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dear-ao3 · 1 year

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how i met my boyfriend - the designer axe story

as promised, since we have both now graduated the statute of limitations has expired on this story and i can now share it all with you.

some notes: ra is resident assistant and this story occurred in august of 2021. i wrote this all out the day after it happened almost 2 years ago. we did not actually start dating until october 2021 after we both realized we were in love with eachother. yes, we are still together as of may 2023.

without any further ados, the much anticipated designer axe story.

so part of RA training is that we have to make door decorations and bulletin boards for our halls and buildings. i had finished my door decks at 1 am sunday morning and the bulletin boards weren't due until 9 am monday morning. so i had all of sunday to work on it.

my building has no less than seven bulletin boards per floor and an additional 4 on the entrance floor. i dont know who the hell built this building but we need to have a serious talk about when too many bulletin boards is too many fucking bulletin boards.

so i was in charge of three on my floor. one about me, one covid policies and one sloth (his name is sam and i love him). and i am a chronic procrastinator. so i finished my about me and got through about 95% of my covid one by like 9pm and had to go back to the res life office to cut out a few more letters and get some scrapbook paper.

at this point its probably important to know that the only people on campus at this point were the RAs, some students getting mentoring training, and a few random first years here for an early arrival program. plus some staff.

now, i need you all to understand that there are 42 RAs. all of us have the same deadline. all of us had between 2 and 5 bulletin boards to complete. plus door decks. and room condition reports. so we were all moving at literally 600 frames per second, 120 miles per hour, or about as fast as a child does when they are told there's cake.

which is to say, we were all frazzled and stressed out of our minds.

so i open the door to the res life office at around 9 pm to cut out the word "but" in orange construction paper and grab 2 sheets of purple scrapbooking paper. in the office are the four RAs that were on duty that night, plus a good 7 other people are running around asking about glue sticks and construction paper and keys.

i knew that i only had my sloth board left to complete so i decided to take my sweet ass time, knowing that i was in need of a good break (and also im just a procrastinator) so i cut my letters and grabbed my paper and stood at the desk for no less than an hour talking to everyone about things like the fact that i fell out of a suitcase when i was 2 and that tamper proof lids exist because of the chicago poison pill murders and the flagship l.l. bean store in maine. it was very productive.

so i finally slink back to my dorm at around 10pm, very confident that i would finish by midnight and could watch some netflix or something before i went to bed. if only i knew what was in store for me.

i enter my dorm building and walk to the elevators. and then. one of the RAs from the third floor was like "oh saph. [another RA in the building] is looking for you."

and me, of course, didnt bring my phone to the res life office so i didnt know this.

i go up to the second floor and see one of the RAs from the second floor and another from one of the other buildings working on a bulletin board. they say "oh saph. [the same RA in the building] is looking for you."

i run up to my dorm and discover that somehow we missed the bulletin board by the downstairs elevator. seriously there's too fucking many bulletin boards. and they were asking me to do it. because they wanted to put covid policies on it.

and i know i said this story was about axe body spray. and it is. we are getting there.

so panic sets in because its 10pm and i still have two whole bulletin boards to make now. one of which i have nothing planned for. so i threw some soup in the microwave (because i had forgotten that dinner existed) and opened my laptop.

thankfully, i could reuse some of the same stuff from my own covid policies board in my common room. i just had to print it. which meant, yep you guessed it, another trip back to the res life office!!

at this point i think i had taken a grand total of at least 7 trips to the res life office that day alone. its a good 5 minute walk. not terrible, but just annoying enough that you hate yourself a little more every time that you have to do it. and now its 10:30pm. i am starving. i have two boards to complete. it was crunch time.

i make it to the office and this time i had no time to sit around and debate how popular l.l. bean is. i had policies to print and letters to cut.

as im struggling with the printer (because those fucking things can smell fear), someone else in the office starts loudly discussing timothee chalamet.

and now, this is where you want to actually pay attention because this man would be the reason i ended up only getting 4.5 hours of sleep.

said man in question is quite the character. he's in my grade and im pretty sure he's a polisci major (and maybe creative writing? there's some kind of writing) and he plays lacrosse. i dont really know how to describe him other than the fact that the first interaction i ever had with him was two years ago at freshman orientation when he complained to me in the dining hall that there was no milk for his protein powder.

that interaction is in my top 10 favorite interactions ive had in college.

but the one we are about to unpack definitely takes all of the cake.

so here i am, struggling with the printer and my tiny knock off dongle. the other RA on my floor starts discussing timothee chalamet's outfits with the protein powder RA.

and so apparently the protein powder RA worked in some major fashion designer brand corporate something or other thing over the pandemic. he told me which one but i was so shot and only thinking in construction paper and glue and staples that i didnt process any of it. but it was a fancy one. the store that is.

and so here's what happened:

me: "timothee chalamet? isn't he like, 17?"

protein powder RA and the other RA on my floor: "nah he's like 25. ive checked."

yet another RA: "yeah i just googled it."

me, a wimbo: "oh im thinking of finn wolfhard. but i dont think he's 17 either."

listen before you slam me, remember it is like 11pm and i have to still do 2 bulletin boards and we have training at 9am the next morning.

so protein powder RA pulls up some photo of timothee chalamet and starts telling me about all the brands he's wearing and i literally said "i understand all of the words that you're saying separately."

and he said "exactly!! he's just so great that when you put it all together you can't understand it!! he's just too perfect!!"

and the i made a detrimental decision.

there is life before this decision and life after.

i said "well. bring your fashion designer knowledge into the lounge and help me decide what color to cut my letters."

and he said okay.

so after severely debating the different color purples that we had and listening to the finer points of the fashion industry, i noticed something important.

he smelled like axe body spray.

see i bet you thought i forgot the point of the story. i did not.

let it be known that we are juniors in college (that's 20-21 years old if you dont know). axe is very common in middle and high school boys locker rooms. i have vivid memories of avoiding that hallway so i wouldn't be choked.

so im trying not to inhale too deeply because the smell has permeated my mask as i cut my "covid safety" letters in the color this man has dubbed "light lilac" and half listening to him talk about the fashion industry.

but i finish quickly, somehow escape the smell of axe, and grab my laptop and print outs before tagging along with the same protein powder RA and the other lax player RA back to the dorms. its now 11:15 pm. i still have 2 bulletin boards to complete. my soup is sitting in my microwave in my dorm, almost forgotten about.

halfway back from the office i realize that i forgot my dongle. i say so out loud and protein power RA says that he will go back and look because he's just that guy who likes to help. i say okay fine. and i sprint to my dorm building, drop the print outs and letters downstairs for later, and start the sloth board.

several minutes later, my soup has been inhaled, my papers glued, a sloth cut out, and im sitting in a mess of construction paper and staples in the hallway when i get a text from protein powder RA that quite simply said:

"its not there. do you need help with your boards?"

and me, being me, because i am exhausted and in need of company, say "yeah sure."

by the time he finally shows up, he's changed his outfit.

as a side note, every time ive seen this man during the last 5 days of training, he's been wearing a different outfit. oh and he works for lulu lemon. forgot to mention that.

but alas, here he came, holding my papers and reeking of axe as he walked down the hall to me, who is failing to staple a sloth to my bulletin board.

so for the next two hours i did my boards and he sat and talked. he wasn't physically helping me, but he was helping me stay awake, cause this man is a ball of fucking energy, and that was very important.

i only remember about half of what he said but essentially he was talking about how he was trying to be a better person than the one that he was freshman year. which is admirable. but he does still reek of axe.

at around 1 am i finished my last board and went upstairs to clean up. he came with me and sat on the floor and continued to talk while i cleaned up my disaster of paper and staples and glue among other things. at this point i was so relieved that i had finished that i was actually able to engage in the conversation, which was surprisingly deep and interesting.

and then. its about 1:45 am. i am about to wash my dishes so i can shower and go to bed. because remember that i need to be at training at 9 am the next morning.

and he says something about trying to be a better person again. and me, in all my sleep deprived glory, says:

drum roll

"and yet you still wear axe body spray."

and all hell broke loose.

i would like to preface by saying that he freaked out in a very joking matter and was not actually mad at me. but he was definitely disappointed and in shock. the next hour pretty much consisted of:

"are you kidding me? this is prada something something cologne and all these celebrities wear it!! how dare- it could not POSSIBLY SMELL LIKE AXE!!! well i guess its a little dry and axe is kind of dry smelling...bUT I SPENT SO MUCH ON THIS BOTTLE and the lady sold me on the larger one and it was like 150 bucks and UGH i cannot smell like axe! you know i got four compliments on how i smelled today??! and you're telling me i smell like fucking- *sniffs shirt* no! there's no way!! well i mean... no i cannot. i cannot smell like designer axe. damnit saph! im gonna have to sell this whole bottle now cause i can't use it! BUT ITS PRADA!!"

for an hour.

but it was very entertaining.

eventually i dragged him to the common room cause i needed to do my dishes and sleep and he continued ranting about it there, going as far as to call his best friend (who was asleep) and another RA and ask them if he smelled like axe. i meanwhile was laughing my ass off and 12 kinds of tired but couldn't find it in myself to care.

eventually he decided he needed yet another opinion. so he went to find the other RA on my floor, which, if you remember, is the same one who was thirsting over timothee chalamet with him in the res life office all of those fateful hours before. but that RA was nowhere to be found. so he ran down to the common room below us and scared the shit out of three freshmen.

and he asked these freshmen if he smelled like axe.

the answer was yes.

after that he left because it was 2:30 in the morning, and all the while he was yelling about how he was going to come to training tomorrow with different shirts with all his different colognes on them and have me sniff them because he couldn't smell like designer axe.

and i did the only logical thing. went upstairs to my my dorm and made him a door deck that looked like a bottle of axe that had a post it on the front that said "designer."

and so. now you all know not to buy cologne because its expensive because there's a good chance it will just end up smelling like axe.

and i didn't get to smell his other colognes because i almost passed out in training and left to take a nap. but maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

we’ve been dating for a year and seven months and just graduated college :) and in a fun twist of events, prada no longer makes that cologne anymore.

#not a tag #from saph #designer axe #saph and brad origin #bless

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baby-yongbok · 9 months

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˳·˖✶ ⋆Midnights: Pt.1˳·˖✶ ⋆

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Mentions of the pandemic (COVID-19)

Notes: Third Person POV + Okay, so, When I started writing this I intended for it to be a sweet drabble but then I just kept typing and typing and TYPING... I think that this has potential to be a series. There will definitely be a part 2 but I'm not sure if it should just be two parts or more. Let me know what you think please? This was also written pretty fast so I'm sorry if the quality isn't the best, but then again I say that about everything I write. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy!

Word Count: 1366

Summary: The two of you are best friends, You know each other like the back of your hand, so why does this new version of Hyunjin give you a feeling you've never experienced before? His smile is all the same but somethings changed... What could it be?

You and Hyunjin have been best friends since you learned how to walk. You’ve done everything together for as long as you can remember and the fact that the two of you are next door neighbors made it even easier to spend an insane amount of time together. Around the time that you turned sixteen and he turned seventeen the two of you decided that spending eight hours of your day together wasn’t enough so naturally he started sneaking into your window late at night to hang out with you. The two of you would play games, watch movies, and anything else that your heart desired all while trying to stay as quiet as possible. Even though your entire family loved Hyunjin, you knew that having a boy in your room at 1:45am would not go over well with your parents. He’d sneak in for any reason and at any time. He got into a fight with his parents? He’ll be at your window at two in the morning. You’re feeling sick? He’ll be at your window with snacks and anything else he grabbed at the store to make you smile.

Unfortunately, your late night hang outs came to an end when the two of you went off to college. Well, when he went off to college. Hyunjin made the decision to stay on campus but you weren’t sure that you were ready for the responsibility of basically living alone. Hyunjin begged you to stay on campus, promising that he’d take care of you and keep you on track but you just weren’t sure. Fast forward a month after that conversation when the two of you found out that you both got accepted… to different colleges. It took a lot for the two of you to say goodbye but you knew Hyunjin would only be a phone call away.

Months went by and your nights were silent. There was no dark haired boy climbing up the tree next to your balcony and knocking on your window anymore. No more late night movies or whispering the lyrics to karaoke at three in the morning. The two of you kept in contact with video calls and texts but you both ended up being way more involved in college activities than you thought you would be thus leaving very little room for meeting up or even texting back some days. As your lives got busier the two of you slowly drifted apart, that was until the pandemic hit. Suddenly your extremely active world was quiet again, all of your classes were now either canceled or strictly online. Hyunjin had no choice but to move back home since his dormitory was closing down to enforce social distancing. It all felt like a mess but there was a silver lining to it all, Hyunjin was coming back home and the two of you would finally see each other after nearly five months of being apart, now all you had to do was wait.

It was a regular Thursday evening, you sat on your front porch listening to music and laying on your bench swing with your dog, Miffy. The smooth voice of the artist you were listening to was suddenly drowned out by Miffy barking and running off of the porch. You sat up, startled by the sudden noise and immediately started searching for the cause of the commotion. That’s when your eyes landed on him, his hair was a bright red which stuck out from his black muscle tee and black sweats. You went over to your front steps and watched him for some time as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of his fathers car. ‘There’s no way that that’s Hyunjin right?’ Your thoughts were racing as you tried to remember what he looked like five months ago but your memory sadly failed you. Just as your eyes fix on the muscle of his toned arm he turns towards your house. His gaze is cast upwards towards your balcony, he’s clearly trying to see if you’re home. Your heart skips a beat as it all sinks in, that is Hyunjin. Just as you’re about to scream his name to get his attention Miffy reaches him and jumps up on him earning a smile and a happy laugh to fall from his lips.

“Miffy! How are ya girl?” He wildly pets the dog like he hasn’t seen her in years but in his defense it’s felt like forever since he’s seen you and your family. Finally, he puts two and two together and looks up towards your front porch where you stood with your dress blowing in the autumn wind and a bright smile on your face. “Y/n!”

Hyunjin runs over to you immediately with Miffy following close behind. You rush down your front stairs with your arms out in front of you ready to hug your best friend. His arms snake around your waist quickly like you’d disappear if he were a second slower, yours find a home around his neck and he spins you around earning a giggle from you. “Oh my gosh, I’ve missed you, angel”

“I’ve missed you more.” He sets you down and pulls you closer to his body. His chin rests on the top of your head and your cheek rests comfortably on his chest. You don’t know what it is, call it your best friend spidey senses but he feels different than he did five months ago…what’s changed? You both pull back and look at each other, smiling like your lives depend on it. You lift your hand and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re…red”

He laughs at your comment and looks away from you for a second. “Do you mean my hair or my face?”

“Your hair… well actually, both.” You both fall into a fit of laughter before stopping and staring at each other again.

“I dyed it a month ago, I thought I sent you a picture.” Shaking your head Hyunjin’s smile slowly turns into a frown. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept up with talking to you… It was just so busy on campus and I joined way too many clubs and -”

You bring your hand up to stop him with a smile still pulling at your lips. “It’s fine, I sucked at communicating too, what’s important is that you’re here now.”

