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#this was very quickly done (for a full color thing)
tariah23 · 9 days
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One of the main reasons why I used to avoid Isekai’s, and fantasy works in general, like the plague is because of how over saturated they’d become with things that didn’t feel like they even belonged to the genre to begin with… it’s not too hard to find works that stand out but so much of those works have been pushed down and forgotten, it just sucks.
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rogueddie · 4 months
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It takes Steve an embarassingly long moment to realise that the spray isn't doing anything. He tries shaking it… nothing. He even checks by spraying it on his hand, shaking it again. Nothing.
He tries listening as he shakes it again and, though he's sure there's some product still left inside, nothing will come out.
He reluctantly throws it in the little trash can, just next to the toilet door. He doesn't bother rooting through the draws or cabinets either; he'd used the last of his emergency powder kit yesterday. There's nothing left.
He huffs, folding his arms, glaring at his reflection. Specifically at the very overgrown, bright blond roots of his hair.
It brings up the same anxiety he's been having for the past month. It's taken him a long time to save up for his usual hairdressers. He hadn't thought it would take so long but, with the kids and now Robin and Eddie, it shouldn't be that surprising.
Robin often pays a good chunk for things too, often paying him gas money, but it's usually him paying for everything. And now that he's paying rent in his own little appartment? He's not often left with that much at the end of the month.
He's starting to think it's not worth the trip. But he isn't going to start using box dye or anything cheap. He's spent a long time taking care of his hair, spent just as long struggling to find the right products too.
He doesn't even care that the kids and Robin mock him for it, he has great hair and, screw it, he's proud. He's not going to damage it by getting bad hair dye.
He's already booked his next hairdresser appointment for the next day, already saved up gas money too. He might as well ask for bleach instead, go back to his natural color and save himself from anymore days with overgrown roots.
He almost regrets the idea when he gets to work.
"Holy shit, you're a natural blond?" Robins grin looks almost painful with how wide it is. She's a little too excited for his comfort. "I don't know how I didn't guess before. This explains so much. How have you kept this hidden for so long? It's so light!"
"Don't you have work to do?" He bats her hand away when she, again, reaches for his hair.
"Not anymore. Why do you dye it? How did it grow out so much? When did you start hiding it? Did someone pressure you into it? They didn't make fun of you, did they? Because I will hunt them down and-"
"No one made me dye it or bullied me into it," he huffs. He can feel his attempt at a cool demeaner soften with how quickly she jumps to his defense. "I just... I never liked it. I don't think it suits me. Brunettes are cute."
"Are you dyeing it again?"
"Probably not. The hairdresser I go to isn't exactly cheap."
"You can get box dye at-"
"I'm not using box dye."
"It's not that bad, and if you really hate the blond-"
Steve swats at her when she reaches for his hair again. With a heavy sigh, he braces himself for the shift full of questions and jokes of 'betrayal'.
Like he suspected, they don't get much work done.
When Eddie comes in, towards the end of their shift, Steve is almost relieved.
"Stop bullying him without me," Eddie complains.
"Thank you," Steve says, whilst Robin boos. "What is it tonight? Movie night with Wayne or some of the kids?"
But Eddie is frozen, staring at his hair.
"I think he's broken," Robin says after a pause.
"You're blond?" Eddie blinks. "When did you go blond?"
"Always have been," Steve shrugs. "Just... not dyeing it anymore."
"Oh."
Steve and Robin stare at him. They share a glance after a moment.
"You here for a movie?" Steve asks.
"What? Me? No, I- just stopping by. And you're... yeah. I'm gonna- I've got to go. Wayne is waiting and... you know. Bye."
He turns around and practically runs out the store. His wheels squeal a little as he drives out, most likely breaking the speed limit.
"Did he just..." Robin starts, trailing off with a frown.
"Unbelievable," Steve shakes his head. "Just when I give up, he realizes that he likes me too! What the hell, Bob. Is he only into blonds or something?"
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agustdiv1ne · 6 months
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taehyun as the nerd in your psychology class who gets hard watching you put on your lip gloss- 😳
AJKAKDKSKFJJWJFHS ADA. ADAAAAA. ok i am so sane i am so normal i am so sane and normal and AHHHH-
(MDNI!!!!)
taehyun sits across from you in lecture, glasses perched on high on his nose and always clothed in comfortable hoodies and jeans. his seat gives him a perfect view of you, the person who he's had a perverted little crush on since the very beginning of the semester. you're pretty, okay? smart too, always answering the professor's questions when you can and diligently taking notes every class without fail, the end of your pen placed primly between your parted lips.
those lips are fucking sinful, he thinks. they're plump and just oh so kissable, lip gloss never not applied — lip gloss that he's weirdly obsessed with. he likes watching it glint under the lights of the lecture hall whenever you speak, your voice a siren song in his ears as his cock twitches below the table he sits at. he wants to see that lip gloss smeared across your face while you're under him writhing with unadulterated pleasure. he wants to feel it the sticky liquid against his own lips, his neck, everywhere. what do you taste like? he bets you taste sweet, maybe like bubblegum or cotton candy or something fruity, if the pink color gracing your lips is anything to go by.
you're just about done answering the professor's question (something about freud, he isn't really paying attention at the moment) when your hand brandishes his favorite thing in the world: a tube full of that pink sticky stuff that he adores. with one last smile, your fingers untwist the tube and apply some more gloss to your lips, and taehyun's cock fully hardens below the table, a very obvious tent in his pants. fuck. right now, really?
yet he still can't bring himself to wrench his wanting gaze from your lips, taking in how they smack together a couple times and quirk into a small smile as you look at him — wait, you're looking at him. and down to his lap, and back up to his face.
oh. oh, no.
you're openly ogling his boner with a surprised, almost humored smile, eyes not leaving him as he shrinks into himself a little, his panicky hands shoving his hoodie over his lap. he's been caught, there's no way you don't think he's weird now. shit. squriming in his seat, he shoves his hood over his head, hunches over the table, and starts taking rapid notes, not looking back at you for the rest of the class.
although he tries his best to avoid you after class, you manage to catch him before he can leave his seat. with an air of confidence, you introduce yourself, your stray gaze passing over his lap. he gulps, offering his name, which causes you to smile. there goes that lip gloss again, shining, taunting him. he wants to cum on them, mix his white cum into that sheer pink — shit, stop thinking about that. think about freud. yeah, frued and his vomit-inducing contributions to psychology. yeah, perfect.
"hello?" you call, waving a hand in front of face. his eyes blink back into focus, finding yours again. "i asked if you wanna study together sometime?" you're biting your lip, looking hopeful. playful now, almost.
"yeah, that sounds great," he replies just as confidently, though every single drop is fake. inside, he's shaking like a leaf at the thought of the two of you alone together, how close you would be. so when you smile and give him your number, hitting him with a giddy, "bye, taehyun! see you thursday!" as you scurry off, he's left sitting there almost dumbfounded. his cock is still hard beneath his hoodie, but it seems as if everyone has vacated the lecture hall now, no sign of life anywhere. maybe, maybe...
he nearly moans aloud at the feeling of relief, his jeans quickly unzipped so he can grope himself harder. his eyes remain on the door as he continues. shit, he shouldn't be doing this. what if he gets caught? but it feels so fucking good, thinking about you and your pretty fucking lip gloss, imagining those lips around him as he fucks your throat. groaning, he whispers a curse out into the quiet air, a purr of your name. fuck, baby, feels so good.
too good. he really can't stop now, hand pumping his cock so fast that he fears his arm may cramp, messy precum everywhere — but he can risk being a bad student for once in his life, he thinks.
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sunmoonjune · 2 months
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spring tides [like the moon universe]
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pairing: poly!ot8 ateez x fem!oc!reader
warnings: vague mentions of eating disorder, death and torture, scars, ptsd, very fluffy! a lot of comfort! not so dark this time xD I did not proofread this :D
word count: 14.1k
a/n: hello y'all :D I have returned with some LTM for you <;3 This is a oneshot for my like the moon universe! You don't necessarily need to read the series to understand this fic but it definitely helps the immersion and understanding some of the plot points! you can find all chapters of ltm on my masterlist <3
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Seonghwa remembers something in the spring of your third year with Ateez. As he watches you at Jongho’s side, silently offering the guard slices of fruit as he cleans his claymore, Seonghwa recalls that he doesn’t know when your birthday is. 
Jongho is murmuring something about the design of his blade and the engraving along the handle when Seonghwa stands abruptly. The eldest shifts on his feet, brows furrowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip. His lips purse when Jongho questions him. 
“Hwa?” 
The red-haired guard looks up at his partner with a lilt of concern in his voice, hands halting their motion on his blade. Jongho’s dark eyes glint as the fading sun catches the hickory color of his irises. 
“Is there something wrong?” Jongho continues, already shifting to stand to his feet. “Are you alright?”
You rock on your feet, legs stretching as you prepare to stand with Jongho. Your eyes flicker across camp, scanning for whatever has caught Seonghwa’s attention. There’s two swords still strapped to your back and you can nearly feel the cool metal pressing into your skin – a haunting reminder of the terrible things you’ve done with them. The buzz beneath your skin itches with the beginnings of adrenaline, already prepared to stand and defend the two Ateez members at your sides.
Seonghwa lifts his hands and shakes his head to soothe you and Jongho before you can stand. He softly waves his hands to encourage you to sit back onto the carved log beneath you, a wary smile on his lips. 
“No, it’s nothing,” he murmurs, still gnawing at his lip as he finishes. He offers a barely concealed sigh and shakes his head again. “‘M alright, just remembered something.” 
Jongho doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but he settles back onto the floor regardless. His hands return to wiping down his claymore but he doesn’t look away from his partner. 
You share the sentiment, continuing to watch Seonghwa and making note of each creak and scratch that echoes through the camp. You don’t know what startled him, but you’ll be prepared for the next time. The fruit in your hands has made your fingers sticky in the brief moments you spent looking up at Seonghwa rather than cutting the supple treat. 
You don’t mind though. You like slicing fruit for Jongho.  He doesn’t eat enough, you’ve noticed. You’re not quite sure why, but you suppose you don’t quite know how to ask. No matter the reason, it brings you comfort when he continues to take slices of succulent fruit from you as he cleans. He doesn’t look up, simply trusting you to place the pieces into his hands so he can eat without trouble. When you sat beside him that morning with the fruit in your hands, Jongho raised an eyebrow but didn’t mention it. You ate the first few slices before offering them to the wine-haired guard, who accepted them with a small smile. Every so often, he turns slightly, ensuring that you’re continuing to eat as much as he does. 
At one point he tilts his head back, looking up at you with those pretty, boba pearl eyes and opens his mouth slightly. Both his hands are occupied, busy with the intricate care his blade necessitates. With your heart thumping quickly in your chest, you place a slice of fruit on Jongho’s waiting lips and try desperately not to linger on the thought of how full and supple they are. 
“Thanks, love,” he murmurs without looking at you, the words sweet and saccharine in the low timber of his voice. 
Seonghwa laughed when Jongho’s cheeks pinkened after that, but you weren’t really sure why. 
Turning his attention to you, Seonghwa looks down at your figure. Sitting with a slight slump in your shoulders, the spymaster smiles faintly. Slouched posture is a good sign, he muses. You’re comfortable. 
When you tilt your head to the side, silently questioning Seonghwa’s thoughts, you reach up to gingerly grasp his fingers. There’s no hesitation. There hasn’t been in a long while. Seonghwa extends his hand in offering when he notices your appendages twitch. His warmth sinks into your palm and you nearly hum at the soothing feeling. 
You squeeze his hand twice before lingering for a longer third.
‘Are you okay?’ you silently question.
Seonghwa’s lips quirk into another gentle smile, but his eyes are distant. It makes your heart tug painfully. The hickory of his near-black irises is muted. You miss the glimmer of those sweet, dark eyes that show when he smiles. 
“Yeah, m’alright, lovebug.” 
Your heart slams into your ribs – a delighted feeling. Lovebug. You like that. 
Seonghwa leans closer to repeat the gesture, squeezing twice and then lingering for an ‘okay.’ His other hand lifts to run over the back of your head with a delicate movement. Fingers carefully scratch against your scalp and you resist the temptation to lean into his hands and exhale softly. 
“I have to go see Joong and Yunho, though. I really did just remember something I wanted to speak to ‘em about,” he whispers. Dragging his nails gently over the nape of your neck once more, Seonghwa smiles when you finally lean into his touch with a quiet rumble. He thinks you look positively cat-like. When one set of lashes flutters against your cheek in a tired, pleased expression, Seonghwa could coo at the endearing look. He withholds only to save you the embarrassment of his mother-hen tendencies. 
Your one eye flickers over his expression once more before you relent and nod your head just once. Seonghwa’s hand begins to pull away from your head, and this time you do make a tiny sound of sadness. The eldest feels his heart squeeze at your reluctance to be parted from him, leaning close to drag his thumb over the stiff material of your mask with a sweet touch before he stands upright once more. 
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay? You and Jongho finish up and join us for dinner soon.” 
You let out a short exhale through your nose, a sound they’ve taken to signify your agreement. Jongho’s lips twitch at the noise, trying to hold back the laugh he wants to let out. 
“Okay,” you whisper softly beneath your breath as you lean back against the back of the log. Seonghwa smiles and finally shifts his stance to leave, only pressing a gentle kiss to Jongho’s brow before walking off. Your head tilts one last time as Seonghwa leaves, wondering if perhaps one day he’ll kiss your head too when he takes his leave. 
The archer finds Yunho before Hongjoong. The tallest of Ateez is easy to collect when Seonghwa gives him a meaningful look. The tension in the eldest’s brow must convince Yunho that there is something important he is needed for because he immediately follows after Seonghwa. The two find themselves in the Captain’s cavern, his and Seonghwa’s really, standing before the long-haired leader with a small frown on the archer’s lips. 
Hongjoong mimics the frown, coming to a stand behind the desk currently holding a plethora of worn maps. 
“What’s wrong?” 
Seonghwa sighs, squeezing his fists together before he turns to face Yunho with a solemn expression. 
“When’s her birthday?” 
Yunho’s brow quirks at the same time the tension in his shoulders finally loosens a notch. Sighing softly, he licks his lips and answers.
“Tiny’s?” 
Seonghwa nods, the expression on his face unchanging: serious and solemn, as if the situation was as grave as a wake. Hongjoong glances between the two men, his brow now lifted in surprise, but he says nothing. 
“It’s been three years since she’s been with us,” Seonghwa murmurs tersely. “But we haven’t celebrated her birthday. The first year I could understand missing it – I mean, she was still adjusting to Ateez, and even after that she’s still a little apprehensive. Not that I blame her, of course – I just… It’s been three full years and I can’t believe we’ve missed her birthday at least three times.” 
Yunho’s bottom teeth sink into his lip and his eyes suddenly dart towards the floor. He swallows once, shifting on his feet and sighs as he ponders how to answer Seonghwa’s question. The eldest watches his partner with that same, tense look and his eyes glisten with something sad – something understanding, as if he knows Yunho’s answer before he speaks it aloud. 
“I don’t know,” Yunho finally answers quietly. He looks down at his feet, unable to meet his elder’s eyes. His eyes squeeze shut with another sigh that shakes through his shoulders. He repeats himself louder, still just barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.” 
Hongjoong steps forward from behind his desk. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” 
“I mean I don’t know,” Yunho whispers sadly. “And she doesn’t either.” 
Seonghwa licks his lips, grasping at strings as he scrambles to find the right words to say. 
“I don’t understand. How can she not know her own birthday?” 
Yunho won’t look up from his feet. His fingers curl into fists and the tips of his nails dig into his palms from the tightness of his grip. He can’t bring himself to loosen his hold. 
“Tiny, uh… After everything that happened with her – with that village, they don’t particularly regard her… fondly, you know?” 
Yunho speaks slowly and methodically, as if trying carefully to pick the right words to say. His tone is terse and cold, the disdain for the village of his past more than evident in his voice. Hongjoong looks up at his partner with a frown still on his lips, his heart pulsing sadly in his chest. 
“But she doesn’t know her own birthday? No one in her village told either of you?”
Yunho sighs again, finally looking up at his Captain with grief plastered across his features in an expression neither man can ignore. Seonghwa is already stepping forward, settling an arm over Yunho’s shoulders and rubbing his thumb across the taller man’s jaw. 
Yunho leans closer to Seonghwa and continues, voice deep and throaty with the weight of his words. “We celebrated it once. Back when we were young – back when… Daia was still around.” 
Hongjoong looks away. 
“But even then,” Yunho continues softly, trying not to think of the bony cage casting shadows of your quivering form. You were so young. Little fingers grasped the cold bars that separated him from you, desperately whispering a plea for him to leave. He should have known your father wouldn’t let you celebrate your birthday like he and the other children did. But the smile on your face was so pure, so genuinely happy that he could never utter the words that may wipe it away. 
 “We didn’t know the exact date – just that she was born in the spring. Her father… well he killed the attendants that assisted her mother through labor. Not that we could prove it, of course. Anyone around for Bug’s birth… isn’t around anymore. And Bug was raised kind of secluded the first few years of her life. No one knows exactly when she was born and her father certainly wouldn’t say.” 
Seonghwa’s eyes continue to glisten with that broken look, and he licks his drying lips before he speaks. His heart throbs painfully, echoing the sadness in his face.. “And… after Daia wasn’t around anymore?” 
Seonghwa hates that he asks. 
Yunho shifts on his feet and looks away again. 
“I, uh… I don’t know much of what happened after Daia…” he trails off for a long moment. “By that time, the village and her father turned their backs on Bug, and I… I was exiled a few years later.” 
Seonghwa thumbs over Yunho’s jaw again, trying to soothe his lover’s agony. Hongjoong steps closer and lays his hand across Seonghwa’s back, their combined sadness near tangible in the cavern hall. 
“Bug’s birthday…” Yunho finally continues. “She’s never seen it as a good thing, you know? Her father and the village certainly didn’t see it that way.” 
Seonghwa’s eyes sadden, the shine of his irises dulling at Yunho’s confession. He turns over his shoulder to look at Hongjoong and presses his lips together, as if regretting bringing up the topic altogether. 
“A good thing?” Hongjoong whispers. 
Yunho shakes his head, his frown dragging down his lips as he breathes softly. “Not something worth celebrating. The day she was born was… the start of everything bad, I guess.” 
Seonghwa’s eyes squeeze shut, the burn of tears forcing pressure to build in the corners. 
“Sometimes I think,” Yunho whispers tiredly, his eyes cloudy and unfocused as he stares into the distance. “I think she might hate it; that she might despise the day of her birth because of all the pain that came after.”
Hongjoong takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to soothe the anguish that swells inside his ribs. There’s grief there, rage too, settling in the pit of his stomach and pushing upwards into his chest and throat. It’s not directed at you – it could never be. It’s towards your father, towards your village, towards anyone that has looked at you with disdain and uttered that foul moniker he knows makes you flinch. 
“I’m sorry, Yun.” 
Yunho shakes his head, leaning into Seonghwa’s hand and looking down at Hongjoong with his eyes glistening with welling tears. He swallows, clearly resisting the urge to cry, and kisses Seonghwa’s thumb when it brushes his mouth. “‘S okay, Seonghwa. I know your intentions were honorable.” 
Seonghwa nods, finally leaning forward until his head rests against Yunho’s collarbone. An arm wraps around the eldest’s shoulders and Hongjoong presses himself against Seonghwa’s back, encasing both him and Yunho. 
“So don’t bring up her birthday, then?” Hongjoong whispers, frown still drawing his lips downward. He speaks the question into Seonghwa’s shoulder blade, his lips grazing the tunic covering his skin. 
Yunho is silent for a long moment. No one speaks and the sounds of their hushed breaths are all that echo through the hollowed cavern. Yunho ponders his Captain’s question in the silence and thinks of your growth in the years you’ve spent in their camp. Would you rather they never mention your birthday again? Or would you appreciate a different kind of memory to replace the shaded pains of the ones long past?
Soon after, Yunho leans forward to bury his face into Seonghwa’s hair before he breathes deeply and pulls back, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. He thinks of you and that youthful grin that used to grace your lips more often as a child. Yunho recalls the mischief in your smile and the wonder that would flash across your eyes, and he begins to twist an idea around his thoughts. It’s that look he wants to see again. He always wants to see it; the mischief, the awe, the teasing grin you used to throw over your shoulder to get him to chase you through the training grounds. He wants that so badly. 
“Actually, Captain…” 
Hongjoong peels his head away from Seonghwa’s shoulder, looking up to meet Yunho’s eyes with a raised brow and a question in his eyes. “Hmm?”
Yunho finally manages a fraction of a smile, stroking his hand over Seonghwa’s shoulders as he speaks. 
“I think there might be a way we can show her that her birth is something worth celebrating. I’ll need your help though.” 
“Anything.” 
“Anything for her,” Seonghwa finishes at the same time Hongjoong speaks. 
Yunho’s heart swells. The soft grin on his features begins to stretch, mirrored by his two elders. Pride begins to surge beneath his skin and it makes him feel fuzzy. 
“What do you need?” Hongjoong whispers into the fraction of space separating their lips. Yunho huffs a smile, leaning closer until his mouth brushes against his leader’s. 
“How do you feel about a little trip, Captain?” 
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Time passes easily. About a week goes by after the conversation between you, Jongho and Seonghwa before Hongjoong announces that Ateez will be spending a few nights traveling away from camp. He won’t say where they’re traveling to nor why they’re going, but there’s a mischievous grin on his lips when you tilt your head in suspicion. No one will tell you anything about the adventure other than handing you a cloth pack to gather some things for the trip. 
Mingi helps you clean your blades and slides them into the scabbards on your back for you. Seonghwa packs food away carefully and slides extra servings of dried and cured meats into your pack followed by the fruit he knows you and Jongho love. San and Yeosang sit by your side as you help sort the first aid supplies the camp may need. The inky vines wrapping around Yeosang’s forearms flashes from beneath his sleeves, and you find yourself following the sight of the tattoo each time you peek a glimpse of golden skin covered in leafy shapes. 
San laughs and raises an eyebrow at his lover when he flicks his shirt above his waistband playfully, showcasing the span of scales descending over his hip and up his waist. He giggles when you reach forward to pull his shirt higher over his side, eager to follow the lines of ink up his torso. San pushes your hands away and promises to show you one day. Wooyoung enters the cavern a moment later and exchanges a knowing look with San, as if the same pattern of obsidian scales crawls up the opposite side of his own torso. 
On the morning Hongjoong announced their leave, you pack the last of your things diligently in the cloth pack given to you. There’s something fond rippling through your chest as you slide a hand over the large tunic laid across your bed. 
The sensation seeps all the way down to your toes, a bittersweet happiness that arose from the realization that you’ve never… owned things before. 
In that village, nothing was ever yours. It was always stolen or taken, never owned. 
But now… 
Now there’s all kinds of things in your corner of the medical cavern. There’s the little rope of twine with eight little beads Yeosang gave you to fiddle with so you wouldn’t pick and pull at your nails. There’s the bear-hide blanket Jongho handmade when you started to grow cold in the winter nights. A pile of spare clothes tailored to fit your size sits beneath your bed. A hollowed shell of smooth, rich cream sits beside you, specially made for you by Wooyoung and San when they noticed your scars were particularly aching in the cold weather. There’s a whetstone and cleaning tools beside your swords, left there by Mingi when he noticed your blades were dulling. Seonghwa always leaves a myriad of flowers beside your bed each week, and the dried stems of all his past bouquets hang above your on a piece of twine Joong brought you. There’s armor and chainmail beneath your bed, presented by Hongjoong with a shy smile. He cleans them for you when he thinks you’re not looking, ensuring the armor stays in good shape and protects you well. One of Yunho’s thicker tunics lies at the foot of your bed, a staple of your growing closet of clothes. He knows you like having his scent nearby. There’s books too, ones from the medical cavern and ones from Wooyoung, who you’ve discovered is quite the avid reader. 
There’s just… all sorts of things. 
And you’ve never really owned things before. It’s strange. And quite enjoyable, you decide.
You like owning things. You like being part of Ateez – being part of a family. 
With your lips twitching upwards into a fond smile, you stand with the last of your belongings and slide the straps of your cloth pack over your shoulders. It sits a little strangely on your back but you huff and step out of the cavern anyway. 
The rest of Ateez is already outside, shuffling the last of their belongings into storage and closing up the cave system behind you. A wooden sort of door slides shut behind you and the viny, earthen cover falls over it. It’s perfectly concealed from the wild, appearing just like any other cropping of rocks and stone. You marvel at their ingenuity and turn to find Wooyoung approaching you with a smile on his lips. 
“Good morning, Bug. Are you ready?” 
Your head tilts with a question as Wooyoung’s hands shift upwards to the straps of your pack. He raises a brow once, always asking for permission before he touches, and you shift closer and slide your hands onto his hips with a nod of your head. Wooyoung’s smile seems to widen, if at all possible, and he carefully begins to adjust the straps of your pack so it sits better across your back. Your gaze follows his hands, tracing over the fading scar on his one wrist – the space where a rusty shackle used to sit. Your lips quirk happily at the sight of the missing metal cuff, now long buried in the earth. He hums happily at the feeling of your hands on his waist, and chuckles beneath his breath when he feels your hands attempting to weasel under his shirt – likely another attempt to get a look at the tattoo you know sits there. 
