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bxnfire · 1 day ago

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Stereo Love

Synopsis: You’re determined to get over Suguru, and Suguru’s determined to never let you. Amongst annual vacations, unresolved tension, and one hell of a view, what could go wrong? Come to Mykonos and find out!

Content/Warnings: MDNI! Smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, handjobs, public nudity, m! masturbation, edging, teasing, friends-to-lovers, yearning, soo much tension, mutual pining, fluff, slight angst, vacation, Shoko and Gojo betting on your future.

Wc: 9k

A/N: The images are from pinterest. I can’t take credit for them. Check out other amazing works and the place that inspired me to make this fic here at @lily-bisque’s summer bash collab!

Suguru is many things. A tattoo artist, a music lover, a sweet talker, a witty man, a softie at heart, and for the longest time, perhaps since he drew your favorite flower after your crush rejected you to lift your spirits up back in high school, or was it in middle school when he got your favorite snack after you completely bombed a test? You’ve had the stupidest crush on him. You've loved him for so long, all the memories have become a blur, you can no longer remember when he did what, but what you do remember is that even at the ripe age of 13 Suguru has known how to sweep you off your feet.

Maybe that’s why no one else has ever stood a chance.

You’ve tried. God, have you tried. But every relationship since him has been doomed before it began. They all paled in comparison: too soft, too cocky, too dull. Too not Suguru. And maybe they knew it. Maybe they all saw the look in your eyes when his name popped up on your phone or heard the way your voice changed when you talked about him.

You’ve told yourself you’d get over him. You meant it, too. But then he sends you one of those effortless selfies, or calls you just to hear your voice, or keeps his promise to go on vacation with you every year. And suddenly, all that resolve evaporates like mist off the ocean.

What you don’t realize is that Suguru’s just as far gone as you, maybe worse.

It's stupid really, he has no clue as to why you haven't realized that he has so many memory cards for his digital camera purely because he cannot bring himself to delete anything where you're in. There's so many photos and videos of you just being silly, one of you sleeping on his couch, another of you running away from Satoru after he realized you stole his mochi, even one of you petting a cat on the street.

Unbeknownst to you, you inspire the tattoos he's become so known for, which is quite funny because Suguru fears one day you'll have the bright idea of visiting his shop, he wouldn't know what to do if you noticed your favorite flower on different styles on the walls, your birthday on roman numerals, samples of fonts which say your name, middle name, and/or last name, and in a hidden crook of his studio, your eyes.

It sucks having to miss you so much, since you only see each other once a year, but on the bright side, you also don't get to see the fool you've made of him.

Since college, you knew you'd be apart from each other most of your time, as Suguru pursued his dream of owning his own shop in Tokyo whereas your aspirations took you somewhere else. You both have always been very supportive of each other, but at the same time, you're so stuck on each other that you made a pact to go on vacation for 2 weeks every year, taking turns on choosing the spot, and this year it was Suguru's turn to choose.

📩 Suguuu <3: have you checked your email yet songbird?

📩 my muse: SUGURU SHUT THE FUCK UP

📩 my muse: YOU DID NOT

📩 my muse: MYKONOS?

📩 Suguuu <3: surprise surprise

He marks the days like a countdown, two weeks where he gets to have you close, but never close enough. Where he watches you fall in love with the world and aches knowing you’ll never look at him the same way. It’s his favorite part of the year, and also the hardest. Because no matter how far you go together, he always ends up right where he started: still loving you, still silent, and still too much of a coward to ruin what you've built for so long.

You step off the plane, the salty Mykonos breeze kissing your cheeks, and it hits you: this is going to be dangerous. Not because of the cliffs or the scooters or the cocktails you’ve already mentally committed to drinking by the dozen—but because Suguru looks like that in a white button-up and linen pants. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose and smiles at you with that same familiar softness that’s been ruining your dating life since you were 13.

“This place is already ten times better with you in it,” he says casually, grabbing your suitcase like it’s second nature.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain has momentarily stopped functioning.

Choosing to just giggle as a response to avoid any awkward, mumbled response, you pick up your phone to double-check the address of the hotel you had chosen. It took a while, but you reached an agreement with Suguru: if he paid for the tickets, you would pay for the stay.

Since he had gone all out with the location as was, you decided to level the playing field by choosing a suite with a private pool, big ass beds, and the most beautiful view of the beach.

“Songbird, you sure this is our room?” Suguru asks, curious, but also excited?

“‘Course Sugu, why wouldn’t it be?” You ask oblivious to what he was looking at, too busy contemplating at the pool.

“Well, there’s just one bed, it’s huge, but one bed nonetheless,” he says, his lips curving in a dangerous smile.

“Oh.”

“Oh sounds right.” He chuckled, looking at your mortified expression.

“No wonder the lady who checked us in kept treating us like a couple, and you didn’t even correct her!” You realize, jokingly putting the blame on him.

“Would you have wanted me to?” He asks, his purple hues locking your own.

You didn’t have it in you to respond directly, and the loud beating of your heart wouldn’t have let your mind come up with a good answer anyway, so you just opted for saying, “I could sleep in the hammock?”

“Fuck no.”

“So then?”

“If anyone’s sleeping on a hammock it’s me,” he says in a tone that suggests he won’t be swayed otherwise. “But I was thinking of just sharing the bed instead? It’s big enough, you’d probably need an Uber to get to the other side anyway.”

“Okay dummie,” you giggle, “pillow fort it is.”

“Don’t think you could stay away from me in your sleep? You flatter me,” he teased.

“I really couldn’t, you’re just so humble and handsome,” you play along, trying your damned best to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“If only you truly meant that,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?” You ask, not having heard him right.

“That you better not snore, songbird.”

“YOU better not snore,” you replied giggling.

“And if I do?” He asks.

“Then I’d have to do this,” you say, and he stands there clueless as to why you’re moving around in silence. Poor Suguru only remembered you were having this conversation by the pool after you had pushed him in, clothes and all.

As he resurged from the water, he just looks at you and smirks, his snake-bites shining in the bright afternoon. You knew he was up to no good, but you sort of felt guilty for pushing him in, so when he extends his hand towards you, you don’t hesitate to take it. Should’ve known you’d be drenched the next second.

As you swim back to the surface, you’re startled to find Suguru so close to you. It should’ve been obvious; he pulled you in, so of course you’d be close. You’ve been pining for this man for years on end, and every year you tell yourself it’s going to be the last, but when he pulls shit like this it’s easy to forget your top new year’s resolution for the past 12 years: to get over Suguru. But he doesn’t help! It’s not easy to get over your best friend if he’s your dream man incarnated, specially when he looks so fucking good with wet hair and a look of mischief in his eyes, with his lips merely an inch away from yours.

He noticed you staring, and it was driving him insane. It took every bit of his (very strong mind you) resolve to not kiss you right there and then and potentially ruin a friendship of over a decade. So, to stop it from going further he just splashed water at your face and started a water fight. He had hoped he’d be able to contain his feelings until the right time, but seeing as he gets worked up so easily even if you’re not trying to seduce him lets him know it’ll be harder than he thought.

About 2 hours later you both finally stopped trying to get back at each other and decided to go out for dinner. You took an awful long shower, which gave Suguru time to rent a bike for your stay, as he remembered how much you loved to ride it with him back when you were in college.

“Songbird! You done in there or are you trying to pluck all your feathers?” He called out teasingly, he knew how much you hated to be rushed, and he had a dirty little liking for working you up.

“Gentle reminder that I’m not a man and can’t serve without proper preparation,” you yelled back, going back to retouching your makeup.

“I’m not even going to comment on that,” he responds, realizing that you truly didn’t know how beautiful he found you, no makeup or prep at all. He’d love to argue with you about it, but admitting to stroking his fat cock for 2 hours straight after he’d seen you with the tiniest shorts and a sweatshirt (one you stole from him by the way) ready to go to bed a year ago wasn’t probably the best argument. But you couldn’t blame him right? After walking around Berlin he was physically and mentally exhausted, so he couldn’t really think better than to just imagine how nice it would be to get to see you like that every time as you walked to your shared bed before he could rearrange your guts goodnight, it’d make you both sleep better!

He was ready to go down that rabbit hole of a memory, but you snapped him away from his thoughts as you finally walked out of the bathroom with the prettiest dress he’s ever seen. Maybe that’s a vague description of your clothes, but you made everything look fucking great, he started to think you’d even look good with a trash bag.

“Staring much?” You ask, basking in his attention and quiet praise.

“I have every right to have a staring problem too you know,” he replies, referring to your little mishap at the pool.

“Oh shut up.”

He chuckles, and for the pure sake of annoying you, he texts you what he was going to say.

📩 Suguuu <3: come outside

“You do realize I’m right next to you right?”

📩 Suguuu <3: you told me to shut up

📩 Suguuu <3: who am i to say no to you?

“You’re so dumb,” you say as you hurry outside, trying your best to hide your blush from him.

You hear him laugh behind you, and you’re about to keep fighting him when you see a red Kawasaki Ninja, and all of your college memories flooded. You couldn’t conceal your smile as it all came back to you, and he takes this chance to speak up.

“You liking our sweet ride for these next 2 weeks?”

“This is fucking amazing Suguru, thank you,” you say as you look at him with the sweetest smile, and you’ve made him melt once again for this evening.

“Let’s get going then, Mykonos awaits!” And with that, you two go into the night looking for trouble, which in itself was scary to think about because it surely felt dangerous to be on this ride with Suguru, and not because he likes to speed, but because being this close to him, getting to wrap your arms around him and press your head on his shoulder, trying your damned best not to succumb to the intoxicating smell of his, made you wish you were riding him instead.

Unluckily for him, you've failed to notice the raging hard-on he sports every night you've gone out for a ride, he chalks it up to his ability to choose bottoms that make it easier to hide, but it really is just the mere fact that you both end up so flustered after those that you don't look at each other much past stolen glances the first couple of minutes, which gives Suguru the perfect chance to run straight to the bathroom to... decompress!

It’s been 1 week in Mykonos and you’ve both fucking loved it. Apart from all those times you’ve come awfully close to kissing or confessing, and ignoring all the damn tension, it’s been great. You spend your days strolling through markets or landmarks, then come back to the suite to hop in the pool and the end the day by clubbing somewhere, it is Mykonos's whole thing for a reason.

Today was a little different though. You were feeling the impulsivity that could only come from days being away from your reality, being with Suguru, the man that made anything and everything seem possible, and of course, the unspoken agreement of vacation, and even if the saying names Vegas, you're in Mykonos aren't ya?

“We should go to a nude beach today,” you say as you bite your koulouri.

Suguru nearly chokes on his yogurt. “A w-what?” He asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

“A nude beach! Wouldn't it be so liberating? And you know I've always wanted to,” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster, acting as if you wouldn't also be a mess if you saw him naked.

“Well, if there's nothing else you'd rather do,” he gives in, trying to think of what the fuck he'd do if he gets hard, it's already bad always making sure he's up before you to hide his morning wood, but a nude beach? God knows he couldn't even cover it up with both of his hands if he tried.

“Not at all,” you smile as you watch him get up to get ready, “I looove you.”

“Seems like you're trying to kill me,” he says with an honesty you weren't expecting at all.

“How so?” You ask innocently.

“You're gonna be the death of me, remember that.”

Shit, you remember other things too. The other night you two had a little too much wine, and while Suguru is usually suave and calculated when he's sober, when he's drunk you really get to see why him and Satoru are such good friends, it makes you see that they're both fairly unhinged, to put it some way.

Sure, in different ways, but unhinged all the same. At least, that's the best word you could find to describe what it was like to hear from your best friend's pretty lips that he’d eat you alive if you let him.

He said it so casually, so slurred and sweet, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would replay in your mind every time he looked at you a second too long. Like it wasn’t going to haunt you now, while you’re both about to strip down in public like it’s just another Thursday.

You don’t think he remembers. He laughed right after, laid his head on your lap and started telling you how the stars in Mykonos looked fake, like they were too pretty to be real, just like you. But you remember. You remember everything.

Now, as you stand on a rocky path down to the beach, your sundress fluttering in the breeze and Suguru beside you, trying to act nonchalant while adjusting the strap of his backpack for the fifth time, you feel the tension tighten. Not in a dramatic, movie-scene way—no, it’s worse than that. It’s subtle. Controlled. His silence is louder than any confession.

“I googled it,” you say suddenly, trying to fill the silence. “The beach. Apparently it’s, like, super secluded.”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Secluded is good. We like secluded.”

You hum in response. “Means no one will see if I trip and fall flat on my ass.”

He chuckles. “But I would see though, that’s more than enough.”

A few minutes later, you reach the sand—white, soft, hot beneath your feet. Suguru sets down your things and stretches, his shirt lifting just enough to expose a sliver of skin and the bottom edge of a tattoo you don’t recognize. Your eyes catch on it a second too long.

“What’s that one?” you ask, pointing to it before you can stop yourself.

He freezes. Then glances down. “Ah. That one’s… new.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of what?”

He shrugs. “Something that reminds me of you.”

And before you can press further, he takes his shirt of fully and it takes you a moment to register what the fuck you're looking at. As if it wasn't already hard not to stare at his muscular back, slutty waist, and broad shoulders, now you have to deal with looking at all of that and your favorite flower on his lower back.

Yeah, right where your hands are when he lays his head on your lap and wants you to comfort him. And you do so by just hearing him out and caressing his lower back, good to know. Good to know what the tattoo was.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, right before that part of his body could be covered up by the water he glanced back at you with a smirk, locking eyes for a second too long. Enough to put you in a trance that didn't even let you realize you had been staring at that damn direction for too fucking long.

“So you dragged me here to just sit by the shore with your clothes on?” He yelled, as he was fairly deep in the water.

“You didn't put up too much of a fight anyway,” you replied.

“Because I thought it would be even humiliation but you're sitting there like a princess while I'm completely naked.”

Before you could even process what you were doing, you took your shirt off, and put up a fucking show for him, it was only fair right? If he had you blushing every other sentence, you could fluster him by letting him see what he's allegedly been wanting to eat.

And fuck, you just made him hungrier after that.

You managed to swim and put the tension behind a barrier, even if it was fragile, and you two found a cove not too far from where your things were at.

The cove is half-shaded, half-glowing with the soft shimmer of the Aegean sun. The rocks cradle the space like it was made just for two idiots in denial, and the water here is calmer, like it knows something’s about to happen.

You float lazily beside him, your arms brushing every so often under the surface. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the ocean was trying to make you touch him on purpose.

“You're quiet,” Suguru says, voice low and a little breathless from the swim.

You shrug. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“That tattoo,” you say without looking at him, even though you can feel him looking at you.

He hums. “Knew you’d notice.”

You flick water at him. “You put it where my hands always are. Kind of hard not to.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that fills your lungs heavier than the sea.

“I put it there because that’s where you always are,” he says, so casually you almost miss it.

You blink, heart stuttering. “What?”

But he doesn’t answer. He swims a little closer, hands finding the edge of the rock behind you, his body suddenly close enough to cage you in without touching.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmurs, voice low, unreadable.

You nod.

“I lied the other night. When I said you were gonna be the death of me.”

Your breath hitches. “Oh?”

“I meant to say you already are.”

You can’t decide what happens first, your pulse skyrocketing, your stomach dropping, or the burning desire to kiss him so hard you forget every reason you told yourself you couldn’t.

But his lips are right there, and you’re both naked, half-drenched, and you’re fully ruined for anyone else—and you’re starting to think he might be too.

You swallow hard, not from nerves, but because it’s suddenly too quiet. The air shifts, the world narrows. His hands are still braced behind you, his body close enough that you feel the heat of him through the water, your knees occasionally brushing under the surface, sending jolts straight to your core.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” you whisper, trying to sound unaffected and missing the mark completely.

“Why not?” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours like he’s looking for the line between brave and stupid, safe and honest.

“Because,” you say, voice a little shaky now. “Because I don’t know what you mean.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you do.”

You try to look away, but his voice drags your gaze back.

“I meant it, y’know,” he says. “The tattoo. The flower.”

“Suguru—”

He leans in just slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough that your heart forgets how to beat properly.

“Every time you touch me there, it grounds me,” he admits, quieter now. “Even when I’m barely holding it together. Even when I want things I shouldn’t.”

Your breath catches. “Things like?”

He doesn’t say it. Instead, he lets the moment stretch.

The sun catches on the water between you. He looks devastating like this—dripping, golden, pupils blown just a little too wide to blame on the sunlight.

But then, as if he senses you need an escape route, he gives you a smirk, tipping his head back and letting the tension almost break.

“You still owe me for dragging me out here alone,” he says, voice back to playful, but his eyes? Still fixed, still dark, still hungry.

“Oh?” you manage, breathless. “And what exactly do I owe you?”

He shrugs, but it’s mocking. “Dunno yet. But I’m sure I’ll think of something by tonight.”

And with that, he pushes off the rock and swims a few feet away, leaving you stewing in the heat he left behind, mouth slightly parted, heart absolutely wrecked.

Coming back to the suite was something else. Sure, it was already bad having to share a bed with the man you've loved for so long, but today was just rough. Your glances seemed to last a little longer, if you walk past each other you're so awfully aware of your skin touching, so much so it feels electric.

For his “get back” he ended up taking you to a club, but this time he had laid out an outfit for you to put on: a cute little purple dress along with some silver heels.

“Suguru what the hell are you planning on doing?” You ask, trying to suppress your giddiness.

“Clubbing,” he says walking into your shared room with his fit on, and to your surprise he was wearing a button-down shirt matching your dress, alongside silver accessories to match your shoes.

He loves watching you dance, you look so happy and carefree, but he'd also be lying if he said that was all there was to it. He loved seeing you flaunt your curves without a care in the world, and even if he knows better than that, he likes to imagine that you're putting up a show just for him. So, why not let the Greeks think that you were his and only his?

“And is there a reason to be matching?” You ask.

“Yeah, it'll be easier to find each other if we're wearing the same color,” he says just to instantly realize how stupid that sounded.

“Like we're on a summer camp?” You giggle.

“Yeah. A summer camp, but now we won't have to give up or phones or try to hide the booze,” he chuckles.

So, you're off to the club. It's not the first time you're clubbing in this trip, but tonight is just different. After learning about his tattoo earlier and being the closest you've ever been to actually kissing him the tension is through the roof, and you'd think a club would be stimulating enough to let your mind focus somewhere else, but something about those colored flashing lights, his easy smile and his luscious hair going everywhere along his moves gave you goosebumps. It surely didn't help that now he was using every excuse to flaunt the tattoo he'd done an amazing job of hiding up until earlier.

The club is alive. Bass thrumming through your chest, lights flashing pink and violet like they’re syncing with your heartbeat. You’ve danced before, plenty of times. But never like this. Never with his eyes on you like this.

You weren’t expecting them to play it — the familiar swirl of ikaeotiotiko rising like smoke through the haze of the night. The DJ must’ve been Greek. Or brave. Either way, the mood shifts, the crowd parting slightly as people start forming loose circles, clapping into the rhythm, shoes sliding against the floor with practiced ease.

You’re mid-laugh when Suguru’s hand slides around your waist.

“Thought you didn’t dance,” you tease, breathless.

“I don’t,” he says, but he doesn’t let go.

The circle opens around you, and somehow you’re pulled in, your hands brushing against others, your body keeping time with the rising tempo. You spin once, then again, feet moving instinctively. The music builds. Quick.

You feel him again before you see him. Suguru at your back, steady and grounded while the world moves in rhythm around you. He doesn't grab you outright, but his hand returns to your waist like muscle memory.

When someone reaches out to join hands with you again, he steps closer.

“She’s with me,” Suguru says. Casual. Almost bored.

But you know better. His voice is strained honey, the smoothness so fake you know it's just trying to feign calm. His fingers tighten at your side, not enough to hurt, but enough to speak volumes.

You move faster. The music demands it. The steps get looser, sweat slicking your skin, your dress hitching a little higher with every spin. You’re glowing with it, the dance, the music, the heat — and you lean back into him, letting your hips graze his.

Suguru doesn’t back away. If anything, he braces you.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs into your ear, the beat thrumming through your chests as one. His mouth is so close to your skin, it feels like a kiss.

You smile without looking at him. “Maybe I like the burn.”

The music’s lifting now — that final run, that fast-breath, foot-stomping energy unique to ikaeotiotiko — and you let go. Let your body trust the rhythm. Let yourself press flush against him as the circle breaks into wild joy. But Suguru? He stays still behind you, like stone, like an anchor, his hand sliding lower now.

“Careful,” he breathes, “If you keep dancing like that, I’ll forget where we are.”

“Then maybe you should.”

That pause, thick with want, thick with years of unsaid things, lingers between you longer than the last note of the song. Even as the music fades and the next track bleeds in, he stays molded to your back. Possessive. Unmoving. Burned in.

You turn your head just enough to glance at him. “Possessive much?”

“Can you blame me?” he says, and it’s so honest, so fast, it makes your pulse skip.

The DJ switches to something darker, deeper. The kind of song that slows the room down and pulls bodies closer. Your hands find his shoulders, his settle on your hips. It’s instinct now.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But you also should’ve stopped a long time ago.

