atzrecs

[atzrecs]

🥹 i woke up to your feedback and almost CRIED

Oh my gosh HELLO 🥺 You deserve the feedback, you write so well and I really hope you are proud ❤���❤️❤️❤️

[atzrecs]

I tried fitting this all into the tags, but I can't shut up so it didn't work akdkd

IM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE FOR THESE TAGS BC SODIDK IM SORRY IM DOWN SO BAD IF YOU READ THESE IM SO SORRY

THIS IS MY INNER MONOLOGUE / FEEDBACK IM SORRY IT SEEMS LIKE IM COMMENTING ABOUT EVERY PART IDK WHEN TO SHUT UP

''the one who smells like winter but has the eyes of a smoldering flame spreading to a forest fire'' oh god this is so accurate it hurts just the thought of those eyes 😩

BUT THE WHOLE OPENING PARA ACTUALLY THE MENTION OF HIS HANDS 😩😩😩 AND HIS DRESS SENSE 😩😩😩 lord am I whipped

Anyway

New piercing equating to heartbreak oh dear I hope his ears don't fall off 😭 he so cute please yes he not mysterious he a silly lil boy I love him

I'm so whipped I can tell this fic is going to make me worse djdjd

Oh the description of reader adjdjeje I feel seen

The way he looks at reader🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

and then ''You feel like you're not a person meant to be looked at this way'' 🥺🥺🥺☹️ oh

NOOO NOT A SMILE THAT IS SOFT AND ENTIRELY FOCUSED ON YOUUU IM DEVASTATED

''The one thing in the world you hate, he gives to you and makes you feel as though you don’t hate it nearly as much as you did before meeting him.''

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 stop it now

LOL I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELYYYY ABOUT THE CITY HAVING THE MOST WONDERFUL AND SHITTY VIEW

''It’s not my fault that it always feels like a first date with you.'' IT IS YOUR FAULT BITCH STOP DOING THIS TO ME WITH YOUR CUTE ASS 😭😭😭

The not liking his coffee convo is so cute so domestic I can't do this

iF yoU doNT LiKe iT yOuD sToP LetTiNg mE TAkE yOU OuT RiGHt OH SHUT UP YOU COMPLETELY ADORABLE CORRECT SMARTASS

Oh he looking for confirmation 🥺

''tucking himself into the smallest version of himself as he huddles into his oversized sweater'' okay this image broke me 🥺

You’ve made it clear that you expect nothing from me.”

''You nod, but tilt your head in question as your own eyes follow his gaze to the moon''

''So, it makes me want to give you everything''

Oh gosh... oh wow oh gosh op why would you make him say that I am FEELING THINGS

Melting is right 🥺🥺🥺

''Kind of want this to be the last first date'' I'm sobbing why is he so fuckin cute this is unfair

LOL WAIT NOT THE MISUNDERSTANDINF AKDJEJEJ omg I understand his dumb shit in important situations 😂

''You let him fuck that up and now you’re smiling at him and he can’t help but let his heart swell three times its original size'' adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺

''You’re somehow right there with him even if you feel like you’re on two different pages of two different books'' 🥺🥺🥺🥺 why is everything so cute op I'm so 🥺🥺🥺

NOT THE POINT OF GENTLE MOUTH AND JAW KISSES AND OFFICIALNESS DOES READER GET RID OF DOUBTS😩 PERFECTION HIS KISSES MAGIC

''you feel loved for the first time in a long time''🥲🥲🥲🥲 oh hongjoong

''you felt safe and at home when his hands were roaming your body'' oh 🥺 to have the trust that hands that aren't yours will handle you with care IM SO DKDKDK😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺😩😩😩😩

NOT THE INTERTWINING FINGERS AS YOU KISS OP WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGG TO ME 😩😩😩

''His lips are curled into this permanent little smile that tells you otherwise'' his smile his smile his smileeee

HONGJOONG NOT PUSHING FOR MORE HONGJOONG CONTAINING HIMSELF HONGJOONG GOING AT READERS PACE AND BEING SATISFIED WITH THEIR KISSES HONGJOONG ASSURING READER THEY DONT HAVE TO DO ANYTHING MORE HES SO LOVELY I CANNOTTTT

''glancing down to your lips again as if he already misses them'' oh im getting butterflies pls

Not 😩 the 😩 throaty 😩 groan

NOT THE DENIM AND THE RAWNESS OH NO AKDKDK

Shy joong not wanting you to see him when he takes his sweater off🥺🥺🥺

Oh that whole little part about him being shy and reader showing confidence 🥺 and he saying how can he not be 🥺 that was so 🥺🥺🥺

OKAY OKAY IM SO DIZZY OP

THE INTIMACY YOU HAVE CREATED THE SHEER HOTNESS AND BUILDUP FROM GRINDING AND TOUCHING IS DRIVING ME INSANE

BUT THE MOMENT BFJSJD TOUCHING HIMSELF 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 STROKING HIS PRECUM ON HIMSELF AND WATCHING THE DARK SPOT 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 LORD

His soft instructions and sweet check ins making sure you're comfortable oh oh oh 🥺🥺🥺

Sensory overload is right 😩😩😫

He’s riding off of the pleasure he’s giving to you - A KING YOU WROTE A K I N G

Forehead kiss while he's deep inside 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

SWATS HANDS TO DO IT HIMSELF AND HOLDING OTHER HAND THE ROMANCE THE INTIMACY H E L P

''Fuck, I can’t get enough of you''

''Let me take care of you''

Me = 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Oh wow. Oh wow I've finished I wished I didn't. I wish I could be in the gentleness you created for longer op

Wish I could relive it like I never knew the words you wrote and how beautiful a world you crafted

I wish I could fall in love with the joong you wrote all over again

That was amazing oh the butterflies and all the feelings you evoked and the cozy atmosphere you created and the humour and realness of it all

How natural and human you made not just hongjoong but reader too

Thank you so much for this 🥺

philoselene (k.h.j)

You weren’t sure what to think of Hongjoong, with his ever-changing hair and ever-growing piercings. He is the complete opposite of you, and you’re unsure of why he keeps gravitating toward you, or why he found an interest in you at all. Through his eyes though, he swears you’d be able to handle the weight of the moon if he were to pull it down for you.

or the one where hongjoong would do just about anything for you, and he can’t help but show it when he’s got you on top of him for the first time.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog. 

WORDCOUNT― 6.2k

PAIRING― alt!stoner!hongjoong x afab reader 

CONTENT― some weed smoking and moon gazing happen, a little bit of them struggling to translate their thoughts into words that make sense, very fluffy stuff, he’s a little shy about his body, service top hongjoong, first time together, intensely passionate smut

NOTE― just fyi, i know the description makes it seem like the reader is insecure. I can assure you, she is not. It’s just two people learning that they fit together like a puzzle, and wanting to know each other’s thought processes. anyway, im very in love with hongjoong and that’s why I basically just wrote comfort smut. BYE. not proof read so pls dont point out my typos, ill actually cry. 

smut tags under cut:: 

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

TAG NAVI

Hello, welcome to all my recs of wonderful atiny writers ❤️ I've changed my previous tags and I need to eventually update my old reblogs with the new tags I have chosen.

Going forward I will be using my below tags:

Member | m: x

HONGJOONG // SEONGHWA // MINGI // YUNHO // YEOSANG // SAN // WOOYOUNG // JONGO

Type | t: soft / t: mature (note that mature doesn't only refer to sexual content, but to writings containing violence/death, too) / t: painful / t: suggestive / t: m.v (minor violence)

Genre | e.g. g: domestic / g: friends to lovers etc.

