#i could always do the impression but it was always a little off

[sangunary]

Hi hi! Can we have a baby reader that has a habit of biting, headbutting and crying whenever the Batfamily is in their costumes? The baby absolutely loves them and always clings onto the family,follows then around even when they're busy (sitting in Bruce's lap while he's having a online meeting,clinging onto Damian while he paints and draws with one hand, sleeping on Jason's lap while he reads, ect.) but the moment they put on their masks/helmet she instantly stars sobbing, throwing things and hiding from them and if anyone tries to hold them when they still have their costumes on they instantly try to bite or headbutt them?

ᯓBatFamily × Baby Reader ( Platonic ).

SYPNOSIS: Their beloved baby sibling cannot remember who they are under the mask.

IMP: PURELY platonic. Wayyyy longer then I wish.

Your mother died shortly after you were born and your father ran away after realising your existence.

Being a teenager your mother knew she couldn't care for you, as much as she hated to send you off into anothers arms it was for your own sake.

She couldn't be selfish and make you go through a terrible life of poverty and without a father as well.

It happened during a massive earthquake, a building for struggling pregnant teens collapse.

Batman was there to save life along with his children, your mother went into labour due to stress and unknown circumstances.

It was tragic, she had you there and before she could even glace at your face the light left her eyes...

Before her death she begged for Batman to hand you over to someone caple of loving you like how she had hoped to, he tried telling her she wouldn't die yet she knew... She chose you to live as she doesn't see a reason to be breathing if you can't be by her arms.

She rather stay with you even as a ghost.

Batman looking at the newborn crying at his arm's unlock unwanted feelings and memories and decided to raise you himself.

The rest of the family love's you, your precious smile and especially the way you would cling onto them.

You love warmth and affection, completely different from when you were born cold and empty.

Walking on your legs as you would follow after anyone that even glace at you, it was hilarious.

You have extremely short legs, swinging your hand's while you try to run towards them with loud whinning for them to notice you.

If they didn't notice you, you would simply sit down on the ground hard with a thud and fold your arm's, staring at them with the best frown you could manage with. Sitting there sulking in silence unless or until someone pick you up.

Dick love's to teach you acrobatic moves knowing damn well that you can barely run not without almost tripping and falling on your face, you weren't the most athletic baby.

Throwing you up in the air and catching you and then spinning with you, he just loves to hear that adorable giggles of yours you made whenever he does the most dangerous stunt with you.

Sitting you down on the couch as he does a handstand or a flip or anything as you would clap your hands together. He would try to make you do backflip which always ended in him getting hit by Barbara who would took you away from him.

"Look at our little performer! Aren't they the most impressive performer?"

Dick would show any of his sibling of your standing on his hands or you hanging onto his arms.

You would watch him train and even try to train with him which he cannot help but smile at.

You trying to reach the bar that literally felt like it was in heaven cause you saw Dick performing tricks on it, using all your strength trying to pick up heavy weight.

You would not let him train by himself, you felt a deep sorrow seeing him training by himself so you help out as much as possible.

Like, clinging onto him while he did some pull ups, surprisingly your grip is very strong and tight for your age. Resting your head on his shoulder, looking like a baby slot holding onto it's mother.

Or how you would try to hold onto the to dumbbell while he's using it to become he would probably be squished by it if you don't help.

After a few minutes you would be off to napping on the couch exhausted and tired.

If you don't felt like being with Dick you simply go to the next option, Jason.

Jason was alot more gentle scared that he might accidentally hurt you, he does always teach you about on how to be street smart, you don't understand anything he say's but you like to listen.

Seeing him read you would left everything behind to accompany him cause no one is left behind. Always blessing them with your heavenly presence.

Climbing onto the ridiculously talk couch known as the ' reading couch ' Jason would watch as you struggle to get up, it was adorable from his view and it was climbing mount Everest on your part.

You arm's can reach it yet your legs have a hard time trying to get up, when one leg is on the couch you just couldn't lift the other. You wouldn't ask for help either, you rather not seek help from the want needing you.

After you managed to climb the couch you would plop down on his lap or take one arm and warp it around you leaning onto him, looking at the written book infront of you... You can't read.

Jason would simply continue reading in his mind and would even aks you if you finish reading it before turning the page, knowing that you infact cannot read. He knows that you made up completely new word and story.

He's reading Pride and Prejudice you're reading about Baba Black Sheep.

At the Batcave while he's repairing his bike you would Crouch down next to him like his assistant, pointing at gears and nodding along.

Sometimes it's the most comfortable silence he ever had or he's just teaching you about gears and how to fix them.

Hell, he even lables the tools because you don't have the worst memorization factor.

Helping you fix your toy bicycle using toys while being extremely serious.

"Seems like you barely clean the gear, look at this mess, I didn't raise you to be neglecting your prise possesion like nothing"

"Look, touch the tire and feel it... flat, very flat, dangerously flat... We need to pump it up before you get into trouble and cry"

You nod your head vigorously, barely understanding on why he is making you feel the bicycle wheel that is solely made of plastic.

Tim was also your favourite.

You would sit on his laps as he work, the computer lighting up the place, doesn't matter how busy Tim was you always managed to slide in on his arms and just watch like a clueless raccon.

Talking to you about his case and you don't even catch half of the thing he's rambling about yet still nodding along.

If he is studying you would study along side him, holding onto the pencil and lining the alphabet while Tim was busy learning for exam.

Showing him your work whenever you are done and him rewarding you with a head pat.

He even let's you play dress up on his computer while hes taking a break: He's brainstorming there is no break.

His computer consisted of gruesome documents and records and there is also tons of dress up games, making cake, classic games and barbie movies... Safe to say, he pirates alot of barbie movie for your sake.

"The unicorn is her sister? That's beastiality"

"Reminds me of Damian... Must be his secret twin"

Seeing him drink energy drinks and coffee you have been begging to drink as well, cause whatever he does you do it as well no need for questions.

And as a result, he wrote 'Monsta' on a mug he bought you and pour you a drink whenever he drank them, and you would drink it proudly.

It was just mineral water that tasted like fruits, you'll have your first energy drink with him to cheer and witness the start of your addiction.

Damian on the other hand was the most serious of the bunch.

Hes an actual eagle, always there whenever you want hug or attention or even to be love. Scoop you up in his arms and left without a word. He will not have those vermin judge him for treating his siblings with love.

If he saw any of them putting you in danger do not be worried he have been luring behind the darkness before shit can get serious. He's the second shadow of yours ready to pound onto anyone who put you in danger.

He's very serious about your well being and mental state.

Although he did hand you weapons at such young age to train with, you can't blame him he started out young to so if you start young he could be much at ease .

Much to his dismay Bruce doesn't want you near violence in his defence it wasn't violence if they annoy you first.

Now you two are secretly learning how to fight with very very small progress, you cannot even hold onto a small stick for a minute a katana... Was something else.

He's absolutely protective of you since you're an incapable baby, if you see something flying at you you'll just meet it face first cry ahd forget. Have a higher chance of being kidnapped.

It's his absolute duty to protect you from harm, no one lays their hand on you without his permission... He will not tolerate insolent and mannerless people and he will make sure you do to.

Holding onto you while he paint, he never complaint no matter how uncomfortable it was because a good soldier never complaint for their comfort rather they suffer for someone they love.

You would nap in his arm or simply watch him perform his art, it was a quiet comfortable moment... It was a special time for the two of you to bond peacefully.

"Unicorn?"

You asked him, looking up at him who's eyes were still on his the Canva.

"I knew you weren't an intellect child but isn't this out of line even for you?"

"Uni"

"Alright, a horse with a corn on it's head then..."

He can't deny you when you don't even have the brain to register what he is saying, and not because he wanted to spoil you abit... and raise your standards.

Your father was usually busy, busy being Bruce and Batman at night. Since you're a baby it was alot harder for him to spend times with you.

Usually he could do that by spending time's during patroll but he won't allow a child to be a vigilante anymore.

As a result he tried to glue you to his side when he is free, although he wasn't a good father he tried.

He sometime doesn't understand what you are meaning to say and your siblings would have to translate it for him. Although he would try to figure it out before asking them.

Watching anything you enjoy doesn't matter how childish it was Bruce would sit down with you and watch it very seriously. Noting down whenever you laugh or bored for future special times.

Going to the local playground with you while all the mom's stared at him, muttering praise and complements for being such a good father while being single.

He knew they were staring at him since he literally is Bruce Wayne at a public playground, because he doesn't want to spoil you too much and wants you to have normal friends.

Pushing you on the swing, waiting at you at the end of the slide, pretending not to see you while playing hide and seek and even playing along with you during roleplay. He sincerely wanted to be a good father to atleast one of his children.

Unfortunately or fortunately he doesn't see you as a distraction from anything just a responsible he absolutely loves. That means you're everywhere he is at... Gala, outside and even meeting.

You would sit on his lap facing his laptop with a drowsy look on your face, playing with his fingers while he doesn't even seem to know that you are there.

His employees couldn't help but take pictures secretly, you don't look so enthusiastic about the meeting and even falling asleep occasionally. Yet Bruce would only acknowledges you to make sure you were comfortable and not too bored.

Well you did join his meeting because you honestly missed your father but that was a one time thing, now it was mandatory for you to be present during meetings cause you were the joy and happiness for him.

"If we don't have the available resources now our competitors will surely take advantage of that and left us with nothing"

"...Boss? are you listening?"

Bruce who was busy trying to settle your head to a more comfortable position while being as gentle as possible.

"Yeah, hear you... Just have to do some important work continue"

Yet as much as you cling and hold onto them whenever they are going to go out without you. You would freak out with their mask on.

Hiding behind Alfred holding onto him for your life looking at the strangers infront of you, to you they just ate your family. Your family goy eaten by those masks and God were you scared.

Dick would try to find a solution... To hold you then put the mask on but to no one surprise you freak out even more.

Struggling for dear life and even smacking him, tears already forming at your eyes terrified about the fact that your older brother just got eaten infront of you.

Then he would took it off and it took you a great minute to realise he was back from the death. Hold onto him suddenly and cry harder.

Jason terrified you the most, his head was literally engulfed by the helmet of his. You would try to save him by throwing anything you could grab and hold onto.

Grabbing the book closest to you and throwing it at him which barely hit him, hit him as hard as you could while he just stood there unbothered. Alfred would be the one making sure no one wear their complete costume near you.

You couldn't recognise them even if they wear it infront of you it'll make it much more worst. Biting onto them if necessary and headbutt them as hard as you could and it does hurt you and them.

You did headbutt Jason once you never did that again and he couldn't stop laughing after you did it, just the sound of metal being hit ring and utter silence... Followed with the Alfred picking you up before you could resistered the pain.

At first they thought it was just you being stupid and the more you see them the easier it would get... No, it got worst.

You're fully prepared by the time they had hoped for you to stop, thankfully you were strong enough to conflict any pain but you could pull hard enough to took some hair out, bite them or headbutt.

Your favourite was to just ran away while calling out for them not knowing that the person you were running from was the one you seeked.

[callikari]

NOTHING ★ l.hs

PRECIS 。 but there's nothing, like doing nothing. with you.

이희승 x fem!reader 1491 fluff highschool au slowburn romance ─ mild language kissing skinship implied emotional initimacy emotional vulnerability teasing & sarcasm

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

you transferred to decelis academy in the middle of the year.

a crisp wednesday morning, wind tugging at your skirt, nerves prickling under your skin like static. everything about this place felt too polished—marble floors, crisp uniforms, whispers that didn’t stop even when you walked by.

you clutched your schedule tighter. block b, room 203.

your homeroom teacher greeted you with a sigh and a dry smile.

“you��ll be sitting next to lee heeseung.”

there were a few quiet reactions. someone let out a soft tsk. another boy muttered under his breath, good luck.

you didn’t understand what that meant.

not until you took your seat.

heeseung didn’t look up.

hood up indoors. airpods in. hoodie creased just right over long, slouched limbs. he didn’t say hi, didn’t move his bag off your chair, didn’t acknowledge you at all. just tapped his pencil to an invisible rhythm and stared ahead like the world bored him.

you didn’t mind. you’d met his type before—the ones who moved like everyone else was in slow motion, like the rules didn’t apply. pretty boys with deep silences and shallow tempers.

so you didn’t say hi either.

and that’s what made you different.

heeseung noticed you by what you didn’t do.

you didn’t fawn over him like the others.

you didn’t ask about basketball.

you didn’t comment on the designer sneakers he always wore.

you didn’t even glance at him when he rolled his eyes during class discussions like the world had nothing new to offer.

instead, you offered him a pen without looking when his ran out.

you shared notes after he dozed off in history.

you laughed with your friends—giselle, yunjin, and belle—in the hallway like you had your own world and didn’t need to impress anyone.

he didn’t know what to do with that.

so the first time he spoke to you, it wasn’t planned.

“you always carry gum?”

you blinked. “uh… yeah?”

“can i have one?”

you slid him a piece without comment. he unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth, then gave a lazy little smile like it cost him something.

“thanks.”

from there, things changed. slowly. quietly.

you started finding your chair already pulled out when you entered the room. he’d pretend he didn’t do it. you’d pretend not to notice.

you started catching him watching you—not in a dreamy way, but like he was trying to figure you out. like you were a puzzle piece no one had handed him before.

during quizzes, if you were stuck, he’d tap twice under the desk: c.

it was always right.

one day, during your literature presentation, the projector glitched and your slides disappeared. before the teacher could even react, heeseung leaned over and clicked a few keys on your laptop, fixing it in seconds.

“you owe me,” he whispered, not even looking up.

you rolled your eyes. “you want a medal?”

he leaned back in his chair. “another piece of gum would do.”

you started studying together in the library.

at first, heeseung barely spoke. just sat beside you, hoodie up, fingers tapping his mechanical pencil, page-flipping in sync with yours.

but the silence softened.

he’d start pointing out typos in your notes.

you’d tease his handwriting.

he’d push his energy drink toward you when you yawned.

you’d slide your extra hair tie around his wrist when he fiddled with his sleeves too much.

your friends didn’t know what to make of him.

giselle wrinkled her nose. “he’s cute, sure. but he looks like he’s allergic to sunlight.”

yunjin scoffed. “he’s got the personality of a locked phone.”

belle, ever the peacemaker, tilted her head. “nah… he’s like a cat. mean at first, but once he picks you, you’re his.”

it turned out belle was right.

because heeseung started showing up.

not just in class, but… everywhere.

after lunch, he’d linger by the lockers.

in gym, he’d guard you a little too closely during basketball scrimmages.

he’d walk behind you after school, not too close, but never too far.

he started replying to your late-night texts—short at first, then longer, until he was the last person you spoke to every night.

you shared music.

he gave you moody lo-fi.

you sent him golden-era indie pop.

he said your taste was weird.

you said his vibe was tragic.

he let you tie his hoodie strings in bows and didn’t pull away when you did.

he started scribbling things in the corners of your notebook pages. tiny sketches. sometimes just your name, in blocky bubble letters.

his friends took notice too.

jake gave you a grin in the hallway and nudged heeseung. “new girl’s kinda cool.”

jay watched you from across the cafeteria, raising an eyebrow when you made heeseung laugh.

sunghoon handed you a water bottle during gym and just said, “he talks about you.”

sunoo invited you to his birthday party.

jungwon saved you a seat on the bus for a field trip.

and riki—loud, unfiltered riki—pointed at you during basketball practice and yelled, “hyung likes herrrr!”

heeseung shoved him to the ground, face burning.

you covered yours with both hands.

he didn’t deny it.

you never had a clear “becoming friends” moment.

it just happened in snapshots.

you, laughing at something on his phone.

heeseung walking you to your locker after class.

sharing your charger under the desk.

him poking your shoulder during group projects.

you fixing his collar before a team photo.

sitting side by side on the bleachers after hours, his knee bumping yours and never pulling away.

he teased you mercilessly.

you teased him back harder.

once, after he got a nosebleed during a game, you snapped a picture of him with tissue shoved up his nose and made it your lockscreen.

“you’re dead,” he hissed.

“say cheese,” you chirped.

heeseung almost smiled.

it was spring when something shifted.

you’d both ditched lunch to sit on the rooftop.

the sun hung low. the air smelled like new grass and cherry blossoms.

you had a bandaid on your elbow, scraped raw from slipping down the stairs earlier that morning.

“fell,” you muttered, brushing your hair back.

heeseung reached over. gently pressed the edge of the bandaid like he was testing the wound himself.

“be careful,” he said, voice low. “you’re the only friend i like.”

you looked up.

and maybe something cracked open in your chest.

after that, there were more things. soft things.

he brought you strawberry milk after a bad test.

he texted home yet? every night even though you always walked.

he slung his hoodie over your shoulders without saying a word.

he watched you like you were more interesting than the entire court.

and you?

you started noticing things about him.

how his ears turned red when he was nervous.

how he hummed under his breath when he thought no one was listening.

how he only let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

you were falling.

but heeseung?

he’d already fallen.

one afternoon, you were both studying in the library, shoulders nearly touching, your legs tangled under the desk without either of you noticing.

you murmured, “this is what falling in love feels like.”

he looked up from his textbook. “what?”

“that song. jvke.”

heeseung tilted his head. then leaned in, so close his breath warmed your cheek.

“then i’ve been falling for a while,” he whispered. “hope you catch me.”

you turned your face toward him.

and smiled.

“you’re lucky,” you said. “i’m good at catching things.”

he stared at you for one suspended second longer.

then leaned in. fully. finally.

the kiss was soft. careful. like heeseung couldn’t believe it was happening.

his hand came up to brush your cheek, thumb resting just below your ear, and your fingers curled into the front of his hoodie. his lips tasted like mint gum and something warmer—something that felt like safety.

you pulled away first. just barely.

he blinked. breathless.

“was that real?”

you grinned. “you want another to check?”

he laughed under his breath, pressed his forehead against yours, and whispered, “yeah. maybe two more. for science.”

school ended, but you didn’t.

you spent late nights on the basketball court under the stars, heeseung tossing pebbles at your window just to see you in pajamas.

you went to convenience stores past midnight for ice cream and sat on the curb, knees bumping.

you kissed in the backseat of jay’s car after the fireworks show.

you wore his hoodie on the hottest day of july, just because it still smelled like him.

he made you playlists.

you doodled on his arms with sharpie.

he called you baby once by accident. then again on purpose.

you kissed under the rain on the last night of august, soaked and smiling, hands clinging to each other like neither of you wanted summer—or this—to ever end.

you didn’t say i love you yet.

but you didn’t have to.

everything already felt like it.

vi says :: this took so long to write but i love it sm !!

enhypen taglist :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @jungwonbropls @manariees @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20

© CALLIKARI 

[calypso-rt]

bookworm III

-> blurbs pt. I + blurbs pt. II

-> rafe x bookworm!reader

You should’ve known the second you mentioned book club that Rafe would take it as a challenge.

"I have to close early tomorrow night. Book club’s meeting here this week."

Rafe, who was leaning on the counter eating one of the muffins he brought (for you, but he always ended up eating half), perked up immediately.

"Book club?" he repeated, muffin paused mid-bite.

You nodded, sliding a volume into place. “Yep. Small group. Mostly regulars. Very nerdy.”

He grinned. “I’m comin’.”

You laughed. “You don’t even read the books.”

"I can read," he said, deeply offended. “Also, I like hangin' out here. And I wanna see what the hype is.”

You tried to warn him. You really did.

"It’s... a lot of older ladies. They take it seriously."

"I take things seriously," he shot back. Then smirked. "Especially you."

And that was the end of that.

The next night, you set out tea and cookies, rearranged the chairs in a circle, and, right on time, Rafe walked in. Wearing a crisp, ironed button-down. With his hair actually styled. And carrying a battered copy of The Great Gatsby he’d clearly panic-bought that morning.

"Hey," he whispered, slipping into a seat next to you. “I’m ready.”

You gave him a Look. “You actually read it?”

"…I read the back," he whispered proudly. “And a few pages. He throws parties, right? I can relate.”

You bit back a smile. “Just... try not to dominate the conversation.”

"Me? Never."

Five minutes in, the ladies were thrilled to have Rafe there.

"Oh, honey, we’ve heard about you," Miss Eleanor said, patting his arm. “The handsome one who keeps buying up all the poetry books.”

Rafe flushed pink. “Well, she makes this place hard to leave.” He shot you a quick smile.

You wanted to be annoyed that he was stealing focus off the book but the way he leaned in when you spoke? How he asked questions even though he was clearly lost? How he kept looking at you like you were the smartest person in the world?

Yeah. You couldn’t be mad.

When it came time to discuss symbolism, one of the ladies asked: “What do you think the green light means, Rafe?”

He sat up straight. Cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah. That’s like... the thing he wants but can’t reach. Like… uh…" He glanced sideways at you. “…You know. Dreams. People. Stuff like that."

You blinked. That was... actually not bad.

Miss Eleanor beamed. “Well said, dear!”

Rafe looked so proud of himself you could’ve melted. After everyone left, you were stacking chairs when he wandered up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist.

"Told you I could handle book club," he murmured smugly into your ear.

You laughed, leaning back against him. “You barely knew what was happening.”

"Yeah, but you were impressed."

You turned in his arms, grinning. “Maybe a little.”

"Cool," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. “Next week’s book?"

"Moby-Dick."

He groaned. “You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

"Guess you’ll just have to hang out here more so I can help you.”

Rafe’s grin was instant. “Deal. Now speaking of dick..."

...

It started because you’d been sighing over the love letters in your latest book club read: an old, worn copy of 'Persuasion'.

"Can you believe this letter?" you’d said, dreamy-eyed, reading the passage aloud. “'You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.'”

Rafe, sitting at the counter with a coffee, had blinked. “Kinda dramatic.”

You gave him a Look. “It’s romantic.”

"Yeah. Well… maybe I’ll write you one," he mumbled, trying to sound casual.

You grinned, knowing full well Rafe Cameron probably hadn’t written anything longer than a text since high school. “I’d love to see that.”

Cue: Rafe Cameron absolutely panicking.

The next afternoon, he was in his truck with a blank piece of paper and a pen.

"Okay, letter. Gotta use big words. She likes big words."

He dug through the glove compartment and found a crumpled receipt which he used to scribble “synonyms for love” on the back. Thirty minutes and about five ruined drafts later, he ended up with this:

Dearest (your name),

You are an exceptionally luminous individual whose presence makes my days approximately 300% better.

When you smile, it is comparable to... the sun? Or like, a really good sunrise. I don’t know how to say it fancy but it messes me up. In a good way.

I would do literally anything to see that smile every day. I would read more dumb books. I would put Pride and Prejudice in the correct section. I would even sit through another three-hour book club.

I like you. A lot. Maybe even love you. Probably love you. Definitely love you.

Rafe

P.S. If this letter sucks, it’s because I’m not good at letters, not because I don’t mean it.

He left it on your counter early the next morning without telling you. You found it a few hours later, tucked between Persuasion and your planner. By the time Rafe strolled in later that day, trying to act casual, you were waiting.

