#why is it so much harder to draw his wings tiny?

[poppy5991]

[synqiri]

WHO GOT YOU SMILING LIKE THAT?

or, who else is his smile directed at but you ?

PAIRING: sunday, dan heng x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDCOUNT: 1K || CONTENT: fluff, reader is from the express, sunday's wings, danheng's vidyadhara form

NOTES: THEMMM!!!!

“brother,” robin asks, “has something good happened recently?”

SUNDAY chuckles, shaking his head. “nothing in particular, dear sister. why do you ask?”

she knows it is a lie, yet she does not wish to press, for she has never seen her brother this happy in years. his gaze softer too, his smile more at ease. even now, his eyes dart about the golden hour occasionally, almost hopefully, searching for something — or someone. 

“no reason,” she replies instead. “you simply seem well. i'm glad.”

before he can say much else, robin watches as his attention is drawn away from her, to somewhere behind her back. swiftly, he adjusts his suit and tie (though she knows he despises having to do so in public), and straightens his already impeccable posture.

terribly curious, she turns to look, and finds that it is you.

you are of the astral express, and though she may not know much, she knows you are cherished.

“sunday! robin!” you greet them, a grin on your face, cheerful and bright. “i didn't expect to see you two. must be my lucky day!”

nearly imperceptibly, sunday's wings flutter, and robin can tell he is delighted. she wonders if he himself has noticed — that the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he simply melted.

her brother has always carried himself with a tense, elegant formality, his words and actions as dignified as the head of the oak family should be. but the sight before her eyes is a side of him she has never seen; soft eyes and a fond smile, barely there yet present all the same. 

you chatter, and he lets you, as if he were soaking in your every word, tension alleviating with your mere attention. 

“let's catch up another time, brother,” she tells him, smiling just a tad apologetically. still, it is obvious her presence is no longer needed. “i have another appointment i must attend to.”

he nods, bidding her a farewell, and you huff softly, slightly put out. 

“aw,” you say. “i was hoping we’d have longer to talk. you're almost harder to reach than sunday.”

she laughs. “i was just thinking the same. how about another day?”

excitedly, you agree, offering her your pinky to swear. she accepts easily. she is certain that even if the express has left, if everything happens as it should, it wouldn't be the last she’d see of you.

sunday would make sure of that.

just before she leaves, she catches how her brother draws your attention back onto him, with a childish sort of pettiness she thought he had rid of long ago. 

“i wasn't aware you were such a big fan of my sister's,” he says. “if you wish, i can provide you front row tickets to her next concert.”

you shake your head, giggling, but by then, she is too far away to hear your response. still, whatever you had said to sunday flusters him. his wings flutter once more, positively elated.

he smiles.

recently, DAN HENG has changed.

march has noticed it long ago, and she's sure caelus has too. not only that, she's positive it has something to do with you.

you’re the newest addition to the astral express crew, and she likes you lots. everyone does, really. you're wonderful and brilliant and bright, even if you don't see it yourself. she watches as you make your way into the archives, though she doesn't do the same. she peeks into the tiny window by the door instead.

there it is. she almost squeals. it's utterly adorable, that's what.

dan heng hates company when he's working, a fact march knows all too well. aeons know how many times she got herself kicked out. except, he doesn't seem to hate company all that much when it's you.

“it's me,” you announce as you enter, and he barely spares you a second glance, as if it was there you were always meant to be.

he shifts aside, letting you grab a chair and taking a seat next to him, even allowing you as close as shoulder to shoulder. he's in his true form today. his tail curls around the base of your feet — it doesn't touch you, but it's a damn near thing.

she wonders how exactly you managed such a feat. dan heng is reserved and guarded and whilst he considers the crew his family, she knows there is no one he fully trusts with all his secrets. she can't blame him, but it is the truth. 

yet within months, you have quickly become his closest confidante.

“what are you working on today?” you ask, flipping through the scattered books and documents on his desk. 

he glances over to you, and even from where she stands, march can tell his gaze is impossibly warm.

“penacony,” he says. “there is much i have to cover.”

you nod, though when your attention strays and you meet his eye, you wince. 

“aeons,” you murmur, brows drawn slightly. “did you even sleep last night?”

march watches with a dawning sense of awe when you bring your hands to cradle his face, and he doesn't flinch away. no, on the contrary, his eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the touch subtly. his tail has curled itself around your leg now, snaking all the way up to your waist.

“i… i may have lost track of time last night,” he admits softly.

you huff, squishing his cheeks. “you can't do that. you'll ruin your pretty face.”

for a brief moment, march contemplates snapping a picture of the scene. she decides against it. even she knows this is something much too private to be watching. still, she's a busybody through and through.

he doesn't retort, nor does he do any of the things he usually does.

instead, dan heng chuckles, soft and contented and everything good in the world. he's so utterly smitten it's almost sickening.

march slips away, her next destination caelus's room. that loser owes her a thousand credits.

[death---dealer]

If reader survived such an accident, he would make sure that whenever she would travel alone, his eagle would accompany her (wether she knew it or not).

I'm almost.... oh my god okay okay okay okay okay listen you tempted me with this i need to do it for the greater good

Noa, Eagle Sun / Reader Headcanons - Interactions.

Your relationship with Eagle Sun started out the same way that the Eagle's relationship was with Noa at the start of the movie. Very rough around the edges, the bird was very unsure of you, not sure how to view your relationship with his Master. He clawed at you a few times out of defense when you got too close to Noa when he was perched on his shoulder; sensing it to be a threat rather than you just wanting to embrace the Ape. You swore that bird was never going to hear the end of it from Noa as he scolded him like a child. ~*You felt so bad for him and tried to pet his beak after Noa told him to back off ( in simple terms ) but he just squawked loudly and you were fast to hide behind Anaya and Soona who were watching the entire thing happen with the utmost amusement. He flapped his wings in your general direction again causing you to cower even further. ~*Followed by more scolding from Noa as he tried his hardest to explain to the bird that you were not a threat, you were more than allowed to be in Noa's space. He just blinked innocently - those little beady eyes staring holes into you.

It didn't take long for him to warm up to you though; you offered him a bit of fish once and he took it graciously. Noa told you not to do that, but you did it anyway.

Began bringing you berries to eat as an acceptance of you, an acknowledgment of the treat you had given him. Noa thought it was nice until he was absolutely nailed between the eyes by a rather quickly flying blueberry.

He began following you happily at that point, surely from Noa's commands, but he was a happy bird regardless. All around the village, in the woods, by the creek. Eagle Sun very often was either over head soaring or perched against a tree branch, you in his sight. ~* It just meant that you were trusted, good natured and more than decent to follow around - Noa had told you how intuitive the birds were and you accepted his following as a small compliment in Eagle form.

If you were with Noa, Eagle Sun was often sitting on his Master's shoulder, peering at you, waiting diligently for a command from Noa. If there were no immediate commands, Eagle Sun would jump over to you, never on you, but right in front of you and beckon you to pet. ~* You comply, placing a pointer and middle finger against the birds head and giving him a small pet. He's responsive, will peck at your fingers for more if you pull away too soon. ~* Noa could have sworn that one time while you were giving some affection to his bird that Eagle Sun looked right at him and almost mocked him. Noa told you of this but you told him it simply wasn't true. That he must have been imagining things.

The first time that Eagle Sun ever landed on you was in part to Noa who urged you to try it out - Hopeful to see if you were comfortable with it. He just got out of a council meeting where the prospect of you getting your own Eagle, to be bonded with an egg, was a hot topic of conversation. First though, before the final decision was made, Noa needed to see if you had any fear ( much like the fear Noa had at the beginning. ) ~* Eagle Sun did not land on your arm like you had hoped - He landed on your shoulder, placing himself rather precariously on you to the point where he shuttered for balance. His tiny claws grasped onto you a bit harder than you would have liked- but not enough to draw blood yet. His tiny beak went down, then back up with a few strands of your hair. You didn't move, you couldn't as your eyes shifted to Noa, Anaya and Soona. You questioned with your eyes what you were supposed to do- You had no idea why he landed there when you had so diligently offered your arm. Well, Noa thinks to himself, at least you're not afraid of him anymore.

[wickedsmille]

jaytim drabble

Some suggestive themes like, ya know, doin' the nasty and merc'ing people. And not edited.

Ask him if he thought his night would end with Tim Drake standing outside his door, body wound tighter than a spring and eyes eerily void of anything resembling an emotion, asking for Jason to fuck him.

Go ahead.

Yet, as improbable as the situation seems, Jason is lying next to Tim on his moth bitten excuse for a mattress with a cigarette between his fingers and drawing shapes in his mind's eye in the popcorn on the ceiling. Tim is next to him, on his side and facing away from Jason. They've gone not once, not twice, but three times. He'd love to say he'd adamantly refuse another roll in the sheets but Tim, objectively, is gorgeous. Turning his head, Jason thinks he looks even better covered in his marks.

Turning his head enough that his eyes can rove over Tim's back, Jason allows himself to revel in the souvenirs Tim will have to bear on his walk of shame out of Jason's apartment. Bruises and bite marks, hand prints and scratches. A primal part of Jason preens because those are from him, show Tim is his if only for a night. The soft, artistic side of him thinks Tim looks beautiful awash in pinks and reds and purples.

Jason ruthlessly smothers that side of himself and allows the animalistic part of his brain to take the wheel.

Apparently what Jason's hindbrain wants is to reach out and press his nails into a particularly nasty bite mark on Tim's shoulder. He smears the blood dribbling down with his thumb and swipes it across Tim's shoulder blade, a wing befitting of a broken bird. Another brush stroke on Jason's canvas bringing Tim that much closer to a true masterpiece.

Tim hisses in response and jerks away. He glares at Jason over his shoulder and scoots away as much as the tiny mattress they're sharing will allow. Not trying to hide the cruel curve to his crooked grin, Jason laughs. It's funny. Tim was just begging him to go harder, push further, but Jason is getting rebuffed for breaking the unspoken agreement between them now that it's over to say nothing, do nothing then pretend it never happened.

Fuck Tim. He's feeling a little used and rightfully so.

Something is up with Tim, not that they've talked about it aside from some quick words double checking Tim was of sound mind beforehand, but it's obvious in the desperate way he wrapped his hand around Jason's fingers as he choked him out while fucking him hard enough to make Jason's end table rattle. The way Tim kept saying harder, harder, harder as Jason used his hand in Tim's hair to press his head into the sheets and the other on his lower back to keep him pinned in place as Jason made good on his promise to use Tim's body like his dick's own personal playground. Or the way Tim continually goaded him, intentionally provoking higher and higher levels of violence till Jason reached his limit and told Tim to shut the fuck up or get out in a deadly serious tone that brooked no argument.

A wave of anger washes over Jason as he stubs out his cigarette on the floor and scowls. When he shifts to lie back again, he keeps rolling so he's on his side with the long expanse of Tim's back hovering in front of him. He reaches out and runs his hand through the short hairs at the base of Tim's skull, runs his fingers through the strands till they're long enough for him to grip them tight and yank Tim's head back. Jason pulls until Tim is forced to bow back and meet his eyes.

"Why me?" Jason demands.

"Like recognizes like," Tim says coldly.

"Try again," Jason refutes before tightening his grip.

Tim hisses and winces but Jason refuses to relent even though it earns him a poisonous look from Tim.

"I'm not lying," Tim tells him.

Jason doesn't believe him. "Lying by omission counts."

Tim grabs Jason's wrist and clenches his hand so hard Jason can feel the bones grinding together. "Would you have said no?"

He hums and bobs his head from side to side like he needs to actually think about it. Really, he's rallying every bit of League honed Bat training to convince Tim he isn't lying when he says, "Yes, but you caught me on a good day."

Turning head away, Tim takes on a thousand yard stare, eyes unseeing as he slowly releases Jason’s wrist. He rakes a hand through his hair and twists his fingers at the base so he can pull. Jason’s a little jealous of Tim's hand because that's his move. As frightening as the thought is, Tim's hair is his to pull now. See, growing up like he did, people learn to sink their teeth in the good things, good people, and never let go. At least not until there's no good left in them.

“I killed someone tonight,” Tim finally admits, voice barely above a whisper but packed with so much regret and guilt and disgust it's loud in the space between them.

Jason learned awhile ago to not get trapped in the noise. Snorting, he reaches for his cigarettes and pops open the top. “Welcome to the club,” Jason tells him sardonically as he nips a cigarette out of the pack.

Tim’s focus snaps back to him, the twisted knot of self hatred shoved to the side in favor of being angry at someone else. “Really?”

Lighting up, Jason moves his gaze slowly from the tips of Tim’s toes all the way to the uncertain fury in his eyes. “Really?” he parrots mockingly. “What, you want a medal?”

“Fuck you,” Tim responds coldly.

“Ooh, I'm so scared,” Jason says, raising his hands in surrender. He has to laugh because this whole thing is hilarious. Just this once he’ll take pity on Tim. “If you think none of the scabs Dick or Bruce have beaten to a pulp didn't die on the operating table, you're out of touch. Emergency services trots them away breathing and everyone goes wild but nobody looks too close after, right? Reports to write, cute family dinners to have. Important stuff, right? Not the sad sack who got kicked so hard in his ribs a bone splinter broke off and he died drowning.”

Tim doesn't say anything but Jason doesn't need him to. Jason likes to make people hurt and he's good at it.

“You're not special,” Jason informs him, “just more honest.”

All at once, Tim looks queasy and elated, like he’s been absolved and damned in the same breath. He thinks Tim looks good like that, in a shattered kind of way. It's tough having your core beliefs so thoroughly pummeled into dusty remnants of morality you're left to sift through to find a purpose. Any purpose. Even if it means digging your fingers into the cracks of your psyche and pulling till everything spills out. He wonders what’ll come tumbling out of Timmy.

Reaching over, Tim takes his cigarette and sucks down the smoke. “This tastes like shit,” Tim says as he breaths the smoke in Jason's face.

“Yeah, and fake ass stress relief. Are you done moping? Self flaggeration isn't the kind I'm into.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees easily, taking another drag before handing it back. He nods to himself absently, hands fluttering around his arms and legs. Restless and untamable in the way he's fighting himself and what he thought he knew. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jason says. In his head, he's already planning all the ways he'll wreck Tim now that he's got his teeth in him.