Wooyoung huffs a breath as you skate a gentle hand over his bare hip, focusing on the wavy shape of an oscillating line your draw over his skin. He translates the word as ‘what’ and understands your inquisition to mean ‘Ready for what?’ 
“Can’t tell you,” he laughs, his chest shaking with the motion as you squeeze his hip in retaliation. “Sorry, baby. Captain’s orders; take it up with Hongjoong if you want to know so badly.” 
Your one eye rolls and Wooyoung laughs again, that bright, cackling sound echoing through the trees in a burst of noise that makes your heart flutter. You like Wooyoung’s laugh. 
“C’mon you two!” Hongjoong calls from a distance, already beginning to pace towards the southwest. “We’re burning daylight. Let’s get moving.” 
You respond with a choked hum despite knowing your Captain can’t hear it. Wooyoung grins, finally satisfied with the adjustments he’s made on your pack, and turns over his shoulder to call back, “We’re coming, Captain. Relax a little. It’s barely dawn, we’re on schedule.” 
You don’t need to see Hongjoong to know what expression the Captain has on his face. A tiny smile appears on your lips and when Wooyoung turns back to face you with a hand held out in offering, his grin beams once more. 
“C’mon, baby. You wanna walk with me and Sannie today?” 
Your answering nod is a little too eager, but Wooyoung doesn’t mention it. 
To you, anyway. The smug grin he shoots over his shoulder at Mingi and Yunho is met with a sigh and an eye roll. The vulgar gesture Mingi throws back goes unseen by you too. 
Seonghwa sees it though, and the sound of Mingi’s squawk when he’s slapped across the shoulder by the archer makes Wooyoung laugh again. 
It’s springtime. The forest is filled with bright shades of emerald green and flowers have begun to sprout along patches of sunlight. Lupin tickle at your ankles when you pass and you watch their lilac and lavender petals sway in the wind with a fond expression. Your last bouquet from Seonghwa was fresh Lupin flowers, a growing favorite of yours he has noticed. 
Wooyoung holds your hand as you walk, sometimes shifting to allow San to take his place. They talk happily as you stride through the forest, following Yeosang and Jongho as they lead your band of warriors through the trees. You still don’t know where you’re going nor why you’re going there, but you trust your Captain and you trust your family. 
Eventually, you unlink your hands from San to step ahead and walk besides Mingi and Yunho. San’s resounding pout and soft sigh are lost on you, but Wooyoung slides his hand into his partner’s empty fingers with a grin and a teasing poke to San’s side. Mingi intertwines his fingers with yours with a beaming grin and a happy chuckle, swinging your hands between you as you walk. He points out the flora and fauna he recognizes along the hike, explaining their uses as he recalls Yeosang’s teachings. He mentions the honey-haired healer’s tattoo sleeve of medicinal herbs and shows you some of the plants he recognizes to be inked into Yeosang’s skin. You eagerly categorize the leaves and petals of each plant, hoping that you’ll one day be able to find each one decorating Yeosang’s skin. 
The first night away from camp is spent sleeping beneath the stars. 
Your group of nine lays huddled together in a clearing in the pines, with a small fire burning quietly in the center for warmth. Shifts for watch are assigned and you find yourself curling between Yunho and San that night with a promise to take the final watch with Seonghwa. With cicadas clicking in the distance and a cool breeze rustling the branches above you, you find sleep easy that night. Strangely enough, despite resting out in the open with no cover around, you find you can sleep calmly. Nestled between your Yunho and your San, their body heat keeping you warm even underneath the fur blankets swaddled around you, you feel safe enough to sink into a well-earned sleep. You know the others will wake you if there’s trouble lurking about. They would never let anything happen to their family. 
The next day is spent between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, happily listening to their stories and eagerly nudging the both of them to show you some of the ink decorating their skin. Once you found out about Yeosang’s tattoos, there was nothing holding you back from asking the others about their own. Seonghwa relents with a teasing grin towards Hongjoong, showing you the pattern of large scales that crawl up his forearms. You trace the delicate scales with a happy sound, not noticing the shiver that crawls down Seonghwa’s spine. Hongjoong rolls his eyes at his partner, but he almost wishes to show you the ink decorating his back and spine too. He only waves you away with a laugh when you turn to him with a tilt of your head and a happy question on your lips. 
That night you sleep between Yeosang and Jongho, one of your legs wedged between the youngest’s and your hand clumsily intertwined between the healer’s fingers. This time, the nine of you settle in a cliff alcove, sheltered from the fog and the light drizzle of rain that spatters through the forest around midnight. 
There’s no telling how far you’ve traveled from Ateez’s hollow. It’s been two days of mostly hiking and stopping for breaks and meals, but you’ve long grown used to strenuous labor so the walk is not nearly as difficult as you once thought it to be. You still have little to no knowledge on your destination as your Captain is tight-lipped about the matter. He only gives you soft smiles and quiet laughter when you nag him about where or why you’ve left camp. 
On the third and last day of your long journey, you walk between Yeosang and Jongho at the front of your pack. The two have been leading you for three days, seeming to know the way without needing a map or compass. Every once and a while, Yeosang looks up at the night sky and lifts a hand to palm at the stars. You understand he must be checking your position, ensuring that they’re still on the right path, but you don’t ask. You find Polaris winking down at you each night with a fondness in your chest, and you give her a gentle, barely-there smile each time you see her. 
The healer and his partner pace through the trees with newfound urgency that morning. The two members eagerly shuffle through the trees with beaming grins and an energy that you cannot help but mimic. They’re excited about something – unfathomably so. 
“We’re almost there, honey,” Yeosang encourages you, holding out a hand to help you scale the final boulder before you begin your descent back down the mountainside. “Just another mile or so, I promise.”
You trust him. 
The others have begun to feed on the buzzing atmosphere building in the group. There’s tension simmering, but a good kind, as if there’s something awaiting your family at your destination. You don’t know what it is, but it must be something good if they’re eagerly beginning to quicken the pace. 
Soon after you begin your descent down the small mountain, the dense foliage of pine trees and packed soil gives way to something softer – something you’ve never quite seen or felt before. It’s pliable and squishy beneath your feet, allowing your weight to sink into the material with each step. It leaves footprints in your wake, the ground shifting and moving beneath your feet. 
Sand. 
It’s sand. 
You know it’s sand because Yeosang has some collected in a small jar in the medical cavern. You’ve never seen it before: sand or the sea. You found the tiny bottle of eroded stone once and carefully examined it with a puzzled expression until Yeosang found you. The miniscule grains of rock and shell shifted in the bottle as Yeosang explained where it was from. 
You listened to him for hours that day. 
He talked about the sea and his life as a captain of his own ship from the hour of the sun’s peak until it descended beneath the horizon. You were fascinated. Eagerly hanging onto every single one of his words, you listened to Yeosang with a rapture you couldn’t describe. He spoke of the ocean and the smell of salt in the fresh air, mentioning that there was a particular hint of something so ocean-like in the scent that he couldn't begin to describe. Yeosang described the sand and the shore, detailing how the plush sand like the stuff in his bottle gave way to harder packed ground the closer you grew to the sea. He talked of how it felt to play in the waves and to feel the cool touch of the ocean on his skin. 
You marveled at him for hours, longing desperately to one day know the smell he spoke of, to feel the ocean breeze tickle your skin and to feel its waves brush against your feet. 
It sounded wonderful. 
So when the sand beneath your feet begins to thicken, giving way to clumsier footsteps and the sound of something roaring in the distance, you perk upwards. 
Your entire body slams to a halt, startling San who walks behind you. Jerking upwards, your one eye darts over to Yeosang, who stands with Jongho at his side, already looking at you. There’s this look in their eyes; something fond and gentle – an expression you’ve begun to recognize. They watch you as you begin to piece together the information you’ve gathered of this little trip, smiles on their faces as you realize where they’ve taken you. 
At your side, San begins to bend forward, his hands reaching out to pull at the laces of your boots and chuckling beneath his breath. You reach out to stabilize yourself on his shoulder as you make a sound of confusion. 
‘What’s going on?’ you try to question without speaking.
At your back, Yunho runs a hand down your spine and soothes the tension in your shoulders. You reach back, grasping his hand with a strength that surprises you and draw that oscillating squiggle across the back of his hand with a bewildered expression. 
‘What’s happening?’ 
There’s another word you want to say. One you don’t have a translation for. A word you’ve never spoken or seen. 
Ocean. The sea. 
You don’t have a word for it. 
But you can smell it now. That salty, fresh sort of scent with a hint of something you cannot place. Just like Yeosang described. 
The sea. 
San taps your leg, garnering your attention and helping you lift your foot so you can place it on his knee. He’s kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up to lift your foot and the other in the sand beneath him. The healer pulls at your laces, beginning to untie your shoes and pull them from your feet with a grin. 
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs with that low timber that makes you shiver. “Let’s get these off.”
Your held tilts in confusion. Seonghwa chuckles behind you, leaning into Mingi’s side and shooting a look over at Wooyoung. “Gotta take your shoes off unless you want sand in the soles, Bug. It’ll be a pain to walk back with all that in ‘em. I promise you’ll never be able to get it all out.” 
Hongjoong laughs from beside Jongho, the Captain throwing his head back with a knowing grin. “Speaking from experience, huh, darling?” 
Seonghwa rolls his eyes and ignores his lover, dropping a hand to intertwine with Wooyoung’s. The younger eagerly locks their fingers together, smiling happily and leaning his head onto Seonghwa’s shoulder as you process everything. 
The others begin to pull off their own shoes, tying them to their packs or holding the laces in their fingers. Mingi laughs and pushes Wooyoung when he bends over to undo his laces, and when Wooyoung stumbles, he shouts indignantly and lurches upwards for revenge. Seonghwa laughs and tries to settle them, only to end up yanked out of the way by a grinning Yeosang. Wooyoung and Mingi screech at each other, beginning to race down the sand towards the roaring sound that continues to swell in the distance. 
You worriedly look down at San, his dark irises already looking up at you with adoration swirling behind them. The healer pulls off your sock and carefully sets your foot back onto the sand, watching as you marvel at the plush, cool material beneath the soles of your feet. 
“C’mon, tiny,” Yunho laughs behind you, chest rumbling as he speaks. The vibration echoes through your back from how close the warrior is pressed against you. He grins when you shiver pleasantly. “We’ve gotta catch up.” 
San lifts your other foot delicately and places it on his waiting knee, repeating the process of taking off your shoe and sock before he ties the laces together and stores them away in his pack. Before he sets your foot back onto the sand, San’s eyes twinkle with something mischievous.
He leans forward and drags his fingers across the skin of your calf, eyes crinkling as he smiles. You look back down at him with your stomach fluttering pleasantly, watching as San leans forward and presses his lips to the side of your calf. 
Oh. 
His lips skate over the muscle and his hand rests where your thigh connects with the knee. You feel your breathing still. Air catches in your lungs, and some burst of emotion lurches into your throat as you stop and stare down at the healer with one widened eye. You can feel the smile on San’s soft lips as he drags his mouth from your calf to your knee, kissing your skin sweetly as he goes. He drifts over scars both fresh and faded, but does not stop moving as he ascends up your calf. San leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake, your skin practically shivering under his touch and lighting ablaze when he pulls away.
Oh. 
You stare open-mouthed at the healer when San finally slides a hand down your leg and deposits it onto the sand. You lick your lips once, trying desperately to come up with words to say, but there’s nothing. Just the trail of blazing heat San left behind and a roaring fire beginning to spread inside your chest. You can practically feel the heat in your face, and you lift a hand to palm at your cheek as San watches with a teasing grin. Your figure practically vibrates as you shiver through the emotion bursting through you. 
“San…” 
Said healer mimics your shiver as you whisper his name, fingers dancing along your calf before he stops. He presses one final kiss to your knee, at the crease of the joint, and this time your eye slides shut with a shiver. The plush feeling of his lips against your skin is ambrosia for your soul and the barest touch of moisture is left behind when he finally pulls away. 
He looks up at you with honey in his irises, hand skating down your calf once more and smiles. 
“C’mon, Bug. We’ve got places to be,” he teases, saccharine timber never failing to make you melt. 
As if he wasn’t the one distracting you. 
Finally, you’re able to squeeze his shoulder thankfully and San beams up at you in the way that makes those sweet little dimples poke out of his cheeks. You nearly lean forward to caress a finger of the indents that make your heart mushy, but still as the cool sand sinks between your toes. 
It’s… soft. 
The sand melts beneath your soles like butter, cradling your heels and caressing your skin like silk. You wiggle your toes and awe at the feeling, watching the sand shift and move with your lips just barely parted in wonder. San watches from your feet, his gentle eyes roaming over your partly-concealed face and grinning at the expression plastered across your features. Your lips are parted, but just barely, taking deep breaths to inhale the fresh air of the sea breeze and one eye dilated with awe. San's heart thumps vibrantly beneath his ribs, a song of your name. It calls out to you sweetly, and San swears that when he runs his hand across the bare skin of your leg, brushing over scars and broken skin, he can hear your heart call his name in return. 
Your one eye darts upwards to meet your Captain’s gaze. 
Hongjoong stares at you with some ineffable softness in his expression. He reaches a hand out to grasp your fingers, helping you step forward away from San. The healer stands from his kneeling position, his own footwear now missing, and joins you at your side. 
“You like it?” Hongjoong whispers as you near. 
The vigorous nod of your head is almost comical, and Hongjoong chuckles beneath his breath. Yes. Yes you like it. 
San beams at your side, unable to stop the mirthful sound of his laughter. It erupts from his chest in that giggling way that you adore. You tilt your head to look at him, your chest swelling and heart thumping with the tumultuous feelings surging within you. San reaches out to run a hand down your arm and you lean close offering a single line of ‘thanks’ across his palm. 
Yunho leans forward and pecks a kiss across your forehead, directly over the mask concealing the right half of your face and then turns to walk after Wooyoung and Mingi, San at his heels. He doesn’t acknowledge the kiss, but your heart jumps into your throat regardless. Your fingers itch to follow him, twitching in an attempt to reach for him, but you turn back to your Captain instead. 
Hongjoong is still looking at you, that ineffable softness still radiating from him. “C’mon, angel. Let’s go see the ocean.” 
You’ve never been more excited. 
Hongjoong begins pulling you in the direction the others have disappeared in, following them over the dunes of sand. At first, he pulls your awestruck figure behind him as you make your way through the deeping sand, turning back to watch you marvel at the grains of white and cream colored grains. Your feet drag, slowing the two of you down as you continue to look down at the sand beneath you. At one point, you can’t resist the temptation and you stop, carefully pulling your hand from Hongjoong’s to bend at the knees and drop into the sand. 
“Woah, angel!” Hongjoong gasps as you let go of his hand and urgently drop into the earth below. “Careful!” 
Dragging your fingers through the silky material, you watch the tiny pieces of sediment cascade back into the hills beneath you as they trail between your fingers. The sand is cool to the touch and gentle as it scratches against your skin. You thought it would be rough, but it’s not. Not this sand anyway. 
Seonghwa chuckles behind you, stopping to drop his hands beneath your shoulders and gently lift you back up to your feet. The others are little specks in the distance, just a few hundred yards away. The eldest carefully sets you on your feet and slides a hand down to intertwine with your own. 
“C'mon, lovebug. We haven’t even reached the good part yet.” 
The good part? You wonder. How could it possibly get any better than this? 
But as the crashing sound gets louder with each step you take and the smell of salt continues to grow stronger, you begin to realize what the good part is. 
Soon after, it becomes you dragging Hongjoong and Seonghwa through the sand dunes. Eagerly tugging them behind you as you race towards the others, you sink into the sand and stumble a few times, only catching yourself when either member scrambles to grab your waist. You push quicker through the deepening sand each time you right yourself, racing through the dunes until you finally see it. 
The sea. 
And you stop moving. 
Hongjoong and Seonghwa nearly crash into your back as you freeze, body halting at the top of the sand dune. Your one eye is transfixed on the view before you, mouth parted and body slack with awe. 
Waves are crashing along the shore, breaking into foamy surf as they collide with the cream-colored sand. There are little birds with thin, long legs dancing in the shoreline, pecking at things in the packed sand. You watch with fascination as they rush away in a flock from an oncoming wave. When the foam finally settles, they return to their feeding grounds, continuing to peck away at something beneath the darker sand. The smell of salt fills your senses and there’s a brush of water against your skin as a breeze carries a mist of salt onto the shoreline. 
You’ve never seen so much… color before. 
The ocean is blue. Green too, and teal and dark and bright, and every color in the range you can possibly think of. It’s aquamarine in the peaks of crashing waves and a darker cyan in the deepness of the salty water. There’s pale blue, creamy skies and even paler cream-colored clouds. You nearly wish you could reach out and touch one. 
It’s wonderful. And it’s so much more than you think you deserve. 
With awe on your features and mouth slightly parted, you stare mystified at the sea before you. Hongjoong steps up beside you, the others starting to circle back to stand nearby. They just stand there… watching you for a minute. 
They watch your one pupil dilate and your expression softens into wonderous glee. Their hands intertwine with each other, fingers squeezing one another and hearts thumping happily in their chests. There’s pride there, and affection too, roaring madly beneath their skin and calling out to the sea with a throaty, triumphant call. 
You like it. You like the sea. 
And they like you. 
Hongjoong slides a hand down your arm until he can gently link your scarred fingers with his own. Your attention briefly shifts away from the sea to look over at your captain. 
His soft brown hair rustles as the sea breeze flutters through the strands, and Hongjoong smiles. Eyes scrunching into a beaming grin, the one that you like so much, he offers a squeeze of your palm. The scar crossing his one eye moves with his expression and you adore the way it looks when he smiles. Chocolate brown irises flicker in the brightness of the sunlight and for a moment, you think you much prefer the color of his eyes than the enchanting blue-green of the sea. 
But it’s tough competition, of course. 
Hongjoong squeezes your hand once more, fully drawing your attention back to him, and he leans close to carefully grasp the side of your face. His palm gently cups your mask, stroking his thumb over the tough material with a delicateness you cannot fathom deserving. But he touches you regardless, even if it's the mask instead of your skin. Hongjoong doesn’t care that you continue to wear it. None of them do. It’s a part of you, and they’ll continue to care for you all the same. 
“Are you happy?” The Captain inquires, licking his lips as he watches you. 
The vigor in your nod nearly makes him laugh. His beaming grin only seems to widen and you find yourself stunned at how beautiful he looks happy. 
“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad you’re happy, angel.” 
You want to ask something else. Something about why your little clan has ventured this far or perhaps something else, but you can’t begin to find the words for it. 
You don’t need to though. 
Hongjoong leans closer, his warm, umber eyes scanning your features as he whispers something only for you to hear. 
“Happy birthday, Bug.” 
You barely register the sentiment before your captain leans forward and gently presses his lips to the crown of your head. 
You don’t breathe. Too frightened that any movement will force him to pull away, you stay remarkably still and stare numbly into Hongjoong’s chest. 
His lips linger for a long moment against your hairline, and you feel the warmth of his exhale against your scalp. The feeling makes your stomach flutter pleasantly and suddenly your body feels like you’re going to vibrate out of sheer enjoyment. Another shiver tickles its way up your spine and you finally exhale shakily. Reaching a hand upwards, you clutch onto the hand Hongjoong has still cupping your cheek. 
Her heart finally throbs with a dull ache. 
Your birthday? 
You didn’t even think… 
Hongjoong exhales softly and bends to drop a second kiss onto your mask, just above where your right eye would be. It throbs suddenly, but not so painfully this time. 
Your birthday. 
They came all this way for you? 
All of this… leaving the camp, walking all this way, spending nights on the road, showing you the sea for the first time… they did this to celebrate your birthday? 
Your heart hurts. 
No one has ever done that for you before. 
You suppose Yunho and Daia tried once… but that didn’t end so well. Salt wells behind your one eye and your lip twitches just once, but it's enough for Hongjoong to catch. Your chest aches with the memory of your mother. It’s a hurt you could never quite soothe. 
The Captain’s smile is still bright when he pulls away but there’s a sadness beneath the joy. No, not sadness, you suppose. Something empathetic – something… bittersweet. 
Hongjoong knows. They all do. 
“My birthday?” Your mouth parts to let out the croaked sound. Your voice has gotten better. The deeper, rough tone of your voice has begun to fade after finally learning to use it again. It’s beginning to return to what it used to be – slow and steadily. 
From behind you, Yeosang hums deeply. You recognize the sound without turning to look at him. His voice always carries that undertone of sweet and smooth honey, and you can’t find any other way to describe it. 
“Yeah, honey. You told me you’ve never seen the sea, right? We thought it would make a good birthday present.” 
The healer is standing behind Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung at his sides and the rest of Ateez just beyond. They’re all here. For you. 
You shift on your feet, barely able to restrain the wetness of your one eye as you attempt to face them. Your heart still throbs, but it’s more of a pleasant ache – a good one. A sea breeze rustles your hair. Three silver rings click against your mask; a comforting sound that reminds you of home – of Yunho. The scent of salt in the air fills you with warmth and the silky sand beneath your feet cradles you in the earth’s gentle hands. The world itself seems to wrap around you in its kindness, delicately embracing you as if asking for forgiveness. 
It feels like your mother – like the hugs you can barely remember. 
The burn of tears returns tenfold. 
You’ve never celebrated your birthday before. It was never a day others regarded with joy, so you supposed it was only fair to see it the same way. You don’t even really know what day you were born. Father never told you – he never told anyone. 
But… perhaps this day – the day Ateez has chosen for you – can be your birthday. Maybe this time it doesn’t have to be a bad thing anymore. 
“We wanted to show you something new. Something good. Do you like it?” Wooyoung whispers as you process your feelings. His voice is apprehensive, as if he isn’t quite sure how you’ll respond to celebrating your birthday. You can barely hear him over the roaring sound of waves colliding with the shoreline and birds peeping in the surf. 
You’re already throwing yourself into Wooyoung’s arms before a moment of silence can pass. You crash into his chest with a crooned sound, a desperate cry of joy. 
“Yes!” You finally croak, the word sounding more like a sob than an agreement. “Yes, I like it!”
Wooyoung laughs happily as he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a joyful sound. His chest vibrates with his laughter and you love the way it feels against your body. One of your hands slides out from between you and you urgently grasp ahold of Yeosang’s shirt and tug him into your pile with a quick movement. San follows soon after, lured in by Wooyoung’s touch and suddenly you’re buried beneath a mountain of Ateez’s warmth. 
Another wet sob leaves your lips, but it’s much closer to a laugh this time. 
“I love it…” 
And we love you. 
He doesn’t say it aloud, but Wooyoung hopes you hear it anyway. 
Seonghwa lets out a hearty laugh despite it sounding wet with his own tears, and he wraps an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders as he tugs his captain close. The leader’s eyes are watery as he and the archer pile into your embrace. Mingi and Yunho follow quickly after, with the tallest of the two reaching out to snag Jongho’s tunic. The youngest is already moving, sliding beneath Yeosang’s arm to nuzzle into the healer’s side. One of his hands nestles between his lover’s ribs, resting atop your bicep. You push closer into their hands, warm and happy and still softly crying. 
You love it. 
It cannot possibly get any better than this. Not even the comforting breeze of the ocean air brushing over your skin nor the warmth of any roaring campfire could rival this feeling. There’s no warmth in the world that can surmount the heat of Ateez embracing you. Their hands carefully sweeping over skin leaves trails of pleasant heat in their wake, and the throb of your aching heart is only soothed by a soft coo leaving San’s lips. Wooyoung slides a hand over your head, pulling you closer into his neck, and you feel a bigger hand – Yunho’s, you know – scratch gently over your scalp. Another settles onto your hip, rubbing gentle circles into the bone. They’re Seonghwa’s, you recognize the calluses on his two fingers when they brush over the skin of your bare hip. Mingi’s hand settles across your back, resting between your shoulder blades. His firm touch and big hands are easy to decipher. Jongho’s wrap around your arm, strong and steadfast, just like you know him to be. Your captain’s smaller hand finds your fingers, sliding between them as you grip onto San with a fierce grip. 
Hongjoong’s hands tremble when he twists his grip to drag a line down your left ring finger. His gaze finds yours, a watery smile on his lips when your mouth parts in shock and your one eye dilated beyond comprehension. The Captain finishes drawing the line at the tip of your nail, where each of his fingers meets the end of each of yours. Then Hongjoong slides his hand into yours and squeezes three times. 
Yunho must have taught him that one. 
Because no one else has ever uttered those words to you – least of all meant them. 
Your grip tightens fervently, pulling until you can press Hongjoong’s hand into your chest and let him feel the racing pulse of your heart. It slams into your ribs with a thunderous pace, beating in a pattern you hope he can discern. You pull your head from Wooyoung’s neck just slightly. Just enough to lean down and press your lips to Hongjoong’s fingers. 
You hope he knows what it means. 
He does. 
“Happy birthday, tiny,” Yunho murmurs into the shared space between the nine of you. “We’re so happy you’re here.” 
You weep. 