"Hey," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “So. Uh. Did you, like... see anything... or…”

You just grinned, holding up the letter.

"This is the sweetest, most perfect thing I’ve ever read."

Rafe’s ears turned bright red. “Yeah? You liked it?”

You stepped forward, tugging him down by his collar. “I loved it.”

And when you kissed him softly he was pretty sure no fancy words in the world could explain how he felt about you.

bookworm comeback

[blushofeve]

Cam Girl 3

PART 1 & PART 2

pairing: Caleb x Cam girl!reader

summary: Caleb stalks you and uses your mutual friend, MC, to finally get to fuck you irl.

themes: the reader is a cam girl, strangers to lovers(?), sexual tension, sexual content, porn with plot stalker Caleb

word count: 2.7K

tags (bc they asked): @calebswife , @mcdepressed290

A/N: This is not proofread, please let me know if there are any mistakes :)

you can also read this on ao3

Weeks had passed since that livestream. You’d done more sessions—some cute, some teasing, a few downright sinful—but no matter what you posted, you always noticed him. @Apple.Prince. He was watching everything, always first to comment, always sending little hearts, and gifts off your wishlist and paying for private calls like clockwork. He’d become your favourite. You’d never admit it aloud, but his username gave you a little flutter each time it popped up. You didn’t know much about him, just his voice from your one private call, and the feeling that you were never quite alone when he was watching.

And you were right.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb wasn’t just watching you online. He had access to things others didn’t. After all, being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel had its perks— classified databases, surveillance tools, and tech most civilians couldn’t even imagine. And he was already breaking the rules just to be near you.

It started with the voice match. He’d run a background trace on your voice from the stream, imagine his surprise when he finds out you and MC were friends, he found videos and pictures of the two of you in group hangouts on your Moments page. He was speechless. Even though he didn’t expect anything less, you were beautiful. It’s safe to say that he didn’t get much sleep that night.

That mutual friend was the thread. He pulled on it gently at first, asking MC harmless questions, subtly steering conversations. Then, more directly. He knew MC had met with you recently, though she didn’t mention your name.

Caleb already knew it was you.

So, when MC invited a few friends to go to a bar. He pulled strings to make sure he’d be there too. “My vacation is almost up. We should hang out together as much as possible before I leave yea?” He had been slipping in quiet suggestions like these and talking about places to go, places that usually involved groups.

You were hesitant when MC invited you, you had plans to do a stream that night but it could wait. “It’s just a small get-together,” she’d said. “Simone said you’ve been swamped with work all week. A change of scenery would be good.” “Besides, I’m bringing a friend. You’ll like him.” You’d rolled your eyes, expecting the usual suspects: some cocky guy with a too-tight shirt and even tighter opinions. You weren’t here to be impressed. You were just here to get out of your head.

The bar was buzzing, with low music, dim lights, the comforting clink of glasses and casual laughter. The air smelled like citrus peels and whiskey. You perched on a velvet bar stool, legs crossed, fingers wrapped around a chilled glass. A blush-hued cocktail MC had ordered it for you. “It looks like you,” she’d grinned. Then came the voice. Deep. Polished. Familiar in a way that made your skin prickle. “Is this seat taken?” You looked up… and up. He was tall and broad in the chest and shoulders. Tousled brown hair, an edge of gold from the warm bar lighting. Not the type you’d forget easily. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, calculating quietly. “No,” you said, lifting your glass slightly. “All yours.”

MC returned just then and nudged the guy with her elbow. “There you are. Took you long enough.” He gave her a pouty look. “You’re the one who said ‘casual timing.’ I took it literally.” MC rolled her eyes and turned to you, grin stretching. “This is Caleb, my childhood friend. I told you I’d drag someone cool out tonight.” “Caleb,” you echoed, letting the name sit on your tongue. It was… familiar. Not in a memory sense, but more like a distant tug in your chest. You couldn’t quite place it. He smiled as he extended a hand to shake yours. His palm was warm, his touch firm but gentle. “Nice to meet you.” Your stomach flipped for no good reason. “You too.”

You talked for a while. All surface-level at first, music, drinks, random takes on bar aesthetics. He was surprisingly funny, dry with his humour, but earnest with his eyes. There was a softness beneath the smoothness. A type of stillness in the way he listened when you spoke. But then there were moments. Little things. When he said little jokes you swore you’d only said on stream before. When he looked at your necklace a moment too long, his purple eyes lingered on the gold apple charm. When he said your name and it curled in your gut the same way it had during that call. You shook it off. Maybe you were just projecting. But the way his gaze shifted to your mouth as you sipped your drink… The way he smiled when you laughed… The subtle flush on his cheeks when you teased him…

You didn’t even notice how close he’d gotten until you felt the warmth of his arm along yours, just brushing at the elbow. Caleb had a way of leaning in when you spoke like nothing else in the room existed. It was disarming. Flattering. Dangerous. You swirled the last of your drink, the melted ice clinking against the glass. “So, what do you do?” you asked, glancing at him over the rim. He paused. “He is the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel.” MC cut in and he nodded You blinked. “Really?” He smirked. “You don’t believe me?” “No, I do,” you said, setting the glass down. “It just… fits.” “How so?” You shrugged, suddenly feeling like the room had gotten a little warmer. “You sit like someone used to giving orders. And… you look like someone used to getting his way.” MC let out a laugh beside you. “She’s got you pegged, Caleb.” His gaze slid to yours. Something flickered there—amusement, maybe. Or something heavier. He leaned closer. “You’re pretty observant.” His mouth lifted in a slight smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not completely. “That’s a nice necklace,” he said in a low voice. Your fingers instinctively moved to touch the apple charm. “Thanks. Guess it’s kind of a signature thing.” You spoke slowly, it was just a harmless compliment but it felt like more… MC mumbled something about going to find the rest of your friends and left.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You and Caleb were left in the dim golden light of the booth, the bass from the speakers pulsing through the floor and into your feet. You sipped your drink, aware of the silence settling between you. He looked at you. The kind of look that made your spine straighten. “I think I’ve seen you before,” you said before you could stop yourself. “But I can’t figure out where.” His expression didn’t change, but his fingers stilled on his glass. “Same here,” he said softly. Something was off. Not in a bad way, but in a familiar way. A heat curled low in your belly. Your skin buzzed in anticipation. You played with the charm between your fingers. “Weird.” Then he said it, carefully. Almost too casually: “I always liked that necklace.” Your blood ran warm. Not cold—warm. Like embarrassment, like recognition, like something falling into place. He hadn’t said your necklace. He’d said that necklace. Like he’d seen it before. Like he knew it. You tilted your head to the side. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?” He shrugged, “I know you.” Your chest tightened at his words. He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke, “You looked so pretty in that set I bought you. I wanna see you in it again.”

Oh. It suddenly clicked into place.

“I.. don’t know what you’re talking about.” There’s no way this was actually happening. You thought you had done a good job concealing your identity and personal life. Caleb’s fingers ghosted over your collarbone and landed on the apple charm. “You know what I mean.” the tone of his voice immediately sobered you up. Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t move. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it, feel it through the small space still left between you. His fingertips rested lightly on the charm like he was waiting for you to flinch. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your eyes met his, and there it was—that same voice that had whispered to you, the same low growl that had drawn out breathy thank yous and soft moans from your parted lips. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was intentional. Calculated. And somehow, it didn’t feel wrong. “You stalked me?” you said, barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed over the apple, a quiet caress. “I just… wanted to meet you. For real. Not just through a screen.” You should’ve been angry. Violated. You should’ve pulled away, demanded answers, and stormed out. But instead, you stared at him, really stared. “You’re insane.” “I know.” Despite the absurdity of the situation, your body quietly screamed for him. As if reading your mind, Caleb kissed your neck. He didn’t fail to notice how your breath hitched and thighs pressed together. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you were in a public space. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” Common sense is screaming at you not to go, but come on— it was him. The guy who had been stuck in your mind for the last few weeks.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

To any normal person’s surprise, you found yourself in the back of your stalker fan’s car, all over each other. Caleb was ecstatic. Your kisses and touch were far more intoxicating than any alcohol he had that night. As you straddled him, his hands slipped up your dress and firmly gripped your ass. He dreamed of this. How soft you felt under his touch. Your soft moans as he kissed and marked your neck and chest. And how incredibly hard he was with you pressed against him. You couldn’t help yourself but grind up against him. Caleb let out a whiny moan into the crook of your neck and pulled you closer. “Please… please… let me fuck you. I wanna show you how good I am. I’ll be so much better than your toys.” He begged as he bucked his hips up into you. His needy, whiny tone snapped something inside you. You lifted yourself off his lap and narrowed your eyes. “No.” The word seemed to break something in him. His purple eyes seemed to gloss over with tears. “No?” He was so close to getting what he wanted— needed. “W-what’s wrong? A-are you mad at me?” You nodded and crossed your arms. “Yes. You stalked me, disregarding my privacy, and you think I’m just going to let you fuck me?” Caleb’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what to say. “Please…” He moved so that you were beneath him and he lay down the seat. “I’m sorry,” He inched his face closer to yours and you moved back until you were fully laid down on the seat. “I just wanted you so bad. Really bad.” He returned to placing kissing on your neck. “And you want me too.” He sucked on your skin, leaving a dark mark. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated apologies as he moved down your body, coming to a stop between your thighs. “Let me make it up to you. Please” Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Caleb’s pleading yet hungry look sent blood rushing to your face.

Before the word okay fully left your mouth, Caleb had buried himself between your thighs. He licked his tongue over your panties, making them even more wet. He moaned as he inhaled your scent and let out curses as his pants became increasingly tight. Your mind had filled with cotton. The feeling of his tongue through your underwear sent electric shocks through your body. Your panties found their way off you and into Caleb’s hand as he jerked himself off while burying his tongue in you. The feeling was euphoric. Caleb devoured you like a man starved, moaning shamelessly into you as if your pleasure was his only purpose. His tongue moved with practised precision like he’d memorised you—where to lick, where to suck, how to curl it just right to make your hips twitch and your thighs tremble. You gripped the seat for stability, one hand tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The sound of it vibrated through your core, and you nearly came undone right then. “Fuck, Caleb—” you gasped, voice catching in your throat. Your body arched off the seat, thighs clenched around his head, and he just grabbed your hips and pulled you closer like he couldn’t get enough. When you came, it was sudden, loud, and shattering. He didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, groaning as you grinded against his mouth. And even after you finally slumped back, breathing hard and completely wrecked, Caleb just looked up at you—lips swollen, chin wet, eyes wild. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint.

“Are you still mad at me?” Still catching your breath, you shook your head. “Can I please fuck you? Please.” You nodded. “Fuck… I promise,” he said, breathless, “I’ll make you forget every toy. Every other name. You won’t want anyone but me after this.” He crawled up and hovered above you. You watched him fumble for a condom in his pockets, the urgency in his movements making your pulse quicken. He tore it open, rolled it on with practiced ease, and looked down at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “You sure?” he asked, voice rough, body hovering over yours. You pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, pressing your mouth to his like it was the only answer you had. Your kiss was hot, messy, full of every dizzying want that had been building since the call. The stretch of him as he pushed in made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Caleb groaned, low and guttural, forehead pressing against yours as he slid deeper, inch by inch. “Fuck— so tight,” he whispered, trembling with restraint. He bit his lip to stop another moan from escaping. He felt so good he almost came right there and then. You couldn’t breathe. Could barely think. He filled you completely, like he belonged there, like he was made for this. Once he was fully in, he paused, letting you adjust. His lips found your jaw, your neck, and he whispered your name like a prayer. You clenched around him in response, and he choked out a moan. He finally moved, slow, pleasuring thrusts that had you arching your back and your mouth falling open with each one. He kissed you like he needed to keep you quiet, swallowing your moans, like every sound you made would drive him over the edge.

��Oh god- Caleb,” Your nails dug into his back, “You feel so good.” That broke something in him. He picked up the pace, snapping his hips into you harder, deeper. The car rocked beneath you both, the windows fogged up, the space filled with your gasps, your whimpers, his soft curses. “Wanted this so fucking bad,” he said through gritted teeth. “Every night. Thought of you like this. Begging. Shaking. Needing me.” You were already close again— your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “Caleb— I’m gonna—” “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his hand slipping between your bodies, thumb circling your clit. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.” You shattered again. Your whole body tightened, hips jerking, thighs trembling as the pleasure overtook you. He groaned, the feeling of you clenching around him pushing him over the edge. “Shit—fuck—I’m coming—” he moaned, burying himself deep as his whole body tensed.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. Your hands moved to his hair, brushing it back from his face. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the galaxy worth chasing.

And maybe… you were.

Thank you for reading<3

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[ghostgirl-22]

heyy i literally love ur work and i’ve been seeing some posts abt this on tiktok but do u think u could write a professor!mike faist or art donaldson x student!reader and make it so he’s tutoring the reader but things go south and things get freaky 👅👅

hmm okay so i did peep the mike faist of it all but I couldn’t bring myself to go full rpf. So here’s theater professor!Mike Faist Art Donaldson. Or whatever <3

Pairing: theater professor!art (imagine these clothes but dilf!art hair lol) x afab!reader

cw: heed the warnings. NSFW, MDNI, age gap— Art is at least in his 40s reader early 20s, power imbalance— student/teacher, tw: dubcon if you squint. reader definitely wants this but also arts definitely perving. Improper use of Shakespeare. what it says in the ask.

—-

Theater professor!Art tall, a bit nerdy, he’s chronically late so he walks fast. He’s always a little flustered as he enters the theater, crossbody messenger bag slung over his shoulder, with his helmet tucked under his arm (for his scooter ride to work, he’d never ride a motorcycle…too unsafe). He wears some variation of a long sleeved button down with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into some varied color of khaki pants nearly everyday and he’s everyone’s favorite teacher. And it’s not just because the class is easy. 

Lots of students take his course who have little to no respect for the fine arts. All different majors and minors. He knows why they enroll.  He’s used to pretty girls (and boys) basically half his age sitting up front to try and get his attention and he knows what the student body says about him. He knows all about the PILF list (professors I’d like to…) he even happens to know he’s sitting quite near the top of that list. Just behind his ex Tashi Duncan who teaches classical literature and oscillating back and forth with his other ex Patrick Zweig who happens to be every business major’s favorite Economics professor. He still finds it odd that they’re dating now. Whatever. 

It’s not an easy class by the way. 

Especially not for you…

Intro to Fine Arts is impressively difficult. You’re pretty sure you’ve probably become Shakespeare's biggest hater over the course of the semester. You don’t understand a word of it and what’s worse is that you don’t care. 

Art can tell. 

Usually it wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t care if his students don’t like Shakespeare. He’s usually not involved in his students' lives at all. He’s never crossed that line. He’s not that kind of professor.

But for some reason you bother him. God. You get under his skin.

Maybe it’s because you’re so loud with your wrong opinions. You’ll argue that things mean what they don’t mean just for the fun of it. And with such confidence that you have some of your classmates believing you more than him and he has a fucking PhD in this stuff. Then you’ll sit there smug and self satisfied because you won the argument. 

It’s frustrating.  

You’re frustrating. 

And not that he notices at all. But you are hot…in a filthy, carnal sort of way. Your lips always wet with gloss, your clothes too tight, showing off way too much skin. And he’s not looking… but honestly you know the theater is always cold. You really should start wearing padded bras if your shirts are gonna be so tight.  Maybe with more support so you don’t jiggle as much during the warm up exercises that he chooses for that specific purpose. Actually you could stand to cover up a lot more, all over. 

But thats not why he made you stay late for his office hours. Really. Its not. He just needs to tutor you a little. One on one. He can’t have the other students getting wrong information from you.

But even now, when you show up in his cramped windowless office, perched on the other side of his desk which is littered with playbooks, you have him stressed. you’ve been wearing that dress all day and honestly it's just too short.  If you bent over his desk, even a little bit, he’d have a full view of whatever you’ve got on underneath. He shifts in his seat. It's just inappropriate. 

God. He should focus on what he can teach you.“Okay try it from right here. And stop being so literal.”

You roll your eyes and glance at the Much Ado About Nothing playbook at the line where his finger is pointed. “I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap…” You laugh. “How can you die in a lap?”

“I told you the words we say today had different meanings in Shakespeare's time.”

“Well no kidding, i know that.”

Art scoffs, you know everything. 

“I know we don't say thy and thou and… thent…anymore.” You continue.

”We never said thent.“ Art points out.

“What I don’t get is why any of this matters?” You keep going as if he didn’t speak.

You don’t know why you’re so combative with Professor Donaldson. You think you just like to get him worked up so you can make him remember you. You love watching his jaw tighten, his skin flush, hearing the way he passionately defends old dead playwrights. It turns you on actually. Not the dead playwrights but the way he lights up. Little bits of arrogance peeking through that sweet “aww shucks” persona everyone loves. You think it turns him on too. It makes you wet. Sometimes during class you press your legs together and slip your hand between your thighs just to ease the tension a little. Keeping your gaze fixed on him, while you tease yourself. You wish you could touch yourself right now, watching his Adam’s apple bob while his soft gaze hardens. 

“It matters because the themes matter. It matters because humanity matters.” He explains trying to keep his tone measured.

“So find new themes, this guy’s been dead for a thousand years.” Also wrong.

Art can’t believe what he's hearing. And it doesn’t help that you seem flustered, breathing harder, chest rising and falling, the thin fabric of that short dress showing him everything… fuck…you might as well be naked. He’s losing his patience.

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“I'm going to show you what it means.”

You look like you want to argue (pre-law you always want to argue) but you get up from your chair anyway. “Okay?”  

“Come here…” he pats his thighs. “I think you’d learn it better if I show you.” He says softly. He knows he shouldn’t… knows it’s inappropriate. But you really need to understand what words mean. He’s just teaching you, really. 

You don’t even hesitate. Settling right on top of him, your back to his chest. 

“Good girl. Now grab the play.”

You take a breath and wiggle a bit your ass grinding along his swollen cock. God you knew he fucking liked it.

“Don’t worry about that...” He says lightly. It’s not his fault, your dress is too short, making him hard for no fucking reason. He needs to put his hands somewhere and your bare thighs are right there. He sets his palms down and feels the way your breathing changes. 

“Mmkay now read it again.” 

His voice is soft and directly in your ear now, it makes you shiver. You wiggle your hips again. 

“Go on,” he coaxes. 

“I will live in thy heart…” you feel his hand move up to your chest. 

You chew on your lip, wiggling some more as he cups you, before slipping it just inside your dress to play with your nipple. He squeezes it gently, before circling it with his fingertips. “What’s next?” 

“D-die in thy lap,” you swallow. 

“That’s a little more complicated, isn’t it?” He moves his other hand down your thigh. He really shouldn’t be doing this in his office. The door is closed but it isn’t locked. Anyone could walk in and catch you both. God it shouldn’t make him harder. He knows he’s not gonna stop, he’s finally had a taste of you,  felt one of your full perky tits, your perfect ass wiggling along his swollen cock. He’s just itching for more. He eases his way down along your inner thighs and you start to open up for him, the little dress riding further up your thighs. He presses two fingers against your panties, already soaked through and clinging to your warm cunt. 

He takes a sharp breath. “Fuck, it’s so wet for me already…maybe its not that complicated.” He eases your panties to the side and slips his long thick fingers inside you, you can feel the folds of your pussy beating your pulse around his intrusion and you moan. 

“Shh I know…” he hums. “Fuck its so easy, huh? You're so ready. Do you get it now?”  He’s rubbing gentle circles inside you, the pressure and intensity of the sensation rising and falling as he moves closer and closer to your clit. “Or do I need to fuck you?” 

You moan and open wider, hooking your feet behind his ankles. Hips starting to rock as your head lulls back against his shoulder. 

“I still don’t get it Professor Donaldson,” you whine. “I think I need more guidance.”

“Mmhm… I can tell.” He presses little kisses along your throat while you ride his fingers.

“Oh fuck..” you moan, voice pitchy and loud. “professor, it feels so, so good.”

“Shhh,” Art breathes working them a little faster. “You have to be a good girl and keep it down unless we’re talking about school work.” 

“Yes sir.” You gasp. 

Fuck. He can’t pretend he hasn’t thought about doing this to you. He thinks about it every day, you’re so goddam tempting, but he was trying to control himself, trying so hard to be good. He is good. He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s just teaching you… helping you understand Shakespeare. He should probably replace his fingers, just to really drive it home… so to speak. 

He unzips while trying to keep your squirming to a minimum. He’s so close. By the time he sinks into your heated cunt he nearly blacks out for how good it feels. “Holy shit, so fucking tight for me,” he grunts as you moan for him. “Fuck… start again. Read the whole scene.”

Your hands are all shaky gripping his thighs as you try to focus on Much Ado About Nothing. You can feel him thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt as you bounce on his lap. All while trying to recite the stupid scene. He whispers “good girl” between each line. Humming his soft little grunts of pleasure in your ear. God this is insane.

“I will l-live… I w-will live in thy… in thy heart…” you’re practically panting, his fingers playing with your clit while he fucks you.

“Mmhm.”

“Fuck professor… I’m so…. ‘m gonna cum.” 

“Almost finished, come on,” he pushes. 

“In thy heart,” you moan as the dam suddenly bursts and you make a mess all over his lap. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” He gasps… pushing you off in a hurry as he starts to spill. You watch as he jerks himself through climax, some of it splattering on your dress and the old wooden desk. 

Even after he’s help cleaned you up, he’s still pretty sure you learned nothing. “Die in thy lap…like Le petit mort… the little death” he tries, but you never studied French and you’re not particularly impressed by the French either. 

And maybe he feels a little bad that after all that you still don’t get it. You’ll never be a true artist in any sense of the word, but after a few more evening tutoring sessions you definitely come to appreciate how good Art can make you feel so… a win is a win. 

(Kinda sucks i know but its x reader and i wrote it at midnight after recovering from a migraine. Cut me some slack y’all)

[koqabear]

Caught in Your Spell

♬ : Cherish (My Love), ILLIT, Romeo, Pinkpantheress, For: You, Kali Uchis

"Being a simple human in a magic-dominated city was not for the weak. You can deal with the endless teasing, the inaccessible architecture, and the belittling from others around you, always taking pride in your tough skin— but when it comes to your hopeless pining after Mage Kang Taehyun, maybe your heart isn’t as strong against the insecurities that nag at your brain as you thought."

mage!taehyun x human!fem!reader 

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 22.2K

warnings: barely proof read… we die like men i’m sorry. bit of a miscommunication trope ?  mc is having an identity crisis pls bear with her, brief violence/blood (nothing graphic) taehyun is a little mean for a moment… but he means well ! 

smut warnings: soft dom!taehyun, sub!mc, dry humping kinda, oral(f. rec.) fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, pet names (good girl, baby, angel, love) use of restraints (bondage?), overstimulation, begging?, creampies, scratching, cockwarming, lmk if i missed anything!

notes: guys… i’ve never been so locked in for a fic before. this was sooo fun, pls let me know your thoughts ! ive also scattered a few references here hehe, some more obvious than others. let me know if you spot any! 

