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iyoonjh · 2 months ago

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Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

Chapter 13: The Party Arc Nobody Trained For (except for that guy in a bikini by the pool)

wc: 12932 words

The night was thick with heat—sticky, heavy, almost indecent.

It clung to skin like a second layer, sliding down the backs of necks and behind knees, making clothes feel too tight, hair too much, air too little. Even the breeze had given up, leaving the sky suspended in a sultry, unmoving haze.

The kind of summer night where the ground still radiated the day’s heat, where the air felt like you could chew it. Where sweat beaded just from breathing.

It was the kind of night where you knew something would happen.

Yet, Soobin and his friends stood at the edge of Jay’s lawn like it was cursed land.

A massive two-story with white stucco walls and a modern black-trimmed roof, it loomed at the end of the street like a final boss in a college movie. Music thumped through the windows, vibrating down to the cracked sidewalk. Colored lights—blue, pink, a threatening red—pulsed behind the sheer curtains like the house was breathing.

The music was loud. Too loud. Soobin could feel the bass rattling through his bones, like some kind of ancient war drum signaling his inevitable downfall. The air smelled like a concoction of cheap beer, sweat, and a suspiciously fruity scent that Beomgyu whispered was “probably a vape, but possibly a potion.” The house itself was packed—people standing in clusters, yelling over the music, laughing like they actually enjoyed this level of chaos. It was, in every conceivable way, a completely foreign environment to them.

The lawn was packed. People lounged on blankets, sat on the steps, danced on the grass, and crowded around coolers like raccoons at a campsite. Someone had parked a vintage motorcycle halfway on the curb just for the aesthetic. Someone else was throwing a football in the dark. The air smelled like weed, citrus seltzers, and a distant hint of impending bad decisions.

And standing just outside the chaos, at the edge of the driveway, was Soobin’s friend group. Frozen. In formation. Like they were about to storm the beaches of Normandy.

Yeonjun’s face was frozen in disbelief.

He crossed his arms and scowled at the house. "I can’t believe I let you people drag me here. To his house. My sworn enemy. My rival."

“Dude, you agreed,” Sunghoon sighed, adjusting his jacket. "And Jay is not your rival."

“Yes, he is,” Yeonjun insisted, eyes narrowing. “We are the leaders of opposing factions. The captains of competing forces. He stands against everything I stand for.”

“Which is?” Taehyun asked, unimpressed.

Yeonjun faltered. “Well, for starters, my band is better.”

“That’s literally the only reason?” Hueningkai deadpanned.

“That’s the main reason,” Yeonjun corrected. “Also, his hair is too perfect. No man should have hair that voluminous and not use it for evil.”

“Sounds like jealousy,” Heeseung murmured.

Yeonjun gasped, scandalized. “How dare you—”

Hueningkai was quietly clutching the Tupperware of cookies he’d brought, wearing a Pokémon-themed hoodie like a security blanket. “Should I have brought drinks instead? Or like… a six-pack of charisma?”

“We’re not equipped for this environment,” Leehan said gravely, brushing imaginary lint off his hoodie. “There are shirtless men in the yard. I can’t compete with that. My torso is not party-approved.”

Beomgyu leaned toward the house, squinting. “Is that guy playing beer pong with one hand and petting a lizard with the other?”

“Wait,” Sunghoon said, eyes wide. “Is that a live lizard?!”

“I told you this place was lawless,” Yeonjun muttered. “I heard Jay once had a party with a mechanical bull and a live DJ who only played remixes of High School Musical songs.”

“I often hear Get’cha Head in the Game at the back of my mind whenever Beomgyu starts to ruin our campaign by being an idiot” Heeseung added solemnly.

Soobin hadn’t said a word.

He was standing a few feet behind the group, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at the glowing doorway like it was about to suck him into another dimension.

He was wearing his nicest hoodie. The one he usually saved for first days of class or oral presentations. He had double-checked it didn’t have any mysterious gamer stains or frayed sleeves. He’d even brushed his hair. Twice. Used product and everything. Taehyun had said it made him look “presentable” which, coming from Taehyun, was basically a standing ovation.

And yet, he felt wildly, laughably unprepared. Like showing up to the Hunger Games with a fanny pack. Or entering an anime convention with a cat-maid costume. Or, more accurately, walking into a party where people looked like models and moved like those tall skinny slander Star Wars creatures from Kamino… while he still occasionally said “pog” unironically.

The truth was: he was still half-convinced this was a prank. That maybe Y/N had meant to invite someone else. Someone taller. Cooler. With an Instagram feed that didn’t look like a museum of vintage anime screenshots and cursed memes.

Any second now, the doors could swing open and someone could shout “Haha, gotcha! Back to the nerd cave, Dungeon Boy!” And he wouldn’t even be mad. He’d just nod. Accept the natural order of things. Crawl back into his hobbit hole with dignity.

But.

Then he’d remember her smile. That soft, shy, knowing smile she gave him every time they saw each other. The way her eyes crinkled a little. The way she leaned in when she talked to him, like he was actually interesting, like she wanted to be near him. And not just in a friendly, hey-we-both-read-Berserk kind of way. It had felt… different.

She had touched his hand at the ice cream shop that day. It was half a second. But he had replayed that moment in his brain like he did when he first watched Gojo arrive in Shibuya. Frame by frame. Emotionally scored. Academy Award-worthy.

And he’d seen her eyes linger a little too long whenever she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn’t crazy. Or… he was. But even crazy people were right sometimes, right?

Still, a part of him kept bracing for impact. For the inevitable plot twist. For her to turn around and say, “Oh my god, you thought I liked you? That’s adorable.” And it would suck. And he’d smile and laugh and say something self-deprecating. And then go home and uninstall all his dating sims in solidarity.

But another part of him—one that had gotten louder lately—was starting to wonder:

What if she actually does like me?

It was a thought that felt dangerous. Like leaning too far off a cliff to get a better view. But it was also… kind of wonderful.

Because lately, talking to her didn’t feel impossible. He didn’t stammer as much. He made her laugh. She teased him. She remembered things he said. She waved to him first. And when he texted her after class, she replied with too many exclamation points to be disinterested. God, they even flirted, right?

And then—then she invited him. To this. To Jay’s party. With her friends. Into her world. And maybe that meant something. Maybe that meant everything.

Soobin shifted his weight on his feet, eyes still locked on the doorway. His hoodie suddenly felt too tight. Or maybe his heart was too big for his chest now. Was that a thing? Did crushes make your ribcage shrink?

He let out a slow breath.

He was terrified.

But he was also… excited.

Hopeful, even.

Because Y/N had invited him. Not just anyone—him. The guy who once corrected her pronunciation of "isekai" and apologized for three days. The guy who'd hand-washed her tote bag. The guy who had started believing, little by little, that maybe he didn’t have to be someone else to be wanted.

And here he was.

At Jay’s party.

With his friends.

Dressed like they were about to crash Minecraft's movie premiere.

Because of her.

And maybe, that was enough for her.

“Okay losers. But like. We are at Jay’s house. Jay. Do you guys understand the cultural significance of this?” Yeonjun asked, pacing slowly in front of the group like a general surveying the battlefield. His brows were furrowed in betrayal and his My Chemical Romance shirt was “aesthetically” stained. “Jay’s band has—objectively—the worst tempo control I’ve ever heard, and that includes when Kai tried to beatbox to Animal Crossing music.”

“Hey,” Hueningkai said, wounded, “that was experimental.”

Beomgyu was already sweating profusely, not from nerves but from enthusiasm and the five layers he had inexplicably decided to wear. “Bro, you’re just mad his band is hotter than ours.”

“That’s not the point, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun snapped. “We are artists. Underground legends. And now we’re here? Like…like the cheese guys from Diary of a Wimpy Kid at the popular kids’ cutscene? I feel like I’m betraying my own lore.”

“I literally do not care,” Beomgyu said, licking the condensation off his canned Monster. “If there’s chips and a bathroom I don’t have to clean, I’m chillin’. Also, if Jay’s band wants beef, I came prepared.” He opened his denim jacket to reveal a kazoo and a suspicious-looking bottle of hot sauce. “I call this the chaos combo.”

“I swear to god,” Taehyun muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Are we sure we were invited?” Heeseung asked nervously, adjusting his graphic tee for the tenth time. It had a wolf howling at the moon but, like, ironically. “What if it was like…a vibe-only invitation? You know, when someone invites you with their eyes but not with their soul?”

Everyone stared at him.

“Dude,” Sunghoon said, “what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m just saying we’re not vibe-coded for this house!” Heeseung defended. “Look at them! They have glowsticks and glitter and shirts that are—unbuttoned!”

“Okay, I wore deodorant,” Hueningkai said proudly. “Two layers.”

“I brought a card trick,” Taehyun offered mildly, pulling a rubber-banded deck from his pocket.

“You’re bringing sleight-of-hand to a sweat-drenched frat rave?” Yeonjun cried, absolutely scandalized.

Taehyun shrugged. “No one’s immune to card-based intrigue.”

“God, you’re so cool,” Hueningkai whispered, eyes wide.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back with effort. “Okay. Listen. We’re tall. We have clear skin. Beomgyu has ADHD in a way people find endearing. We can do this.”

“You literally have vampire teeth,” Beomgyu said.

“I got them filed down!”

“Why would you do that?! That was your edge!” Yeonjun cried.

Soobin was quiet behind them, still watching the door like it might combust. His fingers twitched in his pockets.

Y/N liked him. She liked his friends. Right?

He still couldn’t quite swallow it. Couldn’t reconcile her—bright, funny, terrifyingly cool Y/N—with the memory of her looking at him like he was something precious. Like she saw through his hoodie and D&D nights and weird little monologues about anime lore and liked it all anyway.

He felt like a kid trying on his dad’s shoes. Slightly too big, slightly too ridiculous. But when he’d looked in the mirror tonight, he hadn’t hated the guy staring back. He looked…hopeful.

He’d never had that before.

Soobin looked at the door again. At his friends. At the chaos and glitter and heat waiting inside. At the lizard being patted by the beer pong table.

And then he said, “Guys?”

Seven heads whipped toward him.

“I think we should go in.”

Everyone froze.

Leehan blinked. “Like…now?”

Soobin nodded.

Yeonjun held up a hand. “Okay but if Jay challenges us to a band duel, I’m starting with Radiohead and ending with blood.”

Hueningkai looked down at his Pokémon socks and whispered, “If I die, Leehan can have my sarcophagus fish poster.”

“I will make us proud,” Heeseung muttered, pushing up invisible glasses like an anime protagonist mid-battle arc.

“Bro,” Taehyun said, clapping a hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “She’s into you. You got this.”

Soobin swallowed.

And stepped toward the door.

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The moment they stepped into the house, it hit them like a heatwave made of perfume, bass drops, and expensive cologne that smelled like mysterious trust fund baby.

Jay’s house was stupidly big for a college student. It had high ceilings, fairy lights strung across the living room like constellations, and a stupidly aesthetic neon sign that said “NO VIBES, NO ENTRY” over the hallway to the kitchen.

The party was in full swing. People were everywhere—dancing, shouting, laughing like finals didn’t exist. Someone was playing beer pong in the kitchen on a table shaped like a guitar. Someone else was doing pushups in the living room while two girls filmed him with glittery phones and zero faith in his form.

Beomgyu audibly gasped. “Holy shit they have three different chip bowls. One of them is just cheese balls.”

Sunghoon tugged his jacket sleeves. “Okay, if we keep moving we won’t look like we spawned in.”

Heeseung nodded like this was a war tactic. “Blend with the crowd. No sudden movements. Don’t make eye contact with the DJ.”

“Too late,” Leehan whispered. “He looked into my soul and I think he is trying to read my mind, why is this guy playing Oasis?”

“What in the name of Gandalf is happening?” Hueningkai yelped as a girl dressed as a literal fairy—glitter wings, sparkly face gems, and all—zoomed past him like she was late for a midsummer rave, nearly knocking him to the floor.

“Guys. That was a fairy,” Leehan said, dead serious, staring after her like he’d just seen a cryptid.

Taehyun sidestepped a group of shirtless dudes wearing inflatable pool floaties around their waists and squinted. “Okay, but like... are we already drunk?”

Soobin was trying very, very hard to walk normally. His heart was doing backflips in his chest. He’d caught a glimpse of the girl he came for and could swear his entire body was in flames.

Y/N was already there.

Drink in hand, smile in full force, hair tucked behind one ear like she was about to wreck his whole existence with a simple “Hi.” She was standing near the living room, talking to Karina and Yunjin, and the moment she saw them—saw him—her whole face lit up like a stage light.

