#and instead i keep getting off topic and blabbing about feelings

[rottmntsimp]

I have a special request if you’re up for it 🔮

summary: Donnie (your bf) finds out you (witch! reader) are celebrating a very special milestone as a witch (a coming of age ceremony of sorts) but didn’t mention it to him because you didn’t think he would be interested. But even though he’s not really into mystical stuff, Donnie is willing to set aside his pride for this because it matters this much to you, so of course it would matter to him.

please, and thank you

Pride aside

Pairing(s): Donnie x Witch!Reader

A/N: Hey nonnie!! I'm so sorry if I messed up, I've never really done anything witch related before, but there's a first time for everything I suppose- Anyway, I did headcanons this time, 'cause I found them easier, this being my first time and all, but this was pretty fun ngl, and maybe, just maybe, if I'm ever in the zone, I might write a oneshot! Note for Anon: Next time, add a ceremony, or celebration you had in mind, since I'm not familiar with these lmao :D

Also I'm so sorry, but I kinda went off topic-

TW: really rushed 😭

Donnie

💜 - We all know Donnie has....a complicated relationship with magic and the mystics who use it

💜 - Hell, everyone knows it: April, Splinter, his brothers. Safe to say, he isn't shy about his distaste.

💜 - Now imagine everyone's shock when Donnie, the Donatello Hamato, the guy who hates magic, the guy who never once believed in Santa, the tooth fairy, witches...starts dating a witch-

💜 - Well, love wins ig 🥳

💜 - Anyway, now that I'm done with all the background information, onto the actual request!!

💜 - Ok ok, so even while in the relationship, it was clear Donnie had some sort of grudge against magic, but he tended to, or at least tried, to keep it down a notch since you guys got together

💜 - I mean, even back when you guys were still friends, either April or one of the turtles would always drag you into their shenanigans, and if you guys are hella close, make sure to share their traditions

💜 - The Lair Games, Jupiter Jim movie marathons, Lou Jitsu movie marathons, Game nights, sleepovers, you name it!

💜 - So obviously you're gonna feel the urge to share your traditions with them too!

💜 - And with your 16th birthday coming up, the day you get your familiar was finally coming!! So you decided it's the perfect time to invite your friends to one of your own traditions, especially something as big as this.

💜 - But, deciding to instead ease Donnie into it, you tell the others first [which might bite you in the ass late, but yk-]

💜 - Anyway the others are really chill!! They all get you little gifts, cuz come on! This is something to celebrate!!!!

💜 - Anyway, Donnie's most likely to find out before you get the chance to tell him

💜 - How, you ask? Well, either, one: he overheard one the others talking about it

💜 - Two: Mikey or Leo accidentally blab about it to him, not knowing he doesn't know, or from the basic inability to lie-

💜 - Either way, he's gonna feel a little excluded, and starts to get worried. Why hadn't you told him? Did he do something wrong? Did you not love him anymore?

💜 - Next time you're at the lair, expect for him to drag you to his lab, and sit you down on his bed, pulling up a chair in front of it.

💜 - He's going to express his worries about you not liking him, and will beg ask you to tell him what he did wrong so he could fix it

💜 - Man his face when you start to laugh BDSKJFDS-

💜 - Anyway, just gently explain to him how you thought he wouldn't be interested in attending, and it's all good!

💜 - ...Or at least you thought so-

💜 - After you leave, he's probably going to research everything about witches and their traditions!

💜 - Ok, ok, so time skip to the actual day, k?

💜 - It was all going according to plan, and the main event was going to happen soon! It was finally time to inherit your familiar from your grandmother!

💜 - Now, everyone gathered around, including all your friends

💜 - But as your eyes scanned the crowd, you didn't seem to be able to find the familiar purple-coded softshell anywhere

💜 - A little disappointed, but understanding, you focus on what's happening in front of you.

💜 - After inheriting you new familiar, everyone is busy cooing over it, when suddenly a flash of purple appears in your peripheral vision, and it's...Donnie!?

💜 - You have to refrain yourself from jumping on him, but the smile on your face made it clear you were elated!

💜 - "I- what?- I thought you weren't coming? You do know this is, like, heavily related to magic, right??-" "Scoff! Accusing me of not wanting to attend my own S/O's ceremony? For shame! I'd truly thought higher of you, my dear-"

💜 - Boy's gonna let out a short laugh when you smack his arm, but don't worry, the moment's not ruined <3

💜 - And no the others totally didn't know he was coming, mhm mhm

💜 - You though him attending was a big enough gift in itself, but when he pulled out a whole gift-

💜 - Holy shit, get ready to see him flustered when you give him a little kith on the cheek <33

💜 - Uh things get more complicated when other witches realize he's here...in witch town...where he destroyed the statue of Abigail the good

💜 - Expect to lose the spotlight for a hot second, while Donnie tries to win over the hearts of your fellow witches [which may or may not result in him owing them some kind of debt much to his dismay]

💜 - And as for your familiar-

💜 - It loves him, hands down.

💜 - Donnie made it a little nook for it to snuggle up in, for when the three of you hang out in his lab

💜 - What a happy little family <3

--

Taglist!!

@lemme-be-cringe-damnit @sleepytime-fics @ray-of-midnight-storm @hamthepan @charismakat

[ctrl-shift-esc]

Flowers Need Time to Bloom

Monday, August 14 2023. 10:01 pm I'm at home, in my pjs, sitting on my patio. I've got slow piano ballades playing in the background & I'm surrounded by my battery operated candles. They light the mood quite nicely. Can I just rant or slightly complain about my ever chatty brain? in the midst between brain fog and forgetfulness, I'm sometimes met with the just-as-frustrating opposite - restlessness! So tonight I chose to turn my phone off! It was one of those nights. I needed the space to allow myself a solid evening to disconnect. I find it hard to disconnect when my notifications keep going off - even if I silenced my ringer; having the ability to (& knowledge of) makes it hard for me to willingly avoid checking in. So phone off it is.

No notifications; I sat outside on my rarely used patio to read. Oddly enough, whenever I feel like my brain's been operating at full capacity; watching tv becomes part of the problem. I think we call this state of mind - overstimulated. It's an unshakeable feeling of urgency - when in reality you don't have anywhere to be. A little like the unnerved feeling you forgot something when leaving the house. It's unsettling, uncomfortable and makes you feel like you can't quite calm your antsy brain down. Your thoughts are running a million miles per minute. You're endlessly making mental lists of all the things you should do, have to do, and want to do (none of which have anything to do with one another).

ONE THING AT A TIME! I try to remind myself.... (Doesn't overly change much though)... As I'm reading about self-sabotage and how to overcome, I'm finding myself overthinking on all the endeavours I have my eyes and heart set on. I'm catching myself re-reading the same paragraph over and over because I'm not retaining any information.

I'd like to write a book. I've said I've wanted to write a book since I was 17 years old. In fact I had started one but as I wrote the first 5 pages I got confused as to how I would separate the topics into chapters and/or how to jump from one idea to the next. I basically, didn't know what I was doing. This is how I decide to start my blog. I figured; writing shorter, more accurate play-by-plays of my life, would give me the practise & confidence I eventually would need, to take on an entire book. Here we are, close to 10 years later, still slightly confused as to how I'm going to tackle the process, but I'm ready. My skills, my mindset & my philosophies are ready. Why am I blabbing on Tumblr right now, instead of reading my self-sabotage book? Well first off; like I said, my mind won't shut up. I've always said to put pen to paper when that happens. Purge the mind, by writing it all down. Get it out. So I'm getting it all out... I also figured, I haven't written a blog-post in god knows how long.... So what the heck - kill two birds with one stone (someone really needs to find a better, less gnarly expression...) But here I am, writing. Writing everything and anything that's been trolling my mind.

Here's another thing; I've been thinking and researching the processes of starting different businesses lately. industries ranging from real-estate development, investment, flipping, finance & wealth building, e-commerce, retail and more. The more I've been digging the more I'm realizing I know very little about a lot! I'm feeling oddly claustrophobic when facing this reality. Like I'm just this tiny human in this big ass world I know barely anything about. The vastness of the world's information and the ease of access we now have to it all, is utterly overwhelming to me. I feel such a pressure to reach for it all and soak it all in. The thought of me not being able to know everything there needs to be known about a subject - stresses me right out!

Weird! I KNOW! But, umm, Reality Check Veronica! EARTH TO VERONICA. Yes we live in a blackhole of information - no you don't know everything. You can't know everything and you won't ever know everything... ( The sound of a thought process I don't overly want to jam with. Hence the unshakable sense of urgency...)

So now what? What do I do with the the knowledge that I in fact don't know very much at all !?

Here's a fun idea; I'll start working on my book. Without a clue where to start - I'm just going to start and I'm going to keep learning I guess. And forever will be.

I'll leave you with this thought: What if our purpose on this earth and in this world is to learn? To merely get wiser as the minutes, hours and years go by? What if our entire human premise, is to be humble enough to admit we know nothing at all and curious enough to dig for answers? And then? Compassionate enough to share the experience with loved ones. Now if only we can learn to relax and ease into the process of learning. If we could only learn to love the journey, grow by grace. and on that I will continue to work on easing into the unknown amid the chaos of my mind & the world around me.

I wish for you the same <3

[takamishinko]

footprints and doubts

this is the longest piece we’ve written so far and it drained the living crap out of us :,D but hope u guys enjoy !

pronouns: gender neutral 

warnings: nothing really other than jealousy, angst, and crying, self thought cheating

a/n: r/n is region name btw

________________________________________________________________

honestly you found it hard to believe that little ol’ you from r/n could befriend let alone become someone important to ajax. the great tartaglia, 11th of the fatui harbingers, his name itself could strike fear into anyone. yet here you were, standing next to him with your hands intertwined with his at the lantern rite festival. you would give the world to him if you could, you loved him so much. he was so different from your last significant other who had been unfaithful towards you. 

‘you’re just too boring.’ they had told you apathetically. you frown thinking about it.

you felt ajax gave your hand a small tug, "hey y/n why don't we go over there? looks like chef mao is cooking up something good." he spoke with a cheery grin on his face.

you snap back into reality as you felt his hand pull you out of your thoughts. you gave him a terse nod and the two of you made your way to wanmin restaurant.

after waiting a while in line, the two of you were next. chef mao looked up and practically shat himself at the sight of the male next to you. 

“hello y/n! i hope you’ve been enjoying the festival, " chef mao spoke nervously, his eyes gliding to the male next to you, “y...you too sir childe.” he sputtered out. right, ajax was the one who tried to destroy liyue not too long ago after all. you shook your head, right now you were with ajax, not childe.

"woah woah woah. calm down chef, you know that’s history now. besides, i’m just here to enjoy the festival with y/n." ajax assured, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

you gave the chef a slight smile and spoke,"don’t worry chef. i’m sure he doesn’t have plans other than being with me tonight." you teased. 

the chef sighed in poorly concealed relief and returned to his usual self as he took your order. ajax ordered the specialty for today, the crystal shrimp. after a small wait, the two of you waved chef mao goodbye after he gave you two your food. the warm dish let out puffs of steam and glistened under all the light of the lanterns due to it's crystal clear skin, there were 4 in total, the wrapping for each was folded into the shape of a flower. they were so pretty, you almost felt bad for eating them. 

sitting down on a nearby bench, the two of you enjoyed the crystal shrimp while making small talk. the crystal shrimps were delicious themselves but it felt better to enjoy them with someone you loved. 

after finishing the food, you and ajax had a great time. you guys played a few rounds of theatre mechanics, ruijin was pleased at how skilled the two of you were and rewarded both of you with hefty prizes. upon bumping into zhongli, the three of you decided to enjoy some tea with him. after bidding farewell to the funeral consultant, the two of you released some xiao lanterns and watched as they floated into the night sky. 

feeling a bit tired, the two of you then decided to relax and take a walk instead of participating in games. as you and your boyfriend were strolling around the harbour, something, or someone caught his gaze. you look over to where his eyes were trailing to.

oh.

a beautiful young lady dressed in a white dress with a cecilia tucked into her golden blonde hair and a puffy companion floating by her side waved at ajax. her smile brighter than the sun and her movement as graceful as the moon. her honey glazed eyes shone with familiarity and glee at the sight of him.

of course you recognized this girl. she was none other than the otherworldly traveler, lumine. she fought alongside the liyue qixing and even the adepti to defeat the great osial. the people of liyue spoke about her often, everyone knew how she had also earned the title of honorary knight in mondstadt and defeated one of the four winds despite her young age. 

you were once again brought back into reality when ajax spoke, "hey babe ill be right back okay? i wanna catch up with lumine real quick." 

you felt his hand leave yours, the warmth dissipated with it. you felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble up as you watched your boyfriend run to someone else, leaving you alone by yourself to stand in the sea of lanterns and people. 

it didn't feel right.

you stayed in place with a dejected look for a while waiting for ajax to return but he was taking a while so you decided to go check what was going on with him.

"-but then teucer decided to do it anyway!” you hear ajax’s boyish voice ring out with amusement.

as the blond and the redhead laughed together. you couldn't help but think about the two looked enchanting with each other.

you shook your head and decided to make your presence known. "ajax-" 

ajax perked up, "oh! babe sorry to keep you waiting let me introduce you. lumine this is my partner y/n!" ajax exclaimed with a cute grin.

you gave lumine a small wave and spoke with a polite smile, "it's a pleasure to meet you lumine." 

"it’s nice to meet you too y/n.” lumine replied cheerfully.

now that you’ve got a better look at the blonde, she's so much more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. 

her velvety blonde hair fell gracefully, her porcelain skin was practically glowing without a single visible blemish, her golden eyes shone with beauty that rivaled cor lapis. to wrap it up, her short stature was presented with grace and poise. all in all, everything about the blonde was nothing less than perfection.

everyone loved her and you could understand the reason behind it very well. gorgeous, kind, and righteous, the hero of every region everyone respected. you couldn’t help but wish you were like her instead of your boring self, without a vision, without any standing out achievements either…

you started to space out while the two started up a conversation again, thinking about the feelings you were currently having. why were you feeling like this?

"hey babe we should get going! it's getting late." the voice of your lover broke you out of your thinking.

you were overthinking a lot today huh. "oh. we probably should get going then." 

"bye ajax! bye y/n! it was really nice meeting you." lumine said with a pearly smile gracing her features. she then walked off to find her floating companion who was near a food stall inhaling dish after dish of food.

wait.

ajax..? he wasn’t childe or tartaglia to her, but ajax. you didn't know how to feel upon hearing the real name of your boyfriend slip out of the blonde. you knew how secretive ajax could be when it came to his family and personal life so the fact that lumine knew his real name put a feeling of unease within you.

the way home was pretty quiet, you didn't want ajax to notice that you were feeling off. you felt so guilty for having these feelings about him and lumine but you couldn’t help it. your last relationship had practically trampled on your ability to trust others, you could never tell if someone was lying to you or being truthful. you contemplated telling him how you felt but you decided against it, you’ve never been great at expressing your feelings after all. however, after a while of him blabbing about random topics, you couldn’t curb your curiosity any longer and realized you wanted to know more about your lover's relationship between him and lumine.

after a while of peaceful silence, you let out a small breath, "hey ajax?"

“yes y/n?" 

"who is lumine… to you?"

ajax perked up at the sound of the blonde's name, "lumine? she's a good friend and a formidable opponent of course. it's been a while since i’ve fought with someone who could keep up with me on the battlefield!" ajax spoke with enthusiasm.

you felt a twinge of pain shoot into your heart at the tone that your lover used when speaking about the blonde. did he speak like that when he was talking about you? 

"oh… i see. she must be a very powerful person then." you replied with feigned glee.

ajax noticed that you were in low spirits, "why? is something wrong?" he questioned with slight worry.

