#also they have matching idles

[seri-tonin]

I could write whole essays about kavetham (<- hasn't even gotten past liyue yet)

[lanternlightss]

let it be known that if nameless bard ever becomes playable not only am i c6’ing and r5’ing him immediately but he and venti are never leaving the team. and they will always be by each-other’s side

[baeshijima]

i am late on this but !!

BLUE LOCK S2 FOR OCT AAAAAAAAA

[welcometoteyvat]

sosososososososo in love with lynette

her moveset her idles her voicelines characterization it's everything to me

[shotmrmiller]

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

[darkurgediaries]

Lets talk about Stillmaker, Durge’s other canon blade

Okay, so we already know that Durge had the Bloodthirst dagger which was created from Bhaal’s own blood and carried by his chosen.

But there is another dagger in the game you can find that also canonically belonged to Durge, Stillmaker.

We see Stillmaker portrayed in Dark Urge’s official artwork, and it’s also Durge’s blade in Idle Champions, as you can see.

I’ve noticed that Stillmaker matches Bloodthirst in design, but it is conspicuously green, as opposed to every other Bhaalian weapon I’ve seen which are red.

You know who else’s canon weapon has the same green coloring? Gortash. And who is the color green associated with? Bane. Stillmaker looks like it was made in the same design to Gortash’s crossbow.

I posit then, that being close to one another as they were, Gortash either made or commissioned Stillmaker to match with Bloodthirst and gifted it to Durge. It’s far more his style in looks, and I feel it’s something he would have done as he describes Durge as his nearest and dearest, and we know they worked very closely together and admired one another.

It truly makes my Durgetash heart flutter!

EDIT: Here is a close up of the weapons together in game!

EDIT #2: We were discussing on discord yesterday, Orin would have of course kept the Bloodthirst blade after dispatching Durge because it’s made of Bhaal’s blood and carried by his Chosen, but she would not have wanted some sugary gift from her sibling’s Ex and probably tossed it away and Dolor ended up with it, and that’s how it ended up in his stash.

EDIT #3: @arikandkade made an EXCELLENT addition to this theory and I’m adding it because it’s just such great information, thank you so much for this info!

[cigaretteparfum]

ugh. okay. i've ranted about this in my journal less than five minutes ago but apparently my thirst to fucking yell at the clouds won't be satiated until i've put it somewhere public.

look. i love Seo Soojin and think her removal from the group was as unfair as the next stan, but the way people talk about the conclusion of the case really drives me mad. i see a lot of "she was proven innocent by her lawyer" and a lot more of "it was a false accusation" but going by the last statement from her attorney that i read, i feel like there's a lot more going on than that.

first thing's first, i don't know how it is in different countries or different justice system, but as far as am aware "proving" anything isn't a lawyer's job. first and foremost their job is to represent their client; specifically in cases such as Soojin's, it's to represent their client through a legal dispute/investigation. if there's anything related to "proofs" to their job, then that would be to collect evidences and statements. but to determine whether someone is innocent or guilty isn't within their rights.

her lawyer can't "prove" her innocence. all they could do was to collect and present the evidences that may -- hopefully -- get her an innocent verdict, but that verdict wasn't theirs to make.

now with that said, again, going by the last statement released that i read last year, i'd say Soojin's lawyer did a pretty good job collecting those evidences that may point towards her innocence. from what i remember:

they had statement(s) from the school staff as witness claiming that there were no records of the bullying Soojin was accused of;

the only record of bullying related to Soojin that they had instead pointed at her as the victim, not the bully; and

when questioned about it, the accuser/her team failed to present any evidence to support their claim of Soojin bullying her that wasn't simply hearsay (i.e. she said/she said situation)

also included in the statement though more like a quote, the accuser had also apparently admitted that "she wasn't sure (anymore)" whether Soojin really was part of the group that she'd claimed to have bullied her or not.

so all of these do point towards the conclusion that Soojin didn't do what the accuser said she did. at the very least, it opened the door for further investigation of the claim and, therefore, the case. at this point, based on the statement, Soojin's team had successfully submitted their own evidence to counter the accuser's claim to the police, while the accuser's team had not.

the proper course of action after this was supposed to be for the police to: 1) investigate the evidence submitted by Soojin/her team to determine its truth and 2) press the accuser/her team to finally submit their evidence to backup their claim as well as counter Soojin's. in my country, to my knowledge at least, if the accuser fails to fulfil point no.2 while point no.1 leads to a definitive yes, then the case would be dropped as false allegations and that opens the door for a counter-suit under defamation.

but, quoted in the statement, a member of the force instead claimed that there was not enough leads/evidence to investigate the case further. it was treated as though both parties failed to submit evidence to support their positions and claims, when as stated: Soojin did not fail, the accuser did.

it's hard not to look at all of this with at least a little bit of a side-eye. the case didn't seem like it was dropped because there was simply not enough going ons to continue pursuing it, it instead seemed like it was dropped because thus far at that point, Soojin may come out on top.

the case was not dropped because she was legally proven to be innocent, but because the evidence gathered favoured towards her innocence and the cops were not interested in pursuing that.

the more that i think about the inconclusive conclusion of the case, the more i can only think of one word. it's what people in my country call kongkalikong; the whole tail end of this case just stinks of corruption. this isn't "just" a false allegation. it feels far more insidious than that.

so ... no, Soojin's lawyers didn't "prove" that she was innocent, they just gathered and presented the evidence that could have cleared her of the accusations had the justice system worked properly. and, no, it wasn't a "false allegation" legally because the people who were supposed to investigate and determine that were not interested in doing their job.

in conclusion: the whole case is mad fucked. its ""conclusion"" even more so. if you're going to talk about it, don't just talk about the lawyers and the accuser. there's a whole third, maybe even fourth party, that you're forgetting to include.

[circesastro]

Circe's Note #3

Note: These are just my own observations, ideas, thoughts and theories. This is just for entertainment purposes. Also, please be respectful of my observations! It is perfectly understandable to not resonate with some of my personal observations but please do not leave any disrespectful comments! Lastly, please don’t plagiarize/copy/steal any of my works! Without further ado, enjoy!

**All photos are from Pinterest**

MASTERLIST

✿ Aries Mars tend to have a quick reaction or just move very fast

✿ Men with Sagittarius placements tend to have a very active lifestyle. Also they LOVE to spend time in nature/outdoors 😭. Most of their hobbies include skydiving, hiking, camping, etc.

✿ Individuals with Virgo placements hate having leftover food sit in their fridge…

✿ Also, individuals with Cancer suns always seems so calm? Whether it’s true or not is a whole other story but they always seem like the shy and quiet upon first impression…ex: Ateez’s San, Seventeen’s Wonwoo, NCT’s Taeyong, etc.

✿ Virgos tend to do a lot of editing/proofreading before submitting anything (if they could change it afterwards, they would too)

✿ Sagittarius Mars on the other hand are on a whole other level of competitiveness like they’re out for blood…there’s Yuqi from G-idle, Gunwook from ZB1 and even Li Chen…. if you can't tell just watch running man china and you'll know what I'm talking about 🤣

✿ Remember the time when Seok Matthew (Cancer Mars) won an arm wrestling match with Kim Donghyun (6th best UFC Wrestler who participated in Physical 100/ Virgo Mars) but lost to Gunwook (Sagittarius Mars)? Yeah, out for blood

✿ I noticed that in many idol groups, idols with libra placements tend to get popular and praised for the way they act/their mannerisms and charisma…there’s something fresh and unique that they bring to the table that the audience loves (Ex: BTS’s Jimin, Aespa’s Ningning, Gidle’s Yuqi, NMixx’s Lily, SKZ’s Bang Chan, Monsta X’s Joohoney, P1Harmony’s Keeho, Shinee’s Key, etc.)

✿ There’s two types of Scorpio mars— 1) Relies on their strength and drive to get through things (ex: BTS’s Jungkook, Ateez’s San & Seventeen’s Dino) and then there’s 2) One who relies on their mentality and emotional strength to get through things (ex: BTS’s Jimin and Seventeen’s Jeonghan)

✿ You know what is funny? Cancer mars won't get into a physical fight but they are strong??? Their strength is kind of unexpected because they don’t use it all that much.

✿ Aries placement tend to have the type of beauty that captures people’s attention first (ex: Hyunjin of SKZ have an Aries Mars, Karina of Aespa is an Aries Sun + Venus, Mingyu of SVT is an Aries Sun + Venus, Lisa of BlackPink is a Aries Stellium, Jackson Wang is an Aries Sun + Venus, Asa + Ahyeon of BabyMonster is an Aries Sun + Mercury, Cha Eunwoo is an Aries Stellium, Ryujin of ITZY is an Aries stellium, etc.)

✿ Leo placements and their hyperfocus on their hair is so real like my mom is a Leo sun and she always say to take care of your hair, my brother is a Leo Venus and he would always style his hair and use multiple different products before leaving the house and my friend is a Leo Venus and she would change hairstyle every other month….

✿ Pisces Mars women make excellent "gold diggers". I think its because they easily play into people's fantasies. (Ex. Sheraseven, Lauren Sanchez, and my aunt in law 💀.) Also they have this intuition to knowing what it is that the other desires so it may come easier for them to play into the "ideal woman" but before you know it you're trapped...point is I think they can easily bag up a provider.

✿ Pisces Mars women in general seems like the ideal fantasy women. I also notice that their "mask" slips easily but they make it up just as quick. They are the type of people to play a persona/character so well that they eventually end up embodying that energy. (Ex. Marilyn Monroe, Paris Hilton, Im Yoona) Not saying that they are fake, I am just saying that these people often make others fall in love with their personas.