The guilt he felt for not contacting you melted into a reassured smile. “There’s so much I want to tell you, angel, but I think I have to go.”

He looked over to his house where his father was waiting by the car with his arms crossed. You furrowed your eyebrows with worried eyes and Hyunjin bit his lip slightly. - Fuck why was that hot? - He leans down to your ear and whispers.

“My parents aren’t too thrilled about the red hair, I think I’m in trouble.” You giggle and he does the same. “I figured that once I turned nineteen that I had a bit more freedom but that clearly isn’t the case.”

He rolled his eyes and you sighed. “You know how your mom is, I say that you did this on purpose.” He sticks his tongue into his cheek slightly and smiles.

“You’re not wrong… but listen, I don’t want to make my case any worse so I’ll see you later?” You glance down at his wrist knowing for sure that he has a watch on him.

“Hyun, it’s already seven o’clock. You’re gonna get scolded for about an hour and everything is closed due to the pandemic so we can’t go anywhere.” Just as Hyunjin was going to reply, his father called him to come home. With a sigh he starts walking backwards away from you.

“Leave your window open, yeah?” With a wink he turns and runs off towards his house. He gives you one last glance and smiles before he disappears through his front door leaving you in your walk way. For some reason you felt nervous about Hyunjin coming to your house tonight. Sure it would be just like old times but something has changed… What in the world was causing this feeling?

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

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room for three (j.yh + p.sh)

summary: stood up at the bar on a saturday night, you decide to have one more drink and then head home, but a handsome couple has other ideas in mind.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. for everyone wondering why i've been quiet, i'm on the mend from covid but finally feeling better and writing again! more to come very soon, including more into the aurora. x

warnings: non idol!yunho, non idol!seonghwa, fem!reader, established yunhwa relationship, mmf, praise, degredation, impact play, suggestive language, oral (f receiveing), oral (m receiving), rough sex, noona kink, use of 'whore' but in a sexy way, extremely intense orgasms, big dick yunho, talented dick hwa, cute husbands adding a third

pairings: yunho x seonghwa x reader

genre: nothing but smut here

word count: 9.1K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || the sequel; and if i stay

After an hour, you’re sure he’s not coming. You can’t say you’re too disappointed, another in a long line of blind dates set up by your mother trying to find you a husband, and you’re starting to think that maybe this just isn’t for you.

It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up, but it’s the first time in a long while and you had forgotten the sting of it. The way it feels to a be a woman alone at the restaurant bar, checking your phone endlessly and nursing a drink, feeling the pity of the wait staff and bartenders when you tell them you’ll wait just a little bit longer.

You had started off with water, but around the thirty-minute mark you decided it was a fifty-fifty chance he was ditching you, and you should just start drinking. You’re paced with your first cocktail, still giving this faceless man the benefit of the doubt. Traffic could be bad, work could be crazy, phone lines everywhere in Seoul could be down, or he could have just decided against meeting you.

Sipping the end of your cocktail, you sigh. It’s also possible that he made it to the restaurant, saw you, and left, but that’s a thought you can’t entertain for too long without feeling sad about being thirty and single.

Your phone lights up with a text message and you open it to see the incoming message from your best friend – how is it??? is he cute??

a no show – you respond quickly, and you see the bubble pop up immediately to indicate that she’s typing.

what an ass – she says, and then a second message comes through – you deserve a drink.

way ahead of you – you tell her, sending her a picture of your fancy looking cocktail.

pick up a handsome stranger – she suggests with a cheeky emoji – and never agree to a blind date from your mom again.

haha – you roll your eyes as you type – i’m just going to go home, order pizza, and watch a movie or something

suit yourself – she sends with a shrugging emoji – call me later

You sigh, sending her a thumbs up and leaning back from the bar. It’s a pretty restaurant, romantic and warm, and you really would have liked to eat here. You watch the ice in your glass melting for a minute and check the time. You should go home, kick off these ridiculously high heels, and find something infinitely more comfortable to wear than this dress.

You’re a moment away from standing up and going to going to coat check when the bartender returns and slides another drink in front of you with a smile.

“Oh,” you shake your head slightly, “I didn’t order another drink,”

“It’s from the gentlemen across the bar,” he nods over his shoulder in a vague direction.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you’re sure the surprise is evident on your face. As he leaves to tend to other patrons, you turn and look for the men who sent you the drink.

The first thing you realize is how striking they are, and the one with the sharp eyes raises his glass to you and nods with a smile. The man next to him, with kind eyes and an easy, relaxed air about him simply gives you a warm smile before turning back to his friend.

You recover quickly from your surprise and nod back in thanks. They make no effort to get up, and both have already looked away from you, so you accept the drink quietly and settle back into your seat at the bar for just one more. The only thing is that you can’t stop glancing over at them, handsome and ignoring you, which just about always describes your type. The kind looking taller man stands, and you watch him out of the corner of his eye as he drops a handful of bills on the bar. He leans in close to his friend and murmurs something in his ear, and you watch when his hand rests on the back of his neck, and softly strokes the hair at the nape of his neck. More than friends then.

As the tall one disappears back into the restaurant, presumably to find the bathroom or check on their table, you realize these men are clearly a couple who realized you had been stood up and sent you a drink. It was sweet, and also kind of sad, and you draw your eyes back down to your phone to finish your drink in relative peace and silence.

It startles you when a man slides into the seat next to you, and you realize it’s the one with the striking eyes and plush mouth, no longer across the bar but right here in front of you. He smiles wide, revealing perfectly white teeth, “Hello,” he says and his voice is deeper than you expected.

“Hi,” you shift in your seat to angle towards him just a bit, “I guess I should be thanking you for the drink,”

He shakes his head, waving your thanks away, “Forgive me if I’m assuming something here,” he says, “but you look dressed for a date.”

“Mm,” you nod and shrug, “he didn’t show,”

“I thought that might be the case,” he says, and he breaks your gaze to reach out for the bartender, ordering two more drinks with an easy silent hand gesture.

“And you?” You ask him, a striking flutter in your stomach when he looks at you again, “Are you and your partner waiting for a table?”

“Husband,” he corrects softly and then moves smoothly past it, “No, we just stopped by for a drink or two. We just noticed you sitting alone and thought we might be able to make your night a little better,”

“That’s very kind,” you smile, relaxing into some easy conversation. He’s handsome, and it makes you feel a little like blushing every time he looks at you, but knowing the pressure is off for flirting leaves you feeling more comfortable than not.

“I’m Seonghwa,” he introduces himself.

“y/n,” you reply.

“That’s pretty,” he smiles, and as the bartender returns with the two drinks you realize one isn’t for you, but for his husband. You had most of the drink that they bought you left, and you take a quick sip as Seonghwa thanks the bartender and takes one of the drinks.

You’re about to thank him again or find something to make conversation about, when a hand drops onto the back of your chair and Seonghwa’s husband steps closer, occupying the space between your two bar seats and feeling even taller standing over you. He’s handsome too, especially up close where you can really be dazzled by his kind smile and broad shoulders.

“There you are,” the man smiles down at Seonghwa and then turns to you, “I’m Yunho,”

“y/n,” you tell him, and you don’t miss the way Seonghwa’s hand reaches around Yunho to rest on his back.

“That is pretty,” he nods, and then he refocuses on the drinks at the bar, “is that for me?”

Seonghwa nods and passes him the glass.

Yunho’s hand stays anchored on the back of your chair, but you don’t mind. You’re tucked up close with them at the bar, these two strangers, but it feels comfortable and easy, and almost like you’re sharing a little secret amongst the three of you. You don’t mind not being alone at the bar anymore either.

“So, your date,” Yunho moves the light conversation back to you, “did he get stuck at work or something?”

“Ah,” you sigh, shaking your head, “no, he’s just a no show. It was a blind date though, so maybe I dodged a bullet.”

“I’d say so,” Seonghwa observes.

“His loss,” Yunho agrees, “I’m sure he’d be kicking himself if he knew how beautiful you are,”

His tone is almost flirtatious, and you can’t hide the blush that warms your cheeks, aided slightly by the second cocktail. “Well,” you take a sip of your drink, “thank you,”

“I never liked blind dates,” Seonghwa’s nose scrunches a bit at the idea and Yunho laughs.

“You went on one,” Yunho shakes his head, “and you were twenty. Of course, it was terrible,”

Seonghwa smirks up at him, “I meant I never liked the idea of them,”

They’re sweet together, and you think idlily for a moment you wouldn’t mind being their friend.

Yunho turns back to you and holds your gaze, “Do you do this a lot, then?”

“Blind dates?” You clarify and he nods. “Lately,” you smile, “I’m doing my best to appease my very nervous mother,”

“Ah,” he takes a long sip of his drink and then asks, “no promising candidates?”

“Not yet,” you laugh, “I think I’m about to give up dating men entirely.”

Yunho hums, a low pleased sound and looks to Seonghwa before meeting your eyes, “You need someone to take care of you.”

The tone has shifted from casual joking to whatever this is with one look, and you feel a sudden strike of heat in your stomach. There’s no mistaking his gaze now, and you wonder suddenly how you got so far out into such deep water.

Seonghwa’s voice is low and direct when he says, “We could take care of you.”

You lower your drink to the bar, afraid that if you don’t it might slip right through your fingers, and they watch you carefully. The way your eyes widen in surprise and your lips part softly, a pink flush up your neck and cheeks. When you shift on your barstool, your legs tightening, unconsciously applying a little pressure to your core, they know they have you.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you manage.

“If you’re interested,” Seonghwa leans forwards just a few inches, “we’d like to take you home with us.”

“Tonight?” you ask.

Yunho grins, quietly laughing, “Yes, tonight.”

“But I thought you were,” you gesture between them, drawing a line in the air from Seonghwa to Yunho and back again.

“We are,” Seonghwa smiles, “but that doesn’t mean we aren’t interested in you, and we still would like to take you home.”

You’re suddenly a little embarrassed, you didn’t mean to assume anything about their relationship or their sexuality, but you’d be lying if you said this is what you expected when they came over to have a drink with you. You nod, mostly to yourself and consider their words. You want them, a striking realization. You want them, and you want them to take you apart, and that thought terrifies you.

“What does taking me home mean, exactly?” You ask.

“It means you would spend the night with us,” Seonghwa explains.

“All of us,” you clarify, “together?”

“If you’d like,” he nods.

They wait patiently while you consider things, and in the back of your mind you hear your best friend’s voice in your head, she had suggested you find a handsome stranger. You certainly didn’t expect to find two. You look between them, their eyes still warm and kind, and you have a sense that you can trust them. As you take a breath to answer them, you hope you aren’t wrong, “Okay,”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Yunho says softly, and you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s been standing to you this whole time, “we’ll take good care of you.”

For some reason, you believe him.

You swallow hard, your skin buzzing with anxious anticipation. Seonghwa seems visibly relaxed now that you’ve agreed, and he takes a sip of his drink, “We’ve been looking for someone to dote on,”

They seem amused by your expression, and you shake it off come back to reality. You’ve had one night stands before, but they’re few and far between and never quite like this, but no matter how safe they are making you feel now, you should treat it like any other time in the past. You clear your throat softly and ask, “Would you be uncomfortable if I shared your address with my friend?”

“Not at all,” Yunho shakes his head, “whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

You take your phone off the bar and open your texts, tapping out a quick message to your friend to let her know you took her advice, and you’d call her tomorrow, before sharing your location with her indefinitely.

“Once you’re ready,” Seonghwa nods to your drink on the bar.

“Oh,” You push the drink away slightly, “honestly, I’d rather keep a clear head.”

“Of course,” he smiles, and lays his hand on top of yours.

“I’ll order a car,” Yunho says, and he quickly organizes an Uber ride to pick you up outside the restaurant.

It feels like before you can blink, you’re tucked between the two of them in the back of a black sedan, their apartment only twenty minutes away in the evening Seoul traffic. The ride is quiet, and you hope they can’t hear the way your heart is pounding against your ribs. This was easily the most spur of the moment thing you’ve ever done, but after months of failed dates with boring men you don’t seem to care.

Seonghwa gently runs the back of his knuckles down your forearm, and you inhale sharply, your skin erupting in goosebumps. He looks over to you, but his hand against your arm doesn’t still, “You okay, love?”

You nod, but you’re unable to really say anything after the way his voice sounded, low and crisp when he called you love. Something deep inside you wants him to say it again.

The car drives on, and Yunho seems calm and collected as he watches the city flick by outside. Your body tenses when he drops a hand on your bare knee, sliding it up just enough so that his fingertips rest softly on your inner thigh, his thumb stroking your knee slowly, steadily. You can’t help but picture him moving his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, teasing your wet folds with his long fingers, sinking them inside you. You don’t even realize the way you’ve parted your knees for him like a reflex, only an inch or two wider, but he smiles softly at your response and continues watching out the window.

You notice the thin, simple ring he wears on his index finger and realize that neither of them is wearing a traditional wedding band.

“We’re not far now,” Seonghwa tells you, and you nod, shaken out of your thoughts.

Yunho’s hand stays steady on your knee, possessive, the weight of it grounding you to the moment as the car finally turns down their street and slows to a stop, hazard lights on. Yunho opens his door, tightening the hand on your knee for just a moment before pulling away and climbing out of the car, and your breath quickens.

He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, you don’t want to be unsteady on your heels or in this tight dress. The street is busy, cars rushing past you in the night, and Yunho keeps you tucked between himself and the car, maneuvering you with ease and a hand on your waist.

You meet Seonghwa on the sidewalk, and he waves you towards the tall apartment building. You pass through an entry way with a doorman who greets Seonghwa and Yunho kindly, calling you miss even though you’re pretty sure you’re older than both men by a couple of years, and get into an elevator to take you to the tenth floor.

The building is nice, incredibly nice. Far nicer than yours, and you wonder what their jobs could be to accommodate something like this in such an expensive part of Seoul.

Once inside their apartment, the gentle tension between the three of you diffuses, as you’re finally able to acknowledge more openly what’s about to happen. You step into their space and look around, wide windows along the far wall, clean and neat décor – masculine with a few interesting accents, and it’s overwhelmingly clean.

“Welcome,” Seonghwa takes your coat and hangs it neatly in the entryway closet before ushering you more properly inside. “I’ll get you some water? Unless you’ve changed your mind about the drink?”

“Water’s fine,” you smile, and he steps through the open concept space into a large, bright kitchen.

“This apartment is beautiful,” you say as you take it in.

“Thank you,” Yunho smiles, seeming even more relaxed now that he’s at home, “we love it here. It’s right in the middle of everything,”

“What is it that you both do?” You ask, trying to find a tactful way of finding out how they could possibly afford the space.

Seonghwa returns with your water, and they bring you into the living room, gesturing for you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa. Yunho takes a seat on chair opposite you, “Seonghwa’s a writer,” he smiles up at his husband, clearly proud, “and I’m a lawyer,”

“That’s interesting,” you lean forwards, and Seonghwa moves past you to sit on the sofa with you.