Here are some "genres" I will be using

Blossoming; the one where things have the potential to happen in the world of lurveeee

Love conquers all; the one where it seems like they won't be but they realise that they only need each other

Friends to lovers; the one where they decide to cross that line

Enemies to lovers; why so tense? We're in love dumbass

Fwb to lovers; um bro the biggest benefit? We're in LOVEEEEE

Domestic; you are already mine and I am already yours and this is the story of us just being each others uwu

Bad boy who catches feelings; the BITCH YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE IMMUNE TO SHIT LIKE LOVE HA

Like sand slipping through fingers; the one where you both aren't meant to be and like sand you slip through each others grasp

In fantasy there is magic; when worlds unlike our own are made of things beyond our imagination

Secrets and kisses; yes we are something. No we cannot reveal to anyone what the something is.

An occasion marked in the heart; those special moments that you know you'll remember forever - anniversaries, proposals, etc.

For situations of stupidity...drag someone with you; For silly moments that make silly memories

Summer romance: self explanatory

If you can't find a specific genre you can ask me if I've read any ♡

I write at: @letteredwings

I also have a multi group rec blog: @letteredwingsrecs

[atzrecs]

{11:16pm}

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

You and Mingi were currently walking down a forest pathway. Normally, walking down the path would be a peaceful moment except for the fact that it was in the middle of the night, the sun already retired for the day and the moon was hidden by the cloud-filled sky, making the supposedly ‘peaceful atmosphere’ nothing but eery with your only source of light from the flashlight on your phone.

“They all kept calling me a coward,“ he murmured as he anxiously turned his head left and right.

“Mingi, you are a coward but there’s nothing wrong with being easily scared.”

“I know that,” his grip on your shoulders tightened slightly as you let out a deep sigh.

“So why did you make this dumb bet with them if you knew that you were most likely going to lose?”

You turned and emitted the light on his face, feeling mildly annoyed that he would bring himself upon this situation. Not because he would lose for being scared but because he intentionally put himself in a situation that was uncomfortable for him.

A cheeky smile grew on his face, “I’m not going to lose though.”

You gave him a questioning look before he continued, “That’s why I brought you here with me. For…motivational support.”

Just as you were about to reply, the sound of a branch snapping interrupted you as you both jolted and shrieked at the noise. As if by reflex, Mingi bolts down the pathway, leaving you alone and far too afraid to even take a single step to follow him. You should be stunned that he left you by yourself and you honestly weren’t but it did sting your heart ever so slightly. Just as you were contemplating on what you should do, you saw Mingi run back to you with a panicked look on his face. He hastily grabs your hand and dashes down the pathway once again but with this time, taking you with him.

“I saw the look on your face. You should have more faith in me,” Mingi spoke airily, trying to catch his breath as you tried to keep up with his long paced steps.

“What about the bet?” you asked, silently thanking the darkness for hiding the faint blush appearing across your cheeks.

“Forget about it. We’re getting out of here.”

You squeezed his hand with relief and you felt him squeeze yours the same way.

[atzrecs]

I actually gotta remember to read stuff tho bc I have 100 in my queue of stuff I really wanted to read but forgot and I have like 700+ in my drafts akdkdk

Oh no I didn't read the things in my queue yet and forgot about them 😭😭😭will re-reblog with tags

[atzrecs]

[18+] 

[10:29 PM]

          Hongjoong loved drinking wine; he loved the way the aroma would enter his nostrils, the way his body would instantly warm up as the liquid would go down his throat, the slight changing in his mood once he finished drinking the first glass. And you? You loved the taste of it on his tongue; you loved the way his hands would roam around your body, way more freely than usual, whenever you two would make out, loved his dark giggles whenever you cursed against his lips, loved his uncoordinated steps as he dragged you by your hands to different destinations inside his house. 

“Is it too tight?” He spoke, breathless, fingers sliding from the belt tied around your wrists to your arms. 

“Yeah…” You smirked, left knee brushing against Hongjoong’s thigh, loving every single bit of desperation coming out of your body, enjoying every look your man would throw at you, wordlessly begging him to do more. 

          Moving his body against yours, his hands found your thighs, pressing your left one against your stomach; his lips met your ankle, and he laughed, beautifully, once he felt your body trembling. 

          Alcohol. Never too much, no, Hongjoong would drink just enough; just enough to make himself do things he was too worried about doing, say things he was too conscious about saying, fuck you like he was supposed to, like you deserved.

[atzrecs]

pairing ; hongjoong x reader word count ; 1298 warnings ; art teacher hongjoong, thirsty reader, dumb humor, a kiss sprinkled with some spice at the end.

Art is not your forte.

The most your meager skills can produce is a shoddy stick figure drawn in pencil or a very convincing snake made out of play-doh.  It’s not even something you enjoy doing, really.  There are better things you could do with your time, like slam a bag of potato chips or read a book on true crime or watch a 30 hour documentary on taxidermy.

So why are you here right now, sitting in a rec center room behind a small desk with ten other adults?

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

Paths [Hongjoong]

warnings: mild cursing, a brief make out?, very light suggestive, gender neutral reader

summary: uni!au, in which a chance encounter with a very cute barista at the new cafe opens a door to an entirely different path

word count: 18 pages, 7, 127 words please appreciate this or I’ll cry i spent literally since 3pm this afternoon writing it and it’s now almost midnight

–

You wake to the sound of your cell phone ringing. Not only is it obnoxiously loud given the hour (or perhaps not, because a quick, bleary eyed glance at the clock on your desk says it’s about a quarter past noon), but it’s obnoxiously familiar. Perhaps you shouldn’t use the word obnoxious – given that the caller is one of the few people you trust and one of the even fewer that bothers to check on you every day.

“Finally,” huffs Seonghwa when you finally manage to swipe the correct button and press it to your ear, silence following as you rub at your face. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning, where are you?”

You drag your free hand through your hair. “Where do you think?”

“There’s a lot of places I can think of, [name].” A pause. “But considering you’re neither Yunho nor Mingi, half of those are eliminated.” 

“Should I feel honored or offended?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he says, and his voice softens. “You missed two classes, so I figure you’re still at the studio. When did you fall asleep last night?” 

You’re quiet for a moment, tucking your phone against your shoulder to scrub at the generous dusting of paint staining your fingers. “Do you want me to lie or do you want the truth?”

“[Name].” Park Seonghwa, you think, is the only one you know who’s managed to perfect the art of glaring daggers even through a cell phone. “You’ve got to start sleeping in your own bed. Or I’d even actually take hearing about you sleeping in someone else’s bed.” 

You wrinkle your nose, scandalized. “Seonghwa, no.”

Over his soft sigh, you can hear the regular hustle and bustle of the school courtyard, soft greetings thrown Seonghwa’s way that he returns, voice muffled – ever the gentleman, Seonghwa is also the only person you’ve seen bother to pull his phone away from his face to answer away from it. “I’m serious though, [Name]. Start going home.”

“I meant to,” you protest, whine edging into your tone as you start picking at your nails. It’s a guilty habit that you’ve tried to break multiple times, all to no avail – especially when your skin is almost always dotted with paint. “I just…lost track of time. At least there isn’t paint in my hair this time.”

“This time,” Seonghwa echoes, and there’s a tinge of fondness in his tone that as far as you know, is only reserved for you. You know he worries about you, as he does with all of his friends – you just hope he knows that you worry about him just as much. “I guess I should be grateful for that. Do you have spare clothes at the studio or is what you’re wearing okay to wear in public?”

“Seonghwa you make it sound like I don’t wear anything while I work.”

“I’m pretty sure that Yunho and Mingi don’t think you do.”

“Gross. Remind me to give them a tour of the studio sometime. Or maybe not.” You stretch backward, using the hard press of your chair to brace your back before you sigh and give yourself a once over. “I think these are good. Why?”

“Because I’m going to pick you up,” Seonghwa answers, and for some reason, he sounds amused. “We’re going to lunch.”