“GUYS!!”

She bounded across the room like a very pretty, very excited angel in heels, and Soobin forgot how to function as a person. Her eyes scanned the group—wide, expectant, thrilled—and then settled on him like he was the one person she wanted to see most.

“You made it!” she said, arms spreading like they were old friends or maybe, maybe something more.

Beomgyu choked on his own spit.

Leehan backed up into a potted plant.

Heeseung smiled and forgot how to close his mouth.

Only Taehyun, the unbothered king, offered her a smooth little wave. “Hey, thanks for inviting us. Cool place.”

“We’re gonna keep things chill tonight,” Y/N promised, stepping slightly closer, her smile warm and effortless. “We’ll hang, talk. No one’s gonna make you do body shots or keg stands unless you want to.”

Beomgyu immediately looked betrayed. “Wait. So we could be doing keg stands?”

“No one’s stopping you,” Y/N replied with a wink.

“I’m stopping him,” Taehyun muttered.

“Don’t stifle my growth,” Beomgyu said, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “This is why I’m not evolving as a person.”

Y/N laughed and turned to Soobin, who was standing like one of the King's guards but in a very more awkward and goofy way–if that's even possible.

“Soobin,” she said, with a smile that hit him like a summer thunderclap, “you look nice.”

He blinked. Then, finally, after what felt like six loading screens: “You too. I mean—yes. I mean—thank you. I’m also... wearing clothes.”

Heeseung choked on his own laugh. “Smooth, Casanova.”

Soobin wanted to evaporate. “I swear I speak fluent English. Usually.”

“No, it’s okay,” Y/N giggled, bumping her shoulder into his lightly. “You’re doing great. You already look less terrified than Hueningkai.”

Hueningkai was still staring around the room like a Skyrim villager in the middle of a rave. “There’s a man over there juggling glowsticks and I think he’s on a leash,” he whispered to Leehan.

“Don’t judge him,” Leehan replied sagely. “It’s probably self discovery.”

“So,” Y/N said, clapping once and making them all jump a little, “I was thinking we could stay by the pool for a bit. It’s got good air circulation and it's also close to the bar. Less chance of getting flashbanged by the bathroom strobe lights.”

“There are strobe lights... in the bathroom?” Sunghoon asked, like she’d just informed him of a security breach.

“Why?” Heeseung added.

“No one knows,” Y/N said. “It’s part of the mystery.”

Then, she turned back to Soobin, her grin softening just a little. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Soobin felt his brain short-circuit. His mouth went dry. His hands were suddenly too big. His entire existence felt like a system reboot in progress.

Before he could even attempt a coherent response, he appeared.

Jake.

With an arm slung casually around Y/N’s shoulders.

Jake, who was effortlessly cool.

Jake, who looked like he had never panicked over sending a text message in his life.

Jake, who—at this moment—was way too close to Y/N.

“THERE’S MY FAVORITE GIRL!” he yelled over the music, leaning in with a grin so charming it could legally qualify as a felony.

Heeseung made a strangled noise.

Leehan literally ducked behind Sunghoon like a cartoon character.

“Oh,” Hueningkai breathed in realization, eyes widening.

Leehan let out a quiet, “Oh no.”

Yeonjun blinked slowly. “So. This is how it ends.

Sunghoon shot Soobin a sympathetic glance, already preparing a eulogy for his hopes and dreams.

Soobin’s stomach dropped.

“Uh,” Soobin stammered, staring at the boyfriend-coded arm placement. “You—uh—um—”

Taehyun, noticing the immediate distress, nudged Soobin with his elbow. “Hey, man. Inhale. Then exhale.”

Heeseung, who had zero intentions of making this easier, leaned over and whispered, “Oh no, dude, you okay? You’re looking a little—what’s the word—ghostly?”

“I’m fine,” Soobin lied, his voice hitting an octave only dogs could hear.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu had entered full conspiracy mode. “Wait, so are they—”

“They have to be,” Hueningkai muttered, eyes darting between Y/N and Jake. “That’s a textbook boyfriend arm placement.”

“You’ve never seen a textbook boyfriend arm placement,” Leehan reminded him.

“Exactly, which is why this must be it.”

Beomgyu took a long sip of his Monster and muttered, “You think they’re like…together together? Or like, ‘together in a way we don’t understand because we’ve never known the touch of a confident person’?”

Jake’s arm was still around Y/N’s shoulders like he was born there, his smile big and warm and just... easy. He laughed at something she whispered in his ear, and she laughed back, leaning into him casually like this was normal.

Which—for her—it probably was.

But to Soobin and the boys?

It was a full-blown crisis.

Jake was now rubbing Y/N’s shoulder affectionately, completely unaware he was killing Soobin behind her with anxiety. Y/N just giggled and elbowed him playfully.

“Stop being dramatic,” she said.

Soobin’s heart sank.

Of course she had a boyfriend. Of course it was Jake—handsome, charming, with abs probably carved by ancient Greek gods.

Heeseung, eyes big and shining with drama, gasped. “You got Jake’d. You got anime-rivalled. This is a love triangle. You’re the underdog!”

“This is not a triangle,” Taehyun muttered. “We don’t even know if—”

Y/N, meanwhile, had already turned to them again, her eyes crinkling like they always did around Soobin, completely unaware of the existential panic she’d set off. Jake’s arm was still over her shoulders, but he was now smiling directly at Soobin and the others.

“So,” Jake said, grinning. “You guys are YN’s friends? I’ve heard about you. Finally get to meet the legendary D&D crew. Oh what's up man?” he said to Taehyun who he was already acquainted with since they were both on the soccer team.

There was a beat of silence where no one responded because they were still processing the betrayal.

“Hey man, good to see you” Taehyun managed to say.

“D&D is sick,” Jake continued, totally earnest. “I’ve always wanted to try it but I can’t do math unless I’m drunk. You guys play, like, with characters and everything, right? Like dice and spells and potions and swords?”

Beomgyu blinked. “You... want to talk about dice?”

Jake nodded. “Obviously. Y/N mentioned Soobin's campaign and it sounds insane. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the half-elf situation.”

Hueningkai blinked rapidly. “Wait, you’re not mocking us?”

“Mocking you?” Jake looked genuinely offended. “Dude, Y/N is always talking about how cool your campaign is. You guys built a whole world! That’s epic. You know how hard it is to get people to commit to anything for more than two weeks?”

There was a long, shocked silence.

Heeseung whispered to Sunghoon, “Is he... is he nice?”

“I don’t know how to process this,” Sunghoon whispered back.

Jake beamed at them. “Anyway, you guys want drinks? I’ll get us something. Y/N, what do they like?”

“Something that won’t kill them,” she replied, taking her arm out from under him casually and stepping forward toward Soobin again, clearly not noticing the complete social implosion that had just occurred. “They’re new here. We’re keeping things low-key.”

Jake gave a thumbs up. “You got it. I’ll be the designated bartender for Team Rocket.” He walked off but not before raising his eyebrows suggestively to Y/N and then to Soobin. Jake laughed and disappeared into the crowd with his golden retriever energy trailing behind.

The boys stood in stunned silence for a full five seconds.

“Shall we boys?” Y/N asked them already on the move.

“I'll go pee first,” Yeonjun said, heading to the suspiciously bright bathroom.

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Y/N led them outside with a smile that felt slightly too tight on her face. The summer air wrapped around them like a wet towel—thick, sticky, and inescapable. Everything smelled like sunscreen, chlorine, and the artificial sweetness of spiked lemonade.

She took another sip from her cup, trying to keep her energy light, easy, like this was any other night and not the first time her worlds were colliding. She wasn't even tipsy yet, despite having been drinking for the past hour trying to keep her nerves down.

Soobin’s quieter than usual. She glanced over her shoulder, catching him in that soft, blinking expression he always wore when he was trying to process too much at once. He’s usually chatty with me by now. Did I do something?

Behind him, Beomgyu was whispering something to Heeseung and giggling like he was five seconds away from setting off fireworks. Taehyun was calmly dodging a girl with a bubble gun, as if this was normal. Hueningkai was holding his phone up to check the Pokémon Go map, completely oblivious to the chaos around him.

“Alright,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, “time to introduce the anime club to my losers.”

The backyard was dimly lit with fairy lights and phone flashlights and whatever moonlight could muscle its way through the humidity. Her friends had already claimed the far corner—Karina in a white tank and linen pants looking like a Vogue spread, Giselle curled up with a drink in hand, Sunoo wearing sunglass at night was talking animatedly with Yunjin, and Jungwon half-listening while texting someone.

“Okay,” Beomgyu whispered behind him, “who’s the one in the sunglasses drinking juice like she’s in Euphoria?”

“That’s Karina,” Sunghoon said, squinting. “Don’t make eye contact. She looks like she’d hex us.”

“Too late,” Heeseung mumbled. “She already saw us.”

Y/N straightened as they got closer, trying to appear cool and composed, even though her heart was beating at the speed of a Mad Max soundtrack.

Y/N smiled and waved. “Hey! Look who I found.”

Her friends turned at once, and for a brief second, the silence was palpable.

Then Karina smiled, that slow, intrigued kind of smile she wore when she saw someone interesting in public and made it a game.

“These are the famous manga boys?” Yunjin asked, standing up to properly inspect them.

“It’s not like… a club,” Soobin said softly.

Karina tilted her head. “Is that the leader?”

“Technically Taehyun’s the Dungeon Master,” Hueningkai said.

“Of course he is,” Sunoo murmured under his breath.

Y/N pretended not to notice the way her friends were scanning the group like they were trying to catalog a rare new species of human. To their credit, they were being nice. Suspiciously nice. The kind of nice that meant “we’re trying very hard not to scare them but we absolutely have questions.”

“So,” Giselle started, swirling her drink like she was hosting a talk show, “do you guys all study the same major? Or…?”

“We study near each other,” Taehyun clarified smoothly, already pulling a deck of cards from his back pocket.

Sunghoon immediately elbowed him. “Why are you like this.”

“I brought magic tricks,” Taehyun replied, unfazed. “It’s a party.”

Beomgyu grinned. “He did one in the Uber. Our driver is probably still emotionally recovering.”

“He didn’t tell him the ring wouldn’t come back,” Heeseung added with a laugh. “Just said ‘thank you’ and got out of the car.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Wait, did you actually steal someone’s ring?”

“No, no—” Taehyun said quickly. “It was part of the trick. It did come back.”

“Eventually,” Sunghoon muttered.

Yunjin squinted at the cards. “Are they for real magic or emotional manipulation?”

“Both,” Taehyun said, shuffling them like a casino pro.

“Oh, he’s dangerous,” Karina smirked.

Beomgyu turned to Sunoo, who was adjusting his sunglasses under the patio lights. “Respectfully, sir, your eyewear is making a statement.”

“They’re for the vibe,” Sunoo replied, flipping them up for dramatic effect. “But also because someone turned the backyard into a club.”

“I respect that,” Beomgyu said, nodding like he’d just found a kindred spirit. “I once wore ski goggles to a party in July. Commitment is everything.”

“Was it snow-themed?” Jungwon asked.

“No, I just forgot my actual glasses, it was my grandpa's birthday,” Beomgyu shrugged.

There was a beat of silence, then Yunjin whispered to Giselle, “He’s definitely going to be our favorite.”

Giselle just nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

Beomgyu turned to Jungwon next, inspecting him like he was solving a puzzle. “You also part of the hot-and-confident club?”

Jungwon blinked. “I play soccer.”

“With me,” Taehyun added.

“Ah, that explains the bone structure,” Beomgyu said dramatically, as if solving a great mystery.

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “Why are you flirting with everyone?”

“I’m just building bridges, it's called networking” Beomgyu replied, gesturing vaguely like a politician.

“More like throwing glitter at strangers and hoping for the best,” Heeseung said under his breath.

Sunoo turned to Hueningkai, who had been suspiciously quiet — nose practically in his phone.

“What about you?” he asked. “You’ve said nothing this entire time. What’s your deal?”

Hueningkai looked up, serious as ever. “There’s a Scyther on the map.”

“A what?”

“Scyther. Gen 1. Bug/Flying. Good speed stats. I’m this close to catching it.”

Everyone just blinked.

“That was the nerdiest sentence I’ve ever heard,” Yunjin said slowly. “And I matched with a guy on bumble who said he coded D&D macros for fun.”

“Respectfully,” Hueningkai said, “I’d be more ashamed if I missed the Scyther.”

Leehan, sipping something green and probably toxic-looking that Sunoo gave to him, finally chimed in. “He’s being humble. Kai once ranked every evolution of Eevee based on emotional resonance and battle viability. It was a spreadsheet. With graphs.”

