#mc pined in their youth

[dojunie]

jeno “i only like attention from the people i like” lee being desperate for mc’s attention/acknowledgement is SO on brand i really like the lowkey tiny role reversal comparing the high school version of the two !!!!

desperate is actually such a good way to put it... but the crazy thing is that he doesn't even realize how much he wants it.... in his mind paying attention to her so closely is just What He Does: always being aware of where mc is the second she enters the room, or committing everything she says to him into his memory without meaning to, or getting disappointed when she doesn't look in his direction, all of that is just "how life is"

like at least mc knew she was in love when she did those things. jeno has no clue why he gives so much of a shit about where she is and what she's doing and who's she's doing it with LOL

(at least not yet....... winky)

[jayflrt]

golden boy

❝ c’mon, this is exactly like the bahamas if you close your eyes. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, best friends to lovers, summer romance au, rich kid au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, underage drinking, heeseung is the biggest simp ever, and he calls you princess, mc has a stepdad, she is also a little spoiled in the beginning, tooth rotting fluff (like might be the fluffiest thing i’ve written), mutual pining ofc because this is a jayflrt fic, friends being insufferable (mainly 02z)

SUMMARY ▸ in the summer between high school and college, lee heeseung is determined to make you fall in love with the city of los angeles after your vacation plans in the bahamas fall through. somewhere between the lines, though, you end up falling for your childhood best friend.

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,375 words

PLAYLIST ▸ youth by troye sivan • tongue tied by grouplove • ribs by lorde • sanctuary by joji • cruel summer by taylor swift • stars by duncan laurence

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have been waiting AGES to share this one so i hope u guys like it !! ♡ also pls play stars by duncan laurence during the observatory scene if you’d like :’)

IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION WHEN YOU RECEIVED THE GOD-AWFUL NEWS.

“Your father and I are finally gonna have our honeymoon this summer!” your mother exclaimed, grinning excitedly as if she was expecting you to reciprocate the same energy.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t god-awful, but this was the one summer where you didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of being a student. Having recently graduated from high school, you were basking in the glow of finally becoming an adult and an incoming college freshman. You were finally free from AP exams, college applications, and the pressure of balancing academics and a social life. So, given all that, you were rather upset that your parents were leaving you behind before you had to fall into the routine of being a student all over again.

You didn’t mind having this talk. In fact, you were glad your mother was telling you in advance instead of just jetting away to another country and leaving a note behind. However, you didn’t understand why she had to have this conversation in front of your best friend, Lee Heeseung.

It probably didn’t help that you two had been joined at the hip since you were wearing diapers, but your families had gotten far too comfortable with each other. Just last week, Heeseung’s mom was asking you if you both had finally “tied the knot,” to which you replied by explaining that you had just graduated high school.

You were happy for your mother and stepfather, really. Your mother had experienced her fair share of bad relationships after your father left, so you were glad that she finally met someone so kind and genuine. You weren’t ever one to judge the men your mother brought home, but your stepfather always got brownie points for playing Mario Kart with you whenever he came over. Not to mention, he bought you the Nintendo Switch to play it on. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t feel insecure about your mother’s success and lavish lifestyle, so you only had good things to say about him.

While you were genuinely glad with the outcome of your parents’ relationship, that unbecoming, spoiled side of you was slipping through the cracks. Even your brain was shouting at you for complaining about having to stay in Bel Air for the summer. Yet, you were just far too frustrated with the bleak vision of your own summer to care about your parent’s honeymoon. In two weeks, you should have been vacationing in the Bahamas with a piña colada in your hand, not waiting for your parents to come back from Rome.

“That sounds so fun,” you chirped with fake enthusiasm, although you supposed it was easily detected due to your gritted teeth, “and that’s not gonna interfere with our trip to the Bahamas, right?” When she didn’t respond, you asked again, “Right, Mom?”

Your mother wore an uneasy look on her face at the sight of your displeasure, so Heeseung cut in quickly, “I think you should probably forget about the Bahamas this year, Y/N.”

“Heeseung!” you whined, sending him a sharp glare. He did not just tell you to forget about the Bahamas. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not around your mom, dude,” he muttered.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Your mother smiled as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “I mean, it would be good for you to stay here with all of your friends for once; I don’t think you’ve ever not left the country for the summer.” When you sulked, your mother tried to encourage you by gently squeezing your shoulders. “Heeseung and your other friends are here, and you have a car now! Yeji’s family moved to Irvine now, didn’t they? You can drive down to see her.”

You nodded, a little more encouraged. You and Hwang Yeji had been close ever since you met at Choi Jisu’s birthday party in middle school. When Yeji’s parents decided to move to Irvine, finding that housing was much more expensive in Los Angeles County, you were absolutely crushed. Plus, it wasn’t like Orange County was any less expensive, so you felt even more bitter about their sudden move. It wasn’t like you could drive and see Yeji whenever you wanted, either; the one hour drive felt like three with all the Los Angeles traffic.

You hung your head, dejected. “I guess so.” You turned your head to the side, noticing the snicker that Heeseung was holding back. After shooting him a dirty look, you looked back at your mother. “When are you leaving?”

“This weekend,” she responded, eyes fixed on her phone screen now. “I have to sort out my PTO with my boss today, though.” She kissed the top of your head and started heading for the door, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring with each step. “I’ll see you later tonight, Y/N! And make sure Heeseung actually goes home tonight!”

You shot a glance at your friend, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world in reaction to your mother’s words.

Heeseung tended to be scared of everything—everything except actually scary things, like biblically accurate angels or the wrath of his mother.

You gave your best friend a condescending half-grin, which he returned sheepishly. As of late, Heeseung had become notorious for staying out late with Jay Park, Jake Sim, and Park Sunghoon. (Yang Jungwon often joined them, but he was adamant about going home before midnight. Something about not wanting to miss out on his beauty sleep.) Everyone thought this was the beginning of Heeseung’s teenage rebellion (which was rather delayed), but then you discovered that all they did was play games in an internet café and occasionally use their fake IDs to get into VIP lounges at clubs.

When you heard the door shut, you circled around the couch to sit next to Heeseung.

“This sucks,” you said flatly. “Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature—hot enough to melt the skin off my bones, and I’d rather have that happen while I’m sunbathing in the Bahamas!”

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” Heeseung snorted, looking up from his phone where he was playing Cookie Run from the umpteenth time. You swore he was addicted to the game despite the numerous times he told you he was just playing it as a joke. Your best friend continued, “You should be happy for your mom instead of complaining about your summer being ruined.”

You sank back in your seat. You hated to admit it, but Heeseung was right; you were being uptight about this whole situation. You just couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the one thing you were looking forward to all year long.

Heeseung leaned closer so that you both were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he nudged you. You looked over and were met with his dazzling grin. Frankly, you were honored that you were graced with his attention in the middle of his Cookie Run gaming session.

“You can spend the summer with me instead,” he offered.

You snorted. “That was gonna happen, anyway. You spend all your free time at my place.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Heeseung asked, brows knitting into a frown.

He looked at you so intensely that your breath caught in your throat for a moment. The proximity coupled with the shift in tone made you feel self-conscious, and you were scared that Heeseung was going to let some unspoken feeling slip.

However, his face broke into a mischievous grin. “You guys have a jacuzzi.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and shoved him harder. This time, Heeseung was laughing as he fell against one of the cushions on his side. You grabbed one of the throw pillows and started pummeling him with it.

“You have your own jacuzzi, too, dumbass,” you retorted. “You’d know if you actually stayed at your own house for once! Also, you’ve lost your pool privileges here after you poured bubble bath in ours.”

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“You clogged our jets and we had to pay someone to get rid of the bubbles, Heeseung.”

“Jake was the one who poured the bubble bath in!”

“And who was the one who gave him the idea?”

Heeseung grimaced, and you were seconds away from reminding him how you took the fall for him when your parents asked what happened to the hot tub. Before you could, though, he spoke up.

“I was being serious, though,” he started, “do you wanna have a fun summer with me, or do you wanna stay bitter and do nothing?”

Something about Heeseung’s condescending tone was pissing you off. You stared at him before delivering one last blow with the throw pillow.

“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics; you didn’t even hit him that hard.

“I’ll see you later,” you told him, turning on your heel to head upstairs without seeing your friend out. “I have plans with Yizhuo now.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you became friends with Ning Yizhuo, but throughout high school, everyone knew the two of you came in a package deal. When you were in third period AP World History, everyone knew that Yizhuo would switch out of her second period section to be in your class; when you didn’t show up to calculus, it was no surprise that it was because you were ditching with Yizhuo; when Zhong Chenle asked Yizhuo out, he realized that commitment came with becoming your friend as well.

At first, you assumed that it was because your mothers were close, but that didn’t explain why you spent countless nights at her place and picked her up for school every single morning. Heeseung even once admitted that he was jealous of your friendship with her. He was drunk when he mentioned that, of course. He would never admit to that while he was sober.

When she got into a school on the west coast and you got into a school on the east coast, though, you thought your life was over. (When you figured out your meet-up plans were somewhat manageable, you felt a little better.)

On the bright side, you were stoked to attend Yale with your partner-in-crime, Heeseung.

“Wait! Let me drive you,” said partner-in-crime offered.

You turned to face him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a thirty minute drive, Heeseung. I’m going to her country club.”

Despite your protests, you knew that Heeseung would be more than willing to drive all the way over there. Hell, you could tell him you wanted to go to Las Vegas right now, and he’d somehow manage to arrange a trip for you two. You had never met anyone as spontaneous as him.

Now, though, you were trying to get away from him because you were a little bitter about his comment. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to drive alone, so you kept his proposition on the table.

“Oh, her country club? The one up north, right?” he inquired. “Can I bring Jake, too? We’ll just hang out at the mall while you do your thing.”

You mulled it over—not for long, though, because you found yourself caving easily. “Fine.”

You forgot that Heeseung bringing Jake meant that Jay and Sunghoon were coming along for the ride, too.

The three of them were squeezed in the back of Heeseung’s Tesla, with Jay incessantly complaining about how he had to take the middle seat. He even went as far as to compare heights, and Sunghoon used his one centimeter on Jay to his advantage. Jake remained silent for once.

You ran your finger along the smooth leather of your seat and snorted.

“Are you making fun of my car?” Heeseung asked with a chuckle.

“No, I’m making fun of how you dropped extra money for white seats.”

“And for the seven-seater.”

“What?!” Jay exclaimed, swiveling in his seat to look behind him. “And you still squeezed me in the middle seat?”

“Not my fault you didn’t look behind you, dude.”

Sunghoon and Jake proceeded to laugh at their friend, and you were about to do the same until you realized you had looked to see if Heeseung was laughing along with you. To your delight, he was. That, and the wind was blowing in his hair so perfectly. The golden sun shone across his face in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and his smile grow. You would always scold him for not having sunglasses on him, but, this time, you were a little distracted by how he glowed.

Heeseung then turned to you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing at all.” You coughed, tearing your gaze away to look ahead at the freeway. “Are we almost there?”

You just then registered how the backseat had gotten awfully silent, and when you turned to check on The Three Idiots (you deemed this title upon them back in high school, and it stuck), they all had Cheshire grins spread across their faces. It was a little scary, honestly. Their antics were nightmarish on their own, but what their eyes suggested was something that would haunt you. You fought down the heat creeping up your cheeks in an effort to appear indifferent, and you turned back to look at the GPS.

Ten minutes. You had to deal with them for ten more minutes. That was 600 seconds. Maybe you could tune out the testosterone if you counted down your arrival time.

To your relief, though, ten minutes passed by much faster because the four boys got into a heated argument over the superior boba shop in the Bay Area. You had to interject by reminding them that none of them were even from the Bay Area. Heeseung wound up going on a tangent about how he and Choi Yeonjun went on a day trip last weekend, which you would have remembered “if you were a better friend.”

You did remember, actually. Heeseung was texting you the entire time about Yeonjun forcing him to choose between him or a PS5. You presumed that Heeseung chose the PS5 because Yeonjun posted a black screen on his Snapchat story with the caption “dhmu” followed by a wilting rose and broken heart emoji.

(They wound up gaming all night afterward, anyway.)

The Three Idiots sensed tension from the back seat, so they started a new debate: the superior boba shop in Los Angeles.

You couldn’t believe that this was the depth of their conversations.

When you finally arrived at Yizhuo’s country club, you were being nagged by Sunghoon to get out of the car. He was eager to go to the mall and try out a new sushi place that everyone had been raving about. For someone who seemed to lack any seriousness, Sunghoon was extremely diligent about his frequent Yelp reviews; he even got promoted to the Yelp Elite Squad.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” you complained, shooting Heeseung a withering look—a please save me from your friends, which he grinned at. “Bye, then.”

“Have fun, princess,” Heeseung called as you were closing the door, and you were grateful your back was turned so that he couldn’t see the look on your face.

(“Princess?” Jay questioned. “Did you just call her princess?”

“It’s an inside joke!” Heeseung rebuked.

“And were you just checking her out?” came Jake’s muffled voice from inside the car, and a bark of laughter followed immediately after from Sunghoon and Jay.)

You shook your head when Heeseung sped off as quickly as possible. You could picture it so vividly; he would be defending himself to his dying breath, cheeks bright red as his mouth ran. Although you found it funny, you knew that Heeseung was probably just glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t too close to the car before he drove away.

“Y/N!” Yizhuo called from the entrance. You turned to see her clad in a cotton shirt and tennis skirt, standing next to Zhong Chenle. “Did you think we were swimming or something?”

Yes, you most definitely did think you were going to be sunbathing by the poolside. With a sheer cover-up over your black one-piece, you were definitely not ready to play tennis with Yizhuo and her boyfriend. You even had your red heart-shaped sunglasses on your head.

You let out a petulant whine, taking your walk of shame over to the two. “I’m already in the racquet club, so why would I come here to play more tennis?”

Yizhuo shrugged, but the one thing you loved about her was that she was flexible with plans. “I’ll just change into my swimsuit, then. I’ve been wanting to sunbathe,” she said before handing Chenle her racquet. “Looks like doubles didn’t work out. Are you and Jisung good with playing singles?”

“I don’t mind as long as I win,” Chenle answered with a grin. “See you two later.”

He was clearly delighted because you were probably the only competition he had to worry about. You were sure Park Jisung would complain when he found out that you weren’t going to be his partner. Jisung was utterly hopeless when it came to tennis—or, rather, he was scared of anything flying in his direction.

Yizhuo grabbed her Prada leather tote bag, pulling out a white two-piece with a gold clip in the front after some digging. She excused herself to change quickly, and came back within five minutes. You were grateful she came prepared. For her, though, it was inevitable considering she drove thirty minutes most days to lounge around her country club with Chenle.

“They’re renovating the banquet room right now,” Yizhuo informed as she settled into the lounge chair next to yours. “I was going to invite you for the opening next week, but you’re gonna be in the Bahamas, as usual.”

“Yeah, about that,” you drawled, “vacation plans fell through, so I’m not going anymore.”

“What?” Yizhuo sat up, startling the server who brought over cocktails on a silver plate. “But you always go to the Bahamas!”

You gingerly took one of the cocktail glasses, mouthing your gratitude before turning your attention back to Yizhuo. “My parents wanna spend their honeymoon alone, and Heeseung thinks I’m acting spoiled.”

Yizhuo smirked against the rim of her glass. “How is it that Heeseung always manages to come up in our conversations?”

“He doesn’t!” you exclaimed. “He’s just always around, you know? Like a fruit fly.”

“Just like how Chenle’s always around?”

“Chenle’s your boyfriend; Heeseung’s just a gnat.”

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you and Heeseung are the dictionary definition of couple behavior. I swear, you two are meant for each other.”

You sighed. “Heeseung and I have been best friends since, like, forever. Our relationship is just… different from my other friendships.”

Yizhuo raised a brow, a coy smile still creeping across her face. “So how come you refer to everyone else as friendships, but with him it’s a relationship?”

“Psychoanalyze much?” You sent a mocking smile right back at her. “Can I not have a friend of the opposite gender anymore?”

“You can have one that doesn’t make heart eyes at you,” Yizhuo replied with a scoff. “I’m telling you, the guy’s head over heels.”

“Whatever.” You slipped your sunglasses down to rest on the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to think about potential romantic feelings for your best friend that could threaten the stability of your life-long friendship. “Let’s circle back to what’s actually important: my summer.”

“Poor Heeseung.” Yizhuo tutted. “Bahamas over love.”

“Love can happen any time,” you said, “but the window of opportunity only opens once, and that golden period is the summer between high school and college. Think about it, Yizhuo! Every summer after this one is gonna be loaded with classes, internships, and work.”

“So, what’s your game plan?”

You pondered on her question. There were only so many options you had, and, clearly, going to the Bahamas was not one of them. Honestly, you hardly felt like a real Californian with the little knowledge you had about what you could even do around your area; all you could think about was the beach or Disneyland. Plus, with Yeji doing a summer program in Irvine and Yizhuo spending her days at her country club, you didn’t have much room for spontaneous activities with them.

Unless you wanted to spend every single day like you would on a regular weekend, you had to find someone who knew how to make things fun.

And, unfortunately, that narrowed it back down to Lee Heeseung.

You turned back to Yizhuo with a sheepish look on your face. “I think I have an idea.”

“Be my summer escort service.”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung nearly choked on the tea your mother made for him. You watched as he set the cup down as delicately as possible while his eyes welled up with tears. He hit his fist against his chest a few times before calming down. “I don’t think you know what an escort service entails, but I think I know what you’re getting at.” He grinned slowly. “You’re taking me up on my offer.”

You did a lot of thinking on the car ride back to Bel Air.

A lot of thinking during the time when Sunghoon wasn’t complaining about the quality of the sushi place they went to. You were almost inspired to write a negative review yourself because of how passionate he was.

“Well, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna be seeing you almost every day, anyway,” you said, “so we might as well make the most of it, right?”

“I knew you’d turn around.” Heeseung reached over and ruffled your hair. “I’ll make sure you have the best summer of your life, Y/N.”

Lee Heeseung excelled at virtually anything. You were sure he would surpass your expectations with these impromptu summer plans, too.

You deemed the nickname “Golden Boy” upon him for this very reason, and it had everything to do with the fact that Heeseung was absolutely perfect at everything he did.

For a while, you even coined a theory that he had been created in a laboratory, specially designed to be absolutely flawless in every way imaginable. Of course Heeseung was born rich, smart, and handsome. Some people were just born lucky into the world, and, when you were younger, it was harder to accept that. Heeseung grew up with the world at his disposal; he got everything and anything he wanted, but that didn’t necessarily mean he took his privilege for granted.

You had to admit that Heeseung was a hard worker when it came down to it. Although he was definitely affluent as a fourth generation trust fund baby, Heeseung made sure his parents were never disappointed with his results.

Throughout high school, he consistently ranked first every single year, always coming right above you after the semester ended. Not to mention, he had even been scouted by several Division 1 schools to join their soccer team. He was even published at the mere age of sixteen for the research he did with a college professor. And, with a face and personality like his, any reasonable mother would’ve loved for their daughter to bring Heeseung home for dinner.

Another thing he never failed to accomplish was making you absolutely flustered.

“Well…” You turned your cheek. “I always have fun when I hang out with you, so don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late. It’s getting to my head.”

You groaned.

“Hey, we might as well have fun,” Heeseung tried. “It’s not like any of us are vicariously living through each other’s summer romances.”

“Whoa. You said ‘each other.’”

“Yeah?”

You shot him a questioning look. “You’re implying that you have a summer romance that I’m not allowed to live vicariously through.”

“What? No!” Heeseung frowned as he tried to do the mental gymnastics to piece together your reasoning. “I said—actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter what I said. Who cares about being cuffed? Let’s just enjoy the last moments of our youth.”

“You know what, you’re right,” you agreed, getting fired up just by his words. Maybe it was the realization that time was fleeting, but you were determined to have the best summer ever now. “This summer, I’m Percy and you’re Grover. No one’s getting in the way of our side quests.”

“Why do I have to be the half-barnyard animal sidekick?” Heeseung deadpanned. “Can’t I be Annabeth?”

“No, put some respect on a satyr’s title.”

Your best friend picked his cup of tea back up when it had cooled. He blew gently on the surface before taking a careful sip, and then confidently drank more afterward. He set his cup down again and held a finger up, signaling that he wanted a chance to speak again. You were half-expecting it to be about the damn Percy Jackson lore.

“Your parents leave soon, right?” he asked instead. You nodded in response, somewhat surprised about his inquiry, so Heeseung continued, “Do they need a ride to the airport? We could have a sleepover after.”

“I think—”

“We would love a ride to the airport, Heeseung,” your mother gushed from the staircase as she was lugging suitcases down, “but you’re going straight back to your house after taking my daughter home.”

Heeseung swallowed thickly. “O-of course, ma’am. Straight home.”

You pouted a little. “You’re not staying?”

He smirked a little at your reaction, and you were a little flustered and disappointed that you managed to inflate his ego even further.

“Nah, I’ll just—” Heeseung cut himself off quickly when he noticed your mother was suddenly towering behind where he was seated on your couch. “I’ll—I’ll go straight to my house, like I said.”

“Come on, let the kids spend some time together before college,” your stepfather chimed in, following suit with a suitcase of his own. “Y/N hardly ever gets to stay in LA for the summer.”

“We’re going to the same college, Dad,” you pointed out.

“Of course,” He walked over to ruffle your hair, and Heeseung stared up at him as if your stepfather was some respected higher power, “but you never know what could happen in college. People grow apart whether you like it or not, and the life of a college student gets busy, so you two might as well enjoy this summer.”

When all you could do was stare at your stepfather in horror, he added, “I’m not saying you’re gonna stop being friends! It’s just easier to spend time together now than it is in college.”

“That’s why I’m your daughter’s escort this summer,” Heeseung spoke up.

“Escort?” your stepfather pressed. “That’s… a little concerning. Keep it PG, you two.”

“It’s not like that!” you whined. “Anyway, Dad, don’t you have to get to the airport soon?”

He checked his watch quickly and nodded at your mother. “Y/N’s right. We should get going soon, honey. I’m gonna go make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.”

With that, your stepfather jogged upstairs with Heeseung’s curious eyes following him suspiciously. When you nudged him, trying to figure out why he was mugging your dad for no reason, he grinned a little. He gestured for you to lean closer so that he could speak quietly.

You leaned in close so that your ear was by his lips, and Heeseung whispered, “He’s totally packing your mom’s honeymoon present.”

“How do you know?”

“Classic move. My brother did the same thing for his wife.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth with a shocked look on your face. You had to keep yourself from audibly gasping since your mother was only a room away. Your face broke into a little smile. Seeing someone care for your mother so deeply made you so happy, especially with how she was the one who usually put in the most effort in her past relationships.

All your life, you wanted a relationship that was the complete opposite of your mother’s; now, though, you aspired to find someone who loved you that much.

Speak of the devil. She was walking over as you and Heeseung exchanged mischievous grins.

“What’re you two smiling about?” she asked.

“Nothing!” You smiled and fixed her hair. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Mom. I’ll make sure Heeseung doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Heeseung interjected. “I’m not even that bad! Honest-to-god, Jake’s worse than me—just ask Jay or Sunghoon. Actually, don’t ask Sunghoon because I think he has it out for me right now.” He paused before adding, “Now that I think about it, don’t ask Jay, either. Just trust me on this one.”

You scoffed. “Nice going, Hee.”

Your mother smiled, and you could tell that it was a little sad. “We’ll take you to the Bahamas next time, okay, Y/N?” She did a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little and whispering, “By the way, your stepfather was really happy that you started calling him ‘dad’ the other day. I think he almost cried!”

You hated to admit it out loud, but you felt inexplicably happy at those words.

“I’m ready!” your stepfather called as he came down the stairs. “Do you have everything you need? Are we ready to go?”

“Ready as ever,” your mother answered and turned to your best friend. “Are you ready, Heeseung?”

“Yep.” He got up from the couch, spinning his car keys around his fingers. “Come on, Y/N. Time to say bye-bye to mommy and—ow! Don’t hit me!”

The car ride to the airport wasn’t too long, but you and Heeseung fell into an uncomfortable silence while your parents were gushing about their vacation plans to each other. They weren’t even sitting next to each other. Your mother sat next to you in the back seat and your stepfather sat in the passenger’s seat to accompany Heeseung, but they were still going back and forth. You nearly considered asking your stepfather to switch seats with you so that you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of their incessant flirting.

When Heeseung pulled up to the drop-off zone, however, your parents pulled themselves together in record time. You received two kisses on your head from each parent after they got out of the car.

“Heeseung, let’s walk together for a bit,” your stepfather called. When you exchanged a shocked look with your best friend, your dad clicked his tongue with a laugh. “Just until the gates over there. I need some help carrying my bags.”

Heeseung, floundering for words, wound up not saying anything and scrambled to get out of the car to help him out. The conversation seemed to be light and easygoing, but you were craning your neck out of the car window to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on.

“Mom,” you whispered harshly, “tell me Dad isn’t telling Heeseung something weird right now. He’s still traumatized from the time he was interrogated about being my Homecoming date last year.”

Since neither you nor Heeseung had actual dates for the Homecoming dance last year, he made you a poster and asked you to be his date at your doorstep. At the time, you two were binge watching Parks and Recreation together, so he used that as inspiration for your poster: Please don’t REC my plans and say KNOPE to Homecoming. You vividly recalled being impressed by how neat the handwriting was only to be told later that Yeji helped Heeseung make it.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Your mother waved it off. “You should be more worried about how Mrs. Lee calls us in the middle of the night and asks where her son is. That’s gonna traumatize your friend.”

Wow. Lee Heeseung was already a pain in the ass to begin with, and only now you realized how his mother had it a thousand times harder.

“Have a safe trip, okay?” you told your mother after you helped her bring the rest of her bags to the gate. “And—don’t worry—I know when the gardener's coming by, so I’ll be home to let him in.”

She smiled fondly and kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “Have fun, sweetheart, but not too much fun.”

“Mom!” you complained, cringing at whatever she was implying.

Heeseung and your stepfather were already at the front doors, and your best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. You wondered if he needed saving from your father, and you confirmed this when you noticed him cower a little after shaking your stepfather’s hand.

“Heeseung,” your mother started, “thanks for bringing us here. I made brownies in the afternoon, so make sure Y/N gives you some before you go home.”

“Brownies?” Heeseung turned to you with a grin and thanked your mother profusely. “I hope you guys have a fun trip.”

After you all exchanged goodbyes, you and Heeseung headed back to his car. You were able to watch your mother and stepfather disappear into the crowd, a strange feeling lingering in your chest. You weren’t sure what it was, but you supposed you felt a little lonely. This was the first summer you were spending without your parents, and you weren’t sure what to expect.

As if Heeseung could read your mind, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a fun summer.”

“It better be the best summer of my life.”

Heeseung laughed and opened the passenger’s side door for you. “Then let’s start now.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“Let’s get bingsu,” he said. Come to think of it, you were craving shaved ice; you had mentioned it to Heeseung last week. “You said you were hungry, right? And then we can go home and dig into those brownies your mom made.”

“I never said anything about being hungry.”

“But you’re hungry, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched before breaking into a little smile.

“Alright, let’s go.”

In all honesty, you didn’t expect anything special from Heeseung. That was why you had your own plans laid out for the coming week, and first on your agenda was going shopping with Yizhuo in Beverly Hills. Since your best friend was so adamant on spending the summer with you, though, you let him tag along.

“I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as you handed him yet another shopping bag—Armani, this time. Heeseung was carrying at least six of them, letting them dangle off of his arms. “I said I’d show you how to have fun, not be your butler.”

“You said you would be my summer escort service.”

“Not like this!”

“Y/N, I swear,” Yizhuo started in a low voice, only loud enough to hear (although you wished you didn’t), “he’s like your boyfriend.”

You sped up to walk ahead of Heeseung, and Yizhuo matched your pace. Your poor best friend was lagging in the back, trying to keep up with the weight of your spending spree in his hands. Even though you told him virtually everything, this was a conversation that you couldn’t let him hear.

“He’s just my escort this summer!” you defended.

“His dad’s the senior vice president at Apple. You really think Lee Heeseung would just agree to be anyone’s manservant?”

“Well, I’m not anyone; I’m Y/N, and Heeseung and I have been best friends since forever, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he wants to spend time with me.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little strange.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off her concerns and pulled out your phone. “By the way, is the group hanging out tomorrow or something?”

“I kept seeing it in the groupchat, but I wasn’t sure whose house it was at,” Yizhuo replied. She turned and called, “Heeseung! Do you know whose house we’re all going to?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mine.”

“Yours?” you chimed in. “I thought Jake said it would be at his place.”

“He backed out ‘cause his cousins are visiting this week,” he clarified, “so I offered mine. My parents are going out of town, anyway, so why not?”

You were surprised that Heeseung was willing to host. Most of the time his house was the absolute last resort because he hated cleaning up after everyone. For this reason, it was normally at Jake’s house because he was the only one who would tidy up himself without nagging everyone else (read: Jay Park).

You always went to Heeseung’s place on your own. There were never times where the entire group hung out there together, so it felt like everyone was encroaching on your space with Heeseung.

Even though it was his house, technically.

“You’re coming,” Heeseung added, pointing straight at you with narrowed eyes.

You frowned. “You can’t decide that for me!”

“You agreed to let me be your summer escort service, so it’s within my power,” he argued.

You made a frustrated sound. “Fine. It better be fun, though. I’m sacrificing my Pretty Little Liars marathon for you.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “We can just watch it together.”

“Lovebirds!” Yizhuo interjected. “I would’ve called Chenle if I knew I was gonna be a third wheel.” Both of you turned to her with wide eyes, watching the blonde’s lips curl up in a small smirk. “What?”

“That’s not what any of this is,” your best friend grumbled.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”

Heeseung shook his head, completely turning his face away from you. You managed to catch the tips of his ears flaming bright red. It was rather easy to make Heeseung flustered, so this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but, for some reason, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

He walked ahead, saying something along the lines of, “Let’s just keep shopping!”

You and Yizhuo exchanged a look before hooking arms and bursting into a fit of giggles.

Yizhuo called after him, “We’re going to Miu Miu next!”

Slumber parties with your friend group sounded cute and tame, in theory. Add six men into the mix, and they became slightly terrifying.

“This is why we need to make plans in our group chat without the men,” Shen Xiaoting muttered to you with her eyes fixed on Heeseung’s flat screen TV. “This is not the girls night I was envisioning.”

Your friend group of eleven (excluding Yeji, who was away for the summer) was currently playing their ninth round of Mario Kart 8. You were all taking turns, though, since the game only catered to co-oping with four people. Frankly, you were starting to get tired of the game after about five rounds. You were hellbent on beating Jay, who was talking smack about how terrible you were at gaming, but it turned out that he was no better. You ended up beating him in the first race itself, and now you were just waiting for them to wrap it up.

“Fuck,” Jake hissed once Choi Beomgyu used his blue shell on him. Jake had been consistently winning every game he played despite everyone trying to get him in last place; in the last round, Kim Minjeong made a valiant effort to use most of her Crazy 8 items on him.

You were surprised that Jake showed up in the first place. Everyone suspected that he would be stuck at home because of his cousins visiting, but he somehow managed to get his way out of it. Although he was late, he showed up at Heeseung’s door with a pillow and a handle of cheap vodka. It probably tasted rancid, but there was no room for anyone to complain.

“Get the item box, get the item box!” Chenle yelled. “But you’re kind of screwed if you don’t get a super horn or a super star.”

“So, when are we wrapping up Mario Kart?” Nakamura Kazuha asked, sighing in frustration after being hit with a shell for the umpteeth time.

“Uh, after this game,” Heeseung replied.

“And how many more rounds is that?”

“Three.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The only girl in your group who enjoyed gaming was Yizhuo, but even she was tired of the seemingly endless rounds. Since the boys were going along with the girls’ plans later on, though, you had to be patient. Appease them with Mario Kart, and then the rest of the night was yours.

Somehow, you managed to grit your teeth and sit through the next three rounds (won by Jake, Yizhuo, and Beomgyu, respectively). Afterward, Jake got up to grab the case of Mike’s Harder on the kitchen island. He proceeded to open it up and hand each person a can.

Xiaoting cracked open her can and asked, “How’d you even buy these? Didn’t your dad confiscate your fake or something?”

Around a few months ago, Jake’s dad had caught him wasted at one of their charity galas. Apparently, the Sims didn’t care too much about their son drinking, but they were furious about Jake acting disorderly in front of their guests. Naturally, Jake was grounded for a month and got all four of his fake IDs confiscated. He deeply missed the one from Connecticut where his name was printed as Nathan Fielder, even though Jake looked nothing like Nathan Fielder.

“I got Vernon to buy them for me,” Jake said, “and please don’t remind me about the fakes. It still wounds me to this day.”

You remembered you used to have a little crush on Vernon Chwe, who was a senior when you were a freshman. When he graduated, you almost cried actual tears, but you stayed strong when you went to congratulate him after the ceremony. You figured he would have been a little freaked out if you started breaking down out of nowhere.

Jay, who was inspecting the handle of SKYY Vodka, let out a scoff. “Vernon? Then you could’ve at least asked for good vodka.”

“We can just make mixed drinks,” you spoke up, scrunching up your nose at the memory of blacking out because of alcohol during your prom afterparties. “Plus, it’s not like we’re actually trying to get drunk tonight.”

“Yeah.” Heeseung stood up and rested his arm on your shoulder. “Y/N and I can make the drinks. The rest of you can help put snacks out. Someone can put a movie on, too.”

Since everyone was impressed with Heeseung taking the lead for once, the plan was set into motion. While Kazuha and Sunghoon bickered over which movie to play, the rest of your friends brought out different snacks for the movie. Arguably, you and Heeseung had the hardest job, but you didn’t need any extra hands for drinks. By the time it took you two to finish eleven mixed drinks, they probably would have settled on a movie.

You looked back to see Heeseung eyeballing a shot into a glass cup, and then he proceeded to down its contents. You cringed when you saw him drinking. The last time he got drunk resulted in you trying to calm him down after he went on a long rant about how he just ate sushi, and the alcohol in his system would cause the raw fish to start swimming. You had to convince him that no, vodka would not bring an already dead and sliced-up fish to life.

Heeseung’s face soured and he pushed the handle aside. “Y’know what, let’s just take something from my parents’ liquor cabinet. This shit is vile.”

“You got triple sec and decent vodka?” you asked. “We could make Lemon Drops.”

“You read my mind.”

“You weren’t even thinking about that, were you?”

“Not at all.”

While you and Heeseung were making the drinks, though, you noticed some giggles coming from the living room. You raised your head to see about five of your friends look away as fast as they could. It hit you before you had time to process what was going on; they were making fun of you and Heeseung together.

You had no clue why. Sure, Heeseung and you had some strange moments here and there. But you two were just making drinks, for crying out loud. Nothing about the situation warranted this reaction from them.

You side-eyed Heeseung to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he was just focused on pouring the right amount of vodka so he didn’t accidentally kill anyone. You, on the other hand, were fighting down the heat rising in your chest.

After a brief war between you and Yizhuo, consisting of you glaring at her and her smirking at you, you ended up setting down a glass and sighing.

“Heeseung,” you said, “go crazy with the vodka in the rest of their drinks.”