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Ateez spends three nights and four days at the beach. 
On the first, you don’t have the courage to venture too far into the shore. The roaring of waves crashing onto the sand is intimidating when you don’t know how to swim. You settle for watching the others splash and wrestle in the shallow sea. Their shouts of glee are enough joy to warm your heart. 
You watch Mingi grapple with Hongjoong on the shoreline, huffing softly with a grin when Mingi inevitably gets the upper hand. The guard lifts Hongjoong over his shoulder and laughs deeply as he storms his way towards the sea. 
“Put me down!” Hongjoong roars, smacking his hand against Mingi’s back. “Mingi!” 
The guard only laughs and spins the two of them in the shallows as he wades deeper into the waves. 
“Don’t you dare!” 
You watch as Mingi laughs brightly once more, calling out a “too late!” as he unceremoniously dumps his captain into the sea.  
Hongjoong dunks beneath the water with a roar, and for a moment you worry he won’t emerge again. He does, however, and lurches from the waves with an undignified shout and lunges towards Mingi as he laughs. 
“Get back here!” 
You grin and watch the two continue to wrestle in the waves. 
Jongho takes you onto the nearby rocks and shows you the wonders of tide pools. He and Yeosang spent years living by the sea, and he murmurs hundreds of little facts about each of the animals he can find. Crouching down by a shallow pool, Jongho reaches into the cool water and ever so carefully lifts a sea star from the water. He cradles it delicately, leaving it half submerged as he pulls you closer with his other hand. 
“This is a sea star,” he whispers, looking up at you and gesturing for you to crouch beside him. “You want to feel? You won’t hurt it.” 
 When you crouch at his side, Jongho pulls your hand towards him with a smile. Bent at the knees, you lean into his side and watch with a bated breath and marvel at the texture of the sea star still carefully held in Jongho’s hands. It’s soft and squishy beneath your delicate touch and you huff a smile as you watch with a mystified expression. 
You watch some of the tiny feet of the sea star wiggle in Jongho’s hand and whip your head over to face him with a question on your lips. 
Jongho is already looking at you, watching you instead of the sea star in his hands. He’s smiling, softly and sweetly, his eyes fixed on your one eye. They drift from your left one to where your right would be if not hidden behind the mask, then he drops them to your lips. Your breath stutters and you swallow shyly before Jongho lifts his eyes back to your own. 
He smiles, as if nothing happened and continues, “See the poky creatures down here? The ones that look like they have needles? Those are urchins. The sea stars will eat those.” 
It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to pull your gaze away from Jongho’s face. 
At another tidal pool, Jongho points out a creature he calls an anemone. The vibrant teal and green color of its shape mystifies you and you lean closer to investigate it. Listening carefully to Jongho’s explanation of the anemone, you look back up at him with a question in your eyes. 
“Yeah, you can touch that one too. Be careful though.” 
You don’t understand his warning but carefully drop your hand into the pool to delicately caress the anemone anyway. The chill waters surround your skin and you lean closer to touch the creature, you let out a startled squeal when its sticky tentacles wrap themselves around your finger. Surprised, you lurch away from the pool, confusion in your face and hands braced on the rock beside you. 
Jongho laughs so hard you think he might choke. 
You turn to look at him with furrowed brows and an upset pout on your lips, a little disgruntled Jongho didn’t tell you that would happen. 
The youngest continues to laugh at the utter confusion in your expression, finally bracing himself against you and apologizing. 
“Sorry, I’m sorry, Bug. I couldn’t help myself!” 
You frown and push gently at his chest, posing a little miffed at Jongho’s teasing. The youngest snorts and pulls you closer to his chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 
“I won’t do it again, I promise,” he laughs. “We should wash your hands though, the stingers on those anemones can leave toxins on your skin. I don’t want you to touch your face without cleaning your hands first.”
You huff and nod, letting him lead you away from the rocks and towards the others. When you find San, you race away from Jongho and bury yourself into his chest with a pretend pout. The healer wraps you up in his embrace without question, turning to look at Jongho with a raised brow. Jongho rolls his eyes and laughs. 
Seonghwa and Wooyoung take you to collect shells in the afternoon. 
Your footprints linger in the sand behind you as you hold the archer’s hand and walk along the shoreline. The sand is packed beneath your feet closer to the shore and you find that there are all sorts of different shells just above the water line. 
You recognize some of the larger, smoother shells Yeosang and San use to store medicine sometimes. They’re scallop-shaped and hollow in the middle, and the healers like to use them for creams or other ointments. Seonghwa helps you carry some back to the healers who gratefully pile your collection into one of their packs. They can always use more shells in the medical cavern. 
Further down the beach, you find a plethora of smaller shells and drop down into the sand to rummage through them. There’s hundreds of them, some twisting into points and others round at the edges. Some are still split into pieces and others are still whole. Some are closed like a locket. Seonghwa tells you to leave those ones alone – there’s still creatures living in those ones. You gasp and carefully set the shell back down into the sand ever so delicately. The archer smiles fondly at your care for the earth and her creatures. 
One of the bigger shells that washes up on the shore catches your attention, and you rush over to the pristine, cream colored object. Yeosang called these conches. When you excitedly turn over the shell, you’re startled to find a spiny looking creature inside. A large claw grazes your hand and your heart lurches. 
You shout in surprise, jerking away from the shell with a gasp. 
“Bug?!” 
Seonghwa is at your side in an instant, hands on your back and pulling you away from the shell. “What happened?” 
 He doesn’t know why you shouted at first, too worried something has hurt you. His hands slide across your shoulders, turning you to face him and urgently scanning you for injuries. But when he looks down at the crab claw emerging from the shell, Seonghwa feels his chest shake with quiet laughter. Your head jerks back to look at the archer.
“It’s alright, darling. You just startled the crab living inside this one. He won’t hurt you, honey.”
Each shell you turn over for the rest of the day is done carefully and gently, and Seonghea feels his heart tug affectionately at how cute you look doing so. You nudge one with a stick to see if any claws come out and Seonghwa has to bury his smile in Wooyoung’s shoulder. 
“She’s so precious,” the warrior murmurs under his breath. 
Seonghwa hums in agreement, his head lifting from his partner’s shoulder to find you waving them over excitedly. 
“We’re coming, sweetheart!” 
Wooyoung settles at your side with a grin and looks down at the smooth stones in your hands. There’s a few rocks mixed in with the more ornate looking shells you’ve gathered, and Wooyoung tilts his head in an attempt to decipher why you’ve called them over. 
“What’s goin’ on?” 
Seonghwa’s heart stutters at the beaming smile on your lips. You smile more and this is not the first he’s ever seen, but each time you look up at him with that grin on your face, Seonghwa feels his stomach flutter and pride swell from his gut. He almost bites down on his bottom lip to resist sending you back a grin of his own, but Seonghwa doesn’t. And he’s grateful he does, because the way your one eye crinkles with joy when he smiles down at you makes his cheeks burn and his skin tingle. 
“Look!” You urgently whisper, swallowing around the word to repress how sore your throat is. 
Directing his attention to the dark stones in your hands, Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion. 
“I don’t understand.” 
You lift the stone beside his face, pulling Wooyoung into your side as you do. The two of you face Seonghwa as the archer grows more confused. The dark brown, near ebony-colored stone is lifted just beside his temple and you watch with a marveled expression as you shift your gaze from the rock to his eyes. 
“What is it?” Seonghwa urges. 
Wooyoung grins, his teeth flashing as he laughs sweetly. His two-toned hair ruffles in the breeze and Wooyoung turns to face you, squeezing your hip as he slides an arm around you. 
“That’s a good find, Bug,” he murmurs, looking back up at Seonghwa with honey in his gaze. “The same shade as his eyes. It matches him perfectly.” 
You nearly vibrate with happiness, wiggling a little in Wooyoung’s arms as Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle. “Really?” 
You nod fervently, reaching for his hand and dropping the smooth stone into his hand and curling his fingers around it. Seonghwa holds the rock carefully, not looking away from your one eye as he lifts it to press into his heart. 
“Thank you, darling.” 
You smile again, just a little twitch of your lips and nod. Then you turn to Wooyoung and weasel your way out of his grip to hold another up for him. This stone is a similar shade as Seonghwa’s, but just different enough that Seonghwa can see where you’ve matched this one to the exact hue of Wooyoung’s umber irises. 
You hold it out to Wooyoung with a tilt of your head and Wooyoung has to resist the urge to lean forward and squish your cheeks. He’s rarely seen you so excited – so… at ease. It makes every muscle in his body eager with the urge to hold you close and squeeze you tight. 
“For me?”
You nod excitedly and Wooyoung accepts the stone with a skip of his pulse. “Thank you, baby.” 
He and Seonghwa exchange looks and Wooyoung slips the stone into his pocket, where he knows he’ll keep it safe. 
“Help me?” You whisper softly, gesturing to the plethora of stones and shells beneath you. “For the others.” 
“Of course.” 
The two help you find six more stones, one of each of the other members of Ateez. Each one is the exact shade of their eyes – colors you know by heart. 
Wooyoung cannot tell you that after the trip, the rest of the boys gather to look at the stones and shells you collected for them. He doesn’t tell you that Mingi finds some twine and they braid bands for each other, carefully depositing their gifts onto string and binding them to each other’s wrists. 
On the first night, the nine of you sleep around a bonfire. 
The crackling flames keep you warm from the evening’s cool breeze, but you don’t think you sleep at all. The excitement and pure glee from the day keeps you awake. Adrenaline still roars through your veins and you settle for watching the stars for a moment longer. You find the twinkling shape of Polaris easily, and whisper your thanks up at her, just like you do every night since Jongho pointed her out. 
She winks back. 
The fire continues to crackle and the smell of wood burning soothes your nerves. Eventually, you pull yourself from your bed roll, carefully maneuvering away from Yunho’s warm chest and wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Quietly, you make your way over to the massive piece of driftwood facing the shore. 
Then, you drop silently beside Mingi, who sits and watches the sea. It’s technically his watch, but the guard faces the ocean as if he cannot bring himself to look away. 
Mingi does not startle when you find your place at his side, only shifting slightly to allow you to get comfortable. As you settle, you scooch as close as you can towards Mingi’s broad chest. Your side presses into his as you rest your weight against him and Mingi smiles, still looking at the sea. He easily accommodates your weight and wraps an arm around your shoulder, covering both your forms with his blanket. You snuggle close, burying your face into his neck and continue to watch the waves crash against the shore as the moon illuminates their peaks. 
You sit there for hours. Though you cannot sleep, excitement still pumping through your body, you find staying awake with Mingi is just as nice. Far more comforting, you’d even say. Mingi’s body heat keeps you pleasantly warm and his big arm stays wrapped around your waist. Soon after you settle, the guard drops his cheek onto your head and he breathes slow and deep. 
Even when Yeosang relieves him of his shift, taking over his place for watch, Mingi remains still. The two of you stay there until neither of you can keep your slowly fluttering lids open any longer. 
Yunho finds the two of you in the morning, and he kisses Mingi awake with a sweet grin and soft eyes. He brushes a hand through your hair and drops a kiss onto your head, eventually dropping onto your other side where he wraps an arm around both you and Mingi as the three of you watch the sunrise. 
The second day, you finally find the courage to venture into the waves with San and Yunho at your sides. Yeosang stands in the waves, waiting for you. 
San leads the way, walking backwards into the surf and holding both your hands. Yunho stands beside you, one of his arms reaching out to steady you and reassure you that he’s still there. You make eye contact with Yeosang and he winks at you. The honey-haired healer grew up in the sea. You know that if anything goes wrong, Yeosang will know what to do. 
“Let’s go, tiny. You’ve got this,” Yunho encourages, softly nudging you forward as you apprehensively toe the water line. 
You can’t swim. And you’ve never ventured into the sea before. 
It’s a little daunting, but the dimples on San’s cheeks and the smile on his lips encourages you to keep walking. You clutch his hands with a vice grip and gasp as the cold, salty waves cascade over your toes. 
“Sorry, lovebug. It’s a little cold.”
San laughs as you throw him a withering look. That information would have been helpful before you stepped into the sea. Yeosang laughs at your side, rubbing a hand along your waist and watching you shiver at the warmth of his touch. 
No matter how many times they touch you, you cannot help the way it makes you feel. 
“A little further and we can stop,” San murmurs, squeezing your hand when you stumble in the sand and pulling you closer. “C’mon, baby.” 
A few steps further and you stand at Yeosang’s side, digging your toes into the plush sand beneath your feet and marveling at how the waves lap at your knees. It’s cold, but you don’t mind since it’s a reprieve from the midday sun. When you turn your back to the sea, a strong wave pushes you closer to San and he laughs when you stumble into his chest. Water splashes upwards, and you get your first taste of seawater. 
“Woah!” San laughs, steadying you by the waist and watching as you stick your tongue out with an indignant sound. He can’t help the way laughter bubbles from his chest. You look positively betrayed by the ocean, as if the taste of salt on your tongue personally offends you. 
Yunho and Yeosang dissolve into giggles behind San, leaning onto each other to support themselves. Your one eye narrows and you shoot them an angry look, but San thinks you look more like an angry, wet cat than anything scary. Of course, he would never tell you that.
“I’m sorry, Bug!” Yunho laughs. “You just look so funny!” 
San listens to you grumble something under your breath, something that sounds like ‘showing him something funny,’ and then you bend at the waist and splash a mountain of water in his direction. 
Yunho guffaws at the betrayal and San dissolves into his own laughter, bending at the waist and bracing a hand on his chest as he cackles. Your grin is positively menacing, Yeosang decides. He wonders if you’ll become as much of a brat as Wooyoung if this continues. 
Yunho, now drenched in salt water and wet hair dripping into his eyes, enacts revenge and lunges towards you. San, ever the sweetheart, throws himself in between you and Yunho and the two sink into the waves with smiles. 
Eventually, when your skin begins to wrinkle from the time you spend in the waves and the sun begins to set, Yeosang and you step away from the shore to settle against the same piece of driftwood that marks your temporary camp. Yeosang sits atop the log and you lay just below him on the sand. You lean against his leg, just watching the rest of the boys continue to dance and swim in the surf. The sound of their laughter makes your heart happy and their gleaming smiles leave a grin of your own on your lips. 
It’s nice – smiling again, you mean. It’s a gift from Ateez they have not realized they’ve given, but you take care to treasure it regardless. 
You wrap an arm around Yeosang’s tattooed calf, your fingers occasionally dragging along the pattern of thorns that descend from his thigh. They wind around his leg, ending at the bone of his ankle and you’ve seldom been able to keep your hands away from the obsidian ink since he showed you. This, of course, is much to Yeosang’s delight, and the honey-haired healer can barely resist the way he beams so brightly when your delicate hands skim across his tattoos again. He loves it when you touch him. 
Mingi and Seonghwa leave the shoreline after a few minutes. They step away from the water to stoke the bonfire at the center of your makeshift camp. The flickering amber hues dance along burning bark and release a pleasant aroma onto the beach. You inhale deeply and lean further into Yeosang, humming happily when one of his hands reaches out to scratch along your scalp. 
Head scratches have become one of your weaknesses, you suppose. All it takes is for one of them to run their nails along your head and you’ll sink into their embrace with a happy sigh and mushy bones. 
When Mingi is satisfied with the roar of the campfire, he and Seonghwa press kisses to Yeosang’s hair and brush fingers over your hairline as they pace back towards the shore. 
A harmonious shout of glee leaves San’s lips as Jongho tackles him into the shallow surf, and there’s an uproar of laughter from amongst the boys. San shouts something along the lines of being cold and twists in the waves in an attempt to pin Jongho beneath him. Jongho, easily the strongest of the nine of you, maintains his place above San but spits salt water out of his mouth in surprise when his partner douses him with a splash. In revenge, Jongho prepares to dunk San’s head beneath the water, only to be tackled into the sea by Yunho. The youngest lets out a squawk of surprise as he sinks into the water and the laughter begins again. 
You turn your head towards Yeosang, resting your cheek against his knee and looking up at him with your one eye. You nudge him gently with your knuckles, drawing his attention to you. 
“Are you going to join them?” 
The honey-haired healer barely catches your question over the cacophony in the surf, but he smiles at the sound of your voice. He slides a hand deeper into your hair and scratches against the nape of your neck, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when your eye flutters shut briefly. 
His eyes, chocolate brown and gleaming with the flicker of flames before you, are warm and strong. They look down at you like you’re the only thing he sees – the only thing he wants to see. 
It’s familiar. This moment is too. 
Shivering gently from the weight of his gaze and bones feeling mushy and warm, you look up at Yeosang and wait patiently for his answer. 
“No, not yet,” he whispers in return, expression soft and eyes tender. “I’m very happy where I am right now.” 
You inhale deeply through your nose, recalling when he spoke the same words so long ago. The exhale that shudders through your lungs is accompanied by the sound of Yeosang’s deep, honey-sweet voice. 
“I‘m happy here with you.” 
He finally has the courage to say it. 
You look away from Yeosang so he doesn’t see the water welling in your lone eye. The stroke of thanks you brush across his skin is enough to let him know what you mean. The swell of electricity zinging beneath your skin leaves you breathless and you lean into Yeosang’s legs to combat the shift in emotion. 
The healer hums sweetly in response, unable to look away from you. He examines you as you watch his partners, lifting his head when another uproar of laughter erupts when Hongjoong overpowers Wooyoung in whatever game they’re playing in the waves. 
But when you glance back at Yeosang shyly, you see it. 
You see the way he looks at you now. 
With stars in his gaze and affection glimmering in the shine of his irises, you see the way Yeosang’s features melt so sweetly as he watches you. He looks at you the way he looks at them; like he’s staring at his very heart and soul – like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather gaze upon than your face warmed by the flicker of roaring flames and your one eye finally staring back into his. No apprehension, this time. No fear or confusion or worry or an amalgamation of all of them together. You just… look back at him. 
Just like how he looks at you. 
When Seonghwa and Mingi rejoin the parade, kicking up salt water and spinning through the shallows, the boys cheer gleefully and begin to dance. It’s chaotic and a mess of stumbling and laughter, but it’s dancing nonetheless. The sound of their joy is infectious and spreads along the beach until it reaches you and Yeosang.
But he’s not listening to them. He’s listening to you. His ears are trained on the sound that erupts from his feet, bubbling from your lips in a noise he’s been praying to hear. 
Laughter. 
You’re laughing. 
There’s this bright, heart-stopping smile spread across your lips as you look up at Yeosang and listen to your family dance on the beach. Your shoulders shake softly with the movement of your laughter, and Yeosang can feel the vibrations of your chest pressed against his leg. It starts as a muffled giggle, barely concealed by your smile, but it deepens into a hearty laugh from deep in your belly. 
He cannot tear his eyes from you. 
You laugh. 
You laugh and you look up at him with stars in your eyes and his heart in your hands, and it takes every fiber of his strength not to lean forward and drown himself in the taste of your lips. It’s all he wants – all he needs, he swears it. One taste of your lips would sate him for life, even though he knows he’d never be able to tear himself away again. 
When you lean upwards, grabbing ahold of his fingers and pulling them towards you, Yeosang’s mouth parts to suck in a breath. 
You kiss his fingers. 
By the Gods, maybe that was a lie. One kiss would never be enough to sate him – there would never be enough of your touch or your kisses that could ever appease his soul. Even if he were immortal and your paths intertwined until the last of the stars burned from the sky, not even then would he have enough of you. 
You laugh again, grinning up at Yeosang with a toothy smile and the corner of your mouth digging into your mask. If he wasn’t already sitting, he swears he would drop to his knees at your side. 
He loves it – the sounds of your laughter. No matter how raw or croaked the sound is, he adores it. The sound of your voice once made his heart race with glee, but this… This is different. 
It’s so much more. 
This is joy. Unbridled and unashamed and so clearly you. It’s your laughter, your glee, your happiness that sinks beneath his sin and lights his nerves on fire. It’s your smile and your giggles that make his heart swell. Yeosang adores it. He adores you. 
He cannot help the way he slides off the driftwood log and into the sand at your side. Yeosang is pulling you into his chest before you can question his actions. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls your head into his neck, pressing you as tight to his chest as he possibly can. 
“You’re laughing…” he whispers as he huffs in disbelief. “Bug! You’re laughing!” 
The second time Yeosang utters the phrase, it’s shouted cheerfully as he squeezes you tight into his chest. His heart thumps brazenly beneath his ribs, and he can feel the pulse of yours against his own. You giggle again, wiggling to readjust yourself as you sink into the honey of his embrace. Yeosang’s heart trills excitedly again. 
Yunho’s head darts upwards from the beach, startled by Yeosang’s call. 
“What?” 
San hears Yunho’s whispered disbelief and stands from the surf, attention drawn over towards you and Yeosang. “What did he just say?” 
“It’s Bug,” Hongjoong answers, standing behind Yunho with his eyes blown wide. His heart stutters once in his chest as he takes in the sight of your shoulders shaking gently with your giggles. He can’t hear the sound of them, but Gods does he wish he could. “Bug’s laughing.” 
“Holy shit…” 
Yunho takes off from the beach without another word. He doesn’t even hear who curses.
Sand kicks up from his feet as he sprints towards you and Yeosang with his heart in his throat and a watery grin on his lips. He doesn’t even need to turn around to know that San is the one on his heels. Yunho knows the sound of San’s muffled sobs just as well as he knows the beat of his heart. Wooyoung is not far behind, a bubble of laughter leaving his lips and a chain missing from his wrist. Nothing binds him to that place anymore. You set him free. 
Hongjoong and Mingi chase after the others, and the Captain manages to get some revenge for the day before as he shoves his guard into the surf on the way. Hongjoong’s mirthful chuckles as Mingi shouts are heard when Jongho pulls Seonghwa behind him, urging the archer to move faster. 
“Bug!” 
Your head pulls from Yeosang’s neck, that toothy grin still on your face just as Yunho collides with you and the honey-haired healer. The two of you sway as Yunho’s weight sinks into your figures, but Yeosang sets an arm down into the sand to support you. The black and white strands of San and Wooyoung’s hair drip with salt water as they throw themselves onto Yunho’s lap with a shout. Mingi follows just after, likely having passed Hongjoong on the beach with the length of his strides. He shakes his wet hair as he clings onto Yunho’s back and Wooyoung complains despite the fact that he’s already soaking wet. The giggly sound of Mingi’s laughter makes you chuckle again.
You laugh, as if it’s as easy as breathing. 
Yeosang watches, his eyes welling with happy tears as he continues to cling onto you with one hand. He watches you giggle and the others pile into your space and listens to his new favorite sound. 
Gods, he adores you. He adores them – this family. 
Yunho is crying, his lip wobbling as he buries his head into your hair. He’s at your back, chest shaking with the sound of his watery sobs. 
“Tiny…” he cries, but it’s a happy weep. You reach around to cling onto one of his hands. Yunho squeezes you tight, stealing the air right from your lungs, but you don’t need it. You would happily breathe in the pure euphoria of this moment instead. “Tiny, you’re laughing.” 
San buries his wet hair into your lap with a joyful sound and the giggles commence again. The healer’s heart throbs so strongly but so pleasantly he thinks it will burst. You have a laugh that makes others laugh with you. Just like Wooyoung, he realizes. 
Your other hand drops from Yeosang’s back to brush through San’s hair once and the healer looks up at you with glimmering half-moon eyes and a dimple poking out of his cheek. You allow your finger to poke the sweet little spot this time. His cheek muscles ache from how big his smile is. San nuzzles closer to your stomach and you let yourself shiver pleasantly, far too happy to deny yourself the joy of this moment. 
You’re pretty, San thinks to himself. So pretty. Especially when you laugh. 
Wooyoung melts into Hongjoong’s side and the Captain wraps an arm around his shoulder. They stand just behind Yunho, burying their happy tears into each other as Seonghwa pulls them close. Mingi and Jongho sink into the sand behind Yunho and pull each other tight. The taller guard squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips into Jongho’s forehead, desperately hoping all his adoration is conveyed through the kiss. Jongho reaches out to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder and rests his weight against his elder’s back. 
“I know,” you finally whisper into the space that separates you and Yunho. “I’m happy.” 
One hand lifts to pull the mask away from your face. Without a moment’s hesitation, your nimble fingers detangle the knot from behind you, and you drop the obsidian mask into the sand. A hand wraps around your fingers when you finally let it go. Someone draws a line along the length of your left ring finger and twines their fingers with your own. They squeeze three times. 
You repeat the gesture, tracing a finger down the fourth finger on their left hand, right over the thin, dark band you know is tattooed there. You squeeze their hand three times. This sign needs no translation. 
You open both eyes. 
“I’m so happy.” 