“I also color-coded it,” Hueningkai added proudly.

“What” Karina muttered.

“And what about you?” Sunoo turned to Leehan now. “You look like you have dark academic secrets.”

Leehan smiled. “I’m a marine biology major.”

“Oh. That’s actually—”

“Did you know clownfish can change sex if their dominant female dies?”

Everyone froze.

“Okay,” Yunjin said after a beat. “Weird way to start a sentence, but continue.”

“They’re sequential hermaphrodites,” Leehan continued, totally unfazed. “The hierarchy in their schools is actually super intense. If the top female dies, the largest male changes sex and takes her place.”

Sunghoon looked horrified. “What in the underwater Succession is that?”

“Nature is chaos,” Leehan replied, serene.

“Please don't tell him about the fish tank upstairs,” Sunoo muttered.

Giselle looked over at Y/N and whispered, “I love them. They’re so weird.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered back, already grinning.

But her eyes kept flicking to Soobin, who hadn’t said a word in the past five minutes. He stood slightly behind the others, hands awkwardly in his pockets, eyes scanning her cup again like it held all the answers to life.

He looked a little out of place.

A little too quiet.

She recognized that version of him. The one who still didn’t know how to act when she was surrounded by people who were loud, confident, the center of everything. He was so good at shrinking himself to make room.

But she didn’t want him to shrink.

She wanted him here.

Soobin, meanwhile, was stuck in a full internal loop.

He had mentally practiced exactly three conversation starters. None of them applied. He’d been ready for small talk. Not Sunoo’s sunglasses. Not Beomgyu ADHAging at every person in a 10-foot radius. Not marine fish gender politics.

Y/N looked at ease with them, laughing and throwing teasing glances and tossing her hair like she wasn’t slowly melting his internal circuitry with every blink.

And him? He was standing there like a Victorian ghost with social anxiety.

But then she turned and smiled at him again. Just at him.

And for a second, the noise blurred. The jokes, the lights, the clink of cups—all of it muted into background music.

She looked at him like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Karina then looked at Heeseung.

“So what about you?” she asked, playfully. “Are you the normal one?”

The group laughed—except Heeseung, who blinked like she had asked him to name all the moons of Jupiter.

“Me?” he said.

Y/N immediately muttered, “Oh no.”

“That depends,” Heeseung continued, already warming up. “Do you mean like, socially normal? Because I once tried to explain necromancer mechanics to a cashier at Subway and she gave me a free cookie out of pity.”

Sunghoon groaned. “Don’t do this, man.”

“No, no,” Heeseung insisted, energized by the opportunity. “This is good context! See, in our campaign, I play a druid—but not just any druid. I multiclassed him with bard, which is super risky, but it made narrative sense because his whole backstory is that he was raised in a cursed forest by magical frogs.”

Sunoo blinked. “Sorry, magical frogs?”

“Yes,” Heeseung said seriously. “Sentient. Cloaks. They run an underground potion ring.”

Beomgyu burst out laughing. “They canonically have a council. It’s called the Lily Pad Pact.”

“You guys just let him do that?” Karina asked, wide-eyed.

“No,” Taehyun said flatly. “We had no choice. He wrote a three-page prologue and emailed it to all of us before the campaign even started.”

Jungwon was staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “You’re making this up.”

“Are you kidding?” Hueningkai piped up. “He made us do accent warmups. Like we were prepping for Broadway.”

“I have a commitment to immersion!” Heeseung protested.

Yunjin, who had been silent through most of this exchange, suddenly leaned forward. “Wait. Say more about the frogs.”

“NO,” Soobin said instantly.

“Yes,” Sunoo countered, eyes wide. “YES. Say more.”

“Well,” Heeseung said, delighted, “my druid-bard, Eryndor—”

“Oh god,” Soobin mumbled, burying his face in his hands.

“—was originally intended to be a pacifist. His whole arc was about choosing music over violence. But then Beomgyu’s character—he plays a bard with a gambling problem—stole a cursed instrument from a sea witch, and everything went off the rails.”

“Did you say sea witch?” Giselle asked, incredulous.

“She cursed our loot table,” Heeseung said dramatically. “Every time we tried to open treasure, we had to roll for emotional damage.”

Sunoo wheezed. “I don’t know what that means but I love it.”

“Let me show you,” Heeseung said, pulling out his phone and opening a folder titled “Campaign Lore 💀.”

“He has spreadsheets,” Taehyun said, dead inside.

“He has a color-coded mood tracker for his character,” Beomgyu added, sipping his drink like it was tea.

Y/N turned to Jungwon, who was staring at the group in awe. “You okay?”

“I thought they were gonna be shy,” Jungwon whispered. “They’re not shy. They’re… a fandom.”

“I warned you,” she grinned.

Heeseung wasn’t holding back. Beomgyu was making Karina laugh. Hueningkai had Giselle huddled over his phone explaining why Umbreon was peak design. Even Sunghoon was awkwardly hovering by the drink table with Sunoo while Yunjin grilled him about his favorite horror tropes.

Just as Heeseung launched into a passionate explanation about why his druid’s backstory had been inspired by Studio Ghibli and a very specific mushroom documentary, the patio lights shifted—and the crowd parted like it knew something important was about to happen.

Jake arrived.

Grinning like the main character. Sun-kissed, effortlessly charming, and balancing five drinks with the confidence of a man who had never once doubted his place in the world.

Soobin’s brain was already on fire. Jake had an armful of drinks and that same easy smile he always wore around Y/N. The same smile he wore when he’d had his arm around her earlier. When she’d leaned into him. When she’d laughed at something he said.

And now he was back.

Back with beverages and beauty and boyfriend energy.

“Ladies, gentlemen, frogs,” he said, flashing his most charming grin, “your beverages have arrived.”

Beomgyu clapped. “Finally. I was about to drink the pool water.”

“Please don’t,” Taehyun said without looking up. “Leehan said someone probably peed in there”

Jake handed the first cup to Sunghoon, who sniffed it, nodded approvingly, and said, “Tastes like overconfidence and Blue No. 5. I love it.”

“Green slushie for whoever’s living on the edge,” Jake added, passing it to Leehan.

“Statistically, this will end in regret,” Leehan murmured. Then took a sip anyway.

Jake handed a soda to Taehyun with a nod of recognition—fellow soccer boys silently acknowledging each other like ninjas.

“Thanks, man,” Taehyun said.

Heeseung blinked. “You… got drinks for all of us?”

Jake shrugged, still grinning. “Obviously. You guys are guests. Besides, Y/N said you’d probably forget to hydrate if left unsupervised.”

Y/N choked on her drink. “I did not say that.”

“You didn’t need to,” Jake replied, then turned to the rest of the group. “How’s it going? Everyone surviving the popularity threshold?”

“We’re thriving,” Beomgyu said, slurping his punch. “I got emotionally attached to a sea witch earlier.”

“Was she hot?” Jake asked immediately.

“She was made of barnacles and betrayal,” Heeseung muttered, still scrolling through his campaign notes. “So, yes.”

Jake just nodded like that made perfect sense. “That tracks.”, then turned to Hueningkai. “Also, are you still playing Pokémon Go mid-party?”

“I caught the Scyther,” Hueningkai said proudly.

“I’m so proud of you, bro.”

Then, finally, Jake turned to Soobin, who had very obviously not moved from his awkward place beside Y/N. “And for you, sir, our most special guest” Jake said, placing the last drink into Soobin’s hands like it was sacred, “the only one I didn’t spill. Be honored.”

Soobin took it like he was being handed a live grenade. “Thanks…”

“And don’t worry,” Jake added, lowering his voice just slightly. “I got Y/N’s favorite too. I know how she gets when she drinks something too sweet—she starts talking about weird grammar rules and side quests.”

Soobin’s stomach dropped into the pool.

His brain screamed:

HE KNOWS HER DRINK ORDER.

HE NOTICED HOW SHE GETS WHEN SHE DRINKS.

HE CALLED IT A “SIDE QUEST.”

THEY’RE DEFINITELY IN LOVE.

Beomgyu squinted. “Why does Soobin look like Naruto when he saw his rival confess to his crush?”

“Because that might be what’s happening,” Sunghoon whispered back, sipping his drink with wide eyes.

Taehyun gave Soobin a light elbow. “Dude. Inhale.”

“I am inhaling,” Soobin whispered, lips tight. “I just can’t exhale.”

Jake clapped Soobin on the shoulder in the exact same affectionate, buddy-buddy, entirely-too-familiar way he had earlier with Y/N. “You good, man? You look... warm.”

Soobin nodded. “I—I’m just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” Heeseung muttered.

Jake leaned in conspiratorially. “You know,” he said with a wink, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Y/N says you’re the only person who’s ever successfully recommended her a manga she didn’t immediately hate.”

Soobin blinked. “She—said that?”

“Yeah. That’s a big deal, bro.” Jake sipped his drink, then added casually, “She’s picky. With guys too.”

Soobin nearly choked on air.

Jake tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Anyway, I’m just saying. If you’ve got recs like that, maybe you’ve got other talents too.”

“Did he just flirt with you?” Beomgyu whispered loudly.

“I don’t know,” Hueningkai replied. “But I feel like I should leave the room.”

“Yeonjun’s here,” Leehan announced like a royal herald, nodding toward the tall figure making his way across the yard with the swagger of someone who had definitely walked in late on purpose.

“Hey,” he said, barely glancing at the circle before grabbing a drink from a passing tray like he was in a music video. “Took me twenty minutes to find the bathroom. Who puts strobe lights in a bathroom?”

“You’re late,” Taehyun said.

“I was fashionably late,” Yeonjun corrected, then turned to the newcomers — Y/N’s friends — and did a quick once-over like he was calculating who had the most Instagram followers. “You’re the cool kids, huh?”

“Only in some time zones,” Karina replied, unfazed.

“I know you,” Sunoo said suddenly, squinting at Yeonjun. “You’re in that campus band. The one that covered Welcome to the Black Parade for literally two years straight.”

“That was one semester,” Yeonjun said, deeply offended.

“You guys played it at two different festivals,” Jungwon added, sipping his drink.

Yeonjun turned to Soobin like a betrayed little brother. “They’re attacking me.”

“You’re in a band?” Yunjin asked, interest piqued.

Yeonjun immediately perked up. “Yeah, vocals. Little bit of guitar. Nothing serious—well, we do have like three gigs coming up, and we were in the school showcase, and we might have an EP on the way—”

“Oh, cool,” Yunjin cut in. “I’m in a band too.”

Yeonjun smiled. “Nice. What’s it called?”

“It's my friend's Jay band.”

Yeonjun’s smile slowly flattened.

“Jay’s band?” he repeated, blinking. “As in... Jay Jay?”

“Yep,” Yunjin said, chipper. “He started it, I joined last year. I sing and do some harmonies.”

Yeonjun took a slow sip of his drink like it was poison. “That’s... cute.”

Beomgyu leaned toward Soobin and whispered, “He’s spiraling.”

Sunghoon whispered back, “That’s his ‘I’m pretending not to care but I’m emotionally crumbling’ face.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Yeonjun cleared his throat. “Nope! Not at all. Super cool. Just... y’know. Jay and I have different approaches to music.”

Jungwon, who was loving this, asked innocently, “Oh? What kind of approaches?”

“I approach it with depth and artistry,” Yeonjun said dramatically. “Jay approaches it with—what’s the word—shirtlessness.”

“His abs are a valid marketing tool,” Yunjin said, unbothered.

Yeonjun smiled at her with the calm, gentle rage of someone being slowly erased from a group project. “I’m happy for you.”

Heeseung leaned into Soobin again. “Bro thinks he’s Rodrick Heffley.”

Soobin didn’t respond. He was too busy still staring at Y/N — at the way her hair glinted under the string lights, how she laughed with her whole face, how Jake wasn’t currently around but his presence still lingered in Soobin’s mind like a very handsome ghost.

He wanted to ask. He needed to know. Were they— No. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

He sipped his drink. Tried to smile. Failed completely.

Beomgyu patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, bro. We're making it.”

“Why can’t I just be the guy who doesn’t vomit every time she makes eye contact with me?”

“Because that guy doesn’t have character development,” Beomgyu deadpanned.

Jungwon only smiled, amused by the whole thing—watching Soobin and his friends get borderline interrogated by his friends while Sunghoon clutched a Solo cup like it was shielding him from judgment. Y/N was visibly vibrating next to Soobin, trying and failing to look casual, while Beomgyu loudly declared that he would only stay if someone let him DJ.