“Huh?” he asked, genuinely contemplating whether or not to do it.

“Pour as much as your heart desires,” you muttered and set down six of the Lemon Drops on a tray with a little too much force. Without sparing him a glance, you picked up the tray and went to the living room to hand everyone their glasses. While you handed Yizhuo hers, though, you whispered, “I despise you.”

She grinned. “What? Still denying you like him?”

“I don’t like—”

“You like someone?” Heeseung called from the island, completely frozen in place.

You turned and stared at him, mouth agape.

Chenle spoke up, “No, she likes y—”

You kicked Chenle’s shin with enough force to shut him up, and he grunted before he could continue his sentence. Satisfied, you turned back to Heeseung and shook your head quickly.

“They’re just being idiots,” you explained. “Hurry up with the drinks. We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.” You did a double take and turned back to Yizhuo, harshly whispering, “Why the fuck are we watching My Best Friend’s Wedding?!”

Yizhuo removed Chenle’s hand from her knee and stood up to loop your arm with hers. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, but she was already dragging you away from the living room. “Is that movie supposed to be some sort of sick message?”

“Oh, good. So you’re aware.”

After making some excuse about needing your assistance to get something from her bag, Yizhuo walked with you to the foyer until she turned on you. You nearly tripped backward over one of the boys’ shoes, so you used the wall to regain your balance.

“Tell me what’s going on between you two,” she ordered.

You let out a sound of exasperation. “Yizhuo, for the last time, Heeseung and I are just friends. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m just saying, the two of you are going to college together and all, but you have to sort out your feelings before you end up figuring them out after Heeseung finds someone else,” she said. “I mean, what’re you gonna do when Heeseung starts dating someone else? He looks decent enough to pull, so there’s no telling what’s gonna happen when he’s cut loose in Yale.”

You snorted. “He’s already cut loose. I highly doubt Yale’s gonna change anything.”

“You never know. I just don’t want you to realize your feelings too late—you know, when things get messy.”

You both were silent for a few seconds before Beomgyu called, “Y/N, Yizhuo, we’re gonna start the movie!”

“Coming!” you responded.

You chose not to respond to your best friend because you truly had no idea what to think, but it did leave seeds of doubt in your head. It almost distracted you from the fact that Heeseung grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit down next to him. This was bad; you were quickly becoming overly self-conscious of every little thing he did, and that would not bode well for your friendship.

Whatever, you told yourself. Push it down.

“Are there any more pillows?” you asked, scanning the room to see that everyone seemed to have one except you. You looked back at Heeseung and narrowed your eyes at his throw pillow. “Give me yours.”

“What? No way.”

“I wanna lay down,” you whined. He was really the only person you could act a little spoiled around. “Give me your pillow before I—”

Before you could finish, Heeseung threw his arm around you and pushed your head down so that you were laying on his lap. You were startled with the sudden gesture, but you didn’t complain. He was comfortable, after all, and you two usually watched movies like this in your house. So, you adjusted your position a little and continued watching the movie, making a mental note to scold Heeseung later for being all touchy in front of the friend group.

What you weren’t used to, though, was the way he started threaded his fingers through your hair.

You did the only thing you knew how to do in order to deflect; you showed Heeseung a TikTok of a baby otter. Your volume was all the way down, but you still bookmarked the video.

“Look,” you whispered, holding up your phone. His gentle fingers did not stop running through your hair, but at least you could hold onto his friendly hum of acknowledgement. It was the only thing that made any of this feel remotely platonic. “It’s a little guy.”

“Oh, it’s so cute,” Heeseung mused. “Kind of reminds me of you.”

Screw platonic.

He just grabbed platonic and drop kicked it to the next dimension.

That was it. You were going to put your phone away and ignore Heeseung for the rest of the movie. The rest of the movie would be watched in complete silence. In fact, you weren’t going to spare Heeseung any attention for the rest of the sleepover.

That didn’t end up happening, though. Ten minutes later, you cracked and started commenting about the movie to Heeseung. Unbeknownst to the others, you two ended up texting each other messages that threatened to make you burst into laughter. Even though you were sitting right next to each other, you felt like this made your conversation feel like a little secret, like even Heeseung wanted to keep what you two had to himself.

When the movie ended, you two were surprisingly still awake, although there were several moments where you were tempted to doze off on Heeseung’s shoulder. Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Jay were still up, and they were taking pictures of Chenle and Yizhuo to send to the group chat. You immediately separated from Heeseung, feeling a little terrified that you two would be the victims next. However, the others were so preoccupied with Chenle’s arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend and their foreheads pressed together.

“Should we wake them up?” Kazuha asked.

“Nah, let them sleep,” Heeseung answered and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You guys can use the other bathrooms—just not the one in my parents’ room.”

Minjeong stretched as she let out a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna wash up, then. I’m exhausted.”

After Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Kazuha left the room to get their bags and wash up, you stared at Heeseung. Your best friend looked confused until you pointed toward his glass.

“Chug it,” you said with mischief dancing in your eyes.

“You’re kidding. It’s bedtime.”

You mocked a pout. “You’re gonna waste the drink I made just for you?”

“Oh, come on—we made it for everyone!”

“But I definitely made this one.” You took the glass and held it out to him, which he ended up taking reluctantly. “I wanna see you finish it.”

After a wince, Heeseung tilted the cup back and downed the contents. Although his face scrunched up, he relaxed once he had finished swallowing it down.

“That was actually pretty good,” he said.

“See? When have I ever let you down?”

“Honestly? Many times.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Hey!”

“Kidding!” Heeseung held his arms up in surrender before wrapping them around your waist. Another gesture you weren’t quite used to, but you went along with it. There was something funny about Heeseung; nothing he did ever made you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sometimes you weren’t sure if it was meant to be friendly. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”

“I can just use the bathroom on the second floor.”

“Huh? Just use the one in my room,” he said. “Come on.”

You hesitated before following your best friend upstairs. First of all, you were feeling overly-conscious about going into Heeseung’s room with him. Secondly, you weren’t too enthusiastic about the fact that you had to use a man’s bathroom.

To Heeseung’s credit, he kept his room and bathroom mostly spotless. Sure, there were a few sweaters piled over the head of his chair and some books left scattered across his desk, but it was definitely cleaner than Jake’s mess of a room. You remembered Yeji stepping across his piles of dirty clothes left on the floor, as if they were hazardous to her health.

As soon as you stepped into the grand bathroom, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you knew to just take one of the unopened toothbrushes from the drawer. However, Heeseung told you they moved some things around, so you wound up searching for the spare toothbrushes for around five minutes.

It was almost ridiculous how Heeseung needed a bathroom bigger than a living room.

You two brushed your teeth side-by-side. Heeseung occasionally cracked jokes that made you giggle and tilt your head back so that your toothpaste wouldn’t dribble down your chin. When that happened, he reached over and wiped your lower lip with his thumb, despite your complaints about how gross that was.

But, to you, it wasn’t really all that gross.

If only Heeseung knew how his actions made your cheeks burn hot under your skin.

The next week was interesting, to say the least.

Heeseung wouldn’t let you rest for a second. You were going out with him every single day, having to see his face from sunrise to sunset. Even when it was nightfall, he would just invite himself over to your place and crash on your couch.

You pointed out that you had a perfectly tidy guest room for him to use, but he insisted that he preferred your couch. You didn’t mind him sprawled out across the cushions because you could take as many pictures of him sleeping as you pleased. You would show him your collection later when he woke up, and Heeseung would get embarrassed to the point of tickling you until you were in hysterics and gasping out that you would delete the pictures from your camera roll.

At this point, it was almost like you two were living together. Even though his parents were out of town, you felt slightly anxious about one of the adults in your parents’ circle discovering what you and Heeseung were up to. Not that it was anything scandalous.

But, you had to admit, you were having fun.

On Monday, Heeseung took you to the beach. You complained incessantly about waking up at six in the morning for cold water and sand all over your clothes, but you managed to drag yourself out of bed. Still, Heeseung had to put up with your grumbles and groans until you were energized enough to stop complaining. All it took was Heeseung feeding you a granola bar and making you coffee while you did your hair.

“C’mon,” he told you, the wind sweeping his hair to the side as the first rays of sunlight shone bright against his glowing skin, “this is exactly like the Bahamas if you close your eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you spent the entire day at the beach with Heeseung, anyway. You finally warmed up to going into the water with him, letting him take your hands and guide you deeper until the water was up to your waist. At one point, a particularly heavy wave pushed him closer to you until you both were chest-to-chest. You had to hold onto his bicep to keep yourself from floating away. And you swore you caught Heeseung checking you out in your bikini later on, but he turned away with pink-tinged ears immediately after.

Later, when the sun was starting to set and you retreated from the water to curl up in your towel, you sat on your large beach towel and waited for Heeseung to bring over food from the food trucks. The tide was getting higher, so you had to move yours and Heeseung’s belongings further up the sand.

Heeseung returned with two takeout boxes of tacos, taking a seat next to you with a relieved sigh. Since you two hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, you had been waiting for this meal all day. You were properly tuckered out from all the swimming and beach volleyball, so you dug in immediately.

“Good?” Heeseung asked, watching you eat with a small smile on his face. He must have been impressed that you practically inhaled your first taco in under five seconds.

“Good,” you confirmed, voice muffled.

With the back of your hand shielding your eyes, you looked off into the horizon to watch the sunlight ripple across the water’s surface.

And, yeah, maybe it was a little like the Bahamas.

Just a little.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to wake you up on Tuesday morning and drag you to an empty field. Although he told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think it warranted being woken up at 5:30 a.m. without a clue of where you were going.

“Alright, close your eyes, okay? It’s a surprise,” Heeseung said, gesturing for you to cover your gaze. You found it adorable that he was fumbling so much, so you closed your eyes with a grin. “Keep them closed—hold on.”

“Heeseung, how much longer?” you whined.

“And,” he drawled, stretching out the syllable, “open!”

When you opened your eyes, towering over you was a 60-foot tall hot air balloon, its brightly-patterned nylon reflecting the bright sunlight. You boggled at its impressive size—absolutely massive. The pilot got down from the basket, walking over so that he could greet you two and provide a rundown of safety measures and procedures.

An hour later, you were in the sky, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Los Angeles. You were never that great with heights, but, somehow, you weren’t too afraid as you peered down. Heeseung stood beside you, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he pointed out different landmarks he recognized.

“I’ve never seen LA like this!” you yelled over the wind, cupping your hand around your mouth so that Heeseung could hear you.

He grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Makes the city actually feel peaceful for once.”

You wouldn’t dare admit it but, all the way up in the sky, thousands of feet above ground level, what made you feel like you were soaring was Heeseung’s arm slipping around your waist.

On Wednesday, Heeseung took you fishing. You absolutely hated the idea, but once you had the fishing rod in your hands, you were determined to catch the biggest fish. Heeseung ended up catching more than you, but the two fish you caught were stars in your eyes. By the end of the day, you were laughing hysterically as Heeseung’s hat got stuck in your hook and was flung into the water.

On Thursday, Heeseung took you to play mini-golf. You had gone golfing before with company executives and their kids, but this was different. You didn’t have to show off or try to be the best one there; you just had fun and laughed whenever your best friend missed the ball. You two ended the day by going to an arcade and playing almost every game inside.

By Friday morning, you were exhausted. Your limbs were aching when you woke up the next morning, but Heeseung promised to actually let you rest over the weekend. Tonight was Yizhuo’s country club’s party to celebrate the opening of their new banquet hall, so Heeseung only planned one thing for the morning so that you would have time to get ready for the party later.

Pushing your red Jacquemus sunglasses onto your head, you fixed your best friend with a puzzled stare. He was acting weird all morning, from nearly snapping at you for trying to open the trunk of his car, to staying silent when you asked where he was taking you.

For a moment, you wondered if this was the climax of a horror movie where the killer drove you to a quiet place to get rid of you. Your suspicion raised more when Heeseung parked by a marina with a hiking trail nearby.

This is where your body’s being dumped, you concluded grimly.

But, then again, this was Lee Heeseung. He cried when he was eleven because there was a spider on his backpack; he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone, especially not you. In fact, you recalled when he nearly passed out in middle school because he thought he caused you extreme pain once. (It turned out to be your period cramps.)

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked, exasperated. “If we’re swimming, I’m gonna tell you right now that there’s no way I’m getting my hair wet before the party.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. We’re just going for a spin on the lake.” He nodded his head in the direction of the yachts lined up by the shoreline. “Jog your memory?”

When your gaze landed on the gorgeous white yacht gleaming under the sun, you couldn’t help but gasp at its glorious sight. Heeseung had gotten the yacht for his birthday last year, but he never had the time to actually use it. One reason was because he didn’t trust his friends to not trash it, and the other being that he wanted his first ride on it to be special.

Your face burned. His first ride was going to be with you.

“Shut up.” You were gaping at the sight before turning to your best friend, who looked smug while he parked his car. “Shut up. You’re actually letting me go on your yacht?”

“Yeah, why not?” He tried to brush it off as something casual, but your heart was still doing cartwheels and flips. “It’s about time I went out on it.”

You two walked down to the harbor together, your hands sometimes shyly brushing and pulling away swiftly. There had been moments of thick, unspoken tension throughout the week, but you didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

Once you two reached Heeseung’s yacht, he firmly slapped his hand against the smooth, brilliant white surface. “Carver c52 Command Bridge,” he gloated. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

You snorted. “You talk about boats the same way old white men do.”

You allowed him to help you into the yacht, gripping his hand tight as you stepped onto the deck. You hadn’t questioned it before, but as soon as Heeseung let go of you, he set down the picnic basket so that he could spread out the blanket.

You helped him with the corners of the blanket. “What’s this?”

“Well, I thought we could sail out a little and then have breakfast on the deck,” he replied coolly, as if the sincerity of his words wouldn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest. You really didn’t deserve such effort from him, and it almost made you feel guilty that you had acted so spoiled before. “I’ll go start the engine. You can just enjoy the view.”

However, you followed him to the cockpit. Heeseung raised a brow at you, but you giggled as you took a seat behind him, watching as he stood at the helm, fiddling with some controls you knew nothing about.

“You actually know how to operate this thing?” you asked.

“My dad taught me,” he explained. “I’m not licensed, though, so I don’t think this is exactly legal.”

“Not like that’s stopped you before.”

Heeseung grinned to himself. He started up the yacht’s engine by pressing a button on the dashboard. You watched his hands fly across the levers and controls before he started turning the wheel to steer out of the marina.

“You wanna head out to the deck?” he called out over his shoulder, but you just took the empty seat next to him. “Don’t you wanna sunbathe? Or you could check out the stateroom.”

“Nope,” you said, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched him. “I’d rather wait for you.”

Sometimes, you’d almost catch Heeseung getting flustered. He’d always laugh and rub his nose, looking away shyly before anyone caught onto his awkwardness. The same reaction was unfolding before you right now, and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot yourself.

You wondered if he ever felt butterflies in his stomach, too.

Once Heeseung had driven the yacht out far enough—far out enough in the water where the water was still and no one was there to disturb you two. You both headed out to the deck again. He took a seat to lay out what he packed in his picnic basket, and you removed your sundress so that you could tan a little in your bikini.

“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon that he most definitely stole from his family’s wine cellar.

You pulled out the two wine glasses in the basket and held them out for Heeseung to pour your drinks, smiling wide as he tipped the bottle. “Yes, please.”

“See, you wouldn’t be able to experience this if you were in the Bahamas right now.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “We didn’t get to hang out like this any of the past summers.”

“As if we don’t hang out almost every day.”

“But this is different!” he argued. “It’s summer. It’s not like we’re making impromptu plans to New York and flying back home a day later to study for an exam. We have all the time in the world right now.”

He was right, in a sense. You and Heeseung were always together, but you two never really got to spend long days together like this. You two got to make plans without involving anyone else in the friend group for once, and it was a lot more fun than you had expected.

“Do you think we’d be this close if we weren’t rich?” you asked after a while. Heeseung raised a brow at your question, so you clarified, “I’m serious! We wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this—flying in hot air balloons, driving yachts, going to country club parties—if we didn’t have rich parents.”

Heeseung crossed his arms behind his head and pondered, looking up at the sky with a wistful expression. He hummed before answering, “I’d like to think that we’d make it work the same way everyone else does.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“What if… you were rich and I wasn’t? Or vice-versa?”

“Yeah, I mean…” he trailed off for a moment, eyes cast down as if he was trying to find the words on his tongue. Then, he continued, “I think I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if all we could do together was sit at home and watch TV.”

Whatever response you had prepared at the back of your throat had died on your tongue. All you could do was look at him helplessly, wondering why his words were making your heart beat faster than when you were thousands of feet up in the sky days ago. You wondered why such gentle words from your best friend had roused a violent storm in your heart.

The wind picked up, sending your hair flying every which way. Heeseung reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek as he pulled back. You went completely still, chest frozen mid-breath as he pulled away.

“You had something in your hair,” he mumbled, quickly scrambling to offer you a caprese skewer. If you looked closely enough, you would’ve noticed that his ears were bright red. “Eat quickly before the food gets stale.”

“I don’t think food normally goes stale that fast.”

“Shut up.”

There was one thing about formal gatherings that all trust fund babies could agree on: only get drunk behind your parents’ backs.

They definitely knew what was going on, but they paid no attention as long as their children were staying safe and not embarrassing themselves. When you were much younger, you would always catch sight of the older kids sneaking away to get drunk in the bathroom, but you never understood the excitement they felt until you became a freshman in high schooler, being dragged away by Yeji to drink with the older kids.

Back then, you were doe-eyed and curious as Vernon would pour shots for you in moderation. Now, you were nearly gagging when Yizhuo handed you a shooter of Pink Whitney.

You two had locked yourselves in the bathroom with Xiaoting, Kazuha, and Minjeong as Yizhuo pulled out various shooters from her purse. It was fine for you to drink wine with the other adults, but you were all certain that the adults would frown upon you drinking hard liquor in front of the other guests. So, the five of you snuck away to get drunk secretly.

For the past fifteen minutes, as you all were downing shooter after shooter, the girls had been pressing you about something going on between you and Heeseung. After he posted you on his Instagram story, showing off his boat in the process, you were bombarded with texts that you were only able to ignore until you got to the party.

A loud knock at the door nearly scared you out of your wits, causing Minjeong to bark out a laugh at the sight of you flinching.

“Occupied!” you yelled, although the syllables slurred together strangely.

“It’s us!” came Jake’s voice. “We’re going drunk golfing.”

You frowned and stepped aside to let Yizhuo open the door for Jake. He scanned his surroundings nervously before shoving his fists into his pockets and stepping into the girls’ bathroom.

“Jake,” Xiaoting started. Although her face and neck were completely red, she focused her eyes on him to keep a serious tone. “We need you to tell us if Heeseung’s into Y/N or not.”

“Xiaoting!” you complained.

“You know what, I’d like to know, too,” Jake replied with shocking enthusiasm. He leaned against the crystal sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Screw drunk golf; this is way more fun. Y/N, do you have feelings for Heeseung? ‘Cause everyone wants to know if—”

“Jake, we didn’t bring you in here for girl talk,” Minjeong cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We brought you in here for answers.”

He let out a childish whine. “But I wanna be here for girl talk.”

“Wait, but answer his question.” Yizhuo turned to you with a wide grin on her face, handing you yet another shooter—probably to make you more honest. You seriously wished you could call Chenle over to put a leash on your friend. “Do you have feelings for Heeseung?”

Did you? You had never been so confused about where you and Heeseung stood until this week. You two had always been close—always did everything together—so why were you feeling conscious about everything now?

But, despite all of your confusion, the one thing that was clear to you was that you felt something for Lee Heeseung with every beat of your heart.

Everything he did, everything he said—you weren’t sure what it was that had you so intoxicated on his attention, but you knew you would’ve felt sick to your stomach if he did the things he did with you with any other girl.

You felt it whenever you saw him lounging around your house, digging into the brownies your mother made as if he lived there. You felt it whenever someone told a joke and the two of you made eye contact with each other first, hoping to see if the other person found it funny, too. You felt it whenever he touched your hand and called you princess, unaware that your heart was fluttering pathetically in your chest.

His smile, his laugh, his happiness—you wanted to be the cause of it all.

You caved with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I think I might actually have feelings for him.”

A collective cheer erupted in the bathroom, the sound echoing for a few seconds after. Jake stood up just to high-five Yizhuo so hard that the impact left their palms stinging, and then Yizhuo proceeded to scold Jake for putting his full force into the high-five. You pinched the bridge of your nose with embarrassment flooding your chest.

Jake decided to abandon the boys’ plans to go drunk golfing and spent the next ten minutes discussing strategies to get you and Heeseung alone. He had integrated himself into your circle so well that he almost seemed like one of the girls. You slowly backed up into one of the stalls during their conversation, starting to feel horribly nauseous and lightheaded. You were pretty sure that Yizhuo handing you shooter after shooter was starting to have adverse effects on your body.

“How about we tell him that Y/N’s puking in the bathroom and he needs to—” Minjeong cut herself off as soon as she heard you retching by the toilet. “Oh, wow, she’s actually puking in the bathroom.” She turned to Jake after opening the door for him. “Go get Heeseung.”

“If you let me join girl talk next time,” Jake bargained.

“Are you seriously negotiating with me in this situation?”

“Yes.”

Minjeong groaned. “Okay, fine, Jake, we’ll invite you the next time we have girl talk. Now go fetch Heeseung.”

“On it!” he agreed quickly. “Don’t die, Y/N.”

“I’ll try not to” you croaked out weakly, your head hanging between your knees as you willed yourself to not barf out your guts.

“Are you okay?” Kazuha pouted as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. “This is all because you kept making her drink, Yizhuo.”

“I didn’t make her,” she retorted. “Y/N, do you need water or anything? I can ask someone in the kitchen for liquid IV, too.”

You shook your head. “No, just bring Heeseung here.”

They shared a secretive giggle, but you didn’t care. You felt way too sick to mind the girls teasing you. You even tried to distract yourself on your phone, but the bright screen just made you feel worse. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, groaning miserably.

It had really gotten to the point where you didn’t care that you were sitting on the country club’s public bathroom floor. It was all fancy and sanitary, of course, but you would normally feel icky about this sort of scenario playing out.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, you heard the door opening and the rest of the girls rushed to make sure it wasn’t someone outside the group. You heard them ushering Heeseung inside, explaining what had happened to you before they left the bathroom.

Heeseung knocked on your stall as a formality but let himself inside, anyway. The crooked grin on his face upon seeing you only made you turn your head away and sigh in exasperation.

You turned your head back to face him when you heard his shutter go off.

A scowl was plastered across your face. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

Heeseung snickered. “Yeah, I’m posting it on my story. Right after the one of you looking all pretty on my boat.”

“You’re supposed to be here to help me.”

“That’s why I brought soda,” he replied, holding up an entire bottle of Sprite. You were confident he snagged it from the kitchen, which you were pretty sure would result in Yizhuo scolding him for treating the country club like his house. “Anyway, why’d you drink so much? Just because I’m driving you home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

You settled back into your previous position with your head between your knees. This way, Heeseung wouldn’t be able to see how stupid in love you were. There was absolutely no way you could tell him that you were mindlessly drinking while you were spilling your feelings for him.

“Where’d the girls go?” you asked instead.

“I told them to go drunk golfing while I took care of you.”

“Don’t you wanna go play, too?”

Heeseung shrugged. He took a seat on the floor next to you, not minding the indecency even though he was sober. You felt like your heart was going to explode if he kept doting on you like this.

“I can always go play another time,” he said. “Plus, I’d have more fun if you were there.”

You both went quiet for a moment. The weight of Heeseung’s words only made your heart feel heavier, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could go pretending that you only cared for him as a friend.

Then, your stomach started churning and twisting with the need to puke out your guts again, and the silence was filled with your retching. Heeseung rubbed your back sympathetically and held your hair back while you hunched over the toilet seat again.

This was definitely going down as one of your most unflattering moments.

“Want some soda?” Heeseung tried.

You shook your head.

“Drink some water, then—here,” he said, handing you a red solo cup that was filled to the brim. “I stole it from Hoon.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to accept the cup from him. When you took a sip, though, you just ended up hawking and spitting out the contents into the toilet.

Trying your best not to gag, you got out, “Not water—vodka.”

“Oh, my bad.” Heeseung frowned, inspecting the cup. “Why’d Hoon pour this much? No wonder he drove the golf cart into the lake.”

After throwing up basically everything in your stomach, you started to feel dizzy all over again, stumbling and wobbling all over the bathroom until Heeseung had to hold you upright. He had already gotten Yizhuo’s approval to drive you home for the night, but there was no way you were making it to his Tesla in your heels. Heeseung had you hang tight while he ran to his car to get your Dolce & Gabbana rubber slides, knowing there was no possible way for him to carry you out to the car without the adults getting suspicious.

You felt much more comfortable in your slides, so you walked out hand-in-hand with Heeseung while he held onto your heels. Although you felt bad about leaving Yizhuo’s grand opening party early, you figured that it would be more shameful for her parents to see you in this state.

You had greatly underestimated the power of alcohol.

After you had walked up to about three different cars that weren’t Heeseung’s (including Jay’s Mercedes Benz, which started going off once you pulled on the handle), he had finally grabbed you by the shoulders and manually directed you to his Tesla. You giggled as you got into the passenger’s seat, allowing him to buckle you in and watch over you as he called Jay to turn his car alarm off.

Heeseung shot you a glance as he drove out of the country club’s gated entrance. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He surprisingly gave up fast on trying to convince you. “What do you wanna do, then?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “Anything. Wanna bake cookies? Or watch a show?”

“Down for a show. Don’t know if I trust you around kitchen appliances right now,” he answered. After letting out a giggle, you caught Heeseung’s smile illuminated by the moonlight. “See? Aren’t you having more fun than you would’ve had in the Bahamas?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question after I nearly got alcohol poisoning.”

“The important thing is that you didn’t.”

You snorted, but something fond unraveled in your chest. You rolled the window down and looked outside, watching the bright lights of the city twinkle and shine under the inky black sky. You remembered all the skies you watched with Heeseung this week—the hazy gray in the morning, the bright blues of the afternoon, and the faint peony glow at sunset. And, yeah, you would’ve given up the Bahamas any day for this.

“Yeah,” you answered him, though you weren’t quite sure if he could hear you over the wind, “I’m having a lot of fun, Hee.”

Two weeks flew by far too quickly.

You were dumbfounded when you realized your parents were coming back the next day. You had spent two entire weeks solely with Heeseung, and you were having so much fun that you totally lost track of time. You were so caught up in your adventures that it had completely slipped your mind that summer would eventually come to an end.

Heeseung suggested that you two spent your last night doing something special. You had no idea what that meant, but you went along with whatever he had planned.

Apparently, he had been wanting to take you to see the stars, but you didn’t realize that he meant the observatory until you were in his car, parking on the steep slope of a hillside.

“It’s so far,” you complained.

He tutted. “It’s a five minute walk, princess, and it’s worth it. Trust me.”

You hesitated before grouching again, “It’s cold.”

Without another word, Heeseung took off his sweater. You tried to peel your eyes away from his white shirt that kept hiking up as he did. He passed it to you, and you couldn’t do anything but accept it because he was already getting out of the car. You wanted to hand it back to him because you knew he would be cold (made evident by the goosebumps that pricked his arms), but he profusely refused. He seemed perfectly content at the mere sight of you joining him.

He waited as you slipped on his sweater, the biggest grin stretching across his face. You were a little blindsided by how blinding Heeseung’s smile was, especially under the glow of the moon. Your cheeks heated up a little when you smelled faint traces of his Blackberry & Bay cologne in the fabric.

“You’re microscopic in my clothes,” he teased. You started walking a little faster to catch up with your friend, but his comment made you punch his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” You waved off the comment, but part of you liked how the sleeves of his sweater fell past your wrists. “We used to be the same height in, like, middle school.”

Heeseung barked out a laugh. “That was so long ago! Look at our height difference now.” Before you could anticipate his actions, he stepped in front of you and compared both of your heights.

You looked up at your best friend, raising a brow at his comment. Of course you were aware. Maybe at one point you denied it, but that was when you both were in elementary school and Heeseung would tug on your hair because he sat behind you.

Being this close to him made you a little nervous. After realizing that you had feelings for him, it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. It was very clear that Heeseung had become much more masculine over the years with his buffer chest, muscular arms, and deeper voice.

And he looked extremely attractive.

“Yeah, I know you’re tall,” you replied flatly. It was normal for Heeseung to tease you, but whenever he did so in public, you always felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Then, he’d brush it off, and the feeling would fade out like bubbles floating to the ground. “You know, giving me your sweater and messing around like this probably gives people the wrong idea, right?”

“Oh… does it?” Heeseung mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual, and he turned his face away before you could detect the dust of pink across his cheeks. “By the way, have you been to a planetarium before?”

“Nope.”

You had always heard of the large domes that showcased the night sky. People sat underneath as a narrator droned on about stories from the past and the history of the universe. However, you hadn’t ever actually been to one, although you almost would’ve if you hadn’t gotten grounded before a class trip, resulting in all of your friends going to a planetarium show without you. You remembered Yizhuo was texting you throughout the entire trip, complaining about virtually everything that was going on and telling you how much she missed you.

“You’re kidding,” Heeseung’s eyes went round. “No way! You’ve never been to a planetarium?”

“Well—”

“Oh my god,” he continued, absolutely astounded. “Have you even lived?”

“I’ve just never had the chance!” you argued. “It’s not like anyone’s ever asked me to go to one. Plus, if there’s anyone I’d go with, I’d rather just go with you.”

Silence.

You and Heeseung had been settling into a lot of awkward pauses lately. It always followed some odd comment or action between you two, like when he got extremely close to you on the yacht. You still had no idea what exactly his intentions were during that whole ordeal, but your heart had never raced so fast.

Eventually, your silence was broken by an employee ushering you and Heeseung to walk past the velvet ropes and into the observatory building. You both were still silent upon walking in, but when you saw the signs pointing to the planetarium, you nudged your best friend’s side.

“It says the next showing starts in five minutes,” you pointed out.

“Fuck.” He slapped the pockets of his jeans, feeling for something solid in them. “I have my tickets—somewhere. Give me a second.”

Thankfully, he managed to figure out that he saved his tickets to his Apple Wallet. The sign stating that the shows were sold out nearly made your heart drop, but, of course, Heeseung had planned this out well in advance.

As always.

“Where should we sit?” you asked when you walked into the room, looking up at the dome-shaped ceiling in awe.

“Anywhere.” Heeseung grinned at you. “All we have to do is lay back and stare at the sky, so wherever you wanna sit.”

You both settled with two seats in the middle. It was smack dab in the center of the dome, right where the screen curved. Heeseung made a comment about how this was the ideal spot because it felt like you were getting sucked in by the stars.

When the show started, you gazed up at the screen in complete awe. Swirling nebulas and galaxies were painted across the night sky, blinking down at you. The narrator’s soothing voice made you feel absolutely immersed, and you had to grab the arm rest whenever the animation started speeding through the universe.

Heeseung booed when they showed Earth, throwing up a thumbs-down and then quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket, as if the planet would take offense.

And you realized you were in love with him.

You didn’t know why it hit you right then and there—a person droning on about space overhead, glancing over at your best friend to see him gawking at the solar system—but you were certain you would never feel this way with anyone else again. The feeling stampeded through your body, making your blood rush and your bones feel light. You were engulfed in a fire that burned only for Heeseung.

It felt so simple, yet all the more complicated. You were in love with your childhood best friend—the person who had been with you through everything.

It wasn’t like fireworks. Not a splash of ice cold water or like you had been kicked in the chest. It was more like slowly sinking in quicksand, not even realizing how deep you were until you were completely submerged.

You had been in love with Golden Boy for a long time now.

Later, after the show was over, he took you outside to overlook the city. Apparently, it was quite the sight to behold from this high up. You were still gushing on and on about the planetarium show, but as soon as you took a glance over the railing, you forgot all about the wonders of space.

Now, looking over all the bright lights really made it feel like the City of Angels. You were completely captivated by the sight. It was different from how it looked from the hot air balloon; everything was so miniscule from that height, but you could see how far the city stretched from here. The lights blinked past the horizon, and you were certain this was your first time seeing stars down below instead up in the sky.

Heeseung folded his arms onto the railing and tucked his head in them. “You can’t get this view anywhere else.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, hardly audible.

“Yeah,” he replied. You wondered if he was talking about the stars above or the city below, so you turned your head to catch where he was looking. There was an alarming spike in your heartbeat when you realized he was looking at you, but Heeseung didn’t look away this time. “It really is.”

You never fully appreciated how gorgeous Los Angeles—never really looked past all the traffic and smog and crowd. The bustling city was tiring to keep up with at times. You saw it more as the city of burnouts than the city of stars.

But here, where the stars weren’t in the sky but down below, you realized that the brightest star of them all was the one right next to you.

It was Heeseung.

“You don’t still wish you were in the Bahamas, do you?” he asked suddenly, which spurred you to start laughing.

You stared up at him with incredulity in your eyes. “Hee, I never once wished I was in the Bahamas when I was with you.” You nodded to yourself. “I’d say you made this a successful summer.”

Your heart flipped in your chest when you saw those gleaming eyes and bright smile of his. It almost lit up the sky brighter than the city of Los Angeles itself. The way he was looking at you made you forget everything you were saying.

“Actually,” he started shyly, “there's something else that could make this summer perfect.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you go out with me?”

The question knocked you off orbit, electrifying every nerve in your body like it was cut wire. You weren’t sure what expression you wore on your face, but the shy look on Heeseung’s face was plunging you deeper in that inescapable quicksand. Of course, your friends had suspected this all along, but hearing it yourself was entirely different. You felt like you were glowing brighter than Polaris.

“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” he started to explain after gauging that you still needed time to process his words. “It’s not like I just felt this way overnight. I was just trying to make the right choices so that I could stay by your side for as long as I could. I mean, I’ll always be your best friend, Y/N, but I also wanna be something more than that to you.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I knew that this could possibly ruin our friendship, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell you how I felt, then I would’ve been lying to you through college, too.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

Change was hard. You’d been at war with your mind for a while now over starting something new with Heeseung. Although it was unfamiliar and new, and although you were scared of things potentially not working out, you still wanted to try for him.

“You don’t have to worry about ruining our friendship.” The words were on your tongue like a pearl. Your soul leaked out of your body, straight into the Earth, then seeped back into you with newfound bravery. You blinked back tears that dared to spill and sounded so stupidly breathless when you confessed, “I’m in love with you, too, Hee.”

His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking. “You are?”

His voice was soft, imploring, almost desperate, so you stepped closer and cupped his cold cheeks with your warm hands. Heeseung’s gaze seemed faraway, but he placed his hands over yours, as if he was trying to make sure you were real.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who would rent an entire hot air balloon just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the Bahamas.” You laughed, a moonstruck grin on your face. “And, for the record, I’d choose you over a stupid vacation any day.”

You had been waiting to see his face break into that dazzling smile of his where his eyes crinkled at the corners. Instead, Heeseung just gazed at you longingly before he placed a hand on your cheek and bent down to kiss you.