You knew what you were getting into the moment Yunah proposed the idea; starting an apothecary in the capital was not an easy feat, but her determination and alluring promises made you see only success for your futures— sometimes, you like to tease that she used an enchantment spell on you, which she always dismisses with a laugh.

”You know how unethical I find that,” she reminds you each time, fluttering her eyes at you playfully, “and that’s actually my natural charm you’re referring to, by the way.”

Being one of the few humans that resides in such a magic dominated city had plenty of downsides; you were made well aware how other wizards saw you, always belittled and babied despite your wit and knowledge— the caution that came with your presence, afraid that even the slightest breath in your direction would cause you to shatter. Not to mention the surprisingly inaccessible architecture that littered the city: not everyone has the ability to levitate!

It was a stressful, fast paced life you lived, one you wouldn’t change if it meant leaving Yunah’s side— she was your rock, despite your differences, who never put meaning into what you could or couldn’t do; in her eyes, you were her sun: a bright, healing, energizing light. You brought life wherever you went, possessing a magnetic energy that she deemed magical in itself. She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

“Just this for now.” Taehyun huffs, placing down an impressive armful of tiger lilies before you, “Though, I think I may have to return again tonight.” 

“So many flowers,” you whistle, picking up the handfuls of lilies to tie them together and package them nicely, “who could possibly be worthy of such grand bouquets?”

“Oh no, these aren’t to be gifted,” Taehyun is quick to correct; when you peer up at him through your lashes in curiosity, he looks away, staring out the window and clearing his throat before he can continue. “They’re for the queen. They make for a beautiful delicacy, and it’s all she’s been craving recently.”

“The baby will be roaring at birth at this point. You can’t possibly be serious when you say you’ll return, right?” 

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden surge of confidence, shrinking back shyly as you attempt to sputter out a comeback— Yunah decides she’d much rather do it for you as she chirps off in her little corner. 

“Of course not; you’re the highlight of her day,” she grins, sending Taehyun a wink, “and my entertainment.”

Taehyun’s canines sparkle from the wide smile he sports, looking back at you with joy glowing in his eyes. “Is that so? I’m flattered.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for Yunah’s lies so easily,” you scoff, though the sourness in your face is quick to sweeten as familiar company jumps onto the counter, drawn to the crinkling paper you use to wrap the bright flowers— your voice is pure sugar as you stare at the creature fondly. “the only highlight here is getting to see Dago. Isn’t that right? I’ve missed you!” 

Taehyun can only stand back in shock as you turn your full attention (and undying adoration) to his familiar. Dagonyang is quite eager for the onslaught of attention, round eyes sparkling and dilating at your loving coos, fluffy tail swishing curiously as you gently run your fingers through his fur and scratch beneath his chin— it draws a low purr from the cat, which in turn makes you squeal and plant a soft kiss to his forehead; Taehyun’s brows all but fly off his head. 

“Oh you’re so cute, I wish you could stay with me instead— how bout it?” The flowers are an abandoned afterthought, your body bumbling with cuteness aggression as Dagonyang rubs himself against you, knocking his head against your hands in search of more pets— his eyes are closed in bliss. “You’d be better off here— I can’t imagine how boring the royal life must be, you should just stay here and sunbathe in front of the window instead. You’d attract many new clientele too, I’m sure.”

Before you can process it, Dagonyang becomes nothing but cat-hair glued to your sweater; Taehyun has scooped him up in his arms, thick biceps bulging to hold back his familiar that tries to jump back onto the counter— a stern look at the starry-eyed cat is enough to calm him down, and Taehyun loosens his grip to let him jump to the floor instead. Peering over the counter, you watch him loop around between Taehyun’s legs; he clears his throat, a last resort to get you to look back up at him. 

“I doubt he’d be a good fit for this place. His kitty claws are much stronger than you think.” There’s something unusual about his voice, despite the lighthearted jokes he’s making— something that shaves off that soft, mellow rumble and leaves a rocky undertone that puts you on edge. Afraid that you might catch on, he gives you a playful look that shrugs off your suspicion. “And he has quite the appetite. Half your store’s product would be gone the next morning.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sigh dejectedly. Leaning down, you rest your chin in your palm and observe the familiar that has begun to take in the store around him; he’s eyeing a display of novelty sweets you helped Yunah make (laced with playful, short-term spells, a bestseller amongst the students that run past after school), his eyes sparkling with interest— Taehyun is swift to place his foot in front of Dagonyang’s path, allowing himself to be dragged back to his owner’s side with a huff. You laugh at the sight, endlessly endeared. “Sometimes I forget he’s not just a cute kitty.”

Taehyun huffs. “He’s got abs, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly forget?”

You shrug. “He pulls them off well.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two,” Yunah starts, charging forward with a subtlety of a bulldozer that contradicts her statement, “but those flowers should probably get delivered soon. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a late delivery again, Taehyun. They might get fed up and start sending someone else instead.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll take an interest to you too, ___,” Yunah teases; while you flush with embarrassment and tell her off, Taehyun stiffens at the image, rummaging through his bag for your payment and scooping up the bouquets into his arms— you’re brought back to the subject at hand as coins clatter on the counter, Taehyun’s eyes barely peeking over the flurry of tiger lilies that surrounds him.

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

Yunah snorts.

“I’ll see you later— but if I don’t, complain that I was better. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“If it meant getting to see Dagonyang again, I’d start a riot, Mage Kang.”

It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and you can tell. He shrugs.

”Good enough.”

Bidding Yunah goodbye, he spins on his heel and rushes out of your shop— he doesn’t need to look back to tell Dagonyang to actually follow.

The lingering echoes of the doorbell is the last reminder of their presence, the apothecary now silent save for the bubbling of Yunah’s cauldron; Sunday’s were always the most tranquil, and now that your only customer was gone, you were left to sigh and melt against the counter in boredom. Turning around, you decide to watch Yunah perfect her newest concoction. 

“How’s the order going?” you ask, watching her dig through the shelves of jars above her— when she spots her key ingredient at the top shelf, she sighs; with a swirl of her finger, the jar glows a lavender color and is slowly brought down into her awaiting hands. 

“Hasn’t exploded yet,” considering her recent streak of going on autopilot while potion making and adding the wrong ingredients, this was an impressive feat. “But your whole thing with Taehyun was distracting me. I almost added dragon’s breath into this.”

She looks up at you, brows raising as she gives you an intense look, “This whole place would’ve burned down if I did.”

“Wh— and how is that my fault?” you cross your arms, pouting at her accusations, “and what thing? It’s called banter.”

“More like flirting. You two have got it bad for each other,” she laughs to herself at the memory. “I’ve never seen a man get jealous over a cat.”

“C’mon, now you’re just making stuff up.”

Yunah sighs, long and hard. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Does it get tiring, deluding yourself like this?”

You roll your eyes— your denial only exasperates Yunah.

“I’ve never seen anyone be so into you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Like every other mage that comes here to mess with me, I’m sure,” Yunah immediately frowns, already knowing where you’re taking this. “They just think it’s fun to mess with humans to see our reactions and how far they can push us. There’s nothing more to it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

The ringing of your store’s bell is unexpected to both of you, whirling around to find a new customer. Yeonjun’s smile is bright and full of mischief as he nods to you two, his rowdy familiar bouncing behind him; they make their way towards you, though one seems much more preoccupied with making a mess out of the store— Hwangchoon’s clumsiness has your blood turning cold, watching with horror as he knocks off everything in sight. Stumbling forward, you try to dive for the falling jars he just swept off with his tail, lips parting in a silent scream— only for Yeonjun to beat you to it, his familiar, golden glow emitting from the jars as they all halt their fall and peacefully rise back onto the shelf— he even makes sure to adjust them so all the labels are showing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Yeonjun smiles, placing a hand on the small of your back to straighten you up, “he gets excited easily. More so when he visits his favorite places.”

Behind him, you watch Hwangchoon jump up to reach a bowl of crystals, tiny hands nudging it off the table instead of catching it— Yeonjun is swift to save its descent without having to look behind him. His smile widens at the pure disbelief on your face.

“Hwangchoon,” he calls out, guiding the two of you back to the counter— the said fox perks up, running back to his owner’s side in an instant. Yeonjun glances down at him, petting his head fondly. “Stay here. You’re gonna give this poor human a heart attack.”

Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care how his comment bristles you, looking past your frustrated face and scanning the wide display of herbs behind you instead. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and you let him decide for a moment in silence. Looking behind you, you manage to make eye contact with Yunah, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the man— it’s enough to crack a smile out of you.

“Quite the selection you’ve got this month,” Yeonjun muses, “Your garden must be coming along nicely. You’ve ought to show me one of these days.”

His eyes flicker down to yours, narrowing slyly, “I’d love to see what human tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“And put myself out of business? You wish,” you scoff, choosing to ignore that last comment. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, and you think you hear Yunah scoff in disbelief behind you. “I’ll take my usual, please.”

Nodding, you turn around to collect the necessary jars— echinacea, turmeric, garlic, ginseng, and lavender. It’s a tedious process, filling your arms to the point that you’re slowly walking back to the counter, afraid that one might slip from your grip and shatter. Yeonjun stands back, amused as he watches you set everything down with a sigh of relief. He waits for you to begin to total everything to speak up again. 

“Oh, now that I think about it, I actually need three more things— I’ve been getting an influx of patients, you see. Supply is running out fast,” he laughs, even if you don’t seem to be as amused as him, and lists out the ingredients: rat tail, bone dust, and salamander eggs— all things on the highest shelf of the establishment, akin with the high ceiling and left out of easy access due to its value. You try to hold back a groan at his request. 

“Yunah, could you—” turning around, you find that Yunah has disappeared from her spot at the cauldon; your eyes dart around in search of her, only to realize that she’s headed to the back in search of something. With her gone, dread begins to buzz in your bones— your only ladder was splintered to dust in the crossfire of Yunah’s messed up potions, and the girl has promised through apologies that she’d get you a new one asap. But looking around now, you come to two horrible conclusions: no ladder, no help. 

“Something wrong?” Yeonjun asks behind you, startling you out of your daze and making the weight on your shoulder crash down harder. Looking over your shoulder, you send him an innocent smile. 

“No, nothing,” you say, trying to prove it as you approach the shelf and crane your neck back, the gears turning in your head as you try and think of a solution. 

Minutes pass and you’ve yet to do anything— Yunah has yet to come back too, much to your dismay. The silence is deafening, and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears with shame as Yeonjun undoubtedly pieces everything together behind you. The snicker he lets out is enough to prove your suspicions.

“Need any help?” Without warning, two hands take a firm hold of your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your apron— your scream lodges itself in your throat as you’re hauled up and flying into the air, your legs kicking beneath you in protest; you go to slap off the hands that hold you, only to find nothing there. A reluctant look down shows that Yeonjun has levitated you with his magic. 

“What are you doing?!” is all you can bring yourself to yell, horrified as your dress begins to flow around you from your flailing legs— you’re quick to cross your legs and pull the skirt tightly against you, afraid of revealing anything to the man that’s now twenty-five feet beneath you. “Put me down!”

“We’ll be here all day if we stand around waiting for Yunah to come back,” Yeonjun sighs, “and you clearly can’t reach it yourself, so why not take the help?”

“I didn’t need your help!” That's a lie and you both know it, but your pride is taking too much of a hit for you to not defend yourself.

“Sure,” is all he says, watching as you continue to panic in this new position you’ve found yourself in— after another protest from you, he decides enough is enough. 

“Just hold onto these for me, will you?” the jars in front of you have begun to glow golden, and you blanch— rat tail. Bone dust. Salamander eggs. They all fly off the shelves and towards you, the magic ebbing off the moment they’re within arms reach; you dive at them in a panic, weaving through the air and hugging them close to your chest, whirling around to send Yeonjun a deadly glare once they’re all safe in your hold. You only get a joyful laugh in response. 

“Wow, you’re a natural— so graceful,” he grins, slowly bringing you back onto the ground, “One could almost mistake you for a royal aeronaut.”

You just about slam the jars against the counter, fed up with his teasing as you begin to package them and calculate the new price. “You’re not funny, Yeonjun.”

He laughs, reaching forward to boop your nose. “And you’re a wizard, ___.”

You hold back the urge to curse at him as you tell him the new total, counting the coins he places in your hand and getting confused when he hands you more than necessary; you go to give him the extra, but he shakes his head and nods down to his feet— leaning over the counter, you find Hwangchoon has gotten ahold of your novelty sweets, scarfing down the candy like he’s been starved all day. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be as horrified as you are at the sight. 

“He’ll be okay,” Yeonjun winks, gathering the carefully wrapped parcel in his arms and bidding you goodbye— Hwangchoon begins to levitate beside him, coming into view with flailing limbs and panicked squeaks; Yeonjun pays him no mind, turning around and making his way out the shop. Your worries are put at ease as a golden aura engulfs Hwangchoon, the fox dragged behind the man like a balloon. You merely watch incredulously. 

It’s only after the two are out of sight that Yunah returns with an armful of supplies, even more trailing behind in the air; she’s meticulous as she sets the ingredients on her workbench, ordering them by sequence and spell— satisfied with her work, she smiles up at you proudly, only for it to fall as she notices the exhaustion on your face. 

“Tough customer,” is all you say, putting your head in your hands at the memory, “I just got levitated.”

You don’t expect for Yunah to act so quickly, storming over to the entrance muttering curses under her breath— you’re chasing after her hastily, pulling at her sleeve with a panic as she unsheaths the wand hidden in her boot. 

“It’s okay, really! Please don’t kill him!” you plead, though it doesn’t seem to reach her ears, “he’s long gone anyway— he was just trying to help!” 

“I don’t care what his intentions were! That fool needs to learn boundaries!” Yunah sneers, though she seizes her attempts to chase after him after you try to get on your knees to plead with her— she picks you up before you can, huffing in annoyance. “He thinks he can just treat you however he wants! We need to blacklist him.”

Her eyes light up like a lightbulb, and she’s returning back to her cauldron, flipping through her spell books with a sly smile. “Now that I think about it, we could probably place a border at the entrance to keep him out. He’d have to travel to a different kingdom to find another apothecary— though, none are as good as ours. The quality of his supplies would downgrade— wouldn’t be such a revered doctor anymore, huh?”

“Yunah, please,” you say exasperatedly, reaching over to shut her books— she lets out a whine, acting like a child scolded as you shake your head sternly. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to it. Don’t get put on probation over something so silly.”

Yunah is visibly biting back her tongue— she wants to refute, tell you that it’s not something silly, that no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you know how much such belittling actions bother you. But it’s a talk you’ve had more times than you can bother to keep track of, knowing that even if she sees you as a gift to the capital, no one else thinks the same; her rose tinted view of you can only span so far. 

Mulling over her words carefully, all that’s left for Yunah is to sulk at her desk, looking up at you with heartbroken puppy eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You smile, patting her head fondly. “I know.”

Yunah watches you retreat to the back, mumbling on how you should go take care of your garden and finishing packaging your herbs— she recognizes that strong front you’ve put up, still humiliated by today’s events; she considers creating a creature to go torment Yeonjun, but she knows you’d be against it. Yunah is left wishing you weren’t so forgiving. 

When Taehyun returns just before closing shop, it’s clear he’s eager to see you, Dagonyang just as much. The two are dejected carbon copies of each other, with Dagonyang sniffing for your scent and Taehyun stalling by looking around the shop despite only coming for one thing— both quietly hope that if they linger long enough, you’ll return. 

“I don’t think she’s coming back up front. We close in less than an hour,” Yunah calls from her workbench, wiping down her freshly cleaned cauldron, “she’s a bit upset right now. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Upset? Why?” Taehyun suddenly seems to have remembered what he’s here for, because he’s grabbing handfuls of tiger lilies and making his way to the counter in the blink of an eye. Dagonyang is quick to jump onto it, as though curious to hear why as well. 

“Well…” Yunah hesitates, unsure if she should be sharing this with them— but with the way they’re both leaning in eagerly, eyes wide and worried, she’d feel bad if she didn’t. “You see… there’s a lot of customers here that love to tease ___ for being human. She’s always said she doesn’t mind but… I don’t think that was ever the case. I guess today was just her breaking point.”

“How immature,” Taehyun’s face turns stern with anger, brows knitting together and his jaw clenching. “Who was it?”

“Doctor Choi Yeonjun; the one in the center of the capital, across from the library,” Yunah has no issues ratting out the man, just as annoyed as Taehyun about the whole situation. “I was going to send a trickster after him, maybe hand it a spell bomb to give him a nasty cold. But ___ is just too passive, she was ready to kneel and beg for me to leave him alone.”

“This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to deal with such treatments,” Taehyun grumbles, “and this happens often?”

“Everyday, basically. Some are more lighthearted than others,” Yunah sighs, beginning to wrap the bouquet, “She even thinks you’re in on it.”

“Me?” Taehyun sputters, offended by the thought, “Why would she think that?”

“I guess she can’t fathom someone possibly liking a human like her,”  Yunah quotes, watching Taehyun’s frown deepen, “especially someone in the royal court.”

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

“Don’t worry yourself sick now, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Yunah reassures, handing the man the bouquets, “and whatever you do, don’t bring this up to her. She’d be mortified.”

Taehyun reluctantly agrees— when he bids Yunah a goodnight, he has to nudge Dagonyang off the counter in order for him to move; even then, the cat trudges reluctantly behind his owner, glancing back hopefully one last time before they leave— Yunah resists the urge to coo at the way the cat deflates with defeat, disappearing into the night behind his owner. 

 ○○○  

“Are you sure about this?” The question has slipped your mouth for the millionth time, bleeding from the morning to the early evening, lingering like a puppy at Yunah’s bedside as you hopelessly watch her pack. “Like totally, wholeheartedly, super sure? You don’t think this is a bad idea? ‘Cause I think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yunah affirms, smoothing down her shirts before she folds them up into a tight, tiny square, “I’ve sent a notice to all our customers. Plus, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you breathe out, anxiety prickling at you as you watch Yunah place her final clothing item into her suitcase, flicking her hand to make it shut and zip up— she places her hands on her hips, giving you a look as though to say seriously? It does nothing to deter your oncoming nervous breakdown. “Why can’t I just go with you? Or close up shop?”

“We’ve been through this, ___. It’s invite only, and we can’t afford to close up shop for two weeks. People move on fast here.”

“But,” you bite your lip, brows knitting together as you try to grasp at straws. When you come up empty, all you can do is sigh out the truth. “I can’t do this without you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can,” Yunah puts a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. “You practically run it all on your own already. All I do is sit in the corner all day and make potions.”

”But that’s the driving force of this place,” you whine, and you continue before Yunah can tell you that’s absolutely not true, “people seek us out because of your skill.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m leaving,,” Yunah’s eyes dart to the grandfather clock in the corner of her room, hauling her suitcase off her bed and grabbing her coat— when she finds the luggage too heavy for her, she resorts to carrying it with her magic instead. “If this new spell gets approved, it’ll be a game changer for our business.”

Yunah explained this new spell of hers and the impact it would have on the community, but you’re not sure you understood— fireside talks of her ranting excitedly about the ingredients, how mentally taxing it was, and her brainstorming process were easy enough to follow; it was the purpose of the potion itself that you’d never be able to wrap your head around. 

“The fatigue that comes with using magic in such intense intervals can be extremely damaging to one’s health,” she practiced her speech on you, pacing around and using her businesswoman voice, powerful and fearless. “But with this spell, it could all change— endurance can be increased, as well as the mental capacity that allows the magic-user to intensify their spells and potions; this could revolutionize our powers, put endless possibilities on our achievements.”

Throughout your time knowing Yunah, you’ve been told on what it’s like to use magic, to have such abilities— the exhilaration, the strain on your psyche, the pride— you’ve been told how it feels, how addicting it is, left awake at night with dreams on what it’d be like to be like her; to be anything more than a simple, powerless human. 

But you’d never be like her. And as you bid her farewell at the train stop, holding her close and whispering for her to be safe, to write to you, the reality of it all crashes onto you harder than it ever has before— after all, how ridiculous is it for a human to single-handedly run a magical apothecary? 

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, squeezing her tightly against you— Yunah does the same, patting the back of your head before she pulls away; her smile is fond as she stares at you, her train arriving and beginning to pile up with people.

“I’ll miss you more.”

You stay to watch her get on the train; stay to see her pull back the curtains in her cart, scanning the crowd and lighting up when she spots you, waving eagerly. You stay until the last boarding call has been announced, until the doors close and the train whistles and stirs awake. When it takes off, you do your best to follow her and wave, the joyful laugh she lets out not reciprocated by you as you’re forced to stay behind on the platform and watch her disappear into the horizon, off to carve a new path for herself, one you’ll never be able to follow.

Your journey home has never been more difficult; all the tricky places Yunah would usually help you with— floating platforms that required much more balance than you trusted yourself having, steep slopes that are meant to be sled down gracefully or climbed up with minimal effort— are now obstacles you find yourself pushing through, ignoring the amused stares and light laughter that follows you with every clumsy attempt, as though you were a spectacle on display. By your third encounter with floating platforms that lead to your way home, you’re just about ready to give up, standing before the obstacle course with disbelief; the sun has set long ago, and the streets have become desolate, yet you’re still here. 

“___, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Taehyun’s voice is unprecedented and makes you jump, a hot flush swirling to your cheeks as you turn to face him— the thought of him catching you at such a vulnerable moment is truly petrifying, but you try to play it off with a smile that he returns swiftly. “Are you coming back from dropping Yunah off?”

“Yeah— I am, actually. She told you?” 

He nods, approaching the platforms thoughtlessly— you follow him, just as thoughtless, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I was notified that certain spells and potions would be unavailable for the next two weeks— and that you would run the place on your own while she was gone.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter sheepishly, already forgetting about the announcement she sent. The two of you stand before the platforms, and while Taehyun is ready to jump onto them without a second thought, you begin to shift nervously. 

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Beneath the lanterns that hover in the sky and the lit path before you, you’re able to get a good look at Taehyun’s face for the first time— no shy, fleeted gazes or stolen glances, but a long, good look. His eyes, always so round and sparkling, are creased into crescents from his smile, plump lips pulled taut and causing your eyes to flicker over to a new discovery— his dimple that indents his cheek has you resisting the urge to reach out and poke it, always unaware of its existence until now. You’re entranced, placing your trust in him as you take a hold of his gloved hand; his fingers fall into place between yours, tightening and pulling you into him without a second thought.

He maneuvers you around without effort; your right hand in his, back to his chest as the two of you stand before the first platform, just a few feet away— his other hand falls onto your waist, a feather-like touch that has you straightening up nervously. You feel him hover just beside your head, letting out an airy chuckle that makes shivers run down your spine.