–

Despite having been friends with you for going on a solid two years, Seonghwa always manages to be surprised at how the care for your appearance is in direct and matching decline with the amount of sleep that you’ve had. Given that you’re almost certain you didn’t pass out (almost literally, says near faded indentation of your sketchbook on your cheek) until somewhere around six or seven in the morning, he’s lucky that you’re upright and coherent enough to meet him at the curb when he pulls up. 

“You look…” He trails off, tucking his lips as he tries to find the right word. Neither Yunho nor Mingi will go further than ‘tired’ even as they are, Wooyoung is the only one who’s looked you up and down, narrowed his eyes, and promptly announced to your small group of friends that you looked like shit. 

(He says it from a place of love, he promises he does. If it weren’t for San telling you privately that he really does, you’re not sure you’d believe him.) 

“I know,” you say, and slide into the passenger seat before promptly pulling the mirror down to inspect your face for any missed paint or other undesirables in your hair. Finding yourself as clean as you can be, you push it back up and settle into your seat. “Where are we going for lunch? Are we meeting anyone?” 

“We’re going to a new cafe,” Seonghwa explains as he pulls away, long fingers drumming the steering wheel gently. “Yunho and Wooyoung are still in class until four, but San and Mingi will be there.” 

“What about Jongho?” The relatively newest addition to your ragtag group, Jongho is your pillar of common sense when Seonghwa isn’t around and has picked up his role rather quickly and efficiently. 

“He said something about vocal practice but he said he’d try to meet us later.” Seonghwa reaches a stoplight, and the way he turns to watch you makes you eye him warily. 

“What? Did I miss something on my face?”

“No,” Seonghwa reassures you, and the concern returns to his face. “Is it another multi-piece project?”

You look away, attention pointedly out the window. “The light is green, Hwa.” 

“I don’t want to sound like a parent,” Seonghwa says as you study the faux-leather of the armrest, dragging a fingertip down it. “But I know how you get when you’re busy with a project and I just want to make sure you don’t disappear on us completely.” 

As much as you love and adore Seonghwa, you almost wish he didn’t know you as well as he does – but because he does, he knows that you’re liable to cut off most (if not all) contact the deeper you get into your creative haze. He knows what you’re like, and you know he’s aware that while the others are your friends, they had started out being only his friends.  

“I’ll try not to do that,” you say, turning towards him and reaching out, pinky finger extended. “I promise.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Seonghwa says, but a soft smile is tugging at his lips as he glances at you before he reaches, intertwining his pinky with yours. 

—

“There you two are, I was wondering if you got lost.” Mingi’s whine is only topped by his pout as he slumps back into his chair and throws accusing eyes at you and Seonghwa as you approach. “What if we starved to death waiting for you?”

Seonghwa resists the urge to roll his eyes. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“With your crazy metabolism, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did,” you say as you sit down and Mingi throws you a grateful look, even though he knows it’s less you agreeing with him for the sake of arguing with Seonghwa and more about the time you watched him demolish a family pack of tacos from the food truck near campus all on his own without any consequences. 

“Seonghwa was really worried about you when you didn’t show up for class,” San interjects, giving you a soft smile that offers you a shadow of his dimples. “I’m glad that you’re okay…” He trails off, brow creasing as he eyes you. “You are okay, aren’t you?” 

“As I can be,” you say, and his expression turns curious, Mingi’s matching it as you sigh, slumping against the support of your elbows on the table for a moment. “I don’t want to talk about it during lunch though. Let’s just have fun, okay?” 

The two boys across from you glance at Seonghwa before they nod and stand to go place their orders with the staff at the bar. Seonghwa, however, takes that moment to reach, settling a soothing hand against your shoulder when you rub at your temple. “Do you want me to order for you?”

“No, I’ll do it,” you say, and you wonder if you look worse than you feel because Seonghwa hovers like a shadow once you step into line, as if he’s expecting you to collapse at any moment. You make it to the front without incident, however, and squint at the neat lettering on the blackboard. 

“If you need help deciding I have a couple of suggestions,” the worker before you says, tone firm but bright, and your attention refocuses on the nametag first – Kim Hongjoong. It’s a pleasant name, one that matches the features you focus on next – smooth, tanned skin and bright, inquisitive eyes that never leave your face, even when you flush and realize that you’ve been staring at him in silence. 

“S-Sorry,” you splutter, mentally chastising yourself and scrambling to recover, “w-what do you suggest?”

Hongjoong doesn’t seem bothered at all by your staring, and the smile that pulls at his lips curves up a little further at the ends in a way that makes your brain settle on the word cute and stay there until you realize he’s talking. “If you like tomato and mozzarella, we have a sandwich with sundried pesto that I think you’d like.”

“That sounds great,” you blurt, offering him what you hope is a decent attempt at a smile. “Can I get an iced tea with brown sugar with that too?” 

“Absolutely,” the cute smile is back as he lifts an empty cup and uncaps a pen, glancing up at you. “Name?” 

“[Name].” That, at least, you’ve managed not to mess up and once your order is rang in and paid for, you make your way back to your table with the hopes that your cheeks are not as red as they feel. Unfortunately for you and your poor face, your entire fiasco has been watched in amusement by both Mingi and San, both who fix you with a look when you make it to the table.

“So,” San begins, voice and smile sly, “what was that?” 

“What was what? I ordered food, San.”

“We mean this,” Mingi says, gesturing at his face before pointing at your traitorous cheeks, laughing when you attempt to cover them. “Our little [Name] has a crush, how cute–”

“I don’t even know him,” you hiss, and sneak a glance back at the bar. Hongjoong is bobbing around with grace, moving from station to station in a way that looks effortless – and your eyes trail up, noting the electric blue hair that doesn’t quite fit the rest of him and yet does – and Mingi’s low whistle has you whipping your head back around. 

“Don’t.” 

“Ah, our poor [Name].” San shakes his head and clicks his tongue, and you debate the positives of spiking his iced americano with salt when he’s not looking. “Lucky for you, I do know him.” The sly look is back, San’s eyes gleaming. “And I’m feeling generous enough to help you out.” 

If Wooyoung wonders why his best friend isn’t around after tonight, you’ll make sure he knows why.

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

Blurb Time! w/ Hercules!Jongho:

“Why do you keep working so hard?”

The question caught Jongho off guard to say the least. He gazed up at you with a childlike curiosity before he dropped the large basket and chuckled and he approached you.

“Didn’t know that the Calydon Princess would be paying me a visit,” he commented.

“You can drop the formalities,” You retorted as you rolled your eyes. You turned towards the strong man with a frown gracing your lips. “You know, you deserve some peace or else you’ll truly fall apart,” you stated.

You, in all your gracefulness and elegance, had witnessed him go through so much. Twelve grueling tasks and years of servitude took a large toll on him. Jongho couldn’t hide it for so long; the troubles that aged his mentality years beyond his true age. He was well aware of how agonizing it was for you to stay on the sidelines for he was simply a servant trying to pay off his sins. Yet, your muscles still ached each time you witnessed him pull a chariot full of stone with his bare hands. Your mind still throbbed each time you witness him training until dawn. Your heart still shattered each time he would step in, covered in numerous blue and purple spots. He was no mere mortal, but he certainly wore the pain like one.

“It’ll be over soon. One last war. I promise,” he spoke.

Calloused from gripping swords and ropes for decades, his hands remained ever so gentle with your own as his fingers intertwined with your’s. It would surprise some to realize that these warm hands were the same that took down the dreaded Hydra and dragged Cerberus from the realm of the dead and back.

“And then you’ll rest?”

Jongho nodded, never once breaking away from your fond gaze.

“I’ll be at peace finally.”

[atzrecs]

you’re the one that i want (part 1)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff

(series masterlist) 

tag list: @ateez-babygirl​ ; 

almost every summer of your life, you’ve spent at the beach. and this one was gonna be no different. the scent of salt hits your nose through the open car window, the squawking of seagulls and sound of waves crashing immediately filling you with a sense of gratitude and happiness.

starting from the age of 11, you were happiest at your aunt’s beach house. you were as desperate to get away from your parents as they were to ship you off for two months.