His mouth moved with yours carefully, almost like he was too scared to go any further. You moved your hands to loop around his neck, drawing him closer so that you could slowly deepen the kiss. You were grateful that Heeseung waited to match your pace, and soon he was dropping his hands to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him, too. It sent butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach whenever he smiled between kisses, mumbling something about how pretty you were or how he had been waiting to do this forever.

Sometimes, you realized, feelings didn’t need to be expressed through words. You didn’t need the confirmation because with Heeseung’s lips pressed to yours, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the stars above.

You supposed you could say your parents were a little shocked to come back home and discover a major change in your relationship status.

You had to give them the rundown of what happened, of course. It wasn’t very hard to do, considering you had reiterated the same story to Yizhuo about a hundred times until she was satisfied. Thankfully, your other friends just needed to hear it once to fully grasp that Heeseung was now your boyfriend. For Yeji, you had to bring out a whiteboard just to draw everything out to her over FaceTime.

As you broke down what happened while your parents were in Rome, you noticed the silver necklace on your mother’s neck that glimmered whenever the light caught it. You smiled to yourself when you realized it was probably your stepfather’s honeymoon present, and you were grateful that your mother was able to experience such a wonderful love herself.

“See?” There was an excited gleam in your mother’s eyes as she bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Heeseung made for them last night. She pointed the cookie in your stepfather’s direction. “I told you they’d get together!”

“I thought so, too!” he agreed. “That’s why I had that little talk with Heeseung when you two dropped us off at the airport.”

“That’s what you guys were talking about?!” you exclaimed, jumping up to your feet and then sinking back down in your seat with your hands covering your face. “I knew it was gonna be something embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Have a cookie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Heeseung, who had been silent the whole conversation, spoke up. He reached over and took the cookie from your mother, but you smacked his hand lightly while he was bringing it to his mouth. “Hey! You almost made me drop my cookie!”

You huffed. “She was talking to me, idiot.”

You were honestly over-the-moon that dating Heeseung was this easy. You worried about having a boyfriend and having to go through the hassle of introducing him to your parents and waiting for them to warm up to him. With Heeseung, though, he was already like family in your household, so nothing felt too different.

Except that your parents could outwardly tease you both now.

Since you were in his parents’ good graces, too, everything seemed to click for you two. Both of your parents were planning to go out for dinner sometime this week to celebrate your new relationship, which you felt was a little over-the-top. You suspected that Mrs. Lee was hoping you would be her future daughter-in-law.

They were even planning on renting a Airbnb together for yours and Heeseung’s move-in at Yale. It was almost terrifying how everyone in your life seemed to be fully on-board for this relationship.

Not that you were complaining, though.

“Are you guys going somewhere now?” your mother asked, eyeing Heeseung’s white button-up that you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Make sure you wear sunscreen. It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year.”

You checked your bag to make sure your sunscreen was, in fact, there. Heeseung took his baseball cap off to put it on your head, which made you crack a smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to the beach,” you said. “Yizhuo and Chenle wanted to spend the day at Santa Monica, and then we were gonna head over to Jungwon’s house.”

“Well, have fun.” Your mother moved to the kitchen to grab Tupperware to package the cookies. Your stepfather followed her in to help her out. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the Bahamas this year, but the beach has to be the next best thing, right?”

You shared a grin with Heeseung, and his eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. “Yeah, it’s exactly like the Bahamas if I close my eyes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you for reading all the way to the end if you made it this far !! :’) i have always wanted to write pure fluff without any room for misunderstandings or angst LOL and heeseung is just the perfect embodiment of bff2l ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !! 

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[yukidragon]

So... what do you think of a concept of Jack's Sunshine who is a Magical Girl?

This ask instantly gave me the image of Alice as a magical girl and OMG the potential of that is delicious. Thank you for sharing this plot bunny with me so I can totally run away with it!

The timing is also fitting since I recently watched the Miraculous Ladybug’s latest season ending and special and, uh… I’ve had… thoughts. (Yes, Miraculous Ladybug counts as a magical girl show.)

Before I begin, I want to plug the SnaccPop Studios patreon since it’s almost certain that I’m going to wind up using the magical girl Jack picture Sauce drew at some point in this ramble, and possibly other SDJ art. Please support the team if you can, and remember don't share anything privately posted on the patreon!

I also want to toss out potential content warnings just in case. This post will contain mention of PTSD, child soldiers, body image issues, cheating, toxic relationships, and the general erotic/horror elements that are part of the Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack package. I’m not sure where I’m going to take this, but chances are there’s going to be some spice involving my OTP and some mention of Jack’s yandere obsession and the extremes he’ll go to keep his sunshine.

Remember, this is an 18+ Adults Only fandom! Minors do not interact!

 The “Magic” of Childhood

The magical girl genre is iconic, and it’s also been deconstructed in different ways with certain anime like Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Given Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack is, in a way, deconstructing lost media and clown mascots into an eroge horror game, it feels fitting to go with that sort of spirit with this sort of crossover as well.

In this case, sunshine would have probably been someone who was a magical “girl” in their childhood/teen years, as that is usually the age range of magical girls doing their magical shenanigans while they learn life lessons and mature. Whether or not MC was actually a girl during this time period is, of course, up to the individual to decide for their backstory. After all, who cares if the magical girls in the story are actually girls? There are an increasing number of stories about magical boys in this genre, for example, and we all know non-binary folks can go anywhere they darn well please.

Given the tone of the game and MC’s state, I think it would be perfectly fitting if they are still a disillusioned adult who wants to abandon all things nostalgic. In this case, their past magical shenanigans would be included in the childish things that they want to forget. Heck, it’s more reason to want to forget if they felt like their childhood was taken from them because they had to fight monsters in secret all the time in flashy clothes and transformation sequences, even having to go as far as to save the world from utter destruction.

Then of course add in the complication that Ian and his cheating presents on MC’s mental state. Magical girl shows very often have romance as one of the key aspects of the story, the star-crossed lovers of the lead magical girl hopelessly pining over the prince charming of her dreams~ Only, in this case, “Prince Charming” betrayed their “destined romance” by getting horny and sleeping with someone else. Bonus points if these two were reincarnated destined lovers or the like, ala Usagi and Mamoru from Sailor Moon. I mean, wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth!

In this sort of AU, the romance with Ian and the magical “girl” adventures MC experienced would be heavily tied to their childhood and teenage years. In a sense, they both represent the MC’s youth, for good and for ill. In the present day, MC is dealing with the aftermath of the love of their life cheating on them, being isolated and alone, and carrying the baggage of their fight to save the world, which robbed them of their childhood. They’re probably extra exhausted if they still have to occasionally transform and fight monsters even in the present day. They have to juggle adult responsibilities on top of the fate of a world, working a thankless job that doesn’t pay enough with a duty that pays nothing at all. They’d probably be even more of a penny pincher in this AU.

Jack entering into the picture would be a very interesting wrinkle to their life. Given MC has faced a lot of supernatural and magical shenanigans, I imagine they’d be more inclined to believe that, yes, this clown that suddenly appeared one day and insists on being their best friend is real. Now they have another magical mascot in their life, only this one isn’t some cute little talking animal. I mean, heck, they might even be more inclined to just roll with it after having to live with a magical mascot bossing them around for years.

Not that I imagine MC would necessarily let Jack in on their secret identity, especially if they’re trying to leave the magical girl business in the past.

I can imagine Jack would be stunned to learn of MC’s secret double life, especially if he saw them during their flashy magical transformation sequence. Magical girl anime wasn’t really a thing in the US in the early 80’s, so Jack isn’t going to be familiar with the tropes, even if there were some in-universe TV shows about it. (I mean, in Sailor Moon, the Sailor V show was a thing, so even in the magical girl universe there were magical girl shows, so…)

Of course, I have a feeling that most MCs wouldn’t be interested in watching any TV shows based on the fictional or real life exploits of magical girls after growing up living that life. It’d probably be a bit too real for them.

Man, wouldn’t it be awkward if during MC’s teen years, when in the thick of living the life as secret protector of the world, they had a best friend who was absolutely obsessed with the magical girl genre? They have to deal with all the drama of being a magical “girl” and listen to people ramble about it even when off the clock. I can see Ian totally being all over magical girl anime, especially when there are real life examples  around.

This gives me the image of MC, sitting in their childhood bedroom with Ian, having to play dumb and smile innocently while Ian gushes about being saved from a monster by a magical “girl” without ever knowing that the person he’s talking about is sitting right next to him. Talk about awkward!

Though it would also be a potential moment for romance. Ian talks up his savior and gushes over how cool they were, and MC gets to feel butterflies at hearing themselves praised so much… even if Ian thinks he’s talking about a different person.

A pity Ian had to taint those sweet memories by cheating, huh?

Back to the present with Jack. Once he finds out his sunshine is going out there battling monsters, saving the world… well, there’s definitely going to be mixed feelings. On the one hand, that’s amazing! It does go to show just how special his sunshine really is. On the other hand, MC is risking their life and possibly getting injured on a regular basis because of this duty of theirs. That’s not even adding in the more unsettling magical girl deconstructions and how that power might come at a cost…

Jack, in general, wants to try and make things easier for MC, and make sure that he is needed by them. Any sort of occupation or secret life they have makes no difference on this fact. However, I think he would want to make sure to reveal that he knows their secret only when the time is right, when he’s sure it’s not going to chase them away from him

So chances are Jack would nudge MC in the direction of wanting to tell him. He’ll show them that they can trust him with any secret, help them with any problem, especially if it’s important to them. He’ll take care of them, no matter what they want to do. He’s there for them… forever.

Until MC lets Jack in on their secret, he could secretly help them. Maybe he can hunt down evil doers and scare those nasty monsters away, maybe even convince the villains to stop creating monsters that put his sunshine at risk. It’s not exactly in character for Sunny Day Jack to want to hurt anyone, but he’s stopping the bad guys! For his sunshine! So they don’t get hurt! The bad guys too dangerous to be allowed to run around hurting people and trying to take away his sunshine by killing or capturing them…

Any sort of magical mascot MC has might wind up interfering with Jack and his plans, or maybe they too will be suckered in by his silver tongue and sweet words. It all depends, really. I imagine with their power, they would be able to see and hear him like MC has, which adds a whole extra dynamic to the relationship.

Hell, Jack could potentially convince the mascot to give him magical powers too, ala this gorgeous piece of art drawn by Sauce.

Look at Jack, all sparkly and magical, with such beautiful colors and design. He’s going to fight for love and his sunshine and triumph over anyone who would dare try to take his sunshine away.

If Jack becomes a magical “girl” too, well, then his sunshine can for sure share their secret with him without worry! It’ll be just the two of them protecting each other and the world. He’ll keep MC safe for sure with his new powers.

And make sure no one takes his sunshine away, even if that means making his magical clothes a little less colorful and a lot more bloody.

Gotta love how Sauce can create such delicious tonal whiplash with their lovely art. Jack makes for a chilling yandere magical girl, don't you think?

Like any good protagonist with magical girl powers, Jack would make sure to protect his sunshine, and even without powers he would want to keep them safe. It doesn’t matter if they have a secret double life. They can share all their burdens with him. No one has to know about their secret identity except for him. It just means their bond is even more special than it already was.

Of course… if MC is keeping Jack at a distance, or interested in someone else, that would create extra conflict. MC would likely be more aware that Jack is an unknown entity and be more wary of him even as they accept his existence and presence in their life as something real. If they choose someone else to pursue romantically, well… that’s a problem for Jack regardless of the universe.

If Jack does manage to get himself some magical girl powers, he might have a whole new arsenal of tools to get rid of his rivals in a magical and flashy way. Heck, if he learns how the bad guys transform people into monsters, he might have a way to get rid of them in a way that is seen as virtuous. There’s all sorts of twisted paths that could be taken with this sort of AU, especially when giving a yandere even more power.

Really, a lot of this depends on the details about the MC’s powers, the mascot they have, what they’re fighting, and if they’re still fighting even as an adult. With that thought in mind, let’s get a little more specific in the way I would personally tackle the idea of Alice being a magical girl.

Magical Girl Alice

The idea of Alice as a magical girl tickles me greatly, especially given the fact that magical girls are always super skinny. I mean, there’s a running joke about the Sailor Moon art style and how long and skinny their legs are. Magical girls don’t tend to appear in plus size unless it’s as the punchline of a joke. It adds a lot of possibilities, and the potential to tackle public perception to the cute stereotypical magical girl archetype.

Needless to say, someone like Alice would have a difficult time as a magical girl for many reasons. She already had a hard enough time being responsible as the oldest child of the King family and taking care of Ian without adding in her duties as a magical warrior for justice.

I can imagine it happening suddenly one day in the typical way these stories usually start, when an entity appeared in the form of a cute rabbit - Honey Bunny.

Yes, I had to use Honey Bunny for the role of magical girl mascot. I mean, who else would fit that role as Alice’s adorable non-human sidekick? In this case, it was a magical entity that took over her puppet and has a similar personality to her SunnyTime Town counterpart. In a way, Alice's issues with speaking were a blessing, as no one looked twice at Alice conversing with her “puppet.” In fact, people were amazed that she had developed some really impressive ventriloquist skills!

Alice has always gone out of her way to help people, just this took that desire to an extreme. As a kid, she was excited to become a hero for justice, and with magical powers to boot. It was so cool to transform into an identity that no one recognized, beating down the wicked monsters and saving innocent people.

Well… in theory. Naturally, the first time Alice actually had to face down a monster born from someone’s negative emotions, it was a lot harder than she thought. The whole magical girl gig was harder than advertised, but Honey Bunny helped her get through it. Besides, she needed to do it. No one else could, and if no one stepped up, the world would be lost.

Alice would have shared her secret with her family, but Honey Bunny always stressed the importance of keeping things a secret. No one must know - not her family and not her best friend Ian, even if he’s crushing on the mysterious magical girl who saved him from the wicked monster his mother had been transformed into one day. If they knew, then the bad guys could find out the truth from exploiting their loved ones’ negative emotions. If that happened then she and everyone she knew was in danger, and the world could be doomed.

Quite a lot of pressure on a kid, don’t you think?

Alice had to learn how to be independent, a lone warrior of justice, taking down bad guys. Sometimes she managed to get help, but it didn’t last forever. Perhaps she did eventually get a superhero team in her teens, which would’ve been a breath of fresh air. She had someone to lean on who understood this destiny that they were burdened with.

It did create this sort of divide between Alice and anyone not part of this magical girl group. This secret and weight on all of them was so big, too heavy. Others couldn’t understand… for the sake of the world.

I was going to say this caused a divide between Alice and Ian, but then I thought of Ian in his bunny costume and, well… Ian would make a cute magical girl, don’t you think?

If Ian was in on this secret double life, it would add more reason for them to cling to each other, especially if it was only the two of them without anyone else to depend on. It’d be like Ladybug and Chat Noir against the world, a whirlwind romance for the ages…

Well… until Ian let it go to his head so that he could get some head.

In typical magical girl story fashion, it took a while before Alice and Ian managed to get in a relationship. There were plenty of near-misses and misunderstandings due to the double life Alice led until Ian joined it. So many outings together had to be canceled at the last minute or interrupted because Alice had to sneak away to save people.

It was the end of high school when Ian got his powers too in a dramatic incident where the world and Alice’s life were hanging in the balance. This is one of those season finale climax moments where everything is on the line and they came a hair’s breadth from everything going horribly, horribly wrong.

Naturally, this made Ian and Alice’s bond, which had been waning due to her double-life, suddenly a whole lot stronger. Trauma bonding is pretty high for young people who need to cling to each other to survive after all…

Alice used her experience to help Ian get used to his role, though he had a much harder time juggling his double life. His mom was a big problem, constantly wanting to know where he was and what he was doing. In the end, he had to give back the powers Honey Bunny gave him because he didn’t see himself as worthy of them anymore. He also just couldn’t handle the pressure, not like Alice could.

Still, the two of them were close because Ian knew Alice’s secret and could help her make excuses to sneak off to save people.

The college era changed everything. The big bad Alice had been fighting for years was finally defeated at long last. She had thematically graduated from being a magical girl. She could finally live a normal life and figure out a dream of her own beyond saving the world.

But… Alice didn’t know what to do. Sure she thought about her future beyond being a magical girl off and on, but fighting to save the world and juggling her personal life with these secrets and lies took up so much of her mental energy. She was exhausted and wound up bouncing around in college.

In typical magical girl story fashion, the protagonist got together with her love interest in the end. Alice and Ian were a couple, so close and in love. With Alice not knowing what to do with this future that was open to infinite possibilities, she let Ian take the lead in guiding their futures, trying to get into acting alongside him.

Of course, much like in the normal universe, Alice got pushback. Though she’s a magical warrior for justice, she’s still chubby. Her physical abilities are better than the average person even in civilian mode, but bodies have a tendency to want to be a particular shape, and for her, that’s bigger than society wants her to be.

Much like in Miraculous Ladybug, Alice has some influence on how she appears when transformed. Will and subconscious desire strongly affect it, as well as creating that special aura that makes people unable to identify the magical girl with the pigtails as the same person as the girl with the same pigtails and hair color who was standing there only a couple minutes before. When Alice first started out, she was more or less herself, but fluffier, more colorful, covered in frills and glitter. She had the young magical girl flare and charm, just plus sized.

Unfortunately, as Alice’s body image issues manifested, getting mocked both by her peers and even enemies, she started subconsciously wanting to be smaller. She saw her ideal self as those skinny magical girls on TV, and it reflected in her transformed mode. It wasn’t an instant change, more like a gradual transition as though the creators behind the series got worried about having a plus sized magical girl and made her gradually slimmer until she looked more “on model” for the genre.

By the time Alice was a teenager, her transformed mode was the typical skimpy, but curvy, magical girl archetype. She didn’t look anything like herself, and there was no chance of mistaking the two of them for the same person. She wanted to look this way in reality, so when she had free time she worked out more and ate less. It was very unhealthy, and Honey Bunny had to work hard to keep her from developing an eating disorder. If Alice wouldn’t take care of herself for her own sake, then she had to do it to have the power to save the world.

The relationship between Honey Bunny and Alice is a deep friendship, but it’s a bit complicated. After all, it was Honey Bunny who guided a child to take on the responsibility of protecting the world. Regardless if there was no other option, it’s still not a burden that should be placed on any one person, let alone a child.

Needless to say, Alice has a lot of baggage from her time as a magical girl and some trauma bonding with Honey Bunny as well. When she finally had a normal life, she had come to accept that she could be loved as she was, not as [insert magical girl superhero name here]. I’m not sure what name I’m going to go with for Alice, but it might be a parody of Sailor Moon’s naming convention or some other magical girl anime’s naming style. I mean, I could call her Sailor Sunshine, but that’s a bit too on the nose. ;3 I’ll have to give it some thought…

What didn’t help Alice’s self-confidence and body image issues was Ian having a crush on her transformed self and gushing about her all the time. Although Ian did have a crush on Alice as well, he couldn’t help but geek out over a real life magical girl, and more than once Alice was made to feel jealous of the persona she crafted that always seemed so much better than herself.

When Ian eventually found out her identity, he was stunned, especially due to how different they looked, but at the same time it made sense to him. He insisted that she was the same person, with or without the flashy costume, and she was just as beautiful either way.

So in the “final season” of this magical girl show, Alice’s transformed self looked a bit chubbier than before - not as full figured as her normal self, but no longer a skinny twig. She better accepted herself a bit more, and she felt loved by Ian both in her transformed state and out. By that point she had grown and become happier with herself.

Which made Ian cheating on her later on with a sexy woman with big boobs and a small waist feel like a huge kick in the crotch.

Alice entered college with Ian full of hope, even if she felt lost for a future outside of being a magical girl. She had a partner who loved her and understood her, and she had the rest of her life to choose whatever she wanted in the world she saved.

It’s just unfortunate that all of the constant battles and running off to fight tanked her grades during high school, which made it harder for her to get into college in the first place. At least Alice could get into community college, even if that meant there was no hope of a scholarship. At least she had Ian by her side.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Though Alice had become a strong warrior for justice, she now suffered from PTSD and had traumatic flashbacks of moments that scarred her deeply, especially when it came to people she couldn’t save. She couldn’t exactly talk about it with anyone, and Ian couldn’t handle the burden. After all, he gave up being a magical girl because it was too much for him, and hearing how hard it was on Alice made him feel guilty, which in turn didn’t help her. Fortunately Alice had years worth of experience in holding it in. When you have to keep secrets in order to prevent the end of the world, you learn how to bottle up a lot of things.

Alice is a much better actor in this universe because of this, and it did help her get further in acting classes despite pushback and at least one teacher warning her about how she would be type casted in unflattering roles due to her body size. Still, at some point she wondered if it really was what she wanted to do. She spent years having all these eyes on her, having to be a commanding presence and play a part…

Despite Ian’s encouragement to keep acting with him, Alice dropped out. Though disappointed, he encouraged her to try and find her own dream. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, but in so many ways she was very, very tired.

Alice’s relationship with Ian wasn’t the happily ever after she thought it would be. Much like in the regular universe, things deteriorated between them, with his cheating being the final straw. Those issues were sharper in this world, unfortunately. Ian felt even more insecure having a partner who was this famous  magical girl superhero who saved the world many times over. He felt insignificant compared to Alice at times, like he wasn’t worthy of her, and she could do so much better than someone like him who constantly needed saving… At the same time though… he couldn’t let her go.

The person Ian cheated on Alice with was someone more “on his level,” just a normal person living a normal life who made him feel happy and attractive during a time when he was alone. Long distance relationships are so hard, especially when you’re convincing yourself that you’re always letting your partner down.

Alice didn’t take the confession that Ian cheated well, but she didn’t nearly drink herself to death in this universe. The issue in this world is that the enemy can use your crushing negative emotions against you, so Alice had to learn how to combat those feelings. Often it was by transforming and destroying a few dozen trees in a forest miles away from civilization. When she got all of her energy out, she fled the scene of her destruction and collapsed to the floor of their apartment in tears.

Shaun came by in the midst of her grief, as Ian had called him in a panic to check up on Alice when she wouldn’t pick up the phone for a long time. He was a good shoulder to cry on, and kept her company the entire night until she finally cried herself to sleep.

Of course… the breakup isn’t going to be easy when it comes to superhero identities. Ian proved he can’t be trusted after all by betraying Alice, and she can’t be with someone she can’t trust… but at the same time he knows her secret. It created a lot of tangled up feelings and drama. Ian keeps trying to regain her trust and get back together with her, but she can’t, not with how hurt she is and how much responsibility is on her shoulders.

A new threat could appear at any time. Sometimes unrelated big threats appear, small one-off things. Alice technically can never retire from being a magical girl. It’s part of what made figuring out her future at college difficult.

Honey Bunny, being a magical mascot in charge of keeping up secrecy, used magical means to make Ian forget about Alice’s secret identity and the part he played in the magical girl life. After all, if magical girls have a magical field that makes it so no one can identify them and their civilian persona, even when there’s photographs, then it makes sense there could be different magics to ensure people don’t uncover the secret. I mean, we are talking about the fate of the world after all. That’s pretty serious stuff.

Disillusioned by love, exhausted by her duties, and now only with Honey Bunny to confide in again, Alice feels more alone than ever. She struggles to figure out what she wants in life, knowing that she can’t ever truly stop being a magical girl, not when supernatural forces sometimes crop up to cause trouble… to say nothing of the threat of a potential new villain appearing like the one that forced her to become a magical girl in the first place.

It makes it hard for Alice to feel motivated. Her dreams are murky. She coasts through college, graduating with a general engineering degree just to have something to show for the cost of the classes. She gets a job at Yogurtopia because it at least has flexible hours and Barry at least accepted her excuse that sometimes she’ll have emergencies unexpectedly. He has her work extra hours to make up for those times when she has to cancel at the last minute. Even with a job like this, it feels like she’s hanging by a thread, barely holding on because her boss has decided to offer her leniency. Chances are she won’t get that elsewhere.

Supernatural Ghost(?) Jack

Of course, it’s during this period where Alice is feeling more lost and alone than ever that Jack appears. She sensed something strange about the video tape, but not dangerous. It was compelling, touched by magic, and left her feeling like she had to play it. Honey Bunny had a weird feeling about it and cautioned her when messing with it.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that the connection between Jack and Alice was willingly made, at least for the Sunshine in Hell continuity. It’s no different in this AU. Alice, ever the hero, heard the pitiful cry of a soul trapped in hell, and saved him. Thanks to her years of being a magical girl, having her soul put to the test against many magical effects, Alice didn’t pass out after the pact was made, and she fully remembers the terms of their agreement.

In a way, this starts Jack and Alice off on the right foot. Alice feels a sense of purpose in trying to figure out what happened to Jack and how to help him, and she finds he’s actually a really nice friend. It’s also nice to be around someone who makes her feel understood. Honey Bunny is good company, but their complicated relationship isn’t the same as what develops between her and Jack.

Alice doesn’t let Jack know that she’s a magical girl, though he does know about Honey Bunny, if only because Honey Bunny asserted herself to make sure the terms of the magical pact between the two were fair and that there were no loopholes an unsavory character could take advantage of. Honey Bunny, being the guide for magical girls, has experience in setting up contracts, you see, and she does care deeply for Alice even though she also used the poor girl as a child soldier. Even if she didn’t have a lot of options at the time, it was still not a good thing to do to a kid.

Honey Bunny has a lot of guilt for everything she put Alice through, and is extra protective of Alice as a result. The two are very close, and Jack often feels jealous of their bond. He wants to be closer to Alice, his sunshine, his savior… closer than anyone. Their bond is special. He never felt this way about anyone before…

And Jack certainly doesn’t want anything to risk breaking the bond he has with his sunshine and being damned back to hell.

While Jack can sense Alice’s emotions and vice-versa through their connection, the wording of their pact is a bit tighter in this AU, and they can’t read each other’s minds. Still, that connection of empathy goes a long way in the two of them growing closer.

Jack helps Alice get some direction in life, feel more motivated in herself again in a way that Honey Bunny can’t quite manage to help her with due to their complicated history. He becomes an important part of her life, making it shine brighter and she feels happy in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Alice struggles with burdening Jack with anything, especially since she’s supposed to be the one trying to help him, being the superhero and all, but Jack wants to help her, and it feels so nice to be taken care of for a change.

Alice has carried the weight of the world on her own for so long.

Things get easier with Jack around. Though Alice still works towards helping Jack be human again so he can interact with others, the idea of him one day going off to live his own life is just so sad. But can she really believe him when he says that he wants to be her best friend forever?

Jack understands what Alice is trying to do for him, and he does appreciate it, but he’s not leaving her even if she thinks that’s what’s best for him. He doesn’t want to leave her. Besides, he can see that wouldn’t be best for her. She needs him, and the more time they spend together, the more he’ll do to show her that. It feels so good to have her need him, to feel useful and wanted. She’s such a remarkable person, so strong and brave, but he wants to take care of her. She deserves to be loved and cared for, especially after all she’s done.

Jack, with his supernatural abilities, finds out early on that Alice is a magical girl when she has to run off because of a sudden monster attack. He doesn’t reveal that he knows right away, but subtly encourages Alice to tell him herself. It hurts a little whenever she avoids the opportunities he gives her to open up to him and lies to hide her secret, but he understands that a big secret as this can’t be easy to share, especially after he’s seen what some of these monsters can do to people.

One of the ways Jack tries to encourage Alice to tell him involves talking up the magical girl that appears on the news sometimes, how amazing and courageous she is. Unfortunately, that backfires a bit. Alice is reminded of the way Ian gushed over her alter-ego in the past, and the memory hurts like hell. Jack notices right away that this line of conversation upsets her, even though she tries to hide it. She covers it up by pretending that she can’t see what’s so great about the magical girl except her looks, and Jack, very gently, redirects the conversation in a more positive direction.

After that Jack focuses on not idolizing the magical girl persona, but humanizing her. He says there’s more to “her” and everyone beyond their looks. Everyone is beautiful in their own ways, but Alice doesn’t need the ribbons and sparkles to shine. She doesn’t need to fight monsters to prove how brave she is. She’s the most beautiful, most courageous person he’s ever known.

Alice, flustered by his praise, protests that Jack is just saying that. After all, so many other people are so much more beautiful than she is, including the magical girl who totally isn’t her!

Jack focuses on Alice and her actions, all the things he’s noticed her do day by day that make her shine, the acts of kindness, her bravery and determination. At times his words cross over into things that he does as a magical girl, deliberately so, but vague enough that she wouldn’t immediately realize that he knows. It’s just enough to force her to look at that magical persona in a new light and see that it’s just a sparkling dress on top of the amazing person who invested so much of herself into doing the right thing and sacrificed so much of herself to make the world a better place.

Alice can’t help but feel moved. Jack has a way with words, and she can feel he cares about her. Falling in love with him is a slow burn, but comes as naturally as falling into his arms, and eventually the line is crossed. Although she believed that she would never find true love after everything that happened with Ian, Jack gives her the courage to finally try again.

Naturally this is a love story with a happy ending because I’m a sucker for my OTP. When Alice is forced to reveal her identity through a suitably dramatic moment to save people, Jack gently tells her in the aftermath that he already knew, and he was waiting for her to be ready to tell him. He also tells her it doesn’t change anything - she’s always been the most amazing person in the world in his eyes, with or without the magical wand and frills.

Jack and Alice get together before the reveal, which is a source of anxiety for Alice until everything is out in the open. Fortunately, Jack is so patient with her and helps her deal with her anxious feelings and worries. When the truth is revealed, he helps her avoid people in order to transform safely, gives her ideas for excuses to tell people in order to hide her magical girl persona.

Really, Jack would make for a good magical girl guide. He’s certainly clever and manipulative enough to handle the job. Plus if no one can see him, he can figure out the best hiding spots.

Alice helps Jack become human again, or as close as he can be. When he’s able to be seen by others, a part of her fears that he’ll find someone else, someone he wants more than her. Still, unlike with Ian, she finds herself able to be more open with Jack than she can with anyone else. She eventually learns to unburden herself with him, to show parts of herself that she feels are ugly and would let everyone else down if they saw them. She learns to release worries she held back from even Honey Bunny because of the weight of obligation she had to not let anyone down.

Jack accepts it all. He’s patient and listens to everything. It troubles him when Alice finally tells him all the horrors she faced as a magical girl, all the trauma and awful things that she had to experience for the sake of the world. It feels so unfair to him that such a kind soul has to suffer alone like this. He’s even more determined to be her shelter and give her a place she can feel at home.

Alice feels freer with Jack than she ever felt in her life. Even though Ian knew her secret, he couldn’t handle all the horrors. He couldn’t stand by her side, placing her above him on a pedestal. Even though Honey Bunny was there the whole time, Alice didn’t want to let her down and was looking to her for guidance. Jack, however, isn’t someone with expectations that she has to live up to or a victim to shield from the ugliness of the world. He feels like someone who is there for her, standing right next to her on her level. The weight on her heart feels just a little lighter after she finally accepts that sharing her burdens with Jack didn’t crush him under that weight.

Of course Ian has tried to get back together with Alice in this AU, but he’s had far less luck. His phone got blocked right after the breakup, as did all his social media pages. Their breakup wasn’t “for now” but “for good,” in this AU, much to his dismay. With all the responsibilities Alice has to carry, she has to think of the world before herself. She can’t be with someone who she can’t trust, and he proved that she can’t trust him. It’s lucky that he didn’t blab her secret identity in a moment of weakness before Honey Bunny made him forget!

Ian still reaches out in any way he can though, mostly to Alice’s family and any mutual friends. He stalks her socials through secret alt accounts and tries desperately in his regular life to become the man worthy of her. He constantly tries to figure out ways to make up what he did to her even while constantly putting himself down.

Because Ian forgot about Alice’s secret identity, he forgot that she’s also the mysterious magical girl that sometimes appears in the news for saving people. He can’t help but crush so hard on this mystery girl, and it fills him with so much guilt. He already cheated on Alice once without this silly crush making his heart flutter! He can’t let his heart be shaken up again! He needs to be loyal this time.

At the same time though, it’s over… Ian should move on. Yet, he can’t move on. He needs Alice. He knows he does. He can’t handle life without her. They’ve meant so much to each other for so long. His life feels empty without her.

Also a part of Ian subconsciously remembers the things they experienced when he knew her secret, and it deepens his longing to make things right. He betrayed Alice so deeply when she had such a burden to carry. The guilt is eating him alive and won’t abade until they’re together again.

Alice avoids Ian and is distant when talking with him. She’s able to mask her hurt with a frosty mask, but it’s so very, very painful. She can’t handle being near him or thinking about him for long.

Fortunately, the closer Alice gets with Jack, the less painful it gets to think about Ian. Her heart starts to heal thanks to Jack.

Unfortunately, Jack does not take too kindly to Ian’s attempts at getting back together with Alice Fortunately, he’s not the only one with this sentiment, as Honey Bunny doesn’t want Alice to get back together with Ian either.

Really, Honey Bunny was leery about the idea of Jack being with Alice the second she picked up on something developing between them. She was worried about Alice getting her heart broken again, but Jack is constantly proving her fears wrong. He makes Alice so happy. Maybe this strange and suspicious clown was what Alice needed all along…

Jack takes advantage of Honey Bunny not wanting Ian around to team up and thwart any attempts Ian might make to get back together with Alice. Honey Bunny is a bit of a mischief maker when left to her own devices, and Jack is very good at talking her into playing a few harmless magical pranks on Ian. Naturally, they do this without letting Alice know. No need to upset her by forcing her to think about Ian after all.

So, yes, Honey Bunny, in a way, is assisting Jack’s relationship with Alice in this world too, even if she’s more than a little  hesitant about trusting him with Alice’s heart. She would be even more hesitant if she knew just how thirsty Jack is for Alice. His constant attempts to seduce Alice once the two are in a relationship is a point of annoyance for Honey Bunny, and she serves as a cock block more than once.

Still, it’s not going to stop Jack from showing his sunshine lots and lots of love, or experimenting with magical girl powers in a kinky way. Just the skimpy outfit alone is begging to be used for sexy times, maybe in a bit of roleplay as well. Sometimes pretending to be in a position of vulnerability can help someone take back power they lost, and Alice can discover that being tied up isn’t so bad when the person doing it loves her dearly and will undo the bindings the moment that she feels overwhelmed.

Jack might be playing the role of wholesome kids show host, but he’s still an actor at heart. He can have a lot of fun pretending to be a villainous evildoer who has captured the virtuous magical girl and has her at his mercy. He’s also open for it to be reversed, to be the dastardly villain finally captured by the champion of justice. After all, Alice has a lot of experience teaching the bad guys how to place nice, and maybe she can have a lot more fun with it when Jack is the one she’s teaching a “lesson” with the power of love~

I can imagine Jack would also try to encourage Honey Bunny to give him magical girl powers like she did temporarily to Ian. It’d lessen Alice’s burden and help them both out. He already has supernatural abilities of his own and is bonded to Alice. He can handle the burden fighting evil for the sake of his sunshine and the world. He won’t crumble under the weight of this heavy responsibility like Ian did.

Naturally, it would take a lot of convincing after how far south things went with Ian, but Jack is patient and clever. He’s patient enough to encourage Alice to come to him despite her many fears and scars. He’s patient to encourage them both to trust him, and we all know he has a way with words. Eventually, magical girl Jack will enter the stage and fight for the sake of his sunshine. He’ll use the power of his love to help her shine even brighter than the sun.