"no! i'm alright. i was just curious because you two seemed… close." you lied. you weren't ok, but you didn't know how to tell him. probably because you didn't even know why you felt such-

envy 

that was what you were feeling. not petty jealousy or sadness, you were envious. envious of lumine. her beauty, her strength, her personality, everything. the feeling consumed every inch of your body and dyed you green. your insecurities swallowed you up and spit you out, rendering you vulnerable against the little demons that poked at your thoughts.

when the two of you got home and freshened up, ajax practically passed out the second he lied in bed with you. on the other hand, you stayed wide awake, stuck thinking about the way lumine and ajax interacted. the smiles, the laughter, the fond looks they gave each other plagued your mind, rendering you unable to sleep. after a while of staring blankly at the ceiling, you groaned and carefully lifted the sheets to not wake your lover and got out of bed to make yourself a cup of tea. you used the tea leaves you bought from pops kai, the calming properties of the tea always helped you when you felt down. 

"they're just friends, don't overthink it, just friends, just friends." you whispered to yourself, trying to give yourself a sense of reassurance. after finishing the tea you got back into bed,  it was hard but you eventually fell asleep next to your lover.

next morning, you were woken by the sound of your boyfriend walking around in the living room doing something. it was only around 7am so you were wondering why up so early as he usually woke up at 8. you groggily walked out of the bedroom.

ajax noticed you and smiled fondly at the cute sight of you rubbing your eyes. "good morning babe, did i wake you up? sorry about that, i was just getting ready to go train."

"oh. by yourself?" somehow, you had a feeling of where this conversation was headed.

"no, with lumine, we made a deal yesterday to go to yaoguang shore today to fight some ruin guards and hunters for materials!" he chuckled.

lumine. lumine

the name echoed in your mind like a mantra. you were aware of his weekly spars with the blonde but today would be the second day he went out with her this week. a part of your heart told you to stop him, another part told you to let him go. in this internal battle, you chose the latter and let him go. after all, who were you to stop him? it's not like you could be the one to satisfy his thirst for battle, only someone like lumine could.

you were having a day off due to the lantern rite festival, but to be honest it's not like you needed the money. with the amount of money ajax had he could probably support you and your next 4 generations. with your spare day, you decided to clean up the house because it was a bit messy due to teucer playing around the day before. 

while cleaning up you found a spare xiao lantern that teucer was supposed to release when he came over. since you had spare time you decided to set another lantern yourself, it would be a waste to not use it after all. as people say, during the lantern rites, put your wish into a lantern and set it into the sky for it to become true. 

"i wish to stay with ajax, till death does us apart." 

you only hoped he felt the same way about you.

you put the note in the xiao lantern and set it off into the sky, you watched with sentiment as it floated away towards the clear blue sky.

you had a hard time focusing on the task you were doing for the rest of your day so you decided to take your mind off things and go take a look around liyue harbour to see if there was anything worth checking out, or buying. 

liyue harbour contained the usual, the fragrance of grilled tiger fish wafting from the stand next to where you would usually buy your groceries, the kids messing around near the boats, and you even met xiangling who tried to offer you her new recipe of jade parcels but you kindly refused. 

after that you went to give the adorable little pharmacist, qiqi, a visit. she was under the  cashier stand like usual, you gave her a little pat on the head and asked for the usual medicine you buy for ajax. 

you then bumped into zhongli, who was also strolling around. the two of you chattered about the festival and other shenanigans before bidding each other farewell. the amount of history about liyue and its traditions the man was familiar with would never fail to surprise you.

there wasn’t really anything left for you to do in the harbour so you started to head back home. not far away from the liuli pavilion you saw a familiar redhead talking to the owner of mingxing jewelry with a shorter figure standing beside him. 

upon closer inspection, you noticed it was ajax with someone else at a jewelry shop looking at the items. it was none other than lumine standing next to him. you watched as lumine picked out a piece of jewelry from the stand that would look so well on her. the gem glowed it’s colour under her smile and looked more fitting than ever. weren’t they supposed to be at yaoguang shore?

without second thought ajax bought the jewelry in lumines hand and put it in a gift bag with a look of tenderness. your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, you felt as if the world was crashing down on you. your breathing quickened and your heart palpitated at alarming rates. every little insecurity that was planted in you had finally finished blooming. was this really going to happen to you a second time? was once not enough for the entertainment of the gods?

that was when he saw you, standing only a little bit away from him holding the items you purchased for him and the fresh groceries you were going to use to cook dinner for him.

ajax’s eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, “y/n!? why are you he-” he was tense, you noticed, just like your ex-lover when they were caught.

you tried to regulate your breathing and spoke, “stop.” you managed to say, cutting off ajax before he could finish his sentence. he flinched at your dull tone.

“y/n! i know what you’re thinking but i promise we were just-” ajax hurriedly tries to explain.

“don’t. i think i've seen enough childe.” he frowned at the use of his moniker. 

your lips trembled, water collecting at the bottom of your eyes. ‘don’t cry. don’t cry, don’t cry.’ you repeated in your head, you didn’t want to appear weak in front of the two. your ajax who you loved so much, who you cared for so much, who you were planning to spend the rest of your life with, is now buying jewelry for someone else after lying to you.

“i was foolish this entire time, of course. instead of someone like me, a visionless nobody you would choose her over me. you’re just like-” your voice cracked as you forced the words out of your tightened throat. 

“y/n it’s not like that! please just let me explain!” ajax pleaded urgently. he hated that you were talking bad about yourself.

after gaining a smidge of composure you decided you couldn’t be near the two, “no need childe, i understand. now if you’ll excuse me, i'll be on my way.” you muttered and brushed past the two. 

“wait y/n!-” he reached out to grab your arm before the blonde next to him stopped him.

lumine sighed and spoke up after staying silent, “let them go for now. leave them alone for a bit, they need some time to think. it’s understandable why someone would be upset if they saw their lover with someone else like this.” she comforted before patting him on the back.

“yeah. i guess you’re right...” ajax murmured with a crestfallen look. he regretted not communicating with you, otherwise this wouldn’t have happened. he should’ve cleared up any suspicions you had and reassured you. he knew about how you weren’t confident due to your last relationship. gods, he felt like he was worse than your dirtbag of an ex.

you walked towards your home slowly trying to process what just happened. your tears already ran dry and you didn’t think more were able to escape from your eyes. the fading sunset seemed so blurry yet peaceful. somehow, instead of walking home, you ended up near yaoguang shore which happened to be the spot you and ajax would go to often. his name brought bitter feelings back as you remember the events that just happened but you took a deep breath and sat on the sand across from the shore. you listened to the sound of the ocean, the waves dousing the sand it touched. you took notice of the starconches laying on the sand. 

feelings of melancholy welled up inside you. these are ajax’s favourites. the blue shells reminded you of his eyes. his lovely eyes were the blue of the waves of the sea, they crashed into you and pulled you into them. you could spend all day swimming in the infinite hues until you drowned.

you buried your head onto your knees and let out a pained cry you’ve been holding in. here, where no one can find you, where no one can hear you. only the ocean will hear your troubles and worries, you hoped it could wash them away and you could forget about them forever. you sat there in peace by yourself for what felt like hours.

you sighed and decided that you should get going, but to where? you didn’t want to see ajax if he’s even going to be there at all. maybe you could crash at zhongli’s place…

 just as you were about to leave you heard a familiar voice behind your back. “y/n!” it was the man you loved, ajax, sprinting to you with the same gift bag he was holding in his hands at mingxing jewelry. 

you turned around to look at him. your hair was flowing in the wind with the sunset behind your back. to ajax it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life. 

“i knew you’d be here.” ajax spoke with relief.

you looked away from him not knowing how to feel right now about your “lover” and stayed silent.

“y/n. i swear it wasn’t what it looked like, i would never do that to you. lumine and i really don’t have anything going on in between us, i chose you as my partner and i plan on keeping it that way for the rest of my life. in fact,” ajax murmured while opening up the gift bag he was holding. it was a bracelet with a fine piece of noctilucous jade in the middle with cor lapis fragments decorating the border of the blue gem. the jewelry wafted with fragrances, the morning dew smell from a qingxin, the classical smell of the harbour from a silk flower and lastly the everlasting aroma of violet grass.  

“do you like it? lumine and i picked it out for you at mingxing jewelry for our upcoming anniversary. i just wanted her opinion on what to choose for you. this was one of the most beautiful pieces that they had. i heard it took a super long time to make, oh! the jade in the middle will also make the bracelet glow in the dark! pretty cool huh?” ajax smiled as he lifted your wrist to put it on you.

at a loss of words, you lifted your head up at the male and gave him a soft smile, “thank you ajax… i love it, it’s perfect in every way possible.”

“just like you.” the redhead spoke fondly with a grin on his face while softly stroking your hair.

“oh shut up you flirt.” you tried to hide your smile as you both giggled on the beach with the sunset dripping behind you two. 

after a while of being engulfed in ajax’s arms you spoke, “ajax, i want to apologize for jumping to conclusions about you and lumine. i..you know about how i find it hard to trust people sometimes but it was unfair for me to do that to you, i know you would never cheat on me.” you spoke, hugging him tighter as if he would leave if you get go. 

“y/n. don’t you dare think for a second that i’ll leave you for someone else ok? you’re the only one in this world that i want and it’s staying that way. i don’t care if you’re visionless, or if you don’t have any achievements whatsoever. i still love you so so much.” ajax exclaimed as he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

you felt a certain warmth as your face flushed. how did you end up with someone as perfect as ajax. you lifted his face with your hands and pressed your lips against his. he deepens the kiss and your heart melts.

“thank you ajax. i’ll always be by your side too, no matter what happens. my love for you has no ends.” you speak with pure affection as you nuzzled your face into ajax’s soft yet firm chest. 

ajax feels his face heat up and he quickly speaks, “c’mon now, let’s go home, i can’t wait to taste your cooking after running around all day today.”

the two of you walked together on the beach, hand in hand, leaving footprints and doubts in the sand.

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special msg from my dear editor: hey lol - @kamihara​ , my works wouldn’t be nearly as good if it weren’t for them so go give them a follow please :)!

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

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❥ — 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. 

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!! 

-

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant. 

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date. 

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future. 

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. 

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.  

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul. 

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now. 

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention. 

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him. 

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly. 

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.” 

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party. 

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.” 

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time. 

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained. 

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie. 

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same. 

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area. 

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least. 

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no. 

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile. 

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.” 

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another. 

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.” 

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful. 

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you. 

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​

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[skzsauce01]

Magnets

Synopsis: Opposites attract. 1950s AU. Takes place before Love Letters but can be read as a stand alone.

Warning: smoking, misogyny, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: fem cheerleader!reader x greaser!unspecified Stray Kids member; fem cheerleader!reader x football player!unspecified Stray Kids member

There’s something about summer that changes people. They loosen up, become even prettier, and come back to school with a sense of assuredness. Or at least you did last summer. You figured out what styles were in, learned how to do your hair, and started wearing cherry red lipstick. He couldn’t stop staring at you, especially when you smiled with your pearly white teeth.

“Stop that!” you laughed, swatting his arm. “I’m still me, just with better clothes now.”

“I’ve just never seen you like this. It’s so weird now without your overall dress things.”

You playfully shook your head, the ends of your curls bouncing from the movement. “Ugh, some best friend you are. Just tell me I look nice and leave it at that. Also, they’re called pinafores.”

He didn’t care what they were called, only that you traded them in for fuzzy sweaters and skirts that flared at the hips. You didn’t look like the girl who brought her stuffed animals with her everywhere anymore. You looked like you belonged on a movie screen.

So this year he resolves to make you feel the same way. While you stay home for the summer, he goes on a road trip with his family. He thinks about you the entire time, from a tiny diner in the middle of nowhere to a dock overlooking the ocean. When he gets back, he has for you five souvenir handkerchiefs, all from different states. All he can imagine is how flustered you will be by his sun-highlighted hair and new broad shoulders when you answer the front door.

Instead, you give him a quick smile and place the handkerchiefs onto an end table without even looking at them. You’re late for a movie with friends, you tell him, as you carefully smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt. When he offers to give you a ride, you shake your head and bid him goodbye. You practically push him back into his car.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” he asks as he opens the driver’s seat. You didn’t say a single word about his summer transformation. “I don’t have any plans tonight, so it’s fine by me.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you at school then, okay? Tell your parents I said hi. Okay, bye.”

He reluctantly drives off but stops at the corner. In the rearview mirror, he catches you hurrying down the street to where a black convertible is parked. Even from this far away, he can tell it’s a greaser’s car.

What are you doing with a greaser?

As he stealthily follows you up to the mountain road nicknamed Lover’s Lane, he knows.

When school resumes again, you keep to your friends, not even trying to talk to him even though you’ve been friends since you were kids. He tries though. He even accepts the football coach’s offer to join the team because he knows you’ll be cheering at each game. But when he asks if you want to go to the diner after the football game, you look at him with confusion.

“You don’t even like football.”

“I joined the team this year. Coach thinks I can be a good quarterback. Might even go to state.” He rolls his shoulders back, showing off his new muscles in his tight shirt. You don’t even blink. “Aren’t you a cheerleader?” he teases. “Shouldn’t you know what the football team’s up to?”

“Me and the girls usually go out somewhere after, so I’ll probably be busy. Sorry.” You give him a small smile. “Anyway, I’ve got practice now. And I guess you do too.”

“Are you free on the weekend? We can get burgers or something.”

“I have to study and finish homework. There’s going to be a math test soon.”

“When are you free then?”

“I don't really know. I gotta go or else I’ll be late. See you tomorrow.”

Before you can run too far off, he asks, “Why are you avoiding me?”

You look taken aback momentarily, but then you sigh and furtively look around. You stay where you are, folding your arms across your chest. “Look, we’re in high school now. Things are different. If I’m around you all the time, people will think we’re dating. I mean, people have already asked me that. They’ve been asking since freshman year.”

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”

You go still. He waits for you to confess that you actually do and that you’re sorry for hiding it from him, but you only shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like you like that. I’m tired of giving them the wrong idea and being asked every day, so just… just don’t talk to me anymore, okay? We’re still friends.”

Friends. That’s all he will be to you, but the prospect of not even being in your life is even worse. “That’s so dumb! Forget everyone else.”

“You don't understand,” you say through gritted teeth. “They’re saying stuff about me, calling me a tease and a slu—” You break off there and cradle yourself, looking down at the floor. “Never mind, just…”

He balls and unballs his fists. He’d bet anything it’s that no-good greaser. “Who’s saying that? Give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You take a step back. “We can’t hang out or talk anymore, okay? I really need to go now. I’m late.”

He skips practice that day, choosing instead to head to the garage where the greasers usually hang. As expected, the greaser — your sleazeball of a boyfriend, he angrily thinks to himself —  is in the middle of the group. All heads turn to look at him when he enters the room.

“Hey, look who’s here. Mr. Quarterback,” the sleaze drawls. He takes a drag from his cigarette, smirking all the while. “Hit your head too much or what? This isn’t the football field.”

“Get bent, you dog,” he spits out. “I know you said those things about Y/N. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

The greaser flinches. “Who?”

“She’s on the cheer team. Don’t play dumb.” He decides to leave out the part where you’re dating him; he’ll protect your secret at least. “You’ve been calling her a tease.”

“If people are saying it, it must be true,” snickers someone in a too-large jacket. “I mean, just look at her—”

“Shut up,” the greaser commands as he flicks cigarette ash towards his friend. “You’ve been giving me a headache with all your blabbing. As for you, Mr. Quarterback, you’re out of your mind if you think I care enough about someone like her to go around gossipping like some housewife. So, scram or I’ll make sure you’ll never play again.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe. Just get outta my garage.”

He does what he’s told, feeling humiliated as he walks back outside. The greaser didn’t sound like he was lying. In fact, he sounded like he was about to flip his lid when he found out.

A few days later, he finds out that the greaser did just that. The head cheerleader’s car is keyed and its tires slashed, and a baseball player comes to school with a broken arm. The rumors about you die down, and the new hot topic becomes the upcoming dance. You look more relaxed than he has seen you all month. Slowly, you begin taking the initiative to start conversations with him. No matter how many times he asks though, you always refuse to go to the diner or to the drive-in with him.

“You don’t have to feel bad for me,” you tell him as you look away from another cheerleader sharing a kiss with her boyfriend. “You should be going on actual dates with someone. Like, oh I don’t know, the girl who sits next to you in physics. She keeps making eyes at you during class. I swear, you’re the only one who can’t see how big of a crush she’s got on you.”