✿ Adding on to the previous statement pisces mars can make great manifestors and I think they will benefit a lot from Law of Assumption. Congratulations 🥳🎉.

✿ This might as well become a pisces mars (both men and women) post but i think its a great deal of delusion + intuition + acting that pisces mars end up manifesting their dream life. (quite literally delulu until it becomes trululu...)

MASTERLIST

[lauraneedstochill]

Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 3 August 2022

Literally dumping all the presentable works here as promised, whether I’m proud of them or not!

The first image was inspired by a color palette of a random YT playlist thumbnail! I really loved it and wanted to turn it into a cosy travel & rain scene with colorful city lights smeared like dripping wet watercolors. The second one is a KH3 reference! Do you recognise this scene? I don't know how he would possibly end up there in the first place, but he sure is determined to find his dear brother by breaking through the edge of the world!

How to make Ingo smile, step 1: Make him spell "Emmet"! And a goofy cartoon collision moment ahah!

They are very satisfied after a challenging match, win or lose, and they want you to come back for another ride! I love the twins as they appear in Pokémas the most and try to capture the personalities their English VAs give in my art. They are adorable, excitable, cool and very much admirable!

Emmet always wants to look cool, and Ingo surely gives the most heartfelt handshakes! This piece was to celebrate 1K followers on Twitter! The first three months were wild as so many people found my works!! I fondly reminisce that time, not only I was doing well with my first fanart account, I also felt very happy in general! I was so in the zone with art, being super creative free of worries. It's awesome to see most of the people who commented this back then are still posting/in contact with me!! Thank you so much for sticking with me and my little shenanigans!

I still really like these sketches here, love to see this trio having a blast together! The clips are from a movie classic "Singing in the Rain", and below is the final piece:

Doodles~

Early Breakmas AU sketch (Team Break Submas); going full speed after trainers to collect their pokémon... What would you do if these two giant traffic cones approached you at high velocities?

Excadrill & Archeops, the soft & fluffy guys! Some of my first sketches of the submas mons. Excadrill has become my no. 1 submas mon, I adore that tough little missile knight! Archeops is definitely one of the most appealing ones! I love how he kinda has 4 wings he glides with. However I cannot unsee the snake in a parrot suit ahahah, pardon me! Also I pity the poor guy's in-battle idle animation where he has to flap SO HARD just to stay afloat!

Also Durant & Galvantula! I never was a fan of Durant but I've found ways to have fun drawing this little mischievous creature. They're after your ankles nyehehehe~ Galvantula also wasn't appealing to me until submas fever hit but now I think it's a pretty cute beast! I really like how I drew that fur, which is funny because it was that bristly blue fur that didn't strike my fancy back then!

Still enjoying this sketch! Took me some time to read the lines though ahah, the sketch so loose. He's leading a complete opposite life now...

Surprise!!! I held an art raffle on my Twitter account once but I never finished the piece for no good explanation other than getting stuck with the depot agent designs. I wanted to finish this so badly but just couldn't get over that mental block. It still bothers me I couldn't do it!

More KH inspired attempts, this time the stained glass!

Some expressions! Those snouts I draw for them are so silly ahah

Oh yikes, mood shift! The situation is looking dire, is his brother okay?? I like how the pose & water turned out!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway?

Another intense situation, what could this Team Break guy possibly want from him..?! Man, this piece feels so old now but I still like the movie like vibe! That's all just from August!! I was extremely productive back then ahah, it's cool to see how creative and varied stuff I could do!

More and more sketches & WIPs are waiting in the queue! Hope you had fun checking these out!

UPDATE: I had accidentally uploaded some sketches I had already shared in the July 2022 sketchdump so I replaced them with other sketches I had actually forgot I made in August!

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

[dmitriene]

THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON SPOTTING YOU IN THE STOCKINGS.

cw: fluff, comfort, slighty suggestive, established relationship, reader described as having a kind of thick thighs and wearing a skirt, touching, kissing, mentions of being horny, hints on female anatomy, slightly posessive behavior, possible dirty talk, pet names, praises, possible lack of dialogues. pairing: bf simon ghost riley x gf fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

you took them out only to take a couple of photos, they were already lying idle in the bottom drawer of the closet, bought once for some cute images, and eventually forgotten forever, so why not use them at least for cute photos in socials?

the black thin fabric felt pleasant and almost weightless on the skin when you put each leg in turn into the stocking, pulling each one up the thigh as carefully as possible so as not to tear and fixing them on your plush, thick thigh, adjusting them so that they did not curl up and also straightening them with your fingers convex, small bows matching the color of translucent fabric, slightly silky to the touch and looking charming in combination with a skirt worn with them.

you leisurely take your phone from the edge of the large bed, pressing the power button with your finger and swiping the touch screen to the side to open the camera, turning it from your face with a soft smile before pointing it at the long, standing mirror on the floor, coming closer to it and pushing a round rug nearby with an outstretched leg, allowing yourself to prepare a comfortable place and sit in front of the mirror on bent knees.

the soft pile of the carpet feels extremely comfortable under your knees as you wiggle your butt slightly, making yourself as comfortable as possible and allowing your thighs to appear even softer and thicker, causing the elastic at the ends of your stockings to slightly dig into your skin when you lift your phone camera to cover your face, but capture a charming image and cute stockings, gradually changing your position and stretching your legs with each frame, showing the semi transparent fabric and cute bows.

photo shoot captivates you so much that you become completely insensitive to the outside world, focusing on the phone screen and starting to flip through what you have already photographed in order to weed out unsuccessful shots in advance, not hearing how the door to the bedroom quietly opens after a couple of quiet steps in the apartment corridor, for the first time simon is greeted by such unexpected silence, making him only slightly worried before he finally notices you in front of the mirror, suddenly stopping in the middle of the room at the sight.

simon would like to cough, but noticing how you furrow your eyebrows and pout your lips in concentration, focusing on your business, he decides to silently watch, squinting his eyes in a smile and quietly taking off his mask, throwing it on the bedside table and returning his dark glance at you, watching as you lift the phone back up, probably to take more photos, and he seizes the moment to perform a small, innocent prank.

there were a lot fewer photos after deleting most of them, but you still had a lot of time, or so you thought until you pointed the phone in front of you and turned it on, practically jumping off the floor when you noticed the wide chest behind you and the slight smile on someone else's chiseled face, before you realize that it’s simon, especially when his hands rest on your thighs, as soon as he kneels behind you, hands slightly creeping under your thin skirt and squeezing the plush skin, digging his fingers into, and when you seemed about to protest, he purrs, more like growls, pressing his unmasked face into your neck, kissing

— “shh, lovie, continue to take your cute pics, yeah?„

you try to look at him over your shoulder, but you fail, only earning a small bite on your neck in response and feel how his muscular chest is pressing into your back more, so you obediently do what you were doing earlier, make yourself more comfortable on your bent knees and straighten your back slightly, taking pictures once, twice, while simon's bare, rough palms fidget on your thighs, squeezing the flesh, touching the stocking and running his fingers under it, which makes you whine, fidgeting again and lowering the phone, looking at him through the mirror

— “si.. stop.. you're — you're teasing me„

he grumbles, running his nose from your pulse point to the curve of your shoulder, lifting his gaze with a flutter of light eyelashes to look back at you, his hands slowly part your legs and you give in without the slightest tremble, the fabric of your skirt falling carefully into the empty space between your legs, blocking the view of your underwear as one of his hands picks up your phone and lifts it back to face level, continuing to knead your thigh with his free hand, running his fingers under your stocking.

possessively, you can feel the desire to demonstrate who has the right to touch you like that in his touches, when his fingers leave light pinkish marks, and his lips find the line of your jaw, kissing airily and softly, right in the moment when your face takes on a languid, slightly fuzzy look, eeverything from his mere presence, from touches that are dangerously close to where it pulsates in search of his touch, and he makes a couple of bold taps on the screen, capturing the moment, throwing away the phone immediately after, so that he can reach for your chin with his fingers, focusing your attention on his face, it takes just a few touches and you are already all dumb for him, falling into this abyss even deeper when he growls contentedly, thin pale lips slowly forming into a wide grin

— “good girl you are, now i won' you on the bed, no fricking clothes, jus' this cute little attribute, mhm?„

all that comes out of your mouth is a quiet hum and a slow, confused nod, his fingers snapping against the elastic of your stocking, causing elastic to touch your skin with a slight slap, adjusting it back into place before hauling you off the floor and into his strong arms with a slight flex of his muscles, the phone is forgotten on the floor, when simon arranges you on the soft sheets, watching your plush flesh jiggle as soon as your body falls apart on the softness under you, and your gaze meets his, ardent, languid, you look tenderly and with expectation, causing his cooing words as his knee hits the mattress

— “good, good girl, looking so pretty, and all for me„

maybe it's worth buying a few more stockings, since these ones will probably be in a sorry state by the end of the day ;)

[jesswritesthat]

Suna Rintarō: Timing

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• Your imperfect timing gifts you with information that leaves you looking back on your relationship with Suna.

Warnings: Cursing

>>>>——————————>

"Don't take this the wrong way..."

"Ya asked our honest opinion and this is it..."

"This might not be great to hear, but Suna likely won't accept yer feelings."

By all means you'd have to agree that you had the worst timing in the world right now, you'd perish before admitting it though, and decided to wait out the conversation.

Whilst his teammates were only being truthful, it still must've hurt to be told of a future rejection. It didn't stop you from eavesdropping from your spot outside the gymnasium though, as it sounded like they had more to say.

"Oh... I see. Is there a particular reason? Ah no nevermind, sorry for asking." Poor girl.

"Uh, well the truth is..."

"If ya haven't noticed it already..."

"Suna only has eyes for (Y/n)."