Truth be told, Jungwon had been waiting for this moment.

The great collision of Y/N’s worlds.

He’d known it was coming the second she started blowing off hangouts with vague excuses like “library stuff” and “weird scheduling.” But really, she’d just been at that little manga shop with the tall boy who couldn’t make eye contact for longer than five seconds.

And honestly?

Jungwon loved this for her.

Because yeah, his friends were popular. The type to show up on student flyers and get tagged in party photos they didn’t even pose for. They were all stupidly good-looking, borderline rich, and had very curated, Instagrammable lives that screamed "we woke up like this" even though they absolutely did not.

But underneath the carefully gelled hair and designer sneakers?

They were just a bunch of really nice guys.

The kind who'd carry your books even if they didn’t know you. Who’d pull over in the rain because a dog looked lost. Who would destroy you in beer pong, then high-five you for the effort. They weren’t mean. They weren’t the stereotype. And that’s what people usually got wrong.

Sure, they made fun of each other constantly and competed over the dumbest things imaginable—who could take the best mirror selfie, who knew more about skincare ingredients, who could name more Taylor Swift bridges from memory (Jake always won). But they were loyal. And kind. And not even a little fake.

So when Y/N admitted—very shyly, very awkwardly—that she liked some guy from the manga shop, Jungwon hadn’t been worried. He just raised his eyebrows and went, “You? A nerd boy? Bold of you.”

And when she finally let it slip that his name was Soobin, and that he was tall and sweet and kind of didn’t realize how cute he was? Jungwon made it his mission to investigate.

Not because he was skeptical.

But because he wanted to like the guy too.

And standing here now, watching Soobin blink nervously at Karina while Hueningkai accidentally dropped a Poké Ball keychain into the pool and Leehan gave a dissertation on coral bleaching, Jungwon found himself…relieved.

Because Y/N had picked well.

And, as much as none of them wanted to admit it out loud, the others were excited to meet them too. Karina had grilled him for names and descriptions. Sunoo had practiced questions. Giselle had literally Googled “conversation starters for people who like anime.” Jake had pulled him aside earlier and asked, “Wait, is the tall one with the big eyes the one she likes? He looks nervous. That’s cute.”

Even Jay had asked if they were “cool or cringe,” to which Jungwon replied, “They play D&D every Saturday. Of course they’re cringe. But the lovable kind.”. Niki was also curious, calling Jungwon the day prior to ask about Y/N's crush and his friends.

And now, seeing it all unfold—seeing Soobin stare at Y/N like she was both terrifying and sacred, seeing Y/N trying to keep her cool while her entire aura screamed do not embarrass me in front of the crush—Jungwon couldn’t help but feel proud.

Her worlds weren’t just colliding.

They were merging.

And it was weird.

But it was really good weird.

Yeonjun seemed to have finally made peace with being inside the home of his sworn enemy Jay, and was now deeply engaged in a conversation with Yunjin about synthesizers—like they were co-hosting a podcast called Hot People With Strong Opinions About Analog Sound.

The rest of the boys were also surprisingly at ease, everyone sipping drinks and settling into the strange, sparkling chaos that was Jay’s backyard.

“Hey, has anyone seen Niki in the last half hour?” Giselle asked, glancing around.

“Oh, that’s never a good sign,” Sunoo said immediately, sounding genuinely alarmed.

“Niki?” Sunghoon asked, confused.

“You mean Niki, the one who played Travis Kelce in the official Taylor Swift biopic?” Beomgyu asked, dead serious.

“What??” Yunjin blinked.

“He’s Japanese,” Jungwon added helpfully.

“Yeah, but Taylor saw something in him,” Heeseung shrugged, as if that settled it.

“No, no,” Y/N said, trying not to laugh, “we’re talking about our Niki. The youngest one. Sometimes it’s concerning when we haven’t seen him for a while. Last time that happened, he got kicked out of Papa John’s. Again.”

She exchanged a look with Soobin, who nodded solemnly. He remembered that story. Vividly.

“We recently discovered he tried to unionize the employees,” Y/N added.

“And apparently almost set the sauce station on fire,” Jungwon chimed in, voice low like they were confessing a war crime.

“Ah,” Sunghoon nodded. “A menace.”

“He’s probably with Jay,” Karina said with a shrug. “Acting like co-host or something. Niki basically lives here now.”

“I swear he just moved in one day and never left,” Jake added from across the yard, where he was now attempting to contain some guy in a bikini who was trying to gather a group for a zumba session.

“You’re all describing him like he’s a cryptid,” Yeonjun mumbled.

“That’s because he is,” Jungwon replied.

No one disagreed.

Y/N turned toward Soobin again, eyes lighting up, in a moment of courage. “Soobin, want to sit by the fire pit? It’s quieter over there.”

And like that, Soobin forgot how to breathe again.

But this time, he smiled. Just a little. “Sure.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Turns out, the fire pit wasn’t quiet at all.

In fact, it was a full-on enchanted forest ritual.

About fifteen people—some barefoot, most definitely high—were gathered in a semi-circle around the flames, staring into it like it was a portal to another dimension. Someone was whispering lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac song. Someone else was holding a crystal to the moonlight like they were recharging. A guy in a poncho was slowly waving a piece of sage.

“It’s giving ‘we’re summoning something,’” Y/N whispered.

“It’s giving ‘I should’ve stayed at the manga shop,’” Soobin whispered back, eyes wide.

Also? It was hot. Unreasonably hot. Like Y/N was pretty sure the fire was radiating on a level that broke several laws of thermodynamics. She took one cautious step closer and immediately felt her skin try to reverse-engineer itself into steam. If she stayed here any longer, she would literally melt into the grass—and that was before factoring in the fact that Soobin was next to her. Existing. Breathing. Smelling like fresh laundry and something warm and woodsy.

As if she wasn’t already combusting just from standing this close to him.

So, casually—very casually—she tugged on his wrist.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” she said, like it wasn’t the most nerve-wracking sentence she’d said all night.

And because Soobin would follow her into Mordor at this point, he nodded.

That’s how they ended up on Jay’s front porch—finally, a quiet place. It was dimly lit, far enough from the party that the music had faded to a soft thrum, and the summer air felt less suffocating. A faint breeze rolled over them, cool and comforting, and for the first time in hours, Y/N could breathe.

So could Soobin.

He leaned against the porch railing, his hands gripping the wood like he needed something to hold on to. He wasn’t shaking, but he wasn’t not shaking. The adrenaline was still there, buzzing under his skin. She’d pulled him away from everyone. Everyone. On purpose. Just them now. Alone.

No Jake. No Beomgyu talking about trauma frogs. No Yeonjun pretending not to care about Yunjin and failing spectacularly.

Just her.

Y/N stood beside him, looking out into the dark, quiet street. She didn’t speak right away. Neither did he.

But somehow, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was the kind of silence that only existed between people who had both been screaming inside all night.

And now, finally, they could hear themselves think.

“—I,” Y/N began, just as Soobin blurted, “—I.”

They both froze, then laughed—soft, startled laughter that immediately made Soobin’s heart skip like three beats in a row. He shook his head, cheeks already pink. “You go first.”

Y/N tilted her head, smiling at him in that way that made him forget how to breathe like a normal person. “I was just gonna ask… are you having fun?”

Soobin nodded immediately, too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, your friends are… surprisingly nice.”

He winced before the sentence had even landed.

“Wait—I didn’t mean they wouldn’t be! I just—uh—they give off a certain vibe and—”

“I know, I know,” Y/N laughed, waving him off. “They kind of look like they bite.”

“Exactly,” Soobin sighed, relieved. “But, like, in a cool, rich vampire sort of way.”

She let out a soft chuckle, her shoulder brushing against his as she shifted. “They’re harmless. Mostly.”

Soobin smiled. “It’s just different from what I’m used to. But… it’s good different.”

He said it quietly, almost surprised by his own words.

And Y/N’s smile softened at that—so genuine, it made his chest ache.

They sat shoulder to shoulder on the porch steps, a little closer than before, the air cooler now but still charged with something warm and electric. The music was muffled behind them. Just far enough away that it felt like the rest of the world had faded out, leaving just this—just them.

Soobin was dying.

Not in the dramatic, clutching-his-chest, collapsing-to-the-floor kind of way. No, this was far more humiliating. He was dying in the “I’m sitting next to the girl I’m 83% sure I’m in love with, and she’s so close I can smell her shampoo, and she smells like vanilla and flowers and eternal peace, and I might be sweating through my soul” kind of way.

His brain was scrambled. His heart was doing gymnastics. His palms were damp. His knees? Weak. His arms? Also weak. And his mouth?

Oh, his mouth was absolutely on a solo mission to destroy his life.

Because as he sat there, shoulder barely brushing hers, watching her laugh at something she’d just said—soft and warm and radiant like she’d been designed specifically to ruin him—his traitorous mouth chose violence.

“So…” he blurted out, trying to sound casual and instead sounding like someone whose consciousness had just left the chat, “how long have you and Jake been together?”

The moment the words escaped, he felt it.

The regret.

A full-body regret tsunami.

He could practically hear the brakes screeching in his brain. Abort. ABORT.

Y/N turned her head slowly, blinking at him. “You mean… living together?”

Soobin’s internal monologue: Living?! Did she just say—wait. That’s worse. That’s so much worse.

“Uh… what?”

She nodded, completely unbothered. “Yeah. Since first semester. His dad’s like a super famous football player or something, but he made Jake work for everything himself, so he had to find roommates. He is that kind of rich parent you know. That’s how we all ended up in the apartment. Me, Jake, Jungwon, and Yunjin.”

Soobin stared at her, the color draining from his face like someone had yanked out his power cord.

“You guys… live together?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“Oh,” he croaked. “So you’ve, um… been dating for a while then.”

The way her whole body recoiled in sheer offense should’ve made him feel better, but instead he wanted to throw himself into the bushes and live there forever.

“WHAT?” she gasped. “Me and Jake? No, no, no—oh my god, no. It’s not like that. At all. Why would you think—wait, no, don’t answer that, oh my god—Soobin!”

“I’m sorry!” he sputtered, panic now fully activated. “It’s just—you guys were so close earlier, and he had his arm around you, and he’s like... really touchy, and his hair is perfect, and he probably has perfect abs, and I just thought—we all thought! I didn’t mean to assume, it just—it looked like a thing!”

Y/N burst out laughing, clutching her drink as she leaned back, her head tilting up to the sky like she couldn’t believe this was real. It wasn’t mocking. It was pure, delighted, stunned laughter.

“Soobin,” she giggled, her voice all soft edges and sunshine, “Jake is like… a golden retriever I share rent with. He has a literal chart in our kitchen for hydration tracking. He is touchy with everyone. He once held hands with a stranger because they looked lonely in a Starbucks. I promise you, it’s not like that.”

Soobin blinked, processing that, heart slowly descending back into his chest. “So you’re not…?”

“I’m not dating Jake,” she said, still laughing.

And just like that, the sky was blue again. The earth was round. Music was beautiful. Gravity made sense.

His soul returned to his body with a gentle ding! as if the universe had just given him one free respawn.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathlessly.

Y/N tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You seemed… kinda jealous.”

Soobin’s entire face turned a shade of red that could only be described as forbidden strawberry.

“I—I wasn’t—” he started, then immediately failed to finish, because she was looking at him with that smile again, the one that made his entire nervous system glitch.

“Were you jealous?” she asked again, voice light, teasing now, like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear him suffer through saying it.

He groaned dramatically and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know! Maybe?! Probably! This is a disaster. I’m not built for this. I’m a half-elf with no armor class. I’m emotionally squishy. I’m not supposed to take direct hits.”

Y/N laughed, nudging his knee with hers. “Well, I’d say you handled the boss battle pretty well.”

Soobin peeked out from between his fingers, squinting like she was the sun. “You think this was a boss battle? I almost died.”

“And yet,” she said, smiling, “you live to fight another day.”

He dropped his hands to his lap with an exaggerated sigh, finally smiling again, more relaxed now—like he was slowly realizing he didn’t need to keep bracing for impact. “Barely.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she said, grinning.

“You almost dated a golden retriever,” he shot back, surprising even himself.

Y/N laughed—an actual laugh, bright and delighted. “That literally never happened, you made it up in your head.”

There was a pause, a beat where they just looked at each other, shoulders still pressed close, the porch light casting a soft golden glow on their faces. The kind of moment that felt suspended in time. Then, gently, Soobin asked—quieter this time, with genuine curiosity beneath it:

“So… you’re single?”

Y/N smiled. The kind of smile that rewired him.

