#'i grew up in a conservative family' 'its dirty' 'this is how i think and i cant change it'

[faerociousbeast]

losijg my mind

[stupidbeecandle]

Families are weird. I just spent the day with mine for a birthday ( not mine). We decided to keep things tame and just play some board games. I am wearing a full witch cosplay as I have every day for the last 5 years.

I had to restrain my 60 year old father after he climbed on and teabagged my husband. My mom is cheering the madness on with explatives with the drama and force of every shakespearean actor ever to take the stage. My husband is impressed by her tone and delivery, enough that he forgets the feeling of my dads old man nuts.

Everyone is entirely sober. A relative has taken their shirt off and is twirling it over her head in order to explain what vladamir putin looks like. Two people are having a screaming match over whether or not phineas gage could beat hillary clinton in a fight. Team phineas says that he has kept the railroad spike. Team Hillary points out that Hillary would fight dirty.

Something has peed on a chair cushion. Im pretty sure it was someones pet. I am not certain. I decide that it doesnt really matter since Ill clean it the same either way.

Actoss the room my uncle is talking about the good old days with his partner of over 45 years who openly calls him daddy. They are discussing getting "pup" a new porche for being a good boy.

Another area still is a trailmix station where people are quietly eating a selection of pretzels and dried fruits, occasionally lighting up and pointing a snack out to the others.

This is the chillest family get together Ive had in ages. Things went to shit for awhile after the last matriarch died and folks vied for power trying to decide what money and resources went where. Who would call the shots, and how conservative vs how liberal different households should lean The family agrees that I am going to be the new matriarch and make important family decisions because "it just makes sense, we all think you're a good fit and youre old enough now and usually end up taking the role anyway". My family is weird and has a heirarchical structure, atypical beliefs, atypical traditions, and a concept of "acceptable" that would break nearly anyones boundaries.

I think about how people in my training program think Im weird and wild and unpredictable. I have just learned that the all-autistic borderline cult I grew up in has just elected me its new leader. Im sure someone is going to "and then everybody clapped" this, but shit is weird and Im kind of excited to see where things are going to go from here.

[quarthly]

Twilight characters as random animals that I think are oddly fitting

(Also yes, I am roasting the animals as well)

Edward: He would be a Cheetah. Now I know, seems like a cop out just because of his speed but hear me out. Cheetahs are, at face value, pretty cool. They used to be my favorite animal as a child, but then I grew up.

Cheetahs, through no fault of their own, are severely inbred. Now thats mainly because of poaching, but the cheetas anxiety also comes into play. In captivity, cheetahs are usually given emotional support dogs. I will admit it is cute but it negatively affects the population. Excluding one in the wild, cheetas can be to anxious to breed and thats not good for conservation efforts.

Cheetahs can hit up to 80 miles per hour in a couple of seconds. They are designed for fast running and agility. Their claws are similar to that of a dogs for better traction and they have elongated spines for longer strides. They have a thin build, long legs and a long tail for balance.

This has downsides though. Many times after making a kill, it will get stolen for them by larger predators. Thats right, they get absolutely bodied by the other animals. I should probably make these shorter but I'm on a rant now, so I guess this will be semi educational.

Throughout the series, we see Edward over estimated his abilities and value, constantly getting bodied by others. He's essentially a perfect mormon, though thats on S'meyers. He constantly judges others, dehumanizing them to their baser flaws, without doing any self reflecting. Him viewing himself as a monster doesn't really count to me. While he definitely hates himself, the only thing he is truly demonizing is being a vampire.

Bella: Picking up from Edwards, Bella is a Chocolate Labrador. Yes, she is his therapy dog. I feel like this is really fitting for her. I know Golden retriever would make more sense, as thats the most common breed for service animals. However, I kind of focused on her appearance. Only at first though! I just know that Edward raved about her human qualities and that would pass over as animals as well. Her chocolate eyes and brown fur, very average and boring. Thats essentially Bella. Even Edward wasn't into her until he got a wiff. Labradors a very loyal dogs and while they have more personality than Bella, I just couldn't shake it. Their also very stupid. Ok that's kind of mean, they're not stupid but when it comes to love, then yeah they are stupid.

I used to have a lab, loved him to death, but god he was something else. Very much danger prone, from their own stupidity or their lack of survival instincts. I know that labs are almost aquatic. They love water, swimming, all that jazz. We can just say that bella has a few screws loose in her dna and is just "not like other labs."

Rosalie: Now she was hard. There are quite a few animals that I think would fit for her. I'll list the other ones, but that one I went with is the Swan. Like Edward, seems a little on the nose, but I have my reasoning.

I was going to pick a predator for her, as she is shown to be very vengeful and viscous. I would have pick some type of cat, most likely a purebred, from a rich family. It could still work, but the swan just speaks to me on this one.

Swan's are known for being beautiful, graceful, and are pictured as the symbol of love. They are also very vain. Edward constantly brings up Rosalies vanity. She was constantly valued for her beauty as a human, so of course that crossed over in the transformation. She was raised to be married into wealth, she was used as a bargaining chip to increase the family's standing.

Rose has a very strong character and makes her opinions known. She's assertive and aggressive at times. She's not afraid to get dirty.

Swans mate for life and like geese, are known for being great parents. I was also going to choose geese as an option for the maternal instincts. I was wary at first because swans can be really aggressive. Like actually, you think geece are bad? Yikes bestie...

I was conflicted because swans are known for drowning dogs and sometimes people. However, I can actually see Rose drowning Bella. It's not that unbelievable lmao.

Emmett: Now this one is just ironic. I only associate him with bears. Its inevitable, but picking a Grizzly or Black bear is too obvious. So I went a slightly different route...

So I was going to pick the Sun bear just because of looks alone. Like, I'm not exaggerating, it looks like someone wearing a bear costume. I don't think it fits him but I know for a fact that he would dress up as a sun bear and sneak into a zoo to see if anyone would notice. I'll put a pic of it here

Like look at this thing. I have no words...

Anyway, what I picked was a Sloth Bear. Now Sloth bears are mostly nocturnal, which either way works consider vamps don't sleep. Their diet is also odd but honestly so is the cullens. They're native to the Indian subcontinent, and are known for being aggressive towards humans. Its said that for the most part they're pretty calm, so I think its just fear of humans that make them act aggressively. Honestly, that's a good thing because they are listed as vulnerable on the IUCN Red list.

They have some similarities with sloths, which is where they get the name. They have long claws and unusual teeth. They are known to hang upside down from tree branches, and is described as having a messy appearance. Honestly, Emmitt has a messy personality. Sorry bestie but you're a lot of work.

Now heres the biggest reason for choosing this bear. Aside from Baloo from the jungle book being a sloth bear, they are known to run fades with Tigers. Honestly, how fucking badass is that!? Now I don't think there are recorded instances of a Sloth bear killing a Tiger, but when push comes to shove, they can hold their own and I find that incredibly impressive.

Carlisle: This one was somehow the easiest as well as the toughest. I know Owl seems like the obvious choice, and I can see it. However, I believe Carlisle values emotional intelligence as much or if not more than academic intelligence. He is so charismatic and values other's above himself. He might not be as Saint like as Edward thinks, but he does try and I think he genuinely cares about others. For that reason alone, I choose a Elephant.

Elephant's are very social animals and are extremely intelligent. I could rave about them for ages, I love them so much.

Now elephants live in a familial unit and are usually matriarchal. Bulls usually are on the outer edges of the herd or form little groups with other males. Honestly, they're not that bad aside from when their in musk.

In the group of males, the elder ones will teach the younger where to get the best food, water, how to use things as tools, and every other thing that will increase their odds of survival. This is really cute to me tbh, they do this because the females usually choose the older males because they've proved that they are intelligent and strong, that they have survived and will continue to for awhile. Teaching the younger males these things are to make the odds of them getting chosen to mate more likely. The whole unit just reminds me of a father that has to deal with rowdy teens.

Carlisle likes to take in strays, he might not have a herd but he will make one and teach them to thrive. That's how he envisions it anyway. He just has a found family and is trying his best.

Esme: Now this might seem like an insult, but I promise it's not! This is in no way misogynistic. I love cattle and ever since I took animal science in highschool, I have appreciated these grass puppies like they deserve. Call me Castro because I love cows.

Yup! I chose a Cow for her. Specifically a beef cow. That might sound weird but its because beef cows have higher maternal instinct than dairy cows. I'm thinking Scottish Highland based on vibes alone.

They are nicknamed the Gentle Giants of Scotland. Super maternal and sweet and ugh look how cute they are!

Esme came from a abusive marriage and had just lost her child, she was depressed and desperate. Her changing was, in a way, salvation. She just fits in. She adopts all these strays along with him and will protect them to the death. She might be gentle by nature, but don't fuck with her family. She lost her first one and she isn't going to lose this one.

Alice: She's an odd one. There are so many possibilities and maybe I'm biased, but I feel like she would be a Crow.

Ok listen, I'm definitely biased but it just feels right. Crows get a bad rap, they are so cool! They are so intelligent and have the ability to actually sit and think about the past, prest, and future. I forget what its called, but this was only seem in humans! Maybe other apes, I can't remember exactly, but either way its awesome. They do live in groups, or murders, and remember people and faces. They remember locations and are able to pass down information through generations. They essentially have their own language! They are able to use tools too!

Alice's story is really sad. When we first meets her, it revolves around the death of her mother and her institutionalized. She was essentially tortured and forgot everything from her past. All she had was the future and even that wasn't constant. Crows a often viewed as omens, they are associated with death. I personally believe that instead of being the cause, they just know something is going to happen. They are very inquisitive and can be creative.

If you befriend a murder of crows, sometimes, depends or the group, they will bring gifts. Its can range from food to shiny metals and colorful plastic. Hell, I think I've seen a post of one stealing things from people just to gift it to their human.

Alice's love language is gifts. Even if they are focused around fashion, she still goes out of her way to get something that will look good and at least be a little comfortable. By that I mean she tends to forget peoples comfort zones, but she means well.

Jasper: Honestly not to sure what to put for him. I know a predator would be more fitting, but for some reason I can see a donkey working. I know, seems like I'm clowning on the confederate. Fair, but I'm serious about the donkey thing. Honestly, it would be perfect if it wasn't a herbivore. Porcupine would also work.

Being a predator would make more sense. Given his backstory and his characterization, it wouldn't make sense for him to be a prey animal. Usually I wouldn't count this, but given his gore filled past and trouble with the diet, it seemed fitting.

I see him as a Big Cat. Honestly, vamps in general just give cat vibes. Jasper though especially have some cat like qualities, which originates from hunting and being a soldier.

I specifically see him as a Mountain Lion. Aside from him being blonde, he just has the predatory stealth to him. In midnight sun, we see him use his gift to make the nomads overlook him. He's honestly really powerful.

Mountain lions are known for being stealthy with an air of grace and power to them. They are stong animals. And I mean strong. They can jump 40-45 feet.

They're very elusive and quite. They stalk their prey and tend to attack from behind but don't think they won't hold their ground if need be.

Jasper was changed during the Civil War and forced to fight in the Newborn wars. He was a soldier as a human and as a vampire. He's able to feel and manipulate others emotions. He's covered in scars and is very intimidating.

He still struggles with the diet and honestly I hate how the others handle it. Like they have no room to talk. I don't want to defend the confederate but it just pisses me off. He has to deal with his hunger on top of everyone else's. Like damn, besties always on edge! Everyone doubts him which I don't think helps any.

Also, Mountain lions and Cheetahs can purr!

@aquanova99 I'll do a Volturi one too. That one will be fun lmao

[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. 

[mxtxsblog]

Untamed did XY dirty

I love Untamed, I really do. Unpopular opinion: I love love love almost all the changes from the novel. WWX having the same body? Inspired (and MDZS cheated about it: in most adaptations WWX's and MX's body are so similar the audience can't disintiguish them!). The bit about WWX falling, LWJ trying, JC stabbing (but not really)? A piece of art. Demonic cultivation as black smoke? Yes baby!

JC and WQ? Genius.

WWX tenderly wiping away JC's tears in the climax? I want to scream (WWX and JC's relationship is my second favorite one, just after XueXiao). And I love the changes about Yi City quartet! XY appearing early and being a force of demonic cultivation? Sweet. XXC not being so driven to arrest him? Yay. XY dying with a smile remembering XXC? Babies. But I really really really hate the change about XY's tragic backstory. It really changes everything about XY and I simply ignore it (and so usually does fandom, so yay!). Why? Because XY's backstory is divided into two parts, and the division is essential.

(As usual, I wish I had more time and energy to dedicate to this meta, but sadly I can't).

From the start, XY doesn't make it a mystery he grew up beaten up. Because that's not the point, not really. Then XY decides to share a bit with AQ and XXC, and it's the sad story of a child without parents nor money who loves sweets but can't eat them. Of course sweets are a symbol of food, a home, a family, kindness, happiness, everything baby XY (he's only 7 years old!!!) doesn't have. It's noted that child XY is strangely naive and trusting (they call him dim-witted!). So even in his poor situation, he conserved a trust in the world and its justice. (And I think this particular is key to WHX's belief that XY has a good nature). So a man asks XY to do a task, in exchange of some sweets. XY does it (and he's happy to earn the pastries! He doesn't even think about stealing them or anything!), and he's harshly beaten (twice!) because of it, injustly. The story ends for the moment, XY lets out the most important part (and XXC feels that the story is unfinished). Then everything happens. And XY tries to share the last part to XXC. And yes, that's the really important part. XY runs in Chang Cian and, with an innocence impressive for a child in his situation, tells him what happened. He doesn't understand yet, he thinks there was a mistake ("he felt both frustrated and happy"). Surely Chang Cian didn't send a poor innocent child to be beaten for fun. But Chang Cian beats him too, and denies him his pastries. XY tries to stop him, and Chang Cian decides to strike him in the face with a whip and runs him over with his charriot. That's the important part of the story, that's the thing who destroyed and shaped XY. It's not about his little finger (but of course his mutilated hand is a eternal remind of what's happened!). It's not about physical suffering: living poor, alone, homeless, in the streets, XY must had already met many bad people (he himself says that he was beaten a lot as a child). (Although I can concede that the excrucing pain of a crushed hand, obviously not treated, was the worst pain XY had ever felt, with painful and lasting consequences.) It's about hurting a child for one's amusement. It's about tormenting him without any care. As he was a stray dog, a broken toy. It's about being manipulated and hurt simply because a person is rich, is gentry, is powerful. (And also normal people, the man, the waiter, the driver, hurt him without any care. I think that's essential for XY loss of trust in anyone, and his disgust with people in general). If Chang Cian was simply a person who denied a begging child few pastries, if he was simply a cruel man who beated a child, he wouldn't have earned XY's revenge. But XY hates him, not the waiter, not the other man. Why? Because Chang Cian chose him to amuse himself with his pain, with his shattered hopes. XY did everything right, did what was asked of him, and was cruelly hurt for it. And when XY tried to stand up, to demand his recompense, he was hurt even worse. "Is it that, since the fingers weren’t yours, you guys were incapable of feeling the pain?! You guys didn’t know how horrifying screams sounded like out of your own mouths? Why didn’t you ask him why he decided to amuse himself with me without a single reason?!" And of course nobody helped him. Not the waiter, not the driver of the charriot, not the people. Nobody cared about a starving nobody. And it's this cruelty, this abusing of an innocent child's trust, who broke XY. So yes, the backstory in Untamed about a man who denied a homeless child's begging for sweets and run him over, while tragic, lacks the most important part. The things that set Chang Cian apart from all the other people who hurt a homeless child. "A man sat on a table inside the shop. as he saw the child, he gestured for him to come over." XY wasn't bothering him in any way. The man just saw a poor defenseless child and decided to hurt him and be cruel without any care. And yes, I can't forgive The Untamed for this. So in all my meta XY's backstory is MDZS's one. Because the other one really doesn't make sense and lacks the

original's complexity and brutality (also, XXC gives XY candies even in The Untamed, so it makes more sense if the story was told). Last but not least: they robbed us of XY sharing the first part of his story around the fire. Eternal shame on them. Of course in my meta that scene happened. Strangely enough, they originally also cut XY's incredibly complicated smile at XXC by the fire. Maybe they didn't know how the audience would have reacted to XY, who from what I can see he's a popular but deeply divisive character. So they couldn't decide how much sympathetic they wanted to present him? (Similar to Loki's case, in truth). So in the end: don't let Untamed fools you, XY's backstory is tragic and deep. And it's not about physical hurt, but the shattering of a child's trust in the world.

(Also, XY knows and hates that cultivators and people in general don't care about powerful people abusing poor nobodies. Ghosts and monsters? Political conquests? Of course, but rich powerful people hurting defenseless children? Ahahah, no.)

In short: XY is a woobie destroyer of worlds and that's really sexy of him.

Also, the world fully earned his enmity.

Also, I want all the AUs where somebody is kind to this child and nurses him back to health. As consequence, magic ancient China loses a killer and gains a bloody defensor of starving children, eater of the rich, rogue demoniac cultivator.

[ofrockwood]

( alex wolff. twenty-three. he/him. ) i think i just saw LINCOLN ROCKWOOD ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , OUTSKIRTS OF PARADISE BY BAD SUNS was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a BALL PERSON FOR THE GOLF COURSE . but they totally could have been on their way to GET HIGH IN THE PARKING LOT ON BREAK . guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see DIRTY LAUNDRY ON AN UNMADE BED, TANGLED KNOTS OF HEADPHONES, AND CELL PHONES FALLING OUT OF POCKETS around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them !

