#(say hi if u read it and didn't skip it pls this took so much effort)

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part IV: the inbetween (make the danger feel good)

(~11 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

there's a bunch of things in this one that might make some people want to skip it. please be aware this tips into suggestive stuff (ok maybe a notch beyond the line, but nothing too explicit). there's certainly intimacy, nudity (that was there all along but now we Pay Attention To It) and more prominent cws would probably be... everything around vex instincts. so mentions of: blood, biting, consensual violence, blood/fear-play, prey-play?? they're deranged. i tried to keep it as tame as possible lol but be aware those are the topics and tones.

in case you skip this one, just know this is when scar and grian start to be truly intimate, and this is when grian gets the mating bite from scar (neither of them are aware that's what it is; there's a whole bunch of bites.) (dEranged.) also, there's more wing touches.

rp based, so wordy. <3 this follows directly after the wing spiral so we're still in the hotspring cave

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The moment slowly tips into something else as they both lay on the spread-out cloak, fire crackling behind Grian’s back, his still somewhat-damp wing slung gingerly across Scar.

It all drags at Scar’s heartstrings, watching as Grian navigates his way through the maze back to something sensible, something more like himself. Freckles barely show in the flickering light, eyes dark and shiny from recent emotions, a bruised spot on his lip from nervous biting. Grian’s hair falls around him in soft, golden strands, fire painting over them with copper.

“You’re…” Scar stops, almost scared to finish the sentence. It feels like they’ve reached a comfortable silence after what felt like literal hours of agony. But he’s already broken it, so— He tucks his head into Grian’s hand, smothering the words into his palm. “… so beautiful.”

He looks at Grian’s eyes when he says it. No part of his wings, even though he means to include every bit of him. But he needs Grian to know he means it whether the feathers are included or not.

A swell of emotions rushes through Grian at that; he isn’t sure how to react, all he knows is he feels heat and tingling, and it’s so, so very different from the tingling of that numbness from earlier. This is nervous, skittish, warm, present. He feels rooted to the moment, to the softness of Scar’s eyes and his breath against Grian’s palm and—

And he feels like Scar is a hot spring and Grian is floating, melting into it.

“You can’t— You can’t say that,” he sputters, not quite able to pull forth any better quips than something stumbling and lost and irredeemably flustered. “What do you even mean.”

As soon as he says that, he realises those words might be a mistake. He doesn’t want Scar to answer.

Grian’s mind spins for something else to jump to, and he blurts out, ridiculously: “It’s because you washed my hair.” (He doesn’t quite remember that either. He regrets falling asleep so fast, although he can’t deny he slept so well, even if only briefly. He… really needed that.)

“Mm,” Scar mumbles into Grian’s palm again, buzzing his lips there. “No, I thought that before I washed your hair, too.” He was meaning not to say something embarrassing again, but failed completely.

Grian’s mind snags on the way Scar’s words feel against his palm, a riveting, delightful experience that he wishes to relive a million times. His thumb gingerly brushes across the heated skin of Scar’s cheek, but he keeps his palm in place, ready to catch any and all words that might spill out of Scar’s lips. 

“You’re silly and sappy,” Grian accuses, but it sounds so achingly soft and fond.

Scar changes his mind almost instantly about not saying embarrassing things, seeking out more of that softness Grian’s voice holds— that simplicity and affection. He’ll keep saying embarrassing things if he gets that. It’s worth it.

“This is true,” he admits easily. “But I’m also right.”

Craning his neck, Grian leans in to place a kiss against Scar’s face, tender and loving. (He’s weaving all the gratitude into it, all the affection, all the apologies and forgiveness all at once.) “You’re also ridiculous,” he adds, a little bit cheekily, but it again carries no bite, words made of cotton and warmth.

His wing shifts higher, covering their upper torsos and faces, dunking them into more darkness—something that instantly makes Grian sleepy. The fire crackles behind his back, somewhat still keeping up, although definitely in need of more fuel. 

Grian doesn’t want to move.

“Also true.” Scar nods. “Thank you for noticing.” 

There’s an unsaid thank you for so many more things in the way Scar delivers the line so seriously: Thank you for speaking to me. Thank you for shielding us with your wings. Thank you for going along with my shenanigans. 

Thank you for being here. 

Scar wants to fall asleep then and there, unperturbed by the mess of remaining concerns that still plague them, but he tries to be the strong one here. “…I should fuel the fire. Maybe set up a small perimeter so we can both get some sleep?” 

He wants to sleep beside Grian. He doesn’t want to take turns keeping watch.

And isn’t that a wonderful thought? For both of them to be able to sleep at the same time, curled up together by a warm fire?

They don’t get that often.

Grian latches onto that hope, pushing his fatigued body up as he gingerly releases Scar from the cocoony hold of his wing. He offers to help even though his mind still feels a little slow, body a little off; if he can assist Scar and make this happen, then he wants to do it.

Scar gets up reluctantly, but he’s pleasantly surprised how little his muscles protest after the nice soothing bath they received. That’s a rarity. He directs Grian to check up on the fire while he’ll make some walls, promising cuddles at the end of it. 

The idea of that sort of reward makes pushing through their exhaustion and putting in the effort worth it.

Tending the fire isn't a skill they needed on Hermitcraft, but through trial and error, they learned the best ways to distribute fuel materials for the most efficiency and the least smoke. It comes to Grian easily now, automatic, and notably it takes much less time than wall building.

Once satisfied, Grian looks over at Scar, asking if he should help with the wall. After all, the faster they're done, the faster they can cuddle. 

Scar nods, noting he’s sleepy and he might miss spots. A second pair of eyes to check after him would be good, and any help is certainly appreciated, especially since it’s their safety at stake here. He’s using a bit of a hodgepodge arrangement of materials, just doing the minimum to keep mobs out, but it’ll do, as long as they do it properly. 

Grian pushes himself to his feet; his wings feel a little strange, and he can't quite tell why, but he swerves away from thinking about it. His muscles feel weak, wanting to go back to blissful resting, looking forward to sleep. A faint lightheadedness hits him at the first step, but a short pause and a deep breath is enough to chase it away.

He slots himself next to Scar, reaching to take some materials from him. As soon as he's in his orbit, Scar can’t help but reach over and lightly touch him on the waist, pulling him in for a brief, only slightly-awkward kiss. He smiles, toothy and real, before handing off some of his materials, whistling to himself like it didn’t happen as he turns back around.

Grian can't help but adore and crave the easy intimacy; the way he's reached for and tugged and kissed, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He gravitates towards Scar in return, peeking at him and quietly studying his expression as Scar whistles and works.

There isn't terribly much needed to do with the walls, and Grian fixes up his end to the best of his capabilities given his energy level, then makes sure to look over Scar's work as requested, too, making sure they don't miss something due to fatigue. (Mistakes are too costly here. They can’t afford them.)

When they're done, Grian clicks his tongue appraisingly. "It's not a terracotta shack, but it'll do."

Scar snickers, highly amused by the callback. “Yeah, it might actually be uglier. I should put up a sign for any googlies to leave a review.” He slips in behind Grian and kisses the top of his head, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Mmm, warm clothes?”

Grian shifts his wings gently out of the way, but he itches to press himself against Scar, so he clumsily turns around in his loose grip, trying to maintain some space for his feathers as he goes. 

Somehow, now that this is all very intentional, without the mental fog and fresh tears and jumbled cravings, this feels more intimate. Their bare chests are near each other, reverberating with heartbeats and moving with their breaths, and there's so much skin and—

Timidly, Grian's fingers find Scar's waist, a featherlight touch exploring upwards, fingertips counting across the lower ribs.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Scar's jaw. "Mm." His head tips and he rests his forehead against the spot he's just kissed. His hand travels higher, across Scar's chest, to his shoulder, mapping out his skin. "Warm clothes," he agrees, even though nothing about his actions suggests that.

Scar shivers at the drawn out touch over his bare skin, ears flicking wildly as his heart stutters in his chest for a moment. Sure, he’s no stranger to walking about without a shirt, but people don’t typically touch— 

He rather likes it when Grian does, however.

Not nearly as bold, Scar settles for tracing small shapes over Grian’s sides, gentle and reverent.  “And warm cuddles,” he adds, also not making any move to do so.

Grian hums at Scar's touch; on nothing but wishful instinct, he moves closer, trying to get deeper into Scar's hold. (He wants Scar's hands to wrap around him. To envelop him fully and properly.) (He wants to be held.) (He wants to be wanted, in a way so wholly different from what this world demands.)

He tips his head and presses a kiss to the side of Scar's throat as his fingertips dance from Scar's shoulders across his collarbone. He likes this. Being able to trace paths across Scar's skin. To, hopefully, provide him with something that can touch him without causing pain and scarring. 

The air is cold on the back of his neck, and he figures Scar is not any better off, without having the extra fluff of feathers shielding his spine. He tucks a small sigh against the hollow of Scar's throat, because he knows he should pull away. He knows they should get dressed. His legs feel weak underneath him, craving a bed. (There's no bed here) 

"Yeah... Yeah. Let's go get some rest."

He's still not moving to make any of it happen.

Scar really doesn’t want Grian to let go of him right now (nor does he want to let go), so he’s glad Grian is yet to make a move to leave. He’s tired and cold and wants to go to sleep, but after the absolute rollercoaster back and forth of emotions, Scar is too attached to this moment of serenity. 

In a spur of stubborn refusal, Scar strengthens his grip and lifts, hoisting Grian up just enough so that maybe he can walk them both over. He pulls the avian tight, letting him secure his balance onto him.

And it’s silly, because they’re really not even that far from the fire— and they still need to separate to put on their clothes. They’re still only in their underwear, which makes Scar’s ears twitch again when it occurs to him.

But it’s worth it.

Just a little more contact.

He needs it so bad.

Grian lets out a delighted chirp in surprise as Scar's hold on him tightens, and then— then he loses contact with the ground. He tips forward, easily trusting Scar with his weight, and he giggles quietly against the crook of Scar's neck. His wings unfurl, instinctively seeking out balance. (He doesn't remember when was the last time they felt free to do this; to give in to instincts.) (He isn't even paying attention to them, not really aware that it is happening.)

Without complaint, he presses himself against Scar, and oh, this is different. This is skin on skin. This is—

“Mhm, off to sleep with us!” Scar cheers as he presses Grian close to his chest.

Grian wraps his arms around Scar's shoulders and stays close, heart hammering against his chest in a way that Scar's surely bound to feel, right against his own ribcage. He coos in a flustered encouragement at Scar's statement. Off to sleep. (He'd go anywhere Scar takes him right now. He'd stay anywhere Scar puts him. He'd be anywhere Scar wants him.)

Maybe the earlier struggle was all worth it if Scar gets to hear those sweet little chirps pressed into his neck and feel Grian’s heartbeat against his own fluttering chest. Past anxieties forgotten, Scar is entirely smitten. He feels warm even though logically he shouldn’t. He hums a jaunty tune while he walks them both back over to the fire, pleased with himself and the entirely unnecessary decision to carry Grian. 

And Grian happily lets himself be carried, even though he could’ve easily taken those four steps himself. He isn’t carried out of necessity (for once). He’s being carried because Scar wants to carry him, wants to hold him, wants to keep him pressed close. It warms Grian, too. It makes him feel cherished and safe.

But he’s always been made of mischief, and he can’t help it. He tips his head, lips brushing over the skin of Scar’s throat, and then he’s baring his teeth, letting them come into the gentlest contact with the skin. (Just to tease.) (Just for the reaction.) (His hold on Scar tightens just in case he’s about to be dropped in response.)

Scar’s legs wobble as he muffles a tiny yelp, but he’s been trained to deal with Grian’s tendency toward menace, so he does manage to stay on his feet and keep his grip. 

If he dips just a little and lightly pinches at Grian’s sides though? Deserved. 

“Youuuu…” Scar warns, attempting to growl even though it comes out purely silly. “You love to tempt fate, don’t you?”

Grian takes a sharp breath and squirms as Scar dips, holding onto him. (Even if Scar did want to drop him, Grian refuses to go easily.) At Scar's light disgruntlement, Grian huffs out a breathless laugh, all of it right against Scar's pulsepoint. His teeth are back on Scar's skin, still gentle, but he does apply a little bit more pressure this time, cheekily. 

"Maybe I do." He sounds entirely too cheerful and unbothered, another quiet laughter broken against Scar's throat.

“Mmmm,” Scar grumbles, holding back a full-body shiver. It’s definitely the chill. Definitely.

In retaliation, Scar takes one large step to finish their path to the fire, then dips Grian even lower, threatening to plop him back down on the cloak. “Then accept your fate, you rascal!” Scar cackles, wriggling his fingers at Grian’s sides to try to get him to forcibly let go and fall the rest of the way down to the floor.

Grian laughs openly now—at Scar's attempts to get him off. At his grumbles. At being called a rascal. He delights in it and stays stubbornly clinging to Scar, wrapping his legs around him for extra security.

"I like to tempt fate, Scar, not accept it," he informs him all too giddily, voice still heavily tinged by laughter. "And you can't get rid of me."

Scar snickers, amused by his new clinging bird accessory. “Ah, I wouldn’t dream of it, but���“ He exaggeratively sways from side to side like he’s trying to shake Grian off (he’s really not). “—pesky birds deserve retribution!”

Grian still holds on, unwilling to lose. He cranes his neck, on his way to the next mayhem. "Well then you're going to have to try harder," he lectures. And he lightly squeezes Scar's earlobe in his teeth. (It's not his fault it was so perfectly within reach.) (It's not his fault he has zero impulse control when he gets pesky.)

Scar opens his mouth to say something in return, but all that comes out is a flustered squeak. His face properly flushes as his ear attempts to flick out of reach. ”Griannn!!” he whines, embarrassment obvious in his tone. He’s released his hands at this point, but Grian’s grip is all too secure. So now his hands wave about in the air pathetically, unable to decide on exactly what retribution is in order for Grian.

Grian laughs, a bright, joyful, unbridled cackle pressed against the sensitive patch of skin directly under Scar's ear. His wings flap lightly (the fire flickers momentarily, sparks sent flying, explosive like Grian's soul) at the loss of Scar's hold as he rebalances himself, but remains clingily wrapped against Scar, not budging. "Yes, Scar?" he hums innocently.

Scar finally settles on some form of revenge, bringing out his claws and trailing a very long drag of his nails up Grian’s spine, careful not to actually scratch— just a graze, just a tickle, just a suggestion. He can’t go too far without risking touching the wings, but he does what he can. Grumbles again in response to the innocent hum from a very not innocent bird. “Menace,” he breathes out, still somewhat dazed.

Grian doesn't even try not to shudder under the graze of Scar's claws; he's sure Scar can feel the way he took in breath, then held it in, too. The uptick of his heart rams against Scar's ribs as Grian presses closer, an instinctual back-arch to the sensation.

He still manages to laugh again, a breathless little thing. "Your menace, though."

And it's surprisingly easy, to give himself over to Scar, in a world where everyone wants to own a part of him.

Scar stops that slow drag of claws, settling somewhere in the middle of Grian’s back and instead tapping them there as he hums out what comes across a bit too much like a low growl. It’s not meant to be threatening— it’s not even meant to come out at all, really— it was supposed to be an exaggerated groan, but it instead comes off as a deeply satisfied confirmation. 

“Mine,” Scar concedes, voice barely a whisper, before remembering they’re meant to be teasing. “… Lucky me.” 

Except he’s still not kidding.

And yet despite the fondness with which Scar means it, there's an instant swell of something ugly in Grian at the words lucky me, a razor-edged impulse to make Scar regret those words, to show him just how wrong he is— but he swallows it all down, in a moment of uncharacteristic quiet after all the giggling. He presses himself closer to Scar, takes a deep breath, tries to claw his way back to that pesky playfulness from just seconds ago.