”Hold onto me,” he murmurs, feeling your hold on his hand tighten as the two of you walk forward— his hand on your hip begins to feel warm, a tingling sensation bleeding through your garments and straight to your skin, a soft aura beginning to emit from where he holds you; you try and catch the color that begins to bleed through the light, but it’s all wiped from your head the moment you step forward and begin to float. 

“Ah!” you squeak, slapping your left hand on top of Taehyun’s in a panic; his fingers spread open to let yours in, biting back a smile as you hold onto him desperately, trying your best to follow his movements across the platform, though struggling a bit due to your lingering fear. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Taehyun’s words are soothing, the feeling of his breath against your skin enough to ground you, “just follow your instincts.”

Nodding, you try your best to follow his advice; your jumps defy gravity, lasting long enough that you’re walking on air and skipping platforms— it’s nothing like Yunah’s magic, simple and to the point, or Yeonjun’s, mischievous and exhilarating, but something different all together; it’s graceful, electrifying, making your body buzz with an unknown energy that excites you, letting out a soft laugh as your feet tap briefly on the stones, only to be sent back up again. The wind feels gentle against your skin, playing with your hair and the thick skirts of your dress, unfurling like a bird spreading its wings. When Taehyun peeks over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, he’s overjoyed to find a wide smile lighting up your face.

“Fun, isn’t it?” you’re halfway across at this point, and as you’re sent up into the air, Taehyun takes the chance to halt your descent, your brief hovering giving the man the leverage to use your right hand to spin you around to face him— the squeal you let out is nothing short of endearing to him, letting go of you to watch you fall back for just a second, only to catch you with an arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand now holding your right. “It’s always much better when you’re traveling with someone.”

Spinning you around once more, his arms are crossed around your waist as the two of you float onto the next stone, taking a few steps before Taehyun is lifting you up again, twirling you yet again to make you face him— a laugh bubbles out of you uncontrollably, a dizzying giddiness allowing you to become putty in his hold, letting him guide you to walk backwards, not an ounce of fear in your system as you place your complete trust in him. 

“I’ve never crossed Opal Bridge like this,” you joke, stomach flipping as you’re falling back to the next platform, Taehyun’s smile widening at your reaction, “it’s like we’re dancing!” 

“Maybe we are,” Taehyun’s hand leaves your waist to grab your hand instead, and the two of you switch places on the stone so that it becomes your turn to lead him backwards— with a running start, Taehyun is the first to jump back into the air, pulling you up to follow and tugging you into him so that you’re closer; you almost collide with his chest at his unexpected strength, letting out a nervous giggle that he absolutely soaks up. 

“Quite the interesting dance then,” your confidence boost is quick to dissolve as Taehyun’s magic ebbs away at the highest point of your levitation, the two of you free falling down to the next stone— a scream lodges itself in your throat, watching with horror as Taehyun remains unfazed even as the wind whips against his hair and uniform; without thinking, you embrace him, as though your sheer willpower could save the two of you from crashing down— through squinted eyes, you watch the scenery around you slow once more, a familiar warmth pulsing against the small of your back and between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back from Taehyun the moment your feet touch the ground, surprised to find an undeniable mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“That wasn’t funny!” you smack his shoulder, though the excess adrenaline that pulses through you leaves you vulnerable to his contagious smile, unable to help the laugh that slips past you. “You’re cruel, Mage Kang.”

His smile stiffens, and he’s lifting you up once more, only two stones left to go. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Taehyun is fine.”

“Ah, sorry…” you hesitate, and everything pauses— you’re lingering in the air for a moment too long, and it isn’t until you’re meeting Taehyun’s sparkling eyes that you realize he’s expecting something. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name coming from your mouth is enough to make him want to pull you close, hug you tight against him and soar into to the sky; you’re so sweet, shy as your eyes dart away from his, a shaky smile gracing your face as Taehyun unabashedly grins— you’re barely able to catch on to the playful glint in his eye before the two of you are falling back again, the uncontrollable scream you let out and the flipping of your stomach the closest thing Taehyun can do to make you understand how he’s feeling. 

“How dare you!” you shriek into the air, though it’s followed by a loud laugh as Taehyun saves the two of you yet again, floating the two of you back up delicately in a pseudo-apology; when you catch that stupid, triumphant smirk on his lips, you punch his chest petulantly. “You’re enjoying this too much!” 

“I am,” Taehyun immediately nods, shamelessly pulling you against him, sturdy hands pressing against your back to melt your bodies together— he buries his head into your neck and allows the two of you to remain where you are for a second; just you two, with no one to interrupt or entertain themselves at the spectacle. No facades to maintain, no words to be spoken, only the warmth of Taehyun’s magic against your fragile body, engulfing you entirely until you’re completely his. If you press yourself against him hard enough, you might catch the way his heart is just about to pound out of his chest.

In this tranquil sanctuary you’ve found yourselves in, you find yourself dreading the moment your feet will touch the ground again and force you two to part. A single thought graces your minds, a gentle plea to the stars that watch over you.

If only there were a spell to make this last forever.

 ○○○

The first few days of Yunah’s absence pass by without a hitch— at least, that’s what your positive mind is trying to convince you. It’s an arduous journey on her part, taking advantage of her four days on the train to write to you constantly; it feels like a new letter manifests on her workbench every few hours, filled with complaints on the stiff seats and haphazard sketches of the scenery— she tells you what she ate for breakfast, about the interesting people she’s befriended on the cart across from her, and screams about the man that snores obnoxiously at night. Remind me to create a spell that can mute your ears when I get back, please, she writes to you, and you shake your head in amusement before folding up the letter, determined to respond later as your shop bell twinkles gently.

Making your way back to the front of the shop, you can’t help the way your heart beats in anticipation— Taehyun always visited at this time, always choosing to finish his daily walk with a visit to your shop; sometimes to pick up something, other times to just check how you were doing. 

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. You knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became unignorable, but for now, you were satisfied with indulging in these visits he paid you, pretending as though he’d be just as eager to risk your friendship as you were.

Peering nervously over the doorway, you’re stopped in your tracks as you find someone else wandering around your shop; a slightly taller, lean figure, with a broad back and slim waist that’s adorned with a sword and dagger. His shaggy black hair that sweeps over his face elegantly hides his identity from you; his hands are covered with black leather gloves, and you watch him reach out to grab your freshly restocked tiger lilies, quietly observing the flower.

“Isn’t this the part where I’m welcomed to the store, miss?” the sudden address has you jumping, stuttering out a nervous laugh as you step out and make your way towards the counter— the man has yet to face you, but as you begin to take in his uniform better, your face begins to twist into a confused frown.

“Wait,” you start, eyes sweeping from his heavy duty boots to the dark navy of his uniform, recognizing the familiar crest on his shoulder— the man finally looks over his shoulder to meet your scrutinizing gaze, sending you a sly grin that has you scoffing in disbelief. “Beomgyu?”

“Geez, I was scared you’d already forgotten me,” Beomgyu sighs in faux relief, placing back the lily before making his way to where you stand, “your customer service skills are getting rusty.”

When Beomgyu first became part of the royal guard, he was a frequent visitor to your apothecary— a hardworking soldier in search of healing balms and potions to close up wounds instantly, always stopping late at night and making conversation with you and Yunah, detailing about his difficult trainings and listening to the two of you rant about your days; sometimes, he’d bring gifts from his trips to other kingdoms as a token of appreciation, jewelry and trinkets that you still have laying around your home in decoration. His dedication and skill was enough to have him climb up the ladder in no time, making it rare to see the head of the royal guard in your shop these days.

“When did you dye your hair? I could’ve sworn you were just blonde,” you ignore his jab, squinting at his hair that seems to absorb all the light around him, “it’s so dark.”

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how it falls perfectly into place. “my soldiers were saying the blonde made me an easy target.”

“They’re not wrong,” you hum, amused at how immediately pouts at you, “what brings you here, anyway? It’s been a minute since you last came around.”

“If you must know, I’m here to pick up the parcel of potions Yunah left,” Beomgyu says, nodding towards the workbench in the corner where sure enough, a thick parcel awaits.

”Oh, those were for you?”

“For the queen, yes,” Beomgyu is quick to correct you, earning a roll of your eyes in return, “her due date is approaching, and she’s been having constant dizzy spells. Hopefully this can calm her down in the meantime.”

You pause for a second, your grip tightening on the heavy package in your hands; you’ve heard this story before, during one of Taehyun’s visits— about the potions the queen requested from Yunah, forced to wait for the concoction to ferment before being able to take them— and you frown, sure that he would be the one to come for the delivery. The question bites at your curiosity far too much, and you can’t hold yourself back from saying what’s on your mind as you go back to place the package on the counter.

“Did Taehyun get replaced?”

Beomgyu sends you a confused look. “Replaced from what?”

Embarrassment starts to lick at your face, avoiding his gaze as you pray for the heat to go away, trying your best to seem indifferent as you shrug. “He’s usually the one that picks up parcels for the queen.”

Beomgyu pauses for a second, observing your face to see if you’re serious. 

“No… Taehyun’s in a meeting with the advisory court today. He’s not a delivery boy— you are aware of that, right?”

“I obviously am!” you say indignantly, your sudden outburst bringing a knowing smile to Beomgyu’s face, “it’s easy to get used to routine, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Curious,” Beomgyu ponders, “or disappointed?”

 “Oh, hush.”

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you groan, pushing the parcel forward and closer to him, silently signaling him to go away— when he begins to dig into the bag attached to his belt for your coins, you look around the shop, just now realizing that he’s come in alone. “Where’s your other half?”

Beomgyu smiles fondly at your question. “Right at your feet.”

You’re bending down to inspect beneath the counter immediately, and sure enough, Bamgeut is curled up by your feet, fast asleep. The little bear-pup (it’s what you’ve resorted to calling them after questions about Bamgeut’s species were left unanswered) has never looked more comfortable on your hardwood floors, letting out soft snores that make you bite back the urge to pet them and stir them from their slumber. You remained crouched by Bamgeut’s side instead, watching with adoring eyes as the pup shifts onto its back, long lashes lazily fluttering open until their eyes lock with yours. 

“Hi Bam. Sleep well?” you coo, tucking your lips in to suppress a squeal as Bamgeut slowly rises to make their way to you, soft paws reaching out in a silent request to be carried— you oblige immediately, rising back into Beomgyu’s view cradling his familiar happily; his eyes widen at the sight.

“Wow,” Beomgyu huffs, watching Bamgeut rub the sleep from their eyes, tucking their head into your chest for warmth— your eyes squeeze shut at the cuteness. “I think Bam just found a new owner.”

“I‘ll happily accept,” you grin, running your fingers through Bamgeut’s fluffy hair, “a cute little thing like this has no business being the royal guard’s familiar; this baby was made to laze around, isn’t that right Bammie?”

Bamgeut has already fallen back asleep in your arms; you’re swooning at the sight, giving Beomgyu a pleading look that screams please let me keep them. 

“Absolutely not,” Beomgyu laughs, watching you deflate sadly, “I think you forget that these guys aren’t just here for decoration.”

“I know, I know,” You groan, giving up the cute creature in your hands as Beomgyu holds his arms out; He’s cradling Bamgeut like a baby, the bear-pup instantly recognizing his owner’s hold as they nuzzle into his neck with a content sigh.

”They’re not what they seem, they’re too much to handle, blah blah blah. Just say you hate me and go away,” you accept his payment dejectedly, pouting as he laughs at your misery.

”If it makes you feel better, you’re Bamgeut’s favorite human. That says a lot.”

“I don’t think that says anything at all actually,” you raise a brow, unimpressed. “Not a lot of options to pick from here.”

“Well I couldn’t say you’re their favorite person, because that would be me,” Beomgyu shrugs; looking down at the parcel, he lifts his palm up, a pink aura encasing the package and lifting it in the air— he gives you a wink as he takes his leave. “I had to make do with what I had.”

“Whatever,” crossing your arms, the wave goodbye Beomgyu gives you is left unreciprocated, only cracking a smile as Bamgeut peeks over his owner’s shoulder, mimicking his wave with its tiny paw. The sight has you melting immediately. “Bye-bye Bamgeut! I’ll miss you!”

Beomgyu’s sulky pout that he sends you through the window is swiftly ignored as you spin around and head back to respond to Yunah’s letter. 

 ○○○  

The next time you see Taehyun, he’s trying to hide his terrible mood from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you’ve never been one to worm your way into other’s business, but Taehyun just brings it out of you, “I feel like there’s something bothering you.”

When he entered the shop with brisk steps and a cold look on his face, the warmth in your cheeks disappeared— you’ve never seen him act so cold, trying to mask the bubbling lava of anger that rushes through his veins; his voice was stern and careful as he spoke to you only from necessity, bypassing your usual attempts to joke and banter. As you ask him the question that nagged at your mind, you can’t help but worry that you’ve done something to anger him.

“Just problems at the palace,” he grits out, the mere mention enough to anger him all over again; he refuses to meet your concerned gaze. “Nothing you should worry about.”

”Ah, alright,” he’s far too intimidating like this, and as your exchange is cut short after a pixie appears to request his immediate presence at the palace, you can’t help but wonder if this is the side everyone else sees when he’s working.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” the tiny voice alerts, its buzzing wings leaving a trail of dust as it circles around Taehyun— at the mention of the kingdom, you perk up; one of the few standing kingdoms ruled by humans. The world you should be in. But while your eyes widen with interest, Taehyun’s jaw clenches, sneering a low curse beneath his breath. 

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” it chirps again, a broken record that zips carelessly around Taehyun— he seems like he might just explode in annoyance. 

“I have to go.” Taehyun turns to you, entirely exasperated. Grabbing the fresh bouquet of tiger lilies and exchanging it for your payment, he rushes out and doesn’t bother acknowledging your meek goodbye; maybe because the pixie continued to chirp away in his ear all the way out. 

Though it seemed like an urgent request, you can’t help but pout at your brief exchange— more so at his coldness. It was an entire switch from the man that’s been lingering cutely at your store night after night, so you can’t help but worry about him, wondering what it could possibly be that’s got him on edge like this. 

Hours later, Beomgyu pays you another unexpected visit, Bamgeut hopping along happily; you smile at the little royal uniform they don, a clear attempt to match the owner that smiles at you brightly. 

“Bamgeut was begging for us to stop by today,” he says, the little bear-pup hopping up to wave at you; you laugh, leaning down against the counter to say return the greeting. Bamguet runs up to you with outstretched arms, and you cave in instantly as you pick them up and set them on the counter, petting its head while their legs dangle from the counter happily.

“Are you sure it was Bamgeut that wanted to stop by? You don’t need to lie, you know. You can admit that you missed me.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unamused at your teasing. “Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me start showing up without Bamgeut. I’ll actually do it.” 

Having known Beomgyu for long enough, you’re able to confirm that he absolutely would go through with that threat. You gulp. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Today, he’s stopped by for a healing balm— he’s run out of his bulk supply, and due to Yunah’s absence, you haven’t been able to restock at much; you’re only able to sell him three, and he tells you about the recent wound he received while training his soldiers. 

“They learn fast. Too fast,” he says, tugging off his glove and folding up his tunic to show you the bandages along his forearm, gasping at the streak of red that bleeds through, “it’s how I got this.”

“Beomgyu, you really need to be more careful!” you scold, covering your mouth with disbelief the longer you look at it, “isn’t there a safer way to train? Something that won’t end with you hacking your arm off?!”

“I’m training them for battle, ___. In the most extreme cases, war,” his face darkens at the thought. “War isn’t safe.” 

“Don’t make me think about stuff, I might pass out.”

The concern in your trembling voice and your worried face is endearing to Beomgyu. In an attempt to distract you he asks, “well, then what do you wanna think about? I’m an open book.”

“Hmm…” you trail off, wondering how you could take advantage of this opportunity. “Oh! Why is the Kingdom of Flora here?”

Beomgyu’s brows furrow, and he seems to be genuinely taken aback by your question. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh. Uhm,” you become sheepish, wondering if you’re asking about a sensitive topic. “Taehyun stopped by earlier, and a pixie appeared alerting him that the kingdom was requesting his presence. I figured you might know something about it.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you ask Taehyun about it?”

You grow quiet. “He uh… he seemed pissed.”

At your meek confession, Beomgyu bursts into laughter, as though imagining it for himself— you can’t help but frown at the entertainment he finds from it, wondering what he might know.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“God, I bet he’s fuming,” Beomgyu giggles, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “he hates dealing with stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?” you echo, “What are you talking about?”

Lost in his own amusement, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pay any thought to the things he says. “Them, the representatives from Flora. He has no patience with them. Anything that drags him down is enough to make him lose his shit— he’s been assigned to escort them, so imagine the immense pain he’s in right now.”

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

“But as for their business here, no one’s exactly sure. No one except for the King and Queen, that is,” Beomgyu continues, though you’re not following along anymore, “It’s probably some personal affairs, maybe even discussions of a possible alliance; though, I’m not sure what we’d get from that.”

It feels like your head has been plunged underwater, the image of Taehyun flooding your vision; him, forced to escort the humans from Flora— him, forced to help the humans through tricky architecture just as he helped you; dragged down, impatient. In immense pain. 

“Beomgyu,” you interrupt his endless ramblings, staring down at the counter as you continue to pet Bamgeut absentmindedly; the creature has already curled up on the surface and fallen asleep. He hums in response, and you have to find the courage to continue; you avoid looking at his face in fear of seeing his reaction. “Would you ever fall in love with a human?”

Silence falls, just as you feared. You continue to pet Bamgeut as a distraction, the bear-pup leaning closer to the warmth of your touch.

”…Probably not.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide the hurt from your voice. “How come?”

“Well first of all, it’d be difficult to find one here in the capital. I have no idea how I found you,” he jokes, and you crack a small smile at that. “But… I don’t know. Humans… are so fragile; our differences may not be much on the outside, but our genetic make-up is entirely different—health, strength, capabilities— things get complicated like that.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

His answer is sweet, though you find that an uncertainty still nags at you; you’re startled out of your spiral as you feel him pat your head, winking at you when you look up to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t be sad though, I still think you’re cute.” 

Shaking your head to get his hand off, you let out a low curse at his stupidity. 

“God, you’re insufferable. This isn’t about you!”

His smile widens, satisfied. “I know.”

Your goodbyes are much more gentle this time, placing a kiss on Bamgeut’s forehead to stir them from their slumber— Beomgyu chuckles at the action, joking that “you’re trying to bribe them to like you more than me.”

The small familiar that’s curled up in Beomgyu’s arms remains unaware of your rivalry. “Is it working?”

“In your dreams.”

You laugh at his resolve, knowing that Beomgyu would rather die than lose his precious familiar, even in a battle of affection— he was sentimental like that. And as you watch him leave, carding his fingers through his familiar’s fur, you find yourself wondering if Taehyun is sentimental like that, too. 

 ○○○

Six days into Yunah’s absence, something peculiar occurs. 

It stormed all day— heavy showers that threatened to flood the streets, harsh lightening that cracked in the sky and startled you throughout your garden tending; at some point, you almost snipped off the head of a perfectly healthy bloom, cursing under your breath and opting to put down your shears in fear of creating an accident. 

Your clientele is always few and far between when the weather gets like this. No one finds themselves that desperate to visit the apothecary, unless it’s for an urgent need; Yeonjun stopped early in the morning, when the sprinkling rain had yet to turn into a harsh downpour, only two others stopping by for the rest of your day. The sky was now pitch-black outside, and there was only forty minutes left before you closed up shop. A nagging thought in the back of your head told you it’d be better to just close down early, but you dismissed it. Maybe you should’ve listened.

The woman that enters your establishment is not one you recognize. She’s small in stature, a lithe figure that’s concealed by a cloak that’s been drenched through the storm and drips onto your floors. Your voice is soft and unsure as you greet her, observing the way she ignores your words and silently takes in the displays around her, the weighted hood covering the top half of her face; her ruby lips and pale skin are the only things that peek through, curling to a delicate smile as she faces you. 

“Hello darling,” her voice is that of a siren’s, lowering your defenses with its elegance. “Where’s your counterpart?”

“Counterpart?” you echo pausing for a moment to decipher what she might mean, “Yunah?”

She nods.

”She’s off to a conference to register a spell,” you watch her nod in understanding, “so I’m afraid that our usual spell and potion services are currently unavailable.”

Silence. The air around you seems colder than it did moments prior, though you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, unnerved by the way you can feel her observing you carefully.

“But you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m— I can’t,” you say sheepishly; she tilts her head in confusion, silently asking you why. You flush, your voice barely above a whisper as you explain that, “I’m a human.”

The silence that lingers in the air is deafening, not even the sound of the rain crashing against the stone outside enough to soothe your nerves. You watch her ruby lips stretch widely, pearly teeth showcasing a blinding smile. Slender hands reach up to tug the hood off her head, and you watch carefully as the fabric pools at her shoulders and her identity is revealed. 

Despite the damaged her cloak took from the storm, she remains untouched; her hair is a brilliant midnight that shines blue beneath the light and cascades smoothly down her back, slim, angular face revealing striking features that render you speechless— her doe eyes are full of a sparkling purity, long, dark lashes brushing delicately against her silky skin with every curious blink. Her gaze is inviting as it locks with yours, and despite you thinking it impossible, her smile widens.

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

Her claim stuns you— so much so that you’re sputtering in confusion, unsure of what those words entail; you try to cement the fact that you’re just a human, with no magical inclinations, no abilities to cast spells, and no idea on how to brew potions. 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

“Well, then— you must pardon me, but,” you hesitate, finding her gaze much too intense, filled with such innocent hope you worry to disappoint her, “why seek out my help then?” 

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains still; amused at your keen observations, she reaches out to take your hands in hers— they’re warm and soft, so gentle as she pulls your encased toward her chest, clasping them as she gives you a pleading look. 

“I’ve heard stories about this apothecary— the ingredients here are a magic of its own, leagues better than any other establishment’s,” she lets out a weak chuckle, “certainly better than what’s left in my cottage back home. I’ve travelled a long way to find this place, I beg you to help me. I cannot leave empty handed; there is life at stake.” 

Your lips press together in a fine line, brows knitting together as you become unsure of what to do; her eyes are glossy as they stare into your own, drawing you in and daring you to look away— you find that you can’t bring yourself to do so. There’s a desperation that swims in her dark irises, a silent plea that sings to you, your hands buzzing with warmth the longer they remain encased. Your lips loosen, and your voice acts on its own accord. 

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers before she blinks and lets go of your hands, letting out a soft thank you and bowing her head in gratitude— you merely stand there awkwardly, unsure of why you decided to agree to this; a voice in the back of your mind nags that you should’ve told her to wait for Yunah’s return.

“I’ll treasure this for eternity,” she breathes out, peering up at you through her thick lashes with a small smile, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, really,” you frantically say; worried that she may expect too much of you, you’re frantic to add: “I’m not too experienced with potion making, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Undeterred, she shakes her head. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh,” you softly say, “okay.”

Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulls out a worn out scroll, unrolling it on the counter; the two of you gather as she reads out the ingredients to you, along with the instructions— you’re surprised to find it composed of entirely mundane ingredients and no magic involved, just as she’d promised. When you ask her what the potion is for, she sends you a small smile, as though you were privy to a top secret. 

“For rejuvenation,” she simply says, not elaborating despite you hopelessly wishing she did.

The potion is made in Yunah’s cauldron in just a few minutes, nothing compared to the hours the witch spends slaving over her own creations. The woman is patient, watching and directing you on what to do and how to do it; when the concoction glows a soft pink, you gasp, and the woman smiles triumphantly. 

“Let’s see,” she hums softly, reaching out and stirring the potion with her index finger, ignoring your surprised gasp and meek warning that it wasn’t the best idea— she ignores you, stirring until a the liquid becomes a whirlwind, only retreating when the potion can continue to swirl on its own for a few seconds more. The liquid that drips from the tip of her finger is popped into her mouth, and you gape— she doesn’t seem to mind your reaction, brows knitting together in thought, taking a moment before addressing you. “Try it.”

“What?” you gawk, “I don’t… why? Is it safe?”

”Of course it is,” she says, “I need to know what you taste. Try it, there’s no harm.”

You hesitate, looking at the pink liquid that has now stilled, then up at the woman who smiles patiently at you. Nothing happened to her— she barely seemed to react at all. Your eyes lock with hers, and a silent reassurance is exchanged. Against your better judgement, you reach a shaky finger into the concoction and try it for yourself. 

The liquid is warm and smooth on your tongue— you try to search for a flavor, taking a moment to think it through, but come up short. 

“It tastes like nothing.”

“Then it must be left to ferment overnight,” crossing her arms, she sighs, staring at the concoction with a frown. “it won’t be ready until some flavor pulls through.”

“I’ll stay at a nearby inn and return tomorrow. You’ll receive your payment then,” she’s not giving you much room to agree or deny, her hands already pulling her hood back on, ready to disappear into the night once more— she gives you one last smile before she goes, unmistakable joy laced in her words as she tells you, “thank you.”

Her cloak whirls in the air as she turns to leave, her swift steps bringing you to a panic as you reach for your nearest piece of parchment and pen.

“Wait!” you call out, just as she’s opened the door, ready to slip through, “I never got your name. I’d like to write it down, so I remember who it’s reserved for.”

A pause. You wonder if this was a stupid thing to ask of her.

“Irene.” 

She doesn’t repeat it, much less spell it out to make sure you’ve written it correctly. The revelation is brief, and she disappears before you can say anything more— hastily, you scrawl it down before you can forget it, your messy handwriting an eyesore next to the delicate pink potion that ferments in Yunah’s cauldron. 

The urge to send Yunah a letter confessing your sins of making a potion without her here weighs down your heart, but you know she wouldn’t even receive it— her two day conference has begun, and her lack of contact has never felt more painful. You’re left to ascend to your home on the second story of your apothecary alone, tossing restlessly in your bed as you think back to the strange event. The image of the beautiful woman lingers on your mind, sure to reappear in your dreams as her name is left like a gentle whisper in your ear.

Irene. 

 ○○○  

There is a creaking sound coming from the apothecary. 

You dismiss it, at first, rolling over in your bed and pulling the covers closer to your body, trying your best to fall back asleep— but you hear it again, and the more you pay attention to it, the less you’re able to rule it off as the building settling. 

Another creak; the sound seems to travel around the area. In a daze, you sit up from your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you strain your ears for the sound— when a soft tapping resounds, you kick your legs off your bed and stand, wondering if a stray has broken in to your store for shelter again; they always find a way. 

The more you approach the stairway that leads down the apothecary, the more you’re able to make out the sound of footsteps; they’re a light pitter patter, urging you to walk quietly in fear of startling it— when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you hear a soft meow. Your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Kitty,” you call out, spotting the feline standing in the middle of the store— at the sound of your voice, it walks away, attempting to hide beneath your counter. You approach it slowly, glancing out the window to find that it’s still storming. “Poor thing, you must be so cold.” 

The black cat is curled up in the corner beneath your counter, its head tucked away from your sight; carefully, you reach out to pet it, running your fingers down its back— the cat perks up at the sensation, turning its head to look at you, and you freeze. Staring back at you are two, brilliant pink orbs.

You’re startled by the sight, unable to react as an alarm begins to blare behind you— looking over your shoulder, you frown as a red light blinks back at you, situated just by Yunah’s cauldron. It takes a moment before you recognize what it’s there for.

The alarm for unauthorized potions. 

The soft fur beneath your skin begins to shift— the kitten before you begins to amalgamate, growing with violent cracks and snaps that have you falling back in shock, crawling backwards as your mouth falls open in horror. Its midnight fur has become a shapeless void, stubby paws shifting to pin-like legs— two, four, six; one after the other, they appear, hovering over you like a spider— its cute snout has disappeared, replaced instead with a maw that opens hungrily. It salivates, sharp rows of teeth grinning down at you; Your eyes dart up to meet its gaze, and it snarls at you. 

Instinct takes over as you roll to the side to avoid its jaw that shoots down to snap at you— scrambling to your feet, your legs tremble as its head cracks sharply to find you, determined to hunt you down; adrenaline prickles through your skin like needles, and it’s enough to make you turn on your heel and run for the exit. 

It’s too fast— as you weave through shelves and display tables, you hear a crawling sound, much too close to comfort; your hopes that the furniture scattered across the floor will serve as obstacles to hinder it are shattered as you look up, to where the sound is coming from: it’s crawling on the ceiling, and its eyes are fixed on you. 

You’re skidding to a halt as it leaps in front of you, blocking the entrance as it growls at you once more— when its jaws widen to try and take a bite from you, you reach out for any nearest object you can, using all your strength to throw jars and other heavy items you can find— one shatters on where you assume the head to be, and it flinches, only to shake off the glass shards, a spindly limb coming down to crush the table beside you; with a yelp, you turn around to find another way to escape. 

All the windows are locked, and the glass is protected with a spell that won’t allow it to shatter; there’s no exit on the second story, leaving the back exit that leads to your garden— with a heaving chest and tears in your eyes, you sprint to the back, the monster hot on your heels as it crushes the furniture you move in its way and the jars of ingredients you try to hit it with. 

Slipping through the employee entrance, you unlock the exit with clammy hands, trembling uncontrollably as you swing the door open— behind you, the creature rams through the wall, splinters flying at you as you run out and into the storm, through your carefully cultivated garden that it treads through with an intent to destroy. 

You’re barefoot, and it’s proving to be tricky to run out in such a muddy field—you can only hope that you’ll be able to reach the fence of the enclosure and try to find help; your heels dig into the mud and slow you down, but you don’t dare look back, gritting your teeth as you near the end of your garden.

Something wraps around your ankle— the thing has caught up to you, and you scream as it wraps its limb around your leg, pulling you back with a force that’s dragging you through the mud and back towards it; you try to flail around, digging your fingers into the soft soil, but it’s all useless. The creature has you trapped, flipping you onto your back as it hovers over you with a hunger swirling within its pink, beady eyes. Through the void of its body, the jaw widens, impossibly wide, encasing your upper body and salivating onto you through the sharp, stalagmite-like fangs. You’re left helpless, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for it to sink its teeth into your flesh— but it never comes. 

Instead, you hear a soft humming sound; through tearful eyes, you peek— within the endless void of its mouth, something begins to glow. You think you may be seeing things, at first, squinting your eyes in confusion, only to be blinded by a light that encases you entirely; the creature remains there, hovering over you, trapping you within this light, and you wonder what kind of twisted fate has been left to you— then, you feel it.

A tugging sensation. Gentle, at first, so subtle you might think your mind is just playing tricks on you. Then it’s felt again, again and again until it’s undeniable and you feel yourself being pulled, gravitated to the light that showers you— but your physical body remains still. 

It’s trying to steal your soul, you realize, the tension in your muscles fading away, your heartbeat slowing until you feel your eyelids begin to weigh you down, your vision becoming a muddled haze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

It’s a discomfort that goes on for far too long— you think part of you is trying to resist, but your consciousness is left at such a small sliver that you’re not entirely sure. Your body has gone limp, eyes stuck wide open as you stare into this blinding light, a burning sensation bringing more tears to your already crying eyes. 

The feeling comes to an abrupt halt— it all fades to black. 

Is this it? you find yourself thinking, is it over?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes— but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. You think you can still feel your body— though, it might be wishful thinking playing tricks on you. You can still hear things, though it’s faint; the splashing of rain that falls on the ground beside your ears, the thunder that crackles in the sky— a faint screeching, sounds of destruction, a panicked voice calling your name— and suddenly, you feel as though your body has been plunged into ice. 

A loud gasp rips through you, body jolting up as your lungs burn for oxygen— you begin to cough, and without realizing, your hands have begun to claw at your chest, nails digging into your skin and leaving scratches that pave way for blood to trickle out, running down your skin with the droplets of rain. 

It’s cold. So, so cold, your brain screams at you, head hung disorientedly as you begin to rock back and forth, skin tightening and prickling from the rain that has seeped through your clothes, leaving you a trembling, weeping mess. Are you still alive?

“___!” you think you recognize the prestigious uniform that falls into your weary line of sight, the hands that grab at your wrists to pry away your hands from your chest familiar. Yet even so, you can’t help the way you scream and thrash, wondering if this is the creature’s newest sick attempt to lower your guard, “___, please! It’s gone now, you’re okay!”

A strong hand gathers your wrists together and pins them to your lap, the other reaching out to cup your face, forcing your head back up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shake this hold off; they won’t budge. 

“___,” they plead, their voice breaking, “It’s Taehyun; please, look at me— please.”

His other hand reaches up, cradling your face in his hands as he quietly begs you to open your eyes; his thumbs caress along your cheekbones, and despite your racing mind telling you otherwise, you peek cautiously through your lashes. 

Everything is a big blur, and the night time doesn’t help at all. Your heaving chest begins to slow, leaving shaky breaths that continue to tremble your body— slowly, everything comes into view, and your eyes lock with a familiar pair of eyes. Dark, brown irises; normal, familiar, terrified. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes out, and his body physically reacts when you finally meet his gaze— without thinking, he’s pulling you close, against his firm frame that hides you away from the rest of the world. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

It seems as though the reassurances are for him just as much as they are for you; he holds you as though he never wants to let you go again, and his heartbeat pounds harshly against your ear; though you desperately want to, you can’t bring yourself to cry.

A moment passes where you’re both still, neither of you sure of what to say— then, you’re being pulled away, held by your shoulders as Taehyun stares you down with a stern gaze. 

“What happened?” he asks, scanning your face as though he could find the answer there, “why did the alarm to Yunah’s cauldron go off?”

“I— I don’t know,” your voice is hoarse, and you wonder why he didn’t ask you about the creature first, choosing to ask about the alarm instead. “The potion was just fine earlier, I don’t know what—”

“What potion?” Taehyun interrupts, his fingers beginning to dig into your skin— you wince, shaking your head as you try to remember, “Yunah didn’t leave anything in her cauldron.”

”She— she didn’t make it. I did,” his eyes widen with disbelief at your confession, jaw beginning to tick. “The woman, she begged me— I just wanted to help her.”

“Help?!” Taehyun repeats, as though saying it himself will help him understand, “you almost died!

“Whatever that thing was, it didn’t work!” you shake your head and try to explain yourself, but your fervent denial only angers Taehyun.

”You don’t understand,” you weakly let out, “it was working; she said I was capable of making it myself—”

“And you believed her?” Taehyun lets out a bewildered laugh, though it’s clear he finds no humor in the situation, “why in the world would it occur to you to do that? You’re a human!” 

You flinch at his hammered words, the aching of your body now a mere afterthought as you listen to his frustrations. 

“There’s not a single drop of magic in your blood. You need to accept that.” as much as you want to look away from Taehyun’s intense gaze, to push him away and go back inside, you can’t; you’re too weak to move even a single muscle. All you can do is sit there and get scolded like a child.

“This fantasy of yours almost cost you your soul— don’t you see how dangerous it is to try and force yourself somewhere you don’t belong?” he stresses, brows knitting together as he observes you carefully, wondering if anything he’s saying is getting through to you. You merely stare at him with shining eyes, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“Don’t ever try to involve yourself in magic like this again.” He says firmly, “you’re lucky we were able to stop that thing when we did.”

At the word ‘we’, you finally find the strength to look away and just over his shoulder— sure enough, Dagonyang sits patiently behind Taehyun, staring up at you with wide eyes that are glaze with concern— your eyes widen as you take notice of his ear, split at the top and matting his fur with blood. You feel a lump in your throat, trying to hold back sobbed apologies— it’s probably the last thing Taehyun wants to hear right now.

“Don’t worry about him,” Taehyun swiftly says, having taken notice of your wandering gaze, “he’ll heal in no time.

“Can you stand?” you shift at his question, trying to get up— but you hiss the moment any pressure is put on your feet, and the two of you look down to find your ankle is swollen, an inky, ringed bruise forming right above the bone. 

”God, you’re all injured,” Taehyun grimaces, only now getting a good look at your appearance; worry tugs his features together as he takes in your soiled garments. “And dirty.”

“Come. You need to be tended to,” you can’t let out much of a protest when he’s sweeping you off your feet and picking you up, briskly walking back to your home. “and you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”

Sure enough, you’re able to see just what he means as he passes through your once beloved home; it’s a wreck, with glass and herbs all over the floor, shattered furniture and the destroyed wall enough to make your stomach drop. All your hard work, your dreams, your passions— gone. 

You want to cry; you want to scream, to curl away in shame and hide yourself from the world forever, to kneel and beg for forgiveness until your throat is sore. You want the universe to swallow you whole, to go on without you, as though none of this ever happened, as though your existence never occurred.

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

 ○○○ 

“Raise your leg a bit more.” Taehyun’s hands are quick and nimble as they wrap gauze around your ankle, kneeling at your bedside as the two of you remain quiet— it’s the first thing he’s said to you all day. 

There’s an inappropriate sense of intimacy to this scene that you can’t help but be angered by. He has left his duties at the castle to take care of you, despite your persistent reluctance and refusal— but with your apothecary destroyed and your ankle still healing, you were given no other choice but to stay at Taehyun’s home until Yunah returned. It’s a small, quiet home, on the outskirts of the capital and away from the constant buzz and energy; it’s a change you’ve yet to get used to, but secretly welcome. You lean back on your hands as you avoid watching him, fingers digging into his comforter as you choose to stare out the window instead, at the chirping birds and wildlife that scampers around. 

The idea of staying in Taehyun’s home like this, donning his clothes and sleeping in his bed, was something that you only dreamed of during those secret, self-indulgent fantasies of yours— the kind where you lived a tranquil, domestic life, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you were together. The you of the past would positively keel over at seeing herself in such a position— yet, as Taehyun smooths down the bandages that compress your healing injury, a tension in the air so thick it forms a wall between you, you can’t help but wish you were anywhere but here. 

“Is it too tight?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and he doesn’t look up as he asks you the question, as though he were merely going through the motions and not asking about your comfort. You go to shake your head no before realizing he won’t see it. 

“No. It’s fine.” his thumbs run along your ankle, a gentle pressure that tries to linger— you pull your foot away and tuck yourself back into bed without another word, unwilling to do anything more than nestle yourself into the covers and hide away. Taehyun remains at your bedside for a minute, silence overtaking the room once again as he finally decides to take his leave.

“I’ve made lunch,” he offers, lingering at the doorway and watching you carefully; you don’t seem to acknowledge him, but he refuses to leave until he gets a response from you. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, “but I’m not hungry.”

You hear him leave with a frustrated sigh. 

Your time together continues on like this; you’re counting down the days until the apothecary is finished getting reconstructed and Yunah returns— her letters to you are endless now that she’s on the train back to the capital, having been notified by Taehyun of everything that happened the morning after; you were witness to her every emotion as she wrote to you— the fear, the guilt, and the relief that came with receiving her first response from you. When she asked to hear more details about that night, hoping to find an answer on why it all unfolded, you wrote as much as you could on the back of her letter, watching it recall back to its owner, curious on what the response from her would be; you told her of Irene and her reassurances that you could help, the ingredients, the mundane potion that brewed from it— but you’ve yet to get a response back. 

Instead of letting yourself get lost in her letters, Yunah’s abandoned you to this mess— days have passed, and you’ve yet to find the courage to talk to Taehyun again. Besides the quick, necessary communications shared, you try your best to avoid him all together. A strange anxiety fills your heart whenever you’re near him for too long, and you’ve resorted to hoping that you can run away from all this once Yunah returns. Maybe you can force her to handle his deliveries from now on. 

If only you could blame this strange dissonance of feelings on your tattered soul, still trying its best to heal from the trauma of that night. You’d like to think that, if you wait long enough, everything will smooth over, and you can go back to being that shy, hopeless romantic that became a puddle underneath Taehyun’s gaze.

It’s much better than this distance you’ve created now, anyway; you’ve grown fond of sitting out in the field behind Taehyun’s home as a way to avoid the tension that closes those four walls in on you, quietly taking in the grand landscape that stretches beyond— oftentimes, Dagonyang finds himself curled up in your lap, purring at your gentle hands that run through his fur. It’s become a ritual for you two, and if you look hard enough, you can even see the glowing lanterns of the capital. 

You can hear Taehyun call your name, already imagining the way he leans across the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. You try your best to ignore him, his voice already making your heart rate spike— but he’s not having it, and when he calls your name once more, it’s stern; commanding. You jump at the sound, unable to help the way your mind is instantly flooded with memories of that night, where his nails bit at your skin and his eyes were filled with nothing but the deepest disappointment. You’ve stopped petting Dagonyang, and the cat has already jumped off your lap and started pattering off inside, leaving you alone on the field. A moment passes, and you slowly get up to avoid hearing Taehyun harshly call your name yet again.  

“It’s cold out, you should come in,” his voice has softened considerately, yet you still can’t find it in you to look at him— the sun has set and the night air nips at your skin, but you had no plans of going in anytime soon. He moves aside so you can step in. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Thank you.” you don’t catch it, but Taehyun frowns at your apathetic tone. He follows you inside, watching the way you trudge to the dinner table. 

His eyes are boring holes into your skin. You’re stuck looking at your plate, trying to keep up the act that you don’t feel his intense gaze burning into you, watching your every move. It’s quiet, as it has been for the past three days, and how it will be for the next three. 

A part of you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now— what he thinks of you. You wonder if his viewpoint on you has changed entirely since that night, having put him through such a terrible battle, which was only followed by sleepless nights of investigations on what happened; he’s yet to update you on what he’s found, leading you to believe that every direction he’s taken has been met with dead ends. Even now, Beomgyu’s words float around your mind like a persistent parasite; you’ve caused him enough trouble to stress him out for a lifetime— he’s stuck cleaning up your messes, stuck with you while he oversees your recovery. A simple human interrupting his busy life, dragging him down. You fear that if you look at him, you’ll find nothing but resentment in his eyes— you don’t think you could handle that discovery. 

It’s quiet as you both separate, going off to his bedroom while he goes off to his study where he’s been staying, much to your reluctance. While you nestle into the covers, attempting to fall asleep, you can hear the familiar sound of Taehyun humming in the room beside yours, undoubtedly spending yet another sleepless night on your case. It’s become something you secretly listen for, soothing your brain into a restless sleep, free of the nightmares that invaded your mind the first night you stayed in his room. With a heavy sigh, you allow yourself to rest, Taehyun’s song a lullaby that protects your fragile mind.

 ○○○   

Tomorrow marks the final day of your stay with Taehyun; you’ve finally recieved a letter from Yunah.

I’m sorry I took so long to respond, she writes to you, her writing messy and rushed; the parchment is a bit wrinkled in your hands, and your heart sinks as you continue to read. But I took everything you told me about and sent it to Taehyun— I had a hunch of what might’ve transpired from that night, and I had to make sure it was true before I sent you this. ___, please know that I’d only ask this of you if I were completely serious. 

Your heart stops as you read the next line, eyes glued to the parchment as though to make sure it weren’t misreading it— no matter how much you stare at it, the request stays the same. I think you need to move to the kingdom of Flora.

It’s much safer for you there— I know how much you must hate reading this, but please, think about it. That woman, Irene— a necromancer— shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on you like that; she took advantage of you, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in such a vulnerable state— Taehyun is still trying to figure out how she was able to breach the kingdom after being banished for so long. 

I can’t risk her finding you again— you’d be able to live a quiet life there, tend to your garden, and I’d visit every day. You’re much better off there, you’d belong there perfectly; you wouldn’t have to deal with stupid architecture anymore, either. I’ve told Taehyun about the plan, and he’s found a place for you to stay in. Just say the word and he’ll take you. 

The paper is beginning to crumble in your hands, your grip tightening as you continue to read. You can’t believe this. 

I’m so sorry ___. You must hate me right now. But I can’t risk this happening to you again— I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself. Please, accept this offer; I’ll visit you the moment I’m off this stupid train. 

I love you,

Yunah

You know she expects to hear back from you soon; her handwriting is so small, and she’s left the entirety of the back for you to write on. Instead, you simply stare at the letter, reading and reading and reading it again until you have the whole thing memorized, until you’ve confirmed that you didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. The paper flutters in your hands from the wind— what you thought would be a peaceful reading outside has quickly turned into a torment, Dagonyang’s peacefully sleeping figure beside you nothing more than a mockery. 

Certain sentences stick out in your brain, your eyes instinctively flickering to them, etching them into your aching heart; one in particular seems to blare at you: you’d belong there perfectly.  

Belong there, you scoff, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you read it again— you feel your fingertips buzz from where you hold the letter, a sharp electricity shooting through your nervous system as you read it yet again, irked by her words. It builds and buzzes inside you until you’re a trembling mess, unsure of what to do with this anger that bubbles up like lava; your eyes are inevitably drawn to a different sentence, your new breaking point: I’ve told Taehyun about the plan. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

God, you’re trembling with anger— he’s just going to send you away? Just like that? Do you really have a say in this, when everyone wants you gone so desperately? Your nails dig into the parchment, pushing and pushing until they break through— the hot, bubbling anger that simmered under your skin erupts, and before you can give it a second thought, you’re ripping the parchment to shreds, tearing it until it’s nothing more than fragments that are carried off by the wind. You watch them flutter off, curling up in defeat as you will yourself not to cry.

All these years spent with Yunah, proving yourself and succeeding together, were they just a lie? Was any of it real when Yunah, the woman who swore up and down that she’d never put much importance on your differences, was convinced you belonged somewhere other than the place you built your entire life in?

The sun has set, and Dagonyang has left your side after the chill of night emerged— but you remain the same, attempting to wrap your head around the news you’ve read, of the things that are expected of you.

Taehyun has come out in search of you again. The sound of his voice is nothing but salt in your wound, a reminder that tomorrow, you’re expected to leave the city and never turn back. He calls out your name multiple times, but you’ve yet to budge— by the fourth time, he sighs and makes his way over to you. 