“Painfully,” she replied, with a dramatic sigh and a hand pressed to her heart. “Like, single enough that my Spotify algorithm keeps playing breakup songs just to humble me.”

He laughed at that, really laughed, and she beamed at the sound.

“Good,” he said before his brain could catch up.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Good?”

Soobin froze for half a second. Then, to his own shock, he leaned into it.

“I mean—good for me,” he said, lifting his shoulders in a shy shrug, eyes darting toward her and then back down to his hands. “Not, like, yay heartbreak, but... I’m glad I asked.”

Y/N tilted her head again, clearly amused. “Soobin… are you flirting right now?”

His eyes widened.

“I—I think so?”

She grinned. “Is this your first time live flirting?”

“First successful time,” he said, nodding solemnly.

That made her laugh again, and this time, he didn’t panic. He just watched her—her eyes crinkling, nose scrunching a little, shoulders shaking with amusement. And it hit him all over again: he could get used to this. This laughter. This closeness. Her.

He liked how easy it felt now. How his hands had stopped shaking, how the tightness in his chest had melted away, how her presence was no longer terrifying—it was calming. Warm.

Comfortable.

Y/N looked over at him, still smiling. “Well, for the record, you’re doing great.”

Soobin looked back at her, his heart going soft like overcooked ramen.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m usually better with dice and stats and imaginary dragons.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Good news. I’m into that.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and said—with a slightly crooked, hopeful smile—

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “You’re kinda winning the campaign right now.”

Soobin, who had never rolled a natural 20 in real life before that exact moment, could only blink and grin and try not to fall more in love right there on the porch. Too late, probably. But still, he couldn't help but fall.

The night had deepened around them, slow and sweet. The porch light buzzed softly overhead, casting a warm golden glow that flickered just enough to feel nostalgic—like something out of a coming-of-age movie. Somewhere inside, the music had shifted to something slower, dreamier, the bass thudding like a heartbeat under the floorboards.

Time had gotten blurry.

Y/N wasn’t sure when she’d finished her drink, or when Soobin offered to grab them both another and returned triumphantly with two cups filled with something suspiciously pink. It tasted like melted popsicles and regret, and neither of them had questioned it. Now, an hour—or was it two?—had passed, and they were still sitting on the porch steps, their knees brushing now and then, their laughter coming more easily.

It was the kind of night that made everything feel a little softer.

Soobin’s nerves had worn down to a gentle buzz, the alcohol humming through his limbs just enough to let him relax. He still didn’t know what he was doing, exactly, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when Y/N kept looking at him like this.

Not when she laughed at his dumb jokes. Or tucked her hair behind her ear every time he got flustered, like she liked seeing him unravel.

She leaned her head back against the railing, eyes half-lidded, the lights catching the high points of her face. “So... confession,” she said, voice a little lower, a little slower, like the heat of the night had melted everything into a syrupy drawl. “I didn’t just come to the shop that day to pay you back after I accidentally stole the manga.”

Soobin blinked. “You didn’t?”

She turned to him, smiling—this lazy, dangerous thing. “No. I came for you, Soobin.”

That sentence short-circuited his entire existence.

His brain crashed. His heart screamed. His hands became painfully aware of their existence.

“Oh,” he said, eloquently. Then again, “Oh.”

Y/N laughed softly, reaching out to gently tap the edge of his cup. “I thought it was obvious! And now you’re malfunctioning again.”

“I’m trying to process!” he blurted. “You’re really pretty and you smell good and you just casually said that like I’m not hanging on by, like, one stat point.”

She grinned. “I know. It’s fun watching you short-circuit.”

He shook his head slowly, smiling down at his drink. “You’re evil.”

“I’m charming,” she corrected, shifting a little closer. “There’s a difference.”

Soobin dared a glance at her, and this time, he didn’t look away. “You’re both.”

The air between them shifted.

He could feel it—the weight of it, the awareness. Her gaze on him like it mattered. Like he mattered. And for once, the fear didn’t swallow him whole. It just sat there beside him, buzzing quietly, waiting its turn.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

“Done what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Talked like this. Flirted with someone I really like. Had a girl actually flirt back.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait… never?”

“I mean, I’ve panicked in close proximity to people before,” he offered. “But I’ve never had anyone look at me the way you do.”

She tilted her head, softening. “How do I look at you?”

“Like you already know how this story ends,” he said before he could stop himself. “And it’s a happy one.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was thick with meaning, with questions unspoken and answers already known.

Y/N leaned in just a little. “You’re dangerous when you’re not nervous.”

Soobin’s smile went crooked. “I’m still nervous. I just leveled up.”

They both laughed, too warm and too tipsy and too caught up in the way this felt. Like it had always been coming. Like the summer had conspired to bring them here, to this exact porch step, at this exact hour.

A breeze rolled through, lifting her hair just slightly.

Without thinking, Soobin reached out.

Slow, brushing her hair back behind her ear with the gentleness of someone handling a secret. His fingertips barely grazed her skin, but it was enough to make her stomach flutter.

“You do that huh?” Y/N murmured.

“What?”

“Touch my hair when you’re nervous.”

He blinked. “Do I?”

She nodded, the tiniest smile tugging at her lips. “It’s cute. I think it’s your flirting mechanism.”

“I thought my flirting mechanism was public embarrassment and fainting.”

“That too,” she teased. “But the hair thing? That’s your signature move.”

Soobin let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well… I only do it because it’s always in my way.”

“My hair?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in just slightly—close enough to smell the vanilla again, close enough to feel the air shift. “It keeps getting between me and looking at you.”

Y/N’s breath caught. Oh. Oh, he was getting bolder.

“Wow,” she said, grinning. “Okay, that was smooth. Who are you and what have you done with Soobin?”

“I told you he’s evolving,” Soobin said, mock-serious. “Leveling up. Right before your eyes.”

“Careful,” she warned playfully. “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Soobin’s eyes widened. He looked like someone had just handed him the key to a secret universe. “You’re falling?”

Her smile turned lopsided. “Like, crashing.”

Soobin’s heart exploded. Fully. Irrevocably. Lovingly.

“Oh God,” he said, voice soft. "Good”

He signed again “Then I’m not the only one.”

For a moment, they just sat there. Fingers intertwined, knees still touching, porch buzzing quietly behind them, but not enough to interrupt the magic brewing between them. It felt like a scene out of a movie—like the kind of thing you don’t realize is the most important moment of your life until you’re replaying it three years later with tears in your eyes.

Y/N leaned back slightly, giving him a once-over with that sparkle in her eye. “You know… you’re actually, for real, kinda dangerous when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“All flirty and confident and saying things like ‘I like you’ without combusting.”

He bit back a grin, head tilting. “You like it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But I’m scared you’re gonna unleash, like, ultimate Soobin. And then I’m doomed.”

“You’re already doomed,” he teased, leaning his shoulder into hers. “You said so yourself.”

She nudged him gently. “Who are you??? I was trying to sound mysterious and desirable.”

“You are,” he said, and he wasn’t even trying to flirt anymore. Just telling the truth.

Y/N swallowed, heat rising to her cheeks again. “If you keep talking like that I’m gonna kiss you.”

Soobin blinked.

Oh.

He hadn’t even dared think that far. He was still trying to survive her laugh.

“I—uh—really?” he asked, blinking too fast. “That’s allowed?”

She laughed. “It’s heavily encouraged.”

He smiled—this quiet, glowing, overwhelmed thing. His heart was pounding, but it was the good kind now. The kind that felt like he was finally where he was supposed to be.

“I was planning to kiss you eventually,” he admitted.

“Eventually?”

“Like... maybe after a few successful text conversations and at least one awkward first date. I–just, I just really really, like really want to kiss you”

Y/N leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “We can still do that. I just might kiss you first.”

And Soobin, who had once believed he’d never be the kind of guy girls wanted to kiss on summer porches, looked at her like she was the plot twist that saved his story.

“Okay,” he whispered, already breathless. “You win.”

And just like that—sunset long gone, fireflies blinking in the dark yard, her hand still tucked in his—he leaned in, too.

Soobin leaned in, heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. His heart was thundering, but still slower than he meant to—like he was afraid the moment would vanish if he moved too fast. His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and the summer night, and his gaze flicked down—just once—to her lips. But his body was moving on instinct now—not from any kind of practiced confidence or romantic expertise. God no. He had zero experience in this.

He was just doing what felt right.

And right now, every molecule in his body was pulling him toward her.

Her smile. Her warmth. The way she was looking at him like he was the one she’d been waiting for. Like she wasn’t just tolerating his nervous stammering or awkward metaphors, but genuinely, fully choosing to be here with him. On this porch. On this night.

A breeze swept through, lifting her hair just slightly, and his hand moved without thinking—fingers brushing the strands back from her cheek like he’d done it a hundred times in dreams he didn’t dare tell anyone about. Dreams at 2 a.m., where she laughed at his jokes and leaned into his side and kissed him softly like he mattered.

And now—this felt like one of those dreams. Except warmer. Realer. Like the fantasy had color now, and smell, and sound, and the delicate flutter of her breath against his lips.

He almost wanted to pinch himself.

She’s really going to kiss me.

His brain repeated the thought on loop, like it couldn't fully compute it. She’s going to kiss me. Me.

Their lips met, gentle and tentative, like the beginning of a sentence neither of them wanted to rush. And it was so soft, so careful, so real that Soobin nearly forgot how to breathe, his whole world stopped.

She’s kissing me.

That thought repeated on loop in his brain, like it couldn’t fully compute.

Y/N. The girl I’ve spent entire nights thinking about. The one I convinced myself was too good for me. Too confident, too bright, too everything.

And here she was, lips brushing his, one hand still holding his like it was precious. Her lips were warm, tasting faintly of that ridiculous pink drink, and so soft it made his chest ache. His hand moved—hesitant at first—resting gently on her knee, grounding him in the fact that this was real.

She wants this. She wants me.

Soobin let the realization settle somewhere in his chest, warm and overwhelming and blissfully terrifying.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

He wasn’t following some mental playbook or advice column—he was following her. Her movements. Her breath. Her rhythm. The slight tilt of her head. The way she leaned into him like she’d been waiting for this just as long.

His body simply responded. Not out of experience. Not out of confidence. Just… instinct. Like some part of him had been waiting years to love someone like this. To be wanted like this.

She’s kissing me. She’s kissing me. He could hardly breathe.

And Y/N?

Y/N felt like she’d just fallen off a cliff—completely weightless in that dizzy, golden way. Her fingers were still tangled with his, and she could feel how tight he was holding her hand, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. Like he was scared he’d wake up.

But she wasn’t dreaming.

Neither of them were.

They parted slowly, breathlessly, and he felt his lips still tingling.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. Her smile was lazy and soft, her cheeks pink. She looked so happy it hurt.

“I think,” he whispered, voice hoarse with wonder, “I’m gonna need a minute to recover.”

Y/N giggled, brushing her nose against his, their foreheads nearly touching now. “Yeah?”

“That was…” He blinked, trying to remember how English worked. “You just completely deleted all my brain files. They’re gone. I have, like, four brain cells left and they’re all just clapping.”

She laughed.

Soobin blinked, then spoke, voice quieter than it had been all night. “Okay so, um… that was… I’m—”

She tilted her head. “You’re what?”

He licked his lips, tried again. “I’m new at this.”

Y/N blinked. Then smiled wider, amused and impossibly fond. “Soobin. You just kissed me like you were starved.”

His ears went red instantly. “I don’t—I’ve never really done this. With anyone.”

She squeezed his hand, thumb brushing across his knuckles. “That’s okay.”

“I just…” he exhaled, gaze dropping to her lips again before meeting her eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. But... being with you? It just—makes sense. My body just… responds to you. Like it knows.”

Y/N’s smile softened, almost reverent. “Then you’re doing everything right.”

He blinked again, a little breathless. “I am?”

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. “You kissed me like you meant it. That’s what matters.”

Soobin exhaled a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “Okay. Good. Because I really, really did.”

And when she leaned in again, this time he didn’t hesitate.

He kissed her with the same honesty. The same slow awe. The same I-can’t-believe-you’re-real kind of energy that had been haunting him in silence for weeks.

And for the first time in forever, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

He just wanted more.

She leaned in again.

This time slower, but surer—like the space between them had finally gotten tired of existing. Soobin’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t freeze. He didn’t panic. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes, like asking for permission.

He didn’t need to. It was already written in the curve of her smile.

And when their lips met again—oh.

This one was different.

The first kiss had been nervous, electric in its hesitation. A question.

But this?

This was the answer.

Soobin kissed her like he was finally letting himself feel everything all at once. His free hand moved on instinct, resting lightly on her waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her top like he needed to make sure she didn’t vanish.