[where-dreamers-go]

Reading and rambling: The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm

(Tales from Alagaësia VOLUME 1: ERAGON)

~~~

PART ONE: THE FORK

I. Mount Arngor

~~~

Ahem.

*looks at tiny, cute, little, colored map of the EASTERN REACHES*

That looks like it would have taken me the days to color. *imagining the ache of non-stop coloring the same spot over and over and over)

Anyway, what's with the random mountain? They don't get earthquakes do they?

*flipping pages*

Angela! Angela!

... Hmm 2018 copyright. Took me long enough.

*sees drawing of a fork*

Oh! The Little Mermaid! Cool.

What's with the hanging ornament with the page numbers? Should I know these symbols??

The day had not gone well.

I'm sorry. .. Blackberry mead... Like wine or expensive juice?

...picking berries in Palancar Valley.

Awh. Farm boy.

A pang of homesickness struck him.

Now?

...the Academy...

Academy? Oh okay. Not sure I even thought of him giving it a name. Then again he gives names to a number of things. Right?

He sighed, finding the sight depressing.

Do you need help? I can do that. Is it a lot for you? Or a lot in general? Are you exaggerating "mounds"?

It stood alone in the green expanse...

Oh, gosh of I were a place to have dragons... Where would I be? Hmmm. Maybe the big random mountain. A good stronghold though.

Two weeks of sailing to get there??? No. A close environment with the elves and Eragon? No. Can't do it.

How many names can this mountain have? Au least the dwarves know their history. Also, what the crap, elves? You know the mountain's name, but not where or why it has the name??? What? Like that's all you remember from class or something? Not important enough as your obsession with dragons and controlling nature that you claim to respect?

Dealing with them had proven far more frustrating than Eragon anticipated...

FINALLY! Eragon is with all the races in one place. Not just one. At least the dwarves gave him access to history and a MAP back in the day. But now... Oh oooooh. Do you know how happy I am, years later after reflection, that he's able to compare and contrast people? Also in a completely different situation.

Okay, so Eragon is eating. But it's never enough with all the energy he's using to help build??!?!!

I need to introduce him to carbs and stuff. Something.

Good, good. He doesn't want to experience anything like what happened fighting the Empire. Yeah, exciting, Eragon, but... Maybe you need a small hobby to entertain you.

"Barzûl," Eragon muttered.

Oh! That's a curse word. I know that. Right? Wait... Ha! Yeah.

A quill. Good to know.

Awwwwhhh he sleeps under one of Saphira's wings. Where else would he sleep? A rock?

Oh my goodness. Eragon and Saphira, let me do the paperwork. Just pay me in telling me what words you use to get the hair off your face.

A dragon destroyed his homework. That's messed up. I'd be upset about just that. Why don't you just burn it? Huh?

I wanna help decorate the halls!!! The echoes must be creepy in a place that large.

...and then the elves had refined the details.

Dude! The dwarves know very well how to build! When was the last time elves build anything out of stone? You didn't like Eragon's plan enough?? Just want the last say?

Darn, Eragon, get an assistant. Please.

I'll do it, but I require indoor plumbing and a cool cloak.

Oh. Eragon wants to problem solve. He wants to feel productive. Same.

Okay. I need to look up what an 'eyrie' is exactly.

Yeah, those Eldunarí need years of therapy. Poor things.

They can feel the light on their facets? For real or...?

Oh, the elves did windows. Cool. Cool.

*reads about Eragon talking with dragons*

See? I was right. Eragon needs something to do to distract himself.

Wow. That's a lot of information. I'm glad to see Eragon in a different setting, not war. But it's very new for him having so much pressure for the present to make sure the future is safer.

He's working smarter, but also a lot harder.

Woo!

[area-zero-rogue]

( Starter for @unchcsen ; Myth & Meeting )

The harsh summer sun blanketed everything in its warmth as the rich life of the surrounding wilderness sang from every direction.

Why must it be so hot today? I would appreciate even the tiniest breeze at the moment…

Tiny beads of sweat across her forehead were quickly swiped away as she reached down to retrieve the leather-bound journal and tin of pencils stashed in the bag on her hip. Mimikyu stood by her side, watching as the researcher worked at piecing together more of the information gathered from the ruins the group visited that day. As Skeledirge lay in a sunny patch to sunbathe and Corviknight perched atop a nearby pillar after stretching his wings, Rosario knelt down to examine a large piece of marble she had dug out to get a better look at.

No amount of weathering could inflict this type of damage to a material like this, no… The face is rather cute, which is a shame.

The remnants of the statue before her had certainly become this way from someone or a Pokémon. She sketched the features she could make out then took a photo of the actual piece to add to the journal later on. Now, she had to try and figure out why this specific one had been destroyed and not the other two just down the cliff, opposite of the nearby arena. The myths and legend of Hisui were certainly proving a much harder challenge to decipher compared to previous regions visited. Where she had previously come across many people with at least some degree of knowledge in regards to the stories of their particular region, here? It seemed very few had the whole story; only very small fragments or an even greater amount of inconsistencies between each story told.

“At this rate, it would be a miracle to find someone who might know of this particular statue and Pokémon.” She vocalized in frustration, opting to sit in front of the statue as she recorded her thoughts next to the drawing.

[aregularfool]

TW: Drug addiction, violence/mutilation, suicide

The dragon lapped water from a trough, "I told you humans, I will aid you in your pursuit of using magic in medicine I would not aid you in destructive curiosities." she said, ruffling her massive wings.

Dr. Kang rapped her fingers on the table, "Please," she begged, "Our medicine cannot heal it. I have seen with my own eyes that the magic can heal it!"

The dragon snorted, "Enough, I will go no further in this business, we both know it is of your own doing." and stood, her iridescent scales glimmering and teeming with the magic she held.

When the familiar electronic buzzing of the roof opening didn't sound, she sighed and turned to Dr. Kang,

"Doctor..." she said, her voice now thundering through the room, her eyes glowing harshly with power, "Need I remind you of your kind's place?".

Dr. Kang gritted her teeth but, nodded, letting the dragon leave, nearly being knocked over from the beating of her wings.

She stared at her trembling hands, dripping in phantom blood. "I will not let our city die, we have to live... We have to..." she thought to herself.

~

Dr. Kang flipped the dragon scale in her hand, tiny shavings had been removed to make an addition to various medicines. The dragon had cautioned using any more than a tiny pile of powder, Dr. Kang felt the situation was severe enough.

The dragon scale itself was bigger than her hand, it was harder than anything she'd ever seen. It was a wonder they even got the powder from it.

After crushing a decent amount of the scale to a fine powder, Dr. Kang mixed it with water and some of the dragon's saliva. She swirled it, staring at the colours blending into black in the artificial light.

Satisfied, Dr. Kang went to the isolation units, patients twitched, their veins glowing and plagued by a violent fever.

One patient in particular, a 30-something year-old man was doing slightly better than the rest, he hadn't succumbed to the fever yet but he was on the way.

He smiled weakly at Dr. Kang as she approached, "Doctor, again? Can't you give a man a break? The others need help too.".

"I'm aware but, if this works, you'll all be theoretically healed." Dr. Kang said, holding up the black medicine for him to see.

The man sighed but nodded, sipping the black medicine. They stared at each other for a moment, before the man's veins ceased their glowing, the medicine seemingly working.

Dr. Kang watches the man intently, "How do you feel?",

"I- I feel... Good... Great even..."

The man didn't even have time to finish his thought before Dr. Kang was already running out of the facility and calling a helicopter. Scales. Scales will save them.

Dr. Kang was practically biting her nails off as they flew to the dragon's cave, she would usually stare at the mountains, streams and forests but, none of that today.

The helicopter landed grass and trees bending to the force of the blades. Dr. Kang's hands fidgeted, running over her little speech in her head,

"Dragon, we know it is much to ask but, please, we need scales. They have saved one of us. We can offer you anything you want in return, just name it. Please just give us a few more scales."

A massive shadow cast over the doctor, Dr. Kang froze, turning slowly to see the dragon looming over her, scales glowing brighter than she had ever seen.

Words died in the doctor's mouth, the dragon sighed,

"You cannot have them, this has gone beyond medicine. Humans and magic never should have interacted, why do you think I kept such a close eye on you?"

"Please!" Dr. Kang cried, "We are dying, your scales can heal them, just a few-"

"Enough with you humans!" the dragon snapped, "I've been patient with you, did you never draw any connections between the medicine with my saliva, my scales or my tears with your withdrawls?!"

Dr. Kang simply stared, her eyes began to water, "So this... Sickness was a withdrawl symptom? As in... No. No, no, no, no. I- I didn't know this would happen! Wh- why!?".

"Your kind simply aren't ready and, by the looks of things you never will.".

~

Months passed. The scales, saliva and tears kept growing more and more tempting. Many continued to take them, at first in secret, until the majority of the city was hounding after anything perceived to be imbued with magic.

The army was deployed and dragons were hunted, for everything they had. At first, a few were simply killed and harvested, as they realised dragons were few in number, they began to take prisoners.

Dragons were skinned alive, bled weekly and their tears collected. More often than not, their wings and legs were severed, snouts bound shut.

The humans in the city plunged further and further into their addiction, twitching, hearts struggling to pump their strange, new blood and eyes wild.

Violence had become the new norm, people clawed at each other, gouging out eyes, stabbing and slashing with knives, desperate for another fix.

Strangely, a few humans remained... Sober, so to speak. They did as much as they could to prevent the spread but, a few exploited their store of scales, bones and tears, selling them off to the masses.

It wouldn't be long until the whole city fell under, but, the dragon came back. She flew overhead, the people crowded beneath her, arms outstretched at the sight of her shimmering scales.

"Dr. Kang," her voice tore through the minds of the people below, "Your kind should have remained to your technology. This is an act of mercy for my brethren and vengeance for the ones who lost their lives in your selfishness."

Dr. Kang, in her half-stable mind, shivered, the thick magic sloshed in her veins as she strained her eyes away from the dragon and to the people. Her hands twitched, her blood glowing more profusely.

Some part of her wanted it. The sweet embrace of death to lift her from her addled mind. Another wanted more and more magic, arms stretching upwards.

Somewhere, in a dark, dank place that was long forgotten by the humans, the dragons cried. Their tears pooled around them, long since forgotten.

Through the haze of her mind, all Dr. Kang could think of was how much magic the dragon would grant. She herself found tears welling in her eyes as she beheld the beauty of it. All the magic.

There's so much magic. Bright, shimmering, gorgeous. It sung to her. To them. To all of them. The song they had been captivated by, that drove them beyond madness.

Dr. Kang, the dragons, everyone, sober or otherwise grinned as they all heard the song for the last time.

The peaceful dragon had been pushed one time too many. Someone was about to discover that “peaceful” did not mean “harmless”.

[vargaslovinghours]

Half a dozen in one (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5)

Oh no the Apotheosis is back and it wants to play, that’s never a good thing

Scriabin is not into it

I wanted to draw King Scriabin but I goofed up the crown so bad lol, at least his face is cute ✨

Pokemon Vargases! From that time that I forgot how to draw their Pokemon versions lol. You have to approach Espeon!Edgar gently, he’s easily spooked

Sylveon!Scriabin is such an attention hog, poor Edgar haha

*puts my feelers around you condescendingly*

Sleeping on each other, always ♥ Even sleeping, they’re still intertwined lightly, Edgar’s hand on Scriabin’s shoulder and Scriabin’s on Edgar’s arm ♪

I had an idea about Scriabin “reading” Edgar’s mind by guessing how he feels about something, but I unfortunately forgot the specifics just as I was writing it down, so frustrating

I do remember that it was something a lot closer to how Scriabin felt about that thing and he was describing how he felt, not just Edgar, but he realized too late

Made him feel isolated :(

Apology hugs 💕

Who wrote this eviction notice, this is a cave?? I just think they turned out really cute here haha ♪

Stop being naked >:0

Don’t wanna get used to it >:(

After all the Father and Daddy puns, I had to lol. Lady!Edgar with her hair down is just so prettyyyyyy

Two mops, makin’ out

For whatever reason, I started a teeny tiny little ScriAnimal series - first up is Scriabat with hand-wings because lol

I was watching a video of someone with their bird who was munching on the inside of their glasses stem haha

Scriabird is here to scream and knock things off the counters

And cutely chew on things

We are stopping this sketchdump for a Jake appreciation minute ♥ Thank you for appreciating Jake, now back to our regularly scheduled programming

A quick and silly digital doodle - waxing via tape is not recommended

Got the urge to draw dragons again, Scriabin needs to settle and Edgar is in protecc mode. His hugs are even harder to escape than normal!

The original sketch for sleepy Edgar - I couldn’t decide whether to use “World’s #1 Dad” or “World’s Best Dad”, so I just used both for the final version lol. Did Todd give it to him? Did Scriabin? Did they both get him nearly-matching mugs??

One of the early drafts for the ‘17 redraw; this was actually all drawn on one layer (on purpose! lol), which was a really fun experiment with some brushes I rarely use. I liked the angle of Edgar’s face too, he looks so smug haha ♪

Tiny Edgar doodle for a quick reference, he’s so cute ♥

I wasn’t kidding when I said it took a while to get Alone Together right, I was this close to giving up and just doing it the easy way several times before finally getting the trick down - I’m glad I didn’t but sheesh!

I started a pretty long mini idea that I managed to get like 90% of the way through before deciding I didn’t like it lol, but there were still some really fun poses and expressions

“What is it?” Light concern Edgar ♥

Probably the most complex panel of the set, as much as I like the leg poses I’m also frustrated by them lol - didn’t help that my page smudged >:P

A little bit of expression practice, the cute thing is Scriabin

I heard it, we all heard it, everybody saw!

Couple’a Scriabins to practice hair differences. I’ve gotten used to making him simultaneously fluffy and sleek like on the left, but I really love a True Floof look too, with many more starts and stops, it’s really fun ♪

Uppies!