Instead of more teasing, he tips into tenderness. His hold loosens, and he presses his lips to the side of Scar's neck. 

He isn't sure Scar understands just how his Grian is. 

A breathless half-chuckle leaves him despite himself. And he can't help but ask, quietly, edging shyness. "Does that mean you're mine...?" He's okay with the answer being no. He'll still be Scar's, heart and soul. But... He just wants to know. To hear Scar say it. "My ridiculous person?" These words come easier, softer, more playful.

Scar’s hands shift back to holding Grian, claws fading away into harmlessness. He tries to lean his head back to see him, to look at him as the words fall into place so easily. But Grian doesn't let him pull away, doesn't let him move to see his face; he burrows, hiding himself in the crook of Scar's neck. His wings fold—still loose, instead of what they're used to—feathers slotting over Scar's skin without a hassle. 

Scar doesn’t mind Grian’s insistence on keeping his face pressed close. He likes that as well. In fact, he gives up on dropping Grian down at all and plops himself onto the cloak with Grian still attached. 

“Always,” he replies, voice still low and grainy, but filled to the brim with affection. “Always yes.”

"Always," Grian echoes quietly, and the word leaves his tongue like something precious and fragile.

Feeling sappy, as usual, Scar tacks on, “… Have been for a while.”

Words line themselves up in Grian's mind like poison, things to fight back and argue with, to explain that this is not going to be good for Scar. That he really, really isn’t lucky for this.

He swallows them all down. This isn't about that. This isn't and shouldn't be about that.

Scar is saying something incredibly fond, and Grian shouldn't try to destroy it.

His wings press tighter, feathers still slumped right over Scar's arms. 

"... Can we keep it that way...?" he asks in the end.

“Mm, I’d like to, yes.” Scar nods, teeth clacking as he grows a big grin. He takes one hand to fumble for Grian’s sweater.

"Okay." Grian pauses, and then adds in a soft murmur: "Me too." He feels Scar move, but doesn't process what he's reaching for. Grian just stays clinging to him, placated by Scar's words and his hold.

Scar brings the warm fabric over to their bare skin. It makes him giggle slightly at the heat, because it means at least one of his ideas tonight was good. “Here,” he says as he pushes the sweater in between them for the warmth. “As much as I’d love to offer to help you dress—“ he clicks his teeth again in amusement. “—might be a little difficult.”

Taking the soft, warm fabric, Grian puffs his cheeks in an overdramatic pout. "Don't need help, I know how to dress myself." That being said, he still doesn't let go of his wrap around Scar, even though this isn't the best position for putting clothes on.

“Oh I know, but I like to touch you,” Scar goads, grinning innocently.

Grian's cheeks heat up, the words spurring him enough to pull away just to be able to look at Scar, wide-eyed and flustered. "You wh—"

“Hm?” Scar continues to grin, innocent as ever. He looks over Grian, seeing the red trickle over his cheeks. “Oh I think you heard me, but I can repeat myself if you want?” Now that he has the chance, he leans his face in close to Grian, even completing the act with a goofy wink.

"No!" Grian immediately says as his hands fling up, covering Scar's mouth just in case he'd do it anyway, and oh, it's good that Scar is sitting down and holding Grian, because if they were still up, Grian'd definitely fall. His wings fling out anyway, just in case, gathering his balance. The sweater pools between them, a warm barrier between their chests. "That— You don't have to repeat it," Grian blabbers, red.

Scar kisses the palms that cover his mouth, several times like an attack to free himself from the hand prison. He muffles into them as well in between kisses: “But I want to!”

"Scaaaar," Grian groans, and he releases Scar from his hold, only to bury his own very red and very warm face in his freshly-free palms.

Scar follows those hands despite just being freed, kissing them again now that they cover Grian’s face. “I mean you’re not making a lot of progress putting on your sweater— are you sure you don’t want help?” His hands find their way to Grian’s chest, pressing lightly right in the middle.

Grian's heart positively skips a beat, a tiny squeak leaving him at the offer. He's dissipating, too flustered to really form words. 

He wants to scold Scar again. 

He wants to tell him he's fine, he can dress himself. 

He wants to tell him that, actually, yes, Scar can help, whatever that help would actually mean.

Instead he just grumbles something incoherent and flustered into his palms.

Still feeling playfully devious, Scar slides his hands up Grian’s chest over to his bare arms, grabbing slightly and pulling them upward. His movements are needlessly slow and incredibly drawn-out. “Well it would help if you raised your arms like this…” he teases, far too pleased with himself for the shade of red that’s spreading across Grian’s skin

Grian's palms are still pressed to his face, the angle Scar tugs at slightly awkward, but it doesn't make the explosion of sensations rushing through him any weaker. Scar's touch is so delicate, so slow, Grian can't help but go insane under it. 

He makes more incomprehensible noises into his palms. His arms shiver under Scar's fingertips. The hold of his palms over his face relents a little bit, not because he doesn't want to be hidden anymore, but because everything in him yearns to give in to Scar's guidance, no matter Scar's goals.

Gingerly, the palms leave Grian’s face, his arms lifting the littlest bit. His eyes shine, flooded by some deep, rich and raw—and entirely flustered—emotion. His lips are slightly parted, cheeks flushed— and then his earwings fling to take the spot his hands occupied just a moment ago, hiding him away from Scar's gaze in a flash.

Scar’s entire plan comes to a stumbling halt when he sees Grian’s face. His eyes are shamelessly drawn to Grian’s lips, the way they hang open ever so slightly, framed by reddened cheeks and accented freckles. 

He’s momentarily stunned, enamored by the gorgeous sight before him, but it’s stolen away all too soon. And with the earwings no less, so he can’t exactly pry them off. 

He decides to drag his hands back down to settle in the dip of Grian’s shoulders, no longer fooling either of them into believing this has anything to do with helping. “Hey—“ he starts, unsure of what to say exactly, but gosh does he want to see Grian’s face again. “Don’t hide from me,” he croons, voice low and sultry.

Scar's touch is electrifying, sending sparking signals across Grian's body, something culminating in the pit of his stomach. He's asked not to hide, but his embarrassment only rises, at the implication that revealing himself would mean being plunged straight to being seen, Scar's eyes surely intense and scrutinising.

He whines a little, breathing deeply but shakily against Scar's hands.

And then he shifts the earwings, just a little bit, half-obliding, peeking through the feathers.

Scar is about to complain, insist Grian show his entire face, but this is even cuter and he can hardly handle it. His expression shifts into something softer, adoring. Instead of his drawling voice from before, confident and insistent, Scar speaks timidly, an easy smile spread across his face. “… Hi, pretty.”

Grian huffs against his feathers; his earwings twitch, wanting to go back to shielding him as embarrassment swirls in between his ribs, spreading incessant warmth through his face. 

But he is drawn to Scar, like a damned moth to a flame, and he can't pry his eyes away from the soft fondness in Scar's green ones. "Hi," he returns, voice cracking.

Scar leans down to place a kiss on Grian’s chin where his feathers don’t quite reach. He wants to say so many things, keep showering Grian with compliments, but he spares him. He lingers close to Grian’s lips with a sly smile, eyes flickering up to meet his. “… Your sweater’s gonna get cold.”

With Scar this close, Grian's earwings twitch a little bit more out of the way—not out of unwillingness to brush against Scar, but because— Well. Grian's tightening stomach has something to say about Scar hovering so close to his lips. 

"Don't care." it's hushed, but entirely dismissive. Grian’s eyes roam across Scar's face, returning the favour of lingering at the sight of his lips, taking in the curvature of them, remembering how soft and warm they feel pressed against his skin.

Scar grins when Grian doesn’t take the out, so he doesn’t waste any time capturing those lips from him, desperate and yearning. His fingertips dig into the soft skin directly next to his neck, pulling Grian in as close as he can.

Grian leans in easily, without resistance, meeting Scar back. His earwings fall completely away from his face, his eyes closing. His own hands find their spots on the sides of Scar's face.

Without breaking the kiss, Scar grabs at the sweater and places it next to them and the fire, not necessarily with the idea to keep it warm, but simply so there’s nothing in their way— Scar likes it when their skin brushes together. It’s vulnerable and exciting all at once, something satisfying about baring yourself for someone in a world that would normally punish such foolishness. 

His hands are back on Grian in an instant, and he closes his eyes as he traces over more of that skin, exploring and teasing all the same.

Entranced, Grian hums against Scar's lips. He shifts, tracing kisses from the corner of his mouth down across his cheek and jaw, until he finds his spot right under Scar's ear. One of his hands slides back, fingers dragging over the back of Scar's neck until they reach his hairline and dip in. 

It's tantalising, to be this vulnerable and open. To have his skin, soft and defenceless, right under Scar's fingertips to map and do whatever he pleases with. To trust Scar fully, boundlessly.

He doesn't want to stop.

"Scar." He breathes his name right there, on that sensitive patch of skin that he so adores. Right under Scar’s ear.

Intimacy wraps around them, tiny step by a tiny step and then suddenly all at once. 

They give in, drunkenly following its lead, forgetting all about the world that wants to relentlessly hunt them down, take apart their bodies for nothing more than bloodied trophies that will gather dust. 

Instead, they take each other apart in a completely different way. Entranced by their closeness, their skin heated, they familiarise themselves with a whole new vocal range of sounds that draw out of their throats, exploring what they have to offer. Giving and taking and unravelling.

Somewhere amidst it all, early on in this game they’ve invented for each other, Scar runs into the wall of impulsiveness that buzzes underneath his skin, begging for more. Because Grian is a daring menace, insinuating Scar should put him in his place if he doesn’t like his pesky retaliations. Telling him to do something about it if he finds it unfair, while his wings lift, half-unfolding. 

It’s a gesture made on instinct of Grian’s dazed mind, coaxing him to put his feathers on display in a situation where he feels completely safe and equally completely besides himself. The violet hue, freshly cleaned, dances with various shades in the firelight.

Scar’s eyes are instantly drawn in by the lifting feathers framing Grian, firelight dancing across Grian's skin and wings alike— Scar is so doomed. He feels entranced, so entangled by the myriad of sensations and desires that he almost doesn’t register how his fingers gravitate to the feathers. 

He stops himself quickly, breathing out a wisp of blue, and refocuses on a patch of freckles that spread across Grian’s chest as he processes what he almost did on instinct alone.

He wanted to touch. He wanted to touch so badly. He hasn’t seen Grian’s wings shine so brightly in months, or seen him bare the undersides like that to him ever before. He’s not sure what that means in bird body language, but he was almost certain it was an invitation.

But he would never forgive himself if he messed this moment up.

If he messed that up again. 

(It’s not fair that he can’t unravel Grian the same way Grian can with a nip to his sensitive vex ears. Scar wants to hear what kind of sounds Grian would make if he raked his fingers through his wings. Would it feel as good as Grian’s hands do in his hair? Better?)

Scar shudders, expelling those thoughts before he entirely spirals. The treacherous hand finds its way to Grian’s chest, tracing a pattern into those newly discovered freckles. His eyes flick back up, meeting Grian’s with a complicated expression— it’s one of slight conflict, immense adoration, but more than anything, intense desire. 

“…careful what you wish for there, G,” he says, restrained.

Grian hums, shuddering slightly under the touch of Scar's fingertips mapping out patterns on his skin. A purr-like coo makes it out of his throat, and his wings lift the littlest bit again, positioning themselves so perfectly within reach. 

His head is muddled, thoughts dragged through velvet that so softly covers up rationality and leaves behind something gently ravaging, able to pull the string and let him unknot into a puddle. But even through that, he is able to catch that torn expression Scar has, something not quite right in his eyes, the words almost a warning.

He can't decipher it.

He leans away; his wings stay where they are, half curled around them, a brillaintly violet feathery offering. His hips don't move either; it's just his upper back, making his spine arch. (He wants Scar's claws to rake over that curve—) He's watching Scar carefully, even though the firelight continues dancing across his dark irises in endless, unspooling want. 

"If it's unfair," he says, voice low, quiet, a purring string for Scar to follow. (He's always been good at pressing buttons. At not knowing limits. At trying and testing and teasing.) "Then do something about it," he suggests, because he doesn't know why Scar is looking so horribly conflicted, and he doesn't want this to be unfair; it should be mutual, and he's welcoming Scar to take, to even out the playing field. (He'd even let him tip the scales completely, if that's what Scar wants.) 

Scar does drag his other hand up that curve Grian’s making for him, although with no claws involved. He feels the dip in Grian’s back, that divot where he can rake his fingers over his spine. 

Another breath, another wisp of blue smoke. 

Scar’s claws emerge and he has to actively pull his fingers up to avoid scratching. 

It’s not fair because while Grian can lean into his instincts, use them as a familiar crutch, a display of trust and warmth— Scar’s not nearly so fortunate. Letting his vex urges surface would mean violence and danger and taking and— god Scar wants to take. 

And Grian is egging him on. His fingers twitch with want, tapping their pointed nails against soft, bare skin. If only Grian knew what he was asking for right now…

Scar’s hopelessly pulled along by that alluring string, that low purr that escapes from Grian’s throat. He thinks, dazedly, that maybe Grian does know. 

Especially since the drag of Scar's fingers—that moment of them shifting into claws—makes Grian arch more. Not away from it, but into it, encouraging, needy.

He knows what Scar is. He knows he's made of sharp things, claws that can tear and teeth that can bite.

He doesn't care.

He wants Scar, and he wants all of him, and—

His thoughts are slipping from him, dazed and lost in some deep, raw want that pulls him under. 

“Always a fan of the resistance, huh?” Scar’s tone is rough, not unlike a low, warning growl. 

Grian can’t help but grin, ever so cheeky, mayhem running wild in his veins. Scar was always the first one to witness this part of Grian. Whenever there's a spark of mischief, Grian feels drawn to him, wants him to see it, to catch on fire together with him.

And maybe Scar is. Catching on fire together with Grian. Because the next thing Grian knows, he's pushed back, he's pushed down, and—

He's a fan of resistance, but he gives to this so willingly. His eyes never leave Scar's as he lets Scar's hands dictate the way gravity shifts around him. His thighs remain wrapped around Scar even as his back lowers, wings spreading across the ground. (He spares one mindful thought to shift his wing to avoid the campfire. The feathers flutter, instead, near Scar's skin, wing curved upwards, almost brushing his shoulder.) 

He lays down, and he wonders, does this make it fair?

Or is there more?

He looks up at Scar, his heart wild in his chest but expression calm and endlessly fond. Waiting for the next step. Licking his parted lips, waiting to see what happens, wordlessly inviting Scar to do more. 

Scar’s eyes dart from the wing that curves around them back to Grian’s face when he sees Grian’s tongue slide over his lips. Shamelessly, he finds himself mirroring the motion, green gaze hungry.

"It felt good, you know," Grian murmurs, and it's the quietest thing. (He means the claws. The growls. The way Scar pushes and skirts taking more.) "It all does."

Grian’s words scream at Scar to let go, to let loose and see what it is exactly that he wants so desperately from Grian right now. 

Although he’s pretty sure he knows. 

He plants one hand firmly beside Grian’s head, using it to hold his weight, then uses the other to cup Grian's chin, two claws tilting his head while the others graze across his throat. 

Scar leans in closer, ghosting their lips together. “Still good?” he asks, though his voice seems so far away, like he’s floating astray as his resolve grows ever thinner. Instead of kissing him, Scar ducks down lower, pressing his lips just above Grian’s collarbone, kissing roughly enough to threaten a bruise.

The way Grian succumbs to Scar's touch is so simple. Through all the resistance in his soul, none is reserved for Scar right now; he's surrendered, a willing participant in the fate Scar strings up around them like a sticky, inescapable spiderweb. Grian's baring his neck, not shying from the claws; the most he does is let out a shaky breath, a tingle of promising excitement shooting through him like fireworks. 

He feels lightheaded in the best of ways.