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bonus:
stranger: so who would you choose; ateez or–
reader: ateez.
stranger: you didn't even let me finish, ateez or–
reader, not missing a beat: ateez. I choose ateez.
a/n: This currently takes place sometime after the main storyline (probably xD) so it accounts for the boys knowing parts of Bug’s past (not revealed but it’s mentioned they know). For now, I won't consider these oneshots canon simply because I won’t know where it fits in the timeline HAHA xD this is essentially just a little bit of fluffy comfort for those who have been missing Bug and the boys! I’m catching up on their story but I hope you enjoy this filler for now <33 ALSO disclaimer, don’t pick stuff out of tide pools! my marine biologist family is screaming at me for including that xD just leave the creatures alone in their habitats!
sorry if bug seems a little ooc here! Loren and I have decided that bug goes from black cat energy to golden retriever after enough time with atz :’))) This is supposed to take place sometime in the future where she’s healed a little more and is a little more curious and open. There are a lot of references to things that have yet to happen in ltm so this is kind of a teaser for those xD 
also shoutout to the loml @eightmakesonebraincell for the majority of the ideas in this :D she's a real one xD
taglist: *If you don't see your name on this taglist, you may have been removed if your tag doesn't work :( let me know if you don't see your name and I'll try to see what we can do to fix it :D
@verseoks @smallfrye @istgcyj @rensunjun @flowrsforfun @justchaoticwhispers @gayliljoong @http-lovelyknow @kpopnightingale @rielleluvs @queentiti72 @paralumanniluna @chittaphonstar @dear-dreamie @bangtanxberm @havetaeminforbreakfast @knucklesdeepmingi @pingyu-in-wonderland @5sos-wdw @atzcoke @ddeonghwva @sophxom @khjcoo @sunukissed @becauseiloveyunho @atinymonbebestay @goldenstarmermaid @simplyaghostsworld @multifandomizer @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @revehosh @mysticfire0435 @side-angel @taestrwbrry @billboard-singer @jenseok17 @parkthothwa8 @jcngh0-hq @dream-in-progress @dees-writing-corner @frankenstein852 @darkdayelixer @ateezkeepmysoul @maruskz @ahhhhhhhhhghh @honeyhotteoks @simeonswhore @jxxngieteez
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neptuneiris · 9 months
Text
cardigan (02/03)
tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.
pairing: modern!aemond × best friend reader!
summary: being in love with your best friend since high school becomes a strong and unavoidable feeling. until it starts to become more difficult when you get to college and the two of you, especially him, meet new people.
word count: 8.4k
previous part • next part • series masterlist
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As you're looking down at yourself, making sure there's nothing out of place, you just hear the loud sound of Sara inhaling deeply which makes you startle and you watch her quickly in panic.
hello! i just want to say that i can't believe how much you guys loved the first part. the story just exploded hehe. I'm so grateful for that, for your support and your opinions, I didn't think it would happen so soon, thank you very much.
i wanted to give you part two after such a quick acknowledgement and support, truly thank you so much and also let me know what you think of this second part please, i love reading and responding to you. enjoy!
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"You like this one?"
"What?"
"No fucking way, Y/N! You look amazing!"
And at that moment you can feel the color come back to your face and you calm down.
"Come here!" she asks you excitedly, "I want to take a closer look."
You stand in front of her and turn on your own axis to get a better look at yourself in the large full-length mirror, instantly liking what you see.
Last year your dress for the Targaryen ball was red. And you don't usually repeat colors. So now you've chosen a deep ocean blue dress.
Which is Aemond's favorite color.
"This is the one, definitely."
"Really?" you put your hair behind your shoulders, watching you carefully, "Is this one better than the last one?"
"In my opinion the style is better."
You've tried on dresses of the same color in different styles before and honestly… you liked this one better than the others.
It's a long dress open at an angle exposing your left leg. It has no neckline, is strapless and shimmers in a metallic shade beautifully.
This is it.
You think definitely more convinced than ever as you look in the mirror after a few more inspections. You'll shine brighter with your hair and makeup done, you know it and you know you'll look beautiful. That's why you can't wait for the day to come.
You can't wait for Aemond to see you.
"And why did you choose this color?"
"Because it's Aemond's favorite color and it will match his sapphire."
"Oh yes," says Sara in a reminiscent tone, "I had forgotten that detail about your best friend."
"His sapphire eye?"
"Yes."
"But if that's precisely why everyone at the university knows him."
"They also know him for his hair and for apparently having come from the very palace of the Greek gods, don't forget," she says, also amused.
You let out a small laugh.
"Yeah, it's true."
After a little silence between the two of them where they inspect the dress, Sara stirs a little and seems to fight against herself to say what she wants to say. Until she grimaces and nerves invade her as she speaks.
"Listen Y/N…" she says cautiously, "It's not that I want to be nosy or anything, in fact I don't like to know people's things about things like…" she bites the inside of her cheek "That seem very delicate" she says finally "And it's that I'm very curious, I—
"You're a gossip, Sara," you remind him in an amused tone, interrupting her.
"Well… yeah, it's true, who am I kidding," she nods in acknowledgment, shrugging her shoulders and you laugh.
"You want to know what happened to Aemond's eye?"
"Yes," she murmurs, almost embarrassed, "But it's just out of curiosity and if it's something very personal then I understand."
You take a long breath and look away from the mirror to observe her.
"Yes, it's very personal," you tell her, "I can only tell you that it was a horrible accident that happened to him as a kid. He still finds it a little difficult to talk about it, even with his mother and sister."
"Yes, of course," Sara nods sympathetically, "In fact something like that I had imagined."
You nod too, sympathetically, thinking about it.
"At first, when I met Aemond in high school and we started our friendship, he didn't want to tell me," you confess, "It's not as if I insisted on the matter, of course not... but he knew I was curious about it. And it wasn't until after he was sure that I wasn't a fake friend, as I was with him, that we both confided a lot of things to each other until he told me about his accident."
"How old was he?" she ask attentively and curiously.
"Barely ten."
Sara raises her eyebrows in surprise with a face of pity.
"Ten?" she repeats in a murmur, "Wow. I can't even imagine. It must have been pretty awful, huh?"
"It was," you assure her.
You know Aemond has only told about what happened to you and a guy who was his best friend in high school, who now that guy got into another college in another state.
And what happened was that Aemond defended his little nephew, Luke, from some boys who were picking on him and wanting to almost beat him up at school.
But the blows went to Aemond who had to defend himself as best he could against four boys even a little bigger than he was at the time.
Then one of the boys did not measure his strength, hit him and pushed him too, and because of the push Aemond fell on top of a net of wires that made up a small garden in the huge backyard of the school.
They didn't even let him get up, so Aemond also hurt some parts of his body.
And out of desperation, before he could try to do anything, another one of the boys hit him in the face and that's when a piece of wire ripped his eye as he turned his head towards the wires from the blow.
When Aemond was telling you everything, you didn't even know what to say.
And the best punishment the bully boys could have received was to have been expelled. But it wasn't enough for Aemond and his family. They had taken his eye and that was 'justice'.
Luckily his whole family supported him and was there for him through the whole difficult process of doctors appointments, therapies, medications and so on.
His uncle Daemon especially made sure he received the best possible treatment with the best doctors and nurses while his older sister, Rhaenyra, searched for solutions to his lost eye along with his mother.
"And why does he have that sapphire? Didn't he think about a prosthesis or something like that?"
"As a kid, all he wanted was to recover and cope with the physical and emotional pain, and also to get used to his only right sight," you explain, "And then he told me he was thinking about it, but it's been a long time. Maybe he has already got used to the sapphire."
"And it doesn't hurt him?" asks Sara curiously, thoughtfully.
"No, he always has his appointments with the ophthalmologist," you let her know, "I guess the sapphire is to maintain an appearance. Kind of like what rich people do."
"Oh, of course," Sara nods with more understanding, "It makes perfect sense vonsidering how exaggeratedly rich he and his family are."
You let out a small laugh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror at the beautiful dress.
"Yes, they are," you murmur, "Are you sure your aunt will let me pay her weekly?" you ask, looking at her again a little worried.
"I already told you yes, Y/N. Stop worrying," she says amused.
"But she already knows?" you ask distrustful.
"Yes, she knows," she assures you for the eighth time, "She just said that by the time you decide to stop paying for it for one reason or another, there is no refund and you have to return the dress. And if you tear it, stain it or something, you pay extra."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," you make a nonchalant gesture, "I'm definitely going to finish paying for it."
You think about how the dress is so beautiful that it doesn't deserve to be worn for just one occasion. You can wear it to another event, not necessarily just the ball.
And after you've picked out the last dress, you both leave the dressing room, secure everything for payment, and Sara takes you home and you both say goodbye saying you will see each other tomorrow in class.
When you arrive at the apartment, only Vhagar greets you, to which you assume that Aemond must still be in class or with his girlfriend.
So you decide to take Vhagar with you to your room to do some homework and wait for Aemond to arrive to have dinner together.
And by the time you finally hear his arrival at the apartment, you take Vhagar in your arms and leave your room to ask him how his day was and what he wants for dinner tonight to see if it matches what you want.
But the words get stuck in your throat the moment you see him and your eyes meet his, watching him in shock, definitely not expecting this.
And at your reaction of saying nothing and continuing to stare at him in disbelief, he lets out a small laugh as he runs a hand through his neck and hair.
"What do you think?"
And that's when you seem to remember how to talk.
"No way," you mutter, "Are you fucking kidding?"
"As I understand it, your head can't grow, Y/N. At least not at this age," he tells you amused.
"Shit," you say still in disbelief, "It looks fucking amazing, Aemond!" you finally react with a huge smile.
He has cut his hair.
His fucking long hair is now short and he looks so ridiculously good, like it's not an everyday thing, as well as he looks even better than before and even... sexy.
And in an instant you're all over him, running your fingers through now his short, silky, still straight hair with some waves at the ends that now point slightly upwards.
Even his face, his figure, his sapphire, everything about him looks better than before just because of a haircut.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, still surprised and puzzled, with a small smile.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says with a smile, "What do you say, do you really like it?"
"I love it," you confess, "Even you, everything about you—
You stop, not wanting to look nervous, not wanting to insinuate your true feelings for him through his new appearance.
That's why you think very well what you will say before you speak, controlling yourself not to say anything too much.
"Well... it looks better," you finally say.
"Thank you, pretty one."
He smiles at you and you melt at the sight of his expression, simply because of the gesture accompanied by his new cut, so you couldn't be more ridiculous, but you can't help it either.
You find it so attractive and so striking the way you watch his dimples form and look, even they so damn good, again, because of his new haircut.
"I hope Alys likes it too."
You bite your lips, not wanting to focus on his comment at the mention of his girlfriend.
"And why did you decide to cut it?" you ask not to talk about her, acting nonchalant but still feeling surprised.
"I thought it would be a good idea to cut it for the ball," he confesses, "It's this weekend and I thought I'd do it now because I knew I wouldn't do it later."
You both laugh, as that is very Aemond Targaryen and you both know it.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," you say with a small smile, "I've got everything ready for the ball too."
"Oh really?" he raises his eyebrows, interested, "Now what color dress did you choose?"
"Nope. No details."
You turn away from him in an instant and head to the fridge to finally make dinner, because you know if he keeps looking at you and talking like that, you'll end up showing him everything.
"Oh come on, Y/N."
"I'm so sorry but you'll have to wait for the day."
"Are you serious?" he asks you.
"Even your new haircut isn't going to convince me."
"Hmm."
He certainly says with a disappointed tone and you let out a laugh.
"Be patient, Aemond. Now..." You look at him, "What do you want for dinner?"
You and Aemond talk about what his mother has told him she has planned this time for the ball with his sister Rhaenyra while you prepare dinner and listen to him at the same time. And when everything is ready, you both watch a movie in the living room.
And the next morning, Aemond Targaryen with his new haircut is all you hear about even among all the girls in your apartment. Even something as simple as a haircut drives them all crazy. Even you.
But that it's already a real topic of conversation is amazing.
And the next few days are really stressful for you, also for Aemond, as you have to push your respective careers forward with homework and projects.
In fact the week is so busy that you barely have time for breakfast in the morning as you have to rush to the university. Aemond also told you that he was very busy with the same thing.
But it's worth it.
You tell yourself even in every break that you actually make use of to continue doing more homework.
And for you there is no better motivation than knowing that by the time the week is over, you will finally be free and the ball will be a great way to finally relax and have fun with your best friend.
And you honestly can't wait.
However, you were not prepared to hear what Aemond says to you the day before the ball when you arrive at the apartment and he is already there, apparently waiting for your arrival.
And you knew it wouldn't be good what he would say to you the moment you see the sadness, worry and sorrow in his eyes as he watches you.
"My family wants to meet Alys."
He tells you and then says nothing for a few more seconds, looking away from you, running a hand through his hair, frustrated, to which you already know what he will probably tell you.
"And I couldn't think of any better occasion than to take her with me to the ball so everyone can meet her."
And her words stab like a dagger into your heart, shattering it into little pieces.
And he speaks to you so softly, so carefully and so sorrowfully at the same time while you want to believe it's a damn joke and he's really not doing this to you.
"I'm so sorry, my pretty one," he looks at you with all the anguish in his eyes for your reaction, worried, "Could you do me this favor, just this once, please?"
Do him the favor?
You repeat in your mind, just watching him without really having any expression in your look, because you don't want to make him see that he has broken you with this news and this suddenly change of plans.
And his next words only make you feel worse for your lack of response, with him wanting to make the situation better, as if it were possible.
"You could still come, you know. I'll be with Alys, but Helaena or Aegon can keep you company and eventually I'll try to be around you as well."
"I'm not taking Alys."
He had said.
"This ball belongs to both of us, it always has. And I'm not going to break the tradition."
He had promised you.
And you say to yourself: he is asking you this as a favor. It's just a ball and it's only fair that his escort should be his girlfriend. Don't bother, you shouldn't bother.
"I know you had everything ready and I know I shouldn't be telling you this a day early."
He continues saying to you with sorrow, and then he goes to you in a desperate action and takes your hands in his.
"But I promise you that I will make it up to you, I will—
Unable to stand it any longer, you take your hands from his, which makes him stop and look at you instantly, a little surprised and worried by your reaction.
And you again... you act unconcerned and like it's no big deal.
Mostly because you no longer want to keep listening to his promises that are worthless in the end, you also don't want to be around him right now and also because you want to end the matter once and for all.
"Okay, I understand."
You tell him with the best look you can put at that moment, really trying to pretend that everything is fine, almost convincing him, almost.
"Don't worry."
And without waiting for anything else, because you really want to get away from him, feeling that if he tells you something else you're really going to burst into tears right then and there, you walk past him and head to your room.
But he doesn't let you go so easily.
"Y/N..." He holds you by the shoulders, looking at you worriedly, "Talk to me, please."
You let out a small laugh, the fakest laugh you've ever let out, trying with all your might to make it okay.
"What do you want me to say? I told you it's okay."
Again you try to pass by him but he again stops you. And you let him.
You let him because you don't want him to see you bad, broken. You let him because if you get upset, if you let him see that he has broken you, you fear he will realize your true feelings.
And you don't want that now that he has a girlfriend and looks happy with her. So happy that she even managed to change his mind about taking her to the ball even though he told you he wouldn't because that ball belonged to the two of you.
And you don't want to ruin that for him if that's what he wants, you also don't want to make a big deal about the change of plans. You want to make him see that you're okay with it.
Again...you don't want to look sad and broken in front of him.
"I know you, Y/N," he says to you in a sad, apologetic soft voice, "I know you're not okay with me wanting to take her now because I told you I wouldn't, that this ball belongs to both of us," he lets out a long breath, "But I—
"I'm perfectly fine with it, Aemond," you interrupt him with the most nonchalant and fake look possible, "I mean... she's your girlfriend and it's only fair that you take her, right?"
And your words don't know why they make her feel worse when that's just what she needed from you: understanding.
But somehow it feels a hell of a lot worse that you're understanding him after he knows he promised you he wouldn't take her and you'd both go together.
"But you—
"Look... actually this is good," you lie, "Now I have a lot of homework to finish and also a big project due on monday. The weekend will help me to get everything done and delivered on time."
That's what you assure him even though this whole week you had worn yourself out getting everything ahead of schedule for next week so you could go to the ball and have fun without any more worries.
"Are you..." He looks at you suspiciously, "Are you sure?"
"Very," you say, putting on a small fake smile, "Now I just want to rest before I do everything."
He watches you for a few seconds with the softest and gentlest expression possible, still a little worried, while you watch him firmly back to show him that it's okay.
Even though it hurts like hell all this is happening.
"Well," he murmurs, looking away from you, nodding slightly, "Would you like me to make some dinner for the two of us? I can...
"No thanks," you cut him off, "I want to sleep, that's all."
And finally, carrying all your dignity with you, you head to your room, pretending that everything is fine and that you are fine.
But as you close the door to your room behind you, that's when all the appearance finally goes away and you allow yourself to really feel the way you feel.
And it makes it worse to see the beautiful dress on your bed, looking so spectacular, so ready to be worn, when you will no longer need it for the main occasion you decided to buy it and wanted to wear it for so badly.
Looking at it with longing and sadness, the first tears fall down your cheeks and you avoid letting out a sob as you bite your lips.
You would have preferred that Aemond told you about taking his girlfriend that day when you went to get the dress and then he came home with his new haircut. It would have been more preferable to telling you the day before the ball.
Either way, though, you know it would have destroyed you, just the same way you feel destroyed now.
That's why the next morning, you don't even leave your room. You don't want to and can't see Aemond knowing that today is the day it was supposed to be the two of you.
So you only leave your room when you make sure Aemond is in his room to grab something from the fridge and get back to your cave as quickly as possible.
Until the time of the ball gets closer and closer and you make sure your desk is full of sheets of your previous projects, pretending to be busy as you had told Aemond you would be.
Even his sister, Helaena, sends you an excited message asking if you will come tonight and with all the pain in your heart, you reply that you will not be able to come as you are too busy with homework and projects.
When Aemond knocks on your bedroom door and calls you from the other side. You quickly go to your desk, pretend to be busy with the sheets, tell him to come in and he does.
"I'm leaving now, pretty one."
"Okay, have fun," you say in the best possible tone, without looking at him.
You really don't want to look at him.
"I will probably come here to sleep, I don't think I'll stay anywhere else, just to let you know," he says in a soft and cautious tone, still a little worried about yesterday.
"Yeah, that's fine."
A few seconds of silence and then you hear him let out a sigh.
"Are you sure you don't want to come? You know Helaena and my brothers will be there. I can wait for you to leave."
You bite the inside of your cheek, annoyed that he's suggesting this again, when you shouldn't be.
You know he means well, but it bothers you, it hurts you. How does he think you'll want to go to the ball after changing your plans?
"I have a lot to do," you answer briefly.
And again you hear another one of his sighs.
"Okay," he murmurs.
But he doesn't leave immediately, you hear how he is still at your door and you feel his penetrating gaze, as if he is asking you for forgiveness, but you don't even look at him.
You can't and you don't want to.
You think that if he tries to talk about it again, you'll tell him how busy you are so he won't do it.
But fortunately you only hear him let out a long breath and finally close the door to your room. And the next thing you hear are his footsteps and then the apartment door opening and closing.
The next few days after what happened between you and Aemond at the ball are again like you didn't want them to be.
But it seems that the ball was an important point that broke between you and Aemond and again he and you don't spend time together anymore. It's only in the mornings when you both see each other for breakfast, but there isn't even a conversation for the time being.
There are no more movie weekends, no more going to a restaurant for breakfast on some weekends, and no more going to the grocery store together.
However, the agreement remains that he takes care of everything financially and you take care of the food, laundry and cleaning.
Still, it's as if you live alone.
Suddenly Aemond stopped coming to the apartment less and less, as well as he has stopped sleeping here constantly anymore.
Sometimes there are not even any more of his clothes to wash, mostly because they are still clean or because he takes them away or has left them somewhere else, with Alys obviously.
All the food is finished by you since he barely eats breakfast or dinner here. And the few times you've gotten to talk, there's been no mention of the ball at all.
And you can tell, as he also shows, that he seems to be very busy with his classes and also with his girlfriend.
He still pay for the electricity, water and everything you need, you know he does, but he's not even here. Now it's like you totally take care of Vhagar, which you don't complain about, but she's supposed to be his dog because you gave her to him.
And even though things are tense between you, you still can't help but feel sad and lonely every time you realize that he didn't even get to sleep and on weekends you're all alone.
Whenever you text him asking where he is or why he didn't get to sleep, he always replies the same thing: Alys. He apologizes for not telling you but still never tells you.
Now you sleep in the apartment all alone, with only Vhagar's company every day. And even though it hurt you a lot about the ball, you still miss your best friend very much.
You missed him the most especially when a nasty storm hit King's Landing at night and lasted all morning until six o'clock.
You hate storms and Aemond also knows that you are afraid of them.
That night you couldn't sleep at all, you were curled up hiding under your sheets, hugging Vhagar as your only comfort, hoping that everything would pass soon.
The next morning you couldn't go to class due to lack of sleep and Aemond didn't even show up at the apartment.
Until one night, saturday at one o'clock in the morning, you heard the sound of the door and his footsteps in the living room and kitchen.
And ready to talk to him about how you've been feeling these past few days, as well as the fact that you practically live here alone, you head out of your room.
But you stop just as you open a crack in your door when you hear and realize that he is not alone.
"We should have arrived at my house, Aemond."
"We talked about this, Alys."
"But she's always here. I don't understand why she never goes out with friends or anything."
"I told you she's not that type."
You could have closed the door and gone to sleep with the idea of talking about what you had in mind with him another day, but you stay still when you hear that they are talking about you.
And what Alys says next only makes you stand stiller and listen more attentively.
"Oh my love... Are you still worried about her?"
You sharpen your ear more, attentive and confused.
Worried about me?
You repeat in your mind not understanding, willing to listen more, even though you shouldn't but still you do.
"I'm not worried. I'm just thinking about her."
"You are worried, Aemond," Alys repeats in affirmation and in a serious tone, "What I don't understand is why if the ball was two weeks ago."
"I know," you hear him mutter, "But still, you should have seen her face... she already had everything ready and I told her a day before that I wouldn't take her with me."
"But she told you it was okay, didn't she?"
"Yeah, but..." sigh, "In a way it felt much worse that she understood."
Alys lets out a snort.
"Of course she must have understood, my love," she says obviously, "I'm your girlfriend, not her."
You press your lips together, thinking that it didn't even cross your mind that he was still thinking about the ball when he doesn't even see you and isn't even here.
You don't fully understand but you do have an idea that after the ball, maybe he needed to distance himself from you and that's why you haven't seen each other anymore and he doesn't come to the apartment.
Maybe he felt really bad about himself for killing your illusion of going to the ball together, like every year.
But if he feels so bad, then why did he do it?
You ask yourself with some bitterness.
Apparently Alys was more convincing to him and it's okay, she's his girlfriend, but he's just feeling bad after it's all over.
"You care a lot about her and it's ridiculous, Aemond. As ridiculous as it is that she lives here and doesn't give you a single penny."
And then again her words catch your attention more than ever and you continue listening attentively, with your face falling because of her words.
"Alys..." he calls out to her in a tired tone, "I already explained that to you."
"But even so," she insists with an absurd tone, "Won't she be ashamed? She's your best friend and she doesn't even think about helping you a little?"
"She does help me and you know it."
"I mean financially."
"Her parents send her what money they can for college. She buys food and also buys what she needs for her classes and other necessities."
"Oh, so not only she doesn't help you with money, but also her parents?"
"Alys–
"Hasn't she even thought about getting a job?"
"Yes, but I told her that it wasn't necessary, that she could help me with the domestic and I could help her with the money without charging her anything."
"Are you serious?"
"She's my best friend, Alys. I'm the one who convinced her to live with me because I wanted her to."
"No, Aemond. It wasn't because you wanted to. It was because you pity her."
Your heart skips a beat and you open your lips and listen in surprise, beginning to feel that sharp pain in your chest as it hurts to hear those words.
"No," he says firmly, "It's never been like that."
"Oh please, don't fool yourself," she insists, "Y/N is not like you and me...her family has no money and from what you've told me, she's always been on scholarship in everything."
"Not everyone can have what we have, Alys," he says incredulously, "Besides, why would I care if she has money or not? Other people like us are really distasteful and don't have even a shred of humility, sincerity and trustworthiness like she has."
"I don't see it that way. I think she's so different and you feel so sorry for her that you've made it easy for her by putting her in an apartment like this because you know she and her family don't have the resources."
"That's what you think. But she and I both know that's not true."
He says with a confident tone and yes, it is true.
Alys at this moment made you doubt, a lot, because of the venom he was spitting out every word and for speaking so confidently about how he really feels about you.
But you never felt that Aemond treated you, since their friendship began, with pity.
Never.
"She has always been there for me and never with the intention of taking advantage of me for what I have. Not for nothing is she my best friend and you know how selective I am with my friends."
You hear the long sigh she lets out, to which you must think she has an irritated face.
"Well, if you say so," she says bitterly, "Still, isn't it annoying that she's always here? She doesn't go out to parties, she has no friends but you, and whenever we come here we can't even have the privacy we'd like because she's locked in her room."
"This is her house too."
"She's not a child anymore, Aemond. You should tell her to get a job and an apartment of her own or live in the dorm now. Tell her you want your own space now."
"It's not even a year since we've been living together, Alys."
"So, if I tell you in one more year that we want us to live together, will she live with both of us too?
"Of course not."
He answers instantly in an absurd low tone and again you feel your heart break at his words because of how quickly he answered and in what tone.
And you can't blame him, those are plans with his girlfriend, you have nothing to do there. But you can't help it and it really hurts because you will never be her.