Besides the bonus of magical girl powers, Jack would naturally take advantage of the magic that prevents people from connecting a magical girl’s identity with their civilian form. I mean, if no one knows who you are, you can have anonymous sex in public with no one the wiser. Of course, the biggest obstacle is convincing Alice to give it a try, but they’ll no doubt come up with a compromise that satisfies them both.

I think I’m going to wrap up things up there for now. This ramble has gone on way longer than I intended it to - close to 8000 words! And that’s without going into detail with the smut or inserting a snippet of writing this time. I hope you all enjoyed this blend of magical girl shenanigans and Sunny Day Jack. Maybe I’ll get more ideas and touch on this AU again sometime in the future.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[strawberrypinky]

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 1 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that retribution was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of.

A/N: Right. What was supposed to be a simple, short, smutty one shot, escalated into this. Do I have regrets? Yeah - a lot of them. Am I still posting this? Absolutely. I blame @legacygirlingreen for enabling me, but I also thank her for the endless support she's given me throughout. M; you are the best 💚

To everyone else reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Smut (18+, MDNI) - for part 2 (lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink

Word Count (Part 1): 16k (yes - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/122292907

Aesop Sharp was sure that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life. 

There was simply no other explanation for the sheer torture he continuously found himself in. 

He thought Scarborough Harbour and the curse in his leg might have been penance - the pain and guilt certainly served as a constant reminder of his misdeeds in this life, as if he could ever forget about them in the first place. His partner, his best friend, had died because of an oversight in judgement (one he had made), and the woman he thought he was going to marry ended things as soon as it became clear that he would be crippled for life. 

Losing his job (one he had tirelessly worked for his entire youth) was simply the cherry on top.

He supposed he was lucky when he ended up in Hogwarts, of all places. Although he had never been one to stick to the rules in his time as a schoolboy, Aesop was a surprisingly studious pupil (he had to be if he truly wanted to become an Auror) and loved the school nonetheless. Potions was among his best subjects, right after Defence Against the Dark Arts, and even if it hadn't been his dream career, he liked it fine. It was certainly far more engaging than being confined behind a desk at the Ministry, looking at applications and deciding which hot-headed and possibly egotistical graduate he would send into the field, perhaps even subjecting them to a fate like his own (or worse). 

His second career came with quite a few benefits, too, such as free room and board, fantastic meals (Aesop loathed cooking) and unlimited access to the Restricted Section - a place he had searched relentlessly for a cure or at least a treatment better to the one he currently received. And he could look out for his students, the Aurors of tomorrow, too. He might have been the reason his partner had died, and he might never be able to make that right. But, at the very least, he could ensure that his students would not make the same mistakes he did, lest saving them from the regret and suffering he endured daily. Some of them were brighter than others, of course. He didn't think himself to be horridly unfair. Strict, yes. He had to be; potions were fickle things, after all. But certainly not unfair. 

If anything, Aesop would've described himself as quite reasonable most times.

There were, of course, students he had to be particularly strict with. Students such as Garreth Weasley. 

The boy had been a royal pain in Aesop's arse from the second those ginger locks appeared in his classroom in the Autumn of 1885, and he continued to be one up until his graduation. Garreth Weasley wasn't stupid - far from it. He was actually quite brilliant if he tried to apply himself, which was rarely the case, but it had (much to Aesop's chagrin) been enough to qualify him for the NEWT level class. Matilda had apologised over and over, though as the years passed, the apologies always seemed to be accompanied by a small grin, possibly because Garreth's...creative...concoctions in school relieved the Weasley Household of their unfortunate duty of having to try them.

Other students were even less forgettable - although for entirely different reasons. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) had been an enigma from the moment she timidly trailed behind their illustrious Headmaster into the Great Hall, late, looking as pale as a ghost. Scrap that. The girl had been an enigma from the second the Book of Admittance spat out her name - four years too late. Suddenly the teachers had found themselves in the precarious situation of what to do with a fifteen-year-old who had no prior understanding of magic but was to start at Hogwarts mere four months later. Eventually, their colleague Eleazar Fig had been sent to tutor the poor girl to at least try to get her up to speed, but Aesop would have been the first to admit that he did not have high hopes. He was pleasantly surprised when the girl was incredibly adept at magic. She had bested other top students on her first day, not to mention taken down a troll in Hogsmeade, and she was nothing short of talented at potions too. He remembered her first lesson vividly; she had brewed a perfect Wiggenweld and a perfect Edurus. 

Miss (Y/L/N) continued to be an exemplary student, both inside and outside of the potions classroom. Any (extra) assignments had always been handed in on time, she picked up spells like magic was second nature to her, and she was overall an absolute joy to be around. Her peers likely would have said the same. Various rumours followed her, and though most of them were concerning, Aesop did not think that a new student (no matter how talented) would actually be taking down entire Poacher and Goblin camps. He had suspected that her heroic escape from the dragon and her Hogsmeade adventure let some students become a little too imaginative. How wrong he had been.  

Aesop still remembered the February afternoon it all came crashing down. Eleazar Fig had stormed into the teacher's room after summoning them with a note that said the matter was of 'utmost importance' and no matter how many years Aesop had spent in the field, nothing would have prepared him for the reality of what he was about to be faced with. Not only had the girl, in fact, taken down Poacher Camps. No. She had been fighting an entire Goblin Rebellion, taken down both Theophilus Harlow and various operations of Victor Rookwood and (as if that hadn't been enough) she apparently wielded Ancient Magic, completed a set of trials that were meant to lead her to some grand mystery the rebellion leader - Ranrok - was also after and was now preparing to take said Goblin down. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Aesop was sure that Matilda Weasley would have chewed Eleazar Fig apart right then and there for his carelessness in hiding something like this. But when the teachers apparated into the caverns below Hogwarts, they didn't have time to dwell on any of it. 

By some miracle, the young witch had done it. She had saved the entire school though it had almost come at the expense of her life. 

When he, Matilda, Dinah, Abraham and Mudiwa finally had taken care of the last of the goblins that had invaded the caverns, they descended further into them, only to discover what could be described as an utter wasteland, complete with a peculiar gigantic orb of magic, a gravely wounded and distraught Professor Fig and an unconscious, heavily bleeding (Y/N) (Y/L/N). 

When the young girl awoke in the Hospital Wing nearly two weeks later, she awoke a hero. 

Aesop could tell she was insanely uncomfortable. She was not someone who was looking for glory or people to sing her praises. She was just a girl who had done what had been asked of her, even if the task she had fulfilled should never have been hers to begin with. She passed her O.W.L.'s with flying colours (of course she had), and thankfully, after an extensive summer break, her life had calmed down significantly. She was able to spend her remaining two years at Hogwarts in peace, having fun with her friends and enjoying her classes. Nobody had been more proud of her than Eleazar himself when she graduated at the top of her class (right next to Amit Thakkar) three years ago.

That had been the last time Aesop had seen her.

He knew from Eleazar (who had pretty much turned into the girl's father) that she had been travelling the world with Poppy Sweeting, one of her closest friends from Hogwarts, to study various beasts and plants - A waste of talent if Aesop had ever seen any. With her skill set and her stellar grades, she would've done phenomenally in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but somehow he understood her desire to live a more peaceful life. If anything, he was somehow glad that she wasn't out there risking her life continually to save others. She had saved Wizardkind once. Now it was somebody else's turn. 

When Bai Howin, their resident Care of Magical Creatures Professor, announced her plans to retire last year, Aesop didn't think that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) would be the one taking over. She was just twenty (or perhaps twenty-one? He wasn't sure) and didn't seem like the type to enjoy teaching. 

But there she was in front of him, and he was sure that this was another way of punishing him.

She had never been ugly. In fact, from what he remembered, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was quite the sight to behold. She certainly had no shortage of admirers during her time, even if he couldn't recall her courting anyone specifically. But the woman in front of him? She was downright ethereal.

Her long (Y/H/C) cascaded down her small shoulders and framed her small, heart-shaped face. Her lips were fuller and deliciously pink, stretched into a warm and bright smile that lit up her doe-like (Y/E/C) eyes with almost childish excitement. She was positively tiny; he easily towered over her, but Merlin was she beautiful. 

"Everyone, I am most pleased to welcome our newest addition to the staff. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) will be filling Bai's position the coming school year," Matilda announced with an equally bright smile at the staff's annual pre-term meeting on the 25th of August. From the corner of his eye, Aesop could see the proud smile Eleazar wore.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" Abraham cheered, "How delightful to welcome you back to Hogwarts!" "Thank you, Professor Ronen," she smiled earnestly, "I'm so happy to be back." "Oh please," the jovial Slytherin jumped up, "It's Abraham now. We're colleagues, after all, are we not?" 

Aesop was sure he had never heard a giggle as heart-warming as hers. He scoffed internally. He wasn't some schoolboy with a silly crush. Get over yourself, Aesop!

"Very well then, Abraham," her eyes twinkling, "I'm (Y/N)." 

Aesop observed as the rest of the staff gathered around her, welcoming her back with just as much delight as Abraham and Matilda had done, and her smile only seemed to grow bigger. With a sigh, he got up himself and limped towards the group, his usual stern expression not giving a single hint as to what he was truly feeling. 

"Miss (Y/L/N)," he gruffly said as he came to a stop before her, "How nice to see you again." 

He did not think it possible for her smile to grow any bigger (seriously, her face must have hurt), but it did as her eyes took him in. 

"Professor Sharp!" (Y/N) chirped happily, "It's nice to see you again." 

He didn't know this, but he had been her favourite teacher throughout her short time at Hogwarts; his stern and keenly aware nature was calming to be around, and his classes were always interesting. There had been a time when she considered becoming a professional potioneer, but when the opportunity came up to study Beasts with Poppy, she simply couldn't say no. She had only been a witch for three years and barely knew what the Wizarding World had to offer. It was only natural that she wanted to go out and explore the world as she could honestly always choose a career a little later in life. When Eleazar had reached out to her a couple of months back to tell her that a position was opening up, she couldn't help but apply, and when Matilda (and Black) hired her, she was over the moon.

"As Abraham has said," Aesop cleared his throat, "We are colleagues now. You can call me Aesop." 

"I look forward to working with you, Aesop," (Y/N) nodded, her cheeks tinted pink as she quickly averted her gaze and struck up a conversation with Dinah instead.

Aesop barely saw her until the following week. All of them were busy preparing their lessons and classrooms, and he spent most of his days brewing to replenish his and the Hospital Wings potion supply. Given that she lived in the small hut on the grounds, he didn't really see her around the castle either, but she continued to be on his mind nonetheless. It was a pity, really. He had wondered how she had fared over the past three years and why exactly she had returned. It was unusual for witches and wizards her age to return to Hogwarts to teach of all things, but then again, she's been hardly usual in the first place. Aesop knew that Y/N would be one of his more familiar coworkers - Bai had supplied him with by-products of caring for the beasts, and he supposed (or rather hoped) that her successor would do the same. If anything, it made brewing that much cheaper when he didn't have to hop into Hogsmeade and pester and negotiate with Parry Pippin or Ellie Peck (their prices were quite atrocious at times). 

So when he was finishing up brewing some standard potions on the 1st of September and realised he was out of Unicorn Horn, Aesop decided that now was a good time as any to make the small trek towards the Beasts Classroom and hope that Y/N would somehow have some on hand. It was still early, and the weather was nice, sunny and warm, which helped Aesop's blasted leg tremendously. He knew the colder winter months would aggravate his leg further, but at least for now, he could enjoy his walk to the best of his abilities. 

He spotted her before she spotted him.

She was outside in one of the pens, brushing and petting the Kneazles that would surely serve as a lesson in the coming days, looking absolutely content. The sun was shining down on her, illuminating her skin and hair, which, unlike last time, was in an elaborate and fashionable updo which framed her face artfully. 

He stopped in front of the pen gates, simply observing the young woman who was entirely oblivious to his arrival. (Y/N) giggled happily as the Kneazles danced around her, desperate for her attention and happily purring whenever she offered them some. One of the older Kneazles cuddled up to her leg, flopping on its back and almost chirping, trying to get her attention.

"Now, now, Persephone," she chided as she turned her attention towards the needy Kneazle, "you've gotten plenty already. Leave some for the others." 

"I don't think they understand you," Aesop interrupted her, and he chuckled when she jumped and turned around with a bewildered expression.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, her tone accusing. 

"Just a few minutes," he answered with a shrug. 

"Hmph."

He watched as she stood up, slowly rising from the dirt and dusting off her skirts. Her glare was accusing as she exited the pens, the Kneazles yapping. 

"For the record, they are incredibly wise. They certainly do understand me."

"Alright," he held up his hands in surrender, "I am not here to fight you on your Kneazles anyway." He hadn't known that she was overprotective, though if he remembered correctly, Miss Sweeting had been too. Perhaps he should have figured that the Hufflepuff would rub off on her.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Profe-," she stopped herself, clearing her throat, "I mean Aesop." 

Aesop... He liked the way his name sounded from her lips. It sounded almost like a reverent prayer.

He quickly cleared his throat himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before answering her.

"I was hoping you might have some spare Unicorn Horn? Bai usually provided me with by-products of her care, and I was rather hoping you would continue to offer." 

"Oh," she blushed, "Yes, of course. Come. I have some inside." 

As he followed her, he inevitably noticed how small the girl was. Even with his limp, he was no more than one step behind her - a highly unusual occurrence. 

What had been previously Bai's hut was now completely unrecognisable (not that he had been in there all too often). The rooms were previously quite barren, save for the few personal artefacts and curiosities. A bed, a desk, a closet... Nothing to write home about. Now, though, Aesop had stepped into what felt like an actual home.

The floor was now covered by plush and comforting carpets, which would surely provide additional warmth during the winter months. The walls were warm wood in some places, though covered by paintings and illustrations in others. The beehive fireplace in the corner held the remains of a slow flickering fire, and the eclectic pieces that littered the home did not match one another but were harmonious just the same. One of the armchairs in front of the fire looked worn and old, the other rather contemporary and the shelves to his right reminded him of some modern Parisian styles he had seen some time ago. Various artefacts and trinkets were scattered across the room; some Aesop recognised, others he absolutely didn't. A Potions Station was bubbling away to his left, a small stove with a stray kettle beside it. The entire hut smelled like fresh pastries and freshly pressed linen - comforting and homey just the same. 

"Whatever do you need a potions station for?" he asked as she fluttered around the room. 

"Oh, that," she answered him. "Call it a force of habit or simply a pastime. I used to brew a lot back in school, and I was mostly responsible for any concoctions when Poppy and I travelled. I suppose I haven't lived that down."  

Intrigued, he stepped up to the cauldron, trying to define the mixture by its smell and looks. 

"Bruisewort Balm," he concluded quickly, "Looks very satisfactory." The jump back into 'Professor Persona' was one that he had been all too used to, even if it had been around his newest colleague. 

(Y/N), however, blushed profusely. Potions had been her favourite class during her short time at Hogwarts, and Sharp's praise would always be special. His had to be earned (rightfully so), and that simply made it all the more satisfying. To hear him praise her years later made her chest fill with pride.

"I learned from the best," she offered, handing him a box which contained some Horns. "Antidote to Common Poisons, or did Madam Blainey run out of Blood Replenishing Potions?"  

Surprised, Aesop raised an eyebrow as he took the box from her hands. He hadn't expected her to be able to recall such information, even if it had been relevant in her NEWT exams once. 

"Antidote to Common Poisons," he confirmed, eyeing her beaming smile as his heart skipped a beat. Had her smile always been this pretty? 

"And you have everything else you need?" she offered, "I think I might have some Bezoars lying around in case you're out of them." 

"No, I have everything else," he grumbled, "I know you were a decent potioneer, but I must say I am surprised to hear you have retained that much information." 

"Decent?" she sounded affronted, "Wasn't I top of the class by the time I graduated?" 

"Perhaps." His grin was teasing; he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. "But even so, recalling ingredients is impressive. It has been a while, hasn't it been?" 

"You're awful," she puffed, crossing her arms in front of her like a petulant child. "And for the record, Potions was my favourite class. I even considered becoming a Potioneer or a Healer once."  

The words spilt from his mouth before he could stop himself. "And yet you decided to travel the world and study beasts? Enlighten me, Miss (Y/L/N)?" 

She bit her lip, causing a jolt of... something... coursing through him as she shrugged. 

"I supposed I had wanted to see the world. And I like Beasts; I hardly would've agreed to teach if I didn't. Before I was a witch, I was expected to be a wife. My sole purpose lay in providing children for my betrothed. When I suddenly had the freedom to decide what I wished to do, it was both overwhelming and exciting, and to see more of a world which was so foreign to me seemed like a grand idea at the time." She chuckled absentmindedly. "I apologise for rambling. I shall let you get back to preparing whatever it is you need to prepare."

"Oh, not at all," Aesop shook his head. "You are betrothed?" 

"I was. My parents were rather well off and paired me with a suitor they deemed worthy. When I came to Hogwarts, they..." she shuddered, remembering the final conversation she had had with them. "Let us just say that they weren't...eager to have their only daughter in a co-educational environment outside of their ascendancy." 

Merlin, suddenly Aesop wasn't surprised that Eleazar had taken the girl home after the events of her fifth year. She clearly did not have another one to return to. Aesop knew that, much like their pureblooded counterparts, muggles arranged marriages between their children in order to secure the most advantageous match possible. He also knew that muggles were even more traditional than wizards, though it surprised him to hear that a co-educational environment such as Hogwarts was deemed inappropriate enough to ruin a young woman's reputation. Most witches, especially those from better backgrounds (magical or not), held on to their maidenhood until marriage, much like muggle women did. Laying with a man who was not your husband was as inappropriate in the Wizarding World as it was in Muggle London, though, in all fairness, most Wizards (especially purebloods like Aesop himself) hardly ever followed that rule - nor were they expected to. And either way, Hogwarts itself had various... safety measures in place to ensure no such encounters would happen. 

Aesop found it doubtful that nobody would have been able to appease her family's concerns, though, at any rate, he supposed she was right. It left her able to make her own choice - something she deserved, especially after saving both the school and Wizardkind. Suddenly her decision made all the more sense, and he found himself almost pitying her circumstances.

"I'm sorry," he offered, though he knew it would scarcely be a consolation.

"Don't be," she smiled sadly, "I am lucky to have Eleazar. He's been more of a father to me than mine had ever been. And whilst I would have loved to have a family and a husband by now, I cannot lie and say that travelling the world with my best friend hasn't been worth the sacrifice." 

If Aesop ever had any concerns if she was suitable to teach, they had been laid to rest within the first two weeks, for whoever he listened to would say the same: that she was utterly brilliant.

Care of Magical Creatures class had always been decently popular among students - it was certainly more popular than Magical Theory or Alchemy, but ever since the one and only Hero of Hogwarts had started to lecture the class, its popularity had all but exploded amongst the students. They seemed more engaged than ever, and the fourth-year class he taught directly after her class was always in high spirits. Matilda had to refuse several students the luxury of adding Care of Magical Creatures to their curriculum, and if Aesop had to overhear another bulk of male students lusting after Miss (Y/L/N), he would rip off his own ears.

Sure, she was beautiful. Very beautiful, in fact. And smart. And kind. And funny. He had noticed that himself (any man with two functioning eyes would), but Merlin was it infuriating to hear constantly. 

(Y/N) had her seat next to him in the Great Hall, and surprisingly they ate their meals at similar enough times, causing them to exchange pleasantries often enough over breakfast or dinner. She was as cheerful as he remembered and did most of the talking, but it was comfortable. 

She often shared tidbits and stories from her many travels, the beasts she encountered or the people she met. 

"Japan was the most interesting, really. Though one day, Poppy and I wanted to bathe in a local pond and nearly got eaten by a Kappa." 

Aesop had nearly spat out his drink.

"A Kappa?" he asked, "The water-dwellers that look like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds? Those Kappas?"

"Yes!" she grinned at him cheerfully before she took another bite of her scone. "Quite fascinating creature, really. Luckily we had a cucumber on hand. Did you know that they prefer those to human blood?"

"I...did not," Aesop shook his head, his eyes comically wide as he watched her devour her scone with such gusto and nonchalance - as if she hadn't nearly recounted yet another story of how she almost died. Someone desperately needed to teach her a sense of self-preservation.

She had many stories like that. Too many, if one were to ask Aesop. Suddenly he ceased thinking that she could have been a good Auror - she would have been blown up within weeks if her recklessness was anything to go by. In hindsight, it added up; no fully sane fifteen-year-old would willingly jump into battle over and over again, even if they had essentially been the sole witch able to save the day. Then again, she wasn't fifteen anymore.

Four weeks after the school year had started, Dinah and Abraham had the wonderfully stupid idea to commemorate (Y/N)'s arrival as a professor officially with a soirée an opportunity for most of them to get drunk off their asses. It was something of a tradition, one that even Aesop couldn't escape when he first started teaching, and Dinah, the absolute menace she was, usually ensured that at least half of the participants would nurse a hangover the next day. The bloody woman could hold her drink; Aesop would give her that much - he doubted (Y/N) could do the same. Sirona was all too happy to open up the small space upstairs of the Three Broomsticks, which teachers usually occupied throughout the school year so awkward encounters could be avoided. 

So when the first Saturday of October had rolled around, their newest addition to the staff was all but ambushed and dragged to the Three Broomsticks, and Aesop had to confess that her helpless gaze was worth the tedious walk to the pub. 

"What exactly-" "No questions," Dinah interrupted her before shoving a glass of firewhiskey into her small hands. "We are not letting you leave until you are drunk." 

"Don't fight tradition," Eleazar grinned slyly at his protegé, "We've all been through this." 

"You're evil," she pouted at him, the firewhiskey still in her hands. 

"Yes, well," the older man shrugged, "Consider it a debt repaid after all the grey hairs you have caused me over the years."

"Excuse me?!" she gasped, but before she could continue, Dinah barked at her: "Drink up!"

Aesop could only watch with amusement as she nipped on the whiskey with a grimace, coughing as it went down. "It burns," she whined, trying to shove the whiskey back into Dinah's hands, but the former Unspeakable wouldn't have it. 

"Get used to it."

It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone really that she was drunk within record time. Aesop, much like Dinah and Eleazar, could hold his drink incredibly well, but it was always entertaining to see the rest of the staff utterly pissed. 

Mudiwa and Satyavati were in a spirited discussion about their respective fields, neither wishing to meet the other eye to eye, and Aesop wouldn't have been surprised if the Ugandan native whipped out a crystal ball to smash it on Satyavati's head. Chiyo, Abraham, Matilda and Mirabel, on the other hand, were somewhere between singing and screaming an old drinking song Aesop did not recognise, though it frankly sounded horrible all the same. 

"Honestly, Eleazar. I would have expected you to teach her how to hold her drink," Dinah grinned as she pointed at the slumped-over figure in front of the fireplace. 

"She can hold her drink," Eleazar countered with a sneer. "You are simply a menace. How many of those did you give her?"

"Oh, not too many," Dinah grinned, taking another swig of her firewhiskey. "Eight, perhaps?"

"Eight?! Are you trying to kill her?!" Aesop chuckled. "Merlin Dinah, even I can tell she's a lightweight." 

"She'll live," the woman waved her hand dismissively. "You should take her back to her hut, though." 

"Me?!" Aesop asked incredulously, nearly spilling the remains of his drink in surprise. Eleazar had the same bewildered expression on his face, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes, you," Dinah rolled her eyes, "You think I miss the looks you two dunderheads share?" 

Aesop's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest for a second, his mind completely blank as he took in his friend's words. His face must have given away his utter bewilderment because Dinah only groaned in exasperation. Damn her and her perceptiveness!

"Dinah, I have no idea what you are-" "Oh, quit it!" she interrupted him as fiercely as she had interrupted (Y/N) a while back. "I haven't seen your grumpy arse smile as much as you have during meal times in all my years of knowing you. And the reason for that is seated right next to you." 

"She's just a good conversationalist!" Aesop protested, affronted that Dinah would even think he fancied his former student of all people. 

"Good conversationalist, my ass," she snorted before shaking her head. "Take her home, Romeo. That's an order. " 

Her tone left little to no room for argument (she was insanely good at that), and so Aesop found himself limping and straggling along the darkened path back to Hogwarts, thanking Merlin that no student was wandering about to see a wasted Professor (Y/N) slumped in his arms. She was thankfully rather light, considering that the colder weather was slowly creeping in. Aesop's cursed limp began hurting as it usually did during the winter months, so he was in no position to lift anything heavy. 

She was rather close to him, nestled into his chest, though the top of her head just about reached a few inches below his shoulders. Typically, Aesop liked to keep people at arm's length, not one for physical contact, especially with people he hardly knew. But having her in his arms, of all people, was not only comfortable, but he also quickly realised he liked having her there. She was warm and small, fit perfectly into his side, and smelled divine. 

He would have expected her to smell like the earth outside, given how much time she spent in Beast pens and caring for them, but instead, she smelled of fresh pastries and the sweetest fruits, a warm and homely scent that made him feel all ways of strange. He hadn't felt this way in a long, long time, but no matter what Dinah may have alluded to - it simply couldn't be.

"You think too much," a small, grumbling voice suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. 

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," she mumbled, pressing herself further into him before falling silent once more. 

He thought too much? Aesop wondered what she meant by that. But he enjoyed the remaining walk in silence, understanding that she was far too inebriated to have an actual conversation anyways. She was half-asleep by the time they had reached her hut, so he carefully helped her onto the bed, wondering if he should at least help her take off her boots, but she was asleep before he could ask. So instead, Aesop placed a blanket over her softly snoring form before he limped outside and begrudgingly took the floo flames to the Faculty Tower. 

Aesop wasn't surprised when she didn't show up for breakfast the following day, but breakfast did seem a little duller than it usually had been. He kept the affair short before he retreated to his quarters, deciding to catch up on some essays and potion quizzes, which would inevitably frustrate him but putting it off would only mean delaying the inevitable. Some of his students would make brilliant potioneers, but most of them were hopeless cases, unfortunately. Sometime in the early afternoon, a knock pulled him from his frustrating work, and he was surprised to find a sheepish and embarrassed-looking (Y/N) at his doorstep. She looked tired, her face a little more worn than usual, and her hair seemed mildly matted and disorderly, but realistically, she nursed a fat hangover. All things considered, she still looked pretty.

"(Y/N)," he acknowledged with a curt nod. 

"I uhm," she shuffled her feet awkwardly, her face downcast and her cheeks adorably red. "I wanted to thank you," she said after a while. 

"Thank me?" Aesop raised his eyebrow.

"Yes, uhm," she cleared her throat, raising her face to look back at him. "Thank you for helping me back to my hut. You didn't have to." 

"Dinah was remarkably insistent that I do," Aesop blurted out before he could stop himself. A flash of hurt crossed her face, but it was gone within a second, her smile strangely contorted, and Aesop wondered if he had said something wrong.  

"Well, either way. You got me back, and that's what matters, I suppose." 

The two stood there for a while, staring at each other like fools, before she suddenly jumped and pulled at her satchel. "I made you some biscuits," she rambled, pulling out a small bag that emitted an enticing sugary smell. Aesop wasn't fond of biscuits, but the aroma of these was absolutely mouth-watering, so he gladly accepted. Maybe it was because the smell reminded him of her. 

"Would you like to come in?" he offered, stepping aside and inviting her inside his quarters. 

"Are you sure that's appropriate?" her tone hesitant as she stood her ground in front of the door.

"Why wouldn't it be?" his tone equal amounts curious and disturbed. Did she think he wanted to dishonour her? 

"Nevermind," she shook her head before wordlessly accepting his invitation and stepping inside. 

Even if she had been a part of the Wizarding World for nearly half a decade now, the rigorous societal standards she had been raised with for a majority of her life had stuck with her, and if someone from her old life had seen her step into a man's room, unaccompanied, her reputation would have been ruined. She had realised that the Wizarding World was far more relaxed than Muggle London fairly quickly when she had been allowed to be accompanied to Hogsmeade her first week by Sebastian Sallow - an event which never would have taken place without a chaperone in her old home. And whilst the concept of courting and preserving one's honour was the proper way in the Wizarding World as well, one was certainly not watched like a hawk every second of the day until marriage.

His quarters had been just like she remembered them; a little disorderly, muted in colour and sparse in decor. Tons of cauldrons stood against the walls, but his big windows let in ample amounts of sunshine. The smell of firewhiskey and the crackling fire permeated the air, though his unique scent also clung to it. It was comforting but hardly a home. Two leather armchairs stood in front of the fireplace, and his desk looked to be brimming with graded essays.

"Would you like some tea?" Aesop asked her, clearing his throat and effectively pulling her out of her daydreaming and wandering gaze. He usually didn't have guests over, much less pretty female ones. 

"Oh yes. That would be lovely," she smiled gratefully. He only motioned for her to sit down as he prepared two cups of steaming Earl Grey, adding a bit of milk to hers (that's how she always drank it).

She thanked him with a bashful smile as he handed her the cup before he eventually sank down in the armchair opposite hers, nursing his own teacup in relative silence before he teasingly asked her: "So how are you feeling?" 

"I can't believe you drink that nasty stuff willingly."

"It takes quite a connoisseur to appreciate Firewhiskey," Aesop grinned. 

"I think I might prefer the occasional glass of mead," she pulled a face before taking a sip of her tea and sighing in relief. "In any case, I'm not touching alcohol for a good while." 

"I didn't expect you to," he chuckled before sighing and stretching his leg. It had started to bother him a little more throughout the afternoon, which was not an unusual occurrence, especially given the events of yesterday. A little massage, his pain relief potion and perhaps even a warm bath and firewhiskey would make it bearable.

"Does it hurt more than usual?" she asked him boldly, her gaze fixated upon his leg as he shifted to find a more comfortable position.

"No," he grit out between his teeth. "This is usual given the weather and circumstances." 

"I'm sorry," she meekly offered, her mind wandering off a little.

"I don't need your pity," Aesop spat out in a lapse of judgement, his gaze venomous. She flinched, just barely so, but it was enough for it to tear at his heartstrings and apologise immediately. 

"It's alright," she sighed. "I was just...what remedies have you tried? I remember you telling me that you looked in the Hogwarts library, but..." 

"That was five years ago," Aesop conceded. "I'm sure I have read every possible book in there by now." 

"Perhaps I could ask Poppy to have a look?" (Y/N) offered him. "She is still travelling, and we came across quite a few treatments and fauna that we hadn't previously known..."

"I cannot, in good conscience, ask that of you."

"You're not asking. I'm offering." 

Aesop thought for a second, but her offer was generous. He was slowly losing hope, as the Hogwarts Library didn't offer a cure, so perhaps it was time to start looking elsewhere. 

"That would be very kind," he conceded, his voice stuck in his throat for a second. 

Her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and Aesop's heart jumped erratically. It truly was beautiful.

They fell into a routine after that. 

As promised, she had written to Poppy as soon as possible, asking her to keep an eye out for strange flora, beast products or books on curses and foreign potions. She had even secretly reached out to Sebastian, who was working as a Curse Breaker and stumbled upon more of them than she and Sharp combined could name; even if he didn't know a counter curse for Sharp's predicament, it was useful to keep tabs on it. 

Whenever Poppy sent a small parcel, she would run to Aesop's room or the potions classroom just so she could share what may be a breakthrough in his research. And whilst nothing looked like a cure, the most recent batch of ingredients from East Asia had, at the very least, supplied Aesop with greater pain relief than usual.

"Hō-ō feathers and," she coughed violently, her face twisting in disgust. "Did Poppy send you Mimbulus Mimbletonia? This smells awfully rancid."

"She did indeed," Aesop confirmed, his face passive as he carefully stirred the potion before him. He was immensely grateful that Poppy had made due on her promise to send ingredients their way - ones that were either exceptionally difficult or downright impossible to get in England. That said, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia did smell awful, and it took quite a bit of willpower to not let his disgust show. He was surprised that the lovely woman sat in his potions classroom, just a little to the left of him, recognised the ingredients as quickly as she had, but the more time he spent with her, the more he had to acknowledge that she was smart beyond her years.

"I hated those whenever we came across them," she told him with a smile. 

"Yes, well. Let's hope they're useful beyond repelling unsuspecting witches."

"Who said anything about repelling us?" Aesop could feel her smirk before he saw it. "We still wanted to see the Bowtruckles."

"Bowtruckles," Aesop shook his head in exasperation. "Of course."

Aesop was used to brewing on his own, usually secluded in his room, perhaps accompanied by a glass of firewhiskey and a melody from his gramophone. Unfortunately for him, he found that brewing in a certain witches' company was much more engaging, so much so that he began looking forward to spending time with her whenever the week seemed to pass him by a little too slowly for comfort. Most of their free days, however, they spent together in either of their quarters, drinking tea, sometimes playing Wizard's Chess, though usually, they graded their respective papers in comfortable silence. Some days Sharp listened to her stories, and on the very rare occasion, she listened to his. 

"So you actually sent people to Azkaban before?" she asked with a shudder, her face a little pale.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who ensured Theophilus Harlow ended up there, too," Aesop countered.

"Technically, that was a group effort," she countered. "Natty was the one who tracked him down. I only duelled him."

"At fifteen?"

"I may have been sixteen. But I am not certain."

Aesop groaned at her carelessness and utter disregard for safety or rules. She was lucky he hadn't been her mentor during her days at the school. Eleazar might have even enabled her antics - he would have locked her up inside the castle walls.

"Either way. What kind of people did you send to Azkaban?"

"Reprobates? Dark Wizards?" Aesop answered her as if that had been the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips. 

"Right. One time my partner and I helped cease the operations of an illegal freak show. The woman who ran the whole thing imprisoned and trafficked multiple of her 'curiosities'. Assaulted quite a few herself."

"And she ended up in Azkaban?" 

"Yes," Aesop confirmed, "Died there too."

"Ugh," she pulled a sorrowful face, "What an awful place to die. So cold and frightening." 

Aesop's eyebrows shot up in question at that.

"And pray tell how do you know what the inside of Azkaban is like?"

"That, my dear Aesop," she grinned at him, "Is a story for another time." 

When he found out that Helen Thistlewood had essentially dragged her to Azkaban and she had consequently solved a cold case, he didn't know whether to scream or cry or laugh or perhaps all together. Of course, she fucking had. 

The weeks continued like that, and Aesop found that the days he spent with her were days very well spent. His mood usually improved drastically, perhaps to the point where even his students could tell. What was worse, though, was that his colleagues, the nosy little bastards, could tell too. So in hindsight, it likely shouldn't have surprised him when both Dinah and Eleazar suddenly had "endless amounts of essays to grade", and both Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves patrolling the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower on a late November night. 

"I have to say, walking these halls after curfew isn't nearly as fun when you're a Professor," (Y/N) broke the silence after a while. 

"And how often did you break curfew, Miss (Y/L/N)?" 

"I am friends with Sebastian Sallow," she countered, "You take a guess." 

"I forgot how much trouble that boy was," Aesop groaned. 