Oxygen was stripped from your lungs, body numb and remind racing a mile a minute. Dangerous thoughts circling your head that you hadn't even bothered to consider because why would you?

He only has eyes for you. Bullshit.

Realistically, the only things that could possibly have brought them to that conclusion must be...

———

Suna would sometimes put his wants before your own, even if it didn’t make much sense to you at the time.

“Hey (Y/n), you coming or what?” Suna called over alongside Osamu, despite you being invested in the paper pile on your desk.

“No, I’ve gotta finish these notes. See ya later guys.”

“Yeah bye!” Suna responded with a lacklustre tone.

It was until a second later, when he slumped in the desk next to you with a dramatic groan and phone in hand, did you realise the goodbye wasn’t directed at you but rather the rest of his group. None of whom had refuted his decision.

“What are you doing? Go home!”

“Too far, decided to wait for you so hurry up.”

Even if you’d just sighed and offered a sliver of idle conversation during your work, he remained by your side until you’d completed it with an odd mutter toward whatever he was watching. Only standing from his seat when you’d began packing and waited by the door for you.

“Thanks Rintarō, for staying.”

“Whatever. Wanna get some chūpet on the way home?”

———

You also knew his running route by heart, which made it easier if you ever wanted to catch him for something. Suna always slowed down to speak to you however, not once had he passed you without acknowledgement.

It just so happened one of these times was your birthday.

In honesty you hadn’t even realised you were on his usual route, you’d been wondering by with thoughts adrift, so much so that the rhythmic padding of footsteps behind you went amiss. At least until you saw a familiar figure pass and slow a few paces ahead, turning to you with a small smirk.

“Wow, I could’ve just robbed you and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You’re not that good of a pickpocket Rin.” Crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, you’d spoken proudly.

“Either way, you’re missing this.”

He’d held up a small pouch hung on his finger, your favourite colour no less, but you’re certain it wasn’t yours (regardless of your name written on it). You carefully took it from him with scepticism, even more so when opening it to find a small keychain. It wasn’t anything special by any means, simply something you’d happened to mention liking a while ago, nonetheless it brought a small to your face.

“Happy birthday (Y/n).”

You only nodded at him, sentimental smile growing a little wider when he returned the gesture prior to jogging off again.

———

It could also be that he’d usually find a way to drag you to their games, and often when his teammates asked you could give the most sarcastic responses with an unnerving amount of nonchalance.

“So Suna invited ya this time ‘cause…?” Atsumu insinuatingly inquired, like he usually did whenever he caught you after their matches.

“He needed someone to film the two of being idiots. Blackmail privilege y’know?” You casually shrugged, scanning for Rintarō briefly before returning your attention to a pointing and agitated setter.

“Alright, that’s a lie. I refuse to believe it, this is gettin’ ridiculous!”

“Hey (Y/n).” As of on cue, Suna appeared with a blank expression to which you replied with a welcoming smirk.

“Here’s your phone Rin, I caught Atsumus trip in 4k.” The signature device was handed over effortlessly, the two of conversing naturally completely oblivious to the shocked faces of Inarizaki.

“Great thanks, I’ll return the favour sometime. You enjoy the match?”

“Always, it’s nice seeing y—“

“(L/n) had his phone the whole time? Damn.” Aran commented with a hint of awe, though soon overshadowed by Atsumus’ booming outrage.

“YA JUST GAVE (Y/N) YER PHONE?!”

“And?” Came your confused voice, Osamu interjecting in this time.

“Yer not grasping the relevance of this are ya?”

“Blackmail is blackmail my friends~”

“I’ll send it you.” Suna smugly confirmed, the pair of you strolling off the court completely unaware of what his team had just cemented.

You still have that video actually.

———

…Or maybe it was the fact he’d join your side on the odd occasion when class was quieter, or in the mornings before everyone properly zoned in.

Usually the two of you could be found sitting in a corner looking like a dangerous pair with enough gossip to topple the school hierarchy at your fingertips. Other times you’d be sharing a screen commenting or intently watching whatever had garnered one of yours attention enough to share with the other…

"Psst, why are we spying?"

Immediately you'd pulled the intruder to your place against the wall, eyes remaining too focussed on the door to even check who it was as you gave a thoughtless debrief.

"A girl was going to confess but the team said Suna only has eyes for someone else."

"Oh really?"

"Shh! Be respectful or leave so she doesn't get embarrassed knowing people overhea—" By the time you'd recognised the familiar voice and turned around, it was already too late. God timing is a bitch.

"My teammates said that huh?"

"Rin."

"(Y/n).” Mocking mimicry. “Did they happen to say who?"

"…No.”

“You know, you get nervous when you lie.” His tone lowered dangerously, like he was plotting something menacing.

“I do not!” It was a hushed whisper, plan coming to fruition when he’d placed his palms either side of you, caging you against the wall.

“Then tell me (Y/n)…” His voice honeyed as he leaned closer to you with hazel eyes locked on yours. “My team didn’t mention that my eyes were only for you?”

Even if his words had brought a heat to your skin, you were quick to bite back, meeting him half way so that your noses were only a brush apart.

“SUNA!” However, you’d forgotten to hush your volume. “If you—“

Instantly the gym doors burst open, teammates and the girl rushing out upon hearing the angered yell of their conversation topic namesake.

“You really do have terrible timing (Y/n), don’t you?” Suna bemusedly muttered to you, pushing off the wall and sending a blank expression to the newcomers.

“See what we mean?” Atsumu gestured to the two of you for the girls’ sake, who seemed more panicked than anything.

“How long have you two been out here?! Did you—“

“Rintarō just got here, are you helping out with the teams’ practice today?” You kindly pivoted, hoping the tangent would provide her sanctuary.

“Ah, no I came to ask a question. I’ll be seeing you, thanks again!”

That left you and Suna walking past the remaining group into the gym like nothing had happened with an unspoken agreement to resolve this later. Whilst the third years would’ve left it alone, this did not quell the curiosity of their juniors.

“Hold up what was that out there?!”

“Yer were basically - I dunno! What were ya doing?!”

The Miya twins had cornered Suna, leaving you to admit guilt to Kita and Aran about overhearing the earlier discussion.

Rintarō released a bored sigh, rolling his eyes at the pair before answering as blunt as ever.

“You guys have worse timing than (Y/n), I was interrogating them.”

The pair shared a puzzled look, as did the other first and second years on the VBC whilst you only facepalmed. Of all times to wind them up…

“Eh? What for?”

“I wanted to know, if their eyes were as focused as mine.” It was cleverly worded, no one seemed to understand the ulterior motive but when you thought about it, you didn’t withhold your answer.

“Well duh! (L/n) ain’t completely blind are they?!” Atsumu commented after a moment of utter confused silence, Osamu shaking his head disapprovingly when flicking between Suna and yourself.

“You two… Yer really are something together ya know that?”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

A/N: Wasn’t entirely sure how to end this one so I left it open…

[vilhelios]

-; SWEET MUSIC PLAYING IN THE DARK.

your poor, overworked, singer-songwriter boyfriend has not been having a good time with comeback season. thankfully, he has you, his muse, to kickstart his creative processes—sadly, that means he's going to write yet another love song about you in his group's newest album.

CW: k-pop idol/group au! fluff, fluff and more fluff! mentions of xavier, zayne, sylus, and caleb ; not beta read, small text, all lowercase letters.

“and this—” a kiss to the jaw. “—is part of—” another kiss, a shiver jolting down your spine at the feel of his lips against your pulse point. “—your creative process?”

it’s almost embarrassing how small your voice is now, loud in the silence of rafayel’s little studio. your hands clench and unclench around rafayel’s white shirt as he peppers kisses up and down your neck, not a single sliver of your exposed skin remaining unkissed. (after all, he’d say, he must drown in every part of you.)

“hey, every artist needs their muse.” rafayel shrugs, his hands at your waist grabbing at the warm flesh there, a teasing yet grounding touch. “i just need to be appreciating said muse to get the lyrics flowing in my head.”

before you can say much else, he nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck, and he practically melts into you as he breathes in your comforting, familiar scent. like fresh laundry, citrus, honey; he recognises it as the new perfume he bought for you just a few months ago (oh, god bless royalties and good album sales… he gets to spoil his little darling). a happy little sigh leaves him as he nuzzles against you again, shifting to let your bodies melt together in a happy little pile on his office chair—you’re just what he needs after a stressful day of brainstorming new lyrics and melodies with zayne and sylus, banging his head against the wall designing concept art for the new album’s cover, and being dragged around the dance studio (half-dead and limbless) by caleb and xavier.

“yeah, i know…” you sigh, and move your hands upward, fingers curling in his soft purple hair. luckily enough, he hasn’t had to dye his hair yet, what with linkon’s netizens finding his hair to be a particularly lovable part of his charm. (they’d be right; also up there are his big, beautiful eyes, and his impressive vocal range.) there’s a beat of silence, and then you speak up again, pressing a kiss to his hair just as he presses one in kind to your throat; “are the lyrics popping up in your head…?”

“hmm.” rafayel hums, almost like he’s thinking about it. “no.” he says, simple as that, and chuckles when you groan in exasperation. “all the ones i can think of wouldn’t fit the theme. and sy would actually kill me for making us sing another ballad that was clearly inspired by you.”

(they’ve released two albums and five eps, rounding up to about 50 songs in their discography… a good chunk of the love songs rafayel got his hands on in the production process felt like individual love letters written and sung just for you. It’s starting to reach a point where some of the smarter hunters—as their fandom is called—have deduced that at least one of the boys is in a relationship.)

