there anymore. you’re with me now. i want to help you. i can take away that storm in your soul, if you’d just let me close.”

She bit her bony lip.

Nightmare reiterated. “i want to help,”

Her harsh, shallow breaths slowed down, the intense glow of her eyelights softened. The fraying subsides, if a little unstable. She stopped baring her teeth.

Nightmare walked to her on his knees, slow and steady. He paused when she made a pitiful sound, a mix of a sigh and a sob. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyelights rounded and twinkling at him, though dimmer than usual.

She was really looking at him, this time.

“Nightmare?”

He lets out a sigh of relief.

“yes, it’s me, shh… there we go.” He reached for her, pulling her into his embrace. She’s stiff at first, but after feeling the warmth that surrounded her, she relaxed and cuddled into him.

“that’s it, that’s my girl. everything is ok,” he chuckled affectionately, running the back of his finger down her cheek. “let’s get this all out of you.”

Nightmare shifts into a better sitting position, her head nestled in an arm. He tucked her hair away and curled a tentacle over her skull, sensing the swirling, agitated emotions inside her; in her soul. They were turbulent as a storm, and he closes his socket to see into them.

He saw her weekdays. Everything looked normal on the surface but something rippled from underneath, like a big fish deep below, disturbing the waters. The figure of her hideous manager comes into view, and Nightmare had to physically restrain himself from scowling. The parasite pestered her for attention and followed her wherever she went, whenever possible. Nightmare’s watchful eye from beyond her universe made sure he would never touch her, a misdirection here, an illusion there. If it weren’t for his position as her superior at work, Nightmare would have disposed him far faster. After this incident, perhaps the day he finally rids Reixe’s universe of the miserable pest might arrive sooner rather than later.

Reixe had asked earlier to give her space to be alone. Nightmare respected that. As much as he wanted to spend time with her, he made sure she had the choice to do whatever she wanted with her time, to do what she wanted herself. He didn’t want to be another invader in her life. Especially being an outcode with an omnipresent view to her universe, he had to give her the right to privacy. Today had been different, however. With the connection the two shared, Nightmare could feel her distress even without having to look for her. He felt it in his soul, a wordless cry for help spanning universes.

His eyelight flared with hate, thinking how that manager that caused all this emotional turmoil with his insane actions. But the feeling was quickly extinguished, seeing Reixe in his lap. Nightmare took a calming breath and refocused; making a pulling motion with his fingers.

He siphoned everything that burdened Reixe’s mind. Nightmare is a connoisseur of negativity, but he didn’t enjoy it coming from his dear Reixe. Her anxiety and panic tasted bitter. Had it come from anyone else, he might’ve savored the taste of someone so fearful, but from her it only reminded him that she was suffering.

It’s still nice, though. Feeling her tense breaths slow into long exhales, the frightened magic that radiated from her dissipate like mist, her arms falling limp beside her as she practically melted into him. He could see the light of her eyelights return, a neutral, balanced glow. One hand gripped his shirt. She didn’t look like she minded the ooze that started to coat the tips of her phalanges. A smile finally spread on his face.

Washing Reixe’s soul of the things that plighted her was therapeutic for him. Fed him, too. Win win.

“hi.” He greeted, nuding her. “how are we doing?”

She blinked up at him. She still looked a little far from him, but she was looking at him this time.

She spoke.

“... Better.”

He smelled like his castle. An ancient, comforting scent that helped calm her down. She shook her head, trying to shake off the last droplets of negativity that still clung to her.

“do you want to move to the bed?”

She looked at the bed in question, fit for royalty. She turned to Nightmare, who she’s still curled up against. She puts her face in his chest and closed her eyes.

“No,” she smiled, “you’re a good enough bed.”

Nightmare’s socket crinkled while he laughed– a handsome, reassuring sound. “i won’t object to that. but you can’t stay here forever, dear.”

“Is that a challenge?” she opens one eye, playfully.

“i would love that.” To just stay cuddled together with her? An eternity doesn’t sound long.

His face fell however, his expression turning serious.

“do you… want to talk about it?”

Reixe frowned. She didn’t have to think to say “No. I don’t want to think about him anymore,”

“i understand.” He responded, though it looked like he was still mulling something over. “can i kill him now?”

It wasn’t the first time he said it, but it made Reixe laugh all the same. “No, I still need him monetarily. Maybe as soon as he’s out of a job, you can do whatever you want with him,”

“now that sounds like a challenge.” Nightmare commented. “maybe instead of getting rid of him physically, i should be thinking about getting rid of him socially. ruin his life. pull the strings of those around him so he’d be out of a job, make him live in misery. i’ll make sure he has nightmares every night. that might…”

… Reixe was sleeping. That made Nightmare blink, and he huffs a small laugh. It was funny that she could fall asleep while he was scheming her enemy’s demise.

Carrying her like a princess, Nightmare brought her to the bed, tucking her under the thick duvet, her skull sinking into the soft pillow. He kissed the side of her head and moved away, when a hand snatched his wrist.

Her sockets were only opened a crack when Nightmare turned.

“... Stay with me?”

Nightmare smiled at her, softly.

“Of course.”

[antebellumite]

tumblr fake posts but it's exclusively the US congress 1830s-50s. this will probably not make sense to anyone. it barely makes sense to me: [this is a long post. press j to skip]:

12 notes

forthurricane

guys help three senators from my party are outside my door and its a sunday and im scared i think they want something.

forthurricane

they want me to blackmail the president.

2 notes

henrywisingitup Follow

ohhhh goddddd ok so the coworker that called me a slur at work a few days ago IN PUBLIC just got a duel challenge from a friend of mine aslkdf. istg i hate him so much he's so annoying and he needs to resign or kill himself immediately. i hope he accepts the challenge fucking dies or gets shot up. good RIDDENCE fucking turd pile of trash empty bladder dung beetle puppy bastard LIAR. welliamgravely Follow

what'd he call you?

henrywisingitup Follow

an aboliti*nist.

congressionalglobe

Congblr Heritage Post. #congblr heritage post #senblr heritage post #houseblr heritage post #lmao remember when abolitionist was a slur guys #thank u pierceuinfiftytwo #i hate this post #and i think u do too #mod greeley

346,356 notes

Anonymous asked hi i'm sorry if i'm bothering you with this ask but i'm kinda new to this whole politics thing ( was just recently elected by my constituents so this is my first term ) and i would like to know how to get started on congblr? i've been recently appt to the house and i'd love to engage more with the community. do u have any blogs you'd suggest to me? bunnybrownfrench

hi anon!!!! i'm so glad you're here and in the house too ! ( it's where i am- frankly the Better House of Congress too while we're at it ). sadly i don't know what politics or party u have and i mostly scurry round the democrat side of the aisle more than anything, so i might not be able to help u that much, but i can try to give you some good ones!

@/gowestyoungman is a good source for news, and i'm personally a fan of @/mattbradydaggeurotype but @/geopeteralexhealy has some great portraits! obviously anyone has to follow @/oldhickory if they're a dem ( or even a whig ) they have great posts, lots of drama and thought provoking articles. a vv funny scroll. @/greatcompromiser is on the opposite side as a whig, but always sophisticated in their arguments, with nice shitposts in between to lighten the mood if you're uneasy about the american system.

@/jquincy and @/oldbullion are mostly serious blogs and if you're a westward expansion fellow, they're top blogs for u to follow. a bit hard at times, but personally i think they have great humor to make up for it ( unlike @/castironman though if you're here for what he posts all the more strength to u i suppose). @/redfoxkinderhook is also a good blog but they rarely post ( and never anything personal). @/godlikedan is my personal favorite blog. they have everything on there- drama, shitposts, detailed analysis, longposts, important info, aesthetics, etc.

for the rest tho anon, i'll leave it up to you! go out and explore! find the blogs u like; i wish u the best of luck!

15 notes

greatcompromiser hey guys, look at this BEAUTIFUL new commission i just got from @/mattbradydaggeurotype! it was wonderful to work with you, matt! <333

oldbullion

every day i wake up.

#body horror

555 notes

gallerywatcher Follow

why he kinda......

robrhett Follow

this bitch thirsting over baldy mcuseless LMAO

gallerywatcher Follow

hearing strong words from a guy whos blog is devoted to john c calhoun

244 notes

jrandolphofroanoke

i have herpes. greatcompromiser

yeah? and????? we know.

jrandolphofroanoke

IN MY EYES. IN MY EYES.

135 notes

bunnybrownfrench asked: orgies in hell over secession!! dailyaskstotheussenate

i forgot i asked for poem recommendations for a moment.

0 notes

#ask #bunnybrownfrench

castironman follow It is with great misfortune that I continue the discourse of the past week, but due to recent actions by certain other accounts, I have to re-engage with this conflict. Again, I would like to say that I stand firm in by belief that the 2BUS should not be re-instated, and that I resent the idea that I have somehow 'flip-flopped' or 'betrayed' my past ideals or other people in regards to what I believe to only be my own rational decisions, all logical as I will prove. read more

greatcompromiser

oh you've got to be kidding me.

read more

#fucking fuck offfff JOHN #dumbass ungrateful bitch #subtreasury discource #castironman #i shouldve let oldhickory hang you

54,233 notes

theliberator

Hello, all. The Liberator is proud to announce a new mod today to assist in spreading the antislavery message. Presenting: @/frederickdouglass! We're very glad to have a new member to the abolitionist movement, and even more so to have a new mod with us today! We're sure they'll do great work, and we hope you share our excitement as well!

-Mod Garrison and The Liberator Team

theliberator

Hello, all. Disregard this post, since we cannot delete it. Frederick Douglass has been removed from the mod team.

#info #state of the blog #mod update #mod garrison

44 notes

dailyaskstotheussenate

to the anon who asked us when the gag rule is going to be repealed.

the day that john quincy adams finally snaps and decides to murder the rest of his colleagues on the floor.

or never.

#misc

234 notes

thenorthstar

Hello all, Frederick Douglass here. As you might be aware by now, The Liberator and I have since parted. The reason for this is due to several irreconcilable differences, some political, some personal. The drama has since cooled down, but due to the blowout from our conflict, William Lloyd Garrison and I have agreed to since part ways. I am currently running @/thenorthstar on multiple platforms available in my bio.

Garrison and I are still part of the abolitionist movement together, so if you're worried about the harm this might cause to our end goal of emancipation for enslaved people in the United States and the complete destruction of the slave system as it stands today, do not worry. I will be reposting a catalogue of my speeches and writings here that were originally in The Liberator- which you may feel free to mute as you wish. My advocacy for human rights will proceed as normal.

Please do not contact me to ask about just what occurred between The Liberator and I, however, as that is something that I both do not want to discuss, and feel it is unnecessary considering this blog's true content matter.

#info #blog #the liberator #please direct any and all comments about wlg to mr smith from now on

245,234 notes

higherlawseward Follow

Let's settle this once and for all.

littlegiantofillinois

/lmao.

#bro's getting ratioed so hard i almost cant watch. #SEWARD #delete this sewage boy

brecknridge Follow

fellas is it gay to bring a flower to your senate colleague as your first act in congress to express your admiration for him (also from your state)( literally the most famous senator of your era)(you plucked this flower straight from your home state and tenderly carried it all the way to washington dc to hand to him)(kinda cute too)(this is the first time you've met him)(whig party, you're a democrat)(70 yrs old)???

brecknridge Follow

fellas is it gay to bring a flower to your senate colleague who's dying in a washington dc hotel room and sit by him for hours on end talking about politics and personal life before he finally expires his last breath and you tenderly are the last person to gently readjust his pillow as he falls asleep in your arms...

oldbuck Follow

No.

brecknridge Follow

oh ok

43 notes

godlikedan

A gift from a friend. ;) ;) ;)

godlikedan

Wait.

godlikedan

Everyone stop reblogging this. This was supposed to go to my other blog.

godlikedan

PLEASE.

#lmao get wrecked. #always knew you had a porn blog danny

12,000 notes

oldbullion

real talk everyone in this senate needs to stop having drama.

#@/castironman @/greatcompromiser... looking at you both #stop it

133 notes

roberthayne

menstruation sounds so cool....but why doesnt it ever happen to men???

godlikedan

remind me how you got elected again.

76 notes

oldbullion

going to @/oldhickory's inaugeral party. I expect a solemn affair.

oldbullion

F U CK they broug ht t cheeessseeee....

12 notes

jgiddyings

back to work in the senate :D~~~!

dawson Follow

tf i thought we censured you??

jgiddyings

i got reelected :) :) :)!~

#take that mofos #no blocking or muting can remove me NOW #suck my dick

65 notes

memberofthehouse

OH MY GOD I HATE this house chamber so much the acoustics are horrible and its so crowded istg I am blaming Thomas Jefferson for all of this. the room was clearly already too crowded in the 1790s and then the louisiana purchase just comes by and Fucks! Shit! UP???? by doubling the amount of people who have to be stuffed in here??? and everyone keeps on smoking and spitting tobacco everywhere and its too hot??? i think the lead is killing me. i think the air is killing me. i think my colleagues are going to kill me. I DEFINATLY THINK HENRY WISE AND HIS COMPANY IS TRYING TO KILL ME???

Kill me.

henrywisingitup

get used to it buddy.

rogertaney

we're making court decisions in the goddarn congress basement if that helps.

346 notes

littlegiantofillinois

so horny for her

77 notes

chucksumner

just saw william seward and jefferson davis taking a carriage together. i don't get it. am i the only one who thinks that as antislavery advocates we in the senate Shouldn't be playing nice with slaveholders??

28 notes

forthurricane Follow

breakfast is very fufilling i say as a person who's morning meal consists entirely of a carton of milk and one (1) expired bread loaf garrison Follow

everyone please stop reblogging op is literally jefferson davis.

#dni

52,346 notes

goldtippedguttapercha-deactiv

Not to be mean but this coworker of mine needs to get caned. 23,233 notes

senatorero hangman foote threatened to kill me again today. can someone please tell me if this means im part of the antislavery club.

vivelasboston Follow

are you a republican? because otherwise i think it's appropriation.

senatorero

oh for christs sake

#personal 4 notes

littlegiantofillinois

such a cruel world... so many good laps to sit on and no one to let me do so.

#SO MANY SOFT LONG CONGRESSIONAL LEGGGGS #THEY ALL LOOK SO COMFFYYYYY #ah well #no comfort or joy in life i suppose #time to bully president pierce into expanding popular sovreignty into kansas nebraska!!! :)))))) #this won't cause any issues

33 notes

[casp1an-sea]

Star Wars But Better Part 1

here’s the link to the master post so you can get part one: Master post

releasing part one because I’m bored as hell

this is a story I wrote a while back, I think it was sophomore year? Basically I replaced Luke Skywalker with @xen-blank. If you don’t know them and you’re a Star Wars fan, I think it’s still pretty funny.

not all of this is my words because I did take things directly from the script of the movie. If something is in quotations it’s a direct quote that I wanted you to know it was a direct quote.

—————————————————————————

A Long Time Ago In a Galaxy Far Far Away…

Civil war… Rebel spaceships…  striking from a hidden base… won their first  Victory… evil Galactic Empire… yada yada yada who cares

C3PO: (To R2) Did you hear that? They’ve shut down the main reactor. We’ll be destroyed for sure this is madness!

(Vader kills a bunch of guys and R2 gets some message. What's it for? I don’t know! He's very cryptic about it. Anyway he somehow knocks 3PO into an escape pod and the Kriffing Imperial Idiots scene no life in the pod so they don’t shoot it down. They land on a planet of sand… I hate sand… anyway who cares if they get captured by jawas or something. Either way they're not important so I’m not writing it!)

----Meanwhile on the Lars Ranch-—

Luc: (To droid) come on already! (Impatiently waits) Uhg you walk too slow! (Just picks the dang thing up and chuks it in the back of their speeder then drives off)

(Luc arrives at Anchorhead a woman angrily waves her fists at them as they drive by)

Old Woman: I told you kids to slow down around here!

(Luc ignores her and stops in front of the power station which is the only slightly interesting place on tatooine. It’s still hot as hell though so does it really matter? They walk into the station and see a rugged mechanic and Camie “a sexy” disheveled girl who is making out with the mechanic when Luc walks in.)

Luc: Ew

Waxer: Shut your porthole wormie

Luc: (Gives them an L) Losers

Camie: You're such a child!

Biggs: Well it seems like no ones changed!

(Luc turns to see their childhood Bestie Biggs Darklighter, “a burly handsome boy”)

Luc: Oh my gosh Bestie?! I didn’t know you were back!

Biggs: Yeah I’m surprised too. Nice to see you again wormie. I thought you’d be here. I certainly didn’t think you’d be out working. (laughs)

Luc: What’s that supposed to mean?

Biggs: (Laughs and ruffles their hair) It really is good to see you hot shot!

Luc: The academy hasn’t changed you much, but you’re back so soon. What happened? 

Biggs: Nothing bad, I got my commission. First mate biggs darklighter at your service (he salutes)

Luc: Man I’d love to see you with combed hair for once

Biggs: (Laughs) Well I came back because I wanted to say goodbye to all you land locked simpletons. (Pats them on the shoulder)

Luc: D-did you just touch me! That’s a hate crime! (Pretends to be appalled)

(Camie rolls her eyes)

Luc: Oh I almost forgot. (Speaks non shelauntly) There's a space battle going on. (Points to a spot in the sky where they had seen explosion through their micro binoculars earlier)

Waxer: Stop with that dumb bathat poodoo, I’m not falling for that again!

(Camie stares at the sky)

Camie: Yeah nice eyes wormie there's nothing up there.

Biggs: (Looks through macrobinoculars) Yeah sorry Luc they’re just sitting there. Probably refiling or something.

Luc: (Crosses arms) Well they were fighting earlier

Waxer: Yeah I don’t buy it!

Luc: Well that’s a you problem.