"Look... I admit that I do wish I could have more privacy and also that she would go out to have fun and meet new people... I even want to get here with you and she's not here."
You feel the tears start to form in your eyes, but you bite your lips and control yourself.
"But I can't just tell her that I want to live alone now and give her to understand that I want her to leave. And I really don't want her to leave, not like this," he say honestly, "Not when things are still tense between us," he sighs, "She's my best friend and I love her. I don't want to hurt her anymore. I really want to make things right with her."
And as if everything Aemond had just said wasn't relevant to Alys, she says the following with every intention of it actually happening someday soon.
"What if the two of us go live together somewhere else?"
And the few seconds of silence afterwards on Aemond's part you know is from his confusion.
"Hm?"
"If you don't want to hurt her, fine, let her keep living here so you can feel good about yourself by continuing to help her."
You frown, really hating and feeling annoyed with his girlfriend's words.
"Then we can look for another apartment to live together," she proposes and you feel your heart shrink, "It doesn't have to be now, but later, but really do it, what do you think?"
You don't hear anything again for a few seconds, wanting to hear Aemond's answer while your heart beats hard against your chest.
"Alys–
"Please, baby. I want to live with you. I want to do many things with you."
And in that moment you know it's enough as you hear them start kissing and you finally, carefully, close the door and lie back down on your bed, holding back the tears.
Not wanting to hear anything promising out there, you put on your headphones and try to sleep with this ugly pain in your chest.
You shouldn't have listened to that conversation between the two of them, but you couldn't help it. But after listening to them, staring for a few moments at the ceiling of your room, broken, you make the decision you had thought about before but were not sure about.
And that is that you will fulfill Alys' wish... you are going to look for a job and you are going to ask for a doorm in the residence.
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The following days after hearing Aemond's conversation with his girlfriend, continue the same.
Aemond still doesn't show up much at the apartment, the two of you don't talk much, he is always with Alys and you start looking for jobs near the university without success.
When you don't find anything, the days of searching get longer because the ones that are available are far away from your area and others don't apply for you because they ask for experience.
And at the same time you try not to let everything you heard that night affect you by keeping busy with college.
You also try not to let it affect you that Aemond said he wanted to make things right between you but he still doesn't see you and doesn't show up because he's with Alys.
You really don't understand.
That's why you continue to look for a job as it hurts you that you are practically living alone in a big apartment like this when before it wasn't like this and you enjoyed Aemond's company.
Now it's just you and Vhagar.
Then one afternoon when you come home from school and finish feeding Vhagar and start preparing food for yourself, suddenly the door opens and Aemond enters with a soft look, instantly observing you.
"Hello, pretty one."
You try not to look surprised and confused by his arrival, so you just don't let his nickname affect you and smile a little, just a little, in his direction.
"Hi."
He smiles a little more at you as his gaze turns to Vhagar who runs excitedly to greet him.
"Hello to you too my little one," he says tenderly and you see how he takes her in his arms, "I missed you."
You look away from him to continue cooking, not wanting to talk and preferring to ignore him in the same way he seems to ignore you by not showing up or sleeping here anymore, leaving you and Vhagar alone.
You want to know why he has suddenly appeared, but you control yourself from asking. Just as you tell yourself that you don't plan to say anything to him about moving into the dorm until you secure a job.
"What are you cooking?"
You hear him ask you as he approaches you.
"Fillet," you reply briefly.
"Do you mind if I ask you to cook one for me?" He asks with some care.
"No," you answer simply.
You really don't want to be rude to him, after all, this is your agreement, so you cook a fillet for him, waiting to serve everything.
"Do you have something to do today?"
He asks you suddenly and you continue cooking, without looking at him.
"Homework," you answer, "Why?"
"Ah... some classmates are coming to prepare an presentation we have tomorrow," he lets you know and you finally turn to look at him, "I hope you don't mind."
"No, it's fine," you assure him, turning your back on him again, "I'll be in my room, you know."
"Of course."
Quiet.
You continue cooking and he seems to be waiting for his food, so you don't say anything, mostly because you don't have anything to say.
You feel his gaze on you at almost all times, which you deliberately ignore, trying not to make a big deal of it.
When you start serving and finally turn your face to him to place the plates and also the glasses, feeling more firmly his gaze on you.
"Y/N...
And as soon as he says your name you knew he wasn't watching you silently for nothing, but because he was fighting himself to talk to you about something that had him in doubt.
"I know I haven't been around much..." he starts to say and you avoid letting out a sigh of irritation, "And I also know that I've left you alone with Vhagar—
"Yes, I know," you interrupt him in a nonchalant tone, "And that's okay, you have things to do and honestly so do I, believe it or not," you say quickly and then open the refrigerator, "Do you want soda or juice?"
Your clear disinterest for not wanting to talk about it makes Aemond stop talking and watch you in silence, feeling a little guilty for your attitude.
But you continue to watch him expectantly for an answer and he gives it to you after a few seconds of silence.
"Soda."
You nod and start filling the glasses. And at that, Aemond doesn't insist on the matter and simply remains silent, waiting for you to start eating together.
But he can't be like this anymore. He really wants to make things right and that's why he mentions the next:
"Don't think I forgot your birthday."
He says in an attempt to finally calm the tension between the two of you as you turn and hand him the glass and then take a seat in front of him.
"You don't?" you say almost sarcastically, almost.
"Of course not," she assures you, "It's this Friday. Aren't you excited?"
"Not really," you say honestly, "I have a project due that friday that has been causing me a lot of stress. I don't want to get a grade that isn't worth all the effort."
"Oh come on, you always get the best grades," he says with a small smile, "Don't worry, you'll see, everything will be fine."
And the next thing he does is to place his hand on top of yours to give it a gentle squeeze as he always used to do before in situations like these, just like you do with him.
At this, you try not to fall for him and his gestures, so you just nod thanking him with your eyes for his support and start eating, just like him.
"And what are your plans? Tell me," he asks you interested.
"Mmm..." You grimace, "In the morning I don't have much planned, just to talk to my parents," you confess, "After class my friends said they wanted to take me to a restaurant and at night to go out partying but... I'm still not sure about that."
"About what?"
"The party."
He takes a sip of his soda and looks at you confidently.
"Let's go."
"Where to?"
"The party."
"You want to go?" you frown.
"Of course I do," he says with a smile, "I want to celebrate and have fun with you on your birthday."
You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, come on, I'll take you," he says more confidently than before, "In fact, since you won't be doing much in the morning, I could buy a cake for both of us, give you your present and I don't know, go out or watch a movie," he proposes, "Just me and you. Then I'll see you in the night and we'll go out and party."
So, for all that confidence in talking, even with that determination and that excitement in talking about making plans together on your birthday... you shouldn't but again you feel that hope come back to you.
That same spark and hope when he told you about the ball and in the end he did the complete opposite of what he promised you.
But this time... they are both talking about your birthday. You know and you know that he knows you're not just talking about anything.
That's why you stop feeling that little bitterness and forget about the conversation you overheard, you also stop considering going to live in the dorm because he just gives you hope.
"What do you say? Do you like the plan?" he observes you with a little excited smile.
And without being able to help it, you also smile softly in his direction, feeling how that emptiness in your chest fills up, leaving you feeling alone and ignored.
So you nod your head, avoiding showing too much of your happiness and illusion.
"Perfect."
And after you both finish eating, before his classmates arrive, you both make yourselves comfortable on the couches and talk about almost everything while Vhagar keeps you company.
And because of this, you feel more of that hope, that companionship that you had needed so much from him and finally everything is okay.
Everything feels okay.
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All the following days, both Aemond and you go back to the old routine where you don't see each other as much and don't talk much.
But at least there is that feeling that between you everything is already fine and there are plans in place for the weekend that you couldn't be more excited and anxious about.
You've already planned everything with your friends as well, so it's sure to be a perfect day.
Until finally friday arrives and you expect to wake up to Aemond making a big fuss with that happy birthday children's song.
However, it doesn't.
You wake up to a chill in your room and also in the whole apartment when you realize that Aemond is not here. You check to see if he has left you a note or a text but nothing.
Instantly you think to yourself that he must be getting that cake he promised you, so you take a shower and get ready for the day.
Then you get congratulations from your friends and other family members. You even talk to your parents who are in your little town, Stone Hedge, in the Riverlands, working hard to support your studies.
And then when you finish getting ready, Aemond still doesn't show up, so you call him but he doesn't answer, you also send him messages but nothing.
[You]: I'll be waiting for you until 12PM. I have my class at 1PM.
And you send the message, wishing and hoping he'll be here soon.
Until the hours go by, he still doesn't answer, doesn't even return your calls, doesn't tell you anything and there definitely comes a time when you can't wait for him anymore.
And you control yourself. You don't want to think anything bad. You tell yourself that maybe something important came up at school.
So you stay positive, tell yourself that he will explain when you see him tonight, and leave the apartment to go to the university.
The moment you walk into your classroom, your friends greet you with big hugs, flowers and helium balloons wishing you happy birthday, which definitely lifts your mood.
And even more so when you turn in the most stressful project you've done so far in your entire career and with all the happiness and excitement in the world you see how you get graded with an A+.
And your friends are quick to say that it's all the more reason to celebrate tonight.
When the class is over, along with Aileen, Sara, Ryan and Ryan's friend James, you head to the restaurant they told you they wanted to take you to.
There they all order a bottle of wine and toast to your birthday and also to their good grades in this final project they handed in. Even the restaurant's employees bring you a small cake and together they sing happy birthday to you, feeling very nice.
Although unconsciously, you keep thinking about Aemond.
From time to time you check your phone to see if there are any answers from him yet, but nothing. So you really try not to think about him too much and fortunately, with the help of your friends, you succeed.
Until it starts to get dark and everyone says they should get ready to go to one of the many fraternity parties.
Ryan takes you with James to your house and expecting to see Aemond at the apartment, you arrive and no one is there except Vhagar.
You let out a long breath and call him one more time but nothing, so not to be late you get ready for the party.
You're hopeful that Aemond will eventually arrive, but even when you finish getting ready, nothing. And you know he won't show up or he would have already.
But there is still a little hope.
You think, confident and positive, because it is your birthday.
You ask Sara to pick you up and soon you are both arriving at the party where you meet your other friends who have also brought friends.
"What about your best friend, is he coming?"
Aileen asks you over the music and you, still wanting to feel confident, nod.
"Yeah, he might be a little late."
She nods and takes you to the kitchen to play with the other party games before everything here becomes a mess with so many people and louder music.
And you get distracted for a moment as you start to play and have some fun with the games.
You realize that you're actually having a great time despite Aemond's absence, but you still want to see him since it's your birthday.
That's why after a few hours have passed, the party is getting more crowded and everyone is starting to drink more, you check your phone and there's still nothing from him.
You turn away from everyone for a moment to call him but he doesn't answer. You look at the time and realize that it will be eleven o'clock at night and feeling a little worried now, you send him more messages.
[You]: where are you?
[You]: i have been trying to talk to you all day.
[You]: will you at least come to the party?
Nothing.
You let out a long, disappointed breath, yet you tell yourself that he couldn't have forgotten about your birthday, he just didn't.
He made the plans, he promised you a fun day, he said you two would be together.
But then... where is he?
As you walk back to the house, across the entire backyard, you finally feel your phone vibrate several times and you stop to turn the screen back on again, hopeful.
However... you wish you had not.
[aem❣]: sorry for not responding, I was busy all day with alys and we just finished having dinner with her parents.
[aem❣]: party?
And that's all he tells you.
So surprised and incredulous, somehow already expecting it since he didn't show up in the morning you think it can't be.
You can't really believe it and you wish you were so wrong but... it's the truth.
He forgot your birthday.
Your best friend really has forgotten your fucking birthday.
He doesn't tell you anymore, he doesn't say happy birthday, he doesn't apologize for his absence on your birthday, he just doesn't tell you anything.
He just asks you that, with that question being reason enough to give you to understand that he has forgotten the whole plan and your birthday.
And you don't cry.
You really don't want to cry. He doesn't deserve it.
So you avoid breaking down at that moment and just put your phone on silent to put it in your little bag, holding back the tears and enduring this huge sharp pain in your chest.
When that's when you decide you've had enough.
It's still eleven o'clock, you have one more hour to enjoy your birthday, then you'll have fun for the rest of the party and tomorrow you'll have time to feel bad about what your so-called best friend has done to you.
But this is not going to ruin what's left of your birthday.
So you suppress everything, mentally prepare yourself and go back to the party more confident and determined than ever to have fun with your friends who are here.
And that's what you do.
But after this, enough will definitely be enough.
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taglist:
@hey-lucille @queenofshinigamis @winxschester @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ladymarg0t @yazzzmints @namoreno @wintrr13 @fan-goddess
1K notes · View notes
theboytatu · 3 months
Text
2023 EXO WRAPPED
newton's 4th law states that for every "it's so over" there's an equally opposite "we are so back" so taking that into account i present to you the 2023 EXO WRAPPED so we can take a look at how truly insane EXO's career was this year
so we started out the year on a positive note. baekhyun was about to come back from the military - every other member was available, and the rumors of an EXO comeback were growing stronger. things were looking UP!
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sadly - our first "it's so over" comes into play a mere month into the year, when news broke that lee sooman was being ousted from SM after a hostile board takeover resulted in him reaching out to hybe to get enough juice to fend off the witch hunt
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no one knew what the fuck was going on - every idol in that company was sending out coded messages begging for help and all the scheduled comebacks got delayed, half assed or canceled. thankfully the succession plot got discarded quickly and hybe dropped out from the race, resulting in kakao investing in SM as major shareholder and lee sooman officially leaving the company.
after a few months of uncertainty EXO were finally reunited for their anniversary fanmeeting - we are so back!!! this was the first time the 8 members were together on stage since 2018 so of course everybody was losing their shit. and then we got confirmation that the comeback was finally happening.
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this was it. it was happening. the FIRST full group comeback IN FIVE YEARS... we had confirmation, so they couldn't take it back - right? RIGHT??? except.... the weeks kept passing and as time went on we knew nothing else about the comeback. the members were radio silent and SM was still getting their shit together from the hostile takeover. both EXO and shinee's comebacks got delayed (among others) and no one knew what was supposed to happen. every day we got another news article about the EXO comeback but the EXO in question was nowhere to be seen - the full spectrum of the exol experience:
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what happened next constitutes what experts have called the biggest "it's so fucking over" in recorded history so you better buckle up....
the comeback was first confirmed on social media by numerous music producers who were often seen working with EXO. SM was still radio silent but we KNEW the album was being made at the very least. expectations were building up and the members were seen practicing together in the SM building.... and then.
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kai got notified that he had to enlist WITH ONE WEEK'S NOTICE.... the comeback wasn't even done shooting. kai was dying his hair a different color everyday to cram an album's worth of content in a couple of days. in hindsight this was truly our biggest L of the year
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and then SM lied about how the military had suddenly changed the rules of enlistment so they didn't know kai had to go. AN ACTUAL MILITARY OFFICIAL had to go on the record to disprove this and it turns out SM had lied because they fucked up kai's paperwork and he couldn't defer any more. just your average SM fuck up
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anyway. we'd facen worse right? an exo member enlisting has never been a problem to release a comeback - so after sending kai off to his bootcamp the rest of exo went right back to business. that album wasn't gonna record itself.....
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and then on june 1st the second airplane hit the exo towers.
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the amount of articles and updates we got every hour from different parties was insane. no one knew what the fuck was happening and SM was busy fighting this PR nightmare with a smear campaign against CBX and by association the rest of EXO
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exoplanet was on fire but we had a silver lining: SM stock was plummeting to an all time low. it looked like EXO freedom was on the horizon, but in a classic EXO move the members had ghosted us. no one had heard from them except for legal statements from their lawyers - but hey at least SM was a dumpsterfire!
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mind you the comeback hadn't even been announced.... at this point we assumed that was the least of their worries and then word got out that the members had been trying to film the MV in the middle of the lawsuit and SM hadn't allowed CBX entry to the set... which was later disproved but no one even questioned that cause it's literally something SM would do
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and then in what constitutes the single most bizarre album rollout in kpop the comeback was officially announced - with two prerelease songs and three MVs! and three members in a legal battle! sounds very 2014 right? well exols didn't give a shit, and then we got our next we are sooo back. the hype was THERE
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after a lot of 📈📉📈📉 the lawsuit against SM was settled and CBX decided to remain in the company for the sake of the group, and the songs they prereleased were actually good so it was safe to say exoplanet was on their WE ARE SOOOO BACK era.... but SM wouldn't let us have it so easy so of course this happened immediately after
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they started cancelling albums and understocking distributors but nevertheless... WE PERSISTED. the album was finally released and once again EXO, true to their title of the cockroaches of kpop, managed to break several records despite SM sabotaging them left and right. they had ONE music show win and THREE streams but it didn't matter. EXO was back.
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after their comeback promotions lasted a whopping SEVEN days and then dipped from the face of the earth exoplanet was finally looking back to normal
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baekhyun drunk texted fans on bubble and held live spaces on twitter where he fell asleep and snored in front of 30 thousand people. kyungsoo dropped a mini album that had been recorded and ready to go for over a year and then rumors of someone leaving SM started circulating on korean foums again. exols were busy counting down the days to sehun finally hauling his ass to the military and every time EXO SC had a fanmeeting we were sure he was going to leave. and THEN....
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surprising absolutely no one, kyungsoo didn't renew his contract with SM and left amicably in mid october. suho sent this bubble the same day the news came out btw
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we were back in our it's so over era which at this point for EXO and exols it's closer to our we are so back era.... it's kinda hard to keep up but at least nothing else was gonna happen. it was already november, the end of the year was coming and no one expected anything else in exoplanet for at least 6 to 8 months. this is already longer than exo's career so i'll just wrap it up in a second part!!
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capslocked · 5 months
Text
KINKVEMBER DAY: 7
[prompt: praise kink]
male reader x shen xiaoting
7k words
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Well - from a glance, Xiaoting is flawless.
Every photographer makes the same movement as soon as she steps foot onto the stage - almost as if she's commanding them - but it's not a fair competition and she knows it.
The tiny black dress wrapped around her waist, hugging every meticulous angle in its stretch, isn't exactly the most practical of options, but then again nor was the sleeveless cut or the low-backend, nor the slit in the skirt that shows however much leg you're curious to see, nor the five-inch Louboutins with little ribbons at the ankles, crystals in their mesh like a real-life glass slipper - so, truly, anything about this outfit.
But in this industry, red carpets are about one thing: image.
(Something Xiaoting wields in excess.)
She pauses the subtle sashay of her hips mid-way across the stage, and pivots around, straightening out the waves in her hair, done-up and perfect-in-pink, over her shoulders. She lets the flash of every camera illuminate the swell of her lips in full - reflect and shimmer in the sequence of diamonds dangling under her ears. But it's all in that little smirk, the tilt of her chin. Everything working together to sell the moment; how breathtakingly beautiful she is, how proud, confident and seemingly indifferent to all the commotion happening around her - to every person calling her name and pleading for her to look in this specific direction.
You can watch how deliberate she holds her posture. See it. Understand it. Watch how she tips her head. The genuine kind of smile that could drive anyone to absolute ruin.
Maybe the more obvious: how the cameras love her - love the flash, the shine and glitter and sparkle of the fabric, love the turn of a heel onto where her legs are poised, her profile a perfect angle for every shot and more and more and more.
There's not even the slightest suggestion of just how overwhelmed she is.
-
"You're not supposed to be back here," is the very first thing you hear, as soon as Xiaoting catches your reflection in the vanity mirror.
You hold up a press pass with a headshot that loosely looks like you. Like in a really dark, kind of out-of-focus photo sort of way. Xiaoting simply lets out a slightly disapproving sigh.
"Someone's probably looking for that, you know."
"What's the worst thing that could happen? Someone doesn't get to ask you what your favorite color is, or what you had for breakfast? God forbid we need to know your TMI."
She slips the crystal bracelet off the end of her narrow wrist and places it gently next to the red carpet gear strewn across the surface in front of her. A necklace. The earrings, similar in their shimmer. A matching headband, an evening clutch in white. It's all sitting, not necessarily disorganized, but it's in the mess that Xiaoting is all the while searching for things; lip gloss and makeup, small hair clips.
"You could get us both in trouble, for starters."
When she looks up at you, briefly, there's an attempt at a scolding expression - a short-lived one, how it quickly gives way to a grin, a laugh, all the things she can't help when it's you in particular.
"I'll make sure it finds its way back where I found it," and with a hand over her shoulder, "or at least somewhere close enough. If anyone asks."
Xiaoting bounces an impossibly sweet smile off the mirror at you when her eyes find yours again. And while she starts unclipping pins from her hair, lifting and tousling and adjusting the curls into a more familiar shape, you're almost entranced in the way her shoulders loosen and her eyelashes flutter. In this light, she's even more devastating: an illusion of something both fragile, and immensely resilient.
"At the very least," she says, "I won't hold my breath for anyone else to find their way into my dressing room anytime soon."
She gets a hold of a simple clip, pulls a stray strand of pink off her cheek, and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is fluid, elegant even, and so singular.
She really is, gorgeous.
The fact that you have to occasionally remind her of that is a different maddening issue entirely. You've always wondered - and always will continue to wonder, really - why it is the prettiest girls seem to have the hardest time understanding they're beautiful. It makes you crazy, makes your head hurt.
There's an entire world worth of things for her to fixate her attention on: her job, her fans and career; a hundred more names and faces to learn - people who would probably agree to hang the stars in the sky for her, given the chance, the mere opportunity. But instead she can only bring herself to stare into a mirror and compare notes and point out all these things she doesn't feel ready for.
This interview, or her performance, or the next.
"They're talking about me. Those 'insiders'," she explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the voices in the hallway. "Said, my styling this past year has been too 'soft.' Too 'girly.' No one's buying it," and with a pout: "now, or then, apparently"
"Always works for me," you tell her, in a way that implies it's absolutely none of their business at the end of the day; what colors Xiaoting shows up in, how she wears her makeup and dresses, her shoes or perfume.
She floats her fingers up to the dip of her collarbone, weaving them into your hand. The contented look on her face, now a near permanent fixture in the space she keeps between the two of you, suggests that of all her accessories - gifts and borrowed things she wears in a perpetual game of dress-up - you're the one she would prefer most.
"Well," she says, fixing you a mischievous twist of her brow, "you'd say that if I was up there wearing nothing at all."
"Oh, not a doubt in my mind."
(As usual, the both of you laugh far too much.
As usual, neither of you manage to care.
Your lives have always been about soft edges. A little nonsense here and there, so long as it means having more of her.)
She brings your knuckles to her lips, careful and reserved, and holds the tips of her fingers gently to your neck. "How much more do you have tonight?"
"The rest of the hour is probably asking too much." You help Xiaoting onto her feet, arms wrapping her middle, and with a kiss dropped into her hair, you tell her, "should probably report in, let someone know I haven't gotten myself expelled."
"Thought you said you were a terrible liar."
"Oh, I am," you say. "That's just how much trouble I've already been making for myself tonight."
Xiaoting watches you kiss her shoulder, her neck, all in amusement, eyes never breaking contact as your lips brush and linger against the delicate shape of her wrist. A shiver in her exhale - almost a laugh, an 'I'm listening,' in a form of its own - and you find her body shifting into a natural and familiar hold; the outline of her mouth so unbelievably tempting when it parts so naturally - that when it comes down to a choice: Xiaoting against you, you and her in her private room, the hustle and bustle, and rush-hustle of the building and people and machines outside your door -
It really doesn't take too much convincing.
"Fifteen minutes. They'll start wondering," you tell her, already dipping forward to capture her in your arms. She falls right back, perfectly content as though she doesn't belong anywhere else. "We'd have to be really quick."
"You're bad," Xiaoting hums, winding further into your arms, smiling between the warm, warm kisses you're trailing along the collar of her dress, where the zipper is resting and ready to be drawn down.
The moment is candid: you pressing your lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, following it up with something that's part laugh, and part the kind of sigh people make after too long without sleep. You're already struggling against the curve of her waist - the swell of her hips, all her curves - while your nose nuzzles in deeper, a delicate exploration into the bend of her neck, against her shoulder, the hint of perfume. 
"Only one of us can be perfect, sweetheart." The damn truth, even if she hears it all the time and from everyone else. "You're gonna have to settle.”
You watch her expression melt into that self-composed, self-confident mien when you say it - in a quiet, contented kind of way; an ethereal sort of assurance. As though she was never meant to be touched by anyone, much less held by you, but somehow decided to allow it nonetheless. That look in her eye, it makes your heart twist. Every damn time.
"What about an accident," she muses, "something keeping you longer. Twenty maybe?"
"Oh," you chuckle. "Those happen in the hallway and parking lot. Where everyone can see. Never behind the scenes, for a totally unlikely and unrelated reason."
"Technicalities."
She turns to face you, fully, eyes lit and shimmery under the room's lighting; pink hair, all shades of glitter and silk and the smoothest, warmest skin. Your touch grazes up her sides, palms smoothing over the fine print, the sequins in the fabric, her hands all the while busy weaving, needily, around your waist, underneath the line of your shirt, finding and tracing along the ridges in your hips and spine.