“really?” you raise an eyebrow at him, hand moving to pinch his cheek, “well… if it’s anything like your usual songs about me… I can agree that it doesn’t match the theme.” you pull back a little—which elicits a whine from rafayel—to look at his current getup, which he’d been too lazy to change out of after the photobook photoshoot: a crisp white shirt, black pants, and leather chest harnesses. his hands, idly rubbing up and down your sides, were adorned in black leather gloves. all in all, an attractive outfit that’s trying to encapsulate a “bad boy”, mafia vibe. “i'll have to side with sy on this one.”

“even mafiosos can sing about how they’d love their darling in every universe, y’know.” rafayel hums, leaning back to rest his head properly on the chair, eyes trained on your face. his hands continue their idle smoothing down your sides, touch gentle and warm through the layers of fabric separating your skin. those beautiful indigo-pink eyes hold that heartbreaking softness in them, and it makes you want to gently run your thumbs under the dark circles under his eyes. (you never noticed, not until caleb pointed it out, but he only ever looks at you this way.)

rafayel’s next words are soft, without the characteristic teasing and filled with something akin to reverence: “what’s the harm in another song?” he whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, "it’s just another universe to profess my love to you in, my darling muse.”

a/n: ... i saw rafayel in a harness, blacked out, and thirty minutes later this was ready on my word document. uhm. so those cards huh... (i have. enough pulls to secure you. but please come home early rafayel). reupload bc I FORGOT HOW TO TUMBLR??? and forgot tags 😭

[katsutora]

— HEED

ft. isagi yoichi ; itoshi rin ; nagi seishiro ; bachira meguru ; chigiri hyōma ; itoshi sae

summary: how they are when you’re busy but they’re not

note: did you call, egoist? your fluff writer could only be me. NO JK ashsjdjahahah i love you guys sm though! thanks for the support! <3

⚘ ISAGI YOICHI

ㅤㅤthe sanest one a very decent one. idles somewhere near you because he doesn’t want to bother you, but obviously keeps tabs on you and will bring you snacks and drinks once in a while. a walking convenient store. will also drape a blanket over your shoulders when he notices it’s getting cold. sooo attentive 1000/10. he loves helping you so he’ll definitely feel honored if you ask for his contribution — though it’ll catch him off-guard too. “yoichi.” “!!” he can be funny like that. will carry you to bed regardless of whether not you fall asleep at the end. chef’s kiss. in conclusion: get you an isagi yoichi.

⚘ ITOSHI RIN

ㅤㅤgets... surprisingly clingy? yep, he’s battling his pride. whenever he’s mustered up enough courage to call your name, it’s instantly defeated by his overthinking and so the words died out in his throat. looks like a lost puppy just sitting there in the corner of the room. the embodiment of a CCTV, watchtower incarnate. very quiet too it’s kind of unsettling. when you finally turn to look at him, he’s going to pretend as if he didn’t spend the past thirty minutes trying to figure out how to get your attention. “rin, haven’t you watched this match five times already?” “and? you took five whole hours finishing up one lukewarm task.” gasp. man needs a subtitle like [you didn’t give me any attention for five hours straight and now i'm sad]. is down bad for cuddles and horror movie night but only if you ask him lmfao.

⚘ NAGI SEISHIRO

ㅤㅤdoesn’t care. flops on top of you. needs to be constantly reminded that he is, in fact, 190cm. NAPS in that position if you still don’t give him attention (a menace fr). spends the entire day attached to your hip like that. no but in all seriousness, he only pesters you like this if he thinks you’re overworking yourself. will just drag a seat beside you and go about his day (re: ranking up in games and watching matches chigiri recommended to him + annoying barou in the group chat) if you’re just finishing a task. fidgets with your fingers the moment he finds your hand idling; leans his head on your shoulder when his game character dies. good for you.

⚘ BACHIRA MEGURU

ㅤㅤcurious on what’s gotten you so caught up that he didn’t see you around the house for hours. once he realizes you’re doing some work, he immediately channels his inner motivational speaker. your #1 supporter fr. “you go!” “you can do it!” “you’re doing great!” but he kinda derailed halfway through so … “eat 3 square meals per day!” “get 8 hours of sleep!” “drink 8 glasses of water!” ?? sure, that’s probably just his way of telling you not to forget to take care of yourself. oh and he’s also made himself comfortable in a blanket fort that’s definitely not sloppily constructed to persuade you to take a break. BSJDBKSNDKS !! d-did something just collapse? “meguru?” *MUFFLED SCREAMING*

⚘ CHIGIRI HYŌMA

ㅤㅤyour cup: *exists* ; chigiri: *slowly pushing it to the edge* lmao. likes to think he’s very patient (not at all he's kinda bored). tried calling your name four times to no avail. the first one was only met with a short reply, then you merely hummed in response to the second and third one. got hella confused when you finally didn’t react at all. at some point, he found himself laying his head on your lap, somehow managing to squeeze in between you and the desk. how? kept staring at you trying to catch your attention but you wouldn’t budge, so he resorted to booping your nose. occasionally reaches a hand across your face to test your patience focus. congratulations, you have a house cat.

⚘ ITOSHI SAE

ㅤㅤit’s only fair that he finds himself right beside you just like you’ve always been there beside him — every step of the way. he’s doing random stuffs to pass the time: scrolling through his phone, ignoring rin’s texts, watching a game, reading a magazine, etc. mmm what’s that second one again? will tuck your hair away for you if it’s falling onto your face. places a hand over the sharp corner of the table to protect your head when you’re trying to grab something from the floor. will stay up with you if you’re determined to finish up the work despite having an early morning practice tomorrow. “aren’t you tired, sae?” “aren’t you?” “not at all because you’re here with me.” yk who’s tired? his manager having to reschedule all his appointments because he ended up oversleeping. help.

© 2023 katsutora ; do not repost and/or translate and/or claim my works

[planetkiimchi]

sixth time's the charm | w.jh

no. 1 of my 100 followers event (requested)

featuring: coworker!jun x gn!reader

word count: 8832 words

summary — your coworker jun is naturally friendly and a little chaotic, but he also mistakenly thinks you like his crush. this love rivalry persists despite the two of you being friends, at least until he realises that the one he likes is you.

author’s note: thank you to @fairyhaos for beta-ing this, your comments are so appreciated. especially knowing now that you have such high standards for fics, i’m so honoured to receive any sort of compliment from you <3 thank you ara for the request and i hope you enjoy!

Your first day of work was in January, at the tail end of winter. People were trading their thick winter coats for thinner wool sweaters and cotton hoodies, slowly switching back to sneakers instead of the chunky boots they donned in the winter.

The temperature was still cold in the mornings, especially when people were heading to work. The streets were filled with people walking briskly, as staying idle for too long would let the chill seep into one’s bones.

You were no different, a long coat wrapped tightly around your work attire, the most formal you could get. You cracked your knuckles nervously as you came to a hesitant stop in front of an office building, indistinguishable from the surrounding buildings save for the large “JH Corporations” displayed across the front.

Inhaling deeply, you stepped inside.

You were greeted by the warm air of the heated building, and you took in your surroundings as subtly as you could, taking small steps towards the reception desk while your gaze wandered about.

Everyone there seemed to be in a hurry, impatiently bustling past with briefcases, holding onto their laptop cases and thick folders. The constant clicking sound of high heels against the floor seemed to match your heart rate, going tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

You made your way over to the reception desk.

“Good morning!” A cheery voice broke your train of thought, interrupting your anxiously racing thoughts and preventing you from spiralling.

Turning around to face the owner of the voice, you came face to face with a familiar face.

“Wen Junhui?”

The man in question grinned back at you. “Hi!”

So it was him. Junhui—”Call me Jun,” he’d said—had been there at your job interview, which had been done in a group, so both of you were probably starting at a similar level. Logically speaking, that day should also be his first day at work. However, unlike you, he looked a lot more at ease in this large building.

“Excuse me?” The receptionist tried to get your attention, and you blinked quickly before nodding.

“Yes, hi.”

You gave her your name and waited as she searched for your employee pass, before handing it to you, along with directions on how to get to your level.

You thanked her and turned to leave.

“I’m going to level three too, would you like me to show you there?”

Your heart, which had been beating painfully fast ever since you stepped foot into the building, slowed to a reasonable pace as you forced yourself to take a deep breath. Then, turning to face Jun, you smiled slightly.

“That would be great.”

Jun didn’t shut up the entire way to your desk. He looked tidy and well-kept, brown hair parted slightly off-centre, a tie around his neck. His smart black shoes clicked against the floor as he walked, and you noticed his fingernails were trimmed when he reached out to press the lift button.

“Y/n, right?” You nodded absently as Jun talked about this job, how his boss was rather friendly and how excited he was to be able to work in this team setting. Everyone was welcoming so far, and no one had belittled him as of yet.

During the elevator ride, you didn’t manage to get a single word in. Jun just kept on talking, somehow finding ways to fill the silence without you having to say a single thing. When he finally took a breath, you seized the opportunity to ask, “When did you start?”

“Last week! They asked me to come at the beginning of the new year, but I requested to start a week earlier instead, just after the winter solstice, so I could get acquainted a little earlier.”

Oh. That made sense. You briefly wondered why you hadn’t thought to do that yourself, stepping out of the elevator as the door opened onto the third floor.

You followed Jun through what felt like a winding maze of desks, all grey with some attempts at personalisation in the form of white mugs with “I ❤️ DAD” and “This is my fifth cup of coffee” printed across them, and cushions propped up on chairs for comfort.

“... And here’s your desk! Mine’s right across, so you can come over and ask me for help at any time. Just wave, and I’ll come over!” Jun smiled at you expectantly.

“Thanks?” you replied hesitantly.

“No problem!”

Smiling cheerily at you, Jun walked over and took a seat at his desk.

Breathe. You inhaled deeply, taking in your surroundings once more. This time, it felt a lot less scary. Each team had a semi-secluded area, with partitions sectioning off different teams, and your section was a little quiet but very conducive for working in.