(Waxer shrugs and rolls his eyes, then drags Camie back into the station to play pool with Deak and Windy)

(Meanwhile Leia is insulting Vader and getting arrested)

(Luc and Biggs are walking outside drinking a “Malt Brew” (don’t ask me what that is) the others can be heard inside)

Luc: (Very animated) So then- get this because it was so cute! So next I went up to- Well, in the game in the game I was carrying all of these books, right? And they were super heavy, so- Ahh, it was so cute, so I picked the “intimacy up” choice- (this was written by Luc themself)

Biggs: You better take it easy Luc. You might be a good pilot but if you get too cocky you might end up as a decoration on the canyon wall.

Luc: Look who’s talking, you're the one who’s piloting big fancy starships!

Biggs: I’ve missed you kid!

Luc: Good! >:)

Biggs: Uh i didn’t come back to just say goodbye…

Luc: Don’t tell me you want to break up!

Biggs: What? Oh! (Laughs) Don’t mess with me like that!

Luc: Why’d you even hesitate? Oh whatever, what do you want to say?

Biggs: I made some friends at the academy

Luc: And you’re replacing me or some dumb druk

Biggs: This is serious (whispers) me and my buddies are gonna hop a ship and join the Alliance-

Luc: The rebellion? You’re gonna commit high treason! (Excitedly smiles)

Biggs: Hey don’t get so excited

Luc: Sorry breaking the law just sounds so much more fun than being stuck here!

Biggs: Then you should come with me

Luc: Bestie, you know my uncle. There’s no way he’s gonna let me have a life off this rock let alone join a kriffing war.

Biggs: What good is your uncle’s work if it’s taken over the empire? You know they are starting to nationalize commerce in the central systems. 

Luc: Wish I could tell him that

Biggs: It won’t be long before your Aunt and Uncle and maybe even you are merely tenants for the greater glory of the empire.

Luc: Nah because I’ll just take over the Empire before they can do that!

Biggs: You’d probably be a better leader then old Palpy.

Luc: Exactly!- Are you going to be around long?

Biggs: No, I'm heading out in the morning…

Luc: Then I guess I won’t see you.

Biggs: You never know. Keep a look out alright?

Luc: Yeah. I’m supposed to go to the Academy next rotation, after that I don’t know. I’m not gonna be some dumb pilot for pricy admirals to gauk over, thats for sure.

Biggs: Yeah (choked laugh) So long Luc (Messes with their hair)

(Biggs turns away and heads towards the power station)

------

[hiddenendings]

i confuse instinct with desire - isn't bite also touch? (Blanktember Day 22)

A/N: This is meant for Day 22 of Blanktember and I just forgot when day I was supposed to upload it! I wrote this a very long time ago for @quicken-silver and I am now posting it here for you all to hopefully enjoy! If you haven't read "eat your heart out" yet then I HIGHLY recommend it. It's still a work-in-progress, but goddamn is it good. (As well as all of their other works. Go read them! Also, check out some art Ventigh did for this same AU for "eat your heart out" it's so good!! I took the title directly from their post, so, uh, hope you don't mind ventigh!!)

Summary: After a long separation, Ingo and Emmet, along with their deamons, have finally been reunited. Ingo wants Emmet to feel just how much they missed him.

[title and deamon names+AU inspired/taken from quickensilver's "eat your heart out"]

Notes: Post-PLA reuinon with the twins being in an established relationship before the separation. Deamons!AU

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50293963

                   Check out my writing commission info here!

                                          ***

[Setting: Quicken-Silver’s “eat your heart out” AU. Daemon!Blankshipping in Hisui with Emmet having found Ingo a few days ago and the two are now waiting for Akari/Rei to finish the Pokedex and go home. It is winter and Ingo, Emmet, and their Daemons are in Ingo's tent in the Highlands. It is night and a snowstorm has begun.]

Carefully shutting the door, Ingo made sure any seams were tightly sealed before he shook his head. "It looks like the storm might be worse than initially expected. It's possible we'll be here for a day or two until the cliffs are safe to travel again." Turning to look back at everyone, Ingo saw Sayoko and Jayla gleefully chasing each other around the tent and over furniture and causing a ruckus — not that Ingo could blame either of them. He hadn't seen Jayla so lively in years, although he supposed much could be said for himself as well. 

Thankfully all of their pokemon were resting in their pokeballs, not willing to deal with the cold. Much of the same could be said of his brother, who was sitting on the bed and whining loudly, “Why is it so cold! You said this was the Highlands, not the Icelands. I am Emmet and it is cold.”

“I told you it was still cold up in the mountains,” Ingo said, more amused than frustrated. It was so nice to see his baby brother squirming around on his bed and whining and complaining, playing up the act of brat even with flushed cheeks and breathless little giggles that slipped out between words. 

If he had any doubt of Emmet’s true good mood, they were wiped away as he saw Sayoko trill in delight, her and Jayla tumbling past in a mix of fur and feathers. 

“Big brother doesn’t care anymore,” Emmet ‘huffed,’ trying to hide his grin behind the Pearl Clan hoodie Ingo had given him to stay warm. There was something overwhelmingly nice about Emmet tucked away in Ingo’s clothing and Ingo’s bed and looking at him with those flustered cheeks and dazzling eyes. “He’s going to leave us to freeze, Sayoko!”

As if to spite him, Sayoko wiggled her way under Jayla, poking out from under warm fur and purring loud enough to drown out the howling winds outside. Ingo felt as if the snow and wind could never touch him again as his baby brother collapsed into giggles and shouted about his ‘traitorous daemon.’ 

Shaking his head, Ingo moved to tend to the fire. As reluctant as he was to look away from Emmet’s warmth and joy, he’d rather his baby brother stay warm. It would only get colder as the night went on, after all, and Emmet deserved to be comfortable and frankly, in Ingo’s opinion, pampered, after all he had gone through. 

Getting ready to stand back up, Ingo froze, almost literally, as two hands wiggled under his tunic and undershirt and pressed against the bare skin of his back. Really, they were less hands and more blocks of ice. “See! I told you it was cold, Ingo!” Oh, so baby brother wanted to play the brat, today, huh?

A quick tussle and Ingo managed to get Emmet pinned to the floor, unable to help the twitch of his lips as cackling laughs turned into a breathless whimper that sent Emmet’s cheeks flushing a beautiful pink. While Ingo had only intended to tease Emmet for just a while… it had been so long since he had seen Emmet pinned underneath him and squirming, cheeks flushed pink and giggles tumbling out of him as he cried up at him, “Big brother! You’re being verrry rude!” 

“Am I, now?” Ingo’s lips twitched as Emmet quieted down with a small whine, still squirming, but only in a way that drew him in closer, everything about him open and soft and willing- 

Ingo glanced up briefly to see Jayla had pinned Sayoko to the ground, paws on both of her wings and tongue lapping at the feathers around her neck. Sayoko was limp and content under her, trills as loud as Jayla’s purrs. At least he wasn’t the only one who had given in. 

“Big brother?” Sitting back, and delighting in the whimper that earned him as he pulled away, Ingo let Emmet pout for only a few moments before he was scooping his brother into his arms. A quick readjustment and they were sitting in front of the fireplace, Emmet melting into his arms. 

“My baby brother is cold, is he? I suppose I would be irresponsible if I didn’t correct the situation,” Ingo mused, tugging at Emmet’s arms and lifting them into the air until they were straight. Emmet made a questioning noise, starting to lower them before Ingo gripped him harder, something like a growl leaving his throat, “Stay.”

Emmet froze at the same time he went limp, his baby brother loose and willing in his arms, absolute trust in that gaze that looked up at him. “Good,” Ingo chuckled, grinning as Emmet shuddered. “Did baby brother miss hearing his big brother praise him and tell him how much of a good boy he is?” 

Oh, it was still so easy to break Emmet down. Still, he had a plan he was intent on fulfilling before he went too far off the tracks. Working his hands under Emmet’s tunic and shirt, Ingo pushed them up until he was pulling them off completely, lowering Emmet’s arms after he did so. “You know, Emmet, there’s a very quick way to get warm. While these clothes can keep in heat, they don’t generate it.” As he spoke, Ingo ran his hands down pink skin that was quickly warming up thanks to the fire they sat in front of. “Fireplaces, however, are very good at warming a body up quickly.” 

Ingo took both of their hats off and set them aside with the other clothing, not resisting for even a moment as he nuzzled his way close to Emmet’s scalp. A deep breath brought in the scent of his baby brother, still with that lingering scent of shampoo he always loved using. So long apart and his memories still so scattered and broken and yet that scent… It was so familiar. So good. 

Emmet whimpered, Ingo directing himself back onto the tracks as placed a quick kiss to Emmet’s temple. “Of course, it’s no good if the body gets too warm too quickly.” Hands sliding back down Emmet’s body, Ingo lingered in every place he could, rubbing warmth into the shivering body and pausing at places where his sweet baby brother had grown so thin… He would definitely be fixing that. 

“So first, we have to remove everything else.” Ingo took his time in divesting Emmet of the rest of his clothes, caressing each inch of skin revealed to him and lingering until he remembered each sensitive spot that turned his baby brother into a squirming, broken mess in his arms. “Big- Big brother please-!” Oh, he had missed that. 

“No need to beg, baby brother,” Ingo chuckled, bending down to kiss at the side of Emmet’s neck, the whimper turning into a shocked moan when Ingo bit down. As he did so, he removed the last of the clothing, Emmet naked and warm and excited in his lap. “I’ll give you everything you need, after all.”

Catching a glimpse of Emmet’s hand dropping to touch himself, Ingo’s hands shot out to grab Emmet’s wrists and hold them still. “Relax, baby brother. You were cold, after all, weren’t you?” Ingo chuckled at the whimpering complaint, kissing at Emmet’s temple again.

“This is cruel!” Emmet whined, trying to squirm and move. Ingo didn’t let him, pressing down and curving over him to lock him further in place, tangling their legs together until Emmet’s were pushed down. “Ingo-!” 

“I missed you, you know.” Emmet went still in his grasp and Ingo hummed appreciatively, pulling Emmet back into his grip fully, lowering their arms, but still keeping his grip on Emmet’s wrists. “Every day, trying so hard to remember anything about my life, and always feeling such an empty space to my side.” 

Emmet managed to squirm enough to look at him properly, face cloaked in understanding and empathy. “I know.” Ah, but of course he knew. Emmet’s side had been empty too, after all. “I know, Ingo.”

“I know you do.” Ingo blew out a sigh, letting the dark feelings go with it. He nuzzled at the side of Emmet’s head, pressing kisses to the skin until he heard giggles. “Almighty Sinnoh I missed you,” Ingo muttered, trailing the kisses down until he was playing with Emmet’s neck, his sweet baby brother groaning and tilting his head to give him even more space. Dragons, he wanted to drive him to ruin. 

Emmet had been so good for him, searching and working so hard to find him and tirelessly running forward just to get back to his big brother’s side. He wanted to pay all of that back. He wanted to spoil him. To pamper. To protect. To indulge. He wanted to devour. 

“Emmet,” Ingo whispered, pulling Emmet in towards him, always closer, as close as he could get. His clothes were still in the way, but that could come later. To let go of Emmet now would be the end of him. “Emmet.” 

“I missed you,” Emmet whimpered, shuddering in his grasp, still so warm and yielding, no defense at all against his big brother’s hungry grasp. He was as pinned beneath him as Sayoko was under Jayla, unable to move and yet there so voluntarily. “I missed you.” 

Ingo wanted to tear his baby brother apart. To dig into him and devour every inch, claim him until every part of his sweet baby brother was his. He wanted him limp and crying and collapsed in his grip, dizzy with pleasure and filled with love. Ingo wanted to indulge and there was nothing to hold him back. After all they had been through, after how long Emmet had been kept from him, there was nothing to hold him back. 

“I want to feel it.” As soon as Ingo said the words, the desire sunk in with claws and teeth. “I want to feel it,” Ingo repeated, nipping at Emmet’s skin and grinning at the startled whimper. “Let me feel you, darling.” Ingo didn’t bother to raise his voice, feeling the brush of warmth and fur against his back as he simply repeated, “Darling.” 

They were both so hungry, and Ingo knew they had reached the very end of whatever patience and propriety they had left as Jayla fluidly twined through their arms and settled in Emmet’s lap. 

Emmet gasped and jerked forward, Ingo holding him tightly in place and closing his eyes at the rush that flowed through him. This was no brief touch or loving reunion. This was Emmet squirming and moaning in his grip, euphoria flowing through him as he whimpered and whined and was filled with such love. 

Ingo could feel every piece of him, overflowing with love and devotion and desire, a blazing heat that swept through him only to be followed by jolts of lightning, hot flashes of heat and lust and that resounding, echoing call of hunger. His baby brother’s soul was a predator as well, after all.

Ingo loosed his grip on Emmet’s wrists, groaning softly as Emmet shot forward to wrap himself around Jayla, hands burying themselves into her ruff and face burrowing against that warm fur. 

His darling ocelot purred and chuckled, pressing closer to their sweet star and licking at the few tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “Oh, my sweet, how we missed you,” she cooed, nuzzling close and letting Ingo feel every scrap of his brother. 

“Shall we show you?” Ingo asked, panting around the words and just barely registering how out of breath he was as Emmet only moaned, hands clutching closer at Ingo’s soul. “I want to show you, Emmet. Let me show you. I want you to feel me, baby brother.” 

A whisper, the barest edges of a voice, almost lost in the distant howling winds that Ingo had all but forgotten. The softest please. 

“Dearest,” Ingo crooned, placing a kiss against that flushed skin that was now so warm and soft. He spoke to both of him, shifting a leg only far enough away to provide a perch. Sayoko was there in a flash, Ingo wasting not even a second as his fingers dug through warm feathers, angelic and soft. He didn’t dare let go of Emmet, his shaking baby brother who was crying and gasping, but he moved enough to bring Sayoko closer. He moved enough to wrap an arm around her, clutching onto her feathers and placing a kiss between her eyes. “Oh dearest,” he whispered softly, just for her. “How we missed you.” 

More, Ingo decided. He needed to give them more. Releasing angelic feathers and moving his hand away, Ingo shushed Emmet quickly at the sob that left him. “Just a moment, my love, just a second sweet thing, my dearest star, hold on just a moment.” 

Even as he soothed his sweet baby brother down, Ingo was quick to rip off his own shirt and tunic, uncaring for once if anything teared, simply throwing it away before ushering Sayoko closer, letting the sweet thing hop and flap until her talons were braced on his shoulders, her body limp and melting against him, wings touching as much of his skin as she could. So much like her human, he mused. 

As soon as she had pressed against him, Emmet had gone just as limp and melting, panting sharply and caught between him and his darling Jayla. “Do you see, baby brother?” Ingo asked, groaning softly at the emotions that flowed through them both, caught and lost equally between breathless purrs and melodic trills. “How much we missed you two? How much we wanted you back.”

He knew what Emmet would feel. He would feel his big brother’s obsession with him, that possessive, protective urge that made him want to lock Emmet away until the world could never find him again. Until he was Ingo’s and only Ingo’s. He knew by the way Jayla had pressed closer, teeth pressed around his neck like she so often did with Sakoyo, this time sharp enough to draw pinpricks of blood. He knew Emmet felt every part of those dark, hungry urges as he gasped and cried out, squirming between them and looking up at Ingo with an expression that was already wrecked. It was wrecked, but it was euphoric, filled with awe and want and the same consuming hunger. 

He felt talons dig into his shoulder, piercing the skin and gripping to where it felt like he would never get away — as if he wanted to. The pain was nothing compared to the euphoria that was given to him. He never wanted to leave this spot. 

“You found me, baby brother,” Ingo chuckled, hands returning to sliding across warm, flushed skin that now carried a sheen of sweat. He wanted. He wanted. He kissed lightly at the back of Emmet’s shoulder, holding him still as Jayla’s teeth dug in more, pulling out a wailing cry. “And now I won’t let you go.” 

He was going to devour.

[acourtofthought]

for the love of god its like every once in a while when e/riels can't find anything to prove that gwynriel won't happen they bring gwyn's SA like they're actually proving a good point.... SHUT THE F**K UP PLS

nothing makes me more mad than them talking about gwyn's SA like they know how she feels bc if they knew they wouldn't even dare to think about those disgusting things!!!

pls share these comments and ppl experiences so these supposed concern about gwyn's health can see how people of SA feels about sex and gwyn's character: https://www.instagram.com/p/CSh2iFnIbzO/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

they're so disgusting and this is only a fictional character but they forgot sarah also wrote these characters base on the real event. someone like gwyn exist in real life and something similar happened to them!!

and it's not just gwyn also rhysand and lucien!!! bc these two are 1. men 2. they threaten other ships (e/riel and fey/in). i haven't seen anyone saying nesta is lying about her SA bc she's not threatening any other ship or i don't see anyone fault her for drowning herself in sex and alcohol after her SA...

they also ignore what happened to feyre and what tamlin did to her bc they don't even see that as an assault and saying "feyre overreacted" and "tamlin pANiCkEd he didn't mean it" and let me tell you no feyre didn't overreacted and tamlin very much meant it, i've been in feyre's place...

honestly this fandom is degrading everyday and i'm so sorry for them.

