#beecee's requests

[boy-comics]

Hi! I wanted to know if I could request a writing with Jooyeon x reader where Jooyeon is a nonidol and a p.e. teacher, while the reader is also a teacher at the same school. Maybe like an art teacher or normal homeroom teacher for the reader? Or whatever you think is best and will make sense. I know it will be amazing since I have loved all of your writings they are so so good! :D I hope this makes sense since it is my first time requesting something.

A FOR EFFORT?

── .✦ pairing; teacher!jooyeon x teacher!gn!reader

── .✦ summary; five times jooyeon is in the running for the position of your work spouse, and one time you run for the position of his.

── .✦ word count; ~4.1k

── .✦ tags; swearing, slightly suggestive near the end, teacher au, fluff, humor, (inaccurate depiction of teaching in korea/teaching in general), (i apologize to those who read this and actually teach tysm for your hard work)

── .✦ a/n; thank you for the request anon!!! i'm sorry for the delay </3 for plot purposes reader is an art teacher hehe

prelude;

Two weeks after Lee Jooyeon comes onboard at your elementary school as the new physical education teacher, he approaches you in the teacher's room and asks, a grave look on his face, if you have a work spouse already.

"Work spouse?" you repeat, perplexed. "Why do you ask?"

"Hyeongjun said that your work spouse is probably Seungmin. Is he?"

"Well, I guess it would make sense since we both started working here at the same time. But no." The sigh of relief that escapes him makes you crack a smile. "Do you have a work spouse, Seonsaengnim?"

At that, Jooyeon throws you a crooked grin. His boyish reply sends a rush of blood to your cheeks.

"No, not yet." You nod in acknowledgment, looking down with the excuse of organizing your papers. You think that is the end of the conversation until he continues: "How can I get one?"

"Huh?"

"How can I get a work spouse?"

You shrug, laughing a bit at the absurdity of the question, even as a younger part of you flirts with hope. "I don't know," you reply. Jooyeon just stares at you expectantly, and your chuckle turns awkward. "Help them prep materials for their class? Listen to them complain about overbearing parents?"

"Those things would work?"

"I mean, they're nice things to do. Anybody would appreciate it."

"You'd appreciate it," Jooyeon says. "For example."

"Yes, 'cause I'm lazy and love complaining." You push your sleeves back up and return your attention to your computer screen, scooting into your desk. "Anything else I can help you with before we get back to work, Seonsaengnim?"

A thoughtful hum leaves his throat, low and sonorous. "No, that's it," he eventually replies. "Thank you."

"Of course," you say as he excuses himself, and as he shuffles off to wherever he had come from, your head turns on its own volition to watch him leave.

Work spouse. How cute. You're curious to see what he does with your advice, if only to see if he really means to use it on you.

—

one;

"Good morning, Seonsaengnim!"

Hurried steps soon follow, and you turn, astonished.

"Am I dreaming?" you say by way of greeting, not believing your eyes or ears as Jooyeon skids to a stop. You glance down at the two cups in his possession. "You're thirty minutes early?"

"Yep," Jooyeon says proudly. His expression is bright, though his somewhat rumpled appearance tells you the cost of rolling out of bed earlier than usual. "I wanted to make sure you had time to drink this."

He offers one of the cups to you. You take it gratefully and read the sleeve, your eyebrows shooting up as you recognize the name of your favorite coffee shop. You think you've only mentioned it once to him in passing.

"How do you know how I take my coffee?"

"I asked Jiseokie."

Ah, so that's why he had asked everyone yesterday.

Delaying opening the door to blow into the cup and take a sip, you make a pleased sound as the blend hits your tongue. It isn't your exact order, but it's pretty damn close, and it's good. And it isn't too hot.

"Good?" Jooyeon ventures expectantly.

"Good," you confirm, smiling and turning to open the door. "Thank you, Seonsaengnim."

He follows you into the school and drinks from his own cup of coffee.

"What did you get?" you ask.

He sounds almost proud when he replies. "Iced Americano."

"Is that your usual?"