Of course, he remembered. Aside from the horrors that used to be Solomon Sallow (who had died under incredibly conspicuous circumstances a few years back), his nephew had been quite the pain in Aesop's arse too. Sebastian and Anne Sallow were both exceedingly mischievous, pulling many (albeit harmless) pranks on their fellow students, breaking curfew, and Aesop had to brew hair regrowth potion on more than one occasion after they had illegally attempted fire spells on their own. The shenanigans did not stop after Miss Sallow had been cursed; if anything, they had continued with newfound vigour, and Sebastian was routinely caught in the Restricted Section. He had calmed down a little when (Y/N) had come to the school, and his sour mood had improved significantly. At one point, Aesop had thought that the two were courting, but the lovely woman next to him quickly assured him that there had never been any such feelings between them. It seemed like she simply had that effect on people.

"Oh, come on!" she whined cutely. "Don't tell me you've never broken curfew."

"Me? Never. I was the very picture of orderly conduct at Hogwarts."

The witch next to him only snorted. "I find that hard to believe." 

"And you would be correct," Aesop jested, a wolfish grin on his face. He had broken countless rules during his time (though certainly not as many as she had), but unlike the Sallow boy, he had been smart enough to not get caught. At least not as frequently.

"I kne-" her words were cut off as she suddenly slipped at the top of the stairs, her feet just a little too close to the edge. 

Aesop hastily steadied himself, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her into him ignoring her cries of surprise. She held onto the lapel of his coat, staring into his dark brown eyes with her wide ones, her cheeks suddenly a little more rosy as they tumbled a little. Aesop's eyes traced over her face, from the long lashes to the soft curve of her slightly open lips. His treacherous heart sped up the more he got lost in her captivating eyes, the very window to her soul, and all he wanted to do was dive in. Suddenly having her close didn't seem like it was enough - he wanted to be absorbed in her cosmos until he had unravelled each and every mystery it held, but before he could, his mind kicked into overdrive, and he pulled her away from the ledge.

"Are you alright?" he questioned breathlessly.

"Yes," she nearly squeaked, abruptly removing her hands as if he had burned her, avoiding his gaze as she took a steadying breath. "I'm fine." 

He wanted, needed, to say something else. To reach out to her and pull her back into his arms, but before he could, she turned away to resume their nightly patrol, refusing to meet his eye again.

Things were oddly different after that night - and Aesop did not know why.

It was downright infuriating, especially since she liked to act as if nothing was amiss, but did she genuinely think she could fool a former Auror, of all people? Aesop might have left the field a decade ago, but he, all puns intended, was as sharp as ever. 

She still sat beside him during meal times, but her stories became less and less until they eventually ceased altogether.

She still came to his quarters, though the visits became scarce until she muttered a pitiful excuse of "lots of grading to do" as if they hadn't done that together over the course of the term. And if ever he turned up on her doorstep, she usually had an excuse too or ensured their time together was as brief as possible. 

And while she still kept bringing him the exotic ingredients Poppy sent her way, she typically delivered them by owl, which riled Aesop up so much that he hadn't even wanted to try and brew any possible cure in quite some time. 

And worst of all? He didn't even understand why her sudden indifference suddenly infuriated him so much. She was a good friend - yes a very good one indeed. She was an exceptional conversationalist - also, yes. And she was breathtakingly beauti - Aesop stopped himself in an instant. Absolutely not. 

He sighed in frustration, ignoring the curious stares of his fourth-year students as they, per usual, royally fucked up another potion. He didn't even recall what he had them brew, his mind a little too occupied with something - or rather someone - else. It was a loud 'BANG' that suddenly drew him from his thoughts, a colourful explosion from the back of the classroom that shone in a cacophony of various shades entering his field of vision. A sheepish Elizabeth Larson, younger sister of Andrew Larson and what Aesop wholeheartedly believed to be Garreth Weasley's spiritual successor, stood right next to the exploded cauldron, a tactless grin on her face as she ignored the dregs of whatever potion she had 'creatively enhanced' at her feet. She wasn't sorry; students like Garreth and her never were. If anything, they were only sorry that their concoction had failed and they had been caught. Furiously, Aesop rose to his feet, his leg aggravated and his mood so sour a lemon likely would have been sweet. The mess had been cleared up with a quick wave of his wand, but his fury hadn't dissipated in the slightest.

"Miss Larson," Aesop barked angrily as he stalked towards the back of the room, his glare pointed enough to explode another cauldron if he tried. "This is the seventh time you have acted outside of instruction. One would think your boneheadedness knows some bounds, but clearly, it does not." His tone was unusually cruel, the surprise of which evident on Elizabeth Larson's face as, while he was stern, he never insulted his students. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and I want to see you for detention every day the following week!"

"But Sir, I-" the poor girl tried to protest feebly, her voice small, and if Aesop hadn't been as angry as he had been, he likely would've seen actual regret and tears in her eyes. 

"No. I am done with your infantile deeds, Miss Larson. Either you learn to respect this class and its rules, or you can expect to not make the roster for any year after next year." He was positively seething.

"Yes, Sir," she dejectedly nodded, her shoulders slumped and gaze downcast.

Aesop huffed, turning to the rest of the class, ready to dismiss them early, as he frankly did not have the resilience to endure much longer. "Uh, Sir?" a meek voice spoke into the otherwise deadly silent classroom. 

"Yes, Mister Finnigan?" Aesop grunted. 

"It's Christmas next week. We don't uhm...have school." 

It's Christmas next week... Aesop grit his teeth as he took the boy's word in, clearly an attempt to get Miss Larson out of detention. Great, so he had teenage lovers in this class? Nobody would have been stupid enough to stand up to him otherwise. 

"Then Miss Larson will serve her detention after the New Year. Now, I want your potions labelled on my desk within five minutes. And then get out of my classroom." 

None of them needed any further instruction, hurriedly finishing up whatever work they had left to do before they all but fled the dungeons, Miss Larson surrounded by her friends in an effort to comfort. At least that's what Aesop supposed.

It's Christmas next week, the words repeated in Aesop's head as he cleaned up the classroom, thankful that the day was finally over and he wouldn't have to deal with the imbeciles he calls his students until the morrow. He perked up when he thought of it again. It's Christmas next week.

Of course! Between classes to be held, essays and tests to be graded and an infuriatingly witchy problem, Aesop had all but forgotten the festivities that rapidly approached them, but suddenly, they seemed to be the answer to his very problem. If she was angry with him, perhaps a gift could put him back into her good graces and even if she wasn't, giving her a gift seemed like a perfect opportunity to have her talk to him again.

Finding a gift, however, seemed to be just as infuriating as she was. 

It was the day before Christmas, and Aesop still hadn't figured out the perfect gift to give her. Books, even if she enjoyed them greatly, seemed boring and downright unoriginal. Household items were pretentious, and he felt as if he was overstepping multiple boundaries by even thinking about it. And whilst he would have loved to have gotten her Jewellery, given that she recently rehabilitated a Niffler, he threw that option off the Astronomy tower. So what exactly was he supposed to get a witch that could end the world with her powers and one he had utterly fallen in love with? Asking her was out of the question, but he was slowly running out of time. Businesses would be closing sooner tomorrow and not open at all on the 25th, and his options were dwindling, none of them good enough for someone as exceptional as her. Aesop hated asking for help, but in fear of making an even bigger fool of himself, he trudged down the stairs of the Faculty Tower, striding up to the door of the one place where he might just acquire an answer.

"Aesop?" the surprise in Eleazar's voice was evident. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" 

"Good morning, Eleazar," Aesop cleared his throat, already regretting his decision to come. "I... require your help with a...rather delicate matter." 

"Oh?" This was most unusual for him. Eleazar and Aesop rarely interacted on the basis of their job alone, though they did strike up friendly conversation when time allowed it. And, as Aesop painfully remembers, the man had asked for his help years ago when (Y/N) had battled an entire goblin rebellion on her own, and he had dismissed the idea of Ranrok working with Rookwood as 'inconceivable'. He wondered if he could've eased the weight on her shoulders if only he had listened. 

"Would you like to come in?" Eleazar offered, stepping aside as he recognised the ex-Auror's discomfort at discussing whatever he needed to discuss out in the open. Aesop only nodded curtly, stepping inside the disorderly room littered with a million books, effectively turning it into more of a library than a personal home.

"So," the older man joined his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you, Aesop?"

"I need to purchase a present," he pressed out. "For (Y/N)."

Eleazar raised his eyebrow, taking in the usually stern Potions Master standing before him. But this man wasn't stern, nor was he anything like he usually had been. No, this man resembled a lovesick teenager, ashamed to ask a parent for advice no matter how innocent and if Aesop had blushed, it wouldn't have surprised Eleazar.

"For (Y/N)?" he repeated slowly, carefully gauging Aesop's reaction.

"Yes," the man confirmed, clearing his throat.

"It is Christmas tomorrow, and I wish to get her something nice. I thought since you knew her best, perhaps you could... offer some advice." 

Merlin's Beard, Dinah had been correct. Eleazar could not believe it. He was wholeheartedly gobsmacked. Aesop Sharp was in love with his former protégé slash adopted daughter. He had already been curious when Dinah had insisted that Aesop be the one to take her home the night of her inaugural celebration, but even more so when the woman had insisted that both he and her forfeit their nightly patrol with some lame excuse so that (Y/N) and Aesop would have to do it instead. He had frankly laughed when Dinah explained that she was doing it because she couldn't stand the pining between the two 'oblivious fools' but Merlin - when (Y/N) and he shared tea just shortly after, and the girl had blushed like a madwoman when Eleazar teased her by revealing Dinah's plans he realised that the astute Professor had certainly been right about one thing; that (Y/N) was in love.

But to know Aesop was too? Brilliant. 

"Of course," Eleazar repressed a chuckle, though he couldn't stop a sly grin forming on his face. "She is exceptionally fond of ballet. She used to see performances all the time, when she was a child in London." 

Ballet? Aesop thought, surprised. Wherever would he get something related to a Muggle art form? Clenching his teeth, he found his answer quite quickly: Muggle London. 

"Thank you," he breathed out between clenched teeth. 

"Anytime," Eleazar chuckled as Aesop swiftly exited his quarters before he rushed to tell Dinah that she was correct once again.

Off to Muggle London, he went.

Aesop positively hated the Muggle parts of London. Not because he hated Muggles, Merlin he couldn't care less about them if he tried, but because the streets were too crowded and dirty and the Muggles stared at him no matter how well disguised and because it all smelled utterly rotten. In all honesty, perhaps it was London that he hated, even if the wizarding parts of it were a little less seedy than the rest. Years ago, when he was a young Auror, he loved the hustle and bustle of the city, gallivanting around like he owned the place with a stunning woman (though not as lovely as (Y/N), his ex-fiancé, on his arm, but those days had long passed, and he preferred the quiet countryside and the fresh air and spending time with her.

He wasn't even entirely certain what exactly he was looking for, but it couldn't be that difficult to find something related to ballet. Perhaps tickets for a performance? Though most pureblood families ensured to stay away from Muggles as best as they could, they did enjoy Muggle arts on occasion; both Ballet and Opera performances were frequented by even the most extremist of pureblood families, and Aesop used to enjoy the odd art exhibition in his days. He hadn't ever been to a ballet performance in particular, but he could endure, especially if it had been for her. 

He decided on tickets for a premiere, Swan Lake, or whatever it had been called. Apparently, the ballet had been all the rage in Russia, and a company was bringing it to England for the very first time. He could be certain that his lovely colleague hadn't seen it, and the image of pure joy he had conjured in his mind was worth the insane galleon he had spent on them.

His step was considerably lighter and jovial when he made the trek towards her hut on Christmas morning, hoping, wishing that she would love her present and all would be well again. She looked surprised to see him, with a smile on his face nonetheless. 

"Aesop? What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" he grinned, excited for the first time in his life to give a present. "I wanted to give you a present."

"You got me a present?" she suddenly sounded excited, her eyes lighting up in almost childlike wonder. His heart jumped as he watched a smile light up her entire face, dazzlingly bright and beautiful and so very her. However had he survived hardly seeing it over these past few weeks? He needed, craved, more.

"Of course," Aesop cleared his throat, suppressing any potentially inappropriate thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to feel it. "We're friends, aren't we?" 

He missed the brief flash of hurt that swept across her face, accepting her silent invitation to join her inside before he was enveloped in the homely scent that brought him back to his childhood. Her home had been decorated with tinsel, and ivy leaves sewn onto strips of ribbon, some odd mistletoes hung around, and a wreath had been placed on the table. It smelled oddly reminiscent of speculoos and oranges, the sweet notes of honey and cinnamon biscuits hanging in the air, so very unlike his room back at the castle. The fire was crackling away, and the room was comfortably warm, so Aesop took the liberty of removing his coat and placing it onto one of her mismatched chairs, but not before he pulled a small, golden box from its pockets.

"I might have outdone myself," he grinned, holing out the present like a little boy.

"Think that highly of your present-giving skills, do you?" she jabbed back, accepting the box from his hands with a grateful smile. She was curious, to say the least. Aesop didn't seem like the gift-giving type in her eyes. Admittedly, she hadn't even expected one in the first place, not after she had all but avoided his presence to the best of her abilities ever since that fateful November night.

"I'm excellent at many things." "I'm sure you are."

They smiled at each other before the woman in front of him redirected her attention to the box in her hands as she carefully slid it open, revealing a glittering, crystal Swan ornament. 

"Godric's heart," she gasped as she pulled it out, observing the way it shimmered and glittered in the morning light, its reflections casting various shapes across the room. "It's beautiful, Aesop." 

"I'm glad you like it," he grinned. "But it's only a part of your present." 

She looked at him with surprise, her mouth slightly open, and he wanted to kiss he wanted to laugh as he picked up on the evident bewilderment in her eyes. "This isn't my present?"

"Not exactly. I..." Suddenly he was nervous, wondering if he had picked the right thing. What if she didn't wish to be seen with him in public, especially outside school, and clearly unrelated to work? She had been avoiding him, after all, no matter what she tried to make him believe. 

No going back now...

"I got us tickets for Swan Lake. In London." 

The astonishment on her face was comical. If there had to be an illustration of the expression "the jaw was on the floor", Aesop was sure that this would have been it. She didn't say anything for a while, only looking at him with her wide eyes, not even blinking. 

"That's..." (Y/N) cleared her throat. "That's too much, Aesop. I can't accept it." 

"Bollocks," he dismissed her. "You love ballet, don't you?"

"I...I do," she conceded, though her brow furrowed. She hadn't ever told him that, had she? "I must confess I wonder why you, of all people, know about this."

"I have my ways," he tried to dismiss her, apprehensive at the prospect of her finding out that he had asked Eleazar for advice. Unfortunately for him, though, the witch was keenly astute and analytical. 

"Eleazar told you, didn't he?" she concluded after a few seconds, horrified when he nodded. Eleazar knew her exceptionally well; he was like her father, for Merlin's sake. So even when she had told him that Aesop was 'just a friend', he didn't even try to suppress his laugh, evidently not believing a word she said. She had only hoped that the older man hadn't alluded to anything because Aesop could never know that she had irrevocably fallen in love with him. 

"Thank you, Aesop. Truly. This is the best present I have ever received," she earnestly told him, quickly covering up her embarrassment. "I admit, my gifts truthfully don't compare to this, but..."

She only sighed, deciding to simply get it over with. She didn't recognise the excitement on Aesop's face. She had gotten him something too? 

Swiftly she summoned two boxes from their hiding place across the room, offering him the first one with an ashamed smile. "I'm afraid it's no Swan Lake, but..."

"I don't want Swan Lake," Aesop quickly interjected, opening the green box. "I want – a blanket?"

"It's a scarf," she quickly corrected him, her cheeks flushed. 

"A scarf," he mumbled, pulling the soft maroon fabric from the box. It was the most delicate material Aesop had ever felt, luxurious too, even if the pattern was slightly off and the edges seemed slightly frayed. He wrapped it around his neck, catching a whiff of that same homely scent that made his heart grow fonder. 

"I made it myself," she nervously admitted, gauging his reaction though his face was fairly impassive. "I haven't made one in a while, but it's been a tradition in my family to always give two gifts; one that is handmade and one that is bought and usually a necessity." 

"Thank you," he breathed out, enjoying the comforting feel of the fabric around his neck. 

"It's no Swan Lake –" "–I don't want Swan Lake," he interrupted her again, his voice a little rougher than he wished to. "I want this scarf." 

And he did. It was perfect, especially because it had been made by her delicate hands, and he never wanted to take it off again. How could she think that he would hate this?!

"Right," she mumbled before handing him a second box. "I hope you like this just as much."

The second box was also green, though slightly larger than the box with the scarf and Aesop was intrigued, if admittedly a little guilty that she had gotten him two presents in place of only one. He opened the box to reveal –

"Charcoal?" he had already been confused at the scarf, but why on earth would she give him charcoal? He watched as she nervously wrung her hands before her, avoiding his gaze as she had done all those weeks, a bright flush on her cheeks. 

"I –," she audibly gulped, clearly afraid of his reaction. "I may have snuck into your room in fifth year and found your... art room."  

Whatever explanation he had expected, it certainly wouldn't have been this. He should have been furious, and if she had been a student, he likely would have taken so many house points from her that her house wouldn't have recovered for years to come. Instead, he laughed.

Of course, she had snuck into his room. Of course, she had found his art room. Of course, she remembered it.

What a devious little thing she was. 

The winter break passed in a calm manner, and Aesop was utterly content. 

While (Y/N) still seemed somewhat reclusive, she didn't avoid his presence - a win in Aesop's mind. They had tea together again, and she had even assisted him in brewing yet another potion, even if that one hadn't helped to any greater extent. His mood had improved drastically, so much that he even apologised to Miss Larson for his harsh tone in the new year and cut her detention time short (though not forfeit it altogether). The girl was confused but obviously didn't question it any further, quite happy that she only had to spend two nights in detention instead of five.  

If his colleagues noticed his new and improved mood, they at least had the decency not to comment on it, even if he caught Dinah and Eleazar throwing him and (Y/N) conspicuous glances every once in a while when they believed he wouldn't notice. He was in far too good of a mood to comment on it, not even irked by it in the slightest. 

The day before their planned 'excursion' outside the palace walls, a Saturday, Aesop walked into breakfast a little later than usual, his sleep unusually restful. His favourite colleague was already seated at the table, animatedly chatting with Matilda as they finished up their breakfast. 

"Mornin'," Aesop mumbled as he sat down next to (Y/N), grabbing the teapot and helping himself to a cup of Earl Grey. 

"I still don't know how you can drink Earl Grey without sugar or milk," the young woman beside him grimaced. She typically had her tea with both, the brew always a perfectly creamy colour that was far too much milk for Aesop's liking. 

"I can't understand how you can essentially drink sweetened milk," he jabbed back, grabbing a bread roll and putting some eggs and sausages on his plate. 

"It's not sweetened milk," she pouted.

"Well, it's certainly not tea." 

Matilda snorted as she watched the two of them interact, slowly starting to understand what Dinah and Eleazar had reported to be seeing. It was no secret among the staff that Aesop had a... soft spot for their newest colleague (if his much-improved mood had been anything to go by), nor had it been a secret that the two of them spent a great deal of time together outside of the necessary interactions. But as the two looked into each other's eyes, the very picture of devotion and adoration, she realised they were obtusely pining for each other. Merlin, if this really was the state of things, Matilda might join Eleazar and Dinah in their efforts. 

"Something funny, Matilda?" Aesop asked her with a raised brow. 

"Oh no," the Transfiguration teacher shook her head, sipping on her tea. "Nothing funny at all."

"Right," he grumbled, clearly unimpressed, before he continued his breakfast. 

"Well, then," (Y/N) smiled, pushing back her chair and standing up. It was then that Aesop noticed that she looked...different. Her usually simple dress had been traded in for a much nicer one. It was moss green, lined with fur to keep her warm from the icy temperatures outside and had some intricate gold stitching that almost shimmered in the sunlight. "I still have to collect my coat. I'll see you tonight, Matilda."

"Oh, do tell Garreth I said hello."

Aesop nearly spat out his drink. Garreth? As in Garreth Weasley? The ultimate headache of a boy, the same young man whose existence had tortured Aesop for seven bloody years? Why on earth would she –

"Will do, Matilda," she singsonged before skipping outside the Great Hall, and Aesop was left with a million questions in his head. Matilda watched as Aesop's jaw was unnaturally clenched, his eggs picked up with strange aggression that hadn't been there before. Surely Garreth's name couldn't have riled him up that much?

"They're having a small reunion in the Three Broomsticks," Matilda spoke into the tense silence. "I heard Mr Sallow, Mr Thakkar, Miss Reyes and some others would be attending too."

"And that is of interest to me how?" 

"You tell me," Matilda winked, chuckling as she watched the Potions Master hastily swallow the last of his breakfast before he excused himself to 'do some brewing', limping out of the Great Hall.

"I don't think I've ever seen Aesop being so obvious about his feelings," someone chuckled to the right of her. Matilda looked over to see a grinning Abraham looking at her. 

"It is strange to see; I won't lie," Matilda nodded. "Quite the unlikely pairing too."

"The girl was a Hero at fifteen and has ensured that entire poaching operations have ceased in the Highlands," Abraham reminded her with a chuckle. "Just because she is less grumpy than him, I wouldn't write them off. After all, opposites do attract, no?"

"I suppose you are correct," the Transfiguration teacher agreed. "The question is, how exactly do we make them see it? It seems everyone, but them knows."

"Which I told you months ago, you bloody lot," Dinah jumped in from next to Abraham. "Merlin knows Eleazar, and I have tried to talk sense into them. He is too thick-headed to make the first move; that much is certain." 

"I would not worry," a final voice joined them, the ever-elusive Mudiwa Onai looking at them with twinkling eyes. "I could see that their future together would be quite...fruitful."

(Y/N), unaware of her coworkers conspiring against her and blissfully unaware of the Potions Master she had left completely riled up, was rather looking forward to seeing her old classmates again. Even if she had spent significantly less time with them than she might have liked, largely because of her late arrival and fifth-year 'extracurriculars', many of them had become close friends of hers, and she kept in contact with most of them. Poppy, unfortunately, would not be able to make it, as she was somewhere in the Amazonas researching yet another creature, but she looked forward to seeing her during the summer. She hadn't seen most of them in quite some time, though letters between them were still largely regular.

The Three Broomsticks was as warm and inviting as ever, the establishment always having been a place of comfort and safety, especially after Sirona had fearlessly stood up against Victor Rookwod and Theophilus Harlow as they had tried to kidnap her for Ranrok and his plans. Natty was the first to spot her old friend, having them over enthusiastically. Quite a few of them had shown up; Garreth Weasley, Imelda Reyes and Nelly Oggspire, Nerida Roberts, Amit Thakkar, Ominis, hell, even Everett Clopton and Leander Prewett had made time to come with their wives, simply to get together again. The large group chatted animatedly, exchanging stories about their careers and lives. 

Unsurprisingly, Garreth had started an apprenticeship under a potioneer in London, whereas Imelda and Nelly were both on the Puddlemere United Team, happily courting and enjoying life, whereas Nerida had realised her dream of becoming a Liasion for the Mermaids ("I even learned how to swim!"). Amit had relocated to India for a while, researching the stars on behalf of the Ministry and Everett Clopton and Leander Prewett both had somewhat stable careers at the Ministry. Ominis, on the other hand, had become an apprentice at a French Wandmaker's shop, fully distancing himself from his family and all that the Gaunt name entailed. And Natty, ever the Gryffindor, was slowly but surely working her way up in the Auror Office (much to her mother's chagrin). The final one, who had yet to join the group, was fashionably late and none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.

The Curse Breaker in question walked in around lunchtime, and they were all more than surprised when he was accompanied by a woman their age, clearly pregnant, and beaming smiles on their faces.

"Sorry, everyone," the man sheepishly excused himself, arm wrapped around the woman's middle with his large hands. "I returned from Romania last night, and the Ministry wanted me to drop off some reports. Took a little longer than expected." "Yeah, yeah, blah blah," Garreth waved him off, "Now who is that?" 

Garreth asked the question everyone had been dying to know, and (Y/N) eyed the woman beside her close friend with curious but kind eyes. She was definitely around their age, quite petite and pale, her long ginger hair in an intricate braid, with a few pieces framing her oval, freckled face and strikingly blue eyes. She blushed as the attention diverted to her, though her smile was still beaming. 

"This is Megan," Sebastian introduced them with a bright smile. "My wife." 

"WIFE?!" 

The reaction was immediate, the group gaping at the apparently married couple in front of them, waiting to hear just about any explanation for... well. Megan, apparently, was a witch from Ireland who had eventually attended Illvermorny as her father was relocated from the British Ministry of Magic to the MACUSA, and the two had met on one of Sebastian's curse-breaking expeditions. Sebastian, the ever-rational man he was, married her rather quickly and privately before he whisked her back to England and settled down with her in the Cotswolds. To say that especially Ominis and (Y/N) were affronted that their friend hadn't even mentioned his wife, let alone the fact that he was going to be a father soon, in any of his letters was the understatement of the year, but Sebastian placated them with some Firewhiskey and a heartfelt apology, explaining that he wanted Megan to get settled before bombarding her with the 'bloody lot they were'.  

Megan was lovely, (Y/N) had to admit. A little shy, perhaps, but lovely nonetheless, and she had a great snark about her as she continued to open up to the group and the antics throughout the day. They laughed and ate, having far too much fun and far too little time before a majority of them were drunk off their asses and started to dance in their corner of the pub, absorbed in their own world and free of their adult responsibilities for just one day.

It was perhaps exactly why any of them failed to notice their old Potions Professor walking into the Three Broomsticks after the man had begrudgingly spent the afternoon brewing some odd potions before he realised that he was all out of Bicorn horn, thus needing to venture into Hogsmeade to order some from Pippin. Aesop hadn't planned his short foray into the village, so when he spontaneously decided to walk into the Three Broomsticks to drink a firewhiskey, he hadn't expected to see (Y/N) in the arms of Garreth fucking Weasley, happily dancing to some music and looking the very picture of beauty and grace. 

It shouldn't have bothered him. It shouldn't have bothered him at all, but when he saw her so beautiful in the arms of another, all he could see was red as his heart audibly shattered inside his chest, his lungs constricting as he watched her do something he could never give her. He quickly retreated from the Three Broomsticks, not even bothering to order a Firewhiskey. Instead, he chose to hole himself up in his room, getting drunk there instead as he moped around.

Why was he even bothered? She didn't owe him anything, certainly not a dance or physical affection. She was a friend, a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less. It shouldn't have hurt to see her in the arms of someone else, even if that person had been Garreth Weasley, of all people. He should have been happy for her - she did say she wanted a family, children, and someone her age could certainly give her that. He was just an old, grumpy, crippled failure of a man, his best years long gone. It shouldn't have bothered him, but the more he thought about it, the more it did. 

Fuck, he realised startingly as he downed his third glass of firewhiskey. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It bothered him because he cared. 

Because – Aesop could hardly bring himself to think it – because he was stupidly, irrevocably, utterly and wholly in love with her. 

Aesop wasn't sure how many he had to drink by the time a knock sounded on his door. He cursed his own tolerance, not nearly drunk enough to forget what he had just barely been able to admit to himself. If anything, he might have been slightly buzzed. The only person that would ever come knocking on his door, he realised, was the one person he very much wanted to avoid right now. Before he could call out a 'No', the doors opened, and she walked right in, a tray filled with his favourite foods in her hand and that damningly beautiful smile on her smile. Why in Salazar's name was she so ethereal?

"I didn't see you at dinner and got worried. So I asked the house-elf's for some of your favourites, and they were kind enough to prepare them."

Aesop's dark eyes swept over the tray, spotting roast beef, his favourite vegetables, a cornish pie and even some sticky toffee pudding. It was perfect, and it only infuriated him more. Couldn't she have ignored him? Or at least treat him unkindly? That would have helped his feelings much more than being cared for by the one person who shouldn't. 

"Thanks," he hissed lowly, downing yet another firewhiskey. "Can you just leave it here?" 

Her smile vanished, regarding him, with a concerned look on her face. 

Why on earth did she have to wear her heart on her sleeve?! Why did she have to show him she cared about him?!

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." No – he definitely wasn't.

"You don't look like you're alright," she pushed on, carefully placing the tray on his table and walking towards him.

"I'm fine," he pressed out, glaring her way, but she didn't even flinch. "Can you please go?"

"Now I know you're not alright," she smiled, "You've never asked me to leave." 

"Well, now I do," he snapped, unwilling to deal with it any longer. 

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Yes. "No," he sighed dejectedly. It wasn't her fault, not really. 

"Right," she drew out, clearly not believing him but choosing to save him from further mortification. An uncomfortable silence hung over them, Aesop just wishing that she would finally leave. Eventually, she sighed, turning around to leave his room and leave him alone, but not until she turned around one last time and smiled again.

"I can't wait for Swan Lake tomorrow."

Fuck, he thought once more. Swan Lake would be utter torture. With that, she left.

Aesop hadn't dreaded anything for a while now, but when he stood in front of her hut the next day, late in the afternoon, dressed in his best suit, he dreaded every second that would follow. He just had to get through this, he reminded himself. Just this, and he could be the one to avoid her. He was the one who gifted her this in the first place, and so he would have to endure it. Unfortunately, though, he hadn't expected her to look as good as she did. When she opened the door, with her big smile and bright eyes, Aesop wished that Scarborough had killed him. This was pure torture. She looked delectable and absolutely ethereal. Her dress was a silky pink colour with an almost scandalously low neckline (Merlin, was she trying to kill him?!), appropriately trimmed with gold stitching, soft lace around the shoulders and arms and a white ermine cape around her shoulders. Her hair was up and out from her face, curled and pinned to perfection, making her eyes shine even more than usual. 

Well, this is going to be a problem, isn't it?

"You look bewitchingly beautiful," Aesop whispered, relishing in the blush that rose on her cheeks. At least he could tease her a little, too - he wasn't sure if he could survive this otherwise. 

"You don't look so shabby yourself," she cleared her throat, swiftly joining him outside. Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm, walking the short distance to the outside of the ground before he apparated them into a secluded alleyway in London, only a short distance from the Opera House. He hadn't held her this close since the night at the Three Broomsticks, but the warmth she emitted and the scent she carried both comforted and strangled him. She was oh so close, yet not close enough. He could only fondly smile at her when she entered the place like an excited child faced with all the candy they could ever want. 

"Oh, I haven't been here forever. It's still as beautiful as I remember!" 

Aesop wouldn't lie; the place was thoroughly impressive. The high ceilings shone under the million candles and crystals, illuminating the site in a comforting way. The high arches and intricate design gave the place a neo-classical feel, and it was bustling with Muggles of various ages, though, as swiftly became clear to him, most of them were likely obscenely rich. Thankfully, they hardly paid him and the beautiful woman on his arm any mind, a rarity and a crime in Aesop's mind, for he couldn't stop staring at her. 

"Do you think that –"

"(Y/N)?!" a shocked voice sounded from behind them. He watched as the woman on his arm visibly paled, almost shaking in his hold as she turned around and faced the man that had spoken to her. Aesop turned around, too, wondering what could make the literal Hero of Hogwarts, a woman with world-ending ancient magic, so frightened. They came to face with an elderly man, possibly around Eleazar's age, and a slightly younger woman. The closer Aesop looked at her, the sooner he spotted it; she had her eyes, her nose, her lips, hell, even her hair, though the other woman's was visibly fading into white. Her parents, Aesop thought, surprised. What were the odds?

"(Y/N) is that truly you?" the man asked, stepping closer, and Aesop felt the need to take a small step forward, effectively shielding her from their gazes. 

"Evening, Father," she mumbled, and Aesop loathed how demure she sounded. Was she an innocent and sweet woman? Yes. Demure? No. She was a fighter who didn't back down against various beasts, poachers, and goblins. And this man was scaring her? Not on Aesop's watch. 

"You look well," she added after a while, though it sounded awfully strange and forced. Her mother at least had the decency to look ashamed, and Aesop could name a thousand reasons why as he glared at them. Her father, however, had flickered his gaze over to Aesop and was regarding him with newfound interest. He knew that her parents were wealthy, but the people in front of him were nothing short of gaudy, pompous and carried a sneer as arrogant as the one on Black's face. These people had raised her? His lovely woman that emitted so much warmth and comfort that it could kill several Dementors? 

"Thank you," her father said after a few seconds, though his eyes were firmly trained on Aesop – and his gigantic scar. "You have grown up beautifully." 

Aesop had never wanted to strangle someone as badly as this man. The sheer audacity. Was he right? Absolutely. Did he have the right? Absolutely not.

"And who is this, might I ask?" 

She tensed beside him, and Aesop wondered why for a second before he remembered one of their earliest conversations. If her parents hadn't approved of a co-educational school, they surely wouldn't have approved of her spending time with a man she was not married to.

"He's my –" "I'm her husband," Aesop interjected, eyebrow raised as he regarded the people before him with as much of a sneer as he could muster. Fight fire with fire, Aesop thought deviously. 

"Husband?" her mother suddenly spoke up, a look of surprise on her face. 

"Is there a problem?" Aesop asked, his tone menacing. It didn't impress her father one bit. 

"So you actually managed to find a decent husband?" he sneered, looking back at his daughter for a fleeting second before returning his attention to Aesop. "Consider me surprised that a man would marry a dishonoured woman. Though perhaps the market was too slim for a cripple."

"Father!" "Listen here, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Aesop growled as he stepped as close to the man as he possibly could, not wanting to cause a ruckus among all of these people. "I will not have you question my wife's honour. She is a Hero in our world, did you know that? Of course, you didn't because your arrogant, pompous ass was too vain to ever reach out to her. I cannot even begin to fathom how someone like you raised someone as wonderful as her. She nearly lost her life as she successfully stopped people so evil they would make your skin crawl from ruining our world. That said," his glare was intense enough to burn the man, "my wife's honour was perfectly intact. You wish to know why? Because our school ensures any untoward things do not happen. You could have known that before you left her for the gallows. Now, you will leave us be. And if I hear of any attempts to reach her, I will personally ensure you will burn in hell. This cripple," Aesop spat the word angrily, "knows how to make it look like an accident."

He pulled (Y/N) away without so much as a second thought, grabbing her arm and walking as fast as his damned leg would allow, hoping that her parents were seated far away from them. 

"Aesop?" his company meekly asked him as they had settled in their box. He was still heaving, his breaths coming out a little erratic as he fought the primal urge to turn around and kill a certain someone. When he finally turned to face her, he looked into her watery (Y/E/C) eyes, relieved to at least see a small smile on her lips. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"Any time."

The ballet was beautiful, possibly the closest thing Aesop had ever seen to magic in the muggle world; the delicate nature of the dancers and the way they were seemingly carried by the music was enchanting. He could see why she loved it as much as he did. The greatest thing, though, was catching her smile. It was so bright and wide, and Aesop couldn't get enough. This was worth every galleon, and he would've emptied his and his family's vault to just get a single glimpse of it again. 

Her father's sperm donor's words continued to run in Aesop's mind as the two of them wordlessly made their way back, apparating and then walking the remaining distance to her hut. She, utterly content and smiling; him, revisiting what the poor excuse of a man had said to his own child nonetheless. He was correct about him; Aesop was but an old cripple, undeserving of someone like her. In some way, Aesop had accepted that he might never be whole, that his best years had long passed and that he was meant to be confined to Bachelorhood for the rest of his days. But when the woman of his dreams stood close to him, so near yet far beyond his reach, all he wished for was to be whole again. 