TW: Sexual Assault I adore the link you shared, thank you so much. It was very empowering to read someone's experience and what they felt comfortable with. Not all SA survivors are going to be the same. Some may need a year before they're ready, some may need longer, some may need less than that and the link you shared is an example of what worked for them and something I hope we're all really happy to see. So any post where someone claims Gwyn MUST follow a specific timeframe because her SA assault happened over 2 1/2 years ago (by the end of SF), that because she did XYZ since then, it means she won't be ready for a physical relationship for a specific amount of time after, is a post that should not exist. I've noticed in this day and age, people like to toss around that all opinions are valid but that's a misnomer. Not all opinions are equal and valid and this one such example. If you claim you have a degree that makes you qualified to diagnose that Gwyn is not ready, you'd be wrong. A real therapist would understand that unless they had the chance to directly ask Gwyn questions related to her state of mind when it comes to relationships and her assault then no one should ever bring their degree into things. They should not be claiming they are an expert on her character based off the limited information we read about while she had a conversation with her friends under stressful circumstances. And no therapist would EVER place a time frame on when their client is ready to move forward, that is for the client to decide and the therapist to simply guide them to self awareness as to what's right for them. The only person who will be telling us if Gwyn is ready is SJM and if Gwyn is Azriel's love interest then guess what? There is a 99.9% chance that there will be intimacy as these are romance books and she has written sex into every single one of hers. Just as Rhys was ready, just as Lucien will be ready if he gets a book. And if Gwynriel is endgame, of which there are many possible hints for regardless of what some in the fandom claim, the author has said that Az is kinky which means anyone drawing fanart of Gwynriel bondage is completely justified in how they got from point A to point B. Maybe they'll have missed the mark and SJMs version of kink will deviate from that however it does not make those who commission or draw the art wrong for their current interpretation. It does not do a disservice to the character of Gwyn. Claiming it's a disservice is basically someone saying to a survivor "you were assaulted but I don't feel you should be alright with a consensual situation between two fictional people, a real possibility based on the authors writing style and previous works because I feel it's triggering for you and I think it's best if I decide when you're ready for that. You wouldn't be ready in real life therefore she's not ready either". This world seems to be full of people telling other people how they're allowed to feel about their own life experiences and it makes no sense to me. They think they're keeping it to the topic of the books and Gwyn's SA but it affects real survivors because when they claim that since Gwyn suffered SA 2.5 years ago and has trauma related agoraphobia she could not possibly be ready to overcome her trauma within a reasonable timeframe before the next book, they're saying that's the rulebook for all survivors. They're saying that there could never be a situation where someone could finally battle their demons and move forward. And no one, not Peggy from Utah or a therapist with multiple degrees should ever be telling a survivor what they can or cannot accomplish, real or fictional. Until we are in Gwyn's head and have her thoughts on what SHE thinks of Az and sex, no one should be boxing her into anything. At this point, anything is possible until we're told otherwise by the author herself.

[fusion-ego]

✩Update✩

✮ Haven't done one of these in a bit because life has been. Crazy. I honestly don't remember the last thing I updated y'all on in terms of how things are working out over here.

✮ So we're gonna go over everything I can think of since August 1st!

✮ August 1 - 11th: Got a job offer in Arizona! Put in two weeks' notice at my job at the shelter. Immediately my plans to get out to Arizona in time to start my other job went up in flames because of car issues/money issues. Honestly not all that upset, I'll have other chances to get something and if it turns back up I might even re-apply for that job.

✮ August 12th-19th: I had the most insane two weeks of work where people I had never interacted with previously/didn't know very well got teary and insisted they were going to miss me. I gave a lot of hugs to women I did not know very well. One of the residents, who got there the week I was leaving, heard that I was leaving to pursue a different job, and her daughter baked me a going away cake. They had known me for two days. It was fucking bizarre. I also bought my truck from my MIL finally! 19th was my last night at work.

✮ August 20th-31st: Left the shelter for the last time at the end of my shift the morning of the 20th. Got my truck's title in the mail! Started making plans to be out of apartment and on the way to Arizona by around September 1st, when my mother was supposed receive retirement benefits from her job that she just quit and then we could all head out to AZ together (instead of my husband and I driving cross-country on our own for the first time). Power got shut off for non-payment the same day I received a "please gtfo of this apartment, you didn't pay your rent" note from my Insane Landlady. We got out of the apartment because I had no plans of paying her anyway after the shit she'd been pulling the last few months (long story). Ended up in a hotel for a few days, in a motel for a few more. Now officially completely broke.

✮ September 1st-30th: Waited for mom's retirement benefits. Moved in with my grandmothers temporarily (around 3 weeks). Went totally broke and had to beg for money for food a couple times. Finally set out for AZ on the 30th. Car promptly started overheating and nearly broke down about 100 miles away, so our little convoy (my mom's truck, my truck, my parents' RV) stopped in at an RV park in Missouri so we could try to fix the truck and some issues the RV was having.

✮ Oct 1st-2nd: Cannot fucking figure out what's wrong with my truck. Dad has replaced the thermostat, tested the water filter, flushed and refilled the coolant, and emptied and refilled the oil. Stupid old thing (affectionate AND derogatory) still overheats if she goes over 60mph for longer than about 5 minutes. RV wouldn't start Oct 2nd when we meant to try and set out again. Mom and dad paid for my husband and I to remain in the RV park for the next two weeks, piled into mom's truck, and went on ahead to AZ to get started at their jobs so that they can come up with the money to get the RV and truck fixed and get us out there as they understand I literally Cannot contribute at the moment since I don't have a job and ran out of cash ages ago since this whole thing took WAY longer to happen than it was supposed to.

✮ Technically this also goes in the last section, but I decided to try and do OC-Tober this year. So far I've done the first 4 days with little difficulty, and it's honestly been nice. I've also been doing some mini-fics on a separate blog every day and that's been really nice too. I forgot how freeing it is to just write a little random thing and post it without needing to provide context or anything. Think I'm gonna try and stick to writing a mini-fic a day! At least until I'm gainfully employed again. It's done great things for my mental health.

✮ That said, my commissions are desperately open right now. I've got at least two weeks before I can make it to Arizona and have a chance at a job, and there's a chance we may just have to send my truck back to Illinois if we can't figure out what's wrong with it which will severely impact my ability to find gainful employment in the city.

✮ Not exactly an update, but groceries are so much fucking cheaper in Missouri than they are in Illinois??? I haven't called DHS to tell them I'm moving yet because we still definitely need the money and don't have a permanent address outside Illinois yet anyway, so we got our SNAP benefits today and, like... We bought $130 worth of groceries at Walmart that would have EASILY maxed out our SNAP in Illinois like halfway through picking up essentials. It's WILD.

✮ And... I think that's it? For now?✮

[shai-manahan]

Hollowed Minds Progress Update 7/02/2022

Hi y’all!

So, shame on me but I won’t be able to show you Wesley’s birthday snippet (which was actually supposed to be on the 28th of June). Not sure if it also reflected on the prompts I’ve been writing, but I’ve been so distracted this week, waiting for a mental diagnosis, and it did turn out that I have autism. 

I’m not saying this out of like, feeling an obligation to do so, but simply because it feels a lot better to have a space where I could just talk about it. And I don’t particularly hate having the condition; it’s just I already went through a whole neurodivergent discovery phase a few years ago, and I guess I’m going through it again lol.

I have one more prompt I wanna do, but I think I’ll just write that when I’m feeling back to it. For Wesley’s birthday snippet, well... it won’t be a birthday snippet anymore but I might still release it sometime since it’s got a great perspective on how Wesley turned from an introvert who hates having to fake their emotions to someone who’s become very good at it (courtesy of Richard).

For tomorrow and next week, I will be focusing on doing stuff I can have fun with the most, namely:

working on Chapter 2. It is a lot of fun! I’ve only had 5k words added to it as of now, but progress is progress

I might apply a theme on my blog. Idk I’m bad at these (remember the time I didn’t even have a pfp?)

reblogging some old posts I loved for no special reason

answering asks I somehow forgot to respond to

updating the RO character profiles I made before (this is currently linked on the intro post in case you wanna check it out)

catching up on some games I impulsively bought

I’ll still answer asks you send me, especially if you have feedback or questions about the current demo (which I will highly appreciate), but the other prompt(s) will be delayed.

Also!!! I might open up writing commissions again once everything’s better, and the ko-fi page I have will be more active then :)

Thank you and have a nice weekend!

[dontkickmyshin]

Chain of Command Chapter 2

~~

It was evening time, roughly around 6' o clock.

Classes had ended about an hour ago, and the hallways had started to empty out, students heading home after a long day of school. Bambi wasn't one of them.

Instead, she did what she always did after school; receive her long list of tasks from Donald Na before he went off to do business, and then work endlessly to complete said tasks before midnight. 

Manage the kids on the student council, make sure that the faculty are on the Union's side, make sure that everybody in the Union was aware of the work that they had to do (easy), and that they actually did it (not so easy). 

Pay off their commissions, collect files and money, sort through paperwork, while making sure that none of the Union members were running some sort of grand scheme behind her and Donald's back. 

And if they were, she had to investigate it. She could only pray that the boys in the Union would be satisfied with their roles, or else she guessed she'd have a lot more work to do. All of that, and more. Exhausting, but it was her job. 

The steady stream of her schoolmate’s chattering was silenced by her making her way down the hallway, as if they’d get beaten if they merely breathed in her presence. She ignored the sudden quiet, pulling out her buzzing phone. Union members, asking for their money. Greedy little bastards. 

It wouldn't kill them to wait a little while, would it?

The last few days had been hectic, to put it lightly. Asides from the trouble that the new change in management had been causing with the boys, she also had to deal with her two newfound walking headaches, Wolf Keum and Jake Ji.

The two boys were assholes, as per usual, but she was used to it being Kingsley’s problem, not hers.

 She was used to working with the much more docile (or at least, as docile a Union executive could be) and competent Forrest Lee (bless his heart), and Jimmy Bae, who although wasn’t known to be the most cooperative guy, was definitely more bearable than the other two executives. 

Especially after his ego got knocked down a peg after his fight with Ben Park, one of the few positive outcomes from his loss to Eunjang. She sighed, having reached the end of the hallway, making a sharp turn before heading down a staircase. 

If she didn’t have to bother with the Union’s reputation and all that crap, she wouldn’t mind watching Jimmy get beat up a little more if it meant that he would finally shut his mouth.

She tucked her phone back into her skirt pocket, heading down another hallway. While infuriating and intolerable, Wolf Keum actually did his work. Jake Ji on the other hand…

She remembered she had gone down to Daehyeon at the end of the week, expecting to see a detailed mandatory weekly report on Yoosun from Jake, but was instead met with the news that he had actually ignored Donald’s order and continued with the previous method of doing things.

“Oh, I actually let Jimmy Bae handle everything on his own.”

“You did what?”

She reported the issue to Donald, though she didn’t know why she even bothered, considering how he had just laughed when she told him. She rolled her eyes as she walked out of the main door, the school gate coming into view. 

Of course he did. Donald wasn’t subtle when he played favourites.

The sky above her was starting to darken, but she knew she still had a long wait till she could call it a day. Her phone buzzed; it was a message from Forrest Lee. A reply to her previous text.

i’m omw, be ready. 

Okay. 

Well, no point complaining. 

She turned on her heel, and left for Hyeongshin High.

~~

notes: this was supposed to be posted yesterday but i forgot.

if anyone is wondering why her name is bambi, it's actually just because i created her as an OC in 2020 so i could insert her into stories without having to write in second or first person. she was just created for that purpose alone but i've grown attached to her over the past two years and her character has developed and formed a personality☺️. she does have a backstory but honestly i've inserted her in so many stories belonging to so many different fandoms (not that i posted any of them) i've decided that it doesn't really matter anymore.

she's been through so many different worlds the only thing that's consistent is her personality (at least in 2022, because her personality was really different back in 2020)

she does have a real name, but i completely forgot that putting that into the story was an option because i'm so used to just calling her by her nickname.

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! —  COMMISSION  — !

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

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

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

— masterlist |  posted; 17.08.2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

X – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way. No way.

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

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

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MINA!"

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

x- x - x

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

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

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

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

“y/n! Over here!”

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

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

It’s probably the butterflies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, there’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x   x   x   x 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a special performance, tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it made... for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 x    x    x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off you go, sweetheart!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 x - x - x

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

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

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

That you’d missed so much.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah!”

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

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

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

x - x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then had come the show.

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

Until tonight, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

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

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

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

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

You don’t even know where to begin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x - x 

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

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

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

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

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like this? Not likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click. 

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

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

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

“Jin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

“Are you ready, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to say no? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[morimallow]

Kurōo with a male reader but reader actually animated and draws really well, can do realism easily literally any art style. And has worked fir anime studios & even made their own anime animation b4?

And he finds it out because he and Kenmawere snooping around?

WAIT, THIS IS SO CUTE. LET ME.. CHERISH THIS. I will entitle this..

Strokes

〖 This is fluff and crack (but I'm not funny?) despite the title, believe me. 〗

You were at your university studying a course totally unrelated to arts, same old poorly made up excuses for you not to go and enroll for Fine Arts running through your mind on a daily basis.

If you think about it, it's fine. Your parents decided to let you go and do artsy stuff after you graduated from whatever that course is.

But then again, this is you and you know you'll get rusty if you won't draw and just focus your mind on lengthy equations and pain-in-the-ass Language lessons and field practices you're sure you won't even use it in real life. Not with your chosen real career choice.

So, you decided to give it a go. You will be immediately offered a job if people can already see your potential.

You'd draw in your free time and also in not your free time and send those samples to animation studios. You use digital and paper and pen alternately... just because.

You would say you're popular. You have an art account, not using your real name because who the hell knows what your parents might do?

You would post there your WIPs, some original characters you made, an character you saw in a manga you read a long time ago that you forgot the title, your commissions with a large DO NOT REPOST or SAMPLE in the background, rough sketches of your boyfriend who doesn't know he was drawn, not that he would mind if he did know.

But the thing is, he really doesn't know. Nope, not a clue. None.

Not until you asked him to use your laptop, which was full of your drafts and placed helplessly on your study table, to send an email to your professor.

You have 4 accounts all in all: a personal one, your art account which you use for digital art stuff and to communicate with other artists, your account for the university and a formal one for.. formal stuff, I presume.

The things is, the account that was currently logged in was your art account and the animation studio you work at sent you your schedule the moment he opened your laptop.

Which means he accidentally opened it.

Kenma was sitting on your swivel chair, doing something on his phone. He was Kuroo's ride because they had somewhere to go after your boyfriend's done with what you made him do.

Kuroo briefly scanned the content of the mail before switching accounts so he could send the file you wanted to pass to your prof.

After telling you it's already sent.. he went back to your art account and whispered to Kenma who was too bored he joined Kuroo in his shenanigans.

Were they thinking you're living a double life? Yes. Did they scan your files? Yes. Did Kenma accidentally stumble upon an open box filled with tons of sketch books and old tablets you used for digital art? Yes. Did they start their search for whatever they're searching there? Absolutely.

For Kenma, he grabbed the sketch book with a label with the same name as the game he's addicted to at the moment. They were drafts then the final designs for the characters.

Kuroo didn't really feel angry or irritated you didn't tell him this. He knows you'd answer him honestly if he just asked but he can't.. stop.. looking at your works.

He was mesmerized. He has a lover so good in arts? HELL, YEAH. He's now convincing Kenma to join him to commission you because you deserve it.

You knew Kuroo would know about your work the moment you entered your dorm with their shoes still by the door. You leaned on the door frame, looking at them still smiling fondly at your works and you were thinking how to approach the situation because.. you weren't really angry? Your works have been out in the public for so many times. Why would you have an issue with Kuroo and Kenma looking at the original ones?

“What do you think?” you asked.

“You didn't tell me you were this amazing! I didn't even know you draw,” Kuroo said pouting but still feeling proud and happy if that's possible.

“I thought you already knew when I asked if I could practice on you?”

“What? When— I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BE BETTER AT KISSING SO I SAID YES.”

“I was on my phone.. drawing you..”

“You weren't scrolling through videos on how to kiss?”

“What made you think I was scrolling through kissing shit when I was holding my phone at a weird angle because that was the first time I used my phone for digital art?”

“Well, did it turn out good?”

“Absolutely, I caught your ugliness and enhanced it to make you uglier.”

Bickering, teasing, and Kenma not minding you two.

Kuroo then asked what your plans were after college and told you about the schedule he accidentally saw earlier. He knew then about your work, about when you made your own anime that was one of Kuroo and Kenma's top 10 faves. It was a short one but definitely caught their hearts.

Kenma had been planning to develop his own game and wanted you to design the characters, get your own crew to develop the graphics and all that artsy stuff (because I don't know anything).

“Kenma, you're my best friend but you can't just steal my boyfriend from me!”

“Kuroo, stealing and hiring are two different and obviously unrelated things.”

After a few more hours of planning and telling stories, Kenma decided to go home and Kuroo stayed for a sleepover.

He asked you where the hoodie he lent you a few weeks ago was because he didn't bring any change of clothes and you said it was in the top drawer.

Just as he was about to close it, his eyes caught a glimpse of a picture.

No, it wasn't a picture. It was a digital portrait of someone..? Maybe a late relative or your close cousin? The person (?) in the frame had some of your features. It was too realistic it didn't cross his mind that it was one of your works.

“Hey, babe? Who's this?”

The moment you realized what he was holding, you stopped breathing. He wasn't supposed to find that but then again, maybe you shouldn't have hid it in one of your drawers.

You mumbled your answer.

“What? Come again?”

“W-What our c-child would look like,” you looked away, blushing.

I realized the title had nothing to do with the content. Maybe this is why I never win in essay writing contests. LMAO. 💀

[jasontoddiefor]

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

Then

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

“An awful sight, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My name is—”

Now

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The festival is not for another week—”

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

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

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

“Just a bit,” Anakin replied.

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

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

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

It was better this way.

[mcheang]

Mlb prompt: What if Adrien finds out the scarf was Marinette's & so had no reason to give Gabe the benefit of doubt? If he just snapped & started to push back, threatening to go to the media, & really doing so when Gabe thinks he's bluffing? Since Gabe thinks locking him in an empty room for a few weeks without phone, pc or games etc. would make him back down, he doesn't take it seriously. But Adrien has Plagg, so he escapes. Cue media shitstorm. Even worse if this is after "muse Lila", so Gabe also gets accused of either being a pedo, not taking sexual harassment (Lila towards Adrien) seriously, using his son as a bargaining chip or all of it. I just wonder what it would be like if magazines & newspapers going "protect sunshine!" mode exposed both Lila & Gabriel as Hawkmoth, and if by that time Adrien were DONE, & so felt way less heartbreak.