Oscillates between “Why” and “You can’t tell me what to do”

Brain baby Weirdly enough, this was actually inspired by a skin-horror idea I had but decided was a little too body-horror-y and so I repurposed it lol

Some goofy matryoshka dolls haha. They remind me of Near’s finger puppets from Death Note somehow hmm

More hair differences, using opposing methods of line directionality while shading and texturing Scriabin’s hair. Pushing up from under gives this really nice line weight; it’s harder to do consistently because I keep wanting to sweep down, but when it works, the shadows fall exactly where they should and it’s lovely ✨ And like I said, pulling down is a lot easier, and because of that I can get these really uniform lines - I prefer the tapered effect, but pulling definitely has its uses and-

Hey wait a minute-

Golden floof ✨ This is actually really hard to see IRL lol

Edgar Warmup to see if my tablet was working properly, didn’t have time to pull up refs so from memory it is!

And that’s February through May again! Lots of silly little things, and a surprising number of scrapped larger ideas hmmm

[twdsunshine]

L with Beta maybe?

Love:

Most people who know Beta, if anyone really knows Beta, would say that he isn't capable of love. He loves his Alpha, of course, but that's different. It's worship. He reveres her, as if she is the sun and the world would be nothing without her. It is not based on mutual affection, the love of equals. He would kneel for her, die for her, but he doesn't know the exact shade of the colour of her eyes; the way she looks when she sleeps; the goosebumps that awaken over her skin when she's afraid. She is untouchable, above him, and he bows beneath her. It isn't real love. It is something else entirely.

But Beta loves you. Really. Truly. It crept up on him, a steady thrumming in his chest like an overactive hummingbird had made its home in the cage of his ribs. He didn't recognise the feeling, and it made him feel shaky and weak in a way he despised. The fact that it only seemed to spring up when you were around was lost on him until the first time you'd touched him, bare skin to bare skin, and the skittish bird had taken flight so wildly, so abruptly, that he almost thought his heart might explode beneath the pressure of the beating wings. You'd tripped in the forest, toe catching on an exposed tree root, and he'd moved on instinct, catching you before you could hit the ground. Why he'd even done that he wasn't sure, but the warmth of your hand on his as you righted yourself, the gaze you focused on his face as you whispered your thanks had set something alight in him that he had no hope of tamping down, and the bird in his chest was dancing, hollering to escape the flames.

But Whisperers didn't show love. They didn't do feelings. It wasn't their way. They were like the dead, cold, emotionless, moving in herds, and anything less than that would be considered a failure. So, instead of reaching out to you, he finds himself watching you, taking note of the way your body shivers when the guardians draw too close, the tiny whimpers that escape you when they find a fleshy feast to sate their unending hunger. And he realises that you're scared, wonders why you even walk with them at all if it fills you with so much terror. He cannot ask you. He cannot let his weakness show. But, as his love for you grows and contorts until it seems to have wrapped itself around every vessel in his being, he goes out of his way to shield you from the worst of the horrors. In the midst of a horde, he is at your side, knuckles brushing against the soft cotton of your sleeve, reassuring you that he is there and that he won't let anything hurt you. When the dead tear into the flesh of another, he shields the sight from your eyes with the broad bulk of himself, so that you couldn't possibly see even if you tried.

If Alpha notices the special attention that he pays to you, she doesn't comment on it. Perhaps it is a game to her, something that she wants to watch play out and unfold. Or perhaps she considers it of little circumstance, unworthy of her recognition. Whatever it is, Beta is grateful. And the smile that curves your lips when he presents you with a shiny red apple, growling, "You dropped this", when, of course, you hadn't at all, is enough to keep him going for another day. It's so much harder to walk with the dead beside the person who makes him feel so incredibly alive. One day, he's sure, it will be his downfall. He's not so sure he cares.

[spacexcowgirl]

All About The Chase - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N will do anything for her best friend—and crush—Fred Weasley. Even if that means fake dating him so he can catch the eye of her cousin.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Light swearing, one allusion to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), brief mention of intoxication (again, blink and you’ll miss it), super mean awful cousin, food, a little angsty with a happy ending, 

A/N: For the anon who asked for Fred fake dating his friend to make her relative jealous! I decided to make her the twins age, and I may have went a little overboard with the cousin rivalry, but oh well. Thank you for feeding into my love of cliches! Also, I played around with using third person rather than second, it just felt right for this one. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

When Y/N was six years old, her parents—well, Santa—got her the most amazing art set. She had always liked to draw, and now she had an array of more colors than she could even really name. When her family was set to head to her Aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, she packed up all of her new markers, a stack of fresh paper, and a few of her drawings she was most proud of to show off.

The night had started wonderfully. She got a few more gifts from her grandparents, a beautiful doll from her aunt and uncle, and enough sweets and candy to last her months. When it was time to finally eat, Y/N left all of her new toys and her cherished art set in her relatives’ living room. Y/N doesn’t remember much about the dinner—why should she? It was a decade prior—but what she does remember vividly is the excitement that bubbled up in her tiny body when her mother suggested she go grab some of her artwork to show off.

Y/N slid out of her chair and raced into the living room. Only when she got there did she find all of her finished art completely destroyed, covered in scribbles from her new markers. Her brows had furrowed and her eyes welled with tears, and that’s when she heard it. The sinister little cackle of her cousin, Annalise. Y/N turned on her heels and saw the girl, uncapped marker in hand, looking at her as if she was the most pitiful thing in the world.

Y/N returned to dinner empty handed, claiming she had forgotten the drawings at home—even though her parents were certain she hadn’t. Annalise returned with an innocent smile and a portrait of their Nan in hand—one Y/N was certain she just made with her markers—and all of the adults cooed and awed at the small girl’s talent.

A few years later, Y/N was set to star in their primary school’s theater production. Looking back, she now recognized that her landing that part had little to do with any real talents she had, and more to do with how adults always seemed to fawn over her. She was always revered as ‘just the cutest little thing!’ Which evidently preceded talent at the ripe age of eight.

Right before she was set to go on stage and deliver her three lines (that’s all a star can really handle so young, right?), she found her angel wings shredded and her halo headband bent in half. The teacher didn’t have any time to fix her costume, so in a fluster she threw out her part all together, and sent Y/N to stand with the rest of the year 3 ensemble. It didn’t take long for Y/N to catch Annalise’s eye amongst the other students, only she was smirking. Y/N had to force her eyes back out onto the crowd and desperately search for her parents to keep herself from bawling on the spot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse between the pair of cousins, when Y/N was ten, her and her parents were astonished to find a letter tucked into their usual mail, accepting her into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The letter gave an answer to the many strange things Y/N had been able to make happen with her emotions alone, and her chest swelled with pride to learn just how special she truly was. Not to mention, this was finally her opportunity to escape Annalise once and for all.

Until, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t know that Annalise was a witch as well until the two families spotted each other on the platform, preparing to send both of their daughters off. Neither parents had revealed the truths of their daughters abilities to the other prior, because they knew it must be kept with the upmost secrecy. Y/N’s parents and Annalise’s parents were overjoyed to know their little girls wouldn’t be all alone, and they had someone to share their apprehensions with. Y/N and Annalise were far less enthused by the news.

A little over five years later, Y/N sat in the Gryffindor Common room, rifling through beginning of the year work that had already been assigned. In the half-decade since she’d started at Hogwarts, she had managed to avoid Annalise as best she could. It turned out to be somewhat easy, seeing as they were sorted into different house. Still, whenever Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were forced into classes together, Y/N couldn’t help but feel dread pooling in her stomach. Annalise was always sure to make those classes a living hell for her.

Y/N’s attention was pulled from her work from the sound of a small group of people bounding into the common room. She glanced back over the couch, only to see her best friends—Fred and George—laughing and pushing each other around.

“She totally wants me!” Fred argued, a cocky grin alit on his face.

“Oh, please, she hates your guts, mate.” George teased back.

Fred looked as if he were about to respond, until his eyes met Y/N’s across the room. A more genuine smile found its way onto his face as he tugged his brother towards the couch, then plopped down next to her. George then took a seat in one of the chairs across from them. Y/N neatly gathered her work into a pile, knowing for certain there was no way she would make any progress with them around.

“Y/N, will you please tell my dear brother that your cousin is absolutely mad for me, she just has a different way of showing it?” Fred threw his arm lazily around the back of the couch, right behind her, as he looked at her expectantly.

Y/N couldn’t help the sour mood that the conversation immediately put her in. There was two reasons for this; one, the most obvious, any topic that involved Annalise always brought her down. She couldn’t help it, and she tried not to hate the girl, but everything about her was draining. The second reason was that Y/N was absolutely head over heels for Fred. She had been ever since he pranked Graham Montague for making her cry in third year. The idea of Fred and Annalise together was truly the epitome of her worst nightmare.

“I don’t know, she might really just hate you.” Y/N shrugged, doing her best to keep her voice even and her face straight. Her words caused Fred to scowl and George to erupt into fits of laughter.

“Oh come on, not you too!” Fred whined as he threw his head back. 

“What do you even see in her anyways?” Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question, but she couldn’t help but ask it. 

“Well, she’s quite fit.” This answer earned a swift slap to the arm from Y/N, which only made Fred snicker. “And!” He continued, persistent to point out that looks weren’t all he cared about. “She’s feisty, and smart. And, she acts completely not interested in me.”

“So that’s why you like her?” Y/N snorted.

“Ah, dearest Y/N, one day you’ll learn that it’s all about the chase.” Fred began to twiddle some of her hair between his fingers.

“There’s plenty of girls who aren’t interested in you! You could ‘chase’ any of them.” Y/N reasoned, batting his hand away.

“You’ve got that right.” George snorted, causing his brother to shoot him a glare.

“Well, even if that were true, I’ve got my sights set on her.” Fred shrugged.

“Well, if you really want Annalise to go out with you, you should just date me.” Y/N teased as she sat forward, beginning to pluck through her papers once again. When no one laughed or responded, she quickly shot her eyes up. “I’m only kidding.”

“No, no that could work.” Fred sat up abruptly and pointed a finger towards her. “Y/N, you’re a genius!”

“I’m really not.” Y/N shook her head quickly. “That might breach the list of dumbest things I’ve ever said.”

“Yeah, right, don’t forget we’ve been around you drunk, Y/L/N. That doesn’t even make the top ten.” George grinned at her, but her nerves kept her from even smiling at his little joke.

Y/N was growing desperate now, because neither of the twins were brushing off her silly joke. Fred was looking at her as if she just handed him the key to solve all of his problems, and George was doing nothing to tame his brother. Y/N glanced expectantly between the two of them as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Come on, what better way to make her jealous than to see me dating her cousin?”

Y/N had mentioned on occasion the way that Annalise always had to ruin everything for her as a child, but never in full detail. Some part of her knew if she had just been transparent about how truly awful the girl had treated her, Fred would never give Annalise a second glance. But now, he thought they were nothing more than cousins with a small childhood rivalry, and for that he could justify going after her.

“Please, Y/N,” Fred got down on his knees in front of her, dawning his best puppy dog eyes, and put his hands in a pleading gesture. “Be my fake girlfriend for a month—two, tops.”

Y/N chewed harder on her bottom lip as she gazed at him, already feeling her reluctance slipping away. She could never say no to him, especially when he looked so adorable. Y/n breathed out a sigh and dropped her head to look at her folded hands in her lap. All thoughts of self preservation and protecting her heart went out the door; she knew she would say yes to him.

“Fine.” Her voice was quiet, so much so that it took Fred a second to make sure he had heard her properly. 

“Really? Just like that? I was about to start bribing you with sugar quills and a month of Herbology homework—”

“Well, if you’re offering—”

“Nope, too late. You agreed before I had to.” Fred grinned at the girl before swooping in and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Now, let’s set up some ground rules.”

Fred began to drone on about what they would and wouldn’t do. Things like holding hands in the corridors, sitting close at meals, kisses on the cheeks and forehead. Which pet names they would and wouldn’t use. Number one, though, was no kissing on the lips. 

Y/N only listened halfheartedly as Fred rambled on, offering a slight head nod ever now and then to show she was in agreement. As Y/N thought over just what she had gotten herself into, she realized the next few weeks were going to be awful.

-

It didn’t take long for rumors of Fred and Y/N’s budding romance to swirl. She often found herself walking hand in hand with him through the corridors, light whispers trailing behind them. Often times, people she had hardly ever spoken to would come up to her and gush about how they always just knew Fred and her would be perfect together. Y/N would always politely smile, then wonder if they could hear her heartbreaking as loudly as she could.

To make matters worse, Fred was the perfect ‘boyfriend.’ Just as she always assumed he would be. He’d carry her books in one arm, swing their intertwined hands with the other, and walk her to each of her classes. At night, he’d sit with her in the library while she poured over her notes for the day—even though she knew he wanted nothing more than to be out pranking with George and Lee. She adored all of the extra time they were getting to spend together, until she’d remember that it was only temporary, and if he were lucky, he’d be doing all of these things with Annalise in a month.

It wasn’t until about three weeks into their agreement that Annalise approached her. Fred had walked her to potions that day, like he always did. He was making her laugh loudly, not caring at all about the many eyes upon them.

“It’s a wonder your mum didn’t ship you and George off when you were toddlers,” Y/n snorted. “It sounds like you two were menaces.”

“Oh, we were.” Fred nodded, a small grin on his face. “But I reckon we were the cutest babies she had so far, so she kept us around.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes before nudging him lightly with her shoulder. They had finally made it to the potions classroom, so it was time for them to part. Fred handed her back her books and dropped her hand, but didn’t walk away until he had placed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Meet you outside of here after to walk to lunch?” He confirmed, but there was no need. It was the routine they had fallen into.

“Mhm.” Y/N gazed up at him, unable to contain the giddy smile on her lips. With that, he turned and began walking down the hallway, but not before shooting her a wink over his shoulder.

Y/N watched his retreating figure, a lovesick grin plastered to her face. Just when she had pulled herself from her daydreams and was about to enter the classroom, she ran hard into a firmly planted body.

“So, you and Weasley are pretty serious then, huh?” Annalise stood with her hands on her hips, a look that read as both disgust and amusement riddled on her face.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Y/N quickly recovered, hugging her books closer to her chest. This year, she had more classes with Annalise than any year prior, seeing as they both received a significant amount of O.W.L.s.

“Hm.” Annalise’s eyes trailed down the hallway where Fred had once been, before letting them snap back to Y/N. “Don’t know how you managed that.”