"Would you like to come in for some tea?" she offered as they reached her hut.

"Yes," Aesop answered without a second thought. This night was bound to end soon enough. He could be selfish for just a few more minutes, relishing in her company, before he would have to ban her from his life.

She beamed at him, the same smile that made his heart skip several beats and that had him wish he could up and kiss her. The smile that was his undoing. Her cabin was as cosy as he remembered, the same smell of fresh pastries and freshly pressed linen and something uniquely her permeating the air and enveloping him in what felt like a suffocating hug. He sat in one of her comfortable armchairs, watching as she waved her wand, her gramophone quietly filling the space with a tune Aesop didn't recognise, her kettle slowly bubbling away on her stove. 

"I want to apologise," she spoke into the silence after a while, still next to her stove as she waited for the water to boil. 

"Whatever for?" Aesop asked. 

"My...father," she sighed. 

"Well, forgive me for being forward, but it is hardly your fault that your 'father' is a raging piece of shit."

He watched as she let out a single laugh that sounded more like a scoff than anything else. "No, it is not, but that doesn't mean I don't feel sorry for what he's said to you in particular." 

"Don't be," Aesop grumbled as he averted his gaze, hoping to end the conversation right there. He didn't want her pity - that would be far worse than her rejection. "He wasn't entirely wrong."

"But he was!" Her ferocious tone surprised him, his eyes finding hers and seeing pure, unadulterated rage in them. 

"I am a cripple," Aesop slowly corrected her. "And I am well above your years."

"You are not a cripple, Aesop Sharp," she seethed at him, further surprising him. "And you are not old. Have you any idea what kind of man my father had me betrothed to? He was fifty when I was thirteen, and the betrothal was finalised."

Aesop clenched his hands into fists at her revelation, wishing to seek out her father to beat sense into him. 

"Simply because the man you were supposed to marry was even older than I was does not mean I am not old nor a cripple," Aesop pressed forth, wanting to run from this conversation, his resolve to leave her hanging by a precarious thread. 

"You are not a cripple," she repeated herself, her voice resolute. 

"I am," Aesop seethed, having risen from his position on the armchair as quickly as his leg would allow, unable to stop himself. "I am but a man whose prime had passed when I stepped into Scarborough harbour. A man who is undeserving of the wonderful woman you are and have become. Surely you must know that a woman like yourself could do far better than me." 

She gaped at him with wide eyes, a million thoughts running through her head. "A woman like me?" she asked, her voice reduced to a whisper.

"Yes, a woman like you," Aesop's resolve had finally broken, and he was incapable of telling her anything but the truth. When she inevitably hated him after this, when she inevitably rejected his sorry arse, perhaps he could move on. "A wonderful, beautiful woman like you. A woman who has given her all for this world and has expected not one thing in return. A woman who is so bloody kind and loving that even I couldn't help but be drawn in. A woman who hasn't escaped my mind, no matter how infuriating she is at times." 

"What –" she gulped audibly, her eyes still wide as she searched his. The air in the room was stagnant as neither of them refused to say anything, though Aesop could feel his heart beating out of his chest, praying to whatever god would listen to him that she would finally get it over with. "What are you saying, Aesop?" 

"Do I actually have to spell it out for you?!" he groaned exasperated, running a hand through his hair as he grew more frustrated than he thought possible. 

"Well, do not get angry with me." "I am not angry." "Well, clearly you are. Look at you." 

Aesop stalked up to her in quick strides, towering over her much smaller frame as he looked down into her eyes furiously, feebly attempting to ignore her comforting scent. "Right then," he growled. "No matter what I bloody do, you are on my mind like a damn pixie infestation. My thoughts of you simply never end. You carry my heart in your hands and do not even know it. I am yours; painfully, I am yours. But it is utterly ridiculous to think someone like you," Aesop stressed, "would ever burn for someone like me." 

Not even wishing to hear her rejection from this point forth, Aesop attempted to turn around to hastily exit her home, only to be stopped by her small hand reaching out for his. He turned back, expecting to see disgust, hate or even contempt in her eyes, but all he found were unshed tears and a look he could not read. 

"You...You care for me?" she cautiously spoke, a small (Aesop didn't believe it) hopeful smile on her face.

"I don't care for you," Aesop gulped, finally allowing himself to speak the words that likely had been on his mind since she stepped back into the bloody castle. "I burn for you."

A sob spilt from her lips, though they simultaneously widened into a smile. "Aesop Sharp," she tearfully grinned at him, "You utter fool." 

Yes, pour salt into the wound, Aesop thought dejectedly. He knew he was a fool for –

He didn't have time to finish his thoughts before the witch he had fallen in love with grabbed the lapel of his coat to pull him down, her soft, plush lips meeting his.

pt. 2 coming soon

[shinjukuppoi]

my celia headcanons! under the cut because there's a lot. a lot are very specific but... 😛

celia is a lesbian (no one is surprised by me saying this) and i don't think she has a preference when it comes to mascs and femmes.

celia would make several fake facebook accounts to make fun of people she doesn't like at work. she would be very deliberate as to not get caught. expert cyber bully

celia is a night owl. she'd have to be up early for work, obviously, but i feel like she would definitely feel safest to be herself and indulge herself at night

celia not only sleeps on her back, but she stays very still the whole night, like a rock

she has a very complicated skincare routine so she can keep herself staying "youthful" (not that she needs it 🙄)

celia's everyday perfume is delina (because she can afford it and i think she would like to smell a little fruity and like roses!). i think on nights out she would wear something a little stronger and more mature. going to meet the mc, i think she wouldn't put in the effort to freshen herself up or put on more perfume since it's the only space where she can be herself!

celia would definitely drink kale smoothies regularly (i'm sorry, i can't stomach these!)

celia would pick going to see the mc over going out to the club on most days

celia would have been so focused on her career that she'd have very little time to watch tv series or read book series. i think as a kid she would have played something like pokemon on the game boy, and gets confused when she sees things about the new pokemon games, but that's about it

celia is a high-functioning alcoholic and sometimes mixes her alcohol with coffee or energy drinks so she can stay more alert! sugar free vodka redbull, if an energy drink, but she doesn't like the flavor.

celia listens to house music and jazz so she can relax

i think lede is celia's maiden name so she and harold have different last names (he would have agreed to it reluctantly)

if celia gets tim hortons, she gets a double double and an old fashioned donut (extremely rarely), but she doesn't like tim hortons because they aren't canadian anymore

celia is 5'9 without heels, and she wears 3-inch heels for work every day, so she's usually 6'0 😆

i think celia came from a poor household and worked very hard her whole life to get where she is! this adds to why she is so stressed all the time. she thinks any slip up could cost her everything.

celia is lactose intolerant.

celia's ideal captive is plus sized

even on her days off from work, she is still dressed to impress!

celia's favorite makeup brands are Cle de Peau and La Mer

celia drives a luxury hatchback. the interior is always very clean and she gets it cleaned regularly. it smells like the black pine-tree car air freshener, although when she's very stressed she lets it get a little messy as long as no one sees.

i have headcanons for the "You ran away together" ending too, but i'm saving those for when i start writing a fanfiction in a few months. i want to see other people's headcanons, too!

[clairelsonao3]

Themes and Tropes Tag

I was tagged by @tabswrites whose post is here! How did you know I go absolutely feral for anything having to do with tropes? Maybe the title of my blog? In any case, thank you! I'll even link you to the correct pages on TV Tropes for each one, because I have the official names for a lot of these memorized, and actually had a list of almost 100 going at one point and how they applied to my work; that's how obsessed I am. After all, you have to know the tropes before you can subvert them, right? (See #15).

RULES: Look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. What are five to ten fifteen narrative elements or tropes that continuously pop up in your work?

Everything in italics is courtesy of TV Tropes.

1. All Girls Want Bad Boys -  ...the Troubled, but Cute youth with a tragic past is a woobie needing comfort; he's tough enough to be a girl's protector, but vulnerable enough to need her as well... 

Usually applies to my male characters.

2. The Charmer - The Jack-the-Lad. Cocky, cheeky and devil-may-care, he's the type of guy you can't help but like, even as he's wrapping you around his little finger.

Usually also applies to my male characters.

3. The Determinator -There is no stopping the Determinator. They do not understand tact. They do not Know When to Fold 'Em, and it's a waste of time to tell them the odds. No one can reason with them.  No price is too great to pay for success, up to and including their own life.

Usually applies to my female characters, especially when they're rushing to help and/or save the:

6. Distressed Dude - Meet the Spear Counterpart of the Damsel in Distress. 

When the Bad Boy Charmer gets himself into trouble he can't charm his way out of, he becomes this. A lot of whump writing is this taken up to 11, and my own work is no exception. I also use Damsel in Distress, but not quite as often.

7. Uptown Girl - Our lovers are from different worlds — one wealthy, one not. 

My first novel and Good Slaves Never Break the Rules played this pretty much straight. In the case of The Adored (which actually references Gatsby) the wealthy character is actually the antagonist of sorts, and the MC is the "normal" middle-class girl who has to make her not-wealthy love interest see the light.

This is often a jumping-off point to explore larger, Gatsbyesque themes related to money, class, fame, wealth, and corruption (see also: Was it All Worth It/Rags to Riches), and after the characters have learned their lessons, usually ultimately leads us to:

8. Standard Hero Reward -- This relates to #7 and by definition it's a spoiler, so I'll say no more. (Sometimes it's played straight, sometimes lampshaded/subverted).

9. Xanatos Speed Chess -- Some characters have an amazing gift not only for making The Plan but for revising it whenever new circumstances arise. See also: Zany Scheme.

Or maybe I've just performed in too many musical comedies.

10. Unresolved (often also Belligerent) Sexual Tension - Two people are obviously attracted to each other, but some element of the story is keeping them apart. See also: Mutual Pining/Idiots in love/Will They or Won't They?

11. Dark and Troubled Past - Something terrible happened to a character; some tragic event in their past that shaped a fundamental level of their personality. Long after the event is over, it still has a powerful influence on the character's life.

Chances are if one my characters is important enough to have a past at all, there's probably something terrible in it.

12. Deadpan Snarker - A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.

My main characters MUST have a sense of humor, and it's usually this kind.

13. The Chessmaster -- Chessmasters tug at their strings of influence, patiently move their pieces into places that often seem harmless or pointless until the trap is closed.

I tend to often make my villains and/or antiheroes some variation of this, and no matter how evil they are, they almost always have a:

14. Freudian Excuse -- ...writers may keep the villain (especially The Sociopath) just as vile as before, but reveal that they have a reason for being that way. 

(Hint: It's usually their parents).

And finally, this brings us to the most important trope of all:

15. Lampshading -- ... the writers' trick of dealing with any element of the story that threatens the audience's Willing Suspension of Disbelief, whether a very implausible plot development or a particularly blatant use of a trope, by calling attention to it and simply moving on.

In other words, you can get away with using the same tropes over and over and over again, as long as you do it with a wink and a nod at the readers.

I could keep going on this forever, but instead, I'll gently tag:

@i-can-even-burn-salad @janec23 @mysticstarlightduck @rickie-the-storyteller @writingforjoy

[expectodragons]

Bitter Water || Chapter 5

✦ Summary: Guided only by a thin paper trail and a promising job offer, Catherine Hart returns to the school of her youth. Taking on the mantle of Beasts professor, the young witch must find a balance between her lessons and her continued search of the Highlands. Especially when under the watchful eye of the Potion Master. ✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female MC ✦ Word Count: 10,300 ✦ Rating: Mature, 18+ only - minors do not interact. ✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, alcohol consumption, colleagues-to friends-to-lovers, Pagan sabbat (Yule), Sebastian Sallow being a flirt, slow burn. ✦ Story Playlist: Listen here ✦ Read on: AO3 || Tumblr (continue below)

Snow came to the valley in the early morning hours on the twelfth of December with a soft winter’s embrace – dusting the castle like a gingerbread house with its powdered sugar-like flakes.

Some creatures welcomed the change in weather better than others. The Fire Crabs’ enclosure was merely a puddle of thawed snow at this point, while the Mooncalves happily trotted and leaped through the drifts within their paddock.

It was the second to last week before Winter Break and the spirit of the season was felt throughout the castle.

Caroling ghosts positioned themselves in the large halls, surrounded by floating cream-colored candles. Sweet-smelling spruce garland wrapped the stair railings and beautifully decorated Pines could be found throughout the castle. Students and professors alike were in happier spirits as the promise of a short reprieve from studies was just within reach.

Catherine enjoyed her time outside almost as much as she did inside the castle – were it not for the bitter cold nipping at her cheeks and fingertips.

The creatures in her classroom had been rotated out at the beginning of November, making way for a new range of studies for her students. As her boots scrunch through the slush of snow and frozen mud that made up the paths between the enclosures, she keeps a watchful eye on her fifth years.

“Remember, Mr. Clearwater, unicorns are naturally distrusting of men. You need to back away and give them the chance to approach you, not pester them until they feel the need to flee.”

With a sigh, she jumps over the wooden fence and grabs hold of the brush from Ruth McKinnon.

“Now, if I were to brush your hair like this –” she demonstrates a hard yanking motion, “Would you feel particularly good about it?”

“No, Ma’am,” the girl replies with a down-turned look.

Reluctantly, she hands the brush back, “They may be creatures, but they do feel pain and discomfort as any one of you do. Please remember that, especially with these lovely beasts.”

With a clap of her hands, she addresses the class as a whole, “Now, I want any loose hairs collected in your labeled jars by the end of our lesson. We have about ten minutes now, so kindly go about your tasks.”

Effortlessly, she hops over the paddock’s fence once again and moves further away from the enclosure to keep watch over the three different groups of students. The first selection was returning the feed bags to the storage hut, the second was finishing up their hair collections, and the final group was getting around to mucking out the unicorn’s pen with varying looks of disgust.

As the bells in the tower begin to chime the hour, she drops the wards near the pavilion and wishes the students a wonderful rest of their afternoon before she goes around to inspect their handiwork before her final class of the day appears.

After her fourth years finish up their work with the Fire crabs, Catherine does a final check of the classroom before she secures the wards and heads back to the castle. She tugs her leather bag close to her body as she trudges down the worn path in the snow – littered with footprints of varying sizes.

Above, the sky is clouded with the violet hues of early sunset. In only an hour, the valley would be shrouded in near darkness with the lull of winter.

Her toes curl into the limited comfort of her socks as she makes her way across the courtyard – her boots did little to bade the cold away and she was looking more and more forward to the radiant warmth the castle would bring.

Through the Bell Tower, down the tapestry hall, and up the spiral stairs. She can finally feel her body begin to thaw as she vigorously rubs her hands together, begging the red tips of her fingers to return to their normal coloring.

After spending the past four months working together with Sharp, she was well aware of his schedule. And today, Monday, was one of the few days that they shared a similar free hour with their lack of sixth-period classes.

Giving a courtesy knock on the open classroom door, she steps inside only after casting a quick drying spell on her boots.

“Sharp? Are you in?”

She hears the familiar grunt of affirmation further inside the classroom. Crossing the flagstones, she finally spots him in a far alcove bent over a table with several bottled potions laid upon it.

Out of familiarity, she sheds her coat and scarf, laying it upon a barren counter.

“How are they fairing today?”

He beckons her over with a silent wave.

Catherine appears along his left side – about a head shorter than her companion, she realizes – and examines the range of shimmering brews. The Potion Master lifts one at a time, holding the glass bottle to the light, and giving it a gentle swirl before he places it back in line – writing a note on a piece of parchment to his right.

She lifts one up that holds a dull pea soup-colored liquid inside, “Well, this certainly doesn’t look right.”

Sharp gives it a glance and snorts, “No, it does not.”

“What were they supposed to brew exactly?”

He gives her a quick assessing look, “Surely you can ascertain that on your own.”

“Alright,” she gives him a challenging nod.

Studying the other bottles – whose liquid was at least a common shade of yellow or gold – she’s able to limit it down to a few dozen potions. Walking away from Sharp and the table, Catherine studies the room itself. While he had managed to erase the chalkboard of the day’s lesson already, certain things stood out.

1. There was a gap on the ingredients shelf. 2. There was a noticeable pungent scent lingering in the air. 3. As she dragged her hand across one of the counters, her index finger was pricked. Upon closer inspection, she discovered the source to be that of a nettle.

Staring at the shelf, which Sharp had alphabetized and divided up by most commonly used ingredients to least, as well as the most volatile to docile, she’s able to discern which item was most likely missing. As for the smell…?

Ah, yes. That likely made sense then.

She always hated the smell of puffer-fish eyeballs, it was almost as bad as the sound they made when they were crushed.

Bat spleens, nettles, and puffer-fish eyes. Only one thing could be made from those particular ingredients.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she strolls over to Sharp once again with a smug smile on her face.

“By chance, was it a swelling solution?”

He gives her a pleased nod.

“Were I able to, I would award points to Gryffindor.”

She laughs, “Please do. They’re utterly falling behind this year and it worries me as an alumnus.”

With a shake of his head, he returns to grading and assessing his second years’ attempts at brewing. Giving him a bit of space, she goes to collect her bag and begins pulling out the two thin containers of unicorn hair.

He strides over to her before she even has the chance to turn around. Plucking the vials from her hand, he holds them up to the light and examines the items with a critical eye. She merely folds her arms across her chest and stares.

“Yes, these will do nicely,” he lowers the containers and his gaze to meet her eye. “Thank you.”

“All thanks to the efforts of my fifth-years,” she replies smoothly.

He hums, walking over to a neighboring shelf to place the vials upon.

“With no thanks to their esteemed professor, I’m sure,” he says over his shoulder, offering her a playful smirk.

“None at all,” Catherine laughs.

Collecting her coat, scarf, and bag, she smiles at her colleague.

“Have a nice rest of your day, Sharp. If you’ll excuse me, I want nothing more than to remove these sodden clothes.”

“Of course,” he nods, a small chuckle in his throat as she turns around and heads out of the classroom.

Dinner was a cheerful affair in the Great Hall now, as the room was beautifully decorated for the season – perhaps the most gorgeous display in the entire castle. The students were of a more rowdy disposition than usual, unfortunately, as the build-up to the holiday break neared its crescendo.

“Mr. Parkin, if I need to repeat myself, you and your companions will find yourselves scrubbing trophies for the next two weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

Catherine hides her amusement behind her hand as Matilda scolds the unruly fourth-year who’s headed for the Grand Staircase.

“Yes, Professor!” He grins, offering her an ingenuous salute.

With a tired shake of her head, she bids the others goodnight and follows behind the group of Gryffindors.

“Shall we?”

Mirabel appears at her side, a warm smile on her soft features.

“If we must,” Catherine sighs with mock exhaustion.

The herbology professor loops her arm through the younger witch’s as they head out to the stone courtyard. Her floral green robes billow in the frozen air as Catherine tugs her own blue cloak closer to her body.

“I feel as though I never see you anymore.”

She glances over at the redhead, “Well, you know where you can typically find me. I’m afraid my department requires a little more attention than others once the school period has finished for the day.”

“Of course, of course,” Mirabel replies good-naturedly. “We should have tea one of these days before the break begins.”

“Or during, once the majority heads back to London,” she teases.

Mirabel grips her arm tighter as they pass over the Viaduct bridge, her smile widening.

“Yes, perhaps then I could track you down at last! Oh – look at that poor thing.”

Catherine’s eyes follow the herbology professor’s gaze, far across the lake, to a blot of gray streaking across the sky. Caught in an updraft, the owl soars to the side, flapping its great wings, before it barrels down toward them.

“Merlin!”

They duck down just as the bird nearly takes them out. She watches, wide-eyed, as the poor owl barely stops itself from slamming into the side of the castle, somehow landing on the ground. It ruffles its feathers with indignation before it scuttles over to her feet.

“Hello there,” she murmurs, bending down to pull the soaking-wet envelope from its beak.

Before she even has the chance to offer it food or shelter, the bird lifts up into the air and circles around Central Hall – likely headed for the owlery.

“Now what could that be?” Mirabel asks, wandering back over to her side.

Flipping the parcel over, she spots the familiar scratch of a self-writing quill.

A slow smile grows on her frozen lips.

“A letter from Ominis, I suspect,” she tucks it away into her pocket. “We have plans to meet over Christmas.”

“How lovely,” the other witch smiles in earnest. “I had wondered how some of your fellow classmates were faring. I only hear from a handful of them anymore and even then, those letters come few and far between these days.”

With a grin, Catherine pushes open the heavy doors of the Hall, descending the stone steps beside the herbology professor.

“Well, Poppy is far too busy handling her sanctuaries to do much more than send an occasional note. Natty is engaged to be married, as I’m sure Mudiwa has told you all. And last I heard, she was working on a relatively large case in her department.”

Down another flight of stairs, they go.

“You probably see Garreth every now and then in Hogsmeade, yes?”

Mirabel nods, “He’s the reason I’ve had to confiscate so many Zonkos products from my students. He’s far too good a salesman.”

Catherine chortles, “That he is. He’s also got a small brood of Weasleys of his own now. Let’s see –” Using her right hand, she counts them off, “There’s Edwin, and… Ronald. Gilbert and… oh, what’s the babe’s name? Starts with a B. Ben, Benjy, Barty… oh! Bertie. Four little Garreth lookalikes.”

The redhead offers her a conspiratorial look, “Perhaps by the time they’re due to arrive, I will find myself at another posting.”

“I certainly couldn’t blame you or anyone else for that.”

The gurgling fountain comes into view, oddly illuminated by the soft glow of the lit candles upon the decorated Christmas trees that surrounded the Hall.

“Maybe you’ll even join us then. I’m not sure I would have the strength to tolerate having another Weasley wandering around a group of beasts.”

Her expression drops slightly, perhaps not enough for Mirabel to notice, but she glances away anyway.

That kept coming up lately. In her thoughts, in conversations with her fellow professors. About her posting here at the school. How nice it was to have a permanent replacement for Howin. How excited they were to see what creatures she would introduce next year.

But what she herself didn’t know was if she would be here at all come next September.

There was no reason for her to be if all went according to plan.

She was expecting another note from Miriam, or Natty, or even Augustine in the coming days. Hoping for one, really.

After her ambush on the poachers in Crosskirk, no further leads arrived. And while Natty had been eternally grateful to her, as it had been a rather large nuisance for the Department, she had nothing more to offer Catherine – besides a chastising note that proclaimed that the young professor had nearly given the Auror a heart attack when her patronus came bursting into the office after hours.

And the Ministry itself seemed to be reluctant to admit there was a serious poaching and smuggling problem along its borders. Well, to be fair, they had been reluctant to admit a massive Goblin rebellion was overtaking the Highlands too, over a decade ago. So, it wasn’t truly surprising at all.

But she hoped. Waited and hoped that the smallest scrap of information would arrive and send her down the right path. But for now…

Now she had this.

A position she honestly would have never chosen for herself. Even though it seemed everyone around her – staff and students included – believed she was a perfect fit for the job.

“Catherine?”

She blinks, offering a sheepish look.

“Sorry, lost in my thoughts. So, did you want to take this side again or the Defense Tower?”

They split up the patrol duties of another mindless Friday evening. With a curious look on her face, Mirabel offers her a final nod before she turns and heads toward her greenhouses.

Biting her cheek, Catherine tugs her cloak closer to her chest and braves the cool night air of the Transfiguration courtyard. Hurrying across the path as fast as her boots can trek through the heavy snow before she finds relief in the neighboring tower.

Pulling her wand from her holster, she casts a soft Lumos and takes to the stairs.

She’s diligent in her duty, searching every hallway and corridor. But a simple Homenum Revelio shows that aside from Satyavati in her classroom, there isn’t another soul around.

On the third-floor balcony, she finds a bench to sit on and carefully pulls the soft envelope from her pocket. Using her thumb, she slides it under the seal and manages to pry the parcel open without a single tear.

Catherine,

I certainly hope you were joking when you said that about Sebastian. I personally will never be able to remove the thought from my mind, so thank you for that added trauma.

As for the holiday, I will find myself in Paris around the 19th. I sent word to the King of Dunces himself, though I have not received his reply. For now, assume he will grace us with his presence far later than he should.

If you would feel so inclined, I would be quite happy to see you again. Surely, it hasn’t been two years already? Perhaps you can stow those beasts of yours away in that hidden room you thought no one knew of at school. And if not, I suppose I could understand.

However, given the circumstances, surely you would not wish to bear me with the further hardship of trying to contain Sebastian Sallow while in the streets of Paris. If you agree, I will be indebted to you for life. I can also provide accommodations and any other frivolous things you would require.

Also, I hope that stubborn bird hasn’t given you too much trouble. He was as vain as they come. Did I ever mention that before I gave him to you?

As always, your humble friend, Ominis Gaunt.

Everyone was now counting down the days to the end of term. Four more to go and soon the castle would be emptied of the majority of the populace – off to spend the holiday with their families, no doubt.

“Oh, Professor Hart. Might I have a moment of your time?”

Catherine glances up from her seated position in the staff lounge, having found herself before the crackling fire during her free period. She closes her book – an Austen classic – and smiles up at the Deputy Headmistress, welcoming her over with a wave of her hand.

“Of course, Matilda. What can I do for you?”

The kindly witch takes a seat opposite her, resting her hands in her lap.

“Do you have plans for the holiday, Catherine?”

She gives a little grin, recalling her last two letters from Ominis, “I do actually. I’ll be heading to Paris before Christmas.”

“Oh, I see,” Matilda’s lips turn to a frown. Her soft brown eyes meet her gaze, “May I ask when you’re leaving?”

“Likely sometime Monday evening – before the Floo gets too overwhelmed with travelers.”

The older witch claps her hands together, a smile returning to her face, “Wonderful! Oh, simply wonderful. You see, there will be a number of students wishing to remain at the castle this year and I’m looking for another set of hands to assist with the Hogsmeade visit this Saturday.”

Catherine’s eyes bulge slightly, “Oh. Well, yes then.”

“Thank you, dear. I had hoped Mirabel would remain for the break, as she so often does, but she just informed me this morning that she has a prior engagement.”

The young witch stands up, offering a smile, “It’s no trouble at all. Surely it can’t be any worse than when we have the whole five years to look after.”

“No, certainly not! I’m sure you and Aesop will manage just fine.”

She blinks, “Oh… yes. I’m sure we will.”

With a parting smile, Catherine watches as the Transfiguration professor heads back toward her classroom with quick little steps. She glances back into the dancing flames of the fireplace and shakes her head.

The bitter wind makes the pace up to the village an arduous affair. The brisk breeze drawn across the valley sends its icy tendrils along their spines – freezing every appendage until all they can feel is the chattering of their teeth.

While the other students had loaded onto the snowy-white horse-drawn carriages to the station south of the village just an hour earlier, Catherine was leading the small party up for a final weekend in Hogsmeade. Sharp had informed her that he would meet them there – likely taking the Floo to avoid the long journey in the frozen snow.

And though the Beasts professor had been kind enough to cast warming charms on her younger students, her own spellwork was leaving little to be thankful for as the chill wind still found a way to bypass the charm. Digging her bare fingers into the lining of her cloak, she tugs the garment close and forces her feet to keep trudging forward.

“Professor?” A young Gryffindor moves alongside her, the girl’s breath billows up like dragon’s smoke in the cold air.

“Yes, Olive?”

“Have you ever stayed at the castle over break before?”

Catherine peers down at the third-year, her hands buried in a fur muff and her eyes just barely peeking out past her crimson and gold scarf. Something about the girl’s tone grabs her attention and she feels her features soften.

“I have. Every year I was a student. I suppose this is your first time then?”

The girl nods, kicking the soft fluff of recently fallen snow from her boot.

“My father wrote and said they couldn’t manage the funds to come to London this year, maybe for Easter break though.”

She gives a soft hum of understanding.

“What’s… what’s it like? Here, for the holiday I mean.”

“Well,” she breathes out, trying to recall her own memories of Christmas Break during her time as a student. “You’ll find the professors to be quite lenient during this time – now, don’t abuse that,” she offers a teasing grin down the girl, whose eyes brighten with a hidden smile.

“On Christmas Day, everyone sits together at one big table in the Great Hall. One of the finest feasts of the year, if you ask me. In the morning, you’ll find presents and treats in your common room. Find solace in the quiet moments of the castle –“ She looks down at the girl once again. “The house elves are usually eager to find something to do during this time – you’ll find random mugs of cocoa and biscuits appearing at all odd hours.”

With the young girl’s spirit seemingly lifted, she nods her thanks and hurries on ahead to a fair-haired Slytherin up the path.

The village, much like the castle, was decorated for the season in gorgeous abundance. Garlands and trees lined the streets and shops. It looked like a Christmas card – an idyllic little village in the Scottish Highlands.

Catherine watches as the small group of fifty or so students disperses; some heading off for nearby shops, others heading to the Three Broomsticks. She’s stood near Spintwitches, finding herself staring at the newest Comet model in the window. Though she hears the crackle of the Floo near the storefront, she can’t find it in herself to look away from the tempting price tag dangling from the handle of the broom.

“Window shopping?” comes Sharp’s gruff voice.

She looks to her left, offering a small smile, “Just browsing. I believe I’m still content with my current model.”

“Ah,” he hums. “I have heard tales of our resident Beasts professor flying alongside a herd of hippogriffs.”

“All hogwash, really,” she grins.

Together, they leave the broom supplier and begin the short trek up the hill to High Street. While the bitter chill is softened by the spread of houses and shops, her fingers still ache from the wind and she finds herself gathering her hands together to blow warm air upon them with her pursed lips.

Beside her, Sharp is surprisingly able-bodied as they make it up the incline. His coat is that of a woven gray with a dark fur collar and cuffs. Catherine tugs her own cloak closer in envy. He peers down at her.

Near the Square, wrought-iron white tables and chairs have been laid out near the empty fountain. As Sharp beelines for one, she’s inclined to follow – taking the seat opposite his, turning it out slightly so she can still keep an eye on the street.

Three sixth-years dressed in heavy cloaks emerge from Honeydukes, laughing as they link arms, hurrying down the cobblestone path. Two young third-years dip out of the Post office, rushing to their next stop to avoid the frigid air.

When she returns her attention to her companion, she finds that he is already watching her with those calculating dark eyes of his.

Digging her hands into the warmth of her armpits, Catherine nudges her chin down into the collar of her cloak – trying to stave off the breeze that nips at her ears. Sharp raises an amused brow in her direction, his smile hidden when he turns his head away – fingers lightly drumming on the ornate iron tabletop.

“Do you often stay during the break?” she asks after a long stretch of silence.

Sharp returns his attention to her.

“Yes. I find the castle to be a pleasant refuge after the last train leaves.”

A snort escapes her as she shakes her head, “I think you just enjoy being able to have the entire wing to yourself.”

“Well,” she watches the way he drags his index finger along the spiral vine pattern on the table. “Not entirely to myself anymore.”

“No, I suppose not,” Catherine glances down at her lap, a sheepish coloring of pink crossing her cheeks. “Though you’ll have the hallowed halls to yourself in a few days’ time.”

“Oh, will I?” he quirks his brow, a curious expression on his face.

“Mhmm. I’m headed to Paris on Monday.”

The potion professor looks away, his eyes focused on the scattered patrons throughout the square.

“I was unaware you had travel plans,” he loftily says.

She kneads her thighs as she watches a small family ducking out of Gladrag’s with a wrapped package in tow.

“Well, I certainly couldn’t leave you to watch this lot on your own could I?”

Sharp returns her gaze and smirks.

“I’m confident I could have managed it alone, Hart. You didn’t need to hold off your journey for something so frivolous.”

“I didn’t,” she laughs warmly, enjoying the scrunched expression he gives her. “I’m trying to avoid the excessive lines of holiday travelers. Monday was the clearest day on the schedule. And Ominis said he wouldn’t be able to secure me a room until then anyway.”

“Ah, how is Mr. Gaunt?”

His tone is airy, however, she assumes the query is not from a genuine place of interest but merely a reason to further carry on the conversation.

“He’s well; happier.”

The Potion Master nods, his gaze sweeping across the village square.

“It’s been years in the making on his, and Sebastian’s, part to get me into the same country as them for a few days. I’m afraid with my career of choice, I was rarely ever in one place for very long.”

Sharp rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands together into a fist which he then places his chin upon.

“A full reunion party from the sounds of it then.”

Catherine shakes her head, a laugh bubbling to her lips, “Hardly, as it’ll just be the three of us.”

With a pleasant sigh, she rests her cheek upon her palm as she stares at the towering decorated spruce tree next to the Owl Post.

“I sometimes forget how solitary this life could be. Don’t misread me, I will never regret the path I’ve chosen. But I feel as though my friends grew and had far more fruitful lives in the traditional sense while I was off, you know, chasing down poachers and the like.”

She shakes her head, blinking her dream-like eyes for a moment before she looks to her companion who appears to be trying to dissect her down to the last particle.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why I told you that.”

Sharp gives a small shrug of his shoulders, as if to say worry not.

And, for just a moment, she thinks that perhaps the ex-Auror could understand her positioning. She had to imagine that his previous line of work rarely left time for a person to have the traditional sort of life one would typically seek out. A doting spouse, cherub-faced children, a happy home situated in a neighborhood of good standing and prestige.

Though she knew little of the Potion Master’s past, she had never once been under the impression that there was a Mrs. Sharp hidden away in a lovely estate down south. She could hardly fathom the thought of tiny figures circling the stern-faced potions professor, lovingly calling him father.

No, the man before her had taken a similar path as she. The solitary one that was well-fulfilled with other means of joy and accomplishment. For a time.

They turn to more familiar conversations after that – grading unreadable essays, assessing dismal progress, and stories of their unruliest students. The sky fades to the heavier hues of magenta and navy as the sun begins to dip down past the horizon.

The two professors are walking down the street now, a breath of space between them as they pass other villagers and holiday shoppers. She can feel the warm brush of his fur-lined cuffs as her fingers graze the fabric.

Her companion stares up at the sky for a few slow steps, his eyes squinted ever so slightly. The colors up above mix together like loose watercolors on an evening canvas, swirling clouds of pink and dazzling gold.

“Only three more days till Yule,” she comments softly.

He nods.

“The return of the light will be welcomed after this constant darkness.”

And then his gaze turns toward her, “Will you be able to celebrate the day?”

She gives him a small smile, “Sebastian celebrates the bigger sabbats: Yule, Beltane, Samhain. So, I imagine we’ll manage to carve some time out for it. Though I’d rather do my usual traditions here.”

Rubbing her hands together once more, she gives a soft blow of warm breath before she tucks them away into her robes. Sharp’s gaze is latched onto the movement and she finds herself wishing she had the foresight to purchase a proper coat from Gladrag’s weeks back – before the temperature had dropped so drastically.

The waitlist was stacked out well past the new year now and by the time she could collect the package, the valley would be welcoming the warm flowerings of spring. For the time being, she would just have to make do with what she had.

After taking a final headcount of the students – forty-three in total – Catherine turns towards her fellow professor.

“If we don’t return by dinner, send a search party, will you?”