BIOGRAPHY

it’s safe to say that lincoln had fallen victim to the classic case of middle child syndrome. his family ( mainly his aunts and uncles ) often mentioning that he was the forgotten child during his elementary days, passing it off as a joke at reunion barbecues — though even he remembered getting lost in department stores where a clerk had to call for his parents on the overhead so that they could “ come and collect their kid “.

growing up in middle class suburbia was, as link would put it, like a wet, hot american summer. there were more cul-de-sacs than soccer mom minivans and more starbucks on every corner than there were fake tanning salons at the mall. the normal “ avoid eye contact with everybody “ as he passed people on the street always pairing well with the quick turn of the heel whenever he noticed one of his mom’s friends walking toward him, never mind them waving hello.

he was frequently trusted with his own devices while his younger sister had dance and piano lessons, and his older brother had practice for whatever sport was in season. all because link’s lack of hand-eye coordination wound him up with a concussion and a broken nose the one time his parents thought it’d be a good idea to sign him up for soccer — in short, instead of picking up another extracurricular, link made his dent on the living room couch. getting lost in old VHS tapes and blueray DVDs.

his love for film and anything pop culture only escalated as he got older, resulting in him being the funny guy who quoted too many movie references in what would otherwise be a normal conversation. sarcasm and dry wit etching themselves onto his tongue, dramatizing his character. allowing him to finally stand out from the rest, despite the eye rolls and facepalms he’d usually receive once he opened his mouth.

link relied on his comedic timing, having been labeled the “ forgotten one “ or the “ guy lacking ambition “ for long enough. almost going out of his way to break out of the cookie cutter mold he grew up in, never shying away from explaining the toxicity of football fanatics to his uncles or bringing up liberal comments in otherwise conservative settings. twisting his phrases comically, albeit a little condescendingly.

not that he tried to be the smartest one in the room. but he did have the tendency to throw in his two cents, most likely when it wasn’t warranted.

soon he was off to college where he changed his major four times in his first semester, just going through the motions of a dorm filled life until he eventually stumbled upon his favorite subject : popular culture. thinking the major involved continuous reruns of the bachelor or seinfeld. but thankfully, his mind was blown much further than that.

he was pretty pretentious whenever asked about what he was studying, his high brow mainly stemmed from believing his major was the superior of all majors. however, if asked about what he was going to do with it once he graduated, he’d more often than not veer the conversation in another direction and offer another hit of his joint.

now that he was officially a graduate, he still didn’t know what the heck he wanted to do as a career. shutting his laptop down every time he so much as browsed for jobs for ten minutes straight. always holed up in his room, content with ignoring adult responsibilities as well as his parent’s interrogating questions: how are your savings looking ? did you hear about your brother’s promotion ? ever thought about taking your brother’s advice & applying for a position at the country club ?

and sure, link’s desperate for a way out. but at the same time, he’s comfortable at home and it’s not like he has the right friends to challenge his status quo. instead they let him settle and constantly get high, listening to link talk about moving out one day, but never actively holding him to that.

catch lincoln collecting golf balls out on the golf course or moseying about the country club avoiding his every day duties. he’s usually got tangled headphones in with a joint tucked between his lips — just don’t tell his mom or dad about the latter part though.

HEADCANONS.

he has a hard time with complete silence, so he’ll be the first to talk in order to keep the momentum alive. though some of his friends think it’s just because he likes hearing the sound of his voice — which one, rude, and two, he just doesn’t deal with uncomfortable situations very well.

let me to you, this boy drops everything. his phone, drinks, full plates of food. he was gifted with butterfingers and has yet to realize that he shouldn’t be responsible for other people’s possessions because more likely than not, he won’t return the thing the way he found it.

he’s like a vacuum. he inhales his food. when he visits family, his mother always reprimands since she thinks he’s not enjoying what’s put on his plate. in reality, though, he has the munchies and just needs to eat all the things.

he wasn’t the greatest student. in fact, sometimes he was plain lazy when it came to doing his homework. but he got good averages and got lucky on tests, so it’s enough to make potential employers happy. or so he hopes.

if you look at his family and you look at link, you’ll wonder if the guy was dropped on his head as a kid because he’s like a black sheep. totally different ideals, can’t catch a ball to save his life, and the last time he tried grilling meat on the grill, he almost burned the backyard down — he’s now only allowed to toss together a salad at family barbecues.

this boy, this child, drinks way too much coffee / energy drinks. which is why his knee is constantly bouncing when he’s seated or he’s always shifting his weight when he’s standing. seriously, someone get him to drink something that’s not bean water. and beer doesn’t count !

[thebeautifulmoonlight]

Basic Questions

First name? Emily

Surname? Loreley

Middle names? Rose

Date of birth? February 28, 1891

Age? 130

Physical / Appearance

Other distinguishing features?

Multiple spots where she has sewn wounds back together and put body parts back on.

Physical handicaps?

Due to her being dead, she has a few issues physically. First, her skin is very fragile and does not mend itself. Her nerve endings and taste buds are also extremely dulled, requiring stronger touches and tastes to be recognized. She cannot get drunk and does not require food or air to survive. She also cannot have children.

Type of clothes? She     still prefers older style, vintage-inspired clothing that calls back to     the styles from when she was alive.

What are their feet     like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn,     etc) Pretty shoes but loose to not loosen her toes from her foot.

Are they in good health?     …. I don’t even know how to answer this

Personality

What words or phrases do     they overuse? Far too many old school sayings

Are they more optimistic     or pessimistic?

Emily is very optimistic. She believes that everything works out in the end – even facing the darkness of her past, she looks for the silver lining she is sure will come out of it.

Are they introverted or     extroverted? Extroverted

Do they ever put on     airs? Never ever – there is no room for that sort of thing in a civil     society.

What bad habits do they     have? She is far too trusting of people.

What makes them laugh     out loud? She’s pretty soft spoken, but she is humored easily. She might     not laugh out loud but a decent corny joke and you’ll get her chuckling.

How do they display     affection? Showering the person with her attention and smiles.

How do they want to be     seen by others?

She wants people to see her as kind, as loving, fun, a person that will always have your back.

Strongest character     trait?

Her strongest character trait is her ability to raise up people regardless of where she is in her life and in the moment.

Weakest character trait?

There are moments, topics, goals that she has, where she is willing to sacrifice the greater good to fill those holes in her own life.

How competitive are     they? Not even a little – but the games are fun to play still.

Do they make snap     judgements or take time to consider? Take the time to consider.

How do they react to     praise?

Emily does not handle praise well. It makes her blush, she can’t make eye contact after… but she does appreciate it. Please don’t stop saying nice things about her.

How do they react to     criticism?

The idea that she let someone down would be crushing.

What is their greatest     fear?

I think her biggest fear is also something she knows will be her reality – I think she would desperately love to have children, a husband, a family, that quaint little life, but it’s impossible, meaning she has to live with the truth to her fear every day.

What are their biggest     secrets? I mean… that she’s dead.

What is their philosophy     of life?

You really never know how much time you have left in this world. Don’t waste it. Laugh. Dance. Love. Enjoy the people beside you while they are still there.

When was the last time     they cried? Probably just earlier that day.

What haunts them?

The fact that she was murdered by the person she thought loved her and not letting that color the way she views the people in her life now.

What are their political     views?

Okay – let me write this now to be updated later! I think, just because she is new to this world, she would lean more conservative, but as she grows and learns and educates herself, she will swing to a liberal view of the world.

What will they stand up     for? Herself, the people she loves.

Who do they quote? Her     father.

Are they indoorsy or     outdoorsy? Outdoorsy.

What sense do they most     rely on?

Because most of her senses are very dulled, she can only really rely on sight and hearing.

What quality do they     most value in a friend?

People who are accepting and loyal.

What do they consider an     overrated virtue? Obeying rules.

If they could change one     thing about themselves, what would it be?

Emily has a lot of anger inside her that rears its head and shows the worst of her. She wishes she had more control over that.

What is their obsession?     Finding love.

What are their pet     peeves? People who don’t listen to her.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or     small? Who does it consist of?

Small, it was only herself and her parents.

What is their perception     of family?

Family was something very important to her and she misses them insanely. Family are people who love you, support you, and build up you and your dreams.

Ideal best friend?

This is a person that she has fun with and always has her back. They accept her for all her flaws and would probably not murder her once they have her trust.

Describe their other     friends.

Past and Future

What was your character     like as a baby? As a child?

Emily was a curious child, always enjoying learning new things and having adventures. It was not uncommon for her parents to have to go hunting the village to find where her day had taken her. She was not a troublemaker but her ability to wander gave them plenty of heartache.

Did they grow up rich or     poor?

Her father owned most of the town as she grew up and allowed her to have some of the best things in life. They were the first in the town to have their own car.

Did they grow up     nurtured or neglected? Nurtured.

What was their first     kiss like?

Their first kiss was with Barkis. It was very soft and lovely – and a total lie.

What is the worst thing     they did to someone they loved?

While her feelings on Victor as love is debatable, she tried to force him to be with her and also force his true love to stay away from him – the aftershocks of that event and the depths she was willing to take to make them do what she wanted is why she ran off and found herself here.

What are their     ambitions?

To find a husband… stay tuned for growth.

What advice would they     give their younger self?

Listen to your parents. They want what is best for you, and Barkis is not what is best.

What smells remind them     of their childhood?

Baked bread.

What was their childhood     ambition?

To run her own restaurant.

What is their best     childhood memory?

She loves to think back on the evenings with her family. They would gather around, talking with each other, playing the piano. Her parents talked to each other as equals and challenged each other in their love – she would sit and watch and adore them.

When was the last time     they were crushed with disappointment?

When Victor didn’t want her.

What past act are they     most ashamed of?

Her verbal and physical assault of Victor’s love.

Has anyone ever saved     their life? She wishes.

Love

Do they believe in love     at first sight? One billion percent.

How do they behave in a     relationship?

She is someone who will totally devoted and loyal in a relationship. When she is with you, her eyes are totally on you and no one else.

When did you character     last have sex? Never.

Has your character ever     been in love? No………………

Have they ever had their     heart broken?

People can take a number to break her heart.

Conflict

How do they respond to a     threat?

She does not back away from a threat and is not afraid to face it head on. She will put you in your place if she must.

Are they most likely to     fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue.

What is your character’s     kryptonite?

She is extremely gullible. For all her backbone, she can be manipulated into giving you her trust and allowed to be mistreated.

How do they perceive     strangers?

To Emily, you are a friend until you prove that you aren’t.

What do they love to     hate? She finds that whole idea troubling.

What is their choice of     weapon?

Swords. Very dramatic.

Have they ever been     bullied or teased? Is murder bullying?

Work, Education and Hobbies

What are some of their     past jobs?

She ran her father’s speakeasy for him before her death.

What are their hobbies?

Playing piano, traveling, getting lost and finding adventures.

Educational background?

She went to a girl’s school, able to get a high school education thanks to her father being well off.

Intelligence level? Just     average intelligence.

Do they have a natural     talent for something? She’s musically gifted.

Do they play a sport?     Are they any good?

She does not play a sport but because it was not an option to her. If she had had an opportunity, she would have probably enjoyed it and be athletic.

What is their     socioeconomic status?

She is currently quite poor and living in a shelter until she gets a job and money to support herself.

Favorites

What is their favorite     animal? Hummingbirds.

Which animal do they     dislike the most? Snakes.

What place would they     most like to visit?

She would love to go to Paris. Emily thinks of it as the epitome of sophistication and romance.

What is the most     beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

A full moon shining through the tree.

Music, art, reading     preferred? Music

What is their favorite     color? Purple

What is their password? EmilyL     – its bad, I know, she’ll learn lol

Favorite food: Anything     with lots of garlic so she can taste it

Possessions

What is in their fridge?

Nothing, because she doesn’t have to eat.

What is on their bedside     table?

Dried flowers and a candle

What is in their bin?

Paper scraps scribbled with Emily Van Dort

What is in their     pockets? A lot of change

Spirituality

Who or what is your     character’s guardian angel?

She misses the worm that helped her with advice when she was dead.

Do they believe in the     afterlife? Um… yes.

Are they superstitious? Very.

What would they like to     be reincarnated as?

She would be happy just being a whole person and not a dead one.

How would they like to     die? Not murder by someone she trusted, that’s for sure.

What is your character’s     spirit animal? A rabbit.

What is their zodiac     sign? Pisces

Values

What do they think is     the worst thing that can be done to a person? Murder.

What is their view of     ‘freedom’?

Freedom is the ability to make your own choices, live your life by your own rules, out in the world and surrounded by nature.

When did they last lie?     A couple days ago.

What’s their view of     lying?

As long as you aren’t hurting someone, she does not see the issue with it.

When did they last make     a promise? Earlier today. She makes them often.

Did they keep or break     their last promise? Always keep your promises.

Daily life

What are their eating     habits?

Because she is dead, she doesn’t have any need for nourishment or eating. She eats for appearances sometimes, or to feel normal, but she has to eat and drink very strong flavors in order for her dulled taste buds to notice it.

Are they minimalist or a     clutter hoarder? Clutter is comfy.

What do they do first     thing on a weekday morning?

She hasn’t slept so she probably goes back to wherever she is staying to change into new clothes and wash the old.

What is their alcoholic     drink of choice?

She loves old timey drinks that remind her of home and her life before death.

Miscellaneous

What or who would your     character dress up as for Halloween?

She is going to enjoy some Halloween. She’d probably just paint her face slightly green and reveal all her real stitchings, and go as a zombie.

Are they comfortable     with technology? Hahaha, no.

If they could save one     person, who would it be? Victor.

If they could call one     person for help, who would it be? Orion.

What is their greatest     regret?

Any act of violence she perpetuated.

What would they do if     they won the lottery?

Pay for a trip to Europe for herself and her friends.

What is their favourite     fairytale? Cinderella

What fairytale do they     hate? Hansel and Gretel

Do they believe in happy     endings? Absolutely.

What is their idea of     perfect happiness?

A house lit by candlelight with a husband and children running around.

What would they ask a     fortune teller?

Does she find someone who love her?

If your character could     travel through time, where would they go?

Home.

If they could have a     superpower, what would they choose? Flying.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

That One Time Caroline Forbes Lied to the Truth Circle

//klaroline au week// - day 7 - trope x trope best friend’s little sister x first time sex This is a long one, folks. NSFW. Enjoy!

xxx

There were many moments in Caroline Forbes’ life that led her to this excruciating moment.

God, dammmmit, how she wished to be literally anywhere else but here.

But she wasn’t anywhere else. She was here, and this was happening.

“Tyler after the football finals, in Junior year,” Elena stated.

“No, wasn’t it Matt? At that New Year’s party?” Bonnie chimed in. “Sorry, Bekah.”

“I’m well aware of Matt’s romance before me with not one, but two in this circle.”

“You know, Caroline,” Katherine said. “I don’t think I actually know this story?”

“Wait, I don’t think even I know this story, either,” said Elena.

“I don’t know if I want to know this story,” Stefan mumbled.

Bloody hell, bloody hell.

She could feel the honest truth forcing its way from her, she could not defy the sanctity of Truth or Dare! The mixture of honour and tequila in her blood wouldn’t allow it!

“What was the question again?” Caroline asked, feigning ignorance to buy a tiny bit more time.

“Who did you lose your virginity to?” the group chorused. 

It was a story Caroline had kept as close to her chest as her heart itself, for more reasons than she could count, the main of which were sitting in that circle right now.

In a somewhat out of body experience – maybe brought on by the quart of tequila in her system, or maybe just from the sheer mortification of it all – Caroline could see very clearly every moment in her life that progressed her on this path. Whence she was but a wee four-year-old, all the way to the 22-year-old she was now.

It all started when her father left her mother, admitting he love for another man. It rocked the little conservative town of Mystic Falls, and left the little Forbes family a little littler. But at the end of the day, Caroline loved her father, loved her step father, and loved that they were happy.

Then there was her mother. Elizabeth Forbes, while rightly distraught about the divorce, was self-aware enough to know that her relationship with Bill was not true love. So when her high school sweet heart happened to move back to Mystic Falls, two motherless kids in toe, Liz took it as a sign from the universe. Only two years later, Liz Forbes became Liz Salvatore, and Caroline gained another step-father and two brothers, Damon and Stefan.

Caroline supposed Damon deserved an honourable mention in this memory-lane-trip. Because, at seven years her senior, Damon was a built-in babysitter for the youngest in their blended family. And Liz and Giuseppe grew quite comfortable with that fact, thank you very much. But as soon as Damon got his first set of car keys, there was no way in Mystic Falls – or even in hell, for that matter – he was sticking around to babysit his 9-year-old sister?

Of course, once Damon would no longer babysit Caroline, the Forbes/Salvatore parents just had to find someone. After all, Damon wouldn’t do it – because “DUH I have a life? Why are you trying to ruin to it?” – and Stefan, well Stefan was old enough at thirteen to get himself to and from school and extra-curricular activities. But he was certainly not old enough to mind Caroline. So who better to ask than Elijah Mikaelson. He was polite, whip smart, gracious, kind and the most charming teen in town. Elijah’s role in this entire saga, however, was to come into play years later.

And of course, of course, Stefan played a huge part. Stefan was her other big brother, and he was her yard stick for something that was cool. And, more pertinently, Stefan chose to become best friends with another of the Mikaelsons, Elijah’s younger brother, Klaus. But she would get to Klaus later.

Caroline supposed, there wouldn’t be this story without the rest of the Mikaelson family, would there? Finn, Kol, Rebekah, and Henrik. Finn didn’t really play his part, as innocuous as he was. But the three younger Mikaelsons certainly did, and their mother, Esther. If it hadn’t been for them, the events of that weekend, that Caroline was so reticent to share, happened as a direct result of their existence.

Caroline knew she had to take some responsibility. She had organised tonight’s event. She suggested playing their old high school favourite game. She was there that night. And it took two to tango, after all. But god, couldn’t they just drop it?  

Which just brought her back to Klaus. None of this would be possible without Klaus.

Klaus was Stefan’s best friend, since nearly before Stefan was Caroline’s brother. The two had been inseparable their entire middle school lives, with not much changing well into their high school and college life. Klaus was smart, funny, and gorgeous, just like Stefan, and so of course they were quite the dominant pair strutting around Mystic Falls high.

Bloody Klaus. He always starred in the bits of her life she was most closed off about. He was the only one who saw her her bikini strap break when she was 13, leaving her chest completely bare. He’d quickly given her the giant pink flamingo he had been floating on, instructing her to use it to cover herself, while he grabbed a towel she could use. It was a moment that had completely mortified Caroline, but they had never mentioned it again.

He was also there when, at the age of 15, she had gotten tangled in the strappy sandals she was wearing to a party and fallen flat on the bitumen. He’d doubled over laughing, until she sat up dazed, blood running from a nasty, dirty cut on her face. His mirth had vanished and he rushed her to his house, which was much nearer than hers. She was his best friend’s little sister, of course he would look after her. That’s just what good people did. Caroline would never forget his 17-year-old fingers tenderly cleaning her wound, while she fidgeted distractedly. It was another moment they’d never spoken of again.