“you’re going to your aunt’s for the summer,” your mom had complained the first day of break, “i just can’t deal with you.” and you’d think with that statement you were some sort of wild, delinquent child. a child who didn’t do her work, caused trouble and talked back to her parents.

but you, in every sense of the word, did nothing. you rarely spoke to anyone, you spent most of your time in your room or out in the backyard and always made sure to just stay out of the way.

it had been a lonely, sad existence but safer than the alternative.

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

omg imagine mingi giving you a forced orgasm and you have an oral fixation at the same time phew mingi makes me feel so fckn h0rny 😔

okay i know i said you might have to wait for it but this one….really stood out at me (it’s bc you used my wake words ‘oral fixation’)

“don’t you dare come,” mingi warns you, his mouth muffled by your core. you moan desperately but manage to nod, your whole body tense with the task of holding back your orgasm. his intense gaze stares at you for a moment longer before he looks back down at your shining core, folds practically dripping with the evidence of your arousal. he licks his lips as he spreads your folds with his fingers, watching as your hole clenches repeatedly around nothing. he curses softly, swipes his thumb against your folds, admiring the string of your arousal that connects his thumb to your core, before he lowers his head, licking at your arousal slowly, languidly.

“fuck, you made such a mess of yourself, baby. you’re so wet, it’s all over your thighs and the sheets.” your only reply is a weak moan, eyes squeezed shut tightly as you bite your lip. he chuckles at how wound-up you are before returning his mouth to your slit, flattening his tongue and dragging it up your sex, making sure to pay special attention to your hypersensitive clit. you jolt when his tongue comes into contact with it, a feeble cry leaving your lips. 

“god, you taste so good,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping it slowly as he licks up your core in hot, wet stripes. he moans in pleasure as he swirls his tongue around your clit, eyes flicking upwards to take in your utterly tortured expression. 

as his mouth works wonders on your clit, you’re holding back sobs of frustration, biting down on your fist in the hopes that the pain will distract you from your oncoming orgasm.

“oh, no,” you whimper, shaking your head. “oh, no, oh, no, mingi, you have to stop, i’m gonna come–”

“hold it,” mingi orders you, glancing up at you with a lazy smirk before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. he’s well aware you can’t help it, and he almost feels bad as he eats you out, tears slipping down your cheeks as you try so desperately to follow his orders. 

“mingi, baby, please,” you plead, pushing at his head and attempting to lift your hips away from his mouth for at least a second, hoping the loss of contact will calm you down. mingi has no intentions on giving you a break, one hand grabbing the hand on his head and holding your wrist, resting it by your hip as his other hand presses your hips back down, his licking getting more and more passionate. when he sucks your clit into his mouth and hums around it, the vibrations on the sensitive nub causing your resolve to break into a million pieces, your climax overwhelming you completely. your back lifting off the bed entirely, you come with tears spilling down your cheeks, broken moans leaving your lips as you apologize over and over again, your voice cracking. “i really tried, i did, i promise–”

mingi just tsks at you disapprovingly, looking up at you with a stern gaze.

“i thought i told you to hold it.”

“i was trying, but you wouldn’t stop, and i–i–” you start to cry from frustration, and he just watches you impassively as you use your free hand to wipe at your tears hurriedly.

“look at me,” mingi orders softly, and you oblige, teary eyes locking on his. “if you like coming so much,” he says slowly, and your eyes widen as he lowers himself back down to your core, gaze never leaving yours. “then come again. and again. i want you to keep coming until your pretty little body can’t take it anymore and the only word you know is my name.”

“can i get a second to…collect myself?” you sniffle, and he pauses to think about it, expression thoughtful until it morphs into an utterly wicked smile.

“no.” he decides simply, his mouth on your abused clit once more. 

[atzrecs]

Rising Sun [4] [San]

warnings: au, dragon!San, mild violence, mild cursing, angst, fluff

word count: 1,416

“Does it hurt when you Shift?”

San blinks at the question, sitting up so that he can look at you properly. “No, not really. It feels like stretching.” 

“Stretching?” Still sprawled out on your back in the grass, you watch as his expression shifts, clearly trying to find the right way to explain it to you. You’ve yet to actually see him do it, only catching snippets from conversations you technically shouldn’t have been listening to. 

“Okay, maybe stretching isn’t the right word.” San reaches, plucking blades of grass and watching them flutter down before he glances at you, watching as you roll over and sit up, fixing him with an oddly serious look. “What is it?”

“I want to see you Shift.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I want to see you Shift,” you repeat, throwing him a pleading look. “Please?”

San stares, taking in your hopeful expression before he gets to his feet, dusting himself off. For a moment you think he’s going to pretend that you haven’t asked at all and go back inside, acting as though this entire conversation has never happened – but instead, all he says is, “You should move back a little bit, just to be on the safe side.” 

The way that your expression lights up makes warmth bloom in San’s chest, and he clings to it as he closes his eyes, aware of the rustle of grass as you move a little further away from him, waiting. Normally when he Shifts, he thinks of what he’s been asked to do, of what he’s supposed to be protecting. The King, the Kingdom and everyone who lives within. 

He thinks of you.

The warmth in his chest expands, a heat that follows the slow, familiar stretch that starts along his back and moves outward until it tapers off, settling as he opens his eyes. You’re staring at him, eyes wide, and for a moment he wonders if you’re afraid of him – afraid of him the way that everyone outside the castle seems to be, giving him wary, uncertain looks when they think he isn’t paying attention. 

The thought of you being afraid of him hurts more than they ever could, and he’s ready to Shift back and apologize before he realizes that you’re moving towards him, reaching out to skim your fingers against his jaw cautiously, and he presses into it. 

You’re aware of how strange it’ll look to anyone who happens past the courtyard, standing before a sleek, black-scaled dragon – but it doesn’t stop you from pressing your other hand to his head, leaning to tip your forehead against his as you utter the softest word, one that he hears all the same and swears that he’ll never forget.

“Thank-you.”

—

San is sulking.

Seonghwa knows that the younger boy will deny it, but there’s no other way to describe the way he’s acting, sitting in sullen, moody silence as he watches Seonghwa work. “If I’d known you were going to darken my doorway, I would have found things for you to do.”

San snorts, then stands and stretches in a way that makes Seonghwa wonder (and hope) if he’s (finally) going to leave – and then he approaches, bad mood temporarily forgotten as he peers over Seonghwa’s shoulder at the mortar. “What is that?” His nose wrinkles, disgust flashing across his face. “It reeks.” 

“Well then it’s a good thing it isn’t for you,” Seonghwa says tartly, resuming his careful grinding. While he has to agree that the dried, gnarled berries aren’t giving off the most pleasant odor, the way San has decided to hover doesn’t take long to annoy the blonde healer. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“No,” San answers, foul mood returning like a stubborn rain cloud. “The King hasn’t given any further word of what he wants me to do besides sit around and twiddle my thumbs.” 

“Surely there’s something you can do besides bother me,” Seonghwa says dryly, “or acting like someone’s stolen your favorite toy.” San says nothing, and Seonghwa’s tone softens. “You can say that you’re worried, you know. No one will fault you for that.”

“I’m not worried.” The tightening of San’s jaw speaks to the contrary, but the healer decides not to point it out as he resumes his task, picking up a handful of dried herbs and adding it to the mortar. It’s silent for a while, the only sound the steady grinding of the pestle in Seonghwa’s hand. “I should have been the one to go.”

“Given the nature of what’s happening right now, I’m not sure that would have been the best idea.” Seonghwa tips the mortar into a waiting bowl, then reaches for one of the various glass jars clustered on the table, uncorking it and dumping the contents into the bowl. “They’ll be fine. Both of them know what they’re doing, and Hongjoong’s men aren’t fools either.” 