"Good," he confirms, more a coo than a word, but the fraying string of vowels still makes sense.

It’s a dangerous game they’re playing, and they’re both aware of it. And they’re both still choosing to continue hurtling down this path.

The rein Scar has on his vex side demanding he takes more slackens, falls out of his grip at Grian’s goading tug. He lets out a low hum against Grian’s throat before slacking his jaw and biting. His fangs hook into the skin above his collarbone, threatening to break skin, but not quite yet. No blue magic escapes Scar’s mouth this time, only hot and heavy breath in between roughly teething at Grian’s soft skin, reeling at the feeling of blood coursing so close to his fangs. Instead the haze trickles across his irises, eyes flickering blue as he indulges instead of resists.

Grian's head is quickly becoming a mess, but it's a mess in the best of  ways. There's not a smidge of fear under his skin, and oh, isn't that something. It's entirely replaced by craving, by this submissive need to push Scar over the edge and take everything Scar gives him— and, equally, let Scar take everything he wants. 

Intoxicatingly vulnerable, Grian offers no defences, leaving himself wide open, tempting Scar to continue. The pain sparks, but it translates to pleasure; it says good good good, it makes Grian want to press closer to Scar, it makes him want to keep his neck bared, it makes him want to sink his own, dull fingernails into Scar's skin just to let him know that this feels wonderful.

A dizzying thought hits Grian, a hazy wondering if Scar knows Grian is giving him everything, right now. All of himself. Every little bit. He's putting himself completely at Scar's mercy. 

But maybe Scar knows.

Maybe he knows, because when Scar lifts up, looming over Grian, what he chooses to say is mine.

The word reverberates through Grian, shakes something at his core, but it feels warm. It feels tingly and like a precipice, but one he wants to fall over.

Breathless and defenceless, he chirps in affirmation, before he vocalises it in a hoarse half-whisper, and despite the pleased haze that coats every letter, something in his tone is almost daring: "Yours."

Scar loves that little chirp — he loves the confirmation, however daring it may be posed. In fact, he likes that particular detail a lot, because he's happy to oblige.

His fingers trail across the curves and freckles, exploring again now that he can shamelessly stare and watch for Grian's reaction. He meets Grian's gaze, vision still somewhat foggy, and he realizes he needs to say something now before he's too far gone to resist. Because he's slowly losing himself to the boundless desire to consume, whatever that may entail, and his skin is practically sizzling and singing every spot where feathers overlap…

Grian meets Scar's gaze back, equally dazed and indescribably present; a scalding, endless pool of emotions reflected in his eyes, open yet unreadable. He makes soft noises at Scar's touch over the tender skin, fingernails lightly dragging against Scar's back in response, but none of him is running away from this.

He's staying put, an obedient little prey, ready to be consumed.

"Grian," Scar forces out, leaning back in so his breath is felt over Grian’s cheek.

Grian's breath hitches instantly in response, eyes falling shut. His name sounds so sweet yet strained on Scar's lips, and he wants to take it from him, to unshackle those restraints around it.

But Scar's leaning over his cheek, not his lips, and Grian is nothing but obliging, baring his skin, whichever part of it Scar happens to desire.

"Scar," he returns in a hoarse whine, the need to call him back scalding hot in his veins. 

"You're—" Scar’s voice cracks, but it's different than before. It's like he's interrupted by a needy growl, teeth bared. But Scar recollects himself, eyes still blazing, alight with wild magic and yearning. "You're toeing a dangerous line here, y’know..." He's trying to be delicate about it, merely allude to the burst of primal emotion he's fighting to control. "... toying with a vex." He says it like it could just be a joke, a simple tease, but he's so entirely serious about it.

Ah.

There it is.

Grian suddenly understands all the complexity swirling through Scar's expression.

And he takes it without flinching. He hums, bringing one hand up, to brush through Scar's hair, fingertips reaching to the back of Scar's ear, teasing lightly. A featherlight touch.

"I know." 

It's so simple to admit.

His lips are slightly curved. A miniscule grin, something knowing, tender, welcoming.

He cranes his neck, leans in, steals a quick kiss.

"I know, Scar." 

And he's still right here. Still so willing. Still absolutely surrendered. One wing draped over Scar, the rest of him pliantly underneath him, neck tilting to regain its bared position, not a shred of survival instinct left on display.

Scar still swallows hard, nerves alight. He's certain his desire is practically a tangible thing now, magic thrumming across his skin and driving him crazy. 

"If you—" he starts, hoarse, still so very strained, speaking through his teeth as they involuntarily press tightly together. With a shaky breath, he admits it, timid, but determined to be entirely transparent by just how much his instincts are running wild: "I'm gonna want to touch them— you, your wings—" He wants it to be clear it's only because it's a part of Grian that he wants this, and he prays that's coming across, but words are so difficult to form in his dizzying haze. "... so if you don't want that, you need to tell me now."

Before I can't control myself, goes unsaid.

The conflict is so clear now, the way Scar is trying to hold back, for Grian, always for Grian.

Grian thinks maybe he wants Scar to let go. 

Thrill runs across his spine, delving into downy feathers that coat his back, as Scar says the word wings. It's not often Grian hears it on his tongue, with Scar always carefully skirting around it. And what would at other times make him uneasy, now makes Grian perk up—some bird instinct that's taking deep root in him, tangling into myriad of desires. 

Because, yes. Wings. Wings.

The feathers draped over Scar's bare skin move lightly, brushing against him. repositioning. Not leaving that point of contact. Not shying away.

The possibility looms in Grian's mind, something set ablaze at a deep dark precipice, and as he swallows thickly, all he can think of is: want.

Scar needs an answer, and Grian thinks maybe he can give him some. Maybe he can— Maybe they can—

He licks his lips and his fingers tenderly brush through the hair behind Scar's ear, trying to soothe him into this. "I can't promise it'll be okay..." he starts. And it's true. He can't. He's aware he's riddled with countless barely-buried triggers right under his skin (under his feathers—), all of it linked to a horrible terror, always just half a step from dreadfully raw, spiralling panic. But this, this feels different. This feels like maybe he could be something else, too. Like it doesn't have to be that.

He feels it, that glowing, intense desire to give himself over to Scar fully. A prey to a predator, shameless, fearless, unabashed. Untamed, both of them. Wild. 

He tilts his head. Strands of hair shining with shades of gold in the firelight shift, fall across his forehead and out of the way, soft and clean, thanks to Scar's careful, loving hands. 

The pause is there, hovering.

Grian is going to break it.

"But... Scar."

He lifts himself up, reaching for Scar; his hand tugs lightly at Scar's hair to aid him in his movement; his wing presses against Scar's back, too, helping Grian reach Scar's lips. He presses a tender kiss there, affectionate and pleading, and it tips into unbridled craving as he finishes with a flick of tongue and a gentle bite of his teeth.

"Make the danger feel good," he whispers, a half-purr half-growl tucked against the corner of Scar's mouth, breath hovering over the bitten spot on Scar's lip. 

And then Grian's hand falls away from Scar's hair. All of him falls away, as he lets himself lie back down, his gaze flickering with warmth and desire in the hot, glowing light of the firelight. He's putting himself here willingly, underneath Scar, defenceless, skin bared, chest lifting up with breaths as his heart hammers against his ribs.

"And then you can touch," he finishes hoarsely, so very quietly. Soft and inviting, equally as hopeful as it's needy, his eyes never leaving Scar's.

And it's still so very different, a craving driving him insane—he wanted Scar's claws on his feathers not too long ago, but that was for destruction, and this— this isn't that. This is something completely different, miles away from whatever that spiral from before was; something that leaves Grian's throat dry, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

He's playing with fire, and he fully intends to let it burn him. To consume him. He yearns desperately for this kind of intimacy, for Scar, Scar, Scar, for things to be something else for a moment. (Hands in his feathers and teeth on his skin and him amidst it all, willing, pliant, giving.)

Make the danger feel good, echoes throughout Scar's increasingly emptying mind— he's slipping further, those words are driving him wild. He blinks several times, trying to process the roundabout permission he's been granted, the chance to try if only he can fulfill the promise of pleasure amidst danger. He hopes to clear his vision, lift the haze for a moment to provide a coherent response, but each blink only serves to hide the swirl of vibrant blue that dances across his eyes, glowing brighter each time he opens them.

Grian watches, patient and silent, lips parted in invitation, as Scar processes what he's just said. He sees the brightness of his eyes, the blue wisps that dance around. He knows how fraying and thin Scar's self control is.

He wants it to snap.

Scar opens his mouth, but no words come out, just a needy, shaken huff before he's leaning down and devouring, barely even a kiss, more of an open drag of teeth that's pressed into Grian's mouth, nonsensical and demanding.

There are claws and fangs and a bright blue fog swirling around the both of them, fighting against the vibrance of the firelight and winning.

Despite the initial apprehension, it’s a wonder to Scar how he ever doubted himself, because of course he wouldn’t irreparably hurt Grian— protecting him is as ingrained in his instincts as anything else. It’s a spiral of both sides of his vex urges— to please and to devour— a dizzying mesh, a thrilling fusion of desires. 

They let themselves slip into this. Into controlled violence and hovering threats, into claws and fangs and blood, into nails dug into skin and bodies pressed close. Into danger that feels mindbogglingly good, stripping them of sanity as they keep, all too willingly, sinking deeper and deeper.

(Listen they’re little freaks they definitely should’ve negotiated a safe word before this all went down.) 

"Mmm." Grian groans, a drawn out sound. There’s a fresh bite wound at the side of his neck that throbs, overcome with sensations as the tender, broken skin meets air and Scar's mouth, the fresh, warm blood smeared around in the process. 

Deliriously, he tips his head to the side, eyes closed and hands trembling, giving that whole side of his throat to Scar. (He'd give him anything now. Anything.) 

Scar grins, teeth bared and lips slightly smeared with blood, when Grian cranes his neck even more, allowing for even further abuse. He presses in close again, kissing the spot using his wicked little smile. "You'd really give in so easily?" he murmurs against the bruised skin, tone as crackly as it is velvety, a contradictory blend. His words are playful, but his voice drops as he adds, pensive: "... only for me I'd hope."

There's a small spur at the words, a reminder that Grian's soul should be made of resisting, stitched through with endless, mischievous fights. And yet it leads nowhere, a dead end against Scar's breath at his throat, the velvety rumble of his voice. 

Grian whines, nonsensically, fingers weakly pawing at Scar's back without any real intention to sink in for now. His wing brushes over Scar again, a restless little motion of soft feathers, vulnerable prize caressing a vicious predator.

"For you," he echoes on a whine, barely remembering how to speak. And then he adds, laying himself bare and pliant, stripping all the defences and pressing control solely into Scar's palms (into his claws, into his teeth—): "Anything for you."

Scar practically keens at the admission, the surrender and for a second his voice is incredibly lucid as he lets out a quiet and almost incredulous, "gosh," words interlaced with a small chuckle. 

The chuckle anchors all of Grian's attention for a searing moment, a different kind of delight rushing wildly through him, curving his lips heedlessly into a triumphant smile. Knowing he's making Scar feel things tastes like victory, like a reward in itself, and he wants to gloat, taking it in, before he throws himself off the precipice and gives Scar more of himself, to exacerbate that, to make Scar tip into this  fall with him.

There's a more gentle, fond and intrigued touch down one of Grian's sides, a little less claw as Scar drags down his bare chest, but the tether snaps again as Scar licks over his lips, still hungry for more. The touch grows more purposeful and intense as he maps out his prey, testing the skin, seeking something. 

He spots whatever it is in the center of Grian's chest, the dip of his ribcage, something vulnerable and alive as he feels the rush of blood and a battered heartbeat under his fingertips. His claws tap there eagerly as his grin once again grows toothy and wild, presenting his expression to Grian and drinking in the sight of his own.

Grian shudders under the touch Scar traces across his chest, something soft and exploratory. Grian can feel his breath stutter against those fingertips, wonders how Scar feels about that; but his answer is right here, as his gaze meets Scar's at the attention-calling tap of his fingers. 

Breathlessly, Grian takes in Scar's grin, and oh, he's in trouble. His heart beats wildly against his ribs, somewhere under Scar's claws, as his eyes hang on Scar. Grian's irises are glowing with reflected blue, gaze as intense as it is hazed, vulnerability fighting with desire. His neck still throbs. The rush of urgent craving is ceaseless, drumming through his veins. 

With a pang of ache that travels all the way down to pool below his stomach, Grian leans up, not minding that there are claws in the way on his chest, reaching to press the smallest brush of his lips against Scar in an almost-kiss, reverent puff of breath tingling in its wake.

"Yours," he murmurs, pushing Scar on.

Scar has to reel in his claws so as not to break skin when Grian moves— that's his job to do— and he purrs lowly against Grian's lips, smile turning devilish when Grian's speaks, the word music to his happily-flicking ears. 

As pleased as he is by the gesture, he pushes Grian right back down where he belongs. 

With a tantalising, toothy smile Grian obeys without struggle, cooing in encouragement, a praise, an affirmation that Scar's doing what he should here.

There's a searing awareness of their roles tearing a path through him—something about Scar's ability to tear him apart at the slightest whim; something about his own helplessness; something about how he's essentially pinned down. The flush of dizzying, quivery pleasure he feels at the thought is disintegrating all of his rationality, rendering him into an all too willing prisoner of any and all of Scar's cravings.

Scar’s claws drag down Grian’s chest, enough to mark but not to break skin. He's toying with the idea, letting the thought of drawing blood dance across his mind, set something ablaze in his eyes. (But he shouldn't— not here— not too much…)

Grian shudders; his rapid breaths tremble right underneath all that sharpness, his fluttering heartbeat rabbity beyond a cage of ribs that suddenly feel all too brittle, paper-thin, a protection that means nothing if Scar decides he doesn't want it there.

And still, Grian pulls up no protections.

He’s a willing participant in this bloody abuse, letting Scar claw and bite, lost to the deliriousness of the sensations it brings. Like sea dragging him under, beckoning him to let it happen. 

And at some point down the line, soft feathers of Grian’s earwing brush across the back of Scar's hand that’s cupping his face. Grian wants him to know how much he's at his mercy, and how much he wants to be at his mercy.

Scar extends his fingers, no longer curling around Grian's cheeks, now experimentally carding through the feathers of the earwing that's been offered. He almost doesn't consciously register his decision to do so, he just feels something soft and knows he wants to touch, to claim, to pull, but no— No, he won’t. 

He is not going to harm Grian. Not like that.

He has other ways of claiming him after all. 

And while Scar might only be dazedly, barely aware of the shift and touch of his hand, it shoots across Grian's senses—the fingers burrowing into the soft feathers of his earwings.

It's got nothing with a conscious decision; Grian’s body is controlled by a nonsense of instincts, and they dictate him to go limp, drawing a low, soft sound of out him. His earwing twitches, at first away, then towards the touch, giving itself over just like the rest of him.

Scar feels the moment the earwing gives into him, and he's instantly thrilled, sliding the longer feathers in between his fingers and releasing a low purr. His other hand does the same, mirroring the touch on the other side. 

The earwing touches are enough to drive Grian insane, triggering something in him that's been dormant for too long, drawing out a spillage of pleading bird noises out of him. His wing that was lying sprawled across the ground lifts somewhat, curves, just to show off the feathers; they glisten with brilliant shades, reached both by blue wisps of magic and the warm glow of the campfire.

Scar shifts to more gentleness over the bruises, then reverently kisses the tips of Grian’s feathers, a soft little gesture he’s never been allowed to offer. His claws trace circles over the indents of his latest bite, and he leans to kiss and lightly suck on it, dazed from the taste of blood on his tongue.

And then he notices the wings.