He shrugs. “She’s not really my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

Preppy cheerleaders who love strawberry milkshakes and wear cherry lipstick. Girls who wore pinafores and carried a teddy bear around when they were five. Best friends who unfortunately only remain best friends.

“I don’t know,” he lamely replies.

“Go ask her out then. Maybe you’ll end up liking her.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You swat his arm with your textbook. “You’re such a square, you know that? C’mon. The bell’s gonna ring soon.”

While you head to the back where your desk is, he slides into his own assigned seat in the middle. The girl next to him says hello with a smile, and he gives her a small one in return. She nearly swoons. When class begins, he can feel her eyes darting back and forth between the board and him. You were right about him being oblivious. How did he not notice this before?

This week’s lesson is about magnets, and he’s hit with the hard realization why he can never be with you. No wonder you ended with a greaser. Opposites attract, and your boyfriend is about as opposite as can be compared to you. You’re the girl next door. Meanwhile, your greaser wears leather jackets, drag races in his souped-up convertible, and chain smokes cigarettes.

With his button downs and a promise of getting a letterman, he’s too much like you; that’s why you don’t want him. He can be in your orbit, trying his hardest to touch you, but you’ll always keep him at a distance.

When the bell rings, he turns to the girl sitting beside him. She pushes her thick glasses higher on her nose as she struggles to pick up all four of the books on her desk.

He places his hand on top of the pile. “Do you have a date to the dance next week?”

~ ad.gray

To all those sent in requests for our anniversary, we’re still working on them! There will be a later announcement post about it, so stay tuned. Thank you for your patience!

[pretend-writer]

Paranoid (Supernatural x The Umbrella Academy

Crossover

Summary: Things go wild when Y/N Winchester and Diego Hargreeves tries to make an announcement for their families. 

Pairing: Winchester x sister!reader, Diego Hargreeves x reader

Title Reference: Paranoid x Jonas Brothers

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warning: mention of the dead, mention of violence, swearing

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

It was a small tradition that we'd all gather together and have dinner at the Hargreeve's mansion. Allison, Vanya, Sam and I would all cook together, usually something different every time just to see if the others would like the food.

Ever since Diego and I have started dating, Dean and Sam had sort of used this dinner idea to watch us. "I need to keep an eye on this boy" is what Dean would usually say, even though he wouldn't even see him the other times I'm alone with him. Didn't see the full logic in that but I guess it made him feel somewhat safe.

The Winchesters having dinner with The Hargreeves was always merry and cheerful. Everyone had smiles on their faces, enjoying the food and the company.

We'd usually share stories of what happened; Dean, Sam and I would talk about our hunts. The Hargreeves would talk about which take downs they had, usually bragging about who had the most arrests within the week.

Everytime this topic had been brought up, we would say that we needed to collaborate and work together. Diego, Five and Vanya had joined us on hunts every now and then. The rest were too chicken to face the monsters in the real world.

This time however, these fun talks didn't happen. The dinner table instead felt intense; Dean wouldn't stop staring at Diego, Sam was upset his dish didn't turn out better than he expected. Vanya had not slept at all practicing on her violin, Allison stayed up all night learning the recipe for today and perfecting it.

Everyone was just in a terrible mood and now with all the grouchiness, I wasn't able to deliver the news that I was hoping to tell everyone at the dinner table.

I was already nervous enough to say I was pregnant, with everyone in a bad mood I don't even know what to add to make my announcement even merrier. Well, I doubt nothing would make it better; I just knew everyone was going to freak out, especially my brothers.

Dean eyed me as I played with my food, biting his bottom lip and observed me like he always did when I was with Diego. 'You barely ate your food, 'Y/N.'

'Uh, yeah sorry.' I answered quickly trying to force myself to look unsuspicious. 'Just not really hungry.'

'Can I have your plate then?' Luther asked with his mouth full, pointing at my dinner.

'Knock yourself out.' He snatched the plate that was in front of me, digging into it as if he hadn't eaten for days.

Five cocked his head, I swear he had mind-reading powers too because he was always up to something. 'Diego, you're quiet as well.'

'Just enjoying my meal.' Diego smiled with the fork still in his mouth.

Sam looked to his left then right, 'What's going on? Am I missing something?'

'I'm just tired, I don't know about the rest of you guys.' Vanya yawned, slowly eating her food.

'Same, actua-'

'No way!' Klaus screamed interrupting me as I was about to talk to Vanya. He talked and blabbed a lot but I haven't heard him talk so loudly until now. 'You're kidding me right?'

Five sighed, 'Didn't we tell you to stop bringing your dead friends to the dinner table?'

'No, no, no, no, no. This isn't just some random friend. It's Ben!'

Everyone groaned at the same time, tired of hearing Klaus bringing Ben up whenever it was convenient for him. During important hunt meetings, he would cast him out of the group. Whenever Klaus had excuses, he loved using his brother's name to pin him for whatever that was happening at the time.

Of course Ben couldn't even defend himself. Poor boy.

'I know, I know. I sound like I'm lying right now but I PROMISE I'm not.' Klaus whined, trying to convince us that he was telling the truth.

'I'm tired of hearing your bullcrap Klaus. I can't even imagine what Ben has to hear from you every time you're not around us.' Luther commented.

'You guys would want to hear this though! Oh, please please please.'

'What is it about?' Allison questioned Klaus.

Dean shook his head, 'Really Allison? Why did you encourage him?'

'Oh, Dean. You would definitely want to hear this.'

Five rolled his eyes and sighed, not even questioning his brother. Klaus kept on yapping about how he wanted to tell us this huge gossip that he heard from Ben.

'Why don't you just get to the point then, Klaus?' Diego finally said what everyone else was thinking.

'Are you sure you want me to tell them about your business?' Klaus grinned, clearly enjoying this "big secret" he had.

Diego shrugged, 'I don't really have anything to hide. I love you brother, but I doubt you know anything about my personal life.'

'Okay then.' Klaus cleared his throat, standing from his seat with a huge grin on his face. 'Y/N is pregnant.'

Dean spat water from his mouth, covering it as some landed on my forehead since I sat across from him. Sam made a face, staring at me to see my reaction.

'That's the dumbest lie I've heard.' Luther laughed, 'Wasn't even close to getting me. Nice try though.'

'Seriously, Klaus. At least make us laugh.' Five snickered and continuing to eat his food, unbothered. 'Are you two not even going to defend yourselves?'

'Ah.' I bit my lip, embarrassed that Klaus had to announce my big news in front of everyone. My brother's reaction said it all, they didn't even know what he said was true.

'Surprise?' Diego blushed, scratching his head as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

We were already nervous to bring our pregnancy to our family, Klaus suddenly blurting it our in front of everyone had made things worse than expected.

Sam looked at me, then back to Diego. 'Wait, wait, wait. Pr-Pregnant? Am I- Are you-'

My brother was practically panicking; Not going to lie, although I was afraid of their reaction, the way Sam's eyes wandered around like a lost puppy was cute.

Dean on the other hand was at loss of words. His usual angry reaction was what I expected and seeing him not do or say anything at all sort of scared me.

'I'll be an aunt!' Allison cheered, jumping up and down her seat. 'Is it going to be a boy? Oh I hope it's a girl.'

'Have you thought of names yet!?' Vanya smiled, joining Allison. 'Wait? You think the kid will turn out to have superpowers? Oh wow.'

'Diego you may want to run.' I murmured, watching Dean not move a muscle. Being too focused on my oldest brother's reaction, I blocked out whatever Allison and Vanya was discussing on he side.

'Ah, Ben. You little shit.' Diego talked under his breath, burying his head in his arms as he felt Dean's glare.

Klaus spoke nervously, 'Aha. Ben says sorry but blames me for how I went on about it.'

Luther tapped on his shoulder, 'You're not helping at all. I mean, look at Diego. He's shaking like a chihuahua.'

'Someone please make it make sense.' Sam places his hand on his forehead. 'Y/N. How did it happen?'

'Well, Diego and Y/N obviously had se-'

'Don't even finish that sentence, little kid.' Dean cut Five off, 'Y/N. I don't even know what to say but what the fuck?'

'I wanted to tell you guys tonight the proper way but you guys seemed so intense, I didn't know how to start this news.'

Sam lightly smiled, despite the panic I still saw through his eyes. 'Y/N, you and Diego have been dating for about six years now. I'm happy that you found someone other than your brothers that loves you so much.'

'No, no.' Dean crossed his arms, he was the total opposite of how Sam was acting. It hurt my heart a little that my brother was acting the way he did but there was nothing that I could've done.

The room went to silence, everyone staring at me and Dean as we all waited for him to say something else. It was odd to see Dean say a few words when he was pissed, which frightened me more.

He continued to stare at me intensely, taking a deep breath and taking in the little detail that he got from Klaus' announcement.

I wished that Diego and I had told everyone instead, otherwise this awkward moment between my brothers and me wouldn't have happened. Or at least could've been slightly better.

Dean shifted his eyes to Diego, I practically heard my boyfriend gulping from right next to me. Him and Sam freaked out when I've told him we started dating, Diego couldn't imagine what was going on in Dean's head.

'You were my little sister that always needed me, a little nut that never left my side. Now you're all grown up, about to start your own family.' Dean unexpectedly started to tear up, sniffling quietly. 'You just grew up so fast, Y/N.'

'Dean..' I reached over the table, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 'I'll always need you. I'll need you and Sam. You'll always be my brother and I'll always be your little sister.'

'That is so cute.' Klaus smiled. 'See, Ben? I told you blabbing this would've not been so bad.'

'Oh, nah. This is bad.' Diego looked at his brother. 'You really thought it was a good ide-'

Luther hugged Diego from the side, 'Congrats brother! Wow. I'm going to be an uncle.'

'Now we have to celebrate! Let's go clubbing!' Allison got up, walking towards me as she pulled me from my seat.

'Oh no. That's a huge no.' Sam shook his head, 'Last time we went, Diego was practically eye humping my sister. No.'

Five laughed, 'That's why she's pregnant. Duh.'

Dean quickly turned his head, 'Really!? Did you really have to engrave that image in my head?'

'That's for calling me a little kid, old man.'

'You're the one to talk! Future boy.'

[revasserium]

beauty as a perspective (or a study of truth through the lens of a boy who has always believed in fairy-tales)

anon: And it is beautiful with Hinata First love with kageyama? Please :) 

101. and it is beautiful hinata ; 1.8k words

there are so many things he considers to be beautiful -- the sunrise, the sunsets, the way the moon lingers on the horizon after a whole midsummer’s night, like it’s waiting for the first rays of sunlight to spill across the world, the way the stars are relentless in their twinkling, as if emboldened by the darkness that beholds their very beings -- that they are made all the brighter by night’s all-consuming dark. 

there are other things too -- a well-aimed spike, crystal cut and down the line, right next to the pole, a perfectly arched toss, slow enough for thought, but too fast for the opponents to follow, the double-rolling saves that noya-sempai had promised to teach him and still hasn’t gotten around to, the way a clean sneaker sounds against the well-waxed floor of a freshly cleaned gym, the sound of a volleyball meeting skin, the flutter of a net, the chorus of voices as it echoes towards the ceiling. 

the cheers of the crowds when a point gets scored. when a match is won. 

the weight of happiness, so light and yet so, so heavy too, enough to make his bones feel like they’re filled with gold or silver or maybe magic itself. he thinks there’s nothing more beautiful than playing... and winning. 

until he meets you. 

your name breezes through him like a summer wind through wheat, leaving no part of him unruffled and untouched, all this thoughts tangled and out of ordered, but so beautifully so. he watches you go like a child watching the end of a really good dream, powerless to stop it, but still with the naïve hope that perhaps, if he just kept his eyes open (or closed) for a moment longer, maybe, just maybe you’ll stay -- 

“hinata-kun, its your turn to help clean the classrooms.” 

he snaps out of his reverie (did you know that’s the word for daydream in french? how fitting, right? and when tsukki had asked, drop-jawed and all, where the hell hinata had learned such a thing, all he could do was shrug and blush and say he’d read it somewhere -- to tsukki’s compounded shock and confoundment), the teacher is watching him with a hiked eyebrow, and half the class was giggling. but you, you’re standing next to his desk with a sweet, expectant smile and he’s lost all over again. 

(who was he, anyway? before he knew what your smile looked like? what your voice sounds like? what the color of your hair was beneath the morning sun, or in the golden glow of dusk?) 

“let’s do our best, hm?” you offer him your hand. 

hinata had never wished for after class chores to last forever, but he has now. 

he doesn’t know how you get onto the topic of volleyball, but it always ends up there somehow... with him -- and he finds himself rambling like he always does when he’s nervous, blabbing out an invite because yeah! it’s pretty cool! and there’s a practice match today! and oh, yeah! i’m on the starting lineup and of course you can come watch! i’m super awesome y’know! -- 

and then the horrifying, daunting realization that he’s going to have to play. with you watching him. with your eyes, like pools of amber so deep and clear they remind him of melted caramel during the holiday school fairs, with your smile like tasting a favorite treat after a long, hard day’s practice, with your laughter and your voice like -- like -- 

“what’s this? hinata’s brought a friend?” there’s something in the texture of suga-sempai’s voice that hinata isn’t sure he likes but he’s too nervous to call it out at the moment. instead, he tries desperately to explain why the hell he’d brought you along, not that he’s really sure either, other than the fact that he doesn’t ever want you to leave his sight ever again in his whole life but, well, he can’t really say that out loud without sounding like a freak -- 

“uh -- it’s not -- i mean, yeah! we’re friends! i think so at least -- well anyway -- ahhhhh -- she likes volleyball and there’s a practice match today and i told her she could come and watch cause i’m really awesome at it and she just moved here from tokyo, or actually she stayed in france for a while before that! can you believe it? hey -- wait do you know kenma from nekoma? they’re from tokyo too, right --?” 

kageyama fixes him with a flatlined look even as you smile. 

“she’s not from the same school, idiot.” 

hinata puffs up as he turns to kageyama but thankfully, daichi is there to pull them apart before things get really nasty. he flashes you a sincere and somewhat apologetic grin. 

“ah, thanks for coming. you can find a seat up there, and uhm -- welcome to karasuno.” 

hinata finds himself watching you go (he nearly yells when you wave at him from the second level, that is until kageyama elbows him so hard in the side he actually does yell). 

“focus, boke!” 

“shut up, crappyama!” 

“ha? what did you say?” 

“both of you, quiet!” 

they both flinch at the sound of daichi’s voice. 

but hinata can’t help stealing another glance towards you, thinking that this feels different, somehow. different than all the other practice matches he’s played before. it’s like his vision is sharper, all his senses on high alert -- he can smell the sweat on his teammates’ skin, can see each spec of light as it refracts off of the newly waxed gym floors, can feel the weight of your eyes on him like a superhero’s cloak -- beautiful and full of responsibility. 

and he plays well that day, he thinks -- got a few really solid quick’s in, and he only messed up on two of his serves, which, all things considered, is probably a record low for him. kageyama only yelled at him five times, also on the low side. 

they manage to scrape a win, and it was mostly asahi-san’s doing -- noya-sempai being awesome as ever, too. still, he thinks it’s been a good day. he almost forgets that you’re watching for a while, but only for a while, and as the match draws to a close, he’s again keenly aware of your eyes on him. 

he turns to grin up at you, shooting you a thumbs up. he finds you no longer sitting, but standing by the railings, your eyes huge and happy as you wave down at him. there’s a flush to your face that makes him want to walk off a bridge right into a very, very cold river but he shelves that thought for later as you make your way down the stairs, jogging right up to him, your smile so brilliant he thinks he might go blind if he stared too long. 

he blinks, still dripping sweat down his now very wet uniform. 

“shouyou! you were amazing! i mean, you are amazing --!” 

he almost jolts at your use of his given name, but then he remembers you asking (because you liked the sound of it or something; he’d forgotten what you said after that cause he was too busy marinating in the fact that you liked the sound of his name) if you could call him that. and him saying yes. 

“for a while there it looked like you were flying, like really flying!” 

he nods along with your excitement, his smile growing so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt and god, what what happen if he just kept on smiling wider and wider? what would happen to his face? would it stretch and keep on stretching? or maybe he’ll accidentally split his face in half and have to get stitches from the hospital, which wouldn’t be fun but for you, he thinks, it’s worth it. 