Xiaoting wants you - plain and simple as that. The look on her face says as much.
And if you don't touch her now, kiss and feel her against you - all of it at once - she'll make sure you regret ever prioritizing anything over her. Over the two of you, and how perfectly and neatly you fit together, even if that means you're both absent for press calls, or a segment, or an interview she can't be late to. She'll blame you and it'll be okay.
"Fourteen minutes now," you inform her. "If it’s something you're counting."
"Give or take a few," Xiaoting smiles. Her words slip against your cheek, hot and honey-coated. It's tempting. Her teeth find your jawline and the gentle nip against your skin is hard to ignore. "Did you lock the door?"
"Believe it or not, that was the first thing I did."
And with her hips in your palms, you steal a kiss, because you can - because she's kissing you right back - her forearms wrapping over your shoulders, holding you tight around your neck, and, ahh - Xiaoting's mouth - how eagerly, so desperately, she parts your lips and slips her tongue over your teeth, humming, mumbling happily into a second and third and fourth kiss. Then, once the heat of the moment sweeps in, melting into something slower, sweeter, lingering, a little deeper, it's another.
And another after that.
She leans into you, the rise and fall, slow-down-then-start-again, of her chest and of her breathing and of the tiny, stifled noises she’s kissing into your lips. Only you're pinching the fabric around her waist, slowly lifting the hem of her skirt further up her thighs and reminding her that there's a promise for slow later, that she can take all the time in the world to map and remember the planes and edges of your body; trace the curves of every little sensitive spot and learn again how she fits into your hands, in the time and space that's left to the two of you alone.
"Thirteen-"
"Minutes," she echoes breathily against your ear and over the sound of her fingers in your belt. "I know. Got it."
Xiaoting's hasty. She has to be; reaching and fumbling to pop open your pants while the heat of her mouth finds you first, her tongue sliding smooth across your throat, chin, the warmth and the taste, then along the corner of your mouth - your tongue chasing hers and turning it into a mess that's as intimate and satisfying as it is clumsy; breath catching in both your mouths, hands intertwining, needing the contact with just as much fervent abandon.
Off, off, off, she's murmuring into you, thumbs perched dangerously on your waist, dipping into the fabric, tracing the rim, taking a tease down a little farther with each lazy caress, and, in the very back of your mind, there's a small voice in agreement that insists you are most definitely in no hurry at all.
It grows louder when the small shape of Xiaoting's palm is all the way down the rise of your pants, all over where you're beginning to grow hard - straining and twitching and almost painfully, impatiently interested. You hold her closer and clutch harder because the need is like a burn - one that's seared itself comfortably, wonderfully between your hips, where you feel each brush and curve and fond stroke of her touch.
Her eyes lift to meet yours, gleaming and knowing and laughing, no doubt aware that you're both going to be wrecked no matter which of these games she wins.
"Nothing we can't solve here and now." She tells you.
"True."
"I'll get my mouth on you later, make it all better."
"Later?" Your voice, completely a mess and breaking just enough, forces its way between a kiss that feels anything but. You're pleading for her, into her lips. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?"
"A promise," Xiaoting gasps. "Or a threat. Depends how fast you're ready for me."
"Hush." And you hold her mouth open with yours, devour and drink the sounds falling from her tongue, each one that starts off shallow then trails deeper and deeper and deeper, until her hands have settled over you, and her fingers are finally pushing below the hem, and working the length of your cock, up and down and along it all.
"Hey,” she says, far too inviting, “aren't you supposed to be, like, tearing off this dress by now?"
Xiaoting smirks up at you. With a slight motion of her hand, the other having come to wrap fully around your shaft, the two fingers twisting along your tip, spreading the beading moisture into a long stroke.
"Very gentlemanly of you, wanting to keep it all nice and put together-" and with a wiggle of her brows, "-unsuspicious."
You clench your teeth through a gasp - a jolt at the sudden brush of her fingertips over the base, further down. Xiaoting has that mischief to her - she always has - a certain inclination to press and test the boundaries until they're unrecognizable, to poke and prod where she shouldn't, only the slightest bit concerned.
"Trust me, I would. Only this is a dress I can't afford to ruin, sweetheart." You're leaning her against the vanity, freeing one of her hands to press around behind her, against the cold, cluttered countertop, feeling how the sharp breath in her lungs goes soft and hot immediately, wanting.
"In that case," she tells you, a knowing tilt in her mouth, "you'll just have to ruin me in it."
That's a little closer to your budget given how fast your arm slips under her hip, pulling her up onto the vanity and angling her into you. Her skirt ruffles and follows, the material all too eager to keep you and the lithe frame of her body nice and snug together. There's that sharp gasp in her chest again, at the hand you're running up her thighs; an approval to your arrangement in the sound of her laughter, to your kiss, and all the fever-filled strokes jerking your cock that she's busying herself with again.
You can feel an urge you both share and want to make real and tangible, to peel down and past and over those tiny black panties; feel the heat rising, the wetness there, and all the eager, eager noises of her pleasure.
"Ten minutes." Your teeth are grazing into her lip, her mouth, while she whimpers so pretty into your throat. "Does that put any ideas in your head?"
"Nearly everything." Xiaoting lets your pants fall and uses the back of her heel to skid them down around your feet. "But maybe, especially your cock right here, if you’re going to slide it so slowly over me-" she sucks on her next breath, holding her hand where her panties are; smoothing against you with her hips rocking forward.
You feel her head drop, slightly, when she whispers into a heated kiss, "right between, the most tender way, where I'm aching the most."
"I bet you'd look beautiful with it," you say, all kinds of things, leaning and mumbling into her neck, all that exposed skin. "My cum on you. Sitting so good right here, in such a tight little-"
She stops your teasing with her kiss, pushing forward to the point where her ass is bumping right against your hips, your hand, your cock; coaxing you in closer.
And then, a particularly stern warning, probably warranted, sneaks out through the bite of her lip; just barely restrained: "I swear to god if you make a mess anywhere - don’t, if you know what's best for you.”
"That's a pretty roundabout way of asking me to cum inside you, Xiaoting. Wording matters."
"Telling." Her smile is all kinds of sly; all for you to witness and tuck safely in your pocket later. "Not asking."
"We’ll see what we can do with nine minutes," you tell her, and your cock is snug against the lace of her underwear - right where she's so fucking wet - you can already hear it in the little, jerking huffs in her voice and on her breath and how your hands are touching her through the fabric. How between hot, clumsy kisses, she's lifting and drawing her body as close as possible and curling into you.
(God.)
"Easy," she mouths, all hot and hazy as she drags the lacy band of elastic aside. It's your turn to inhale and jerk and gasp, but there's hardly anything there to catch you, just her whisper that says, "there you go, honey, fill me up real slow. Right to the very, very top," her voice arching high when you've begun to nudge your cock into her, opening her up and up and up with a slow, steady thrust. "Just - like - that."
And in the seconds, maybe minutes (you’re trying not to lose track), that follow, you are holding your breath against the heat blossoming through her cheek. Against Xiaoting, flushed and whimpering, hands buried in her dress and her hips starting to roll back on your cock. It's a tiny adjustment; nowhere to go but deeper, further - grinding together however you can manage.
It's one thing to love each other quietly, discretely and with all that discretion.
It's another entirely, in times like these, to give in to a raw-edge impulse that hits suddenly and leaves just as fast. Your hips snap in and in and in, Xiaoting's chest rising and rising, her head turned and pressed into the shoulder of your shirt, her hand already caught in a fistful of sleeve. And you - the friction is so soft and so good, a slick, easy glide of your cock - full - all the way to the very last inch.
Just her seedy, whimpering whine fills the back of your neck and your ear, and her arms and her legs locked in around you, like a coil ready to burst, that ache coming to a head.
The ends of her hair are soft and sweet where you gather a fistful of pink around your wrist, hold - pull, like a taut string. Xiaoting gasps a fluttering note as her chin tips up, the smooth canvas of her throat begging to be kissed and roughed up in just the right places. Reddening like the insides of her thighs, the heat there, where they're pinched around your waist - delicate little marks of where you're fucking her open and bare and deep and so well.
You could drink up each and every noise - all the keening and humming, the ruffled, strung-out sounds; how you're both breathing into a shared mess of gasping and panting, of Xiaoting whimpering into your throat, clinging on like she'll die otherwise. "Faster," she pleads all desperate and urgent. "More. Fuck this pussy like it deserves, don't you want it? So wet, can't you feeling how I'm aching?"
You can. Hot and wet and absolute.
You can feel the shudder-wreck, the absolute throe - there's not an ounce left between you; nothing but her slick, warm cunt clutching and hugging your cock, letting it stretch her apart and fill her again and again, the little ridge between your hips slipping over her clit on a forward, upward stroke and grinding there, with a shaky hand cradling her lower back for support while you drive back into the thrust.
"Ting, fucking christ - Ting, your tight little pussy is incredible." You groan into her skin. "Taking me, fucking, taking every, last, inch-"
"I can feel you fucking throbbing," Xiaoting tells you, all teasing and exasperated as she lets your name turn into a series of vibrating hums against your lips. "You're going to make me fucking lose it, the way you're hitting me inside."
See, you fit together, inside-and-outside so perfect; that when you begin to really fuck Xiaoting, when she's making it clear, over, and over, yes, harder, give it to me, and the table she's sitting on is giving away each-and-every one of her whimpers, you lose yourself in the rhythm and pace and the fact that Xiaoting's creaming cunt is working itself hot and messy and pulsating around you; so fucking tight, tight, - slick all around - almost drawing you in, then resisting and tensing every-time your cock finds just the deepest angle.
It's something to push, something that makes you greedy and drive her ass into the cabinet even more; make sure you're slipping along her walls just enough, and doing so with every few inches or less that you're managing to drive, working over a pressure so sensitive it might be making her see stars, every time a thumb digs a little deeper into her hip bone.
"All the way, baby," she's saying, whispering, making you want to fuck the words out of her in broken pieces. "So. Close. Just a little-"
She's gone, her back arched - bending into an incredible sight. And there's the most beautiful look on her face, even under the frantic-urgent rush. Your hands are all over her: pressing into the divots above her hips; petting the expanse between her tits, then down again, feeling out her ribcage, her belly, in between her thighs and parting them wider - like if she were any more spread open, she'd be coming right off the table.
Then, the thumb tangled into the sleeve of her dress, the rough pad of the other rubbing circles over her swollen clit - here you'll figure she'll cum; she's never shy about it - but it's more a question of how many times. How it always builds up and comes apart.
You're obsessed, really, with the details: her eyelids fluttering, the sounds of her skin sliding down onto the cabinets, her lips that can never get themselves closed.
"Oh, Ting," you're panting, licking all over her parted mouth, "do you need-"
Her nails begin to cut half-crescents into the small of your back, where she's been gripping at you; a moan falls straight out from her tongue, straight into your own, the closest she'll ever come to asking for anything: but it's easy.
"You're so fucking pretty, baby, I'll give you whatever you need-"
You slide your fingers higher up her folds, pushing onto her hot cunt right over the spot where your cock is disappearing inside her.
"I know that's what you need to be fucked silly, right? Need some extra friction so I can have the entire inside of this fucking cunt dripping-"
Xiaoting makes a noise that tells you, good guess. And you're playing her closer and closer to her orgasm, watching her teeth sink into her own lip, knowing that she's the one on a timer - which makes it all the easier, because you know exactly what to say next, because you've played this game enough - when you've already been fucking her and fingering her through one or two and her noises are telling you her body needs just one more, and then, the words usually roll right out, not the slightest bit contrived:
"That's it, sweetheart, you look so fucking good. So, so pretty cumming on my cock, baby. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can't get enough of you."
Her mouth falls open, eyes screwing tight with it - the praise, the way you can talk her right into it every fucking time - the way it all but kills her: even when she's getting pumped full of pre-cum and sleeved around your cock like a glove, you know that sometimes the words are the only thing she's chasing, and her jaw starts to trembling just like the rest of her. This full body tension, head to toe of perfection you're whispering in her ear. She's pressing her heels harder than before against the back of your legs, digging, her whole chest shaking for a gasp of air she doesn't seem to ever be able to fully catch.
"But god, I wish you were looking at me," you're begging, sincere, with a deep sort of pining, when you get the the sharp twist of her neck, like it takes everything in her, then, like it's a miracle - those lidded, still-water eyes focused right on you. "I want to make you fall apart, just looking at me, sweetheart."
(Your poor heart. An obsession. So in love with her.)
The kiss you steal from her lips is deeper, your tongues playing a familiar song, the push, pull - how easy and perfect she fits.
When she cums, it always starts quiet, not like what she's just started doing: the kind of cries and moans that begin to make it past her teeth, desperate and panting, her fingers crushing down in place where they're pressed to your skin. Those whimpers that start quiet, get loud, fast, and then Xiaoting's arching right up from the table and clenching her entire body. With you inside her, she's so wrapped up in how good it is, the pleasure spiking past her pussy and into her veins.
"Shh," you soothe her, lovingly brushing her hair to the side when her breath shudders hard; the mess you made, sliding a palm against her cheek when the first few tears gather, the way they always do when Xiaoting's overwhelmed and torn down in such a good, beautiful way. 
You could kiss her, when you feel the curve of her trembling lips. You do, again-again; slip and wet and parted and sliding when Xiaoting lets you hold the base of her chin between your forefinger and thumb, and bring your mouths together like that.
You could hold the moment longer. Keep kissing her and not moving - except Xiaoting has that meek, "Fuck me," mumbled into your open mouth, her half-wits returning and giving her the very start of a wicked grin - all sloppy with orgasm. "However you want, whatever will make you cum fast-"
"Turn around for me. I'm going to show you how pretty you are, looking just like that-"
"Y-Yeah- '' Xiaoting is trying, her joints trembling as she moves her body. She's so good, listening, rolling onto the surface of the table with her ass up, palms spread out and supporting her into this perfect line. Xiaoting's defining the curve: where her lower back and tight little ass begins and ends, right up into her shoulders and spine. Her hair has fallen across one side, and now you can finally see how much she's blushing in the mirror, the messes that her eye makeup has smudged into, how good she's been, and now how sweet and pliable and worked open her muscles are.
The view alone could have you blowing your load before you can even do it properly inside her.
But, god - the fact that her dress was hanging down on one shoulder, then on none, exposing her naked skin entirely; the fact that you can't resist grabbing a hand around a waist-full of her body and dragging her back closer, slotting your thighs under hers and her ass up against you, cock sliding into her still-clenching cunt without the help of your hands, just finding it where it belonged. You give it to her like she's meant to take. Fast. Hard. Deep. Making sure each-time your cock is in its base-deep place and sliding right back out, pulling slick, creamy strands out from her fucked-out pussy. Bathing you in her want, her need, pooling along the base of your cock; seeping everywhere.
There's just so much of it. The sounds echoing off the empty walls, so distinct, unmistakable, so full and thick. The way your whole body seems to tighten and tense along with hers - everything tight, you can see it, your eyes sweeping from Xiaoting's thighs to the reflection of how she just takes you. Shaking each time, the lines of her body wobble forward when your hips land a heavy thrust and slide along every bit velvety-wet inside her: no room for your cum when she's this overflowing, you figure, wondering how full of it she could even get.
"Fuck," the word just slides off you. "Fucking god, you're the best fuck," you praise her. Like heaven.
Because Your hand is in her hair again, wrapped up in and smoothing over the tangles; feeling her like silk. But now you're grabbing too - holding her steady, a fistful between the roots; you want her back arched, canted just that one angle higher that you know would push her past all limits.
“Oh my god,” she gasps out, once your get her knee planted up on the counter - once she's spread herself even further for the weight of your body. "That's it - holy shit, please-more-"
There are little whispers too - stuff that makes your cock twitch a few times, pulsing in warning - not even fully aware that she's cumming down all over your waist, praises like the hottest of filth, please and yes and I need it and fuck and fucking christ, keep going and don't stop don't stop please baby I'll do anything anything-
Xiaoting's voice reaches the same high pitch she does when her clit is getting hit, not sure what part of her body you're touching or just the overwhelming sensation, but god she doesn't know which way to turn her neck and face. She just ends up taking it all in, breathing in the gravity of the moment - her reflection, yours, the feeling - a tremor building up, her eyes flickering back-forth when she realizes they've started to close, forcing herself to look at the both of you.
You fuck your cock through each inch of her quivering cunt, each one hotter, tighter, wetter than the last - until you're spilling cum - cumming deep and fast inside her -
Reaching so far she can feel the thick pool of it getting fucked further into her with every shallow snap of your hips; her ass flushing back up against your stomach. Filling her to the brim - enough to feel it drip and seep and slide.
And she doesn't stop, the way she has her hips rolling down your length and staying there, your cock rooted into her deepest spot. If there's one more thing she gets off on it's being filled, milking the remnants, emptying you, and - because she's almost fucking teasing you, you feel it when she's clenching the remaining dredges right out of your body; out and leaking hot along your over-sensitised skin. The sharp sting of it has your hands tight on her waist, her ass spilling through the gaps of your fingers - deciding what you'll do.
"Three minutes," she says, panting, "is enough-"
You squeeze through the sculpted round of her ass. Spank it. Knead it.
"You want me to fuck another one into you - can you take that? You'd be such a good girl if you can take a fucking like that."
"I mean it," Xiaoting rasps, hips still lifted and angled toward you, as she meets you in the mirror; her eyes looking past your reflection, still coming down, wrecked and fucked raw, but making the message clear. "I'll make it easy for you."
And with that's she got her hand on your still-hard cock; not nearly enough softness in her voice for the rough grip and the sloppy pumping - fucking filth out of her still, if there was ever any hope of getting it out the way she's pulling and using and moving the slick all over you, spilling it onto the floor. "Think I can make you cum again, right here and now."
The thing about Xiaoting is:
She makes bad decisions, but always with the best intentions. That's why you always know what she'll say.
Because it's almost always the same answer: a pair of crossed wrists and a coy-eagerness that's enough of an invitation for you to make use of what she's given.
And this is the exact way you find yourself dragging the fabric of her dress down her shoulder, her middle, her breasts falling back down from their bounce when you unwind it, then twisting the end tightly into itself before shoving it into the soft valley of her mouth.
I love your tits, you know that?" you tell her, mouth open and hot against her shoulder blade. “So fucking pretty all over, Ting, your entire body's amazing and it does things to me-if I could, I would keep my cum inside this tiny little pussy, over and over, keep filling it. Make your tummy swell for me, sweet baby, and never let a single drop-"
"Do it-" she moans out, words garbled by the fabric. Her eyes are wide and full of the darkest innocence, like anything could happen; anything you wished. "Do it, your fucking cock, want to feel you-"
You spank her again, and she keens.
The mirror is showing you how her chest reddens under the rush of your hands kneading at her, almost violent, before sliding down the back-insides of her thigh, pushing, "But, what you look like with my cock buried inside you, stretched out and still so fucking tiny around me."
It's not new. It's what makes Xiaoting give you the dirtiest, sexiest little hum around the cloth wedged inside her mouth.
Then her cunt clenches down on your cock, and you're groaning, "christ," watching the way her face tugs at the stretch, watching, when her back is pushed out again - the angle. You're lining up, sucking in the full and naked and glistening display of her body before letting your hips fuck into hers again. It feels even better than the first time: tightening like a vise around the thickness of you, your cum pouring back inside her, then with her eyes fixed to yours in the mirror, you get to watch her lips straining; a drooling, whimpering mess.
Then. You're slamming her waist into the table. Rough, reckless. Desperate to reach another edge, rough enough that she can barely look up from her bowed elbows, elegant features twisted into something a little more awful, a little more pretty - just there, and - and - 
A third time. Four. More.
Xiaoting's whimpering, just so spent she has nothing else left, your cock filling her up so full and hot with your spill; she's sloppy and flushed and you're pressing her up into the cool surface of the mirror, with her legs giving in when she collapses over her heels and nearly tumbles over; her own body weighing nothing.
If she asked, "carry me," in any way, you'd be on her like clockwork; you'd get her turned around into a loose-limbed pile, a leg thrown over each of her waist; she'd already have her cheek nestled against your jaw, halfway asleep, a warm bundle pressed up and waiting to get tucked into bed and swept into all of the things that would make her purr and melt; blankets and warm-clothes and showers and tending.
You'd always make a show out of sweeping her off her feet. Because the thing is, Xiaoting deserves it.
And you let her know that:
"You're always the sweetest, aren't you? Taking a fucking like that," you tell her, burying the dying gasps of a laugh right into the sweat-sticky back of her neck. You can feel her throat vibrating out a small sound, her brain almost definitely not able to formulate words, maybe only just registering the tones of your voice. "You are just so breathtakingly gorgeous, babe, the prettiest baby. The fucking world must be upside down, because no one tells you nearly often enough."
And -
Xiaoting - really, above all else, is fucking gorgeous. Because her tired laugh echoes a small part of itself straight down your spine, filling all the dips between each of your vertebrae. Genuine smile and all.
It has your skin crawling back to life, warming up.
There's a murmured 'thank you' said somewhere into the back of her hand, between her pinky finger and her ring, a small, stifled breath that pulls on her tired voice; it's a sleepy sound, like honey, and maybe that's why you choose to tell her one more time.
You glance at the clock on the wall. It's been a good fifteen-plus-extra minutes. You can live with that.
"Told you we'd be late," you say, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.
Which means this is the second time she says: "Nothing there we can’t solve with a little..."
"Carelessness?"
"Misdirection. Pretty convenient for some of us," Xiaoting murmurs with the lingering sweetness of your kiss on her lips. "Who have that charming talent with words."
She looks up, wincing and dabbing at the dried tracks on her cheeks where her eyelashes have swept away all the makeup and tears, like a soft brush sweeping away the layer of snow, she lets her head rest there in your palm and the other soothes, warm, on the back of her neck - her shoulders a little slack when you feel her whole body relax.
"Love you," Xiaoting says, after a heavy breath; a shaky exhale, just under her tongue; "even when we're a little crazy."
Your cheeks warm as they squish themselves around her grin.
"Love you. Now hold still," you say - taking it slow, kissing the damp pink curls right behind her ear. Then, for the most part, it's back to business. Back to normal.
Makeup wipes and wet washcloths. Clearing and setting the furniture upright. Hastily undoing the locks, so that to anyone who's passing by and smelling the raw, irrefutable evidence of sex and sin, they can turn away and think twice - no one's fault except the wicked thoughts swirling and forming in the back of their thoughts.
(No matter how many times you do, it's no different with Xiaoting; her smile turns the wheels in your head - still spinning. You can't help it when she laughs with her eyes still half-mast - fucked-out; a headiness, her tone like velvet.)
And the 'yes, we do,' on her breath when she hums again, is the beginning of an I-told-you-so, when you tell her, "c’mon, we've got places to be."
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gtsdreamer2 · 5 months
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   You were deep in the Amazon rainforest. A recent graduate with your mycology doctorate, you were researching a special species of mushroom that only was said to grow deep in the jungle and only during the twenty four hours of the full moon during the autumn months. According to ancient texts found in the indigenous people's temples, the mushroom was used in fertility rituals and to signify a bountiful harvest during these months before the cold winter. You were curious about the cultural significance as well as the medicinal properties of this rare shroom. You didn't know what it looked like, only that it wasn't foraged for by the locals anymore and that it should look like a mushroom that you don't know.
   Hours of searching later, you begin to grow tired and wonder if you should give up and wait until the next full moon. The sun is starting to set when you finally spot something different. It's a mushroom you've never seen before, which is remarkable seeing as how you've seen them all. The cap is a pinky flesh color with an even pinker button on top. You giggle to yourself as you remark that it looks like a tit with a firm nipple poking out of it.
   Kneeling down, you take out your notebook and a pencil and begin to sketch it. 'I'm just drawing a boob.' You think to yourself. You stare in awe at this shroom as the sun continues to set. Taking your pencil, you poke the nipple-esque protrusion. Immediately this mushroom expells a giant cloud of spores right in your face. You gasp in surprise, sucking into your lungs an ample amount of the potent plume.
   You hack and cough, but its way too late for that, they're already lodged deep within you and entering your blood stream. Your eyes dialate and your body grows hot. You stand and lean against a tree, trying to catch your breath. You can feel your heatbeat in every nerve. Your cells are responding in a way they never have to the new foreign agent that has begun to take over you. Your heatbeat concentrates in your breasts as you feel your nipples grow almost painfully erect. Then you feel your breasts start to press against your soft white cotton top. You can feel the belts on your corset tighten to try and contain whatever is happening to you. Suddenly you shoot up four inches in height.
   Your sudden growth spurt elicits an a forced maon from your mouth. "Mmmph!" You cry out as a second wave hits you. The belts on your corset snap and suddenly you're six foot five with the seams of your jeans splitting. You feel your feet break free from your hiking boots as your toes sink into the damp rainforest earth.
   'This is starting to feel really good.' You think to yourself as you start to regain a semblance of your normal senses. Doing a body check, you can tell that you've grown. Your breasts have at least doubled in size and are now very hot and sensitive to the touch. You can feel a hunger deep in your womb as if ovulating on steroids.