Teenage rebellion

Post party Crasher draft

As Adrien opens up his presents at his party, he comes across the standard pen gift from his father. He is surprised and disappointed.

Luka asks what is wrong. Adrien admits he hoped his father would have given him something more meaningful than a pen. At least the scarf was warmer than cold metal.

Adrien even gets the scarf out but while the boys look angry and upset, Luka identifies the scarf as Marinette’s, having spotted her signature.

Adrien: he commissioned Marinette to make me a scarf? I’m not sure how to feel about that.

Nino exhaled. “Dude, no. Marinette made that scarf for you. It was her birthday present to you.”

Adrien stilled.

Nino: your dad stole her gift and presented it as his own. Marinette didn’t want to tell you because you looked so happy.

Kim: yeah, we got that. But I still say we should have exposed the old man from the start if he wasn’t even going to improve his gifts.

Adrien is noticeably upset by this. The boys soon try to cheer him up again.

When Gabriel returns home, he coldly confronts Adrien for having an unauthorithized party, calling it a betrayal of trust.

Adrien: Hmm, then what do you call stealing someone else’s gift to pass off as your own?

Gabriel: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Adrien: grounded? Fine. Leaving me alone on my birthday? Sad, but also fine. Lying to me while lecturing me on trust? Priceless! (I totally copied this from W.i.t.c.h. H is for Hunted)

Adrien storms off, leaving Gabriel confused. Nathalie nervously tells Gabriel the truth. Ouch...ok so his son does have some right to be angry at him. But it’s not like he forgot his birthday date!

So Adrien is grounded without use of any technology. So what? He can just sneak out as always.

It’s bad enough that his father was distant, that he denied him the rights of a birthday party or friends, but to be a hypocrite and hurt his friends, that was unforgivable.

Gabriel no longer deserved any respect.

Just in case, Adrien asked Plagg to destroy any surveillance footage in his room. He then transforms and sneaks out to have fun with friends. No more screen Adrien. Now, they were getting the real boy.

Everyone was delighted. But Marinette worried about Gabriel until Adrien promised Marinette he had it all under control.

Oh, and did I mention he also invited Wayhem. The latter was obviously outraged when he learned what Gabriel has done to his idol/friend.

He wants Adrien to rebel. Marinette warily reminds them that Gabriel can still take Adrien out of school.

Wayhem: not if he wants to face media backlash once Adrien’s fans hear of his treatment.

Indeed, Gabriel’s hands are tied when Adrien launches this ultimatum, either give him freedom, or the spotlight will be shone on Gabriel’s parental abilities.

Gabriel hires Lila to persuade Adrien to behave or get his friends to back off. But the gang just dislike Adrien’s father and Adrien just dislikes her, so even she fails when the others just stare at her in disbelief for suggesting they give Gabriel a second chance.

Ivan: he’ll get his second chance when he earns it. Trust has to be earned.

Gabriel wants to make his wish so this can all be erased. So Lila proceeds with the expel Marinette plan.

Adrien sees Lila at a photo shoot and grows suspicious. He cuts a deal with Lila; either she gets Marinette back or he becomes her enemy.

Knowing that Adrien was serious about turning his fans against his father, Lila knew he would also set them on her easily.

She got Marinette back. But like hell Adrien was going to play nice with the liar.

He reported to Wayhem and his friends how Lila was his father’s muse and she really needs to learn personal space.

The guys are horrified she would side with Gabriel just to become a model.

Chat Noir also visits the principal to investigate the expulsion thoroughly. The footage clearly shows Lila framing Marinette.

Damocles triés to defend Lila because of her disease but Chat uses his star power to appeal to The Owl, saying the truth must be revealed for justice to fully prevail.

As a result, the principal exposes Lila’s disease for the whole school to hear, fully clearing Marinette of all suspicion.

Now this clearly exposes Lila as a liar, and her classmates turn on her, refusing to believe in such a phony disease.

Not to mention that Lila’s debut as a model has quite a bad reception. Thank you Wayhem!

When confronted, Lila finally throws Gabriel under the bus and admits he hired her to separate Adrien from his friends. While she is still despicable, she makes it clear the origin of her plans was all Gabriel.

That’s it. Adrien no longer has a father.

Wayhem and Adrien accuse Gabriel of bad parenting online. It creates a public scandal.

Adrien is confined to the house to prevent contact with anyone else, but this gives him time to go digging into his father’s office to retrieve his contract and payslips. Plagg is tasked to look for any incriminating evidence. So he just floats around, making a mess of things, and accidentally activates the hidden elevator while looking for hidden floor panels.

Boom, they discover the butterflies and Emilie.

Adrien tells Ladybug as Chat Noir.

Gabriel and Nathalie are arrested, but he also returns Lila’s betrayal by admitting she was a willing accomplice.

Adrien watches this stonefaced. When asked how he feels about seeing his neglectful parent taken away, brought to justice by his own son, Adrien responds, “A father is supposed to care for his son. All Gabriel has done was provide for me materially. But this does not excuse his crimes for neglect, hurting my friends, or even trying to manipulate me emotionally by blaming me for his akumatization into the Collector. As far as I am concerned, my father died a long time ago. I don’t know this man anymore.”

[arigatouiris]

a regular movie cliche // hawks

Author’s Note: Hawks is just Kuroo with wings, yanno? I mean— he didn’t even need to be in the anime to be attractive geez. Also, I’ve started commissioning fics, so if any of ya’ll are interested, please check out my post on my page and get back to me if you have any requests! I hope you like this one shot! Thanks for reading~!

Word count: 4606

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Warnings: angst, quirkless reader, fluff, slight sexy times uwu

There was no surprise in the fact that Hawks couldn’t sleep that night. Sleep was mainly just broken bits of unconsciousness that embraced him and left him cold; Hawks was pretty much used to waking up and feeling tired, but that morning, he not only felt tired, he felt broken.

He thought of you.

He lay still on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the slow movement of the ceiling fan did little to distract him. He laid his arm over his forehead before feeling the familiar sense of dread envelope his features. He could practically hear his heartbeat against his ears, and a mild ringing sound that vibrated against his temple. He didn’t know what these meant, he didn’t know why he thought of you that morning, especially after having forcefully pushed you out of his life himself. 

It’s been a few months since he had last seen you, and he wondered if adult relationships were supposed to be complicated. As a teenager, he barely had time to focus on the girls who were pining after him; some were blatant, some were shyly leaving him letters and hoping he’d respond, but he was cold to each and every single one of them. He had been cold to every partner he had in the past, and he especially was cold to you, but why did it hurt him instead of hurt you?

Ah yes.

It was the age-old fear. 

Hawks was worried that someone could happen to you because of him. Therefore, he took the coward’s way out and managed to run away before anything could manifest, before people could use you against him, turn you into the only weapon that could bring Hawks down. It was an age-old fear because which hero didn’t worry about that? Hawks had always worked alone, and now, bringing you along, especially after discovering that you were quirkless, there was no way Hawks could let you in. He told himself it was for your benefit, he’d rather not have your mind on his hands, after all. There was no use running away from this fact; Hawks wasn’t the type to deny his own emotions. He’d accept them, but he wouldn’t chase after them. To him, you would always be the woman who he almost, almost fell in desperate love with.

But to you...

To you, he’d remain the toxic playboy that took your virginity and left you. Ghosted you after leaving you a vague ‘This ain’t working out’ message. He understood that there was no way you would ever forgive him for what he did; he had encroached through your boundaries, despite how well he knew you guarded them, and he had made use of you. You would never forgive him, moreover, he would never forgive himself. 

He realized a moment later that he hadn’t moved, and he had work to do. He was the #2 Hero now, there was no room for him being a bum and thinking about someone he knew he had to eventually leave behind. 

     “Ah, there we go again,” He grumbled before getting up from the bed, mentally preparing himself for another routine-filled day.

Each day felt like an extension from the last. Hawks realized a while ago, after leaving you, that the plot of his life doesn’t make sense to him anymore—that although he thought he was following the arc of a story, a story he had carved for himself out of sheer willpower and hard work, he kept finding himself immersed in passages he didn’t understand, that didn’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which required him to go back and reread the chapters he had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along he was supposed to choose his own adventure.

Instead, he was filled with a gnawing bitterness that seemed to swallow him every day. Hawks wasn’t a pessimist, but realism pinned against pessimism rather strongly, he wasn’t against the idea of not being optimistic because that didn’t work. He’d wake up, go on his rounds, head to his agency and fill out paperwork or ask one of his assistants to do it. He’d return, eat chicken wings till he got tired, watched a TV show, go around flying, and struggle to sleep. This was what had become of the #2 Hero’s life. 

As he flew to begin his rounds that morning, Hawks couldn’t help but think of you. You had the innate ability to ward yourself into his mind unwelcome and unannounced, it was strange not because he allowed it, but because he had no choice.

He could recall how he met you as if it was just happening. 

*

Not often was he taken aback by a common villain. While he was strong in the air, a villain with a jet quirk proved to be a bit of a hassle; he threw a strong jet-powered gust of wind toward the winged-hero, which flew him directly into a building. The landing was quite rough, he had crashed through a window and fallen very harshly against a wooden flooring. He was thankful that his wings prevented any shard of glass from piercing his skin, but he wasn’t so sure about his new jacket. 

     “Are you okay?” 

Hawks opened his eyes and spotted you, hovering over him with eyes filled with actual concern, your hair swept behind your head. He blinked a couple of times before focusing his gaze on your attire. What the hell were you wearing? He was sure he had seen it somewhere before, it seemed familiar, like the image was stuck in the back of his mind but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen it before.

     “Are you concussed?”

He heard whispers around him now, and he was quite certain that the two of you weren’t alone. Hawks moved a bit to see young kids wearing a similar attire to what you were wearing, wooden sticks in their hands, their eyes holding the same concern; albeit, some of them actually recognized him for who he was.

     “Sensei, that’s the winged-hero!”

     “I’m aware of who he is, Mitsu-kun,” You answered, giving the young boy a mean look, “Mimi-chan, could you help me clean this up?”

This Mimi-chan yelped a very obedient ‘yes’ before scurrying off to, Hawks guessed, bring supplies. He watched you now, a smirk settling on his features. You didn’t look too worried, but you gave him a questioning look as if to ask him how long he planned on lying on your floor.

     “I don’t mind crashing into buildings if you’re the view.”

Loud giggles could be heard across the room and he felt his heart flip at the way your face reddened instantly. You turned to your students, he assumed they were your students, and hushed them rudely, which sadly didn’t stop the giggling entirely. It was then he realized that his head was against your lap, because you pushed him away after he had flirted with you.

Something about the way you behaved let him know that you were not used to close interactions with men. The action was almost cute.

     “Is that... kendo?” He guessed, knowing that he was right.

Finally, he thought internally. I was struggling to figure out what sport this was. 

You nodded before standing up straight, taking the cleaning supplies from young Mimi. Hawks followed after you and shot her a smile, which made her eyes turn into hearts, which in turn had you glaring at the young girl like she had stolen your cookie. Turning to Hawks with a deadpan, you tilted your head a bit as if to ask him if he was forgetting something. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his wings spanned to his sides.

     “I almost forgot about the villain,” Hawks turned to you and pointed rather accusingly, “Your fault for distracting me.”

     “Please leave.”

Hawks laughed out loud before jumping up, “I’ll remember you, kendo-san!”

     “Sensei, I think he likes you.”

     “Mistu-kun, why don’t we have a spar?”

     “I’m sorry, Sensei. I won’t say it again.”

*

It was the police radio that alerted him. Apparently there was a villain very close to where your kendo studio was located, but Hawks wasn’t the sort to let that bother him. He flew around the area he patrolled, knowing full well that your kendo studio did not even come close to where he was assigned. He didn’t know what kind of villain it was, but if it were a regular villain, there surely had to be other heroes around that could maintain said peace.

Also, if the villain were to apprehend you, it wasn’t his concern anymore. Hawks had severed ties with you for a reason and if he were to keep worrying over a past flame the way he was, then the entire ordeal wouldn’t make sense.

She’s strong, he thought internally as his eyes scanned for crime in his own area. Even if she’s quirkless, she’s real strong.

Hawks tried telling himself that more than anyone else. True, he knew you were strong. You were a kendo trainer, having mastered the art at such a young age. It had been passed down in your family, and you were simply carrying it forward with such tenacity and skill that left him floored. His mind travelled back to the time he had asked you out, or if he were to recall correctly, the time you had said yes to him after his weeks of pining after you.

He spotted you in the supermarket from a distance. You often cursed at his eyesight because of how he always managed to catch you from such a far off distance. Chuckling to himself, Hawks landed right in front of the supermarket before following you inside, tapping your left shoulder and moving to the right; an antic that kids did when they were around their crushes.

You turned to your left and spotted no one, but the annoying chuckles filled your ears and your face immediately turned to an ugly deadpan before you turned to face Hawks’ rather amused smirk.

     “That’s not funny.”

     “That’s because you’re a grouch.”

Scoffing, “I’m not a grouch, you’re just very annoying.”

     “I see you’re having a rather hard time choosing between shrimp and chicken,” Hawks said, bringing his hands behind his back and coming to stand beside you, “Pick the chicken.”

     “I want to treat myself a bit tonight,” You said, “So chicken really isn’t—”

     “Ah, then you should definitely pick the chicken.”

You frowned at him, “And why should I listen to you?”

Hawks leaned forward toward you, noticing how easily your cheeks turned red. But, you didn’t budge. You knew of his flirting, it was slowly easing into you—your initial displeasure with how easily he could fluster you left you a bit angry, but this was Hawks. This was who he was. The more he leaned in however, you stumbled backwards a bit, his hand gripping your wrist to ensure you stood on your feet. You pulled away, your blush only intensifying.

     “I didn’t take you as the shy type, kendo-chan!”

     “I’m not shy,” you answered honestly, “I was just surprised.”

     “Your face says otherwise.” His breath was on your nose, you forced yourself to turn away.

     “Hawks—”

     “Pick the chicken.”

     “You haven’t told me why, Hawks-san.”

He didn’t waste time, “Because if you pick chicken, then you might just get a surprise visit later from a very famous winged hero.”

You chuckled at his words before turning away, intentionally heading to the vegetable section. Hawks let out a mild groan before following you like a child, noticing how you sported a rather amused grin on your face. It played with his heart.

     “What if I want to eat alone?”

     “Aw, that’s too bad. This winged hero wants company.”

You rolled your eyes before picking out a few vegetables, not sure where your conversation was going. Hawks was suddenly telling you about candy he ate as a child, and you were telling him about Harry Potter—which stumped you, because you barely spoke about your interests with people, let alone heroes who were flirting with you blatantly.

     “Oh, I’ve read those!”

Your eyes twinkle at Hawks’ revelation and you turn to him with wonder. Hawks noticed the star-struck expression on your face before an evil grin plastered on his face. He nodded before raising a pointer finger.

     “My favorite character was Voldemort,” Your wonder filled smile froze. “He’s super cool! I was rooting for him—”

You turned on your heel before walking away, finally having realized what he was doing. Sure, you could tolerate some teasing; but you were not a pushover. You were frowning now, before heading to the meat section, picking out shrimp was the last choice—

     “Ahhh, come back!” Hawks said rather pathetically, laughing at his own failed joke.

You stopped all of a sudden, before your hand moved to the chicken. Hawks’ eyes widened before he noticed you, a calm expression on your face. You weren’t shy, that’s what you had said, but here you were. Face red, not meeting his eye, barely moving.

     “I... I don’t cook too well.”

‘Fuck’, Hawks thought before moving to hold the frozen chicken and inspect it, ‘She’s so fucking cute’.

     “Don’t worry, I do.”

You’d picked the chicken that night.

*

Ah fuck it, he thought before flying down toward the kendo studio. He was just doing his job as a hero, that was it. He wasn’t expecting to see you or anything. He wasn’t trying to take a glimpse of how miserable you may have looked, so he could feed the demon inside his heart that told him you’d be much happier without him. 

His heart froze when he spotted police cars right outside the studio. Upon spotting him, one of the cops rushed to him and started to say something, but all Hawks could do was look up at the first floor—where your studio was, and he suddenly felt like he was underwater.

     “Hawks!”

He snapped out of it and looked at the cop in front of him.

     “A hero with an implosion quirk’s taken students and a teacher hostage!” Ah fuck, “It’s a kendo studio. With a quirk like his, we can’t approach out of nowhere. He might harm the inhabitants. Sources say that the teacher is quirkless, and the students haven’t mastered their quirks.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Hawks felt the panic grow inside of him. 

     “He’s made a statement asking the police to leave. He’ll hurt people if any hero is deployed to the scene.”

     “Fuck.” Hawks let out, unable to contain the growing panic.

For the first time, he has no idea what to do. Turning to look at the first floor, he wondered what you must be feeling, what the students must be feeling, and he cursed himself. Perhaps, if he was with you...

His eyes widened. If he was with you, this wouldn’t have happened. It was even after pushing you away, you were in danger and it felt like his life was being trampled upon. The damage had already been done. There was no taking the fact away. He was in love with you. Your sass, your kind gestures, your shyness, he was in love with every aspect of you—and only when you were in danger did he get to realize this like a fucking movie cliche.

     “We can’t let anyone near them for now,” The cop instructed him, “But, we’re waiting for backup from—”

He can’t lose you. But, can he lose you even if he doesn’t have you?

     “We can’t wait.” Hawks said, eyeing the first floor.

*

You had no idea what you and Hawks were. You washed the dishes quietly, wiping them and placing them back in the counter. A soft smile sat on your lips as you realized you missed the bird brain when he wasn’t around. It had been close to a week since you last saw him—the previous rooftop date that he had planned still fresh in your memory.