The beautiful, multicolored span outlined by his own spectral glow— a breathtaking sight. Scar’s eyes dilate as they lock onto the delicate hues that are normally so hidden away. They shine, freshly-cleaned, and although perhaps the method wasn’t preferable, Scar still feels his soul catch fire with the knowledge that he was the one to wash them. He’s the reason they sparkle right now and simultaneously the reason they’re on full display. 

His eyes are wide and eager, scanning the feathers and grinning wide at the sight— his expression a mixture of ravenous and adoring. 

Almost brainlessly, Scar mutters a string of nonsensical phrases under his breath: ”mine, pretty, my pretty bird, so good, so good—“ before leaning down and properly kissing Grian, the words still slurred against their lips. 

At the string of praises and possessive words, Grian coos, equally as incoherent. His wing stretches a bit higher, delighted, feathers shining against the multicoloured glow. The muscles ache, unused to the motion, but it feels good, something in him tingling and telling him that this is right. The vulnerable underside of the wing is there, perfectly within reach, not trying to hide or tuck away, a state they haven't been able to achieve once in this world before this moment.

Grian's gaze snags at Scar's grin, at that expression that tells him Scar's treading the thought of devouring him whole. It tugs at his guts, tightens his stomach, sends his breath out of rhythm, but none of it feels bad. He revels in it, shivers and sinks into it, the feeling ultimately warm, slinking around him like a spiderweb, making him hold still, dazed and unaware of the imminent danger.

"Yours, yours, good, yes, all yours," he echoes back at Scar, words half-coos, melting into the kiss. He hums against Scar's lips, a pleased, needy little noise. His hands travel higher up Scar's back and press, tugging at him, telling him he wants him right here, over himself. 

When the kiss breaks, he follows, nipping at Scar's lips, trying to elicit something more yet again, playing into Scar's instincts in a way that seems deliberate, but is just a hazed jumble of incomprehensible cravings, something deep and richly yearning that doesn't take no for an answer. 

Grian refuses to let Scar retreat in the slightest, and it’s that utter willingness and provocation that’s keeping Scar just barely tethered to reality— because surely his prey shouldn’t be this pliant. Shouldn’t be urging him on.

Because Grian isn’t his prey, nor or his meal—

But isn’t he? 

Once again, Scar’s head spins, dizzied as the line between mate and prey becomes muddled in his vex brain. And somehow through it all comes laughter of all things because— because this started with a bath and now Grian is underneath him trilling and begging to be manhandled. It’s borderline absurd and the sheer irrationality of both their behavior right now results in a sudden, throaty chuckle emerging from Scar as he teases Grian’s lips with his teeth. 

It’s almost silly, but more than anything, it’s electrifying, thrilling, exciting. There’s blood smeared over Scar’s fingers, and yet he’s having fun. 

Scar's laughter sends a wave of warmth through Grian, so very different from the scorching heat of everything else. It's a sound he basks in, slotting it somewhere next to his wildly beating heart, treasured amidst the inferno that ravages the rest of his body. He hums quietly against it, reveling in the way the sounds merge, even as it tips into a whine at the tease of Scar's teeth on Grian's lips.

With struggling clarity, Scar continues to giggle, although it morphs into an alluring purr. “Always said no one can have ‘em—” Scar’s hands frame Grian’s face, tucking his earwings over his cheeks. “—well what if I want them?” A careful drag of claws through those tiny feathers and heavy breath over Grian’s lips. “What if I want you?”

Grian’s breath hitches, noises falling silent for a moment as Scar's claws lightly rake across his feathers, tucking the soft fluff of the earwings against Grian's cheeks. Grian's gaze holds onto his, dark and intense, and his throat bobs as he swallows emptily. 

He feels dizzy, like he's going insane. His brain bounces the sharp thought of danger against his feathers, but he's holding still for Scar, expression hot and adoring and desiring. It feels explosive, like sparks of a live wire, and he wants it, all of it, a tinge of fear crashing into safety of this being Scar, the trust at the dazed awareness that he's in good hands, and he wants those hands to be clawed and at his skin—at his feathers. 

A part of Grian’s brain that's made of pure instinct trills in happy victory, telling him this is what he wanted, that he succeeded—he showed off his feathers and his mate now wants him. It's intoxicating, a jumbled mess of agreements thrashing underneath Grian's tongue while he fights to figure out how to express any of them. 

In the end, he coos, a small whine pressed against Scar's hovering lips. His earwings twitch, sending a spike of sensation though him as that creates a gentle drag against Scar's claws, eliciting a tiny mewl from his throat. 

And through it all, he's still here, still not running.

When he finds his voice, it's equally soft and pleading; it sounds like gentle affection and like deep craving, all at once. It's showing boundless love to the beast while tempting it to devour him. "You can have," he murmurs, low and hoarse. "You can have me." All of me.

Scar feels as if he could howl with excitement and triumph, but instead what comes out is a hushed purr, a rumbly thing pressed right up against the corner of Grian’s lips. 

“Won’t hurt,” he whispers, in spite of all the damage he’s already wrought. But even in a haze of delirious bloodlust, Scar still draws the line there. He doesn’t want to harm Grian’s wings. He has no intention of breaking those gorgeous feathers or of taking them for himself. He doesn’t need to. He has Grian, all of Grian, and all Scar wants to do is to admire his lovely possessions.

To give them the love they deserve. 

To give Grian the love he absolutely deserves.

Scar tucks a promise against the corner of Grian's lips, and Grian quietly coos back. A hushed, I know, tender and loving and trusting. 

There’s still slight hesitation in Scar’s movements, months of ingrained resistance still fighting his every motion, but Scar’s hand finally leaves Grian’s cheek and those soft, tiny feathers to embrace the real prize. Dozens of greedy hands have tried and yet Scar— fangs and claws bared— is being offered them willingly. His lips curl in satisfaction.

Grian hums quietly at Scar's hesitation, hands tracing light patterns into the skin of Scar's back. Mapping out all the scarred tissue there, the edges of which he's seen many many times, memorised, and now they unfurl under his fingertips. His to touch. His, his, his. 

He's going to be gentle with Scar's wounds, like he is with Grian's wings.

— and then his thoughts dissipate, his breath hitching shakily, as Scar's hand makes contact with his wing. A confusing onslaught of feelings rushes through him, and he both wants to look and doesn't want to see it. Some deep-rooted part of him tells him that he should be scared, that this should be dangerous, but the rest of him pushes against it, whispering soft and pliant I know, I know, I know. 

He wants Scar's hand right where it is, and more. He wants—

Claws sink in between the feathers harmlessly as Scar trails his fingers down their length, positively entranced by this allowance. There’s a soft hum of appreciation, of reassurance, and Scar’s other hand stays, just as content with raking his claws through Grian’s hair.

Grian shudders, his emotions a tangle that tips into pleasure as Scar's clawed fingers drag across the tender underside of his wings, caressing the feathers that have been untouched for months. He tips his head into Scar's other hand that's tangled in his hair, nuzzling as a spillage of coos makes it out, a nonsensical string that is very, very far from distressed. 

He takes one deep breath, that's meant to be steadying but instead quivers all the way through, and he pushes his wing into Scar's touch.

Eager to get access to every bit of what’s just been offered to him, Scar drags Grian up, settling him once again in his lap. His other hand snakes around Grian’s waist, searching for a spot he was never allowed to touch, travelling to the base of Grian’s wings, claws running over the smaller feathers. He sinks his fingers into their length, revelling the softness in contrast to all his sharp edges.

And Grian is doomed. So completely, utterly doomed.

He shudders in the best of ways, the coo that makes it past his lips vibrating with it as his back arches and wings blissfully push into the touch. The hands in his feathers are driving him crazy. He's pressing himself against Scar, a babble of purring, whiny, defenceless bird noises spilling out of him unbidden, any semblance of self control left.

Neither of them wants to stop here.

And so they don’t. 

[there’s somehow 10k more rp words to this debauchery. just use your imagination we now fade to black <33]

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (09)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 11.4k

warning: brief smut scene, shitty writing here & there, pls stop reading immediately if anything makes u uncomfortable!

summer isn't anything like your school experience so far, which is a good thing.

instead of sticking to your dorm room or the cafe nearby all day, you at least went out; to lotte world when both of your friends wanted some thrills and proceeded to drag you through a near hell experience where you almost fainted from a ride and stayed beside mingi to nurture him after because he's still the same 'ole scaredy cat you know him to be, who gets easily nauseous.

they also took you to your first ever bar and ordered you a cocktail drink named after something you cannot remember, but it was all super extra and too sophisticated for your taste.

you might've gotten a tad drunk; the experience not at all like you imagined, and attacked mingi with a few kisses, though you have suspicions it wasn't all your doing considering mingi had been eyeing someone across the bar all night who was giving him the same coy look back.

but if you're to ask him, he'd probably just tell you it was nothing serious; just a one night thing. and maybe not exactly sexual but a couple flirty exchanges, that's it. you know how he is.

but the first few weeks of you guys running around like bachelors not tied to anything but just having fun comes to an end when minji called, finally able to free up some time to pay a visit to her boyfriend and friends she hasn't seen in a while.

yunho was the most happy and excited you've seen him ever since stepping on seoul's soils, when minji arrived at the dormitory and ran into his arms so fast, it made you sick to the stomach at how sweet the scene was.

she had planned an entire list of her own of things to do together and was elevated to reveal the first activity on that list much to your dismay, because you guys had already done something similar a couple weeks before.

"come on, guys! it's gonna be fun!" she cheers, arms wrapped around one of yunho's and jumping on the way to the lobby as both you and mingi trail from behind just a good amount of distance because the matching shirts the two has on makes you guys not want to associate yourselves.

"i could think of a million other things to do than go to another amusement park," mingi comments; his snarky tone causing minji to stop as she pulls yunho along, her head turning and shooting lasers toward said boy.

"you didn't even have to come!" she rolls her eyes.

"well, i wouldn't want y/n over here to be third wheeling the whole time."

it's your turn to roll your eyes, not at all fazed by the banter because you know it won't be the last one of the day, just wishing it will pass soon enough so you guys can make it there before the sun sets.

"pfft," minji brushes off, tugging you by the hand and making you stumble a few steps forward until you're pulled right next to her, shoulders touching.

"we are very inclusive!" she adds, and you shoot a rather simple smile in return, knowing the minute yunho does something cute or vice versa, you will be long forgotten.

"yeah, sure, whatever," mingi dismisses, reaching out for your wrist as you're thrown back next to him like a tossed ball. "but she's gonna need me if you're going to be dragging her through those scary rides."

minji scoffs. "i think you're the one that needs her."

for a moment, it looks like mingi's about to say something back, until his eyes fleet to something else in front of him; his towering height allowing him to see over the two.

"hey, yeosang!" yunho's the one to start, his attention on the boy long before any of you caught notice.

it's the way you snap your head so fast, only able to see half of his body as yunho's figure covers the other, but you don't miss the way his gaze skips over to meet yours, conjuring up a knot in your throat as you swallow it down.

you haven't seen him since that night, whether your schedules just differs now, or that you pretty much went out of your way to avoid him, it feels weirdly nostalgic and wrong seeing him again.

"hey!" he waves a bit awkwardly, but genuine in the sense he looks happy by the coincidence.

he has a bag over one shoulder and his hair is a little disheveled; skin also glistening that tells you he just came back from a pretty tough day at work.

"you came at the perfect timing."

"looks like it." he chuckles, and oh... you hate how deep and melodic it sounds. "you guys can go ahead. i'm just gonna put my things back and i'll catch up soon."

one of your eyebrows raise immediately at that.

"oh, it's fine. we can wait."

yeosang hesitates but eventually give in. "alright then, i'll be quick."

you wait until he's out of sight to say something, eager to confirm the suspicion.

"you invited yeosang?" you don't sound hostile or aggravated, just in complete awe.

"yes, just thought you'd enjoy some company. mingi's probably going to run off on you sooner or later."

mingi's face twist, offended at the accusation. you on the other hand, is completely cornered in this situation with no other way out, knowing you're going to have to be in kang yeosang's presence for the rest of the day.

unbelievable.

it takes two rides for mingi to decide he's had enough, and another one for you to follow in his footsteps, situating yourself next to him before stealing a quick gulp from the water bottle.

"hey, want to go into one of those mirror house? whoever makes it out last has to pay for cotton candy," he proposes.

"you are so childish," you wave off, holding in a tiny giggle. "i'm sure they have a height limit for those things."

"that's so fucking whack. they should have one for adults, cause maybe then we could actually be having some fun on the ground," he says, eyeing the gigantic and quite horrific ride in front of you guys.

"weren't you the one hauling ass about going to lotte world a few weeks ago?"

"well, yes, but that was before i threw up all over my fucking shoes."

you chuckle lightly, scoffing before rolling your eyes.

"over there," you say, nodding your head off to one of the booths. "go play a game or something. win yourself a stuffed animal, and maybe you can give it to the hottie that was at the bar."

he shoots you an unamused reaction.

"bitch, i literally told you it was nothing. and those things are hella rigged."

you don't retaliate with anything; only smile to yourself as you move your focus back to watch the movements in front, gaze trained on the way it swings back and forth, erupting sounds of muffled screams that could belong to either one of the three or maybe all.

it's when you feel mingi shifting in his spot that you turn to him, but his attention already on someone else: a new arrival whose face you've never seen before.

"ayyy, man!" says the stranger, hand colliding with mingi's for some bro handshake.

"hey! didn't think i'd run into you here," mingi replies, laughing off the chance of seeing a friend from school.

"how can i not? entrance is only a dollar today!"

mingi's laughter intensifies at the comment, nodding understandably. that was also the reason minji wanted to come. the park had the special deal only once a month during summer.

"want to tag along? me and some of the guys are just gonna be walking around, checking out some stuff and whatnot." he shrugs.

"ohh..." mingi lets out loosely, neck snapping to you with a delay in his expression. "actually, i came with my friend here and a few others."

he talks like he's informing his friend about why he cannot accept the offer, but it sounds a lot more like he's trying to save face because you're right next to him.

"oh, hey!" his friend suddenly bringing a hand forward to greet, finally grasping your presence all this time and realizing you're not just some random who happens to share a seat with mingi.

"mark. mark lee," he says; your eyes roaming his boyish features that makes him look rather cute.

"y/n," you reply simply with the smallest smile.

"i'm sorry. i didn't realize he's with you." mark rubs his neck awkwardly and even bows a little as an apology.

"oh no." you shake your head. "you two go ahead."

mingi exaggerates the pout on his lips. "aww, i wouldn't want to--"

"--go," you cut him off. "i'll tell the rest when they get back."

"well, if you insist..." he mumbles, standing up and flashing you that goofy smile of his, taking the empty bottle with him. "i'll see you later then."

"yeah, see you later."

"thanks, y/n," mark's the last to speak of the two, both bidding you a goodbye before disappearing into the crowd.

you could never be mad at mingi for simply being a social butterfly, reminiscing all the times in the high school he'd go off with his other group of friends because he made them easily.

whereas you're content only being around people you're very familiar with, mingi enjoys getting to know new individuals; expand his pool beyond just the small circle he's accustomed to.

he can't always be with you and yunho. you guys are a bit boring sometimes. but at the end of the day, he will always return, and the label "best friends" is reserved for none other than you two.

the ride finally comes to a stop shortly after; people getting off at the side and you search until you recognize the three of them, minji signaling with one of her hands up until something else pulls her attention away, fast to drag yunho along to one of the stalls selling some sparkling merchandise.

yeosang is stranded, unsure who to follow, eventually settling on you when he meets your eyes, his hands in his pockets as he make his way over.

"hey," he mumbles the greeting.

"hey," you reply back as casually as possible, like you weren't just dodging him earlier like he's the plague, sticking to mingi the entire time and avoiding any scenarios that would call for an interaction.

"mind if i sit down?"

you shake your head, scooting over to make some space.

he takes the seat, a small grunt leaving his lips as he does so, and both of you don't say anything, the silence consuming for at least a moment; eyes only observing the events happening around you guys.