San doesn’t look at him. “I know that.” 

Seonghwa glances at him, finding the Shifter moving towards one of the windows that overlooks the sprawl of courtyard below. Taking a moment to choose his words carefully, Seonghwa keeps his attention on the bowl, stirring slowly as he speaks. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” 

That gets San’s attention and he turns, eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Seonghwa answers mildly, glancing up at him as he pauses. “The two of you have a bond, that much is obvious to anyone who’s around you two for more than five seconds.” 

San stares at him for a moment longer before his attention shifts back to the window, and Seonghwa resumes stirring until he’s satisfied with the consistency of the new salve that he’s made, carefully scraping it into a new jar and sealing it. 

Moving on to his next task, Seonghwa doesn’t fail to notice as San slips away from the window and towards the door, pausing with his back to the older boy. “She means the world to me, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t bother to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. “I know.” 

— 

San spends the rest of the day in your room. 

He knows that you’d scold him if you knew he was in here, because you’ve done so many, many times before. (“You’re always in my room,” he always protests, both amused and confused by the faintest hint of a blush that always crosses your cheeks no matter how many times you have this argument. “That’s different.”) It never stops him, however, especially not in your current absence.

Your room is smaller than his but just as telling of your personality, everything neatly stowed away, nothing without a place. Usually he’d be tempted to move things around and wait to see how long it took you to notice – but today he makes a beeline for your bed, sitting down on the edge and glancing around. 

Though he has no doubts that you’d left before dawn, your bed is carefully made, blankets clean but still smelling vaguely of you – something soft, a persistent hint he can never quite identify. A jar sits on the edge of the window, full of wildflowers that have just begun to wilt. 

“Here.”

You stare at the cluster of blossoms before you look up at San. “What are you giving me these for?”

He pouts, reaching for your hand with his free one and pressing the bundle of flowers into it, unrelenting until you finally take them from him. “No reason at all,” he says, “I just thought that you might like them.”

Your attention shifts back to the flowers, the pop of reds and golds, interwoven with smaller sparks of dark blue. “They’re really pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” San says with a smile that morphs into a wider grin and a laugh at the way your footsteps falter behind him before you’re swatting at him, catching him in the shoulder the way that you always do when he acts like this. “Are you going to keep them?”

“Maybe.” 

Plucking a fallen petal from the ledge, San pushes the window open just enough to welcome the soft breeze of a warm afternoon before he lets go of the petal, watching as it sails gently downward. Closing the window once the petal is out of sight, San turns to take one last glance around your room before he leaves, reminding himself to give you another bundle of flowers once you return.

[atzrecs]

Rising Sun [3] [San]

warnings: au, dragon!San, mild violence, mild cursing, angst, fluff

word count: 1,840

“Scared?”

“Absolutely not,” you protest, but there’s a waver in your voice that you hope San doesn’t catch as you stare up at the massive tree, the gnarled limbs that stretch heavenward, thick with dark green leaves and ripe fruit. 

“Then go on,” he goads, smiling in that way that makes you want nothing more than to punch him. He’s infuriating, frustrating, and overall a pain in your ass — but he’s also your best friend, and what are best friends for other than coaxing each other into stupid ideas?

“Fine.” You dig your fingers into the rough bark, the smell of dirt and moss filling your nose as you heave yourself upward onto the lowest limb, already aware of the warning twist of your stomach. Your balance is good, yes — but perhaps not good enough for the narrowing branches you’re sure to find overhead.

You close your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself before you continue to climb. It’s easier the higher you go, the branches closer together, the only obstacle the catch of small twigs on your shirt, easily broken and brushed away and soon enough, you can no longer see San at all.

“Are you alive?” He calls, and you imagine him standing at the base, hands cupped around his mouth, golden eyes wide and curious. You wonder if he worries you’ll get caught, and if he’ll be able to explain exactly why you’ve decided to scale this tree. 

“Unfortunately for you, yes!” 

You decide to go a little further, approaching a thinning of foliage where sunlight peeks through, the brush of leaves gentle against your cheek as you break through and stop, heart hammering in your chest at the sight before you.

It’s beautiful.

Land sprawls out before you, the shimmer of lake and river that loops through neatly divided farmland, the dusty stretch of roads you know so well — the Kingdom is breathtaking from here, a beauty only privy to birds, made known to you for a fleeting moment. 

Crack.

The sharp snap of wood underfoot makes your stomach lurch, breath catching in your throat as your balance is thrown off, hands scrambling for something to find purchase on — and catching on thin twigs that do nothing to help as you begin your uncontrolled descent downward.

Branches whip at your cheeks and arms, the distant burst of pain in your shoulder as you bounce off of a thicker one, choked yelp leaving your lips as you wonder how far you have before hitting the ground and if you’ll survive —

There’s a grunt as you collide with something far softer than the ground, arms locking around you even as San stumbles backwards. “I’ve got you,” he says before he sinks to the ground with you, arms still tight as you cling, blood roaring in your ears. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You’re silent, wrapped around each other, frightened for reasons so different and yet so similar. 

—-

San is still asleep when you leave. 

There’s a pang of something in your chest when you see him sleeping so peacefully and while you know he’ll be upset you didn’t wake him to see you and Hongjoong off, you can’t bring yourself to wake him.

You pack swiftly and silently, layers of thick, worn leather that brace against the dig of your pack’s straps ㅡ the only unfamiliar thing being the press of a scabbard against your thigh.

The shortsword had been a gift from Mingi a few years ago, and while you’re relatively good (sparring has proven that time and time again), you hope you don’t have to use it. Though the King had talked at length about the unease of the surrounding area and the general damage that had been done, he hadn’t implied this trip would be more than just investigating what exactly was going on.

You steal down the stone steps, flame of the sconces on the opposite wall making your shadow shudder and flicker. The air feels damp when you step outside, the sky still dark and heavy with glittering dewdrop stars. 

“Ready?” You nearly jump at Hongjoong’s voice from behind you and you turn to find him just a few feet away, leading two horses. One of them you know to be his own, a sleek, dark creature that shakes its head and snorts quietly, shifting beneath the weight of Hongjoong’s own pack already strapped to its back. 

The other is unfamiliar but beautiful, regarding you with wide, dark eyes as Hongjoong holds up the reigns. “This one is yours,” he says and you take the reigns from him, reaching a hand up to stroke the horse’s muzzle gently. Hot breath rolls across your fingers, still smelling of hay and grain — and the horse is still and calm as you strap down your own pack and lift yourself into the saddle. “The squadron is waiting for us at the gate.”

You nod and follow Hongjoong, adjusting quickly to the rocking motion of the horse beneath you as you slip along the narrow path that leads from the castle to the market — stands shuttered and dark, vacant of their usual hustle and bustle. It seems appropriate, you feel, to leave before anyone has woken for the day — like ships in the night, fleeting spectors gone between one blink and the next. 

True to his word, the rest of Hongjoong’s squadron is waiting by the gate and though part of you is surprised that Mingi isn’t among them, another part is grateful that Hongjoong has let him stay behind — at the very least, San has someone to occupy his time until you get back, and you have someone to make sure that San doesn’t do anything incredibly idiotic. 

“Have you ever been outside of the Kingdom?” It’s an honest question, and Hongjoong watches as you turn, staring at the castle that looms in the distance. 

“Just once,” you answer, and he reaches out to settle a hand on your shoulder, the pressure comforting as he squeezes gently.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” 

You nod, turning to watch as the large gate begins to pull open with the deep, vibrating creak of hinges, a glimpse into the sprawling unknown just outside. The squadron begins to file past the gate with the steady beat of hooves, and you squash the sudden flare of fear as you tighten your grip on the reigns and urge your horse forward. 

You’re doing this for a reason — to protect the King, to protect the Kingdom — to protect San. 

You will not be afraid. 