“y-yeah! cool! right?” he leaps ups as if to illustrate, but as with all things he does on a spur of the moment impulse, it doesn’t go quite as planned. he ends up smacking his head on the doorframe of double gym doors, leaving him whining, curled up into a ball on the ground, and you kneeling by his side. 

“shouyou? are -- are you okay? oh my god, what happened?” 

he winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, grinning awkwardly up at you. 

“i wanted to show you!” 

“show me what?” 

“what it looks like to fly!” 

tanaka is fussing over hinata, loudly asking if he’ll get a concussion while tsukki is remarking to that getting a concussion might be good for him; noya and tanaka are both laughing so hard they’re also curled up on the ground. 

you giggle, “save some flying for next time.” 

“for... next time?” 

“yeah, for the next time you play.” 

“will... will you be there?” 

you smile, nodding, offering him a hand. 

“if you want me to be.” 

“yes! yeah -- oh man, i do! i really really --” 

“good, then i’ll be there.” 

“aahh, that’s amazing! super great! ahhhh i’m so --- mmmm -- i’m so happy!” 

he leaps up and is about to jump up again before he realizes you hadn’t let go of his hand yet. 

he blinks, heat washing up his face like jumping head-first into a steaming onsen. 

“hey! you said you’d save some for next time, right?” 

hinata laughs, “right -- for next time.” 

you give his hand a squeeze before letting go, turning to greet his teammates. hinata watches you, like he’s been doing from the second he’d set eyes on you a week and a half ago, when you’d introduced yourself to the class. 

like when he’d all too enthusiastically volunteered to show you around the school, like when the pair of you had stopped in the library, and you’d run your fingers along the spines of all the books like greeting old friends. 

like when you flipped open a book of fairy-tales and traced the outline of a boy with melting wax wings, plummeting from the sky. 

“you know, i used to always daydream about flying as a kid,” you said. 

hinata quirked his head, “why?” 

you smiled, “dunno, seemed like a fun thing to do.” 

hinata smiled then too, “well, it’s not that hard.” 

you looked at him, “you... know how to fly?” 

“sure i do!” 

you laughed, then, but not a mocking kind of laugh -- a delighted, dancing kind of laugh that made hinata’s whole chest fill with hot air and helium. 

“you promise to show me some day?” 

hinata had nodded so hard his head might’ve come right off it’s hinges. 

“hey, what’s ‘daydream’ in french?” he asked. 

you blink at him, “reverie.” 

“wow... beautiful.” 

you laughed again, nodding, “it is, isn’t it?” 

and he decides then, watching as you smile at something suga-sempai says, as you quirk your head curiously at kageyama, making him flush a hilarious shade of crimson as well, that sure, there are a lot of beautiful things in this world. 

but none of them quite so beautiful as you. 

[imaginesforjohnnydepp]

Surprise! (Johnny Depp x reader)

@takemepedropascal

Fall 2010

For the last three weeks you’ve been feeling sluggish and tired and your dreams at night have been more vivid, and sometimes kind of odd, but you didn’t think anything of it. You have been filming Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides with your husband Johnny for a few months so you just chalked it up to the craziness and high emotions of shooting being projected in your dreams, until you got London to finish the rest of the movie. You started your mornings by sprinting to the bathroom to throw up, so you had your assistant Vanessa go to the drug store near your hotel to buy a pregnancy test, and here you were with her in your room as she watched you pace back and forth as you waited for the timer to go off. It felt like hours, but it was only two; only three more minutes. “God, Vanessa, I don’t even know if we have time to have another child,” you panicked, shaking out your hands. You and Johnny already have two kids, your daughter Lilah-Rae who is eleven, and your son Jack who is eight.

You never talked about having a third child, or thought about it; you were sure you’d have two kids, and that was it. The both of you have so much going on that you never considered it: Johnny has movies he’s filming next year, you’re getting ready to start filming a television series after the new year. Meetings, photoshoots, parent-teacher conferences, after school activities, PTA meetings, spending all day answering emails and missed calls. It was enough to make your head spin, and imagine throwing a baby into that. “Breathe, Y/N. It’s not much longer now,” the French woman said, a little concerned.

The last time she saw you like this was when Lilah-Rae was in the hospital three years ago. If you were pregnant, you really picked the worst time ever; you had a few months until filming wrapped, then you’d have costume meetings and fittings for your new television character after Thanksgiving, and once the holidays were over, you’d start filming after New Year’s, AND in the middle of filming, you’d have to do a press tour for On Stranger Tides, THEN go back to filming your show. Where does a baby fit in all of this? Finally the timer went off and you practically jumped through the roof with how nervous you were. You peeked at the test and almost hit your head on the sink.

It was positive. Vanessa came into the bathroom to see what was taking you so long; she found you covering your mouth with silent tears running down your face. “Is that a happy cry face, sad cry face?” she asked nervously. “I’m having a baby,” you choked out; you knew you were ready for another baby, you’d figure out the rest of the details later. The two of you were crying and hugging and jumping up and down, trying to figure out a way to tell Johnny, who was due back from set any minute. 

“Okay, I’ll tell him over dinner, I’ll order his favorite!” Your hotel had a crab bisque that Johnny had on your first night in London and immediately declared it his favorite. You ordered it so it would be ready probably as soon as he was in for a few minutes and you tried to keep yourself busy until then, watching tv, answering emails and phone calls, reading, anything you could think of until you heard his room key activating the lock. “Y/N, baby? You here?” You immediately perked up, getting out of bed to greet him.

He had a bouquet of your favorite flowers and snacks, something he did whenever you weren’t feeling well. “Are you feeling better now?” Johnny pulled you to him, hugging you. “You know you really scared the shit out of me yesterday.” You had collapsed on set yesterday in the middle of a scene, so Rob gave you the week off to recover and you would reshoot your scenes as soon as you’re able to. 

Of course you passing out on set made the top story of the entertainment news and the rumors were automatically going around about what caused it. “Much better now. And I have some… news.” Just because you thought the baby was good news didn’t mean that your husband might think so, and while the two of you never brought up the topic of more kids, he never said he didn’t want more kids. “News? What kind of news?” Johnny looked worried, and he probably thought you were going to tell him that you were maybe dying.

“It depends… Johnny, I’m pregnant.” Immediately he began kissing your face, your lips, his hand going straight to your stomach; he knelt down and began kissing your stomach. He pulled you into his lap as you landed on the sofa. “You really think we can handle another kid now? We have so much to do in the next few months. We have Thanksgiving in Kentucky, then Christmas with my mom and sister, and then right after New Year’s I start my show, then award show season, press… it’s so much---” “Y/N, slow down, we’ll figure it out, breathe. Maybe this is a sign that we need to slow down.”

Slowing down, that did seem nice. Your family’s been on the go so much this past year, traveling with the kids, promoting films, family drama with your dad and his side of the family. “Yeah, we really could slow down a little. Maybe this pregnancy can be something that’s just for us and our friends. We don’t tell the press, we don’t tell my dad, we can do this the right way, Johnny.” Your first two pregnancies had been hell thanks to your dad and older brother and sister blabbing to tabloids. You felt like some kind of animal on display at a zoo with the way the paparazzi photographed your every move.

You and Johnny had worked so hard at keeping your relationship and your kids’ lives private so they could have some semblance of a normal life; they were never on red carpets, and you didn’t live in Bel Air or Beverly Hills but instead lived in a city an hour away from Los Angeles where there weren’t any paparazzi so Lilah-Rae and Jack weren’t photographed very often. You only stepped foot in LA when it was necessary. You wanted this pregnancy to be different. “So you want to hide a pregnancy?” he sounded unsure.

“It’s not like it’ll be hard to do. I always wear your shirts in public, and how often do we go to LA for nonwork related stuff? We’ll only tell the people closest to us.” You and Johnny were notorious for flying under the radar, and you were practically the only celebrities not on Twitter though your assistant and manager is, and there are plenty of fan accounts dedicated to you

He saw that you were dead serious about this, and remembered what the paparazzi was like when you were pregnant with Lilah-Rae, all because your dad wanted money. “Let’s do it.”

[reneejuliet]

Leave Me Wanting

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: M (smut in the form of male masturbation, cursing)

Word Count: 1,636

Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers?, Idol AU

Author’s Note: Presenting my second drabble! Hoseok has had me feeling some kind of way lately (though still not my bias, lulz) and since I can’t make him my central character in Ignorance is Bliss, I’m sharing this little piece I’ve had on my phone for at least a year now. It’s also brewing in my mind as a possible continuation, so please let me know what you think. And, also, I maybe just sorta really love hearing what you guys think.

Similar to I can hear the bells, this is more from Hoseok’s POV. I don’t know why I wrote it that way - it literally just sort of poured out of me. If I continued this, it would switch POVs between Hoseok and you, the Reader. 

And - this starts kinda right off the bat so I’m putting a ‘keep reading’ under all this before the story starts. Enjoy! (Photo/gif above edited/made by me (if it isn’t showing please let me know, it deleted out like three times while I made this post o.o))

 His breathing was labored, heavy pants and ragged inhales echoing off the linoleum of the crappy bathroom stall. One hand was splayed out against the wall, fingers spread and digging into the tile while the other wrapped tightly around his dick, pumping and twisting in search of his release. The ache was constant, but dull. Every now and then he was able to work it into a throb, a spike of pleasure shooting into his stomach, but it was quick to disappear again. The groan that left his lips was one of frustration more than titillation.

Three sharp slams on the bathroom door jolted him, a wave of panic seeping into his exhausted muscles. Until your familiar voice cut through the thick metal as easily as a knife through butter.

"Come on, Jung! We don't have all day! Your meeting starts in twenty minutes!"

He groaned again, his grip growing slack for a moment. The meeting he had completely forgotten about, of course. The whole reason you had pulled into this shitty little gas station. He'd been a mess when you picked him up, having allowed the hook up to run longer than he had intended. It wasn't that big of a deal, he'd thought then - it wouldn't be the first time you had seen him so disheveled, and he was just going to go back to the dorms and pass out in his bed. Until you reminded him of the godforsaken meeting he had with the company's producers regarding his next mixtape. He certainly couldn't go into it with rumpled clothes, sex hair, and fresh hickies blooming under the collar of his shirt.

So, ever the professional handler, you had detoured the vehicle into the nearest gas station and all but dragged his sorry-looking ass into the downtrodden bathroom. Your hands were magic as you cleaned him up: running wet fingers through his hair to smooth and straighten, wiping a damp towel over the wrinkles in his shirt, dabbing just enough concealer over the irritated skin on his collar to lessen the appearance. The determination in your eyes had been so focused you hadn't even noticed the tip of your tongue sneaking between your teeth as you worked. But he had. And coupled with the way your fingers tugged on his hair, pressed against the planes of his chest, well... He'd been left with a whole other problem then.

He'd blamed it on the passionate goodbye he'd shared with Minjee just seconds before you'd shown up. She always did love riling him back up before sending him on his way with a cheeky smirk. He'd smiled sheepishly at you, his friend and current chauffeur, when you both noticed the bulge in his pants. You'd groaned loudly, slapping a hand to your face.

"Damn it, Hoseok, seriously? Three hours wasn't enough??"

You'd left him alone in the bathroom then, with a five minute deadline to "fix himself", as you had so lovingly put it. You were sure to state that this was one thing you would not be doing for him.

It should have been easy. It was hardly his first time masturbating, after all. Even the pressure of having you waiting for him outside wasn't a deterrent - he'd had plenty of quickies before a concert or an interview over the years. And his arsenal of material to work with was hardly empty. Minjee was very expressive during sex, and incredibly vocal. Not to mention that woman's curiosity. Damn. There was a reason he kept going back to her. Yet, every image he recalled, every smooth curve of her body and dulcet whine of her voice only served him to the brink of what he needed. For some reason, it just wasn't enough to push him over the edge this time.

Two more bangs on the door and he cursed under his breath. "Hoseok! Come on!"

"Alright! Shit," he yelled back, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. Absently, he trailed his fingers gently down his length with a feather-light touch. His heart flipped tiredly in his chest, lower gut tugging slightly in response.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still damp from your grooming. The phantom feel of your fingernails on his scalp echoed in his mind and his dick twitched at the reminder. Then suddenly your image was conjured behind his eyelids, your bright eyes focused on him as you ran your hands through his hair, tongue poking out between your lips. Those soft, pale lips that parted in small sighs as you worked on him. The blood surged abruptly into his cock and he gasped, catching the twitching member in his grasp again and moaning as his hand instinctively twisted down to the base before squeezing.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice rough in his throat. Your hands drifted down to his collar, brushing against the hot skin as you dabbed the concealer on. He could still feel the delicious ache that swelled under his skin from the pressure of your touch. His dick throbbed heavily in response and he pumped himself, stomach tightening into a hard coil.

"Ffffffffuck, oh," he gasped out as your hands moved down to his chest now, the wet towel doing little to cool the burning flush of his skin beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. Not with how your fingertips trailed behind it, tracing the lines of his body without even realizing. The way you had brushed along his hips - they thrust into his grip at the memory as he pumped harder, faster. His free hand was shaking as he tangled it into his hair, his throat choking off the sound of your name -

"Hoseok!"

Your voice was flustered, exasperated. Damn near whiny - and that was all he needed. The sound went straight to his dick and it throbbed once, twice more before he came. Hard. The moan he released was low, animalistic in his desperation. There were stars behind his eyes as he finally blinked them open, his chest heaving as the warmth slowly dissipated from his stomach. It took a few more lazy pumps to completely spend himself, at which point he was left staring down at his mess in utter shock and confusion.

Despite his location, despite how rushed and utterly far from intimate the situation had been, that was by far one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. And it was all because of you.

What the actual fuck?

It wasn't like you were unattractive. On the contrary, Hoseok thought you were very pretty. It was one of the first things he had noticed the day you caught him with Minjee. He'd simply chalked up any attraction stemming from that to the fact that he had been in the middle of getting his dick sucked - he was sure he had literal hearts for eyes at the time. The second time he had seen you, he'd attributed the flip of his stomach to the nerves coursing through every inch of his body at the topic he was about to breach with you. He couldn't exactly have you going around blabbing about what you had seen, even if you did work for BigHit. He had his image to maintain, after all, and if any of the higher ups found out he was recklessly endangering that, he'd be in a world of trouble.

So imagine his surprise when you swore to keep his secret. Not to mention the utter befuddlement you left him in when you offered him advice on how to continue hooking up, albeit much more discreetly. To say he'd never met anyone like you didn't quite grasp the exact gravity of the situation - he'd never even dreamed someone like you existed. The friendship that blossomed between you in the subsequent months was a marvel to Hoseok, and the idea of spending time with you amidst his hook ups was almost as exciting as said hook up. But only almost.

Until today, at least. Because apparently, somewhere down the road, Hoseok had developed more than just a friendly inclination toward you. He refused to acknowledge this, however, as he proceeded to hastily clean himself up before exiting the stall. Giving himself a once-over in the grimy mirror, he steeled his expression.

No, this was not the time to try and name anything of that sort.

He remained silent as he exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the vehicle. You muttered a breathy "finally" as you followed, climbing swiftly back into the driver's seat and starting the engine. It wasn't until you were on the road again that you spared a look at him.

"You know, if I had known it would be that difficult for you to get yourself off, maybe I should have offered my assistance."

It was a joke - you were joking. Like you always did. Somehow, you found this entire situation of his amusing. Hoseok knew this, and yet he couldn't help the way in which his limp dick twitched in his pants. He winced, and you noticed.

"Hey," you called, voice softer, more serious. "You okay?"

No, no, no. He was so very much not okay. He had just jerked off to the thought of one of his best friends, and had one of the most ardent orgasms of his life because of it. None of which he could say to you, because he simply was not ready to open that can of worms.

So he forced out one of his usual, sarcastic quips instead.

"Sorry, just - did you want it to take longer?"

You laughed, and it eased the tension building inside his chest. His lips adorned his usual grin, and he glanced at the window. If you knew the truth... you'd be anything but amused.

Well, there it is! I’m not a big smut writer - only recently sort of branched out into it - so please let me know what you think! And, again, if you’d like to see more. I have overtime at work for the next few weeks, but I’m trying to fit in more writing here and there.