"so... how was it? the ride," you ask, hesitant at first but feeling like you should try at least. that would only be the right thing to do considering the progress made before.

but it seems like every time you talk to him again, it's always a little awkward at first. you don't know if it's just a quirk that comes when you go from hating each other's guts to being able to somewhat stand the other's presence, or if it's just an effect yeosang has.

"not too bad. i expected more, honestly," he answers, tone lighthearted and a bit amused; just the right direction in order to get you out of your shell again.

"tskk." you hide a tiny smile, scanning over the ride just one more time. "good to hear, i guess."

"yeah. i think you would've enjoyed it, though. too bad you gave up after the third one," he teases, eyes straight forward and all casual as if he isn't trying to poke something.

"at least i made it to the third one. mingi gave up after the second."

he shrugs. "to be fair, it was a spinning teacup."

"we were barely even steering the wheel."

"the third one was a carousel, y/n."

"it was going in circle and making me dizzy!"

he chuckles, shaking his head along.

"you two really are one and the same."

you retract momentarily, not sure how to feel about the comparison to your best friend, but as different as you two are, you're also more alike than you'd think.

"speaking of mingi, where is he?" he searches the area before his gaze falls on you; the swell in them incredibly endearing.

"he went off with some of his friends from campus... the usual."

"and you didn't want to go along?"

"well, i couldn't just leave yunho."

you both immediately shoot to yunho and minji still by the merchandise stall as minji holds up a shirt to yunho's chest for sizing before she picks up a smaller one for herself.

"i think yunho's good," yeosang states the obvious, biting back the amused tone.

you sigh, cranking your neck to admire the night sky with yeosang imitating your posture before he looks at you, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"how's summer so far?"

you pry away to level his gaze, your eyelashes fluttering in motions staring into his own to what seems like forever until you can think of what to say back.

"very good. did you know that you can get a month's supply of free drinks if you complete a rather bizarre challenge?"

he laughs, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"i definitely did not. which place?"

"mhmm," you hum, trying to recall the memory of when you read the sign before going in, but unable to remember anything about the place other than it looked like every generic bar you've ever seen on the web but with red lightings.

"i'd have to ask yunho or mingi again, if you're interested."

"doesn't sound like my kind of thing, but i'd be down to see someone else do it."

you smirk, pulling away to inspect the sparks decorating the nightly sky once again, muttering a simple, "we'll see."

minji and yunho have moved to a different stall--one that looks like it sells jewelries; minji catching you in the mass when she turns back to check, waving the bracelet in her hold, and you react with a thumbs up before turning to yeosang's side profile in your view.

"have you visited your parents, yet?"

he nods, eyes lingering on yours and full of confidence as he holds the eye contact as if he plans to do it all night.

"yeah. the first week of break. how about you? thinking of paying your hometown a visit?"

you shake your head in response to the question, the more you think about it, the more you just feel sad. guilty.

you would honestly love to see your hometown again, why wouldn't you? it's where you grew up; lived your whole life, met your friends, and made so many memories.

but where and who would you go back to? your aunt and uncle aren't gonna be exactly excited to see you back, and you don't want to bother mingi's or yunho's family more than you already did.

there's nothing left there for you.

this is your home now; in the comfort of your two best friends who you hope will stick around long enough because you don't have anyone else.

"not any time soon, i don't think. mingi and yunho have other ideas, and then minji has a list of her own."

"i see," he acknowledges. "there's just never a dull moment with those guys, huh?"

"well, to start it off, we haven't even been here that long and i'm already stuck with you. make of that what you will."

"is that a bad thing?" he raises his pitch, but the delivery is playful.

"not at all," you assure.

the assumption that you need someone else by your side in case your best friends run off was ridiculous at first (though not out of reach), but now seeing for yourself that's exactly what happened, it's almost like they knew that would eventually be the case.

but at least yunho was considerate enough and had you in mind when inviting his roommate.

"okay, cool. you made it sound like being with me is some sort of punishment."

you snicker lightly.

"maybe. maybe not," you tease, quick to act aloof and shift your focus to yunho and minji as they grow farther away, completely forgetting the fact they didn't come alone.

but yeosang does a good job of keeping you occupied the way he always does. small comments, a few bickering here and there, and eventually playing catchup again, pouring in your curiosities about each other.

the night starts looking optimistic again just like that; together and carrying on conversations and exchanging gestures effortlessly, you realize there's two things you have forgot.

one being how easy talking to him is, and two being you're not suppose to be talking to him or even interacting by any means.

san only came because wooyoung wouldn't shut up about the once a month deal at an amusement park they have to go to.

after annoying each and every one he considers close to him, he gets san and seonghwa to show; hongjoong too busy even during summer to spare a day to spend with his friends.

he isn't on board at first, really would rather just be home and sleeping the night away, still able to feel some symptoms of his hangover from the day before.

but once they get past the entrance, he notices just how many familiar faces there are, it seems like this summer deal went around fast and just about everyone and their mothers are here.

the guy over there sitting down at one of gaming booths with red veins decorating his forehead, san knows him from biology. and just another couple steps forward that has already taken him to a completely different scene, is the redhead he got to know from one of wooyoung's parties.

then a left turn and three or four bodies pushing past him later, is you and yeosang seated at one of the bench, a bit shielded behind the railing of a ride and the walking of people, but he knows it's you.

that long, straightened hair that falls over your shoulders nicely onto your chest, and a pretty smile on your face while you chat with the boy next to you like you've known him forever.

he sees red; heels digging into the ground and stopping to watch the scene as his knuckles curl together.

"hey, man. you good?" seonghwa's voice take his attention briefly; san's eyes fleeting to meet his and nodding.

"yeah. just looking around for a restroom. hey, look, you two go ahead. i'll call or text after i'm done."

"alright..." seonghwa complies. wooyoung is behind him and skeptical about it all but nods nonetheless, watching as san walks away and pulls out his phone promptly.

~

you kick the air under the seat, swaying your feet back and forth, indulging in the hot summer breeze that glides past your skin; yeosang taking note of the act and once again mimicking you until one of his feet accidentally brushes against yours that earns him a glare, but he laughs it off.

yunho and minji came back once to ask if you guys wanted to look around the shops, but you kindly turned down the offer in order to recover from the dizziness that's still mildly present.

and for yeosang, sitting down and relaxing was a lot more appealing than following behind his friend and his girlfriend.

it's only a few seconds later that you let out a silent snicker, thinking back to the dinner where you guys played footsie under the table; the dynamic you guys had then entirely something else that it brings a subtle smile onto your lips when you think about where you two stands now.

the laspe of comfortable silence is broken when a buzz goes off in the beige crossbody bag you brought along, pulling it into view and grabbing for your phone. the drop in your expression would have yeosang believing you saw a ghost; the manner in which you pale instantly and a nervous gulp travels down your throat.

🟣: hey beautiful. is it okay if i come over tonight? miss you 💕

after you were told to stay away from san, and you, well... didn't, it's just too risky keeping his name even if the chance of mingi or yunho snooping your phone is low, you're not about to test your luck.

so you changed it, to something as simple as his favorite color. quite uncreative but that's the least of your worries.

"what's wrong?" yeosang's concerned tone brings you back, your head whipping up and thrusting the phone back into your bag.

if there's one thing (among others) you're awful at, it's being discreet and not being more incriminating than you already gave away.

"nothing," you reply, faking a faint smile but it's ineffective when yeosang raises a brow in turn, his body language questioning the authencity of your answer, but then who is he to interrogate?

"alright. well, you want to go look for yunho and minji? or is there something else you have in mind?"

"we can go look for them," you tell him, in which he nods, standing up to wait for you.

he leads the way and you trail just a little behind him, trying to shake the text out of your thoughts. you're here with your friends and you're suppose to be having fun. surely, you can answer san later and tell him you were busy.

but another part of you (the one that will truly be your demise) has an itch to answer him; tell him, yes, he can come over tonight. and though you saw him just yesterday, you already miss him as well.

because actually getting out of the comfort of your dorm and bubble you're used to isn't the only thing that has made your summer experience all more different than the school semester.

san has been so good to you lately. he doesn't leave right after sex nor tries to rid of you if it's at his place. he stays and lets you sleep on his chest; listening to the sound of his heart beating--such an intimate act that isn't sexual pricks your own heart in an entirely different way.

he'd tuck you in his arms and allow your head to rest on his shoulder when you're both watching a movie picked by him because you'd always let him choose, so eager to just know more about him and the things he like.

he'd even listen to you when you'd tell him about your day with your friends, and he'd nod and hum like he's digesting each of your words, it made you feel so happy, wishing he wasn't a secret you're keeping to yourself because you two only meet when no one else is around.

seeing yeosang is busy trying to spot the two, you take the chance to rummage for your phone, thumbs pressing the letters as fast as you can and shoving it back, catching yeosang at the perfect time when he whips his head around.

"found them," he announce, and you just nod, attempting to rid the apprehension on your face and hoping he doesn't take notice.

yunho and minji sees the two of you before you fully arrive, smiling warmly and ushering their hands to welcome.

"okay, good. we were just thinking about looking for you guys," says yunho.

the trip is over a lot faster than you had expected, unsure if it was because your brain was on autopilot for the remaining duration, or the fact the carousel once again brought upon a slight headache that probably messed up your sense of time.

being the only one of the bunch to live in the other building, you walk to your room after departing from everyone else, replaying the last conversation you had with yeosang about him going in to take his things and sleeping at another classmate's room for the night since yunho has minji over.

yuna isn't around, not for the usual reasons, but because she left for jeju only a week into summer break, having told you her family's also flying out to kyoto after.

you wished her a good time and joked about getting you a souvenir, but knowing how yuna is, there's a chance she's gonna do it.

feeling dirty and sweaty from the day, you grab a towel to go wash up at the shared shower room, drying your hair once you get back and putting on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

you busy yourself with your phone, even going back to the message you sent san, which he only hearted but didn't reply to.

y/n: you can 😊 i'm just out rn but i will be back later

you wait and wait, eyelids falling more heavy and your blanket turning softer, you almost cave into sleep until a knock at the door gets you up so fast; an adrenaline that courses your body because it can only be one person.

"hi," you greet in a soft voice, growing shy at the man before you.

the quilt stitch sweater and jeans he has on make him look so handsome. but someone like san will always look good regardless of what he wears.

even his slightly messy hair as if he just woke up from a nap can't hide that; especially when he's bareface and flushed in the cheeks.

san gets red easily, and it's something you've noticed and absolutely adore; the color painting him as more pure and innocent.

"hey," he says smoothly, walking in as you back up for some space and waits for him to shut the door behind.

he does a once-over of your current state before one of his hands caresses at your moist hair.

"already showered?"

you nod.

"and you couldn't wait until we get it over with?" he tease with a sly tone, a smirk on his lips.

"you were taking too long."

he chuckles at your answer, expression eventually dwindling down to just a smile.

"it's okay. we can do something else tonight," he says, pausing slightly to think before continuing on. "how about a movie again? you up for that?"

"anything's fine," you agree, really just glad you're able to be with him.

"cool. well, i should probably take a shower first." his eyes bat away suddenly, landing on something else behind you.

"one of those towels yours?"

you confirm with a nod, turning around to retrieve it and handing it to over, a warm smile on him when he accepts.

"okay. you can pick what to watch. i'll be back."

he places a peck to your cheek before sliding himself out the door.

you felt awful about it at first, and you still feel awful about it to an extent--seeing san behind your friends' back when they warned you about just how awful the outcome of it will be, and you even gave them your words.

but after the first week or two of sneaking around with him, some of that feeling kind of just dissipated, replaced by the fear and anxiety of getting caught because you always had trouble lying to mingi and yunho. it just isn't you.

well... it wasn't you before san came into the picture.

but this lie, if it is to ever be discovered, you will not only be risking the friendship, but it will be near impossible to ever gain their trusts again.

for now at least, it won't hurt them if they don't know; though, you're not sure how long you can keep running around like this, but you figure you might as well go the full mile until you can't anymore.

from the previous movie nights you two shared, you learned that san likes a lot of superhero movies--something you didn't expect but intrigued you greatly, you even took time to learn their names and origins so you could talk with him about it and not be in utter confusion when he'd refer to someone or something.

you want to pick something he likes; something you know he'll be into, but worrying that you'll wind up picking such an incredibly lame superhero movie since you're not that knowledgeable about the genre, you decide to choose something you're more familiar with.

and because you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, you just have to settle for a romance flick.

"so, what is this film about?" san asks, still damped from the shower, sitting next to you and smelling of soap and shampoo.

you bite the side of your lips and hum out the thinking process.

"i'm not too familiar with the plot either, but i heard it's good."

he simply nods. "let's do it, then."

the movie plays on the laptop situated on both of your laps, and you nuzzle your head on his shoulder; the movie definitely is interesting and one you'd find yourself enjoying if you weren't so tired, still managing to process what's on the screen but not what's happening.

you don't even respond to some of san's comments because they completely fly over your head, but he doesn't seem to care, rather opting to laugh at your state.

but it's not his laughter or the loud fan overworking to rid the summer heat that jolts you awake. it's when you realize a quite explicit sex scene is happening--one you have no clues or ideas of how it came to be.

just that you're flustered in the face because this is the movie you chose to watch with san, and he has noticed your reaction immediately, unable to help the smirk that crawls out.

"if you wanted to do it, you could've just asked."

you release your head from his shoulder at that and scoff it off.

"i didn't even know the movie had one."

because no matter how many times you sleep with him, the subject will always catch you a little offguard; and especially when you weren't even thinking about it.

it's still san and he still makes you feel like a giddy school girl.

but although he enjoys the reaction, the one thing hanging on his mind ever since he saw you back at the park still hasn't left: yeosang.

why were you talking to him again, and why did you look so happy doing so? of course, the request was in the moment; him too jealous and taking his anger out on you, but so far, you seemed to have complied.

he don't think you saw anyone else besides him but your friends, because between the trip to his house and the nights he'd spend in your room, that was all you had to talk about.

he's not cruel enough (give or take) to keep tabs on you, and you also don't come off as someone who would lie to him because he knows you're always too sweet and too easy to persuade.

"where did you go earlier?" he asks, the abrupt question throwing you off as he just switches the topic of conversation like it's his nature. as if he doesn't know where you were, but he couldn't think of any other way to bring it up.

"i was with mingi and yunho, at that amusement park that had the summer deal everyone kept talking about."

your response is surprisingly relaxed, totally unprepared for the next question that leaves his mouth because after all, you have no idea he was there himself and saw you with his own eyes.

"just them?" he tries to keep from letting the bitterness slip, the image of you and yeosang once again consuming his thoughts.

"well, and yunho's girlfriend. she came to visit."

"hmm," he hums an unsatisfied tone and nods his head, not a single words uttered after, probably because he has a feeling sooner or later, you will slip up from the guilt--which is very much sooner.

"y-yeosang was there, too," you admit, maybe feeling slightly guilty but not to an extensive point because you didn't do anything wrong. not with yeosang. "yunho invited him along."

"oh..." san almost sang, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"yeah... we just talked and stuff."

and stuff. san would've laugh if not for the pang of jealousy that runs through his system at how vague you're being. if you're quite literally trying to protect whatever you have with this guy.

"and what do you think about him?" he lets the envy talk, not sure anymore about being discreet but just that he wants to know what you and yeosang have.

the fact you actually ponder the question for longer than you should is concerning, because the truth is, you have really warmed up to him, always skeptical at first but finding out there was nothing to worry about.

you feel comfortable being with him just as you'd feel being with mingi or yunho. in short, yeosang is a friend. yeah... he's like a friend to you at this point... you think.

"mingi and yunho really likes him, and he's been pretty good to me so far," you tell san, looking up at him and trying if you can read into his reaction but he just gives you those stiff eyes before following it with faint smirk.