   You attempt to sit down on the cool jungle floor, your now massive ass shredding the back of your jeans as you squat down. You pick up your pad and pen and continue to make notes about the shroom.
   'It is clear that this is how the Amazon women in the lore of this land gained their stature, and I can clearly feel why this particular fungus was revered for its fertility-inducing properties. I feel so full of life, yet I also feel the need to be bred full of babies.' Looking back at your notes, you are in shock that you actually wrote that down.
   You wonder to yourself how potent the flesh of the shroom might be, considering what just inhaling some of the spores had done to you. As the sun began to set, you walk back over to the shroom and delicately pluck it out of the ground before greedily shoving the whole thing into your mouth, quickly swallowing it without so much as trying to find out what it tastes like. Again the euphoria strikes your body. You feel its effects ten fold as you quickly gain four feet in height and explode out of your inadequate top. Sitting back down on the remainder of your ruined clothes, you bask in the feeling of your massive body and heightened strength and senses. You close your eyes and listen to the jungle around you, lamenting that you ate the only specimen that you had found on your journey, and now the only evidence was what it had done to you. When you open your eyes, the realize that the moon has peaked through the canopy. Your dialated eyes can see the jungle floor quite clearly now, and shimmering all across the damp dense expanse before you, you can see dozens more of the mushroom glowing against the moon, as if drinking in its power. 'It would have been so much easier to find at night.' You chastise yourself as you stand up again. You leave your ruined clothes behind as you pick up your foraging Satchel and start to delicately pick as many of the shrooms as you can carry, trying your best to put them in containers without them expelling more spores. 'This will be so great for my research.' You think to yourself. 'And it'll make a great snack for the walk back'. You giggle to yourself as you pop another three into your mouth.
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lovingksuki · 5 months
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✰ SECRET ADMIRER
— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader
synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy
cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.
a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;
word count: 1k
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"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."
"there's not."
"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.
"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.
then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.
"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.
"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.
"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.
"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.
"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.
"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."
"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.
"hey!"
"more like the pretty girl type."
"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"
"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."
at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.
"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."
"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.
"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.
"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.
"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.
"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.
"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.
"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.
"precisely."
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.
"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.
but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.
"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.
"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.
"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."
"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.
whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.
"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.
"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.
"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.
when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.
"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.
"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.
"mmm... asui-san?"
"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.
"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.
"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."
"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."
the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.
"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"
"uh, ok."
his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.
after the girls left he released his breath.
"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.
"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"
"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."
"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.
"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"
he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.
"a bit more."
every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.
trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."
"shit."
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Okay but what about reader giving Xavier a necklace with her initial on it…
Wednesday twin!Reader
I've done this scenario a few times for other characters/fandoms, but only the situation reversed (where reader is the one wearing the necklace)
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After seeing him, you didn't want to look at anything else.
Enid was giving you and Wednesday a quick tour of the school after your arrival. She showed you the library, the dining area, where to go to class and, lastly, the quad — which was a pentagon, as your sister had flatly pointed out. Enid had not been amused by Wednesday's humor and chose to ignore her and continuing her tour, insisted on giving you a wikia on Nevermore's social seats.
As the blonde was expanding about the clics and Bianca Barclay, your eyes fell on the tall boy on the other side of the quad and they wouldn't leave him. The world around you turned into a white noise, a mere echo, as you gave your whole attention to the stranger. You were completely entranced by him. His hair was tied back as he effortlessly painted a raven on a school wall.
''—used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe,'' Enid explained, and, as if on cue, the boy — Xavier — looked over his shoulder, finally giving you a good picture of his face.
A sharp jawline sliding into a pointed chin, Cheshire cat green eyes and the beautiful and full pink lips. You felt like throwing up as the words crossed your mind, but he had the face of an angel.
He raised his hand over the painting, making you very confused. Until now, you didn't know Nevermore's outcasts had powers. The artwork followed his hand movement, the wings of the raven coming to life and sending your heart in a twirl, in complete awe at everything this boy was.
At that moment, you wondered if that's how your parents felt when they first saw each other. The tight feeling in the chest and the inability to look away. You wanted to cross the quad and compliment Xavier on his artwork and talent or simply introduce yourself — get any kind of interaction with him —, but another boy pulled you out of your bubble. This one had a whole den of snakes hidden underneath his beanie.
Before coming to Nevermore, you had never batted a lash at any boys, but for some reason Wednesday couldn't fathom or indulge, you had a special interest for Xavier.
''What do you find in him?'' she asked from her bed, reading her copy of Frankenstein. She had read it so many times that the spine was cracked and duck-taped.
A smile curled on your face, your mind drifting to Xavier.
Although he was very handsome, your attraction didn't stop there. It was more than his look. It was the way he carried himself, his posture and effortlessly elegant demeanor, the way he spoke about things he was passionate about, the shy dimpled smile he always reserved for you, the way he gave you his undivided attention when he's talking to someone, the subtle acts of romanticism like that one time he got you that specific shade of rose that's really hard to find and expensive just because it was your favorite.
''I'm afraid the list would exceed the level of disgust you can handle in one day, dear sister,'' you replied.
''Do test me. I might enjoy myself.''
You loved him in a way you couldn't explain. He made you see life in colors, painting a golden light over your natural darkness.
The hour was late as you wandered to the boys’ dormitory, ducking into alcoves and being as quiet as the dead on your way to Xavier’s dorm. He didn’t know you were coming, but Thing had seen him returning from his nightly run through Wednesday's window so you knew he was there.
You did your special knock and when the door opened, Xavier grabbed your shoulder and pulled you inside, quickly closing behind you. You couldn't be on the boys' floors. The rules were very strict concerning the dormitories and the consequences would be severe if caught.
‘’What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night celebrating your birthday with Wednesday.’’ Xavier reached for your hand, pulling you close to him. His hair was released from its usual hair-tie and damp from the shower he must’ve had after his run.
‘’It appears she has blown me off,’’ you explained with a tinge of bitterness. ‘’Only Thing was in her dorm when I let myself in and refused to tell me where she had gone. My suspicions are, she is raising dark forces and does not want mom and dad to know of her hellish doings.’’
Xavier frowned. ‘’Hellish doings?’’
''Séances. We have an altar in our living room at home.’’
You spoke so casually of dark magic that Xavier didn’t wish to know what else you and your parents did in your free time. It might be a little too spooky and kooky for him.
‘’I have something for you.’’ You pulled out a black velvet pouch from your jacket pocket. ‘’Open it.’’
Xavier took the pouch with a veil of confusion on his face. ‘’You got me a gift on your birthday?’’
‘’Open it, mon amour,’’ you pressed, equally excited and terrified to see his reaction.
Delicately, Xavier untied the loose knot and pulled the pouch open. He reached inside and took out a silver necklace. It wasn’t delicate and dainty like a woman's. The chain was thicker and the pendant was in the shape of a wax stamp with your initial on it.
‘’I found the pendant in a shop in town. I was looking for a present for Wednesday and it caught my eye through one of the glass shelves among other trinkets.’’
He observed the jewelry closely, then smiled at it. ‘’Like Y/N?’’
‘’Not because I own you,’’ you felt the need to add, ‘’but because I’m the only one who really knows you.’’
Xavier’s smile deepened, soft dimples poking. The smile he kept just for you. He unclasped the back of the necklace and you grabbed it from him, putting it on for him. A smile bloomed on your lips, seeing the pendant resting over his shirt as a mark of your love.
Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n  @poppet05  @ell0ra-br3kk3r  @rhaenyraswife  @teaganthemorningstar​ @aphex2winn  @moompie  @ifevilwhyhot
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lunarpeonie · 8 months
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stay the night
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in which you babysit megumi some nights and toji is sick of you showing up in those tight little shorts
1.3k words, nsfw
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“Good evening, Mr. Fushiguro. I just put Megumi down.” You whispered as you held up the baby monitor. Toji hadn’t had one when you first started working for him and had purchased it at your insistence. You had been babysitting for the Fushiguro’s now for a few months, showing up whenever Toji had called. It wasn’t a regular thing, Toji had told you his job was a freelancer (whatever that meant) and his work wasn’t regular. Still, he paid decently and Megumi was a doll of a child, always so sweet and eager to have someone to babble to.
It also didn’t hurt that Toji was an absolute dilf. He had a perfectly placed scar on the corner of his lips that you wanted to paint pink with your lipstick. He towered over you and always had on shirts seemingly two sizes too small that outlined his hard abs and broad shoulders. You were waiting for him to lift his arm one day and have his shirt split down the middle. Long story short, you wanted him.
“Thanks.” He said digging in his pants pocket for his wallet to pay you for the night. He was never very talkative, especially so after he was done work. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just with you. You turned around to grab your purse on the couch, not realizing how far your yoga shorts had ridden up. They had moved so far that now your peach colored panties were peeking out underneath.
You heard a faint rustling of clothing before feeling a large, calloused hand grip your waist. You stiffened in surprise and quickly turned your head to look at the man behind you. His hand traveled up in between the valley of your breasts and he tugged you so that your back was flush with his chest. His extremely muscular chest. You could already feel your face heating up.
Toji leaned his head next to your ear to whisper. “You didn’t have to wear those tiny shorts for my attention, you already have it. Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back all of this time? My self control has worn out.” It wasn’t as if you wore those shorts on purpose for this exact outcome… or that was what you told yourself to feel better about the fact that you desperately wanted the single father with an ambiguous job who always came home late.
“If you want to stop, say so now because once I get started, it’s too late.” He groaned into your ear. You shook your head vigorously no, unable to muster up the words to speak. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls of excitement. Toji nipped at your lower lip, inviting you to open for him. When you did, he slipped his tongue past your parted lips dominating your own.
“I’m gonna stuff you full,” he groaned, kissing up the side of your neck before pushing you hard onto the weathered sofa.
“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little cockslut waiting for me.” His voice was teasing, one of his hands dipping under the waistband of your shorts, slowly working its way down and pulling both your shorts and underwear down with it.
“Taking care of my kid all day, waiting for me to come home and give you your reward.” He dipped two calloused fingers into your heat and groaned. “How are you so wet already?” He started off slow, but with your encouraging mewls, he began to aggressively scissor his digits in and out of your hole.
“Ah, Toji…” you trailed off as he lifted his fingers out of you, a trail of your essence following them. He guided his fingers to his awaiting mouth, scar stretching to open wide. Sucking hard on his two digits, he slid them slowly from his mouth and let go of them with a pop.
“I would play more but…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking. You couldn’t waste time when you had a toddler down the hall that could wake up any moment. You feverishly unbuttoned the jeans clinging tight to his thighs and pulled down, gasping at the outline of his cock in his silky black boxers. You palmed the large bulge with your hand, feeling the pulsating veins even through the thin layer of fabric. It twitched as you began to run your hand up and down the clothed erection. Toji wasted no time in revealing it to you and let his boxers pool at his ankles before kicking them away. He was long and thick with a nest of black hair resting at the base of him. The curtains do match the drapes.
“Oh my god.” You whispered, but not quiet enough for it to escape Toji’s notice. He shot you a devilish grin before pushing you so your back laid on the faux leather couch.
“Next time, I’ll take my time on you. Maybe shove my face between those thighs and lick your pretty pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” All you could do was vigorously nod your head in response, excessively aware of the fact that Toji had moved the head of his cock so that it was poking at your entrance.
“But what about…ah!” You started, trying to warn Toji that you hadn’t used any protection, but he was already plowing through your wet heat. You tried to quiet your mewls, but couldn’t hold them in as he thrust deep within you. Toji shushed you and buried your head in the crook of his neck.
“You’re so whiny. You’re gonna wake the kid.” You can feel his grin against your skin while he says it, not seeming at all worried about the possibility. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself.
He lifted your leg, folding it against your chest and angled his hips up. You choked back a moan as he hit your g-spot. Toji picked up the pace, thrusting fast and hard into your heat. He felt himself lose all control in the wet, gummy paradise between your thighs. Each thrust felt like he went deeper within you, carving out a space for himself within you. He slid a hand down to play with your clit, rubbing tight circles until you started to feel a familiar tension within your stomach.
“Ah, Toji I’m -“ You whimpered.
“You gonna come for me? Good.” You bit down on your lower lip to try to quiet your noises of pleasure, but he still slaps his hand across your mouth to muffle the noises you couldn’t contain. Finally, the tension snapped like a rubber band and your body flooded with release. He pushed his forehead against yours as he fucked you through your orgasm with deep thrusts that had you nearly shaking with overstimulation.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He hissed, leaning so your foreheads were touching. “I’m not pulling out. You’d be such a good mother, wouldn’t you? You take such good care of my son, maybe I’ll give you one of your own.” Your eyes shot wide open in alarm, shocked that you liked the idea so much. You chanted yes, yes, yes, as you felt him groan and shoot his load deep inside of you. He stayed there for a moment, before slowly pulling his cock all of the way out and pushing his cum back in you. Toji rolls to lay his back on the sofa, grabbing your body and placing you on top of him.
“You’ll have to stay the night. I’m not done with you yet.” He grinned. Somehow, you were completely fine with that. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
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flowering-thought · 1 year
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Since I messed up I'll still write it just without the down bad ask I had for context ;-;
It was Sweet Anon if anyone wants to know-
Not edited
WARNING - MINORS DNI
AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.
Yandere themes, piercings, tattoos, semi-public
⋆。˚. ੈ ⋆。˚. ੈ ⋆。˚. ੈ ⋆。˚. ੈ ⋆。˚. ੈ ⋆。˚.
Takeo Kawahara
NSFW Headcannons
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• Not a virgin. He used to have a couple of girlfriends but he never felt any emotional attachment to them and while he found the sex nice, it wasn't amazing.
• About 6.5 inches (16 cm) with a girth full enough to barely fit in your pretty hand perfectly and a slightly fatter tip. Bends a bit when it's fully hard and shows off his Jacob's ladder when it bobs against his abdomen-
• Man's can go for quite a bit. About 3 or 4 rounds. He's a tattoo artist so he sits most of the day and his sessions so all that energy at the end of the day builds up quite a bit.
• Following that up with his hands. Takes care of them quite well and knows definitely how to use them well. Very slender and long fingers as well.
• Loves it when you use your hands on his dick. He can't help but love seeing your hands stroke his cock. May even enjoy it when you get your nails done and he gives you some money to splurge on getting your nails done just to see you wrap them around his dick.
• May also ask sometimes to pick the color or give you images of some nails he saw that he thinks you would like. He loves to spoil you and if he gets to see those spoils around his dick it's a bonus ♡
• Not too into toys as he gets a little jealous of anything even an object getting you off beside him.
• Does enjoy tying you up on occasion though. His favorite is Shinju (the shibari type around your chest) as he loves to suck and grope and bite occasionally when he wants to leave more marks.
• Moans. The man moans a lot. He's also got quite a sensitive neck and lets out small groans when you suck or bite down and leave marks.
• Loves overstimulating you. He just can't help but adore it when your legs start shaking or your thighs quiver against his head when you tense up and grab his head to try and pull him away from your aching and sensitive clit.
• Also definitely loves to cum inside. Usually uses birth control for you or if you don't like that he'll get a vasectomy cause he wants to keep you comfortable. He does like kids! He just wants to enjoy his time with you before he's ready to let another person take away some of that time.
• Also a very pussy drunk man. Sometimes even if his cock hurts he'll keep going cause he can't help but love the feeling of you wrapped around his dick.
• Calls your pussy many things such as soft, mine, pretty, tight, wet, and all sorts of others but with the prettiest little moan coming out of his lips.
• His favorite position is probably cowgirl. He loves watching your tits bounce and that cute face you make when he suddenly thrusts up. It does usually end up with him getting impatient and sitting up to kiss you while he speeds up.
• Honestly he has a sketchbook he hides in a drawer that contains all the lewd drawings he has of you. He doesn't like pictures as they feel too raw to him. So he draws the faces you make or the way your hands reach down to grab his hair. Or sometimes he catches a glimpse of you two in the mirror and can't help but adore the sight of you and commits that sight to memory for later.
• He's good at aftercare but by the time you both are done he's usually too tired and might either collapse on you or beside you while still inside of you. Your walls just draw him in and make him addicted.
• Quite adores quickies. He occasionally pulls you aside to a quiet place and just tries to get off as quickly as possible with you. Does have a thing for public sex cause he loves how shy you get ♡
• Also has two moles right along his v-line and a tattoo right in his inner thigh near his crotch. The tattoo is the Draco constellation and when his cock is flaccid it rests right against that tattoo so perfectly ♡
• Might even think about permanently marking you but only if you agree. After all he hates doing things you don't like. But if you give him enough reason such as trying to leave he might just mark you with a special piercing or possibly something a little more permanent...
But he puts his whole heart and soul into making love to you, he can't help himself find hind himself lost when it comes to you. And isn't it better to be lost in you than without you?
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multifandomgirl08 · 5 days
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The Moment You Smiled At Me [Mini Verstappen Series]
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Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Pre-Established Relationship)
Summary: The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.
Warning(s): N/A
A/N: Title taken from the song Rain by Sleep Token.
Words: 2.3k
Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist
Max had always hated going to these FIA parties. It had nothing to do with racing, and although he had no issue with supporting the sport and the people that were coming up in it. He saw no real reason as to why they had to get dressed up. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give out these awards at the end of the season burning the last race and calling it done?
He was caught in a small group of people who were waiting to get their picture taken on the blue carpet. Some of them he knew and the others he didn’t. He could see people walking around before making their way inside to the tables not stopping by for more than a glance at him.
Max glanced down at his watch to check the time and instead caught the sight of light blue fabric out of the corner of his eyes. He looked up wondering if he could see who was wearing the color, but all he saw was the back of a dress belonging to a woman who had her arms locked with a man. They disappeared into the room.
Eventually, Max had managed to make his way out of the group that he was stuck with and inside towards the tables, people weren’t sitting yet. His eyes traveled over the room wondering about the light blue dress he saw. He tried to tell himself that it was nothing, but his eyes' normal laser-sharp focus seemed to be playing a trick on him.
But then he saw it again. It was going towards the front of the stage, just a little far from where he stood. He looked a little higher and saw a wide feminine smile greet him. He felt the need to fix his posture or at the very least making it seem like he wasn’t miserable being here, but was quick to realize that she may be looking past him and not at him.
He looked behind him to see no one standing there and then back towards her to see her cover her mouth; she was probably laughing at him. He pushed his shoulders back and couldn’t help that his feet led him to her.
As he got closer he realized that he didn’t know her. Never seen her before in his life, and maybe heading straight to her was… strange.
He didn’t want to just outright ask her why she smiled at him or why she laughed at him as he looked behind himself earlier. Maybe she just did that, smiling at strangers that she didn’t know.
“Smiling at random people again, Y/N?” He heard as someone walked up to her, Y/N.
“Maybe.” She said as if it was nothing.
“I don’t know how you can just kill people with your kindness.”
“Fatal flaw.”
“Right,” He heard as a retort. “I’ll see you at the table.”
Max saw her give him a half nod before he finally came up to her.
“You’re date?” He couldn’t help but ask before he reached up to pat his hair down. He knew that it wasn’t sticking up since he had put on hair jell before he left his hotel.
Her eyes met his quickly, “No, my co-worker. I’m just his plus one.”
“Oh, what do you do?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Private banking, I’m always traveling for work though. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be able to work from home full time.”
Max lifted his eyebrows at her words. “Don’t like traveling?”
“I do, sometimes. I’m just a homebody.”
“I’m like that. I’m gone from home more than I would like.” He liked being at home with the cats, not having his phone to worry about, and spending time with his son. Nico was such a wonder to him. He was just over a year old and was walking and touching things that he shouldn’t. Jimmy was not happy when Nico had decided to pull his tail one time.
He wanted to tell her that story but knew that he shouldn’t. She didn’t know that he had a son, and he didn’t want it to get out.
“What about you? What do you do?” She asked. Before he could answer Christian came up to him.
“Max, I hate to interrupt but you’ve got to go up. They’re starting the ceremony soon.” Max silently glared at Christian for a moment.
“That’s okay.” She said reaching towards the table for her handbag. “It was nice talking to you, Max.”
She quickly bowed her head a little before going off towards the tables that faced the stage. It seemed like she didn’t know who he was, or what he did for a job given she bothered asking him what it was he did.
His eyes followed her until she sat down next to who she claimed to be her co-worker. Christian put his hand on his shoulder, ready to lead him up the stage. Waiting while they lowered the lights and made all of the introductions felt like it took forever. It was like waiting behind the safety car after there was a yellow flag.
Finally, he managed to get up on stage to present the award for Rookie of the Year. He awkwardly ran through the speech that he was given and tried to keep his eyes towards the crowd but couldn’t help it when they kept drifting back to you in the light blue dress that you were wearing.
You weren’t talking to anyone while he was up on the stage. Eventually after painstakingly finishing the speech and handing the award over to Oscar Piastri, he made his way off the stage and back into the crowd of people sitting at the tables.
The rest of the speeches came to an end after a while. People started to make their way out of the room and out towards the hallway. Max hadn’t been pulled into any conversations luckily.
There was a familiar feeling of his phone buzzing in the inside pocket of his tux jacket. He pulled it out to see that it was his mom. He stepped out of the room, hoping to move away from everyone as much as he could.
He ended up outside by the valet watching as a few people were already leaving. If this wasn’t a work obligation he would have done the same and tried to leave as soon as he could.
He pulled his phone out to call his mom back. It rang in his ear.
“Mum?” He questioned after the line picked up.
“Max,” She started. “I just wanted to let you know that Nico’s asleep. It took him a while to fall asleep.”
Max had flown Sophie to Monaco to spend some time with Nico while he would he was in Paris for the FIA Prize Giving Gala. He would fly home tomorrow and be in back with Nico in a few short hours.
Nico had apparently fallen asleep in Max’s bed with Jimmy and Sassy at Nico’s feet. Sophie had told him that Nico missed him, “I miss him too, Mum.”
It was a few moments later that he said goodbye and promised to be home and back with Nico before dinner tomorrow. He pushed his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.
He could hear the clack, clack of footsteps against the cobblestones that made up the driveway to the hotel. Someone was wearing a pair of heels. Max looked in the direction of the sound to see her again.
She stood a few meters away from him, with her black bag in hand and her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she was cold, the slit on her dress did go up quite high on her leg.
He gave himself a moment just in case someone came after her, but she just stood there looking as people kept getting into different cars.
He slowly walked up to her, “You need help, a jacket maybe?” He asked.
She looked over at him. “I’m fine.”
He could feel her eyes on his jacket. He moved to undo the button, she looked cold. He pulled it off his shoulders.
“I insist.” He said, opening it for her so she could put it on.
She moved closer to him laying the fabric over her shoulders. It only took a few moments before he saw that she looked more comfortable with it on.
“You didn’t have to.”
“It’s Paris, and it’s November. I’m surprised it’s not snowing.”
“That’s true. I figured that the Gala would be over before it got too cold.” Well at least she didn’t mean to catch hypothermia.
“They normally have it in warmer places.”
“You’ve been to the Gala before?” She asked. “I saw you present an award, so I assume that you know more than I would.”
“Yes, my first was in… 2015.” It was back when he was in Formula 3, he doesn’t remember what it was for now.
“They always this boring?”
“Yes,” He answered honestly. “They don’t change much.”
Max couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. He didn’t know what to talk to her about, he could bring up what she had said earlier, and he was just about to when,
“You didn’t tell me what you do,” She started to say. “Before we were interrupted inside.”
“I drive in Formula 1.”
She gave him a silent nod.
“You like it?” She asked. He didn’t know if he should answer honestly but there was that feeling again that told him he should.
“Sometimes,” He said with sincerity. “I like being with my team, and driving the car. Other things, like this, I don’t really like.”
“I’m sure it’s not all bad.” She was right. It wasn’t all bad, driving in Formula 1 gave him a lot, even with the parts that he didn’t like.
“No,” He said with a slight shrug. “But it doesn’t really give me a whole lot of time for other things.”
Between his F1 schedule and Nico he didn’t really have any time for much else. He had tried dating over the last year and it never seemed to end well. They always ended up wanting to move faster then he was ready for.
“I’m sure if it matters you’ll make time.” She said. He didn’t know why her saying that seemed like it had a softer tone to it after the words moved past her lips.
He couldn’t help but let out a smile. If only she knew the things that he had made time for over the last year.
“Of couse, I’m sure your boyfriend feels the same.” He said, as a way to see if she could correct him again.
“Co-worker,” She corrected him just like he wanted. She smiled back at him.
“He wishes, right?” He asked, with a slight laugh to his tone.
“More than you can know.” He could hear her chuckle. So she obviously knew that her “co-worker” invited her here with other intentions.
“You can always go on a date with someone else. So he knows you're not interested.” He offered as if that would actually help her situation.
“You make a good point.” She had just said when the guy from earlier had come out to stand next to her.
“Ready to go, Y/N?” He asked.
“In a moment.” She said with a smile. Y/N didn’t leave him right after.
“Do you have your phone on you?” She asked him.
Max widened his eyes. Was she doing what he thinks she is?
“Uhm, jacket pocket on the right.” He watched her pull his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, she turned his phone to him silently asking for him to unlock it for her. He didn’t even take it out of her hand. Just moved a little closer to put his face in view of the front camera so that it would unlock. 