The other people in the office had looked up briefly when you walked in, disrupted by Jun’s voice, waving politely at you before looking back down at their computers.

It didn’t seem like much, but you weren’t quite sure what you had been expecting in the first place. Setting your things down, you went over to find your team manager so you could officially start working.

—

Time passed too quickly. Soon enough, the project that the team had just undertaken was already almost half completed, and your working hours grew longer as the daylight stretched longer as well.

The sun set just after six, and you often got off work before then, so you would be home in time for dinner. Upon graduating from university, one of the first things you’d done was rent a house on the outskirts of the central business district.

It wasn’t the cheapest option, but luck was on your side, and the marketing job you had secured was enough to pay your rent.

Life wasn’t particularly luxurious; your flat was small and your meals were simple, but it was comfortable enough. On top of that, your transport fees were lower, since the office was located very close to where you lived.

That day, you were staying in the office a bit longer, staring blankly at the design drawn up on your computer and trying to figure out exactly what was off about it.

There was something about the design that didn’t work, and you intuitively knew that it had to do with the layout and the contrast in the colours of the background and the elements, but you couldn’t put your finger on what it was.

As the graphic designer on the marketing team, your workload was manageable, so this was your first time staying in the office past your stipulated working hours.

You rolled your neck around, hearing it crack, and fought the urge to rub your eyes. You turned the computer off and got up from your seat to take a bathroom break.

When you returned, there was a box of fried rice next to your keyboard.

Picking the box up, you looked around the section to see who had gotten the food. There were three people in the team still present; besides you and Jun, Yueyue was also working overtime that evening.

Yueyue had a reusable lunchbox by her side, and she took a mouthful of noodles into her mouth every once in a while, in between typing furiously on her keyboard.

Her clicks and the sound of her slurping the noodles were the only things disrupting the silence.

Jun was sitting directly opposite you, and he too had an open lunchbox beside him, along with a spoon, and he shovelled rice into his mouth every ten seconds or so. It was a bit strange that both of them had brought food from home, and yet there was takeout on your desk. It was especially strange because you knew you hadn’t ordered it.

As if sensing your confusion—or perhaps due to the fact that you had been standing in front of him for a good few minutes—Jun looked up.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you planning to sit down soon? You’re kind of putting me off by just standing there.”

Oh. Embarrassed, you hurriedly sat down, but not before leaning over and asking, “Do you know who bought this?”, pointing at your own food.

“I did.” He looked back at his screen for a few moments, typed something out quickly, then moved his chair over so his view of you was no longer blocked by the screen.

“Minghao usually buys us food when we work overtime, but his mother’s health isn’t the best, so he took leave today to visit her in the hospital. Yueyue brings her own food, and I’ve started that habit too, but I noticed you hadn’t eaten so I got you something. I hope you don’t mind?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I don’t. Thanks. I’ll pay you back, how much was it?”

Jun reached over to push your phone away. “It’s on me. Minghao even sent me money earlier on to make sure everyone in the team was fed, look.”

He showed you his screen, as if he felt the need to prove it to you, and you scanned Minghao’s texts.

Minghao (Team Manager): Make sure everyone eats well. Minghao (Team Manager): Tell them to go home before 7, it’s dark and cold outside, don’t want anyone falling sick. Minghao (Team Manager): Oh, also, tell Y/n to send me the draft of the advertisement by tonight. Minghao (Team Manager): Thanks.

“Say thank you to Minghao for me.”

Jun shrugged and put his phone away, “Already did.”

As you ate the fried rice, wrist cramping up from drawing the animations for the advertisement on your tablet, your heart felt extremely warm.

—

Becoming more comfortable with the members in your team also translated to becoming careless, it seemed.

One fine spring day, you awoke at eight-thirty to the sound of your ringtone blaring obnoxiously loudly in your ear.

"Please pick up, please pick up–"

"Hello?" you mumbled, voice a little raspy.

"Y/n! We have a meeting in an hour, where are you?"

Shit. You'd completely forgotten to set your alarm for that morning, having turned it off the day before for the Qingming Festival. You hadn't wanted it to ring while you were visiting the cemetery, which coincided with the time you normally woke up at.

To top it all off, after the long day, you'd had to take a long ride back to your flat from your hometown, which was a long way from Beijing.

You must have been so tired that night that you had forgotten to set your alarm.

"I'm still at home, is Minghao there?"

"Yes, and he's getting ready for the meeting already. He looks a bit pissed, you might want to hurry."

"Shit, yeah, okay. If he starts the meeting early, help me stall or come up with an excuse," you said.

Jun muttered something in acknowledgement.

"I'll hang up first, I've got to get ready and hopefully I'll reach on time."

"Hurry!" was the last word you heard Jun say before you hung up the call.

By some miracle, you ended up reaching the office 5 minutes before the meeting, wisps of hair falling into your eyes. You irritatedly pushed them away, taking the time to catch your breath as you turned your laptop on and tried to pull up your documents.

"Come into the meeting room now," Minghao ordered, and the team filed into the meeting room and took their respective seats.

You glared at the loading screen on your laptop, willing it to work more quickly. As Minghao said something about following the timeline and how the team was lagging behind and the client was beginning to get impatient, you did your best to listen and pull up the designs you'd done over the past couple of weeks.

However, luck was not on your side, because Minghao called upon you to present what you had done the moment he finished speaking.

You stood up hesitantly, eyes scanning your screen in a hurry, breathing still a little uneven. “Well…”

Jun let out a soft snort. You stole a glance at him, just in time to see him rolling his eyes before angling his laptop screen towards you.

“This is our advertisement video.”

Minghao took your cue to start playing the video, and you watched as your hard work came to life before your eyes. You’d watched it so many times, rewinding the animations over and over again until it was perfect, that it was no longer shocking to you how smooth the transitions were.

But seeing the video play in its entirety, not stopping every two seconds for you to fix something, you realised that you’d actually done well.

As the video came to an end, you launched into your spiel behind the technical aspect of the design elements, and Jun nodded attentively from his seat. Satisfied with your presentation, Minghao went on to the next person.

“Junhui, since you’re already prepared, tell us about the rest of the campaign and how you plan to manage the small budget we’re working with for this project.”

When Jun finished, Minghao raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Not bad, the two of you are a real match. Always good at thinking on your feet,” he said softly, just loud enough for the two of you to hear.

“A good match?” Jun fought to keep his volume down.

“I’m just saying, you’ve never called me when I was late.”

“Hao, when have you ever arrived any later than 8.30am?”

“It’s just a comparison.”

“I-” Jun threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Minghao shrugged and pointed at Jing Xuan, motioning for her to go next. You squinted at your team manager, then back at Jun, trying to figure out what their exchange could possibly have meant.

Yueyue went last, looking for you for help when she couldn’t recall the right word in Mandarin, and a couple of times you had to correct her pronunciation softly. She took it all in her stride, successfully completing her presentation of the segment she was in charge of.

Minghao ended the meeting with a short briefing on the development of the project and the client’s requirements, and gave updated instructions to each individual on the team.

Once he had finished speaking, the meeting was adjourned. Without hesitation, Jun grabbed Minghao’s hand and all but dragged him out of the meeting room, muttering something that sounded like “We seriously need to talk” as he strode away.

Curious, you did your best to subtly close your laptop and place it on your desk, before walking to the coffee lounge in what you hoped was an innocuous manner and casually inching closer towards the duo.

They were speaking in hushed tones, Jun’s brows furrowed and his tone of voice anxious, while Minghao was as relaxed as ever. In times like that, it was difficult to believe that Jun was a year older than Minghao.

You were a couple of years younger than Minghao, but you had changed jobs a few times, just like Jun, so Minghao was more senior than both of you.

However, Jun never really treated Minghao like a senior, although you could tell Minghao definitely treated Jun like a junior.

“What do you mean we’re a good match?” Jun hissed.

“I mean what I said,” Minghao replied, sipping his coffee.

“They like the girl I like, how could we be a good match?”

Too stunned to process Minghao’s reply, your mind blanked out as you heard Jun’s whispered words. In fact, you were lucky the cup in your hand didn’t shatter to the ground with how shocked you were feeling.

He liked Yueyue?

Yueyue’s English name was Luna, and she had joined the team at the same time that spring began. With her limited Mandarin, she struggled to communicate with the others, mostly electing to keep to herself and using Google Translate to send emails.

Having come from Singapore, your English was as good as Yueyue’s, and you were able to communicate effectively in Mandarin after your four years at university.

As such, for the time being, you basically acted as Yueyue’s translator, often helping her with her conversational Mandarin. Yueyue was a fast learner, and though sometimes she struggled with active recall, she was able to understand most conversations now without having to look the words up.

You hadn’t realised Jun liked her, but thinking back on it, you did remember Jun often looking at her while working, casting her glances when he thought no one else was looking. You recalled the way Jun hesitated before speaking to her, as if he had to gather his courage before speaking to her.

At the time, you’d simply thought it was because Jun’s English was extremely subpar, and the same could be said of Yueyue’s Mandarin, but now you knew it was more than that.

Even that time that Jun bought you dinner, you were fairly certain that he had gotten it for Yueyue, because it had come with a post-it note that was coming off the side, saying, “Enjoy your meal :)”. Jun must have been unsuccessful in removing it after he realised that Yueyue had brought her own food.

The puzzle pieces were all clicking in place, and your mouth invariably formed an ‘O’ shape as it all started to make sense.

Minghao elbowed Jun, jerking his head slightly in your direction. “Y/n’s staring.”

“Can you stop it, please, I—” Jun’s voice cut off as he turned to look at you. You were still deep in thought, and your unfocused gaze just happened to be facing Jun’s direction. “Oh.”