"you like him?" one of his eyebrows quirk up, anticipation written all over them because he finds enjoyment in how you recoil immediately before shaking your head.

"not like that," you almost hissed, flustered san even asked.

and it may have sound a bit ridiculous to you, but for someone like san who has been around, he will say he has a pretty good grasp on what exactly girls find attractive, and he can say yeosang is a good looking guy.

he's just a tinier bit bulkier than him and definitely looks a lot more approachable with his softer features and probably nerd tendencies, because san is more of a one time thing, and yeosang is likely someone you'll be tied to for life. girls love that.

well... girls like you. which is why he won't be surprise if you have some kind of hots for yeosang with the amount of times you've been spending with him.

"he looks like he definitely has a crush on you." his gaze peers into yours for a stare down, because he's willing to bet yeosang shares some of the same sentiment back.

you're just way too sweet, soft-spoken, nice, pretty--

"not true," you deny. "we didn't start on good terms and had a lot of misunderstanding. we barely just started talking to each other normally not that long ago."

"so you don't like him at all? not even in a i-kind-of-wanna-kiss-you way?"

you shake your head, this time more aggressive than the one before.

"no. why? you sound like you want me to like him."

he chuckles, the utter puzzlement on your face too cute for its own good, the jealousy and bitterness from before dissolving at that.

"just want to make sure, baby," he coos, pulling you into his arms and wrapping them around your body warmly, the side of your face hitting against his chest; the thump of his heartbeat in your ear.

"want to make sure i'm the only one on your mind," he repeats as you draw back to gawk at him, tracing the innocent smile decorating his lips.

"i'm sorry that i didn't tell you sooner about yeosang," you apologize, your eyes so pure and full of sincerity--such a contrast to his that holds a million other intentions behind them.

"it's fine. i know now," he affirms, and you're just glad it's over with, because though you can't really understand why he doesn't like yeosang (also because there's nothing to worry about when it comes to your feelings for him), you wouldn't want to upset san.

a silence sit between you two after, a stare off ensuing as you keep your gaze up and sniff the freshly showered scent from him that sneaks past your nose again.

"would you like to go on a trip?" he asks, snapping you out of the trance.

"a trip?"

he confirms with a nod.

"a trip out of the city."

the excuse you managed to come up with was that the school you're working for has a summer program and you're gonna be away for a while; the lie slipping out of your mouth so fast, it's sickening how it's almost a habit at this point.

having told them you will be gone for a week (because that's how long san said the trip is gonna be), you encouraged them to carry out the rest of the plans on minji's list without you.

it was hard to look them in the eye when they cheered you on and wished you the best because you won't be taking a cab to the school but to the boy who promised you a week of fun somewhere out of the city he still hasn't told you the name of.

he only brought a lone duffel bag, throwing it into the back of his car before helping you with your rusty suitcase that is rather light since you figured you can just recycle a few outfits. it's not like you have much to choose from.

even when you're sitting right next to him in his car, eyes sticking to his side profile as he starts driving, it still feels like a very vivid dream--being with him in a place that isn't your dorm or his apartment.

the very fact he asked you to come is mind-boggling as it is, but it's no use to linger on the thought; just be happy for the opportunity and enjoy the moment while it lasts.

he warns you ahead of time that it's going to be a long drive; no words on how long exactly, but long.

the conversation is tame, a few comments from him here and there as he passes a couple places he frequents before turning the music on. and you would be lying to yourself if you haven't thought of it before--what kind of music does choi san like and listens to?

it's not much and is very bland in comparison to the backlog of questions you wish you could ask him, but you believe someone's music taste can tell a lot about a person, their preferences, and even your compatibility.

it's not a secret you look at san through a rose-coloured glass and still do, wondering to yourself if he listens to some exquisite genre you've never heard of before just because he's choi san and anything in relation to him will always amaze you.

but after all, he's still just a guy. a really hot and attractive guy who is somehow giving you the time of his day, but knowing he doesn't listen to some hidden genre only people like him would know makes him a little more reachable, relatable; that in some ways, he's also like you.

it's a mix of trendy pop and ballad songs that you know the lyrics to if you're to sing along. but when san said it's going to be a long drive, he wasn't kidding.

you knock out halfway, the memory of mumbling the lyrics to a girl group song the last thing you remember before it goes black.

when san wakes you up later, you have no idea where you are. just that the sky is turning dark and you're parked at what looks to be a small neighborhood, able to spot about three houses down the street.

"you good?" san speaks, your head snapping to him before nodding, at the same time attempting to fight the tiredness.

he smiles at your exhausted state, unbuckling himself from the seat.

"we can start heading out and get our things," he tells you before opening the door and you follow behind shortly after, unable to help the awe that leaves you when observing the surrounding now that you're not just seeing it through the window of the car.

a clear street in the middle of a couple houses that are all white but has slight brown roofings; the style and the trees in the area makes you feel as if you've entered an enchanted forest that holds a series of cottages.

it's only when san unlocks the back that you finally pry away from the scenery, walking over to where he is to get your suitcase.

"where are we?" you ask.

"namhae," he answers with a proud smile on his face, shutting the trunk.

"namhae?" you repeat, having heard of the place before somewhere in one of your classes in high school or something. it's a coastal region, you also remember that.

"yes," he confirms as you follow behind him to the door, watching as he pulls out a few keys that's stringed together. "my dad was born here."

you twitch in interest at the revelation, following him into the inside of the house that is a bit misleading and not at all decorated like a fairytale, but in rather simple and clean white. from the walls to the marble flooring, and even the ceiling fan hanging above the big open space.

"you can put your things upstairs. the bedroom should be to the right. i'm just gonna check the back real quick."

you follow what he tells you to, trailing up the spiral staircase into the small indoor balcony overlooking the living room protected by a white railing.

the bedroom is also simple and follows a similar color scheme, two nightstands on each side and a medium-sized dresser right across the bed.

a window with curtains is the only other thing in the room, and everything looks entirely new, not a single sheet wrinkled, as if the place has never been used before. you think about how san even got the place, if it's an airbnb though you don't see a host around. but then, you've never had an experience with an airbnb so how would you know.

by the time you're done unpacking and stuffing your clothes into the dresser, you still haven't heard anything from san.

you go back down the stairs and head for the sliding glass door, a stylistic choice that is completely different from the front, taking yourself out into the air of the evening, amazement befalling you once again just at the new sight.

san is leaning on the fence overlooking the view ahead of him, and you start making way over, stepping around the pool because he seems to have already taken notice of you the second you closed the door.

once you settle next to him, your breath is taken away instantly. you can see the ocean from here; the waves hitting against each other and producing a sound surprisingly soothing to the ear. it's beautiful.

it just hits you the house is built on a hill, the way it looms over the landscape and looks at it from above.

"i haven't been here in such a long time," he says, your eyes batting to him.

"it's really beautiful," you add.

"it is."

you both admire the sight for a few seconds too long, the cool air from the ocean flowing to mix with the warmer one, creating a sea breeze that sweeps your hair away and make you shiver with how the cold pricks your skin.

"we should probably head back inside. i still have some unpacking to do."

you nod, taking note of the orange tone painting the sky along with a deeper blue as everything falls into an ambient darkness.

the first day in namhae spent settling in and familiarizing yourselves with the environment (even san because he hasn't been here in a while), wandering the interior of the house while he sorts out his things upstairs.

when finished, he urges you to wash yourself and go to bed early, informing you of the day waiting ahead tomorrow.

and after he's done following the routine as well, plopping down on the bed as you observe his movements, it comes so naturally that he sleeps facing you, a smile on his lips that makes something deep in your stomach sink.

if this is okay--being with san like this and in such a way that's different from any others--yet, you still can't help but to also feel a small amount of happiness from it all.

"goodnight," he whispers, lounging forward to set a kiss on your forehead.

"goodnight," you reply, a small smile on that dims along with the nightlight he turns off.

~

you're alone when you wake up; san isn't next to you and it's quiet, no other signs that he could be downstairs or in another part of the house.

the sun peeks through the blinds and hurts your eyes, having to squint the brightness away before you head with soft steps out into the small space that is barely a hallway and into the bathroom to make yourself more presentable for this fine morning.

you thought he might be out in the back but he's also not there, deciding to busy yourself with preparation for breakfast instead, but only met with disappointment when you open the fridge to nothing; a deep sigh leaving you followed by the creak of the front door.

"hey," he greets in a high-pitched voice, delighted by your figure standing in the kitchen.

"good morning," you say in a sweet tone, doing a once-over of him in his usual casual wear with dark parted hair, face bare and skin flaming that red tint that makes him so cute.

"i just went for my morning jog and talked to a couple neighbors from around the block. they seem nice."

you smile and nod.

"i see. i was just about to make breakfast but there isn't anything in the fridge, it looks like."

is it weird to assume a place you just checked into last night would have all kinds of fresh ingredients layed out for you? you have no idea.

"oh, yeah," he exclaim, "i haven't stocked up on it, yet. was planning on doing it today. we can hit the store after i change out of my clothes?"

you nod again, almost too eagerly.

"yes, we can do that."

it might just be your infatuation and lovesick mind speaking, but san even makes such a mundane task like shopping for grocery, enjoyable.

watching as he just so casually strolls into one of the aisles and pick up something from the shelves, you wonder how it's possible someone like him just walk around breathing and looking like that everyday.

"do you like rolled omelette?" he asks.

"i love rolled ommelete."

it was pretty much a staple for you back then. didn't require much and was fast and simple to make, though you did went through a period of withdrawal from it because sometimes, that would be the only thing you ate for days.

"cool."

he grabs a few other essentials but tells you if there's anything missing, you guys can just order delivery or maybe visit a nearby restaurant. it's only when he already finished paying for everything that you realize all this time, you haven't done jackshit to help him.

"how much was it? we can split the bills," you offer on the way to the car.

he chuckles, almost laughing loudly.

"my treat, y/n. don't worry about it."

but all this time, he's been doing and paying for everything, the guilt is not easy to shake off.

"but i feel bad." you frown, and he smirks at the adorable act that just comes so effortlessly to you, he don't even think you're aware of the possible hold you have on him.

"then you cook," he says with something mischievous and playful but also flirty, "i know you're probably good at it."

you take up the alternative, making yourself comfortable in the kitchen while he goes in and out of it, always spewing comments that would make your heart leap inside your chest with his flirty smiles and hands that find its way around your waist and every other parts of your body like it was made to be there.

he eats with you at the counters and won't stop gushing out compliments as if you just made the most complex dish out there and absolutely nailed it.

your reaction is a combination of rolling your eyes, telling him he's being dramatic, and battling the shy smile at his words that truly makes you feel so giddy on the inside.

you're absolutely adorable, he thinks. it's a bit crazy how long he's gone without touching you when he's had every chance to; when you're laying yourself out like this, he just wants to make you feel good the best way he knows how to.

which is why the following day, after walking around the neighborhood together and watching a couple older films, he suddenly suggests the idea of going to the pool.

"i don't know how to swim," you confess, which he just chuckles in return.

"i'll teach you. it's humid as fuck, we might as well put the thing to use."

"i didn't bring anything to wear for the occasion, though."

"what you're wearing is fine," he alludes to the crop top and shorts you have on. "unless you want to change into something even more revealing?" he smirks, not the slightest doubt that you'll look sexy as fuck in a bikini or swimsuit. but this will do, considering how hard you made him this morning just seeing your top ride up to display your stomach.

"i'm good," you say, even giggling a little before he sweeps you away by the wrist out into the back, the temperature a lot cooler due to the ocean breeze but that still doesn't mean you can't dip your toes into the pool. and that isn't going to stop san, either.

the dark hour is lit up by the hanging outdoor lights and the inground ones close to the fences.

"come on." he rips his shirt away while you gawk, jumping into the pool and making splashes, the sound of his body plunging into the pressure loud against the quiet night.

a smile tugs on your lips at the sight and you settle for sitting down on the edge instead, sinking half of your legs into the water that is surprisingly a lot warmer than you had expected.

you watch him go a few rounds across the pool before he lands right back to where he was, hair and face now wet, facing you.

"you can do more than that." he swipes a handful of hair back while saying so, proceeding to stare at your feet underwater kicking only slightly.

he's hot as fuck and his body will always amaze you no matter how many times you see it.

"i'll just watch," you say.

he pouts and tilts his head to the side, in hope you'll feel guilty enough to give in.

"it's not that deep," he adds onto the convincing.

but seeing how the water stops just short of his shoulders, there's a good chance you'll be spending your time in there choking because you're so much shorter than he is.

you're just about to say something when the sudden wetness felt on your face and drenching your clothes stop you. san is smirking as one of his hands continue to flick the water at you, and you pause momentarily before kicking the water under your feet at a much harsher speed towards him.

he's the one to laugh first and you follow after, your laughters bunching together to create a heartfelt moment that warms you unlike any other interactions you've ever had with him.

"alright alright. i'll come in," you give in, sending just one last kick of water to his face that makes him giggle.

you spring in carefully until almost your entire body is wet, and well, you were right. it comes up to just a little above your chin, treading carefully until san finally takes the initiative, both his grip on your hips and helping you withstand the possibility of swallowing a few drips.

"you good?" he asks.

"yeah," you reply, but you hold onto his shoulders just in case, checking the area around, grunting when he pulls you into his chest that gets you to blink up.

he looks unreal in this lighting that only makes his skin glow more from the pool water.

"how about now?" he whispers, that seductive and teasing color in his voice that always make you shutter in excitement.

"good," you answer all innocent eyes and with a sweet tone but you've been wanting him as much as he's been wanting you.

the days and times of being with each other, doing everyday tasks and even sleeping side by side at night, and it's now that choi san is half naked and in a pool that you think you're ready to have sex with him again.

it's a short stare off until his hands creep to the sides of your face and he takes your lips in for a deep kiss, the grip you have on his shoulders tightening along with the intimate act.

he kisses you like it's going to be the last time, like he's trying to savor the taste so he can remember it for the rest of his life.

your hands fall from his shoulders to his bare chest, your fingers drawing messy patterns on it, and he removes one hand to circle your waist in order to pull you up when he feels you faltering into the water.

he draws back after a few more seconds and looks you in the eyes.

"do you want to?" the question always foreign to his tongue, having never asked anyone but you before.

"yes."

"then i should probably head back to get a condom."

you shake your head and prevent him from going, the itch between your legs now speaking.

"you can pull out?"

ever since the first time you guys had unprotected sex, there's been two or three other similar instances--san having told you how much better it feels, but condoms is still a priority.

the topic of birth controls come and go. he didn't pressure you or anything, just subtly suggested it, but that's still just a consideration for now.

he can't help but to smirk, not at all going to resist because there's absolutely no way he will let up the offer of fucking you raw.

"you asked for it, baby," he leans to whisper into your ear, pulling back in amusement at the light tint across your cheeks, growing hard from thinking about sex in the pool--one of the places he haven't done the deed in--yet. and the rest of the night is history.

he fucks you in the pool, your hands hanging onto the edge as he takes it from behind, and he fucks you one more time in the shower when you two go to wash off the chemical.

it's by far one of the most amazing sex you've ever had with him; if not, the most amazing for sure.

by the end of the night when you're both trying to sleep away the exhaustion, a dull pain resides in the deep of your chest staring at his closed eyes and unmoved lips.

~

the glass of wine in your hand looks like it's on the verge of spilling from how loose you're holding onto it while laughing at something san said.

he's laughing too, but you can't see his expression well due to the darkness; the only source of lights being the two scented candles he had lit up standing on the coffee table.

there's a jazz song playing quietly in the background, and everything about the scene and situation feels like it was taken straight out of a romance film.

you're mostly just tipsy while san is probably drunk, having drank more than you and is a lot more bubbly than he usually is, recounting stories he most likely wouldn't tell you if he was sober.