Your noses nearly brush as he leans in like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up.

You can’t breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, voice almost drowned out by the music.

He swallows hard. “I’m trying really fucking hard not to ruin everything right now.”

The way he says it, so raw and vulnerable, sends your heart crashing into your ribs. You want to ask why not ruin it? what if it’s already ruined? what if we’ve been lying to ourselves this whole damn time? But you’re trying to see if he'll cave in, but unfortunately your patience is dangerously close to boiling over.

So you smile instead. Force a little laugh. “You think dancing with me is going to ruin everything?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Wanting more will.”

At this point you're fucking fed up, the tattoo, the side comments, and now to top it off the fucking possessiveness. Your heart couldn't handle that much.

“Stop playing with me. You keep talking so sweetly to me and I know you're a sweet person but this has gotten so out of hand. You keep saying I'm the death of you, that I calm you in ways no one does, and you just rile me up so fucking much. It hurts Suguru, to have wanted to for so long and to keep wanting you and all you do is play around. Honestly I've kept quiet for the sake of our friendship, but it costs me too fucking much, and I can't take it anymore,” you confess, tears threatening to spill over.

Before you could think logically, you let your pride take over and ran out into the rain because it seemed like a better option than to let the man who's controlled your feelings for so long watch you cry over him.

Your inner turmoil doesn't let you realize that he was chasing you the whole way.

“Y/n wait! Fuck, come here,” he says out of breath.

“Haven't you had enough this past decade? What else do you want from me?!” You ask, looking at him through your tears.

“You didn't let me reply,” he says so easily, as if he wasn't holding you as you broke down, as if you both weren't getting completely drenched by the rain. “I have always loved you. Insanely so. You've always plagued my every thought, been the muse to all the art I've made, the force behind every one of my efforts, my partner in crime, my favorite voice to wake up to, the last person I want to see before I fall asleep.”

His hands cup your face like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough, but his touch is gentle. Careful. Like he knows how badly you’ve been hurting and hates himself for being part of it.

“I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose you. Not to distance, not to time, not to something I said too early or too late. I’ve had so many chances, and I ruined every one of them by keeping my mouth shut.”

You’re crying harder now, but you’re not backing away. You're just there, in his hands, trying to catch your breath as his confession keeps unraveling.

“I wanted to say something a hundred times on this trip. I almost kissed you on the bike, when you leaned into me and I forgot how to think. And again on the beach. And at the cove. And right now, I am so close to doing it I can’t even breathe.”

You blink up at him through the rain. “Then do it.”

Suguru pauses just long enough to make sure you mean it, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Please,” you whisper.

And he kisses you like he’s been waiting to. Not careful anymore, not calculated. Just full of every second, every day, every year he’s spent loving you in silence. You melt into him, fingers curling in his shirt, finally holding him like you’ve dreamed of doing a thousand times.

When you part, both of you breathless, soaked, and shaking with adrenaline, he rests his forehead against yours.

“No more waiting,” he murmurs. “I’m yours, okay? I’ve always been yours. I've even got a mark of it.”

You laugh softly. “About time, idiot.”

He grins. “I’ll take that.”

Needless to say, you don't take too long to get on going to the suite. It should've been a quicker trip, but with Suguru slamming you into walls every 5 minutes and kissing you like a man starved it made a 10min walk into a 40min one, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't play into every bit of it.

By the time you make it into your room, your skin is on fire, not even the droplets of water clinging to it can do anything to calm the burning sensation down. It makes you act as though coming in contact with his skin with every inch of yours might ease it, but it only makes it worse.

Suguru’s not holding up any better. Years of longing are pouring out through his lips, tongue, hands, cock, everywhere. He’s all over you, kissing your neck as struggles not to whimper, hands busy trying to take your drenched clothes off as he doesn’t let you an inch away from him while he guides you towards the bed.

“So have you thought about it?” He asks, his lips one inch away from yours as he holds both of your arms above you with just one hand.

“Suguru I haven’t thought of anything that wasn’t you since we got off the plane,” you reply breathlessly.

“I’m talking about my offer, or should I say request?”

“And what would that be?” You reply smiling, kissing his neck, feeling it vibrate as he chuckles.

“That I’d eat you if you’d let me,” he says, eyes now fully locked on yours.

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?” You ask startled, fully convinced you were the only one who kept that night alive through your memory.

“I remember everything songbird, so well that I don’t recall there being an answer.” He pauses just to look at you, and as he inches close enough where you can feel his breath on your lips he speaks up again. “So, can I?”

You don’t feel like replying verbally, so you opted for smashing your lips into his. Kissing him felt so right, far above the feeling you got from anyone else even fucking you. This kiss alone made you wish he took all of your firsts, and with how nervous he’s making you, it almost feels like you’re a virgin again. Close enough right?

He understood perfectly. His hands started going south, roaming through your abdomen and navel, getting a feel of all the skin he’s only ever allowed himself to look at. As he tries to stop his mind from going overdrive so he can please you the way he’s always dreamed of, he places wet kisses from your neck to your collarbone, sneaking in some bites and hickeys to pave down his newfound territory.

“F-fuck Suguru,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“That’s it songbird, don’t hold back. You’ve starved me long enough,” he says as he finally reaches your breasts. He takes one into his mouth, outlining your sensitive nub, as he moves one of his hands towards your other breast, taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, rotating it back and forth, the pressure and friction taking your soul out your body.

You feel yourself grinding into him, and he’s so big. So damn big, it’s obscene to even look at the tent in his pants, and you’re insatiable. You’re grinding on his drenched boxers, whether there was more moisture from your own dripping cunt or the pouring rain you didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter because either way it makes the fabric cling to him so deliciously, and it made your back and forth motion so much better.

Every roll of your hips sends a jolt through him, his grip tightening on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You hear his breath catch, low and sharp, just before he mutters something guttural against your skin — something you can’t even catch, but it makes your thighs tremble.

Somehow, he gets harder, and you feel his cock pulsate through the thin layer of cloth between you. You whimper loud, and he takes that as encouragement to keep roaming further. His hand finds its way to your wet cunt and starts taping it, quick enough to make you ache for him but not hard enough to ease your want.

“Are you really fucking teasing me after making me wait years for this moment?” You manage to get out, so overwhelmed by your physical state and emotions.

“If anything you kept me waiting this long, and for that fact alone I should be given a reward don’t you think? I want it to last forever,” he breathed out before circling your entrance, toying with your dripping pussy as you arched your back for him.

“S-sugu,” you moaned, desperate for more.

Your plea — that broken little whisper of his name — makes something primal flash in his eyes. Suguru’s jaw flexes, and his breath stutters against your neck as he finally presses two fingers against your folds, sliding them through the mess you’ve made of yourself. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of having you this way: spread out, soaking, and absolutely wrecked just from the friction and his mouth.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he growls, voice ragged. “You, desperate like this… begging me. Needing me.”

You can’t think. Can’t speak. Every nerve ending in your body is screaming for more, but he’s still just barely touching you, the pads of his fingers brushing your entrance, teasing you open but never pushing in. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s cruel.

“Then stop thinking,” you gasp, hips rocking up into his hand. “Just do it.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “So bossy when you’re this fucked out.”

And just when you’re about to snap — right on the verge of clawing at his shoulders and dragging him under you — he finally slides his fingers inside, slow and deep. It steals the air from your lungs, and your body tightens around him like he belongs there, like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this.

“I told you I’d make it worth the wait,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as he curls his fingers just right. “Now be a good girl and take it.”

Even if it's just 2 fingers it takes you to a whole other world. Suguru has always had a sixth sense for what you need and desire, and it doesn't surprise you that it translated over to bed. It takes him less than 30 seconds to find your sweet spot, and once he realized it he abuses it so deliciously.

"K-keep going Suguru," you breathe.

"That's my girl," he says as he keeps working you up. He loves to be in control, and he does it almost well enough that he's rutting into the bed, trying to find the friction you were giving him earlier in the mattress, and he thinks you wouldn't notice... but you did.

You don't know where you find the strength, but you manage to flip you guys over so you're on top of him now, and you're feeling like returning the favor. So before he can even guess what you're about to do, you take the hand he was just fingering you with and suck your slick off his fingers, then you take your tongue out and start dragging it from his chest all the way down to his waist without taking your eyes away from his, as he watches you hungrily through lidded eyes.

You waste no time in putting your hands to work, so fucking slowly. You drag your fingertips down his torso like you’re tracing a path you already know by heart — over the hard planes of his stomach, the twitch of his hips when you get too close, then back up just to hear the frustration in his breath.

“You’re really gonna tease me now?” he mutters.

You don’t answer, just smirk, letting your lips follow the trail your tongue blazed moments ago. Every inch of him tastes like salt and rain and something only he could ever smell like, so familiar and addictive.

When you finally reach the waistband of his boxers, you pause. Just enough to make him twitch. Just enough to watch the way his jaw tightens.

You glance up at him through your lashes. “If I kept you waiting all this time, don’t you think I should take my time making it up to you?”

He lets out a strangled groan, and his hand flies up like he’s going to grab something, but then he stops himself. Lets you stay in control.

That alone makes you ache.

You press a kiss right below his navel, slow and intentional. Then you hook your fingers into the waistband and drag it down, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully exposed and twitching against his stomach.

“Fuck,” he hisses, voice cracking as you wrap your fingers around the base of him, your thumb brushing the bead of precum at the tip.

You lean in, mouth barely grazing him, breath hot and teasing. “I want to see how much you can take before you lose it.”

"You're signing up for a long night then Songbird," he says, not even bothering trying to conceal how worked up he is.

Your adrenaline is going overdrive, and even as you’re trying your damned best to get it together to put on one hell of a show, your resolve is crumbling quicker than you’d like it to. You’re toying with his cock so painfully, licking his tip as you stroke him with one hand and cup his balls with the other, allowing yourself to revel on how hot, moist his dick is, and above all, how delicious his veins feel on your palm alone. If it was intoxicating here how bad was it going to be when he was actually inside you?

“S-shit,” he pants, giving in to the pleasure.

You wanted to keep him waiting, but his honeyed voice sounded so pretty breaking down for you, you decided you’d give him a reward! Instead of continuing to tease him, you actually took him in your mouth, and it was a delight to both of you. Feeling him twitch and keep leaking in your mouth made your cunt impossibly wetter, but you tried not to pay that much mind to focus on your task.

Having one hand free now, you opted for using it to caress your favorite flower inked on his back, the gesture making him buck violently into your mouth. You gagged, but that only made him more eager to take you. It truly didn’t take you much to turn your “reward” into further torture, the funniest part is that you didn’t realize it at all.

“This is g-gonna be so f-fucking embarrassing for me if I l-let you keep going,” he moans out. “Let me t-taste you instead.”

You intended on continuing sucking him off, but he pulled that same stunt you did, so you found yourself on your back once again at his mercy, and the glint in his purple hues told you you were going to get ruined for everyone else, now in a whole different area.

He dove right in your pussy as if you were the only oasis in the desert he had walked on for days. He was nothing short of calculated and intentional, but only Suguru could be those things while at the same time being desperate and so fucking hungry. He was lapping at your cunt as his nose pressed on your clit, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

“Suguru! F-fuck, don’t stop,” you moan.

He chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your core.

“Since you’re being so good for me, and taste so fucking delicious, I’ll give you a little gift,” he says, taking his tongue out your cunt just to softly blow on it, making you shiver, then put it around your clit and get his fingers back in it again.

To say you’re moaning would be quite offensive. You were screaming at this point, certain that everyone on the hill could hear Suguru’s name being yelled at the top of your lungs. Even taking all of this into account you were holding it up quite well, his skilled tongue along with his fingers at the same time is no fucking joke, adding on to the fact that your body’s been waiting for this for years.

And in just a moment you start feeling it, that pressure begging to be released pooling inside of you, and he feels it too, he knows he’s driving you to the edge.

“You want to cum pretty?” He asks mockingly, as if it wasn’t tearing him apart as much as it did you.

You nod frantically, unable to form a coherent sentence in the state he’s put you in.

“Shit baby, I can’t hear you. Guess you can wait a little hmm? You’ll get another chance to cum, don’t worry.” The fucker smiled as he said that repositioning himself so that he was centered right at your entrance.

Testing your patience, he started dragging his hard length through your folds back and forth, driving you both insane by feeling your cunt up with just his leaky, pretty red tip, overstimulated beyond belief with such brief touches.

“Always knew you were quite the tease but didn’t know you were a masochist Sugu,” you said impatiently, wondering just what you’d have to do to get him to put it in already.

“You really don’t know me at all, but don’t worry, you will soon enough,” he says, and before you can answer he goes balls deep in only one thrust, making you scream out his name once again at the sudden (but not unwelcome) intrusion.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says breathlessly, locking eyes with you as he locks you in a mating press.

You feel him hit all of your sweet spots without fail, as if he had mapped you out long before he even got to this point, all his thrusts erratic but never unintentional, he was determined to make sure you lost your mind just as much as him.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, the stretch of him inside you is overwhelming — thick, deep, perfect — and all you can do is hold on as he fucks you like he’s trying to brand himself into your cervix.

Your legs are folded tight to your chest, and he’s so deep it feels like he’s rearranging you. Every slam of his hips makes you cry out, makes your body arch against him, and when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight and fast, and your vision blurs.

“S-Sugu, f-fuck! I-I,” you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You can’t get it out.

“I know, baby. I know,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, his pace somehow rougher and sweeter all at once. “Let go for me.”

And it’s all you need.

You shatter.

The orgasm tears through you like lightning, loud and blinding, your whole body trembling as you clutch at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. And he doesn’t stop; he keeps moving through it, keeps dragging every last drop of pleasure out of you until you’re gasping for air and moaning into his mouth.

“Fuck— you’re squeezing me so tight,” he chokes, hips stuttering now, losing rhythm, chasing his own end.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, sloppy and desperate, as he finally lets go, burying himself deep with a guttural moan and spilling inside you in thick, pulsing waves.

For a moment, everything’s still. Just the sound of your uneven breaths, the weight of him on you, the rain still faintly tapping against the window outside.

Then he exhales a laugh, soft and wrecked, nuzzling into your neck.

“Guess we made up for lost time, huh?”

You smile, still dazed. “You think that was making up for it?”

His eyes flicker open, dark and gleaming.

“Right. Round two, then.”

And with that, it is safe to say you did not get any sleep that night.

The rays of the sun woke you up, and as your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you took a look at your surroundings, delighted to find you and Sugu’s body tangled up to the point where you couldn’t tell when your body ended and his started. You felt him flutter awake too, looking up at you with the most lovesick smile you’ve seen in all your life.

“You sleep good Songbird?” He asks in his raspy morning voice, sounding so fucking sexy.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years. You?”

“I think I’m doomed,” he confesses, as he grabs a strand of your hair to play with it.

“What do you mean?” You ask, growing concerned.

“I doubt that after tonight there is a way I’ll be able to get any sleep without you by my side,” he declares, so easily, as if he wasn’t accelerating your heartbeat with merely some words.

“You’re so silly,” you giggle, relaxing at his cheesy confession.

“I’m just being honest,” he says, caressing your face. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” you say, feeling how much you mean it.

“Can we please keep this going outside of Mykonos? I know I may have rushed it, but believe me when I say I meant every word I said out in the rain. I don’t want us to be a hook up, just a vacation thing. I genuinely want to wake up like this every day, getting to see your beautiful face and hearing your voice first thing in the morning. It would kill me to have done this and to go back and pretend like you’re not the love of my life and like I haven’t realized it yet,” he says without missing a single beat.

You reach up and place your hand over his, the one still cradling your cheek with such gentleness you know he means every word he just said.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you whisper, voice barely steady. “I want this… all of it. You.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow and devastating, the kind of smile that says finally.

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Then it’s settled. Mykonos was just the start.”

You nod, melting into his chest as he pulls you in tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you even as your heart soars.

And as the Aegean sunlight filters through the curtains and the sea murmurs softly outside, you fall asleep once again wrapped in his arms — no longer wondering what comes next, but knowing that whatever it is, you’ll be in it together.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Tokyo there are two close friends of yours arguing, which isn't surprising, but to think that it was about the two of you made it hilarious.

“Shoko I'm telling you, I know Suguru better than anyone, that fucker will keep pining after her like a lovesick ghost. You said the same thing about their trip to Berlin last year, why do you think this one would be any different?” Satoru asks, getting into yet another bet he fully expects to win.

“Because I just feel it, nothing screams more romance than a getaway at Mykonos of all places. Besides, this is the first trip where they've only had one bed to sleep in,” she explains, believing more and more in her conclusions as she gets the words out.

“Not buying it. It would take a life or death situation for him to cave in,” he says stubbornly. “But since you're so certain, it wouldn't hurt to bet on it, right?”

“You have no problem in reminding how little you care about your money huh?” She says, more than willing to give in once again, her pride taking over her better judgement.

“Just recognizing an opportunity when I see it,” he shrugs.

“Fine, ¥14,450 they'll come back a couple.”

“You're so on Shoko,” he says, grinning as they shake hands.

Needless to say, after you two came back and had diner with those two to update them on all, Satoru not only lost his ¥14,450, but also his pride, especially when Suguru kissed you right in front of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shoko sipped her drink smugly. “Told you. Mykonos equals love.”

Satoru groaned dramatically, slumping back in his chair. “Unbelievable. All it took was Mediterranean air and a single bed? You folded faster than Go Fish.”

Suguru just smirked, arm lazily draped around your shoulders. “You won't understand me until you're in my spot, Satoru.”

“You shut your traitor mouth,” Satoru muttered, pushing his plate away like the betrayal had ruined his appetite.

“You’re just mad because you lost,” you grinned.

“I’m mad because now I owe her money and I know she'll spend it on some wine she won't even share,” he said, gesturing to Shoko, who just raised her glass in victory.

“Correct,” she said. “And it’ll be imported.”

The night ended with Satoru dramatically Venmoing Shoko under the transaction label “This won't happen again.”

And you? You leaned against Suguru’s shoulder, already planning the next trip — two tickets, one bed, and no intentions of ever holding back.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #bxnfire #fluff #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #mutual pining #pining #friends to lovers #𓍯𓂃 bisque's summer bash collab #geto smut #geto fluff #geto yearning #teasing #yearning #geto x reader

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hxhhasmysoul · 3 days ago

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Are we now policing what people get moved by "using a formal tone when discussing a specific topic". The response is spot on, I dare say. I'm not sure what age group is the most represented in the user base but it doesn't matter. Both writers and readers hone their taste and thus their preferred writing style throughout life at their own pace.

What may be banal to you, OP, may be novel and eye opening to others as, and I will allow myself to say something truly obvious and banal, they are at a different point in their art appreciation journey and your experiences, journey and context* are not universal.

There is no shame in being moved by art, any art. That's what art is for, to move, to exist in that moment when it's perceived by others. While OP may have devoted more time in their life to acquaint themselves with less popular titles, not everyone has and there is no shame in that either. To make some more banal observations:

We all have only so much time and we prioritise it how we need or in ideal situations want to.

As long as we’re alive, our relationship with art will morph.

Outside of western canon I will mention the Pillow Book by Sei Shounagon. It’s a work of aesthetics as it is a work of meaning. I don’t find all the insights in it deep but I find the work supremely beautiful and enjoyable purely as an aesthetic experience and then there’s the added level of meaning. I read some other nikki and they also had this aesthetised quality, though Pillow Book hits different for me because I subjectively feel the author much more than the others.

As someone who beta reads as a hobby, I can share my experience of that. Editing, for me, is an exercise in removing my ego and trying to best serve the author and their work. That means meeting them where they’re at, helping them pull out the most out of the style they currently use even if it’s not to my personal taste. Recently I was beta reading for a zine and one fic just felt like it wanted to go the full aesthetic route. Like it needed to become this short vivid snapshot full of descriptions that are there more to paint a picture than to convey ideas. Some of it was purely beautiful and moving in that sense and there was no deeper meaning to it apart from the fact that beauty was being experienced by coming in contact with the surface level of the text. And I’m sure not everyone experienced it the same, not everyone resonated with this kind of beauty enough to have an experience at all. But some did and that’s a job well done. To continue my banal insights, no art is for everyone and art that is not for us has committed no crime, we do not need to justify our disinterest.

Another experience I will share is of there being a period in my life of working with small film festivals, reviewing films and watching like 80% of what was being released in my country regardless of how niche it was. Including watching quite a lot of so-called “arthouse” cinema and indie films. What I’ve learned from that is: “rare” means “rare” ; it has no bearing on quality. Some of those texts* were truly interesting on many levels. Some of them were: I went to film school and read philosophy 101. But while I found the latter tedious, especially after seeing so many of them, I know others resonated with them. To each their own.

In my country secondary school is this semi-prison, where I was locked for 6-9h a day with the same people without much variety, because I was assigned to a class which was made up of particular people. And I remember there being cliques based on interest and in those cliques there were these internal rules who was looked down on and why. Some of that was based on art (in the widest sense of the word) people enjoyed. Things like: we’re all listening to this music now, reading these works now, watching these films and those who don’t, those who don’t know them, those who don’t see how great and deep they are? Those are the other, the lesser, the unwashed and uneducated masses who “keep latching onto writing that has the superficial signifiers of depth and quality while lacking them on a deeper structural level“. Those who don’t understand and are unfit or too lazy** to understand.