And of course, he played the starring role in the story they were trying to needle out of her right that very moment. It was a moment he had once again never mentioned again.

“So uhh... the question again…” Beetroot-red-Caroline squeaked.

“Come on, Caroline! Stop trying to weasel your way out of this!”

“A lady never kisses and tells,” Caroline said, positively willing the swelling in her face to go down. “Why are we playing this dumb game anyway?

“Caroline Elizabeth Forbes,” Elena said, sternly. “You will not sully the purity of the truth or dare circle!”

“You’ve been making all of us confess to our deepest darkest secrets for years, because of your insistence upon the integrity of this dumb game,” Bonnie chided. 

“Yeah, Caroline,” Marcel drawled. “You made me admit all the stuff I did with Charlotte, while my new girlfriend was in the circle. You can cough up one lousy virginity story.”

Caroline helplessly looked from her friends to her brother, who just shrugged sympathetically. Stefan loved his sister, but she did have quite the way of squeezing people’s deepest secrets out of them.

“You’ve made your bed, Care,” Stefan said, ruffling her hair. “What do you think, Klaus, think she’s gotta suck it up and give us a bit of a story?”

Caroline turned her imploring eyes to Klaus.

“Please, I really don’t want to share this story,” Caroline said pointedly, almost as if she was talking directly to Klaus. “It’s private, you know.”

The protests from the group were instant. Caroline was usually the first person to tell you that you had to be honest and truthful, especially in truth or dare. It was the rules and what a better way to have hilarious fun that making people spill their secrets.

Klaus didn’t know why she was so reticent to sharing her first time story. Tyler had been her boyfriend, nothing saucy to ruffle her beautiful feathers. Just high school sweethearts trying things.

“Guys please,” Caroline beseeched.

“Nope, no way Caroline, those puppy dog eyes will not get you out of this!” Elena said, stubbornly.

“Come on, Care, it can’t be that bad!”

“Tyler wasn’t a bad guy even if he did peak in high school!”

“You gotta tell us!���

“Car-o-line! Car-o-line! Car-o-line!”

Suddenly someone in the group started chanting her name, the same way they chanted U-S-A on game days.

“Car-o-line! Car-o-line! Car-o-line!”

More and more people joined in, until the whole group was shouting, “Car-o-line! Car-o-line! Car-o-line!”, and crowding in on her.

“Fine!” she shouted, a little more aggressively that she would have liked, but it had the desired effect of shutting everyone up.

“I will not tell you who it was with, because that is my business,” she said, pompously. “But it was at that Founders’ Christmas party senior year.”

Before anyone else could protest her caginess, or even respond, Caroline was up and gone.

“The Founders’ Christmas party senior year?” Elena said, confused.

“I wasn’t there when you guys were seniors,” Stefan said.

“Neither was I,” Katherine added, and a number of the Mystic Fall alum nodded their absentia. “Esther hosted it, I think? I remember Elijah complaining about how tense Mama Mikaelson was about it.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Rebekah said, her eyes flicking to Klaus, shrewdly.

“Wait, Klaus, that was the year were there, right?” Stefan said, his brow furrowing, trying to pull details from his mind. “My parents and your mom roped you into going home to stay with Caroline, and help your mom. Do you remember Caroline hanging around anyone?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Klaus said, with every ounce of cool, calm, collectedness in the world.

“Caroline was so mad our parents made her have a babysitter,” Stefan chuckled at the memory. “It was probably because she wanted to shag this mystery person without anyone being any the wiser.”

“And none of us were!” Elena said. “I can’t believe she never told us! Why is it such a secret?”

“Who knows,” Kat said. “But also who cares, she’s not here anymore. Truth or dare, Stefan!”

As his best friend chose dare, Klaus sighed in a bit of relief, but also in revelation.

Opting to take a moment to collect his thoughts, Klaus left the circle to get something stronger to drink than beer; a goodly amount of the bottom shelf whiskey to be precise.

He gulped it all in one go because he lied. He lied to the whole truth circle.

Klaus did remember someone hanging around Caroline that weekend.

It was him.

xxx

Four years earlier.

It was four years prior to that fateful night when Elijah’s role in the humiliation had starred.

Elijah was Caroline’s faithful – or fateful as this case may be – babysitter all the way up until she turned 12, and Elijah regretfully moved away from college. Caroline would miss him, as he had been minding her twice to three times a week for the past three years. But when he left, Liz and Giuseppe, fell into the trap many parents do with their youngest, and decided Caroline was definitely mature enough at the ripe old age of twelve to take care of herself after school.

Sometimes she would hang out with Bonnie and Elena. Sometimes she would have an after school activity. Sometimes Stefan would let her tag along to whatever he was doing. But most days though, Caroline took herself home, and hung out by herself until her brother, or parents came home.

It was a good, independent life, even if a tad lonely. Perfect for someone as old as her.

So, imagine when, in her final year of high school, after six whole years of being her own babysitter, Giuseppe and Liz were going to be away for a week on a business trip, turned mini-vacation, and they insisted on finding someone to stay with Caroline. As she was too young to stay by herself, for a whole week after all.

This offended Caroline on many levels.

She was eighteen, for heaven’s sake. She would have school during the day, she’d been a lone ranger in the after school hours for years. She wasn’t suddenly going to be terrified at night by herself?

And what was she supposed to get up to at night anyway? Sure, she was a party animal, and the best party planner her age, but there was absolutely no way any of the year would go to an illicit party at the Salvatore house. Caroline was the daughter of the town sheriff; that wrath was a fate no teenager would willingly bring on.

Caroline made these arguments loudly, infuriatedly, and petulantly. But nope her parents would not have it.

“You can look after yourself sweetie, we know,” they implored her. “But we just don’t want to be worrying about you all alone while we’re trying to relax.”

Caroline’s protests didn’t change, but neither did theirs.

They, of course, asked Stefan first.

“Please Stefan,” they said over the phone. “She’s your sister, and you love her.”

And Stefan did love her. Caroline was his favourite girl in the whole world, and he couldn’t wait until she lived in the same college town as he did so they could party their lives away together. But there was no way in hell he was giving up a weekend just to go home and mind his baby sister. Not this close to finals. Not when he almost convinced Valerie Tulle to finally go out with him.

And especially not because Caroline had text him before their parents even called him, and threatened the life of his Bon Jovi vinyl collection if he agreed.

So Stefan had politely declined his parents, citing a very imminent, very important, but also quite vague exam in his reasoning.

So, the Forbes-Salvatore parents half-heartedly ran the request past Damon.

“Please Damon,” they begged him. “She’s your sister and you love her.”

And Damon did love her, at least begrudgingly – it was hard not to love the bouncy ball of blonde. But there was not a chance that he would leave the office for an entire week, only to drive from New York to Mystic Falls to mind his younger sister.

And especially not when Caroline text him, begging to turn down their parents. She just wanted some alone time.

So he declined his parents – “Wall Street doesn’t just take vacations.”

Maybe if Elijah had never been he babysitter, Caroline’s mother and step-father would have left their search at Stefan and Damon. And given up the whole search as a bad job.

But no.

This was when Liz and Giuseppe even went as far as calling Elijah.

Luckily, for Caroline though, her former babysitter, as touched as he was that they still thought so highly of him, was busy in the first few months of a new job, so was unavailable.  

And after that, Caroline honestly thought she had won. Who on earth would they ask? She was 18! She didn’t need a baby sitter. No one in their right mind would agree to baby sitting an 18-year-old.

At least, that’s what she thought, until approximately three days before her parents were due to leave and Liz came in to where Caroline was studying to talk to her.

“So, Klaus is going to be here at about 5pm on Saturday, does that sound okay? You’ll be okay for the rest of the day?”

“Wait, what?” Caroline exclaimed, slightly thrown.

“Klaus is staying here while we’re away this week, remember? I thought I’d run it by him, given that Elijah was always so reliable, and he is, after all, Stefan’s best friend,” Liz said, seemingly baffled that her daughter didn’t know this information. “I told you all this last week?”

“Oh my god, what? No you didn’t?!”

“I did wonder why you didn’t put up more of a fight,” Liz mused. “Well, this isn’t up for discussion, Caroline. He’s basically just here anyway so we don’t have to worry about you here alone at night. Klaus is here for the week, and that’s final.”

And with that, Liz turned on her heel and went back to packing, leaving a tongue tied Caroline in her wake.

And so sat a truly grumpy Caroline that Saturday, waiting exasperatedly for her ‘babysitter’ to arrive.

When the knock at the door came, just after 5pm, as Liz had promised, Caroline pulled open the door a fiery look in her eyes.

“What on earth were you thinking?” she griped, without so much as a ‘hello’. “Did it not occur to you that I’m actually an adult? I don’t need a sitter.”

“Well hello to you too, love,” he drawled, giving her that wicked grin he always gave when he was stirring the pot. “I wasn’t aware that I was so unwanted in this household.”

“Don’t be cute with me, Klaus,” Caroline snipped, not having any of it. “Like, didn’t you even ask Stefan? Did it not cross you little mind to go ‘hey, best friend, your parents want me to babysit your adult sister for a week, why can’t you do it?’”

The final sentence Caroline put on her best mockery of his English accent, and flopped melodramatically onto the nearest couch.

“If you had asked that,” Caroline continued, now addressing the ceiling in the living room. “You would know that they did ask Stefan and he refused because I asked him to. I don’t want baby sitting! I just want to be able to use my house the way I want to for a change!”

Caroline felt her own frown so deep, so petulant, on her face, that she wryly admitted to herself, maybe she wasn’t as mature as she liked to think she was. But that wasn’t the point.

“I could have eaten whatever I wanted. Danced to loud, cringe music. I could have studied with no pants on! And now I don’t have that!”

Klaus just grinned his little grin, and picked up his bag.

“I’m sorry for ruining your no-pants plans, Caroline.”

Which was all he said before trying to dart upstairs to put his bag in the spare room.

“That’s your take away?” Caroline cried, dragging herself from the couch. “That I just wanted to wear no pants for the week? Nothing about the fact I can, as a matter of fact, look after myself!”

Klaus laughed at her, she really looked so completely stubborn and done with him already.

“Love, eat whatever, dance to whatever, wear pants, wear no pants, it’s all the same to me,” Klaus replied. “You can pretend I’m not here as much as you like. In fact, that might be the best outcome for us both.”

With that, and a wink, Klaus shut the spare room door in Caroline’s face, which only served to infuriate the Forbes woman even more.

With another giant huff, Caroline stomped back down the stairs, and flopped again on the living room couch again.

It was a few hours later when Klaus resurfaced.

In those hours, Caroline hadn’t done much more than sulk about her situation, but she also baked a cake, and started cooking dinner, feeling ever so slightly bad about her nastiness and petulance.

He was, after all, just being a good family friend, even if it did irritate Caroline’s personal preferences. And she liked Klaus. Of course she did, she’d know him forever. And it would be a little bit not awful to not have to be alone the entire week.

As he strode down the stairs, the garlic-y smells of a pasta sauce filled his nose.

If he were honest, Klaus had been wary of agreeing to this week. Rightly so, apparently. She was his best friend’s little sister, not exactly the top of the list of activities for a college student.

But soon after he got the call from Liz, and before he had a chance to talk to Stefan, Klaus received a call from his mother, Esther. And Esther told him, in no uncertain terms, he would accept Liz’s offer. Much like Caroline’s, Klaus’ protestations had fallen on unsympathetic ears. Esther’s insistence that Klaus came to stay with Caroline was just as much about her own personal gain. As a self-employed event planner and mother of six, Esther found herself with more to do than sense most of the time.

She was putting on the biggest event of the year for Mystic Falls, and with still three kids at home she thought she may forget to feed them amidst all the kerfuffle which was the week leading up to the Founders’ Christmas party. So, when Liz mentioned asking Klaus to stay with Caroline, Esther knew she would feel much better with an extra pair of hands on deck.

“During the school hours, Niklaus,” Esther said, sternly down the phone. “You will cook food for the fridge, and the freezer, so the kids can help themselves. You will run any errands I need of you. And you will do the school pick up and drop off.”

Klaus had, obviously, groaned, but was secretly glad for the excuse to say yes. He enjoyed going to Mystic Falls, because college sometimes became a little too much. It would be good to unwind a little. And even if his mother was going to be in her high-strung planning mood Klaus could vanish in the evening, because after all, he had an obligation to Caroline.

It would be a nice week.

“So,” Klaus said, leaning on the kitchen bench, feeling a little awkward. Sure he and Caroline had spent a small amount of time alone over their lives, but definitely nothing like this, and definitely not in a number of years.

“So,” Caroline mimicked.

“I suppose, I hardly even know much about you these days, sweetheart,” he said, flashing his signature dimples at her. “Your hopes, dreams, everything you want in life.”

Caroline just scoffed while stirring the pasta, though unexpectedly, even to himself, Klaus was delighted to see a slight blush, and just a feather of a smile settle on her face.

“Come on, Caroline,” he said. “I’m serious! You have to talk to me at some point. I am here all week, remember?”

“Uh! Don’t remind me!” she groaned. “Why did you agree to stay here anyway?”

“My mother is planning the Founders’ Christmas thing next weekend,” Klaus said, picking at some of the carrots Caroline cut for the pasta. “She demanded I agree to stay with you, so I can help her while you’re at school.”

“Why couldn’t she just ask you to stay with her and help her?” Caroline asked.

“I assume because she thought it would be a much more attractive offer for me,” Klaus shrugged. “Here with you is likely to be a lot calmer fro me than if I stay there.”

Caroline nodded, but was distracted from answering, as Klaus tried to nab a couple more bits of vegetable to snack on.

“Hey!” she chided. “That’s to go with dinner, keep your grubby paws off!”

Klaus laughed, and waited until she turned back to the saucepan on the stove, before grabbing a piece anyway and popping them into his mouth.

“I heard that,” Caroline snapped. “See, I’m already regretting you being here.”

From there, the rest of the evening was fine. Caroline was still mildly annoyed she had a babysitter, but, she reasoned, Klaus wasn’t so bad.

If the task had fallen to Elijah, Caroline would definitely have felt obliged to be a host the whole week. If it was Damon, he would have made her be his minion the entire time. If it was Stefan, the week would have been them having a semi-party every night, and Caroline would have gotten absolutely no work done.

So, if there was any outcome that required a babysitter, this was the best one.

Klaus gave her company at meal times, but gave her space when she wanted it.

Though, when school finished on Tuesday, a couple of days later, Caroline felt herself not wanting as much space as usual. It had been a long, boring day at school, and even though cheer practice after school had been fun, Caroline was still looking for a bit of interaction.

“Klaus,” Caroline called as she came in from practice. “Klaus, are you here?”

There was no answer.

Curiously, she nosed her way around the house, looking for her current housemate. There was definite evidence that he was around, his car in the drive for one, but there was not a sound nor a movement to alert her to his whereabouts.

“Ka-lau-ssss,” she said, exasperatedly. “Jeez, I finally start wanting you around the damn house, and now you’re suddenly Harry Houdini!”

“Oh, you want me now do you?”

Caroline jumped about a foot in the air, as Klaus spoke into her ear.

“What on earth is your game?” Caroline shrieked, punching him in the chest. “You’re supposed to be babysitting me! Not trying to kill me!”

Klaus just laughed at her – a habit that was becoming far too common, if you asked Caroline.

“Not trying to kill you, love,” he said, mirth still laced in his voice. “Just trying to entertain myself.”

“Can’t you entertain yourself by getting yourself off, like a normal college student,” Caroline huffed, still trying to slow her heart rate.

Though, her statement didn’t do a great job of slowing her heart rate, as she considered the substance of what she said.

“Been thinking about me getting myself off, sweetheart?” Klaus said, slipping a little flirt into his voice, before he could stop himself.

“No! I just… I was just saying… shut up!” Caroline spluttered, going an excellent shade of pink.

“Come on, love,” he goaded, still with that inexplicable flirt in his voice. “It’s not that disgusting a thought is it?”

His eyes were locked with hers, and she could feel herself crumbling a little under his gaze. He had kissed boys before, and done other things with them, but she’d never really explored much. And it was wildly inappropriate to wonder about her older brother’s best friend as a sexual being, but she definitely found herself doing it in that moment.

She had to shake herself a little after a moment, and unable to find the right way to answer to Klaus’ question, she ignored it.

“I thought we could have pizza for dinner,” Caroline said. “Maybe go for a walk or watch a movie? I’m still full of energy after cheer practice, I don’t want to just sit in my room and ignore you like I did last night.”

Klaus opted to allow for the change of subject.

“Have extra energy, love? I’m sure I can think of something we can entertain ourselves somehow.”

Well, almost.

Caroline rolled her eyes, hard, and stalked away from him.

“Fine!” she growled. “I thought it could be nice, but since you can’t keep your mind from the gutter, Klaus, I’ll just…. Entertain myself!”

Caroline by this point, was at her bedroom door, and managed to slam it in his face. And she felt quite proud of her timing, until she heard a hearty laugh from the other side of the door, and Caroline realised exactly what she said.

She groaned loudly to herself. Though was inconveniently still thrumming with energy from the day, just now with a second lot of energy joining the rest.

Later that night, it was Klaus’ turn to cook Caroline a silent apology meal. The same way she cooked for him the night he arrived.

He wasn’t sure what had got into him. Winding up Caroline was just such a delicious exercise. The shades of pink she turned, the entendres she inadvertently made, the adorably over the top facial expressions he elicited. It was just quite fun.

But after an hour of feeling a little pleased with himself about it all, he started feeling a little guilty.

She was an adult, and she was an exceptionally beautiful adult – although he’d never let himself admit that to himself before and never would again (she was Stefan’s sister after all) – but she was still young. It wasn’t like he was 1000-years-old and she just 18 – he was only two years older than her – but he didn’t know where she was on her sexual journey. Flirting her into knots when he was quite confident in his sexuality, and she not so much, just felt a bit ick.

Klaus decided as much fun as flirting with Caroline had been, he was going to leave that ball in her court, so to speak. If she wanted to flirt with him overtly, then he would pick up what she put down, but wouldn’t initiate it.

“Hey Klaus,” Caroline said softly, when she finally surfaced for dinner. “This isn’t pizza.”

She still had a bit of pent up energy, but was wary because of before. Although it felt surprisingly good to flirt with Klaus, she felt it was a bit of a dangerous line to toe.