“___ please, won’t you stop sulking and come inside—?” Taehyun’s voice is caught in his throat as you finally look up, and at him. Pupils locking firmly with his, your eyes wide and glassy, an intense stare that dares him to look away.

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

“What?” he breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“Yunah told me everything!” you shout, feeling emotions catching in your throat, stinging your eyes, “Irene, the plan— you expect me to pack up my life and hide myself away just so you can feel better?”

Taehyun seems to have caught on to what you mean. “___, you need to understand where we’re coming from—”

“Why? I’m a person too!”  it’s all become too much for you, and you’ve begun to choke up on your words— it’s too much, confronting Taehyun like this, even more so when it feels like he’s not listening. “I can’t just give everything up because you guys don’t want to deal with me!”

He flinches at your words, and you find confusion starting to overtake his face, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “What? 

You scoff at his confusion. “Please, don’t try to act innocent— I get it, I really do— I put you in this crazy mess; I’ve dragged you down enough, and I know you want nothing more than for me to go away, but honest to god, I’m not asking you to look after me like this!” 

Tears have begun to well up in your eyes— you feel humiliated, leaving yourself vulnerable like this, but you can’t seem to stop talking; every little thought that’s nagged you in the back of your mind is now coming out like word vomit, and you can’t seem to stop it. 

“If this weak, foolish human wants to stay in this big, scary, magical kingdom, then just let me!” you cry out, ignoring the way he shakes his head at your words, “let me get messed with, let me make mistakes, let me get tricked— and if it doesn’t end well, then so be it!

“But I will not sit around and let you make decisions for me— I am not going to Flora because it’s where you think I belong,” you’re practically shaking with anger at the thought, gritting your teeth at Taehyun, “I refuse to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Taehyun starts, shaking his head at your naivety, “we can’t risk Irene coming back just because you want to stay here—”

“Were you even listening to me?!” you’re exasperated, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “you want to get rid of me that bad? What, are you gonna tell me this was all your idea next—?”

“You think I want to abandon you?!” It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at you like this since that night, and you can’t help the way you flinch at the sound— he hesitates to continue at the sight. “You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

Your face falls at his words.

”Yunah was mortified when I told her what happened. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for it,” Taehyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She was set on the fact that you needed to be relocated— that Irene would come back for you if you stayed.”

His eyes flicker away from yours, but even so, you still catch the way they shine under the moonlight; his voice wavers as he speaks. 

“That night… it haunts me.” he looks back at you, brows knitting together at the thought, “I almost lost you. To this day, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how I was able to destroy that— that thing.”

“I’d rather die than get rid of you,” his voice has dropped significantly, and there’s an edge that makes it tremble slightly— an emotion that fights to break free, nearing you as he speaks, “you’re not a burden. I don’t care that you’re human— I’d look after you no matter what you were. I’d pick up all of your messes, I’d get involved in every disaster you caused. I’d happily let you drag me down, if it meant being with you.”

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

It’s quiet. The breeze continues to whistle between the branches of the trees around you, The wildlife that’s hidden within the forest now sound asleep. The stars are out tonight, as is the moon— it casts a soft glow onto the man before you, his sparkling eyes looking at you with something so intense, it makes your knees week. He’s so close, you think that if you leaned in a little, you could…

”Taehyun,” you breathe out; his eyes flash with desperation at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gulps.

”Then don’t.” 

Time seems to still the moment the words come out his mouth, the two of you stuck where you are— hesitant, afraid to go on with what you both desperately want. His eyes flicker down to your lips; his hands twitch at his sides. He watches as you slowly reach out, cupping a gentle hand around his face, fingertips caressing the strong jawline, the soft curve of his cheekbones, the dimple that indents his cheek as he presses his lips together and swallows. He lets you bring him closer to you, leaning until your other hand is able to land on his nape, tangling with his dark hair— he lets you come closer, feeling your breath mix with his, seeing your eyes flutter shut, your lips slightly trembling as they part; his heart is on the verge of combusting as he feels your lips press gently against his. 

It’s a quick, soft peck— you’re pulling away immediately, wide eyes looking at Taehyun as though you’ve done something wrong; he’s quick to show you you’ve done anything but, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, showing you just how much he reciprocates this. 

Taehyun kisses you with a primal hunger that makes your legs weak, sighing softly against his lips, sharp canines playfully biting at your flesh to hear the way you gasp, pulling lightly at his hair in response. His hand smooths up your back, going back down and pulling you even closer, until your bodies are flush together and you’re grabbing onto him for support— his other hand has found itself on the back of your head, keeping you close, unable to run from his starved kiss. 

You try desperately to ignore the burning of your lungs, but you’re getting lightheaded— gently, you go to move away from Taehyun, the man immediately pulling away to gauge your reaction; when he finds nothing but dazed, lovestruck eyes looking back at him, your hand that rests on his shoulder gripping onto him a little tighter, he lets out an airy laugh. 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

You can hear the restraint in his voice, a warning of what may come— but even then, you shake your head; his eyes darken at the sight. Your voice is a breathy whisper that makes him shiver. “I don’t want you to stop. Don’t hold back.”

He curses under his breath before he’s diving back in, returning with a fervor that makes your mind spin. He’s rougher, needier, eating you up and indulging in every little thing you give him— your gasps, your whines, your fingers that dig into his skin and pull at his hair— it all fuels him even more, finally able to release the frustration that’s been pent up for a long time. 

“I need you,” he murmurs against your mouth, reaching down to grab your ass, pressing you firmly against him— you gasp, feeling him already hardening, and he takes that opportunity to explore every inch of you; he groans softly, rolling his hips forward. “I need you so bad.”

“You have me,” you say, breathless— he lets out a small moan at your words, pressing himself harshly against you, whining at a particularly firm thrust that allows you to take in the outline of his cock, “take me.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, and before you can understand what’s happening, he’s picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, strong arms holding you up as he leans back in to kiss you— he brings the two of you inside, letting out a soft groan at the way you tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s kicking his bedroom door shut and laying you down on the bed— it’s only then that he’s able to part from you, holding himself up as he takes you in properly, watching as you whine and try to tug him back down; he chuckles, caving in instantly before he’s guiding you up on the bed, letting your head fall back on his pillows and making sure you’re comfortable. 

”God, you’re so beautiful,” he finds himself sighing out, sitting back on his knees as he takes a good look at you— you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, his hands running up and down your sides absentmindedly, feeling your warm skin heat up against his. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself at this point, lost in your trance as you begin to guide him to take your undress you, his eyes never straying from your body as he looks at you in pure awe— you shiver at the groan he lets out when your bra is finally thrown to the side, his lips immediately coming down to press a kiss right on your chest, giving you another before he’s wandering down and latching his lips around your nipple; your back arches at the warmth of his mouth, a quiet mewl escaping you.

His hands have begun to venture down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants and tugging it so he can slip a hand inside. Your fingers card through his hair absentmindedly, pulling at it desperately the moment his fingers begin to press at your cunt over your soaked panties, fingertips running up and down your slit to feel the way you begin to moan breathlessly, hips bucking against his hand in search of more— but he’s a tease, going up to gently circle your clit, a ghost touch that shoots sparks straight to your core and empties your mind. 

“Please— don’t tease,” you breathe out, head falling back as he presses two fingers against your clenching hole through your panties, chuckling at the way you try to suck him in, desperate to feel yourself stretched out— the feeling is disappearing just as quick as it came, and his hand is leaving your cunt to grab your hips, holding you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

”Can’t help myself,” he murmurs against your lips forcing your hips to angle up so he can grind down against you; he’s savoring the feeling, smiling against your mouth as he presses his cock firmly against your entrance, your hands anchoring on his shoulders as you whimper weakly, “you just make the prettiest noises.”

“Wanna hear you like this all night,” he’s picked up a rhythm as he grinds against you, rough hands holding you from bucking your hips back— all you can do is lie there and take it, pleasure tumbling from your mouth as his lips begin to wander to your jawline, trailing gentle kisses that travel to your neck; nipping at it playfully, he holds back a laugh at the way you jolt against him. “Think you can take it?”

“I can. I can take it,” you rush to say, arching back making your chest press against his, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt as you silently beg him to take it off, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, finally breaking away to give in to your demands— you lie back in awe as he finally pulls his shirt over his head, eyes glued to the muscles he’s been hiding away from you, desperate to commit it all to your memory; reaching out, you run your hands down his body, down his shoulders to his firm chest, down the abs on his stomach that flinch at your nails that scratch at his skin, until you’ve reached the waistband of his pants, tugging at it in hopes that he’ll give in to your desperation and just give you what you need— instead, he takes your hands in his, tutting softly at you before he’s putting them above your head. 

“Taehyun, c’mon,” you whine, trying to tug your hands out of his grip; it tightens in response, your voice wavering as he looks up at you, raising a brow in warning; even then, you refuse to give up on your complaints.

”You’re taking too long,” you tease, bucking your hips up desperately, “are you gonna do anything?”

Without warning, you begin to feel a warm sensation on your wrists, a slight tingling that makes you look up at your bound hands— you find a silver glow where Taehyun’s hands hold onto yours, eyes widening as you watch him let go of your hands now bound by his magic. Your head snaps down to send Taehyun a petulant glare. 

“Oh, you’re mean.” 

“You started it,” he chirps, using his newfound mobility to run his hands down your sides, until he’s gripping your hips and stripping you down to nothing more than your soaked panties; your face heats up at the vulnerability of the situation, trying to hide your face in your arms as you watch him settle down on his stomach between your legs— you try to squeeze your thighs together shyly, and Taehyun tsks; a pathetic yelp leaves you as he spanks your thigh.

“Taehyun,” you whine, starting to feel that familiar warmth circling around your thighs, an invisible force that makes you part your legs, left completely vulnerable to the man who’s now situating your legs over his shoulders, held still by his magic, “this is so unfair!” 

“You got yourself into this mess, baby,” he scolds you, kissing your inner knee, going up until he’s at the apex of your thigh, smiling at the way they shake, “y’gotta learn how to be patient.”

His words are enough to make you nervous, squirming in his grip as he slowly slides down your panties, indulging in the wet slick that sticks to the fabric, eagerly shifting closer to your center. 

He places a kiss on your mound first; you want to squeeze your eyes shut and complain, aware of this game he wants to play. But you bite your tongue, looking down curiously to catch the way he looks up at you through his lashes, smiling when you make eye contact before moving down just a bit more and placing a gentle kiss on your clit— you feel the breathiness of his laugh when you jolt at the sensation, plush lips warm against your swollen, needy clit. He takes his sweet time before doing anything more— warm hands running up and down your thighs lovingly, watching you get more desperate as the seconds go by, chest heaving and slick dripping from your entrance pathetically.

He presses another kiss to your clit; then another, and another, until he finally parts his lips to suck the pearl into his mouth, running his tongue along it and closing his eyes in bliss, listening keenly for the broken moans of his name you let out. His tongue lolls out to firmly lick at your clit, circling around it before trailing down, running along your folds and licking up the arousal that had been dribbling down to the bedsheets eagerly, feeling the way you try to squirm and break free from the binds that keep you spread open for him.

“Tyunnie, please— stop being mean,” you cry at some point, feeling as though you’re going insane with the way his tongue is buried deep inside you, face pressed against your cunt and eyes closed in pure bliss, nose brushing against your clit as he continues to eat you out; you try to struggle against the binds on your wrists, but they won’t budge. “please, I wanna touch you.”

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to send you a mean grin. “You gotta be patient,” he reminds you, leaning down to lick a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way you shudder against him, “let me have my fun first, okay?”

You go to curse at him under your breath, but it all falls short the moment you feel his fingertips begin to circle your entrance, collecting the arousal that leaks through your hole before slowly pushing in his ring and middle finger in. Your eyes flutter shut, the knot in your stomach only tightening at the stretch, lithe fingers slowly pushing in until it hits the knuckle, dedicated mouth not stopping its ministrations on your clit all the while. When he can no longer push in, he curls his fingers curiously, picking up gentle pace and pressing against your warm walls until he hears your breath stutter, your thighs jolting when he hits a particular spot; you feel a breathy laugh against your clit, and he proceeds to hit that sensitive spot until you’re a shaking, pleading mess.

”Taehyun,” you whine, nails digging into the palm of your hands as the pleasure begins to dizzy you, “T— Taehyun, tyun, I can’t— feels so good, please don’t stop, please.”

Your muscles are beginning to tense, chest heaving as you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter, mouth falling open as he continues to suck on your clit, thrusting his fingers into you a little faster. until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and bucking your hips against his mouth, crying out his name with broken pleas to cum.

It comes crashes down so suddenly— a shiver wracks through you and you can only choke out a soft call of Taehyun’s name as your orgasm rips through you, cunt fluttering around his fingers that continue to curl and thrust into you, his tongue wandering from your throbbing clit to your entrance as he licks up all the arousal that spills around his fingers, groaning softly at the tight squeeze and the taste of your cum on his mouth; he’s addicted, helping you ride it out until your body becomes sensitive, bleary eyes peeking down to see that he has yet to stop, and doesn’t plan to any time soon. 

“Tyun,” you breathe out; the man merely glances up at you before returning back to your cunt, feeling your cunt clench as he curls his fingers against you once more, smiling at the yelp that follows, “Tyun, it’s too much, I’m sensitive—!” 

“Want you to give me another one,” he murmurs against you, his fingers stiling inside you as he says it; he finally looks up at you, and you find a primal need in his eyes, his hand that’s holding your thigh gripping you a little harder, as though afraid you would run away, “can you do that for me?”

You take a second to catch your breath, his eyes following the rise and fall of your chest as though in a trance; he leans down to place kisses along your skin yet again, against your navel and around your pelvic bone as he lets you take a moment to answer; he nips softly at your hip bone, and you feel your resolve crumble in an instant. 

“Yes,” the word is barely slipping from your tongue before Taehyun is diving back in, moving with such desperation that all you can do is lay back and watch in awe. He’s taken note of what drives you crazy, eager to use it against you; your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming as he hits your sweet spot continuously, sucking your clit and running his tongue along it until he’s building you up even faster than he did before, an undeniably triumphant smile tugging at his lips the moment you start sobbing that you’re going to cum again. 

You’re desperate to thrash around under him, to clamp your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but all you can do is lay there and buck your hips against his mouth, teary eyes unable to look away from the sight before you, pleasure crashing down on you and leaving your body a trembling, buzzing mess. 

“There you go pretty girl, y’listen so well,” he coos against you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm with a gentle pace of his fingers, kissing your clit lovingly between his praises. “Sound so good, just. For. Me.” 

The rings that bound your wrists and thighs are buzzing for a moment before it all fades away; you only let your muscles relax for a second before you’re immediately reaching down to run your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, lacing through the dark locks before tugging and guiding him back up— he lets you, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he crawls over you, situating himself between your legs that still twitch with aftershocks, his arms by your head that hold him up caging you in. He takes a moment to observe you, eyes warm with an undeniable fondness as he takes in your shiny eyes and swollen lips, glancing down at your chest that heaves as you try to catch your breath. Reaching to cup your face, he runs his thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he confesses quietly, and you don’t bother holding back the smile that breaks out against his mouth.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

You hum softly at his words, running your fingers through his hair and pulling gently at the roots, tangling comfortably around his nape.

”Thought about making you mine,” he whispers softly, and for the first time, you spot a bit of hesitance in his voice— a vulnerability that doesn’t slip past you, picking it up between his kisses that begin to linger along your face, from your cupid's bow to your jawline; his breath stutters, and you gasp— his cockhead is thick and sticky with precum as it presses against your entrance, his hand that wraps around the length taking its time to rub up and down your slit, lingering and pressing down at your clit teasingly. The mixture of your arousals is loud, and if the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your awaiting cunt wasn’t driving you crazy, you would’ve hid your face in your hands from embarrassment. 

“I’ve imagined so many times how you’d feel… how you’d sound so pretty,” he moans softly, the reminder making his hips buck unexpectedly against you, the two of you gasping as his tip prods at your hole for just a second, “Thought of keeping you here with me. Of being all yours.”

He hears the way you whimper quietly at that last part, feels your thighs press against his hips, antsy hands pulling at his hair as a quiet plea for more— he’s driving you crazy, and his sweet words against your skin are definitely not helping.

“I want that— I want to stay with you,” you’re guiding Taehyun to look up at you again, watching his dazed eyes lock onto yours, drowning with a primal need that burns hotter the longer he looks at you. Your hand wanders from his hair and down the expanse of his broad back, until you’re pressing at the small of his back and urging his hips forward; you don’t dare look away from him for a second, determined to make him see your resolve. “Taehyun, please.”

Your voice is a siren’s song to him; his cock twitches at the blatant need on your face, and without further warning, his guiding his cock inside you. The stretch makes your mouth fall open and your head loll back onto the pillows; he’s so thick, and you can feel it pulse the more it makes its way inside your cunt, holding your breath at the burn that ebbs away into pleasure— by the time his hips are flush against yours, you’re leaking onto the sheets beneath you, feeling as though he’s so deep you can’t breathe.

“You feel so good,” Taehyun weakly groans, glancing down to where your bodies meet before moaning again, “so fucking good, fuck. You’re perfect.”

You can only bring yourself to whimper weakly against his lips that peck at yours; you don’t think you could begin to put the way he feels into words, so full of him that it’s making you dizzy. He remains still for a second, the two of you basking in the feeling of each other, his cock twitching inside your fluttering walls, a mess of slick dripping from your entrance the longer you’re left to wait in anticipation. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks softly, having noticed your dazed expression. You’re eager to nod, clumsy hips rolling forward and making him press harder against you— you shiver at the feeling, barely able to register Taehyun’s amused chuckle as he slowly begins to pull out. 

It’s a slow, quiet moment, your nails digging into his skin as the two of you savor the feeling of each other, stuttered breaths and soft whimpers the only thing filling the air. He pulls out until only his tip is left inside you, pushing back in and filling you up with one swift motion. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, mind spinning at the way his cock curves and presses against your walls, teasing your sweet spot. Taehyun does this again, his head that was once hanging to allow him to watch the way he disappeared inside you now hovering above yours, watching carefully as your eyes widen and brows knit together with pleasure at every thrust; a sly smile sneaks onto his face as you quietly moan out his name.

“Feels good?” he asks, punctuating his question with a sudden, rough thrust that has you jolting; your nails dig into his skin just a little more, and he’s shifting, sitting up to take a good look at you. 

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, “barely even started and you’re already a mess. You sure you can take it?”

“I can,” you whine petulantly, feeling him slow down his pace, barely moving inside you, “Tyun, I need more…”

“Hmm? I don’t know, baby,”  he’s slowly rutting his hips into you, enjoying the way you pout at him, “can you ask nicely?”

Your face heats up at his words; it’s such a bold request, one that has you trying to shy away from his gaze, intense and hungry as it watches you every move. Clearing your throat, you try to ignore how pathetic you sound. 

“Please… Taehyun,” he’s shifting, moving so that he’s hovering over you, a strong hand rubbing up and down your thigh as he props himself up with his elbow, a coy smile stuck to his face. “I want you to fuck me, please— I need it, want you to give it to me.”

“Such a sweet angel,” he coos, pecking your lips before he’s beginning to thrust back into you, burying himself as deep as he can before he’s picking up the pace, more and more until his cock is abusing your leaking cunt and your body is jolting with every thrust, your eyes squeezing with bliss, “You’re so perfect, how could I ever say no to you?”

His hand on your thigh is grabbing on tight, hiking up your leg to wrap around his waist, hips angling so that he can reach deeper into you. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, thick cock stretching you out and rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his soft moans and sighs of your name making you clench around him each time. 

He feels so good against you, strong, firm muscle against your body, honey skin smooth beneath your hands that scratch at his back, leaving a particularly harsh trail after he thrusts against your sweet spot, the grunt of pain he lets out in your ear only making you clench around him harder— he’s filling your senses, cooing out soft praises and placing gentle kisses along your jawline, groaning out your name when he feels the way you begin to tighten around him, hips growing restless against his. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, wanting him to be flush against you, “fuck— please don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I’m close too, angel,” he murmurs, hand letting go of your thigh to reach up for your own, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hand against the mattress, “want you to cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna listen to those pretty little sounds of yours.”

“Cum inside me,” the request slips from your mouth before you can think too much of it; judging by the way Taehyun’s hips stutter and he lets out a weak moan against your skin, you’re sure your words have affected him. When he asks if you mean it, you nod. “Please— wanna be filled up, please cum inside.”

Taehyun moves from his place in your neck to watch you closely, feeling his own orgasm building up intensely; his eyes scan your face, memorizing every detail of your expression, listening to the way your moans pick up in desperation. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t look at him, he calls out your name; it’s soft, broken, a moan that has your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “You gonna cum baby?” 

You nod, eyes rolling back when he reaches down to rub your clit, dizzy at the pleasure. 

”Look at me,” he says, feeling his pace become sloppy as his own orgasm approaches, desperate to watch you fall apart, “wanna watch you when you cum.”

He grinds his hips against you firmly, his tip rutting against your sweet spot making you unravel in an instant, your hand that squeezes against his instantly being squeezed back in silent reassurance. The pleasure crashes on you so intensely, your mind going blank save for Taehyun’s name that you repeat like a prayer. Your eyes never leave his, watching as he follows you seconds after, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching before he lets out a weak moan of your name, cock continuing to thrust slowly into you as he cums. 

It’s so warm, a constant pulsing of is cock that fills you up until it no longer can, sticky cum leaking from your entrance and smearing against your skin as he keeps fucking the two of you through it, until your body slumps against the bed and he melts down onto you, burying his head in your neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, drifting in and out of  consciousness; his cock nestled into you, his hand that holds yours tight, the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the bed, keeping you safe. He’s warm, and you can feel your chests rising and falling slowly, feel his heartbeat that attempts to return back to normal, his breath a gentle sensation against your skin. 

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

A moment passes, and you allow yourself to think. You feel his hold on you tighten the longer this silence continues, as though afraid this might be the last time he’ll have you like this.

“Taehyun,” you say softly, feeling him tense against you, “I want to stay too.”

It’s instant, the way he melts against you in relief. He sighs, placing a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“Thank god,” he murmurs, beginning to litter kisses all along your skin, not stopping until you’re a giggly mess beneath him, “thank god. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you grin, cupping his face and guiding him to kiss you, gentle, sweet, “not if I can help it.”

“Good,” bringing up your hands that are still interlaced, he kisses the back of your hand before giving you a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

○○○

It’s late at night when you hear the bell ring— you don’t pay it any mind, continuing to organize the shelf behind the counter as Yunah greets the new guest, leaving to the back to search for ingredients for her potion.

It’s quiet, and you hear the way they wander along the floor, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up jars before setting them back down with a soft clink; you can’t help but hope that they’ll leave soon, left with only five minutes before you’re able to shut the apothecary— you itch to leave, to go back home and see Taehyun. 

You’re too concentrated on labelling the jars to realize that the customer has been waiting at the counter impatiently, watching as you continue to show your back to them.