She moved to type something in before handing him his phone back and then quickly pulled her own phone out of her bag. He looked down at the screen for a few seconds before a text showed up with the words, Think he’ll take the hint this time?
He heard the closing of her bag before he saw her pull the jacket from her shoulders, slowly handing it back to him, almost as if she didn’t want to lose the warmth the jacket had provided her in those short moments. 
“Call me, if you’re ever in London.” She said with their hands brushing and gave him a wide smile before following the guy to a black towncar. His eyes followed her and he couldn’t help but slightly flex his hand from feeling their skin touch. Before she got inside the car she gave him a second look. He couldn’t help but feel a little like he couldn’t breathe, like he had just gotten out of the car after Singapore, watching her leave him standing there. His head was spinning a bit.
He wasn’t sure if he really should. Max would never say that he was the best at flirting and he was sure that this only proved it. But somehow, she still gave him her number and told her to call him.
He took a moment and then pushed the thought away, it was probably just to get the guy to back off.
It was the last week of November, Max had finished up early with all of his sponsorship things at the Factory. He would be leaving to go back to Monaco in a day or two and he couldn’t help but look through the text messages on his phone until he came across the text from Y/N again.
He had thought of her a bit since the Gala. He thought of her, and their conversations. It had taken him a bit before he had realized that she wouldn’t have given him her real number if she didn’t want to talk to him again.
He opened her contact information before pressing on her number to give her a call. Maybe he was ready to make time in his life for someone that could understand him, and eventually his son.
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Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab
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kaleldobrev · 9 months
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I Dream of You
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Summary: Dean dreams of a life with you, but do you?
Word Count: 1.7k
Warings: Couple Curses (4x), Mutual Pining, Fluff
Authors Note: I don’t know why, but I love writing some vulnerable fluffy Dean so much | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
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Dean rarely remembered his dreams if they weren’t some kind of nightmare; they were usually the most vivid, most reoccurring. On occasion though, he would get a dream that wasn’t full of bloodshed, loss, and torture. Those were his favorites, because they involved you and him having a life together; something he knew he’d never have.
His favorite dream involved you sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, a glass of iced tea sitting on the table next to you. You were reading one of those mystery novels you secretly loved, already half way done with the book even though you had just picked it up the night before. You were barefoot, and wearing one of his flannels – the color of it changed with every iteration of the dream. He was mowing the lawn, sweat dripping down his back and face, while you sat in the shade of the porch. He would catch you every so often peering over your book to watch him, quickly going back to looking at the pages when he caught you. When the two of you made extended eye contact you would mouth, “I love you” to him.
The dream was always too short, but it was enough for him. It was enough for him to want that: you, that life. But it was something he knew he’d never get. You were so close yet so far from this reach.
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He woke up staring at the ceiling. The spot next to him was empty like it usually was, but sometimes he would dream of you sleeping there next to him. He had dreamed of waking up with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your temple…your lips. “Good morning beautiful,” he would say to you, before you would smile and reply back, “Good morning handsome.” Dean clutched the sheets of his bed, wanting that moment to be real.
Getting up from his bed he made his way to the kitchen, not even bothering to look at the time. Whatever the time, he was up now, and knew he wouldn’t be getting back to bed anytime soon.
Walking into the kitchen he saw you. Your hair was unbrushed and in your pajamas; on your laptop sitting cross-legged on the chair. Your water bottle sitting next to you on the table. You looked up at him and smiled. “Hey Dean. Can’t sleep either uh?” You asked.
Dean shook his head. “I don’t even know what time it is.” He admitted.
You looked down at your laptop and looked back to him again. “2:33.”
“Fuck.” Dean replied.
You unscrewed your bottle and took a sip as Dean came to take a seat across from you. “Did you have a nightmare? Or is it just one of those sleepless nights?” You asked. You knew Dean was very prone to nightmares, and you hated that he had them so often. He would always look so tired the next day, drained. You were accustomed to nightmares as well; this life would do that to you. When you had first met him, Dean denied having nightmares, saying that there was nothing that kept him up at night. But over the years, he began to confide in you all the nasty details and you would just listen. Telling him to be as graphic as he needed to be. You didn’t want him to hold back, especially if it was going to make him feel better. You knew how rough this life and nightmares could get. Like Dean, you too had grown up in the life.
“Sleepless night.” He replied. You were happy that it wasn’t a nightmare for once. “I want to sleep but have a lot on my mind.” His thoughts were of you.
“What’s on your mind?” You asked. You always asked what was on his mind. You were his best friend after all.
“Just thinkin’ about what life would be like if I stopped hunting.” At first, he was going to lie to you, tell you he had been thinking about all the things he needed to get done, or wanted to get done. But he knew you’d see right through him; you knew his tells.
“Oh yeah?” You were intrigued. Having these conversations with Dean were some of your favorites to have because you felt like you got to know another side of him, a deeper more gentle side. On the outside he looked slightly intimidating, rugged. But deep down, in reality, he was one of the nerdiest men you had ever met in your life who just wanted someone to love him the same way he loved them. For as long as you had known him, you had feelings for him. The feelings changed over the years from lust to love. You knew Dean didn’t feel the same way about you, and you were okay with that. You were happy to at least have him as a friend.
When you weren’t having nightmares, you were dreaming of a life with Dean. Dreaming about doing mundane things that old married couples do. Going grocery shopping, shopping for a new TV for the living room, or cooking one of your moms’ recipes. Your favorite dream that you had was the two of you in the kitchen. Baking supplies were on the island in front of you: bowls, measuring cups, cake mix, eggs. You had a notebook out with a cake recipe that you had wanted to recreate for a while but never got the chance to. You had started adding ingredients to the bowl when Dean would wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Badass hunter turned baker who knew?” Dean would say to you before leaning in and giving you a kiss on the lips. The kiss was where it always ended; but that was all you needed. The dream was short, but it was one you cherished and never wanted to let go of. You knew you’d never get a life with Dean; he was so close yet so far from your reach.
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“It’s just little things you know? Mowing the lawn, drinking a beer on the porch, watching a Jayhawks game on the TV.” He grinned for a moment. It’s just little things you know? Mowing the lawn with you watching me, you and I drinking a couple of beers on the porch, watching a Jayhawks game on the couch together. Is what he really wanted to say. All his plans involved having a life with you.
“Are you by yourself in these or…are you with someone?” You asked, a little afraid of the answer. You didn’t want to pry too much, but you were curious.
Dean thought about your question, unsure if he was willing to reveal the truth to you or not. You had been in his life for years, always being by his side no matter what he said or did. You were there when he had the Mark: being one of the only people to calm him down, you were there when he was a demon: being a somewhat willing prisoner when he took you away from the Bunker, you were there when he came back from being gone for months while he was possessed by Michael: being the only person he would talk to about it, not even Sam. He trusted you, more than anyone. Needed you more than anyone. He didn’t want to lose you. But he needed to be honest, maybe he could spin it to being friends if you had rejected him. “I’m with you.”
You felt your breath catch, your heart started beating fast. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You had no idea why you were emotional. “Really?” You couldn’t help but give him a soft smile.
“Really.” He looked at your face, trying to find some indication that you had felt the same way. He didn’t know if the smile or tears in your eyes were a good or bad thing. “Don’t cry Sweetheart.” He said, taking his thumb and wiping away a rogue tear that fell to your cheek.
“I’m just…I dream about that too actually.” If he was being honest, you might as well be honest too.
“Really?” Your comment took him by surprise. He had no idea that you had similar feelings. But it had made him feel better knowing.
You nodded. “Yeah. I uh, dream about the two of us doing mundane things together. Like going grocery shopping or watching some shitty horror movie on TV while we have Chinese take-out.”
“Like an old married couple?” Dean asked, slightly grinning. He had liked the sound of that: being an old married couple with you. His response made you laugh a little, being an old married couple were your exact words.
“Yeah, like an old married couple.” You replied.
“I have this, dream sometimes. You’re, you’re sitting on the porch reading one of those mystery novels you like, and I’m just mowing the lawn.” He paused for a moment, picturing the dream in his mind. “Sometimes, I would catch you peering from your book to look at me. And, one of those times, the two of us would lock eyes with each other and…”
“And what?”
“You’d…You’d mouth…Fuck.” He didn’t want to say it.
You gave him a confused look. “I’d mouth fuck?” That is not what you thought his dream would come to at all. You had thought that it would be more romantic than that.
Dean shook his head. “No, no. I. If I say it, there’s no going back.”
“No going back? Dean.” You rested your hand on top of his. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you.” You had a feeling about what his next words were going to be, why he seemed so afraid to say them. Three little words that would drastically change the relationship between the two of you.
Taking a deep breath Dean looked at you. “You’d mouth, I love you.” A part of him regretted saying it to you. But another part of him needed to say it to you. These feelings of wanting you, dreaming of being with you had plagued him for years.
A smile formed on your lips. “Do you ever say it back to me?”
He nodded. “Always.”
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amascomet · 2 months
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Some more Gene Spliced Mikey!
Notes I have on his personality 🧡🐢 - While not the leader, Mikey is certainly the spokesman of the group. He's the most social and easy to talk to! There's a lot of times where he acts as a middle man if his brothers want to speak with April towards the start. They don't want to scare her and Mikey carries the friendliest face and demeanor. He's very empathetic and affectionate. Personal space doesn't exist unless you ask for it. He's almost always attached to the hip of one of his brother's, may as well be a backpack the way he clings onto others.
He's a bit of a baby in some places. Getting his vitals and tests done is always a hassle. He hates pressure cuffs and needles. Mikey may not have tough skin but he has a tough heart. He always tries to see the bright side of things. Little guy is full of so much love and hope! He really starts to tap into his artistic side after meeting April. Coloring books are his safe haven and when he runs out of pages expect to see his work scribbled on the walls of their home. He's the first one to dye his mask tails and his brothers quickly follow suit.
Mikey is also the first to form a more honest bond with Splinter. Mikey can sense that there's more to him.
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tonicandjins · 10 months
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the room smells like absolute shit
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CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck and reader
WORD COUNT: 2.8k
GENRE: harry potter au, slytherin!haechan, ravenclaw!reader
WARNINGS: none, just teenage fluff
amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit) is the second installment from 23 moments with donghyuck.
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It’s no secret that the ongoing cat-and-mouse game between you and Slytherin House’s very own Lee Donghyuck remains unceasing from the day you and him were sorted five years ago to this day. Today’s no different than the others, except it’s the day before Slytherin House plays against Ravenclaw, your very own, and Lee Donghyuck seems like he’s decided to make your day extra horrible—he’s done it five times already, and it’s barely two in the afternoon.
one
The first one was during breakfast, and if you are being completely honest, you should’ve expected it. Lee Donghyuck likes torturing you when you’re on your period; you don’t even want to remember the full story of how the fuck he even knows what week of the month you get yours. (Long story short: Lee Donghyuck had to be there the first time you got your period in third year.) He claims that he knows your period is on as soon as you enter the Great Hall, because your hair is always uncombed on your first day and your eyebrows are always furrowed when you’re in pain. Donghyuck says if pain and aggravation had colors, you’d be burning in hues now.
“You’re easily the most predictable person I know,” he’d tease, mouth agape as he laughs at the way you would huff from the pranks he’d do just to make your day worse than it already is.
Today was no different. You hadn’t even seen him yet, but he’s made his presence known as soon as you sit and the loudest, most obnoxious sound of fart comes out. It’s Lee Donghyuck who laughs first, and you’re not really in the mood to say anything, hence you take the muggle-made fart cushion off from where you’re seated and throw it from where he’s sitting with his equally cunning friends. You wonder which of his friends brought it for him.
Yeji finds it hilarious. “He just wants to make you laugh,” she comments.
“More like want me to drop out and move across the world,” you grumble as you take a treacle tart and a piece of crumpets from the dishes. The pain stings as you try to sit comfortably. “Fuck this period. Why did none of our ancestors ever think of a stupid charm that could rid period cramps?”
Yuna sighs, agreeing. Yeji smiles even wider and hands you a vial filled with blue-ish liquid.
“What’s this?” you ask, taking it and observing how poorly it’s sealed. “Looks like something a first year would make.”
Yeji shrugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It magically appeared on your seat. The same time that fart cushion popped up under your seat.”
You click your tongue, opening the vial and drinking it anyway. The ocean-colored liquid tastes like absolute crap, if you’re being honest, but its effects come as quickly as the potion runs down your throat. The cramping pain from your lower abdomen vanishes. Like magic.
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two
Whining, Donghyuck follows you around after first period—all out, arms wrapped around one of yours as he drags his feet wherever yours take you.
“Donghyuck, my books are heavy enough, stop dragging me with your weight!” you shriek. “I’ll come! I’ll come! Just let me go!”
Donghyuck cheers, surprising you with a big, sloppy kiss on your left cheek, letting you go while you stand frozen in place. “I knew you could never resist me. I will see you at Quidditch then. And you will cheer for me! Fuck Houses! I’ll cheer for you in the Annual International Wizard Gardening Competition!”
He runs off and waves goodbye as he catches up with other players clad in their Quidditch capes and jerseys, blending in like he’s always been born to be in this scene.
You can’t remember a time that Lee Donghyuck isn’t talking about Quidditch. You’d met him in first year, when his voice squeaked higher than it does now, and the first thing he had asked Madam Hooch was when he could join the tryouts. Poor little Donghyuckie spent the entire period sulking and pouting when Madam Hooch confirmed that he should at least finish one year of flying lessons and ask her again next year. It was truly all Donghyuck had ever dreamed about. Hence, he had spent his entire first year in Hogwarts learning about the Quidditch and practicing flying more than anyone in the entire castle.
Come second year, Donghyuck auditions the first day of class after summer break. You remember how the entirety of the Hogwarts had cheered when he showed off his flying skills. It didn’t take long for the captain of Slytherin’s Quidditch team to pick him that day. He’d started as one of the keepers, showcasing his impressive ability to defend Slytherin’s hoops, and made his way up as the team’s Seeker, having been promoted this year, fifth year.
And today was his first big game as their house’s Seeker. It’s Slytherin versus Ravenclaw for the first round, and the entire castle is just shuddering in excitement. Lee Taeyong was Slytherin’s most well-known Seeker, the second youngest Seeker after Harry Potter himself, and the longest one for House Slytherin—from first year until he’d graduated last year. This year is exceptionally intriguing because no one’s won against Slytherin because of Lee Taeyong—at least for the rest of Hogwarts.
It’s different for you, though. It’s appealing in some sense, but stressful in a way.
Donghyuck must feel so much pressure now. You’ve unwillingly known him for years, and despite the never-ending games of teasing and pranks, you and him are everything but strangers. Hence, you conclude that it’s normal to feel this way.
“Quidditch players are so damn lucky,” Renjun, a friend from Hufflepuff, huffs from behind you. “They’re excused for classes when it’s Quidditch season. I wish Slug Club get some sort of perks, too.”
You giggle, hopping and wrapping an arm around the Hufflepuff’s shoulders. “We get the Christmas party every year.”
Renjun shakes you off of him. “Hey, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Slytherins.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Why would you get in trouble with the Slytherins? That’s such a stereotype, Renjun-ah! You’re the last person I thought would have some prejudice over houses!”
“That’s not what I mean, idiot,” he replies. “Words say one of the Slytherins has a thing or two for you. And I don’t want to be in their radar.”
You slap him on the arm. “Didn’t take you to be such a gossiper.”
“It’s not gossip if it’s true!” he defends, ruffling your hair. “Off to Transfiguration?”
You groan. “Yeah. Let’s go together?”
“Sure. Did you finish the assignment—”
“Hey, idiot!” Renjun is cut off by Donghyuck running back to you. “I just remembered I need you for a moment.”
Then he’s pulling you away from Renjun.
You arrive late for Transfiguration. Because Donghyuck wanted you to look at his uniform. Talk about being annoying.
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three
Defense Against the Dark Arts is in third period, and Yeji hurts herself halfway through the hour. Yeji and Chenle were playing around and were practicing hex-deflection; the scenarios happened too fast that nobody caught on that Yeji’s been hurt until Chenle started screaming.
“She’ll be fine,” Madam Pompfrey assures as she covers the now sleeping Yeji with duvet. “I’ll have her stay here for the night, too. You can go back to class.”
You nod. DADA is over by now, anyway. “By the way, Madam Pompfrey,” you call out just before she closes the curtain separating Yeji’s bed from the others.
“Earlier today,” you start. “I had really bad cramps because of my period. I found a vial with a blue, green-ish kind of fluid and recklessly drank it. It really helped. Do you have any idea what that is?”
Madam Pompfrey’s eyes widen. “So, that was for you?”
“Huh?”
She smiles. “Donghyuck from Slytherin house has been experimenting on that potion with me for weeks now. He’s been studying in the library, looking for the best ingredients to help with women’s menstrual cramps without any side effects that could compromise the condition of the rest of your body. I heard he had a sister in third year, so I assumed it was for her.”
Your heart somersaults like never before. Madam Pompfrey smiles knowingly. “I guess it was for you,” she concludes.
You leave the hospital wing with your breath hitched, each step making your knees weaker by the second. Lee Donghyuck knows how to annoy you even when he’s on the other side of the damn castle.
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four
Lee Donghyuck pulls you away from your friends when you’re on your way out from the Great Hall after lunch.
The door of Room of Requirement appears before you, and Donghyuck pulls you with him, dressed in his brand-new uniform, different from the one he wore earlier before he ran off to practice at the Quidditch Tower. You wonder how he even finds the time to annoy you when the tournament starts in about two hours.
When the door closes, you observe that the room’s transformed itself into a room the size of a greenhouse, filled with lavenders, jasmine, and chamomile. And you have the slightest idea why Donghyuck needs a room full of flowers at this point. You gently place your copy of Advanced Potion-Making on a table that holds countless of ceramic plants holding lavenders.
He starts walking back and forth, anxiety showing in his eyes and the corners of his lips. You can hear how heavily he’s breathing from where you stand.
“Anxious?” you ask. Donghyuck only nods, still walking back and forth. “Here. Come here.” He stops, turning so he could look at you. You step closer when he doesn’t move and take both his hands in yours.
“Breathe in,” you softly say. Donghyuck follows. You start counting to five. “Breathe out.”
You and him repeat and stay like that until you hear his breathing go back to its normal pace. He keeps his eyes on your shoes.
“You’re gonna be fine,” you murmur. Donghyuck closes his eyes. You reach up and cradle his face in your palms. “Where’s all that confidence now? Did you run out of it after drowning me with an incredibly unnecessary amount of confidence all these years? This is the time you need it the most.”
Donghyuck falls apart in your touch and opens his eyes, chuckling. “I knew I made the right decision to pull you here. My confidence came back just now. You’re my confidence. Because you suck and I’m the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes as you step back, the space between you and him reclaiming its presence. “That, you are.”
He smiles. “You don’t suck that much. Just a little. Sometimes.”
“You, too,” you agree. “You’re going to kill it. I’ll cheer on you even if it means everyone in Ravenclaw House hates me.”
“No one could ever hate you,” he says like it’s a fact.
You smirk. “You do, though.”
“I’ve never said I hate you,” he bites back. “In five years that we’ve been unwillingly revolving around each other’s gravity, I’ve never said I hate you.”
You nod. “I know.” You reach up to gently pat his cheeks once again. “People will know you as Lee Donghyuck today, not Lee Taeyong’s replacement. I know that is exactly what’s been going around in that head of yours. They’re gonna remember you today when you show them No Hands and woo the crowd with Sloth Grip Roll. And you’re gonna win it out there.”
Donghyuck’s eyes follow your lips as you speak. He stares at it longer than he should, and you stare at his, like a magnet pulling you in. His honey-colored skin and tantalizing brown eyes look beautiful under the sunlight peeking from the windows of the room, and from where you stand, you see how much he'd grown. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, seeing you in this light and being taken aback to five years ago, the very first day you'd met in the train to Hogwarts. You mull over the possibility of knowing him beyond what the walls of this castle could show you, knowing him beyond teasing remarks and harmless pranks, knowing him beyond all these years of push-and-pull, knowing him beyond sneaking glances at his lips.
But you’re not about to kiss him in the Room of Requirement. Not when all your feelings are all over the place, scattered and lost. Not when you aren’t sure if he even feels the same kind of rush when you’re around.
It doesn't help that this, whatever this means, has been going on for years. You and Donghyuck are growing up together, and though you and him keep saying you're unwillingly spending your teenage years together, you can't help but think, if given the choice in a few years, would you finally, willingly spend your twenties together?
You're nearing the end of your teenage years together, involuntarily and as borderline friends. Does Donghyuck ever think of you in ways you—admittedly—daydream about him sometimes? Does he think of you when he drinks chamomile tea the way you remember him when you get a taste of butterbeer? Does he also wonder what you do in the summer and think of calling you, only to back out right before pressing call because his heart is thump, thump, thumping like fucking crazy just by the thought of hearing your voice?
Does Donghyuck feel the way your knees are weak now?
Your heart pounds, so loud that you can hear it beating right in your eardrums.
So, you flee, telling him you’re late for Potions, which you most definitely are, leaving Donghyuck and hopefully, the feelings you can’t seem to figure out.
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five
The room smells like the Quidditch pitch when you arrive fifteen minutes into the class.
Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow on you, but tilts his head towards the board where it shows which potion the class is working on today. You find your way towards Yuna and it’s only then that you realize you’d left your Advanced Potions-Making book inside the Room of Requirement. Yuna lets you share her book. The entire class is halfway done anyway.
The potion for the day is called Amortentia, which is apparently the most powerful love potion in existence, which you think is absolute bullshit. You skip through all its description, effects, and history, proceeding to the details instructions of how it’s done.
You start with boiling half a cup of standard potion water and later on adding ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, refined peppermint oil, and moonstone. Once it’s exactly as it’s described in the book, you drop the mother of pearl. The last ingredient was a drop of blood, so you quickly prickle a finger with a needle, pressing your pink with two fingers until the red liquid drops from your skin down to the cauldron.
You finish a little later than everybody, and you’re not sure whether you’d followed the instructions correctly, because yours still smell like the Quidditch pitch. You look around, and everybody’s busy smelling theirs. You lean over to your cauldron, and it doesn’t smell like anything exceptional in particular. Alongside the grassy scent of the pitch is warm tonka bean, deep cedar, and the overwhelming scent of rich jasmine and vivacious juniper berries, which isn’t really that impressive because you smell this all the time.
You smell it all the time because it smells exactly like Donghyuck.
You grab the book from the table you share with Yuna.
Page 62 says, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It caused a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. It had a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rose from it in characteristic spirals. Amortentia is considered an incredibly dangerous potion, as one should have never underestimated obsessive infatuation.” Then why the fuck does it smell like Donghyuck? And the entire god damn room, too? Does Donghyuck bathe in Amortentia every day?
“Yuna,” you ask. “What does your potion smell like?”
“Sandalwood,” she answers dreamily. “And leather. And floral rose.”
Oh. Then you must have done something wrong. “I think I mixed up the ingredients.”
“Well, what does yours smell like?”
You shrug, “Something really weird.” You turn the page to 63 where the potion is described better.
“Amortentia smells different for everyone,” Yuna continues, and so does the book.
“Amortentia has a different aroma for everyone who smelt it, reminding each person of the things that they found most attractive," the book says.
“Basically,” Yuna’s voice fades in the background. “You smell whatever you’re attracted to."
"Even if the person did not acknowledge or was unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection themselves," the book shouts.
Oh no.
Yuna sighs dreamily, "I aced mine pretty well. I mean, for example, my potion smells exactly like—”
“Donghyuck,” you whisper when it truly, truly hits you.
“No, silly,” she laughs.
“No, Yuna,” you protest. “Mine smells like—”
“Donghyuck, what brings you here?” Professor Slughorn’s voice catches you off-guard. You and Yuna turn to where he’s looking at, and by the door, Lee Donghyuck stands, holding your copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
“I just wanted to bring this to Y/N. She’d left it when she was wandering around Slytherin’s quarters because she’s so obsessed with me,” he announces, smiling widely as he shows off the book.
You stay frozen in place. “What are you all cooking?” Donghyuck sniffs, looking around until he locks eyes with you. “What’s this horrible scent?”
Oh, no.
Donghyuck keeps his eyes on you, equally as confused when he starts realize what the potions smell like.
“Why are you wasting so much perfume, Y/N?” he asks. Everyone goes silent. “The room smells like absolute shit.”
Oh. Merlin’s Beard.
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bonus
Slytherin House wins, of course, and you lose your voice cheering for Ravenclaw and Lee Donghyuck, which earned you side-eyes from your peers and at the same time teasing remarks from Renjun and Yuna.
His friends call you an honorary Slytherin and invites you to their Common Room. You're the first person that Lee Donghyuck looks for at the afterparty.
He arrives earlier than the others, and his mates gather around him as soon as he steps in the room, but Donghyuck, Merlin's Beard, Lee Donghyuck doesn't waste time and goes straight to where you stand and kisses the air out of your lungs.
You're on your fifth year in Hogwarts when you learn that Lee Donghyuck tastes like strawberries and that the perfume his mother makes for him is made from jasmine and juniper berries.
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