However, your face darkened when you thought of each time you kissed and how scared you felt. You were 21-years old, having never taken a lover before. You wondered how that would make him feel, considering he might have had some significant experience. You felt inadequate all of a sudden, the insecurity bubbled in your chest, but you thought Hawks was better that that. ‘What do I know?’ You thought, bitterly. ‘I want to know him, but he barely tells me anything.’

You had almost revealed your entire story to him. Of how you came from a kendo practicing family. Of how you were quirkless like your father, of how you spent more time training because you were insecure of never having a quirk. 

You let out a breath when you realized that you had overshared because you didn’t know what the right amount of sharing was. Suddenly, the door to your balcony opened, and Hawks walked in—a bit battered up, and your eyes widened when he waved and grinned at you.

     “There’s a front door...” You said, your eyes fixed on his form.

     “Ah, yes, but the balcony was closer, dove.”

Hawks noticed how you were almost in awe upon seeing him, but he knew you missed him. His heart constricted abnormally at the thought, but he swallowed and waited for you to approach him. You threw your hands around him and hugged him, breathing into his grimy texture. You had missed him.

     “Let me clean you up.” You whispered, and you knew he’d let you.

Hawks’ gaze was fixed on you as you cleaned his wounds. A smile sat on his lips as he carefully observed your every feature. Your hair was tied at the tip, forming a dolphin tailed split at the end, and your eyes were focused on cleaning his wounds. 

     “You missed me, didn’t you?”

     “I did...” 

Hawks couldn’t understand how you were so honest. It killed him that he couldn’t be the same. He believed you were the type to merely put up a tough exterior and be shy on the inside, but you were honest—unafraid to show your emotions to people. It was a trait he admired, and deeply envied.

Suddenly, Hawks grabbed your wrist before pulling you toward him and kissing you squarely on the lips. Your eyes widened at the sudden gesture, but you had missed him, so you kissed back, softly at first—before feeling his intensity rush through you like osmosis. You were breathing heavily when he moved to attack your neck, biting and kissing you exactly where you wanted him to, your eyes closed to make sure you felt everything to the maximum. Hawks’ hands travelled down to your waist before pulling you to him, and then sitting you down on his lap. He held you like you were made of glass, but kissed you like his life depended on it.

A moment later, your hands fall on his shoulders and you pushed so lightly that you thought he wouldn’t notice. However, he stopped instantly, looking you in the eye, searching for any sign of discomfort.

But you were looking at him with such a heavy blush on your face that he thought he could quite literally just die. You were so beautiful, the image haunted him. 

     “I...” 

‘Do you want me to stop?’ He thought, waiting for you to say something.

     “I haven’t done it with anyone before.” You whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Hawks’ eyes widened animatedly. A rush jolted through his body and all Hawks wanted was to be gentle with you that night. Softly, he pulled you close and your foreheads touched, and he smiled so warmly that you felt your heart could burst.

     “Relax, little bird,” He whispered, before laying you down beside him gently. “And tell me if you’re sure.”

You didn’t know. But, he was hovering over you right then and was smiling at you—his attention undivided. You would be lying if you said you weren’t aroused, you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him. And the way he was looking at you right then, it left you more certain than unsure.

Your hands move to tug at his shirt, and Hawks let out a breathy chuckle.

     “Don’t force yourself just because we’re in this situation, alright? I’m a horny bird, I can practically just push this to another—”

In one clean sweep, you put your hands around his neck and pulled him toward you, kissing him on the lips to shut him up. His eyes widened and he kissed back, chuckling against your lips. 

     “I’ll be gentle, dove.” 

And he was. Every time Hawks touched you that night, you felt like you were melting into him. They were right about carnal desires being an effortless display of human affection to the maximum, but Hawks put in a lot of effort right then to ensure you were comfortable. Your bodies pushed and pulled against each other that night, shadows dancing on the wall, and everything he did, he did for you.

You collapsed to sleep instantly, against Hawks’ form, and he watched you intently. You cuddled to his left side, almost as if you were used to his warmth. Hawks felt uneasy, but he didn’t let it show. Just for that night, Hawks would love you openly. Just for that night, he won’t run—he held you against him, cuddling you to his chest, your face nestled at the crook of his neck. He felt the back of his eyelids burn at how comfortable he was right then, and how much his heart was telling him that he didn’t deserve any of this.

He kissed your forehead before feeling tears fill his eyes, but he was a master at blinking them away. He held you tight that night, because he believed it would be the last time.

Suddenly, he was afraid. He was afraid of loving you and losing you—he was afraid that his path would ultimately leave him alone, and after having a taste of you, Hawks’ feared being alone more than anything else.

Which was why, the following evening, Hawks broke things off with you via a vague text message.

*

A loud crash sounded from the first floor, and he didn’t waste time in rushing over to it. Hawks couldn’t think of anything but you, and his heart was rummaging against his chest. Rushing into the studio, he spotted you—above the said villain, your kendo sword pushed to his neck. Your knee was in between his legs, pinning him to the ground.

You look up to spot Hawks, gawking at what you were doing, and you yelled, “He was lying about his quirk! Get the students!”

He didn’t waste time before quickly grabbing a few of the students and bringing them down, it took him literally just two trips to get them all down. However, a moment later, you were on the ground, the villain had grabbed your hand—which emitted a rather strange light, clearly burning you through your uniform. You winced, right before Hawks pinned him down using his feathers. You ran downstairs, and Hawks apprehended the assailant. The villain’s quirk was sunburn, and he assumed that was what the burn was against your skin. He turned around and spotted you speaking to your students, worry plastered all over your features.

His heart tugged at how strong you were right then. 

He almost forgot he was looking at you until you turned and looked at him. Your eyes widen for a second before a soft blush came across your cheeks, and you turned away, a nasty frown on your face. Hawks could literally feel his heart squeeze at the action, but it was entirely his fault. Letting out a breath, he knew he had to get out of there, but froze when he heard your voice from behind him.

     “Thank you,” You were looking at him, the blush evident on your cheeks, “For saving me, and the students.”

He couldn’t believe you. His heart is practically breaking at how honest you were, at how pure you were—and he quite honestly knew right then that he didn’t even deserve to be standing in front of you. He notices your lower lip was quivering, which meant that you wanted to say something more but you were forcing yourself not to. 

     “(y/n)-chan,” He said, “I...”

You waited, your eyes were eagerly waiting for him to say something—anything that could quell the distance between you. 

But when he looked away, your eyes widened at how he just gave up. You bit your lower lip before nodding once and turning to walk away, pausing for just a moment. Hawks notices the burn through your arm, the one the villain had given you, and he instinctively goes to touch it, but you pulled away. 

     “Takami Keigo.” Hawks froze.

     “What... did you say?”

You look at him like he was an idiot. 

     “You told me your name that night.”

He does not remember doing that. Hawks could swear he never mentioned it—but a faint memory plays in the back of his mind and he wondered if it was a dream or if it had actually happened; turns out it did.

*

Hawks kissed your forehead for the thousandth time that night, unable to stop touching you. Sure, the two of you had done the deed, but Hawks was more touchy than he usually was. 

     “I’m sure you’ve wondered,” Keigo says in almost a whisper, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

     “Takami... Keigo...” You repeated, deep in the confines of sleep.

Keigo chuckled before pulling you closer, leaning toward you, feeling tears sting his eye again.

     “Fuck,” He breathes in, “You terrify me.”

You don’t stir. Keigo was quite positive that you were asleep. 

     “When I’m with you, I’m practically afraid all the damn time. Because... you can literally die because of me and I might not be able to help.”

*

You frown at him as shock plasters all over his face.

     “You’re bound to be afraid all the time if you don’t tell me anything,”

Hawks looked at you like you were a godsend.

     “And honestly,” you folded your arms, blinking away the tears stubbornly, “The fact that you think I’ll just up and die is so insulting. I’m strong, you know?”

When Keigo laughed right then, you turn to him with a surprised expression. You wanted to yell at him, but you were aware of his reservations. You were also aware of how he looked at you when he believed you weren’t looking. You were awake when he believed you were sleeping. You could see him blink away tears before he notices you looking, and it did quite a number on you.

Your expression softens, “You don’t have to be scared...” 

In an instant, Hawks embraces you—right in public, your eyes widening at his sudden gesture. You gasp before trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. He breathed into your hair as if he finally found life again, and his grip merely just tightened.

     “You’re embarrassing me! Hawks-san!”

He didn’t care. Hawks smiled widely as his wings wrapped around you as well, caging you to him. Your hands are at his side and you’re beating him playfully, but he doesn’t care. All he could sense was you.

     “S-Stop! Hawks-san!”

He laughs out loud, feeling like it was the first time he was laughing. 

     “I love you so fucking much, little bird.” His voice broke at the end and you stopped.

Slowly, you hug him back, gripping the back of his jacket.

     “I love you too, dumb bird.”

[botan-shirabuki]

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Exposure

Pairing: SLBP Sanada Yukimura x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 2 - Applying Sunscreen

Summary: Smut, but it’s propaganda from the Skin Cancer Foundation and the person who commissioned it thinks Yukimura is a bottom.

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for heavy petting, handjobs, diet femdom, and dirty talk)

Word Count: 4.3k

Notes: My second entry into @voltage-vixen ‘s writing challenge! Day 2 came and went, but I couldn’t not post this one! I honestly had no shot at making it, but I figured it counts as banging on the beach anyway. shhhhhh I know it’s past midnight

I sincerely thought this would be way shorter, but my writing style had different plans. Either way, I had a BUH-LAST writing this and I hope you enjoy it too!

Again, I wrote this with my own MC Botan. But if your MC vibes with this too then that’s wonderful!

Ao3: here

"Oi, Botan!"

With a start, her eyes opened. The sound of crashing waves accompanying Yukimura's voice.

"Damn, I must have fallen asleep," she mumbled to herself as she sat up on her towel. She had decided to tag along with him for his morning workout on the beach. Apparently, sand was a great surface for resistance training. She didn't care much for that, honestly. Her plan was to workout by getting a decent swim in before the beach got too crowded. Unfortunately, the waves had been too choppy that morning to risk swimming in, so she decided to lay on her towel and catch up on some reading. Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep with her magazine on her chest. Luckily for her, her phone said it was only 9 in the morning, so the sun wasn't at full blast. She slowly sat up, noting how hot her skin felt before she turned to her husband. "How's that sand treating you?"

He was jogging towards her thoroughly drenched in sweat and flushed. Despite his appearance, which would normally be paired with exhaustion, he had a huge satisfied grin on his face. "It's great! I could run so much further. I wish we had some to run in at home." He slowed down once he made it to their towels and briskly sat down on the towel next to her. "I love it here, it's so quiet. I can only imagine what it was like for you growing up here."

"Mmhmm," she nodded along as he started talking; About how much he liked her hometown, about the benefits of sand training, but her attention kept getting drawn to the beads of sweat pooling on and trickling down his skin. He didn't seem to notice her eyes on his glistening collarbone though. However, as much as she loved ogling him, Botan's nurturing instincts took over and she reached for her bag where she had kept a smaller towel and a cold water bottle waiting for him.

"Ah, thanks!" he said when she handed them to him. He put them in his lap and peeled his sweat soaked shirt off before he started to towel down. 

Okay, back to ogling.

Botan found herself heating up even further as she watched him wipe himself down. She couldn't look away from the way his soft skin pulled over taut muscles. As she watched him, she noticed the blurred line near across his back where he had started to turn a light shade of pink. An alarm bell went off in her head, but before she could voice her concern, a light bulb went off too, putting the beginnings of a mischievous smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"Yukimura," she began in a worried tone, "how long has it been since you applied sunscreen?"

He stopped drinking his water so he could think. "Hmm, I put some in when we got out here so...An hour ago?"

"Well, you know," she leaned in towards him, nothing too suggestive, "You're supposed to reapply sunscreen every two hours. And immediately after excessive sweating."

Yukimura blinked at her, "But it's only been an hour."

Botan blinked back, "But the last part."

There was a pause as he thought about it, "Oh...right," he looked down in the sand like he was ashamed. So cute.

Botan laughed a little as she got up on her knees, "And even then, you probably wiped it all off your face just now," she swept aside a damp lock of hair that was clinging to His forehead. Her gentle touch caused him to blush. Now was her chance, "Here, I'll help you put it on."

"W-What? You don't have to do that," he turned his head towards her, but quickly turned away when his eyes accidentally made contact with her backside as she went to dig through her bag.

"No, don't worry about it," she pulled out a large bottle of sunscreen along with a smaller tube. "Your arms are probably all worn out from your workout, it's the least I can do." 

"But....the....well, um, okay," He couldn't really protest at that point because she had already squeezed a coin-sized amount of sunscreen into her hand from the small tube.

She kept a warm smile on her face as she scooted closer to his side, "Here, I'll just start with your face." She applied small dollops of the white cream to his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. She almost cracked up at the way his eyes darted everywhere and anywhere except down in the hopes of avoiding a glance at her chest. He was lucky she had decided against straddling his lap, honestly. He did close them once she started to rub it into his skin, which made him relax. She gently massaged it in until the purple tint it left was no longer visible. "Oh, almost forgot your neck," she murmured to herself more than anyone. 

"Mm, okay," he responded. His eyes didn't open when she reopened the bottle. This time, she rubbed it between her hands before carefully rubbing it on his chin and neck. He looked so calm and serene then, the sun hitting his face from the east. Once she had finished, she found herself sliding her palms up either side of his neck until she was holding his head by his jaws.

His baby blue eyes opened, curious to why she stopped. "Botan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just wanted to get a good look at you." her voice was so gentle, but her eyes could have eaten him alive.

"Oh..." he started to stammer, but decided to just look away to the side.

Her fingers that had been in his hair pinched together and tugged. "Eyes on me, Yukimura."

Her voice was still just as gentle, but he knew to listen when she spoke like that. He swallowed his nerves and looked right into her dark eyes. He could feel his heart rate climbing steadily again as he did so.

Slowly, Botan lowered her head to his so she could plant a single soft kiss, lips on plush lips. She heard his breath hitch as she pulled away, and she saw that his cheeks were back pink again. His eyes were back on her though, waiting for her next move.

"Lay down on your back, alright?" she murmured, still close enough to his face so that he could hear her.

"Alright..." he nodded, reluctantly leaning back so he could reposition himself accordingly.

After squeezing a generous portion from the larger bottle, Botan began to massage the sunscreen over his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. Luckily for her, this sunscreen took a little more effort to rub all the way in, so she had extra time to enjoy how solid he was. Every once in a while, she would purposefully let her fingertips press into a muscle so she could gauge how tight it was. Each time she did, he would let out a little pleased grunt, which sent an instant jolt of intrigue to her core. This was already going so well.

With the next large blob, she took care of his back, rubbing up and down along the expanse of it, her thumbs meeting in the dip above his spine.

"Ack! Um, I mean..." he jumped when her hands made it to his lower back. She tutted to herself, as she hadn't even dipped below the waistband of his trunks like she wanted to. She went extra slow, liking the way he started to squirm and wriggle beneath her touch.

"How about I get the back of your thighs too? Or would you rather do that yourself?"

"Um, I can get that myself."

"Alright then, can you turn over?"

".......Actually, can you get the back of my thighs?"

Botan had to stop herself from laughing out loud. "I mean, I can but I'll still want you to turn over after that."

She could see the deep flush on the tip of his ear. "Just...you know what, I'll, um...do the rest myself."

Botan feigned being upset, "Aww," she cooed, leaning up against his back, so that her chest pressed against him while she spoke in his ear. "Are you sure you can? I'd hate for you to miss a spot, and I'm nothing if not thorough."

He tensed up beneath her, "Gah! Fine! Just don't put those-- those--" they both knew he couldn't say it, and they both knew he fucking loved how they felt. Which is why when he finally turned over, she wasn't at all surprised to see him straining out of his shorts. Seeing him already hard made her head swell up with a totally healthy combination of pride and lust, but she kept the smile on her face even though Yukimura was back to blushing and looking away from her.

"I'll start with your arms, okay?" she said in her saccharine sweet voice as if she had never been so brazen in the first place.

Yukimura closed his eyes and nodded wordlessly. It looked as if he was desperately trying to focus on quelling his arousal. She decided to spare him just a little by making quick work of his arms. She had plenty of chances to casually grope those whenever she wanted anyways. Although she did enjoy the way his eyebrows furrowed when her thumbs massaged at his biceps.

His legs were a similar situation, at least for his shins. As she worked her way up past his knees, she noticed that his thighs were trembling from how tightly he was clenching them. Surely enough, his thighs were so tight she could barely squeeze them when she ran her hands over them.

"You're going to pull something if you stay this tight, you know," she couldn't help but tease him.

"I-I'll be just fine--!!" he choked on his words when her thumbs rubbed at the comparatively softer skin of his inner thighs right where his trunks ended. The way the bulge in them twitched was absolutely unmistakable.

"Don't even worry about that, I'm almost done," she assured him, but they both knew good and well what the last area she needed to cover was.

Botan took her time squeezing out enough sunscreen for his torso. She watched the way his fists were clenched tight as he attempted to steel himself for her touch. This was exactly what she had been waiting for and she wanted the savor moment. She methodically rubbed her hands together before placing them flat on his stomach. His abs clenched beneath her, sending a rush through both of them. She focused on the way his skin and muscles rippled beneath her hands as she rubbed up and down his abdomen until her mouth was watering. She specifically watched the way he twitched as she followed suit on his sides. She had to swallow when he grunted because of her fingers circling around his Apollo's belt. 

With what remained, she slid her hands up and over his chest. There wasn't much on her hands by then, but she was eager to feel his nipples harden beneath her palms. His heart was racing as she groped and squeezed at his pecs until she ran out of product. She had looked away to get one last squeeze when he spoke up again.

"Botan, I-- Guh!" he choked on his spit and started having a coughing fit.

She was genuinely worried now, "Are you okay?"