Some of this mentality continued into higher education.

What the two experiences I described above, and several others, gave me was the freedom to thankfully mentally leave my secondary and higher education and move on with my life.

Tumblr users yearn for good writing; well used language that conveys a meaningful message.

I will also allow myself to communicate my point in a more understandable manner, as formal and bitchy passive-aggressive and condescending seems to be the tone of this discussion.

The fuck you know what “Tumblr users yearn for” or consider as “good writing”. Citation fucking needed on both these fucking claims. You want to do an understated “ad academia” with this “deeper structural level” shit? Where’re your statistical analysis bitch (gender agnostic use) of “Tumblr user yearnings” and the corresponding literary analysis of examples of what they perceive as good writing mapped to the “yearning” statistics. What methodology did you use to come to these conclusions? What was your framework? May I chance a guess that it was your subjective observation of a tiny snippet of Tumblr that you experience in your daily usage of the site filtered by your bias to see only the examples that confirm your opinions?

__________________

*I identify as a linguist, contexts is everything, everything is text

**see point one in my list of banal thoughts above, plus fuck me classist and ableist much. maybe a little intersectional leftism to spice up your analysis, some stepping beyond your comfort zone, expanding that methodology?

Tumblr users yearn for good writing; well used language that conveys a meaningful message. And yet your average tumblr user's idea of "good" writing is very secondhand. They know roughly what it looks like, what it feels like, but not really what it is. So they keep latching onto writing that has the superficial signifiers of depth and quality while lacking them on a deeper structural level

Just think of the prose that make tumblr users say "these lines go hard". All the poetry that tens of thousands of users treat like the most moving thing they've ever read. So much of it is nothing more than excessively elaborate and ornate writing (often with some crude Bathos thrown in) used to communicate ideas that are painfully banal or plain incoherent. Juvenile word spittle shaped in the mould of half remembered quotes from Shakespeare or Melville or Milton that most of this site just eats up because they don't care for any media beyond pulp-quality commercial works and the fanfiction derived from them.

We don't even need to touch on the painfully Anglocentric nature of this site's userbase because it isn't just ignorant of media in other languages, but of most works in English itself. And there's little point blaming the US* education system because even confined to the chauvinistically narrow body of work placed within the accepted "Western Canon", it's not difficult to find writing that "goes" much "harder" than Seven Deadly Sins Squidward

*where the majority of this site's userbase is from

#off topic #writing #i rarely come to tumblr these days #but thank you i really forgot about my life situation for a good hour writing this #i had fun #i don't care if op will find it good enough on any level

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norristrii · 2 days ago

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ALL OR NOTHING.

IN WHICH… how he would be as your teammate rival. (who secretly likes you)

featuring. Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton.

warnings. rivalry, rivals to lovers, idk ?

LANDO NORRIS

─── constant comparing: You joined the team and achieved more in one season than he has in years. It hurt. He hid it with jokes, but deep down, he was frustrated—and impressed.

─── passive aggressive: He’ll drop lines like, “Congrats. Must be nice to get it all handed to you,” even though he knew you earned it. It stings because he was jealous.

─── got weird when you beat him: If you place higher or make a smart move on track, he went quiet. Not cold—just… affected. Like losing to you meant more than losing points.

─── just teasing…or?: He teased you nonstop. Said you’re lucky, too confident, too shiny. But behind the banter? There was real emotion he didn’t know what to do with.

─── confessed at the worst time: One race, you both end up out after colliding. The team is upset. You argue. And then… “You came in and did in a year what I’ve been chasing for seven. I wanted to hate you. But somehow I just… didn’t.”

MAX VERSTAPPEN

─── thought you were overhyped: From day one, Max was skeptical. He saw the media buzz around your debut and thought you were just hype—flashy, fast-talking, and bound to fade by mid-season. “Let’s see if she survives one season," he said, watching your first out lap with arms folded, unimpressed—but watching all the same.

─── tried to ignore you: You beat him in qualifying early on. He said nothing. No handshake, no acknowledgment. But later, when you weren't looking, he lingered in the sim room and pulled up your lap telemetry. He told himself it was to “analyze the rookie.” In reality? He just needed to understand how the hell you were already that good.

─── refused to praise you publicly: When reporters asked about your growing success, he deflected. “Let her prove it over time.” But on team comms? You’d occasionally hear coded praise slip through: "Sector 2… clean. Not bad."

─── jealous when others hyped you up: When fans or journalists started calling you Max’s toughest challenger, his smile thinned. His body language shifted in press conferences, suddenly rigid. The next session? He drove like he was out to silence every headline

─── admitted it quietly: After a tense debrief, where you'd just barely out-qualified him again, the room emptied out. You expected a cold comment. Instead, he stayed silent, then finally said: “I hated that you made it look easy. Like I wasted years being careful.” You didn’t speak. He added—quieter this time: “Then I realized… I didn’t hate you at all.”

OSCAR PIASTRI

─── barely acknowledged your arrival: Oscar was always been reserved, but when you joined the team, he barely looked up. He figured you'd be fast, maybe clever—but still someone he'd out-race with calm calculation.

─── oddly fixated on your driving style: You noticed it during sim runs—he'd pause your data, replay your apex choices, then recreate them himself. He never said it out loud, but his way of understanding you started with your telemetry.

─── corrected you once, and hated it: During a strategy meeting, he publicly disagreed with your call. Later, he found you alone and said, "I wasn’t trying to prove you wrong. I just wanted to sound like I could keep up." the air between you shifted.

─── always races you clean, but just a little too close: You notice he never goes aggressive against you. Always leaves space. But his battles with you feel more intense than any other driver. Almost like he's chasing something more than a result.

─── flinched when you got hurt: After a minor crash, the team rushed to check you. Oscar stayed behind... until he thought no one’s watching. Then he headed to the medical room, peeked inside, and said: “Don’t do that again, you scared the shit out of me.”

CHARLES LECLERC

─── judged you harshly at first: Charles saw your rise as threatening. You were fast, fearless, and already drawing headlines. “She’s good,” he admitted once. “But she hasn’t been broken yet.” He believed true greatness came through loss—and waited to see how you'd handle pain.

─── felt exposed every time you beat him: When you started outrunning him, he wasn’t angry—he was rattled. You reminded him of everything he used to be before years of heartbreak dulled his spark. He avoided you after big wins. Quiet jealousy. Quiet awe.

─── raced you harder than anyone else: With others, he was clean. Precise. With you? Pushes to the limit. Wheel-to-wheel, late braking, side glances across the cockpit. He said it was competition. You knew it was something else.

─── shared brief moments that hit like thunder: After one qualifying session where you outpaced him, he passed you in the hallway and whispered: “That was beautiful.” You turned—but he was already gone.

─── found excuses to talk to you off track: Asked about setup tweaks he didn’t really need. Discussed race strategies as if your opinion mattered more than telemetry. Every conversation was him trying not to say the real thing: I trust you. I admire you. I think I’m falling.

CARLOS SAINZ

─��─ saw you as a challenge from day one: Carlos clocked your pace immediately and didn’t take it lightly. You weren’t just quick—you were clever, and that ticked every box on his threat radar. “She’s too confident,” he told his engineer with a smirk. Then you beat him in your second qualifying together. The smirk disappeared.

─── flirted with precision: Where others teased, Carlos was calculated. Compliments with bite: “Nice line through Turn 11… I almost used it myself.” The banter never felt casual—it felt like fencing with words, both of you pretending it wasn’t flirting.

─── tried to beat you and impress you at the same time: Late braking into turn battles, daring overtakes in FP1—it was all war, but you knew when he left just enough room, it wasn’t just good racecraft. It was respect. Maybe even care.

─── got possessive without realizing: When the team praised your setups more, he stayed quiet—but switched engineers mid-season. When another driver posted a photo with you, he liked it hours later, but unfollowed them quietly a week later. Carlos plays it smooth, but jealousy makes him messier than he admits.

─── nearly said it during a media storm: Rumors flew after one dramatic wheel-to-wheel battle. Pundits speculated teammate tension. In a quiet moment in the motorhome, Carlos looked at you, tired and maybe just a little unguarded. “I didn’t come here to fall for the person who’s beating me.” Then added— “But I guess you’re better at surprises than I thought.”

LEWIS HAMILTON

─── underestimated the emotional impact of you: Lewis welcomed you to the team with calm confidence. He’d seen rookies come and go. But when you started beating his lap times? His composure held… and cracked quietly beneath the surface.

─── watched, studied, remembered: You’d mention a setup preference once—he’d remember it weeks later. You joke mid-briefing? He quotes it under his breath during press. He says he’s focused on racing… but you live in his mental playlist now.

─── kept up appearances—but starts slipping: Always gracious in public. Smiles when you shine. But alone in the sim room, his fingers hesitate. You’re faster. His heart’s louder. His pride and feelings blur. “She is brilliant,” he tells his trainer. Then adds, quieter—“Too brilliant”

─── pushed harder when you challenged him: You beat him in Q3. His answer? A flawless overtake the next day, surgical and silent. Post-race, he hands you your helmet with a nod that feels… heavy. You ask, “Problem?” He shrugs. “Just learning what it feels like to lose to someone I care about.”

─── almost broke during a night flight: After a rough weekend, you're seated beside him on the team jet. Quiet. Tension simmering. He finally whispers: “You remind me of me before I was careful.” Pause. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stop wanting you to win. Even if it breaks me when you do.”

babsie radio ! quick headcanons, I’m starting to work on roommate! lando 🫶🏻

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #ln4 fic

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mikkies · 1 day ago

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「 AKO AY DAHAN-DAHANG NILILIBING NANG BUHAY PA. 」

Chance x Fem! Clothing Designer! Reader (no mentions of she/her)

warnings: none that I know of, but any mentions of itrapped should be a warning on it's on

notes: didn't know what to do with this since the nonnie didn't specify so I made it comfort fic for Chance (idk what possessed me). Again, Chance's characterization is thanks to @/telamonisms.

YOU THREAD THE needle without thinking, hands moving with practiced ease.

The cabin is quiet—only the gentle scrape of fabric and the subtle hum of power laced into your fingertips as your design takes shape.

A half-drawn coat begins to materialize on the mannequin beside you, unfinished and waiting.

He watches you from the corner.

Not intrusively. Never that.

Just… watches. Silently. His head tilted, shades masking whatever storm might be behind those eyes.

The low gleam of his clockwork headphones matches the silver glint of his skin, soft under the filtered cabin light.

“You're makin’ that for me?” he finally asks, voice smooth but teasing.

You don't look up from your sketchpad. “Depends. You gonna try and run off before the sleeves are done again?”

A quiet laugh—low, sheepish. It's not the first time he's done it.

He has a tendency to disappear, just before things feel too real. But he always comes back. Chance always comes back.

“I didn't mean to,” he murmurs, and the shift in his voice draws your eyes.

His cocky grin falters around the edges. He's standing straighter now, but his hands are clenched behind his back, as though he's holding something in.

Or maybe holding himself together.

You nod toward the chair beside your workstation. “Sit.”

He obeys without hesitation.

That’s something you’ve noticed about him—how quickly he listens when it's you.

Others have to push, pull, beg to get anything from him.

But you? You ask, and he’s there.

Always.

You glance at the fabric folded over your lap. “You never tell me what style you like.”

“Anything that makes me look good,” he says, quick and cheeky again.

You smile faintly. “You already do. That’s not what I asked.”

A pause.

Then, softly—like it slips out before he can stop it: “I liked the old suit. The one I wore… before.”

Before him.

Before everything.

You stop drawing.

He’s not looking at you. His fingers twitch, gripping the brim of his fedora.

You’ve seen him shoot with flair, strike with smug precision, play games with a laugh that covers how hard he shakes afterwards.

You’ve patched him up more times than you can count. But he never talks about before.

Until now.

“I kept wearing it even when it got torn. Even when it didn’t fit right no more. Didn’t want anyone to touch it. Like…” He hesitates.

“Like maybe if I kept it on, he’d still see me the way he used to.”

Your voice is quiet. “Did he?”

Chance goes silent.

You set your tools down and kneel in front of him, gently pushing his shades up to rest on his fedora.

His eyes—normally hidden—are glassy and uncertain.

“I’m not him,” you say.

“I know.”

“I won’t lead you anywhere you don’t wanna go.”

He bites his lip, trying to smile like it’s all just banter. “What if I do wanna go? What if I’d follow you anyway?”

You reach for his hand. “Then I’ll make sure it’s someplace safe. Someplace that won’t hurt.”

He looks at your fingers—calloused from sewing, glowing faintly with the hum of creation—and touches your wrist with the same reverence someone might give something sacred.

“…That coat you’re making,” he says, softer now, “you gonna put your mark on it?”

“Already did.” You gesture toward the embroidery on the sleeve. A tiny threadlike sigil, glowing just faintly.

He stares at it like it means the world.

You add, “So no one else gets to claim you again.”

He laughs, and it sounds like he’s finally exhaling.

“Damn,” he breathes, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder.

“Y’know, for someone that makes clothes, you’ve got a way of fixin’ hearts too.”

You hold him tighter.

Because you know the kind of love Chance gives—raw, loyal, doglike. The kind that lingers, even when it shouldn’t.

And you’ll show him that maybe, just maybe, this time…

He gambled right.

#* ∙ ✰ ◞ 미키 ✗ posts.#forsaken #x reader #forsaken x reader #forsaken x you #chance x you #chance x reader #chance #forsaken chance #chance forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken

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myaeworld · 1 day ago

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𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝘁 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗲

No content warnings!!

wc: ~0.7k

The doors swing behind you as you walk into the thrift store, turning your head to locate the carts. You had just moved here from a smaller town and decided that you would never survive without a new favorite thrift store.

You scan the area in awe. "This thrift is huge," you mutter to yourself. You walk through the aisles, pushing your cart and drifting your hand across the various fabric compositions of clothing, trying to decide where to begin.

After doing a quick lap around the store, unable to find the section you're looking for, you sigh and head back towards the shirts. You skillfully flip through each of the tops, taking one off the rack to scan it now and then.

You hesitate as you approach a girl searching the same rack on the other side. You silently observe her at a distance while continuing to flip through the clothes. You take in her auburn hair. It's pulled back into a messy bun. She's wearing Converse in dire condition. The laces of one lay lazily untied on the floor beneath her. Finally, you notice her vintage band t-shirt. Never heard of them.

When you inevitably begin to approach her, you keep your head down and focus on the clothing you're browsing. A shirt catches your eye. It's a graphic burgundy band tee, coincidentally the same band that the auburn-haired girl is wearing. It's adorned with a sharpied autograph, seemingly written by one of the band members. You pause for a second pull out your phone and google the the band along with the name signed across it. Sure enough, the name belongs to a member of the band. You glance up at her focused face.

You hesitate, pulling the shirt off the rack. "Excuse me?" You question, gaining her attention. "I think you'd like this shirt." You hand it over to the rack and her eyes dart across it. Her face lights up. By the time she notices the autograph, she's practically beaming. "This is a sick find, Thanks!" She smiles, awkwardly rubbing her neck with one hand as she holds the shirt up with the other. "No problem, I saw your shirt and thought you'd like this one." You responded, giving the same nervous energy.

You both blink at each other for a few quick moments, before you panick and ask something random to break the tension. "Uhm.., do you know where the accessories are?" You glance around, waiting for a response. "Yeah, uhm, I know this place is huge. For some stupid reason, they keep 'em in the very back. I could show you if you'd like?" She replies nodding towards the back of the store.

As you quietly walk together, she murmurs another question. "Did you say something?" You ask. "Sorry, I asked if you were into that type of fashion." She says, gesturing towards your outfit. "Oh, yeah! I like to keep my closet versatile, but this is my favorite style." She observed the few items in your cart, almost as if she was looking for something. You brushed it off as a curiosity.

When you reach the accessories, you thank her profusely. "No problem, if you need help with anything else you can probably find me in the t-shirt area again… Or you can just ask an employee." She added, unintentionally making you laugh. Her cheeks tint a flushed pink. "Thanks again." You add before turning around, and walking towards the bags.

After spending some time collecting other clothes and trinkets from practically every section, you head towards the checkout. In front of you was the girl, waiting for her items to be bagged. When she finished paying she noticed you and turned around. You pretended to have not seen her, looking down at your phone. Your plan is almost immediately foiled as she walks up to you and begins to speak. "I found some clothes that I think would match your style." She says softly, handing you the bag. You take a look inside and gasp. "Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You didn't have to!" You exclaimed excitedly. She shrugged the action off, but you swore your heart skipped a beat when she smiled widely at you.

The unamused clerk tapped his fingers on the counter and boomed. "Next." She glanced back at the clerk and said a quick goodbye as she walked out of the store, her bags in hand.

At that moment, you knew you'd found your new favorite thrift store.

part two? :p

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie willams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff #fluff #modern au

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natsswife · 1 day ago

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fwb nat x fem!reader

something silly i wrote while listening to naked in manhattan<3 also im literally out of inspo rn HELP send ideas or sum PLSS

summary: nat broke the silent agreement of not falling in love w u:((

cw: mention of drugs, kinda suggestive, kinda toxic nat(?, oblivious reader, lmk if i missed smth!!

notes: def not my best work but i mean it when i say im out of inspo, writers block hitting too hard nsjkdksjd

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

༘⋆ it all started with an innocent kiss during some party, you and nat were both wasted and almost didnt know what were doing

༘⋆ except for nat who for some reason got sober out of nowhere as soon as she realized that ur lips were on hers!! was almost hard for her to tell that it was real but oh boy seeing the girl she has complicated feelings for (love for sure was one of them) made her world upside down

༘⋆ the next morning was kinda awkward, the way u were very VERY oblivious/ignorant of what happened last night made her hopes go down instead, or well atleast that was what nat thought

༘⋆ but what she didn't expect was for you to drag her behind the bleachers after a match and question her on everything that happened last night

“i have a feeling that i- we kinda fucked up last night right? tell me everything nat or im breaking with u” fucked up??? That's what you call a long make out session with her?? it amazed her the way you didn't notice how that wasted kiss almost changed her life while u were there thinking that it was a MISTAKE????

༘⋆ after she told you everything nat could swear she noticed the way you were kinda happy? with everything that happened? after almost telling her that it was a mistake, you're now suddenly kinda curious about it, asking for details AND asking if you could do it again?

༘⋆ but who is nat to reject you and your brought from heaven lips??, so of course she kissed you again, this time longer, kinda messy but full of love (from her pov), careless that jackie or someone might be near and see u both, if you wanted to retrieve what happened last night she will make sure the job will be done ten times better than before!!

༘⋆ it almost turned into a routine, everyday, behind the bleachers, after a noisy jackie left because one day she almost caught you kissing and Nat being hands deep in your bra, till one day you made sure your parents left for 2 weeks and invited her over, everyday, after classes, till midnight.

༘⋆ those 2 weeks for you both were the best of the best, the sloppy makeouts, the way you let her touch your body, how you let her be the top and take care of everything, but for nat were something more, she knew that all this was just some silly extra friendship activities because all the mornings after in school you were still treating her as your “bestie” but her heart was taking another direction, she started to enjoy it way too much for her liking, she hated the way her heartbeat increased every time the bell rang and you, like any other day, came to her desk, wait for her and then walk to your home and start the same “we are probably fucking up our friendship but oh god does it feels good” routine

༘⋆ but what she hated the most was that horrible feeling every time she watched you spend too much time with lottie, hated the way during lunch you ditch her and instead run up to lottie and spend the whole break with her instead of your “best friend” , the way sometimes you make your conversations about perfect charlotte mathews and how she’s a badass on field, has a lot of money, and how she gifted you some of her expensive jackets that she "swears goes very perfect with your cute style” and especially how you started wearing them almost everyday.

༘⋆ was it jealousy? maybe but nat wont accept it, anddddd wont accept that after seeing you spend a lot of time with lottie she started bad talking about her with you

“did you hear that rumor that lottie is using dirty ways to get clothes?”

“ I mean I'm no one to criticize her ways, but if she has a lot of money then…”

“ do you think lottie do drugs but the heavy ones? kevyn told me that he saw her taking some big white pills a few days, and let me tell you that those are the hard kind”

“also do you think that's the reason she’s so good on field? i heard theres some drugs for that”

༘⋆ especially wont accept how happy she got when after hearing the last one about lottie being on hard drugs you started to see her less often, now you're all for her again!! now there's no lottie or another disgraceful presence taking you away from her.

༘⋆ but nat should have know better, should’ve expected that having you, such a beautiful person, will always attract someone, and now there is no one else but her damn captain, jackie, someone nat knows cant mess with…

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

Do not translate w/o permission, copy or use for ai training, train your useless brain instead<3

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fic #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x fem reader #yellowjackets s3 #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x fem reader #yellowjackets x fem!reader #natalie scatorccio x fem!reader #natalie yellowjackets #sophie thatcher #sophie thatcher x you #sophie thatcher x reader #sophie thatcher x fem!reader #sophie thatcher x fem reader

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strawbrrychan · 2 days ago

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your side; hwang hyunjin

pairing; hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, highschool au

warnings: cheating, cursing, suggestive themes, panic attacks

word count: 5.5k

a/n: ITS FINALY HERE!!!! i went through a several year long writing slump,, but im finally back!!! thank you guys for the support and i hope you enjoy this as much as i did!!