—

Though this is the furthest you’ve been from the Kingdom, there’s a certain sense of tranquility to be found in your surroundings, the vibrant green of treetops and the distant call of various birds, broken only by the low conversations of your own companions.

Despite their position and the situation, Hongjoong’s men are all friendly, cracking light-hearted jokes and laughing amongst themselves, especially when you’ve stopped for a break, rations and water shared between them. You can tell how much they trust and care for Hongjoong in the way they talk to him, and how much they mean to Hongjoong in how he responds, walking amongst them and making sure that everything is alright before he sits down himself. 

“Coming to join me?” he asks when you seat yourself next to him, his tone teasing as his eyes gleam, and you smile back.

“You looked lonely and we can’t have that,” you answer and he laughs as you settle down, unwrapping your own rations. “How much further do you think we have to go before we arrive?”

Hongjoong’s head tilts in thought, fingers drumming against his leg. “It’s at least another half a day’s ride,” he says, “we’ll go a little further and then stop for the night — we don’t want the horses wearing out too badly, and I want to go over a couple of details with everyone before we get there.”

You nod, staring down at your lap for a moment before you ask hesitantly, “Do you really think it’s true? That there are rogue dragons…and that they’re doing that?”

“I don’t know what to think until I see it for myself.” Hongjoong’s tone is firm, his expression neutral. “I know what the King says and what the informants have reported, but I always try to keep my own opinions to myself until I know for certain one way or another. If this ends up just being a wild goose chase or something else entirely, so be it. And if it does end up being true…we’ll find some way to handle it, same as we always have.”

Hongjoong’s words bring you more comfort than you think he knows, easing an invisible weight from your shoulders. He has a point, nothing has been truly confirmed — and with how unreliable word of mouth can be, you want to believe that the implication of dragons — and rogue ones at that — is nothing more than a fantastic rumor born out of fear. 

The weight of eyes on you pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to find Hongjoong watching you. “You’re worried about San, aren’t you.” 

“I’m worried about what this will mean for the Kingdom if this is true,” you say, relenting as your voice drops into a near whisper. “But also what it’ll mean for San as a Shifter. There are already so many who speak ill of him in town, and with something like this, it’ll only get worse—” 

“San will be fine, he’s never given much stock into what others think of him.” Hongjoong’s tone is gentle, laced with affection. “Besides, he has you by his side and I’m pretty sure that as long as you’re there for him, he really doesn’t need or want anyone else.”

You stare. “He has you and Mingi too, and Seonghwa—”

“We have his back, of course,” he agrees, “but he doesn’t trust us near to the level that he trusts you. I know the two of you are bound to each other, but that only goes so far — you can’t force a bond as strong as yours, not even through centuries of history.” He shifts, leveling you with a serious look. “You can’t tell me that you’re only doing this out of obligation, [name].”

You’re quiet for a long moment, lost in thought. Hongjoong is right — there’s an unspoken bond between you and San, one that’s lasted since childhood and has nothing to do with the seal on your back, the oath that you’ve taken. None of that matters when it comes down to it, none of that near as important as the intertwined pinkies and hushed promises, spoken into the darkness of that room and a shared bed. 

Obligation and duty don’t mean near as much to you as your best friend does. 

“You’re right,” you answer at last, “I’m not.” 

Hongjoong smiles.

[atzrecs]

Rising Sun [2] [San]

warnings: au, dragon!San, violence, mild cursing, angst, fluff

word count: 2,425

–

The mark is dark against your skin, raw around the edges — and San fights back the sudden impulse to trace it with his fingers, the looping mess of inky black that forms a seal that he knows all too well. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Not as bad as it did at first,” you say, and he blinks when you turn and press a glass jar into his hand. “Seonghwa said to use this salve on it to speed up the healing process, and I can’t quite reach all of it. Help me out?”

Part of him wants to protest, a sudden awareness of the way this can be seen as something far too intimate for the relationship that the two of you have — but it’s quickly smothered under the fact that you’ve been his best friend for years and that it hasn’t changed just because of a tattoo. 

He dips his fingers into the salve, making sure that he gets enough of it before he reaches up, brushing them against your skin. You don’t run anywhere near as warm as he does, but your skin is soft in a way that his isn’t — you’re fragile, more so than he is, even if you’ll never admit it. 

“San?” Your call of his name snaps him out of it and he quickly refocuses on his task, gentle as he rubs the salve into your skin before he recaps the jar and takes a step back as you glance back at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers, “just thinking.” He sets the jar down as you slip your tunic back up, hiding the mark from view. “I just wonder…if you’ll ever regret it.”

“No.” Your answer is quick and adamant, taking him aback as you turn towards him fully, expression unreadable. “This isn’t about duty, San, or what history says my family has always done for yours. This was my decision, and mine only.”

His brow furrows. “But—”

“But nothing,” you counter, and your expression shifts, small smile tugging at your mouth. “You’re stuck with me until the end, whether you like it or not.”

—-

“Tell me again why you dragged me out here?”

“For the last time, I didn’t drag you,” you answer, giving him a look. “You’re the one who heard me say I was going into the market today and decided to tag along. You’re more than welcome to go back.”

San pouts. “We were supposed to relax today, weren’t we?” When you don’t answer, he glances at you only to find that you’ve dropped behind, attention stolen by a stand offering small, roughly hewn metal trinkets for sale. 

“You’ve got a good eye,” the man running the stand praises and you smile, picking up one of the little figurines and offering it to San for inspection as he approaches. San isn’t stupid or unobservant, however, and he catches how the man’s expression changes once he sees San, recognition blossoming in his eyes. 

San knows he has a reputation, and even though he’s fairly certain that most do not outright dislike him, he’s aware of the whispers and rumors that float around about him from time to time. Though he is not the first or only of his kind, his family is the first that he knows of that’s been held in such high regard by the royal family for so long — and it doesn’t always sit well with the common folk. 

He wonders if this man is one of them who whispers about him to others, feeding into the unease with which he’s usually seen when he ventures into the market — and by the way he seems to curl in on himself and take an almost imperceptible step backwards, he is. 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you glance from San to the stand keeper, brow furrowing as you set down the trinket, expression suddenly stony. “Thank-you for your time,” you say before you’re walking away, leaving San to fall into step beside you.

Years of friendship have afforded San better knowledge of your emotions than anyone else but yourself and though you stare straight ahead, the curl of your fingers into fists at your sides and tense of your jaw speaks volumes about how angry you are. 

“It isn’t worth it,” San begins and you come to a halt, focusing on him. “Don’t get upset with them over something like this.” 

“Something like this—” You stop yourself, inhaling deeply before you start again. “San, you keep this kingdom safe and this is how they want to repay you? Treating you like you’re some kind of…of monster?” 

“I’m used to it,” he answers, and he hates how true it rings, but he’d made his peace with it years ago, aware that no matter what he did, there would always be those that spoke ill of him. You, however, do not look like you’re willing to let it go any time soon and he steps forward, settling both hands on your shoulders. “And it really doesn’t matter to me.”

You avert your gaze, but he can feel the way your muscles relax beneath his fingers, even as your forehead creases. “I just don’t want to see them treat you like that,” you murmur, and San’s lips quirk. 

“Careful,” he teases with the familiar raise of his eyebrow, “if you talk like that, I might think you like me.” He catches the quirk of your mouth even though you fight to hide it, bringing a hand up to thump him in the shoulder gently.

“Let’s go,” you say and resume walking. “The sooner we get done here in the market, the sooner we can get back and you can watch me kick Mingi’s ass in sparring again.” 

“Oh, you know I can’t miss that.”

—-

“You really should try going a little easier on him, you know.” 

You snort, taking the cloth that San offers you and wiping the sweat and dirt from your face. “Why? He’s the one who likes to talk big and then can’t back it up.” Your words are without venom, near-affectionate towards the red-headed soldier who’s become your favorite unofficial punching bag. “Hongjoong gets a kick out of it too.”