Yunho makes a face and shrugs, “It’s contract law, so not that interesting really, but he’s published now.”

Seonghwa looks a little shy while his husband touts his accomplishments, and shakes his head, “it’s nothing, really.”

Yunho shakes his head, “It’s two books,”

“That’s impressive actually,” you tell him, “novels?”

“Yes,” he nods.

“I’d love to see,”

“Another time,” Seonghwa shakes his head and waves Yunho off, who you can tell is a breath away from running to the bookshelf.

Seonghwa shifts a little closer to you on the couch, “What about you?”

“Oh,” you smile, “I’m an engineer,” a job that the men you dated often found intimidating.

“Interesting,” he replies, “do you like it?”

“Very much,” It feels suddenly like you’re on a real date with them, and you’re grateful that they are easing you into their space and the night, it helps your nerves melt away. “How did you two meet?”

“College,” Yunho looks to Seonghwa, and you can see the deep affection in his face.

“That’s nice,” you murmur.

“y/n,” Seonghwa clears his throat, “can I ask how old you are?”

“I’m thirty,” you offer without hesitation, “and I’m a little upset that you guys have a much nicer apartment than I do when you’re younger than me.”

Yunho chuckles and shrugs, and after a beat you find yourself asking too, “How old are you both, then?”

“Twenty-seven,” Yunho offers and nods to Seonghwa, “he’s twenty-eight.”

“Two books by twenty-eight,” you sigh, “I see why you talk him up,” you say to Yunho, and he smiles, eyebrows raised to Seonghwa.

You take a long sip of water and it’s quiet, a lull in conversation, and you watch as Yunho and Seonghwa silently communicate something with their eyes.

“Is there anything else you need?” Seonghwa hand rests on your leg for a moment.

“No, I think I’m fine,”

“Then we should discuss tonight,” Seonghwa says, “we’d like to be sure we understand your boundaries.”

“Oh,” you’re surprised again, “okay, that makes sense. We hardly know each other,”

“Exactly,” he nods, before looking to Yunho and giving him a nod.

Yunho leans forwards in his chair, elbows on his knees and he gently clasps his hands in front of him before he says, “First, I should ask, do you have any hard lines? Anything specific that makes you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t think so,” you search your brain, but can’t come up with anything.

He nods and adjusts, “Let me ask it a little differently,” he says, “are you comfortable being more submissive?”

You blush, and Yunho smiles, loving the way you jumped into this experience headfirst but still seem completely embarrassed by the logistics of it. You nod a beat later to respond to his question, “I’d prefer it,” you tell him honestly.

“That’s good,” his eyes flick to Seonghwa, and back to you. “If I had to guess, you seem like you would enjoy praise, but how about a little degradation? Name calling and more targeted dirty talk?”

Your stomach tightens at his words, and you nod again, “All good.”

“And pain?” He checks.

“What do you mean?” You fold your arms unconsciously, leaning back and crossing your arms in front of you, which does not go unnoticed by either of them. The spectrum of pain that could be incorporated into sex is a wide one, and you’re suddenly nervous.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he assures you, “it’s just good for us to know before we start anything.”

“I mean,” you let your arms drop, and try to delicately work out exactly what he means, “rough sex is fine, that can be good, and I don’t mind light things, I guess? I just wouldn’t want to,” you knot your hands together, “actually be in pain, I don’t think I would like that.”

He nods along with your words, “I understand,” he says, holding your gaze, “we won’t hurt you.”

“Last thing,” Seonghwa brushes a hand down your back, “if you want to stop for anything – to take a break, to stop altogether, or if you don’t like something, just tell us. We want you to feel safe with us,”

“I do so far,” you admit.

“Well then,” Seonghwa smiles and looks to Yunho, “is there anything else?”

“Ah,” Yunho nods, “birth control. Should we be concerned about that, would you prefer we wear condoms?”

“I’m on birth control, but,” you look between them, “is this something you do often?”

Yunho shakes his head, a warm, small smile on his lips, “No, and we’ve been tested since our last additional partner. What about you?”

You laugh and shrug, “I haven’t gotten out much lately, and at my last physical I tested clean,”

“Then we’re comfortable if you are,”

“I am,” you nod, and Yunho leans back in his seat, looking pleased. You were both taking some things on faith about each other, but everything’s felt shockingly right since the bar, and with the way Yunho was carefully walking through your boundaries beforehand, you feel like you can trust them.

Yunho leans back in his chair fully, his legs seated wide open, and his eyes darken. “Hwa,” he nods to his husband, and you realize you’re about to start – no longer talking in hypotheticals.

“y/n,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft and a little tender, “come here, love.”

You lean towards him, and slowly he presses his mouth to yours. He’s careful with you, kissing you with closed lips and settling his hand on your hip, but slowly he starts to probe forwards. His tongue dips deliciously into your mouth as your lips part, and his hands start to stray as he moves to hover over you as you still sit side by side on the couch.

Seonghwa’s lips move across your jaw and slowly down your throat, when his hand on your ribs tightens, you gasp pleasantly.

“Mm,” Seonghwa hums against your throat, “you’re so responsive,”

At a nip of his teeth you jump, a little shockwave running over you. You shift to kiss his lips again, and he drags you forwards against him so you can hold onto his shoulders. You hum against his lips and try to shift so that you’re facing him better on the couch but the tight column of your dress gets in the way of your movement.

Seonghwa tugs collar of the navy-blue dress a little and you feel his fingers find the zipper on the back, “Let’s take this off you, hmm?”

You nod, all you seem to be able to do with your brain short circuiting like this, and he drags the zipper down to expose your back to the cool air of the apartment. Seonghwa peels it away from you with ease, and it pools at your waist. You’ll need to stand to shimmy it off fully, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush.

He drinks you in, and you’re suddenly grateful that you chose the underwear you did. He cups your breast over your bra, a little lace in peachy pink, and squeezes softly. “Isn’t she perfect?” Seonghwa turns and looks to Yunho.

You had almost forgotten he was in the room, so quiet while you and Seonghwa explored each other, but when you follow his gaze, you see Yunho’s eyes dark with desire his lips wet. “Perfect,” he confirms.

Seonghwa stands and pulls you to your feet, and he loosens the zipper on the back of your dress the rest of the way. With a slide of his hands he strips the fabric off you, his hands splayed wide on your thighs as he settles behind you.

Yunho holds a handout to you, and you step forwards, Seonghwa’s hands falling away.

“Come sit,” he adjusts his legs and pats his thigh, prompting you to straddle him on the chair and sit on his lap, facing him.

His gaze is exposing, and you can feel yourself blushing when you look away from him. He makes a negative noise with his tongue against his teeth, and he raises your eyes with his and on your jaw, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “I just don’t know that anyone’s ever looked at me this closely before,”

He smiles and looks down at your body, pressing softly on your chest to make you lean away from him a little, and you brace yourself with a hand behind you on his knee. He drags his middle and ring finger down your body, starting at your breastbone and coasting slowly over your stomach, dipping along your navel, and stopping just above the hemline of your panties. He strokes the skin here, massaging it gently, “You deserve to be looked at,” he lets his thumb slip under your panties, continuing his massaging circles, “and to be touched.”

“Oh,” you shiver, and he likes the way you’re already twitching with need above him.

“Do you want to be touched?” his thumb slides lower and brushes it lightly your skin.

You nod, a little desperately, “Yes,” you already sound a little breathless.

“Not yet,” he moves suddenly, sitting up and dragging you forwards against him in one smooth movement, and he catches your mouth with his, he’s lips insistent and hungry against yours.

His hands roam your body, palming each breast, sweeping along your hips and thighs, and squeezing the soft flesh of your ass. You can’t help the soft moan that slips out of your mouth when he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, and he sighs into you.

“Yunho,” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through and you both break the kiss to turn to him, “let’s take her to bed, hmm?”

“Mhm,” he holds you close and hoists himself standing, pulling your legs up around his hips and hooking one of his arms under your hips to hold you up, “Let’s go,”

“You can put me down,” you offer him.

“Not a chance,” his hands squeeze you.

Once in the bedroom, he deposits you in the center of their king mattress, appraising you and waiting for Seonghwa.

“You look good in our bed,” Seonghwa observes, his voice dropping at the sight of you.

You push up on your elbows, “Where should we start?”

“Just relax,” Yunho eases you, “we’re in no rush,”

Yunho moves behind Seonghwa, dropping his head to nuzzle softly against his temple, bringing his arms around Seonghwa’s shoulders. Your mouth runs dry the minute you watch Yunho’s mouth working against Seonghwa’s throat, and his hands start to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, bearing Seonghwa’s chest to you little by precious little.

You inhale sharply and watch Seonghwa drop his head back to bare his neck, adorned in a fine gold chain, his eyes slipping shut and letting himself sink into the tender ministrations of his lover. As Yunho runs his hands up Seonghwa’s chest slowly, your legs part on their own and the hand you had resting on your stomach starts to creep lower.

You can’t tear your eyes away from them, Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling in quick pants as Yunho sucks on his pulse points and runs his thumb across a nipple. You dip your fingers under your panties, sinking your fingers into your already wet folds, and start to circle your fingers expertly on your already swollen clit.

At a broken little whimper from your lips, Yunho and Seonghwa both look to you and for a moment they watch the way your hand bobs up and down, fabric straining over the back of your knuckles, but then Seonghwa steps forwards and seizes your wrist, pulling your hand free.

“We told you,” He kneels on the bed by your side, “we’ll take care of you.” He raises your hand to his lips and takes your wet fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around your digits and sucking off any evidence of your arousal.

“Oh,” you breathe, nearly groaning at the sensation.

He slides your fingers slowly from his mouth, kissing the tips softly before dropping your hand back on your stomach and sliding off the bed again. In the interim, Yunho has stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, and you’re electric with anticipation.

“You have to taste her,” Seonghwa says, unbuckling his belt to drop his trousers, leaving him in just his boxers.

“I will,” Yunho assures him, and the promise of it has you aching to be touched.

Seonghwa slips back onto the bed with you, only this time he slides down to lay next to you, rolling you to face him on your side and kisses you hard, his lips more insistent this time and his hand tight on your hip. The bed dips behind you, and Yunho brings himself close to your back, almost spooning. He runs his hand along your thigh and presses it up, maneuvering your one leg up and bent at the knee, and Seonghwa deftly catches it and holds it hitched over his hip.

You’re trembling when Yunho starts to touch you, running his finger along your clothed slit, and you want to beg for more, but Seonghwa won’t let you leave his kisses for anything but air. Yunho knows though, reading your body’s twitches and jerks, and he hooks his finger under the edge of your panties to push them aside and sink a single finger inside you. You gasp against Seonghwa’s mouth and Yunho kisses your bare shoulder, “You’re so tight, baby,” he works his finger in and out of you slowly, “do you really think you can take us?”

Seonghwa smiles against your mouth and his fingers tighten on your thigh, “Too tight for Yunho’s fingers?”

All you can manage is a moan, and when Yunho pulls out this time, he adds a second finger and presses you open more. “We can work you open,” he breaths against your back, warm breath on your bare skin, “don’t worry, baby.”

“Oh my god,” you can’t believe how good they are at this, practiced in how to touch and what to say, and you know there’s no coming back from this, every touch making you more insatiable.

Yunho’s fingers leave you, and he leans away to unhook your bra, sliding the straps down and you maneuver with them to take it off and toss it aside. Seonghwa moves closer, impossibly so, and slides his leg between yours, pressing up firmly with his thigh against your center. He slips a hand into your hair and holds you firmly before holding your gaze tightly and nodding, his thigh flexing under you.

You know what he wants instantly, and you rock against him, grinding yourself down on his bare thigh, the rough lace of your underwear creating sharp friction against your clit. Yunho’s hand slips between you, palming your bare breast and tweaking your nipple, flicking and rolling it as it pebbles up hard under his fingers.

Seonghwa’s face has a hardened edge to it now, and you hold onto him desperately as you work yourself against him, embarrassingly close to coming already. He adjusts his hold on your hair and holds you tight, “Come on then,” he taunts you, “you wanted to make yourself come so badly,”

“Oh god,” you try to drop your eyes, but he holds you steady, his free hand delivering a quick slap to your backside.

You jolt, whimpering into a moan, and Yunho massages the spot to soothe the sting. When you come it’s fast against Seonghwa’s thigh, and they let you drop back against the bed a moment later.

Yunho pulls his shirt over his head and lays back flat against the bed, getting himself comfortable before he turns to you. You’re looking into his eyes when you feel a tug on your panties, Seonghwa pulling them down and off you.

“I need you to come up here,” Yunho grins, tapping his chin.

“What do you,” you’re starting to say, put Seonghwa has already pulled you up and away from Yunho before you can finish your sentence.

“You’re going to sit on his face,” Seonghwa says, not a question but a command, “and he’s going to make you come.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you’re ready, throwing your nerves and any lingering self-consciousness out the window. Seonghwa watches as you move to climb onto Yunho, but he interrupts you when he sees which way you’ll be facing. “Turn the other way,” he says, and guides you until you straddle Yunho, resting two hands on his chest to hold yourself steady.

Yunho pulls you down sharply, his tongue probing your slick folds to find your clit. His arms wrap tightly around your hips to hold you steady, and you’re left to do nothing but hold yourself up and rock your hips against his tongue.

“Eyes on me,” Seonghwa says, and your head snaps up. Seonghwa pulls Yunho’s boxers down his legs with ease, and your eyes widen at the sight of his cock standing hard at attention. You moan, wanting him with such a sudden heat that your hips drop down a little further and you hear Yunho hum, pleased and encouraging.

Seonghwa drops between Yunho’s legs, and though Seonghwa himself is not a small man, between Yunho’s thighs and long legs he looks it. You watch as Seonghwa starts to work Yunho’s cock, rolling his wrist and pumping up and down his thick length. Yunho moans into you and sucks your clit sharply in response, your brain spiking with pleasure, and you collapse further down onto Yunho.

“I’ll show you what he likes,” Seonghwa says, and he dips his head to accept Yunho in his mouth. His hips jerk, and Seonghwa slaps Yunho’s thigh softly as if to tell him off. Seonghwa bobs his head up and down Yunho’s cock, as far down as he can take him comfortably and you are flushed with heat, a tight knot of pleasure building inside you.

Yunho moans into you again and your legs start to shake, his constant attention to your clit driving you up fast and you can’t control the sounds that leave you now. Seonghwa pulls off Yunho when he hears you, and reaches up to take your chin, “Spit,” he commands, holding out his hand and you comply easily, pooling saliva in your mouth and letting it run from your lips into his hand.

Seonghwa drops the hand you spit into on Yunho’s throbbing cock and works his hand faster now, the sound slick and wet and with Seonghwa’s eyes on you, you come again, falling fully onto Yunho’s chest and abdomen and arching your hips, letting him hold you to his tongue for as long as possible until he’s sure you’ve come through it.