“Beomgyu’s right,” you feel a warm sensation along your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re being dragged away from the shelf with a gasp— you’re hovering just above the floor, unable to do anything more than get dragged around the counter and into a certain someone’s awaiting arms; Taehyun is quick to hug you close the moment his magic brings you to him, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before laughing at your expression. “you do need to work on your customer service.”

You frown. “What? What has he been telling you?”

“Oh nothing. That you’re never greeting him properly, always off in your own little world,” he spins you around with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in close. “daydreaming about me.”

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes, already imagining the stupidities Beomgyu has been feeding Taehyun, “how childish. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

”It was your idea to introduce us properly, love,” he reminds you, a smug smile on his face, “you’ve gotta deal with the consequences now.”

You can only bring yourself to grumble a soft whatever, scanning the apothecary curiously before sending Taehyun a pout. “Where’s Dago?”

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

It’s instinct to lace your fingers with Taehyun’s waiting hand, turning around to catch Yunah reappearing from the back, a trail of jars behind you. 

“Heading out for the night?” she asks, smiling at the way you nod happily, “See you tomorrow then. Get home safe you two.” 

“We will. Love ya!” you chirp, watching Taehyun bid her goodbye before following you out the store. 

“Long day, Tyunnie?” you ask, the two of you beginning your trip home, “you’re dragging your feet.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, and when you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Don’t feel like boring you with the meeting we had today.”

”All I could think about was how much I missed you,” he trails off a bit, eyes darkening as he begins to observe you carefully, amused at the way you still fluster at his gaze, “could barely pay attention to what was being said.”

You scoff, refusing to give into his antics so easily. “Surprised they haven’t fired you.”

“C’mon baby, don’t be mean,” he teases you, tugging your hand to pull you into his side, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, “is it so hard to believe that I’m so in love with you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” you bite back a teasing smile, “you’ll have to prove it.”

He chuckles, a dark, mischievous sound that already has you shivering with anticipation. 

“Guess we’ll have to hurry home then.”

You can’t bring yourself to resist as he sweeps you off your feet, a warm silver glow encasing you as he takes you home the fastest way he can— if anything, you merely tease him about his eagerness, which he swiftly makes you take back after a long, long night of proving himself. 

taglist: @xylatox, @fancypeacepersona, @taebatu, @prettypeachprincesz, @archoive, @bingsoob, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @notanotherbigfangirl, @soobundle1009, @barbielibra

[prettyiwa]

(Previous) Relationship: Sakura Haruka x Florist!Reader Content Tags: Fluff, Second Meetings, Kotoha & Suo tease Sakura, Sakura is a good citizen, New Friendships, Exchanging Numbers, Mentions/References of Rokuyou Summary: When Sakura had mentioned wanting to help what was once your grandmother's shop, you didn't expect the offer to extend to you, as well. Word Count: 3k

A/N: I'm realizing that as I'm getting ready to share this, I still don't know what I want Suo's career to be after Bofurin. I really don't know. So here's to him being just as mysterious to the Florist as he is to the greater wbk audience (so far)! Tagging the lovely @owoasis and @kweenkatsuki-fics 💜💜

Shifting your weight to your left arm, you look over the edge of the counter, checking the leaves of the calatheas and pothos plants. You know better than to touch them, but your fingers still twitch with the desire, prompting you to close your fits. The rich aroma of Kotoha’s coffee distracts you, pulling your attention from the newer, smaller leaves to watch the steady drip that keeps you planted.

“Don’t say it,” she says without looking at you.

“Say what? I wasn’t going to say anything.” You smile at her back, feeling a little special that she has her attention on you enough to know what you want to say.

“Ume already told me what you’re going to say.”

After checking the coffee, she grabs a cup, still reluctant to let you take your drink to-go.

“You could just let me have them for the afternoon. Hanami has these lamps that—”

“And let Ume think I prefer your help to his?” she asks, cutting you off as she passes you the drink.

Your hands wrap around the cup as she steps back, leaning against the edge of the counter. Snickering into your coffee, you sip, letting relief pool in your chest. “Delicious as always. You know… I always hear ‘Ume this’ and ‘Ume that’—”

“I do not bring him up that often.”

“—but I’ve still yet to meet him,” you finish as though she never interrupted. She deadpans and you take another drink. For someone so prolific in Makochi, his particular absence stands out. “I never said you were the one to bring him up around me, though you’re certainly a top contender.”

“He’s busy with the kids and the garden, or I’m sure he would’ve popped into Hanami by now.” Smiling to herself, she turns back around, busying herself with something near the rice cooker.

“By ‘kids,’ do you mean the home or Bofurin?” After your run-in with the graduates, you’ve been curious about the local guardians. It’s impressive they’ve apparently kept to Umemiya’s original vision years after he left.

“The orphanage. The new kids at Furin are mostly self-sufficient, but he still makes a point to be available if they need to talk.”

“Hm. Say, Kotoha?” She nods her head as she hums, otherwise allowing you the time to weigh your question before asking it. “Is it often that graduates get involved in fights?”

At that she pauses, looking over her shoulder. “It’s not unheard of, but they usually leave things to Bofurin. Why? Did something happen?”

She remains rooted in spot, eyes never wavering, silently communicating a level of concern you hadn’t anticipated.

“I had a run-in with a group of drunkards from the pub district on my way home the other night. Some graduates came to my rescue and were kind enough to walk me home.”

A weight lifts off her shoulders with her exhale, her features softening before turning back. “I’m glad. They shouldn’t be jumping into fights like that, but I’m glad someone was there to intervene.”

“As am I.”

The bell above the door rings as you finish, allowing you to turn and meet the faces of Suo and Sakura. Suo’s brows raise and his mouth shapes into soft surprise before relaxing into a pleased smile. Sakura’s surprise is harder to contain, eyes going wide as his mouth opens and the tips of his ears turn pink, reminding you of a kid with his hand caught in the treat jar. The arrival of them—and your favorite color—brings an involuntary smile to your face, warm and welcome.

“If it isn’t my heroes,” you greet, hearing Kotoha turn behind you.

“Ah, if you spread a rumor…” Suo lilts through his smile, piquing your interest. 

“What?! These two?” Her laughter is instantaneous, loud as it fills the cafe, preventing you from questioning what Suo meant. Sakura’s blush intensifies, blossoming across his cheeks as he grows flustered, brows pinching together as he stares daggers at her. “Of course it’s Sakura—he doesn’t know how to not get into a fight! But you, Suo? You should know better!”

Sakura points at Kotoha, preparing some rebuttal when Suo interrupts, voice saccharine as he gestures to his friend, “It was all him.”

“Well, no kidding!”

“Oh, come on!” he shouts, sporting a full body blush at this point.

“Whoever it was,” you chime in, “I’m glad. I thanked you all then, but I don’t believe my words will ever do justice to how grateful I am.”

It’s enough to distract him from the teasing, to draw his focus to you. The exasperation in his eyes evaporates, allowing them to soften imperceptibly before he bites the inside of his cheek. Despite his tempered reaction, he still turns away from you and Kotoha as he puts his hands in his pockets, prompting your smile to turn gentle.

Turning away yourself, you glimpse the clock tucked away behind the counter, the seconds ticking closer to the end of your break. Gathering your bag, you slip off the stool, not wanting to be late.

“Leaving already?” Suo asks.

“Already? Kotoha had the pleasure of my company for the entirety of my lunch break.”

Humming, he turns to Sakura—now watching you and Suo from the corner of his golden eye—before saying, “Then do you mind if we join you? Sakura thought it would be a great idea to figure out when you might need help.”

“Did he, now?” Kotoha asks, her tone teasing. Glancing back you see her grinning from ear to ear as she crosses her arms. It seems she enjoys goading Sakura as much as Suo does.

He groans, hiding his face behind his hand, defeat weighing on his shoulders.

“Sure. We should get out of here before Kotoha causes cardiac arrest.”

They both move, allowing you to exit first, though Sakura’s hot on your tail. Despite this, he gives you a wide berth as you head toward Hanami, allowing Suo to fill the space between you two. His hand still covers his face, though his blush has diminished.

“I appreciate your guys’ willingness to help out.” Honestly, you thought it would’ve been no more than a passing mention, an attempt at forging a connection by virtue of having helped out your grandparents. That they’re here, and that they were the ones to broach helping… It makes your throat go dry.

“Oh, well, I couldn’t let Sakura’s desire to help go unanswered.”

“Shut up with that, will you? It’s not like I never offer to help or anything.”

“That’s true, however—”

“‘However’ nothing! I could just leave and let those Bofurin brats take over,” Sakura grumbles as he hunches, making no effort to leave.

“I couldn’t accept their help,” you say. “There’s so many other people in need of their time and they already do so much for the town.” While you’d rather the kids focus on a proper education, their insistence on helping the community is praiseworthy. You’d never be able to justify flower deliveries when they could be cleaning graffiti, helping with repairs, or keeping people safe.

“Oh, but you can accept ours just fine?”

Looking past Suo, you find Sakura looking straight ahead, though you suspect he’s paying full attention to you. “And turn  down a perfectly good offer from two healthy gentlemen?” Pink sprinkles across his cheeks at your tease. “Besides, what would I have to offer those kids as thanks aside from flowers?”

At least with Suo and Sakura, you could offer compensation without feeling bad. Well, as bad.

“I seem to remember you offering the same to us,” Suo teases back.

“Were my flowers not good enough?” You adopt a pout, feigning offense as you turn to them.

Suo’s brows worry and his smile falters for half a second before reading you, chuckling quietly to himself. Sakura, on the other hand, takes your offense seriously, mouth falling open, apology building behind his stormy and golden eyes as he tries to find his words. It’s enough that your act fractures, an easy smile giving you away.

He rewards you with a choking noise and shouts, “Knock that shit off! Don’t pretend like your feelings are hurt if they aren’t!”

Your laughter mingles with Suo’s before you apologize. “I am very touched that you’re so concerned with not offending me. I promise you, I’m not so easily insulted. If you don’t mind my asking, how do people usually thank you for all that you do?”

Approaching the shop, both men fall silent, contemplative, allowing you to quietly fuss over the plants on display outside the shop. Only after you unlock and open the door does Suo answer, “We don’t act in search of reward.”

Even if he doesn’t sound insulted, you still worry you may have said something untoward. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you do, but I can’t let your help go unrewarded. As much as I love them, my flowers are hardly the thanks I’d give.”

They meander as you step into the back to put your bag away. When you come out, they’re both appreciating the ikebana arrangements you have on display, one of the only things you’ve changed about the shop. At the sound of your arrival, they exchange a quick glance, expressions more sober than expected.

“Your flowers are thanks enough,” Suo says, continuing the conversation. He studies you, the sliver of discontent making itself known in the set of your lips before adding, “We don’t take money, so people often give us food.”

It makes sense. So many of the shops on Tonbu are food-related. Food nourishes, there is love poured into the process of creating a meal, of sharing it. You could argue that it’s similar with your plants, the care necessary to make them bloom and flourish, but it doesn’t feel the same. Flowers may nourish the mind, the aesthetic, but when the work they offer is physical, you’d like to replenish that energy in kind.

“If money isn’t an option—”

“It isn’t,” Sakura says, eyes snapping to yours, looking away when you smile.

“—then flowers will have to do. I’m assuming you guys would similarly turn me down if I offered to buy you a meal after helping?”

“Don’t waste your money on us,” he says again, stepping closer to the counter and allowing Suo to slip into the background. “That’s not why we’re offerin’ to help.”

Your chest warms, as do your cheeks, voice caught in your throat at his attention. Licking your bottom lip, you nod. “Alright, alright.” His shoulders drop with your exhale and you offer another smile. “Well then… When the busy season comes to a close and I’m no longer inundated with weddings, how about you two and Nirei come by my home? I can make you a proper meal and we can sit down and eat together then.”

While you’re not a chef by any means, you’re certainly no slouch in the kitchen. If they don’t go for this, you can craft them bentos until you feel you’ve repaid their kindness. Kotoha must know their meal preferences, right? But you’d be happier hosting them and sharing a meal together.

Pink crawls up his neck again at your proposition but Suo steps forward before Sakura can formulate a response.

“That sounds lovely.”

“Don’t you go speaking up for me!”

“You wouldn’t want to?” you ask, tilting your head. “It’s fine if you don’t. I—”

“Didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he grumbles, eyes flicking to you. “Just don’t like it when they speak for me.”

Leaning forward, you press your hands to the edge of the counter as a wave of fluttering ignites your heart, traveling to your fingertips. “Oh? So what do you say, Sakura? Would you come by my home and eat with me?”

His eyes are glued to you and his growing blush makes his gold eye all the more vibrant. “Y-Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Alright!” Let’s look at my June so we can figure out a day that works for us all.” Grabbing the  date book from the shelving under the register, you pull the pen you used as a bookmark. The pages fall open, landing on the month view of June with ease. “Well, we can’t account for Nirei, I guess—”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he’s there,” Suo says, stepping out from behind the peonies.

Sakura scoffs at the easy promise, though in disbelief or annoyance, you aren’t sure. Turning your attention to the planner, you hear the unmistakable tapping of a message, but when you look up again, neither of them has their phone out, seemingly focused on your book.

“Why’d’ya have so many weddings in these weeks?” Sakura asks, pointing to the second and third weeks. He balks at the bookings, two weddings on the second Sunday and the one wedding on the following Saturday.

“June is a popular month for weddings, and those days happen to be Taian. Most of these were arranged by my grandmother, but I’m not going to cancel because of a change in ownership. Add in Father’s Day and you have my busiest time of year.”

“And you’re doing this alone?” The concern mingling in Suo’s question draws your attention, allowing you to note the worried set of his brow.

“Grandmother is set to come back for some of the weddings, but, yeah, it’s just me. Honestly, I’m lucky that they all have staff willing to move the arrangements with the different stages of the ceremony and reception.” They likely arranged it that way when it was just your grandmother working the shop, not wanting to impose on a woman who’s past seventy. It won’t always be this way.

“It seems we met you at the right time, didn’t we?”

“Indeed,” you grin. “My saviors in more ways than one, it appears.” Even if they only help with one of the days, it’ll go a long way to ensure your survival.

Suo’s eye closes with his smile and Sakura seems largely unable to meet your gaze, instead pointedly focusing on your planner. As his finger comes to point out a day, you rotate the book so they can read everything planned.

“Other than this Friday, ‘m free.” His finger lands on your final Friday wedding, the smallest of the ceremonies.

Suo looks over his shoulder, similarly drawn to your planner. “That’s fine. I’ll be available then. I should be able to convince Nirei to come by and help with the Saturday wedding.”

Wait. “You mean to help all of those days?”

“Would’ve done the same for the ol’ lady. Doesn’t really make sense to not do the same for you,” Sakura sniffs, saying it so matter-of-fact that it steals your breath away momentarily.

Grandmother wasn’t exaggerating, it seems.

Heat claws its way up your neck, spreading across your cheeks at the quiet promise of his voice, and you turn your eyes down, staring at the point where Sakura’s hand rests on your counter. Taking in a deep breath, you try and swallow the sensation before pointing to the last Friday in June. It’s Tomobiki, not that you particularly subscribe to Rokuyou, but you can’t help yourself.

“This Friday would work well for me. Unless it’s a holiday, I typically take short days on the last Fridays of the month, so we could gather for lunch or dinner, depending on your schedules.”

“Hm. Fridays are tough for Nirei as he has club duties with his students in the afternoons,” Suo tells you, eyes intent on where your finger lands. “What about that Saturday?”

“Would that work for you, Sakura?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Marking the date with a star, you pull out your phone and add it to your personal calendar (along with a note to check with Kotoha for meal recommendations). 

“It would be easier if we exchanged contact information, don’t you think?” Suo asks. Looking up, you spot his phone in hand.

“Yeah, it would. Especially given that I’ll be inviting you into my house in a month.”

He smiles, his tassel earrings swaying as he tilts his head. At his prompting, you give your information, watching with amusement as Sakura fumbles, almost frantically trying to get his phone out to catch it. As you repeat it for him, following the tapping of his thumb, your phone buzzes, as does Sakura’s. 

“What the—? Hey! Who said you could start a group chat?” he asks, looking over his shoulder in indignation.

“Nirei’s not here to do it, and it’s not like you were going to,” Suo answers simply. “Or is it that you wanted to message our dear florist one-on-one? A group chat won’t stop you from being able to do that, Sakura.”

Checking your phone as Sakura starts flustering, you read the message, two unknowns in the group awaiting introductions. One of them starts typing, and you know it to be Nirei simply by process of elimination (Sakura’s phone is clutched in his fist, and Suo’s has been put away). 

“This works great.” Shooting a message to the group to confirm that final Saturday, you start thinking of a flower that would encapsulate the mood of the day.

Their continued back and forth has you warming, has you wishing for friendship as orange draws your eye, tucked behind vibrant azaleas. You move without drawing attention—at least, not Sakura’s—grabbing two lilies without disturbing the rest. It’s not until you come up from behind them that they finish their childish bickering. 

“What’re these for?” Sakura asks, zeroing in on the alstroemerias.

“For you guys.”

“But we didn’t do anything.” That doesn’t stop him from accepting the flower when offered, from turning the stem between his fingers and admiring its petals.

“Must you do anything to deserve a flower?”

Suo thanks you as he accepts his, similarly turning it in his hand.

“Please,” you start, feeling juvenile for being so forward, “don’t be strangers. I’d love to get to know you all and consider you friends. Message me or stop by for… whatever.”

They both look at you, Suo’s smile turning gentle at your request while Sakura’s lips part, his eyes carrying some emotion you’re hesitant to read. It’s he who answers, giving you an earnest, Yeah, okay that covers both of their sentiments.

Relief comes easily at their quick acceptance of your candor. The shop phone rings, ending the interaction, and you’re left with that same lingering warmth from when you first met them as they walk out of your shop, offering similar goodbyes. 

Flower Glossary:

Alstroemeria/Peruvian Lily: Friendship, Devotion

(header credit)

Hanakotoba Masterlist | Wind Breaker Masterlist | Next ❧

[runaarinn]

✦ 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

› i feel like sero is definitely the type of person to want to take you on a first date that is super interactive. movies are a little awkward because the two of you aren’t talking that much for a solid two hours, and a dinner date would be way too much talking.

› at the arcade it’s a mix of the both, and at least if the two of you are awkward at starting up conversation — you can chat about the games you two are playing.

› nobody can convince me that this man isn’t a tryhard when it comes to the basketball court. like you guys would be there for at least twenty minutes minimum and he’s just trying to show off and impress you a little bit — and also to get a lot of tickets so he could win you a teddy bear because he’s such cutie patootie.

› before you guys leave the arcade, I feel like he would definitely be the person to ask if the two do you could take some pictures in a photo booth. 2 of the pictures would be the two of you being super goofy and silly, 1 of them would be of the two of you actually locking in and look really cute, and the last one would be of him gently grabbing you face and planting a kiss on your cheek

› sero absolutely loves so loudly, nobody can convince me otherwise. and he absolutely would keep that little photo strip in his wallet until you guys take another picture to replace it. when the old one comes out, I feel like he would definitely hang it up on the wall at home, or definitely somewhere at his desk in UA

› i also feel like he’s such a big foodie. like if you think your back is big, times that by 10 and it’s sero [with love and compassion xoxo].

› he would literally know every single underground place and the food is always bomb, and so yummy. like there has yet to be a place where he has gone and can genuinely have a negative critique of it.

› he’s also the type of person to walk you all the way to the door, and linger for a little bit. like fingers brushing against one another, yearning and lingering looks; and maybe even the first kiss if he’s lucky enough. he did get his kiss

› overall, the two of you would have an amazing date with little to no hiccups xoxo

© all pastries (aka content) belong to runaarinn — do not repost, steal, or scrape without permission.

[ilxlita]

ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ 𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏 !!

SYNOPSIS bakugou katsuki is just pining after this cute friends with benefits that he has !! no big deal !!

PAIRINGS: adult! bakugou katsuki x literally the hottest femme girl (you !!)

TAGS: implied nsfw (enter at your own peril), adult bakugou katsuki (i imagine him around 24 in this), bakugou katsuki pining after you because im so sick of y/n crying over this man.

AUTHORS NOTE: might fuck around and write a part two if this doesn't flop

the smell of sweat, vanilla perfume and cocoa butter shampoo was the first thing katsuki took note of when he regained his senses that morning. it was always the first thing he noticed each morning after you had climbed out of his bed and clumsily snuck out of the apartment; he noticed how your presence would linger even after you made a hasty exit.

he would find bits of your hair still permeated into his pillows and blankets, your scent trapped in the sheets like a lingering memory, even your side of the bed was still indented; the memory of your body still pressed into the foam. 

it was honestly pathetic how katsuki would notice these little details of you starting to take hold in his home, even more so pathetic that he was hoping you would leave more impressions onto his apartment; like little clues to a bigger mystery that was your feelings for him. so far you have left a hoodie in his apartment, a travel size body wash, and a pair of lacey pink underwear, and in return you have only taken a large oversized black t-shirt of his.

the male slowly arose from his bed like the dead slowly creaking to life, his bones cracking, his jaw sore and his underwear launched to the other side of the room. a groan even escaped his lips as if he were a zombie threatening some unsuspecting victim. from his side table, his phone lit up with a text message from you. 

“had a great night, handsome! let’s do it again sometime!”

when did he start getting excited for your text? of course he would never say that out loud, but a part of him genuinely got excited each time you sent him a cute little request for a ‘sleepover’. even though he knew it would be just one night where you quickly dashed away in the morning, it was still better than not seeing you at all. god, even in his head he sounded pathetic. 

♡

“i don’t understand why you don’t just ask her on a date, man.” you didn’t know this, but your existence was no longer contained to the confines of his apartment, it was now starting to permeate his friendships. katuski glanced up at eijiro, his face slightly scrunched up in annoyance. “i mean! instead of waiting for her to text back you could just ask her if she wants to go on a date!”

“shut the fuck up, if i wanted the advice of some shitty haired single loser i’d go to deku and then that icy hot bitch before i ever ran to you about, eijiro.” katsuki snapped back in response, but it was performative. he had thought about asking you out again and again and again, but each time he made up an excuse not to. 

he wouldn’t know where to take you for dinner, he has never been on a date before what if he fucked it up, what if you were actually just in a open relationship; what if you just weren’t interested in him?

the male grumbled as eijiro shrugged, clearly shaking him off. “nah man if you want my advice-” eijiro started.

“i don’t. i remember specifically not asking for it.”

“i’d say just go for it! it seems like she likes you enough to stay over and cuddle. most chicks wouldn’t do that if they didn’t at least kinda enjoy your personality!” eijiro looked proud of himself when he spoke, he was so sure it made katsuki wonder how this man ended up single all these years. “besides if she doesn’t like you then she clearly isn’t worth it, man, you have me!” and then katsuki stopped wondering why the male was still single.