Also, I apologize for the disheveled state of my blog! Now that I’ve got more (read: three) pieces posted, I’ll try to create a masterlist ASAP. Don’t know if I’ll accomplish that this weekend, but I shall try. 

Thanks again for reading! ^.^

(dngkaenrkjnerskjgesnrkjeew okay the gif took me fckng forever to get uploaded and it isn’t even the size I wanted but I’m a dinosaur who doesn’t quite have a handle on this newfangled technology so it is what it is. Please feel free to share wisdom with me regarding this shit hahahaha *sobs*)

©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

[godsporncollection]

Saturday Morning Session

(personal commentary in italics) (sorry for how inconsistent i am at this, i’m trying new medication, so my focus comes and goes unpredictably, but i didn’t want this to take weeks)

Russel M Nelson -  strengthen your testimony (?)

"I understand better what he meant when he said 'behold, i will hasten my work in this time.'" 

Y'all have been strengthening your testimonies and i, and your children, thank you. did that inclusion of "your children" feel off to anyone else?

I can see the work on the temple outside my window and that makes me think about how we need to remove the old debris from our lives. I too think of the temple as 'old debris' that should be removed from my life.

"the gospel is a message of joy" I cannot roll my eyes hard enough

that was short. what was the topic? blab for a five minutes?

Dieter F. Uchdorf - god is Among Us

I had to move lots when I was a kid because there was a war on. i thought about the missionaries who came to the country of their enemies to bring us the gospel.

i was a kid in a war-torn country > missionaries > god has not forgotten us > we will be heirs of god > how could we complain when we have that? > the atonement > mistakes are okay, just gotta keep repenting.

what would jesus teach if he was among us today? the same thing he's always taught. "the savior always teaches timeless truths, to everyone, a message of hope and belonging, a testament that god has not abandoned his children that god is Among Us."

jesus says to love one another and to be full of charity towards all men. i would like to see it.

anyone else feel like these talks are just. empty? like, they're not feeling it either?

if jesus came into your home today, he would see into your heart and i'm gonna waste a couple more minutes by expanding on that. one look into his eyes and we would be forever changed by the realization that god is Among Us.

back to me, i wish i could go back and tell myself to stay on the right track because god is Among Us, so i'm gonna tell you instead. god is Among Us.

"line upon line" *gag*

god is Among Us

Joy D Jones - abuse is wrong unless you use it to teach kids about the gospel

"have you ever wondered why we call 'primary' 'primary'?" as someone who understands how language works, no.

because kids are importanter than everything else

god trusts us to be nice to our kids; that means no abuse, even if we're angry. whoever needed this reminder should be shot.

hey, maybe you can "combat the evils of abuse" by not fucking raising your kids in an abusive cult!

analogy of a kid who fell out of bed because he "didn't get far enough in" = he wasn't indoctrinated enough, with awkward collage of pics of kids for a minute.

eyring said to get 'em while they're young

love all the pics of black people that try to say "see? we don't think black people are inherently evil (anymore)!"

analogy of a soldier in boot camp. drill seargants are mean, but that was necessary because apparantly it's the only way this guy can learn how to hide. also, apparently this guy is "our friend". not my friend, thanks.

"how can we do the same for our children?" don't fucking act like a drill seargent to your kids! ffs

"wouldn't we rather have them sweat in the safe learning environment of the home than bleed on the battlefields of life?" first of all, fuck you. second, dramatic much? third, fuck you, kids shouldn't have to learn about life in a hostile environment. does this woman have kids? are they okay? fucking hell, five kids were raised by a woman with this mentality. what a bitch.

"eternity is the wrong thing to be wrong about." i got news for you. of course, if i ever spoke to this machine, that topic wouldn't be my top priority.

I need a fucking drink.

Jan Eric Newman - teaching the gospel is good, but you can't force a testimony on others

anecdote about a local old woman getting birthday gifts. she taught us some good things when we were growing up, so thanks, sister davis.

another teacher, at college, was a "master teacher." he loved me and the lord. he taught me to learn doctrine on my own and that "changed me forever."

just sayin', if you're taught how to learn on your own, but didn't exercise enough critical thought to gtfo of this cult, maybe the teacher wasn't the best.

it's good to have good teachers.

the ancient nephites and lamanites had good teachers, and "there was no contention among them!"

"how can we teach more like the savior and help others become more deeply converted?" nope, nope. nope.

1st, "learn all you can about the master teacher hismelf." so, we're sticking with the term "master teacher." cool. doesn't sound weird at all.

ask yourself questions about how he taught, then do that.

read "teaching in the savoir's way."

2nd, use bullshit stories. oh, no, it's a story about how somebody is grateful for the pandemic because her adult child read the BoM for the first time during it. she said it had made "literal miracles."

3rd, "remember that conversion must come from within." guess jan and "joy" should have compared notes before speaking.

"children inheret many things, but a testimony is not one of them. we can't give our children a testimony any more than we can make a seed grow; but we can provide a nourishing environment, with good soil, free of thorns that would choke the word."

Gary E. Stevenson - kindness

story about a study where rabbits were fed a high-fat diet, but those under the care of a loving researcher didn't gain as much weight.

only christians can intuitively understand that this means there's a reason to be kind to others.

jesus said love one another.

addressing primary kids - be kind. here's a story about a kid who stopped being a bully because the bullied kid said it hurt.

to the teens - social media makes bullying worse, clearly satan is using social media against your generation. do what you can t make these spaces safer. if you're a bully, "stop it."

to the adults- "we have a primary responsibility to set a tone and be role models of kindness (get wrecked "joy"), inclusion and civility."

from ballard- "i have never heard members of this church to be anything but loving, kind, tolerant and benevolent to our friends and neighbors of other faiths." k, but, like, you know it's not just a difference of religious belief that’s the problem, right?

i'm heartbroken to hear about prejudice against blackasianlatino people or of any other group. i love how that section was really only about race, with a blanket "any other group" thrown in as an afterthought so they can't be accused of being homophobic.

in the winter of 1838, jo smith was in prison and why do you think that happened, gary?

church members were driven from their homes and the residents of a town across the river gave them food and shelter. that generosity saved the lives of many of them.

god is a compassionate care-giver.

Gerrit W. Gong - disjointed anecdotes of human experiences, idk

i miss my dad. he was adventurous, except regarding food.

i saw a guy be mean to a lady selling ice cream. he smashed all of her cones. the image of her trying to salvage the cones haunts me to this day.

story of the good samaritan.

be like christ this easter.

"we recieve inspiration as we counsel together, listening to each person, including each sister and the spirit."

does this guy have a topic?

he’s is just giving a list of random human experiences and parables.

*displays a lack of understanding of instagram.*

he's listing something throughout this, like, he keeps counting, but i have no idea what and his voice is making my adhd medication run away, so i'm not listening to this again.

Henry B. Eyring - temple worthiness

today i'm feeling light and hope, like the first day i went to the salt lake temple

i'm an oblivious fucker who didn't notice my name being pinned on me, so i thought the woman who greeted me was an angel because she knew my name.

thought he could remember being in the temple before, but a voice that was not his own (that's how you know it's true and not something he just told himself) told him he was remembering heaven.

confused "holiness to the lord" with "this is a holy place." i know both phrases use the word 'holy', but like, those contexts mean separate things.

i also had this feeling during my wedding in the logan temple.

i think henry should get checked out, he suffers from frequent hallucinations and it's good to know how your brain works differently from others when in a leadership position.

during my wedding, i had a vision of a house and the officiant said to live in a way that you can walk away easily. a year later, my father in law bought the exact house and my wife and i lived in the guest house for ten years. then i got the call to move somewhere else on assignment from the church and we walked away easily.

scripture from jesus about temples.

if you're unworthy in the temple, you won't be "able to see, by the power of the holy ghost, the spiritual teaching of the savior that we can recieve in the temple."

"when we are worthy to recieve such teaching, there can grow, through our temple experience, hope, joy, and optimism throughout our lives. that hope, joy, and optimism are available only through accepting the ordinances performed in holy temples."

i forgot how simple a baptism is, so i'm gonna tell you how amazed (and a little concerned) i was when my youngest daughter stayed to do baptism for the dead for all of the names on the list that day. maybe i'm just super comfortable in the water, but that doesn't sound hard, actually. i used to almost enjoy doing those.

quotes the primary song 'i love to see the temple.'

remember to be worthy so you can live with your family forever.

[kob131]

Looks like Hbomberguy's hours long crap is up(publicly).

“Made a legendary animator, his most trusted colleage (shows Shane) and two-”

People he outright went to and he acknowledged were better writers, thanks for admitting that HBomberguy and not be an insulting jackass right?

“RWBY’s failures matter because it could have been something-”

So could Twilight- That means nothing at this point other than ‘I made a bunch of headcanons and the show dared to not follow them.’

‘It’s easy to see why this show has such a devote fanbase because it frequently threatens to become good-”

So did Fairy tail (except for real) and that died out. Also you are really chipping away at my goodwill

‘People say what it promised!”

You mean this?

‘Weaken REAL criticism by being given too much attention-”

Hypocritical much douchebag?

“*insert a bunch of sarcastic bullshit mocking critics of RWBY*”

*rolls eyes* You say as you mimick them down to using the DEAD.

‘It’s separated into two eras with issues that don’t necessarily overlap-”

Bull. Fucking. Shit. Most of RWBY’s problems now ORIGINATED in the early Volumes. 

“If you’re a fan of the show you’re probably gonna dread what I’m about to say and if you’re a fan of the second half then you’ll probably agree with what I’m about to say-”

Considering you’re stupid sarcasm is just a less smug version of what I do, pretty clear ‘agreement’ and ‘actual good point’ are very different here.

“If you love RWBY and are still gonna watch, thank you and I love you for joining me on this journey.”

Less a journey and more a Seven Page Muda but sure.

“My goal isn’t to make people think less of the show-”

Which is why you openly insult it in the beginning.

“-but to think more about it.”

So far you’ve shown about as much understanding of the show as FloofArtist, complete with hypocrisy. And considering what I’ve heard about your video, you’re not getting better.

“I hope to give credit where credit is due-/It’s said failure is the best teacher-”

Which is why you openly insult people.

“’Rooster Teeth is starting game development!’ *insert insulting Steam Statistics*’

Fucking wonderful. Like you haven’t already tested my patience.

“*gushes about the Red Trailer after about eight minutes of recaping*”

Cool, eight minutes wasted on knowledge that EVERY RWBY fan knows. Literally every RWBY fan knows the origins of RT and Monty and the bitch basic knowledge of how they came together. You seem to have targeted this to RWBY fans and yet to blab about shit that you get after looking at the fandom for 2 seconds.

To say nothing of how you prove something was wrong with the Red Trailer. Namely, you never mention a plot, a personal conflict, a display of character or anything other than ‘cool music!’ and ‘animation!’ despite the show being pretty plot dependent.

*Gushes about the White Trailer*

Yet another bitch basic gushing with nothing of substance to it. For a guy who says he wants people to think critically about RWBY, you sure don’t do that for what is considered the basis of the show. It’s just talking about shit you like instead of anything worthwhile.

*Yet more gushing with the Black Trailer.*

... You know, I watch these kinds of videos searching for some kind of intellectual stimulation. Something to make me think and engage with. Right now, I get more stimulation and engagement from RWBY itself than a supposedly critical video that doesn’t even have to bother with anything original.

“The show already has generic monsters who just want to destroy humanity and yet you have written your characters to act exactly the same-”

And within your own bitching, you discovered the counter. The Grimm have nothing really to explore about them outside giving them variations and powers whereas the human characters can have these things called ‘motives’ and ‘reasons’. Not to mention even you would say people act like that in real life *cough* anyone NOT of your political alignment *cough*.

“And the audience is left with one lingering though...he can make that jump.”

How does it feel that Family Guy did a better version of your joke?

“She’s written like two adult men who have never written anything professional before except Red Vs. Blue wrote a Teenage girl-”

.... Monty wrote her based off her voice actress.  You’ve also made me regret ever using this same insult against Miles and Kerry so congrats on that.

*Even more gushing...*

You know, I am legitimately considering rewatching the Persona episode of Game Theory because at least MatPat’s faffing about is short and he has more content in his first eighteen minutes than this.

“More people have gone back to watch the trailers than watch actual episodes of the show!”

The trailers are the first thing people would watch to know about the series- no shit they’d be higher in view count.

“It’s so hard to not be onboard with the trailers!”

It’s actually very easy, especially in their release.

Why? Simple, a lot of the depth in the trailers only exists with context from the show itself. The White Trailer is cool and all but it’s symbolism and deeper meaning comes from Weiss’ backstory and the truth depth of Blake leaving Adam and what it causes is found in the show, the two best trailers while Red is just mindless fun that you can get better from other places and Yellow is just kind of neat.

How the fuck am I the more critical of the two of us so far?

“Then the show actually came out and it was terrible-”

Piece of advice, don’t follow this up with a super janky, uncanny valley 3D animation that makes Volume 1 look appealing.

“RWBY isn’t just a bad show, it’s a bad show that could have been something-”

*cracks neck*

The idea that RWBY or any show ‘had potential’ is most often used when a person once had a fondness for the property in question but has long since lost the goodwill to see it in a positive light, trying to make up for the cognitive dissonance of the conflict between liking what it once was and disliking what it is now. The issue here is that these so called ‘issues’ are born of the original creator who either founded the show or helped found it which means that it was pretty much DESTINED to be this way as the creator’s specific interpretation of their own work is what resonated with you in the first place and was likely built up to in the subtle inner workings of the show, thus making the big changes you want so badly would cause a ripple effect that would have affected your past impression of the show because everything in a show is connected. And in all likelyhood, your impression would have soured no matter what.

Tl;Dr- ‘It had potential!’ is self defeating and stupid.

‘The creators are receptive to criticism!...well, they try to be.-”

Oh boy I can’t wait for Mr. ‘kill half of all babies’ to try and speak about THIS topic.

“You don’t engage with any of the good faith criticism and just reward shitty people with attention. And I hope to show them that as a lifelong fan of RT and Monty Oum, that I’m saying this thinking RWBY could have been good...and still could be.”

Says the man who when referencing Miles for the first time, actively SEPERATED him from being a ‘treasured college’ of his friend and insulted him with Yang even though the fault lied with MONTY. 

All while referencing a tweet where he chews someone out for saying EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE SAYING ( ‘God this is why i hate this fandom. You miss the point. If I critise the show I'm a hater because you worship it. I'M OFFERING CRITISM U IDIOT SO THE SHOW SEES ITS FAULTS AND FIXES THEM. HOW THE FUCK CAN U KEEP MOVING FORWARD IF YOU DON'T IDENTIFY YOUR OWN FAULTS AND LEARN’). Yeah great job there jackass- How exactly are you any different from this fucker?

So that’s my thoughts on the first twenty or so minutes. Can already tell it’s gonna be shit.

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 4: gone with a snap (wc: 1.9k)

prev ; next ; m.list

a/n: another filler. sorry i forgot to upload the other remaining intrusion chapters from ao3 to here,,, i’ll upload other two in the following days.

After that day out, everything seems to fall back into place and regain its old rhythm.

Except that Iwaizumi becomes a part of the said rhythm of your life now, conversing and interacting with him a lot easier and almost refreshing.

What he said about your view of people seeing you play plays on loop in your mind but in a way, it feels like a breaking point on your journey of friendship. It feels good to step outside your comfort zone once in a while.

It’s funny how sudden some changes can appear before someone.

The first school day since your little hang out and you’re awfully cheery. Waking up in a good mood, not cutting conversations short; not even a certain teacher’s discriminating opinions can burst your bubble.

Your friends notice the sudden change during your typical lunch meet up.

It starts with wondering where some of your friends are. Ever since the rearrangement, it feels harder and harder to stick together.

“I heard the MUN club is holding a meeting during lunch break.”

“Again? This is the 3rd time in the last two weeks. Can’t they do that after school?” Okemia’s sudden outburst catches you off guard and causes Etsuko to drop one of her cookies. Meanwhile Ayame is nodding approvingly, backing up Okemia as always.