“Poor Mingi,” San laments before he comes to an abrupt halt that makes you stumble to follow suit, confused before you follow his line of sight. Standing a few feet away, the Chamberlain looks out of place in full attire rather than the nondescript clothing you and San still wear from earlier in the day, his face impassive as he clears his throat.

“Your presence is requested in the strategy wing by the King.” His eyes flick between the two of you before he continues, “both of you.” 

Your stomach twists as you glance at San, his expression mirroring yours. It isn’t often that the strategy room is in use, at least not in the last couple of decades — and you already know that it doesn’t bode well. 

“We’ll be there shortly,” San says, and the Chamberlain nods curtly before he turns on his heel, heading back the way he’d came and once you’re certain that he’s out of earshot, you turn your attention to San.

“Whatever this is about, I don’t think it’s good news.”

San shakes his head, expression grim. “I heard a couple of rumors about an uprising in the Eastern Kingdom, but I didn’t think that it would become a problem for us.” 

“It might not be,” you say, but it does little to ease the tension that knots in your stomach. “Either way, we shouldn’t keep the King waiting for much longer.” 

—-

You detour only to change your clothing before you make your way towards the strategy wing with San who has also changed his clothes, adjusting the thick layers of fabric with an unreadable expression. It isn’t often that he presents himself fully like this, every inch representative of his status within the castle. 

He looks nothing like your San, the one who you share so many things with, who laughs and jokes with you so easily — and you’re not sure that you like it. Your consolation comes in the half-smile that he offers you when you nudge him before it disappears once more.

“Sorry,” he says when the two of you come to a halt just outside the heavy set of double-doors, “I just have a very bad feeling about what we’re about to hear.”

“I do too, but we won’t know until we go in there.” 

His eyes lock with yours before he nods once and then turns to push the door open. Several heads turn as the two of you step inside, one of which you immediately recognize, small smile of acknowledgement appearing briefly on Hongjoong’s lips before it disappears. 

“Your Highness,” San says, and you follow the way that he bows, head dipping in respect before you straighten up, dropping just a step behind San. Of everyone in attendance, you suddenly feel the most out of place — because what of what relevance are you to anyone here but San or Hongjoong — but it doesn’t stop you from approaching the table with San, peering down at the map that’s been spread out on it. 

It’s a map of the kingdom, along with the neighboring ones, tiny, slanted scrawl identifying various towns and borders — and the King gestures with his hand as he speaks. “The reports are mostly coming in from the Southern border, so I want to send a squadron out there to investigate.”

Hongjoong nods, and San’s brow furrows.

“What are these reports of, Your Highness? If I may ask.”

The King’s expression is grim. “There have been rogue dragon sightings within that area, along with reports of villages being razed to the ground.”

A muscle in San’s jaw goes taut and you press just a little closer, enough to feel the constant heat that radiates off of him. Hongjoong glances from him to you, lips pressed into a thin line before he clears his throat.

“I’m taking a squadron to investigate these claims, considering that no one has seen a dragon in the last decade or so.” 

“I’ll go with you—”

“No,” you cut in, catching San’s look of surprise. “I don’t think it wise for you to go, San. Not until we get this sorted out on what’s actually happening.” Surprise morphs into a flash of anger, and you avert your gaze, knowing you’re going to get an earful later — even more so for the following words that spill from your lips.

“I’ll go.” 

—-

San is angry. No, more than that — he’s furious. He paces for a moment longer before he  turns sharply, eyes blazing. It’s the angriest you’ve ever seen him, faint wisps of white smoke curling from his mouth as he hisses, “What was that?”

To your credit, you neither flinch nor back away, staring back at him levelly. “We both know that it wouldn’t be good for you to be the one to go with Hongjoong.” 

San’s tone pitches a little higher. “And it is for you? You don’t get to decide what’s good for me and what isn’t, [name]. That is not how this works.”

“Protecting you is my job, San.” You think of dusty tomes, of your father, of the mark on your back, of the boy you met so many years ago, now the absolutely livid man who stares straight at you, mouth curled into something like a snarl. “And that’s what I’m doing.”

“You really think you’re protecting me by putting yourself in danger? In what world does that make sense?” 

“I would rather that I get hurt than you, San.” Your tone is nothing but honest, aware of just how far you’ll go to keep him safe — not only is it your job to make sure nothing happens to him, but you’re not sure that you can live with yourself if you allow your best friend to get injured. 

“And that makes it okay for me to let you get hurt instead, right?” San snaps, stepping forward until he’s right in front of you. “Just because you’re supposed to protect me does not mean I can’t protect you too.” 

You want to reply the way you’ve been taught, that you don’t need him to protect you — but the anger is dimming in his eyes, giving way to something softer and more vulnerable as he leans, head pressing against your shoulder.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, and the faint crack in his voice makes your own resolve crumble, giving way to an ache you refuse to focus on for too long. “I can’t lose my best friend.”

“You’re not going to,” you say, reaching up to press a hand against his back, mindful of where his remnant scales sit beneath his shirt as you knead at his skin with your fingertips. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Stay here,” San whispers. “Let me go instead of you.”

“No.” 

San straightens, pulling away from you and for a moment, you think he’s going to dismiss you, to tell you to get out of his room and let things end like this for the night — but it’s San. Never once has he let either of you part on bad terms, and certainly not like this. 

“Sleep here then,” he says, giving you a pleading look that looks strange without his usual playful pout. He’s serious, eyes softer than they were moments ago. “Please.”

You should tell him no. You should go back to your own room, to gather up the things that you’re going to need before you leave with Hongjoong and his squadron in the morning — but you don’t. “Okay,” you answer, and there’s a faint smile in response, a shadow of the San that you know so well.

This is not the first time that you’ve shared a bed with him, and you know it’s far from the last — but there’s something different in the way he waits for you to get comfortable before he joins you, wordlessly shifting until he’s satisfied with how close he is to you before he reaches out to link your pinky with his. 

“Please,” he begins, voice soft, “promise me that you’ll be safe. That you’ll come back to me.”

You stare at him for a long moment before your pinky curls around his. 

“I promise.”

[atzrecs]

Oblivious [Mingi]

warnings: oneshot, fluff, mild angst?

word count: 2, 486

“Why are you doing this?”

You look up from your phone, finding Wooyoung watching you from where he’s curled himself against the corner of your couch, a sulky look on his face. You suppose part of it is your fault, you’d invited him over with the promise of going out – a promise that you’ve yet to make good on, busy with your phone and the dating app that Yunho had bullied you into downloading. 

“What do you mean? Do you want me to die alone?”

Wooyoung heaves an overly dramatic sigh and uncurls, stretching himself out over the arm and groaning in satisfaction when his back pops before he uprights himself. “No, but I don’t get why you’re spending so much time on that app. Isn’t that basically for weirdos?”

You give him a look of amusement. “Are you calling me a weirdo?”

He shrugs, meeting your eyes and grinning. “If the shoe fits,” he says, then softens his words with the way he crawls closer and settles his head on your shoulder. It’s a wholly platonic gesture, one you return with the tip of your head against his. “Can I at least help you pick?”

“Sure,” you say, handing him your phone. “I’m not having much luck on my own, anyways.” You watch as he begins scrolling through the profiles offered, frown tugging at your lips. “Are you even looking at their bios?”

“I don’t have to,” your friend returns easily, pausing long enough to smile blithely at you. “I’ve known you since we were basically in diapers, that means that I know you well enough to know what you like. Both fortunately and unfortunately.”

“I feel the love.”

“Good, you should.” Wooyoung continues scrolling, and you opt for flopping onto your side and shifting until you’re on your back, legs splayed out over Wooyoung’s lap. “Honestly I don’t think you’re going to find anyone on here.”

“Am I that hopeless? Or are they all serial killers in the making?”