Growing up with Hyunjin, you could only remember good things - if anything at all. When you were little, the two of you were practically connected at the hip. Whoever was around would quite literally have to peel you off of each other- you both cried every time. Your parents had become friends quickly, thus making you and the blonde the same way. You had played at each other’s houses all the time, watched shows while eating gummies, bathed together, and did whatever else your little imaginations would bring you. If you had baby photos, it was guaranteed that Hyunjin was in at least half of them. It was always “you and him against the world”, you remember promising him. Not much changed throughout primary school, your seemingly endless playdates at the park continued. When middle school rolled around, you got closer- sleepovers every weekend, study sessions which turned into tickle fights, and movie marathons was more than regular for you. And even with high school gnawing away at you, you still managed to pull your way through with him at your side.

Hyunjin was known well for his good looks. He’s practically a walking wet dream as a high school student. You didn’t think there was a girl who wasn’t head-over-heels for him at some point, he’s just that beautiful. Every year there were at least three girls that approached you, asking if Hyunjin was interested in a relationship, or what his ideal type was like.

Thus, at the beginning of your junior year, Hyunjin had managed to have his eye on someone.

“She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Hyunjin asked you with a tired face, the early autumn breeze swirling around your bodies as you entered the school building. “Who? That girl you like? What’s her name…” you trailed off, searching the depths of your mind to remember. Hyunjin mentioned her a lot, but you could never seem to recall it. “Minhee,” he reminded, his voice lowering so no one could hear him. “Thank you,” you nodded, hoping you’ll remember her name at some point.

She was tall; taller than you at least, with short brown hair around shoulder-length. She had gorgeous, shimmering brown eyes and a sharp nose too. Her skin was like porcelain; pale, and practically untouched. She was borderline flawless. Everyone you knew had a crush on her at some point. There was never a time where you didn’t hear Minhee’s name buzzing around the halls. She was pretty, and she was popular - everything you could want in a girl in high school.

And yet, with cold autumn breezes fading into the bitter frost of late October, Hyunjin had already devised a plan to ask Minhee out by the end of that semester. You loathed the idea wholeheartedly, never really trusting her even as she grew closer to not only Hyunjin, but to you as well. Although Minhee treated you kindly, you couldn’t help but be slightly wary of her.

He was going to take her to an ice skating rink, and then get them both coffee from her favorite shop nearby. “That’s the most important part,” he told you. You loved how observant and considerate he always was, picking up minor details that any other person would have deemed insignificant.

Hyunjin called you that night, preparing for his date with the girl. “My little baby is all grown up!” You laughed, sneering at your camera. What he wore wasn’t anything special, considering the bitter cold knocking outside your warm homes. But Hwang Hyunjin could make a potato sack look good, so it didn’t matter much. “Do I look okay?” He stressed, standing in front of his phone, looking at himself. He wore a black turtleneck with dark blue jeans, and a grey wool button down coat on top. His hair was its usual style; half of it tied into a loose ponytail with the rest of it resting above his shoulders. You stared at him for a moment, frowning. “What?” He asked, fear written all over his face. “Do I look ugly? Is the coat too much?” You couldn’t help but laugh at this, how he could even think for a moment that he, the one and only Hwang Hyunjin, could look ugly.

“I’m teasing you,” you said after calming your laughter. “You look amazing. Minhee’s gonna love it.” You smiled. “And regardless, its cold out! We can’t have our little baby getting sick!” You watched his face intently, his sweet eye-smile showing its way through the screen.

“Okay, I have to leave now.” Hyunjin announced, picking up his phone and holding it closer to his face. “I’ll tell you how it goes!”

“Have fun,” you smiled again, “Don’t get her pregnant!” You teased, before hanging up.

Hyunjin huffed, shoving his phone into his jacket before ushering himself out of his house and to the car. He flopped into the driver’s seat, typing the directions to his date’s home. He turned to look at himself in the rearview mirror once more, before shoving his keys into the ignition and driving down the street. It only took him a few wrong turns and a handful of short stops to reach her house. He smiled at the thought of being with her for such a long period of time. His phone buzzed once more, Minhee telling him that she was on her way. He smiled at his screen, quickly lifting his head to meet Minhee. She walked in an unbuttoned pink sweater over a white t-shirt with a rose bush on it, as well as light washed jeans and a pair of white boots. A pink beret sat neatly on top of her head, pulling the look together. Hyunjin exited the car quickly, meeting his date at the bottom of her stairs.

“You look wonderful,” he smiled down at her, guiding her to the opposite car door, opening it for her. She smiled, thanking him and sitting in the passenger’s seat. He joined her in the car, pulling out of the driveway and making their way down the street.

A few bruised butts and trips over the other person (and a few other skaters), their time spent at the ice skating rink was up. With shared laughter and light brushes of hands, they made their way into the dimly lit streets. Hyunjin’s body shivered, snowflakes finding their way into his hair as he sauntered down the street. “It’s so pretty like this,” Minhee spoke, her warm breath escaping her mouth and floating away with the wind. Hyunjin nodded, a smile forming on his face as he watched her. His gentle footsteps began to taper, leading him to a complete stop before he took out his phone. He pointed it towards his date, snapping a few photos of her admiring the setting. Hyunjin brought his phone down again, studying the photos he took with a small grin forming on his lips. “Hey!” Hyunjin’s head shot up, his eyes meeting a very upset Minhee. She jogged over to him with a playful smile on her face, a tinge of pink at the end of her nose from the bitter frost surrounding them. “You were just gonna leave me walking like that?” She laughed, peering over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. Her face softened, studying the candids he took of her. Hyunjin lifted his eyes slowly, drinking in Minhee’s features. He never noticed the light dusting of freckles across the apples of her cheeks, or the small beauty mark on the tip of her nose. He could feel his face heating up, the realization of the proximity of their faces finally processing. He swore his heart would’ve bursted out of his chest if it weren’t for his ribcage shielding it. “Its so cold, let’s find that coffee shop, yeah?” Hyunjin smiled, praying his voice wouldn’t falter. He began walking again, slipping his phone into his back pocket and wrapping his opposite arm around Minhee’s significantly smaller shoulders.

Minhee let out a small huff, with a cloud of steam following it as they continued walking to the coffee shop in the distance.

Hyunjin rubbed his arms vigorously, following Minhee inside. A small bell chimed, notifying the worker at the register that more customers had come in. The cashier’s head lifted above the pastry glass, a soft smile forming as the couple approached it. “Can I have a small iced americano please?” He asked, taking a step back for Minhee to see the menu, looking around. “And can I have a small matcha latte with steamed milk please?” The cashier nodded, typing in their order. Hyunjin payed for their drinks, and walked over to where Minhee sat. The walls were a soft pink, complimented by streaks of brown and white. Hyunjin watched Minhee, as she stared at the gentle white flakes whirling in the wind.

“Are you enjoying yourself at least? I hope I’m not boring you!” A sheepish smile crept onto his face. “Of course I am,” she replied, smiling directly at him. “I’m with you.” Hyunjin could feel a gentle blush crawl up his neck and onto his face. “I-I think they just called our drinks,” he said quickly, “I’ll go get them.”

Only a few hours later, you could’ve sworn someone died. Your phone was vibrating non-stop, interrupting the show you were watching. You snatched it off of your nightstand, staring at the screen for a moment. You tapped on one of the notifications, opening the continuous messages flooding your screen.

Hyunjin was telling you all about how he and Minhee were a couple now.

His excitement made you unbelievably happy. You smiled, typing a just as enthusiastic reply.

A small, melancholic smile crept onto your face.

But you knew how badly your best friend wanted this.

Just about a year had passed, and the familiar white snow was coating the ground once again. A cold shiver went down your spine as Hyunjin approached you in the bustling hallway. “Christmas is soon, what do you think I should get Minhee?” He asked you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was so warm. You still didn’t trust her much, but you learned to endure it. It was probably just petty drama from the year before. “Why don’t you get her some sexy lingerie? We all know you’ll get a rise out of it,” you nudged at him, snickering. You watched the way his eyes went wide, and a bright pink hue brushed across his face. The laughter bubbling in your throat only increased at his reaction. “..you’re not wrong,” he half agreed with you once your laughter calmed down a little bit. “But seriously, has she mentioned anything she’s wanted to see or something recently?” You asked, making swift strides with the boy still at your side. You and Hyunjin had made an agreement ages ago, to not get gifts for each other for Christmas, since the other always managed to get to it before it was actually time to gift them. “Actually, there was! She posted a ring she really wanted on her Instagram,” he recalled. “Isn’t it super expensive though?” You cringed, thinking of the price. It was pure diamond, nearly $1,000. Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s for Minhee though,” he reminded. He knew he could afford it. “I swear, im gonna marry her someday. I love her so much.” He was grinning like an idiot in love, which wasn’t too far off from the truth. A moment of silence passed before you spoke again. “If you’re willing to spend that much, then do it! I think she’ll love it,” you replied. He smiled at you, but more gently. There was a look of gratitude behind it. “Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.” You could hear the way his sincerity practically oozed from the way he spoke. Your heart squeezed at his words.

Hyunjin invited you back to his house after school, where you chased his chihuahua Kkami around the house for about an hour before flopping yourself onto his bed in exhaustion. Kkami followed you soon after, placing himself at the foot of his owner’s large bed. Hyunjin was sat comfortably next to you, unbothered by your stray limbs sprawled out around him. He was scrolling through the website that sold the ring Minhee wanted. “You’re really gonna buy it?” You leaned over him, looking at his screen. he shifted his position for what felt like the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. You couldn’t tell if it was from stress, or your palms digging into the mattress right next to him. “I want to, I’m just scared that she won’t like it,” he stressed, turning to you, who was now comfortably curled at his side. “Hyun, she literally said she wanted it,” you rolled your eyes at his doubt. Hyunjin smiled at the newfound nickname you’d given to him. “There’s nothing to worry about. She’s gonna love it.” He sat there, staring at his screen in thought for a few moments. Suddenly, his arms flung in the air. “Okay, I’ll buy it!” He declared loudly. Kkami’s head flew up, glaring at you and Hyunjin. “Sorry Kkami,” he reached over, patting the dog’s head to ease his poor nerves. He huffed, readjusting his position and facing away from the two of you, falling asleep as quickly as he sat up.

You were on your way to class when you heard an all too familiar voice behind you. Your head whipped around, searching the sea of people for the jogging boy’s face. He hopped his way up to you, ending with a dramatic huff and pose with his har falling in his face. You smiled as you continued your walk to your upcoming class. The blonde brought his hand up to rake his fingers through his hair before speaking.

“Are you going to Sana’s party tonight?” He asked, watching people pass your figures as you sauntered down the hall. “Only if you will,” you shrugged, not caring much for parties unless you had familiar company. “Okay! I’ll pick you up tonight and we’ll go together, deal?” He clapped his hands together, like a child opening gifts on their birthday. “What about Minhee? Is she coming?” His head perked up at the sound of his girlfriend’s name. “She said she’d meet me there,” he stopped moving, reaching the door of your class. You gave him a confused look, waiting for him to continue. “She’s getting ready with Ryujin and Mina.” Your lips formed an o shape, nodding your head slowly in acknowledgment.

The end of your day went by smoothly. you huffed, dumping your remaining supplies into your locker, considering they’d be deemed useless during your winter break. Hyunjin greeted you right on time in front of your locker, leaning against the one next to it, watching you closely. You slammed your locker closed and slung your backpack over your shoulder before making your way out of the school with your gorgeous friend behind you. “What are you wearing?” He asked, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “To the party I mean,” he corrected himself. “I figured you meant that,” you said turning to him, plopping yourself into the passenger’s seat. “But I don’t know yet.” You sat for a moment thinking over your options. “I might just go in a sweater and some pants.” You shrugged. You were never really a party person anyway, nor did you really care enough to make yourself look over-the-top gorgeous for people you didn’t know. It’s not like you had that kind of attire anyway.

You decided on something simple to wear. It was a Christmas party after all. Downstairs, you could hear your front door close.  “Y/N! I’m here!” Hyunjin called from the bottom of your stairs. You gave yourself one last look-over and decided you were ready for the party. You were greeted by Hyunjin’s lean figure at the door as you came down the stairs - looking flawless, as always. He smiled at the sight of you. “Ready?” He asked, grabbing the keys from his pocket. You nodded quietly, the two of you exiting your house together.

On your ride there, you could only think about how lucky you got with your friend. He was gorgeous, and unbelievably kind.

So why did he take such an interest in you?

The drive was short, only about five or ten minutes. You probably could’ve walked, but it was far too cold to go in what you were wearing. Different colored lights could be seen through the house’s windows, shining onto the lawn occasionally. It was huge. As you and your friend walked closer to the party, you could hear the buzz of conversations and music from inside. There were a few people littered in the yard, speaking quietly to one another.

Hyunjin swung open the front door, the smell of booze and people hitting your face like a train. It was so strong.

People greeted you and Hyunjin kindly, giving smiles and hugs. You didn’t know a lot of people there, but you at least knew the host.

The house was a maze, so you decided to take a seat on one of the empty chairs in the living room and scan the room. Most people were dancing, some were already blacked out. You grimaced, turning away. The party only started a few hours ago.

“Hey Y/N!” a girl’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was Sana. She smiled at you, pulling a chair closer to you. “How are you?” You asked, rather loudly. It was hard to hear your own thoughts when the music was so loud. “I’m pretty good, are you liking the party so far?” She shouted back. Your loud conversation continued for a while, until someone called Sana away. She smiled at you, disappearing into the crowd. More people came and went, making small talk with you before walking away again. Is this what parties are like?

You let out a sigh of near boredom. With a huff, you stood up.

You tried to make your way through the sea of people to the kitchen, where very few people lingered around the white marble counter. The music was quieter in here, easier to talk to people that way. There was a huge bowl of red liquid in the middle - presumably punch - and it reeked of alcohol.

You’re at a party, might as well get a little tipsy, right?

You reached for the stack of red cups and poured yourself a cup. Pieces of strawberries and cherries floated on the surface.

You recognized some of the people in the kitchen, looking around as you took a swig from your cup.

One of them was Hyunjin’s friend, Jisung.

“Hey Ji! How are you?” You smiled, walking over to him. He was talking with Changbin - another one of Hyunjin’s friends as well. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Y/N! Its been so long! It’s great to see you.” He said, wrapping you in a tight hug.  “Hey, Y/N,” changbin smiled, watching you being crushed by jisung. when he let you go, you tried to catch your breath. Jisung doesn’t know how strong he is. “Jesus, you’ve gotten so much stronger since I last saw you.” you smiled, looking at his insanely large arms. “I’ve missed you guys so much!” You said, hugging changbin. The leather of his jacket made you shiver.

“Did you just get here?” Changbin asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, a little while ago. I haven’t really seen anyone I know, so im glad I ran into you guys.” You smiled sheepishly. “Is everyone else here?” You were referring to the rest of their shared friend group. Changbin nodded, taking a sip from the can he held in his hand.

“Did you show up with Hyunjin?” Jisung started. You nodded, wondering about where the boy had run off to. You were only there for about an hour or two, and you’d only seen him when you entered together. “Yeah, im surprised minhee wasn’t insisting that they get ready together.” You tried to suppress your eyes rolling in annoyance.

“Maybe she wanted to surprise him with her outfit, girls do that, don’t they?” Jisung shrugged. “I guess, maybe im thinking too much into it.” Jisung and changbin nodded in agreement. “It was great seeing you guys, i’ll see you later,” you smiled, walking back into the sea of bodies.

More dancing. More booze. More laughter.

You finally ran into Hyunjin, after seeing him once since you arrived at the party. He said he’d been looking for Minhee. You didn’t know what she was wearing, making it harder to spot her in the house of people. you promised him you’d look for her. He frowned at your response, turning away to continue searching.

Many hours into the night, you found yourself a bit buzzed, mixing into conversations like it was nothing. You found yourself with Minho and Seungmin discussing who the hottest people at the party were.

You were way too drunk for this.

You reached for your phone, but its battery was dead. Of course.

You stood up, walking into the kitchen to find someone to take you home. minho called for you once, but gave up quickly. Luckily, chan was propped against the sink, staring at his phone.

“Can you take me home? Im really drunk.” Your words came out in one string of sounds. You were barely coherent. He looked at you with soft eyes. He nodded, wrapping an arm around you to keep you upright. “Where’s Hyunjin?” He asked, looking around.  “my phone is dead, I don’t know.” You mumbled.

As you walked, you looked around the living room again, seeing at everyone. So happy. So carefree. Your eyes lazily scanned some faces until you finally caught a glimpse of an all too familiar one.

Minhee, in her champagne dress, giggling away. She was making her way to the stairs, sneaking away from the rest of the party.

“Wait…” you said, looking at the scene. Something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly.

Chan swung open the front door, the frosty air hitting your body immediately. Goosebumps covered every inch of your skin. By the time you were in his car, your whole body was shaking from the cold.

“Here,” he said, reaching into the back seat. He draped a hoodie over your shivering body, hoping to warm you up. you smiled at his attentiveness. “Sorry it’s not much. You’ll be home soon.”

You thanked him in a whisper as he pulled onto the street.

You don’t remember much else from the night.

Hyunjin let out a sigh, closing his bedroom door and kicking his shoes off. He never found Minhee at the party. He texted her numerous times throughout the night, but all of them were left unanswered.

He was shocked when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. It was minhee.

“Hey,” he answered urgently, worried sick about her. “Where were you all night? Why didn’t you say anything?” He spoke again.

He was met with a sigh, and Minhee’s beautiful voice.

“Hyunie babe, can we talk?” Her voice sounding so sweet and kind. “I’m not doing this with you anymore. Can’t stand you, actually.” She sighed.

“What?” hyunjin’s voice was small and weak.

“Oh, how naive you are. You really couldn’t tell? Hyunjin, you mean nothing to me.” She smirked into the phone, her words spilled through it like poison. “But thanks for the sex and all the cash, I guess. this’ll be the last time I talk to you. So bye! Oh, and delete my number too-” The phone call ended with a click. He couldn’t listen to another word from her. he could feel a lump gather in his throat, and his eyes burn quickly.

Soon after, almost immediately, a video appeared in their messages. It was short, but more than long enough for him to realize what was happening. He heard her moaning - screaming even - another guy’s name. He could see her face so clearly.

He covered his mouth, trying so desperately to suppress his sobs. How could someone he loved so much do such an awful thing to him? Did he deserve it?

You awoke with a start, your phone buzzing incessantly on your pillow. Chan plugged it in for you when he took you home.

Not bothering to look at who was calling, you brought the phone to your ear, mumbling a lazy “hello” into it.

You were met with sniffling and choked sobs. The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

“Hyune?” You asked, sitting up. “Hyunjin, is that you?”

You were met with more sobs before a response. “Minhee..” He spoke, his voice shaking. You didn’t say anything, hoping he’d say more.

Then the four words that felt like poison filled your ears.

“She cheated on me.”

That’s when you remembered part of the party. When you were leaving, you saw Minhee going up the stairs. Is that what this was about?

“Hyunjin, I’m so sorry. That’s horrible. Should I come over?” Your words were laced with pity. Hyunjin didn’t answer. more sobs.

Without another thought, you slipped on a pair of shoes, and left the house. Hyunjin only lived up the block from you.

“Im coming, hyune,” you said promptly, throwing your phone in the passenger seat of your car. You turned the key and pulled out of the driveway with one swift move. Within a minute you were at his front door. the driveway was vacant, besides his black car in the back.

By this point, your phone was off and he wasn’t on the other end of the line.

You tried the door without thinking, knowing his house too well. It was locked. A pang of fear struck though your body. That wasn’t like him.

Being at his house constantly, you knew where the spare key was and snatched it from its hiding spot. You flung the door open, running through his house to find him.

“Hyunjin?” You called out loudly, your voice bouncing off the quiet walls.

You could hear his faint sobs across the house. “Hyunjin!” You yelled, running to his room.

He was screaming.

Not crying.

Actually screaming.

You opened the door gently, trying not to startle him. the lights were off and he was sat between his bed and the wall, curled into himself. your heart shattered at the sight.

“Hyune..” You started gently, walking over to his corner. He was still in his clothes from the party, just.. more disheveled. You sat down next to him while he held his head in his hands. he refused to look at you.

“Hyunjin,” you placed your hand on his back, rubbing slow, gentle circles into the fabric.

“What did I do wrong?” He sobbed, gripping his hair at the root. It looked like he was going to rip chunks out. You could feel his shoulders tremble with every sob that ripped itself from his lungs. The sobs turned into loud, labored gasps. He was spiraling.

“Hey, hey, look at me hyune.” You said, grabbing his hands gently. His glossy bloodshot eyes finally met yours.