Y/N melted into him instantly, her hand slipping up to the back of his neck, her fingertips brushing the soft hair at his nape. She sighed against his mouth, and Soobin swore he felt that sound echo in his spine.

There was something unspoken passing between them—You’re real. I want this. I want you.

Soobin deepened the kiss just slightly, just enough to make her exhale a soft, surprised breath against his lips, and it sent a shiver down his back. His chest felt full. Too full. Like everything he’d been trying to hide inside had just broken the dam and spilled out of him in the shape of her name.

God, I like her so much.

The thought wasn’t even terrifying anymore.

Because she kissed him back like she already knew.

And wanted him anyway.

They pulled away slowly, reluctantly—his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathless and flushed, grinning like idiots who’d just stumbled into something too good for words.

Y/N was the first to speak, voice hushed, a little breathless. “Soobin…”

He looked up, dazed, still lost in the taste of her.

“Yeah?”

She tilted her head, that soft smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’re really good at that.”

He blinked. “At what?”

“That,” she whispered, brushing her thumb gently across his lips. “Kissing. For someone who’s ‘never really done this before’…”

“I’m just,” he said softly, “really inspired.”

Y/N laughed, full and delighted, before kissing him again—short and sweet this time, like punctuation.

And Soobin, stunned and floating, could only think one thing as he looked at her:

I hope she never stops.

Except—tragically, hilariously, predictably—she did stop.

Because just as Soobin was about to lean in again, to kiss her one more time (maybe two, maybe forever), there was a loud rustling from behind the bushes followed by—

“FINALLY, we found you—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Heeseung’s voice shattered the night like a dropped glass.

Y/N pulled back, blinking, lips still parted in shock. Soobin’s face instantly went redder than the cursed fruit punch from earlier, his lips swollen.

There, standing at the edge of the porch steps like they’d just walked in on a soap opera cliffhanger, were Heeseung and Beomgyu—both breathless, slightly disheveled, and wildly out of place in this very soft, very private moment. Oh, and drunk, they were both drunk.

Beomgyu gasped like he’d witnessed a crime. “Boobie!”

Soobin choked. “Don’t—don’t call me that right now—”

“You homewrecker!” Beomgyu howled, clutching his heart. “Look at you! Mid-kiss! Flushed! Handsy! That’s our shy boy!”

Heeseung pointed dramatically, still catching his breath. “You had one job, and it was to be awkward forever. This is—this is betrayal.”

“I—what? I didn’t do anything!” Soobin protested, his voice an octave higher than usual. “She kissed me!”

“Ohhh,” Beomgyu grinned, turning to Y/N like he’d just discovered live footage of a historical event. “So you’re the reason our boy’s been spiraling.”

“Guilty,” Y/N said, unbothered, resting her chin in her hand like this was all very amusing. Which it was. A little. Maybe.

Soobin was seconds from either crawling under the porch or launching himself into space.

Heeseung, however, wasn’t done. “That's mind-blowing, very cute, but wow,” he wheezed, hands on his knees. “Anyway, we’ve been trying to find you for twenty minutes. Everything’s falling apart.”

“Hueningkai fell into the pool,” Beomgyu added.

“What?!”

“He was chasing a Gengar,” Heeseung said, like that explained everything.

“On Pokémon Go,” Beomgyu clarified. “He screamed, slipped on a towel, did a full backflip, and now Jay’s drying him off with a leaf blower.”

“There’s a leaf blower?!” Y/N asked.

“It gets worse,” Heeseung groaned. “Yeonjun saw Jay helping Hueningkai and immediately got jealous.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘He’s not the only man with strong forearms around here,’” Beomgyu added.

Y/N blinked. “He didn’t.”

“He tried to wrestle Jay for the leaf blower,” Heeseung said grimly. “Sunoo had to separate them. Taehyun said it was ‘deeply symbolic.’”

“I have to see this,” Y/N laughed, standing up. “This sounds like a train wreck.”

“You do not,” Soobin said quickly, grabbing her wrist gently. “Please spare yourself.”

But Y/N was already grinning, tugging him to his feet. “Are you kidding? This is the best possible ending to tonight.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “You mean besides the part where you two were swapping spit on a porch?”

“Beomgyu!” Soobin hissed.

Y/N just laughed. “Honestly? No notes.”

Soobin sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling. Not when she was still holding his hand. Not when her thumb traced lightly over his knuckles like she wasn’t ready to let go.

Heeseung clapped a hand on Soobin’s back. “You okay, lover boy?”

“I was better two minutes ago.”

Beomgyu grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll get back to the kissing some time, but now we gotta escape this cursed frat film.”

As the four of them stepped off the porch—Beomgyu and Heeseung leading the way with chaotic urgency—Soobin lingered behind, still holding Y/N’s hand like it might keep him tethered to the magic of the moment.

The air around them was still warm, humming with leftover sparks and the scent of whatever pink potion they’d been drinking. The porch light cast her in that same golden glow, her lips still slightly curved from their last kiss, and Soobin—well, Soobin looked absolutely heartbroken to be leaving her side.

He turned to her, just a little, eyes searching hers like maybe he could stall time, or at least borrow another minute.

“I really don’t want to go,” he said softly, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But if I don’t, Yeonjun’s going to fight Jay in the driveway with a pool noodle and Hueningkai might drown in a kiddie float.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “So… heroic of you.”

“I try,” he sighed,

She smiled for real this time “Go. Go save your little panda-folk.”

Soobin added with a small, reluctant smile, “Later... I will text you, okay?”

Her smile widened, soft and certain. “Definitely.”

Soobin exhaled like he’d just been given permission to hope again.

He squeezed her hand one last time, then forced himself to let go.

Every step away from her felt like walking backwards out of a dream—but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew.

He’d be back.And next time, nothing—not even for the sake of Hueningkai, the structural integrity of the party, and his dignity before Yeonjun throwing down with Jay in a leaf blower duel—was going to pull him away before he got another kiss.

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profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

author's note: ???HII??? THE PARTY CHAPTER IS FINALLY UP HOW ARE WE FEELING, bc i'm shaking

this might have been the cutest thing that has ever came out of my brain?? it me took a while to write this one, but i'm so proud of it to the point i cried writing their kissing scene!! it might be my favorite chapter so far! aaaaa please let me know in the comments your favorite parts about this chapter! i'm so excited to share this one with you guysss <3 lots of love always

thank you to everyone for reading this story, especially my beta reader and bsf @heejamas (def not niki who played travis kelce) <3

taglist: @heejamas @mingyustar @wintereals @mimimiloomeelomi @wonderstrucktae @delirioastral @gomdoleemyson @i03jae @irishspringing @bunniwords @kirbrary @sirenla @saladgirl @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @uvyuri @imlonelydontsendhelp @haechology @sanriwoozzz @stormy1408 @soobinieswife @ijustwannareadstuff20 @soobskz @jkeydiary @imnotsureokay @nyanzzn @lostgirlysstuff @lilbrorufr @beomgyusluver@lveegsoi@pagesoobinie @catpjimin @t-102 @sh0dor1

#txt au #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #txt x female reader #txt smau #soobin smau #soobin x reader #soobin x you #txt fake texts #txt imagines #soobin imagines

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songbirdsanctuary · 18 days ago

Text

Wings of Fire Hermitcraft fic

Warnings: Burning.

Word Count: 3.461

Dragons in this: Scar: Leaf-SandWing, light green with tan underscales. Tail barb. White and dark tan speckles along his wings and face.

Docm: Night-LeafWing, Dark green with black spots and leaf-shaped wings. Metal arm and eye. Born under no moons.

Xisuma: Rain-NightWing, black with large colored spots and an X shaped scar. Born under a blood moon, seer.

Wels: Sky-IceWing. Pale orange with IceWing back spikes and spiked tail. Breathes fire.

Scar swerved through the bustling village, weaving around dragons and scattered crates as the heat shimmered off the sunbaked stone. The air was thick with the scent of spiced meat, dry sand, and desert flowers. All around him, stalls were crowded together like mismatched scales, each one manned by shouting vendors eager to draw attention.

“Fur water pouches!” a SeaWing-SandWing hybrid with a jagged scar along her side bellowed, holding up a stitched satchel made from shaggy desert hare.

“Lizard skin water pouches hold water better than any fur pouch!” a nearby SandWing snapped, his frill flaring as he slapped his tail against his booth for emphasis.

“Toad-leather flasks! Guaranteed not to leak for three moons, or your silver back!” called a pale dragon with mismatched wings—one shaped like a SeaWing’s, the other clearly SandWing.

“Salt cubes! Keep your scales dry and your wings slick!” yelled a wiry SandWing standing atop his stall, flinging small wrapped bundles into the crowd.

“Cactus juice—fresh and fermented! Get hydrated and forget your troubles!” came another voice, this one from a NightWing-SandWing hybrid with glinting violet eyes.

Scar sidestepped a barrel of scuttling beetles and pushed past a pair of bickering RainWing-SandWing twins, each accusing the other of stealing dyes.

He passed an alley and paused for a heartbeat. In the dim shade, a NightWing-SandWing in a black and red hood leaned close to a SandWing with burn marks across his snout. Their conversation was quiet but tense. Likely an assassin and a client. Scar didn’t linger.

A few steps ahead, a cluster of six MudWing-SandWing hybrids blocked part of the street. Siblings, from the look of them—broad-shouldered, with matching amber eyes and dusty scales. Each one held a papyrus scroll or sign scribbled with slogans: “Camels are Creatures, Not Tools”, “End Saddle Cruelty”, “Pack Animals Have Rights Too!”

As Scar passed them, he slowed. One scroll had a rough sketch of a bleeding camel beneath a SandWing rider. “Take one,” rumbled the biggest sibling, the Bigwings. She tapped a stone bowl beside her with the tip of her heavy tail. It made a hollow clink. “How’d you like to fund the Camels’ Rights Movement?” she asked, her voice even but firm. Scar considered. He looked down at the worn pouch tied to his side, tugged it open, and retrieved a single small silver piece.

“I don’t have much. Sorry.” The Bigwings nodded and took the coin delicately between her claws.

“Anything is appreciated.” Scar dipped his head respectfully, tucking the papyrus under his wing. As he walked off, the noise of the marketplace swallowed him once more. Scar looked up at the sky.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the clouds in gold and blood-orange streaks. He narrowed his eyes against the glare, wings twitching at his sides. He wondered if the cave he’d been sleeping in had been found yet. It was only a matter of time, really. Once the Queen's soldiers located it, he doubted they’d be gentle about it. And if Queen Singe herself heard of it... Scar exhaled slowly. She would not be kind. Of that, he was certain. He reached into the small satchel tied at his side and carefully packed away the cooked meerkat wrapped in dry leaves. The scent of it—charred meat, a hint of herbs—reminded him how long it had taken just to catch and cook it without drawing attention.

Stretching his wings, he gave them a few light flaps before leaping into the air, the dry wind catching beneath him as he soared upward. His cave was nestled far from the village, just beyond the edge of the desert where the sand gave way to scraggly trees and thorny underbrush.

It wasn’t much, but it was hidden. At least for now. He’d used his leaf-speak to weave a thick curtain of leaves and vines over the entrance, blending it into the hillside. A clever trick. But clever wasn’t always enough. Especially not when the Queen’s general—Viper—was a LeafWing-SandWing hybrid too. Just like Scar. They were cousins, technically, though that fact never came up. Viper had never acknowledged the blood tie. Scar didn’t either. Neither did his parents, not since the split in the family years ago. It was better that way. Cleaner. Easier. Still, that didn’t stop the bitter twist in Scar’s stomach when he thought about it.

Viper had power, respect, and the Queen’s favor. Scar had... a cave in the woods and a bounty on his head. He knew he shouldn't have scammed the Queen’s daughter. It had been a dumb risk. But she wasn’t exactly brilliant, and the opportunity had been too easy to resist. A fake artifact, a little smooth talk, a forged signature. It was a con a hatchling could’ve pulled off. He hadn’t expected it to lead to a price on his head and a promise of life in Queen Singe’s dungeons. Life, not death. Singe was more creative than that. As the desert faded behind him, the trees thickened below. Dry brush gave way to thorny shrubs and scattered shade. He angled his wings and dropped low, tucking them in as he folded into a swift, silent dive.

His thicket was hidden well—just a rough cluster of dense trees and brambles at the base of a ridge. He flew low and skimmed through the canopy, branches clawing at his wings before he slowed and landed softly. Pushing past a mess of brambles—carefully placed and slightly enchanted with leaf-speak to grow fast—he found the narrow entrance to his cave. He ducked inside. It was cool and shadowy. The earthy scent of moss, damp stone, and tree sap clung to the walls.