“Well spotted,” he intoned, sardonically. “I thought we could partake in a well loved, alliterative tradition; Taco Tuesday.”

Caroline smiled a little brighter. If he wasn’t going to mention earlier, then neither would she.

“That sounds nice!” she replied. “I have some tequila upstairs if you want margaritas to go with it?”

“Caroline Elizabeth Forbes!” Klaus exclaimed, in mock indignance. “It’s a school night!”

She rolled her eyes in response, and flounced upstairs to get the bottles she needed.

When she came back down, she set to work on the cocktails for the two of them.

“You know Caroline,” Klaus said. “I still don’t know much about you anymore. Tell me about yourself.”

“What don’t you know about me? You’ve known me since you were like eight?” Caroline said, squeezing a lime.

“Be that as it may, I hardly paid you any mind while in high school, and now I don’t live here,” Klaus reasoned. “Have you made any decisions about what or where you’ll study?”

“Not really,” she began, before thinking a couple moments longer. “I’d obviously love to do event planning or management. It would really be in keeping with skills I already have, but on the other hand, why waste money on a degree in something I’m already basically professional at. Another thing that was interesting to me was broadcast journalism, but as mom so rudely, but very fairly, pointed out, I barely watch the news as it is. I could do nursing, though blood makes me a bit squeamish.”

As Caroline continued to chatter about what she might want to do with her life, Klaus watched her, and noted the fondness he felt toward her. It was nice listening to her.

“I’m just rambling though, sorry,” Caroline said, a little embarrassed of herself. “I’m always doing that.”

“Not a problem in the slightest, Caroline,” Klaus said, throwing her a genuine smile. “It is nice.”

Caroline smiled shyly back at him, and blushed a little. He sounded so sincere, and it was so at odds with her usual interactions with Klaus.

“Any other thoughts on your future?” Klaus asked.

“Not really,” Caroline said. “I know people think I’m so planned and structured. But I think I want to go with the flow for a while, work out who I am before I settle for anything.”

“That’s very wise, love,” he said. “And I believe our food is ready.”

“Perfect timing!” Caroline grinned. “Margaritas are too!”

“Shall we take our dinner in the lounge?”

“No way, you animal!” Caroline laughed, grabbing the margarita jug in one hand and the glasses in the other. “We are having party food, which means we dine in the party room!”

“The den, I take it?”

“Correct!”

With that, Caroline was off, leaving Klaus to bring all the dishes for dinner into the den, where Caroline was setting up some elaborate game for them already.

“Steady on, sweetheart!” Klaus laughed at her. “How are we supposed to eat and play beer pong at the same time?”

“Oh, Klaus, honey, this isn’t beer pong!” Caroline laughed. “It’s the greatest board game you’ll ever play. I’m prototyping a drinking game for when I go to college.”

“Silly me,” Klaus drawled. “Explain the rules while we eat. But tuck in love, before it gets cold.”

The two friends whiled away the next few hours playing Caroline’s game. Klaus had to hand it to her, the girl knew what made a good drinking game.

It was just after 11pm when they decided to stop playing. Even by that time, there was not a clear winner.

“This is why I am prototyping, Klaus!” Caroline said, swatting playfully at him. “So I can discover where there are holes in the game play. I obviously have to work on the point system more!”

Both of them were definitely well past tipsy, but not quite properly drunk yet. They were in that happy, buzzing period where everything was that little bit heightened. Jokes were funnier, jibes were more meaningful, and flirts were more sensual.

“I probably should go to bed,” Caroline said through her buzz. “Or I’ll regret this in the morning.”

“How could you regret such quality time with me, my love?” Klaus teased.

“Oh so I’m your love now, am I?” Caroline giggled. “Not just a plain old love.”

“You get special consideration for making me laugh,” Klaus stated, matter-of-factly.

“I get it,” Caroline said, as she sprung up from the couch. “There’s levels, am I right?”

“And what on earth do you mean by that, Caroline,” he replied, getting up to follow after her.

“Oh you know,” she said, as she began climbing the stairs. “Everyone gets ‘love’, right? The ones you like a little more get ‘sweetheart’. And then the best people get ‘my love’?”

Caroline stopped midway up the stairs to turn around and raise her eyebrows triumphantly at him. Klaus, stopped his ascent when he was just a step below her, and he was awfully close to her. But in this tipsy state, he didn’t much mind.

“That’s right, my love,” Klaus said, cockily.

She leaned in, her face so close to his, he could count the freckles on her cheeks. Even though she was a full step above him, she was just at his eye level. Her heavy eyes bored into his and Klaus could have sworn her eyes flicked to his lips. And he certainly would by lying to himself if he said his eyes didn’t flick to hers.

“That’s what I thought,” Caroline said, her voice as low as he ever heard it.

With her eyes still locked with his, a tiny, mischievous smile lit her face, and she began chewing on her bottom lip.

It was Caroline unlike he’d ever seen her before. Enticing, intriguing, exciting. And that was enough to make him want her. But add just a hint of the forbidden in the mix, and boy, did it make her that much more alluring.

She leaned in a fraction closer, and Klaus was sure he was about to feel the glory of her lips on his, when his phone started buzzing loudly in his pocket.

Caroline visibly shook herself, apparently regaining her composure much faster than he was able to.

“You should get that.”

The voice was still Caroline’s, it was still kind and melodic, but he couldn’t help but feel he lost something secret.

“Klaus, the phone,” Caroline urged.

Finally pulled from his trance, Klaus reached into his pocket to grab his still ringing phone.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Klaus!”

Caroline only heard a loud voice excitedly say Klaus’ name, and she already heard enough.

With nothing more than a gesture upstairs to her bedroom, Caroline was off to sleep.

She didn’t escape fast enough, before she heard the tail end of Klaus’ conversation.

“I’m busy,” he said. “Hanging out with the best people. Goodbye.” 

Hearing that made a warm glow spread through her.

It was still alight within her the next night when she and Klaus were sitting in the lounge watching a movie after dinner. 

“So, am I invited to the event this weekend?” Caroline asked, about 45 minutes into the movie.

“It’s the founders’ Christmas party. You are part of two founding families, Caroline,” Klaus replied, sardonically. “I think you have a weightier invitation than I do.”

Caroline just laughed.

“But in all seriousness,” Klaus said. “Mother made a point of saying just today to make sure you come along. You’ll be the only representative of the Forbes and Salvatore family in attendance this year apparently.

“I guess that’s right,” Caroline said, pondering. “I will be all alone!”

“You will hardly be alone, love,” Klaus said, chuckling at her dramatics. “Elena and Bonnie will be there.”

“No actually,” Caroline said. “Elena and Jeremy are going to some family reunion thing out of town, and Bonnie is will be visiting her cousin.”

“What about my siblings?”

“Come on, Klaus,” Caroline chided. “All of them will have their friends there. Plus, your sister is dating Matt, my ex. Not super keen to hang out with those two just yet, as much as I like them both.”

“Well, there’s nothing else for it,” Klaus stated, with a tiny wink. “You’ll have to be my date for the evening.”

“I’ll have to be your date, will I?” Caroline asked, a little coolly.

“Yes you will, my love,” Klaus teased.

Caroline laughed, her faux-cool exterior cracking.

“Fine, I’ll be your date, Klaus,” Caroline said, that flirtatious smile back on her face. “But only if you wear a suit, and court me somehow. And get me a gift, obviously. I don’t put out otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t dream of you putting out for me, sweetheart,” he replied, trying desperately to play it as cool as she seemed to be. “But I can definitely find a suit.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she replied.

At that moment, she hauled herself up from the couch, and began to pick up the plates in front of them, left over from dinner.

“Don’t worry about that yet, love,” Klaus said, covering her hand with his, and gently indicating to leave the chores for later.

Caroline flicked her eyes from their joined hands to his eyes.

“Stay,” he urged.

Caroline let herself be pulled back onto the couch, although this time she was far closer to Klaus than she had been, and he did not let go of her hand. And she wasn’t quite sure why, but she felt very comfortable to stay tangled up in him.

For the remainder of the film, neither of them spoke much, other than a bit of banter dragging the movie, but their bodies stayed close, and their hands locked. Every now and then Caroline would stroke her foot delicately along Klaus’ leg, or Klaus would draw circles with his thumb on her skin.

After it finished, they stayed in a similar state of sweet, both ignoring the complete insanity of what they were doing; just chatting, laughing, teasing.

And that’s how it was for the next couple of days. They spent every possible moment together; furtive glances, lingering touches, and enough entendre to keep both of them dizzy for each other. Though they still hadn’t taken it any further. While it was just implied attraction, it seemed much easier to deny.

When Saturday morning dawned, Caroline could hardly contain her excitement.

Now, she had been giving herself stern talking tos all week, because she knew once her parents were home, and Klaus left, things would go right back to the way they were. It would be like he was never there.

She knew that. She knew it would be that way, she knew it would have to be that way, she knew, no matter what this dalliance was, Klaus wouldn’t let it be any other way. And frankly, she wouldn’t let it be any other way.

But gosh, for the moment, it felt damn good to be so wrapped up in someone.

“Morning, my love,” Klaus yawned, as he came down the stairs the morning of the party. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah! Really well,” Caroline replied. “I was thinking of making pancakes for breakfast. Sound good?”

Klaus nodded his affirmative, before turning to put a pot of coffee on.

“What plans do you have for the day?” Klaus asked, just as the coffee machine began to whirr.

“Not really much, just breakfast, relax a bit, then I’ll start getting ready for the party at some point,” Caroline replied, smiling at him. “I have a very handsome date tonight?”

“Do you just?”

And boy, did she just.

Because later that day, as she descended the stairs, she nearly choked. For, standing at the bottom of the steps, with that god-damn perfect smirk quirking his lips, was Klaus, looking positively devastating in a crisp dark, navy suit.

“You scrub up well, Mikaelson,” Caroline praised, managing to keep her cool, and keep from actually choking.

“As do you, Forbes,” Klaus replied. “You are stunning.”

And she was. Her off-the-shoulder dress was the perfect package, for such a beautiful woman. Klaus honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to go back to Caroline being just his best friend’s little sister. Maybe he could never go back.

“I got you something,” Klaus said, handing her a long, thin box.

Caroline’s brow furrowed slightly, even though her eyes were wide, as she took the gift. She popped the lid of the box, and was met with a sparkling bracelet twinkling back at her.

“Klaus, it’s beautiful,” she said, in awe. “But I can’t accept this.”

“Come now, Caroline. This is that gift you demanded,” Klaus chuckled, taking the bracelet from her hand and beginning to attach it to her wrist. “Although, I still don’t expect you to put out, even though I met your demands.”

Caroline laughed out loud, remembering their conversation from days before.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” Caroline asked.

“Only the very best,” he replied, winking. “But we best be off. Mother will have my bow tie, and the head above it, if we are too late.”

“Yeah, you know the bow tie? Weird choice.”

Before too long, the two of them were stepping through the doors of the Mikaelson Mansion – the scene for the party that particular evening.

Caroline really was in awe of Mrs Mikaelson and her unrivalled ability to put on a show. Everything was twinkling, or sparkling, the soft music playing in the background was classy but not the usual boring string music that normally played at this sort of thing.

“Niklaus! Caroline!”

The hostess herself swanned over to the almost couple the moment they were through the door.

“It is so lovely to have you both here.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs Mikaelson,” Caroline said, sweetly. “This place looks amazing.”

“Yes, mother,” Klaus interjected. “You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

“Oh, stop it,” the older woman beamed. “I’m glad you two are here, now the grand total of young people is at about 15. I did so hope more of your classmates would come along, Caroline.”

“Me too,” Caroline sympathised. “But you know this time of year, just so busy!”

“Yes, yes, well, I suppose,” Esther said, as another few guests arrived. “I must be off, do enjoy yourselves, and say goodbye before you leave.”

With that, the Mikaelson matriarch was off, leaving Caroline and Klaus to the party.

The two of them walked deeper into the house, a little awkwardly. They had been cooped up all week, just the two of them, and now they were out in the open, not particularly sure how to interact.

“Maybe we get some drinks?” Klaus said.

“Yeah, as if they’ll serve us alcohol. We’re both underage. Your mom’s the host, my mom’s the sheriff!”

“We can have orange juice or coke, sweetheart,” Klaus chuckled.

“Hi you two!” a voice said, from behind them.

It was Rebekah, who was holding a bit too tightly to her boyfriend’s hand.

“Hi,” Caroline said back, tensing a little. She was over Matt, she had to remind herself. “You guys having a good time.”

“Yes!” Rebekah exclaimed. “Most of my friend group is here. Not many seniors though, just you and Matt as far as I can tell.”

“Yeah,” Caroline said. “Honestly, though, without Bonnie and Elena, I’m pretty fresh out of my best buddies.”

Rebekah laughed in response, and then launched into her thoughts on Caroline’s current routines about the cheer squad.

The two girls spoke for a while, Matt and Klaus making gruff males-who-don’t-have-much-in-common small talk, until the lights lowered further, and the stately classical music, gave way to more popular tunes played by a DJ.

“Oh my gosh, Matt! It’s our song!” Rebekah shrieked, as a fairly non-descript pop song began to play.

With that, they were off into the middle of the crowd, dancing joyfully. 

Caroline felt a little pang in her chest. Partly out of the loss of such an easy boyfriend, as Matt was. But more for the fact that she and Klaus didn’t have a song, and never would. Tomorrow, her parents would be home, Klaus would be gone, and their moment would be over.

She and Klaus stood watching the crowd for a few minutes, when the song changed, and a Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas began to play.

“Care to dance, my love?” Klaus asked, almost tenderly.

She smiled, and let him lead her into the fray.

He pulled her close, close enough to drive them both crazy, but still far enough away to maintain that increasingly elusive plausible deniability.

“Does that make this our song?” Klaus murmured to her as they held each other.

“Do we need a song?” Caroline asked, doubtfully.

He didn’t answer, but he did pull her fractionally closer, even as he cast his eyes downward for a moment.

They remained silent for the rest of the song, though as the next started, Caroline’s face cracked into a smile.

“You know what, yes,” she said. “That is our song. I’ve had a really great time this week Klaus, no matter what.”

“Me too, my love,” he said, softly.

“Why don’t we get going?” Caroline asked, as though making an internal decision. “We can play loud music back at the Salvatore mansion, and maybe make our fun.”

Klaus nodded briskly, and she strode away from him. Following after her at a slower pace, his heart sped up slightly at the thought of what Caroline maybe had in mind. His best friend’s sister she may have been, but Klaus couldn’t deny the way his body had been consistently reacting to her the past few days.

“You two leaving so soon?”

Esther caught them as they were right at the exit. Klaus hoped Caroline would have an excuse because he certainly didn’t know how to explain to his mother that he was leaving her party early, with a girl, to go back to the girl’s empty house.

“Yes, Mrs Mikaelson,” Caroline said, with sincere sadness in her voice. “I have been trying to be really strict with my curfew lately, being a senior and all. I’ve got to keep my nose down if I want to get into my first choice college.”

“If it’s for college, I suppose I can’t fault your commitment to your studies.”

“I can send Klaus back after he’s dropped me off, if you’d like?”

“Only if he wants to, Caroline,” Esther replied. “I have a feeling he only came today because you were interested. Niklaus will do what Nikaus wants, and nothing more.”

“Okay then, we better get going then,” Caroline said with a bright, charming smile. “Thank you so much for having us. You wait until I tell the girls at school what they missed because they had plans!”

Klaus bid his mother goodbye, and the two were off.

“You should win an academy award for that performance, Ms Forbes,” Klaus quipped.

“That’s because it’s not untrue!” Caroline said to him, as they both clambered into the car. “You’ve been a horrible influence on me! Since the start of semester, every week night, I’ve been in bed before ten, and every weekend I’ve been in by eleven. Admittedly, it’s only nine now, but still.”

“I didn’t realise I was in such proper company,” Klaus joked.

“Oh shush, I can party after I get into college, and I have no idea what I want to do, so I’m keeping my options open.”

“So, if I call on you for a party the moment you finish finals, I can be sure of party animal Caroline in full force.”

“You sure can, Klaus, and that’s a promise.”

Klaus smirked, as he started the drive back to the Salvatore house. He fully intended to collect on that promise.

“So, what do you want to drink?” Caroline asked, when they arrived back.

“Whatever you’re having love,” Klaus said.

“I don’t think I’ll have any,” she said, before winking. “I don’t need alcohol to have fun.”

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” Klaus said. “But it sure can help get the fun started.”

“Yeah, I know,” Caroline said. “But, I meant what I said to you earlier. I’ve been really bad this week. It’s been so fun with you, but I want to at least be able to look my parents in the face tomorrow and not have to lie about boozing all night tonight.”

“Right you are, love,” Klaus smiled. “Not an enviable task I’m sure; lying to the sheriff.”

“Do you want something to eat?” Caroline asked, striding into the kitchen. “The food at the party was lovely, but it sure was small.”

Klaus chuckled, he knew what she meant. Finger food was always the choice of snack for that sort of party.

“We came back to have our own party,” Klaus replied. “So party food is always a good start.”

Klaus was leaning against the kitchen bench when Caroline pulled out some ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches for them both.

When they polished off the sandwiches, Klaus looked at Caroline, his head tilted to the side.

“What now?” he asked her.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” she checked.

“My eyes will be as open as yours, Caroline.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“That could be nice,” he replied, though he noticed an unfamiliar, but exciting glint in her eyes.

“Or we could do something else,” Caroline said, as she pushed herself off the counter to looped her fingers though his belt loops and pulled him closer to her.

Klaus settled his hands on her waist, his mouth a little dry, and his heart pounded a somewhat faster. She was looking at him with such determination, and any resolve he pretending to have wavered.

And then she pressed her soft lips to his, and it completely crumbled.

When Klaus would replay that night in his head, as he secretly would many times in the years to come, he would always edit in a pause, where he showed some semblance of restraint, where he didn’t kiss back straight away.

But in reality, so lost was he in instant euphoria, he fell headlong into the moment.

He brought his hands up to cup her face, pulling it even closer than it already was. He tilted his head to the other side to open his mouth, and deepen the kiss.

For the intensity of the moment, it was still quite innocent.

After a few more seconds, Caroline pulled away, her nose and cheeks delightfully rose coloured, her pupils dilated.