Sharp lets out a polite snort of amusement, but shakes his head, “I feel inclined to take the long way back –“ and when she glances at his leg, out of pure instinct alone, he adds, “Sometimes exercising eases the discomfort.”

Though she’s not convinced, she murmurs, “If you’re sure…”

Gesturing a hand outward, Catherine begins walking back down the path to the castle – the students stretched out ahead of them in little clumpings. She keeps to his pace without comment.

Much like her outings with Mirabel and Roland, she finds that she enjoys the silent company that Sharp brings. The quiet comfort that walks alongside her – occasionally trading glances and soft words.

It’s a tentative friendship, she realizes halfway down the road.

And while she would have never expected to find herself in that standing with her ex-professor, she would be foolish to deny that she enjoyed his presence. After years of traveling the world alone, after taking on a relatively solitary position at the school, Catherine found a familiar sense of comfort within the man beside her as she had once done with the friends she was set to meet in three days’ time.

As she rubs her hands together once more, Sharp rolls his eyes and mutters a barely audible, “Buy a pair of gloves, will you?”

Casting another warming charm, she can almost feel the liquid heat trying to penetrate the icy walls of her exterior appendages. It’s a small relief and one she is more than happy to accept as the looming towers of the castle come into clearer view.

A blur of people greets her as she steps out of the cool green flames of the Floo network, her head swimming with the motion. Grabbing a tight hold on her luggage, she steps clear of the hearth as another traveler comes through quite abruptly. Catherine barely has the chance to place her bag onto the ground before she hears the rumbling chuckle over the bustling sound of the Parisian wizarding street.

“There’s my girl.”

With a turn, her gaze meets the gleaming green eyes of her dearest friend as he beams at her through the passing travelers. Her eyes widen and her smile grows wider.

“Hello, darling.”

She rushes into his embrace with a bright smile.

His arms wrap around her in an instant, tugging her close to his chest. She can feel the bristles of his beard upon her crown as he presses his cheek down. The warm scent of woodsy musk and spiced rum tangled in his coat’s lapels. The rapid beat of his heart thumping away under the palm of her hand.

Sebastian Sallow had become a handsome wizard in the years following graduation – not to say that he was never a sight to behold prior to their seventh year, but she had certainly never noticed his charms for what they were.

He releases his hold on her, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist as he leans down to summon her bag to him.

“Six bloody years, Hart. That’s how long you’ve kept me waiting.”

She plucks the tip of his nose with her finger.

“As though you weren’t off shrouded in mystery and darkness down in that secretive Department of yours.”

“Yeah, comes with the name, doesn’t it?” He shrugs, unabashed, “But at least I stayed in the same country!”

With a bubbling laugh, she hugs him tighter – finding an old comfort in the embrace. His hands rest upon her lower back and she can feel his grin upon her shoulder.

“Oh, there you are.”

Catherine turns at the soft melodic voice behind her.

Not to be outdone, Ominis Gaunt had grown into quite the attractive man as well. His perfectly coiffed locks made his sharp features truly stand out. She finds herself visually tracing the constellations that his freckles created on his cheek.

“Hello, Ominis. It’s good to see you again.”

Tentatively, she pulls from the other man’s arms and steps forward, lowering her hand so her fingers brush against his.

He doesn’t stiffen this time but seems to relax instead as a smile crosses his lips. Slowly, she envelopes him in a hug, keeping her touch light in case he feels the need to rescind the affection. But he surprises her once again as he leans his chin upon her shoulder and holds her close.

“I’m happy to have you back, too.”

She hears a scoff to her left and she can almost imagine the face Sebastian is making as he says, “Oh sure, she gets a hug but I get a boxing to the head.”

Ominis pulls away, focusing his attention on the other man.

“Because you tried to bewitch the snow in front of a cafe full of Muggles, Sebastian! Honestly –“ he turns back to Catherine, “I’m thankful you arrived when you did. I’m not sure I could have managed another second on my own.”

“As if I’m a Crup that needs to be kept,” Sebastian scoffs.

With a roll of her eyes, she takes hold of both men by the crook of their elbows – effectively silencing them both.

“Well, you certainly know how to make a girl feel like she’s back in school again.”

Sebastian’s booming laugh follows them as they head out onto the magical streets of Paris – arm-in-arm.

Place Cacheé was bustling with holiday shoppers – the central square of the French wizarding market. The cobblestone streets were free of heavy snow drifts, as the Isles had been when she had departed. Instead, a light dusting clung to the colorful shop awnings, and thimble-sized icicles hung from the branches of the barren trees.

Ominis had secured the three of them rooms at the Hotel De Ginestou.

While he had forgone his measly inheritance once he broke away from the Gaunt family in its entirety upon graduation, Ominis had found his own way. And now, thanks to his own natural talents, he had sequestered away a sizable sum of money that he rarely ever dipped into. That no one but him could dip into.

This particular occasion, was one of the rare moments, however.

Catherine stares out at the market square from the arched window of her third-floor room. The suite contained two bedroom offshoots from a central living area – with the boys opting to share a double room while giving her the single.

The trio had spent their first day together out in the square, enjoying the varying foreign fares that the French market had to offer. Catherine had been on the lookout for gifts to give to her fellow colleagues. She had a handful of items already set to be delivered on Christmas morning back at the castle. But a few still needed to be sorted, as Hogsmeade hadn’t had quite the right trinkets in mind.

Sebastian planned to have them all traversing the streets of Muggle Paris before Christmas though, so perhaps she could find those last few presents out there.

That first night together, they sipped coffee on the patio of the cafe across the street from their lodgings and had the opportunity to watch the sun set while they finished their meals.

Everything had been so lovely thus far. They found their comfortable familiarity buried under six years of distant contact and unintentional silence. Soon, she felt quite similar to the sixteen-year-old version of herself – laughing with a bottle of wine shared between them as they sat upon the floor of their hotel suite, sharing more and more outrageous stories of their time away.

But now, the suite is quiet.

Blowing her breath against the window pane, she drags her index finger across the fresh canvas to create a multi-pointed snowflake. Outside, a light snowstorm had overtaken the city. Down on the street below, an inch or more of freshly fallen snow covered the walkways. Hurried shoppers darted between the safety of the awnings.

A small smile appears on her face as she blows once more to solidify the image.

This time of year brought around many different memories for her. For the last decade, she had spent the Christmas season in different countries around the world – where the momentous drink of wine or mead straight from the bottle was considered celebration enough. Familiar songs around roaring fires, or the very occasional passing of necessary items in lieu of frivolous gifts.

Miriam and Nigel had purchased a pair of sturdy leather boots for her during their travels across New Zealand on Christmas, as her own were terribly worn by that point. Yet that was perhaps the greatest gift she had received since leaving school.

During her short time at Hogwarts, the holidays were filled with laughter and joy as she celebrated with new friends. The spirit of the season was found in the snowball fights in the courtyard and the late-night conversations around the fireplace in the common room with mugs of cocoa and cider on hand.

But when recalling the years before the discovery of her magic…

Catherine starts another pointed snowflake on the fogged-up window pane, albeit slower as she drags her finger in a slow loop.

There were two different holidays in her mind. Those had before her parents died and those after. Admittedly, there was almost no celebration to be had in the aftermath.

The mill owner, Mr. Perkins, was a good Christian man who made sure his workers had the blessed day off. Many of the young girls who worked the bobbins had families to spend their time with. But several, like Catherine, who lived at the Boys’ and Girls’ Refuge in Manchester, simply didn’t have the luxury.

While the nuns made sure they attended the evening service, nothing more was had outside of randomly given brown-paper packaged gifts from the local charity organization. She usually gave her presents – a wooden train one year, and a gangly hand-sewn doll another – to the younger girls as she had no need for toys. Not since…

The holidays spent with her parents, however…

Those memories were concerningly faded after so many years.

She could recall a wreath with four candles nestled in its bows. The heavenly aroma of roasted goose and steaming potato pancakes with cinnamon applesauce. Images of the beautiful blonde-haired angel with a golden crown who was rumored to bring gifts to deserving children on Christmas Eve. The sweet ginger taste of Lebkuchens. The powdered sugar that would cling to the corners of her lips when she snuck another slice of Stollen.

Tucked away in those memories, hidden like the last present on Christmas morning, she could hear the sound of her parents’ laughter. The gentle chastising Johan would receive for sneaking a second biscuit before dinner. The exhaustion that was plain upon their faces as they watched their children unwrap their gifts. The tight warmth of her mother’s embrace.

A gentle rapping of knuckles upon her door has her turning.

Sebastian leans against the doorway, arms crossed and a deep smirk on his face. With a blush blooming across her cheeks, Catherine tucks her arms behind her back and glances away from the window.

“What?”

“Figured you wanted to get things started, unless I’ve interrupted the great artist at work?” he grins with a smug voice.

With a breath, she brushes past him, shoving his shoulder as she goes – though he doesn’t so much as budge, “Six years too short.”

His trailing laugh follows her into the dining area of the hotel suite.

Ominis had opted to leave them to it, as he had no love for the holiday and found his time better spent down at the complimentary bar. Catherine certainly couldn’t blame him, knowing the environment in which he grew up. It was a miracle Ominis had wanted to spend this time of year with anyone at all. Though she was slightly prideful of the fact that he chose to spend it with them.

She runs her hand along the soft leaves of the woody-smelling spruce wreath they had made earlier that day together. Sebastian had brought along the supplies in his suitcase, much to her delight. Rubbing her finger along the wonky-looking velvet ribbons he had tied, a warm smile crosses her lips.

In the center of the table sat the Yule log, surrounded by spruce bows, pinecones, and crisp red apples. A pair of wooden reindeer stood guard over the plates of prepared food – courtesy of a disgruntled cook down in the hotel’s kitchens.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

With a start, she glances up toward her companion who’s holding the three candles in his hand.

“Please,” she urges, gesturing at the log, “By all means.”

He gives a nod before carefully placing the two colored candles on the lace-covered tablecloth. Grabbing hold of his wand, he lights the first one with a delicate Incendio and situates it in the middle holder.

White: for purity, protection, and peace.

Rounding the table, Catherine takes hold of the second candle and does the same action. Her breath catches in her throat as she holds her finger close to the flame just to feel the flicker of heat against her skin.

Red: for strength and passion.

Together, they light the last candle. Sebastian places it in the final holder of the Yule log and steps back, a wide smile spreading across his lips.

Green: for health, prosperity, and new beginnings.

“Oh, look at that,” he says, with a soft voice of wonder.

She follows his gaze up to the ornate white ceiling where a spring of blooming mistletoe reaches down toward them. A look that spoke of having suffered too many mischievous pranks at the hands of the man across from her befalls her face.

“Yes, very clever.”

Sebastian immediately clears his throat, rocking back on his heels as he leans closer to her with his cheek on full display. With a sigh, she leans up and pecks a chaste kiss on his scruffy face.

With a pleased grin, he leans down and brushes his lips against the top of her head before picking up a slice of fruit cake – offering her a second piece.

“Blessed Yule, Cathy.”

Taking a bite of the sweet-spiced treat, she smiles back.

“Blessed Yule, Sebastian.”

Aesop awakens slowly as the pull of a precious dream keeps his eyes from fully fluttering open. Only due to the rich aroma of steaming coffee does he finally roll over, his legs tangled in the heavy red blanket, as he stares at the recently placed cup on his nightstand.

Salazar, bless House Elves.

Waking is a taxing affair on any normal day. But winter days had a particular added discomfort to them. His leg aches in a way that doesn’t stem from just the cursed muscle. It’s a throbbing somewhere deep in the very tissue brought on only by the weather.

He downs the half-used bottle of pain potion beside the mug of coffee.

At last, he rubs at his tired eyes and manages to sit up. The warm sheets pool around his lap as he stares down at the modest stack of presents at the end of his bed.

There’s no need to move as he grabs hold of his wand from the table beside him and summons the packages over to his side. It was self-indulgent, that he was all too fully aware of. But if one couldn’t be a little indulgent on this day of all days, then when could they be?

Abraham was gracious enough to purchase a lovely old bottle of whiskey for him with a golden dragon topper. It was nearly identical to the one Aesop had gifted the Charms professor.

This is followed by the usual array of potion and herb books from some of his other colleagues. He receives not one, but two copies of Potions of the Ages: A Collection of Advanced Brewing Techniques from Cecil Waterford and Headmaster Aragon.

Dinah sends him a thin book of obscure healing plants from around the world and their common usages. It appears as though the entire thing had been translated from another language as he flips through the pages with a surprised hum.

A new feathered quill, a glass paperweight in the shape of a curled serpent, and a box of assorted chocolates are added to the growing pile as well.

Tucked away between the packages, he plucks a plain envelope up with his calloused fingers. He peers at the swirl of writing on the front in deep emerald ink for but a moment before he stuffs the letter into the drawer of his nightstand.

That could be dealt with another day or once he had the proper amount of alcohol in his system.

With the final package opened – a slightly burnt fruitcake from Ranira Witherford – Aesop finally pulls free of the comfort of his bed and sets about to get ready for the day. He doesn’t take count of the presents to realize that one gift is missing.

The spirit around the castle would be in full swing with much merry-making and joy abound. Matilda would be supervising the remaining students as they took to the grounds while the ghosts and the portraits would inform them of any misbehaving miscreants running amok.

He was fond of this day, surprisingly. As in, most people found it surprising that the grouchy Potion Master was capable of finding joy in things other than belittling his foolhardy students.

But Aesop genuinely did enjoy the season. It was just due to the fickle nature surrounding his leg that he found his demeanor a sour affair.

For the majority of the day, he keeps to his quarters. Savoring the warmth of the roaring fireplace, the pleasant tingles of pain potion working to keep a numbness around the cursed appendage, the indulgence of fine artisan chocolates, and even the welcomed comfort of sketching in his armchair.

Little things that were difficult to come by during the average days of the school year.

But as the hours tick by and the light begins to fade from the window – forcing him to light the lamps around his study to continue his drawing – he comes to face the music that his free time is running out. Shuffling into his heavy woolen coat, the professor heads down the tapestry hall – passing the silent room near the stairs.

Briefly, he wonders what Hart is up to in Paris. If she was with Sallow and Gaunt, he couldn’t imagine any good. Though perhaps those thoughts only stemmed from the troubling three years the trio had shared as students together.

The crisp winter wind bites at his cheeks when he steps out onto the courtyard.

A handful of students are out on the hill near the empty Beasts classroom, sliding down the snowy slope on a wooden sled. A littering of oddly shaped snowmen line the lawn – with one holding what appears to be a broom near Kogawa’s shed.

He’s not sure, entirely, what made him decide to stretch his legs, so to speak. But he finds the chill air a welcome sensation as it fills his lungs. He makes a slow loop of the fountain, content to partake in just a small amount of exercise.

The looming gray-speckled sky above brings the promise of more snow as a slow drift of flakes begins to descend from the skies. One, rather large flake, seems to swoop through the air toward him before he realizes, as he squints his eyes, that it is, in fact, an owl.

A rotund, snowy white, owl.

The creature hoots only once as it soars downward, dropping a hefty package in his waiting hands before it circles around Aesop and heads off in the direction of the owlery.

The potions professor stares at the plain brown rectangular package, flipping it over to examine the folded white tag attached to the coiled string that reads only his name.

A momentary thought passes through his head – another book, lovely – before he schools himself and gently pulls the tied string loose. Unfolding the wrapping, just there in the quiet of the courtyard, Aesop vanishes the packaging and examines the crimson book with a skeptical eye.

He was mentally placing bets on whether it would be another book devoted to beginner-level potion-brewing or an encyclopedia of common herbs and fungi.

Golden embellished font garners his attention.

L’art Impressionniste en Europe (1865 – 1903)

Fingering the cover open, he flips through the pages.

Scaled-down portraits and landscapes and still-life greet him. The names of famous Muggle painters adorn the bottom of the pages. Monet, Renoir, Bazille, Morisot.

He snaps the cover closed, wanting to savor this in the privacy of his chambers. Aesop pockets the book as the students begin to trudge down the hill. With another glance towards the sky, he becomes aware of the hour and forces himself to patiently wait for them as dinner would soon be ready in the Great Hall.

Only four others had remained for the winter break. The Headmaster sits at the head of the long table, with Matilda and Mudiwa on either side of him. Students sit scattered about the table, far too nervous to sit directly beside their professors. Aesop nods politely at Ranira and the others before he takes a seat beside the Deputy Headmistress. A few stragglers make it to the Hall at last and then the delicious feast can begin.

Though he chats pleasantly with Matilda and a few Slytherin students to his left, his mind rarely travels far from the book in his coat pocket. His curiosity is burning, his desire to sequester himself away and savor each image too strong.

Pops of Christmas crackers pull his attention back to the moment as Mr. Nichols places a Viking helmet upon his head and Matilda happily takes hold of a pink crown. Aesop sets aside the velvet green and red elf hat that appears in his own package.

After bidding his colleagues good night and a happy Christmas, he’s finally able to depart. The entire journey, the book digs against his thigh like a scorching reminder.

But at last, he unlocks his chamber door, sheds his coat, and finds a comfortable position in his armchair. Thumbing the pages, he stares at the carefully arranged pictures that allow him to see the progression of a single artist’s portfolio through several years.

He finds himself lost in the golden sunset hues of Gillaumin’s Soleil couchant à Ivry (Sunset at Ivry). Transfixed by the gentle mixing of pastels in Cassatt’s Summertime. In awe of the depth of detail in Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party.

The potions professor finds himself eagerly studying each image until the fire turns to orange embers and his hip aches from retaining a singular position for so long. At last, he flips the final page over – only to discover a note carefully wedged between the page and end cover.

In a momentary lapse of memory, he chastises himself for not realizing who exactly had sent the book in the first place. The one professor he did not receive an expected gift from – as was traditional of the Hogwarts’ staff.

Holding the piece of parchment between his fingers, he examines the rough curve of Hart’s handwriting.

Aesop,

Apologies for the delay, owls are hard to come by this time of year – surprising, I know. While it’s not a book on potions, I do hope you give it a look through. I spotted it in a shop in the 18th arrondissement and thought it might be of interest. Hopefully, I wasn’t too far off base.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! - Catherine Hart

New Year’s Eve is an entire blur.

Glistening gold lights and silver streamers, blurs of drunken partiers with contagious smiles and bright laughter. Bubbling glasses of champagne and the noxious aroma of cigar smoke. Someone’s hand on her waist, spinning around on a marble floor. Counting down the seconds with explosions of multi-colored sparks emitting from everyone’s wands.

She regrets everything when she forces her eyes open the following morning. Dressing slowly as her sluggish mind refuses to cooperate with her schedule. With her wand, she packs away all of her clothing and trinkets. Squeezing everything into her luggage so the small stack of Christmas gifts can take up space too.

Sebastian had presented her with a beautifully carved wooden phoenix that ruffled its feathers and stretched its wings out. Ominis had been slightly more practical with a new quill and stack of personalized parchment bearing her name. So, you’ll have ample reason to respond to our letters.

The trio shares a warm breakfast around the dining table, filling the growing trepidation of parting with any small story or antidote that comes to mind – many of which had been heard several times before.

But, at last, their bags are packed and in hand, and the quiet peace of the hotel suite is locked up once more. Like little ducks in a row, they march down to the Floo Network. She wraps them both in tight hugs – ensuring that this is not like the goodbye they had shared before. They would meet up again – sooner than six years, she promised.

“You take care of yourself, okay?”

The blonde man smirked, “I always do.”

Taking hold of Sebastian’s warm calloused hand, she watches as Ominis disappears with the flicker of green flames. A second parting is had, in the quiet English port, as the oddly quiet man watches her enter another hearth – headed back to the village they had frequented so many times before.

“You can always come up during the weekends.”

“Or you could come down to London.”

They both knew it was unlikely.

With a wave, Sebastian fades from view and she’s stumbling out onto the quiet streets of Hogsmeade.

Shrinking her luggage down so it can fit into her pocket, Catherine heads back to the castle – feeling the warm beckoning of its call as she neared closer.

Several students are out and about in the courtyard, though it would be another three days before the rest of the student body returned to the school. For now, it was a quiet solace for the few bodies that remained for the holiday season.

Like a tight embrace, she relishes in the feeling of the Bell Tower. The earthy scent of spruce garland greets her as she heads down to her quarters – eager to shed away her traveling clothes and perhaps take the time to soak in a much-needed bath.

Once inside, she’s quick to light the fireplace – hoping it won’t take too long for the room to become heated up.

Flicking the locks on her suitcase, she directs her clothes back into the wardrobe, her new writing supplies to the desk, and the phoenix statue to her bedside table. Only once her things are put away does she draw her attention to a small stack of paper-wrapped packages on the rug beside her armchair.

As much as she wants to tear apart the strings and slide her thumb under the wrapping, she holds back – eyeing the open leather bag near the end of her bed instead.

Ducking her head down into the opening, she calls out, “Deek! Are you down there?”

She spends the next four hours busying herself in the bag. The old house elf was a natural of course, but she felt her duties had been severely neglected over the holiday – though she remained grateful for the help and thanked Deek far more than he liked for it.

Only then, after she climbed back out into her room and had to cast Lumos upon the scattered candles to fill the area with light, did she finally make her way over to the Christmas presents.

Like a child, Catherine deposits herself on the rug before the crackling fireplace. One by one, she reads the tag and opens the packaging.

A book devoted to North American beasts from the Headmaster. A jaunty sky blue pointed hat from Matilda – which the young witch immediately tries on and keeps in place for the remainder of the openings.

Broom polish from Kogawa, the expensive high-quality kind. Fruitcake from Ranira. A blooming purple plant from Mirabel that smells oddly of cherries. A new set of Tarot cards from Mudiwa that she stares at with a barely-masked look of disdain. A handful of books and sweets from the likes of Waterford, Crestwell, Moore, Shah, and Dippet.

There’s also a few items from Poppy: a small portrait of a soaring Hippogriff, a new dragonhide apron, and a pink and lime green box of cauldron cakes – still fresh as the day they were made. Natty also sends her a simple necklace with a silver feather attached to the chain – one that she is quick to place around her neck as she peers down to admire the placement.

She grins at the Christmas card sent by the Thortons, a moving image of them waving in front of a hollow of Nifflers who are actively trying to loot Nigel’s trouser pockets. Augustine’s card shows her atop a proud-looking Granian. While Edmund sternly salutes the camera from the top of the Great Wall.

With a flick of her wand, the cards float over to her nightstand and the torn packaging disappears. As she begins to ease onto her feet – her joints actively disliking the sudden change in position – she catches the faint blue wrapping out of the corner of her eye, wedged near the leg of the armchair.

Lowering herself back down to the rug, she pulls the small parcel free and examines the soft package. There is no tag, no note from the sender. But by doing a quick mental catalog of everyone who had already sent her gifts, she can easily limit it down to one person; one man.

Curious as to what could be inside, Catherine carefully pulls the paper free, unfolding it like a book on her lap. Inside, she finds another wrapped item – though the paper is a thin black that crunches beneath her fingertips. This too she pulls free.

A slow smile stretches across her pink lips as she picks up the glistening chestnut leather glove. Her fingers rub the smooth shell before they dip inside the warm black wool. She slides them on, one at a time, grinning as she finds that they fit perfectly and their added warming charm instantly sends a burst of heat through her fingers.

The memory of a quiet conversation held over a week ago on the journey back from Hogsmeade replays in her mind. Buy a pair of gloves, will you? He had said to her. While she had never found the time to do so before she left for Paris, clearly the potions professor had managed to slip away to purchase this fine pair.

She was truly looking forward to seeing him now, as she glanced over at the wall near the bed that separated her chambers from his. Ever observant, always watching – the ex-Auror must have truly pitied her that last trip to the village. But no matter, as she was genuinely grateful for them.

A brief thought given to the book she had managed to find in a tiny little store in Muggle Paris crosses her mind. It had been a risk at the time, something that he was unlikely to receive from the other professors. But she was aware of his secretive hobby and Catherine had hoped he wouldn’t be too offended by the purchase.

Brushing the knees of her trousers clear of imaginary dirt, she stands and begins to sort away her new items – keeping the gloves on the entire time, reluctant to take them off just yet. For what reason, she can not say.

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[naradivision]

“One who smiles rather than rages is always the stronger.” —Japanese proverb

Introduction 🍡

Asahi Tomoharu (朋春 旭) is the second member of the Nara Division rap battle team, Miraitabi. He is also known and widely adored by his moniker “SWEET-T” in rap battles. Working as a professional wagashi maker at his grandparents’ Japanese confectionery shop ‘Harumatsuya’ in Nara, everyday he pours his heart and soul into making his delicacies, wishing them can bring a smile to someone’s face. The reasons he joined the D.R.B. are to assist his friend and to find his own “courage”.

the art belongs to picrew created by @iwose (Retouching and accessories e.g. Momiji clip, Tachimaki, also background with cherry blossoms are added to the origin)

Asahi is a youthful young man blessed with fluffy short salmon-pink hair and a sweet cherubic-like face which seems to never cease showing a big bright smile. His relatively large and round eyes are tea green, gleaming with jovial pink tints. From outside, he may appear to have a slender build; but in truth, he has a quite lean and muscular physique hidden underneath his usual working attire, which is an indigo samue adorned with some pink cherry blossom patterns. He also keeps a black server apron tied around his waist. His team’s token, the momiji leaf shaped clip made of bronze, is clutched at the left lapel of his clothes. He wears a pair of zōri and often has a white-and-green twisted hachimaki put over his fluffy head. Sometimes he uses a tasuki to hold up the sleeves for convenience and functionality.

Etymology

Asahi means “morning sun” (旭)

Tomoharu is written “friend” (朋) and “spring” (春)

Aliases

Sweetie / Asachin - His grandparents

Hi-chan - Yuuya

“Sunshine”

“Peter Pan”

“Spring” (Figuratively)

— Biographical Info —

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Ethnicity: Japanese

Hair Color: Light Salmon Pink

Eye Color: Tea Green/ Cherry blossom pink

Height: 175 cm (5’9”)

Weight: 70 kg (154 lbs)

Bloodtype: O

Birthday: March 21 (Vernal equinox day “Shunbun no Hi”)

Zodiac: Aries ♈️

Piercings: N/A

Markings: N/A

Headcanon Voiceclaim: めいちゃん - Meychan (Singing)

Family:

Father

Mother

Grandfather

Grandmother

— D.R.B. Info —

MC Name: SWEET-T

Occupation: Wagashi artist

Color Theme: #FFB7C5 (Cherry Blossom Pink)

Division: Nara

Team: Miraitabi

Position: 2nd member

Hypnosis Microphone

Asahi’s Microphone is a karaoke microphone that takes after a bamboo eggwhisk with its windscreen trapped inside of the wire loops. There is a short twisted straw rope coming out from where the microphone’s cord would be. The rope itself is decorated with three colored beads and has its end tied into a flower knot (hanamusubi). The beads are arranged in order: pink, white, and green, resembling the hanami dango.

His Speakers take the form of a giant kadomatsu. There is a speaker embedded in each of three majestic bamboo stalks cut in slant pointing upwards to the sky. The base is wrapped up by a straw mat and rope with those decorations composed of a paper fan showing his team’s logo, pine boughs, and flower-shaped wagashi with round speakers planted inside. Aside from the pine boughs, there are also cherry blossom branches spreading out from the left and the right side of kadomatsu, dropping their fluttering pink petals in the air.

His rap ability, Banzai!, allows him to strengthen his allies’ morale and stamina to the highest, but there is also another practical fact overlooked by most competitors; due to the high boost itself, his ability is proven to be capable of stabilizing all defected status happening to his team. Although doing so would gradually consume some of his stamina as its expenses, his ability is counted to be the team’s greatest backup because it will either last for the rest of the battle or until he is terminated from the round. The ability’s appearance takes the form of a gentle breeze carrying some sparkling cherry blossoms showering around the area.

His usual go are the café-themed upbeat melodies with cutesy poppy vibes and sometimes even with some jazzy tones. What he usually raps about are mostly wrapping around his profession as the wagashi maker. He often makes the references to these wonderful confectioneries, the techniques on how to make them, the folklore and fairy tales, and not to forget the seasonal aesthetics! Especially the “spring” which is his favorite season and is the namesake of his beloved store. Moreover, he tends to rap about overcoming oneself while also encouraging the audience to pursue their own dreams no matter how ridiculous it sounds to be.

— Personality —

As his name indicates, Asahi’s personality is just like the sunshine in the morning: Lively, cheerful, and always brimming with contagious chaotic positive energy to share with everyone else, there is seldom an occasion to see him without an iconic smile on his face. Seen to carry on high spirits in most situations, to the point it can scare off some kinds of people, he is a compassionate individual who loves to see others being well and happy. And to tell the truth, he wasn’t even born with this lighthearted optimism in the first place. All of his sudden change up to these days is thanks to Yuuya back then.

He also bears strong affection for arts, fairy tales, and cute things. Since he was younger, he has started taking up some hobbies to express his love for them like collecting cute merchandise, learning to make cute needlework or handicraft, etc. It can be said that he is the type to be calm and concentrated only when he has something to work on his hands. Aside from his bashful aspect in the past, he often got mocked by peers just because he had hobbies perceived to be ‘too effeminate’ for a boy. After experiencing those disheartened episodes toppled by a great deal of stress when his grandpa was sent to the hospital, all those said have bit by bit lowered his confidence in himself.

Although appearing to be clueless or a little timid sometimes, he is very enthusiastic once talking about his interests. Possessing the mind of an artist, he does have a vivid imagination and usually loves to explore new ideas, which results in an unbounded curiosity for every little thing possible. And because of his somewhat childlike persona, he quickly gains favor from lots of people. Nevertheless, for a friendly reminder to anyone who thinks he is just a small fry; keep in mind that he is someone who has climbed up to success by making progress on sheer marketing skills, so it had better not to underestimate that seeming-to-be innocent smile of his. Apparently, he too, has a crude and snarky side when someone offends the things he values.

— Fun Facts —

Handedness: Right

Favorite Food: Nabemono, Wagashi that goes well with green tea

Least Favorite Food: Junk foods

Likes: Hot green tea, Wagashi, His friends and family, Cute things, Handicrafts, Arts, Myths and Folktales, Love stories, Karaoke, Early morning, Cherry blossoms, Doing house chores, Cooking, etc.

Dislikes: Unhealthy diets, People who look down on others’ dream, People who insult wagashi or traditional things, Bullies, Mean criticism

— Background —

*To be continued*

Trivia

As his surname stands for “spring” season, he was born in the range of Japanese’s holiday called “Shunbun no Hi (春分の日)” which celebrates the Spring (Vernal) Equinox. It is one of the two points during the year where the daylight and night hours are of equal length, and is the official arrival of spring in Japan.

His wagashi shop names “Harumatsuya (春待つや)”

He is a big eater and also a good cook (mostly makes traditional dishes though). He is the one who proposed the idea of dining together at Saigo’s place so that he can take care of the other two’s bad eating habits.

Despite having heads empty about the real romance, no one can beat him at singing cutesy lovey-dovey songs at karaoke. The ridiculous fact is he only knows about it from fairy tales, shoujo manga, and his pure imagination…

He is easily surprised but unexpectedly hard to get scared. However, he loves to make some noise or pretend to be scared solely ‘for fun’. When surprised, he screams first and then asks a dumbfounded “What???” later just like the kid. He is also told to have a feminine shriek and a unique high-pitched laughter.

In terms of physical strength, he is surprisingly the strongest out of the group. He guesses that maybe his strength comes from pounding mochi every day.

In contrast to Rio’s food, sometimes people find Asahi’s wagashi look too adorable to take a bite. It has lately got popular among teenagers as ‘the test of courage’.

He is unaware of the fact that he is the grandson of Nara’s once most feared gangster.

[solasan]

band name + album + songwriting + change + tattoo + voice + seven for Marnie? 👀

infamous MC questions

TYSM amber

Band name: How did they and the others come up with the band name? Has the name changed since it was founded?

they definitely went through a few iterations. rowan fought hard for rowan & the hartettes but was quickly vetoed. they threw around the idea of making some seven-based number joke but couldnt come up w anything they liked LOL. jazzy and iris played around with a few flower-based names, but that didn't Fit The Vibe (bc the vibe is a lil less flowers, a lil more everything on fire).

i think hornet's nest itself was a seven-marnie joint effort? they were playing around with the idea of it for a song n then figured it actually worked better as a name. marnie Very Seriously Considered changing the name after he left, but they'd been established as hornet's nest for two EPs already and had a growing fanbase, so she didnt think the disruption was worth it.

Albums: What are some of the albums the band has released? Are they a consistent style? What themes did they explore?

so gasping was their first EP (the one maya has on vinyl that marnie's super embarrassed about) and that was when they were kind of figuring out their style. probably more punk than grunge rock? kind of them just trying to find their groove. there's a few ethel cain southern gothic style references lyrically and a lot of angsty horrific references to bodies in the marshes outside their hometown (It's Symbolic For Seven & Marnie's Buried Trauma) LOL

i think possibly they released another EP after that but i dont have clear Thoughts on that yet?

then was take cover, which is their final release with seven LOL. leaning more into grunge rock now (heavy guitar & bass sounds, more refined but still intense vocals). this one's pure anarchy bc marnie's fully rejected (and been rejected by) her parents and seven has fewer songs where he's centre-stage so there's a kind of? tension? in some of his songs. lots of rage against the machine type shit. also some more gothic americana, since that's just Their Thing Now

under the bus is next and it's a hate-letter to seven lol no it isn't. there's a couple angry songs abt nebulous betrayal/getting thrown under the bus by circumstance that r juuust vague enough that marnie can feasibly get away with saying theyre not about him, tho 🤥. it's kind of more an album abt growing up than anything, n they definitely have a more mature sound. probably there's smth abt liminal spaces as a metaphor for the Ephemeral Nature Of Youth (And Love) or smth

and then finally there's their most recent album glass houses :) so named bc a few of the songs are rewritten versions of stuff she wrote when she was still living w her parents, n the whole album kind of... deals w the isolation she felt during that time? but from her pov as an adult now? we got references to breaking windows, we got references to being cut off from the world by glass, we got it all. (also forecast fires is on there bc it's a heavily reworked once-sweet love song she wrote abt seven when she was pining years ago, but this time it's abt the inevitability of catastrophe and how knowing what's coming can be like... soul destroying)

Songwriting: What’s their process? Is it different than it was when they used to write songs with Seven?

i'm not sure that she has a specific Process tbh. i think she probably comes up with lines in the shower/bath quite a bit, if only bc she's a shower singer and she likes to experiment. she's gotten into the habit of keeping her phone nearby when she showers so she can peek out of the curtains and write stuff down in the notes app lol. uhh i think tunes come to her before words do; she finds patterns she likes chord-wise and then goes from there?

writing songs w seven was a lot more collaborative obv so yeah it's different!! but also i think she was a lot less critical abt her songs n ideas when they worked on stuff together bc she kind of... always trusted seven to tell her if something didnt work or could be improved??? n now she has to do that herself LOL. it takes her longer to come up w songs without him than it did with him, but i think they're a bit more streamlined and perfected than they were before??