“Breathe with me,” you said, taking in slow, deep breaths, trying to convince Hyunjin to follow. Eventually his breathing slowed and his sobs were reduced to quiet sniffles.

“what happened..? Can you tell me?” You spoke gently. He didn’t respond. He stared at you for a moment, before handing you his phone with a sigh. The screen displayed the final messages between him and Minhee. There, a video waited. You played it, and stopped it immediately. It was a sextape. You didn’t need to listen very long to know.

You were disgusted. How could she do something like that? Especially to someone like Hyunjin?

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hyun. She didn’t deserve you.”

“No.. I just..I loved her so much.. why?” He choked, voice hoarse from screaming.

“It’s okay. I know it sucks right now, but things are going to get better. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” you smiled at him.

He sighed and shook his head. “No.”

You were shocked. “What do you mean?” concern laced your words.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with this…im sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice unwavering.

“No, Hyunjin. I’ve been here since the start. I want to take care of you. I’m here for you.” You grabbed his hand tightly.

“It’s pointless, Y/N.”

“Not to me, Hyunjin. Not if it’s you.” Your hand made its way up his frame, playing with strands of blonde at the nape of his neck. “I’m on your side.” tears burned his eyes yet again, silently marking their trails on his cheeks. It was quiet for a moment.

“Promise?” He turned to look at you, breaking the silence. You stared at him for a moment, taking in his pure beauty. Even after crying for hours, he still looks just as perfect. Even with his puffy, disheveled hair and haphazard shirt, he was beautiful all the same.

“Of course I promise,” you smiled, hugging him tightly.

You stood up, holding out a hand to help him up. He looked at your hand and then up at you, and grabbed it tight.

“How about we just hang out for a little while? i can even start a shower for you.” You offered, brushing yourself off. he shook his head, declining the offer.

“I don’t have the energy to shower.” He said blandly, making the exhaustion evident in his voice. he slumped onto his bed, letting out a sigh.

“How about you change out of that and we watch a movie, hmm?” You looked at him. His eyes were closed as his body was sprawled out on the bed. For the first time in hours, he finally looked at peace. You walked over to his desk, covered in old sketches and poems, flicking on the lamp and watching it illuminate the room. you couldn’t help but see a familiar face sketched out in black and white on a crumpled sheet of paper. It was you. You could feel the undeniable heat creep up your neck and ears, and your heat beat just a little bit faster.

Your focus was back on Hyunjin, watching the light bounce off of his face. He was so perfect.

Now you too, were sat on the bed. You lifted his head gently to remove the hair tie holding half of the blonde heap together. Hyunjin groaned, reaching his hands up to scratch his scalp. He sat up after a moment, walking towards his dresser. He slipped off his button-down shirt and dress pants and swapped them for a t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You were already under the blankets, preparing a movie for the both of you when he switched off the light. He joined you under the covers, just like he would have when you were little.

“We used to do this all the time,” you laughed, rolling on to your side.

“I remember,” he smiled. “My mom used to come up here and tell us to be quiet.”

Silence fell between you two for a while, your focus trained on the movie.

“It feels good to have you here, Y/N.” hyunjin broke the silence, staring at you.

You had propped your head up on your hand at this point, locking eyes with the boy in front of you.

“Im glad to be here. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but right here.” You spoke, genuine and sweet. He smiled, and turned back to the movie. You didn’t stop staring. He looked like he was carved out of stone by the gods. He was absolutely perfect.

“You are so beautiful, Hyunjin.” You spoke, so softly you weren’t sure he would hear you.

“So are you, Y/N.” He was now on his side, staring back at you. A blush crept its way on to your face once again, but under the blanket of darkness, he couldn’t tell. You moved your body closer to him, so you could lay on his chest. He welcomed your warmth and let you settle in before relaxing himself.

“You know I love you, right Hyunjin?” You looked up into his eyes from his chest. “More than anything.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He whispered into your hairline. He left a gentle kiss at the crown of your head and began to play with loose strands of your hair.

“I’ll always be on your side.” You whispered to him, but he had already fallen fast asleep with you on his chest.  This was peace. Not just for you, but for Hyunjin too.

This was real love.

You were real love.

And that’s all he needed.

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thirstkanaphan · 2 days ago

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Now that Lemon Drop promotions are over, let's recap who else did a dance challenge with the members. I'm coming at this post with zero technical dance knowledge but a love of seeing Ateez interact with other idols in this kind of way...

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San and Kim Chaewon from LE_SSERAFIM. This one confused me...I honestly don't know anything about Chaewon (is she known for her dance or performance skills?) but I suspect that pairing her up with San was viewed as good PR. Just having them in the same frame probably boosted both their profiles. But was this a last-minute schedule? Did they get no time to rehearse? They look like they were crammed in the corner of a room and held at gunpoint for this dance challenge. This abbreviated choreo was so odd! They didn't look at each other until the very end. Strange!

I checked and San did her dance challenge...I don't think I've ever seen San this unenthusiastic 😭

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Moving on! San reunited with J-Hope from BTS at Inkigayo. You can see the behind-the-scenes of their interactions in the latest logbook but I was surprised to see the size of J-Hope's entourage. These dance challenges are clearly no small thing, especially when you're coordinating with the biggest kpop stars on the planet.

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San was so sweetly nervous and clearly wished to cede the floor to J-Hope, who really made the Lemon Drop choreo his own. I love how much personality and swagger he infused into this short clip. San is deliberately muted by contrast. The contrast between San in this clip and San in the Killin' It Girl dance challenge shows how much he held himself back in order to let his idol shine.

I do find it telling (and not surprising) that San is booking all the "prestige" dance challenges.

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Seonghwa and Heejin from ARTMS are kindred spirits. As he does with other female idols, Seonghwa matched Heejin's energy and pace; fortunately, Heejin is a vibrant and lovely dancer and the two of them had terrific chemistry.

I would be remiss for not sharing Seonghwa's Icarus dance challenge, which went viral. He understood the assignment. Also, my sister informs me that ARTMS has some excellent lore and music so I'm interested in checking them out.

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I debated whether I wanted to share this next clip, and I decided against it. Wooyoung did the Lemon Drop dance challenge with Natty from Kiss Of Life. KiOF recently held a livestream where the members dressed in “old-school hip hop” attire, which in reality was just racist stereotypes of Black and Latino culture. Their subsequent apologies did not address the harm done to Black and Latino fans, and they lost a lot of support.

I have mixed feelings about Wooyoung participating in this dance challenge. I understand that he and Natty appeared together at Courreges for fashion week so they had an established connection, but I also believe Wooyoung had the option to decline this meeting. We know he's chronically online; he's got a twitter account; he's well-versed on current events. This was a misstep. Perhaps he felt obliged to do the challenge, lest it fall to another member who doesn't have the kind of fervent fanbase to shield them from this kind of criticism. Most of the fandom just wishes it didn't happen. I don't want to give Natty or her group any clicks so I won't be posting the link.

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Yeosang has done a few challenges with multiple members from the same group, which I find interesting. I may have mentioned in an earlier post that Yeosang doesn't usually do dance challenges, so it's nice to see him here with members from rookie group NOWZ. Yeosang seems to be holding back the powerful moves that define his style, but I will offer praise to Hyeobin and Jinhyuk who bring great energy to this challenge.

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I love that we end Lemon Drop promotions with Mingi and "Teacher" Uzin from bbtrippin. Finally, someone to match Mingi's freak!!! I love that I can see Mingi in Uzin's movements. They clearly have a close relationship (see Mingi's EU vlog) and influence each other's style.

Am I missing anyone?

Curious to see if they've filmed any dance challenges for In Your Fantasy, given there will be virtually no Korean promo for this title track. We'll see in a couple of weeks!

Credit @_SeonghwaWorld_

One of the things I've noticed with Seonghwa and the Lemon Drop dance challenges is that he always does them with female idols and pretty much cedes the floor to them. He'll even adjust his movements or modulate his energy to match his partner:

With Sheon of Billlie (left), who is a fantastic and confident dancer, he lets himself put more swagger and strength into his movements. They are basically performing a duet, and I love it.

Hyerin from HITGS (right) and Sian from USPEER (middle) are both from rookie groups and are VERY young, so I appreciate that he goes a little softer with them and lets them have the foreground.

Whoever coordinates dance challenges with these other companies must know to send Seonghwa for the rookie girl groups in particular.

By contrast, Yunho usually does challenges with male idols (Jay for Enhypen and Yujin from ZB1) and he doesn't change a single thing about his dancing 😂 With Jay, he barely moves to the back - Yunho is always either in front or next to him in the dance. This man is not only his peer but also his competitor. With Yujin, Yunho is the sunbae and that means he will allow himself to cede the foreground for a bit but he doesn't soften his movements at all and Yujin is clearly not at his level.

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Mingi has only done one dance challenge so far, with Leeseo from IVE, and what's so interesting about this clip is that there is pretty much no attempt at synergy in the performance; it's like they're not even in the same frame. Their styles do not match! I don't even think they exchange eye contact once. I wonder if no one was available to do the dance challenge except for Mingi 😂

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Finally, Jongho does a dance challenge which is extremely rare! He's dancing with Jeemin and Koko from rookie gg IZNA and it's very cute. The girls are absolutely eating up the choreo and Jongho seems a little surprised but pleased to see them having so much fun. I also love seeing Jongho dance! He has such clean, efficient movements.

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I anticipate we'll get a San x Kai dance challenge soon, since San did Kai's challenge a few weeks back. I look forward to seeing how two elite-level performers interpret Lemon Drop!

#ateez #additions #le sserafim #bts #kiof #artms #nowz #Instagram

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factual-fantasy · 1 day ago

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30 Asks! Thank you!! :)) 🪥

Realistically? I cant think of a good reason why Jax would jump in fear at the sight of corn. Like it was going to bite him or something. Gooseworx said its because it reminds him of the farm but later said she may have lied.

Personally I think he was given a fear of corn just because it would be funny. 😅

As for my AU, he wont jump in fear of corn like he does in canon. But I'm thinking when he was a kid he ate a bunch of corn and then got really sick. Or maybe he choked on corn really bad one time. After that he cant stand the smell or taste of it because it makes him so queasy and uncomfortable.

He likely hasn't told anyone about it out of embarrassment. But he could have told Caine that he really hates corn and to keep it away from him AND keep it a secret. Which Caine would oblige without much question.

XD Thank you!

I can hardly remember them 😔💔 I think I remember them being cool tho.

I can kind'a see it in the boots and hat! :0 Though I cant see him throwing himself at giant monsters without flinching <XD

So far its been fun! :)

Thank you, 😭🫶I was prepping to be raked over the coals for speaking poorly of Jax.💔

@starloveshamburgers

I'm not sure how to make one really <:( a sona can look wildly different from person to person..

Also, I have no intentions to watch Rescue Bots for several reasons.. But mostly its because its supposed to be attached to Prime. Which is a bad thing because it breaks established prime lore pretty badly and that would really bother me throughout the whole show 😔💔

What is going on in this show man 💀

@linkinaboxx

Thank you! I have the spectator mode in my back pocket if things get overwhelming <XDD

Looking the song up, that is the most living looking zombie I have ever seen XDD But can see your point!

Noted :0📝 Thank you!

Thank you! :DD Same to you if you're participating! :))

Thank you so much! :D So far so good!

Yeah, it would be really sad if he did :( Thankfully in my AU he will not :)

@crossover-enthusiast

XDD No worries! Thank you!! :))

As for Bonny, I had this idea that no one in the circus really knows how to deal with her. She's only 8 years old.. how can they possibly make her understand the gravity of the situation she's in? Would they want her to understand?

For now, Caine takes care of her as best he can. Dr.Football and Bubble follow her everywhere, and tend to her every need. I considered Caine making an entire fake town for Bonny to live in but I don't know if Kinger and Queenie would tell him that's a bad idea or not.. Beyond that I haven't brainstormed a whole lot :(

@pundertalefan (Referencing this post)

AWWJFNDFDFN THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! :DDD

(Link in ask)

I've had that video in my watch list for ages. This ask finally gave me the push to sit down and watch it. Very heart breaking 😢💔

I thought it was cool! I was surprised to see such a style change XD

@theglassflower

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD💞💞💞

Also, Starscream actually has that cheek scar in canon! :0 He got it from battling Arcee one time.

In my AU he could have still gotten it fighting Arcee, even though he didn't kill Cliff. Also I just exaggerated the scar and made it go all the way down his face so it would look cooler 😎

I'm thinking in my AU, Caine wouldn't want to upset or stress out the humans with that kind of adventure. But if Jax and the others were getting bored and specifically requested that adventure, Caine would make it.

It would be a little tamed down and would not include the tiny swarm of souls in hell.

As for me? I've been hangin on. My condition has been kicking my butt these past few days but Art Fight has been a nice distraction.👍 Thank you for checking in 🫶

:((((( frfr

@minnesotamedic186

I'm as ready as I'll ever be! :D

Oh yeah absolutely, the circus is a nicer place but their real world is still as cruel as ever.

I don't like him as a bot just because I don't like the entire game of SOTM because of how it changes the FNAF timeline.

HOWEVER.. I like him enough as a character that I've added him to my silly sister location AU. 👍

I honestly have no idea what happened to their bodies. I'm curious about which path Gooseworx chose 👀

@fandomgurl1987

XD Thank you!! :))

Yeah I thought he was really funny for only having two half lines. XDD

@nolitogfoling

Hello! :D

@beryl-shade

They sure can! :)

#my response #the amazing digital circus #tadc episode 5 #factual fam #fnaf secret of the mimic #sotm big top #transformers prime #art fight 2025 #art fight

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marinsawakening · 2 days ago

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There's some real nuclear level cognitive dissonance to the way various monsters (Zora and Moblins, most notably) are clearly sapient, and the way you are simultaneously expected to slaughter dozens if not hundreds of them throughout your average LOZ game.

Even in BOTW/TOTK, which clearly tried very hard to make bokoblins/moblins equivalent to animals, they possess the ability to build human-like settlements and show capacity for complex strategy. In older games, particularly the top-down LOZ games, monsters' sapience is straight-up textual, with multiple monsters talking to you as people. It's pretty much impossible to pretend monsters like moblins or the old school/river zora are anything but people. And yet they're the fodder enemies. I believe this contradiction is what the kids call 'ludonarrative dissonance'.

Jokes aside, much has been written about both video games' and the fantasy genre's tendency to create sapient (or sometimes outright human) fodder enemies, and the racist/xenophobic implications hereof. I'm uninterested in summarizing or retreading these discussions. I just want to note some of my observations on how the series has dealt with the inherent tension between 'monsters are sapient' and 'you should kill every monster you see'.

First that comes to mind for me is the Oracle duology. To my knowledge, these were the first games to try and combine the old-school monster zora and the OOT-style friendly zora. It did this by dividing them into two camps: the savage river zora, and the regal sea zora. The sea zora detest the river zora and do not want to be associated with them, stressing their differences.

In this same game, however, there are multiple moblins who display sapience, most prominently the Great Moblin. The Great Moblin is a bandit who leads a large group of other moblins; he talks, has motivations and desires, can strategize, etc. In Seasons, after you destroy his keep, you can find him sadly making bombs by hand, trying to regain firepower. You can blow up his house for fun.

So although Seasons/Ages draws a firm line between the 'monstrous' river zora and 'civilized' sea zora, it also contains probably the most obviously sapient monster in the franchise. I don't think the Oracle games had any political intent/message, I doubt the devs spent even a moment considering the implications here. Mostly, it reads like a confused attempt at mixing 'old' and 'new' attitudes toward monsters (especially with the zora), oblivious to the unfortunate implications this creates.

Echoes of Wisdom then picked up this sea/river Zora divide and ran with it. EOW is a game clearly trying to marry 'old' and 'new' Zelda. It is a top-down '2D' game with traditional Zelda dungeons and enemies, but with open world exploration and a lot of player freedom. The sea and river zora's conflict can easily be read as representative of the conflict between 'old' and new' LOZ. In the end, the two have to come together in harmony to progress.

Nothing of the 'old' attitude toward monsters remains, though. EOW obviously does not consider the river zora as monsters, seeing as you cannot create echoes of them. The other monsters, though still capable of using human tools and building BOTW-style settlements, have even less indication of sapience than BOTW's monsters. Although it can't quite cast monsters are pure animals (not if it wants them to have keeps), narratively speaking, they are no more people than a snake. By removing the river zora from the category of 'monster', EOW is feels free to once again use monsters as nothing but canon fodder.

This very much seems to be the 'new' attitude toward monsters. LOZ has gradually been moving away from monsters as sapient creatures, or trying to, anyway. Monsters do not talk anymore, and their settlements are noticeably less technologically advanced than they often are in older LOZ games.

In fact, as monsters became less and less sapient, they also seem to have gradually adopted a... 'tribal' aesthetic, for lack of a better word, based on racist pop-culture depictions of a variety of non-white/east Asian cultures. Older art would often give moblins/bokoblins armor/clothes that were at least similar to Hylians'. But over time this has steadily diminished, with many games giving them overtly racialized/ethnic features (such as Twilight Princess' dreadlocks on its bokoblins), quite obviously to 'other' them from the European Hylians. Monsters have never been portrayed as 'civilized' the way Hylians are, but the racial coding very much does seem to have increased in tandem with animalistic framing.

TOTK goes so far as to make monsters explicitly creations by Ganondorf, for the purpose of serving him. I do not believe this is the first time monsters have gotten the framing as creations of evil (for one, BOTW and its blood moon sure did), but it's the most blatant I can remember, as it's in a major story-relevant cutscene.

What's interesting to me about this is that it makes little sense when we consider the fun facts about monsters that occassionally appear on the loading screens, or their entries in the hyrule compendium. These refer to their living habits, diet, etc. in ways more akin to an animal than a nebulous creation of evil magic. This contradition also exists in BOTW, where the monsters 'rise with the blood moon', reborn through the Calamity's power, but are also very much described more as animals than miasma.

To fully illustrate what I mean: compare a bokoblin to gloom hands. One of these is a part of an ecosystem, one of these is not. Yet both of them are supposedly creations from Ganon's evil magic. It just doesn't really line up, does it?

All of this to say: I think Nintendo and/or the LOZ devs are by now perfectly aware of the optics of using sapient creatures as fodder enemies. As video game stories have become more complex, tolerance for this trope has decreased. As such, the LOZ franchise has attempted to move away from this. However, they wish to maintain the bokoblin/moblins' basic conceit as, effectively, humanoid enemies with a degree of intelligence.

So in their attempt at compromise they have revealed some very telling presumptions. Less human = tribal aka not white or Japanese. Former monsters that are 'humanized', the zora, become by and large friendly with Hyrule (ALBW as a possible exception, depending on how you look at it). None of this development is strictly linear, of course; for example, EOW's monsters do not follow BOTW/TOTK's design principles. But it's nonetheless a pattern, and the optics aren't great.

I don't really have much of a conclusion to all this. If anything, I suppose that the series' treatment of its monsters fits into a long-standing pattern of LOZ attempting to address criticisms of racism/xenophobia without understanding how they actually connect to their world. Or perhaps: trying to fix their optics without wanting to fix their hearts. Depends on whether we presume ignorance or malice, I suppose.

#And that's not even getting into botw's hyrule compendium entry for lynels #Describing them as posessing 'fierce intelligence'#My posts #Long post

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cherrykpawp · 17 hours ago

Text

Heat // Ch 11

Rating: Explicit, Mature (M)

Pairings: Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, San x reader, Wooyoung x reader, Yeosang x reader, Seonghwa x reader

This chapter includes: hybrids, Afab!reader, reader-centric,fluff, Fashion designer!Seonghwa, Owner!Seonghwa, Dance instructor!Yunho, Owner!Yunho, Calico hybrid!reader, Black cat hybrid!San, Husky hybrid!Mingi, Dobermann hybrid!Yeosang, Maine Coone hybrid!Wooyoung, Club, alcohol consumption (if you're not a fan, please don't read.) birthday celebration, intoxication, suggestive connotations

Taglist: @m-flowerjunnie-oa, @mrsminseochoi, @strawwff, @sunlight120902, @awkward-fucking-thing, @menialmoonchild, @jjongsho, @chanscase143, @lililiarina, @babyquokkasworld, @rileylovescats

Club playlist: start at club scene (made a playlist for you guys to listen to if you want to join in.)

W.C: 12.8k

As the clock struck midnight, your birthday had officially arrived. Since you’re not usually one to stay up for the countdown, you had gone to sleep some time before then. You and Yunho were born in the same month, just a few days apart, and you wanted to celebrate both of your birthdays together.

When you woke up, you were still exhausted, your hair messy and waiting to be styled. The time on your phone read 10 a.m., which was still early for you to be awake. But you wanted to see everyone—you didn’t want to miss a single minute of your birthday with them. As you stepped out of your room, Yunho emerged from his at the same time, looking just as tired, his hair equally tousled.

The two of you shared a silent exchange, blinking slowly at each other. He walked up and gave you a hug, which you returned, gently rubbing his back.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Thank you. Happy early birthday,” you replied, just as drowsy.

Holding onto his arm, the two of you quietly made your way to the bathroom to freshen up, your morning routine no different from any other day.