“Yeah because every single club wants to create a gap between us and the boys.”

“Well, they could be! They might be planning for it right now and we would be none the wiser!”

“A little bit of a reach, don’t you think?” Koto says as she sits down. The rest agrees in silence.

Everyone finishing up with lunch and occasionally eyeing the distance in case anyone else shows up, time passes by like that. Leaning against the tree behind you, you start watching the blurry figures in the distance, eyeing the leaves once in a while and getting cozier.

Startled by the sudden poke by your ribs, you break out of your trance.

“And what about you? You have been awfully quiet lately…” You slowly turn to Okemia.

“Not that it’s bad!” She adds worriedly. “It’s good to see you feeling, better. But at least one of us is there to witness the reason behind it. So… Spill.”

“I- spill what?”

“It’s the one you saw this weekend, right? It has to be! What else could you have done without us that would cause such a-“ She moves her hand rather dramatically, all digits pointing at you. “-change. So, who is he?”

Here it comes.

“There is no ‘he’ if that’s what you are asking. I’m just feeling lighter for no particular reason.”

“Hey, no need to get defensive! Nothing wrong with having a crush now.” You can hear the teasing tone in Etsuko’s words.

“Uh… Wait! Have we had a hobbit day recently? We haven’t had a hobbit day recently! I think we should have one soon and do nothing but eat!” Your desperate attempts at changing the topic of discussion is acknowledge. You’re not sure you’ll be getting away for a second time.

“Last time was fun, except for the moment our literature teacher saw Ayame and I feed each other chocolate though.”

“That’s because you two aren’t as fast and experienced as us!” You pull Koto to your side a bit too harsh as you say these. She just puts her arm around you in support and Okemia rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself.”

Successfully avoiding the possible news of your crush, you all set a date for your next grand ‘feast’ and some of your friends start to talk and giggle about their crushes. You just go back to looking at the sky and zoning out.

Trying not to dwell on your friends’ implications, you find yourself walking back to your classroom.

The looks and knowing smirks they sent your way when you announced you’d be leaving your little lunch spot a bit earlier making your blood rush, causing you to walk a little faster.

Pushing unwanted thoughts about why you might feel a bit different about someone proves to be an issue, especially when that someone is the one you hope to talk with a little before class starts.

Passing people by fast, ignoring their looks and heading straight to restroom, you stand over the sink.

Taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds.

You breathe out as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

Taking another deep breath and you start to examine your face.

 A pink blush spread on your cheeks and your nose, which you hope is caused by your quick pace and not a certain someone. Other than that, your eyes look fine, your mouth in a straight line and your face not giving away a single thought on your mind.

Splashing some cold water and standing for another 10 seconds, you slowly exit and make way to the classroom.

You’re almost disappointed to see Iwaizumi preoccupied with someone else. Key word; almost.

He’s sitting by his seat and a tall figure is looming over it.

From the way the figure moves his hands almost theatrically, it’s clear they’re the ones doing the talking. You can see their shiny brown hair and the gestures pull your attention to their skilled-looking fingers. They must know the enchanting presence they have right now, half the people in the classroom doing nothing but watching them. And they keep on talking about whatever it is they’re talking about purposely, not moving their head an inch from where Iwaizumi is sitting. And from where you are standing, they don’t block your view of Iwaizumi.

You can see him watching and nodding at them. Moving his mouth to make small comments, you assume to be words of agreement and encouragement, once in a while. He looks like in any other class; posture not slouching, hands rested on his desk, gaze focused on the speaker.

Yet the impression on his face. That, you cannot pinpoint.

Maybe you were wrong about Iwaizumi Hajime being an open book. Maybe you don’t know him enough to recognize this specific emotion on his face. It is clear there is something in the way he looks, the way his jaw clenches and the way he breathes. But you can’t make it out.

Startled by a sudden bump by the shoulder, you turn your head, mouth open ready to blurt a harsh word out, only to realize you’ve been blocking the entrance this whole time. Bowing your head slightly in what you hope is an apologetically way, your attention is back to them.

Eyes sliding back to the hall once in a while, you walk back to your desk and to Iwaizumi. Silently hoping he notices you or maybe not. Do you want him to notice you? Do you want to engage with someone who seems to be close to him as well? Do you-

Is that his voice? Head spinning around so fast to confirm with your eyes and yes it is the idiot you’ve been looking for all day, you rush to your desk, all your worries about Iwaizumi and his friend long forgotten.

Muttering few complaints and insults under your breath, along with a “wait up dumb ass” to no one in particular, you furiously search through your bag and make a run for the door as soon as you find what you’re looking for.

You don’t realize the puzzled look on Iwaizumi’s face or how his hand almost reached out to you.

You certainly don’t feel the cold gaze the brunette directs your way either.

You’ve been in an awfully good mood all week so far, Iwaizumi’s sure of it.

It’s almost impossible to miss when the typical demeanor of someone like you is cold and lacking in the smiles department. It’s a relief to see you like this, a little uplifting too. He wants to ask if it’s because of the mysterious text bearing news of hope you had received at the café. He knows better than to pry and settles with waiting until you decide to tell him yourself.

He can’t help but wish he is part of the reason why you’re happy.

Life goes the same for him; practices with the volleyball club, coming up with new strategies to beat Shiratorizawa, dealing with his highness’ shittiness whenever he is too handful. Additionally, you become a part of his life; slowly but surely giving more bits about your true self, talking with much more enthusiasm, making or saying something that is so you that he can’t help but agape once in a while too.

It is a nice change, welcomed, a little challenging because how you hold back and take things in time. He may not be the type to go and befriend anyone he sees but it doesn’t take a genius to know people don’t go all the trouble of slow processing and the effort when making friends nowadays. Lucky for him, Iwaizumi is not the type to back down from a challenge.

  Except for the times you disappear off to god knows where and all he has left to do is to wait. The back and forth between the two of you in thrilling somehow, adding a pinch of adrenaline to all this and leave him wondering what more to discover about you, what more to unlock with you, which layers to reach. To Iwaizumi you’re a little like a matrushka sometimes, reminding him of an oh-too-familiar friend he has spent a life time knowing.

But knowing him and discovering, bonding and growing together with him is what pulls Iwaizumi to the potential your friendship holds and offers.

So here he is one lunch break, sitting by his desk, most gazes locked onto where he is because Oikawa decide to pay him a visit in his classroom instead of calling him outside like he usually does.

He is not even there for something urgent, not even a hair crisis or a sudden volleyball strategy he came up with. No, Oikawa Tooru had to come and just ramble about nothing for no reason Iwaizumi can see. Yet he finds himself listening to his friend’s blabbing, nods when agreeing, making a small comment here and there, watching his comical gestures.

This goes on longer than he can comprehend, not long enough for lunch break to come to an end but long enough for Iwaizumi to zone in and out few times.

By the time his focus his back, he can see you aggressively going through your bag and cursing it. Unaware of Oikawa’s sudden silence, right when he’s about to touch your shoulder, you’re gone with a snap of fingers.

From where he is sitting, the view of the halls is limited. It takes a while for you to be seen again, walking besides someone and giving them whatever it was you were looking for a second ago. The figure’s back turned to him, Iwaizumi cam make out their built and height a bit, hint them to be in a sports team. He doesn’t realize the silent stance Oikawa has whenever he is observing, planning, breaking something into pieces in his mind; not until Iwaizumi realizes the mixture of words and giggles taking over the classroom as they’re done fawning after Oikawa. Before he can say anything else to his friend, besides a hurried “See ya!” Oikawa is gone, followed by the bell.

[bottleofspilledink]

God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter III

"All students please gather at the gymnasium for some announcements." Mary's voice rang over the speakers.

As student council president, most of her mornings were spent in the nun's office, going over papers for school events, speaking through the announcement system, and snooping through files to get dirt on people she saw as beneath her.

How did Eve know about all this? Mary herself would tell her and Elizabeth while they did each other's hair, shedding her holier-than-thou exterior whenever they were safely tucked away in her room.

"Let's go?" Elizabeth said, getting up from the bench. The gym was far from the courtyard and if they wanted to make it there in time, they'd have to go now.

"Mmhm." Eve packed her books and they left the courtyard, listening to her friend blab on about the boy she was meeting in secret.

Boyfriends were against the rules. Having one would lead to dire consequences, that included, but we're not limited to: a conference with your parents, a lecture on chastity, a lecture on God's plan for man and woman, a lecture on marriage, and a forced separation of the student that was caught and the boy.

Girlfriends were also against the rules. Though the consequences of having one were much worse than the other. Punishment for that might include, but isn't limited to: a lecture on God's plan for man and woman, a lecture on marriage, becoming a social pariah, being sent to conversion therapy, being disowned by your parents, or death, either by their hand or yours.

"You know, if you're not careful, you could end up pregnant."

The girl only scoffed at the notion. "As if! He always pulls out before finishing, so we'll be fine."

They turned a corner and were nearly separated as others entered alongside them.

"Besides," Elizabeth before she went off to find her section's line, "if he gets me pregnant, then he can't leave!"

Eve found her place in line and wondered if a child would compel him to stay with her or make him hate her for tying him down.

After all, she often heard her mother and her friends complain about the unfaithful husbands they were forced to stay with, complaining about how men hated settling down.

They would warn her not to trust boys, not to date them, while still silently knowing that one day, she would end up just like them, obligated with children they never wanted and unhappily married with men they could never leave lest they anger their God.

But of course, it sounded terrible when you said it like that.

Eve was certain it was better experienced than she thought it to be.

At least, she liked to hope it was.

They would get their just rewards in heaven, or so the women thought, sipping at their wine and laughing at the picture of their husbands and their mistresses burning in hell fire.

Eve knew however, from hushed sobs she would hear, late, late into the nights her father wasn't home that they were all insecure, sad, angry, and so, so, unfulfilled.

They didn't have the youth or beauty of their husband's mistresses.

They wept at the love letters they used to get with promises of eternal love.

They were angry for being treated like they were disposable.

But most of all they felt cheated, robbed of the futures they should have had.

Eve's mother was going to be a realtor agent before she decided to be a housewife instead.

Her friend, Nancy, was supposed to be an English teacher before she got married to her brother's friend.

And her friend, Amy, a nineteen year old fresh out of high school, was supposed to take a degree in arts before she got pregnant near the end of her senior year.

It was all Eve could think about while the set up for what seemed like an abrupt student assembly happened around her.

This was her future.

And she was going to have to grin and bear it if she wanted to keep her precious God's love.

She was usually able to forget about what awaited her after graduation. With years of practice, finding something else to put her mind to wasn't so hard.

But Elizabeth chattering on about her new boyfriend had made the topic unavoidable. And while Eve was able to tune a good deal of it out, her friend had simply teased her, saying she was so distracted because she had a boyfriend of her own to think about.

In reality, she was thinking about Lilith.

What she had heard of her from Mary, from the other gossiping girls, and what she thought she was like from her own experience.

(And, just maybe, her mind still lingered on the sliver of skin that had revealed itself when she stretched. But that stays between us.)

The speeches and announcements went through one ear and exited the next as Eve had yet to pull her head from the clouds, hearing all that was said but not registering a word.

When the people around her stood, she rose a second later, not fully out of her daze. Though the moment they left the gym, she could tell something important had happened.

"I can't believe they're really doing this to us," a girl she passed by lamented, "it's like they think we're first graders or something."

The grumbling came from everyone in the halls but Eve had yet to hear enough to understand it all.

"There you are!" Mary said, pushing through a small crowd to get to her.

"What did you think of the announcement?" She panted, cheeks bright pink and devoid of their usual cover-up. The morning announcements must have given her no time to do her make up.

"I didn't hear it, the girls next to me were too noisy." That was partially true, Eve reasoned to herself, she really hadn't heard anything but not because of the noise.

"Just tell me what I need to know."

"Alright," Mary sighed, though she wasn't sure if it was one of frustration or if she was just out of breath. If the courtyard was far from the gym, more so the nun's office.

"Basically, the nuns have created a sort of buddy system where two girls would be paired together, given the same schedule, and are tasked with watching over each other and reporting any offences they commit." She explained as they strolled leisurely through the cloisters.

"They say it's to keep us from temptation and build a sense of community..." She leaned in closer to whisper. "But between you and me, it's so that they can find out who started the fire."

"What's gonna happen to them?"

"Hmm?"

"The people who started the fire, I mean."

"Going by word of mouth, they're going to be expelled and maybe even sued." Eve could hardly believe the excitement in Mary's voice. A court case would only lead to more papers to peek at for her and endless suffering to the girl who it was for.

"But that's not what I came here to talk about," she said, crowd around them thinning.

"I just wanted to warn you."

"What?"

"You got paired with Lilith Damien, you know, the troublemaker?" She put in her locker combination and yanked her bag out. "She's one of the suspects and even if she wasn't, she's still a bit of a problem student."

"Okay, but why'd you need to warn me? I don't think she's going to hurt me, that would get her suspended."

Mary raised a no longer so perfect eyebrow at her, green eyes narrowing. The look she sent her made Eve feel like was nothing more than a daft cow or a brain dead five year old.

"You don't know that! Look, I'm warning you become she's... well, you know." Mary's tone softened in implication.

"She's what?"

"That she's, you know," She nudged Eve with her elbow, hard bone pressing into her soft sides rather painfully.

"No, Mary, I don't know. Just tell me."

"Alright, alright. The thing is, Lilith's a," she cupped a hand to Eve's ear and leaned in close, her breath hot as her small bust pressed against her friend's arm, "lesbian."

The word was uttered like it was a curse, despicable and dirty. No better than a disease that plagued the weak-willed and the depraved.

And to Mary, it was just that.

Eve visibly paled at the word, going completely stiff as nerves took over her body.

"I know, I'm just as disgusted out as you are."

"H-How did you even know?" Her palms grew damp and her fingers reached for her hair instinctively, twiddling with the ends and wrapping it around her finger so strongly that the tip turned a vivid red.

"Margaret said she saw her and the exchange student making out in the library last year."

"Ah..." Eve didn't know the validity of Margaret's claims, but if she was basing it off of past experience, it wasn't much more than the gum on her shoe.

"So be careful, okay? I don't want you being taken advantage of..."

As mean as Mary could be sometimes, Eve knew she had her best interests at heart and nodded, if only for show.

They may have only met, but she trusted Lilith enough to know that she wouldn't intentionally harm her.

"Good. I'm gonna go, can you head to class on your own?"

"I'll be fine," Eve said, Mary promptly leaving after.

She had arrived just in time for Sister Eunice entered the moment she sat down.

The next few hours were spent in a constant state of questioning, paying little to no mind to what was being taught.

Was she now scared of Lilith because she was rumored to be a.... that? (Not even in the privacy of her mind could she say that word. It was as if evem thinking it would be an admission of some sort. Though one does not need an admission to be a that.) She didn't think herself to be. After all, it was fine to have homosexual thoughts, as long as you didn't act on them.

Though apparently, Lilith had already acted on the thoughts... this didn't quite faze Eve either.

Was that going to pose a problem?

"Probably not," she reasoned to herself.

Mary told Eve to be careful, not scared.

Did that say anything about Eve? For her own sake, she hoped not.

Even in her most absurd thoughts did she think that Lilith could be a that.

She looked nothing like the ones they were taught about. She didn't have short hair, or tattoos, or piercings. She wasn't ugly to the point that she would repulse men. Far from it.

Eve thought she looked gorgeous. Who wouldn't? With her sharp, alluring features mixed with soft skin and fiery, red hair that shone beautifully in the sun, the girl could have anyone.

In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if she found out that Lilith already had a boyfriend.

Just disappointed.

Though, of course, she would never admit this.

Not even to herself.

Similar things flitted in and out of her mind until the lunch bell forced her back to reality.

"Class dismissed, girls." The nun packed her papers and left, other's quickly following suit.

Since it was Wednesday, Eve didn't share her lunch block with Mary or Elizabeth.

For her, this meant either awkwardly asking someone if she could sit at their table, or skipping the humiliation altogether and sneaking her food into the library.

Today, she opted for the second option. She got in line, grabbed two sandwiches and left, all the while stuffing them into her messenger bag.

"Good afternoon, Sister Deborah."