"that's crazy," you comment.

"it is," he says, taking another sip from his glass.

but whether he's more drunk than you or not, the alcohol is doing a good job of loosening the both of you up; questions running rounds in your head again that you might act upon.

"hey, san..." you mumble.

"yes?"

"were you born here?"

he shakes his head.

"my parents moved to seoul before i was born."

and because san is most definitely drunk, he's also more willing to answer them.

"do you have any siblings?"

"i have an older sister, but she's now living in the states. no longer here in korea."

"oooh," you sing, afraid you might be pushing the boundaries but your tipsy mouth a lot bolder and less fearful of the consequences.

"what do you like to do? what are your passions?"

you've thought about it before, and you still do. aside from being a walking wet dream, who is choi san? what does he like to do, what are his fears, his dreams, things he likes or dislikes? what makes him the person that he is?

it's like you know him, but you also don't, since most of the things you do know are very surface level.

"i'm not sure," is all he says, a small sigh of disappointment escaping from you that goes unheard. "i wanted to major in dance and performance, but..."

"but?"

"but i can't make a living or lifestyle out of it. so i didn't."

you frown at the pessimism.

"but you should still do what you enjoy, no?"

and he just laughs, downing another sip as you stare at him, the light in your eyes slowly dying. being drunk means he's also going to be a lot more honest; blunt.

"i just don't see the point in doing so if it isn't going to be worth it. i'm not gonna spend four years only to get a useless degree, no matter how passionate i am about the hobby."

you can't help the dejection that possesses you at his words.

“even if i answer, it won’t matter.”

you wonder if this is how he views the world--brushing aside things he sees that has little importance, and not trying when the outcome isn't going to benefit him.

you can be a bit of a pessimist at times, but if there's an opportunity, you think it's always worth trying. life is so much more than running away and not taking chances, but that could also just be you clinging onto anything because you've had nothing for so long.

"don't let it bother you too much," he snaps you out of your thoughts after the sadness that pierced your eyes become overwhelming.

he puts the glass that is now empty onto the table.

"i'm gonna go wash up."

~

along the things you brought on the trip, you also managed to squeeze in your notebook, taking it out silently under the clothes where you have buried it when you see san is fast asleep.

you take the chance to use your phone as lighting, jotting down an entry before sliding the book back to where you got it from.

entry #7

talking with san today made me really think... is it hopeless and not worth it if you can't be sure of the result? i don't know. i was definitely scared when i finally took up on yeosang's suggestion and talked to a counselor, opting out of a major i'm no longer passionate about in order to go into creative writing. maybe that's cowardice of me to not give it another chance, but i'd like to think i'm trying, by exploring my interests and opening the door to something i might enjoy doing.

san wanted to take you out to the local market after having spent most of your time indoor.

there's many vendors all around, some kids running through the streets and parents behind shouting their names. it's very lively that it's quite pressuring because you're not sure where to start.

"we can shop for something to cook for dinner?" he asks, glancing back at your figure behind him.

"yes, we can do that."

you follow him the entire time, going from vendor to vendor and letting him do his thing since he's more familiar with the place and people--of which there's a lot, some even brushing past your shoulders due to how crowded it is (also doesn't help that the place is quite small).

san tells you it's unusually busy today although the traffic is moderate every other day.

he takes the lead as you both stroll in a straight line to a vendor all the way at the far corner because he saw something he wants to purchase. then it happens so fast.

one minute you were still right behind him, and another--you're gone. san only realizing he's lost you when he swings his head back to do a quick check and you're nowhere to be found.

a sense of panic surges through his body, his eyes batting left and right to search for you but it's nearly impossible with this many people, he's not even sure how long you've been gone exactly.

he thinks about calling you, only to curse internally when he remember that you decided to leave your phone back at the house.

turning his feet back around, he goes to search for you, no idea whose shoulders he's knocking into or which direction the curses at him are coming from. just that he needs to find you.

it takes him at least five minutes of shoving through the crowd until he spots that familiar head of hair and outfit, your body bending forward and picking at something on your leg.

"y/n!" he shouts, grabbing your attention as you pick your head up to look at him, your eyes swelling with hope.

but his face twists instead when he sees what you were picking at. a fresh bruise on your right knee that's starting to bleed, he runs to you so fast until he's only inches away, anxiety all over his face.

"what happened?" he asks, volume high like he wants the answer right this instant.

"i was looking for you and i just fell. that's it."

he sighs and shake his head.

"can you walk?"

you try by taking just a step forward, only to whimper in pain.

he seizes the bag you were holding and turns his back to face you, lowering his height and ushering you to get on.

you're hesitant at first but you don't think you can win san, so you hop on and circle your arms around his neck as he moves through the tight open spaces to an area near the entrance where there's less people, setting you down on the edge of an old fountain.

he places the bags on the side of you and gets down on his knees to get a better look at the injury.

"it looks bad," he says, looking up at you. "we can return to the house. i can treat you there."

"you sure you don't want to buy anything else?"

"i'm good. it's too packed here anyways."

the drive back to the house is quiet, you have never seen san so serious like this before. it's only when you're almost there that he finally speaks.

"i'm sorry. i should've held your hand or something. or even let you walk first."

"it's fine, san. we both wouldn't have been able to see it coming."

he piggyback you inside the house again, completely forgetting about the bags still inside the car.

settling you gently onto the couch, you watch as he speeds upstairs into the bathroom before coming back with a first aid kit, bending in front of you.

"just letting you know ahead of time, i've never used this thing before."

you chuckle and assure him it's okay, staying still so obediently while he dabs some of the blood off and wraps the bruised area with elastic bandages.

"your friends are going to kill me once they find out not only did i take you somewhere four hours away, but i also hurt you during the process."

you chuckle again at the comment, though a lot quieter this time, staring down at him with a question that's been hanging at the edge of your lips ever since he brought you here.

"san," you call out sweetly, making him pull away from the injury and to your eyes instead.

"may i ask why you decided to bring me?" out of eveyone else.

your question must've snapped him back pretty hard; from how the tiny smile on his lips falter and he just stares at you dumbfoundedly, because even he's not sure about a definite answer.

it could be that he likes being with you since you're so sweet and nice, or that he's selfish and wanted you all to himself--away from your friends, and especially away from yeosang.

"because i'm comfortable around you," he simply says, a lazy answer that he knows you're most definitely not convinced by although you're smiling in return.

"i-uh... i gotta go back to get the bags inside the car." he awkwardly points behind him to the door, and you just nod, so conflicted by what just happened.

choi san being so tender and caring is dangerous and not good. especially when you live in your head so much--detaching yourself from reality and dreaming of another one where things go how you want.

you can blame yuna's stupidly good arts that watches you through the nights more often than not; that painting of love displayed in front of a castle feeding ridiculous ideas into your head. but it's how you deal with all the traumas and hurts in your life.

by detaching, distracting, and hoping.

hoping that the look in san's eyes that were filled with concerns and worries mean he's starting to feel something because that's the way you see it.

the past couple of days being tucked in his arms and spoken to with sweet words even though you know it shouldn't be taken seriously, you can't help the story that builds itself in your mind--especially when he says one thing and then does another.

~

san's been trying to sleep for hours now, but he's unable to, the image of you so haunting whenever you'd look at him in a way he doesn't like at all.

even right now--your arms that are wrapped around his waist, he wants to pull them off--and your face that is in his chest, he wants to push you away; distance himself--because he's starting to get used to your touch.

to how natural you fit in his arms and how easy everything is with you; the passion to learn more about him irritating his nerves to no end but also warms his heart in a weird way.

he had slipped up earlier when you got hurt, he must've looked so insane because even he caught himself offguard with how worried he was.

one more day alone with you is already too many; these past couple of nights already overstayed their welcome, and so he does the only thing he knows how to: he runs away.

~

the sun is blinding the curtains when you're awake, getting up to lean against the headboard but groaning out when the pain from your leg reminds you of yesterday's event.

everything about san's appearance in front of you brings another series of questions.

he's properly dressed so early in the morning, folding his clothes and packing them into his bag.

"hey," you greet, unsure if he knows you've already woke up.

"hey."

"going somewhere?"

there's a quick silence that gauges the air before he answers you.

"we're going to be returning back to seoul."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "i thought we still have two more days left, no?"

he tries to think of a lie, the first thing to pop in his mind is the one to leave his mouth.

"just got an emergency family call and they need me there by today."

"oh, okay." you just lightly nod. "i'll start packing too, then."

"yeah."

because one more day alone with you is already too many.

next // series m.list

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[honeyglz]

Fighter!Izuku Headcannons !! A/N- Goin on holiday so heres some fighter!Izuku crumbs for ya. Also this is vry not proof read. So ya. Au- No quirk Reader- Gn (fem in mind while writing) Disclaimer- I do not own any of the characters aside from Y/N/ the reader Warnings- Violence, Fighting (duh), Me not knowing what a fight thingy is but just go with it, OOC (possibly). Lmk If I missed any !! -!!-

Thinking about Fighter!Izuku who literally is in constant need of medical care

Doesnt matter what he's doing he needs some soft of bandage's

Esp after a fight

Soft skin of his lips busted open with a gash as he tries his vry best not to move while you patch him up

Fighter!Izuku who goes underground fighting with the name Deku out of spite to his past bully (Cough Katsuki Cough)

Fighter!Izuku who will bash down grown men for fun but tear up at disney movies.

Fighter!Izuku who comes back to your small shared apartment with another bag of cash throwing it on the table before grabbing you and pulling you flush against him.

Fighter!Izuku who never lets you come to fights because he's scared you'll veiw him diffrently

Fighter!Izuku who goes to his day job at the office with his packed lunch because he knows you want him to eat properly.

Pls tell him his scars r pretty.

Pls like fr Im not kidding.

Somtimes when he's alone he'll stare at them, wondering if you still like him with how many he has. :(

Fighter!Izuku who has a small metal chain with a tag, both your initials carved on it.

He took on extra fights to get it done for your anniversary .

Fighter!Izuku who once broke some poor guys arms because he ripped the chain off his neck and spat on it.

That guy never came back to fight.

Fighter!Izuku who gets upset when you work on his days off, literally holds you down until you pry him off.

Fighter!Izuku who one night coming out of the ring and into the car park spots you there. Bundled up from the cold night with a med kit and what looks to be a packed bento.

His heart stops.

Like ong it skips a few beats. Not in the good way.

He's covered in blood (mostly not his own) and his fist are raw as well as alot more wounds and bruises. It had been a bad fight, and he had won but now he was almost wishing he didnt.

Had you watched? Were you here to say you were disgusted with him??

God pls send this man some comfort he's contemplating just running.

It's not until you call his name that he meets your eyes shamefully. Eye's glossy because he doesn't want to break up :( He rlly loves u pls.

Tears start to run a little before you ask why to which he almost dejectedly explains that he gets if you wanna break up with him.

He almost crys more when you pull him in for a soft kiss rubbing his beefy shoulders that are trembling from the cold (and because he rly rly doesnt want to break up)

Fighter!Izuku who is now sitting on the hood of his old ass car while he gets patched up.

Anyways after that yall went home and chilled.

You confessed that you had known where the place had been for awhile now. And when he didn't text back or come home on time you got worried.

He's even more whipped now (is that possible?)

He takes the next few days off to fully heal and spend time with u.

Fighter!Izuku who is cuddling on the couch with you when you suddenly look up at him. Much to his concern.

He watches as you look deep in thought before you speak.

"Take me to see one of your fight's"

Oh shit.

He sits up abit trying to explain that its not a good idea, he looks abit pale at the idea but you both know its a talk you have to have.

You take his hands and explain that you don't want to be in the dark about his job/Hobbies. Even if its abit.. graphic.

He sighs before agreeing only to joke saying he'll just have to work at the office from now on. You slap the back of his head and both get ready.

Him more mentally tbh.

Anyways you guys get there and he's not letting you out of his sight (Or arms).

Doesn't matter where you are. This place is dangerous and he needs to make sure your alright at all times.

That is until he has to get into the ring.

He ligit has 5 people watching you, all friends of his.

Ida (who works at Izuku's office and is watching u) was vry surprised to see you there, almost as much as you were seeing him.

Anyways he gets in the ring and starts his fight. Everythings going well until he notices your not with his friends. They're all looking around in a panic.

He panics running to the egde of the cage as he yells out to Ida who is still looking around.

Its not until his opponent elbows him in the back of the head that he realises he's still in a fight.

He tries calling it off but this mf just wont quit.

Izuku is about to climb out of the cage before he spots you. Next to his rival.

The masked blonde headed fuck has his arm around you as you keep shrugging him off clearly annoyed and unamused.

Izuku watches as you keep trying to reject him only for Dynamite to insist he's better than what ever loser your dating.

He watches even more painfully as he grabs your waist whispering something to you that makes you flush and pull away

What the actual fuck.

Izuku goes up to the side of the cage where you both are sitting and reaches through the gate pulling the blonds collar against the cage as he slams him into it.

Over. And over.

Izuku see's red.

Its not until his opponent slams a chair on the back of Izuku's head that he again is snapped out of it.

Izuku drops the blonde man as he stumbles abit, vision blurry as the crowd goes wild, the other guy already celebrating.

Izuku begins to black out slowly before he catches a glimpse of you.

His sweet perfect partner- Tackling security and yelling bloody murder to try get into the cage to help him. He witness you jump as the bouncers try to tame you down.

You call out his name and he locks eye's with you for a moment.

Your still fighting the guards, threatening them even.

He takes a shaky breath before he grabs the chair his opponent used. Bashing it against his opponents head, knocking the man out cold.

Everyone goes silent for a moment watching Izuku drops the chair and rushes to your side.

He envelopes you before giving you some space nervous for your reaction.

Its not until you gawk at how strong he is before pulling him in firmly, making sure a curtain red eye's fighter see's, that his nerves are eased.

Yep he loves you, but pls dont run off again he might die.

-!!-

A/N- Hope you enjoyed !! Request are open but I am going to be away for a few days so may be delayed. <3

[kuroos-babie]

Falling in Love with a Single Mom HCs

Akaashi x fem!Reader | Daichi x fem!Reader | Oikawa x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons/MiniFic ]

Request:  🥺👉👈 if you could do more single mom headcanon-fic-things LOL SORRY IDK WHAT TO CALL THEM and w/ akaashi, daichi, and oikawa? THANK U i love u and your writing you're so sweet  —anonymous

a/n: okay so strangely enough, i thoroughly enjoyed writing oikawa's and it's probably my fav out of these three 😳 thank u for giving me the chance to write these and thank u for the kind words! i hope u like it 👉👈

❀ he’s been noticing you more and more — sat on the corner of the cafe he frequents during his breaks

❀ you would always order the same drink and sit on the same table by the window, he would occasionally glance at you, admiring the way sunlight hits your skin and the way the cafe music seemed to be playing solely for you

❀ but you always left too soon for his liking, 15 minutes before 2 in the afternoon to be exact

❀ he never knew where you went or what you did outside of the little cafe he sees you in everyday

❀ but soon enough, he was given a chance

“excuse me, is this seat taken?” 

he saw your eyes look up at him in surprise and your lips curve into a small smile, “oh! no, go ahead”

“sorry for the trouble, i didn’t expect it to be this packed today”, he said in an attempt to engage in small talk

“it’s no problem at all” you assured him with another smile, “i often see you here, do you work nearby?”

❀ the two of you continued to chat until akaashi needed to remind you of the time

❀ but of course before you could even leave he'll ask you for your number saying

"i'd really like to know you more, if that's alright with you"

❀ of course it's alright with you sjckskdks

❀ the two of you would meet at the café everyday, except the weekends — same spot and same time, until it became part of your routines

❀ keiji took his time getting to know you and openly expresses his admiration for you

❀ of course you liked him back, he was sweet and considerate, he was everything you would like in a partner

❀ but you just needed to make sure of one thing before diving headfirst into a relationship

"akaashi-san—"

"keiji", he corrected, reaching out for your hand

the warmth of his hand helped eased your nerves of bringing up something that may potentially be a huge deal breaker

"keiji, we've been meeting for a while and i thought maybe it's time i tell you,"

❀ when you said you have a daughter, you never would've expected him to say "can i meet her?"