Minghao nodded. “Go on.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “And remember what I said.”

Jun glared at him before standing up straight, leaving Minghao leaning against the counter with his mug of forgotten coffee, walking towards you.

He called your name, and you jerked your hand in surprise, spilling coffee on a stunned Jun.

He looked down at his white shirt in shock, frozen to the spot, and you covered your hand with your mouth. You hurriedly set the mug down, grabbing a bunch of tissue paper and pressing it against his shirt to dry it.

“I’m so sorry, you shocked me, I didn’t mean to stain your shirt. You can pass it to me, I’ll wash it, I’m really sorry—”

Jun called your name again, effectively stopping the flow of words that would have otherwise continued to stream from your mouth.

“Stop, it’s fine. It’s just a shirt, I can wash it myself.”

You opened your mouth in protest, and Jun’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “Didn’t know this shirt mattered so much to you. If you want to wash it so badly, I’ll pass it to you after I’ve changed out of it.”

You could only stare in shock at his retreating back as he turned and left, mouth agape. What had Minghao said to him? It felt like the tectonic plates of your dynamics had shifted, but you wouldn’t quite be able to understand it until much, much later.

The first time.

There was a work party coming up, and you originally intended to ask Yueyue to go with you, if not as your date then as your friend.

Lo and behold, just as you opened your mouth to say “Yue”, Jun beat you to it.

“Y/n, would you do me a favour and be my work spouse for a night?” You furrowed your brows at his strange wording, glancing at Yueyue. The latter looked up, caught your eye, and shrugged helplessly.

“No,” you replied flatly. “Yueyue—”

“Pretty please?” Jun latched onto your wrist, tugging onto it like a little child would.

“No!” You pulled your hand away, shaking it in irritation. “Yueyue, will you please—” Before you could finish your sentence, Jun slapped his hand over your mouth, his other hand clutching your wrist again, preventing you from moving away or speaking.

When you finally struggled out of his grasp, you glared at him, beckoning him closer. As he leaned in, you stood on your tiptoes and hissed into his ear, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you to go to the party with Yueyue,” he said simply.

“Who I go with is none of your business.”

“Well, both you and Yueyue are my coworkers, so it kind of is.” Then, before you could reply, he said loudly, “Anyway, we’re going together and that’s the end of it. If any of you try to steal my plus-one, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.”

You whipped your head around to see Yueyue’s reaction, and saw her sinking into her chair, the smile on her face dissipating faster than you could blink. Jing Xuan hid her smile behind her hand, calming herself before removing her hand and continuing to work. Minghao had no visible reaction, but his deliberate ignorance was enough.

You were well and truly alone in this struggle with Jun. You took one glance at your gleeful colleague, sighing in defeat.

—

By the time the work party rolled around, it was already summer. You decided to pack your outfit, leaving it hanging by your desk throughout the workday. Sometime early in the afternoon, Jun got up from his seat, collected the suit he’d hung next to the coffee machine, and glanced at Yueyue.

She was too absorbed in her work to notice. Jun scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you subtly cleared your throat. “Yueyue,” you called softly.

She finally looked up, raising both her eyebrows at you. “Yes?”

You looked pointedly at Jun and jerked your head slightly in his direction. “He’s trying to talk to you.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding surprised.

Jun smiled hesitantly at Yueyue, “Do you want to go get changed? Then we can take a taxi to the hotel together.” As he spoke, he moved his hands, pointing first at himself, then at Yueyue. His limbs felt longer than they usually seemed, and he looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

Before Yueyue could reply, you cleared your throat again, causing both of them to turn towards you.

“Are you not inviting me to hitch a ride?”

Jun’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Then, he and Yueyue spoke at the same time:

“No.”

“Yes.”

The two glanced at each other, and turned back to you.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jun caved first, hissing in irritation, saying, “Whatever. As long as Yueyue’s fine with it.”

The person in question smiled warmly at you, and nodded in reassurance. “Sure, you can come with us.”

As Yueyue stood up, you locked gazes with Jun, smiling triumphantly at him.

—

The ride there was tense. Not entirely because you’d figuratively shoved your way into the car, although you suspected that might be a big part of the reason. No, for some reason unbeknownst to you, the typically outspoken Jun had turned silent, nervously glancing at Yueyue from time to time.

Seated in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the two behind you from time to time, and yet nothing changed throughout the entire ride.

Jun kept looking down at his hands, playing with his fingers, and Yueyue stared out the window mindlessly.

You debated trying to strike up a conversation, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, the taxi came to a halt. Looking out the window, you noticed that the hotel that had been booked for this party was much, much fancier than you had imagined.

The imposing building stood apart from the plain buildings around it, the stairs leading up to the entrance all lit up. The evening had just begun, and the sun was beginning to set, and the lights drew attention to the hotel.

Inwardly, you sighed in relief that you had chosen one of the more elegant items of clothing in your wardrobe to wear that night, because you were sure that being underdressed would have ruined your whole night.

Too caught up in admiring the grandness of the hotel, you didn’t make a move to step out of the car until Jun opened the door for you, and you stepped out. It seemed only natural to take his hand, although the moment your hand was in Jun’s, you realised that it might be overstepping slightly.

Jun’s hand was warm, enveloping your smaller hand in it completely. Yueyue came to stand behind you, amazed by the scale of the event.

“Let’s go in,” Jun suggested, and you nodded dumbly, following him inside.

Seeing Minghao eased everyone’s nerves a little, and soon there was a small congregation of five near the entrance, all keeping a close watch on the rest of your colleagues.

Since you often came to work in a sectioned-off area, and only worked closely with your teammates, you didn’t recognise any of your other colleagues. However, you couldn’t say the same for Jun.

As an elaborately-dressed young man walked past you, Jun seemed to recognise him, waving hello. Minghao could see that Jun was itching to socialise, and urged the rest of you to find people to talk to as well, leaving with a reassuring smile and a pat on your back.

You stuck to Yueyue like glue, the two of you acting like outsiders in this unfamiliar environment that was far out of your comfort zone, until someone Yueyue knew walked by and struck up a conversation with her. Not wishing to be the third wheel, you watched them walk off, standing awkwardly by the side and wishing the time would pass faster.

Fortunately for you, a kind soul noticed you standing on your own and came over, casually asking for your name and which team you were in. The man, Kun, had a warm face and a comforting voice, easily calming you down.

Halfway through a rather engaging conversation about stocks, you felt the need to visit the restroom, and looked around for someone to help you hold your things.

You would have gone to one of your teammates, but Yueyue and Minghao were having a heated discussion with a group of unfamiliar people, and Jing Xuan was nowhere to be found. Of course, there was Jun, but he flitted from group to group without giving you a chance to catch up to him.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom, clutching your purse. Before you could leave, Kun reached out and offered to help you hold your things, and you thanked him with an embarrassed smile.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were greeted by an unhappy Jun.

He was standing in the corridor in front of the bathroom, not even on his phone, simply holding your purse and staring at the doorway, waiting for you to emerge. 

You had been expecting to see Kun waiting there, prepared to thank him once more. Instead, the person awaiting you was Jun, and the lack of a smile on his face was disconcerting to say the least.

You couldn’t remember a time you hadn’t seen Jun smile. He had a pleasant disposition and a happy-go-lucky attitude, so seeing him with a poker face was a rare sight.

You reached to take your purse from him without a word, but his grasp on it only tightened as your fingers brushed against his.

“Why didn’t you come find me to help you hold your things?” he asked, volume soft but tone threatening.

You shrugged. “Kun offered to help me before I could go to find you.”

“We’re here together,” Jun insisted. “You’re acting like you hate me.”

You raised your eyebrows, slowly appraising him. “Oh, really? Funny, that’s exactly the same sentiment I received earlier, when you outright refused to let me take the same fucking taxi as you. Is being in my presence such a horrifying thought that you would refuse to take the same car as me after asking me to be your plus-one, deliberately preventing me from getting the date I wanted?”

Stunned, Jun’s grip on your purse loosened, and you shouldered your purse and turned to leave. He grabbed your wrist, and you whipped your head around to glare at him, causing him to immediately let go.

“I’m sorry.”

You stood there, not speaking, but the fact that you weren’t leaving was enough for Jun to continue, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Yes, I wanted to go with Yueyue alone, and yes, I ruined your chance to ask her, and yes, it’s hypocritical of me to expect you to act nicely towards me when I’ve been nothing but an asshole this evening.”

“You left the team first, so anxious to talk to that friend of yours that you didn’t even spare the rest of us a second glance,” you accused.

Jun shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded curtly in acknowledgement, ready to leave, but Jun called out your name before you could take a single step.

“You can join me for the rest of the evening if you want. Since we’re supposed to be together for the night.”

You looked at him slowly, taking in his pose, rocking on his feet, thumbs stashed into his pockets. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and some sadistic part of you felt glad you were making him feel that way.

After a long moment of deliberation, you nodded. “Sure.”

The second time.

Jun introduced you as his work spouse for the rest of the night. The first few times, you raised your eyebrows in shock, meeting his mischievous gaze, and his disarming grin told you to leave it be.

So you did, not even batting an eyelash when he proudly showed you off for the rest of the night, your heated conversation from earlier almost forgotten.

You supposed that was one of his charm points, that he didn’t hold grudges. Jun had a forgiving personality, and it made interacting with him comfortable and easy.

As the night passed, your eyelids started drooping, and it became increasingly difficult to pay attention to the conversation topic at hand. Bidding goodbye to a few of your colleagues, you took some time to stand by the side, hiding your yawn behind your hand.

“Tired?” Jun asked, accompanied by a soft laugh.

You nodded. “I think I’ll head home soon.”