She sucked her lips a little nervously, and looked at him through her long lashes. She ran her hands down his arms to interlock her fingers with his. Without saying a word, unable to get enough, he placed a few chaste kisses to her lips.

“Klaus,” she said, her voice laden. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

He softly, playfully, ran his nose up the side of her face, until his eyes met hers, he smiled faintly, and nodded.

Caroline used their linked hands to lead Klaus from the kitchen, up the stairs, stopping at her bedroom door.

“Are you sure, Caroline?” Klaus asked.

“Are you?” she replied.

“Yes.”

The word hung between them, signing away any plausibly deniability. But they were both too wrapped in each other to quite mind.

Caroline opened the door, and let him in.

For the first time since Caroline kissed him, Klaus was curious to the world beyond her. He had never been into her room before, in all the years he’d been in and out of that house.

It was tastefully decorated, of course it was, and had such an eclectic mix of trinkets and doo-dads from Caroline’s life. A photo of her, Elena, and Bonnie as young girls, a souvenir model of the Eiffel Tower, a figurine of Harry Potter, her Miss Mystic Falls trophy. It was such a study in Caroline, and he felt his heart clench at the thought that beyond tomorrow, he would no longer be able to study her.

As Klaus appraised her room, Caroline appraised herself in her mirror. She noted her extra flushed complexion, and her mildly smudged make up. She noticed her slender shoulders, and how striking she actually looked. She wondered how Klaus saw her.

As she gazed upon herself, she wondered if this was the right thing to do. She had always imagined having sex for the first time with someone she loved, or at least someone she was in a relationship with. Klaus was neither of those things.

Sure, she fancied him a bit. And had for a long time, but in the way girls tended to do about their older siblings’ friends. She’d fancied Damon’s friend Ric for a while as well, didn’t mean she wanted to sleep with him.

She wasn’t sure what it was about Klaus, but she wanted him.

Plus, she was sick of pretending. Half the people at school thought she’d slept with Matt, and the other half thought it was Tyler. Even Bonnie and Elena just assumed she had. They never really asked her, more wrapped up in their own drama. And it was always something she was too awkward about to correct.

With both Matt and Tyler, they’d done some stuff, but Caroline had never felt comfortable enough with them or with herself, to want to take that next step.

But with Klaus, boy, she wanted it. She had been aching for him all week. In a way she hadn’t before. And she may not have had sex, but she knew how to help herself out thank you very much – and she had.

The long and short of it all was, she was ready. She wanted it to be this way. It may not have matched the picture in her head, but it felt better. And that, more than anything, steeled her resolve that this was what she wanted.

She turned away from the mirror, and faced him.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he repeated.

He moved toward her, and placed his hands on her bare shoulders, gently rubbing his palm back and forward over the exposed skin.

She leaned up to catch his lips once more, this time a little more passionately than the last.

Klaus responded instantly, sliding his hands from her shoulders to begin exploring the curves of her waist, and butt.

Caroline began walking them backward, until they hit the bed, and she pulled him on top of her. Being horizontal with him, on her bed, amped up the ever rising excitement in her, and she couldn’t help the pushing herself up to alleviate some of the pressure.

“That felt nice,” she murmured to him, between kisses.

They remained in that position for a while, Caroline not particularly sure how to progress things along, but also not wanting to admit this to her lover.

Though, before too long, the increasingly impatient Klaus, sat up to rid himself of his button down shirt, before settling himself on propped elbows above her.

Caroline was in total awe of his body. In high school, Klaus had never had a dad-bod or anything, but has also never been particularly jacked. But the man above her now was toned and defined in an incredibly alluring way.

Before she could stop herself, Caroline was running her hands softly over his skin, trying to commit to memory every dip and crevice in his body.

“Sorry,” she said shyly, when she shook herself out of the stupor.

“I am yours tonight, Caroline,” he replied, his eyes hungry for her. “Explore all you want.”

Caroline smiled appreciatively at him, and briefly wondered if he knew what he was doing. But she brushed that off almost immediately. That was for future Caroline to fret about.

After a little longer exploring his body, Klaus began slowly running his hands down from her shoulders again, though this time, he caught her dress on the way down. It pulled down easily, and soon revealed Caroline’s perfect body to his eyes.

“You are a picture, Caroline,” he said, with a strangled note to his voice, as he took in the matching red lace strapless bra and panties.

Caroline smiled, a little abashed by the look in his eyes. Though buoyed by it also, Caroline reached for the zip of his pants, and undid it. Rather than awkwardly wriggle under him to make her attempt with her hands, Caroline laid back down and brought her flexible legs upward, locking her dainty toes into the waistband of the pants. She deftly manoeuvred the pants down his legs enough that he could simply shake them off himself.

She internally congratulated herself on that move. She’d seen it once in an adult movie she watched, and she was stoked that she managed to do it without it being completely awkward.

Now both almost completely naked, they resumed their kissing, though this time everything became a little more frenzied. Both of them were losing the little self-control they had, their skin rubbing together intoxicatingly. They only paused when Caroline rid herself of her bra, leaving her breasts to bounce freely.

Klaus immediately cupped with mounds with his coarse hands, further tightening the spring in Caroline’s abdomen. He honestly didn’t think he’d ever touched such perfect breasts before, and it was driving him wild.

Klaus changed positions and suddenly he was kissing himself down her body, before he went to place an open mouthed kiss on the apex of her thighs through her underwear.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a little alarmed by this turn of events.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Klaus replied, instantly looking guilty. All the girls he’d tried this on with had been like putty in his hands. “I thought you might like…”

“Umm, I guess,” she said, self-consciously, turning bright red. “No one has ever…”

She left the sentence hanging, and looked just about anywhere than at his face between her legs.

“I don’t have to, Caroline,” he said, trying to calm her unease. “But if you want me to, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Do I have… to um… I guess…” she said, stumbling for the way she could say what she wanted. “Will you want the same?”

“I don’t know who you’ve been sleeping with, Caroline,” Klaus chuckled, completely missing the guilty look Caroline’s face. “But I will not make you do anything you don’t want to do. And I won’t even hold your own pleasure to ransom for it. There’s no fun in that for me.”

“Oh, okay, I guess I…” she started, still not quite sure what she wanted. “Can you… umm… do your thing… for a bit, then we see?”

Klaus nodded. Though, before he went back to his task, he crawled back up her body, and kissed her lightly on the mouth, looking deeply into her eyes.

“You’re beautiful, Caroline,” he whispered. “Just relax, and make sure you tell me what you want. I’m not some high school jock solely interested in my own pleasure.”

He winked, and kissed her again, before adding in the most diabolical voice Caroline ever heard, “I’m very interested in your pleasure too.”

That was enough to halt her embarrassment, and have her spring coiling again. There was something particularly sexy about someone wanting her pleasure, as well as their own.

She caught herself briefly pondering whether Klaus would spoil her for boys her own age, but before she could explore that thought any more, the thought was whipped from her mind, as Klaus hooked his fingers into her strappy panties, left her bare in front of him, and placed his mouth on the heat between her legs.

It felt quite unlike anything she had experienced before

He kissed at her a few times, before he started flicking his tongue back and forward over her clitoris. It was fire. He slowly added one of his fingers into her, then two, pulling them in and out at an increasing pace. She couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her mouth.

“Klaus,” Caroline asked, after a few minutes, her voice a lot more strangled with want than last she spoke. “I want you now, I think.”

Klaus had never heard anything sexier in his life, and he was all too willing to abide. He gave only a few more thrusts of his fingers, before he pulled them out, and finally pulled his own underwear off.

With both bodies now completely nude, the tension in the room buzzed up a notch.

Klaus settled himself back over her, and kissed her, hard.

Caroline could now reach his cock. And reach it she did. She took it into her hand and began to stroke up and down, imagining with each stroke that he was pumping into her.

“Condom?” Klaus asked, trying his absolute utmost to be responsible, when all he wanted to do was thrust into her, consequences be damned.

She scrambled from the bed, and went into her en suite, to pull out a couple of the little foil packets.

As she crossed back to him, he grabbed at her waist to pull her down onto him as quickly as possible, and he began attacking her lips again. They lost themselves in that for a moment before Caroline pressed the condom into Klaus’ hand.

He moved off her and onto his back, to tear the packet open, and remove the item. He reached down to roll the latex over himself, then rolled back so he was bearing over her once more.

Caroline’s breathing hitched with every breath, anticipation sizzling every part of her body. Klaus reached between them to grab his cock, and guided it toward her opening. He teased her a little with it, running the tip of his penis along her folds, until she mewled for more.

Delicately, Klaus began to push into her. He pushed slowly, centimetre by centimetre, until she fully gloved him.

“You feel…” she said, barely able to get the words out. “Amazing.”

“God, Caroline,” he said, nearly embarrassed at how desperate he was to move in her. “This is incredible.”

“Move, Klaus, please.”

Only too happy to obliged, Klaus pulled himself from her and slid back in, with more speed that the last time. Then he went again, quicker still.

Soon, Klaus was set in a steady rhythm, and Caroline couldn’t believe what she was feeling. She clung to him, and was astounded to feel herself wanting more and more. Her hands made their way to his muscular ass and gripped it. She found if she used her grip on his butt to push him further into her, they both let out moans of pleasure

She found her breathing grow a bit ragged, as she studied Klaus face, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open from the pleasure.

“Caroline,” Klaus said, his voice strained. “I’m going to come.”

She couldn’t help but gasp at the pure need in his voice, then again when she felt the twitch from his cock as he came into her.

They both lay there panting for a few moments, and Caroline couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He kissed her tenderly, before easing himself out of her. He got up and padded into her bathroom, to dispose of the condom, but was back as soon as he could. He felt the loss of her body instantly.

Caroline smiled shyly at him again, like she had earlier in the night.

“Sorry I didn’t…,” she said, once again not finding the right words. “You know… come for you.”

Klaus’ face twisted, a little bit in embarrassment, little bit in sympathy, but mostly in amusement for her innocent remark.

“Caroline, I would have been more offended if you had faked it,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I should be apologising for not helping you get there.”

“I don’t really know how to get there,” she admitted in a whisper. She never admitted it out loud before, and she was mortified with herself that she had then.

But Klaus smiled understandingly at her.

“I don’t think that’s uncommon,” he said. “And practice makes perfect, right?”

She laughed, and swatted at him. She was also a little bit in awe that he had made her feel comfortable about something that had brought her such anxiety.

“Also, again, you’re sleeping with the wrong people if they don’t help you practice.”

Caroline blushed, and covered it by kissing him. She didn’t know why she was too embarrassed to tell Klaus this was her first time, when she so obviously gave him pleasure. But she just decided it was too much to share, she didn’t know if she would be able to if she tried.

“How about I get us a snack, and then we kiss some more?” he said, playfully, as he sprung out of bed to find something to cover himself. 

When he left the room a minute later in nothing but a towel, Caroline relaxed back to stare at the ceiling.

Unsure of how to feel.

Her body was still buzzing in the after glow, and she thought, even though she hadn’t had one of those really loud, body shaking orgasms she had seen the few times she watched porn, she’d also read enough articles about first times to know that this one had been a pretty special one.

By the time Klaus was back, chocolate bars and cups of tea in hand, Caroline had regained her most of her faculties, and she grinned at him.

“Well that was fun,” she said, as he handed her one of the mugs.

“That it was,” Klaus replied, chinking his mugs to hers. “Repeat?”

“When?” Caroline laughed.

The mood shifted slightly, both of them immediately a little uncomfortable with the question that had been chasing them all week.

What happens next?

“I’m not sure,” Klaus said, looking down at the drink in his hand.

“Me neither,” Caroline replied.

They were an absurd picture, Caroline was sure; a young couple, sitting completely naked, in silent awkwardness, drinking tea from dainty china cups.

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened,” Caroline confessed. How could she pretend? “But I understand if you do. Because of… you know… Stefan, and I’m in high school, or whatever.”

Caroline lips were tight, and her jaw was set, Klaus knew it was hard for her to say, and he appreciated it. But honestly, he didn’t know what he wanted to do.

“We did complicate things a little, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the p audibly.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Klaus posited, an underlying question in his voice.

“It doesn’t?” Caroline asked, raising her eyebrow.

“The age thing isn’t weird, especially since your brother dated your best friend and you had to be okay with it?” Klaus said, remembering the awful time throughout their final year of high school and first year of college when Stefan and Elena dated.

“Oh yeah, because I could ever have made Elena realise it was totally weird for me,” Caroline scoffed. “I love her, but she has got no self-awareness, and frankly no concept of a world not revolving around her.”

“Yes, I can imagine if you told her about this… about us, she would go all hysterical at you, all distraught about how I’m the reason she and Stefan broke up,” Klaus laughed.

“You’re so right, she hates you, I forgot!”

“Yes, and Bonnie doesn’t like me much either,” Klaus noted.

“Oh my god, I wish she would get over that! You and Stefan played one prank on her, and she will never let it me, or anyone else, forget it!”

“I’m still not sure how Stefan has been cleared of all charges, and yet I am still in the dog house after three years!” Klaus exclaimed. “Speaking of Stefan…”

“Honestly, he’s a wild card,” Caroline said. “He’s usually pretty understanding, but sometimes is a totally over protective ass, you know.”

“I can imagine he would avenge your innocence in subtle ways,” Klaus said. “Like would drop into random conversations with ethical questions about dating their friend’s siblings.”

“Yeah, probably,” Caroline giggled. “Imagine Elijah! ‘Niklaus! I used to babysit that girl!’”

“Yes! And ‘you are far too brutish for a sweet girl like, Caroline,’!” Klaus added. “Oh and think of Rebekah.”

“How could you sleep with my brother!” Caroline cried, in a high pitched, mock-English accent, imitating Rebekah. “How could you sleep with my ex, Bekah, if we want to get into the weeds on the girl code.”

“Bekah and Matt have slept together?” Klaus asked, sharply.

“Oh come on Klaus,” Caroline chided. “Given the conversation we’re having, maybe we not judge your sister for anything she wants.”

“There’s the rub though, sweetheart,” Klaus said, sadly. “That’s how the judgement will happen.”

“Does it matter?” Caroline asked, trying not to sound hurt.

“I don’t know,” Klaus said, honestly. “But rest assured you won’t be my dirty little secret. I refuse to let something I enjoyed so much be something I feel guilty about.”

There was such conviction in his voice that Caroline could have cried. And she did have to take a few deep breaths to stop the tears from visibly springing to her eyes. 

“Okay,” she said, decisively. “We won’t tell people, but we won’t lie if asked. That seems okay right?”

“Seems fair,” he replied, as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to her, and placed a gentle kiss to her mouth.

“And leaves it open for something else in the future,” she winked.

“Now that,” Klaus said, genuinely smiling. “Would be my pleasure.”

Caroline smiled back at him, and kissed him again, feeling content with their conversation.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon, when Liz and Giuseppe returned home, and thanked Klaus for being company for Caroline while they were away, did Caroline fully comprehend the feeling of sadness that was mixed in with the contentment.

“I’ll see you out,” Caroline said to Klaus, as he grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Chin up, my love,” Klaus said, nudging her with his elbow. “We don’t need your parents thinking I’m a bad babysitter. They’ll never ask me here again.”

“I had a really great time this week,” Caroline said, earnestly, as he packed his bag into the boot of his car.

“As did I, Caroline,” he replied. “I am looking forward to when you’re in college, maybe you’ll join me and Stefan. It would be nice to have you around.”

Caroline glowed a little from the compliment.

“And in any case, perhaps, when you’re done with senior year, and that party animal you promised me comes out to play,” Klaus said, cheekily. “Maybe you will invite me for one of your events.”

Caroline grinned at him, before wrapping her arms around him for a hug.

“I’ll see you,” she murmured.

“Thank you, Caroline.”

And with that, he was slipping into the front of his car and was driving off, leaving Caroline to just wave at his tail lights as he went.

xxx

Let me know what you think!!!

[asgardian--angels]

My Syracuse Pollinator Garden - Year 2

Hi everyone! I’m sure a lot of us are facing stress during these troubling times and so as I’ve mentioned before, gardening is an excellent way to take your mind off of current events, de-stress, reflect and connect yourself with nature while remaining in the safety of your own property. Last year, when I moved into my Syracuse apartment (technically a room in my landlady’s house; I’m here for grad school), I was granted permission to start a pollinator garden. I am a pollinator ecologist slash conservation biologist so I bring some expertise with me here. I say this because I always encourage anyone who sees this and is curious about doing it yourself to come and ask me questions! I highly recommend you check out last year’s post which thoroughly goes over 1) the principles of gardening for pollinators and wildlife, 2) resources to help you learn more and get started, 3) what plants I have in this garden, and 4) how it progressed over the course of the summer in 2019. Unfortunately, because of fieldwork and coursework I had trouble keeping up with it regularly so I think I missed a fall installment. I intend to be more thorough this year. Quite a lot has already happened, and I will review it the best I can and from this point forward, attempt monthly updates. 

I also want to mention that I’ve learned a lot since last year too - better ways of doing things, since I’m not a landscaper. Such as, you don’t have to break your back digging up turfgrass for hours on end. Instead, you can smother it for three months with old newspapers and get rid of it that way. It’s also important to note that the way I have my garden laid out is not ideal for a pollinator garden, it doesn’t follow every recommended principle. That’s because I had limitations and conditions under which I had to work, given that it’s not my own land and I had limited funds. But any effort is better than nothing, so don’t think that just because it’s not perfect, it’s not worth it. It is! You can always build, change, or improve upon it later. 

In the second year of a new garden with perennials, you can expect a lot more vibrant growth - the plants have established root systems and can put more energy into above-ground growth and flower production. Thus, I was thrilled to see my plants growing more vigorously than before! 

MARCH

Here in central New York, March was still freezing, wet, and snowy. But, by the end of the month, the garden was starting to show signs of life, sending up the first shoots of hardy native perennials.

In particular, the Jacob’s ladder already had quite a lot of new growth, with the nodding onion and yarrow close behind. In my herb garden, the chives had erupted with force from the leaf litter. The yard was still messy, with dead stems and fallen leaves blanketing much of the ground. My landlady insists I clean these, but if it’s your choice, leave the leaf litter around where you can. It’s important habitat for invertebrates and returns nutrients to the soil as it decomposes. 