Change: How has their personality changed since Seven left the band? Are those changes related to Seven leaving?

she's still got her humour, which is good, but she's a lot more serious abt the band/their music/their future. she tries to take more responsibility for them now, bc seven's not around to kind of split that with her, and she's stepped into the role of leader bc no one else will? so there's a lot of pressure there, both from herself, orion, and (less intentionally) the band, who have kind of gotten into the habit of turning to marnie for help n advice.

she's also a lot more spiteful LOL. she's generally angrier, if only bc (since she voted to keep seven as a lead singer n not a backup) she rly feels like she didnt do anything wrong to him and it's fucked up that he left. uhhh more trust and abandonment issues than ever <3 which means more self-destructive behaviours!!! party drugs r a big one (she didnt used to rly touch much beyond weed before he left) but also hypersexuality since as someone else who deals w my issues thru vacillating wildly between hypo and hypersexuality i like 2 drop my trauma in there she finds it's a good way to get out of her head (shes always found sex was good for that, even when it was happy n healthy w seven), but then she has some issues around feeling dirty/regretting it, so. :shrug:

Tattoo: Did they keep the tattoo with Seven’s initials? Why/why not? What was that decision/execution process like? (Bonus: What do they think of Seven keeping their tattoo?)

amber look at me look me in the eyes. thank u so much for askin this one, this one is the one i've been MOST excited for. wuv u.

anyway LOL NO SHE DOESNT. the day she got the news that he'd joined a new band, she went to the nearest studio that took walk-ins and asked them to cover it up. it was very much an unplanned thing; she was angry and hurt and sad and she just... couldnt keep it. having his initials on her — like a brand, like ownership, and she hadnt minded that when he was hers too, but now he's gone and she's still his and she feels pathetic about that — was too difficult. when she walked into the studio she said "i need this covered up" and they said "ok, with what?" and she said

um eventually she settled on getting a big spider tattoo that kind of curls around her wrist and onto the back of her hand??? its butt is what covers the S.D. specifically. funny thing is that marnie hates spiders and always fucking has, but it was one of the first things she saw the studio offering, and she would literally rather have that on her body than seven. liar. seven also knows she hates spiders lol so he's probably definitely hurt abt that :)

seven keeping his tattoo feels like a mockery to her LOL. there's no part of her that's like oh he kept it bc he loves me, there's hope~ it is ALLLL "he's trying to freak me out". that doesnt mean that a possessive part of her doesnt like seeing it on him, tho, even if she'll deny that to the day she dies.

Voice: What does their singing voice sound like? Do you have voiceclaims(s) for them?

answered here xx

Seven: Do you have headcanons about their friendship and/or romantic relationship (past or future)? What do you imagine some of their best memories are? What do you think some of Seven’s favourite things about your MC were/are?

answered here

[anphoety]

queer book recommendations that you may or may not have heard of

happy pride month! to introduce my new blog (hi), i thought i'd share some of my favourite reads that are fun and very gay. 

(just a note: most of these will be wlw, just because that's all i read oops)

1. Charon Docks at Daylight by Zoe Reed

INTRODUCING MY FAVOURITE BOOK OF ALL TIME

bisexual and lesbian mc, childhood friends to school crushes to i literally want to murder you ENEMIES to angry sex outlet enemies to one-sided pining to mutual pining to lovers. need i say more? i had to start the list off with this book because it is truly the best thing i've ever read and you need to read it. like right now. it's long, but so worth it. also it's set in a zombie apocalypse??? and it's free!

(i could go on and on about this book forever, but i'll save you the pain of my rambling)

2. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

pain pain pain. this book was absolutely amazing and delved into a wlw relationship in a way that isn’t just ‘oh they met. oh they lived happily ever after’. it really made you feel for the characters, support them, love them, hate them, and truly was a rollercoaster of emotions. i won’t even begin to try and explain the plot because i wouldn’t do it justice, but i fully recommend!!

3. One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

ahhhhh this book!! this is definitely a popular read and rightly so, i mean who doesn't love sapphics and time travel?? it's recently been released and follows the story of august, a modern day crime sleuth, and jane, a not-so modern day punk lesbian from the 1970s, who’s actually been displaced in time. it’s fun, mysterious and filled with a great cast of characters with an even greater representation of queer youth.

4. Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdir

out of all of the high school romances i've read, this is by far the best. hani and ishu are both headstrong characters who devise a plan to fake date and struggle to come to terms with themselves and one another. it's really cute and has really really great representation of bengali culture. also written by the same person who did the henna wars - an equally amazing read!!

5. Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur

if there’s anything to know about me, then it’s definitely how i love a good rom-com. especially one featuring the fake dating trope. and trivia. and astrology. i originally read it on kindle but loved it so much i had to get a hardcopy (and then reread it... twice). the two MCs are such a sweet pairing and really demonstrate how opposites attract. if you need a light and easy read then this is one to add!

6. Who’d Have Thought by G. Benson

i read this book last year and immediately loved it. it takes place within a hospital (doctors are hot ok) and involves a fake marriage involving an icy neurosurgeon and a headstrong ER nurse. it has great non-binary representation and the romance is pretty  🔥 🔥 🔥. definitely lesser known compared to the other recs but still just as great!

7. The Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee

it took me nineteen years to watch atla and i instantly fell in love with the series and the world building so after i realised they had a whole saga involving kyoshi (a badass bisexual avatar) i knew i had to order the books. reading this and its successor (yes, there’s a sequel) made me love the tv show even more and beautifully delved into a captivating backstory. 

8. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

wait. what’s this? a book that isn’t wlw? calling out to all percy jackson fans, if you’re into greek mythology as much as i am then prepare to get your heart crushed. this retelling of achilles’ story is refreshing and gives perspective to his lesser known lover, patroclus. i adored this book, mainly because i’m such a nerd when it comes to the greeks, but the writing style was so good and i could hardly put it down. the later stages felt a bit dragged on to me, but the rest definitely made up for it. 

well those are my suggestions! if you have any other questions or want to talk to me about books (all discussion is welcome) then message me or add me on goodreads. and if you need any more recs then just let me know (i read way too much) (:

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s MQ: Moon Beyond the Curtain (Ch 5)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Mind’s Quest, 帘外月胧明, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

🌕 Ch 4: here

[ Chapter Five ]

By the time the main forces return to the capital, it’s the Winter Solstice, the coldest point of the year. Even so, the civilians in the capital welcome the returning heroes.

An attendant leads Gavin and I into the Emperor’s throne room. My heart is filled with confusion, and I have no idea why the Emperor would call for the both of us.

The Emperor is seated on the imperial throne, his lowered crown covering his face. Gavin presents the document of surrender.

The attendant respectfully presents it to the Emperor, who looks at it without a word. The large hall is completely silent. I maintain a bowing posture, and feel a sheen of sweat surfacing on my forehead.

This is the second time I’m at the palace and meeting the Emperor face to face. The person on the imperial throne has such a heavy and solemn aura that it makes me fearful.

Emperor: Mm, not bad. Read it aloud.

He speaks calmly. The attendant carries an imperial edict over. From my peripheral vision, I see a black dragon on it, and my heart is shocked beyond compare.

This is... an edict relating to a conferment of title.

A firm gaze seems to land on me. Then, Gavin’s voice resounds in the spacious audience hall.

Gavin: I’m not accepting this edict. I don’t care about the throne, nor am I interested in wielding power. There are only two things that I care about in life. One of them is destroying the Rong Tribe. The other is... MC.

His words bring with them a resoluteness akin to stone. My head jolts upwards, and I watch his back profile as he stands upright. Amid the intense light and shadows, he seems to be a tall pine tree, flourishing and reaching towards the sky.

Gavin: The reason I’m here to see the Emperor is for another matter. If a dispensation of a reward is truly necessary, I can forsake the throne and remain at the border, guarding the land for the rest of my life. But you must withdraw the marriage that you had arranged for MC.

A long time after Gavin’s words are spoken, I hear the Emperor repeating his words slowly, bringing with them anger akin to a thunderclap.

Emperor: Gavin, are you truly rejecting the edict?

Gavin removes the jade ornament of the crown prince from his waist unhesitatingly. The smooth jade is placed on the edict, and it continues to radiate with splendour.

Gavin: The only things I wish for in this lifetime are peace and her.

Sunlight is hidden by the watchtowers. After the crown prince rejects the imperial edict, everyone in the audience hall mumbles amongst themselves while kneeling on the ground. 

The Emperor doesn’t say anything for a very long time. The duration is so lengthy that I thought he had reached the extremities of anger. All of a sudden, a question drifts from the elevated seat.

Emperor: What do you think about this, Imperial Censor MC?

Gavin looks at me, his gaze clear and calm. He doesn’t say a word.

I take a deep breath, enduring the Emperor’s scrutinising gaze as I inch forward by a few steps before giving a proper bow.

Taking these steps are incredibly challenging. But after doing it, all I feel is the sense of being inhibited and throwing caution to the wind.

Various images from the past surface before my eyes. His youthful self in Hongwen Academy, his sharp self in Mobei, his resolute self in the palace...

If I had to choose a dwelling place in this lifetime, I think I’d choose to be by Gavin’s side.

I speak with determination.

MC: I’m willing to remain unwed, to spend my life as your servant, and to die for Dayu’s peace. But I wish to request for the Emperor to withdraw his edict.

I’m mentally prepared to face the wrath of the Emperor. But after a moment, the Emperor simply says something with ease.

Emperor: Imperial Censor MC, why don’t you take another look at the edict that I gave to you?

Taken aback, I retrieve the imperial edict from my sleeve. After reading it carefully, my eyes widen.

MC: The seal on it is... the Emperor’s personal seal, and not the imperial seal.

As long as the new Emperor who ascends the throne doesn’t acknowledge it, this imperial edict has no effect.

I’m left astounded for a moment, and a conjecture gradually becomes clear in my heart - maybe he had always known about my feelings towards Gavin from the very beginning.

Emperor: Gavin, I will ask you once again. Will you accept the imperial edict?

Gavin shifts his shocked gaze away from the edict. I watch as he clenches his hands into fists for a moment, before relaxing them slowly.

He stands in the middle of the large hall, shadows from the watchtowers outside the window falling on his frame, as though bringing with them great power.

He stands valiantly, looking straight at the Emperor. After a very long time, I hear his voice.

Gavin: I’ll use my life to protect this land.

-

A day before the coronation ceremony, the Ministry of Rites sends over a detailed list of items prepared for the conferment of the title of Empress. However, the formal attire is missing. I surmise that it’s due to the Ministry of Rites not having sufficient time to prepare a new attire since the conferment of the title of Emperor is happening at the same time. 

Having no qualms about using the previous attire, I lift my brush and draw up a fresh list. While I’m engrossed in writing, I suddenly hear a sound from the other end of the table.

Gavin; What are you writing?

MC: A list for the Ministry of Rites. I could wear the old attire.

After saying this, the person in front of me lapses into silence. Just as I’m about to lift my head in puzzlement, my chin is supported by something icy cold.

An irresistible force tilts my chin upwards. Gavin frowns as he watches me from the end of the hilt.

He gives me a serious stare, which is accompanied by curiosity.

Gavin: Don’t you want a formal Empress attire that belongs only to you?

All of a sudden, I recall how I had brought the imperial edict over to Mobei from before, and how he had passed by me on horseback, channelling a gust of wind and sand.

That day, the sunlight of Mobei was very pleasant. Just like today, he had lifted my fur hat with his horsewhip.

With a smile, I shake my head gently.

MC: That isn’t important. I’ve already obtained what I wanted.

Gavin: But this is something that will happen only once in your lifetime. I’m thinking of being a little grander.

He puts the hilt away, taking my hand and pulling me outside without waiting for me to say anything.

MC: This is... the bridal attire?

I’m standing in the palace bedchamber, feeling incomparably shocked. What hangs before my eyes is a bridal attire made with numerous complex materials, and it sparkles with a faint light.

I find myself reaching out gently, touching one of the exquisitely embroidered designs.

The golden threads stretch on continuously, outlining long rivers, a setting sun, and undulating mountain ranges. The scarlet bridal attire is covered with overlapping landscapes.

MC: Instead of a phoenix, what’s embroidered on the bridal attire is...

Gavin: Mobei’s landscape. Back in Hongwen Academy, you always said that you wanted to see it. Although you visited Mobei, it was in a rush and you didn’t manage to see most of the scenery. These three years, I visited every location on the map, and drew the Mobei landscape from my perspective. Then, I asked someone to weave it onto the bridal attire.

He retrieves the bridal attire and puts it on me personally. The sky has grown dark, and the candles in the East Palace have been lit up.

Gavin stares at me while I’m wearing the bridal attire, and faint candlelight is reflected in his eyes. After a moment, he chuckles.

Gavin: I’ll take you somewhere.

-

Clear moonlight illuminates the tranquil Phoenix Terrace. Gavin and I are seated on the steps, draped by moonlight.

Gavin: Tomorrow, I plan to hold the coronation ceremony here.

MC: This location is far from the imperial palace. Previous Emperors held their coronation ceremonies in the imperial palace. Your Highness, why did you choose this location?

He rubs my fingertips, which have been blown cold by the evening breeze. His eyes are heavy with tranquil starlight as he explains in a soft voice.

Gavin: The Phoenix Terrace is the most important strategic pass in the capital. It’s a key junction in the capital, and is one of the two main strategic passes of Dayu alongside Yumen, forming Dayu’s most important lines of defence. The moon from the Phoenix Terrace is the same moon from Yumen.

Following his line of sight, I stare afar. All that I see are mountains and rivers stretching continuously beneath the bright moonlight.

All of a sudden, my heart is filled with comprehension, and I interlace our fingers tightly.

Gavin: I wish to tell all of the buried soldiers at Yumen that I will not be an Emperor who merely basks in the splendour of the capital. Firstly, I’ll protect the land that they exchanged their lives with. Secondly... I have a selfish reason.

He looks at me, his brows relaxed. The light in his eyes is reminiscent of stars on a cold night.

Gavin: During the Battle at Yumen, it seemed as though I wouldn’t recover from my injuries. The reason why I could wake up was entirely due to the promise I made to you in my heart.

My emotions surge, and I stare at him in a daze.

MC: That when the border was stabilised... you’d return and marry me?

A smile surfaces in his eyes, and he nods.

Gavin: With that thought, I survived battle after battle.

After saying this, he retracts his teasing expression. He retrieves the imperial seal of the Empress and places it in my hand, his tone solemn.

Gavin: MC, I will only crown one Empress in this lifetime. Will you marry me and become my Empress?

An evening breeze courses past, bringing his scent along with it. I give him a fixed stare, feeling as though something is filling my heart completely.

Since my youth, I’ve fancied one person. I wish to be with him, protect him, prevent the hardships at the border from knocking him down, and prevent the words in the imperial palace from hurting him.

I wish to be with him.

Looking at Gavin, I reach out to cup his face, brushing it gently and longingly.

MC: I will, Gavin. I wish to protect this land with you, and for us to protect each other.

A kiss travels across the time in Hongwen Academy and the hardships in Mobei, bringing with it solemness and carefulness, before landing on my forehead.

Gavin: From today onwards, the both of us shall share the same coverlet in life and a grave in death.

All of a sudden, I catch a whiff of a floral fragrance in the air - the fragrance of sea buckthorn blossoms.

The breeze turns gentle. The coming year will definitely be a warm and harmonious one. I stare into the eyes of the person in front of me.

MC: We wanted to see the faraway lands in our youth. Has Your Highness seen the scenery he wanted to see?

Gavin interlaces his fingers with mine, his eyes as bright as they were back then.

Gavin: The scenery that I wanted to see most - I’ve already found it in your eyes.

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[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. 

[reverielix]

hellooo, since i am very into astrology as well, i’d love if you could do a lee know as boyfriend based on his chart^^ i know we still don’t know about his venus sign (if libra or scorpio), so just choose which one you think suits him best, thank you in advance!

Ooo this sounds fun👀💕

First of all, I’m pretty convinced he’s a Gemini rising (8pm), which means he has a Scorpio Venus. His voice (2nd house) sounds more like Cancer (calming, rather comforting, not very high) than Sagittarius-like (high-pitched, loud, mood-maker) and he just gives me Gemini vibes haha He gives off a playful appearance more than an intense aura (though his glares send Hyunjin running, I think that’s more his inner Scorpio stellium coming through). If he’s a Gemini rising, his chart ruler would be in Scorpio, which could give him that more round face, and in the 6th house, which could give him a youthful appearance paired with those eyes🥰. Lastly, his rising’s decan would be Libra, which could also contribute to a rather round face than the typical Gemini rising’s rather slim appearance (+ Libra rules the butt lol and we all know Minho‘s shameless liking toward the members’ butts haha) He’s also pretty outgoing and chatty, which his mc in Aquarius and Gemini rising can also point at. I do want to point out that guessing any celebrity’s placements is like trying to guess their mc persona chart’s placements because their image is very controlled and what they do is extremely calculated/regulated.

So now that we’ve settled that, let’s get started!!💫

⇢ confession/beginning stages

I feel like he would be really flirty and straightforward because of his rising and Mercury as well as his Venus. His flirting style is versatile and adaptable to the person (Moon in Sagittarius in the 7th house, Gemini rising), and at first he’d try to keep it less intense, smile/smirk a little (his smile also contributes to my tendency to view him as a Gemini rising rather than a Scorpio rising😌).

When he’s gotten more comfortable around the other person and they seemingly are comfortable around him as well, he’d start letting his intense aura and Scorpio stellium come to shine as he’d enjoy making the other person feel flustered, though his Scorpio Venus suggests that he’d love for somebody to do that with him as well, seeing as his Sun-Venus conjunction doesn’t only indicate confidence, but also that he’s attracted to people who are similar to him.

His confession would be overall heartfelt, genuine, romantic and intense. His way with words (moon in 7th since he’s talking about his emotions here, Gemini rising, well aspected Mercury) would allow him to talk without stuttering too much or at all, though I can see him being nervous (his emotions are strong, and when he loves, he LOVES).

⇢ overall behavior in relationship

Once he finds himself in a relationship with somebody, he’d be pretty dedicated and loyal, which he’d expect from his partner as well. Other than Jeongin for instance, he wouldn’t be really big on personal space, instead he would be keen on skin ship and always want to touch his s/o’s butt 🤭.

His Venus lies in opposition to his Saturn in Taurus (no orb), which suggests feelings of insecurity and unworthiness which stems from criticism by authority figures and lack of affection (especially from a father or father-figure). Here, the planet of relays and restrictions can indicate a late recognition of that he deserves happiness instead of pity and love instead of loneliness (this aspect also indicates a feeling of unworthiness of financial success, so he may feel like he doesn’t deserve his place as an idol). Loving himself can thereby be a challenging road that he for a long time didn’t even know he had to take. This can result in insecurities being projected onto the other person or a detachment from his s/o as he is scared to show them all of him out of fear of rejection or not being accepted. Just like with all Saturn aspects, with hard work and age comes a great deal of contentment and what he’s understood he deserves (money and love in regards to Venus and Saturn).

Meanwhile, Neptune is in a square with Venus, (1° orb) which points out a deception and inability to draw a clear line between judgement and his gut feeling. In this case, he can take things his s/o says very personally, though he might act as if nothing’s wrong (Scorpio stellium,...). People with this aspect typically dream to escape reality as well as are languid and messy (missing/coming late to dates although he’s strongly dedicated to the relationship, he may just forget or feel secretly hurt about something that wasn’t really offensive but he made out to be). This sensitivity toward what others say feeds into the Saturn-Venus aspect and a feeling of inadequacy and dishonorability. Overall, his Venus (love style, behavior in relationships, desires, attraction) is badly aspected in his chart, though his s/o and their personality is a key-point to look at in any relationship.

As a boyfriend in general, Minho may be extremely emotionally invested, possessive, devoted and sharing. Once he’s with someone, he gives himself to that person. Additionally, his Venus in the 5th along with his Sun in the 5th and conjunct his Venus suggest a very present and, again, dedicated lover who loves with his whole heart and all he’s got (meanwhile he makes an effort to look especially detached and funny/playful in public or in front of cameras, which, among other placements, his mc in Aquarius hints at). Lastly he may be excellent at boosting his partner’s confidence, yet may also need validation back. (Can I just say that his Sun and Venus in the 5th make his chart the one of a born performer, which obviously shows + his love for art shows here as well🤓😊.)

⇢ dates

His Scorpio Venus in the 5th makes me think of spontaneous, grand-gesture dates that take place where he’s granted privacy with his s/o and everything’s only about the two. He may wants to move around, like go to an abandoned park where the grass is a little too high and play games/teach them a dance before they watch the stars when the night comes🥺💫. I can see him being very romantic and bold, so he may just sneak kisses here and there (5th house suggests spontaneity and the thrill of surprises). Here are brief moments of how I imagine a date with him:

“I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere.”

he walks toward his room’s red oak panel door

“Where do you want to go?”

your naked feet follow his to the cold stone floor behind the door

“Let’s decide on the way.”

over pine trees and bushes his reflection distracts you

eyes are narrowed when he’s concentrated, wrinkles adorn his cheeks

“5 minutes.”

“Huh?” you turn your head

“I’ve figured out a place, we’re only gonna need another 5 minutes.”

“Want a kiss? Come and get it then!”

he trips over dandelions and grass, smug-smiling, and doesn’t slow down

your feet stomp the grass, your determination takes over

after two breaks of resting your arms on your thighs, he gives in, lets you win

“I did that on purpose.”

“I don’t care.”

right legs cross the lefts and knees buckle while arms swing up, fingers fold out and eyebrows are raised

dancing is way harder than it looks, you’ve just figured

behind gracious twirls hide strength and control, something the slippery lawn hampers

“No, the feet need to be pointed in a different angle.” Minho held his hands out flat.

amidst your ambition to strech your arm “elegantly”, sunset hugs your silhouettes around the shadows

distant stars create a pattern in everless darkness, the waning gibbous moon sheds light

“Do you ever think of death?” your eyes dart the distance

“Like how? Don’t we all?” his trace the sharp shadow of your nose cast on your cheek

“We’re just such a small fragment of the universe. Gone before it even noticed us.”

“No, I believe we’re here for a reason. I think we have a big presence in the universe. Life is so magical, and so is death. It scares most, because it’s unpredictable. But so is tomorrow.”

Existential conversation with Minho™️

⇢ kisses

Ooooooo his s/o is in for something😳 The Scorpio stellium and 5th house Sun conjunct Venus suggests passion and bold, unexpected actions. He doesn’t just kiss for fun. If he kisses, he KISSES. The Virgo Mars also adds a feeling of security. I can see how he likes “crossing lines” and being bold, though it feels comfortable and safe. A lil types of kisses list...

obvi the passing food one lol

a sudden one that takes the other’s breath away

one in which he holds the other’s waist/cups their cheeks and forgets about everything around him

salty ones after a reunion or fight

one in which breaths are shared

a combination of kisses he thought of the night before when he couldn’t sleep (very unusual, but if anyone can pull it off with confidence, it’s Minho)

It was so much fun making this haha💞 hope u like it!🌫

[haledamage]

Kiss prompt 76 for whoever you want ;)

76. Top Of Head Kisses

(you asked for school-era Wen/Red, and that’s what you get ;) I didn’t realize I was using a prompt you’d sent me also, but that just makes it extra appropriate!)

just a little bittersweet scene between teenage Wen, Red, Pan, and Neon right before they graduated. Iorwen/Red pre-ship with an extra helping of Pining and a side of angst. Iorwen is, as always, my MC from @shepherds-of-haven, the others are all characters from within the game :)

---

Unsurprisingly, Iorwen found Red reading under a tree in the courtyard. Also unsurprisingly, she found him there because that’s exactly what she intended to do as well, her book already in her hand.

She flopped down next to him without a word, scooting over until they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder so they could both lean against the tree trunk. He looked up from his book just long enough for them to exchange a quick but warm smile, and then he turned back to his reading and she opened her book on her lap and they let the time pass like that for a while.

They were eventually interrupted - as they always were - by the arrival of Pan and Neon and a basket that Wen was immediately suspicious of just by its nature of being carried by Pan. Luckily, this time all it contained was food and a bottle of something that looked like water and smelled like a failed alchemy experiment, but tasted vaguely like fruit juice.

“Well, here we are,” Pan said cheerfully, passing out the basket's spoils. "This time next week we'll all be gone. Some new batch of impressionable youth will get to sit under this tree instead."

"I am trying not to think about it," Iorwen replied, attempting to sound as cheerful but falling short. "It's not like we haven't had plenty of warning that it was coming."

"Got cold feet, Wen?" Red teased lightly, and she rewarded him with an elbow to the side.

“You could always stay here,” Neon pointed out. “Archmage Tevanti would love to keep you around.”

Iorwen was struck - as she always was - by a sudden, sharp longing to do exactly that. To make a home here, in these familiar halls, with these familiar boys, with their books and their banter and their wisteria trees. But inevitably, her thoughts turned to the last place she called home, and the longing returned to the endless, empty ache of grief. 

She wouldn’t bring ruin onto another family. She had to go, while she still had the power to do so.

She took a long drink from her mystery beverage until she was sure none of that would show on her face, and her grin was wide and easy when she finally said, “Servori. I don’t think I’m ready to settle down yet. There’s a whole world out there to see.”

“Exactly,” Red said around his own cup. “Ancient ruins aren’t going to explore themselves.”

“Why don’t you two travel together?” Neon asked, and Iorwen had to fight from wincing. 

She’d been expecting the question for months, but had been hoping to somehow avoid it for the remaining week she’d be here. She took another sip of her drink to stall, waiting for Red to answer first.

He laughed, though it sounded strangely strained, and ran a hand through his shaggy red hair. “I’d just hold her back. Wen’s got big plans, she doesn’t need me slowing her down.”

I don’t have any plans at all, she thought, but didn’t say it. You are always welcome to come with me.

But Red unfortunately wasn’t telepathic, and Iorwen could never squeeze the words past the lump in her throat. So she just forced a smile and avoided his eyes.

She caught Pan’s instead. And the knowing grin on his face told her that she wasn’t anywhere near as good an actor as she thought she was.

She smiled wider out of spite. “Those are problems for next week. For now, you’re all still stuck with me.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Red raised his glass in a toast, and the rest of them were quick to lift theirs as well. “Wherever the winds take us, I hope they’ll bring us all back together someday.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening laughing and drinking together. Iorwen didn’t know how much of Pan’s dubious libations she ended up having except that it was definitely too much. Enough that the world beyond her little group of friends seemed distant and hazy and unimportant. Enough that the tree was no longer enough to keep her upright and she ended up half-draped over Red.

Enough that she got more than a little misty-eyed when Pan and Neon hugged her before they stumbled off to bed.

And then it was just Red and Wen. They lingered - as they always did - neither of them ready or willing to say goodnight. To say goodbye.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Red murmured. He covered her hand with his own, and she turned hers over to lace their fingers together without even thinking about it. Even though they were almost the same height, his hands were much larger than hers, and warm as a summer’s day.

“Me too.” She kept her eyes on their hands, knowing if she looked in his eyes she’d start to tear up again.

“Would you stay, if I asked you to?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

He didn’t ask. He just tugged on the hand still linked with his and pulled her closer, looping his other arm over her shoulders.

Iorwen leaned her forehead against his cheek in an affectionate sort of headbutt. It was probably too intimate of a gesture for someone who had only ever thought of her as a friend, but she was just drunk enough that she didn’t care. She breathed in the comforting scent of him, doing her best to memorize it. “For what it’s worth, I’m going to miss you, Red.” 

His arms wound around her in a tight hug and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to miss you too, Wen.”

Ask me to stay, she thought as hard as she could. Ask me and I will. Tell me you want me to stay.

He didn’t ask, and she knew he never would. And neither would she. He wouldn’t want to risk her feeling obligated, and she wouldn’t risk being rejected, so they just held each other under their favorite tree and silently hoped it wouldn’t be the last time they ever did.

[not-saying-revolution-but]

Rules: answer the questions and tag nine people you want to get to know better/catch up with!

Thanks for the tag, @cortue ! I did an inappropriate amount of work writing today, so hopefully non-work writing gets the stress out of my system. Tagging @circumference-pie @tofufei @ahlanzhan and @angelxhunter to participate if you wish! And anyone else who wants to share :D

Three relationships: (what’s rattling around my head right now, perhaps not of all time)

Mei Changsu/Lin Shu & Xiao Jingyan (Nirvana in Fire) – I would say I’m back on my bullshit but that would imply a prior end to it, which is not true. I think about pining on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and then on the other days I think about youthful friendship, lying about one’s identity, how much time can pass before two people cease to understand each other, whether things can ever return to the previous state of affairs after a catastrophe happens, Nihuang also, and the inherent intimacy of overthrowing the sitting emperor. By then it’s usually Monday again.

Lin Chen & Xiao Jingyan (Nirvana in Fire) – non-romantically. Actually, I recently read the devastating LIN CHEN HITS THE CROWN PRINCE WITH HIS FIST on ao3 by troubleinmind and now I can’t stop thinking about post-canon possibilities. I just care a lot about the people MCS leaves behind, I care a lot about how they relate to each other, and a portion of my brain is always, to some extent, thinking about where the characters are supposed to go after everything happens. Sigh.

Adachi & Kurosawa (Cherry Magic) – This show was so fun and low-tension, which are not words that usually describe the media I consume. However, I deeply enjoy the explicit and implicit negotiations of intimacy that happen between Adachi and Kurosawa, seeing them relate in non-romantic settings, and also the lighthearted domesticity.

Last song: I feel like this could be answered a couple of different ways. What was the last song that reached my ears? Brutus by The Buttress (trying it out). Last song I added to my Spotify? A live recording of Ophelia by The Lumineers. A song I’ve been listening to on repeat lately? The first part of Janáček’s Sinfonietta (TIMPANIS, BABY). Last song that made me unhinged? Trumpet Creeper by Ahn Ye Eun.

Last movie: I don’t... remember? Pretty sure it was Big Eden, which is a comfort movie for me. I’m not really a movies person, though, I much prefer parceling out my time in 45-minute bursts. It’s about that sweet, sweet sense of control!  

Currently watching: Oh boy. I am partway through a Nirvana in Fire rewatch but it is taking a while due to gifmaking thoughts. Also if I go too quickly, the knives overwhelm me and I need to rest on the floor. Very technically, I am also watching Vincenzo but the honeymoon is over. I think I got stuck somewhere around episode 15, saw spoilers that I did not enjoy, reflected more thoroughly on what I already disliked, and quietly x’d out of Netflix. Nevertheless, I shall finish what I started! Very, very, VERY technically, I am still watching Killing Eve but also got stuck after season 1. My sister and I are about to start Word of Honor, so prepare thine dash.

Currently reading: The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin (heavy on the physics and light on me understanding anything, but I needed a palate cleanser). The Langya List by Hai Yan (with the readalong group! Liking it very much so far). A self-help book (partially for me and partially to try out for clients... I hate that self-help books are so accurate with so few citations. Where are your sources, bestie? I want them. Give. Sharing is caring). There’s a literary journal that I keep tucked in my bag for waiting in lines and such. Bite-sized, portable, very nice.

[grumfield]

Sorry ur getting so many asks about ur comic on MDZS/CQL! I hope it cools down for you! (It is very funny though though and I love ur expressions throughout!) But since it seems like you've been reading a lot of novels since then any recommendations for me since I just started? (please note I need an english translation)

Yeah it’s a little bit much haha. But hopefully it’ll cool down. AND I WOULD LOVE TO REC YOU NOVELS I LOVE RECCING NOVELS

My absolute favorite is 2ha / Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Do not be fooled by the title like I was! This is not a cute fluffy story—this is a 311 chapter long angst-filled redemption novel with a complicated plot and even more complex characters. It’s honestly such a treat and I would give anything to relive reading it again for the first time. Filled with plot twists, dark content, humor, redemption, and a REALLY really good couple.

The novel begins with the main character killing himself. His name? Mo Ran (aka) Taxian-Jun, evil emperor of the cultivation world who basically went insane after the death of his unrequited crush Shi Mei (who is NOT the love interest) and razed sects to the ground, and killed thousands of people. He truly is absolutely horrible and irredeemable. The only one who ever stood up to him was his Shizun Chu Wanning—the man he hated most and blames for his crush’s death—but eventually, after Taxian-Jun imprisoned chu wanning and took out all his hatred out on him (this is where most of the dark material in the book comes from) he died too. And now, all alone and ruling the world, Taxian-Jun gets sick of it all and commits suicide, and then...is reborn into his 15 year old body, before his unrequited love dies. Mo Ran takes this rebirth as an opportunity to prevent the tragedy to come...but of course, not everything goes as planned. First: someone else has been reborn too, and they have their own agenda, and now the original timeline is getting fucked up. Second: Mo Ran comes to realize that everything he thought about Chu Wanning is completely wrong, and he realizes that Chu Wanning, despite his cold exterior, actually would do anything protect him and his other disciples.

REALLY WELL CRAFTED STORY. Favorite couple. Love the themes of redemption, because the main character really is insufferable at the beginning but comes back from that hard and you end up loving him. Nice smexy scenes. Loving couple, really tender. Uses food as a love language. They are very horny.

I cried very, very hard reading it. Like. Harder than I ever have with media. It has a happy ending though!

BE AWARE THAT THERE IS DARK MATERIAL IN THIS THO, AND READ THE WARNINGS.

Some other ones I liked:

Since you’re new, if you haven’t read the novels by the same author as MDZS, I highly recommend them, as you’ll probably enjoy them.

These are Scum Villain’s Self Saving System (mc gets transmigrated into the body of a villain from a trashy harem book and is intent on not dying so he is nice to the novel’s protagonist...which makes the protagonist fall in love with him.)

The second is Heaven Official’s Blessing, the story of Xie Lian, a god who’s ascended and descended out of godhood many times as he solves problems, and his love interest Hua Cheng, a very powerful demon. Nonlinear story with 800 years of pining.

Little Mushroom

It’s like if No.6 and Annihilation had a baby. It’s a post apocalyptic “organic” sci-fi. The main character is a mushroom who infected a human body, which is classified as “heterogenous”. The love interest is a man called the Judge whose job is to kill heterogenous organisms. It follows their relationship development in a world that tearing apart at the seams, as they learn to trust in humanity. Happy ending!

To Rule in a Turbulent World

Historical novel! Spoiled and rich young master saves the life of a Quanrong slave, and the two of them get mixed up in a variety of political schemes, while also doing things like irrigating crops and stuff. There’s a particularly good spicy scene in the 3rd chapter that I quite like. It’s a fun read, with a happy ending!

Golden Stage

Historical novel! Enemies to lovers Arranged marriage! What’s not to like. The main character is a young war hero left crippled by an ambush, and the ML is a guy who’s basically a court lackey for the emperor. They’re constantly at odds after a falling out in their youth, and are seen as enemies. That has to change though, once the main character is sent back home, for a variety of political reasons that actually make sense, the mc is set to be married to the ML. They’re a really cute doting couple, and are also very strong and intelligent.

Qiang Jin Jiu

Historical novel! Heavy on the politics and plot. Shen Zechuan is the son of the leader of an attempted rebellion, and is set to basically be a prisoner for life. The ML, Xiao Chiye, is a military general (I think) who, upon seeing the mc...immediately kicks him in the stomach and renders the Mc an invalid. It’s a very fun political book with an awesome couple who’s always at each other’s throats.

If you want any more recs let me know! I’d be happy to oblige.