Leaving Yunho to do his skincare as usual, you dragged your feet down the stairs. At least he had brushed your hair for you, making you look a little less disheveled.

The smell of breakfast filled the air; someone had woken up extra early to cook. It wasn’t often that breakfast was made, but you always appreciated it when it was. The second person you saw that morning was San, who was setting the dining table.

He heard you coming down the stairs and found your tired state adorable.

“Good morning, birthday girl,” he greeted, placing the last plate on the table before turning his full attention to you. “Happy birthday!”

You walked up to him, wrapped your arms around his back, and buried your face in his chest. You wanted to go back to sleep, and he just so happened to be your source of comfort.

“Thank you.” A yawn escaped you as you pressed your face deeper into him.

San gently rubbed your back. “If you’re tired, you should go back to sleep.” When he felt you shake your head against him, he simply held you tighter. “I made breakfast—are you hungry?”

“Very.” You looked up at him. His hair was fluffier than usual, probably freshly washed. “What did you make?”

“Omelette, breakfast sausage, hash brown, and a bowl of fruit—just for you,” he listed, watching your ear perk up at the mention of fruit.

“You guys are going to steal all my fruit again,” you said, knowing full well that ever since you started living here, they always snacked on whatever you were eating.

“Yes, I will,” San winked, his tail swaying behind him. “I don’t know why, but you always make it look more appetizing.”

You shrugged. “That’s fine. You can have some.”

San pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before letting you go. “Can you please wake Mingi? If he doesn’t get up now, he might sleep through the whole day.”

“Okay.” Before you left, you pursed your lips at San, silently asking for a small kiss. His hand slipped to the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a peck—or two… or three.

“I’ll be back,” you murmured.

San watched you walk away, licking his lips to savor the lingering taste of your kiss.

You reached for Mingi’s doorknob, pausing to listen through the door to see if he was awake. But no sounds were coming from his room, so it seemed safe to enter.

The moment you stepped inside, his pheromones hit you like a brick. He laid on his side, the blanket halfway draped over him, clutching his pillow as he slept soundly.

You walked up to his bed and gently shook his arm, trying to wake him. “Mingi,” you called softly, your voice low and tinged with sleep. In response, he only buried his face deeper into the pillow.

“Breakfast is ready,” you tried again.

Still nothing.

Giving in, you crawled onto the bed and lay down behind him, curling your body against his. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you spooned him, sleep threatening to pull you back under.

“Wake up,” you tried again, pulling the pillow from his arms.

His tail began to wag ever so slightly—a sign he was close to waking. It kept thumping softly against your legs, so you reached down and gave it a squeeze, which finally stirred him.

“What the…” he mumbled groggily, looking down to see your hands sliding up his chest.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for breakfast,” you said, eyes still closed as you pressed your forehead between his shoulder blades.

“You’re not making it easy for me to want to get up,” he yawned, rolling over to face you and pulling you closer. He lazily draped a leg over you, resting his chin on your head. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you replied for the third time so far, though you expected to say it many more times today. “San made hash browns. I don’t want them to get cold.”

“Give me five more minutes,” he mumbled, sinking more of his body weight onto you.

Not that you were putting up much of a fight—you happily cuddled into him. Unfortunately, five minutes passed far too quickly. When it was finally time to get up, you had to physically pull Mingi out of bed, since he wouldn’t budge. He purposely made it difficult, trying to drag you back onto the mattress. Eventually, you gave up and left him there, hearing his laughter and a half-hearted apology trail behind you.

By the time you made it downstairs, Yunho had finally arrived, looking much more awake and refreshed. San sat across from him in his unofficial assigned seat, the two of them deep in conversation.

You slid into your usual seat next to Yunho, spotting a plate of food already waiting for you. Thankfully, it hadn’t gone cold, so you got to enjoy it just the way San intended.

Yunho was sipping on coffee that morning. He only drank it occasionally, usually when he needed an energy boost. You eyed it curiously. You’d never tried it before; it never looked all that appealing. Noticing the way your eyes lingered, Yunho slid the cup toward you with a quiet gesture for you to give it a try.

“She’s not going to like it,” San commented, ears perked, clearly anticipating your reaction.

Yunho shrugged. “She should find out what she likes and doesn’t like.”

Squinting at both of them, you gave in and took a sip…

How does Yunho drink this? It was overwhelmingly bitter, with no hint of sweetness—just pure, roasted misery.

You passed the cup back to him with a sour expression, shaking your head.

“I’m good,” you wheezed, quickly cleansing your palate with the orange juice San had thoughtfully set out for you. He saw this coming.

Just then, Mingi finally emerged from his room, immediately noticing the look of visible disgust on your face. “What happened? Did the food come out bad?”

Yunho pointed to his cup. “She tried some coffee. Didn’t like it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, sliding into his seat. “Tastes like dirt and hot water. No offense, hyung.”

“None taken.” Yunho scrunched his nose but kept drinking his ‘hot dirt water,’ as Mingi lovingly put it. “Seonghwa hyung, Yeosang, and Wooyoung are coming over later. We’ll head out with them when it’s time to go tonight.”

“I didn’t even prepare an outfit. I’ll have to go through my clothes later,” you said as you cut into your omelette and hash browns.

“I can help,” Mingi offered. “We could match.”

“We could,” you replied, your tail swaying behind you as you imagined coordinating outfits with everyone.

“What about one of those dresses you bought?” San suggested, thinking back to the ones you proudly showed off during your haul.

You considered it, then decided to make your final choice a surprise. “That’s an idea. Thanks, San.”

He scrunched his nose playfully in your direction, clearly pleased that you’d taken his suggestion seriously.

“Assuming you don’t know any clubs around here,” Yunho began, “do either of you have any spots in mind?” He didn’t drink often himself, only knowing about two spots.

“There’s one place we usually go to—great drinks, great music, great food,” San explained to the older male. “They’ve got private booths too, so we could rent out a section near the bar. Might need to make a reservation, though; there’s going to be quite a few of us.”

“That’s fine,” Yunho nodded in approval. But then a thought crossed his mind, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Seonghwa hyung might go overboard.”

“Does he usually get that drunk?” you asked, curious about his party habits.

“When we go out? Yeah,” Yunho chuckled. “He always says he’s ‘letting loose for the night,’ and then starts pushing me to drink more—wants me to join him in his chaos.”

San pulled a face. “You join him regardless.”

Yunho was quiet for a second… then a cheeky grin spread across his face. “Guilty.”

“So you’re no better,” you giggled, nudging Yunho.

“In my defense, I really don’t drink that often. He drinks at least two glasses of wine a week,” Yunho said, trying to justify himself.

“Luckily, he only nags Yunho,” Mingi added, reassuring you. “The rest of us just nag each other.”

San let his head drop forward, unamused. “You’re telling me…”

Mingi patted San’s shoulder, then leaned in to whisper something in his ear. You noticed the way San’s ear twitched before he suddenly shoved Mingi away, causing the husky hybrid to burst out laughing. San covered his mouth, shielding it from you and Yunho as he mouthed something back to Mingi. Judging by Mingi’s shocked expression and the dramatic way he pointed at San in offense, it was probably a curse.

You finished your breakfast, your mind drifting to the night ahead. Seeing how people acted when drunk in shows and movies—some experiences looked fun, others chaotic, but it was always something you’d been curious about. You never had the chance to try it before, not while living with your previous owner. But now… now you were excited.

Truthfully, you couldn’t wait to see Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Wooyoung—finally getting the chance to hang out with them outside the house.

Throughout the day, you brainstormed different outfit ideas, running through several looks in your head. You were especially curious to see what San, Mingi, and Yunho were planning to wear, since you wanted to coordinate with everyone in some way.

Heading to San’s room first, you settled onto his bed as he sifted through countless articles of clothing. Occasionally, he’d turn to you for an opinion when he couldn’t decide on a top. Honestly, anything he wore looked great—he had a way of making every outfit work. You already knew, without a doubt, that he’d be wearing the necklace you gifted him. For his final look, he chose a pair of black wide-leg jeans, a tan leather jacket with silver snap buttons lining the plackets and pockets, and a white polyester knitted shirt. An effortlessly cool and casual look.

When you stepped into Mingi’s room, he was already vibing—music playing as he amped himself up for the night. His outfit was laid out neatly on the bed, clearly planned in advance.

Spread out on the bed was a gray velvet jacket that appeared silver under the light. A pair of darker gray cargo pants with a large pocket on one leg, a white button-down shirt, and a belt with a snake-shaped buckle. The outfit itself was solid, it was his accessories that were giving him trouble. He shuffled through his collection, holding a few pieces up and asking for your opinion. If you said you liked something, he immediately decided to wear it. At one point, he even offered you a bracelet to wear, since none of his rings fit your fingers. It was a sweet gesture—his way of matching with you in his own style.

As you made your way upstairs to Yunho’s room, you noticed his door was halfway open. Poking your head in, you saw him standing in front of the mirror, mid-button, trying on a shirt to see if he liked the fit. Technically, it was his early birthday celebration, too, so he figured he should look sharp tonight. Sensing eyes on him, Yunho turned his head and saw you now standing just inside his room. He was wearing a bluish-gray silk dress shirt, tucked neatly into crisp white slacks, finished off with sleek white leather dress shoes. It was clean, polished, and perfect for the occasion.

After seeing what everyone else had chosen to wear, you finally settled on your outfit. In your humblest opinion, you just wanted to look good enough to receive praise from Seonghwa.

Especially since, let’s be honest, he’d probably outdress everyone anyway.

You went to your closet and pulled out the black dress you owned, feeling that its sleek, sexy aesthetic was perfect for a night out at a club. It was the look you’d been aiming for all along. Normally, you wouldn’t pick something so tight-fitting, but you liked to be prepared for any occasion.

It was an off-the-shoulder black dress, featuring sheer black fabric that began at the middle of the upper arm and gathered at the wrist, long enough to pull over your hands. The midsection—from just below the bust to a few centimeters beneath the belly button—was made of the same sheer material, accentuating your waistline. The hem of the dress ended just above mid-thigh; you could accidentally flash everyone if you dropped something.

When you put on the dress, it was as if you embodied a new character, embracing a different personality. You had to admit—you did look sexy. Turning around in front of the mirror, you admired how the dress hugged your body perfectly, the only pop of color coming from the vibrant orange and white on your tail. Audible purrs vibrated through your chest as you gathered your makeup to apply in front of the mirror.

You sat on the floor, humming softly as you pulled out pencil eyeliner, an eyebrow pencil, blush, mascara, and a dark cherry, blood-red lipstick. Makeup wasn’t a field you were an expert in, but your previous owner had taught you some tricks to at least highlight your features.

Deciding to start with your eyebrows, you lightly darkened their ends while adding some definition throughout. For your eyeliner, you darkened your waterline and softly smudged it out to create a smoky effect—bold but not sloppy. To complete your eye makeup, you applied mascara to accentuate your lashes, making them appear longer. Even though you were only halfway done, you already thought you looked pretty.

The blush you had was quite opaque. You also remembered the lesson from last time: blush blindness is a real thing.

You gathered some blush on your brush, dabbing off the excess dark red on the back of your hand before applying it to the apples of your cheeks and blending it slightly toward your temples. If you needed more, you would add it, but you were satisfied with the natural flush of color. Finally, you applied your lipstick—the dark red giving off a mysterious, mature vibe. You spread it thoroughly on your lips, making sure to clean up any uneven edges around your mouth.

Although you liked your look, you felt like something was missing from your eyes. You rummaged through your small makeup bag until you found an eyeshadow. Remembering you had a duo-chrome single shadow, you decided to apply it. The colors shifted between pink and champagne, perfect as a topper to regular eyeshadow—but you didn’t want to overdo it. A little went a long way; you gathered some on the pad of your finger and gently swiped it over your eyelid. When you turned your head from side to side, you admired the shifting colors and how beautifully they changed. With that, your makeup was complete.

Standing up to look at yourself in the mirror, you absolutely looked and felt your age; twenty-four, and fine. Maybe you should wear tight-fitting clothes and makeup more often.

Out of all your shoe options, the only pair that suited this outfit was your black heels. They were open-toed block heels with a dainty strap that secured around your ankle. Ever since you got them, you’d been practicing how to walk in them so you wouldn’t look like a fool outside—instead, you only looked like a fool in your room. But now, you felt fully confident, especially since you hadn’t tripped or completely fallen over once.

When you put them on and fastened the strap, you felt like you’d grown a whole foot taller, though it was only a few inches—enough to make your legs look longer. Honestly, everything about your outfit looked amazing, as if you didn’t need to add anything else.

But then you thought of jewelry and styling your hair. Being a woman definitely takes a lot of work and effort.

San stood by the dining table, glancing at his invisible watch. “Y/n sure is taking a while.”

“What are you even looking at?” Mingi furrowed his brows.

“The time,” San sighed.

“There’s no watch on your wrist,” the husky hybrid tilted his head.

“I can still tell the time.”

“Really? So what time is it right now?”

San squinted at the analog clock behind Mingi. “Seven… forty-five.”

Mingi shook his head at his friend. “Either way, I’m sure she’s giving her outfit some serious thought.”

“Candles…” Yunho muttered to himself as he prepared your surprise at the table. “Balloons… where are the balloons?”

“Behind you,” San said, gesturing to the ‘Happy Birthday’ balloons just a couple of feet away.

“Oh…” Yunho’s words trailed off as he shrugged. “The cake’s on the counter. Mind bringing it?”

San and Mingi left to grab the cake along with some small plates and silverware. Yunho was nervous; he didn’t want you to see anything that wasn’t set up yet, or the surprise would be ruined.

Then there was rhythmic knocking on the door, grabbing Yunho’s attention. When he opened it, Seonghwa stood there holding two bags in each hand, peeking behind Yunho.

“Is she downstairs yet?” he asked, with Wooyoung and Yeosang peeking from behind him as well.

“No,” Yunho replied, stepping aside so they could come in.

“Good,” Seonghwa sighed in relief. “I have to hide these under the table.”

“Oh, nice, you got her b—” Yunho’s words were cut off as Wooyoung quickly covered his mouth.

“Hyung, hush. She could hear you,” Wooyoung scolded, glaring at the older man. Yunho bit down on Wooyoung’s palm, and Wooyoung bit him back in retaliation before pulling his hand away.

“Yunho hyung, where’s the lighter?” San asked as he placed the cake on the table, with Mingi following behind carrying the dinnerware.

Yunho patted his pockets and glanced around the table, clearly unsure. “Wasn’t it in the kitchen?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it was,” San replied.

“Did you even get one?” Mingi chimed in.

“It must’ve slipped my mind,” Yunho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s probably too late to go get one now.”

Yeosang quietly placed a lighter on the table, catching everyone’s attention. “I had a feeling you’d forget either the candles or the lighter, so I grabbed both just in case.”

“Reliable as always,” Yunho complimented with a smile, making Yeosang’s tail wag behind him. “Should I light it now?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung said, setting the candles on top of the cake.

“No?!” Seonghwa immediately disagreed. “Is she almost ready? If not, the wax will melt all over the cake, and y/n probably won’t like that.”

“She could come down any second,” Mingi added thoughtfully.

Seonghwa grabbed the lighter from the table, holding it tightly. “We can wait just a little longer, then.”

“Hyung, we’re the ones with heightened senses,” Yeosang reminded him, his ears flicking in response.

“Yet you and Wooyoung don’t seem to hear me when I tell you to lower your volume while playing games at 3 a.m.,” Seonghwa scolded. San and Mingi’s ears folded—they could relate.

“It was a boss battle, hyung. We’d been fighting him for days and finally won,” Wooyoung tried to reason, but Seonghwa wasn’t having it.

“Well, just keep it down next time—”

“Um…” All their eyes snapped to you at the top of the staircase, where you stood with your hands clasped in front of you. “Hi…”

“Woah…” Yeosang was left utterly astonished.

Seonghwa barely registered how you were dressed as he struggled to ignite a steady flame. “Hap-Hap-Happy—”

Everyone’s jaws dropped, admiring your drastic transformation. Well, it was drastic to them. You almost shied away from their eyes on you, but decided to embrace the way you’d dressed for tonight.

Yeosang and Wooyoung were both dressed in solid black, though their styles were quite different.

Yeosang wore simple black slacks paired with a long-sleeved shirt featuring what you thought was a white diagonal line running from his shoulder to his hip. Instead, the shirt had an open slit held together by small clasps—one wrong move, and his whole chest would be exposed. He accessorized with a few rings and a star necklace, adding texture to his outfit.

Wooyoung wore a plain tee tucked into ripped skinny jeans that flared out at the bottom. Colorful decorative buttons ran from just below his knee up his right thigh. Like San, he topped his look with a leather jacket and finished with a few accessories. You thought the clip holding back the right side of his hair was especially cute.

When you moved your hands from in front of you, they noticed the sheer fabric exposing your midsection.

Wooyoung whistled, “Oh! Sexy!” He immediately received nudges from both San and Mingi, but you couldn’t help blushing at the compliment.

“Sexy?” Seonghwa finally looked up at you after lighting the candles, watching you descend the stairs. “Oh my goodness, what a gorgeous dress! You look so beautiful, darling.”

You began purring softly, soaking in all the praise from Seonghwa. “Thank you. You look amazing as always, especially handsome,” you said, gesturing toward his chest.

Seonghwa wore a two-piece set: a chocolate brown denim outfit with even darker brown seams. His shirt was tucked neatly into his pants and unbuttoned three notches, revealing no undershirt—just a dog tag necklace and his bare chest.

He noticed how quiet everyone else was and decided to take charge.

“Happy birthday~” Seonghwa sang, waving his hands playfully in their peripheral vision.

“Happy…”

“Hap… py birth…”

Everyone was at a loss for words.

Seonghwa shook his head and caught the others up on the song. You stood in front of them, clapping your hands from side to side, encouraging everyone to keep going. When it was finished, you blew out the candles, smiling brightly. Your smile snapped them out of their daze, and they all congratulated you on your birthday.

“You’re going to need a jacket,” Yunho said, dead serious.

“Oh? Is it cold outside?” you asked genuinely. “Should I change?”

“NO!” they all exclaimed in unison, startling you.

“There’s only a breeze, relax,” Seonghwa hushed Yunho.

“He’s saying that because your dress is revealing,” Yeosang added nonchalantly.

You cupped your face, feeling flustered—especially when you noticed how all their tails swayed in perfect sync.

“No, it’s not,” Seonghwa defended you. “Besides, our reservation starts in an hour, and the limo service is still waiting outside. Are we going to let her cut the cake or what?”

‘Limo?’ you thought to yourself. You’d never been in one before and wondered just how big it must be.

You held the knife and cut the cake into seven slices, offering the first one to Yunho since his birthday was coming up next. It was a vanilla cake with white chocolate frosting and strawberries on top, with the words ‘Happy 24th Birthday Y/N!’ written across it. According to San, Seonghwa had recommended this cake, confident you’d love it. When you tasted it, it was the moistest, softest, sweetest cake you’d ever had.

This might just top the fruits.

“Oh! Before I forget,” Seonghwa said, setting his plate down and reaching under the table for the two bags he’d brought. “Choose which one you’d like to wear out tonight.”

You recognized the first brand—’Coach’—but the second one was unfamiliar. It read ‘Kurt Geiger’. Regardless, you assumed both were expensive gifts. You set your plate down and opened the ‘Kurt’ gift bag first. Inside was a box, which you carefully took out, revealing the contents.

You were in awe, admiring the purse before you.

It was an all-black mini purse with an over-stitched weave pattern. The chain was jet black and adjustable, so you could wear it cross-body or draped over your shoulder. On the flap was a black metal eagle head, detailed with black feathers and eyes. It was the most intricate purse you’d ever seen. When you noticed the price tag still attached, you audibly gasped.

“$300?!”

Seonghwa quickly ripped the price tag off the purse and shoved it into his pocket. “That shouldn’t have been there.”

“This is way too much.”

Seonghwa waved it off. “It’s nothing to worry about. If you ever get into higher-end brands, just let me know. I wanted to start you off with something light.”

“Light?!” you repeated aloud, though you hadn’t meant to.

Wooyoung burst out laughing at your reaction. “You’ll get used to it.”

You opened the other bag and took out the box. You recognized ‘Coach’ from your previous owner—she had a purse she carried everywhere, saying she’d had it for years, and it had never let her down. Inside was a sleek black purse with a gold engraving of the brand name at the bottom center. Unlike the first purse, this one didn’t have a flap; instead, a magnetic clip inside kept it closed. The strap wasn’t adjustable, so you couldn’t wear it cross-body; only hooked over your shoulder or held in your hand.

Looking at both bags now, you couldn’t decide which to take. You styled each one over your shoulder, your arm, and across your body, unintentionally putting on a little fashion show while lost in thought. Eventually, you settled on the ‘Coach’ bag and placed your phone inside.

Yeosang leaned toward Wooyoung and whispered in his ear, “Told you she’d like that one more.”

“Thank you, by the way, Seonghwa. And to all of you, thank you sincerely for the birthday surprise and for celebrating with me. I'm delighted I get to spend the night with everyone here.” You bowed toward them, showing your genuine appreciation.