Y/N felt her blood run cold, but couldn’t find the energy within her to talk any further. So, she simply brushed past Annalise and into the classroom, ignoring the scoff that left Annalise’s lips when she pushed her out of the way. Y/N found her usual seat in the back and trained her eyes ahead, careful to keep her expression calm. That was, until Annalise slid into the seat next to her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N gaped at her. It wasn’t like they had assigned seats, but Y/N had always sat next to Patricia Stimpson. The girl was constantly fussing and nervous, always afraid to make a wrong move, but she certainly wasn’t the worst person Y/N could be stuck with.

“Asked Stimpson to trade seats.” Annalise shrugged nonchalantly, before a wicked grin grew on her face. “Figured we could get some good, cousin, bonding time.”

Y/N wanted to groan, but then Snape was gliding into the room and silencing everyone. She was certain this would be the longest lecture of her life.

-

When the class ended, Y/N didn’t wait for Fred outside. Instead, she had pushed up from her seat and hurried through the corridors, skipping lunch entirely to go wallow in her dorm room. Annalise had made the lecture a living hell, whether it be from snide comments she’d whisper over or by purposefully ruining their potion, then blaming it on Y/N. Internally, she cursed Fred—although it wasn’t really his fault—for putting her in the position to be in Annalise’s line of fire once again.

Y/N ended up avoiding Fred the rest of the day, scurrying between classes before he could find her. When she was finally done for the day, she wanted nothing more than to hide out in her dorm and cry. That’s exactly what she had started doing, too, before her door creeped open.

Y/N held her breath, assuming it was either Angelina or Alicia coming back before dinner. But, when her mattress dipped slightly from the weight of someone sitting down, she quickly spun around, coming face to face with Fred.

“Darling,” He cooed. It was a nickname he had taken to calling her ever since they started ‘dating,’ although no one was around now, and he was still using it. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“How’d you get in here?” Y/N croaked, avoiding his question entirely.

“Figured out how to get past the charm ages ago.” Fred rested a gentle hand on her knee. “Then, Ang gave me her key. Said she saw you run up her. So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And why’ve you been avoiding me all day?”

At that, Y/N lost it once again. Tears began streaming down her face freely, and she quickly sat up and accepted Fred’s opened arms. He raked his fingers through her messy hair and let her cry on his shoulder, gently soothing her to a place where she’d be able to speak.

“It’s just…” It was on the tip of her tongue. Y/N wanted desperately to tell him the truth about how awful Annalise truly was. But, just like when she was younger and never ratted Annalise out, she just couldn’t now. She didn’t know why it was, but it always felt like if she spoke the words out loud, then Annalise had won. “I’ve just had an awful day.”

“Snape will do that to you.” Fred tutted, clearly assuming her change in behavior post-potions was brought on by the professor. “I’m sorry, love.”

Y/N sniffled a few more times into his shoulder, wishing desperately that he was holding her in a way that wasn’t platonic. She craved nothing more than for him to want her like she’d always wanted him. But that seemed to be just a fantasy. The muggle fairytales she had been told growing up weren’t real, and the wicked witch was winning.

“Why don’t we go for a walk, get some fresh air?” Fred pulled back to look over her face, concern filled in his eyes. 

“But, you’re missing dinner…” 

“Eh, the house elves love me. I’ll just sneak down to the kitchens and grab something later.” Fred shrugged, a small smile now growing on his face. “You and me, we can make a whole night of it. I’ll sneak some snacks up and we can watch one of those old muggle movies you love so much.”

While Y/N was far from being completely okay, the tenderness he was exhibiting towards her made her heart swell. She knew he had plans with George and Lee that night, some big prank on a few Slytherins, but here he was, throwing it all away for her. He gently reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing a few stray tears away with his thumb. Y/N avoided his eyes, afraid that they would communicate all of the non-platonic love she felt for him, then nodded.

“Perfect.” Fred grinned before jumping up and extended his hand out to her. “Well, let’s go.”

Fred guided her the whole way out of the castle, keeping her close as they walked through the grounds. The autumn air was cool, and at the very second that Y/N shivered, Fred was wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. 

They walked around and talked for a little over an hour, giddy smiles on their faces all the while. Fred made her laugh so hard she abandoned all thoughts of Annalise, her mind completely filled with the tall red head beside her. He just had this way about him that could make anything that was possibly wrong seem miniscule. He reminded her of everything good in the world.

Once the sun was fully down and the temperature had dropped significantly, the two could no longer justify being outside in the cold. Fred made a show of wrapping her hands in his own, rubbing them together to bring her some warmth, before guiding her back to the castle.

They parted ways shortly, just so Fred could sneak into the kitchens and Y/N could get the movie set up in the common room. She laid out a few blankets and pillows then pushed the couch back a bit, thankful that it was a Wednesday night and most students seemed to have already gone to bed. When Fred returned, he handed Y/N a plate of food then sat down cross-legged beside her, balancing his own plate in his lap.

Y/N started the movie and dug into her food, giggling lightly at Fred’s ravenous way of eating. He had certainly been hungry earlier, but she needed him, so evidently he pushed his hunger aside. When their plates were finished, they stacked them neatly on the table behind them, before completely turning their attention to the movie.

“Okay, wait, who’s the green girl again?” Fred questioned as he pointed towards the screen, brows furrowed.

“If you would pay attention, you would know.” Y/N giggled. “She’s the Wicked Witch of The West.”

“She’s supposed to be a witch?” Fred crinkled up his nose, confusion clear on his face. “I don’t know any green witches.”

“It’s a muggle movie, Fred.” Y/N lightly rolled her eyes.

“And who’s she?”

“Glinda, the good witch.”

“Okay, I definitely know witches don’t dress like that.” Fred teased, eyeing the woman on the screen’s frilly pink dress

“Maybe I should start.” Y/N giggled, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Think I could pull it off?”

“Darling, you’d look beautiful in anything.” Fred winked at her, causing her face to heat up. Some part of her knew it was nothing more than harmless joking, but she couldn’t help the way he lit something alive within her. 

“Ya think?” Y/N scooted a bit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see her giddy smile.

“I know.” His voice was soft, and the two of them remained quiet for the next few scenes of the movie.

At some point, the two of them had shifted to lay down in order to get more comfortable on the floor. Fred was laying on his back with one hand behind his head, the other resting idly in between them. Y/N was sprawled out on her stomach, her face down by his feet. Every little bit her eyes would light up and she’d glance back to tell him that her favorite part was coming up, only for him to realize that every part seemed to be her favorite part. Still, he never pointed that out, but instead just smiled fondly at her and nodded.

“Ugh.” Y/N grimaced, a slight shiver running down her spine. “Those monkeys always terrified me when I was little.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred sat up now, leaning closer to her. “You scared now?”

“Psh, no.” Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced back over at him, only to find him slowly inching towards her. She pointed a finger out warningly. “Fred, don’t.”

It was no use, Fred’s hands latched themselves to her sides and began tickling her feverishly. Y/N squealed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. In the process, she had flipped over onto her back and was now kicking her legs out, trying to get him to stop, but that only egged him on further.

“You sure you’re not scared, Y/L/N?” Fred teased. “I could comfort you, if you were.”

“Freddie! Stop!” Y/N breathed out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes from her laughter.

Y/N now had the front of his jumper balled in her fists, trying desperately to get him to stop. After another minute, he did, and her wriggling ceased. Still, he loomed over top of her while she gripped onto his jumper tightly. Both of them were silent as they stared into each other’s eyes, faces only inches apart. For half a second, Y/N swore she saw Fred’s eyes flicker down to her lips, but then she convinced herself she must have dreamed it.

The sounds of the movie seemed to draw them back to the present, and Y/N let go of Fred’s jumper, causing him to sit up. She followed suit, clearing her throat in hopes of easing the tension between them. Fred was never one to let any awkwardness linger, so he nudged her with his elbow before laying back down in the spot he had been before.

“Cuddle up, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe from the big scary winged monkeys.” He winked as he opened his arms for her.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly, trying desperately to calm the nerves in her stomach, before obliging and cuddling into his side. She let her head rest on his chest, her hand placed just over his heart, as he tightened his arm around her. Y/N found that she couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, what with Fred pulling a blanket up around them and gently stroking her hair. She was lulled to sleep by the action, finding that she wished every night, she could fall asleep in his arms.

The two were startled awake the next morning by a bout of loud laughter. As Y/N quickly sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she spotted George, fully dressed in his school uniform, gazing down at them with an amused grin. Fred groaned from where he still laid on the floor, pulling a pillow over his face to block out the light.

“And what’s this?” George cocked his head to the side. “You guys are really taking this ‘fake dating’ thing pretty seriously. Honestly, you’ve got me convinced.”

Fred shot up quickly at that, nervously looking around the common room to make sure no one heard. When he realized it was only the three of them, he let out a breath of relief.

“Come off it, will you? We just fell asleep after watching a movie.” Fred shot his brother a glare.

Y/N felt sick at the reminder that everything between them was fake. Every little moment she had foolishly convinced herself could mean something more was nothing but wishful thinking. Drawing in a deep sigh, Y/N forced herself up and gestured for Fred to move with a flick of her wand. Once he obliged, she flicked her wand again and gathered all of the blankets and pillows before pushing the couch back. Without another word, she stalked back up the steps to her dorm, and prepared herself for another long day.

-

When Y/N arrived to the potions classroom, her stomach dropped at the sight of Annalise once again in the seat next to her usual one. She gazed around the room, grumbling slightly when she realized she had no other choice but to sit next to the girl. 

“Wow, you look like hell.” Annalise sneered when she trudged over.

“Probably because I was up all night with Fred.” Y/N shot back, before truly registering her words. “Not… Not like that.”

Annalise snorted at the insinuation and rolled her eyes. It seemed she was about to say something, no doubt some snide comment, but was cut off by Snape walking into the room. Y/N straightened up and began to listen to the professor drone on, her stomach twisting in knots when she realized what that day’s lecture would entail. A cauldron sat at the front of the classroom, an alluring steam rising off of it. Y/N knew, it was Amortentia.

After giving a brief lecture on it, Snape used his wand to lift the cauldron in the air, slowly letting it stop by each desk for the students to gaze at. He appeared completely uninterested by the kids’ excitement from what they smelled. Finally, it arrived at Y/N and Annalise’s table.

Y/N leaned forward and took a breath in, her nose being filled with the scent of fireworks, chocolate, and the shampoo Fred used. She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, not needing the reminder that she felt so deeply for someone who didn’t return her affections.

Annalise leaned forward and breathed in a deep breath, a dreamy smile gracing her face. Her eyes flickered towards the front of the classroom, finding Snape deep in conversation with another Ravenclaw student. Quickly, she pulled an empty glass bottle from her bag and dipped it into the cauldron, filling it entirely.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N hissed, sitting up abruptly.

“I’m gonna use it as perfume. So everyone smells what they’re attracted to on me, and wants to be around me.” Annalise shrugged, placing a cork on the bottle and sliding it back into her bag. Y/N knew she could get in loads of trouble for carrying such a dangerous and potent potion, yet she didn’t speak up to turn her in. “Professor Snape, we’re all done back here!”

And with that, Snape was whisking the cauldron away and carrying on with his lecture. Y/N watched Annalise out of the corner of her eye, certain she was up to something from the glint in her eye. Still, like always, she stayed silent.

-

A week later, all thoughts of Annalise’s odd behavior had completely left Y/N’s mind. She was so caught up in falling for Fred even more each day, she could hardly focus on anything else. The fact that he hadn’t brought up Annalise once since their movie night didn’t go unnoticed to her, and she found herself chasing the familiar hope that maybe he was starting to fall for her too.

“I’ve gotta catch up with Georgie and Lee—they’re still mad I ditched them last week.” Fred informed her as he finished his dinner. “Catch you later?”

She nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face when he swooped down and kissed her cheek before hurrying off. Y/N was so in a daze that she didn’t even notice someone slide in the seat beside her, occupying the space Fred was once in.

“Ah, so you two are still together, are you?” Annalise spoke up, making her presence known. She wore a devilish grin as she feigned a casual act, picking at her nails.

“Obviously.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“What a shame, I just hate to be the one to tell you this.” She sighed.

“Tell me what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed as she turned to look at Annalise full on.

“Well, I’ve been wearing my perfume, you see.” She craned her neck and circled her hand, gesturing for Y/N to lean in and take a whiff. The smell was undeniable, and as much as she hated being in the presence of her cousin, it kept her reeled in. “Smell Freddie, do you?”

“Why do you care?” Y/N gritted her teeth, hating the way his nickname sounded coming from her mouth.

“Because, he doesn’t smell you.” Annalise shrugged. “In fact, what was it he told me he smelled? Right, fresh ink, my peach shampoo, and… Oh, I can’t remember. It was so hard to pay attention while he was snogging me in that broom closet.”

Y/N instantly dropped the utensils in her hand, ignoring the way they clattered to the ground. The sound drew a few eyes towards them, and Annalise simply smirked at her cousin. Y/N could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she was also angry. At Fred, for not just telling her that he had finally gotten what he wanted. And at Annalise, for always being so dead set on ruining everything for her.

“What did I ever do to you?” Y/N heard her voice crack, and she felt just as pathetic as Annalise wanted her to feel. When she spoke again, her tone increased significantly. “Why must you always ruin everything for me?”

Some part of her knew she shouldn’t be freaking out, because this had always been the plan. She knew Annalise could never let anything be hers, so she should simply take it in stride and move on. But she couldn’t. She had been so sure that Fred and her were starting to build something real, that she’d finally be with the boy she’d crushed on for years, and now all of that hope was shattered.

“I’m just being a good cousin.” Annalise slapped a hand to her chest, feigning some sort of dignity that she certainly didn’t have. “Really, he was bound to cheat on you at some point. I just made it happen sooner rather than later. You should be thanking me.”

Y/N reached for her wand and gripped it tightly in her fist, ready to point it at her and fire off whatever hex came to mind. In an instant, fear was in Annalise’s eyes and she was cowering back. Professor McGonagall was now rushing forward, shouting her surname and ordering her to stop. In response, Y/N lowered her wand and wiped at her eyes, forcing none of her tears to fall.

“You know what, you’re not even worth it.”

And with that, she was marching out of the Great Hall, ignoring any calls of her name.