He pulls away from you with a gasp, “Hwa, stop, stop,” and you see the way Yunho’s hips are jerking, thrusting his cock into Seonghwa’s tight hand, too close to coming for how early it is in the night.

Seonghwa pulls his hand away, and leans forward to kiss you, tender, “You’re doing so well,”

You smile, dreamy, and ease yourself off Yunho.

Yunho sits up, pulling you into his arms with ease, “Look at you,” he kisses you and smiles, “you’re perfect,”

“Love,” Seonghwa brushes his hand along your thigh, “what do you need?”

Your hand drifts, coasting down Yunho’s front, and you run your hand along his hard cock. Yunho groans softly, his eyes fluttering shut, and you kiss his chest, “I want you in my mouth,”

Yunho pants slightly as you pump your hand, but you turn in his arms to look at Seonghwa, “and I want you inside me,”

Seonghwa’s lips quirk into a smile and he chuckles, “Is that how you want to be treated, love? Like a whore?”

No one’s ever called you that before, and you whine unexpectedly, Seonghwa watching when your face melts into a needy pout, and he knows he’s unlocking something for you.

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, and he taps Yunho to tell him it’s time to move into a new position.

When Yunho shifts off the bed to stand, Seonghwa kneels behind you, and he pulls your hips up fast to position you on all fours. The head of his cock is pressing at your entrance a second later, and he pushes down on your back to arch you open.

“Please,” you look back at him, “please fuck me,”

He shakes his head, “Take him in your mouth first,” He says, “as far as you can,”

Yunho steps towards you, and you open your mouth eagerly, ready and waiting. He cups your chin and sinks his hand into your hair, holding the back of your head steady as he shifts his hips forwards and slides his cock over your wet tongue.

You hear him exhale hard through his nose, and you extend your neck to take him further, your mouth stretched wide around him, and your throat opens to accept as much of him as you can take. He bumps the back of your throat, and you choke around him, your gag reflex firing and he slides himself out of your mouth. You shake your head, a heaving gasp on your lips, “No, no, I want to try again,”

Yunho looks down at you, his tongue against his teeth as he holds himself back from throwing restraint away and fucking you throat, “Is that right? You want to choke on my cock?”

“Please,” you groan, opening your mouth wide, looking up at him from under your lashes.

He presses back in, and you take his cock down again, this time slower and more controlled. You steady your breathing, and when you softly choke against him this time, you keep your panic down and don’t gag against him, just struggle through a spluttering cough that seems to only make him harder. When you think you’re getting the hang of it, Seonghwa thrusts forwards and shoves his cock into deeply, griding his hips against you and gripping your waist once he’s fully seated inside you. The sudden stretch has you startled, and you pull off Yunho to cry out, your body trembling as you try to hold yourself up the way they want you.

Seonghwa’s hand comes down quick, striking your soft skin, lighting up your backside pink, and you gasp into a choked cry. Yunho pushes your hair back from your face and crouches to be at your eye level, but before he can say anything, Seonghwa delivers another punishing spank and you jolt forwards, body shaking and a tight noise from your lips.

“Hwa!” Yunho’s voice is quick and cutting and you feel Seonghwa still completely. Yunho holds your face and meets your eyes, “Too much? Are you alright?”

“Why’d you stop?” You press your hips back into Seonghwa, panting and blinking through the haze, “Keep going, please, please,”

“I knew it,” Seonghwa thrusts hard, knocking his hips into yours.

Yunho presses a messy kiss to your lips, “You’re such a good girl,” he all but growls into your ear, and he stands again to press his cock head to your lips. You lick him sharply, your tongue flicking over his soft slit before you sink your mouth over him once more.

Seonghwa picks up the pace of his thrusts, driving his cock into you at quick pace, and he curses tightly, “I knew it when I saw you at the bar,” he says, spanking you harshly again, “you were going to be a perfect little whore for us,”

Your brain whites out at his words, the sensation of him filling you fully and completely combined with the sting of his slaps and Yunho’s cock in your mouth has you completely out of control, held tightly between both men as they thrust into you. Yunho’s hand tightens on your scalp, and he pulls away from you, addressing Seonghwa over your shaking body, “Slide back for me,”

Seonghwa shifts back, his cock leaving you for a moment, and he pulls you across the sheets, repositioning you quickly before thrusting back inside you and resuming his relentless pace. Yunho kneels low in front of you on the bed, his knees open wide so he can sit low and better meet your gaze. He smiles at you, nodding when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face, and gathers your hair up, securing it a little better in one fist behind your head, his other hand coming to hold your jaw steady.

You can’t control the noises that slip out of you now, your body feeling like a live wire as Seonghwa pistons his hips harder. Yunho watches you with awe, and he curses when you make particularly pained whine and grip down on the bedsheets beneath you.

“Mhm,” Yunho coaxes you, his brows knit together as he nods, “there you go, taking Hwa so well,”

Your muscles tighten down and Seonghwa groans behind you, quickening his hips.

“Oh god, oh god,” you’ve never felt something like this, your body building to something new, and you feel the way your legs are shaking, hearing the vibration in your voice as you cry out. Yunho draws your hand to his stiff length, and you start to work it without a thought, dragging your hand over him at a steady pace, watching as Yunho’s mouth drops open in pleasure.

Seonghwa’s hand drops down on your ass again, fully unexpected this time, and you cry out, a sharp, surprised sound, but it tumbles into a keening moan as a tight string inside your body breaks and you crest into a shaking orgasm.

Yunho pulls you forwards, leaning you on his shoulder to help support you, and he kisses your hairline, his hand shifting to find your throat and squeezing down perfectly. “There you go,” he whispers to you, soothing you as you crash through it, “let go, baby, come for us, baby,”

His hand releases and you inhale sharply, a tight high-pitched whine, and you press further forwards, your entire body shaking as you come down. Seonghwa pulls out of you, his hands that were a moment ago tight on your skin now soft and massaging, and he brushes his hand lightly over the tender pink skin where he slapped you, soothing you easily now.

“I can’t breathe,” your chest is heaving, and Yunho directs you easily with his hands so that you’re lying back on the bed now, eyes shut as you recover your breath and try to feel your limbs again.

Your eyes open again when a hand caresses your chest, softly stroking your skin and running over your stomach. Seonghwa is looking down at you with kind eyes, “Hello, love,”

You sigh, a long deep exhale and reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers together, “Hi,”

“Feeling good?” He smiles.

“So good,” you let your head loll to the side and bump right into Yunho’s thigh.

“Hey, pretty girl,” He takes your free hand and kisses it softly.

“God,” your body still feels like it has the shakes, “I didn’t know it could be like that,”

Seonghwa grins, “We’re not done with you just yet,”

Yunho slides away from you and moves to the other side of the bed, closing his hands around your calves and dragging you forwards to position you better. He opens your legs, folding them back and you feel your them starting to tremble again already.

Yunho sighs, and you watch him palm his cock, stroking it as he moves closer to you, nudging your clit with the warm velvet head. Your legs jerk, your hips shifting back and away at the overstimulation, and he shushes you softly, brushing his hand up the back of your thigh and looking down at your warmly, “You’re alright,” he soothes you.

You watch as he looks up to his husband, and moments later Seonghwa moves in low behind you, reaching around you to take each of your legs and hold you open. Yunho bites his lip softly as he looks down at you before reaching to the side and grabbing a small bottle of lube. He spreads just enough over his cock to make it glisten from tip to base, and when he starts to press inside of you, you’re so grateful for it. If Seonghwa had filled you completely, Yunho was splitting you open and you cry out, your hips shifting back on their own and your head dropping back against Seonghwa’s shoulder.

Yunho presses forwards, stretching you open, and Seonghwa kisses your temple softly, “Come on, noona,” he whispers, husky, “you can take him.”

The sound that leaves your lips is sudden and wanton, and when your eyes flutter back open you see Yunho grinning down at you, his cock now fully sheathed inside you. “Listen to you,” he teases, rocking his hips a little, “you liked that.”

“I don’t,” you shake your head, struggling to reach for coherent thought as he starts to pump himself in and out of you, dragging along your g-spot perfectly and sending sparks of pleasure up your whole body every time he sinks all the way inside, “Fuck, fuck, god,”

Seonghwa holds your shaking legs open, but dips low to catch your ear in his teeth, softly pulling on the lobe and kissing the hollow of your ear, “Such a dirty mouth, noona,”

You’re crying now, you have to be with the whimpering sounds that leave you now, but you can’t make sense of anything, just the feeling of Yunho’s hands on your hips, his cock filling every tight little space of your cunt, and Seonghwa’s voice at your ear.

“Fuck,” your body starts to spasm, and you hear Yunho chuckle, “please, please, fuck,”

Seonghwa looks up to Yunho, “Faster,” he directs him.

Yunho tips forwards, his large hands closing over your waist to hold you steady as he fucks into faster, driving his hips down with a pointed snap on every downward thrust. Seonghwa holds you tight, kissing your face, “Do you like being our noona, baby?”

Your body shakes, locking up and you drop your head back to the bed, letting them both hold you down. Seonghwa shifts his hand to massage your clit and you keen, your walls spasming tightly around Yunho’s hard length as you come apart beneath him.

“Good girl,” Yunho groans, “come on my cock, noona,”

You brain blanks, your body quaking uncontrollably and the wave of your orgasm holding you under, blood rushing in your ears.

Seonghwa chuckles above you, “There we go,”

Yunho continues to pump his hips, “I have to come,”

Seonghwa eases up on his forearms, cupping Yunho’s cheek, “Come then,”

As your body flutters through your orgasm, Yunho groans above you, collapsing on top of you and coming hot and fast inside you. His chest is pressed against yours, and you can feel the way his heart is hammering away, and Seonghwa brushes a hand down both of your sweat slick skin, comforting and calming. When Yunho recovers, he lifts up and captures your mouth in a kiss, sighing against you.

A few moments pass, and then Yunho realizes you’re shaking beneath him like a leaf, and he slides out of you, rolling to the side.

Seonghwa cups your cheek, looking at how thoroughly spent you look, but he drags his thumb along your lower lip, “Can you take a little more?”

“More,” you repeat, but you brain hasn’t reconnected yet.

He pulls you gently so that you’re further on the bed, and slides between your legs, “Can you?”

You’re not entirely sure that you can, but you nod and let him open your legs up to thrust slowly back inside you. He rolls his hips into you slower this time, and you can tell just from looking at him for a moment that he’s close.

You reach to the side, your hand connecting with some extremity, and you gasp out, “Yunho,”

He shifts around to kneel by you both, and as Seonghwa works himself inside you, Yunho cups your cheek, smiling when he sees the way you’re still shaking.

“Yunho,” you repeat, your voice caught in a moan.

“I’m here,” he murmurs softly.

“He’s close,” you pant, and Yunho’s eyes darken, Seonghwa making a shaky groan above you, “he needs to come,”

Yunho realizes in a second what you’re looking for, and it fills him with warmth. Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Seonghwa’s shoulder, before surging forwards and catching his mouth in a heady kiss. Yunho drags a hand down his back, cupping his ass and urging him to fuck you faster. He leans in to his husband’s ear, “You look so beautiful fucking her, so beautiful,”

Seonghwa moans against Yunho, panting as they lean against each other, foreheads pressed together, and you whine beneath them, reaching to tease Seonghwa’s nipple under your thumb to get him closer.

“Oh fuck,” He stutters.

“Please, Hwa,” you moan, “please, come, I need it, I need it,”

You watch as Yunho secures a hand to Seonghwa’s throat and squeezes, and he jerks, coming hard and sudden, his hands that are holding you steady gripping down hard enough to leave bruises. Yunho lets him go but kisses him hard.

Seonghwa pulls out and comes up on his knees between your legs, and your muscles flutter, still spasming with little aftershocks, and you feel the rush of wet warmth between your legs when their combined release drips out of you.

You’re all a little dazed, but Seonghwa recovers first, and you listen as he starts water in the bathroom for a bath. Yunho smiles softly and pulls you into his arms, lifting you with ease and following Seonghwa into the large ensuite.

“How’s that?” Yunho kisses your temple tenderly when he deposits you in the warm water of the bath, and you groan pleasantly at the sensation.

“Perfect,”

Seonghwa and Yunho both shower together, poking their heads around the glass wall to make sure you’re still doing okay every few minutes, and by the time they’re cleaned up and wearing soft sleep pants and t-shirts, the water is starting to go tepid and you’re ready to come out.

Once again, Yunho holds you steady as you step out of the bath and Seonghwa wraps you in a fluffy white towel, patting you dry while Yunho holds you standing and handing you a pretty, champagne colored robe.

“You can use this for now,” he murmurs, and you tie it around you.

“Let’s get you some water and some food,” Yunho says, his tone like Seonghwa’s, even and low.

“I feel like I’m in a fog,” you take a deep breath and sweep your hair back from your face.

“Mm,” Seonghwa nods, “you need rest.”

“Can I,” you taken an unsteady step and they both move to hold you steady, “do you mind if I stay for just a bit, I think you’re right, I could use some water.”

Yunho shakes his head at you, amused, “You’ll stay with us tonight, don’t worry about a thing.”

“I don’t want to impose,” you sigh.

“It isn’t an imposition,” Seonghwa insists, “we want you here. Now relax and let us help,”

So you do. They keep you close for the rest of the evening, cooking for you and massaging the aching muscles in your neck, kissing you with soft familiarity, and treating you much more like a date than a one-night stand.

Later, you rest in bed between them, laying up on Yunho’s chest and talking to him softly as Seonghwa brushes through your tangled hair. Yunho plays with your fingers, idlily as you lean against him. Your thumb passes over his bare ring finger.

“You don’t wear wedding bands,” you observe, more of a statement than a question.

“Not traditional ones,” Yunho smiles, and he moves your fingers to pass over the ring he wears on his index finger.

“I wear my chain,” Seonghwa says from your side, and you remember the gold adornment around his neck from earlier.

“I like non-traditional,” you murmur.

“It always worked better for us,” Yunho shrugs, “maybe it works better for you too.”

You hum softly, kissing his chest and Seonghwa puts the hairbrush aside to cuddle close to you both.

“Noona,” Seonghwa runs a hand across your arm, “how would you feel about doing this again?”

You blush at his innocuous use of noona after your unexpected response to it earlier, and Yunho chuckles. You look between them, “You mean seeing you both again? The sex?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa nods, “seeing us again,”

You nod, trying to control your grin and Yunho dips to kiss you soundly, “Good,”

“We like you here,” Seonghwa sighs against you.

“I like me here,”

They wrap you up between them, soft touches and traded kisses, and you have no idea what more time with them will mean, but you’ll take anything if it means you can rest like this in their arms a little while longer.

#seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yunhwa #yunho x seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho smut #seonghwa smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez fic #yunho fic #seonghwa fic #honeyhotteoks fics

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urtheloml · 8 months

Text

wonder how we got this far (i don't really need to wonder at all)

pairing: bakugou x reader w/c: 9k synopsis: you're excited about the prom, bakugou is not— disagreement ensues a/n: i'm back... first post of 2023 n the year is almost over... embarrassing 🧍🏼‍♂️this is the third n final installation to my little white lie mini-series!! read part 1 here n part 2 here!! this can be read as a standalone too :3 uhm... i started this fic in like... april (??) n completely forgot abt it until last week so i have no idea what the original plot was going 2 be but i think it turned out okay (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) also i know this fic is SOOOO overdramatic but i have watched every single movie that had a major prom scene (hsm3, the duff, mean girls, etc) n growing up, i looked forward it to SO bad that i literally used it as motivation to do well in exams. but then COVID happened so no prom experience for me so this is me basically projecting onto my writing!! okay mwah hope u like it xx o((>ω< ))o!!

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. The opening scene of the Bee Movie plays like a mantra in your head as you're searching for something in your closet. Your ears pick up the occasional grunt or cheer from your boyfriend, who's currently laying in your bed with his DS in hand, and your eyes roll affectionately.

You can't find what you're looking for so you abandon the mess you've made in your drawer and turn to Bakugou instead. "'Katsu, have you seen my can of body glitter? It's in a little purple spray bottle."

Bakugo barely glances your way, "No, why would I have seen that. Why d'ya need it anyway?"

Your body slumps against his comfortably as you cosy up next to him on your bed and even if it's been a while, your heart still skips when he immediately tangles his legs with yours. "I need it to make myself glittery for the prom, duh. You can use it too if you want before we leave."

"Huh?"

"The prom. The dance thing we're going to, in like three days?"

Bakugou's eyebrows scrunch up confusedly as he puts his DS down and immediately a bad premonition settles in your gut. "What are you talking about? I never said I was going to that shit."

Ah. There it is. You're glad he put his game down 'cause if he wasn't looking at you while you're about to have this conversation then his console might have landed outside your window right about now. You're looking at him incredulously when you say, "What do you mean you're not going? You're my boyfriend so you have to go. It's like an unspoken rule... you can't not go to prom. Who's gonna take me then? You want me to go alone, like some loser?"

The barrage of questions makes him smile amusedly at you, but for once the sight of it induces anything but affection in you. There's no way he's taking you seriously right now. Bakugou scoffs and turns back to his game, "Huff all you want, princess, but I'm not going to the prom."

Before he can start a new game, your body lands on top of him unceremoniously so you have his undivided attention. "'Tsuki! This is our one and only prom as high schoolers. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I want to go and dance with my girls and I want to dance with you. Please?"

His jaw ticks, and he looks away from you because he knows if he stares too long then he'll cave. He refuses to go and you're not about to sway him. He has his own reasons for not wanting to go and he'll stand by them if it's the last thing he'll do.

"I told you I ain't fuckin' going, alright? You can go with your friends and you can have fun and dance with them but I'm not going. Stop pushing me on this."

His voice comes out hard and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. Also, you can't believe he just called you pushy. Bakugou, who forced a confession out of you just because he wanted you to say it first. He underestimates your persistence though, because next thing he knows, you're leaning down like you're about to kiss him and his eyes are already half-lidded but instead you bite down harshly on his nose.

Bakugou yelps but that doesn't deter you. "Can you at least tell me why you don't want to go? Because you don't want to go to a lot of things with me but you always end up going anyway. Like the nail salon, or Bath and Body Works. Why's it different this time?"

His eyes narrow and he shifts beneath you, probably trying to escape your shit fuck ton of questions but you're caging him in. He stays quiet for a whole three minutes when he finally says, "I just don't want to go, fuck, can't you just let it go and compromise for fucking once?"

What. "What?"

“I’m just saying,” Bakugou sneers, propping his elbow up below his head, “you shouldn’t be forcing me to go. You said it yourself, ya know, it feels like I’m always doing what you want.”

You falter. "That's bullshit, Katsuki. You're being really mean right now."

It seems that you used the wrong choice of words because his face turns gloomy, and you can tell he’s biting the inside of cheek as hard as he can. He places his forearm over his eyes so he can physically block out your reaction when he practically spits, “Why don’t you go date golden boy Kirishima if you think I’m so mean, huh?”

Woah. That was a low fucking blow and he knows it. He regrets bringing up his best friend’s name the moment the words leave his mouth because the way you inhale sharply and get off of him fearing for his life. The hairs on his arms rise when you start speaking to him scoldingly, and he won't even deny that he deserves it.

“I cannot believe you’re still using that against me, ‘Suki, that was more than a year ago! And don’t give me shit about not knowing how to compromise because I always eat the food you make. Even when you make it spicy on purpose even though you know I can’t handle it. And you know what? I don’t particularly like going to the gym with you on the weekends, but I still always go! And maybe sometimes I wish we could have more than just study dates but I stay and read with you anyway. And I always, always, forgive you when you do stupid shit like forgetting our anniversary or- or when you make me cry."

Almost as if your body takes cue from your words, you can feel a familiar stinging sensation creep up behind your eyelids. It starts a chain reaction because somehow Bakugou barrels on. Even though his face blanches when he sees the water on your lash line, he can’t seem to stop his mouth from moving.

"Well, fuck, sorry I'm such a shitshow to handle, princess. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. But if you’re so tired of me already, then why don't you just break up with me, huh?"

No longer was there a trace of affection or playfulness in the way he calls you ‘princess’. The word drips with condescension and malice and your heart cracks a bit at the way he speaks about himself. Bakugou's sitting on the bed now, looking up at you as you stand before him.

Yet, your gaze holds nothing but warmth and frustrated tears when you look at him. Because, much to your dismay, you also always know when there’s something up with Bakugou . He leans away for a moment when your hands come up to touch his head, but decides to let himself fall into your touch in the end.

Bakugou buries his face against your stomach, gripping onto the back of your shirt with crumpled fists. Gently, your hand cards through his messy hair, “Baby, I never said that. I never said you were hard to deal with. You’re a very easy person to deal with, and an even easier person to love. And I have never, ever, thought about leaving you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you think that."

He nods into you, the movement tickles your abdomen and he does it again and again until you start giggling and pushing his head away. Bakugou rests his chin against your navel, looking up at you with slightly glassy eyes. He knows he doesn’t deserve the kindness you’re laying onto him, doesn't deserve you in general, but he still reaches up to swipe a thumb under your eye.

“No, I was out of line. I shouldn't have said all that. I’m sorry, I was bein’ rude as shit.”

The truth is, Bakugou isn't really that easy to deal with. You can handle him just fine because you've had years of practice. To an untrained eye, maybe it'll look bad for him when he scoffs a fuck off everytime you ask to hold his hand. But you know he never means it because he always takes your hand anyway, intertwining his fingers with yours. And then he'll squeeze your hand three times; i love you, i love you, i love you.

So no, he isn't easy to deal with. His body language and words don't always correspond to what he's trying to convey but it's still plainly obvious that he quite stupidly adores you anyway. He'll yell at you for forgetting your wallet, he'll call you an idiot the whole day and then he'll pay for your lunch and walk you home the same day. If you get cold for forgetting a cardigan, he'll tease and taunt you for a whole five minutes maximum before giving you his own that he just somehow keeps forgetting to take out of his bag, as he says. He'll make a face like he just ate a lemon when he tries and fails to not make fun of you if you don’t score so well on a test, and then he’ll tutor you for hours on end until you can get it right.

It gets quite predictable.

He pulls you down then, letting your bodyweight sink onto his lap and presses a kiss against your lips in apology and you hate that it works. Hate that he can erase every mistake with a press of his lips to yours, because he never kisses you without meaning it. And you know he means to say sorry with the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

Unfortunately, the argument does not end.

He pulls away, breathing heavier than before. The bubble of calmness and comfort around you bursts explosively however when he mutters, “‘M still not going to the prom, though.”

It's not like you didn't see this coming. You knew that he didn't really care about prom, no matter how badly you wanted him to. You just thought that maybe he'd take you anyway. The thought of going without him makes your chest clench because you could have the time of your life with your girls but it won't feel the same without him next to you.

Maybe he's right. Maybe you do make him do things he doesn't really want to. But then again, you do the same for him. You're left confused and defeated when it's time for him to leave and he's still adamant on not going. On one hand, you don't want to force him to go. But on another, you really do wish he'd change his mind.

You're silent as you show him out, and he notices but he stays quiet too and in his head, he beats himself for being a coward. He hates himself for not being able to talk to you properly. He knows very well that if he just told you what's up with him then you'd understand, and you could still probably convince to go to the dance. But he doesn't speak up.

Right before he leaves, he leans down to kiss you goodnight but you turn away at the last moment so his lips meet your cheek instead. Slowly, you press a palm against his heart, pushing him away and pretending you can’t hear how it stutters at your denial.

"Hey, before you go, I'm sorry if I'm being pushy again but you-,” your voice trails off, and you sigh defeatedly, “you can't keep making me cry and just expect to kiss it better all the time, okay? And I know you don't mean to do it, but it still hurts, Bakugou. I'm tired of getting hurt all the time and I'm not forcing you to go, but I hope you know that it really fucking sucks that my own boyfriend won't go to the dance with me, and it sucks even more that he won't even tell me why."

Bakugou? What happened to Katsu or ‘Suki, he mourns internally. He keeps a blank face but it feels like the blood within his veins just got replaced with pure fucking ice as he lets your words sink in. He refuses to let his facade break but it feels like someone is grabbing him by the throat and he can’t seem to breathe right.

"If you keep making me feel like this, one day I'm not just gonna let you kiss it all better. 'Cause sooner or later, you're gonna run out of chances."

Bakugou stays unanswering, and you look at him pleadingly for him to just talk to you but he doesn't. It's not until you go to close your door that he finally speaks, voice soft but accusing, "You just said you've never thought of leaving me, and now just 'cause I'm not taking you to some stupid dance, you're taking it all back?"

If Bakugou had superpowers, pissing you off would definitely be one of them. You resist the urge to stomp your foot childishly, because you know that won't help to get your point across. Your teeth bite down on nothing as harshly as possible because you don't want to start arguing again, it won't solve anything. He knows that too, and even though your hands stay right by your side, he feels like he was just punched in the jaw when you meet his eyes and he finds that somehow, he managed to make you cry twice in one night.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe this isn't just some stupid dance to me? I get it, okay, that it's not your scene or whatever, and it doesn't matter to you but it really matters to me," you tell him as placatingly as possible, and his eyes are as clouded as his judgement, "I've waited a long time for this, and I never thought I'd even be lucky enough to have someone who means so much to me to go with. And if you can't even see how important it is to me that I want you with me at this stupid dance, then you're the worst. The worst."

With that, you finally shut the door in his face. His muffled protests behind the slab of wood go ignored in favour of stomping back to your room. Bakugou's insufferable! He's stupid and stubborn and temperamental. He's a hothead that jumps headfirst into anything he does with everything he's got.

He's the worst. (he's the furthest thing from it)

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Neither you nor Bakugou give in to the temptation of calling one another. When you see him in class, you don't look at him and you go straight home. The both of you being too stubborn to admit defeat by reaching out first. It hurts to admit though, that for once you wish he'd just call you. A mere three days of radio silence on both your ends doesn't do wonders for your relationship, it chips away at both of you until the hurt simmmers to a seemingly numb feeling in your hearts.

As you think of ways to spite him, your mind comes up with the idea of going with someone else. But you don't entertain that thought for longer than a second, because that would be cheating and you'd never stoop that low. He probably wouldn't even know if you did anyway.

The night before the prom, you sit on your bed forlornly, twirling the little charm bracelet that slings around your wrist. It's a cute thing that Bakugou gifted you a few months ago. It was a simple purple band with two star charms on its ends and a little saturn charm in the middle. He has a matching one in blue.

"It's beautiful, 'suki. Why saturn?" You had asked.

"Uh... I don't- I read somewhere that it kinda symbolises growth and commitments. And you know, that fits us." Katsuki answered, withholding the fact that he spent three hours reading multiple astrology sites about it even though he quite frankly thinks it's bullshit but didn't want to get the meaning wrong anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I wanna fucking commit to you and I'm gonna be everything you’ll ever need.”

The bracelet jingles lightly as you fidget with it. Your phone lays on your bed with no signs of him calling and a deep crushing sigh escapes you as you prepare yourself for another night of tossing and turning. The memory of what the bracelet meant lulls you to sleep and you're left wondering if he's still wearing it too, which makes you wonder even more if he's missing you as much as you're missing him or if he's missing you at all. It's hardly noticeable but you think your cheeks feel damp as your eyes fall close.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

In his own room, Bakugou lets the dumbbell he's curling fall to the floor. He barely hears the resounding thud it makes or his mom yelling at him for dropping the weight like that. He flops onto his bed, arms spread and neck spotted with sweat. His mind swims with thoughts of you and he wishes it wasn't so hard for him to just fucking open up to you. His insides twist just thinking about the way he left things with you, it makes him feel stupid and he hates it.

It's not like he doesn't want to take you to the prom. If anything, he'd love to do that. He wants to show you off so bad. Have you all pretty, draped over his arm and looking gorgeous in whatever dress you wanted to wear. God does he want to, he wants everyone to see you with him and he'd bask in his smugness that no one else gets to have you like this but him. He'd relish in the absolute envy on anyone else's face as that saw you with him. Because everyone knows, including himself, that you're too good for him. And now he's gone and fucked it all up.

For all the confidence he exudes, Bakugou Katsuki is actually not someone who's void of insecurities. If anything, his confidence is just a front to his crackling interior. But not always, because sometimes he is quite the hot shit. Anyway.

Contrary to your belief, he doesn't want to go to the prom for your sake. He's heard the things people have said about you- or rather, he's heard what has been said about you in regards to your relationship with him. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous all over again. He wasn't supposed to hear it, he thinks.

He'd been walking past the girl's toilet whilst looking for you. It wasn't on him that girls talk so fuckin' loudly. Like c'mon, in his defence, if you're going to talk shit about someone, at least do it quietly so that the person aforementioned won't hear his own name like a siren beckoning him to eavesdrop. So really, it's not his fault for pressing his back against the wall to hear the rest. He can't put a name to the two voices (why would he be able to) but from what they're saying, they know him apparently.

..."... I bet he's forcing her. To date him, I mean."

"I don't know... they seem pretty lovey-dovey and all gross to me. If you ask me, she should leave now and find someone better."

"That's called conditioning. Or like, stockholm syndrome. I mean, let's be serious, who wants to willingly date Bakugou of all people. He's like if the word aggression was personified. He's mental, I swear."

They laugh, gaudy.

"I bet he's gonna show up to the dance with the poor girl, 'cause he's way too fucking clingy. Have you noticed that he's practically by her side almost 24/7. Hope they don't turn up together, like give that girl a break."

So. He wasn't supposed to hear that. He wasn't supposed to fucking hear that, and for a good fucking reason. At that moment, it felt like his heart was stuck in his throat while simultaneously, his stomach dropped to his ass. He doesn't cry. He's not that bothered by it. But it makes his head spin that people actually think of him like that.