APRIL

The world was beginning to wake up. I had cold-stratified hundreds of seeds of native plants I’d collected last fall, and it was time to take them out of the fridge. The wild cucumber (Echinocystis lobata) had already sprouted, so I planted them in pots. The rest, I put in a seed starter tray. 

Next, within the first few days of April, male hornfaced bees (Osmia cornifrons) started emerging in multitudes from my bee hotel. These are a non-native, but naturalized, species of mason bee common in suburbia and they are the most frequent users of bee hotels in the northeast. I watched as they dug through the mud cap on their natal nests, peeking out with fresh eyes at the sun for the very first time. I felt like a proud parent. (You can see more pictures here)

At the same time, male Dunning’s mining bees (Andrena dunningi) were patrolling the new nest sites of females, dug in the soil between the stones laid down near the front door.

There wasn’t much for these bees to forage on yet, mainly the wild violets that grow each year on the lawn and my landlady’s invasive vinca. But many more of my perennials had started to come up, and I decided it was time to cut the dead stems. 

It is best to cut dead stems back in April or so if you’re in a northern clime; the purpose of this is to offer nesting places for stem-nesting bees, which will start flying in April and May. Don’t cut them to the ground, give them several inches. Leaving stems through the winter also allows birds to forage on the seedheads.

Towards the end of April, despite several more snowstorms, the barren strawberry began to bloom.

I also saw the emergence of the female hornfaced bees, with males pursuing close behind. It is advised that you discard a bee hotel after the bees have emerged, or else they will try to nest in it again, which can lead to high mortality rates, as an old structure harbors parasites and is generally dirty. 

MAY 

May was a month of excitement. Given that I have been at home almost every day instead of being on campus, I was able to closely monitor the progress of the garden, apart from a week spent at home for my birthday. The dandelions dotted the yard, attracting gynes of common eastern bumblebees (Bombus impatiens) and the first honeybees (not native, need I remind you).

Alongside the dandelions was ground-ivy, which sent up stalks of purple flowers also used by the bumblebees. Almost all my plants had sprouted at this point.

My wild cucumber, which is a vine, had grown so rapidly that I couldn’t give it support fast enough, and eventually it decided to wind itself around my drapes. I brought one home as a gift for the parents, and placed the other two outside and snaked them around the front banister. However, despite my best efforts, only two other seeds from the hundreds I cold-stratified sprouted. A disappointment for sure; I was hoping to have swamp milkweed in the yard. But, there’s a chance for the wild hibiscus! Alas, with new growth comes deer, traipsing through the yard each night intent on nibbling my natives. They hit the columbine heavy this year as they did last year, and that stunted its growth and prevented it from flowering on time. I managed to protect it by putting a recycling bin over it each night. From the 7th to the 17th, I went home and visited a local native nursery.

There, I picked up a new plant for the garden - scarlet bee balm, Monarda didyma. I already have bee balm (M. fistulosa), but this species blooms red and is attractive to hummingbirds. 

When I got back to Syracuse, I was astounded to find how quickly everything had shot up. 

Among new blooms were the Jacob’s Ladder, woodland stonecrop, and finally, the wild columbine. The chives and thyme began to flower as well.

The milkweeds were one of the last to come up, being late to break dormancy. But once they did, they grew like lightning, gaining a foot in a week. 

I planted my row of annuals (cosmos and sunflowers) along the walkway, and added beans to my herb garden. The dill and basil sprouted and once they get a bit bigger I’ll transplant them outside. 

Then, in late May, I visited my advisor’s farm, and he gave me two new plants for the garden, from his own land - Golden Alexanders (Zizia aurea), which is a lovely yellow-flowered member of the carrot family which blooms in spring, and the classic purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea). They transplanted well.

Honestly, everything is doing better than I could have hoped. What were ungainly spaces between the plants last year are starting to fill in as they grow more vigorously - the single-stalked milkweed I put in last May is now 17 stalks, and I see seedlings of the biennial brown-eyed susans coming up all around it in a three foot radius. Even the purple prairie clover which was eaten to the ground by rabbits last summer has miraculously returned. The only thing I am still waiting on is the bottlebrush grass, which remains dormant. It’s a warm-season grass, so I hope as we get sustained high temperatures in June, it will come back! But its seedlings too are popping up all around the beds. 

And this sums up spring! It has become cold again for the week, but that won’t halt the growth once it’s started. The New England aster is almost half as tall as me, and my black raspberry has flowered and hopefully will produce a small handful for me to enjoy! 

Check back in late June for another update on the garden!

[ellelittlebitofcrazy]

Film Review: 5 Reasons why Netflix's Sex Education is Revolutionary for Filipino Teenagers

Netflix's Sex Education has caught a lot of viewers' attention in the Philippines ever since it aired last 2019. A British comedy-drama teen series which received an 8.3/10 in Rotten Tomatoes and IMBD and some nominations for online film and television awards during its release years.

I remember encouraging my younger sister to watch Sex Education on Netflix because I believed she would learn from it and that it is good for her to be educated. At first, I was doubtful of whether I should do it or not because to recommend this type of film-- especially for Filipino teenagers that grew up from conservative families-- feels the necessity for personal space when watching. Some tend to keep it personal when it comes to the things rarely talked about in the family. Unlike western adolescence, Asians are more traditional and timid when it comes to topics that are intimate. This is why a lot of Filipino teenagers and young adults struck their interests ever since Netflix aired the film. Some comments were, "Have you watched the new Netflix series?" A friend of mine said, "Grabe, episode 1 palang.." They were surprised about what happened only on the first episode. But, aside from the fact that the film shows lots of the sexy stuff and the typical high school love thing going on, there are some points I would like to share on how this particular series has the potential to change the outlook of this generation. That being said, here are 5 things why I think Sex Education is revolutionary, especially for Filipino teenagers.

Sex Education is informative in an entertaining way.

Watching the show eases the awkwardness that teenagers often feel when talking about taboo stuff. An example is when Jean Milburn, Otis' mother, who is a sex therapist and one of the main characters of the show, assured Otis' frequent masturbation as being normal during puberty. Another is the vagina shaming incident that ended with an unexpected low-key unity among females who, ironically, dislike each other.

When we want something to be normalized, we can use methods that divert our attention from the idea that is frowned-upon in order to transition its state to a more acceptable type. In that way, the things we don't usually talk about turns out to be all right when we can laugh about it. "Yeah, its very funny but it's also true"-- the fact does not change. Sex Education portrays what high school feels like for most teenagers and the transformation of an uncomfortable situation into a stereotype kind of feels right when watching the film.

It tackles issues that are rarely discussed in schools.

There are a lot of things you don't learn in school, Brenda, but sex education should be one of them. Many schools here in the Philippines still posses such poor practice. Moordale Secondary School represents those schools but despite that, the film exposes these faults into circumstances and provides solution to them. An example is the scene where Jean Milburn talks about chlamydia in school and how it can cause panic and propagate false information among students who lack knowledge with regards to Sexually Transmitted Diseases. I think that conducting lessons about STDs or Safe Sex in school is not enough. Teachers should determine how their students feel about it and how this information should be used to advocate awareness than fear or anxiety.

Schools are supposed to be a safe  and productive learning ground especially for pubescent individuals who are yet to discover a lot of things. It is good to acknowledge the importance of abstinence, but it does not take away the fact that the youth tend to act carelessly because they are on a part of their life where they are supposed to make mistakes. We would not want our relationships to end up like how the Moordale teachers Mr. Colin Hendricks and Ms. Emily Sanders-- who had dirty talking issues they can't even discuss-- handled it so the other ended up seeking advice from a student. It is not supposed to be that way! Talking about these things in school is healthy and is a fundamental element to consider for one's sexual awareness.

Sex Education depicts teenage reality about sexuality, circumstances, and problems.

Most Filipino teenagers, while growing up, either experienced how to deal with strict parents, bullies, or personal circumstances that eventually made them feel unsafe when it comes to asserting their themselves. Their sexuality, insecurities, and traumas were dramatically portrayed by the students in the series too. Knowing that Ola, Adam, and Eric too, felt differently and that it was okay feeling the same way they did when they finally realized their sexuality. Or when Olivia admitted her insecurities to her boyfriend and when Otis learned about his childhood trauma as the reason why he was having a difficulty in self-pleasure. With Maeve's family problems, and Aimee's emotional and physical security-- these scenes exhibit a sense of validation and understanding to the viewers.

We are now in the newest era where we have acknowledged our past and that it cannot hurt us anymore. We focused more on the things we did not learn or encounter before. The things our parents lacked teaching us. The things everyone forgot to tell us.

It shows the support that we get from our fellow teenagers 

During childhood, kids encounter a lot of bading jokes and terms from their friends. During high school, filipino kids often tease one person who acts differently, but this generation is not easily hindered by individuality; just like Eric and Otis' friendship. Just as how the girls comforted Aimee after her bus incident. The fact that the film pulled it off with Eric and Otis' friendship tells a whole lot of difference. I have to say this: No one gets us but us. Not our parents, not our teachers, our ates or kuyas. Not them, but those who feel the exact same way too. We draw our emotional support from our friends. We tell them our secrets and the things we struggle from. Sex Education showed us that no matter how differently we may be from others, may it be from different circles, different neighborhoods, we have that one thing in common: We are all feeling these things at the same moment of our lives. We can now see the diversity in each circle of friends. We have conquered our differences and used them to unify ourselves.

Teenagers today feel a sense of security when they open up to their friends and I think it should stay that way.

Sex Education teaches communication as an essential tool

This is what I personally admired most about this film. The amount of courage that every character had in revealing their views. Number one is Otis and his mother's relationship. I would not say it is sometimes out of line, I want to focus on the outcome of that situation. If you watch and notice every time he courses into an argument with his mom, he would consistently be honest about his sentiments, whether he felt mad, or he felt betrayed. Number two, Eric and his father having a deep conversation about being openly gay.  In one line Eric says, "Your fear doesn't help me, dad. It makes me weak." Number three, the season finale scene where Otis confronted his dad, Remi, about how he has never been there for him. It was probably the most intense and purest conversation a father and son could ever have. I cannot begin to imagine how brave it was for a parent admitting his mistakes to his child. Lastly, When Ola and Maeve finally ended their beef with each other and realize that women are supposed to have each others' backs.

These forms of conversations rarely happen to the youth in this country. Thus, they develop bad blood toward their family members, or grudge toward their friends. Communication is the healthiest form of understanding others. Something that this generation needs to improve. Some of us hide behind the fear of being wrong. For Jackson, the parental pressure. For Aimee--fear of not being heard. And for whatever reason, teenagers find it very hard to convey their emotions. The film's therapy sessions revolve around communicating such problems as it is the only way on how they could address them and just be done with it.

I hope this short review aids in understanding the change we need to be today. Our generation has come so far and I aspire for more growth. Cheers!

[bountyofbeads]

‘It Feels Like Being Hunted’: Latinos Across U.S. in Fear After El Paso Massacre https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/06/us/el-paso-shooting-latino-anxiety.html

‘It Feels Like Being Hunted’: Latinos Across U.S. in Fear After El Paso Massacre

By Simon Romero, Caitlin Dickerson, Miriam Jordan and Patricia Mazzei |Published Aug. 6, 2019 |New York Times | Posted August 6, 2019 |

EL PASO — After 22 people were shot to death at a Walmart in El Paso over the weekend, a Florida retiree found herself imagining how her grandchildren could be killed. A daughter of Ecuadorean immigrants cried alone in her car. A Texas lawyer bought a gun to defend his family.

For a number of Latinos across the United States, the shooting attack in El Paso felt like a turning point, calling into question everything they thought they knew about their place in American society. Whether they are liberal or conservative, speakers of English or Spanish, recent immigrants or descendants of pioneers who put down stakes in the Southwest 400 years ago, many Latinos in interviews this week said they felt deeply shaken at the idea that radicalized white nationalism seemed to have placed them — at least for one bloody weekend — in its cross hairs.

“At least for Latinos, in some way, it’s the death of the American dream,” Dario Aguirre, 64, a Mexican-American lawyer in Denver and a registered Republican, said about the impact of the killings on him and those around him.

Mr. Aguirre moved to San Diego from Tijuana when he was 5, and was raised by his grandmother in poor Mexican neighborhoods. He enlisted in the Air Force, and later became an immigration lawyer — a classic American success story.

“Many clients tell me, ‘We’re the new Jews, we’re just like the Jews,’” Mr. Aguirre said. “It’s quite a transition from being invisible to being visible in a lethal way. It’s something new to my community. We are used to the basic darkness of racism, not this.”

There are now about 56.5 million Latinos in the United States, accounting for 18 percent of the population — nearly one in five people in the country. That’s up from 14.8 million in 1980, or just 6.5 percent of the population, according to the Pew Research Center. Nearly two-thirds of Latinos were born in the United States.

From Miami to Los Angeles, many said in interviews that evidence of racism had become much more prevalent since President Trump was elected pledging to end what he called “an invasion” across the southern border of people he often characterizes as violent criminals. But the seeds of anti-Hispanic sentiment have been apparent in the country for years, they said.

Daniel Alvarez, 66, who was born in Cuba but has lived in the United States since he was 13, said that talking about the shooting took him back to when he was in high school and he tapped a young woman, another student, on the shoulder. He had not yet learned that some people in the United States can be uncomfortable with being touched unexpectedly.

“The woman turned around and said, ‘Get your dirty hand off me, you goddamn spic,’” recalled Mr. Alvarez, now a senior instructor in religious studies at Florida International University.

His voice caught and he paused as he choked back tears. “I was totally paralyzed, because I could not fathom what had just happened,” he said. “I could not figure out why somebody would refer to me in such ugly language, and I’m 66 and this happened so long ago, and it still gets me.”

Here in El Paso, a border city of about 680,000 that is about 80 percent Hispanic, the massacre has felt uniquely personal. Chris Grant, 50, a witness to the El Paso attack who was wounded by the gunman, told The El Paso Times that he had seen the gunman allowing white and African-American shoppers out of the Walmart but was spraying Latinos with bullets. In an online post, the attacker complained about a “Hispanic invasion of Texas.”

Residents now talk about how it feels dangerous to go out to eat or to the movies. Gun shops in the city are bustling with customers, many of them Latino.

“It’s basically out of the instinct of not wanting to be a victim,” said Zachary Zuñiga, 32, a lawyer in El Paso who signed up for a shooting course and is planning to buy his first gun.

“I want to be able to protect my family if people like this are going to come here thinking they can shoot up places where my family and friends go,” said Mr. Zuñiga, who grew up in a home where his parents never had guns.

G. Cristina Mora, a sociologist at the University of California, Berkeley, who specializes in immigration and race politics, said the attack was likely to have generated a deep sense of unease for Hispanic Americans no matter how long they or their families have lived in the country.

“This has impact beyond the first generation, the immigrant generation,” Professor Mora said. “It reverberates. It doesn’t have to be you who crossed the border. It just has to be you who are not Anglo.”

Suzanna Bobadilla, 28, learned about the shooting while she was on vacation in Connecticut with friends from college. She tried to avoid reading about the episode in detail for the first couple of days because it was too devastating, but could not avoid the story any longer when it surfaced on her social media accounts.

Ms. Bobadilla’s father came to the United States from Mexico as a graduate student in the 1980s and married her white American mother. Since open hostility toward Latinos has grown more common over the past few years, she said she spent a lot of time avoiding the news in order to look out for her own mental health.

She either reads or listens to the president’s statements, but avoids watching him on TV because it is too upsetting, and even scary, to see crowds of people chanting behind him when he talks about immigrants.

“As a child of the ’90s, I was taught that if we just share and come together and be collaborative, we’ll have this harmonious society,” said Ms. Bobadilla, who has worked for Google in San Francisco since she graduated from Harvard University.

But lately, she said, that has begun to feel like “really hard work that is exhausting.”

In Los Angeles, Kenia Peralta, 18, has been glued to Twitter and news sources reading about the shooting. It has prompted her to question her own identity as an American.

“If this is what America is supposed to be, only white, then I guess I am not American,” said Ms. Peralta, the daughter of immigrant parents from El Salvador. She and her 15-year-old brother live with their parents in a one-bedroom apartment near downtown Los Angeles.

“I will always be seen first as Hispanic, no matter if I was born here,” said Ms. Peralta, who will enroll at the University of California, Irvine, this fall.

Bertha Rodriguez, a 73-year-old retiree who was born in Cuba and grew up in the Midwest and in Mexico, where her father worked as a jockey, said she had a hard time talking about the El Paso shooting without breaking into tears.

“I live in this terror for my grandkids,” said Ms. Rodriguez, who now lives with her mother in Century Village, a large retirement community in Pembroke Pines, Fla. She said two of her grandchildren happened to be at a Walmart in Louisiana when the El Paso massacre unfolded. “This is not the United States that I grew up in,” she said.

In Connecticut, Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, 30, said she felt physically sick when she learned that the gunman in El Paso had seemed to have targeted Latinos. She and her parents came to the United States from Ecuador without papers when Ms. Cornejo Villavicencio was 5. She is temporarily protected from deportation under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program and is applying for a green card through her spouse, but her parents are still undocumented.

Now finishing up a Ph.D. at Yale in American Studies, Ms. Cornejo Villavicencio was out to dinner with her partner when she heard the news about the attack in El Paso. She briefly cried in the car but then stopped herself. Crying is considered a sign of weakness in her family and she was scolded for doing it as a child.

To her, the shooting felt like the culmination of a lifetime of fear, one that used to be about her parents getting deported, but now included the possibility that they could be targeted in a terror attack.

“It’s really hard to be alive as an immigrant right now and to not be sick and exhausted,” she said. “It feels like being hunted.”

Simon Romero reported from El Paso, Caitlin Dickerson from New York, Miriam Jordan from Los Angeles and Patricia Mazzei from Miami. Erin Coulehan and Arturo Rubio contributed reporting from El Paso.

[the-chronicles-of-homo-sapiens]

Masculinity is What You Make it:

     Within the scope of the past year or so, most recently demonstrated by the Gillette’s controversial advertisement a few weeks ago, there has been much debate regarding the state and status of masculinity. Of course, if you ask someone who deems masculinity toxic, they may claim that masculinity at its core is about being overly aggressive, hiding emotions or being stoic, and about being aggressive when pursuing women. When you ask someone who finds toxic masculinity an obscene concept what masculinity means to him or her, you may hear that it’s being courageous, perhaps something about knowing how to fix things, or maybe being the family protector of women and children. Why could the answers possibly be so different? If masculinity is this thing in society that is tangible and can have definite impacts on the culture, shouldn’t everyone have a roughly consistent answer on its definition? I propose instead that because masculinity is an abstract and intangible idea created by humans to describe or give meaning to the world around us and ourselves that how society defines masculinity is based not on what it indeed is but rather who the person you are asking thinks it is.