-

When Y/N made it back to the common room, she found George, Lee, and Fred gathered around a small table in the corner. A few other students were littered throughout the room, as well. Y/N almost just stormed right up to her dorm, intent on never speaking to Fred again, but she was sick of always letting people treat her like rubbish. So, right as she made it to the base of the steps, she turned on her heels and marched to their table, causing all of their eyes to fall on her.

“Hello, love—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Fred. “Godric, I know I agreed to help the two of you get together, but cheating on me? Leaving me embarrassed in front of the whole school? What is wrong with you?”

Lee and George glanced at each other with wide eyes before signally towards their steps and quietly sneaking away. This left Fred in open-mouthed shock, gaping at Y/N in all of her fury.

“I don’t know what—”

“And don’t even tell me how it wasn’t really cheating, because we weren’t really together, I know. But the rest of the school doesn’t know that! Annalise doesn’t know that! And now you’ve fed directly into her only wish of making my life utterly horrible.” Y/N fumed, although her hands were shaking slightly. “So, congrats Fred. You finally got the girl. And Annalise got what she wanted, too. Looks like you two are perfect for each other.”

After saying her piece, she quickly turned around and began making her way back towards her steps. She ignored the many sets of bewildered eyes on her, too angry and hurt to even care. She was only stopped by the feeling of Fred gripping onto her wrist and spinning her back around to face him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fred searched her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on you, fake or not.”

“But—” 

“Annalise yanked me into a broom closet earlier, asking me to smell her neck like a bloody lunatic. So, I did, because I’m always enticed by strange offers.” He quipped with a smile, but when Y/N shot him a pointed look, he became serious once again. “Not the time? Right, okay. So, I smelled her, and I asked if she cornered me in there just to tell me she nicked your perfume, and she got all huffy, so I left. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t even mention it because it was too weird to explain.”

“You…” The words got caught in Y/N’s throat, all of her anger leaving her body. “You smelled my perfume?”

“Yeah, and faintly my mum’s roast, but I didn’t question it.” Fred shrugged. “Why?”

Y/N slowly raised a hand up to her mouth, gazing between where his hand still held her wrist and his eyes. Fred had never been very good at potions, so she knew just saying Annalise was wearing ‘Amortentia’ would explain very little.

“She was wearing a love potion, Fred.” Y/N spoke up, much quieter than before. “You smell what you’re attracted to in it.”

In an instant, Fred’s face was a bright shade of red and he quickly dropped her wrist. His eyes dipped down as he avoided her gaze, and Y/N realized this was the first time she’d ever seen him nervous.

“I…” Fred struggled to find words. “I don’t—I mean, I do… But I didn’t want you to—”

“Ask me what I smell in mine.” Y/N urged, cutting off his rambling. Fred shot his head back up at that, looking at her quizzically. 

“What do you smell in yours?” There was a hopeful glint behind his eyes, though his words were soft.

“Fireworks, chocolate…” Y/N took a step closer to him. “And your shampoo.”

The second that Fred fully registered what her words meant, he was closing the distance between the two of them. Y/N let out a shocked giggle as he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing his lips fully to hers for the first time. Although she had seen fireworks before, and she had smelled them almost every time Fred and George were around, neither compared to what it was like to feel fireworks. Y/N’s arms wound around his neck as she pulled him closer to her, prepared to live in the moment forever if she could.

When they pulled apart, there was nothing left either of them had to say. Fred could apologize for putting her through hell for the past few weeks, and Y/N could apologize for being so harsh, but that didn’t matter to either of them at the moment. All that mattered, was they both finally realized what had always been right in front of them.

-

Very early on in the start of Y/N and Fred’s real relationship, she finally opened up to him about just how awful Annalise really was. His jaw clenched at everything she told him, and he quickly expressed that he never would’ve wanted to be with her had he known. Y/N assured him she didn’t care, because this time, Annalise truly lost.

Although Y/N had been quick to brush off her feud with her cousin, telling Fred it was best to just leave it alone, she couldn’t say she was surprised when she walked into the Great Hall one morning, finding Annalise cowering at her table with neon green hair. It was the exact shade she had used when they were six to ruin Y/N’s drawing. While Fred and George vehemently denied any involvement in the prank, Y/N simply placed a short kiss to Fred’s lips, and quietly thanked him.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15​

[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. 

[everybodylovesrand]

Rafe/Rosamund Q&A

Q: Will there be a second trailer?

Rafe: Yes! and longer! What’s the thing you’d like to see most in it?

--

Q: For both Rosamund and Rafe - How do the final visuals effects align with what you had in mind when reading the script/filming on location?

Rafe: Making a TV show at its best is about collaboration about seeing how your initial version for something is lifted and changed and made better by the people around you. So my favourite visuals in the show are the ones that are far better than I’d ever imagined writing the scripts.

Rosamund: It’s so important to have a living vivid world inside your imagination when you are shooting sequences that will be completed with CGI, and the production have always made sure that we had plenty of visual references for how things would look as we went along. We have never worked on a set on which at least part of the world is not built. We have always had elements of the texture and atmosphere of the finished world to work with.

--

Q: Can we get some information on the composer or the score for the show? SO excited for this! Thank you both so much for bringing this to life!

Rafe: If Amazon lets this answer go through, this is me proudly announcing that we have the most incredible composer working on the show by the name of Lorne Balfe. You’ve gotten a tiny hint of his music with the reveal of the Logo, and what he’s doing is really special.

--

Q: For Rosamund: how different is acting in a high-fantasy TV show from your previous work?

Rosamund: The biggest most important challenge with fantasy is making the stakes your own, making the concepts and ideas that are so outside our own experience feel real and immediate.

--

Q: How much of the myrddraal is practical effects?

Rafe: The Myddraal, like almost all elements in the show, is as much practical as we could manage, enhanced by VFX. I always think that gives a more disturbing and real-feeling quality than full VFX creatures.

--

Q: My question is – What do you think Moraine’s favourite food is? (2) Does she prefer coffee or tea?

Rosamund: I don’t think Moiraine cares too much about food. (Rafe thinks she likes buffalo wings). She eats to live. But don’t worry, you will only ever see her drink tea.

Rafe: Buffalo wings.

--

Q: For Rosamund: How did you feel seeing Moiraine’s powers visually for the 1st time?

Rosamund: I felt like a badass. I said to Rafe when I first saw it, “I need this video of me shooting fireballs to show to my sons again, and again.”

--

Q: What is the show going to be rated? Will people be able to watch it with their teenagers?

Rafe: People should certainly be able to watch with their teenagers.

--

Q: How have you kept this trailer under wraps so long? Omg – it is perfect.

Rosamund: Thank you. The only thing we wanted was that it made people feel.

--

Q: How were you able to come up with how the weaving of the One power looks?

Rafe:  All of the VFX teams looking at the One Power were going off documents of descriptions of it pulled straight from the books, and using that as jumping off points.

Rosamund: I needed to feel that you would believe Moiraine had this power if there were no visual effects- the most important thing for me, was that I felt connected to something greater than myself. Robert Jordan is so eloquent about what it feels like to channel, the feeling of the one power filling your veins, the risk of it, the risk of drawing too much and the necessity of respecting it and being trained to use it.

--

Q: For Rosamund: What’s your favourite Moiraine speech?

Rosamund: Moiraine can be very silent so when she speaks, we listen. In the books it’s the “Weep for Manetheren speech”. The idea that in the people of the Two Rivers, the “old blood runs deep”.

--

Q: Can you bring the release date back a bit to like tomorrow or something?

Rosamund: Ask Rafe.

Rafe: Ask Amazon.

--

Q: How excited are you to see your audience responses after such a long wait?

Rafe: This is a complicated thing, because as a fan of many epic book series, seeing them brought to life is simultaneously thrilling and a little bit sad, as it changes forever a world that you saw in your own head while reading.

Rosamund: I love how warm and welcoming the Wheel of Time fan base have been. I hope we offer escape, excitement, mystery and something to keep people inspired through the end of the year.

--

Q: Which location was your favourite to film at? Specifically, in the show and in real life!

Rosamund: The world inside the walls of Shadar Logoth is particularly affecting and eerier. our production designer created a powerful, sinister set for the abandoned city. But for me as an actor: the city of Tar Valon was so rich: it was built from the ground up with the most intricate detail. It is stunning.

--

Q: Is the scene with Egwene in the water about her One-Power / Wisdom testing?

Rafe: I can answer that question at the end of the Season.

--

Q: What’s your favourite aspect of the WoT series?

Rosamund: My Warder. (awww!)

--

Q: How much will Season 1 cover? Book 1 or spread accross several? Looks amazing!!!

Rafe: Season One will cover Book One, plus some of Book Two and even Book Three. But also not all of Book One, as some of it is in Season Two. Cryptic enough?

--

Q: How may nightmares did that flaming Fade give you?

Rafe: Not many, as I will always remember him as Dan, who was spinning in circles on his horse on a Slovenian mountain doubling the Westwood.

Rosamund: His very feminine lips, concealing rows and rows or teeth give me nightmares… And don’t get me started on the skeleton mask his horse wears.

--

Q: What excited you the most about this series?

Rosamund: The amazing cast and the bond we all have!

--

Q: For Rosamund: Is this your first time acting with CGI effects? Is it harder than expected?

Rosamund: It was great. I did a full body scan on day one and then I never had to show up!

--

Q: For Rosamund: What was it about this story that spoke to you and made you want to play such an amazing female?

Rosamund: The way women of the Aes Sedai harness the elements of the universe to unleash incredible power: that interested me a lot. Playing an amazing female is always better than playing a mediocre female.

--

Q: Which parts of the trailer are you most excited for the fans to see the full version of in the show and why?

Rafe: I’m really thrilled for fans to see more of Winternight.

Rosamund: Shadar Logoth, the city where you really feel how the dark is a material substance that chases and consumes. The visual effects and the extremity of this sequence haunts me.

--

Q: How do you expect us to work today?

Rafe: Don’t! If I’m your boss, you have the day off.

Rosamund: I expect you to focus, and do your best as always. Sincerely, headmistress.

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship)’

Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship), by weightyghosts

“James thinks he’s sneaky, Lily knows exactly how to push Sirius’ buttons, Sirius is a tad overprotective, Remus is exasperated with them all, and Peter is definitely sleeping in the common room tonight.”

Rating: teen

Word count: 2918

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: December 16, 2020

Warnings: None

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080297

   It’s a frosty December night and the boys are in the Gryffindor common room, still sitting by the fireplace from when they had come in to warm up after a snowball fight with the Slytherins.

Well, it wasn’t so much a fight as a sneak attack that involved the Gryffindors hiding behind Greenhouse Two and pummeling those green-clad gits with exploding snowballs... But the Marauders still considered it a battle won in the war against their enemies.

James and Peter are occupying the couch, finishing their Transfiguration homework (really it’s just James writing and Peter peeking over his shoulder), and Remus and Sirius are in the plush crimson wing chairs that flank the couch.

Remus is engrossed in a book Dumbledore gave him on Non-Being Spirituous Apparitions, and Sirius is sitting sideways with his legs dangling over the arm of the chair, drawing idly on the back of his completed essay, and tapping his foot to an unheard beat (much to James’ annoyance).

Sirius is also trying very hard to stop himself from staring at Remus, but he can’t seem to help his eyes wandering over every few minutes to watch the way the firelight brings out the auburn and gold in the werewolf’s hair, the ends a bit curled from the wet snow outside.

Remus glances up at him but looks away quickly, a light blush spreading up his neck. Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, going back to his doodling. This thing between them is still new and exciting, and most importantly: a secret.

A few quiet minutes later, James puts his quill down and stretches his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated grumbling noise, a habit that Remus finds slightly irritating.

“Hey, Padfoot?” James asks in an offhanded way.

“Mmh?” Sirius murmurs, not bothering to look up from his sketch of a dragon breathing fire on a figure that looks suspiciously like Severus Snape.

“How’s your boyfriend?” James asks casually.

“He’s-“ Sirius glances at Remus automatically, then freezes when he meets amber eyes that are wide with a silent warning.

Sirius’ eyes flick back at James, whose entire face is screaming, “Ha! Got yah.”

“Wait, what? I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, no?” James arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

Peter puts his unfinished homework down and settles back on the couch to watch the evening’s entertainment.

“No! I think I would tell you if I had a boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to tell me, because I already know.”

Sirius drops his quill in his lap and folds his hands together, eerily similar to how Professor McGonagall does when she knows she’s about to hear a tall tale.

“What is it you think you know?” he asks in a patient tone.

“I know for a fact that you and Remus are seeing each other,” James replies.

“James!” Exclaims Peter, like he’s scolding him for outing an unspoken secret. Which he is.

But Sirius has his wits about him now, and keeps a carefully composed face, lips pulled up in a small smile.

“What makes you say that, Potter?” Sirius asks, adding a little bite to James’ name.

“Well, Black, ” says James, returning the bite in kind, “maybe you’ve forgotten but,” he lowers his voice a little and leans in closer to his friend, “we have a map of the school that shows where everyone is at any given time?”

Remus has to admire how Sirius is able to keep any emotion from showing on his face at this information, like he didn’t even hear it. It’s truly impressive. But he also seems unable to reply, so Remus steps in.

“It’s not a big deal, James, I’ve just been helping Sirius-”

“Yeah I’ll bet you have, Moony,” James says suggestively, with a cheeky grin.

Remus blushes and returns to his book so he can pretend to focus on something else.

“Hey!” Sirius interjects, but immediately regrets showing his obvious dislike of what James was implying when James turns back to him looking rather smug. He continues, more calmly, “I didn’t want to tell you and Pete...but I’ve been having trouble with vanishing spells, so Remus has been helping me practice.”

“Bollocks!” James refutes, “You’ve always been good at charms.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.”

“That explains it then, Prongs,” Peter says, trying to placate them.

“Thank you, Peter,” Sirius says, and tips an invisible hat to the blond boy.

“Oh come off it!” James jumps back in.

“Come off what?” Sirius asks, his voice rising with indignation. Of course James is right but he’ll be damned if he lets the prat be aware of it. “You think because you saw us together on the map once or twice-“

“Seven times.”

“S-seven times,” Sirius stutters but pushes on, “that we’re suddenly shagging behind your backs?”