By then, he wasn't thinking straight, because if he was, then he'd know not to make assumptions about how everyone felt about him based on two girls' conversation. Alas, he's not thinking straight, so, fuck it.

He doesn't know if you remember but he barely said anything when he walked you home.

It hurt him, but everything they said about him wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. It was the way they talked about you that got to him. How you were unhappy or being forced, they said. It's the way he's tried his hardest to pour his heart and soul into you and him and it's still seemingly not enough for people around him to think that you're both undeniably gone for each other.

It makes him upset, because he thinks he's been doing a pretty good job at showing you just how much you mean to him, but apparently fuckin' not. He's obviously not doing something right. Which makes him feel frustrated because he can't figure it out. He tells you he loves you plenty. Okay, maybe not plenty but he does say it. He says it and he knows you know that he’s trying to show it in his own words. He always keeps a jacket for you, he’s never let you fail a test since you got together and he always always makes you extra food that he makes for himself. Maybe he’s done something wrong along the way.

It's not like he unintentionally made the food spicy for you. Sometimes it just slips his mind that your portion can't be the same level of spicy as his is. And he knows how sad you get when you fail an exam, which is why he forgoes normal dates to sit and study with you. Of course he'd much rather do something like hiking or fucking, he doesn't know, laser tag with you, but he'd always put your education first. He knows how much it means to you after all.

An ugly feeling nags at him. It makes him want to pull away from you, show some distance so people would stop talking for a bit. But another part of him wants to run to your house right now and tell you I'm sorry. please don't leave. I can do better. Neither of those feelings actually make him do anything, though, because he's stubborn and refuses to cave.

Ugh. He thinks, before promptly passing out on his bed.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The evening of the prom arrives. You're standing in front of your mirror, all dressed up and pretty. Your dress accentuates your curves amazingly and you've adorned your cheeks with small star-shaped rhinestones and sprayed a generous amount of body glitter all over yourself. The shimmer makes itself known in every crevice of your room but it doesn't bother you right now.

An imaginary Bakugou makes himself comfortable on your bed. He's eyeing you up and down and groaning appreciatively at the sight he's been blessed with. Fuckin' gorgeous, he says, just like you know he would if he were actually here. You're wearing his colours after all.

Your hands smooth down your dress incessantly for the nth time that night, as if getting rid of the imperceptible wrinkles on your dress would get rid of the thoughts in your head as well. It doesn't, but it makes you feel calmer. Maybe some would call it dramatic, or stupid, but you don't even really feel like going without him.

You don't want to miss out on your prom, and you still want to dance with your friends and eat cheap shitty food though. So maybe your hair droops a little, akin to your mood, but you leave your house shining and smiling anyway.

And when you get there, things start looking up. Whoever's in charge of the music has been doing an amazing job of not playing Closer by the Chainsmokers on repeat yet so that's win in your book. In fact, they're not playing any songs that would give the average retail worker war flashbacks, which means they're doing a phenomenal job.

The hall is mostly full by the time you and your friends find a table near the back. There's a line at the punch table and you can already tell that it's probably spiked with something judging by the students practically dry-humping one another on the dancefloor, much to one of the school's chaperone's dismay.

The first hour passes by without a hitch. The buffet table is lined with cheap pizzas, stale fries and other questionable foods like jello cups that you're not sure is even made with real jelly. But your friends eat it anyway and you do too because food poisoning's all part of the party package.

At the back of the hall, there's a photo booth with props and signs for everyone to take. Your friends and yourself take ungodly amounts of pictures at the booth, laughing loudly without a care in the fucking world. You don't let yourself think about how Bakugou would scoff at the choice of props, you refuse to let yourself think about how he'd pose after choosing something equally stupid and you absolutely do not let yourself think about how much brighter you'd be smiling if he were here with you. You don't.

The sound system blares songs from bands you're somewhat familiar with, the bass of the songs echo and reverberate throughout the dancehall. It amplifies the adrenaline running through your veins as you jump around with the rest of the people in the hall. It feels silly and unnatural but you're giggling and swaying and it isn't so bad when you've got your girls right next to you doing the same thing.

It's easy to forget about all the aches when you let yourself get lost in the crowd. You're pushed into the middle of the dancefloor that's definitely filled with people who don't go to your school.

A song that you vaguely recognise by The Weeknd plays over the speakers and it's so fast paced that your heart thumps to the bass of the song. The tremors echo through the hall, shaking the floor and it becomes so easy to forget why you were upset in the first place.

The song ends and cheers from half-drunk high schoolers fills the temporary silence that follows. The DJ announces that he's about to slow things down a little for a kick of romance. He stretches out the word romance so it sounds more like roooowmaynceee and when the music fades into something mellower, it becomes even easier to remember.

It becomes increasingly harder to ignore the pitiful glances your friends send your way as they're whisked away by their own dates. Humiliation and longing pools in your belly as you watch your friends get their waists held and their bodies swayed and it fucking sucks. Even though you wave dismissively at them, it does look quite pathetic when you slowly move to stand against the wall by yourself.

Your eyes sweep over the couples dancing, and you pray that no one asks you to dance while you're being a wallflower. You don't think you'd want to dance with anyone but him anyway. Distantly, your mind wanders to Bakugou, and you're left thinking about what he must be doing at this hour. Maybe he's studying, or watching a movie, or cooking something inedible like always. Maybe he's already asleep. Maybe he's missing you and he's on his way over here right now.

Nobody is crueler to you than yourself, you think, as you let your mind wander dangerously into that false pretence of hope that he might change his mind about showing up.

There's a phantom feeling that glides over your skin as you watch your friends dance, and you wrap your hands around your elbows to soothe it. The sweat from your earlier dancing cools off as the air in the hall gets cooler and you're not sure if it's the crisp, cold air, or the fact that you're painfully aware of Katsuki's absence that makes your throat sting each time you inhale.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

In the end, Katsuki's mother is the one who quite literally knocks some sense into him. Mitsuki Bakugou is not a force to be reckoned with, ever, and as tough and cool Katsuki makes himself seem, he'll always be a little bit intimidated by his mom. It's why he tries to seem as nonchalant as possible as he sits on his couch while staring unblinkingly at the TV.

Mitsuki pops her head into the living room. Fuck, he didn't think she'd be home so soon.

"Katsuki? What the hell are you still doing here?"

"You going crazy, hag? It's a Friday night, am I not allowed to take a fuckin' break or what?" He swallows.

"Language, asshat. And I just stopped by Inko's, brat, I know what day it is today," she sighs annoyedly before plopping down next to him, "She tried to show me Every. Single. Photo of Izuku in his tux. I had to tell her I left the stove on to get out of there. So quit the bullshit. Why are you still here?"

Katsuki has a pillow in his lap and he squeezes it until his knuckles turn pale so his voice won't waver.

"She didn't want me to take her," he lies, hoping his mom will take the bait.

Mitsuki shoves her son's head to the side good-naturedly, "I thought I told you to quit the bullshit, brat. That girl adores the hell out of you for some fucking reason, so don't try to lie to me."

It's that one goddamn line that has him snapping at her. It's her words and the stupid girls in the stupid fucking toilet and it's an amalgamation of everything that has him wanting to tear his fucking hair out that makes him lose it.

"Yeah, okay, fuck you too mom. You're right, I don't fucking know why someone like her wants to be with someone as fucked up and angry and- and mean and aggressive as I am too, alright? Everyone at school already fucking wonders why she even wants me so I didn't take her to this stupid fucking prom 'cus maybe they'll get off my back about fucking forcing her to be with me. I'm not in the goddamn mood to be hearing about this shit so fuck off. I wish I knew what the fuck she sees in me that's so good but I don't so just stop this fucked up interrogation, God."

He's not even looking at the TV anymore. He spits out his outburst while staring straight at his hands fisted in the poor pillow. It'll never uncrease now. His jaw is clenched so tightly he's scared his teeth might just shatter in his mouth. He doesn't want to look at his mom right now, too afraid to see her pitiful gaze directed at him. Doesn't want to hear her say you're right Katsuki, I don't know what she sees in you either.

Katsuki braces himself for an impact, knowing he's probably about to get smacked for talking to her like that. He doesn't expect the hand that gently lands atop his head, and he doesn't expect the hand that's curling behind his ears to turn his head towards her. Mitsuki looks at her son, making sure he really looks at her this time.

"Katsuki." She says, as gentle as the first time she held him in her arms. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, he looks just as small to her right now, and just like the day he was born, she will wrap him up and make sure he knows how loved he is.

"Katsuki, listen. I'm sorry for saying that," Mitsuki exhales, "It was a joke, but it was insensitive and I'm sorry. Every other time I said something like that about you wasn't true either. You're a good son and a good student and a good person. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, or says about you because the people who truly care about you know that you're a good fucking person, Katsuki."

Katsuki can barely hold eye contact with her. As embarrassing as it is, his vision blurs over and he will never acknowledge the way his voice breaks. "Mom," he shudders, "I'm always trying so fucking hard. I want to be good, please."

A noise that sounds like a choked back sob escapes him unwillingly. Mitsuki pulls his face into her shoulder and smiles when he barely resists. He fits just like he did before he thought hugging her wasn't cool anymore.

"You are good. You are so good, Katsuki." she whispers, "You always help to cook, and you keep the house clean and your grades up. You don't speak politely but you are honest and you are just like me. You use your hands, actions, to communicate rather than words. But you know, Katsuki, sometimes the people we love need to hear it from us too, okay? We'll both work on that."

A miniscule nod. "I'll start right now, Katsuki. You may be a brat sometimes, but you are my son. My sun. You are good, and kind and for everything you do not love about yourself, I love it tenfold."

He absolutely does not break at that. Katsuki bites back a whine, and exhales shakily again, soaking in her words like a sponge because he knows these moments for them come few and far in between. He doesn't mind. He thinks it's special that way, cherishing it whenever it does happen even more.

Mitsuki cards her hands through his hair, "You're a winner, Katsuki, that's why you have your name. Don't let whatever happened get to you like this. If you don't go to that stupid prom, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. Because I love you very much, and it might even be possible that that girl of yours loves you just as much, or maybe even a smidge more. Get your ass changed, and talk to her, alright? I know it's scary, letting someone in, but you care about her and you need to do this."

Katsuki pulls away from her, wiping his face roughly with his arms. He sniffles harshly, trying to erase all traces of the vulnerability he just showed. He bites his lip hard enough to almost draw blood. He wants to say he loves her back but the words fail him. Not yet, he thinks.

"I don't know what colour her dress is." He says instead.

"Wear your red suit. Don't ask questions, go get ready. You're already late, I'll call a cab for you."

Katsuki nods, getting up to walk to his room. He's halfway up the stairs when he pauses for a second. "Thanks mom. Love you."

Mitsuki waves her hand dismissively in his direction.

Katsuki stands in front of his mirror, inspecting everything he sees as if that'll change the way he feels about himself. His mom talking to him helped a lot, but he's still finding it hard to breathe and it's not just because his collar is choking him a bit. He fiddles with his bracelet. He tries to ground himself as he thinks about whether he should put on a different suit.

He really wishes he listened to what you were saying when you were talking about your dress. What if he shows up and his suit clashes with your dress? That would just make your night worse.

It's ridiculous. He knows he's just procrastinating. Because thinking about suit colours is easier than thinking about the crippling insecurity that still sits heavily on his shoulders, shackling him with the sheer weight of it all. He'd rather think about the colour of your dress than the fact that he feels like he can't give you what you deserve in a boyfriend.

His reflection frowns back at him.

The words you said play in his head like a broken record. You are the worst, you told him. He thinks of all the things he never really says to you because for some reason his emotionally constipated self just can't bring himself to say them. (Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes you never trip on your shoelaces if they're untied, that your hair never tangles in the wind, that if your drink spills not a drop of it would touch you, that your hands are always warm, that you'd never forget to bring your headphones before you leave the house and that you're always safe whenever he's not with you. Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes that if the sky were to drizzle, the raindrops themselves would feel privileged just to be able to fall upon your skin. Because he says I love you but he means he hopes you know he wants to say it right to your face, and into your mouth and kiss the words and every version of it's meaning into the space where your shoulder meets your neck every morning when he wakes up and every night before he lets himself succumb to slumber. He says I love you, but he means more than what those words convey. He says I love you, but he means stay warm, stay safe. He says I love you but he means my heart belongs more to you than me. He says I love you but he means he'll never want anything else for as long as he lives if it meant you'd always stay with him. He says I love you but he means come home to me and keep coming home to me, please.)

Oh.

If he could kick himself for being so stupid, he would. But he can't so he'll let you do it for him instead. I am not a coward, he tells himself as his unsteady hands try to make his hair look less of a mess. It doesn't work so he leaves it be and dashes out the door with an undone tie around his neck and he hastily side-hugs his mom- dodging her attempts to groom him- before throwing himself into the cab.

He doesn't make it a habit to show up late, but hopefully this time you'll forgive him. This time showing up late is better than not at all.

He's never made it a habit to show up late but maybe this time showing up late is better than not showing up at all. He drums his fingers nervously on his thigh throughout the entire ride. He hopes to God you're having fun. He hopes you know he's on the way. He hopes, and hopes and prays that he hasn't lost his chance.

When he arrives, he doesn't even spare a glance for his own friends, too preoccupied with finding you. The hall isn't very big but the space is large enough that he has to walk around a few times just to spot you.

The minute he sees you leaning against the wall, he wishes desperately he could go back in time. He'd do fucking anything to erase that faraway look in your eyes. He can see the way you're yearning to be one of the couples on the dancefloor and he wants to unwrap your hands around yourself and replace it with his own.

Katsuki breathes in deep and makes his way towards you cus damn it, if you wanted a dance, he'll give you a fucking dance alright.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The last slow song finally slowly tunes out, transitioning into a more upbeat one. The couples finally disentangle themselves from one another and you're just about to step back onto the dancefloor when a very familiar pair of arms snake around your waist.

You didn't even see him come in. It doesn't matter how he apparated here, because the only thing that matters right now is the fact that he showed up and the way his arms fit snugly around your hips. A breathless sound of disbelief escapes your lips as he pulls you into him when you turn around to face him.

If he's surprised by the lack of anger or disappointment on your face, he doesn't show it. All he knows is the feeling of your arms coming up to rest up on his shoulders. With the way you're beaming up at him, anyone would think that the only thing he did was show up almost two hours late. He knows better though, he knows he fucked up when all you wanted was for him to bring you to this stupid dance. And on God, would he try his hardest to make it up to you.

Katsuki leans into you, burying his nose into your hair that's all pinned up and pretty. He's getting glitter all over his face and suit and he doesn't care at all.

"I'm sorry," he exhales, letting the apology spill out of him, "'M so fuckin' sorry, princess."

It's so quiet, you almost think he never said it at all. In the background, you can just barely register the lyrics of Paramore's Still Into You that's currently playing. A litany of 'thank yous' is mentally conveyed to the DJ.