"Welcome back, Eve." The elderly nun by the front desk said to her softly, quite used to her presence here.

The nun's would never let it on, but it was an unspoken truth between them that Eve was a favourite of theirs. All who taught her knew she was an absolute delight. She was smart, well-mannered, pious, and all around a good girl.

The blonde made her way to her usual seat, waving at Sister Anne on the way. She was one of the few nuns here to have taken a vow of silence, thus the usual greetings wouldn't do.

Eve got to her spot, only to find that it had been taken up by what had occupied her mind all day.

"Lilith."

"Something you need, Eve?" She was smirking, leaning deeper into the plush armchair, positioning herself in such a way could almost be considered lounging, a show of relaxation she should covet.

Now, in most situations, Eve could be considered a pacifist. She was rarely assertive, never wanting to cause a fuss. It was considered rude, improper, and it just wasn't what a good Christian would do, disturb others.

There were very few things in the world she would stand up for.

This was one of them.

"That's my spot."

Lilith's eyes widened at that, then a short bark of laughter that echoed through the silent space came from her and she rose.

"And so it is."

She then sank into the armchair beside it, the scratchy one, if Eve remembered correctly, and melted into it, seemingly unaffected by the patchy fabric.

"Thank you." Eve sat down in her rightful place only after smoothing her skirt over, bag plopped onto her lap.

She was about to pull out the food when she was suddenly reminded of Lilith's presence by the all too familiar sound of shifting cloth.

As good an actor she was, the itch would get her soon enough.

"You know, you don't need to sit in an armchair. Just bring a stool over or try a different one." Eve said, trying to be helpful by stating the obvious.

"I could do that, yeah," Lilith shrugged, "but that would mean that of all the things to lose to, I lose to a chair, so I'd rather not."

"Who said everything had to be a competition?"

"Who said that everything wasn't a competition?" Lilith tapped her temple, a smirk once again etching itself onto her features.

Eve decided to play along, crossing her arms in pretend dominance. "I said so."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"Who else would you listen to?" She quipped, sharp but friendly.

The two giggled this and continued their back and forth banter, unaware of the time til Eve's eyes had strayed from Lilith's to the clock on the desk.

"Ah, the sandwiches!" Eve said in a panic, removing her arms that were pressed against her bag, surely squishing the bread.

Too worried about the mayonnaise getting all over her notebooks, she yanked them out of her bag, not bothering to think as to why she had hid them there in the first place.

"My, oh my, someone has brought food into the library," Lilith whispered, a look of mock scandal adorning her face.

"What? N-No, I was just-" Eve glanced around frantically, as if an alibi would appear on the painting of Saint Joan of Arc strung up on the wall.

"Think of something. Say something, you idiot!" Her eyes bounced from wall to wall and she found herself reaching for her hair once more.

At the genuine fear on her face, Lilith's smile dropped. "Hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. I'm kidding, Eve, really."

"I'm sorry. I don't do this often, I swear, it's just embarrassing to eat lunch alone so I thought-"

"Really, it's fine. I'm not gonna tell anybody." Lilith said, voice soft and soothing as she could make it. "Hell, I've done way worse than sneak some sandwiches in. You've got nothing to worry about here."

"Like what?"

Lilith held out her pinky. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise." Eve nodded, her own pinky reaching for Lilith's.

It sounded horrible, but hearing about how others had done worse would always make her feel better, superior. It would serve as a small reassurance that she'd yet to hit rock bottom.

Though she wasn't exactly certain she hadn't hit it already for the feeling of Lilith's finger intertwined with her was enough to send her spiralling.

"Okay, then." She leaned in close, bright hair brushing Eve's shoulders as the girl's warm fingers rested on her flushed cheek, cupping the small space between her ear and her mouth, hot breath nearly wracking Eve's body with uncontrollable and unexplainable shivers.

It felt so different from when Mary would whisper to her, though if asked to put it into words how, all you'd get was a few false starts and heavy, thought-filled silence.

The overwhelming sensation of it all nearly blocked out Lilith's words, though when they finally settled in, an explosion wouldn't have been able to block it out.

"Oh. That's... worse." It was all she could muster.

How could she possibly reply to that?

The girl laughed, an uneasy and regret filled noise that seemed so strange coming from her.

"I won't tell anyone, as promised." Eve rubbed at her pinky finger. If she wasn't mistaken, Lilith had either applied hand sanitizer just before she showed up or her hands were just so naturally soft.

"We've got about five minutes of lunch left, so if you wanna gobble those up real fast, I can be blind for a good three minutes."

She let out a breathless laugh, unwrapping the bread and offering the other to Lilith.

"What's in it?"

"Just some eggs and mayo."

"Sweet." She sat back down in her chair and they ate in silence, Eve still a bit too shaken to go back to their previous banter.

After, they shoved the mayo stained tinfoil wrapper into their pockets, crinkling with every step, their own inside joke.

The air hung heavy with unvoiced tension, as if the whispered words were a haunting presence just behind them as they walked to class.

At some point, their hips bumped together and much to their surprise, Eve burst into hysterical laughter at the noise that was crushed tinfoil.

With that, the awkwardness dissolved.  They were closer now. Bonded by secrets and sandwiches and itchy armchairs.

Eve would rather have a hundred late detentions than have this moment taken from her.

And, as she would later come to know, so would Lilith.

[doorbloggr]

Wednesday 28/4/21 - Usernames, Tags, and Personal Growth

So yeah its barely been an hour since my last post, but this particular topic is one I've wanted to blab about for a long time.

Online, and offline too in many cases, people will choose to represent themselves with a Username, a title to depict themselves as. This can be for many reasons, but the main ones I can think of are hiding your identity, and nicknames.

Now when I say nicknames, I don't mean by Mitch, instead of Mitchell, I mean like a pet name or title you use to identify a key part of your being that you want to be recognised by. But the interesting thing about choosing a nickname to represent YOU, is that you change.

My various personas over the internet

I wanna explore the idea of this change in persona by discussing how I've changed my own user/nickname over time. My journey of spreading around the internet was a gradual one, so rather than having the same user everywhere, I actually have a number of different usernames, depending on when I joined said site.

Pre Internet Username: Comixlad

In Highschool I filled 10s of exercise books with my own graphic novels, the longest running series was very creatively called "Awesome Comix" and detailed the adventures of me and my friends with super powers that allowed us to transform into new super forms and fight the evils of the world.

This led to my user comixlad, which I used everywhere from message boards to emails, and to this day I am still stuck as comixlad on certain sites.

Facebook/MySpace: Nothing really

For my first social media's, I really just used my full name Mitchell ****** (rather keep my personal life private). So yeah boring, and fairly formal.

Tumblr: supereffectivemoonblast

Tumblr was my first private affair where I went full on exploring myself without using my name. My personal tastes were very nerdy, so I thought I'd try to be unique and quirky by combining Zelda and Pokemon; originally my profile pic was of the Majoras Mask Moon, so the Moon Blast mentioned was in fact a Zelda reference too.

Given that I post a lot of my art to my main tumblr, in order to not get lost with the mem clutter, I made a side archive blog, named supereffectiveartblog to keep the theme going.

Instagram: mitch_zelda_sketches_selfies

When I started instagram I was feeling much more refined and artsy as a person. Whereas with Tumblr, I was more trying to be full on secret nerd, my instagram profile was a chance to show a more sensible side. So the user i chose was just an underscore list of what my profile would feature pictures of.

I later started a side account just to archive the realistic art I made of animals, since for a while, I made a lot of them.

Twitter/Reddit: Doorbashr

You'll notice I use that pfp a lot. I dont take a lot of selfies.

Anyway, I started my twitter in response to my involvement with the Super Smash Bros competitive community, where I could keep up to date with other players, and also (see: mainly), when I was mentioned in the results for competitions, I could be tagged personally.

The tag itself came from an incident where I tried to leave a friend's house during a house party, and in my tipsy state, didn't see their screen door and knocked it right off the rails onto the ground. Quite embarrassing, but Doorbashr is a memorable title that many in the local FGC recognise purely because of how funny it sounds.

Reddit I joined the most recently of social medias, if you can call Reddit such a thing. And since I already had an iconic username at that point, I just used Doorbashr again.

I do have one more username I have picked up more recently, but it's more on the private side for now and I won't divulge it unless you've read this far and wish to learn more by PM'ing me on here or any of my other socials mentioned here.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter six

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, just finally able to introduce Hoseok in this chapter lol

Word count: 5299

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi’s eyes scan the weekly announcement email, not truly interested, yet still giving himself time to be thoroughly knowledgeable of upcoming events for his newfound colleagues and the company as a whole. Mentions of renovation in the lobby, a new coffee machine to be installed on the production floor along with a request to be more mindful of how this one is used, and the schedule for the practice rooms for the month remains unchanged for the last few weeks of January. Highlighted at the top of the email is the name of a mini album set to be released the first week in February along with parentheses beside it stating who would be releasing it: Park Jimin.

Reclining back in his seat, Yoongi regards the blue font notice in silence, wondering for a passing time of his involvement in the corruption between Jimin and you. He knows it’s not his fault, and knows you do too. Yet, there’s still guilt seeing Jimin’s name or hearing it anywhere. Still guilt felt in grazing his thumb against his index finger as a fidget when on the four dates so far where you’re forced in one way or another to recall Jimin’s existence. Yoongi has not apologized about it since the first date, but it doesn’t change that he feels like he should if only to assure you that the hurt you try and hide each time doesn’t need to be hidden for the atmosphere’s sake.

The foot on the floor pushes his desk seat into a small back and forth sway. He doesn’t think of your mutual problems often, just reminded every time an email requests the two of you go on a date, like the one to come that evening. By this point you’re both amicable at least, even going on the limb of saying something like friends. Maybe. It’s hard not to when you’re both forced into two or more hours of conversation. It’s something like friendship. Maybe closer to friendly coworkers. He doesn’t know. Yoongi sighs, spinning an entire slow revolution in his chair, then stopping promptly with the sound of his phone’s text notification.

Two unread.

Y/N, 4:38pm: Just got asked to go to a last second meeting. Probably will be out closer to 6:30 instead of 6:00, sorry.

Yoongi, 4:39pm: That’s fine no worries.

He exits the message thread to check on the other notification. He stares at Hoseok’s name for a second and the few words he’s able to see before opening the chat. Yoongi inhales, rubbing his jaw, while clicking it open with his free hand.

Hoseok, 3:57pm: I think enough time has passed... I’m going to start going for a new comeback now! You’re required to pre-order whenever the album is done!

Yoongi, 4:42pm: Ah, is that a fact?

Yoongi’s hand falls from his jaw to type quicker,

Yoongi, 4:43pm: I’ll help you make it however you need.

Hoseok, 4:45pm: Thanks, man.

Hoseok, 4:48pm: I’m nervous still haha

The phone rests on the desk, Yoongi’s hand resting beside it while he looks at the screen. He tilts his neck as a stretch, thoughtfully. Uncertain of how this would turn out for Hoseok. Wishing for the best. Trying to be hopeful. The dissention of early last year comes back into Yoongi’s mind. The unfair treatment, and watching his best friend go through the invasive camera lights daily, and the pouring stream of interrogative comments throughout social media. The blame that had no place linking to Hoseok when their old company decided to sell out to SoundWave as Hoseok’s contract was torn to pieces.

Yoongi, 4:56pm: You deserve the new beginning if anyone does. It’ll work out.

Hoseok, 5:00pm: Bro…

Yoongi, 5:00pm: You ruined it.

Hoseok, 5:01pm: Haha, I know……… Thanks Yoongi.

The final two words feel somber in Yoongi’s mouth. Drying. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked for anything, when he was quiet watching what happened. He could’ve done something to stop it all. Maybe Hoseok would have a studio next door to Yoongi’s still if more had been done to help. To disprove the wrong perspectives in the public. But it’s not in his persona to care like that.

He sighs, pressing the lock on his device. Index finger taps on the space below his keyboard, the desktop monitor powering off onto the screensaver. Yoongi feels like he should scoff at himself in judgement. How was he ever appalled by your lie when he’s no different.

---

You contemplate sending Namjoon a text, but acknowledge the busy time of the day for him and refrain. Instead you wallow in the quiet, staring at your notes while listening to the arranger and producers beside you editing your song by means of scribbling pencils. You hope they ask you something greater than questioning an affirmative of their ideas for changing the words on the track. Apparently the theme is appropriate, but the verbiage itself doesn’t fit the fast beat pace the producer intends to make this track into.

Jimin is across from you, equally to himself. He scrolls through his phone, appearing collected. He said hello to you sweetly, politely when he walked in with the producer. You didn’t realize he would be joining the impromptu meeting. It was just the producer that had texted you about it, mentioning the arranger also tagging along. Not Jimin. You knew he was using this song, but you didn’t think he needs to be here.

“Jimin, your choreographer is going to thank me for this one. I already know it.” The producer is happy, and granted you’re not entirely angry at the changes he makes on the paper. They’re minor, the meaning is still there. Your touch deteriorates only slightly, and it’s something that’s involved commonly throughout song conception processes. You don’t care about that, you really don’t. Maybe you’re even spitefully happy about the changes too, because it means less you, less for you to be bothered by in the credential section. Less you in lyrics Jimin sings.

“You’re only doing the touch-ups though.” Jimin voice is light-hearted, his playing smile small, yet meaningful. You keep your eyes towards the producer’s writing hand. Bite your lip when the message is properly conveyed to him by notice of his reply,

“You’re right, Y/N’s work is great, like usual.” He agrees sincerely, giving you a thumbs-up with his left hand. You smile softly, just managing a head nod. “Sorry about the random meeting too, by the way. I would’ve waited until tomorrow if we didn’t have to redo the recording for the album he’s going to be releasing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I was here anyways.” You tell him calmly, catching sight of Jimin when you adjust in your chair. He’s gentle in appearance like usual, watching you only because you were speaking. When the sentence ends you see the twitch of an upward smile that he smothers and instead goes back to his phone.

“You’re here more now that the whole fake dating thing is happening, huh?” The arranger’s comment is absent of ill-intent, you realize as he rubs his neck in a stupor as he goes on, “I can’t imagine how weird that has to be. SUGA’s new to the company too; must feel random to be matched up with him, right?”

“Yeah,” You say vaguely, hands in your lap messing around with one another as you hope for a new topic. “Yoongi’s been nice about it all though.” You blab softly, unable to see Jimin’s thumbs unmoving as he no longer pays attention to his phone screen despite his eyes pointing to it.

“He’s cool, I’ve done a couple of things to help him with his production lately.” The man beside you nods as he speaks, settling the pen beside the papers. “Really particular about his stuff, but because he does practically all of it himself, it makes sense.”

“Can I see the revised version?” You interject calmly, receiving the notes from him as he immediately nods, handing it off. You scan through the tiny adjustments, thinking on your own of what potential ideas they had to change the pace of the song.

“None of it’s too crazy, I don’t think, but if anything’s too much let me know.”

“No, it’s all okay with me.” You don’t mind the scribbles, but have even less desire to combat things lately since the meeting with Yerin.

“Can I take a look?” Jimin’s voice calls out to you, and you face him. Small nod as you reach the small distance to slide the papers towards him, then startle as the producer stands up beside you,

“Crap, I need to get to a session downstairs right now. Just get that to my studio when you’re done, Jimin.” He says and you watch using every muscle to refrain wonder at why the arranger also stood too. You instead mentally curse at him saying he’d tag along since he was done for the day as well. You curse again at the sound of the door, glaring at the sight at that point.

“I’ll give it to him like he asked.” Jimin breaks the silence, eyes trailing still at the page of lyrics. You look towards him, erect in your seat but unwilling to stand yet. You recall leaving before he woke up the last night you were with him, and the incredible drought of communication since then. But is it really this easy for him to be casual. Your eyes wait to meet his when he finally lifts them up from the sheet.

“I liked the pink hair.” You murmur as a comment, trying to fill the void of quiet, give yourself a reason to linger there a little longer and see the state of his thoughts towards you. “Well, the brown is nice too though.” You correct with a tiny shrug, feeling a larger pang in your chest when Jimin doesn’t stop his smile this time.