“Yes.”

“That’s complete and utter-”

“But it’s not just the map,” James says, straightening up into a more formal position as if he’s about to recite a speech he’s been working on for a long time, and when Sirius sees Peter roll his eyes, he’s fairly sure James has practiced it on him.

“Something has been going on for weeks,” James continues, “You’ve been sneaky and quiet and acting all cute with each other, and going off on your own places,” James turns to Remus now, “and I know Sirius was in your bed at least once because I saw him sneaking back to his own one morning, and we’ve been friends for over five years so if you think I don’t know you two well enough to know when you’re happy and when you’re hiding something, you’re absolute bloody imbeciles.”

Remus and Sirius are quiet for a moment as that sinks in, then open their mouths to speak at the same time.

“What do you mean acting, ‘all cute-’” Sirius asks.

“Sirius was in my bed because I had a nightmare,” Remus states, shooting Sirius a look, “He was just checking if I was alright.”

This makes James pause, chewing on his lip. He knows that it isn’t uncommon for Remus and Sirius to turn to each other when they have nightmares, it had definitely happened before, but he was so sure this had been different. He has a harder time accusing Remus of lying, though, so he decides to address Sirius.

“When I said you’ve been acting all cute with each other, I meant that you’re all affectionate and stuff! And Padfoot,” James looks around the somewhat-busy common room to see if anyone is listening, but they aren’t so he continues, “has been very protective over Moony, lately.”

“That’s true,” Peter says thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his chin as he thinks back to the last couple of full moons.

Remus looks surprised at that and glances at Sirius with questions in his eyes.

“I’ve always been affectionate and protective with him,” Sirius says calmly, but his cheeks are slightly pink and can’t seem to meet Remus’ gaze, “It’s just the way we are.”

“This is different,” James says.

“Nope. You’re wrong,” Sirius says, picking up his quill and going back to doodling as if the matter is closed, “Utterly wrong.”

James crosses his arms petulantly, the frustrated frown on his face displaying how annoyed he is that his friends won’t just tell the truth.

“It’s true, James,” Remus asserts, “There’s nothing going on.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s hairy left b-”

“What’s that, Potter?”

Lily Evans had appeared in the common room as if by apparition, and stood by Sirius’ chair with a bemused expression on her face.

“Er, h-hey Lily,” James stammers as a blush creeps up his neck to the tips of his ears. Sirius rolls his eyes at the way James completely falls apart when this girl they’ve known since she was a tiny, obnoxious Firstie shows up.

The fact that Remus makes Sirius’ brain and insides melt with merely a look is a completely different cauldron of kelpies.

“What are you talking about that’s gotten you so riled up?” She asks with a smile, always enjoying a rattled James Potter, and crosses in front of the fireplace to sit on the arm of Remus’ chair.

She puts a hand on Remus’ shoulder and they smile at each other. Although, Remus’ is a little forced, as he doesn’t particularly want Lily involved in this conversation. They’ve grown to be close friends since becoming prefects last year, and she knows him too well. He’s fairly certain she’s already figured out about him and Sirius.

Remus looks over at Sirius and is surprised at the hostility in his face. He seems to be glaring at Lily, or more specifically, her hand resting on Remus.

Remus sighs loudly, forcing down the urge to roll his eyes, and Sirius’ mouth twitches.

He loves how easily exasperated his boyfriend gets with him.

“I was trying to get these two wankers to admit that they’re seeing each other!” James replies to her.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Lily says matter-of-factly. They all glance at her in surprise (the boys in question looking away quickly so as not to seem too interested, of course).

“What? But you said-” James starts.

“No,” Lily interrupts, “They’re definitely not together.”

Sirius bites his tongue to keep from asking, “Why the hell are you so damn sure?”  

“What makes you say that?” Peter asks, and Sirius reminds himself to be extra nice to Peter tomorrow. Or to at least try to.

“I just don’t think Remus is Black’s type at all, you know? He’s not...” Lily trails off, searching for the right word, “He’s just not really…”

“Not really what?” Sirius demands, forgetting the façade as anger bubbles in him. How dare she imply that Remus isn’t anything?

“Look, as much as I love Remus,” who she throws a pitying look to, and Remus braces for what she’s about to say next, “He’s a...you know... and I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Remus closes his eyes and chuckles, but the sound is drowned out by the explosion that erupts from Sirius.

“WHAT?”  

He’s on his feet, paper and quill knocked to the floor, as conversation in the common room halts and all eyes lock on him.

“Remus John Lupin is the absolute best, most brilliant person in this entire sodding school, you witless wench!”  Sirius bellows, pointing an accusing finger at her while ignoring James’ gasp at how Lily is being spoken to, “And he happens to be exactly my type! Everything about him is my type! He’s beautiful and smart and sexy and funny, and a bloody good kisser, and he makes me very happy, and- and…”

He starts losing steam when he sees the extremely-pleased-with-herself smirk on Lily’s face. His eyes flick to James who goes from looking indignant to surprised to ecstatic at Sirius’ soppy declaration, to Peter who is just dumb-founded, and finally to Remus.

Remus is half covering his bright red face with his hand, attempting to disappear into the fabric of the chair. Sirius hears him laugh softly, though, and his anger is immediately quashed.

“Thanks so much for that, Lily,” Remus says sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” she says cheerily, planting a kiss on Remus’ forehead. Sirius crosses his arms and frowns. “So predictable, Black,” she continues, shaking her head at him.

“Am not,” he denies, then has the decency to look abashed when adding, “But, you know, you should apologize to Remus for what you said.”

“Oh please, Rem knows I think he’s too good for you. I’ve told him many times.”

“You what?” Sirius looks accusingly at the werewolf.

“I thought she was joking?” Remus replies lamely.

“Lily Evans, you are an absolute genius,” James says, gazing up at her with glazed, adoring eyes. He looks about ready to swoon.

“And you, James Potter, are an absolute moron,” she says simply, “They’ve been hiding this for weeks, and you think they would just come out and say it if you confronted them with it? I told you it wouldn't work. Honestly, you know them better than that,” she adds with a tone like a disappointed school teacher. James could point out that he initially tried to catch Sirius off guard, but he doesn’t seem to want to contradict her. In fact, he seems rather enthralled by her chastising.

“Wait...weeks?” Peter asks in a small voice, looking as lost as he does in Potions.

Lily nods with a smile, rubbing Remus’ shoulder.

Sirius clears his throat and walks over to Remus, figuring he should apologize for blowing their secret, but mostly so he can get Lily away from his sexy boyfriend. He shoos her with a wave of his hands, and she gets up, tossing her hair at him before going to sit in the chair he just vacated.

“Sooorrrry, Mooony,” he croons, then takes the book from Remus’ hand so he can sit down in his lap. Remus’ eyes flash around the room at all the people watching them amusedly, but he rationalizes that there’s no way he could get any more embarrassed than he already is, so settles on sighing and shaking his head.

“You really can be thick sometimes, Sirius Black,” he says teasingly, loosely wrapping his arms around Sirius’ waist.

“Only sometimes,” Sirius says, then his face lights up like he just realized something, “Silver lining, though, Lupin, I can do this now.”

He cups Remus’ cheek, tilting his head up as he leans in and presses their lips together. There are a few cheers and whistles from the other Gryffindors, and Sirius chuckles into Remus’ mouth. Peter and James, however, are busy groaning and dramatically covering their eyes as if they’re witnessing Filch undress.

“Eugh, I don’t want to see that!” James whines.

Sirius pulls away to glare at them, and Remus blushes even more furiously, shooting apologetic looks at their friends. Apparently he could get more embarrassed.

“You wanted to know, James!” Sirius asserts, “You insisted, in fact. Now you have to suffer the consequences.” He turns back to Remus and to pull him in for another kiss.

“Please get a room!” Peter complains.

Sirius detaches their lips again and looks thoughtfully at the blond boy.

“Good idea, Pete,” he grins, “Come along then, my love.”

Remus is sure his face must be about to burst into flames, but he lets Sirius pull him to his feet anyway.

“Oh no,” Peter says, eyes wide, “That’s not what I meant! Please don’t-”

“Don’t worry, mate, we’re only off to work on our vanishing spells,” Sirius replies wickedly, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he drags Remus towards the staircase to the boy’s dorms.

Lily laughs, and Peter looks back at James, who narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Good show, Pettigrew,” he snaps, “Now we can’t go upstairs...bloody ever.”

Lily rolls her eyes at them and gets up from her seat.

“It’s not like they’re going to do anything they haven’t already done in there,” she says, and grins at the horrified looks on the boys’ faces.

Sirius yanks open the door to their room and tugs Remus inside. Remus goes over to sit on the edge of his bed, quirking an eyebrow as Sirius locks the door with his wand. Sirius turns and walks over to him with a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“Vanishing spells?” Remus asks, his voice full of poorly-suppressed humour as he looks up at Sirius and opens his knees for Sirius to stand between them.

“An excellent cover-up!” Sirius replies, placing his hands on Remus’ shoulders.

“You panicked.”

“I might have panicked.”

Sirius smiles as Remus laughs at him, his favourite sound in the world. “I didn’t like how Lily-”

“The witless wench?”

“The witless wench- was talking about you.”

“I appreciate you defending me,” Remus says with genuine affection in his voice, then slides his hands slowly up Sirius’ thighs, “It was rather sexy.”

Sirius bites his lip, enjoying where this seems to be going. “You know what, Moony?”

“What, Padfoot?”

“I wouldn’t mind practising a vanishing spell on your trousers right about now.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Remus falls back onto the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face.

“What a line,” he grumbles, but Sirius can tell he’s laughing.

Sirius climbs onto the bed, straddling Remus with one knee on either side of his hips.

“Did it work?” He asks, pulling the other boy’s arm down so he can look into his eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

Sirius frowns. “Is the spark gone now that everyone knows?”

“Yes. It’s completely gone. I was only with you because of the sneaking around.”

“Git,” Sirius says, poking Remus in the ribs, “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus’s eyes light up with mischief, “How?”

“Take your trousers off and you’ll find out.”

“Take them off for me.”

“Can’t. We never actually practiced the spell.”

Remus growls and pulls Sirius’ head down to kiss him hard, effectively ending the banter.

*

Half an hour later, James and Peter are standing on the other side of the closed door, trying to discern if it’s safe or not to go inside. When they hear whispering and a muffled moan, James turns to Peter and glares at him, lightly smacking the back of his head. They begrudgingly stomp back down to the common room to settle on the couch, for what will no doubt be a long night of homework.

*

[jjungkookislife]

Fic Recs 2020 Pt. 1

Seokjin

let’s get married [SMAU] @hangsangwithbts

Summary: seokjin has no intention of getting married, but after facing tremendous pressure from his family to finally settle down, he comes up with the brilliant idea to fake a marriage. the lucky bride just so happens to be you.

voice mail @joonary

summary: kim seokjin is best known around campus for his romance advisory podcast, voice mail, but to you, he’s just your lovable idiot of a best friend. but when he accidentally lets it slip that he’s fallen for one of your fellow peers, you can’t help but be a little bit curious (and quite frankly, a tad bit jealous).

Yoongi

cheers if you agree @out-of-jams

summary: If it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know who you were or even how to get into contact with you, Yoongi wouldn’t be posting all over Weverse for anyone to see. Not that he thought anyone would be smart enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together with how many people responded to his posts anyway.

snake kisses @peekaboongi

summary: You are grossly unprepared for the snake hybrid that enters your life. Yoongi is quiet and sneaks around you but eventually, even the cold reptile warms up to you.

under construction [SMAU] @luffles424

summary: In which y/n is just trying to figure out what to do with her life with the help from her (un)helpful friends

Hoseok

going once, going twice, sold @bxebxee

summary: But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out.You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties.That is all it takes.

just practice @lamourche

summary: The second time you hook up with Jung Hoseok, he doesn’t remember the first time.  You’re surprised.  It was only a few weeks ago, and you were in a broom closet. That has to be different, right? (Well, not really, you’ll learn.)

game over @9uk

summary: your boyfriend has been gaming all day without paying much attention to you. that is until his friends on discord brings up the moaning noises in the background.

you’re my kryptonite @dovechim

summary: Superheroes are immortal, they are everything we are not. The Krypton are a race of superhumans sent down to Earth to protect humans, and they are the epitome of nobility and protection. You have always believed in their immortal, God-like powers, revered and admired them your entire life. Your wish for your very own superhero is granted when you meet Jung Hoseok, a Krypton with the most unique, powerful abilities you’ve ever seen.

Namjoon

first, do no harm @yandere-society

summary: Dr. Kim is well known as the most skilled heart surgeon in the hospital, but when you notice his mortality statistics seem skewered, you discover all is not what it seems. Now, Dr. Kim is offering you a choice: will you join him? Or become yet another broken heart beneath his scalpel?

internet friends [SMAU] @bts-celestials​

summary: meeting through online, namjoon slowly starts to fall for the person who likes all the things he’s into. maybe having friends online is fun.