♡

this time instead of texting his usual “u up?” message, he called you. it rang a few times before you answered him with a sweet; “hello, katsu!” like you were purring his name.”you asking me to come over again? well you better not be as rough on me as you were the other night, my boss was worried about the way i was limping into work, you know?”

he swallowed thickly and for a moment he almost lost his nerve. “what? not everyone is calling you for fucking sex.”

“you do, katsuki.”

his nerve was almost shot, but he’s taken on villains that have literally murdered millions and he shouldn’t be scared of you. you are not scary, you laugh at eijiro’s bad jokes and frequently smell like a sweet bakery. “no, fucking moron, i was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner some time or something.”

“like a date?”

“if that’s what you want to call it.” when he said that there was a long pause on your end. he almost asked you if you were still there but he heard soft rustling in the background of the phone call. 

“sure, text me a time and a place.”

[ottocre]

˚✶ * first date w/ atsumu

m.list / wc: 770

    he shoves his hand into his back pocket, fishing for his keys. they clang together as he pulls them out. reaching up to the door's handle, it struggles to properly get into the keyhole. "sorry, this thing is always fidgety," atsumu looks back at you, a goofy smile gracing his lips, hair flopping to the side.

  "mine's probably worst," shrugging your shoulders, you lean against the narrow hallway's wall, attempting a reassuring smile.

  the apartment building looks unassuming from the outside. old bricks are covered in moss and vining plants, the landscaping needing some attention for the spring season. however, the inside was beautiful. old trinkets fill the main floor, welcoming and nostalgic. as you walk down his floor's hallways, you can see the care given to the interior.

  the wood floor is miraculously clean, the walls a simple beige, yet still spotless. "your apartment building is lovely," you comment, watching as he finally turns the key, unlocking the door.

  "thank you, if it wasn't i would've felt even worse for dragging you in here," he says as he pushes open the door, pushing a pair of shoes aside that he accidentally left in the way.

  biting your lip, you begin to expect the worst. a pair of socks draped across the countertops, food left on the coffee table with a can of some kind of soda. and yet he surprises you again, leading you into a clean and fresh living room. decor is placed seamlessly, serious thought put into every piece of furniture he has. 

  looking back at you, he reaches his hand up to scratch the back his neck, clearly feeling nervous. "bathroom is right there, i think my wallet's in my bedroom, so it might be a second.. just uh make yourself at home," atsumu purses his lips, turning on his heels to walk down the short corridor to his room.

  watching as he leaves, you hope that the tension will dissipate. he seems nice, respectful in his actions. and you know your friend wouldn't steer you wrong, but she also never told you much about him. other than his history with different sports, you opted to not look him up, give him a chance at a great first impression. 

  finally taking a moment to breath, you turn to look around his living room. his tv is propped up on an old fireplace, clearly not being used for the season. bookshelves sit off to the side, filled with many featuring volleyball themes. trinkets are filling any empty spaces within, a highlighted one being what looks like an old pair of running shoes. 

  biting the inside of your cheek, you start to wonder if this could err on the side of snooping. nearly about to stop as you hear him close what sounds like the last drawer, you see a short wall filled with surfing posters. all framed, some featuring newspaper clipping. his name in bold letters draws your attention, "atsumu miya heading to the olympics". 

  it didn't take long for you to realize that by 'past experience with sports' was an understatement. leaning towards them, you read some of the body of the content. they preach his innovative surfing style, filled with techniques you had never heard of. "i'm sure you're curious about that," he walks into the room, wallet shoved in his front pocket.

  "oh- sorry, i didn't mean to snoop. i just saw this and kiyoko never mentioned you surfed," you look back at him, hands clasped behind your back, thumbs fidgeting.

  atsumu shrugs, looking up to the posters. "yeah, I really got into it between volleyball seasons, helped keep me prepped. haven't been back to the beach for a little bit now," you try not to pry too much, but you couldn't help but grow even more curious.

  "really? do you plan on going back someday?" you question, finally noticing how kind his eyes are.

  the skin crinkles beside his eyes as he smiles, clearly holding some passion for surfing still. his lips turn upwards, a brightness radiating off of him. "yeah, i'd like to. even if not professionally i'd love to go surfing again."

  "well maybe you can teach me then," you don’t quite realize what you’ve said, walking beside him as he starts walking towards the door.

  pausing for a second, you close your eyes, cursing yourself for even suggesting that. “sorry, i didn’t mean to insinuate anything,” you look over to him, catching up with his pace. 

  walking back with him towards his apartment's front door, he chuckles at your added comment. "no, it's alright, i like the idea of it."

gen taglist: @nnnyxie @sippn-the-tae @silkloom @megapteraurelia @dazqa @lale-txt @solzscribblez @bluemailhiot @hyunteru @kameyyy

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

Angst of Dandy x wife reader? Before gardenview closed, they were filming an episode with Dandy and Reader, and then Reader dies on set. (maybe being crushed by a heavy set piece or something)

(Are you okay? I hope you are getting plenty of rest and hydrating well. Self-care is important!)

Dandy With A Wife! Reader Who Dies While Recording An Episode!

I think it's REEALLLLYYY fucking funny how you are asking me if I'm okay after dropping one of the most angsty scenarios I have ever written so far BAHAHAHAHA but yes yes, I'm surviving, I drew so much today and I really enjoyed it, hehe. Here you go, dear anon! I hope you are doing okay, thank you for requesting! <3

Obviously a warning here for death stuff skskss please take care of yourselves, readers! Don't force yourself to read if you feel uncomfortable, even a little bit!!

-Anna

-Recording episodes would be something all the toons would try and do with the help of staff. It would be for the children to watch and learn many things from it, after all. They needed to do this a lot so the staff would gather footage and everything they could to turn it into an educational show while also making it fun for the little kids. A cast of colorful characters going on adventures or teaching lessons to everyone who happened to watch the show. A simple show that even a parent could sit back and relax watching it.

-The whole thing would be quite impressive too, a lot of cameras and staff making sure everything goes smoothly. They tried setting up the scenes and background behind so the vibe was definitely there. It could be drawings or even actually outside or somewhere in Gardenview. Sometimes they even recorded episodes in places the toons felt most comfortable with as well. Arthur did say to the staff that they don't want unhappy toons in here. Delilah didn't care as long as work was getting done smoothly, even watching from the sides as the toons she created said lines and jumped around happily.

-Even if the episodes were never in 3D, they did this to capture the voice of the toons clearly and have a whole video to use for reference when animating the show. To also capture how each toon moves or changes expression to make it accurately. It worked wonders, actually, the many cameras would capture the toons in their glory, in many angles and especially their expressions clearly. Even the way their expressions would change or how they stood or even what they did when it wasn't their turn to speak, they captured all of it for the animators. The toons could act however they felt like as long as they followed the script.

-You and Dandy would obviously be picked for almost every single episode, you would often accompany him in his little adventures and were eager to say your lines together as you interacted happily. It even got the staff smiling as they recorded and did their job, some scenes would need to be recorded again as sometimes the staff would get distracted. Honestly, could you really blame them? The toons looked so alive and everything, especially you two, who happened to also be married, it really got them feeling amazed a lot.

-Everything was fine, of course, it wasn't like they were any actual serious problems. Yes, Shrimpo would be grumpy here and there or a toon would forget lines often or something but it wouldn't cause much of a problem. They could take a quick break or a staff can go in and help a toon rehearse their lines quickly. Thankfully video wasn't always needed, just the staff capturing the toon saying it perfectly. With the amount of staff in such a huge place in there, things got to work fast, Delilah made sure of it as well.

-It wasn't until one sunny day, no one really seemed to notice that a specific piece seemed.. a little off. You really had to look hard at it to understand that it would fall out eventually though the staff seemed to brush it aside, thinking nothing of it, going along with their day. Little did they know that this mistake would cause something horrible. It was their job to make sure everything was okay, so if something went wrong, it would be on them. Who knows what exactly made them feel a bit lazy to check this time, was it Delilah and her being a bit pushy about everything being perfect? They just thought it looked fine? Who knew, really.

-Nothing seemed wrong at first, of course. The recording went just fine, you were saying your lines perfectly, even doing your signature poses or smiles as you and Dandy were talking about the situation in front of you two. The last thing you could see was Dandy flinching, frowning suddenly as he looked at something behind you. You felt confused before the heavy piece hit you, crushing your poor body instantly, ichor spilling around immediately. Dandy took slow steps back as he breathed heavily, watching how staff surrounded you immediately as he gripped his arms shakily.

-Dandy was trembling as he just watched all the staff trying to take off the heavy piece off of your body, ichor messing everything up and spreading on the floor. Delilah picked you up in her arms with a thin line on her lips before covering you with something she found nearby so no one else would see your uhh.. let's say ending. Dandy tried to desperately follow her before Arthur placed a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back. It worked since Dandy was feeling very unwell at the moment, his eyes watching your hand that was sticking out, with the same ring he proposed to you with long ago. He just stood still as quiet tears fell out of his eyes as he shook, his hands becoming tight fists.

-It was safe to say that he didn't cope well after your passing, your shared room felt so.. empty. Nothing felt the same anymore. No one would ever thought of this situation happening in such a safe place like Gardenview, especially with so many staff making sure the place run well. Arthur would check on him and made sure he ate still as he felt very worried for Dandy while Delilah was basically nonexistent for a good while now. Only few other toons knew what happened to you because if everyone heard what happened, it would truly cause panic in this place. Arthur would try coming up with any excuse he could and told every staff not to say a word to the poor toons.

-He didn't know if you could ever be back but he hoped.. silently. He knew toons were made by Delilah so maybe something could be done. He just hoped.. you still had all your memories, if you ever happened to come back. He didn't know how he would actually handle it if you actually forgot about him, about everything here. All he could do right now is hug Pebble close to him as he stroked his little head. They both silently cried as they rested in the room after that traumatic event. Dandy longed for you and focused on taking care of Pebble now. He would have to ask for Astro's help to get even a wink at night, because he felt absolutely restless when he couldn't hold you close to him anymore and drift to sleep easily.

Thank you for reading! <3

[softshuji]

'Ouch.'

'You're being dramatic,' you say, half-heartedly, as Hanma leans against your shoulder, a cigarette held between his lips with his other hand, and taking a long drag as you both walk through the quiet city streets.

It's late, the occasional car horn and shop window awash with yellow are the only companions you have as you both walk back home. Him leaning against you, and you, idly supporting him with the other hand shoved into your coat pocket. His jackets torn on the end, the seam split to reveal the soft lining underneath, the White of his shirt smudged through with red drying to brown.

'Heyyy! Come on now, and after all the hard work I just put in? I'm wounded Doll.' His voice tilts with a laugh, a lopsided smile around the cigarette, a playful glint in his eye as he looks down at you, curls falling over his forehead.

'Well no one told you to go beat up 4 guys at once did they?' You huff with mock annoyance, blowing a puff of air that curls against his sleeve as his arm falls over your shoulder.

'I had to! He swore at you,' he says. 'It's not as if I didn't give him a chance to apologise.'

'I don't think clocking him is really a chance to apologise baby.'

He laughs again, and it's big and beautiful and full, hearty from his chest, as he lifts a hand to massage his jaw where a stray punch caught him, glancing off his skin. 'Well, he's lucky I let him keep his life after what he said to you.'

Your chest fizzles with warmth all the same, and you risk a glance at him as he leans down to nuzzle his cheek against your hair, needy and playful. How you love him, so infinitely, so much and so big, a kind of love that you could slip and fall right into , when he is so proud and arrogant and cocky and beautiful and all yours.

'Mhm, such a hero aren't you? My hero,' you say, lips pursed and then wet in anticipation of the kiss you know Is coming, heart thumping against your ribs, your nose twitching with the familiar scent of him that's so close and so known, so woven into the two of you.

'Mhm, I always like the sound of that yknow.'

'Oh I know you do, silly man. Not happy about this bruise though, you're going to need some ice.' Your fingers dance over the blooming blue on the cut of his cheekbone, following the sharp slope of his nose.'

'I still can't believe he got me there.'

'Maybe you were a little distracted Pretty boy.' You nudge him, your head tilting against his shoulder, cheek rubbing catlike against his jacket.

'Yeah?' he says, a hand slipping down to your hip, thumb finding the crease of skin above the waist of your jeans. 'I mean, I was trying to impress a pretty girl back there.'

The night is so young, and the air tastes like promise. It's one of those. Where he's dreamlike and not quite real, and the moon glints off the gold watch and the gold chain just right and you could give him your life right here and now as a gift, could lay down and let him take it for himself if he ever wanted. You know you would. He knows you would too.

'A pretty girl?' He senses the smile in your voice, the way it thins at the end, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you're trying not to, when you're pretending to be aloof and unamused and failing at it. 'I'm sure she's very grateful, and Lucky too.'

And then. 'But thank you,' you say, though you don't think he should be doing it at all- putting himself out for you, doing anything at all for you actually- and you flush with desire at it, at the nature of him, so wolf-like, so wrapped around your dainty fingers. 'For all of that. I'm not happy that you got punched because of me, but I'm grateful you were there anyway. And-' you lift a finger pointedly- 'Watching you beat guys up is real sexy.'

He lifts an eyebrow, a thumb roving over the apple of your cheek, the curve of your jaw. 'Oh yeah? You liked it?' his voice drops, rough and gravelly, and inlaid with tender affection.

'mhm-mhm I did, and all of this blood all over you too, your hair all messy like this, and all for me, how can I not?' And boldly, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, trace the line of his bottom lip as he parts them for you, his teeth biting down gently before the pink of his tongue peeks out to lick softly at the skin.

It's a conversation without words. A push and pull, a subtle give and take, the two of you working each other up as his pants get tighter by the second and your thighs twitch with need and warmth and he grins as your eyes glaze over and drop to his full pink lips now wet in anticipation.

'You gonna reward me for it then Sweetheart?' Low, and whispered against your lips, curls brushing your forehead and your cheek, a hand coming up to grasp your jaw, and a flicker of heat spreading across your skin as his lips meet yours.

There is blood on his lips from where they've split, metallic, iron and saliva, nicotine and menthol and Mint, and the promise of forever pressed to yours as you kiss.

[demie90s]

Girl ngl whenever you turn off your requests I cry a little BUT ANYWAYS

diana x rookie reader who's notorious for being too nonchalant and never missing a shot and can score from literally anywhere on court. From the other side of it, originally going for a layup but doing a full 360 and scoring from behind the backboard cause she had 2 blockers on her etc. During her first game against Phoenix, everyone thought that Diana would give her her first 'welcome to the W' moment but instead, reader outshines her in some way and Diana's finally impressed

Finally Worth Watching

Diana Taurasi x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: People said Diana would humble me in my first game against Phoenix—except I dropped 28 and hit a backboard shot with two on me.

Warnings: Intense gameplay, competitive energy, silent tension, slow burn interest

Word count: ~ 0.6k

From the moment my name got called on draft night, the league already had their narratives ready.

“She’s too quiet.”

“She doesn’t celebrate—probably won’t survive the pace.”

“She needs a vet to knock her down a peg.”

Translation? They wanted Diana Taurasi to humble me.

That was the story leading up to our first game against Phoenix. My first real test. First chance for a ‘Welcome to the W’ moment. And everyone was salivating for it. Except me.

I didn’t grow up dreaming about fitting in. I didn’t come to the league to play nice. I play slow. I walk cool. I shoot from anywhere. I don’t smile after buckets, I jog back down the court like I’m walking through the mall. I don’t talk trash. I don’t bark. I just kill you quiet.

So when we walked into the Footprint Center that night, I already knew what they wanted. Cameras locked in on me the second I stepped off the bus. Diana didn’t even look my way during warmups. She was locked in—stretching, chewing gum, talking to no one. Classic Taurasi.

Tipoff.

First quarter was smooth. I stayed back, played smart. Didn’t force it. Took two shots. Hit both. Sat down during the timeout like I’d just clocked out of work.

The second quarter was different.

I caught the ball in transition, came off a high screen, defender jumped the lane early—so I dropped my shoulder, slid baseline. Two more rotated to help. I went up like I was going for a standard layup, but I spun. Mid-air. Full 360. One hand. Tossed it off glass behind the damn backboard.

Made it. The whole arena gasped. You could hear the air leave their lungs. And me? I landed, adjusted my jersey, and walked away like I just made a right turn on green.

That’s when I saw her. Diana. She was standing at half court, hands on her hips, looking right at me.

Not mad. Not impressed. Just… curious.

She kept guarding the wing after that. Never switched onto me. Never said a word. But I could feel her watching.

Third quarter, I caught fire. Logo three? Cashed. Stepback in the corner with the shot clock dying? Splash. Caught a body with a euro that made the bench scream. Still no emotion. Still no grin.

They cut the mic feed once ’cause someone was yelling, “WHO THE FUCK IS SUPPOSED TO CHECK HER?!”

By the time we were up ten, Phoenix was scrambling. Taurasi still hadn’t scored much. Her legs weren’t there tonight. It happens. But what didn’t happen? The welcome-to-the-league moment they swore I’d get.

Instead, she waited for me after the buzzer.

I was heading toward the tunnel, headphones already halfway on, and she stepped in front of me. Not in a hostile way. Just enough to make me look up.

“You always play like that?” she asked.

I blinked. “Like what?”

She smirked. “Like you’re doing us a favor by showing up.”

I didn’t answer right away. Then I tilted my head and said, “That’s crazy, ‘cause I was just about to say the same thing.”

Her smile twitched. The kind that said don’t get cute—but also said I like this one.

“You’re annoying,” she said, stepping back. “But I’ll give you this—your game? It’s real.”

I shrugged. “You didn’t have to co-sign. I knew.”

She started walking off, but paused and looked back. “You know they’re gonna come at you harder now, right? Everybody in the league watched that spin move. You just put a target on your back.”

I pulled my hood up, met her eyes. “Good. Makes the wins more fun.”

She nodded once. Kept walking.

No jersey swap. No sentimental moment. Just a quiet acknowledgment that she saw me. Not as a rookie. Not as hype. But as a real one.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[elodiah]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Pre-Lokius Week edition!

I thought I'd do something kinda wanky different for SSS this week. Given that Lokius Week 2025 starts tomorrow (woo-hoo!) and I have a fic to post each day (apologies), I thought I might post one sentence line from each, just for fun.

Day 1

“How the Hel can you sprint in a tux and dress shoes?” Mobius asked incredulously, as they returned to the Wardrobe department. “Of all the magical shit you pulled out there, that was the most impressive.”

Day 2

“Superior reflexes, r’member? Now, take your miracle poison death-drink stuff, and go lie down. Oh and drink some water too, for gods’ sake.”

Day 3

The ideal option, Mobius knew, was to try and guide him back into bed, but as soon as he rose and moved around to Loki’s side to attempt it, Loki held up a hand in his direction without so much as turning his head, and a near-solid wall of magical force knocked him clear off his feet.

Day 4

Loki wrung his own hair out and wiped the water from his eyes as best he could, still smiling vaguely as he slowly descended from the natural high that the storm had aroused.

Day 5

Pretty-Eyes lifted his chin again to pin him with an unreadable stare, and though Mobius was a little confronted by it, he certainly didn’t allow it to dissuade him.

Day 6

Truth be told, it was incredibly cosy laying there in each other’s arms, and although it was beginning to feel like a big ol’ elephant in the room, he found he was extremely reluctant for it to end anytime soon. 

Day 7

“I said to you the last time you returned from that messed-up version of Asgard, that as much as I want to help your variants — the ones who need it — your safety always comes first, Loki. Always.”

[hufflepuffchic]

None of Them Deserve You, Love

A very short fluff about you and your roommate Remus, who has a secret crush on you.

You came home late that evening. The digital watch on the microwave showed 11:36pm when you walked into the kitchen but you weren’t tired. Frustrated, annoyed, resigned and even a little bit sad but not tired. You felt the blood humming in your ears and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet groan, when you finally reached the chair.

That was a hell of a night, you thought and chuckled ironically.

Well, you went out on a date, a second one to be exact and most likely the last one with this guy. He seemed really great at first: funny, charming, smart and kind but the first impression of his was nothing compared to today’s behaviour.

You sighed. It was a date straight out of your nightmares.

As you got up to maybe finally eat something (because there was no way you could eat in front of the Are you really gonna eat all of that? guy) you heard a quiet noise coming from somewhere down the hallway. The door to your roommate’s bedroom opened slightly and he poked his head out, giving you concerned look.

‘Haven’t heard you coming back,’ he said, stepping outside.

‘Just got in,’ you said with a small smile plastered on your lips and watched him walking to the kitchen. He was indeed concerned about your state.

You were sitting at the kitchen table in your new red heels you bought specially for the occasion, coat still on your shoulders but the elegant bun you made was now completely ruined. You played with a loose strand of hair, looking everywhere but at Remus. You didn’t like it when he was staring at you like he was trying to reach for your soul and reveal all your secrets.

‘What happened?’ he asked, leaning against the fridge.

You shrugged nonchalantly like it was nothing but something inside you shifted, causing a fantom pain in your chest. You felt this way anytime you came home from a shitty date and Remus was there, trying to somehow make you feel better. He made you weak: his hazel eyes, shining so brightly in dim light, his soft smile, his comfortable hugs… You were falling apart under his careful gaze.

‘Don’t,’ you practically whined, avoiding eye contact.

‘What?’ Oh his voice was like a honey on your wounds. Low and bit hoarse but somehow still comforting.

‘I don’t want to cry and you’ll make me cry again.’

He laughed quietly but didn’t say anything else. You saw him, with the corner of your eye, taking two mugs from the cupboard and turning the kettle on. He was making you tea, as always. You dared to look at him, when he was too busy with rummaging through the tea bags, to pay attention to you.

He was wearing grey sweatpants and white huge T-shirt, the one you very much liked to steal when it was your turn to do the laundry and it was there.

If you only knew he sometimes threw it into the washing machine on purpose, even if it wasn’t worn at all, just to see you wearing it.

‘There,’ he said, when the tea was ready and you finally bothered to take off your coat and shoes. You sat comfortably in the chair, bringing knees to the chin and dared to look at him. ‘So…’ he started.

And just like that, you felt tears filling your eyes, blurring the vision and Remus’s strong hand on your cheek.

‘There, there,’ he cooed, brushing off the first tear that started running down, ruining your makeup.

‘I’m pathetic,’ you whispered, afraid your voice will crack with more volume. ‘Another idiot, that’s it. Him, of course but I’m no better.’

‘Hey,’ he protested, griping your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

Oh, Lord have mercy. Seeing you in this state made him want to go and rip this guy’s head off. Of course, deep in his heart he hid the selfish feeling of not wanting you to end up with any of those guys but he hated to see you hurt. He loved you way too much and it was killing him.

‘None of them deserve you, Love.’

[torchickentacos]

Genuinely so happy to see that Totodile made it into ZA! I haven't really consolidated my thoughts on the trailer yet (I feel like I still have more questions than answers about what the plot itself even is beyond 'make the city better' tbh?), but Totodile is there and Absol is there and that is genuinely enough to keep me excited