 How Perceptions, lenses, and worldviews shape the definition of masculinity:

               As humans, we view our world through our own lenses, ideas, perspectives, and beliefs. If you don’t believe me, consider this thought experiment. If you were to ask a conservative and a liberal what the central issue surrounding abortion is you could possibly get two different responses. I would postulate that the conservative may claim it’s about life beginning at conception based on some religious reasoning. It may be a safe assumption to say that the liberal would say it’s about a woman’s right to choose. And because of this difference in political preference, the entire way in which they frame their arguments is widely different; they looked at the issue from different lenses. Abortion is a tangible and legitimate thing in the world, but the concept of whether or not it should be allowed and why has much more to do with a person’s beliefs and values.

          Similarly, because there is no exact definition of what masculinity is, two people may very well come to different interpretations of it. If you were to take a man who works as a construction worker, is a married with two kids, goes out drinking with the boys on Friday nights after work, and drives a truck; he would probably claim that masculinity is a positive thing and that its definition is something that fits his own life. That is, he may define masculinity as knowing how to do “man stuff” (fixing and building things), providing for and protecting your family, and drinking and watching sports on your days off. But, if you were to ask a feminist who grew up with an abusive father, went to college and got caught up in a women’s activist group, and maybe did her thesis on United States rape culture; you would most likely receive a negative view of masculinity or of its definition. Again, because of life differences, they define the same concept entirely differently.

 What this Means about Re-drawing Masculinity.

      How does all this relate to the hoopla about re-defining masculinity as a society? It means that there is really no way to do it. Why? Because there is no supreme entity that defines masculinity, Sure, there are dictionary definitions out there, and marketers at corporations do sell gendered items based on gender stereotypes; however, masculinity is still just an arbitrary and abstract concept. It’s this fact that is causing so much of controversy around needing to redefine masculinity.

      To someone who genuinely sees masculinity as being a collective of toxic traits, it seems reasonable to re-draw what masculinity is. Yet, to someone who considers masculinity as a collective of positive traits, there’s no reason to even deem masculinity toxic. And, you cannot redefine what society thinks about something when everyone has different opinions on what that something is.

               Furthermore, there’s no real way to objectively say what true masculinity is or isn’t. As Mark Manson asserts in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, people are never “right” about anything; we just go from being wrong to being slightly less wrong (as an aside, he also discusses the concept how people see the world). So that feminist who claims masculinity is toxic is wrong, but so is the Trump voter from the south.

               The bottom line here is that from my point of view, which in being truly fair is probably wrong and slanted as well, there is no point in the media or society arguing about a concept which no authority could objectively give a definition to.

 So, what are We to do?

     I propose that you define what being masculine or being a man is to you. If it’s an abstract concept that nobody can define, you may as well give it the meaning that you can live with.

      And, ultimately, I’d argue that this is also the best expedient for fixing anything the anti-masculinists may see as problematic with masculinity. I say this because what relatively sane person being as objective and self-aware as their opinions be would be able to justify defining their core values as being overly aggressive or hiding from their emotions or raping women? In that same logic, what sane person could find fault in being courageous enough to run into a burning building or for protecting and providing for his family? While these examples are more reflective of my views, the basic argument is that it’s hard for a person who isn’t a sociopath to have shitty values if they are forced to write out what their values are and critically examine them. In the same note, it’s hard for someone to look at values that the average human wouldn’t call reprehensible and deem them as such.  

      The other thing I’d say is that we should all try to be a little more understanding of where we are all coming from and why we say and claim what we do. I think that it’s essential that those who wish to reform masculinity to understand that lots of men don’t believe in harassing women nor do they believe masculinity should embody that. It’s also important to examine why you may feel that men are taught sexual harassment is okay. And, perhaps those same people should realize that most men are also just living their lives. On the flip side, those on the other side should potentially consider the arguments being proposed; maybe men on average do try to hide our emotions. Perhaps we need to examine why some of us may hide our feelings. And maybe that feminist claiming rape culture is herself a rape survivor. But, regardless, we should be at least aware of why we hold the views we do and why others hold the views that they do.

 So, what is my Definition of masculinity?

      Of course, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t mention my own definition of what being a man is. Well, I’ll tell you. The majority of this comes from my personal mission statement; the rest from what I like doing in life and other worldviews I hold.

     Regarding character, I believe that all men should act honorably. We should have the integrity to do the right thing and the courage to stand up for what we believe is right. I believe that men ought to be honest in all circumstances, even when it is uncomfortable to do so.

     Regarding women, I believe that chivalry shouldn’t be dead. Being overly aggressive in trying to woo a woman to the point where she is uncomfortable should be considered obscene; however, there needs to be understanding that there’s nothing wrong with making an approach or trying to compliment women. I believe that fidelity is one of the most important things a man can show to a woman. I also believe that it is man’s role to act as the provider and as a protector should the need arise; an American man should have one arm around his girl and his shotgun in the other. With all this said, men’s relationship statuses shouldn’t define their self-worth as relationships are volatile and potentially hard to come by.      

     Regarding technical ability, I personally think it’s important for a man to have it. I believe that a man should be able to work on an engine, find studs in a wall, and not be afraid to get dirty. However, this is my definition of masculinity, and as such technical ability shouldn’t be a metric for those who may very well not have it. But a man should be equally as competent in ironing a shirt, doing laundry, cooking, and cleaning as he is in doing shop work.

     I also believe that men should be intellectual. We should never stop learning nor should we ever stop questioning things.

     I personally do not see any bearing sports should have on a man; however, I understand that sports bear importance for many men in society. I also believe that trying to live vicariously through your children by forcing them to play a sport is abhorrent and should never be tolerated by anyone.  

     I believe that a man should be able to ride a motorcycle. I also believe that a man should be able to drive a manual transmission and pull a trailer. But these are my values, not anybody else’s.

     I do not believe men should hide their emotions. It is better to cry than to hide behind alcoholism or violence. I also think that men should be comfortable experiencing their softer side. However, I also believe that a man needs to learn how to handle his emotions and possibly mask them at times; a warzone is no place to start bawling because your feelings are hurt. In his children and his peers, I believe that a man should also promote this belief.

 Synopsis and Conclusion:

     Masculinity is an abstract concept that nobody can really define. In the same tone, what people define masculinity as is really more a reflection of them and their lives than of what it truly is. Because of this we shouldn’t really try to “re-brand” what masculinity should be, and those who are trying to do so are not objectively right about what masculinity should be. But this is really a great thing and should set us all free. Since it’s an abstract concept, we can all define for ourselves what masculinity and being a man is or ought to be. Furthermore, in knowing that we can only go from being wrong about stuff to being slightly less wrong, we can change our own opinions on the definition of masculinity when we hear or learn about opposing opinions on the topic. If nothing else, just know that nobody is really “right” or “wrong” on what masculinity in our culture today is. We all just see the undefinable concept differently, and that’s okay too.    

[bemusedlybespectacled]

when people talk about asexuals being praised/loved/idealized by conservative christians, I kind of have to wonder if they’ve actually, like, met a conservative christian. ever.

speaking as someone who grew up in a moderate catholic family but in a very conservative church (with relatives who are charismatic baptists), conservative christianity doesn’t want to prevent sex. it just wants to control it.

“but bb,” I hear you say, “what about all those purity pledges and abstinence-only sex ed and shit?”

that’s all for unmarried people, folks. conservative christianity doesn’t want you to never ever have sex. it wants you to have sex on its terms, in its way, for its purposes. conservative christians love sex... between married heterosexual people, with the eventual expectation of children.

how many children? well, are the most conservative christians living sexless marriages with few to no kids? hahahahahaha. no. the more conservative you get, the bigger the families, because they’re not practicing celibacy and they’re certainly not using birth control. every sperm is sacred is only just barely exaggerating how conservative catholics treat sex, and I’m not even getting into the quiverfull movement and other conservative protestant sects like whatever the fuck church the duggars are part of.

“but they think all sex is sinful and dirty!” pfff. do you know how many lectures I had to sit through about how sex is actually wonderful and amazing and the greatest expression of love between a husband and wife? and how, because it was so amazing, it had to be restricted to just one person? like, the way it was explained to me, you’d think that people soulbonded every time they fucked. they will come up with all sorts of reasons (including bullshit pseudoscientific reasons involving psychology or oxytocin) to say that sex is okay, but only with the one (1) person they say you can have sex with. the sin is the context, not just the act: it’s okay for a man to think lustful thoughts about his wife, but not his girlfriend or another man.

the problem for conservative christians isn’t that people are having sex at all. it’s that the wrong people are having sex the wrong way and for the wrong reasons. asexuality is fundamentally incompatible with that for the same reason that staying unmarried is: you’re not following the path set by the church, one that eventually leads to heterosexual marriage with children.

[horror-movie-blog]

HMB: Red Christmas

Original Publishing Date: December 15th, 2017 

Well, Christmas is right around the corner, and I'm still committed to my pledge of watching only Christmas themed horror films this month, unfortunately there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of them. Luckily for me, there's a new movie on Netflix called "Red Christmas", so now the quota is less difficult to fill. So what is this so called "Red Christmas" about? Abortion. God. Fucking. Damn it! Look, I don't seek out these films, they find me! So yes, if you are keeping track, this makes it the second film I watched during a holiday themed month where an abortion themed horror film some how creeped into my line of vision. That's one film, too many, in my opinion. But whatever, like I said before, there isn't a whole lot of X-Mas horror films, so better make due with what you got. So what is "Red Christmas" about? At it's simplest form, it's about a family who's killed one by one by a cloaked man. If you want the longer, spoiler-alert premise, it's about an aborted fetus who grew up to become the cloaked man, who visited the family during Christmas because the mother of the family was the one who aborted him. Now, the fact that she tried to abort the man isn't why he went on the rampage and killed all her family. The reason he went all Rambo on them is because once the mother figured out who he was, she kicked him out of the house. That must have been the needle that broke the camel's back, pushing the cloaked man to commit the mass murder. Now, after hearing all that, you're probably in disbelief. But no, I'm not fiddling your violin, there is a movie, that exists, about an aborted fetus who seeks revenge against the woman who tried to kill him. And unfortunately, no, this is isn't a comedy. And really, that's the heart of the problem. If this movie just opened its eyes and saw how ridiculously goofy this premise is, we could have gotten a solid horror-comedy out of this. But nope, they play it straight. In this universe, the fetus comes out as a fully developed child and not as an unconscious peanut thing. But here's the thing, I'm not taking points off this film because they did something "unrealistic". It's weird shit like this that I wished more horror films would do. Does it reflect reality? No, but that's the point of horror. As long as the characters feel normal, the premise can be as ridiculous as it wants (unless it's trying to be serious). What I am taking points off is not realizing that the premise distracts the audience from the more serious moments. I will admit, the more emotional moments in the film did keep me invested... Until I remembered the villain is an aborted fetus monster. Then I laughed. But that's not the only ridiculous thing in the film, how the characters die is over the top. One person gets cut in half, right down the middle, by an ac. Another character has the back of his head torn open by a blender. One character crawls inside a overly large stuffed animal and gets hacked into pieces. This and the premise were too goofy to be unintentional. The writer and the director worked in Australian comedy, so either his sense of humor rubbed off on the movie or he wanted to make a comedy but the studio or the higher ups said no. Speaking of Australia, one glaring nit pick of the film are the accents. The mother has a crystal clear American accent, while all her biological children have Australian accents. They never explain why this is. At first I thought they were doing piss poor American accents, but then I remember there was a line in the film where one of the Australians refers to the mother's cooking as "American Proportions". So they are foreign, it's just that the film doesn't explain why the mother doesn't have an accent. Again, this is just a nit pick, but good Lord, this was biting the back of my brain throughout watching the film. My best guess is that the deceased father was Australian and the accent rubbed off on his children, but that doesn't make any sense, that's not how accents work. You know what? I'm over thinking this. Let's get back to the actual problems with the film. I also forgot to mention the right leaning stuff in the film. Yep, if you haven't guess already, the film about a fetus extracting revenge against the woman who aborted her was probably not made by progressive people. The "pure" characters are born again Christians, the "dirty" characters are pot smoking hippies. One hippie goes to art school, the other works in medicare. But here's the thing; I've seen bias writing before, and while this is definitely right leaning, I wouldn't call this bias. Let me put it to you this way, if this really was apart of a conservative agenda, the dirty hippie uncle would not have a shotgun, the villain would not be Christian, and the dirty hippie characters would be more villain-ized then they already were.  In fact, I would even call it "villain-ized", I think the conflict between the Christians and the hippie was just suppose to give the film some internal family conflict before the real bad guy arrived. And yet, nothing really gets resolved. The christian sister and the hippie sister don't reconnect, so that arch doesn't feel complete. And I haven't even mentioned the down syndrome aspect of the film. There's a down syndrome character (Jerry) in the film, and personally, I think he did a great job, he was by far the most likable character in the film. But, spoiler alert, it turns out the cloaked fetus monster also has down syndrome, and was one of the reasons why the mother wanted to abort him. Now, to the film's credit, it didn't villainize the mother. They gave the mother a very valid reason as to why she needed the abortion. But for some weird, plot driven reason, after Jerry found out the cloaked man was his aborted down syndrome younger brother (I can't believe I had to write that), the guy suddenly turned on his mother, as if trying to abort another down syndrome kid was a personally attack against his people. Which, yeah I would be pissed too, but not the the point of this character, in which he turns a 180. Did he forget that this guy murdered his sister and uncle? Who cares about his tragic backstory, he's an asshole. And I wouldn't mind if it lead something, plot wise, but it doesn't. It's just some weird character arch that lasted for about a minute before the final showdown. It really wasn't needed. And, I guess that's it. Boy, I had a lot to talk about with this film. So what's the final verdict. Honestly, it's hard to tell. I don't think this film had any sort of malicious, anti-abortion intent behind it, but at the same time, the subject is so controversial that I can't really recommend this film to strangers. Which I know it's unfair to say, a film should be judged by it's character, not it's packaging, but let's be honest, an un-ironic film about a fetus monster doesn't get the "don't judge a book by its cover" treatment. I wouldn't call it bad, but I wouldn't call it good either. I will say it's okay. I will say though, I had more fun talking about this film then actually watching it. If I can give it one thing, it's difficulty bizarre. 

[jewel021]