Jimin

reset @dovechim

summary: We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege.

paparazzi (tw: flash banner) @chinkbihh​

summary: What if the roles were reversed and it was Jimin who was the fan and you who was the idol?  But what if he wasn’t just a casual fan, but an avid fan?  Maybe even a sasaeng…  

Taehyung

the morning after @softlyjiminie

summary: one night, full of passion, whispered promises and heated kisses. one morning, full of regret and unwanted memories. is a night with your ex enough to send you running back into the arms of the devil?

fake love @mygsii

summary: an arranged marriage between you and taehyung leaves behind feelings of bitterness and hatred. will your heart be able to survive, especially when you’ve loved him all your life, or will it fall apart with this marriage?

cheap skate @gukslut

summary: Who doesn’t know Taehyung and his lady? Cutest couple in town, I’d say, and have been since they started dating in their college days. Oh, that was a while ago, though. And still, they’re happy as can be in that place they have together. Almost hate seeing one without the other, y’know, it’s like seeing just one testi- oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk like that. Anyhoo, I only say that because I saw Taehyung at a jewelry store the other day while I was buying my sweet Jiminie his presents. Maybe that boy’s finally gonna pop the question, but I do hope he’s got a good plan for it. Something sweet and romantic. Maybe I’ll find out after Jiminie gets back from that cabin he’s visiting.

baby i @jiminsfault

summary: a one night stand with a stranger leads to so much more than just great sex

Jungkook

only for love [SMAU] @lysjeon

summary: for almost four years it had been just him and sarang, and he had no plans on changing the life they had become accustomed to any time soon, but of course y/n has to come and shake his world.

one time in your room @ubemango

summary: There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

piss off your parents @littlemisskookie

summary: In an effort to piss off your parents you move in with their worst nightmare- a boy with tattoos, a rock band, and an irresistible charm.

departure @nomnomsik

summary: As a flight attendant for Korean Air, you’re scheduled for a thirteen-hour flight to Japan. However, things get intimate between you and your partner and co-pilot, Jeon Jungkook, when he realizes Park Jimin, the famous idol from Korea, broads the plane and blatantly flirts with you.

curiosity @hobidreams

summary: when innocent jungkook comes to you with a not-so-innocent question… you decide it’s easier to just demonstrate.

inkling @gguksgalaxy

summary: Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

j’aime @baepop

summary: You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

pop goes the cherry @1oserjk

summary: jungkook comes back home to find you visiting as well, all grown up — in more ways than one.

skirt chasers @1kook

summary: “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.”

kiss it better @jincherie

summary: When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

pay by play @yoonia

camboy!au

deeply poisoned @xmagicxshopx

summary: Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us. Deeply poisoned by the jail of you. I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway.

speeding ticket @minstrophywife

summary: Caught speeding to get home in time, you find yourself pulled over by a very delicious cop. Perhaps you can talk your way out of the ticket.Or,“I’m afraid I’m going to have to do a cavity search ma’am.”

OT7/Multiple Members

buttercream @minniepetals

summary: you were always adorable in their eyes, sometimes a little too adorable.

dulce periculum @forgottenpasta

summary: Devious and devilish, your two new impish hybrids never miss a chance to torment you for your hopeless attraction to them, knowing exactly what they do to you. But is sly sexuality and enigmatic allure all there is to the tiger and wolf hybrid, or do the depths of their eyes hide something more for you? Part ½

tropicana @dragunjk

summary: groovy punch sippin

amaranthine @koyamuses

summary: As the sole owner of Nightshade, a quaint bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the city, you find pleasure in rising each morning to tend to your guests but behind closed doors and within the shadows, you are the covenant leader to a group of young vampires who have claimed you as their mate.More often than not, your day is brimming with a mix of daily chores and back door deals that ensure the survival of your covenant. However, everything changes when three werewolves come stumbling into your life, all three of them claiming it was your scent that drew them closer as the words true mate ring into the silence.

testosterone boys @kiwiscript

summary: A little end of the year party tradition gets taken too far.

operation love letters @ve1vetyoongi

summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

our princess @iridescentjin

summary: In your newly established poly relationship, you are intimate with both Taehyung and Seokjin at the same time for the first time.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Ni Kar'tayl Gar Darasuum

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up, Din knows it’s time to break the news. (Part 2 of Aliit Be Cuur) 

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mild Description of Injuries

Word Count: 3700

A/N: The much requested part 2 to Aliit Be Cuur! I took some inspiration from a comment by @linkpk88​. My apologies for the long ass name. I just wanted to keep up with the Mando’a theme. 

__________

“M-mando?” Your voice shook and cracked from having gone so long without being used. You were trying to reach towards him but in reality, your fingers only lifted off the medical cot ever so slightly. 

Mando looked as if he’d possibly fallen asleep at your bedside, though it was difficult to know for sure with the helmet and the way he had a habit of sitting so still, even when he was awake. At your words, though, he immediately stood up, shooting to attention and coming to your bedside, “Cyar’ika? How are you feeling?” 

“W-water? Please?” Your mouth was dry and throat stiff. It felt like you’d been breathing in hot sand and it had sucked all the moisture from your body. 

Mando reached down to a water pack he had for himself on the ground by the crate he’d been residing on, unscrewing the lid, and tilting it slightly at your lips. The liquid felt like the best thing you’d ever drank, life suddenly coming back to your body at the small amount of water. “Thank you,” You said as he put the lid back on. 

Mando sighed, his gloved hand coming down to rub over your knuckles gently, careful to avoid anywhere covered with bandages, “Why would you run in like that?” 

“I thought you were dead. I was ready to kill the damn thing with my own two hands. I certainly can tell you I wasn’t expecting it to explode.” You attempted to chuckle weakly but you flinched, hand reaching for your torso in a poor attempt at soothing the pain of the broken ribs and burns. 

Mando noticed the way your fingers grazed unassumingly over your belly that held the secret everyone but you knew about and he stiffened beneath the beskar armor. “How long have I been out?” 

“About a day. The attack was yesterday.” He answered, pulling the crate closer to your bedside so he could sit beside you while you spoke. 

You groaned at the thought of being unconscious for so long, “Am I dying?” You asked in an attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood. You could practically feel the anxiety and stress radiating off Mando and you wanted to try to lighten the mood but clearly it hadn’t helped. Your grip on his fingers tightened slightly, reassuring him. “Hey, I’m kidding. It’s gonna be alright.” 

Mando’s silence was not something you were unaccustomed to. Even now that your relationship was much closer than professional, he was a man of few words. You still couldn’t help the way your face a little when you felt like your joke may have caused more harm than good. 

Little did you know that Mando had glanced up over your shoulder and made eye contact with the nurse from yesterday, the one who had shown him the unborn child within your womb. Of course, the nurse couldn’t tell that the Mandolorian was looking at him but he still sent the masked man a knowing, almost pushing look. 

As selfish as it made Mando feel, because obviously he was very concerned for your wellbeing and wanted nothing more than for you to be awake and okay, he was relieved when you remained asleep through the night. It gave him time to get his own thoughts straight, how he felt and how he would tell you. 

Children were sacred in Mandolorian culture. With depleted numbers, many of the Alor had encouraged child rearing amongst Mandolorians or the adoption of Foundlings to save the Way. Even so, Mando had honestly never actually seriously considered being a father, at least not at this stage of his life. He had Grogu, to whom he was a father by the Creed, but physically rearing his own genetic children felt different to him, even if it wasn’t supposed to. He lived a dangerous life full of criminals and skeezy backwater planets and he was comfortable that way. Even if it was preferred that Mandolorians reproduce, he was one of the few that had been called more to a life of service. Besides, after losing everyone he’d ever loved, from his birth parents to his clan, he was used to being alone. A part of him was scared to bring more people into his life because he didn’t want to keep losing them. Even accepting the fact that he loved you took a long time. 

But Mando was nothing if not a man of duty and honor and, as the leader of his clan of two, your lover, a father to Grogu, and now a father to your unborn child, he had a responsibility to protect and care for all within his clan, which was now about to expand to a clan of four. It was a responsibility that he had actually come to almost look forward to in some aspects in the early morning hours when he allowed his mind to move from the hardships that you were sure to face to the happy memories you were all sure to make together. 

“There’s-there’s something you need to know.” He began directly, his modulated voice sounding strained. 

Your smile faded at his tone and you gave him a concerned look, “Wait, am I actually dying?” 

His helmet shook side to side in a moment of silence before he continued, struggling to find the right words. All the words he’d spent all night rehearsing in his head were failing him now. “No. They said you’re going to be fine.” He began, another pause between words as the actual confession was so much harder to get out than he imagined it would be. Mando had never been a man of many words but suddenly there were no words at all that seemed fitting. 

Your eyebrows raised and you shook your head a little, indicating for him to continue. Nerves buzzed through your body. Mando was never like this. Sure, he had never been very talkative but he was concise and straight to the point when he did. He was never one to beat around the bush or draw out information for dramatic effect. Whatever he had on his mind must have been serious if he were struggling this badly. “What’s wrong, Mando? What happened?” 

“The nurse came by while you were out. He said you’re pregnant.” The words came out clear and blunt, straight to the point. It was the only way he could process the information himself and he struggled to find a more delicate way to put it to you. 

Your jaw went slack at the news, “What?” 

“You didn’t know?” It wasn’t so much a question as much as it was a confirmation of what he had hoped. You hadn’t known. You weren’t keeping secrets from him. That alone made him feel better. 

You shook your head, looking a little offended at the suggestion, “No, of course not. I- I wouldn’t have-” Your brain was moving a million miles a minute and cohesive sentences were difficult to form. “You have to trust me that I would have told you if I knew.” 

The sentiment let out a floodgate of relief in Mando’s chest. “What do you want to do?” He asked simply. Throughout the night, he had thought about this long and hard and the more he thought, the more he was actually excited about the prospect of having a baby. An actual baby. He knew that this wasn’t just his decision though. 

You swallowed hard, looking down at your stomach that you had just noticed was covered with Mando’s cape. “I-I don’t know. I need some time to think. This is just… a lot.” 

You didn’t talk about it for a while. You barely spoke at all for almost an hour. After he knew you were alright, Mando had left your side to take Grogu outside. The poor kid had been cooped up inside for almost two days. It also allowed you time to think without the pressure of him being right beside you. Mando didn’t know if you needed time alone to process the information or if you needed him there to talk it through but he knew that he preferred to have time to himself to figure things out and it was the best thing he could think of to help you. 

The nurse had stopped by while Mando was gone, just to ensure that the Mandolorian had in fact informed you that you were pregnant. He went over your vitals, important basic information about being pregnant, answered any questions you had, and reapplied bacta to all your wounds, which were estimated to be fully healed up within the next few hours with minimal scarring, thanks to the miracle medicine. You felt better after he left, physically and emotionally. 

When Mando returned a few hours later, you were sitting up in bed, having made nearly a full recovery. “You’re looking better.” He commented as he walked over to you. 

You gave a small smile of acknowledgement before looking down at your hands and flexing your wrists. You stretched out your torso a little bit. Your back was certainly achy but at least you didn’t feel like you had been hit by a flaming X-wing anymore. Mando felt better now that he could see the burns and abrasions that had littered so much of your body fading away to your natural skin color, only a few looking like they might possibly even leave a scar. 

“I’m feeling better.” You responded and it was clear that you meant it about everything. 

Grogu toddled towards the bed and reached his tiny arms out in an attempt to reach the frame and climb his way up to you but couldn’t reach. With an amused chuckle, you bent down and lifted the baby effortlessly. 

Mando didn’t want to press you about the matter but he was desperate to know what exactly your future held. He stood in waiting silence until you spoke again, “How do you feel about this?” 

Despite the fact that you were often concerned for others before yourself, he hadn’t been expecting that question. It also just wasn’t a question he had ever been used to being asked. Nobody usually cared. “How do I feel?” 

You nodded, looking up to him, “Yeah.” 

Mando sighed before sitting on the medical cot beside you, the thin mattress dipping more under his weight and the weight of his armor. He struggled to find the right answer to this question. Not just the right answer that you wanted to hear but the right answer that was truthful to himself. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked, gently stroking Grogu’s soft head while you glanced to your left at Mando. You had tried to pick up on Mando’a since you’d been travelling with Mando but he rarely spoke it unless it was a knee-jerk expletive, which you too were now an expert on. 

“It means I love you. I know you. But it’s much deeper than those words mean in this language. But… that’s how I feel.” It took a lot for Mando to admit his feelings for you. Words of affection were seldom exchanged between the two of you. Your love for each other manifested more as just a mutual feeling of love, protection, and honesty with each other that extended beyond platonic friendship. Mando especially had a hard time expressing his feelings so when the words left his mouth, you couldn’t take your eyes off the visor in his helmet that hid those eyes you wished so badly you could finally see. 

“I love you too,” You started, wishing you could repeat those words in his tongue but knowing you would do them no justice. There was a brief pause while you inhaled a deep thoughtful breath before you continued, vulnerably honest, “I would like to raise this child with you, Mando.” 

Again, another pause. The silence hung thick and uncomfortable in the air, at least for you. You wished so deeply you could see his face so you could at least try to get a glimpse of something that might be going on in his head. You swallowed hard, attempting to get rid of the lump in your throat that was forming in the midst of his pensive silence. You took your eyes off his helmet that seemed to be pointed towards your knees or the ground just below them, though you could never tell exactly where his gaze ever actually was, and stared at your lap where you began to pick at your fingers with your thumb nail. 

“Din.” 

“What?” 

You looked back over to the Mandalorian to see his visor turn towards you and this time you were sure his gaze matched. “If we’re going to have a child together, I want you to know my name. It’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

You smiled, knowing how important this was to him. Mandalorian culture was still something you were learning about and you hadn’t met any other than Man- Din - but he had never told you his name before so you assumed that perhaps it was like his face, where you couldn’t know it in its true form. “Din Djarin,” You tested the name on your tongue, “I like it. It suits you.” 

Din’s mouth fell in disbelief beneath his helmet at the way his name rolled so sweetly off your tongue and he let out a little sigh of happiness when you had said you liked it. Though saying his name was not breaking the Creed, it was something he very seldom told anyone. It reminded him of his home planet and his birth parents, good memories tainted by tragedy that he preferred to avoid. It was also a way that he kept people at an arm’s length, a habit he’d developed quickly as a distrusting bounty hunter. But he didn’t want to be called Mando by you anymore. If you were going to give him the gift of a child, a literal human being to call his own, the least he could give in return was as much of him as he had to give. 

“There’s one more thing,” He began, reaching into his pocket. You stayed silent but waiting as you watched him pull a long chain from his pants, a small pearlescent shard dangling from the end. He held it up for you to see, the jagged and unrefined edges to the uniquely beautiful stone swaying in his grip. “I would like you to become my riduur.” 

Your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. That word you knew. The Armorer had asked Din if you were his riduur back on Navarro all those months ago, to which he honestly answered no to. “I love you, Din, but I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant.” 

“In my culture, we come to have our own children in several ways but marriage is not necessary in any. Like I said earlier, mesh’la: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. And I would be extremely grateful if you would do me the honor of joining me in riduurok, baby or not.” He confessed, pressing the necklace into your hands. 

The edges, though jagged, were not sharp by any means. Simply unrefined but there was a beauty in it. The light created the illusions of different textures across the small stone. The chain was thin and of a material that you didn’t recognize, a dark grey metal that definitely was not silver, beskar, gold, or steel. “Usually betrothal tokens are rings. I know this is not a ring but Cobb had managed to scour a few broken pieces of Krayt pearl from the dragon yesterday and should you accept my offer, I will replace that chain with one made of beskar.” 