"I'm--" cough, cough, "It's--" hack, hack, "Your--"

She quickly had him sit up and passed him his water bottle. Once his coughing settled, she asked him, "What was it you were about to say?"

His eyes were looking to the side so intensely it must have hurt. "Your....your--"

"Look at me."

He listened, but he was now staring at her face so intensely His gaze could have burned a hole in her forehead. "Y-Your, your top is..."

Botan looked down, sure enough, while she was bent over him, she had begun to spill out of her bikini top. "Ah! Thanks." She quickly adjusted herself, looking around to see if they were still alone on the beach. To their left lone lifeguard was posted up far enough away that she could really only tell they were a lifeguard by them being up in the chair and a couple had walked past them to their right but hadn't paid them any attention. 

If there was ever a time to strike, it was now.

"Yukimura," she started once she finished adjusting, "please tell me what you need."

"Huh?!" he looked like a deer in headlights when she straddled his lap. "What are you doing?!" His voice was a scandalized whisper.

She squeezed the sunscreen in her hand and slowly began to spread it across her palms as she spoke, "I can tell there's something bothering you, and I believe we're at our best when we're honest with each other," she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him so he was on his back again. "Don't you agree?"

"I--" Yukimura closed his eyes and hissed through his teeth when she gave his chest a deliberate and forceful squeeze before she started rubbing again. Despite how blatantly aroused he was, his hands clenched at the towel by his sides.

"C'mon, tell me," she encouraged him. She even positioned herself so that she was barely brushing against his erection to coax the words out of him. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on in your mind."

When his eyes opened again, they were brimming with lust, exactly what she wanted to see. "I need to touch you," he breathed, finally not looking away. "I need to touch you so bad I don't know how long I can take it!"

Botan's hands made it up to his shoulders. As she gripped them, she lowered her face towards his. He closed his eyes in anticipation. Yukimura knew not to touch her until she said so when they got like this. The fact that he stayed true to that rule even when he was as worked up as this made her so very proud. 

"Well you're in luck," she purred once their noses brushed against each other. Her tone instantly changed to an innocent and upbeat one when she sat up and handed him the bottle. "Because it's my turn now!"

"Oh?" After the haze he was in faded a little, he sat up and got onto his knees. "Where do you want me to start?"

She was already on her stomach next to him with her hair swept to the side, "Do me exactly the way I did you."

"O-okay," he took a deep breath as he prepared his hands with sunscreen, "So you want me to start on your back?" His voice was tense with restraint as he waited for further instruction.

"Yes, that would be perfect," she smiled at him, giving him the say so.

His hands on her were clumsy and rough. It was as if he was fighting his awkwardness about touching her, his desire to please her, and his need to take things further all at once in an underground cage match. She could hear his labored breathing and him muttering to himself to stay focused. Unintentionally, she let out a small gasp when he squeezed too hard around her lower back.

"Sorry...I know you're sensitive there," he was truly apologetic and she knew he meant it.

"It's nothing, just keep going."

"It's just..." he began as he started on her calves, "you're just so soft..." he worked his way up her legs until he was halfway up the back of her thighs. Sensing his hesitation, she reached back and swatted at his thigh.

"I'll need you to cover everything." her voice was still sweet, but there was a stern undertone to her words, "I'd be pretty upset if that area in particular got burned."

"Botan..." he paused, but his hands didn't leave her until he finally took more from the bottle. Slowly, his hands slid up until they finally left a trail of white over her butt.

"Mmm, good job," Botan moaned as his hands worked back downwards. "Make sure you rub it in properly too, I don't want a whitecast either."

"Yes, Botan," he sounded like he was in a trance by then. In that same state, he covered her arms and the front of her legs once she turned over. She stopped him once he had his hands on her thighs.

"You know, Yukimura, you've done a pretty good job so far," she held herself up on her elbows, "I ought to reward you for being so diligent."

"What? Now?" he was surprised that she even brought rewards up now. In the morning. In public. He gasped when she reached out to pull at the drawstring on his swim trunks. "Are you sure?"

"I mean, unless you want to walk around with that going on," she directly gestured to his tent, "then we better take care of it while no one else is around."

He looked around to confirm what she said before leaning in as if he was suddenly trying to hide something. "What do you want me to do....?"

Botan grinned at his compliance, "I need you to finish covering me first."

Eager to see what she had in store for him, he started to rub her legs again. She started moaning again when his hands were on the uppermost area of her thighs, which made him squeeze them harder.

"Get on top of me," she tugged at his loosened waistband, "just like I did." She smiled once she felt his weight on her hips. "And get the sunscreen."

He wasn't sure why she specifically told him to get some sunscreen until he noticed her reaching into her bag for yet another small bottle. She squirted a small amount into her right hand before rubbing it across her palm with her fingers. He was about to ask her what it was when she deliberately put it in his pants and it made direct contact with his throbbing erection. He yelped out loud when her fingers cinched tightly around the base.

"Keep rubbing me and I'll keep rubbing you." The way she was able to look so sweet and gentle while she said such things was truly beyond him, but he was close to his limit as far as being teased was concerned, so he quickly put his hands on the soft curves of her stomach.

He let out a choked breath as his hands slid up towards her rib cage, as hers slid slowly up his shaft, her thumb rubbing the underside of the tip once it made it there. Curiously, she mirrored his movement, slowly sliding back down to the base as his hands slid down towards her bikini line. 

"Ahh, Botan..." he caught himself moaning as they continued, "Could you please go faster?"

After humming for a moment, she replied, "I'll give what I get."

And so he kept rubbing the sunscreen into her stomach, his pace slowly picking up and making hers do the same in return. After one particularly embarrassing moan from him, Botan kept her fist around the tip of his dick and started to rub at the slit with her thumb until it oozed precum.

"I love feeling your hands all over me," she moaned, catching his eyes. "But there's one spot you haven't gotten yet, and that's where I want to feel them the most."

"Ahhhh, b-but the same way?" he asked, referring to how she shamelessly groped him.

She nodded, gesturing for him to get one last dose of sunscreen. "You're going to need a lot."

One final generous portion was on his hands when he placed them on her shoulders. His breath caught again when he rubbed across her collarbone because her strokes quickened a considerable amount. Her wrists started to expertly flock in sync with her strokes once his palms found the tops of her breasts beneath the straps of her bikini.

"Botan, I'm close...!" She could already tell because he was getting to be a little loud, but she put her free hand over his to reassure him.

"Do it then. Touch me, and I'll let you cum."

That word alone could have done it to him if she hadn't tightened her grip around the base in anticipation. He took another shaky breath before he let his hands slide into the cups of her top.

"Mmm, yes, perfect," she groaned out once his hands finally grasped at her chest. "Ah, your hands feel perfect, keep rubbing them." 

Yukimura was going through a sensory overload. Her breasts felt amazing. Her soft skin even more slippery beneath the sunscreen. And as he rubbed it in, the way they glistened in the sun reminded him of glaze on fresh donuts. At the same time, her hand stroking him was relentless. She had even used her other hand to pull his head down towards her so she could whisper in his ear.

"You did such a good job." Her ministrations were now focused mainly towards his tip. "Maybe tonight I'll let you have at me until neither of us can take it anymore."

His brain was all but shut off at this point, "Ahhh, yes, please..."

"Ooh, if we weren't here on the beach, I'd let you have me right now. Would you like that?"

"Mmph," his replies had been reduced to nonverbal moans and grunts by then, but the way he groped at her breasts until they were falling out of her top again indicated his positive answer.

"But we couldn't do that here, no," she licked at the shell of his ear, making a shiver run through him, "because if we did, you'd totally give us away when I'd make you scream out like you always do."

"You're so-- ahh! I can't hold it anymore!" he grunted out as her thumb quickly swept up and down the sensitive underside of his dick and her fingers did the same around the head. He came in multiple hot spurts that she felt oozing through her fingers. She kept at it and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss so that his cries of pleasure would be hers to hear alone. Her hand at the back of his neck wove into his still damp hair as she held him close. They stayed like that, kissing and still gently rubbing each other until a certain familiar voice called them back to reality.

"Try playing with his ass next time."

"Wha--?!" Yukimura jumped up off of her in an instant. There stood Saizo, holding a bag and a beach chair, smiling and apparently unbothered by what he had just witnessed. "How long have you been standing there?!"

Saizo merely shrugged, "Who's to say?"

"This isn't what it-- We were--! I need to go clear my head!" Beet red, Yukimura sprinted off until he was deep in the water and dove under a wave head first.

Saizo chuckled to himself as he set his chair up. "Productive morning, huh?"

With a wistful sigh, Botan sat up and adjusted her top accordingly before she wiped her hands off on the discarded sweat towel. "For the most part, yeah. He's still pretty jumpy though."

"Some things never change," Saizo sat beneath their umbrella. When they looked out into the surf, they saw Yukimura was now wading alone, looking out to the sea. Further down to the right, Little Sasuke and his dad were playing catch and more people were beginning to populate the beach.

"I should go check on him," Botan gave Saizo an apologetic smile, though she knew he probably didn't need it. "Will you watch our stuff or me?"

Saizo nodded wordlessly before he began to write in some kind of notebook. With that being all the communication she'd probably get, she made her way out into the water.

"How are you feeling?" she asked once she was standing next to Yukimura amongst the waves.

"I'm alright," he sounded fine, but there was a certain distance in his eyes.

"Was all of that okay for you?" she placed a gentle hand on his back. "If it wasn't, then I totally understand. I probably shouldn't have taken it so--"

He shook his head so hard a few droplets of water got in her mouth making her stop. "No, it was....it was great, actually."

Botan's eyebrows raised in joy, "It was?" 

"Yeah, I think it was something to do with you taking care of me after a workout....and then," the sun was glistening against his pink cheeks, "I you felt so good...and you smelled so good...and everything you said made me not care that we were out here." Even though he was still blushing, he looked towards her with a smile, "You shouldn't worry so much, you know. If I didn't like what you were doing, I would have stopped you like we practiced."

Botan felt like her heart could have burst at the sight of that face. She leaned on his shoulder, linking her hand with his. "You're right. I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did."

They stayed like that, swaying along with the calmed down waves before Botan lifted her head to whisper in his ear.

"Besides, you owe me an orgasm now."

Yukimura tensed up at first but smiled back at her, "I guess I do."

She left his side and walked further out into the water. "Luckily for us, we'll need to reapply after we're finished swimming anyway!" she said before diving underneath an incoming wave.

Yukimura followed after her with a grin. They ended up being too tired to stay on the beach for much longer, but that night, he paid her back in full and then some.

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: surprise in two Pairing: Jung Hoseok - Member x Reader Rating: R18+ Genre: fluff, smut, little crack Word Count: 3,372 Trigger Warning/s: swearing, smut Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

Disclaimer:  Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you!  ©  AO3/dtgloss / tumblr/rkivepacks

NOTES: ∟ This is a prompt submitted by @himbeaux-joon​ to @ficswithluv ‘s changeswithluv that allows lovely people to send in commissions for donations to BLM charities and organizations. P.S. I hope i did the prompt justice ∟beta-ed by the lovely @meowxyoong who helped me the whole time!!!

∟ banner by @rkivepacks​ ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/fic here

Prompt:   Strangers!AU: You hooked up with a hot guy named Hobi at your best friend's birthday last night. The next morning you realize he's also her little brother Hoseok.

You love all things organizing, decision-making; the works.

But you don’t love stress.

What your best friend’s boyfriend is giving you now reads along the lines of stress.

[New Message] I’m sorry my advisor wanted to reschedule our meeting to today. Forgive me!!!! I PROMISE I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE DO IT DON'T WORRY

You reread the message again before typing back a I will cut your balls off

He replies a I AM REALLY SORRY , followed by a series of hand emojis that you surely know is supposed to be depicting two hands clapping and not to be mistaken as a begging emoji but you let it go.

There are more important things that need your attention.

Like the cake that will apparently just appear later at the surprise party from someone you don’t know and forgot to ask among other things, like organizing the whole party for your best friend.

In their defense, Jiwoo’s boyfriend volunteered to get the cake at least, saying he does not have a bone in his body that is inclined in organizing and left that part of the party to you.

Everything is out of the window now that he had a meeting and would not be able to get the cake in one piece himself on time to the party.

Plans changed and so has your level of patience.

╫

The plan should go like this; let Jiwoo be distracted on her own knowing, that putting someone else for that task will only make it obvious that something is up, meet on the apartment and put up the decorations with Hana as fast as you can before Jiwoo gets back for your ‘planned small get together for the three of you’.

You are currently working on the two-toned tassel garlands that're too slippery to come together when Hana pads into the living room. “The cake is here, Hope said he’ll be back with the pizza.” You hum in acknowledgement, although you do not know who Hope is.

Twenty minutes later with everything set up, you try to have a sip of water when your phone pings.

[New Message] You’re at the apartment? Can you take out the chicken pops from the fridge so I can cook it when I get there hehe

You reply a quick yes and think to yourself sorry, no chicken lollipops today

After a few minutes of checking and finalizing the place, the lock from the main door beeps, signaling that it’s unlocked. Like clockwork you and Hana stare at each other, eyes wide, before she runs to where the light switch would be and quickly turns it off, engulfing the room in an almost pitch dark black just before the door fully opens.

╫

If success is measured by the surprise on Jiwoo’s face, you’d say you did, a hundred percent. Greetings and loves are passed around, pictures are taken and the party is now in full swing.

The preparations tired you out and you end up sitting down by the window that overlooks the back garden, a cup of soda in your hand. Jiwoo and her boyfriend are within your range for now and every time he catches your eye he sends you a sheepish smile and apologies come off of him in airwaves.

You decided to sneak off to the kitchen with a slice of the cake and another glass of soda and get back to your spot on the window as fast as possible.

“Is it good?” You hear a voice not too far from you.

You look at the stranger and assess him, quickly realizing you have not seen the man before as you don't recognize him.

To his credit, he looks handsome in a simple oversized black shirt and jeans, his head covered in a black bucket hat that adorably covers his head perfectly, little hairs peeking out from under it.

“Sorry?” You answer back, unsure.

“Is the cake good?” He repeats.

“Oh yes. Would you like some?” You try to be nice and offer your piece, tilting the plate towards him as he rests on the wall in front of you.

“Thank you, maybe later.” He smiles. “I’m Hoseok.” He introduces himself and you do the same, shaking his hands.

“So are you not in the mood for people? Or…” He trails off and you don’t expect him to stay longer. Not that you mind the company but you had the impression that he was only going to stay to make a small talk to avoid coming off as rude.

“The party just drained me out. And I wanted to have cake in peace.” You explained, tilting your head back as you remember the hecticity of the day.

“Oh you came with Hana, then?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep!” You reply and down the rest of your soda.

“How about we get another piece of cake and soda, and hide somewhere nicer?” He asks, shifting off of his feet.

“Sure.” You smile at him and he leads you back to the kitchen. As Hoseok is slicing the cake for the two of you, Hana comes in skipping into the kitchen. Clearly the alcohol has hit her, considering her face has become red and her hair is almost at rest with what probably is the heat and sweat coming off of her body. Hana comes and wraps two arms around you, swaying you both from right to left before doing the same to Hoseok.

You don't know how the two knew each other and just laugh at Hana’s antics.

“Go away, Hana, you’re drunk.” You shout over the loud music hoping it reaches Hana’s ears but to no avail, the black haired girl just continues her skipping out of the kitchen the same way she entered the room.

╫

Cake and Soda acquired, Hoseok leads you to the guest bedroom that is surprisingly empty. The two of you sit on the floor by the bed, sharing the cake between you. You have been sharing small talk and stories to entertain yourselves.

“I just realized something.” You stop after you hurriedly swallow down the cake, fork midway in the air as you speak. “You’re Hope.” You point the fork towards Hoseok, your tone almost accusatory.

“I am Hope.” Hoseok nods as if the fact is obvious. It’s not for you, apparently.

“Yes you are.” You continue to prod, eyes wide. You realize it as you eat the cake, remembering how Hana has mentioned a certain ‘Hope’ who apparently is about to get the cake instead. You also remember how Hoseok said thank you when you said the cake was delicious.

Hoseok was Hope.

Hoseok was giggling at your serious internal monologue while your brain surely creates an unwarranted mind map between the two names and one person.

“Are you drunk?” Hoseok jokes and you take another bite of the cake and scowl at him. “Speaking of drinks, would you like another glass, I’ll get myself one.” He stands and looks down to where you stay seated, you shake your head and wave your hand to signal him a ‘no, thank you’ before he replies, “Please wait here, I’ll be right back”, and goes his way to the door.

Hoseok stops midway before turning around to go back to you. “Just in case you need to leave and couldn’t wait until I get back,” he pecks you on the lips fast before sprinting towards the door, hoping that being fast would somehow make you stay inside the room.

After a short while, the door opens again and peeks into the room, his face contorted into what shows curiosity before relief washes over him as he sees you still seated on where he last saw you.

“I’m still here.” You wave to him, eyes following his form as he takes his seat again, drink in his hand.

“So, that kiss was like uhm, a deposit.” He clears his throat, eyes searching yours. “I’d like to claim it back, if you wish.” He grins sheepishly and you tip your head back laughing. You shift to your knees, supporting yourself on one hand with the other cupping his face, as you do exactly what he did just moments ago.

When you pull away, he tilts his head back and groans, taking off his jacket.

“What?” You ask, giggling.

“I think it got hotter in here, I don’t know.” He fans himself before he sighs and retreats with his back on the floor, completely laying down making you laugh.

“I think you’re fine, Hoseok.” You laugh, moving to sit near him on the floor before copying his position on the floor and shifting to your side, body turned to him.

“The floor is stiff on my back.” You whisper, shifting on your place as you try to find a comfortable position.

“I like your thinking.” He appraises before he stands up with ease and turns back to you. He stretches out two hands and pulls you up as you reach up to him.

You notice he used more force, not too hard but enough to have your chest press to his once you’re completely up on your feet. As you reach him, he keeps you in place with a hand on your hips, pressing his lips to yours softly, as if not to surprise you.