“I’ll send you home.”

You cocked your head at him, then shook your head. “There’s no need, you should stay if you want to.”

At that, Jun scoffed, then shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not. Besides, it’s not like I would understand what they’re saying without you to translate; their use of technical jargon is way out of my vocabulary range. This entire night, I’ve been piecing together the meaning of their words from your replies.”

You laughed to yourself. “Really?”

Jun nodded. “I’m serious. Anyway, it’s dark outside; you shouldn’t go home alone.”

The corners of your lips lifted, “Didn’t know Wen Junhui was such a gentleman.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You elected to ignore that sentence, turning on your heel to leave, and Jun chased after you, matching your long strides. Outside, you hailed a car, and Jun rushed to open the door for you.

You hesitated just a second before stepping into the car. Earlier that evening, you’d assumed that Jun had opened the door for you out of formality, because Yueyue was present and he was getting into character for having to spend a night with you.

However, with a night so bleak and the dim glow of the streetlights barely lighting up the roads, there was no one to see his actions then, and everything he was doing was just between the two of you.

Perhaps he really was a gentleman, and it was out of habit that he opened the door for you. You wouldn’t know.

Because Jun was right. There was a lot you didn’t know about him.

The third time.

That incident remained at the back of your mind as concerns about the project wrapping up took priority, especially when finishing the tail-end of the promotions. You were often busy working, and had little time to spare to think about other things.

By then it was summer, and it often rained in the afternoons. Sometimes it only drizzled lightly, and sometimes the thunderstorms were so loud that you could feel your eardrums vibrating.

That day it started out drizzling lightly in the morning. At first, you thought nothing of it, expecting it to stop raining by evening. However, an hour or so before you got off work, it was still pouring outside. The rain didn’t seem like it will stop soon, and you sighed in resignation. You'd foolishly hoped that the rain would have stopped after pouring the whole afternoon, so you'd be able to get home without getting soaked.

However, you were almost about to leave, and yet the rain was still pouring ceaselessly down. You rummaged through your bag for an umbrella.

Even though your hands were occupied, something at the back of your mind told you that you'd forgotten to put the umbrella in your bag this morning. Your search proved futile, and you recalled seeing the umbrella resting on the shoe rack that morning, but you had no memory of putting it into your bag.

You ran through the options in your mind. You could make a dash for it—the building wasn’t too far away from the bus stop—but you didn’t particularly feel like taking the bus home while soaking wet. The other option was waiting it out, but you hadn’t had dinner yet and you were absolutely famished.

You inhaled through gritted teeth, mentally preparing yourself to run through the rain, when a voice cut through your thoughts.

"Are you walking to the bus stop?"

You locked eyes with Jun, who'd just asked the question, and nodded.

"I'm walking there too, shall we go together? We could share an umbrella," he said.

Oh. You felt a ripple of warmth spreading through your body. He'd noticed. You swallowed and nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."

To be honest, you weren’t sure what to think of the gesture. Jun was nicer to you lately, and whatever odd tension between the two of you that had laced your interactions had died down too. You still talked to Yueyue, but more for work than any other reason. Jun, too, seemed to be taking it easy, reducing his attempts at chasing her.

Jun stood up, closing his laptop, and you kept your things as well. He came over to you, umbrella in hand, which caused Minghao to look up from his seat.

“Leaving so early?” This sentence was directed at Jun.

“Yeah. Gotta send my work spouse home, they forgot to bring an umbrella.”

You rolled your eyes at the term, but Minghao didn’t even flinch. “Okay, don’t get too wet.”

Tilting his head, Jun gestured for you to follow him out.

It was a silent walk to the bus stop, both of you all too aware of your proximity to each other, trying not to step too far out of the umbrella for fear of getting soaked. The sky was dark, covered by clouds, and the floor was slippery, so you had to take great care not to slip.

Jun maintained a small gap between the two of you, tilting the umbrella slightly to your side, but when you finally reached the bus stop, both of you were dry.

“Thanks.”

Jun looked up from the umbrella, smirking when he saw the grudging expression on your face. “No problem.”

The fourth time.

When Minghao said you would be going on a trip together as a team, you weren’t expecting that to entail camping in the middle of the woods—”Nature reserve, Y/n, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said that already”—and definitely not when you realised you’d have to put up your tents by yourselves.

Not that you were incapable of putting up a tent, but you weren’t keen on the idea of sleeping without a mattress. With your terrible posture and the way you kicked in the night, you could already foresee the backache that would result from this wonderful idea.

At least it was summertime, so you wouldn’t have to worry so much about freezing to death. Minghao and Jun were sharing a tent, of course, because there had never been much to debate about that. Yueyue and Jingxuan were sharing the other 2-person tent, which meant you were left with the smallest tent to yourself. Fortunately, you didn’t mind.

Putting up the tents was a two-person job, and you were embarrassed to admit that you needed help doing it. Obviously, stubborn as you were, you’d tried to set it up by yourself, but trying to place the groundsheet on the ground with only two hands was difficult. You could only hold two corners at a time, and the material of the groundsheet made it such that it kept creasing in ways you didn’t expect, so after a few minutes of trying, you eventually gave up.

You helped Yueyue and Jingxuan fit the tent poles through the loops of the tent, the three of you cheering when the tent started to take shape. Once the tent and flysheet were secured, you asked them to help you set up your tent, only to realise Minghao was the only one setting up his and Jun’s tent. Jun was standing behind you, watching the three of you awkwardly, grinning crookedly at Yueyue when she turned to face him.

Rolling your eyes, you went over to help Minghao.

Minghao raised his eyebrows when you came over, starting to speak before your hands even touched the pegs.

“I’m extremely particular about these sorts of things, by the way. That’s why Jun’s not helping me. So if you do something that I don’t like, there’s a high chance I’ll just undo it and redo it myself.”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Also, please put the pegs in well, because I’d prefer to not have to wake up in the middle of the night to find my entire tent blown away.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

After a moment of silence, you tugged at the loops at the bottom of the tent, wiggling the tent pegs deeper into the ground. You packed the soil into the holes you’d made, shaking the pegs to check that they were secure, and stood up with a triumphant smile.

Minghao made his rounds, adjusting the flysheet. Hands on his hips, he walked one round around the tent, inspecting every small bit, using his shoes to check that the pegs were secure. Satisfied, he looked to you with grudging approval.

“Not bad.”

You smiled to yourself, knowing that in Minghao’s dictionary, that was a high-level compliment. Turning back to your own tent, you noticed that Jun and Yueyue were almost done setting it up.

You would have gone over to help, but you didn’t want to interrupt. You turned back to Minghao, who was already climbing into his tent and unpacking his luggage.

“Need help?” you asked Yueyue, deliberately choosing to use English because you knew Jun wouldn’t understand.

She shook her head. “We’re good, I think.”

You glanced at Jun, who was biting his lip in concentration as he slotted the bendy tent pole ends into each other until the tent began to take shape.

“Jun? I can take over from here, you should go ahead and unpack.”

Jun’s head whipped up, and he glared at you for a moment before realising Yueyue was watching him. “I don’t have much to unpack,” he replied simply.

“You sure? I saw how big your luggage is.”

“It’s fine, I can help Yueyue for a little longer.”

“Actually…” The two of you turned your attention to Yueyue, who continued, “I think I need to unpack. I’ll leave the two of you to it?”

You smiled warmly at her. “Go ahead.”

“Yue…” Jun’s voice trailed off as she walked away, glaring at you fiercely.

You pretended not to notice as you focused only on getting your tent up, and once it was set up, you finally paid attention to the way Jun was staring at you. He stood on his tiptoes to tie the knot that secured the tent poles to the flysheet, then stalked over to you.

“Y/n, what the fuck—” The moment the curse word left his lips, Jun looked almost apologetic. He pressed his lips together, silent for a moment, before deciding to continue. “Why would you purposely ask her to leave? We were doing fine, we’re literally helping you set up your tent, I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what? I just reminded her that she still had to unpack.”

“It won’t take that long, don’t play dumb. It’s still bright, and we both know Minghao always gives enough time for everything. It wouldn’t kill her to start unpacking later.”

You shrugged, your gaze slanting towards the other tent. “Tell her that yourself, it’s not like I told her to leave.”

“Cut the crap, Y/n. Why are you acting like this? I thought we were friends.”

“Why am I sabotaging your attempts to hit on her, you mean? I'm not trying to. I’d just prefer it if you didn’t do it while setting up my tent.”

“I-” Just then, Minghao tapped both of your shoulders, jerking his head towards the centre of all the tents. He looked pointedly at Jun for a few moments, then left without saying anything.

“I’m going to set up a fire,” Jun said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Maybe,” you muttered unhappily under your breath.

—

After dinner, which was cooked over the fire—definitely an experience—the five of you sat by the fire, admiring the orange-red sunset. As the sun disappeared on the horizon, the temperature grew colder, and everyone subconsciously shifted their chairs closer to the crackling fire, jackets wrapped tightly around themselves as they extended their fingers towards the glowing flame.

When all the conversation topics had been exhausted, so was Jingxuan, as evidenced by her sudden yawn. Claiming that it was time for her to turn in, she got up. Not wanting to leave her alone, Yueyue took her leave as well. That left you, Minghao and Jun by the fire, moving your chairs so each had a warm spot.

“Y/n?” You glanced at Jun, bracing yourself for the argument you felt was sure to follow. You were naturally argumentative, there was no denying it, and though Jun wasn’t one to start an argument, he always wanted to win them.

You jerked your head in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue.

“Are we friends?”

You frowned. That wasn’t what you’d been expecting at all. “Yes?” you replied tentatively, unsure where this was heading. 

“Do you like Yueyue?”