Scar set his bag down beside him, pulling it close out of habit. A faint glow from a few lichen patches lit the small cavern, just enough to see the edges of his space: a pile of scavenged fabrics, a carved wooden bowl, some dried fruits, and his bed—a mat of woven moss and soft leaves that he’d been adding to little by little. He exhaled and curled onto the moss bed, tail draping over one side.

The tension in his shoulders finally eased. For now, it was safe. But tomorrow, who knew?

Scar woke to pain.

It seared through his side like a blade. He gasped and bolted upright, but the air was thick and choking. Smoke. Fire.

A roar split the silence outside, followed by another blast of heat. Flames surged inward, licking at the woven bramble curtain that concealed the cave’s mouth. It went up fast—too fast. His leaf-speak had made it grow quickly, but that also meant it burned like dry kindling.

Scar scrambled back, his claws slipping on scorched stone as smoke poured in. Sparks rained down. The moss mat hissed, blackening in seconds. The once-cool chamber was now a furnace. His lungs screamed as he sucked in a breath and instantly regretted it—thick, caustic air scraped down his throat like sand and ash.

Outside, a dragon bellowed.

“Burn him out! He’s in there!”

Scar clamped his jaws shut, eyes stinging. If he coughed, they’d know. If he made a sound—anything—they’d hear it. Maybe... maybe if he stayed perfectly still, they’d think the cave was empty. Just a den that smelled like smoke and old leaves.

But hope didn’t survive long. Another blast came, hotter this time, turning the small cavern into a blazing trap. Fire curled along the edges of his satchel, devouring the dry leaves. The cooked meerkat was gone in seconds. His bed of moss lit up like a beacon.

He couldn’t stop it anymore—a hacking, gasping cough tore out of him, and with it came a scream. Raw and involuntary, a sound of agony ripped from his throat like it was being peeled away.

“There! Someone’s in there!” a voice shouted.

A shape lunged through the flames—a broad, armored SandWing, eyes glowing orange in the light.

Scar didn’t think. He threw himself forward, tail lashing out as he ran. It struck something solid—a chest, maybe a jaw—and the dragon snarled in surprise.

The opening of the cave blurred as he burst through it, eyes watering, wings snapping open.

The wind caught him—barely. Pain flashed through his sides as smoke-clogged lungs strained to keep rhythm. His scales were scorched, patches blistered and raw. He didn’t care. He was alive, and he was moving.

He flew low and fast, the desert below a blur of rock, scrub, and sand. Behind him, more wings flapped—he could hear them, the rhythmic beat of pursuit. Singe’s soldiers. Had to be. Flame-blasted maniacs trained to hunt, burn, and drag traitors back alive—mostly.

He didn’t look back. Looking back meant slowing down.

The terrain began to change. The sharp outlines of the dunes gave way to dry forest, then greener patches. A ribbon of silver glinted below—the Star-Speckled River, winding like a serpent through the borderlands.

The Rainforest and Night Kingdom’s boarders. A place the Queen’s patrols rarely ventured.

Scar aimed for the river, but he was flagging. Every beat of his wings felt like dragging boulders. His left side ached where the fire had gotten through—his membrane torn, raw. The wind stung it like nettles.

He angled his body and dove, half-intentionally.

The river rushed up to meet him.

He hit the water hard, a slap of icy shock that swallowed him whole. The cold tore the heat away instantly—but it was too much, too fast.

His vision swam. He twisted once under the surface, bubbles spiraling up. Something sharp stabbed through his burned wing as it folded wrong.

And then—

Darkness.

Scar woke with a groan.

Pain lanced through his side like a brand, sharp and hot. His wings twitched involuntarily, and a hiss slipped from between his teeth. Every breath burned. But there was something cool pressing into his scales—soothing, like wet clay packed into the heat of a desert crack. A slow drag of cold against fire.

He tried to move, to sit up, but a talon pressed firmly against his chest, pinning him down with surprising gentleness and unmistakable strength.

“Don’t move until I’m done.”

The voice was calm, but not one he recognized. The accent was off—definitely not SandWing. Most tribes in the desert shared a similar rhythm in their speech, but this one was different. Smooth. A touch clipped at the edges, like IceWing formality but without the chill.

His healer wasn’t cold to the touch, though, and their talon felt solid—too solid to be a RainWing. And this wasn’t jungle air around him. No humidity, no thick plant scent. Just the subtle warmth of wood, stone, and smoke from a distant fire.

He'd crashed near the Night Kingdom, hadn't he?

“Is he gonna be okay?” another voice asked—younger, uncertain.

“He should. The burns will scar, but he’ll wake up.”

Scar listened through a haze of pain, mind foggy. He could make out three voices now. All male, he thought.

“I didn’t think carrying a full-grown dragon would be so difficult.”

“Imagine if he wasn’t this thin and young. A broader build’s even heavier. You’d have needed a sky chariot.”

Scar let the voices fade for a moment as the cold salve was rubbed across the worst of his burns. Relief dulled the edges of the agony, letting him breathe without gasping. Eventually, the talon lifted, and the pressure on his chest eased.

He tried sitting up again—this time slower. His muscles protested, and his wings refused to fully unfurl, but he managed to raise his head and open his eyes.

He was in a room—small, warm, lined with wooden planks. Everything smelled faintly of herbs, smoke, and pine sap. A gentle flickering glow came from a hanging lantern, casting soft shadows against the polished walls. It was too clean to be a scavenger den, too structured to be some wandering healer’s shack.

And surrounding him were three dragons, just as he’d guessed.

Closest to him sat a thin SkyWing-IceWing hybrid, clad in light armor—sleek silver plates wrapped around his shoulders and forelegs, with glinting scales showing through the gaps. His breath frosted the air slightly when he exhaled, but his eyes were warm. Watchful.

To his right, leaning near the door, stood a RainWing-NightWing hybrid. He wore a fitted suit of dark material that looked more like tactical gear than battle armor. A sleek black mask covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible—sharp, golden, and strangely calm. His scales flickered with shifting patterns of green, blue, and purple like an oil spill struggling to find a color.

And behind them stood the largest—a towering NightWing-LeafWing with deep green scales and a metal brace coiled around one forearm and part of his face. A strange metallic ring circled one eye, as if fused into the bone. His presence was steady, grounded.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice low but kind.

Scar tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak, followed by a burst of coughing that wracked his body. It felt like smoke was still curled in his lungs. He tasted ash.

The big dragon moved quickly, gently tilting a wooden cup to Scar’s lips. “Tea. It’ll help your lungs. Breathe slow. Small sips.”

Scar hesitated. Every instinct screamed caution. In the desert, hospitality could be poison, and a warm smile might just be a mask. But something about the way this one spoke—measured, almost patient—pushed down the fear.

He drank.

The tea was bitter, earthy. It burned a little going down, but not like the fire. After a few sips, the tightness in his chest eased.

“What’s your name?” the Night-LeafWing asked.

Scar wiped a bit of liquid from his snout and looked up. His voice was rasped, but clear enough.

“Scar.”

The dragon nodded once. “I’m Docm.” He flicked his tail toward the Sky-IceWing. “That’s Wels. He normally wouldn’t be here—he was just passing through when X found you.”

The suited hybrid gave a short nod. “Xisuma,” Docm added. “He’s... kind of in charge.”

Scar blinked. “Where am I?”

Xisuma hesitated. His talon dragged lightly across the wooden floor, carving a faint arc. The shifting colors in his RainWing scales turned pale blue—uncertain.

“We can’t really tell you. Not exactly, anyway.” His voice was careful. “This place... it's hidden. We like to keep it that way.”

Docm stepped back, giving Xisuma space. The Rain-NightWing fidgeted with the edge of his gear, pulling his mask down slightly. His snout was narrow, with a faint X-shaped scar across the face.

“We saw you fall. Figured no one crashes like that unless they’re running from something. We thought—” he stopped, exhaled. “We thought maybe you needed help. Even if it’s temporary.”

Scar stared at him. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m still not good at this leader thing,” Xisuma admitted, flicking his tail nervously. “It’s been seasons, and I still don’t know how to explain things right.”

Wels brushed his wing against Xisuma’s side. “You’re doing fine,” he said in a soft SkyWing drawl. “He’s still breathing, right? That’s a start.”

Xisuma let out a soft breath and leaned into the touch slightly, like it grounded him.

Scar watched all of this—their ease with each other, the strange mix of trust and secrecy—and felt a hollow ache form in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had helped him without expecting payment. Without a knife behind their smile.

He wasn’t sure he trusted any of it.

But for now, he was alive. And warm. And not being dragged back to Queen Singe in chains.

That was enough.

For now.

“Why is this place hidden?” Scar asked, his voice still hoarse but steadier now. His throat still ached from smoke, and the tea lingered bitter on his tongue, but the pain in his wings had dulled enough to speak.

Docm looked over at him from where he was rinsing out a bowl, his talons careful and precise. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he set the bowl down with a quiet clink and turned back toward Scar, expression thoughtful.

“Well... hmm.” He scratched the back of his neck with a metal-tipped talon. “I don’t love the comparison, but if I had to give you something familiar… our group is kind of like that group from the thousand-year-old stories. The Talons of Peace.”

Scar blinked. “The group that tried to stop the War of SandWing Succession?”

Docm nodded. “Yeah, them. Except we’re not trying to save the world or start a revolution. We just… live together. Away from the Queens, from their courts and prisons and wars. A place where dragons can stop running.”

He glanced at Wels, who had quietly taken up a post by the window, watching the treetops sway through narrow panes of glass. “We don’t take in murderers or dragons who were exiled for hurting others,” Docm continued. “But those punished unfairly? Exiled for refusing to follow cruel orders, or for angering a Queen without doing anything truly wrong? Those are the dragons we help.”

He gestured slightly with his wing. “Take Wels. He was a soldier. Loyal. Skilled. The Queen ordered him to execute a dragon accused of treason—”

“But the dragon didn’t do it,” Wels interrupted quietly, his voice low but firm. “I knew he didn’t. I had proof. Didn’t matter. The Queen wanted him dead because it made her look weak to admit he was innocent.”

Docm gave a small nod, letting the story speak for itself. “Wels refused. And for that, he was branded a traitor. Now he's here.”

Scar stared at the Sky-IceWing, something heavy sinking in his chest. That… sounded a lot like him. Maybe not exactly, but the pieces fit close enough to make his breath catch.

He hesitated, then said, “My Queen wants to throw me in a dungeon for the rest of my life.” His voice came out low, almost bitter. “I’ve been running for moons—sleeping in caves, eating rats, keeping my wings folded tight just to stay unnoticed.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Didn’t work out so well.”

Docm watched him steadily, saying nothing.

“Could I join you? Stay here?” Scar asked. “I mean... I don’t want to keep running. Not anymore.”

Xisuma, who had been silent near the door, shifted his posture. His scales shimmered slightly, a flicker of dusky orange rippling along his sides—uncertainty.

“We… don’t know what you did to end up with a life sentence,” he said carefully.

Scar didn’t look away. “I conned her daughter,” he said bluntly. “Tricked her into buying a fake statue—pyrite and dyed glass. Told her it was an ancient enchanted relic. She was so proud of it, she showed it off to the entire royal court.” He gave a dry cough-laugh. “Then someone tapped it too hard and the whole thing cracked in half. Turns out she doesn’t like being humiliated.”

Xisuma’s eyes widened a fraction. His RainWing spots turned a pale, flickering orange again—confusion and something like disbelief. He looked over Scar’s burns, then back up at him.

“That’s...” he paused, searching for a word. “Extreme.” His tail gave a short flick against the floor. “Burning down your shelter over a bad deal? That doesn’t sound like justice. That sounds like a warning.”

Scar dipped his head. “She’s not known for mercy. Especially when her pride’s on the line.”

Xisuma sighed, then nodded. “I can look into it. We have to be careful. We’ve taken in dragons before who weren’t what they claimed to be. It nearly tore us apart.” He paused, glancing back at the door. “We’ll need to run a background check. Joe can handle that. He’ll know where to look.”

Scar stiffened slightly, and Xisuma raised a claw quickly. “Not because I don’t believe you,” he said. “It’s a precaution. We’ve learned the hard way.”

Scar relaxed just enough to nod.

Xisuma turned toward the others. “Docm, stay with him. Wels—come with me. We’ll take the skiff to the island and see if Joe’s back.”