He takes another swig. You get your answer when you glance to the side and catch the grimace on his face. "… No, I like frappés better …"

You snort, elbowing him gently. "Then why did you get that?"

"The caffeine," he answers. "I wanted to be more awake when I told you good morning."

Oh.

"… Oh," you say, touched. "Well, you've made my morning for sure."

Jooyeon grins. If he had a tail, you think it would be wagging right now.

—

two;

The feeling of Jooyeon hovering over your shoulder is nothing particularly new, but it still makes you nervous and giddy at the same time.

"Yes, Seonsaengnim?"

"Nothing, just watching," he replies, then inevitably follows up with, "what kind of art is this?"

You continue squeezing glue onto the piece of fabric pressed out on the counter, trying to keep the lines from being too gloopy. "I'm doing a few lessons on textiles, and we're going to do batik two days from now. It's a Javanese dyeing technique that creates patterns using hot wax," you explain. "I'll have the kids use glue instead of wax, though."

"Oh, I think I remember doing that in school! Can I try?"

"Sure." You pause to gesture to the nearby stack of fabric squares. "You can draw out your own design on the fabric or trace from the design I printed out."

"I'll make my own design."

For the next five minutes, Jooyeon takes a pencil in hand and becomes deceptively quiet. You sense him glance over at you several times, but you keep your eyes on the standard design you'll be showing as an example, working on the petal edges and filling in the centers. When he mutters about glue, you direct him towards the supply cabinet without so much as sneaking a peek at his progress. You're not sure why. Maybe you just want the reveal to be all at once.

Around the time that you finish your own design, Jooyeon grunts happily. "Done," he announces, very student-like.

"That was pretty quick," you say, finally looking over and immediately stopping short. "Oh, that's … oh … wow."

Jooyeon had drawn a portrait. Of someone? You're actually not sure it's a person.

"It's you," he says, and you struggle not to choke. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the ungodly sound, but your embarrassment quickly fades as he starts cackling. "Abstractly, maybe. What, you don't like it? I worked so hard!"

"No, it's great," you wheeze. "Looks just like me. Can I show it as an example to the students?"

"Well, yeah. Wait, let me sign it." Tongue sticking out slightly, Jooyeon glues his name into the corner with a flourish. "Is that good?"

"Perfect." You mean it genuinely and he beams. "We can paint them tomorrow, if you have time."

"I'll make time, Seonsaengnim."

He helps you put the supplies away and store your pieces somewhere where they won't get bothered. Only then does he sheepishly mutter something about working on his own lesson plan for tomorrow, leading to you quickly ushering him out of the art room.

Once he is gone, you return to the portrait he had made and giggle until you have to sit down. You're flattered—really.

—

three;

"Those girls over at the far end of the swings," Seungmin brings your attention to a trio of students during recess. "They're up to something."

"Looks like they're picking flowers." You watch the three students from the Camellia class as they shuffle through the grass to pick dandelions. The yellow flowers are starting to crop up all over the schoolyard, much to the vice principal's chagrin. "Jiwoo's been making dandelion chains for the past week."

"No ..." Seungmin scratches his neck. "They've been looking over here for the past five minutes and giggling."

You snort. "Maybe they want to give their handsome moral education teacher flowers."

Dismissive of Seungmin's observation, you turn your attention to the more rambunctious group of students playing soccer. One of them attempts a giant swing of a kick only to miss and fall backwards in the process, but she gets back up in no time to run after everyone else.

Eventually, you hear someone calling for a teacher.

"Seonsaengnim!"

You smile as the three girls from earlier run towards you and Seungmin. All three have a chain of dandelions around their necks, and the ringleader, Jiwoo, has a small bundle of long-stemmed dandelions and smaller white flowers tied together with a piece of grass.

"What is it, girls?" you ask. "You all look so nice with your necklaces."

"Thank you," Jiwoo says modestly. The other two glance at each other and giggle but say nothing. "We have something for you."

To your slight but pleasant surprise, she presents the bouquet to you.

"Wow!" says Seungmin next to you. "We have such thoughtful students, Seonsaengnim."