“Of course, gorgeous,” Wooyoung responded with a wink, clearly excited to be out with you too.

“It’s no problem, really,” San rubbed the back of his neck, acting coy.

“We should probably head out now, huh?” Yunho said as he closed the cake box. “Leave the gift bags on the table—I’ll put them away when we get back.”

Seonghwa ushered everyone out the door toward the limo parked outside the house. You stayed behind, waiting for Yunho as the others went on ahead. He was busy putting your cake away while everyone else took their seats inside the vehicle.

He closed the fridge and noticed you standing by the kitchen doorway. “You could’ve gone with them,” he said.

You shook your head, gently pulling him closer by the forearm as he approached. “I wanted to walk with you.”

Yunho’s ears turned pink at your sudden confession. He ran his hand over yours, speaking sincerely. “You look really stunning.”

Choosing not to shy away from his endearing gaze today, you smiled instead. “Thank you, Yuyu. You look handsome yourself.”

He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the top of your head before leading you outside so you could walk to the limo together. When you entered the vehicle, Mingi and Yeosang were seated in the back booth, while San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa occupied the left-side booths, leaving the right-hand side empty for you and Yunho. The ceiling of the limo resembled a starry sky, twinkling softly in the dim light.

You covered your lap with your new purse, feeling elegant and feminine. Reaching out, you intertwined your fingers with Yunho’s, playing with his bracelet.

“So, you’ve never been to this club either?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

He lowered his head to rest it on top of yours, opening his hand so you could continue playing with it and his fingers. “No, I’ve never had the time since I'm always busy in the dance studio. But I trust the boys’ taste.”

“I’m glad we’ll get to experience it together for the first time,” you hummed, smiling as he laced his fingers back through yours.

“Drive safely,” San said, tapping the top of the limo to signal the chauffeur.

You could hear the muffled bass of the music pulsing from inside the club as you approached. A few people stumbled out, clinging to each other and trying—unsuccessfully—to appear sober. You giggled at how ridiculous they looked. The bodyguards stationed at the entrance shook their heads at the drunken patrons, then turned their attention to your group as you walked up.

“Aye! Kiddos, how are you doing tonight?” the first bodyguard greeted the hybrids, dapping them up. His eyes landed on you, Yunho, and Seonghwa—faces he didn’t recognize. “You bring your parents with you today?”

“Very funny,” Mingi chuckled. “But yes, these are our owners. And tonight, we’re celebrating our lovely Y/n’s birthday.”

The bodyguards’ gaze was so intense and intimidating that your ears and tail instinctively cowered. “H-Hello,” you stammered.

The second bodyguard noticed how nervous you looked and immediately softened. “Sorry, did we scare you?” You shook your head wordlessly, prompting the older man to chuckle. “We’re really kind, I promise. We just try to scare off the weirdos who try to get in, not pretty kitties like you.”

A faint smile grew onto your face, though you still held tightly onto Yunho. “Much appreciated.”

“IDs, gentlemen—and little lady,” the first bodyguard requested.

While Yunho and Seonghwa began pulling theirs out of their wallets, you stood still, realizing you didn’t have one. You glanced around, noticing that San, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yeosang were casually scrolling through their phones.

You tapped Yeosang, who was standing next to you, to get his attention. “How do I show my ID? I don’t have one.”

“Hand me your phone,” Yeosang instructed, holding out his hand. You reached into your purse, unlocked your phone, and handed it to him.

He opened the app Yunho usually uses to track you, San and Mingi, which, to your surprise, also included a digital identification card for you. It displayed your photo, name, age, height, breed, and emergency contact information. Yeosang explained that if anyone needed to identify you, they could use the app and also notify Yunho of your location. There was even a safety feature: if you were walking alone and felt unsafe, you could press a button to send an emergency alert to all or one of your listed contacts.

“Can I put you down as an emergency contact?” you asked Yeosang.

“Oh, I already added all three of our numbers,” Yeosang replied, handing your phone back to you. By “all three,” he meant himself, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa.

You watched as Mingi showed the guard his phone with his digital ID displayed. The guard nodded and let him through. San and Yeosang followed, and then it was your turn.

“Enjoy, birthday girl,” the second guard said with a polite bow, making you smile.

You stepped aside to wait for Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Yunho to enter. You had planned to cling to Seonghwa next, but before you could, Wooyoung stole your arm and playfully dragged you off toward your reserved section.

“Can’t have everyone looking at you—they might try to snatch you up,” Wooyoung said above the music, using his fluffy tail to cover your backside. “If anyone asks, I’m your boyfriend tonight.”

“Only tonight?” you playfully flirted, earning an overjoyed expression from him.

As you made your way through the crowd, you passed by countless dancing bodies, a lively mix of hybrids and regular people. Some patrons sat off to the side, sipping their drinks and observing the scene. You noticed someone accidentally drop their drink, overhearing them tell their friends, “It’s time to go.”

As you continued walking, you approached what seemed to be your section. There were fewer people and different booths, and if you remembered correctly, your section had a bartender nearby. Your guess was right—Wooyoung led you there, moving his tail aside so you both could sit down at the booth.

The table in front of you was already set with glasses and a bucket of ice holding two bottles. While Seonghwa examined the two drink options, Mingi walked over to the bartender to order something else. San sat next to you, stretching his arm out behind you, relaxing. Across the booth, Yunho and Yeosang chatted quietly with each other.

A waiter approached the three of you, tablet in hand. “Hello, everyone! What can I get you tonight?”

“A bottle of Soju, please,” San ordered with a dimpled smile.

Although there was already plenty of alcohol on the table, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. “A Dirty Shirley, please,” you requested, recalling what it was from your last visit to the restaurant.

“Frozen cherry margarita, please,” Wooyoung was the last to order.

The waiter bowed and sent the orders through before turning to Yunho and Yeosang. You noticed them shake their heads, gesturing toward the bottles Seonghwa was still inspecting. Once the waiter left, Mingi returned to where Wooyoung sat, giving him a scrutinizing look.

“Move,” Mingi said, catching Wooyoung off guard.

“Excuse me?” Wooyoung furrowed his brows.

“I want to sit there,” Mingi spoke plainly, pointing at the seat next to you.

A sly smile spread across Wooyoung’s face. “Are you jealous?”

Mingi’s ears went into full airplane mode, not even trying to hide it. “…No…”

Wooyoung leaned closer to you. “I’m Y/n’s boyfriend for tonight, shoo.”

“Boyfriend?!” San and Mingi exclaimed in unison.

Mingi dramatically clutched his chest and dragged his feet over to Yunho. “Hyung, stop him.”

Poor Yunho was getting shaken by the husky hybrid.

“You literally live with her!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “How many times do we have to go over this? And stop whining to Yunho hyung about everything!”

“Boyfriend…” San breathed dramatically, as if reminiscing about a lost love.

Yunho pulled Mingi down onto the seat beside him. “For two people who haven’t even drunk yet, you sure are acting like it.”

“Who the hell ordered whiskey and gin?” Seonghwa complained, and suddenly the two loudest voices went quiet. “Choose one, because I’m changing the other.”

Everyone voted to remove the gin, letting Seonghwa swap it out for champagne. When he returned, he was muttering under his breath about how they ‘know nothing about women.’

Removing his jacket, San draped it over your legs so you could sit comfortably, revealing the toned biceps he’d been hiding all this time.

“Ooo, so manly,” you purred, giggling as his shoulder lifted proudly.

“Oh, you know,” he leaned back with a proud smile. “Gotta protect you from any wandering eyes.”

Though secretly, it was also to save his image, considering how much of a lightweight he was.

Two waiters arrived with trays of drinks. One carried San’s, Wooyoung’s, and your drinks; the other held several shots. Both trays were set on the table, free for anyone to grab.

Yunho stood up, handing out shots to everyone while telling them not to drink just yet.

“Everyone! I’d like to make a toast, in celebration of our lovely Y/N’s birthday.” Yunho raised his tiny shot glass, his voice full of warmth. “Though I’m sure everyone feels the same, I’d like to speak for myself. Thank you for opening yourself to us, accepting us, dealing with us, and being the most patient person I know. I’m grateful to have witnessed your growth over these past two months—the determination and willpower you’ve shown to overcome the hardships you faced before coming into our lives. Don’t be afraid to lean on us; we’re here to protect you, my love. May many years pass with you still by our side and forever in our hearts.”

“To Princess Y/N!” San shouted, sparking an uproar as everyone cheered loudly. “And if you don’t want to drink your shot, you can always choose a dark horse to take it for you.”

Instead, you raised your own glass. “To me!” you cheered, prompting another wave of cheers before knocking back your shot. Everyone followed suit right after.

You couldn’t quite tell what it was—after all, you didn’t really know alcohol. Although it was strong, it wasn’t as bad as the drinks you’d tried from Yunho and Mingi that one time. It went down easy but left a comforting, warm feeling in your chest.

“Hmph!” You set the empty glass on the tray, feeling satisfied. “What was that? It wasn’t that bad.”

“Tequila,” Wooyoung explained, sipping his frozen drink. “That one over there is probably done for the night, though.”

He nodded toward San, whose ears were slowly drooping.

“We just started,” you giggled, watching San’s slow defeat.

“I know, right?” Wooyoung chuckled. “I don’t know why he ordered a bottle of soju anyway—he probably can only get halfway through it. Maybe it was to impress you.”

“I’m right here,” San grumbled, shooting him a glare.

“I’m just glad you’re still with us, Sannie,” the Maine Coon hybrid teased, smirking at his friend.

You set your purse behind you and picked up your Shirley Temple from the tray, opting to sip on that instead. It tasted just like what you had at the restaurant, except with alcohol as the main aftertaste instead of cherry syrup. Other than that, it was sweet.

Yeosang came over to your side of the table, dragging a small padded seat closer to Wooyoung.

He leaned in so you could hear him over the loud music. “Soo, what made you want to go to a club for your birthday?”

“Well, it’s a place I’ve always wanted to visit. I don’t think I’ve gone out much—I’ve never really had an ‘adult activity’ experience,” you answered honestly. “Did I ever mention my previous owner was an elderly woman?”

“Yes, you have,” Yeosang replied, leaning back slightly. “I can pretty much tell you exactly how this night is going to go.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, intrigued, taking a sip of your drink. “How?”

Yeosang nodded toward Mingi and Wooyoung. “They’re about to get louder—probably might start dancing too.”

“I might,” Wooyoung shrugged, grinning.

“Did San take the tequila shot?” Yeosang asked you.

“Yes.”

“He’s gone already.”

Yeosang glanced over at Yunho and Seonghwa. “And because Seonghwa’s a lightweight who likes to let loose occasionally, he’s going to encourage Yunho to join him. Yunho always does, anyway—he doesn’t want his hyung to be alone.”

“Yunho did tell me that during breakfast earlier.”

“He knows his friend.”

“And what about you?” you asked, curious. “How do you handle your drinks?”

“I’m more on the heavyweight side. It just takes a little longer.”

“Kind of why I chose gin, trying to get you drunk today,” Wooyoung sighed, setting his cup down. “Seonghwa caught on to my plan, though.”

“Ah!” Yeosang clapped his hands together, suddenly remembering something. “Another thing. Wooyoung is always trying to get everyone drunk!”

“You do it too,” Wooyoung shot back, scowling. “Last time, you did it with San to Mingi. We had to bring him home and explain ourselves to Yunho.”

Yeosang hushed him. “This isn’t about me right now, it’s about you. Just leave Y/N out of it.”

“Am I evil? Of course, I’ll leave my darling Y/N alone… It’s her birthday.” Wooyoung tried to reason, but it was hard to believe.

“So if it weren’t my birthday, you’d still do it?” You tilted your head.

“We’d be stumbling home together, yes.”

You held your cup out, clinking glasses with Wooyoung and Yeosang before taking a sip. “Is San usually a lightweight, too?”

“Yeah, he can only handle about two shots of tequila—maybe a third if he’s feeling up for it,” Wooyoung explained. “He starts singing along to the songs sometimes. You just have to let him be.”

“Why does he still come out to drink then?”

“Because he likes hanging out with everyone and being involved. He said he enjoys the feeling of getting tipsy but doesn’t see the appeal and the taste of alcohol,” Wooyoung explained.

“He’s hilarious once he’s had a bit more,” Yeosang chuckled, reminiscing.

“So far, you’re doing better than he is,” Wooyoung said, nodding toward San as he slowly poured himself a shot of soju.

You scooted closer to San, checking on him. “Are you okay?”

“Yess~,” he dragged out the ‘s’. “D’you want one?”

You felt his forehead and neck with the back of your hand; he was warm. “Want me to take one with you?”

He raised his shoulders, dropping them heavily. “Up to youu~”

You reached for your empty shot glass and poured yourself a drink to join him. He gave you a small clink, his body leaning back slightly as he took the shot, then he leaned forward with a force. You couldn’t help but laugh at how tipsy he already was, taking your drink soon after.

The soju was very light—lighter than the tequila you had earlier—with a hint of sweetness. Overall, it wasn’t bad.

“It’s not bad,” you commented, setting the empty cup down.

San combed his hair back with his fingers. “I thhink I’m good for riiight now,” he slurred. His cheeks had a faint pink hue, signaling that he was most likely drunk. “S’there a pillow aroun’?”

“Oh, you poor baby,” you said, rubbing the back of his head, earning a small purr from him. “Let me get you one.”

San leaned back in his seat, patiently waiting for you to return.

You stood up, placing his jacket down where you sat, and looked around for something San could hold. There was a throw pillow where Mingi and Seonghwa were sitting, so you walked over to them. Yunho was nowhere to be seen, which made you curious.

“Where did Yunho go?” you inquired, holding your hands together.

“Restroom. He’ll be back soon,” Seonghwa confirmed, and you hummed in acknowledgment.

“May I borrow the pillow?” you asked Mingi, who passed it to you.

“You need one too?” he questioned. “Usually, it’s always San who needs one.”

You stepped aside, gesturing toward the black cat hybrid, who looked absolutely hammered. “I figured that out.”

“Oh, the poor baby,” Seonghwa pouted, watching San cutely wave at the three of you.

“That’s what I said.”

“Come back when you’re done,” Mingi said, making space for you when you returned.

Carrying the pillow, you handed it to San and helped him position it comfortably in his arms. He rested his chin into the plush material, his eyelids drooping slightly. “You don’t have to drink anymore. Relax.”

“N-no, I can keep goin’… I jussst need a minute~,” he slurred softly.

You left him to his own devices, retrieving your drink as you made your way to the other side of the table. Seonghwa patted the seat between him and Mingi.

“How are you feeling so far?” Seonghwa asked, setting his glass of champagne down.

“Lovely,” you purred, wrapping your tail gently around his arm.

“I agree, this place isn’t terrible,” he said, tapping his fingers on his knee to the beat of the music. “And they actually have good champagne—most places don’t. Have you tried it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only had two shots and this drink, but I’m down to try it.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, moving his cup and the bottle away. “Don’t feel like you have to try everything tonight. Take it easy—it’s your day.”

That only made you want to try it more; curiosity always got the better of you. “I’ll be fine. I can take a sip from your cup if you don’t want me to have a whole glass.”

Seonghwa hesitated. “Are you positive? It’s not a good idea to mix everything.”

“Mhm!” you reassured him, setting your cup down as you waited to try Seonghwa’s drink. He handed it to you, keeping the bottle out of your sight.

Taking a small sip as promised, you tasted the soft champagne. It was bubbly, a refreshing contrast to everything you’d had so far. The flavor was sweet and fruity, with a slight tartness from the alcohol. However, you didn’t think it was your favorite compared to the other drinks.

You handed the cup back to him and picked yours up again. “It’s alright. I think I like mine better.”

“At least you found a safe drink,” he said, placing the bottle back on the table, confident you wouldn’t go for it now.

“Thank you again for the bags, they’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, anytime!” He rested his free hand on his chest, smiling. “I love to spoil my babies. Whatever you want, I’ll get it.”

“I don’t have anything in mind right now, but I’ll let you know.” You weren’t going to bother Seonghwa with buying anything else. You felt like you’d had enough already, and everything you needed was provided. There wasn’t much more to ask for. “Actually…”

“Hm?” Seonghwa hummed, pouring himself another glass.

“Can I come over again? For a sleepover?”

His cute aggression almost took over when you asked so sweetly. “Absolutely. You know what? That guest room is officially yours whenever you come over.” He was so thrilled to hear that, he started brainstorming aloud. “Now I have to figure out how to decorate your room… maybe put things you like… perhaps the art piece in the living room could…”

“He’s actually going to turn your room into a palace now,” Mingi said confidently, fixing his hair. “He loves stuff like this—dressing everyone up and interior design. Hyung’s really creative.”

“Considering the guest room has a balcony, it’s not hard to believe,” you chuckled, sipping your drink. “Has he ever done that for you and San?”

Mingi shook his head mid-swallow. “No, but we’ve seen Yeosang and Wooyoung’s room—even his own. There’s just so much to look at.”

You hadn’t been in any of their rooms yet, mostly because you never had a reason to. You had your own guest room, your own shower, your own privacy. Besides, they were usually downstairs anyway, except when Yeosang was upstairs working out. If Seonghwa’s house was already that extravagant, you couldn’t imagine what their rooms looked like.

“How often do you guys come here? Those guards seem to know you all pretty well.”

“Hmm,” Mingi pondered. “About… once every two weeks. Maybe once every three. But those guards are like our uncles at this point.”

“Did you go out two weeks before today?”

“Nah,” Mingi said, sipping his whiskey and humming at the warmth that followed in his chest. “The last time was a month ago. We’ve been too busy with you—not that I’m complaining.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks warming as you wondered what he meant by that. “Don’t let me stop you from enjoying yourself.”

“You never do,” Mingi said with a wink. “You should come out with us more often.”

You purred, already imagining doing everything with them. “I will.”

Mingi suddenly exclaimed, finishing his drink. He slammed the glass down on the table and stood up. “This is my song!”

Though the song was unfamiliar to you, the beat was catchy. You found yourself bopping your head to the rhythm, watching Mingi dance beside you.

“I’m diggin’ you, I’m feelin’ you~” Seonghwa suddenly started singing, raising his glass and swaying side to side.

Once you finished your drink, Mingi gently took your hand and helped you to your feet. He moved you away from the table, creating more space to dance.

“I don’t know how to dance,” you reminded him. He shook his head, singing along to the lyrics as he pulled you closer.

“Follow me,” he said, spinning you around so your back was to him.

He moved his hips sensually behind you, guiding your hand to rest delicately at the back of his neck. You held onto him tightly, syncing your movements with his effortlessly. It all felt so natural—the way you ground against him, moving together perfectly to the rhythm of the song.

“There you go…” he praised, resting his right hand gently on your waist.

Yeosang and Wooyoung watched the two of you from their seats at the table.

“They both look so…” Yeosang began, swirling his drink thoughtfully.

“Sexy,” Wooyoung finished with a satisfied look. “Especially Y/N.”

“Yeah…” Yeosang murmured, unable to take his eyes off you as he sipped his whiskey.

“I want to dance with her too,” Wooyoung pouted. “I would dance with San, but…” He glanced over at San, who was swaying side to side with an empty cup in his hand, still singing—slurred and off-key.

“He’s probably going to be like that on the way home,” Yeosang chuckled, sipping his drink before returning his gaze to you and Mingi.

Part of him wished it were him dancing with you instead, sharing a closer bond. But he knew that, in time, you’d open up more. He couldn’t afford to think selfishly—not on your birthday.

Noticing the way Yeosang’s eyes lingered on the two of you, Wooyoung decided to do something about it.

Downing his drink, he set the cup on the table before dragging Yeosang up to dance. “Come on.”

“W-wait!” Yeosang protested, but he followed anyway.

Yunho had returned from the restroom and immediately joined you and Mingi on the dance floor, just a few feet away. Being the dancer that he is, he moved fluidly—his steps effortless, like a routine formed right on the spot. Mingi twirled you back to face him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand before gently sending you off toward Yunho.

Yunho caught you, placing his hand on the small of your back, leaving a respectful space between you. Smiling, you closed the gap, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying your hips in time with the music.

“Okay, pretty lady,” Yunho chuckled, and the warmth in his voice made your chest flutter

As you continued dancing with Yunho, you gradually felt your balance waver—the alcohol was finally kicking in. You rested your forehead against his chest, swaying gently side to side with him.

He felt the soft vibrations of your purrs and noticed your ears drooping slightly. “Tipsy?”

“I think so,” you giggled, unable to hide how heavy you felt. “Feels… nice.”

“You don’t have to keep drinking,” he reminded you.

“Are you kidding? I’m having so much fun right now~”

He smiled, understanding. You were finally experiencing your youth, and he wouldn’t stop you from enjoying it to the fullest. “Just don’t give in to peer pressure. They can get a little rowdy sometimes.”

“I won’t~” you slurred slightly, pulling away from him. “I’m actually gonna get another one. Do you want anything?”

Yunho shook his head with a soft smile. “Thank you, though, sweetheart.”

Gathering your balance, you made your way to the bar as steadily as you could, giggling at your own wobble. Leaning your arms on the counter for support, you rested your weight with a small sigh.