[Translated] The Current Truth of Mainland China in My Viewpoint

The Current Truth of Mainland China in My Viewpoint - Maybe Worse than Your Thought Please help to spread around. Please help to spread around. Due to my current situation, I may delete the original article any time. I am a college dropout from Mainland China. When I was a kid, I was bullied frequently due to my small physical size. As a result, I became sympathetic to the weak ones. Every time, when I see that the majority finds reasons to destroy minorities’s dignity, I always stand by with the weak sides. I was a loner when I grew up without many friends. This gave me a lot of time to read and think. One day, when I was in the college, I read Yang Xianhui and George Orwell’s books. My heart ached with anger and sorrow and fell into deep fears. The contents of those books had happened and would continue happening. I fear that they will further sensor and monitor into people’s thoughts and minds. If there is only one voice allowed, that voice basically only tells lies. Therefore, I always keep my mind sober and rational as long as there are sensors and monitors around. I feel sorry for my parents because I am from a poor family in a village. I was accepted into a prestigious university but dropped out. I have not yet told my family and do not know what to do. I plan to study one more year and retake the college entrance exam. I hope to go to abroad in the future. I have limited writing abilities, and my writing style is vulgar. I only try to justify what happen. Let me talk about the current situation in Mainland. 1: Indecency from diplomacy to the public broadcasting and from the top to the bottom. The statements of spokesperson from Foreign Ministry during the last Chairman’s regime were standardized and repetitive but still sounded diplomatic. During the current regime, the diplomatic style is changed to rude and unreasonable, even bitchy. The new style is appreciated and encouraged within the internal management, and the ones with the most fierce remarks were promoted the quickest. In general, the statements, which were recommended by the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) controlled media and were praised by the Little PInky [1], were indecent, at least, very unprofessional. For instance, the spokesperson called out certain countries, "troublemaker" and openly stated "live with it." They often rephrased their behaviors as "angrily rebuke" and "diss." They praised bitches, scoundrels, and racketeers as their ideological idols in their massive propaganda statements. If you randomly visited any website from the Mainland, the first thing you saw would be: "Dear Chairman Xi Cares the Poor." The next headlines would be: "Fai Ching [2] from Hong Kong Blocked Tourists Going Back Home", "The Americans Scare Pissing Themselves and Beg to Stop Trade War", etc.. I was too lazy to make screenshots. Believe it or not. Just go ahead to look around those popular Simplified Chinese websites, such as Hao123.com, NetEase, etc. These information was all real. They turned the patriotism into indecency. No wonder there is a saying, "Patriotism is the last shelter for hooligans." For instance, a bandit raped, stole, robbed, and committed all manners of crimes in a village. When the Japanese came, the bandit shouted out, "I am a Chinese man!" He fought the Japanese in the name of patriotism. Then, all his crimes were forgiven, and he became a hero instead of a villain, whom the villagers used to hate.[3] Nowadays, I do not know how many people like this bandit are under the disguise of patriotism. Those who shouted online, "Beat U.S. and kick Japan," may actually be loan sharks and pimps in real life. I met several of them like this in real life, including corrupted governmental officials. Those corrupted governmental officials made the most radical comments in WeChat Moments.[4] Not only the people are indencent, but also their behaviors are immoral. They believe that the patriotism has the highest moral value. If that is so, why do they act like extremely vicious mobs? They assaulted, smashed, robbed, killed, and eventually harmed their fellow citizens. Patriotism should be influencing others by persuasion, not threats. They used very malicious languages and behaviors to attack others, including smashing a Japanese brand car owner's head by using a metal U-shaped lock. Does anyone actually believe that the car owner would become more patriotic after receiving this evil attack? Besides, the car owner was labelled "unpatriotic" by them! A few days ago, I watched a video featuring some Northeasterners cursed Hong Kongers using foul languages and dirty words acted like a mob of hooligans, and they shouted, "You, Motherfucker, Hong Kong belongs to China." They also threatened to beat up some people. Those Northeasterners did not even understand why Hong Kongers protested. Nobody will be sincerely convinced by being attacked by foul languages and threats. The Mainland's internet was full of people acted like members of Boxer Rebellion [5], and those people claimed to wipe out whoever advocates Hong Kong independence. Those wolf warriors [6] in the name of patriotism from the Mainland to overseas behaved violently and filthily. Who actually disgraced Chinese people? One of the most notorious wolf warriors was the one, who a CCTV journalist, Kong LinLin, committed assault in the UK Conservative Party Convention 2018. Apparently, some other aggressive international students from Mainland acted like Kong and used some similar behaviors to grab people's attention online in the name of patriotism in order to get a good job or get promotions when they go back to the Mainland. 2. CCP kidnaps China CCP claims the ownership of everything in China. Anyone attacking the government is labeled as unpatriotic. Anyone disagreeing with Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) is labeled as ass-licking foreign dog. Anyone believing that stinky tofu is unhealthy is labeled as feeling superior of eating foreign junk fast food. Anybody, who is detested by CCP, will be called out by CCP: "Disgrace to China and Chinese people." CCP has perfected their ways of doing this method lately. In the past year, many people, groups, organizations have been called out. They created a false sense, which everyone outside of the Mainland was alienating and attacking China and its people, and they did nothing else for China and its people for an entire year. Nobody can even clarify anything was untrue on the news or in the social media or other discussion forum online. People are unable to post any opposition opnion online without being attacked by the little pinky or the wolf warriors. Even if the opposite opinion was not posted on the front page, they will still manage to dig out the post and curse the commentator. There will be at least a few dozens of people attacking the commentator, and the commentator's message box will be full of verbal attacks as well. As a result, the post will be censored and deleted by the website. This kind of scenario happens more on Bilibili. In the past few decades, CCP successfully established a bottom line for every Chinese as solely and wholly maintaining the nation's sovereignty. However, hatefully, CCP specifically mixed up the concepts of CCP or party, nation, and government. Therefore, anybody, who is against the CCP's interests, will be labeled as the advocates for independence of Hong Kong, Taiwan, Uygur region, etc. Let me give you an example why the CCP is wrong to mix up the concepts. Kuo Ming Tang (KMT) used to say to take back the Mainland. What if we reverse the CCP's notorious slogan, "Take back Taiwan"? Let KMT have the Mainland. I don't think they will reject the offer. Hence, in this scenario, Taiwan and the Mainland were still the same sovereign nation. So the problem is not about maintaining a nation's sovereignty rather than who rules the nation. As I stated in my previous texts, when maintaining the nation's sovereignty becomes everybody's bottom line, Chinese will react with rage towards anybody, who is labelled as separatist. This method is time-tested and proved useful, and the CCP keeps reusing over and over. 3. About 70 to 80 millions employees under the government's payroll. [8] The regime basically ties every citizen's livelihood into the same boat as theirs. More and more people take the governmental employee entrance exam every year. It doesn't mean that government employees have bigger paychecks than the rest of the society, but in fact, the government employees have good benefits, including paid maternity leave. [9] A benefit like this is very rare in the private sectors. Plus, working for the government is less stressful compared to working in the private sectors. The largest employer in the Mainland is the CCP and its controlled government. The reason for the CCP and the government to be the best employer in China is that they controlled every resource in the society. The CCP's controls are everything, but the people cannot feel the CCP's existence in their daily life, because the CCP is everywhere like the air which people breath in and they integrate into every corner in the society and people's daily life. People use to surround by air, so they will not pay attention to the air. When people walk on a street and see a wall, but people do not question why the wall is there, because they unconsciously recognize the existence of the wall by default. For instance, one of my relatives asked me, "Have you joined the party?" I replied, "Which party?" Then, he stared at me as I was a retarded person. On July 1, someone reminded me that was the Party's Day today. I asked, "Which party?" The person replied, "Of course, the CCP!" I responded, "Why wouldn't people and the media say the holiday is the CCP's Day instead of the Party's Day?" This is exactly like I stated previously. People have unconsciously recognized solely, perpetual, and lawful existence of the CCP by default. This is not based on fear, because people are used to it. People do not question the CCP nor sense anything wrong with it. People do not aware its integration into their daily life. Its supervision and control are like the gravity. It is always there and unsurprising. This is the reality of the mindset of the majority of the Mainlanders. 4. Most of the contents of the CCP come from the mid-age people between 50 and 60. Most of the young people are the CCP's defenders. I am merely stating my observation and not encouraging people to believe if there is any good in the CCP. The mid-age people were harmed the most by the CCP, so many of them were actually anti-communists. However, they barely express their viewpoint online and rarely pass their political view to the next generation. Next, I am going to write about the differences in the political views in the younger generations. For those were born in the 80s and dislike the CCP, they had emigrated to other countries or regions already. For those staying behind, they have a family and own properties (condos) in the Mainland. They are very cautious and never reveal their true political views. They sometimes take things as they are and immerse themselves into the "wisdom" of only serving self-interest. Moreover, they will not be the main force standing with the pro-democracy movement because they are no longer young. Those CCP's supporters and the CCP do not realize that the 80s group disgruntles the CCP the most among all other age groups. The millennials have the most little pinky within this age group. I do not know how many people in this age group actually read the news or receive information outside of CCP controlled media or social media. I feel pessimistic about what I witnessed. For instance, My high school classmate, Rhee, was from a prominent family. His father was a deputy director of Bureau of Land and Resources (BLR), and his mother was also in the leadership of the government. His family accumulates their wealth not merely based on his parents's salaries. His family bought 2 additional properties in Shanghai, where they did not reside. When Rhee studied abroad, he called other international students from Hong Kong names. He also tore up Hong Konger's posters on the pro-democracy movement. Moreover, he obstructed the Hong Konger's peaceful protests and demonstrations. I do not believe that those were the correct way to express one's disagreement. I believe that people persuade the opposite party by reasoning and logics. People should always defend for everyone's freedom of speech, even if they do not agree with that person. People should not simply silence the voice from an opposition party. Rhee sent the video quarrelling with the Hong Kongers to a group chat with his high school classmates. Other people in the group chat clapped and cheered praising him as "a real man" and "a good patriotic young man". They also scolded the Hong Kongers severely. Nobody ever thought about how Rhee's parents were able to pay his tuition when he studied abroad. Nobody questioned whose right was infringed when Rhee's father signed over some rights of some public resources at work. Nobody thought about this, but jubilated and complimented Rhee. He did not tear up for filming video and seeking attention, but he really believed that his actions were patriotic. The millennials aboard are like Rhee anti-democracy and support building firewall on the internet to decouple the Simplified Chinese to the rest of the world. A few days ago, I went to a prestigious university in Shanghai to look for a former classmate of mine. I overheard something when I was eating with my classmate. It was a conversation among a few fine-looking students regarding the current situation in Hong Kong. I heard clearly from one of the students, "This was all the US stirred up the fire. Those Hong Kong separists should be executed." I was too angry to eat. I was in rage, but felt pessimistic because those students were from top-ranking universities in the Mainland. They may study abroad one day. Why would they think like this? I did not understand. 5. Little pinky is disgusted. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1] Little Pinky, a group of people [2] Fai Ching, the teenagers or young adults, who are useless and have something wrong in their mind behaving aggressively. Also, means negatively as a combination of jerk, asshole, and idiot. [3] Author's reference was related to Japan's invasion to China. For more information, you may find on other scholar's historical articles or archvies. [4] WeChat Moments: WeChat is the most popular social networking app among Chinese speaking people. WeChat Moment is very similar to Facebook or Instagram, which those two are banned in Mainland China. For more information, you may find the information online. The Translator of this article, Jewel, does not recommend to install this app to your device or link or cellphone number to it. [5] Boxer Rebellion: [6] Wolf Warriors: [7] Bilibili: [8] 4% - 5% of the population based on the official data, which could be false. [9] Mantatory paid maternity leave: ================= To Be Continued

[yeolnope]

corrupt pt. 1 - dirtycop!jaebum

moodboard by me

wordcount: 2,700

Finding out your brother was a dirty cop was hard enough, but trying to deny his even dirtier partners effect on you was even harder.

warnings: illegal activities, swearing

--

The rain was relentless. You shivered violently, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to conserve the heat rapidly exiting your body as the downpour soaked through all the layers of your clothing.  

The rain streamed down your face and blurred your vision, making your perspective of the world something similar to a Monet painting. You knew the shivering wasn’t due to the cold, fear had numbed you to the presently unforgiving outside elements, you knew you were quaking in terror.

You stood in a deadly triangle, Jaebum pointing the sleek silver of his handgun towards your prone forehead, Yugeom having the cruel mouth of his own gun directed at Jaebum’s heart.

‘Y/N, I hope you realize how silly of an idea it was for you to follow us here, hmm?’, Jaebum’s stern voice was clear over the roar of the rain.

You nodded, your tears dancing with the rain, running down your cheeks, not being able to look anywhere but on the trigger, which he rested his prone pointer finger on. This was surreal, just a day ago you were struck with the thought that your brother’s recent distant behavior may have been due to him becoming depressed, not a fucking dirty cop with an even dirtier partner.  

You saw the slightest quiver out of the corner of your eyes; Yugeom was struggling to point the gun towards his partner. When he first started he would go on and on about how much he admired his elder, how cool Jaebum was, how much he’d be able to learn about being a detective from Jaebum. You hadn’t seen that vibrant glint in your baby brother's eyes for a long, long time, the last time he seemed so passionate from something was when he became a police officer, but that was years ago, your brother had changed.

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Earlier today you decided you wanted to talk to him, but you were aware he worked long hours, what harm could be done if you dropped by the police station and had a quick word to check in and see if he was fine?

The lights of a vibrant city were just beginning to blink on sporadically as you approached the station. Coincidentally, as you rounded the street corner and stepped on the first of four steps up to the glass sliding door with an emblem on the middle, Yugeom was walking out of those same doors.

You smiled at him brightly and nodded to the man directly behind him, his partner in fighting crime, Jaebum. Yugeom’s eyebrows rose, nearly lost in the hair that fell across his forehead stylishly.

‘Y/N, why are you here’ he said nervously as Jaebum stepped around him and continued on down the road, you thought he almost expected your younger brother to follow him. You were just as shocked at the neither warm nor particularly icy reception he gave you, as shocked as he was to see you.

‘I just came to check if you were alright’, Jaebum was quickly disappearing down the street, Yugeom turning his head every few seconds, obviously agitated his partner was traveling further away from him.

He didn’t want to speak to you, the thought made your head drop down, your chin hitting your sternum. ‘But if you need to leave, we can talk later’ you quickly continued on, trying to sound as upbeat as possible at Yugeoms lack of enthusiasm.

He gave you a sad smile, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow at around lunch time and we can chat then, but now I gotta go, duty calls!’ he said, not even finishing that sentence before he was running off.

You wanted to follow him, wanted to know what was so important his rude ass of a partner couldn’t even stop and wait for your brother to finish talking to you. What was so important your brother couldn’t even give you a hug or a proper hello. So, besides your gut telling you, perhaps you shouldn’t follow the two police officers, you followed the two police officers.

They must have walked through the city for miles because you found yourself ducking behind cargo containers at the shipyard. They stopped at a black one, you crouched, using your arms to brace yourself against a red one two rows behind them. Yugeom produced a key and unlocked the contained, swinging both of the doors open. Jaebum stepped inside, coming out moments later with two large long briefcases in tow, the length of them maybe spanning half of the length of his leg.

They shut and locked the door, walking further down to the waterfront where there was a clearing of just bare concrete that spanned a few meters before a short drop to the ocean. That’s when the first drops of rain began to fall; the drops made trails down your face and ran their chilly fingers down your back. Yet, you were intrigued now, so you pushed on, following them until you stopped at the closest container to the clearing. You made sure you crouched in a shadow, giving them still the slimmest chance to see you, but allowing you relative safety to snoop.

Another man stood there with Jaebum and Yugeom, indicating toward the older police officers hands. He nodded and opened the large briefcase to show an array of guns, each different sized arranged neatly in different compartments but all deadly, you gasped in shock. As you were watching the trade happening, money being put in JB’s hand whilst he handed over the case a pair of strong arms circled your chest and pulled you off the floor so your legs dangled inches from the surface. Fight or flight kicked in as you screamed and struggled everything is brought into laser focus in front of your eyes as you thrashed your head around. The flecks of rust on the container you were hiding behind, the sunspots on your attackers' arms and the fact you may die. The mysterious man barked something in Chinese and he surged forward into the open. In front of your shocked brother and his bemused partner, who muttered something in Chinese to the man he was trading with. He pulled out a gun and nodded at my captor, who unceremoniously dumped me on the ground and escaped with the guns.

Jaebums gun was directed at me. I blanched as I stood up slowly, his guns position on my forehead moving with me, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I heard movement to my right and saw out of the corner of my eye that Yugeom had also drawn his gun and it had its gaze on Jaebum.  

---------------

‘She’ll keep her mouth shut’ he pleaded, you could imagine the look on his face right now. His eyes slightly squinted, head coming forward whilst his shoulders tilted up a bit, you remember when you had just learned to drive, this was the look you always got from him when he wanted you to taxi him somewhere.

‘How do you know that?’ he snapped back at the younger man, thrusting his gun out to clarify his murderous intentions, his eyes filling with an inhuman rage. You didn’t know Jaebum very well but you had previously thought he was okay. He attended a few family dinners at the beginning of him and Yugeoms partnership when Yugeom had first become a detective. You had even been to a few staff parties where you two had shared some witty banter. This was a side of Jaebum you never knew existed.

'She's my goddamn sister JB! I assure you’ His voice went a few octaves lower and his eyes grew darker, ‘I will step out of line if you even touch a hair on her head' he laughed humorlessly, ‘We’re cops as well, it's not like the higher-ups will believe her over us, think rationally’ he used his other hand to point to his temple, ‘she's my closest family’

In response, a sick smile found it's way onto JB’s annoyingly handsome face, ‘I know exactly what we can do to ensure she won't tell anyone’ he said, shifting his weight from one leg to another, lowering his gun for half a second. This was my chance, you thought to yourself; you would run to a nearby container and hide behind it as you called the police.

That thought was forced out of your head as he raised his gun again and strolled towards you, putting his other hand casually in his trouser pocket. He circled you, much like a predator circling his prey and ended up directly behind you, so close you could feel his nose skim the corner of your ear as he took a breath in.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he breathed in your ear, ‘just as long as you remain silent…anything you say can and will be used against you’ there was a pause and you took in a breath in response to what he said next, ‘along with perhaps a whip, or some hog ties, so I advise keeping that pretty mouth shut, understood?’, he trailed his hand along your jawline for effect and a different chill ran down your spine. Letting out a shaky breath, you replied with a clipped, ‘yes, understood’.  

He finally moved away to Yugeom and stood beside him, crossing his strong-looking arms across his chest, ‘It looks like we have a new helper Yugie’. Your brother rolled his eyes and scoffed, ‘You don’t honestly think I would agree to drag my sister into this, do you, Jae?’. The older man raised a single eyebrow, ‘Unless you want her pretty little head to remain on her body, yes. Let's go’.

A sick look overtook both you and your brothers’ faces and you both quickly scuttled after him, putty in his hands. You refused to look at your brother, you hadn’t had time to reflect on your brother's hand in this, this…you didn’t even know what to call it, this corruption? Yet, you thought he was better than that.

‘Im sorry’ a sullen voice suddenly said beside you as you passed massive container after massive container. ‘Sorry doesn’t unbreak the law’ you spat out under your breath, being careful the man leading you two away from the scene of the crime didn’t hear you berate your brother.

Yugeom grabbed your arm, effectively stopping you, ‘you shouldn’t have…’ you immediately yanked your arm out of his grasp and continued on walking, not willing to get into Jaebum’s bad any more than you already were by not following his orders to follow him. ‘I shouldn’t have what?’ and laughed ironically and swiped the soaking hair that was flopping into your face. ‘I shouldn’t have been concerned about the little brother I adored not contacting me recently?’ you hair was falling into your face again you smoothed it violently against the top of your scalp with a frustrated huff.

You walked closer to Yugeom, who looked remorseful, thank god he had remorse and wasn’t like his partner. ‘You are the one who is in the wrong here, Yugeom’ you said with as much venom you could muster with a whisper, ‘Apologies for giving a shit, I am so sorry brother’. As you spat the last word you stormed ahead of him to where Jaebum was waiting at his car, leaning on it casually. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the tip, the stick begins to glow a steady orange when he took his first deep drag, sliding the lighter back into his black jeans’ front pocket.

The front lights of a silver Mercedes sedan behind Jaebum’s Lexus flashed for a second indicating it as being unlocked, you knew Yugie could never afford this with what he was supposed to be earning. Something else also didn’t ring right, ‘You guy’s walked here, right?’, Yugeom drifted past you to his car, ‘they didn’t only pay us in money’ he said offhandedly as he rounded the shiny new car and opened the passenger door. Despite the deep, sinking, dirty feeling you had. You went to follow your brother but Jaebum made a disapproving noise, which caused you to stop and peer at him. You let out a silent ‘huff’, you were eager to get out of the rain.

A sick smile found it's way onto Jaebum’s annoyingly handsome face as he threw his finished cigarette, opening his passenger door with a flourish, you're hopping in with me dear, you need to convince me you won’t be telling anyone about tonight’s happening’s’. You looked over at Yugeom but he was already in his car and you couldn’t see through the tinted windows. Completely defeated you knew you had to get into the man’s car.

Slowly but steadily, you made your way to Jaebums car, brushing past him and getting a good whiff of his intoxicating, woody, scent. When you were safely seated in the new smelling car, he slammed the door behind you, making you jump. Half a second later he was in the driver’s seat, starting the cars’ engine and pulling away.

When you were on the freeway, speeding towards god-knows-where, you felt a warm hand on the middle of your thigh. Your head shot to Jaebum, seeing he was smiling to himself, eyes on the road. ‘You’re really gonna need to show me how sorry you are and how much you want to make it up to me’. He said, turning his head to leer at you, whilst his hand traveled up your thigh, getting dangerously close to a very private area.

Why did you want him to move those few inches further?

THANK YOU FOR READING XXXXX