“They’re not serial killers,” Wooyoung says, then grimaces. “Well, maybe that last one I scrolled past might be, but that’s beside the point. You can’t look for someone when you’re already invested in someone else, you know. That’s just shitty, to both you and whoever you pick.”

You lift your head. “I’m not invested in anyone else, Wooyoung. My lack of a dating life for the last two years should be proof of that.”

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

Jealous [Seonghwa]

for @aethalen <3

warnings: mentions of intimacy/implied intimacy

word count: 1,960

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Pausing in the last part of your preparation, you glance in the mirror to find Seonghwa adjusting his tie and running a hand through his hair before he turns to look at you.

“What do you mean? Do you not want to go?” 

“No, I want to go,” you say as you step away from the bathroom sink and approach him, reaching up to readjust his tie and stroking his cheek gently. “I just mean…I know we haven’t officially announced that we’re dating, but I feel like going separately is just going to cause us more problems in the long run.”

Seonghwa is silent for a moment before he leans his head into your touch, and you can’t help but smile at the gesture. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, “I have a feeling that most people already suspect that we’re together, honestly. We aren’t always as subtle as we think we are.”

“That’s on you, mister handsy,” you accuse gently and Seonghwa’s lips quirk in a self-satisfied smirk as he shifts, hands settling on your waist and pulling you closer.

“I can’t help it,” he says as he dips his head to bump his forehead against yours. “I got so lucky when you agreed to be mine and I just want to show how much I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur in response, delighting in the press of his skin against yours even as you smooth down any imperfections in the front of his neatly buttoned suit jacket. “But you’re the one who agreed that it would be easier to keep this discreet, considering we work together.” 

“True,” he sighs. “You’re right, as usual.”

“I usually am,” you tease playfully before you pull away just enough to kiss his forehead. He hums at the affection, though his grip tightens on your waist when you move to pull away. 

“Kiss me properly.” Seonghwa’s voice pitches in a soft whine, his playful pout making you laugh before you oblige, leaning up to kiss him gently. You’re not sure you’ll ever get enough of the feeling of his mouth against yours, soft and warm with just a hint of the vanilla chapstick he uses.

The kiss doesn’t last near long enough for your own personal tastes as he pulls away, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’ll be late if we keep this up.” 

“We’ll just have to continue this later then,” you say, and when he raises an eyebrow at you in question, all you do is smile innocently and move to grab your own jacket before heading towards the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Save a dance for me,” Seonghwa says, and the smile that plays around his mouth is one of your favorites – it’s soft and affectionate, and it sends your heart stuttering in your chest like it’s the first time all over again. 

“I’ll save them all for you.”

Keep reading

[atzrecs]

Blood in the Water [2]

warnings: superhero/villain!au, mentions of blood/gore, violence, mild cursing

word count: 1, 070

They don’t know he’s watching them.

He crouches in his vantage point above, soundless as always. ‘Silent as the grave’, he’d been told before, tone tinged with as much affection as could be mustered, as was allowed. He doesn’t deal much in emotions, finding them too messy, too complicated. Like quicksand – the harder you struggle, the faster you sink. 

He doesn’t know what they’re talking about, doesn’t care to listen – it’s not what he’s after, and the wait doesn’t bother him. Targets have taken longer, after all, and he prides himself on his patience. 

Another half-hour passes before their conversation dwindles into goodbyes, sealed with a brief hug and a promise of individual safety that makes his lips quirk for a moment. Surely they know that they can’t guarantee that – and his presence tonight is a testament. 

They break apart, one heading into the apartment complex below – and the other begins a brisk walk down the sidewalk, head bowed and shoulders hunched. A weak attempt at anonymity, as if everyone hasn’t seen his face plastered across television screens over the last week, broad smile a symbol that the common folk have rallied around.

A hero, they promote, a savior. 

What a joke. 

He follows effortlessly, a blur of motion as he keeps his attention on his target, and his target only. He’d learned quickly in his career that he didn’t always have to take his eyes off them to watch them disappear. This one, however, he’s ready for, studying the thick, paperclipped packet of papers thoroughly until he could recite them in his sleep. 

This target will be easy. 

The hero makes his way further from the hustle and bustle of the city, away from the nauseating glow of lamplight and rush of cars. For a moment, he thinks maybe the hero isn’t quite as stupid as he seems – and then he reads the body language, the lax hands, the open posture.

Dumber than I thought, he thinks, biting back a scoff of disgust as he stands, stretching for a moment before he leaps down. His shoes are just as silent as the rest of him, as his ability that crackles along his skin, vibrating as he focuses on his target. 

The hero stops. 

His limbs tremble, fighting against the power that’s locked him into place – but it’s a useless effort. Nobody has been able to break free of him before, and this weakling isn’t about to be the first one to do it. 

He approaches casually, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed – casual, eyeing the hero like a cat might to a trapped mouse – and isn’t that all the hero is? There’s no bravado now, no annoying attempts at being quirky with one liners or taunts – the hero watches him, eyes wide.

He’s afraid. 

For a moment, he wishes that there were someone to witness this – that he could broadcast this, tear down that shiny veneer of falsehoods that everyone clings to so desperately. The man before him is not a hero, but a liar. 

He’s nothing. 

The hero finally finds his voice. “W-Who are you and what do you want?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he switches tactics, voice high and cracking at the edges. “Please, I’m just a rookie, I don’t–I haven’t done anything–”

“Now now,” his voice is a low purr, smooth and dark compared to the fear in the hero’s voice, and he doesn’t deny himself the delight in the way the hero trembles before him. “We both know that isn’t true.” 

The hero’s eyes go wider. “Really, I haven’t–I’ve saved people, I’ve helped them–” The smack of cold metal quiets him, and he swallows hard as serrated steel kisses just below his jaw, a warning and a threat.  

“See, lying isn’t a very good quality for a so-called hero to have, right?” He circles, lets the blade slide along the hero’s skin – and the fear rolling off him is nearly tangible, he can almost taste it. It’s his ambrosia, and he feeds on it as he faces the hero once more. “So naturally, a liar like you shouldn’t be prancing around acting like that, hm?”

“But I haven’t done anything wrong,” comes the desperate argument, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course the hero would be like this – they all are. But he’s getting tired of this, and he’s running out of time – and he isn’t one to keep anyone waiting. 

“Of course you haven’t,” he says, and for a moment, the hero looks relieved – and then his expression is slack, the light in his eyes dimming as a line of scarlet opens across his throat, growing wider and seeping down into his clothing. 

The hero crumples with a spray of scarlet that isn’t entirely avoidable, and the knife is cleaned with sharp, mechanical precision before it disappears, back where it belongs. 

“Disgusting,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming before he vanishes, leaving the hero to stain the ground under the lonely glow of a single lamp. 

–

“Welcome back.”

The greeting is familiar, as is the speaker – and he tosses the paperclipped packet onto the desk before him, the top edges dipped in blood that’s already begun to dry – the hero’s blood, a theatrical flourish that he hadn’t been able to resist. After all, if there’s one thing he’s learned about Hongjoong, he enjoys proper evidence of completion – no matter how disgusting. 

“Good,” Hongjoong says as he leans to take the papers, tucking them away into a drawer – atop stack after stack of other packets, all of them stained the same way. “You’re dismissed.”

He offers a dip of his head before he turns to leave, pausing when Hongjoong clears his throat.

“Seonghwa.” He turns back, eyes locking with Hongjoong’s. “You’ll want to get rid of those shoes, they’re ruined.” He doesn’t dismiss Seonghwa a second time, but the silence that follows is more than enough as he leaves the office, heading down the hall.

Once he’s back in his own quarters, Seonghwa’s attention shifts to his shoes as he steps out of them, picking them up for examination. Though it’s near undetectable, he can see the spray of blood on them, staining them. 

He moves towards the trashcan in the corner, staring at the shoes for a long moment before he drops them in. They aren’t the first pair to get ruined like this – and they won’t be the last.