You shook your head, trying to shake away any doubt as to how perfect his gesture could be, “It’s beautiful. I love it.” 

“You don’t have to decide now.” 

“I would be an honor to be your riduur.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’ve never even seen my face and you’re willing to marry me?” 

You reached a hand out to rest on his helmet, just where it curved inwards where his cheek should be, “I know that I love the heart of the man behind this armor and I know what you feel like without it in the dark. I am willing to marry you without knowing what you look like beneath that helmet because I know I love you regardless.” 

Din’s hand came to press against yours, holding it against his helmet. Inside, his face was pressed against the interior, wishing he could feel more than just mere knowledge that your hand was there. He wished he could feel your skin against his again. “When we are bound in riduurok, I can finally remove my helmet for you and for you alone.” 

Your heart picked up with excitement, “You mean I can really see your face one day?” 

His helmet nodded up and down. 

“I can’t wait to look you in the eye and kiss you one day.” You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the beskar shielding Din’s face but he was mirroring the action beneath. A smile crept up on your lips and you handed him back the necklace, “Would you mind?” 

He reached around your neck and clasped the necklace together, pulling your hair gently to lay over the thin metal cord. “How’s it look?” You asked, straightening out the pearl over your chest. 

“Like it was meant to be there.” 

His arm fell to rest comfortable behind your back and you leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder. It was uncomfortable from the beskar that pressed hard into your cheek but you would still rest like that for the rest of time and then some if it meant you could be with Din. Grogu sat between you, a tiny leg on each of your legs and your hand pressing against his stomach gently to keep him from falling forward. 

When he startled wiggling around in your grasp, making tiny grunts of effort, it drew both yours and Din’s attention down to see what the kid was doing. He twisted to face your stomach, your hand now firmly keeping him from tumbling backwards. Neither you or Din were sure quite how much of your language he understood but it would have appeared that he somehow understood that there was now a new addition to your clan because his small three-fingered hand stretched out to rest against your lower belly and he closed his eyes, leaning back into your hand slightly. 

At first, you thought he was just trying to feel for the baby, which of course was far from being large enough at this stage to feel, especially from the outside. “Hey, hey! What’re you doing?” Din asked, not angrily but definitely concerned for what Grogu could be doing to the new baby. Though he wasn't a malicious child, Din had seen him choke Cara with the Force once before and he couldn't be sure what was going on within your womb from the outside. All he knew was that the kid was definitely using the Force. 

Grogu kept his eyes shut, ignoring his father, but a look of contentment spread over his face. That was when you felt it. You weren't even quite sure what it was that you were feeling but it felt positive, like an awareness of the life inside you that had been previously unbeknownst. It was more than that though. You could feel your connection to it and, though you knew it sounded absolutely insane, you could have sworn you could feel Grogu connecting to the fetus as well. 

Din made a move to lift the child from your lap but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him, “Wait, it’s alright.” You nodded in reassurance, looking down to Grogu. “Can you feel them?” 

Grogu reached out his other hand for Din’s, his entire hand only able to wrap around a single gloved finger. That was when Din felt it too. Again, it was a sensation he couldn’t describe. It was almost like an awareness of life but it was clearly emanating from within your womb. Grogu was merely acting as a bridge for Din.

 “Do you feel it too?” You asked, looking up at Din. 

Beneath his helmet, his mouth was agape as he struggled to process the feeling of life and light that seemed to radiate from where his body met Grogu’s and that his mind was able to just innately comprehend that this was the life you and he had created. “Yeah, I feel it.” He breathed out in amazement. “Is that the baby?” Din asked, the idea sounding preposterous but at the same time he had no idea of the capabilities of this new thing he’d learned of called the Force. He didn’t know the limits of Grogu’s power or his connection to it. 

Grogu’s hands fell from both your stomach and Din’s hand as he flopped onto his butt on your knee with an exhausted plop. Nevertheless, his disproportionate green ears wiggled happily and the rosiness in his cheeks made you fairly certain the answer was yes. 

Your hand came to cover where Grogu’s hand had just been, no longer feeling that same light feeling you had when he was touching you. Din no longer felt that connection either since Grogu sat down. “I don’t know what that was but it was kind of amazing.” You let out a breathy chuckle, “We’re going to be an actual family. Can you believe it, Din?” 

“Y’know, deep down, I think a part of me always wanted to have a family. A riduur and a youngling all of my own. I just got so used to being alone that I didn’t think I would ever find someone I’d want that with. But now I have you and Grogu and,” his hand came around your front to gently rest on your stomach, “this. I promise you that I will care for you and protect you both until the day you give birth and every day after.” 

You lifted your hand to Din’s helmet, gently turning him to face you, “Trillions of men in this universe and I got lucky enough to find you.” Grogu squealed in your lap and you laughed, stroking his ears, “And you.” Your hand dropped to Din’s lap and you laid your head against his chest plate, “I love you, Din. I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

[nikethestatue]

Spy Games

Elriel Month - Day 3

Spying

Spying Lessons

Elain, the pretty, polite, courteous sister, who spoke well and moved gracefully, was also one who was never considered with any seriousness by anybody. Not her mother, not their weak, gentle father, not the imperious, sharp-tongued Nesta, or the self-assured, determined Feyre. However, she was a merchant’s daughter, and she was as sharp-eyed, as Nesta was sharp-tongued. 

She inherited the trait from their father--he was always able to spot a deal, or a weakness, a loophole and he used it to his full advantage when making deals. She watched him, and learned how to use her words, how to compliment and smile, how to appear innocent and helpless, while seeking favors and looking to get what she wanted. It worked. It worked with everyone--it worked with Nesta, worked with their servants (when they had them), and when they didn’t, and had nothing, Elain always managed to charm someone at the market for an extra apple, a couple of bread rolls, or a swath of cloth. Even Lord Nolan was not immune to her charms, and even though there were better offers from others, he encouraged Greyson to court Elain, despite her family's ‘reputation’. Elain loved Greyson, but she also watched and noticed. She saw groves of ash trees, the number of sentries patrolling the walled estate, and how many guard dogs there were. She didn’t even try, but she noticed...and counted...and remembered.

Nuala was good. Smooth and discrete, she’d never be suspected of keeping tabs on Amren. Though Amren was a vengeful Angel of a young god in her previous life, and she probably knew what Nuala was doing. Yet, Nuala was not so good as to suspect Elain. Because Elain knew as well. It came as a surprise, but it was apparent to Elain that Nuala closely monitored Amren, as well as Varian, when they were around. 

They were making lemon cakes in the kitchen--Elain and the twins. Baking and cooking--many assumed that that’s what Elain was good for--the kind, tidy, domestic Elain. What no one, except for one person, was privy to was that these chores quieted the roaring in Elain’s head. They silenced the visions, cleared the pounding in her skull, gave her a sense of normalcy, even if for only a little while. 

“What do you think Varian reports to his High Lord?” the question startled the twins and they exchanged quick looks.

Elain’s face remained placid, as she busied herself with grating lemon zest. “Do you think they laugh?” she chuckled. “Our court is dramatic, to be sure.”

The twins were silent. 

“Is it wise though,” she continued, uninterrupted, “to have a representative of another Court so closely entwined with the affairs of the Night Court?”

“The High Lord trusts Prince Varian,” said Cerridwen, her voice neutral.

“Perhaps.”

Elain stirred the zest into the custard and there was silence, the twins assuming that the conversation was over. 

“Does Azriel?” she suddenly asked.

They stared. 

“Does Azriel trust Varian?” she pressed.

“The lord,” began Nuala, but Elain interrupted. “Not High Lord,”

“Lord Azriel,” corrected Nuala, “does what he must to keep the Night Court safe.”

That explained everything.

“Could Azriel use another pair of eyes and ears?” Elain didn’t even know where the offer came from. Perhaps, it stemmed from the desire to be useful, to offer something of herself that so few knew that she even possessed. She turned to the twins and stared them down, her gaze unflinching.

“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me what you know. What and how you do it. Please.”

“Lord Azriel may not approve,” countered Cerridwen softly.

“Let’s not tell him,” whispered Elain,

“Lord Azriel will know.”

“Eventually. I am not asking you to lie to him,” she added quickly, sensing that this was the reason for their hesitation. “Just don’t tell him. Not yet. Teach me, a little something, and then I’ll decide if it’s for me. Please. I,”

“Fine,” said Nuala. Cerridwen gave her a silent look of admonishment and surprise, but did not argue. Perhaps that would come later. “We’ll teach you the way he taught us.”

“Yes!” Elain’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Goodness, she hadn’t felt this excited in….well, forever.

The lessons were not what she expected, but she did not question them.

There were no weapons, or peeking through peepholes, or breaking locks.

At first, it was a little bit boring even. Odd requests, such as making conversations with random faeries--in the park, on the street, at the markets. The twins would point out a fae and order Elain to go and start a conversation. It lasted for weeks, and she even grew frustrated, thinking that they were just humoring her and these ‘lessons’ were nothing but a game. Until one day, Nuala told her to obtain specific information. She pointed at an elderly male Fae and requested, “Approach. Come back with the following information--did he serve in the first War, what rank, does he have children, how many, and what is his favourite breakfast?”

“What?” Elain stared in confusion, but Nuala’s face remained inscrutable. 

“Is there a problem?” asked Nuala. Her tone of voice...well, the tone was very much Azriel’s.

Elain shook her head and said, “no”, before crossing the street and approaching the male fae.

The realization that she could do this was thrilling. At once, she understood why she spent all those weeks approaching and making conversations with all those fae. She found ways, ways to ingratiate herself to them, to mark something small, but unique to each one, and then weave a connection around that tiny tidbit. It worked every time. 

The elderly male fae had a small, but noticeable limp. This was Elain’s opening. He was hauling a basket of groceries, and she approached gently, offering help. Oh, he couldn’t possibly trouble such a pretty lady. And she was a High Fae to boot. No, no, thank you, he could manage. Not a problem at all, she was walking that way anyway. What was he making for dinner with all those vegetables? Oh, soup? Did the wife send him to the market? Oh, a widower? So sorry. Were there children to assist? Three? That’s good that they helped out…

“He was a Captain in the Third Legion during the first War. He is a widower, with three children--two male, and one female. Three grandchildren as well. He usually eats leftovers for breakfast, because he is too lazy to cook, but his favorite breakfast are almond croissants from the Brea Bakery,” reported Elain.

A small, satisfied smile touched Nuala’s lips.

So the lessons continued. She was ordered to obtain more detailed information, and in places which were harder to access. She did. Sometimes, she failed, but rarely.

In addition, Cerridwen began training her on walking. 

Walking? 

Walking.

“Make your presence unknown,” she explained and Elain only nodded. Sure, she would learn to walk, if that’s what was required. She learned how to roll her feet in such a manner that they were completely silent with every step that she took. Learned how to notice her own body, its presence, and the space that it occupied. And learned how to make it unknown. How to melt into shadows, stand near someone and have them be unaware of her, sneak quietly into rooms and spaces. It took a month, maybe longer. Meanwhile, she learned other tricks. How to swap papers, how to pull documents with a flick of her wrist, how to read upside down (very difficult). 

“Could you take this to Lord Azriel please,” Cerridwen handed Elain a folder. 

“Um...yes, of course,” Elain took the folder, a bit surprised that Cerridwen couldn’t deliver it herself, but by the time she was going to ask, Cerridwen had disappeared.

First things first--Elain didn’t know where Azriel was.

The River House was enormous, so she started with Rhysand’s office, but it was empty. She peeked out into the garden, but only saw baby Nyx and his nanny, who was attempting to contain Nyx on a picnic blanket, and failing. Elain smiled. Nyx crawled like a fiend and made an aggressive beeline towards the fluffy peonies. No doubt, they’d be trampled and pulled soon enough. Especially, if the nanny wouldn’t take her eyes off the handsome delivery male who was standing by the gate and flirting with her.

Elain closed her eyes. Smell. Sense. They haven’t gotten that far in their training yet, but Azriel’s scent--oh, she knew it well. The most delicious scent to ever hit her nostrils. The one scent that she craved and hungered for above all others. Even in this huge house, she could isolate Azriel’s scent, as it rose above all others, at least for her. The strongest trail led to Azriel’s bedroom, which was unsurprising, even if he did not spend much time here anymore. He and Rhysand met to discuss matters of state, and then there were the mandatory ‘family dinners’ that Azriel attended. They used to be obligatory, but after the last Solstice, they became mandatory, by order of the High Lord. 

No, Azriel wasn’t in his bedroom. She followed the scent down the hallway, past the drawing room, then up the side stairs. Ah. She should’ve guessed. There was a terrace that overlooked the garden that Azriel favored. Sometimes, she thought that he observed her from there, when she tangled with weeds and seeds. But that couldn’t be. Not after the fiasco during the last Solstice and him pulling away from her with no explanation. A momentary lapse of reason on his part.

She spotted the spread of his wings. A smile touched her lips. How things were different before, when he was so comfortable around her. When he’d come and sit with her in the garden, sunning his wings, doing his work, both of them enjoying each other’s company without the need to talk. All of that somehow crashed and burned, and she didn’t know why and how to bring that intimacy back.

“Azriel,” she said, “Cerr,”

Azriel flinched and whipped his head to her. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her, standing in the doorway.

“Elain...Phhh, you startled me….” he muttered hoarsely.

And the Spymaster of the Night Court shifted with discomfort. 

She had surprised him. 

“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the folder. “I apologize. Cerridwen asked me to give this to you.”

He was still staring at her, as if processing what had occurred. His hazel eyes raked over her body, settling on her feet for a few moments. It was like he was trying to discern how she managed to approach him so silently.

“Umm, thank you,” he said and opened the folder. It was empty.

Neither one said anything to each other, and Elain turned and stepped back into the house, her cheeks flushed.

As she hurried down the hall, Cerridwen and Nuala both appeared in front of her, grins plastered on their lovely angular faces.

“What?!” she snapped. 

The grins widened.

“There was nothing in the folder!” she exclaimed, irritated.

“No,” agreed Cerrdiwen. “But you passed the first phase of your training.”

“You surprised Lord Azriel.”