Docm gave a short, affirming nod. Wels offered Scar a brief glance—measured, but not unkind—before falling in beside Xisuma. The door opened, letting in a breath of cooler air, and shut again behind them with a soft thud.

Scar lay back down, muscles still trembling from exertion and pain. Docm moved quietly through the room, adjusting blankets and tucking a cooling wrap near Scar’s burns. No words. No judgment.

The quiet was welcome.

Scar exhaled slowly. His body still ached, his skin still felt too tight, but something inside him... loosened.

Maybe he was safe.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d finally found a place where dragons weren’t trying to trap, use, or burn him.

He let his eyes fall closed.

Rest now. Questions could wait.

#hermitcraft fanfic #hermitfic #hermitblr #hermitcraft #docm77 #goodtimeswithscar #xisuma #welsknight

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 1 year ago

Text

The Taming of Man: chapter three - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

I'm pretty sure I'm starting to burn out a little, so while these chapters are only a couple days a part, the next ones might have a bigger gap. Still loving this so far, the plot is plotting, and I hope you love it too!

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and will be AFAB in later chapters, Shirtless Katsuki, hints at a toxic relationship between reader and her mother, slight misogyny

Words: 2,513

The walk home was different than the walk back for Katsuki. First of all, it was nightfall, so he had to rely on his limited, albeit better than human, night vision.

Leaving Nebel was easy enough, all he had to do was walk in any direction and it seemed to teleport him right to the border between it and Leben, which was a lot quieter than before.

Schatz wasn't so glittery in the moonlight as the sunlight, making it easier to ignore (Despite his stupid lizard brain wanting nothing more than to build the shiniest nest), and no animals seemed to live in it, meaning less danger.

Eisen was a little taxing, because he had to climb up the sturdy and unmoving orange trees, walk on it's branches above, and then climb back down, but at least it didn't feel so eerie and liminal as the last three.

And lastly, there was Böse, the forest he knew well, as alive and bitter as ever. Home. He made his way past the clusters of Portobello mushrooms and thickets of thistles (the one he beat still withered on the ground), over the Acrimony tree roots, and around the rocks covered in Magma Moss. He could see the exit, the clearing of trees, leading to the back of his Palace.

He knew everyone would probably be asleep, or at least resting in bed, so as he made his way through the courtyard and to the royal kitchen door he tried his best not to raise any red flags. He crept through the halls, climbing lengths of stairs all the way to his chambers. He walked past his study, stopped at the bathroom to piss and replace his substitute shirt bandages with actual gauze, crept into his bedroom, and quietly shut the door behind him.

His room was dark and warm, if that made sense, his bedframe made of rich oak, his linen sheets parylene red, his shelves lined with books, a mirror framed in gold hanging above his mahogany desk, and the entire area being lit by yellow flames resting on candles. He sighed with relief, glad he didn't wake anyone who might have questions. Since he told everyone he was going camping, he'd have to explain why he was back so soon.

"Dude, why do you smell weird?"

Katsuki jumped, spinning around to see his personal servant Kirishima standing in his room preparing his clothes for the next day. Katsuki huffed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. "None of your damn business..." he grumbled, beginning to undress. Kirishima grabbed him his pajamas, which he changed into without another word. "Weren't you supposed to be camping," he asks, to which Katsuki borderline shouts, "Weren't you supposed to be minding your damn business?"

Kiri just laughs a little and finishes with Katsuki's clothes, coming over and patting his shoulder. "Fine, don't tell me, but I know a pretty girl when I smell one" he taunts, singsonging "Pretty girl" and making his way to the door. Katsuki tensed, his teeth gritting a little. "What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, trying not to give away the fact that he was right.

Ejiro turns around, an amused grin on his face. "Last I checked, honey and roses aren't a part of your natural scent," he laughs. Katsuki pursed his lips, face turning red and eye twitching a little. "...Don't you have more important things to do," he barked, evading the situation with all the grace of an elephant in skates.

Ejiro sighed, shaking his head with a smile and leaving. Katsuki relaxed a little once he left, settling into bed and getting ready to sleep. Damn it...he did smell like honey and roses. It was probably that stupid hug she gave him, all soft and close and relaxing...

He pushed his face into his red silk pillow, groaning loudly into it and squeezing his eyes shut.

Going home for you was easy, all you had to do was grab your things, go through the portal, and walk through the forest until you reached the palace. It was late, but not as late as it could have been, so you had to pay closer attention to the little rocks and roots that might trip you, even if they always seemed to move out of the way.

you knew from first glance that everyone was settling in, the courtyard lacking the busy and energetic sounds it usually had, and so you felt safe enough to climb back up the wall and waltz in to the palace like nothing happened.

"Where have you been," Ururaka whisper-shouted, standing in the middle of the courtyard and apparently looking for you. She had her hands on her hips, her brows creased as she stared you down sternly. "..." you turned around, moving to climb back up the wall. "Get over here," she ordered, making you wonder who the servant really was here, and you begrudgingly obliged. "You're lucky you got back when you did, your mother is looking for you! Do you realize how long you've "Been in the bath?" A very long time, (Y/n)!" You smiled, giggling a little as Ochako led you to your chambers and helped you strip to put on your pajamas. "What," she whined, clearly this who thing stressed her out. "You lied for me," you said blithely, putting your arms up as she slipped the silk nightdress over your head. Ururaka was silent for a moment, before relaxing a bit. "Well, yeah, what was I supposed to do? Now come on!" She yanked you out of your bedroom, the two of you dashing to the throne room to meet with your mother. You both slowed once you neared it, walking gracefully in and curtsying at where your mother sat on the center throne. She looked just like you, or rather you looked like her, with the same hair color and eye shape, the same grace surrounding you turned to regality surrounding her.

She glided down to you, taking you by the arm and beginning to walk you away from your maid and to the gardens. "is...something the matter," you asked, hiding your fear of the fact that she might have found out about your near-daily escapades to the other realm. The two of you stepped out, now walking among the rows and rows of roses in all colors. You loved these roses, how elegant they were, you even had them made into perfume, along with some sweet fruit blossoms that grew locally in the gardens.

"Not at all...actually, I have something to run by you."

Crap. When she wanted to "run something by you," she really just meant that she would tell you something, and then you'd agree. "What is it," you asked brightly, hoping not to let on that you in fact were not enthusiastic about this. "Well, you're getting to the age where...you see, when I was twenty I already had you and..." she was struggling to put things lightly for you, so she just came out with it. "Some suitors are coming by this week to...chat with you." Double crap. A suitor? Wasn't all this a little early? You supposed they must be eager, after all your kingdom was the only kingdom around. Any man put before you would be a grand duke at best, and the way things worked in your country, he would be brought up to be prince instead of you being brought down to be duchess.

"Lovely," you sighed, smiling at your mother to show how "happy" you were. She smiled back, taking your face in her hands and kissing your forehead. "My perfect princess...you always do the right thing," she said contentedly. "Yep..." you responded, nodding. what were you going to do?

"I think you'll find my manor to be quite satisfying to your needs, princess, although of course we have no female wait staff, so we may need to blah blah blah blah bladi blah..."

You smiled and nodded along, listening to a sales pitch as to who you should sleep with for the rest of your life. This was going to be a rough week. You might have responded, if the corset around your waist weren't so breathtaking. You remember being squeezed in to it, Ochako's foot on the wall you faced for support as she pulled the laces tightly.

You didn't mind the dress, a soft pink and cream colored gown with floral lace detailing and pink heels to match, your hair fixed in yet another bun, but it was uncomfortable as hell. Besides, you had plans! Your basket was currently sitting in your room on the vanity, containing the health elixir you would give to Katsuki. It was stupidly easy to make, using few and abundant ingredients, the hardest part being sneaking into the palace Enchantment Room and waiting for it to brew.

All that was left to go and give it to him, you'd finally be able to learn about the world beyond your realm! It'd be great, you could just feel- oh shit, wait, this guy's walking up to you now.

He took your hand and kissed it, looking up at you flirtatiously. You smiled with all the grace you could muster, taking your hand away as quickly as possible without alarming suspicion. "well, this was lovely, but I must go..." you looked over at Ururaka, who screamed "don't you dare," with her eyes, before looking back at the man and continuing to smile. "and attend to womanly things." He just nodded absent mindedly, it was the perfect trump card over any ignorant man, and watched as you stood and walked off to your chambers, practically gliding. The second you were up the first flight of stairs, you kicked off your heels and booked it to your room. No way in hell you'd be late, even if you didn't necessarily plan a time you knew this was an hour or two past when you left yesterday, and therefore around the time Katsuki would be there.

You had no time to change, so you just grabbed your basket, double checked for the potion, and began to run out the door. You slid to a stop though, pausing for a second. Quickly, you grabbed a little piece of paper, a pen, and quickly scribbled. "In the forest, don't wait up!" You didn't want Ururaka to worry.

You ran back out, out the window, up the wall, through the forest, to the creek, and into the water. You swam up, tossing your basket out first, and then hoisting yourself up. Once again, you were immediately dry, and you breathed in the fresh air of the ever-alive forest.

Looking around, you noticed Katsuki wasn't here yet, so you just took a seat on the stump. Bored for the first time ever in this place, knowing you could be interacting with a real life Dragonborne, you began singing. It was the same song you always sang, the song your countrymen knew so well. You never stopped singing, even when you ended the song, something inside you just compelled you to do it.

After about 10 minutes, Katsuki pushed his way through the brush, this time wearing a shirt and carrying a satchel. You turned to him with a smile, waving at him from your seat. "Heyyy Katsuki! I brought you the potion!" Katsuki made his way over, sitting down beside you. "Why're you so excited, 's not like we're doing anything fun," he huffed. You laughed a little, taking out the bottle out of your basket. It was cylindrical and sealed with a cork, the liquid inside golden and glittering in the sun.

"Oh but we are, you don't know how much I've been looking forward to this." You were that excited? For some reason, he found that a little endearing. He knew you weren't excited to spend time with him specifically, anyone could have walked through and you surely would have been equally happy, but it still did something to his cold little heart.

"whatever...So how does this thing work?" He took the bottle from you, surprisingly gentle, his calloused and scarred hands grazing yours. The sensation on your hand lingered a little, making your heart beat just a little faster. Why did he make you feel like this? He was rude at best, and yet something about his brutish nature made your cheeks heat.

"Well, you apply it to whatever wound you want, unless you're healing a sickness, then you drink it." You took the bottle back and popped open the top, the thick scent of vanilla and mint pouring out. His nose wrinkled at the strength a little, which was adorable, and wordlessly took his shirt off. He planned on putting it on those thistle punctures, and he needed to have his shirt off to do that.

"Do you always do that," you asked with amusement, this being the second time you've seen him shirtless and the second time you've seen him period. "Shut up," he grumbled, tossing his shirt aside. "Yeah yeah, what are you gonna use it for?"

Katsuki sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes to you. "What do you think? Look at my arm," he scoffed. It was true, the little holes were pretty gross looking, so you shrugged. "Well, hold still, it might sting," You said, to which he replied, "huh," before you applied it to his wounds with your fingers. "Hey," he barked out, pulling away from you. You frowned, pulling back ever so slightly.

"Relax, Ok? It's not gonna kill you," you said, gently coaxing him with your voice. He stared at you hesitantly, before sitting in a little closer and holding still. You smiled at him and got a little more of the potion on your fingers, gently rubbing it in to each of his wounds. He was wincing a little, so little you could hardly notice, but the punctures disappeared almost immediately as you healed him.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" You corked the bottle, putting it back in your basket. "Shut up! I was just surprised, because... because your hands are so damn cold!" He was clearly making that up, the sting definitely startled him a little. "ok, I get it, you're super strong and tough, now what are you teaching me today?"

"Just shut up already...and you're learning about the countries today." He opened his satchel, pulling out a rolled up map. There was one big circular mass in the center of it, with scraggly lines separating the borders inside it. There were perfect rings surrounding the very center, each one labeled with the names of the forest rings. You could see where he scribbled the words, "YOU ARE HERE," with an arrow pointing to the very center ring.

"Wow," you whispered, the way your eyes lit up tugged at Katsuki's heart strings. You really found this interesting, didn't you? He was silent for a moment, staring at your side profile, before quickly getting a grip.

"Right, So this is the Atlantic ocean..."

Gosh, I hope reader doesn't sound stupid 😅 If she does, I hope you'll see in later chapters that she's really not. Anyways, please comment what you thought, I love hearing it! If you have any questions, please direct them to my Ask Me box :)

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend

#fanfic #fan fiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #new writeblr #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #fantasy bakugou #mha fantasy au #mha bakugou #mha #The Taming of Man

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