❀ you almost cried then and there— it had always been a big deal to the guys you met before, you being a single mother

❀ keiji sensed your relief and squeezed your hand in reassurance that it really was no big deal to him

❀ well it was, but it wasn't something that would easily shake up his resolve of being with you

❀ meeting your daughter for the first time was set in the same café, on a saturday half past noon

❀ he smiled seeing the quiet four year old on your lap, curious eyes and a small smile as he held out the little bunny plushie he got for her as a gift

❀ weekend café dates became frequent with the three of you and soon became home dates— alternating between your and keiji's apartments

❀ your daughter loved when he read to her, having her sat on his lap with a picture book in his hands

❀ more often than not, you would catch him fast asleep on the couch— picture book on the floor and your child snuggled up against his chest

❀ during these moments, especially, you couldn't help but imagine spending every day with them both without having to part ways by the end of it

❀ and of course, when he wakes up, keiji can't help but think the same thing when he wakes up to you smiling softly at him and the little girl who kept a part of his heart inside her tiny little hands

❀ your son met him first

❀ he just got out of the police academy and was assigned near the elementary school gates

❀ kids would often come up to him with fascination in their eyes

❀ and it wasn't a different case with your seven year old son

"hey mister are you a policeman?"

"sure i am, why do you ask?" he answers with the softest smile, crouching down to the child's level

"that's so cool! mom said my dad was a policeman, maybe you're my dad?"

he watched the boy's eyes widen in realization and he couldn't help but chuckle

"sorry, bud, but i don't think i have a child yet neither do i have a wife"

"well do you want one?"

❀ that effectively painted his cheeks in red, standing straight up and ruffling the boy's hair, urging him to go straight home

❀ everyday your son would come up to him to ask him the same questions and saying the same things

"would you want to be my dad?"

"i think it'll be sooo cool to have you as my dad"

"let me ask my mom if you can be my dad"

❀ jesus help this man pls

❀ he found it all to be endearing and soon enough he looked forward to chatting with your son for a few minutes every afternoon on his way home from school

❀ your child would always brag about how nice you are, how pretty, and just how amazing of a mom you are

❀ an amazing lil wingman if u ask me

❀ it wasn't until one of his day offs that he met this wonderful mom that he always heard of— and boy was he stunned

❀ he was out grocery shopping, skimming the aisles when he heard the familiar voice of your son

"mama, it's the policeman i was talking to you about!"

before you even had the chance to react, your child bolted through the spice aisle and cling to this man's leg

you quickly caught up to him and was about to apologize to the stranger when you saw him get to your child's level and pat at his head

"oh hey, didn't know i'd catch you here"

"i'm with mama! now you can see just how pretty she is!"

❀ the comment made both your faces heat up but even moreso when daichi looked up at you, absentmindedly muttering a "she is"

❀ your son had the proudest grin on his face >:)

❀ the three of you went out for lunch then which you insisted to be for all the trouble your son has caused him— who so conveniently disappeared to the playhouse to leave you two to yourselves

❀ it didn't take a lot for daichi to be absolutely smitten by you— admiring how you could handle a child and a job all by yourself and still managing to have that pretty smile on your face

❀ he had to thank your son his little accomplice the next time they have their afternoon chat

❀ and maybe start planning on "Operation Get Mom and Daichi-san Together"

❀ started as students sharing a class and later on became inseparable best friends

❀ you two met in college

❀ tōru would rave on and on about how much better you were than "iwa-chan" whom he never lets you see during their facetimes bec you "might fall for him and choose iwa-chan over me"

❀ he was there to witness you going out with an orgmate, there to listen about the first time you got laid, and of course he was there to comfort you when your ex left the moment you told him you were pregnant during your third year in college

"do you want to keep it?"

tōru held you close as you cried, his soft voice mingling with your sobs

"i d-don't know"

you buried your face on his chest, prompting him to hold you tighter and rub comforting circles on your back

"whatever you choose to do, i'll be here", he promised "i won't leave you"

❀ the moment you decided to keep your baby was the moment it was decided that oikawa would co-parent with you

❀ during your pregnancy, he came to your apartment everyday and stayed over on weekends

❀ he kept his promise and never left your side even after you gave birth

❀ he practically moved in with you, staying up late at night to care for your child so you could get some rest, he changed schedules and skipped classes to let you continue going to yours

❀ it was alright, he said, afterall a pro volleyball team was already eyeing him— he was set even before graduation

❀ the both of you fell into a steady rhythm of domesticity

❀ eating breakfast together, taking turns changing your daughter's diapers, cuddling in the same bed and having sleepy conversations about the future and how you're both thankful of the other

❀ it was never established what you two were— you just knew that you were each other's constant and that you promised to stay with the other until god knows when

"what're you planning to do then?"

"i don't knoooow~ iwa-chan help me out here~"

"well, for starters, you should go and tell her— y'know, about argentina"

there was a moment of silence between the line, tōru mulling over his options

"i don't want to leave her" was his quiet reply

"i know you don't, but this opportunity may never come by again, don't let it slip"

❀ it was a few weeks before your graduation, your daughter now more than a year old, when he received the call inviting him to play for argentina

❀ on one hand he knew it was the chance of a lifetime, but when he looks at you in his arms with your daughter on your chest, he couldn't even think about leaving you

❀ it was less about the promise he made and more about how he couldn't imagine his everyday without the two of you

"y/n-chan~"

you only hummed in response but looked up to meet his eyes

"if i were to get invited to go to the other side of the world to play volleyball, would you come with me?"

he held your gaze with hesitation

"i'll go anywhere with you, tōru, i thought you knew that by now"

a small smile of relief graced his face as he exhaled, closing his eyes and rubbing his face against yours, "thank you"

the next few moments were spent in comfortable silence before he broke it with a chuckle, "is it too late now to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

"tōru, we're basically a married couple for the past two years"

...

...

...

"so will you marry me for real?"

[prettymuchdolansbitch]

Love to Lie (Nick Mara)

A/N: So this is my first PRETTYMUCH / Nick Mara imagine &&& I'm worried 🥶 hopefully you guys like it ! Thank you for reading💖

Being the girlfriend of a famous popstar who was in a boyband was tough. You knew it and so did Nick, but you fought through it. His late night practices and tours were always getting in the way of you being together. To add on, college didn't help on your end. You always debated on seeing Nick or going to class.

You never minded though. You would do anything for the boy. He had you wrapped around his finger. When they announced that they were going on their own tour, you were ecstatic. Except for the fact that the semester just started and you barely had time to go to any of the shows.

Luckily, some time cleared up so that you can see the Anaheim show. After that you weren't going to know the next time you would see your boyfriend. His family hit you up mid-October to see if you were able to fly out and surprise Nick along with the rest of his family.

This made you the happiest girl alive. You've only met his family twice and they wanted to see more of you. You agreed and flew out to NY for their show. The family got to see soundcheck and spend a little time with Nick before he had to perform. That's when you came in, he was happy but you knew something was bothering him deep down. To be honest, you probably knew him more than he knew himself.

The surprise was a success and you got to see your boyfriend again. Going back to school was a struggle because all you wanted was to be in bed with Nick talking about anything. While studying, you simply played with your 6-month anniversary necklace that he got you. It was a simple gold chain with the letter "N" hanging from it.

Skip a few weeks to the weekend before Thanksgiving. You and Nick were still going strong, but he was being more dry than usual. You thought it was you overreacting, but you couldn't be more wrong.

You've been asking Nick for the past week if you should come out to see their last show. You dropped hints waiting for him to say something along the lines of "Can you come to our last show?" but you never got it. You eventually just asked him if you could go. He flat out rejected you.

"Baby as much as I would love for you to come to the last show, it's just going to be so hectic and crazy. I don't want you to get hurt. I have to go, were rehearsing. Love you" That was pretty much how the conversation went. You were devastated, but you accepted. He was only looking out for you.

It's now November 18th and Nick hasn't called or texted all day. It's the last show day and you knew they've been in Boston for the past 2 days. Nick was being choppy on FaceTime last night and you were actually starting to worry.

You and your roommates decide to have a little Friendsgiving before you all were going to head home for break. While you were playing Just Dance with your roomies, you decide to go live and share the experience of having funny ass roommates.

You were reading comments and it was the usual. Until questions came up about Nick.

"Why aren't you at the last show?"

- "Nick thought it would be too hectic for me to be there and that he probably won't even see me."

"PLS FOLLOW ME I LOVE UUUU"

"NOTICE MEEEEEEE💙💙💙💙💙💙💕💕💕💕💕"

- "Love you (random user)"

"How's Nick?"

- "Doing good"

"u single?"

"Did you know alexys is there?"

"teaaaaa"

"alexys is in Boston to 👀🤭"

"I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU"

You felt your heart breaking at each comment about Alexys being in Boston. You end the live and look for any proof before you go ballistic. Going on your explore page, you see her selfie that was obviously taken on snap.

"5:45 Boston" The filter said. Jasmine was your best friend in the house. She knew something was up. She saw what you were looking at and she saw what you saw on the live. You kept scrolling to see if there was anything else. A fan posted a video of Alexys talking to people on a balcony. The balcony in the venue the boys were at.

Jas saw you shook up. "Hey, do you wanna go to the bar? Maybe take your mind off things?" You nod and plug your phone in the charger. You got ready and took off for the night.

~

After recovering from a hangover, you packed everything you thought you would need for the next week. You decided you were going home earlier than everyone. You didn't want to be anywhere near Nick's house when they got home. Your apartment/school was 20 minutes from the PRETTYMUCH house.

You have yet to talk to Nick. You assumed he was busy because of flights and stuff. But you also assumed the worst. After saying goodbye to your roomies for the week, you packed up your car and drove off.

Nick

He was definitely nervous to see you. He was scared to see your reaction and tell you that he loves you. The boys landed the morning after their last show. They all went home and decided to rest for the day. Nick on the other hand was already out the door to see you.

He got to your apartment and didn't see your car. He wasn't too suspicious, he just assumed you didn't park where you normally did. As he's walking up the driveway, the door opens. Nick kind of freezes and waits to see if it's you. Turns out it was only Jas.

Jas lays her eyes on the one and only Nick Mara. "Hey Jas, is -" She already knew what he was there for. "She's not here. Even if she was, wouldn't let you in anyways." Jas throws her bags into the trunk of her car.

"I just have to -" He got interrupted by Jas slamming her trunk. "Listen here, you have some nerve showing up here with the stunt you pulled last night. She was upset over a douche like you. But like I said, she's not here. She went home." Jas opened her car door.

"I thought she doesn't go home until Wednesday?" He said looking at the window that led to your room. "Plans change don't they." Jas was in her car and she zoomed off.

Nick hopped into his car and drove the two hours to your hometown. When he got there, he was even more nervous. He saw your brother was home too. Nick finally made it to the door and knocked slowly.

He heard the locks turning and his stomach fluttered, excited to see your beautiful face. Instead he was met with your older brother, Kai.

"Hey man. Is -" "I should really deck you right now, but I won't." Nick nodded and looked at his feet. "Who are you being a dick to this early -" You push the door wider and you see the face you were dreading to see all day. "Hm. Nevermind."

"You got this?" Kai said to you. "I'll be fine." you stepped out and sat on one of the chairs that were on the porch. Nick followed suit and sat in the chair next to you. You stay staring out at the neighborhood in front of you, waiting for Nick to say something.

"How was the last show?" You ask starting the conversation. "It was good, crazy like I said it would be." Nick was rubbing his hands together because of how clammy they were.

"Listen, I am so sorry that -" "Nick we're done." You blurted it out before you could even think. He was in shock. Nick never thought he would hear those words come from your mouth.

"What? Why?" He said leaning foward. "Did you seriously just ask me why we're done Nick? You lied to me, your own girlfriend. Also I looked like an idiot because I didn't even know your ex was going to be there. Not like she had a right to be there, but whatever." You scoffed at him.

"I know it looks bad, but I can explain." "Looks bad? Really? I don't need an explanation. Like I said we are done." You got up this time to go back inside the house and never see this kid again. "But I love you"

You felt the cold metal on your neck and realized you almost forgot. You unclasped the necklace and held it in your hand. "Nick, if you really loved me, there wouldn't have been an option for you to choose. We've been dating for months, and you still had the thought of choosing between me and your ex? Thought you were over that when you asked me to be your girlfriend. You obviously don't love me, at least not like I loved you. It shouldn't take you seeing your ex to make you realize that you love me. " You turned and put the necklace in his hands.

"I'll always support you and the boys, but as of right now, I want nothing to do with you. Goodbye Nick." you actually left him this time. You shut the door and slid down the door, crying for real this time.

[violetsoju]

HI LIN MY LOVE I (JIN) HAVE BEEN SUMMONED!! thank you so much for being my secret santa (and for participating omg) and even though i knew, i still felt my heart skip a lil beat when i saw you post the fic AHHHH ok here is my [shortened] reaction below:

first of all I'M SO EXCITED THAT IT'S AN ATSUMU FIC... i don't think i talk ab him very often SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME READING AN ATSUMU FIC THAT WAS WRITTEN FOR ME OMFG THANK YOU T_T (just pretend these are tags so i don't have to add transition words between thoughts LOOL)

#I LOVE THAT PLANNING THE FIRST DATE WAS A COLLABORATIVE MSBY EFFORT... THAT EVEN SAKUSA TOOK PART IN I'M SO HONORED #NOT BOKUTO BOWING AND CALLING U "MY LADY" AND SAYING TO JUST GRAB THE FINGERS PLEASEEEE IM ALREADY LAUGHING THIS IS SO SILLY #atsumu clasping his hands behind his back like an old man 😭 baby no 😭 at least he's self aware #SOMEONE SHRED ATSUMU INTO GARBAGE MIYA INSTEAD PLEASE I'M HOWLINGGGG I FEEL SO BAD FOR HIM

#it's really the way atsumu has to take a jab at other people even in his THOUGHTS about SMILING alkjcdc #NOT THE BLACK STAINS LIN I LITERALLY JUST SLAPPED MY HAND OVER MY MOUTH OH MY GOOODDDDD NOOOOO I'M CRINGING FOR HIM OH MY GKLAJSDNKALSJDC #HE'S SOOOO CHEESY I'M GONNA CRYYYY I'M GONNA CRY PLEASE #he's so sweet :(( i'm :(((((((( he even said to text him when you get home :((((( AUUUGGGHHH #MY GODDDD THE FOLLOW UP TEXTS AT THE END ARE SOOOO CUTE I'M ALCJACS I LITERALLY "AWWWWWEEEEE"D OUT LOUD I'M SOOO T_T T_T T_T

anyway thank you so much for the fic lin dearest i feel so warm and happy inside :( this was so refreshing to read and i'm so thankful for you!!!! i hope you had a lovely holiday and didn't have to experience black squid-ink teeth in your face<3 (but if it's atsumu's maybe it's ok... maybe)

jin my love!! pls tysm for hosting this wholesome event ♡ it was such fun to write this heheh. and the first atsumu fic written for you omg im honoured T.T

the tags ahdjsksk I LOVE THEM SM im laughing so hard at them T.T and im so so glad you picked up on bokuto's silly yet sweet actions and also the reference to ushi and kags <333 atsumu is really such a lovable character isn't he (in by lovable in clowning and making him suffer HAHA) im so so glad that this chaotic dork made you all warm and happy inside :3 and yes,,, black squid-ink teeth only with atsumu,,, or kuroo,,,,