“Hello, Miss,” you greeted the bartender sweetly. “How are youu~?”

“I’m doing alright myself, hun,” she replied, clearly finding your tipsy charm endearing. “What can I get you tonight?”

“Um…” you paused, trying to recall the name. “My friend over there had like… a frozen, slushy type of drink. I forget what it’s called.”

“Margarita?” she guessed.

“Yes!” you said confidently. “May I get one of those?”

“Absolutely. What flavor would you like? We’ve got regular margarita mix, blue raspberry, cherry, strawberry, mango, passion fruit, and green apple.”

“Blue raspberry, please.”

“Coming right up, sweetheart,” the bartender said warmly as she turned around to prepare your drink.

Looking behind you, you saw everyone thoroughly enjoying themselves. Wooyoung and Yeosang were dancing together near San, who still clutched the pillow tightly, singing along enthusiastically to the song playing. Mingi and Yunho were dancing too—Mingi pretended he was about to throw it back on Yunho, only for Yunho to laugh and shove him away playfully.

Maybe you weren’t paying close attention because you hadn’t even noticed Seonghwa standing beside you, lost in his own little world.

He was now nursing a glass of whiskey, taking small, thoughtful sips. Feeling a little cuddly, you side-stepped closer and wrapped your arm around his waist in for a hug. He responded by draping his arm over your shoulders, giving you a subtle squeeze.

“Y’know, ’m aware it’s not the brightest idea t’mix certain drinks together, buh I love thefeelliin’ of it~” Seonghwa confessed, his words slurring together with a huff.

“Me too,” you hummed, your body buzzing in the best way possible.

“Your margarita, miss,” the bartender announced, catching both your and Seonghwa’s attention.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching for it, but Seonghwa grabbed it first and handed it to you. “Oh, thank you too, Seonghwa.”

“Anytime~” he winked at you. In truth, you were comfortable that he didn’t want you to move. He rested his arm back across your shoulder to steady himself.

The two of you stood there, swaying along to the music, perfectly at ease in each other’s company.

For the first time in a long while, you felt normal, free to express yourself, living up to the expectations you’d always dreamed of. Some moments even exceeded what you had imagined. Everything felt perfect, and you were sharing it with people you genuinely cherished.

So you sipped your drink, settling for spectating right now.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” you asked Seonghwa, tightening your hold around his waist as you wobbled slightly.

“Sleeping~ Probably gonn’ be nursin’ a hangov’r,” he replied confidently. “I’ve got the nex’ two days to m’self.”

“Do you always get hungover?”

“Oh yeahh~,” he said, dragging out the words. “III can already taste the soup ’m gon’ devour in the afternoon.”

You giggled at his adorable reaction, and he joined in, fully aware of the state he was in. His body felt heavy, and when he leaned forward from laughing, he accidentally pulled you with him, nearly spilling both your drinks.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, quickly taking his arm off your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. Holding out your drink, you asked for a favor, “Can you watch this for a second? I’m just going to run to the restroom.”

“D’you know where it is~?” he asked, tilting his head.

“No.”

“Jus’ aroun’ the corner—you can’tt miss it,” he said, gesturing with his hand to make sure you wouldn’t get lost.

He took your drink and watched you head in the right direction toward the restroom. Once you disappeared from view, he relaxed against the bar. With both drinks in his hands, Seonghwa instantly forgot which was his and accidentally took a sip of your margarita instead.

“Delicious.” he muttered, taking another one.

As you turned the corner, you were startled at the sudden sight of a couple slammed up against the wall, fully making out and tugging at each other’s clothes. You quickly excused yourself and squeezed past them, just trying to get to the restroom.

Thankfully, it wasn’t crowded, so you were able to use it quickly—though you stumbled a bit in the process. Still, you made it.

When you stepped out of the stall, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. You still looked sexy; your eyes a little droopy now, adding a touch of sensual flair. Thankfully, your lipstick hadn’t smudged or worn off, almost regretting that you hadn’t brought it with you. You washed your hands, dried them, then adjusted your dress, eyeing your reflection with satisfaction.

Another hybrid stepped out of a nearby stall and immediately whistled. “Oh my god, I love your dress!”

You met her gaze through the mirror, flashing a full-toothed smile. “Thank you! It’s my birthday today, I wanted to dress up.”

Your tail stood tall and swayed behind you, clearly enjoying the praise.

“Well, you look great, happy birthday,” the other hybrid wished you warmly.

From what you could tell by the long ears on her head, she was a bunny mix. Her coloring was split evenly from head to tail—half brown, half white. She was also shorter than you, though that might’ve just been your heels.

“Have a good nigh’,” you offered a friendly farewell as you left her alone in the restroom.

The couple that had been making out earlier was gone—likely off somewhere more private. But when you returned to the booth, it looked like chaos had erupted in the short five minutes you were gone.

Wooyoung was serenading Seonghwa, though Seonghwa looked more annoyed than entertained—mainly because Wooyoung was yelling directly in his ear. Nearby, Yunho was lost in the music, eyes closed, dancing by himself. Mingi and Yeosang were trying to convince San to take another shot; he weakly pushed them away, but ended up taking it anyway.

You walked up to Seonghwa first. “May I get my drink?”

“Drink?” he asked, looking confused as he tried to push Wooyoung away.

“Yeah, my margarita?”

Both of you looked down at the empty cup in his hand.

Your margarita was gone.

“Oh!…” Seonghwa pouted innocently. “I drank it all…”

“That’s fine. Was it good?”

“Very,” he smiled, sluggish and content—until he suddenly yelped, feeling Wooyoung bite his arm. “Ah! Let go—ah!”

“Give me attention,” Wooyoung demanded, kissing Seonghwa’s cheek, only to bite him again a second later.

“Yah!”

You left them to bicker and headed off to order yourself another margarita, deciding it would be your last for the night. Drink in hand, you made your way over to where Yeosang and Mingi were still pestering San.

“One more, one more,” Mingi and Yeosang chanted in unison, like a pair of evil twins.

“Go away~,” San grumbled, weakly fanning them off.

You poked both Mingi and Yeosang in the sides, making them jump. “Leave him alone.”

“Princess Y/N,” San said dramatically, as if you’d come in answer to his silent plea. “Save me.”

“He’s only had three. This would be his fourth—for the whole night,” Mingi argued, trying to reason with you.

“Do you want it, San?” you asked kindly. Even though you’d had more drinks than him, you could see the visible flush on his cheeks under the lights.

“Only if it’s from you,” he claimed, locking eyes with you as he clutched the pillow tightly.

You handed your cup to Yeosang and took the shot glass from Mingi. San appeared so submissive—a stark contrast to his usual self. The way he gazed up at you stirred something deep inside, something almost carnal.

Cradling the bottom of his chin with delicate fingers, you brought the shot to his lips and tipped it. He never looked away, drinking everything you offered without a word of protest. As his Adam’s apple bobbed with the swallow, you casually discarded the glass, then wiped a stray drop from his lip with your thumb—and licked it clean.

“Good boy,” you praised, tapping his cheek as he let out a soft purr.

You didn’t notice it, but Mingi and Yeosang’s tails swayed low, ears tilted outward in ‘airplane mode.’ They wished they were San—longing to be called ‘good boys’ too.

Removing the pillow from San’s arms, you tossed it onto the seat beside him and settled into his lap. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he rested his cheek against your back.

You took your drink back from Yeosang. “Thank you, Yeosangie.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am…”

“Ma’am?” You tilted your head, amused. “That’s a new one. I know it’s my birthday, but I don’t think I’m old enough for ma’am just yet.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, only to get a nudge from Mingi.

“I don’t mind it,” you reassured him, taking a sip of your drink. “Do you two want to finish the bottle with me?”

You weren’t sure if you’d missed something, but suddenly, Yeosang and Mingi were acting unusually obedient. Mingi grabbed a chair and placed it to San’s left, while Yeosang quietly moved the discarded pillow on his right and sat in its place.

“Are you okay to drink more?” Yeosang asked, eyeing the soju bottle—which barely had a dent in it. “It might be too much.”

“I think I’ll be okay. Are you two feeling alright?”

“I could always go for more,” Yeosang admitted with a small shrug.

“I’m buzzed, but that hasn’t stopped me yet,” Mingi said, his ears perked straight up toward the ceiling.

“Then let’s go. Though, I am a bit hungry.”

“Yunho hyung!” Mingi called across the booth, catching Yunho’s attention as he continued dancing in place. Mingi mimicked an eating gesture, earning a nod of understanding from Yunho. “He’s on it,”

Yeosang poured three shots, finally lowering the bottle to just under half. “Love shot?” he asked, seizing the opportunity.

“Love shot?” you echoed, tilting your head in confusion—until he hooked his arm around yours to demonstrate how to take it.

“Ohh~,” you said, catching on with a playful smile.

You and Yeosang took the shot together, unlinking your arms shortly after. Mingi took his in silence, eyes flicking between the two of you.

You took the bottle and poured the next two shots, sliding them toward them with a sly smile. “Love shot.”

Mingi and Yeosang exchanged a glance, suddenly shy—but they did it anyway. It was the birthday girl’s request, after all. As they pulled apart, you caught Yeosang giving Mingi a cheeky wink, which nearly made the husky hybrid choke on his drink.

“Good boys.” Their hard work and perseverance had paid off.

They must’ve really liked the nickname—judging by the way their tails wagged enthusiastically, with glee. The sight made you laugh, and you accidentally leaned back against San.

“Sorry, Sannie,” you apologized quickly.

“S’okay~,” he slurred, holding you tighter and nuzzling his face into your back.

There was only enough for one shot left, and instead of taking it yourself—or letting either of the others have it—you called over Yunho. His cheeks and ears were a vibrant red, but he looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Yes, pretty lady?” he said sweetly, bending down so he could hear you better. You handed him the shot, silently signaling for him to take it.

“Dark horse?” he questioned, raising a brow.

“Not really. I was just offering it to you.”

He smiled, clearly appreciating the gesture, and took the glass gratefully.

“To the birthday girl!” he announced to the booth, earning a round of cheers—even San cheered instinctively from behind you.

Yunho knocked it back in your honor, then made an exaggeratedly disgusted face for dramatic flair. Everyone’s so silly.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to eat, by the way, darling?” Yunho inquired.

“Honestly, anything,” you confessed. “All this drinking has made me hungry.”

“Normally.”

“What did you order?” Mingi asked, looking up from where he sat.

“Wings—both bone-in and boneless, just in case Y/N didn’t want to deal with bones—”

“Chicken!” Yeosang abruptly exclaimed, surprising even you. He immediately covered his face, fanning himself in embarrassment.

“Pizza,” Yunho continued, counting off on his fingers. “Friesss, nachos…”

“There’s more?” Mingi’s eyes widened in surprise.

Yunho looked around the room, palms facing upward. “Do you see how many people are with us?”

“You’re right,” Mingi admitted, now embarrassed, chuckling at the obvious truth.

“And… no, that’s it.” Yunho finished the list, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Should be ready in about…” He glanced at his wrist, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Twenty-five, thirty minutes?”

“There’s no watch there,” you pointed out.

“I know.”

“San gets that from him,” Mingi whispered in your ear.

The four of you chatted quietly until the food arrived. Thank God for the music and noise—it helped cover the sound of your stomach rumbling from hunger.

Maybe San felt it too, but he was clearly out of it.

You asked Yeosang to scoot over so San could eat more comfortably, settling yourself between the two of them. Even though he could barely hold himself up, San ate whatever was in front of him, blinking slowly into the distance. Everyone ate mostly in silence—the first quiet moment of the night—occasionally complimenting the food.

The wings were great, but you weren’t a fan of the pizza, gently pushing it away from you.

Seonghwa saw and furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’ like it?~”

“No, not really,” you replied with a slight grimace, sticking to the wings for now.

Seonghwa grabbed the plate, standing up. “Yah, we need to return thiss~.”

Mingi and Wooyoung quickly pulled him back down. “We can eat it. Sit down, grandpa,” Wooyoung scowled harshly.

“Gran’paa?~” Seonghwa looked genuinely offended. “I know ’m older, buh I’m not—”

Yunho stabbed a boneless wing and pressed it to Seonghwa’s lips. “Eat and sober up.”

You nibbled on some fries and one lone nacho, feeling full after the wings. Deciding to call it a night, you nursed the margarita you’d been sipping since the soju with Mingi and Yeosang. It had melted a bit, but still tasted great.

Time slipped away as your eyes grew heavy. Mingi and Wooyoung still had energy to mess around, Seonghwa and Yunho seemed deep in a drunk conversation, San was already knocked out on the couch, and Yeosang remained noticeably more sober than the rest.

He stayed by your side for the rest of the night, still glowing from being called a good boy.

“Ssangiee~,” you tugged on his sleeve, your ears folding softly on your head.

“Hm?” He leaned in closer, trying to hear you over the music.

“I’m tired.”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and walking over to Yunho to let him know you were ready to leave.

You grabbed your bag, carefully putting your phone inside.

“Whaa~ the nigh’ juss sstarted,” Seonghwa dragged out his words, suddenly acting cute.

Yeosang stood off to the side, arms crossed, talking quietly on the phone.

Yunho went over to wake San, playfully messing with his hair. “Time to go home, wake upp~.” San’s eyes fluttered open, and he reached out with grabby hands toward Yunho. “You drank the least, I don’t get it.” Still, Yunho helped him up—knowing San would have stayed there until he felt like waking.

Meanwhile, Mingi and Wooyoung gathered everyone’s things and cleaned up a bit, easing the load for the waiters.

“Limo service should be here in five minutes, heading to our house,” Yeosang announced, earning nods of acknowledgement from everyone.

“It’s probably safer that way—all of us heading home together. You can always leave in the morning,” he added, reassuring you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, rising from your seat. Yunho was already helping San toward the exit, San’s arm slung over his shoulder.

“Might s’well take these~,” Seonghwa mumbled to himself, grabbing both the whiskey and champagne bottles from the ice bucket and cradling them in his arms as he stumbled after the others.

As you started walking in the same direction as the others, Yeosang gently tugged you back by the wrist, positioning himself in front of you to shield your backside from the rest of the club. He carefully pulled down the hem of your dress, making sure you were covered.

“Sorry… I didn’t want anyone staring,” he admitted shyly.

You smiled and laced your fingers with his. “Walk with me.”

He held your hand tightly, guiding you toward the exit, with Mingi and Wooyoung following just a few steps behind.

“On a scale of one to ten, how intoxicated are you?” you asked, keeping your eyes focused on your footing as you walked.

“A five—just a little tipsy,” Yeosang said, swinging your joined hands playfully. “You?”

“Ten,” you giggled, making him laugh at your honesty.

“I hope you enjoyed tonight.”

“I had a ball—especially with everyone here,” you replied warmly, coming to a stop as the group paused ahead. “Hey, Yeosang?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to sleep together?”

His eyes widened, completely caught off guard. “S-sleep together? We can’t do that, you’re not sober.”

Your face burned with fluster. “No! I meant like… nap. Just—sleep in the same bed.”

“Maybe I’m at a seven,” Yeosang said with a laugh, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Yes, I’d love that.”

You nodded, walking beside him in comfortable silence—until his words replayed in your head.

“Wait… so if I was sober, you’d sleep with me?”

Yeosang nearly tripped over his own feet. “Let’s… save that conversation for another time,” he muttered, clearly flustered and trying to recover.

The limo picked everyone up quickly, carrying you all back to Seonghwa’s house. As soon as you arrived, he launched into a full lecture—outlining what to do once inside, who was sleeping in which room, and that everyone should shower in pairs due to the limited number of bathrooms.

Except for you, he clarified that you deserved your privacy. It was clear Seonghwa didn’t like chaos in his house—understandable, considering how hard it must be to manage a full group of intoxicated people.

You and Yeosang were the last to leave the limo, clinging to each other until it was time to part ways for showers.

“Come to my room after you’re done,” you told him softly. “And please bring an extra pair of underwear. I don’t have anything here except pajamas.”

Yeosang’s tail swayed low behind him, mentally checking off your request as he headed upstairs. A big smile slowly spread across his face, but Wooyoung caught it immediately.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Yeosang replied, trying to sound casual. But the truth was, he was about to cuddle with you for the first time, and that meant everything to him. “Shower with me.”

Meanwhile, your own shower was quiet and grounding. You let the warm water wash over your face as you slowly scrubbed your body. Everything felt heavy; your limbs, your thoughts, the lingering heat in your chest. The buzz from the alcohol still hummed through you. A stray thought crossed your mind, wondering what sex might feel like in this hazy state, but it was just that: a passing curiosity. You weren’t in the mood tonight.

Since you hadn’t brought any makeup remover, you used the oil cleanser Seonghwa had thoughtfully left in the medicine cabinet. You massaged it thoroughly across your face, knowing that even if a little residue remained, you could finish cleaning it off in the morning. After rinsing it away in the shower, you turned off the water and stepped out onto the soft rug, towel wrapped securely around your body.

Thankfully, your makeup was completely gone—one less thing to worry about. You laid your pajamas out on the bed, preparing to get dressed, when a knock sounded at the door.

You opened it to find Yeosang standing there in matching pajamas as he wanted you to feel included.

“I got—woah,” Yeosang turned around quickly, eyes wide as he caught a glimpse of you in just a towel.

“Oh, come in and lock the door,” you said casually, pulling him by the back of his blouse inside. He followed your instruction, locking the door behind him.

“If you’re worried, just look away for now,” you told him, leading him to sit on the bed.

And he did, staring intently at the door as the soft sounds of fabric shifting filled the room behind him.

“Underwear?”

He held it out without turning around, feeling your fingers brush his as you took it from him. You slid it on, followed by the rest of your pajamas. After a few more quiet rustles, the bed dipped behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, hesitant.

“You can come now,” you said, crawling onto the bed and sitting cross-legged in the center. Yeosang followed quietly, sitting in front of you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied shyly, his voice a little quieter now that the room felt more private.

“What time is it?” you asked through a yawn, rubbing your eyes as the weight of the day began to settle in your body.

Yeosang reached for your phone resting on your pillow. The lock screen caught his attention—it was a photo of Yunho, San, and Mingi, all bundled in winter coats, grinning wildly.

“11:55 p.m.”

“It’s almost over,” you mumbled sleepily. “I really had a great time.”

“I’m just glad everything fell into place for you today,” Yeosang hummed, his tail swaying gently behind him. After a moment, he glanced up at you, a little hesitant. “If I may ask… why did you choose me tonight? Why not San, or Mingi? Even Yunho?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Because I wanted to nap with you,” you stated simply, shrugging. “I don’t always have to pick them.”

You liked giving them space now and then—so you didn’t feel like you were constantly clinging or in their way.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you asked softly. “I can ask Wooyoung instead.”

Yeosang waved his hands quickly. “No, it’s not that at all,” he declared, eyes dropping to his lap as he fidgeted with the hem of his silk pajama pants. “I’ve always… wanted to cuddle with you. I know we video chat a lot, but you’re only here every once in a while.”

“Aww, you’re so cute,” you cooed at him with a teasing grin.

Yeosang pouted. “I’m not cute.”

“You’re so handsome,” you corrected, voice soft but sure.

“Okay, well—” Yeosang tugged playfully at the collar of his shirt, acting bashful. “I admit, I admit.”

“This is kind of random,” you began softly, “but… would you like to kiss? Just to feel a little closer?”

Yeosang’s ears perked up, and his tail stood high with interest, clearly caught off guard—but pleased by the idea.

“I’d love to…” he said gently, “but not while you’re intoxicated.”

That was fair; you couldn’t argue with that. Deep down, he wanted the first kiss between you two to be special, something remembered clearly, not blurred by alcohol. So, he chose to save it for another day.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” you asked sleepily.

“Big spoon,” he answered without hesitation, his tone serious.

You let out one final yawn before lying on your side, pulling the blanket over both of you. Yeosang moved in behind you, settling into the space with a gentle presence. He left a respectful gap at first, but wrapped his arm around you lightly, careful not to overstep.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his and guiding it closer to your torso. He exhaled, relaxed, letting himself fully melt into the moment with you.

“You can come closer if you’d like,” you murmured reassuringly.

Yeosang shifted forward, closing the space between you until his body pressed softly against yours. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat on your back. His scent—rich with dark coffee and fresh laundry—was a soothing contrast to the overwhelming mix of smells at the club. It was different from what you were used to at home, but it was a comforting kind of different.

“Night, Sangie,” you voiced drowsily, pressing yourself even closer to him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, hearing a soft “mmm” from you before your breathing evened out.

You fell asleep quickly. Yeosang, however, remained awake, his thoughts still stirring. He had mentally prepared a checklist for the morning, anticipating hangovers and chaos. But with you in his arms, those worries faded. ’Let them handle themselves,’ he decided.

As the clock neared midnight, he silently gave you one last birthday wish, watching the digits flip from 11:59 to 12:00.

Your pheromones eased his mind and quieted his body. He cherished this closeness, resting the tip of his nose gently at the curve of your shoulder, near your scent gland, but not quite touching it. He instinctively held you tighter, curling his legs behind yours as his eyes finally fluttered closed.

Maybe he’ll see you in his dreams tonight.

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