You almost laughed. “No.” You didn’t and would never like her that way, probably. She was nice enough, but not exactly your type. You weren’t sure where Jun had got that notion from, but he seemed to be clinging on to that thought since you first joined the company all of 8 months before.

“Then what’s your deal? It feels like you’re doing this on purpose, trying to keep me away from her. If you like her, and she likes you back, fine. I’ll stop pursuing her. But you don’t even like her, so I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

You pursed your lips together, trying to identify the feelings messing up your head, like water after a dirty paintbrush was dipped into it. 

Jun looked at you earnestly, eyes wide as he awaited your reply. After a moment of silence, you shrugged helplessly. “I can’t say what it is. But you’re right, I’m being unreasonable. So, how about this: I’ll leave the two of you be if you don’t flirt right in front of my face, deal?”

Jun stuck out his hand, adding, “You’re still my work spouse, right?”

Taking his hand, you nodded. “Sure.”

Just then, an ear-piercing shriek sounded in the otherwise quiet camping place, and the three of you gathered around the fire stood up simultaneously. Minghao was the fastest to get to Jingxuan and Yueyue’s tent, and the two of them ran out of the tent, Jingxuan’s face white with fear.

“There was a rat!” she cried out. “I swear it bit my fucking toe.”

Upon hearing this, Jun looked rather faint. You moved to help Jingxuan get her shoes, bringing her to the campfire to take a seat first. Yueyue helped Jun to sit down, and you left the three of them to get jackets for Yueyue and Jingxuan.

Meanwhile, Minghao took his phone and turned the flashlight on, inspecting the tent and the area around it.

He came back a couple of minutes later, having ascertained that the rat was gone, but by then everyone had grown comfortable and too tired to move. Jingxuan and Jun were fast asleep, heads propped up on their fists, and you watched Yueyue carefully.

Her hands were shoved into the depths of her pockets, her lips forming a pout absentmindedly, hair tucked behind her ears.

Yueyue tapped Jun’s shoulder to rouse him, and the two of you guided your half-asleep colleagues into their tents before everyone finally fell asleep.

The fifth time.

By then it was autumn, and September was drawing to a close. It was an ordinary work day, a couple of hours before lunch, and Jun suddenly stood up, rummaged through his bag, before procuring a card from his wallet and stalking over to Minghao’s desk.

“You busy?” Minghao nodded without looking up. Jun placed the card on his desk, saying, “I’m using this.” Minghao barely spared the card a second glance before saving his progress and getting up from his seat, gesturing for Jun to follow.

The two of them entered the meeting room, your gaze following them curiously. You met Jingxuan’s eyes, both of you just as confused as each other.

You stood up, walking over to Minghao’s desk, examining the card left behind on the desk. It said, in Minghao’s neat handwriting, “15 minutes of my time. Use whenever.”

You furrowed your brows, placing the card carefully back to where it had been before, heading back to your seat.

Jun and Minghao exited the room not long after, Jun looking conflicted. You followed him with your eyes as subtly as you could, watching as Minghao sat in his seat, looking at the card on the table and furrowing his brows. Looking up, he met your gaze, tilting his head.

Shit. Had you not put the card back properly? How did Minghao know? But to your surprise, your team manager didn’t speak, smirking before returning the card to Jun.

“Team drinks later after work,” he announced, not as a question. The other members of the team looked up briefly, nodded, then returned to their work. You continued to watch Jun sit at his desk, bury his head in his hands, then mess up his hair in frustration.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he opened his laptop and began to work.

—

That evening, the five of you sat at the front of the bar, talking between drinks. After Jingxuan’s story about her landlord drastically inflating the rent when he found out that Jingxuan and her roommate were splitting the costs, you recalled an incident you had just had.

A couple of weeks ago, you’d seen a stray cat on the streets, and decided to take it in. You’d since taken it to the vet for a proper check-up, and had made an appointment for it to get spayed. The only issue was that your landlord didn’t allow tenants to keep pets, and you weren’t sure you could keep it a secret when she came over to check.

“Come stay with me,” Jun said. His tone was teasing, but when you looked at him, his gaze seemed earnest, burning into you with his sincerity. The way he said it, it wasn’t really a question.

“I mean it. If you need a place to stay, come stay with me.”

Normally you would tease him for how serious he was being, but something about the fraught silence and the surrounding atmosphere stopped you from making fun of him. Instead, you watched him carefully, never breaking eye contact, and nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

“Lighten up, my work spouse. You’re acting like we haven’t known each other for a year already,” he said, already back to his old self. You only nodded in reply.

Bonus: the time where he leaves out the “work”.

When you first joined the company, little did you expect that three years down the road, you’d end up waking up next to the man you’d met at your interview, the one with brown hair and dark eyes and a sharp smile.

It had started out with him liking your friend, with tensions here and there due to both of your stubborn tendencies. Your personalities clashed often, resulting in disagreements that turned everyone’s moods sour.

However, you were still mature adults, and after a period of working together, you learned to be more accommodating of his differing opinions and habits and vice versa. Through the shared bonding over working overtime and walking home in the rain, you grew from mere colleagues into friends, growing close enough to talk about more than just the latest project you were working on.

Of course, growing from friends into lovers was slightly more complicated, and you had Minghao to thank for helping you along.

You never realised, but Minghao was the first to notice that you were starting to like Jun. If it weren’t for Minghao subtly helping Jun to grow closer to you, the rivalry may have extended for a far longer period of time than just a few months. Especially with the misguided notion that you liked his crush, Jun would not have been as willing to be your friend without Minghao’s constant nudging.

Almost a year after you had met, before getting drinks together and Jun’s fateful statement that led to the two of you moving in together, Jun had realised that he liked you.

He liked you, not Yueyue. The realisation had been startling, and in a daze, he’d used the card Minghao had given him for his birthday to ask for Minghao’s attention. In those 15 minutes in the meeting room, Jun had voiced out his concerns and desperately asked Minghao for some form of advice.

Jun later told you that Minghao’s answer then had been a simple, “I think you like Y/n.”

Having been in denial for so long, it took Jun a while to realise that his feelings for Yueyue had slowly dissipated over time, and that the lingering sentiments were only platonic, whereas his feelings for you had only grown.

Minghao had offered a simple solution to ease Jun’s heavy heart—drinks with the team. Unbeknownst to him, this action had led to Jun’s implied confession and indirectly caused the two of you to finally get together.

Jun snuggled into your embrace, interrupting your thoughts, nuzzling the underside of your chin and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

”Good morning,” you whispered softly, fingers running through his soft hair. He looked up at you briefly, as if checking over every feature of your face, before nodding in satisfaction and shutting his eyes again.

A peaceful smile came over his face, the blissful expression on his face causing you to smile as well.

”You should marry me,” he mumbled, hands tightening around your waist.

”That’s sudden. Where’s the ring?” You teased.

”Haven’t bought it yet,” he frowned. “But if you don’t say yes, then I wouldn’t have to return it.”

You let out a little laugh. Practical as always. “And if I say yes?”

Eyes still closed, he reached over you to the bedside table, fingertips trailing to the first drawer. He pulled it open, and you turned your head to look. There, sitting on top of your favourite books was a nondescript black velvet box. “Pass it to me,” he said, blinking his eyes slowly open.

You passed it to him without a word and he scrambled to sit up in the bed, both knees tucked under him in a kneeling fashion, opening the box to reveal a ring with a silver band, with a small jewel atop it.

”You said you don’t like fancy things, right?”

Struck speechless, you didn’t protest as he gently took your left hand, slipping the ring onto your fourth finger. He pulled your head in towards his chest, kissing the top of your head.

Just like that, Jun’s proposal to you was as simple and direct as the time when he asked you to move in, less of a question than a request, one that you would gladly agree to.

[midnightmah07]

And I'm done🥳 the 3rd participant of the event and the only one to actually participate in the Bead Brawl, Jeanne💙 so so so proud of how this turned out, I especially enjoyed drawing her expression ☺️💙 as always, voice lines under the cut!!!

Summon line: I'm so excited Leona trusts me enough to choose me for the Bead Brawl!!! Ok, ok, act natural... I can't disappoint my captain!

Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home: I actually really like these garments, they're beautiful. They even gave me a different hook to match it, which I greatly appreciate... Though I'm sure I'll have to take it off for the Bead Brawl.

Home idle 1: We haven't been walking around for long and Kalim has already offered to pay me a diamond ring. If it were anyone else then sure, why would I deny expensive jewelry? But because it's Kalim... *Sigh*

Home idle 2: Hey, what do you think of me buying a tapestry for the Leech twins? Oh, yeah, I mean for both of them. I wanna ask them to fight for it, won't it be fun?

Home idle 3: I'm actually kinda used to the heat. My father's a pi– *ahem* a sailor, so I'm used to staying long hours in the sun doing something he asked on deck. We also visited a few places with a hotter climate before too.

Home idle - login: [LOCKED]

Home idle - groovy: [LOCKED]

Home tap 1: ARGH– Shhh!!! Don't scare me and keep it down!! Ah... Now the vendor is all suspicious... Thanks for ruining it, dummy! I was this close to stealing that...

Home tap 2: Did you hear what Leona said? Leona thinks I'm good! Though he did criticize me for letting the opponent use his strength against me... I gotta bet better, then!

Home tap 3: The women are the majority at protecting the royal family? That's... So cool! They're really that strong, huh? I should've expected as such from 'lionesses'.

Home tap 4: S-shut it, I'm not red just because of a compliment... No, don't tell Kalim about it, he'll say it again and I won't be able to hide my face this time– I-I mean...! Ugh, whatever...

Home tap 5: The food here is so right up my alley! My only complaint is I wish there was a bit more seafood... But oh well.

Home tap - groovy: [LOCKED]