He pulls away, not leaving too much space between you but enough to allow you to pull back completely if you wish. When he sees no refusal from you, he tilts his head to the side and slots your slips together, this time more firm. You place your hands around his shoulders, your left hand tracing the hair at the back of his head.

You pull away to drag him into bed, your back turned to him but he takes the opportunity to take steps closer into you, crowding into your space. With his chest pressed to your back, he nuzzles into your neck, his hands softly caressing your arms.

You giggle as you lean back to him, “I tickles.” you tell him as you sit on the bed, pulling him towards you and he mutters a little ‘sorry’ although the smile on his face tells otherwise.

“No you’re not.” You huff, he continues to crowd into your face until your back is on the bed and he’s hovering over you.

“Hm. I like this.” He lightly tugs your off-shoulder yellow top, peering down at you. “It’s my favorite color.”

“Is it? Lucky for you I match everything.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He groans and he continues mouthing at your collarbones exposed to him, your body moving with your laughs.

“Let me know when to stop.” He whispers to your ear and you felt ticklish with his breath hitting your skin.

“Eyes up.” You tilt his chin and catch his eyes, slowly he untugs the strings that keep your skirt secured and pulls it down altogether, you assist him without much movement from the two of you.

You pull him closer and kiss him again, tugging his jeans and he pulls away to get it off before returning to his previous position. His eyes never leave yours through the whole accord.

With your senses heightened, you are both hyper aware of your actions and each touch the both of you leave on each other’s has only left you both feeling the hair on your skin rise.

“Still not looking.” He whispers to your lips before slotting them back together, his right hand tracing your hip bones, fingers ghosting over where the line of your underwear rests.

It’s obvious he is trying to get consent even after he’s told you to let him know when to stop. It’s in his looks as he catches your eyes for a few seconds before continuing with what he is about to do next.

He pulls away and grabs something a few steps from the bed. “I’ve felt that I would need this today.” He smiles, in his hands a packet of condoms and lube, before slotting in between your legs only this time, his face is not as close to yours as before.

He softly traces your stomach with gentle fingers, following his own traces with his lips. He continues his movements until he’s mouthing at the waistbands of your underwear, his left hand fumbling with it.

He pulls it off, his fingers trailing after as it runs down your legs. He continues with his ministrations with his hands on your thighs, his presence felt everywhere on your skin. When he gets back up to level his face with yours, he presses his hips to yours and you rest both hands on his hips, tugging on his boxers.

Off it goes and he wraps both of your legs around his waist, at least one hand never leaving your thighs, his lips never leaving yours.

“Ready?” He scans your face for any discomfort and your heart swoons.

A handsome and respectful man? Your heart swelled. .

His hands move with confidence but prove to be gentle as he holds your hips and lines himself up with you.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he slowly eases in, mouth pressed to yours.

You try to not crush him in between your legs as you feel yourself become putty each time he moves, but it proves to be difficult when he moves with practiced ease. He knows how to activate your senses and which actions and movements he could do, sometimes in between intervals and at times a meddling of the two.

You feel yourself sag down onto the bed, his hips continuing his movements, providing you with much pleasure.

Reaching the climax, your legs clamp up on his hips from where it rested on his hide and your arms smoothing down the expanse of his back, unable to apply much pressure as the relief washes over you.

He follows suit, pulling your hips closer to his and stays pressed to each other for a second, before he lets you down gently.

You stay still and connected for a little while, basking in the aftermath of your pleasures. When Hoseok regains his strength and senses, he helps you rest down your thighs to where you would be more comfortable, gentle hands guiding you.

Swoon.

He presses soft kisses to your forehead as you cool down, and quickly finds the thin blanket to cover your body, his eyes never leaving your face.

Soon you feel yourself slowly regain your strength as well. You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest and pick off the underwear from where it was thrown to the edge of the bed. Hoseok gives you privacy as he sits on the other side of the bed, already dressed in everything except for his shoes and his black shirt, back turned to you.

You quickly dress and smooth your hair down from where it was messily tied up.

Your phone buzzes from where you left it on the floor with a text from Hana telling you that she left the place already.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” You say as you stand in front of him.

“Let me get you a ride.” He stands up and you move to the side as he quickly dresses into his shirt and slips into his shoes, leading you back down to where some people, although a little less compared to what they left off a while ago, are still up and drinking.

“I’d drive you, but…” He trails, pertaining to the alcohol he has in his system.

“It’s ok. I can handle myself.” You look up to him and he laughs.

“I know you can. Let me know when you get home.” He says. He gives you a quick peck just before you jog over to where the car was waiting for you.

╫

To: Hoseok I got home safe, thank you!

From: Hoseok That’s good. Would you be free for a late breakfast tomorrow?

To: Hoseok If I wake up before that, yes

From: Nice. Good night :)

To: Hoseok Night, Hope!!!

╫

You do wake up before lunch time. Actually, you wake up way earlier than you should have considering you got home at two in the morning and went to bed at least thirty minutes after.

You contemplate what time to send a text to Hoseok about your meet up when your phone vibrates with a message from another person.

From: Jiwoo You left your subway card here!!! Come get it and I’ll make you breakfast <3

You read the message and sigh. Maybe the late breakfast will be postponed. You text Hoseok informing him that your best friend needs you this morning and ask for a rain check. Thankfully, the nice man takes it well and lets you off easily.

An hour and a half later, you arrive at Jiwoo’s, “Come with me to my room and help me.” She pulls you to the direction of her bedroom. When you get there she hands you the card you apparently left behind.

When you are done helping Jiwoo with an inexistent problem, you come out of the bedroom first while she follows suit, ranting about the mess the party made last night. You hear the door to the guest bedroom open and you stop on your tracks when you look up to the person in front of you, Jiwoo almost knocking on your back on your abrupt stop.

It’s the handsome and respectful guy from last night. Your late breakfast buddy.

Hoseok reacts better than you, face alight with recognition, “Hey!” He greets you and his eyes switch back and forth between you and Jiwoo.

“Oh? You know each other?” Jiwoo takes over and walks in front of you. You follow on autopilot and Hoseok trails behind you.

“Yep.” Hoseok answers.

Yes, if a one night stand counts as ‘knowing each other’.

“Yep. He brought the cake over.” You reply, sitting down on the dinner table.

“Ah, I’ve heard of that from Sowon. He said he was supposed to bring the cake but he had a surprise meeting and he texted my brother instead. Right, Hoseokie?” Jiwoo explains, biting off an apple slice.

Brother? Stress on the question mark.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are related.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are actual siblings.

Jiwoo and Hoseok actually do look like each other if only my brain functioned enough last night.

Your eyes move from Jiwoo to Hoseok, the latter at ease from his seat as if the situation does not bother him as it did to you. It probably doesn’t.

“I think I left my phone in your room.” You say and retreat back upstairs. If they see your phone peeking out from your back pocket, they don’t say anything.

╫

To: Hoseok I DID NOT KNOW ??????

From: Hoseok Sorry?? Do you guys like have some sort of rule or something…

To: Hoseok It does not exist just like my dignity.

From: Hoseok Come back here already Jiwoo’s chill dw

To: Hoseok …

╫

The breakfast went as smoothly as it could. You laughed over and over, enjoying Hoseok's company. Although, it was mostly Hoseok laughing at your despair as you recount the morning you found out Jiwoo and the embodiment of the man of your current dreams are blood-related.

The late breakfast was only a one time thing, with you having research during normal hours and Hoseok balancing a masters and a dance class with his time. You meet on nights your free time would be fitting with his, and on the weekends you get to do more and spend more time, most of it spent with Jiwoo at her apartment. That's when you realize Jiwoo would actually be chill with the whole thing.

Well- Jiwoo was chill with it until she found out that you actually did sleep over at her apartment, seeing you sleeping peacefully with Hoseok cuddled behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

[trvelyans-archive]

past and present

a comm for the wonderful @dauntless-necromancer of morrigan and kieran and their warden elrich cousland <3 thank you for commissioning me ! 

also for context because i didn’t post the first one, in this fic morrigan and kieran live in the mountains while elrich is searching for a cure for the calling ! and kieran’s a teen now, iconic ! i hope you enjoy !!! <3

-

It was just supposed to be a walk. 

Kieran often walked across the mountain vistas surrounding his and Mother’s new home – it was his only escape whenever they were in an argument or she needed a few hours alone after receiving another letter from Father with bad news. He had a few paths he liked to walk the most, but sometimes he explored a little further than the last time; a little higher up the cliffs than he was able to reach when he was younger. 

He was 19 after all, now, and growing into his own. He was a short child – he hadn’t been taller than Mother until he was 14 or 15 - but now that he was (finally) an adult, he was gangly. (At least that’s what Mother said.) He had strong arms and legs, plenty strong enough to be able to pull himself up and over the higher ledges on the mountains, but they looked thin and ropy, and Mother always told him that he was much stronger than anyone would ever assume he was at a glance. 

“Which isn’t entirely a bad thing,” she’d said after, kissing him on the forehead as she brushed past him to reach the cupboards where they stored their herbs while they two of them made dinner. “It will be much easier for you to take them by surprise that way, after all.”  

She said that with a twinkle in her eye, then, and that always made everything better. 

Today, though, things were different. Kieran left in a huff after they’d gotten into another one of those arguments they seemed to have every couple of days at that point – there were messages and letters from Father that Mother sometimes kept quiet despite Kieran practically begging to see them, and he had had enough. He wanted promises too, after all. He wanted Father to tell him that he was okay, that things were okay, that he would return to his family one day soon when his work was finished. He didn’t want to hear it from Mother – of course she would tell him that. She would do everything for him.  

Or… most things, at least. Except read him Father’s letters or let him write one of his own in return. 

So he left, wrapped up in his favourite cloak with a full waterskin, a pack full of food, and a journal that Father had sent him several years, and Mother stood at the doorway, watching him go with a frown on her face. He was entirely intent on returning before evening fell – because, really, there was no where to go - when he found himself stuck in the middle of a blizzard. 

A few years ago, when he was younger, he would have been much more scared of being stuck out in the snow by himself. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t scared this time – he was, especially because he quickly realized that he accidentally forgot his warmest mittens back home – but he knew how to deal with this kind of thing much better. 

After all, there wasn’t much else to do up in the mountains but explore. Read, write. Take a walk.  

Get caught in a blizzard. 

He laughed to himself and pulled his hood up higher over his face, trudging through the quickly rising snow into a thick grove of pine trees. On every couple of branches, every couple of trees, hung little clay ornaments Kieran sometimes made when he was desperately bored in the middle of summer, and the sight of the few that he could tell were made by Mother calmed him a little. Blizzards ebbed and flowed quite often up here in the mountains, so it would only take an hour or so for this portion of it to pass. Of course, that meant Kieran had to take shelter somewhere to wait it out safely, but he did not mind very much. It just gave him time to think about the letter he would write Papa when he returned home, whether or not Mother wanted him to or not. 

She didn’t have to know… 

Not that he liked keeping secrets from Mother. She was all he had – for now, at least, until Papa would join them in the mountains one day soon and they’d be together again – and they had to trust each other to stay alive. They were as close as a mother and her child could possibly be, she always said. They had respect for one another, even though they had seen each other in their lowest moments, and they tried not to keep any secrets between them, no matter how dark or scary they were. 

No secrets, and yet she always hid Father’s letters. 

Kieran frowned. He wasn’t going to apologize first this time. 

After all, he always needed some sort of distraction nowadays to keep him from dwelling on all the thoughts in his mind; so he could ignore the voices that he sometimes heard at the back of his head even though he knew no one was behind him. Though Mother didn’t like to talk about it very much, there was something different about him – something that had always been different about him. For the longest time, he thought it was normal, that everyone felt that way – especially after he had gone to Skyhold with Mother to meet the Inquisitor and tried to befriend some of the other children there - but around the time he turned 17, Mother sat him down and told him… well… a lot. A lot of things he never expected to hear but also, somehow, that he saw coming at the same time. 

He huffed as he leaned against a tree and slid down into the snow, pulling his cloak around his body and swinging his pack down from his shoulders to hug it against his chest. He had a book in his bag, but he wasn’t content on bringing it out right now – the snow would surely melt against the pages, and he had no intention on smearing the ink when his books were the few prized possessions he actually had. Instead he tipped his head back against the tree and looked up, at the flurries of flying snow, at the muted grey sky beyond them. 

And then, somehow, he fell asleep. 

He did not wake up on the mountain. 

The first thing he thought when he awoke and his vision cleared was that, somehow, he was actually very thankful he hadn’t brought his warmest mittens along. They would have made his current condition much, much worse, as every other part of his body was sweating. 

He squinted as he glanced up, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the leaves in the trees – not pine needles, he noted, actual leaves – and staring into the sky. There was no trace of any clouds above him, grey and stormy or otherwise, and, in fact, it seemed like quite a beautiful day. So beautiful, in fact, that he was lulled into a foolish sense of security for a moment before bolting upright.  

He was far, far away from home. 

Before he started moving, he shed his heavy coat and draped them over his arm after pushing up the sleeves of his shirt but left his cloak on, pulling his hood higher up over his face. He could not remember if it was summer or not – he often forgot such things because they lived so high up in the mountains that the seasons didn’t mean much besides it being slightly colder in Wintermarch and vaguely warmer in Justinian - so perhaps he had no reason to be too worried. It could be that he was somewhere in the foothills of the Frostbacks and it’d only take a week or so to return to Mother – well, if the weather held out like this… 

But he knew the treacherous roads of the Frostbacks as well as anyone, and he knew well enough that once he reached higher altitudes the trek would become much harder. 

So, then, knowing that, perhaps instead of a week it would be more like… three. Give or take a few days for the weather, any issues with the roads, and especially considering that he wasn’t certain he was in the foothills, anyway. After all, the terrain felt much different; the flora was unlike anything he had seen in recent memory. Based off of his knowledge of the world alone, he could’ve been in… the Free Marches. He could’ve been in Orlais. He could’ve been anywhere. 

And everywhere, right now, seemed very far away from home. 

But there was no point in worrying about it in the meanwhile, at least not until he started moving and got a sense of where he was. He couldn’t undo… whatever it was that had just happened – or, at least, it was very unlikely he could undo it, especially since he didn’t know how it had happened in the first place - and sitting here, dwelling on it and twiddling his thumbs meant he was wasting precious time. Kieran heaved a heavy sigh and started off towards a gap in the trees, figuring that it was as good a place as any to start. 

Kieran liked to consider himself an optimistic person – he had forced himself to be when he started growing older - but after only a few minutes, he was beginning to realize just how much he sounded like his mother. 

That hurt more than he wanted it to. 

Thankfully he had his waterskin, and a book in his bag he could read if he got bored. This was not the type of forest he was used to – there were no swollen roots or long, overhanging branches – and, if he felt so inclined, he could probably take out his book and read while he walked without it slowing him down too much. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take his mind off of things by reading while he travelled – that is, of course, if he didn’t have to use his book as kindling tonight. Which made him feel… more miserable, somehow.  

He was out of the forest within an hour, and across a meadow in the next. The cloak was slowing him down slightly – it was heavy, thick wool – but he thought it would be best to keep his face hidden for now, even as he descended down a short hill into another thicket of oak trees. Pausing, he leaned against a tree and pulled out his waterskin, uncorking the top and tilting his head back to pour a stream of water into his mouth. 

When he felt the tip of a knife against the back of his neck, he couldn’t help but choke. 

He recovered quickly, though, and wiped his mouth on the back of his neck while he turned around slowly with his hands raised in defense (one still holding his waterskin, which he was dangerously close to spilling).  

“Ah,” the man said quietly. He was an elf, with tanned skin and golden hair, and though he was considerably shorter than Kieran and quite a bit smaller, the knife at Kieran’s throat didn’t do anything to make him feel less intimidated. “I must admit… you looked much more threatening from behind.” 

Kieran frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that perhaps I should not run you through right now,” the man replied, taking a short step back. “Not that I was planning to, really – the man in charge would not approve – but, if you had posed a threat… well, the thought crossed my mind.” 

Kieran crossed his arms over his chest. He could be plenty threatening. This man didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Who’s this ‘man in charge’ you’re speaking about?” he asked. 

The man laughed, and Kieran felt his annoyance grow even stronger. “I do not think I am at liberty to disclose that information to anyone quite yet,” he said. “At least not without getting a fair punishment in return. Saying that, I do suggest you move along – some of our friends are, well… not very open to strangers, and –“ 

“Zevran?” 

A woman stepped out from behind the elf, a woman with bright orange hair and a medium build who looked unsettlingly familiar. “Who’s this?” she said, eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling. 

“Perhaps a bandit,” Zevran said. “Does not quite look the type, to me anyway, but appearances can be deceiving, no?” 

The woman rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just a villager from the nearby town,” she told the elf before turning to Kieran. “Is there something wrong? Have you lost your parents to the Blight?” 

The Blight? 

The Blight was almost 20 years ago now – the Blight, Mother said once, is the reason Kieran was born in the first place; the reason he had the abilities to read things and feel things the way he did. 

How did he end up here? 

“No,” he answered hesitantly. “I mean… Yes, I have. My mother and father are…” 

He didn’t finish. He didn’t quite know exactly what to say. 

“I am sorry to hear that,” the woman said, taking a step closer. “Would you like me to keep them in my prayers tonight?” 

Zevran, the elf, cleaned the flat side of his blade with his thumb, never taking his eyes off Kieran. 

“Yes, I would appreciate that very much.” Kieran shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at the woman from underneath his low-hanging hood. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” 

“I am Leliana.” She smiled at him. “And you are…?” 

Leliana. Of course. Kieran remembered Leliana well from his time in Skyhold – she had been in several strongly-worded discussions with Mother late at night when she stopped by their quarters. She looked younger, now – happier. And much, much less tired. 