"And what are you sorry for?"

Katsuki clenches his jaw, his eyes darting away from yours like he's struggling not to look away. He groans before telling you, "There’s been rumours going on, people talking shit like they know us. Saying fuck all, running their fuckin’ mouths about how you could do better than me. And it’s stupid that I believed them for even a millisecond, I know. Then I realised that if I let you show up here alone then i’d just be proving those fuckers right. So, you win, princess. I took you to this stupid prom. I showed up, ‘m here right now."

Even though it's been said before, the lack of confidence Katsuki has in himself is absolutely baffling. It's like he can admit he has flaws and weaknesses and he'll know exactly what the problem is but he won't fucking talk to you for some reason you can't figure out.

Nvermind, you figured it out.

He's scared. Bakugou Katsuki is fearless. He's not afraid of anything, because he knows everything he's afraid of can be defeated one way or another. His fear of failure is conquered with his efforts in order to secure success. His fear of inferiority to anyone that's a threat towards him can be overtaken by brandishing his own achievements like a sword, or like armour. But when you come along, suddenly it becomes: Bakugou Katsuki was fearless.

The only thing he's scared of is losing you. That’s something that he alone can’t control, because you could very well decide to leave him if you ever felt like it. He realises that if he didn't show up tonight, the chances of that happening would be much much higher, and then if he lost you, he'd be a loser. Bakugou Katsuki is not a loser.

Your chest tightens at the thought that he actually believed that you’d leave him for someone better, as if someone like that even existed. One of your hands reaches up to curl around his neck, forcing him to look at you. You shake your head firmly when he tries leaning away.

You’re glad your voice remains steady when you say, "You should've talked to me. ‘Suki, I can’t believe you almost blew me off because of some shit some people we don’t even know thought about us. They don’t know anything about us, alright? They don’t fucking know how good I have it with you and you shouldn't keep all that to yourself next time, okay?”

His grip tightens, “You should’ve heard them though. Girls are fuckin’ ruthless. Talking about how easily you could just fuck off and get with someone better. Saying I... I'm forcing you to be with me. Fuck, it made me feel like shit ‘cause I knew there was some truth in what they said. I know I can stand to be nicer to you.”

Your hands find their way to his undone tie and you tug, “Katsuki, I don’t care about what they said. You hear me?”

Once he nods, you go on, "I couldn't do any better than you, because you're already the best. You said it yourself. If you think I deserve better, then be better, 'cause I don't want anyone but you. So stop trying to push me away. Whoever started all this can fucking eat our asses 'cause clearly they don't need their mouths if all they're gonna do is talk shit."

"Holy fuck, you really need to stop spending so much time with me." Katsuki snorts.

With a laugh, he twirls you around two times all while complaining that you're starting to sound exactly like him. But you’re not so sure he really minds so much judging by the way he grins wickedly at you. When his arms go back to their rightful place, you rest your forehead against his chest, "Also, let me? 'Suki, I did show up here alone. Which means that technically, you didn't really take me here, you know? 'Cause I had to come here all by myself."

Katsuki huffs and puffs, and leans back far enough to flick your forehead softly. He sways you slowly to the music, despite how fast the music is, "What matters is that I'm here. I’m fuckin' sorry for making you show up here all alone. Look, I’m even dancing with ya, ain’t that enough?”

Am I enough?

Katsuki says all that like he's exasperated with you but really he's posing it as a question. He's asking, and looking for a chance to redeem himself. Like always, you rest even more of your weight against him, knowing you can let yourself go boneless against him and he'll hold you all the same. He's all strong and soft and sturdy and you can hear his heartbeat thundering beneath his clothes and you make sure he can hear you when you say, "You've always been more than enough."

You can feel the way any lingering tension escapes him when you tell him that. He tells you softly, promises you that he'll start opening up more to you, and he kisses you on the cheek to really seal it in. The song echoes throughout the room, thrumming in your veins and making you feel weightless.

Some things just, some things just make sense and one of those is you and I.

His eyes don't waver as he really takes you in, savouring the image of how good you look. He sears the image of you into his brain and he hopes you know how serious he means when he rasps, "Fuck, ya look gorgeous by the way. Absolutely fucking stunnin' and I really fuckin' wish no one else but me could look at ya." His hands run down your sides slowly and squeeze at your hips, eliciting goosebumps all over your skin.

Heat quickly floods your cheeks and pools in your tummy, and his hands tighten his hold on you. You grin at him, "Well, ignoring your tie, I think you look very handsome as well. I'm surprised our colours didn't clash."

Katsuki barks a laugh at that. If only you knew.

It's quite the scene to see you and him swaying gently to such a hyped up tune. Everyone mostly crowds up around the front of the hall. But you and Katsuki hang back from the big mass of sweaty bodies, choosing to stand nearer to the opposite end of the room. If your friends look at you weird, you don't take notice. It's as if you're in your own little world; just you and him.

The second chorus sounds and Katsuki dips you as low as he can get before you yell at him. When you come back up, he's looking at you all starry eyed, staring directly at your lips. He can't stop himself, he cuts you off while you're singing along to kiss you right then. He swallows the little 'mmphrh!' that comes out of your throat greedily, sliding one of his hands up your back all the way to the cuff of your neck to press you even closer into him.

"Fuckin' missed you and your pretty fucking mouth, baby." he sighs breathlessly into you.

It's barely a chaste kiss, looking quite messy for a high school prom. Thankfully no staff member comes in between you and him, so he pulls away slowly before leaning back in. He kisses you once, twice and then some more and even a fifth and sixth time, like he's making up for all the days he didn't.

After he's satisfied with all the kisses he's peppered on your face, he leans away, smiling sillily. "She's right, you know?"

Your eyebrows furrow but your lips quirk up anyway, "What are you talking about?"

Katsuki spins you slowly, "The singer. She's right," and leads you back into him before singing monotonously, "After all this time, I'm still into you."

"You are such a loser, that was so cringe. Oh my god, what the fuck," you laugh, but your heart squeezes in affection.

Katsuki doesn't know if it's the haphazardly hung disco ball and the flashing lights that makes your eyes shine and sparkle or if it's just you, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. You're looking at him like he split the oceans for you, and he thanks every star in the sky that you're letting him hold you this close again.

If he knew how unreal you’d look when you’re dancing in his arms, he never would’ve ditched this thing. What a shame, he thinks, that he missed out on two whole hours that could have been spent with you looking like this. Maybe it’s the air in the hall but he feels practically giddy at the sight of you enjoying yourself, and it makes his heart fucking leap because it’s him that’s making you smile like that.

The sides of his mouth hurt from how much they've been stretched tonight, but he can't keep the smile off his face when you say, "You're right though. She is right."

He hums along to the tune, because denies it as he may, he absolutely loves this song just as much as you do.

Your eyes drink up the sight of Katsuki dressed up so… in character. His hair is as messy as ever, his tie hangs loose and undone around his neck and you’re sure his suit jacket has seen better days but he looks fucking ethereal to you. He’s all lethal grins and loud laughter and his cologne smells as spicy and warm as it always does and you realise again just how in love you are with him.

Katsuki’s eyes are gleaming, and maybe it’s just a trick in the light but you’re reminded of just how lucky you are to have him like this. Because maybe he is brash and harsh when he talks to you, but he’s never treated you like you’re anything but the most important thing in his life. To him, you’re his favourite person in the whole world, and he doesn’t need to say it out loud because he knows you know it too.

So maybe Katsuki isn't easy to read, or deal with. That doesn't mean he's not easy to love. Because loving him was like breathing— instinctual and inevitable. You loved him the way the moon loved the ocean, and the way the sun loved the stars. Loving him was the easiest thing you've ever done in your life, and you knew that wasn’t ever going to change.

And baby even on our worst nights, I'm into you. Let 'em wonder how we got this far, 'cause I don't really need to wonder at all. Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

(extra)

Later, when the two of you have sufficiently made out against the wall enough for the chaperones to flick water at Katsuki so he'll finally pull away, you'll find his hand and pull him along to the rest of your friends.

Kirishima will see you two and laugh, telling Katsuki he's glad he pulled his head out of his ass. Katsuki will hiss, "Kay why ess..." and drag you to the photo booth. You won't tell him, but you're secretly glad that you were right. He does scoff at the assortment of props but he picks up a stupid styrofoam emoji of a bomb.

He pushes you into the booth and sets the timer for the picture. Right as it's about to go off, he looks at you very seriously as he says, "You put the boom-boom into my heart," before absolutely smashing the emoji against your cheek.

"KATSU I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU-"

The photos come out blurry and you're wide-mouthed and laughing in all of them. He's looking at you like you're the only thing that exists. There’s barely any inches between you and him like you’re the sun and he’s every planet that orbits your celestial body.

Katsuki walks you home afterwards, laughing and stealing your body heat as he delivers you to your doorstep. When you kiss him goodnight, he thinks he must have known you in every life before this one for him to have the capacity to love you as much as he does. He keeps his copy of the photo in his wallet, signing the back with 'still into you xx'.

Not that he needs the reminder.

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kittyball23 · 4 months

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Just curious, when did you start liking Trolls?

Actually, I’ve liked the franchise since 2016 when the first movie came out, though I was not on the Internet at that time and I was more of a casual fan.

I remember first watching the trailer for Trolls when I went to the theaters with a friend of mine to go see The Secret Life of Pets. I remember her commenting that Branch reminded her of Shrek because of his attitude😆 I recall myself thinking “I don’t know who the gray guy is, and I don’t know who the pink girl is, but I know that they’re going to get together.”

I became slightly more interested in the franchise in 2019 when I first heard that part 2 was coming, but again, wasn’t involved online just yet. I was super disappointed, as I’m sure many of us were, when it wasn’t going to get its theatrical release due to Covid ☹ Still though, I remember watching it at home with my little bro and completely enjoying it 😀 I made myself a promise that I would make up for not seeing Trolls World Tour in theaters by watching the franchise’s third movie in theaters, if they’d ever made one. Which, of course, they did 😁

From there, I got fully invested in the Trolls franchise with TBT since it brought the possibility of Poppy and Branch getting married to the forefront, and that was what supercharged my obsession.

Even if they didn’t tie the knot (yet) I’m still glad we got that kiss that I personally have waited for since the first movie 😊

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #trolls 2 #trolls world tour #dreamworks #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers

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hethuisxdashausxhouseofxanubis · 1 month

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4 Years HHAtranslated

It's 15 April 2024, which means HHAtranslated turns 4 years old today 🫶🏼🥹

When I thought of starting this account pre-covid, I never expected it would turn into this. During lockdown, I had so much time and the nostalgia and my love for Anubis helped me through so much over the years.

So many accounts on Instagram, Tumblr and Twitter talk about this universe and it makes me so happy!

As there are four series and this is the fourth anniversary, I'd like to express my gratitude for each show.

Het Huis Anubis:

* HHA raised me as a kid and helped me through my struggles as a teen and now in my twenties

* Seeing the cast IRL in December was a dream come true and I still can't believe it happened 🥹

* I can't wait to see the EMDV vodcast of Anjali and Iris! They're teasing the date of the first episode online atm. I can't wait to unravel new truths 🤩

The Five of the Magical Sword:

* Such an overhated and underrated show in Belgium and the Netherlands, that I was scared to sub it. I'm glad I did, because international fans took Sterre, Pim, Marcel, Raphael and Anastacia into their hearts and didn't let them go 🫶🏼

* I also learned to appreciate the show a lot more

* I hope they've a reunion too

House of Anubis:

* HHA and HOA fans often butt heads and it's not necessary at all!

* Both shows are absolutely amazing

* HOA took the key elements of HHA and made it their own and I adore what they did with it. Some characters might have a different arc, but it makes them their own person and I love discovering the differences

* I need to rewatch the masterpiece that's season 3!

Das Haus Anubis:

* For some reason, DHA makes me hella nostalgic while I only discovered it in 2019

* The same sets and scripts make for fun comparisons and while DHA is a lower budget show, it's so much fun

* I love to watch DHA episode/day wise and I've rewatched it like that already often

* The cast is so involved still and it makes me very happy!

The future of HHAtranslated:

* Once I find an editing programme again, I'd love to sub the S100 Singalong Anubis concert, BTS of HHA/The Five and the discography

* I'd love to sub Das Haus Anubis someday🫶🏼

Now:

My main project for 2024 is the 9 Het Huis Anubis novels, based on the TV series and the movies.

The books are in third person, but follow Nienke's pov, throughout her stay at Anubis House. Some scenes are way more graphic than in the series, like Nienke and Noa's kidnapping.

The romance is also more present and we get new scenes which make Nienke's decisions more logical, like how she ended up in Anubis house with the grail mid-season 2.

I'm starting of with book 1: The Secret Club of the Old Willow

I'll try to upload frequently. I've less time as I work fulltime and live with my boyfriend, compared to university and living at my parents' years ago. A new blogpost will be created on my website, with links to the chapters, published in a Google Drive doc.

English isn't my first language so there will be mistakes. However, I hope to do the books justice like I hope I did the show.

Teasers to the books and chapter 1 will be posted soon. Stay tuned ❤️

#het huis anubis #das haus anubis #house of anubis #de vijf van het magische zwaard

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maphistorich · 6 months

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Ok, so I get that The Marvels made less than $50 mil on the first day, but like

A) It's 1 day of an opening weekend

B) The actors had been on strike for the last 4 months and couldn't promote it

C) I saw it and it was fantastic.

Were there questions unanswered? Yes, but you get that with any Marvel movie. I just don't understand the media reveling in the manufactured failure of a film that, despite less than a third of the promotional reach and only the first days take post-COVID, still managed to pull in $47 mil on a Friday domestically.

Now I understand that Marvel/Disney didn't do themselves any favors by creating a film that required watching at least 2 streaming series to really understand Monica and Kamala's back stories (3 if you care about what Fury's been up to), especially when one (Monica's) was buried in a series about two other Avengers (Wandavision). My wife and I went back and rewatched Ms. Marvel, she for the first time, and had to skip opening night. That's probably working against you Disney. I'm sure we weren't the only ones.

We still saw it, but nearly skipped it when we started seeing all the bad press. If we hadn't seen posts from actual fans talking about how good it was, we might have waited to stream it instead. I'm so glad we didn't. We saw it in 3D and it was every bit as fantastic as we could have hoped, though I still wish they hadn't put some of the Flirkitten scenes in the trailers.

If you liked Captain Marvel or the Ms. Marvel series then you'll love The Marvels

#the marvels #captain marvel #monica rambeau #ms marvel #kamala khan #carol danvers #nick fury #movies #marvel #disney

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regarding-stories · 6 months

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The dark abyss that is Andor

There were several things that led to Andor.