“I liked it too.” He lays the paper flat, but his fingers remain on its edge. You think of other ways to continue the conversation, and shove the thought of asking him simply how he is to the corner of your mind. You’re already staying back with him for no reason, you don’t want to seem completely tangled with missing him. “You and Yoongi...” Jimin begins, and the mere mention of you two makes you want to groan, hoping against this turning into a conversation about your precarious fake relationship when you wanted to focus on Jimin and you. “You don’t have to do anything too much, right?”

You narrow your eyes in confusion. Jimin reaches for his hair, fiddling as he goes on, concern twinging, “Like, nothing you don’t want to do, lo-”

He stops, nearly biting his tongue to do so. You notice. Your hands grip on your jeans, trying to discern if the slip was just because the term of endearment is something he’s so used to calling you, or if there is something more. You watch his index finger barely scratch at the paper on the table. Nervous.

“The whole relationship is something I don’t want to do.” Your sentence is dry, matched with your dismissive shrug. You know that isn’t what Jimin meant, but you don’t expect his head shaking and body becoming more straightened in posture,

“That’s not what I meant.” Jimin says directly, biting the inside of his cheek as he considers explaining himself further. You free him of doing that, nodding.

“I know.” He noticeably pauses, nearing a flustered expression and you almost want to smile in endearment, but you still feel more sad than anything. Confused. “Sorry,” You finally avert your gaze to the table, collecting your few items. “We’re not being forced into anything else though.” You explain while Jimin watches you move around.

Words clutter in his mouth, wondering what to say to keep you in the room, but knowing he shouldn’t. Can’t. He’s the one who ended it. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“Do you miss us?”

Jimin’s heartbeat increases, while yours secretly does as well. The question blurted from your lips in a moment of impulse that built from the second you saw him that day. Dumb, stupid; you want to take the question back, you don’t need his answer. You want it, but you shouldn’t have it in your thoughts whether it’s a yes or a no.

What difference would it make if he said yes and you returned back to how you were. He was right-- Namjoon was right, you’re own screaming logic is right: a secret untrue relationship wouldn’t last and it would only serve to hurt you in the long run. This situation that you both stand in is exactly because you made up the stupid idea in the first place. You should’ve let the first kiss be the last one. Just because you ended up falling in love, doesn’t mean Jimin did.

Jimin’s made it clear that the answer is no. Why do you want to hear him vocalize the no. Maybe a sick part of your mind wanted the words to be engraved so you can take it as a bridge burned to char. If he said no you could move on. That’s how it could work. Maybe it would actually be enough, in that off-chance-

“Of course.” Jimin’s voice whispers the words like they were heavy to push out of his lips. But you could ignore that, wrapped in the potential- “But I don’t want to get back together like we were.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you, busying his fingers further into his locks. “It hurts us both being hidden like that,” You open your mouth to interject that you could live with it, that it’s not necessarily a long-term state of being, but he speaks on, crushing you, “And I don’t want to be your actual boyfriend.”

The counterargument abandons your psyche entirely. The truth of the situation is apparent. Jimin’s made it apparent. The extent of what you were to him was just lust. His casual demeanor makes sense. Your lingering feelings are the minority, not mutually felt.

“Ah,” Your head nods even though Jimin’s not looking up at you. His statement burns more as you stand in the same room as him. “When you put it like that,” Jimin lifts his head, and you don’t know whether to register his expression as sad or not, because why would he be sad. Conflicted, likely. “It makes sense we’d stop then.” You continue to nod, stepping once towards the door, “Sorry. I got the wrong idea.”

You continue in your exit, ignoring anything he may try and do in response, because you didn’t want to be pitied on top of everything else. You let the sound of chairs clattering behind you drift into the background, and slipped out of the room without another word heard.

Yoongi’s studio is on the same floor, and easy to find in a matter of moments. You usually meet him at the lobby, but you don’t think of that as your phone’s clock reads twenty past six and you knock on the frosted glass door. After three soft pounds do you take note of the tiny doorbell that is likely more effective. The small device’s appearance makes you sigh, thinking of how idiotic you were about not seeing it, how idiotic in general.

“Y/N?” You don’t realize he’s opened the door until Yoongi’s voice disrupts your misguided thoughts. You look up towards him. Yoongi can see the straining expression to appear indifferent, but it fails completely this time just in appearance alone. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, but we have a dumb date to go on.” You huff, reaching both of your hands to rub your face. Yoongi remains quiet, already not fond of the dates when you were both in at least average moods, but seeing you like this makes him hate the idea even more.

“There’s no time schedule.” He says simply, you narrow your eyes towards him in a lack of understanding, then your shoulders relax as he steps back opening the door wider. “Want to hear some of the stuff I’ve been working on and we can go out later when we’re both starving instead?”

You think of his consideration for your temperament and feel a little bad that Yoongi feels the need to accommodate, but you step inside anyways. It isn’t like he enjoys the dating, and putting it off for a while sounds like the best option. Not to mention, dismissing his attempts at kindness wouldn’t be best either.

Besides, you can’t say you weren’t curious at the prospect of listening to what Yoongi’s been working on.

You glance around the studio, noting the organized arrangements overall, yet homely in some aspects as well. The decor is limited to a few wall posters and mostly bare shelving, but his couch area looks like it isn’t new at all. The couch in particular looks a bit worn, and cluttered with a couple of blankets and a pillow. His small coffee table has only a single empty plastic cup on it, but you figure he keeps the place tidy or else there would definitely be more evidence of his caffeine vice than currently appearing.

“If you want to use the couch you can. I have some wireless headphones,” Yoongi tells you as he goes to the highlight of the room: a desk space covering the entirety of the wall. Bright with various electronic equipment and brand names that also inhabit space in your own apartment. But here the space appears validated by its placement in the company walls.

You sit on the edge of the couch, hands resting on his lap as you continue looking around the studio. It’s definitely one of the larger ones. Yoongi hands you the pair of headphones, and you situated them over your ears while he goes on in speech. “Whoa, wait what?” You cut in quickly, causing him to look back at you while he sits in his desk chair. “These things are really noise cancelling, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his hair back from his face. “I was just saying I need to decorate more, but haven’t got around to it.” He slips a pair of headphones on too, leaving one ear free. “This is going to sound really rough, and there’s a gap where I’m waiting on someone to fill with vocals.”

You nod, smiling in anticipation without realizing so. The sight makes Yoongi glance away, biting his lip in sudden worry the track won’t sound as great as you may anticipate. He clicks to start anyways, listening in his own ears and simply keeping his eyes on the screen watching the point on the timeline move along.

Behind him you sit back into the cushion, trying to take in everything in one listen, despite the different levels of the song meshing together perfectly. Yoongi’s voice sounds completed in the song already, like he’s already reached a point of contentment in the sound in your opinion. “Your lyrics are really good.” You say, head swaying with the beat, staring at the empty cup instead of seeing if he’d turn to respond to you.

Yoongi catches the comment, tapping his finger on the desk, lips tightening and forming more pliable peaks on his cheeks from holding back a proud smile. He waits until the fade out, before finally facing you once more. Angles his chair slightly towards you, not all the way, trying to appear more calm than anything despite nerves still simmering quietly in his stomach because you are the first to hear this particular demo.

“Did you hear me about your lyrics?” You ask right away, sliding the headphones to rest atop your shoulders. Yoongi nods softly, mumbling about not wanting to interrupt when you were listening to say thanks. “They really, really are good.” You say again anyways, smile growing wider as Yoongi reaches to fiddle with his hair,

“Thanks again.” His voice is still quiet, something bashful about it as well. Satisfied, you think, but you continue on anyways,

“And your voice is controlled, like usual.” You sigh, leaning back, “I can’t get over it; you’re so great at singing and rapping.” Yoongi just shrugs, but you miss it while you adjust your sleeves off of your hands. “For it being incomplete, I’d still listen to it, even without the other person you’re waiting on.” Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head,

“That’s too high of praise, you’re messing with me now.”

“I’m not.” You interject firmly, sitting upright. Yoongi looks at you silently, but breaks it by rubbing his neck and speaking sincerely,

“Well, thank you. I was kind of nervous about this one actually. It’s pretty different than other songs I’ve made.”

“Yeah, it’s really on the edge of your usual stuff, I think.” You nod in agreement, settling your hand on your chin while you ponder. “But I’m sure it’ll do well. Besides what’s a better time to try new things than now, right?”

“I wanted to make it last year, actually.” Yoongi shifts on his chair, clicking open an email notification. The title reads a clothing brand, and he shuts it as he goes on and for a moment scrolls through other emails in case he’s missed anything important. “It was busy with the merger going on though. But the beat is inspired by a friend of mine’s style.”

You let the information fall into space, interested by the mention of a musical inspiration. You scan any ideas, but ultimately feel like you don’t know enough about Yoongi at all to make any verbal assumptions so you just joke, “Jin?”

“Oh,” You watch Yoongi pause, and turn on his seat, looking at you with widened eyes, “How’d you know?”

“Wait really?” Your eyes grow wide as well as the image of Seokjin passes through your mind as a music producer-

“No.”

“Hey,” Your eyes immediately narrow, paired ironically with reddening embarrassment in your face. Yoongi just scoffs, then all together laughs as you defiantly cross your arms. “Rude,” You mutter as his lips continue releasing his entirely humored melody. “He could’ve; you don’t know.”

“I don’t?” He counters, slumping back into his chair and looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s performed an entire masterpiece with chopsticks and shot glasses before, so, yeah, you don’t.” You try to refrain from releasing any of your own smiling, maintaining a serious gaze towards Yoongi as he believes none of it and nods once.

“I live to be proven wrong, I guess.” He turns to face his computer once more, rearranging the opened windows as though he intends to continue working like he had before you stopped by. At this realization your arms relax, and you think about what you should do so not to bother him, maybe grab coffee to bide the time, or mindlessly watch YouTube videos on your phone.

Yoongi interrupts the thoughts, “It might not be my place to offer, but if you ever wanted to talk--or vent about,” His head tilts as he decides against specific topics, “Anything… I’d listen.” His hand sits still on the mouse, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to overstep. Though with all the trouble you seem to have, Yoongi tries to ignore that worry, allowing the innocent concern to lead the offer along.

“I probably look like I’m always down about something, right?” Your voice trickles embarrassment and spite, sighing as you rub your hair and angle your neck towards his coffee table. Frankly, it’s tiring to continue each day dismayed by the amount of circumstances left out of your control. Quietly having to accept so much that no one else seems to have to bother with, especially where songwriting is concerned.

“Not always, no.” Yoongi responds, eyes on the monitor though he’s looking at nothing. Contemplative of phrasing. “But a lot has happened the past month, and not much of it is good for you. I may not be your closest friend, but I think anyone seeing you pretend to be okay this often would wonder if you want to talk.”

You stare at the glossy wood, thinking of the interaction between you and Jimin not long ago. Being the first time you had spoken to him, you hoped it would’ve been better, maybe even telling for what the future could hold, but that was all wishful thinking in the end. He still left. Still keeps an arm’s distance. “I just,” You pause feeling the air in your throat that you hadn’t expected to cloud your sentence. You swallow it down and bite your lip, noticing Yoongi’s movement in your peripherals as he faces you slightly. Likely checking. Your voice probably sounded ridiculous.

“It’s okay to not speak too. Whenever you’re ready.”

The sentiment feels as comforting as the way Yoongi’s voice says the words. Absent of condescension, wholly gentle and patient. Putting his ideas of what he thought of you when you met and he found out about your job aside, to simply focus on your troubles. Understanding when he really didn’t have to be. Even if you both were amicable, and freshly titled friends like he said; it’s not like Yoongi needed to offer a metaphorical shoulder, or a penny for your thoughts without an expiration date. The action gives you a tug forward.

“Jimin was at the meeting and I didn’t think he’d be there.” You finally murmur, trying to avoid eye contact as though the words itching to leave your mouth would hide if you did. “I didn’t want to break up with him--or,” You sigh, rubbing your hair as your head shakes, “We weren’t a couple, I can’t really call it a break up, huh?” You rhetorically question feelings silly for being wrapped up in this relationship when it wasn’t a proper one to begin with. “I just didn’t want it to end.” The words fade, spacing even more as you ponder sadly, “And seeing him doing well-- even though he said he misses us, it just makes me feel like I’m the only one unable to push forward.”

In the very least, Jimin’s more in control of himself than you’re showing to be. Strongly believing this is the best way to handle the problems that existed in the relationship and unmoving about it. If you think about it like that, then maybe it would be better to try and adhere to this idea, even with your feelings for him. If they aren’t reciprocated feelings, there really is no worth in you continuously falling deeper and deeper. It was always bound to hurt, you just wish it could have happened later; like you would whenever the separation inevitably happened.

“Whether it takes you longer than him or not to work through this isn’t a problem. I think you should let yourself take as long as you need.” Yoongi gazes without focus at an empty shelf he plans to display albums of artists he’s collaborated with. Considering the closeness you and Jimin evidently had, it’s completely acceptable that you would be saddened by it all, and for all Yoongi knows the relationship could’ve had knots and twists that he’d never guessed that would garner the need for you to take months to heal. “Also,” He starts, though he considers not saying anything at all in case it may be a statement he doesn’t have the right to speak to, but recalling all of the instances thus far that he’s been unable to help you at all, he lets himself finish, “I don’t think you should shove all of it down either… I bet that feels suffocating.”

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed that he’s noticed how upset you’ve been despite having known you only a couple of months. You thought you have done well so far to at least appear normal, but with Yoongi spending hours of random days solely with you, it’s plausible he has simply caught on. Somehow the fact alone didn’t feel bad. In the same way that you had Namjoon to turn to because he knows everything that’s going on, it feels comforting that Yoongi is there as well. At least in his accepting way, whether it’s deeper than that, you don’t know and lean towards doubt if only because you’re both not on close terms.

“So I should just cry in the middle of our dates?” You try at a joke, but the smile you give him is appreciative of his advice. Yoongi glances to you, chair still angled to the wall. He hears the slightly joking tone and shrugs to it,

“If you do it gives us an excuse to go home.” You giggle at the fact and don’t mention that Yerin would likely end up irritated by you both appearing like a mess in public.

“I’ll cry one week, and you cry the next then.” You tease, scooting further into his couch and realizing that its incredible plushness is why it’s worn and Yoongi’s likely kept it since his last company. He laughs at the idea, nodding his head, relaxing himself now that you seem a little better, or at least, he hopes, less inclined to force yourself to act happy. “Thanks, for letting me talk a little, by the way.” A quieter, sincere tone. Before he’s able to respond you continue, “It means a lot to me that you wanted to help. I know I’m kind of, I guess, distant with my feelings, but it’s nice to feel like I don’t have to hide it all with someone around the company. I won’t bother you with myself though, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Yoongi discerns the idea you may feel annoying and softly diverts the thought away. “Besides sometimes it’s okay to be selfish and rant anyways. You’re just trying to help yourself.” He glances to his computer as you only respond with a nod, perhaps not entirely believing his words, but that could be a building process. “Hey, actually, while we’re here, and since you’re a producer,” You lift your head up, immediately curious as he mentions the title. “You want to help me play around with this song idea I’ve been messing with for the past week?”

“Wait, really?” You practically beam the words like sunlight, refraining from a flustered smile at the idea, but Yoongi can tell by how you sit up that you’re more than willing.

“Yeah, I’m not really getting anywhere with it, and since I know you’re the one who wrote practically all of the songs I liked from this company, of course I’d want to work with you.” The growing smile on your face almost makes Yoongi feel embarrassed as well that you found the request so appealing. He briefly chuckles as you start to nod, and he smiles brightly asking in bewilderment,

“Is it that exciting? It’s just me who’s offering, anyways.”

“Says the guy who’s made so much music that I love.” Yoongi bites his lip, smile not hiding at the joy. Emulating your sudden upbeat demeanor, simply because it felt infectious, Yoongi gestures to his computer,

“Well then since we both love each other’s stuff, let’s make it the collaboration of the year.” A light-hearted joke, but you and Yoongi mutually think it’s suddenly an exciting idea to work with one another on a song. So you’re up to your feet in seconds, taking the few steps towards his work area as he clicks around the screen,

“Wait, you don’t expect me to stand and help do you?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get a chair.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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