Kieran knew that time travel was a possibility – he’d heard some rumours about Tevinter Magisters travelling through time several years ago – but he wasn’t well-versed in how it worked enough to be able to have done this himself. 

There had to be a reason he was here, and he was determined to figure it out. 

“Kier,” he said after realizing she was waiting for a response. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Leliana.” 

“You, as well.” She glanced over at Zevran. “See? He’s not a bandit. If he is, he’s certainly better at conversation than the rest of them.” 

“Yes, yes, he is a wonderful conversationalist,” Zevran replied. “However, Leliana, I do believe we have duties to attend to, hm?” 

“Ah, yes!” Leliana offered Kieran a dazzling smile. “Well, I’m sorry about your parents, Kier. May the Maker watch over you.” 

Leliana and Zevran had been two of his parents’ companions during the Blight. Leliana was one of the few people who had tried to reach out to Mother after her and Kieran left the Inquisition following the defeat of Corypheus, even if they had never quite become friends. If they were here, that must have meant his parents were around, too. 

And he wanted so badly to see them, to see what they were like when they were younger… 

“Do you have room for another person to travel with you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. 

- 

And Kieran thought Mother was suspicious of outsiders now. After seeing what she was like during the Blight, he’d never think that again. 

It had been a few days of travelling with them – which still felt incredibly weird and alien to him – and though she glared at him less and less in camp, she still glared at him every chance she got. It made him feel sick to his stomach to see her glaring at him like that, and each time she did he felt like there was something he needed to apologize for.  

There was, really, a whole list of things to say sorry about. I’m sorry for not respecting your privacy. I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m sorry that I just miss Father so much – 

And then, well, he stopped finding things to apologize for and instead found things he wanted her to apologize for, so it was a little bit of a moot point. Especially because this wasn’t the right version of his mother he had to apologize to. 

And perhaps he wasn’t helping by always keeping his hood up in camp, but there was nothing else he could do, really. He couldn’t very well wear a mask without arousing even more suspicion. And though Leliana took a shining to him, and Zevran was about as nice to him as Kieran wanted, Mother and Father – or Morrigan and Elrich as he had begun to force himself to call them – didn’t pay very much attention to him at all. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice. 

While he sat in the opening of his makeshift tent, he watched them. It was nice – in his time, he had only seen them together when he was a young child, and he scarcely remembered any of those times very well. But here, during the Blight, they talked and sat together. Even if they didn’t sit too closely or too intimately – even if Morrigan kept her distance – they were… together. And that was what mattered to him, really, in the end, even if he couldn’t be a part of it. He just wanted his parents to be together and for him to see it. It made him happy when they acted like a real, true family.  

They hadn’t done that in a very long time. 

Besides that, though, there was still a tension between his parents that he couldn’t deny, but he didn’t quite know why it was. He’d known that his grandmother – whatever she was, in the end – wasn’t very kind to his own mother, but he didn’t understand how that affected her. After, Father was sitting beside her in front of the fire with a hand in the short space between their bodies, and Kieran could tell he wanted to reach out for her. So why didn’t he? And if he did, why wouldn’t Mother let him? 

One night, when rain trickled down from wispy gray clouds and left a thin mist over the camp, he sat in the mouth of his tent as always, watching them, and this time he was close enough to hear. 

“… Even you aren’t immune to my charms, are you, Morrigan?” 

Morrigan glanced away, down at her hands. “I am immune to every man’s charms, Elrich,” she answered. 

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly. 

She looked over at him and smirked, but Kieran could tell there was a sadness behind it – a sadness he had seen himself in their time. “Oh?” she said. They were sitting closely together – much closer than Morrigan sat with anyone else in camp – but she wasn’t close enough to rest her head on his shoulder or hold his hand. “You think you know everything I’ve been through, do you?” 

“No,” Elrich responded, “I didn’t say that. I meant, rather, that you don’t have to be immune to every man’s charms – certainly not mine.” 

Morrigan sighed. “Have we not been over this enough?” she asked quietly. 

“We have,” Elrich answered before offering up a small, sad smile of his own. (Kieran realized how much he looked like his father, in that moment – the colour of his eyes, the shape of his hair. He used to look much more like his mother as a child, but now the gentle slope of his jaw had turned sharp, and he had to shave quite often in the golden looking glass Mother had displayed in her room.) “I just thought I would remind you.”  

“Your reminders are… welcome.” She stood up suddenly, reaching up to adjust the cloak around her neck so it hung more tightly across her shoulders and chest. “I should turn in for the night.” 

“I should, too.” Elrich stood up beside her and tilted his head down to look at her, eyes roaming across her face for a long moment before he backed away with a slow, approving nod. “Goodnight, Morrigan.” 

“Sleep well,” she said, turning on her heel and heading back towards her tent. Not without shooting Kieran another glare, first, but this time he didn’t care. He pulled his hood higher over his head and inched back into camp, closing the tent doors behind him. 

There must have been some reason that Morrigan did not feel safe initiating a relationship with Elrich – there must have been something to inevitably draw them together, as well. The rings that his mother and father both wore in his time were not worn by either of them right now, so he supposed that that should have been his first step. 

After he got some sleep, of course. 

As always, his dreams were plagued with phantom faces looming over him and shadows that slunk into darkness at the corners of his eyes. Voices that somehow sounded distant and close at the same time whispered in his ear, and he could feel the ground vibrate with every step one of the blurry figures took towards him from a cloud of dense, green fog. Some of it was Elven – he had known how to speak it since he was a child – and some of it sounded older; more ancient. He knew what the language was and who it belonged to, but he just couldn’t put it into words for himself. This is how he had slept every night. And as always, when he finally awoke, his brain was tied into knots that took him several long moments to pull apart so he could finally breathe again. 

It helped to have Mother around to sing him lullabies when he woke up. He suspected he would not be able to ask her now unless he wanted to risk being flayed alive. 

That day, the voices echoed in his head as they climbed small mountain in the foothills of the Frostbacks (too far away from Mother for him to turn tail – he didn’t think it would work, anyway). They were heading for Orzammar, Elrich had told Kieran that morning when he emerged from his tent covered in a thin sheen of sweat. They had business with the Dwarves to attend to. Kieran was neither pleased nor displeased at the announcement – it gave him time to figure out with the words floating around in his head meant; what exactly they were trying to tell him to do. 

It was hard when Elrich kept asking questions.

Not that Kieran didn’t want to talk to him - he really, really did. After all, that’s what had gotten him into this in the first place. It was just... well, this was the wrong version of his father to talk to, and he didn’t want to give anything away.

But his emotions won out, in the end - instead of telling him to leave him alone like he should’ve, he sat down around the fire with him and made breakfast. Well, watched Elrich make breakfast.

“So, are you from Ferelden?” Elrich asked, glancing over at Kieran.

“Yes,” he answered.

Elrich smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges with amusement. “You don’t sound Fereldan,” he commented. “Can’t imagine this is a very nice time to see the country.”

He sounded the same as he always had - dignified, confident, and most of all kind - but his voice was much higher, and Kieran couldn’t help but snicker at how hard his father was trying to sound mature. 

“Well, the company is good,” Kieran replied. “I cannot get any safer than I am travelling with two Grey Wardens.”

Elrich leveled an even, unflinching stare at him, though Kieran could see a flash of fear in his eyes. “You know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kieran said. “It’s not that hard to tell, really.” 

Elrich laughed. “What gave it away? The Griffon breastplate?”

Kieran laughed, too, and then realized how much it sounded like his father’s and stopped. “Perhaps,” he said. “My mother always says - er, said - that I’m very observant.”

“Well, your mother sounds like she was a smart woman.” Elrich pulled the pot of soup off of the fire and set it on the ground, where it melted the thin layer of snow around it. 

“She was,” Kieran replied, tilting his head to hide his smile.

“What happened to her?” Elrich questioned. “Darkspawn?”

“You could say that,” Kieran responded.

“I’m sorry.” Elrich scooped a spoonful of porridge into a bowl and handed it to Kieran. “If it makes you feel any better, something worse than Darkspawn killed my parents.”

Kieran flinched. He knew what happened to his father’s parents, but he and his mother had always agreed that, selfishly, they were slightly thankful - they would not be here if it wasn’t for them. However, hearing his father talk about it now, when the wound was still fresh... it hurt.

Especially because Kieran felt the same.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran murmured, looking down into his bowl while his eyebrows drew together in thought.

“It’s alright,” Elrich replied. “Thank you, though, anyway. I do hate the Darkspawn - more than anything. I hate them for destroying beautiful Ferelden land and killing villagers - like your parents. I hate that they’re leaving young people without a family.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” Kieran pointed out with a laugh.

“True.” Elrich spooned some porridge into his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m trying my best to be strong, but... it can be hard sometimes. Knowing that I carry the weight of the country on my shoulders, that so many people’s lives are in my hands...” He swallowed hard, glancing down at his bowl with a bitter laugh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining. Things have turned out better for me than they do for most, and with any hope, this should all be over soon so I can...” He cleared his throat. “Settle down once more.”

Kieran winced and hoped Elrich didn’t notice - he had no idea how much longer he would have to wait to do the settling he wanted.

“You’re doing a great job,” Kieran offered quietly, than quickly added, “from what I have seen so far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Elrich smiled at him. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Just... make sure you don’t lose sight of what is most important.” Kieran let out a gentle sigh, losing himself in his thoughts. “Family. The people you hold dear. They are what you’re protecting, after all.” He frowned. “They are worth more than anything.” 

“That they are,” Elrich replied, then glanced over to where Morrigan’s tent was opening. His eyes lit up, and a hopeful smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Speaking of which... I need to go speak with Morrigan. Excuse me.”

He stood up slowly as he assembled a second bowl of porridge, and when he hurried over to Morrigan and handed it to her, she stared at it for a long, long moment before taking it tentatively from his hands and smiling up at him. A small smile, but a smile nevertheless.

Kieran looked away, ignoring the ache in his heart.

He packed up his own tent, rolled it up, and watched as everyone prepared for the day - Leliana stretching in a warm patch of sunlight, Zevran sharpening his knife with his tongue between his teeth. They looked so normal and calm - Kieran had no idea how they did it. Although, he thought, they didn’t know what was going on in his head either - they probably wouldn’t be able to live with the thoughts and the voices as well as he did.

That made him feel better, at least.

At midday, when the sun was at it’s highest point, they were about to begin ascending a mountain pass towards Orzammar - the first of many, he remembered, having studied the map of the Frostbacks several hundred times - when, suddenly, they heard a guttural roar in the distance and a burst of flames blazed across the path in front of them, leaving melted snow and charred rocks in their wake. 

A dragon. 

No wonder the voices had been so loud. 

Up ahead, everyone drew out their weapons, but Kieran kept back – he had nothing more than a simple dagger Leliana had given him, and he wasn’t sure he could wield it efficiently enough. Wynne, the older mage who came from the Circle of Magi, summoned an ice field to separate the dragon from the group while Leliana notched one of her arrows and aimed it at the creature’s neck.  

It swooped down in front of the group. Alistair and Zevran rushed forward to slash at it, led by Elrich, and Wynne and Leliana attacked from the sidelines while Morrigan watched, creating a dark purple sphere of shifting magic in her hands that she flung at the dragon with unnatural power. It wailed and wailed but did not relent, reaching out to swipe at them again, but Elrich got a hit in before it could hurt any of the party.

Kieran pulled his hood higher up over his head, unsure of what to do. 

Zevran and Alistair continued assaulting the beast’s legs while Elrich slid underneath its stomach, hacking at the dragon’s underbelly which seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dark, heavy scales. Morrigan and Wynne flung balls of spirit magic at it over and over in quick succession, and Leliana aimed her arrows to try and pierce the dragon’s eye – they bounced off like flimsy pieces of metal, but she did not give up. They were shouting at each other over the roaring – directions and suggestions and cries that the others stay safe or be careful – and none of them seemed to notice that Kieran was not joining the effort. If they did, they didn’t notice. 

At one point, deep into the battle, Morrigan hurried to Elrich’s side and casted a shield around him while Wynne tended to his wounds. Though their faces had all been creased with battlehardened lines, when his mother and father looked at each other in fear, Kieran could see a fear there. After Elrich had been healed and stood up on shaky legs to attack the creature again, Morrigan held him back by the arm. When he turned around to look at her, a bolt of lightning came forth from the tip of her staff and struck the beast on the nose. A current of electricity tore through it. 

The dragon let out a guttural cry and reared up on its hind legs, futilely lashing out at the party, but they all stumbled back from its reach before it could land a blow. It squirmed and thrashed in the cold air, claws scraping the rocks on either side for leverage, before it finally slumped down onto the rocky ground, chest heaving as it took one last breath until it lay there, dead. 

A tired cheer echoed through the mountain pass, and the party looked at one another, giving them relieved smiles or grateful pats on the shoulder. 

Except for Elrich and Morrigan, who were hugging tightly. 

Kieran smiled. 

He hadn’t seen that for a long, long time.

That night he lingered in the mouth of his tent like always, pretending to sharpen his dagger while he listened to his parents talk around the fire. 

Well, there wasn’t much talking. They set up camp a few hours after slaying the dragon so everyone could tend to their wounds, and Morrigan never left Elrich’s side while Wynne stitched up the larger ones that Morrigan said she didn’t want to touch. She didn’t leave his side through dinner, either, and now, in the dark of night when neither of them were supposed to still be awake, she held his hand tightly, staring into the fire. 

“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh, nudging her shoulder with his.  

“Considering whether or not to flay myself alive,” she answered with a slight smirk. 

“Always so dark,” Elrich said, shaking his head while he chuckled. 

Suddenly, Morrigan turned to him, a crease between her eyebrows. “I have something for you,” she said, blinking. 

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin. 

“I mean that I have a gift for you,” Morrigan said. She reached over to her pouch, where she slid her hand inside while keeping her eyes trained on him, and then fished out a smaller pouch from inside. “’Tis… a ring. Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain.” 

Except she said nothing further until Elrich prompted her with a nod of his head.  

“Yes, um… Flemeth once gave me a ring because it allowed her to find me wherever I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters.” She passed it back and forth between her hands. “I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now…” Morrigan glanced up at him. “I will be able to find whoever wears it, instead.” 

Elrich tilted his head, reaching out to place his hands over hers. “That’s a sweet gift,” he said. “Thank you.” 

She blushed. “’Tis not given out of sentimentality,” she said. “I believe you are too important to risk. If you were captured, the ring would allow us to find you quickly.” 

“Does it do anything else?” 

Morrigan pulled it out of the bag and looked at it, squinting slightly. “Flemeth used to say it was a link between us; one that I presumed worked both ways. I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So it would mean that I am linked to you as much as you to I.” 

He inched closer, taking it from her gently. “So I could find you, if need be?” 

“I… do not know.” She frowned. “As I said, I never tested it. Perhaps.”  

“I’m glad to know you care,” he told her. 

To Kieran’s surprised, she looked offended. “D-do not read more into it than is there,” she said. “You have supplied me with equipment, certainly this is not very different, is it?” 

“Thank you for the gift, Morrigan,” Elrich replied, placing it in the palm of his hand and curling his fingers tightly around it. 

“You… are welcome,” Morrigan replied, clearing her throat. “Perhaps it will be useful some day.” 

They said very little after that – instead they sat beside each other, arms and legs and shoulders touching like they were connected at the waist. 

Occasionally, Kieran could see his father glancing down at the ring and smiling.  

Elrich retired to his tent first that night, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before leaving, and just when Kieran thought that perhaps his mother was going to follow, she didn’t. Instead she turned around and frowned at him. 

“Enjoy listening to other people’s conversation, do you?” she asked, stalking over to his tent and looking down at him. 

“No,” Kieran answered, wrinkling his nose. “I respect other people’s privacy.” 

“You don’t fool me,” Morrigan said. Though it was said harshly, Kieran didn’t think it was an accusation. “There’s something you’re not telling everyone else – they have not noticed, but I have. Why are you travelling with us?” 

“I had to,” Kieran replied, staring her down for a moment before shuffling into his tent and closing the entrance tightly behind him. 

He woke up, to his surprise, in his own bed back home with the same woman leaning over him. 

-

“Foolish boy,” Mother was muttering, tucking in his blanket between his bed and the wall. “Foolish, foolish boy.” 

“Mother?” Kieran asked, pushing himself up from the bed. 

Mother glanced over at him and sighed. “How could you scare me like that?” she asked quietly. “You could have frozen half to death, or –“ 

“I’m fine, Mother,” Kieran said. 

“No, you’re not. You nearly have frostbite. Foolish, foolish boy – what will I do with you?” 

“Mother,” Kieran began, “I would like to write father a letter.” 

Mother stopped what she was doing, hesitating for a long moment before turning towards him. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” she replied softly. 

“I want to write him a letter,” Kieran insisted. “I know you don’t want me to be disappointed that he has not returned to us yet, but I won’t be. I’m more disappointed that I haven’t heard from him in several months.” 

“Well, neither have I.” Mother frowned, looking down at her wrinkled hands. “He is far away from here. He’s alive, but I… I fear he might not be for much longer.”  

“He will be.” Kieran drew his chin up. “I know he will be. I can feel it. And I would like to write a letter to him.” 

Mother sighed once more and glanced over at him, and just when he thought she was going to get mad, her lips curved into a wickedly pleased smile. 

“Very well,” she responded. When she moved to stand, Kieran followed, but she waved her hand at him in exasperation. “You stay here,” she said, smiling. “I will bring it to you. You need your rest.” 

“Thank you, Mother,” Kieran said, smiling. “I love you.”  

Mother squinted at him. “Perhaps you hit your head as well.” 

“Mother!”  

“I am just kidding,” she said. “I love you too, you foolish, foolish boy. Now lie down.” 

When Mother left, closing the door softly as to not disturb him, Kieran’s eyes fluttered shut despite himself, and he nestled down beneath the blankets, already thinking about what he would – and definitely should not – write to his father about.