On the one hand, Disney screwed up its Star Wars intellectual property by handing it to complete hacks for Episode VII to IX, leading a potential cash cow to attract less and less viewers over the course of three increasingly bad installments. Seriously, The Last Jedi is one of the worst disappointments I've actually watched, and not only was I thinking "This can't get worse..." every five minutes only to be proven, "Yes, it can!!", it completely killed my appetite to see IX (and I would have left the cinema at that one's sheer stupidity). With VII, I saw it once with some initial excitement in a cinema when it released and a strange feeling afterwards, and I never revisited it. VIII I saw on two separate long-distance flights because I couldn't stomach the thing in one sitting. IX I didn't see at all, but devoured YouTube videos ripping it apart. Clearly, Disney had a Star Wars problem.

The other thing is the reboot that was The Mandalorian, especially season 1. The Mandalorian had a penchant for not very strong logic in its writing that you still accepted because you had so much damn fun and loved the characters. Given the fact that it clearly pulled lots of viewers into Disney+ that were loving its vibe that was true to the core of Star Wars, Disney management saw the fact that theaters and theme parks were closed due to COVID on the one hand and that big Star Wars movies were at risk of actually losing money on the other hand, and they did what executives are wont to do - they decided that if it worked once, it will work again and declared they will pump out TEN Star Wars series in the near future.

Meanwhile they cancelled also their ongoing series of "A Star Wars Story" movies that started with what could be called "Episode III.5" - Rogue One. Rogue One was plagued with production problems, so much so that seeming key scenes from the trailer weren't in the movie. "I rebel!", anyone?? Still, it turned out to be something new - a new kind of Star Wars story. It took the idea of a war movie (or its modern equivalent, Band of Brothers) and put it into the Star Wars cinematic universe. It did without an actual Jedi (kinda-sorta) and it showed a strong performance of Diego Luna as the morally gray Cassian Andor. And... (spoiler alert) ... it killed its whole cast in its finale.

I know people that say Rogue One is their favorite Star Wars movie. (But other people dislike it.) I hold it in high esteem. The way the resistance is portrayed also seemed to be somewhat subversive - both to its previous image on screen and to what is portrayable on screen for mainstream audiences in general. It became clear that unlike in the original three Star Wars movies resisting an empire is, on the ground, a dirty business and not just about big battles or commando raids. (Which then happen anyway. Because Star Wars.)

Then followed the lackluster Solo and the third installment Yoda was never made as Star Wars increasingly lost its ability to draw crowds into seats.

And thus it came to Andor

Now what do you do with a character that (spoiler alert? really?) dies. You make a bloody prequel. Which is funny. Andor is a prequel to Rogue One which is a prequel to A New Hope. Prequels, like sequels, carry the risk of rehashing the original material without adding anything to it (Solo ...) and being trapped by the inevitability of what has to happen next, curtailing its writing (Kenobi ...). But Andor season 1 betrays none of that. (Talk about being addicted to prequels, Disney...) It is a strong piece of cinematic art in its own right.

And yes, I'm saying art. About a Star Wars series. That's how I feel about it. Andor not only has strong execution, it has depth. It was a show that made me pause it and think about what just happened on screen. It's a show that gets deeper if you know about history, unlike most shows that actually reveal their shallowness to the knowing eye. (Looking at you, The Man in the High Castle. Boy, I hated that tripe.)

But even before we get into that, let me say how I impressed I was with its set and costume design. Whereas the Book of Boba Fett gave us cyberpunks on floating scooters, Andor poured a lot of heart into how everybody looked in their various environments, creating a more rich and varied Star Wars society by portraying various strata thereof, from the life of imperial senator Mon Mothma to the middle class living literally in her shade somewhere on the middle levels of planet-city Coruscant to the mining town labor class that we find Cassian in. It flawlessly cuts between different well-thought out locations, including, of all things, a holiday resort.

This is paired with some very strong performances by similarly strong actors. I mean, we all knew Stellan Skarsgard would deliver, sure. But Denise Gough absolutely kills it, acting-wise. Her delivery as a villain is perfect, the way she manages to always look so sour and annoyed already is quite something, how she normalizes evil into a technocrat career. Every flinch of her face conveys books of information to me as the fascinated viewer. She is at the heart of this series, and worth the price of admission alone.

And let's not forget Andy Serkis' heart-rending performance. Really, we're being spoiled. People are seriously acting, not just standing in front of a camera wearing costumes! In Star Wars!!

And yet, if it was only that, it still wouldn't have impacted me as deeply as it had. There's one more layer to this, and it's the massive bottom of the iceberg that is Andor. I haven't forgotten, even though I'm writing this a year after watching it.

(And definitely spoilers from here on onwards.)

Life under fascism

The second half of season 1 however can put deep horror into any thinking person's mind. It radically departs from previous portrayals of the evil Empire. It's not relying on cheap gimmicks like Episode VII where we see a village razed by the First Order. (So evil. So cliche, too. Also murdering Max von Sydow. Tsk, tsk. They had to get him off stage before any good acting happens...) Andor creeps under our skin and then reaps havoc.

(This part of this entry will become increasingly dark. You might not want to read on. Because fiction is one thing, and comparing it to historical reality is another. This is an actual trigger warning. Proceed with care.)

The first half of the season is standard fare, almost. Cassian gets himself in trouble and there is really no redeeming quality about it. He also gets everybody else into trouble. The Empire in its heavy-handed hurry to eradicate resistance actually creates it in the first place. And still... the lack of compunction about torture, about going victim by victim, vanishing people into its torture cells, breaking them... this is merely an overture. No hero is born here, but evil wears its mask imperfectly.

Cassian escapes his small world to eventually live the good life on a resort world, getting laid, pretending to be someone else. Instead of being caught as the fugitive and murderer and partisan he actually is by now, he simply gets caught up in the arrest of somebody else. The way the Empire "perpetrates justice" not only gets him arrested while having done no wrong (in that cover identity), he also gets sentenced by a court that doesn't even pretend to actually care about due process in any way. There's a machine of oppression, and instead of competently catching him, Cassian becomes caught up randomly in one of its many gears.

And while this may seem random, it's brilliant. It's one of the many reasons why resistance exists. Because the Empire's overreach is everywhere, grinding up people just living their lives while trying to perfect its control. The corruption of the desire for power leaks through in its banality.

What follows is Cassian's imprisonment, and this segment is brutal and horrifying on a deep level. The more you know, the worse it gets. Cassian is transported to a prison facility where he's forced into repetitive labor to make equipment for the Empire. There's a set of steps every labor team has to execute, and the team with the lowest quota gets punished with electric shocks. Day after day.

This is "Vernichtung durch Arbeit." ("Destruction through labor.") This is what the Nazis did to their political opponents. Before there was a Holocaust, there were concentration camps. And prisoners were made to work - the cynic motto across the gate of Auschwitz was "Arbeit macht frei." ("Labor sets you free.") People would gradually be ground down until they gave out in one way or another, fell sick, die of exhaustion, broke psychologically. The series never tells us its "inspiration," it just goes through similar motions. With the veneer of a super-clean techno prison over it.

Not only that, the very scene reminded me of what I read in a book about the Holocaust. Towards the end of the war the engines for the new secret weapon jet planes or rockets were manufactured by prison labor. Crews of malnourished prisoners would each execute a few pretrained steps and crank out more jet engines in slave labor than was previously done in the Reich's armament factories. This was the culmination of the Nazi system where all labor-intensive things like the bunkers of the Atlantic Wall or the underground factories of Dora-Mittelbau were erected by and on the back of slaves that were themselves gradually killed in the process.

Without ever breathing a word of what is portraying, Andor portrays the same. Skillfully, horribly so.

The devil is in the details

Some way into this horror, everybody gets their sentence doubled. The counter simply goes up. No explanation. Total helplessness in the face of total control. The deep gut feeling of "No one gets out here alive" or "It will never end" begins to descend. That number was a sort of life line for people to brave another day. And it lies!

As unbelievable as it may seem, people did get released from concentration camps, especially those on "lighter charges" like "antisocial behavior." But nobody really knew how long they had to stay or if they were to be released. Often, initially told they had to do 3 to 6 months depending on their conduct, and yet most people never left alive. A quick read in a book behind me says that 8 million people were sucked into the system, 7 million died, 200,000 left by being released by the system itself. The idea you might be released one day added false hope that in itself could create further psychological torture if it was dashed over and over again.

Then there is the "divide and conquer" approach to prisoner management. Work crews are led by other prisoners, rebellion and resistance is quelled within the ranks. This Andor merely hints at, but the Nazi oppression system skillfully created hierarchies to make sure a comparatively small detachment of guards could handle a large mass of inmates which could overwhelm them if acting together.

But it doesn't stop here, not in Andor, either. Eventually we learn that the Empire starts to eliminate the prison population. Rumors start to spread that an entire floor of the super prison was eliminated by electrocution. Just like the real Nazis the space Nazis start to construct yet another death machine to eliminate opposition.

And this leads to that sub-plots final chapter, the prison revolt. There are a few historical mass escapes, even from Nazi death camps. There's also the heroism of the two uprisings of Warsaw (including the ghetto uprising). Left with nothing to lose, left with nothing but death ahead, the prisoners overwhelm the guards.

And this happened in real life, too. It's probably based on the historical case of the death camp inmates that were forced to run the gas chambers and crematoria themselves. This is part of the Holocaust itself, the Nazis had finally dropped all pretenses and resorting to kill people in an industrial manner. And these people knew that eventually their whole detachment would be killed. They knew too much, were witnesses to this massive crime against them and humanity itself. They were also among those destined for death. Like in an antechamber of hell itself they were merely bidding time. So they managed one of the few mass escapes on record.

While Andor doesn't stray as far down the road as actual history does, it knows how to cite history for those who know. It's not made up of whole cloth. It actually is referencing the real history of the most inhumane version of fascism, but it does not put the fact in your face. But if you know, its chamber of horrors becomes so much deeper.

And that's why

This is what makes Andor an absolute masterpiece. It recreates the conditions without blindly copying the source. It adapts, but you can feel how deeply inhumane the circumstances are that it depicts. It gives you the bloody creeps, and even if you don't know how much it is rooted in darkness, you will still feel it. It shows. It tells. But it never spoils the source material.

This is art. This is the deep craft. The banality of evil, the careless, uncaring attitude of evil towards those it deems unworthy and not human. It's all on display. It switches us into the place of Cassian and of Andy Serkis' character as it draws us in as audience. We don't see what happens on other floors. We don't have the information advantage. We can only imagine. We are subjected to the fact that we can only imagine it. And so we share a bit in the plight of these characters. Sometimes not showing a thing is the highest accomplishment of movie making.

And this is why I'm pissed that a series that was planned for five seasons was already cut to play out in two. Because we need more of this and less of more Jedi doing backflips. Just like Loki plays on a completely different level than the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Andor leaves all of Star Wars in its dust. If Rogue One was the attempt to tell a different kind of story in the same universe, Andor is the attempt at a different level of depth.

And this, more than Rogue One, makes it clear why they fight.

Watch it if you can.

And sorry if I horrified you.

#andor #andor series #cassian andor #rogue one #star wars

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lxversharkss · 9 months

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( GUESS THE PARENT )

warnings : none

a/n : don’t know how i feel about this but anyways keep requesting as i’m back 🤯

requested : yes

summary : you and your son go on a beta squad video and aj can’t help but flirt with you

you gave birth to your son at fifteen, your parents immediately kicked you out without even letting you think about getting an abortion.

you ended up in your sisters spare room, before moving out into a two bedroom flat when you got a stable job.

ziggy’s eighth birthday was coming up and he had been a fan of the beta squad since covid started. you had decided to sign up for the next beta squad video, ‘guess the parent’ in hopes of him meeting his favourite youtubers for his birthday.

plus, you’d get some money from it.

two weeks after you’d signed up, an email came through saying you’d been accepted. ziggy was so excited, and thanked you countlessly for the next couple of days.

it was a half an hour drive to get to the studio, and the whole time ziggy was bouncing with excitement, so much you thought about taping his mouth shut.

you got there a little bit early, and ziggy even got to get to know the beta squad a little bit.

then it was finally time to start filming. you watched with a smile as ziggy talked to the squad on camera.

you were standing with four other people. one who looked like albert einstein, and three other normal looking people.

“let’s meet the parents” one of the beta squad members, who you know as sharky, exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

then you were directed in set, in a line and standing in front of the table, where they were all sitting.

you hoped you wouldn’t be voted out the first round. any other round was okay. but the first would be a smack in the face.

one by one, every one introduced themselves. then it was your turn. “hi, i’m y/n. i’m twenty three and i had ziggy when i was fifteen.”

“she copying number one’s story” niko laughed with the rest of them.

“no” you laughed. “not my fault i’m last in line. anyways, so, my parents kicked me out and i was taken in my older sister, then we moved out when i was able to provide for the both of us.”

“nah she making this all up.” aj said aloud. “what’s your sisters name?”

“sienna, but ziggy calls her auntie cee.” you replied.

aj looked towards the camera, before back at the group. “can i try something?”

they all shrugged. aj got up and walked towards you, bringing you more in ziggys view. “listen, even if you are ziggys mum and that, i’m ready to be a dad so , what you saying can i get your number?”

the beta squad laughed. aj glanced at ziggy, who glared at him. he gasped, “do you see his face? that boy look like he bout to jump me.”

“he probably could as well.” you laughed, standing back to where you was, among everyone laugh.

“wait, was that a no?” aj replied.

you quickly looked at your son before back at aj mouthing, “we’ll talk later.”

you got voted out the third round, which wasn’t to bad. they just didn’t believe it because aj was too busy flirting with you , and you seemed to ‘leng’ to be a mum, as they called it.

they had said that number four was the parent, and you were all brought back out. kenny tutted, “you man are so dumb, it’s clearly number five.”

“nah, it’s number four.” aj replied, “well. I hope so otherwise i been trying to get his mum the whole vid.”

“okay.” sharky laughed. “we believe it’s number four, will the real parent please step forward.”

you were told to wait a few seconds to make it more dramatic, so after five seconds you stepped forward with a smile. the beta squad gasped, aj even got up to walk around a little bit.

they begun apologising and making ziggy hug you. ziggy laughed, and hugged you, picking him up.

they were all still in disbelief.

“okay, so why did you sign ziggy up for today?” they asked, still in shock.

you smiled, “uh, well he just turned eight, and watched your videos everyday so i thought it would be nice present.”

aj , who was still standing up and apologising, came up to you and ziggy, giving you a hug. ziggy rolled his eyes, stepping in-front of you protectively, making them all laugh.

“so can i still get your number?”

#ajshabeel #beta squad #guess the parent #niko omilana #the beta squad #king Kenny #chunkz #sharky #ziggy

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amethystina · 2 months

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A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

#Amethystina and Life #I don't really know what to tag this as #A rant?#A rambling?#An explanation?#It's just a lot I guess #And I admit I'm still hesitating whether to post this or not #I don't like talking about things like this #Or draw attention to it might be a better way to put it #But yeah #It's here if you want to read it #But do so at your own risk #Now I'm going to bed #And might just pretend I never wrote this because I feel awkward and embarrassed x'D

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