"We do," you say proudly, taking the bouquet. "Thank you, girls."

They look at you and giggle to each other again. You start to get a little perplexed when they linger, until—

"They're from Coach!" Chaeyoung blurts, then gasps and covers her mouth.

You blink. "... Coach?" Jiwoo glares at her friend, and all three girls blush guiltily. You bend down a bit and smile at them to hide your sudden concern. "Did he tell you to do this?"

It takes a moment of silent debating amongst the group, but finally, Jiyoo speaks up, her voice tiny and nervous. "No. But we heard Seonsaengnim tell Coach about liking the dandelions yesterday, and Coach said he wished he was on recess duty today to get you some, a-and ... we wanted to do something nice for Seonsaengnim and Coach."

Your tongue nearly ties itself up into a knot. Shit. You thought it had just been the two of you in the hallway yesterday, away from the kids, but you should've known by now that even the walls have ears. At least you know that Jooyeon has the sense not to purposely involve the kids with this. You avoid meeting Seungmin's eyes for fear that he might say something stupid in front of your students.

While you gather your thoughts, Jiyoo begins to sniff. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, Seonsaengnim!" she exclaims. "I know you said we're not supposed to!"

Jiwoo and Chaeyoung shift anxiously, eyes downcast. You quickly kneel to soothe Jiyoo and reassure the other two. "Hey, hey," you say softly. "You're not in trouble. I know you three meant to do something nice, and it was very nice to pick me all these beautiful flowers. But Jiyoo-ya is right that we shouldn't eavesdrop. Coach and I were having a private conversation. And whatever is in a private conversation should stay between those two people unless someone is getting hurt, right?"

"Yes ..."

You pat Jiyoo's shoulders and smile at Jiwoo and Chaeyoung.

Jiwoo opens her mouth, then closes it, bringing her friends closer before addressing you. "Seonsaengnim ... can the flowers be from us instead, then?"

Ah, your heart melts a bit. You nod and stroke the bouquet, pressing the flowers to your nose and taking a big whiff. "Of course. I'll put them in a nice cup of water so they can stay on my desk. Thank you."

With all the bad feelings assuaged and a lesson learned, the girls are satisfied and return to playing, and you stand back up, sighing in relief.

"Wow." Seungmin plays with the lanyard hanging from his neck, and you cast him a withering glance as he raises an eyebrow at you. "So even the kids know."

"Seonsaengnim, we're on duty."

He shrugs, taking in a deep breath of sun-filled air. You look back out at your students running and laughing across the schoolyard before he speaks again.

"It's so simple for them. If you like someone, you don't have to worry about their five-year plan or family or Internet history or whatever. You just like them and give them flowers."

"Yeah." You hold your bouquet to your chest, wondering what Jooyeon will say when you tell him that your precious students have beaten him to it. "Kids are lucky."

—

four;

"You know, Seonsaengnim," Jiseok, the science teacher, tells you while you're photocopying extra portrait examples for tomorrow's class, "one might classify you as a homewrecker."

You sputter. "As a—sorry?"

"A homewrecker."

The printer continues to churn out Joseon-period court officials. You glance down at the faces, then at Jiseok, who leans against the overworked machine and returns your questioning gaze with a solemn one.

"Can you ... elaborate on that?" you plead.

"Of course. I'm referring to how my work bestie, Lee Jooyeon, is leaving me for the art teacher." Jiseok shakes his head. "Do you know how hard I've vouched for bridging the gap between the arts and sciences? I've coordinated lessons with you. Both of you have betrayed me!"

A snort leaves your nose. "Oh. You worried me for a second."

"You should be, Seonsaengnim. Even though Jooyeon is single and very available in terms of his personal life, the professional relationship between Jooyeon and me is essential for this school's ecosystem. If it is altered in any way, the effect would be disastrous."

"I don't see how your guys' relationship can get any more disastrous."

Before Jiseok can give a verbal reply, the door opens. Both of you look over, wide-eyed, at the sudden appearance of—well, Jooyeon.

"Hi," he says. "What are you guys doing?"

"Photocopying things in the photocopying room," you say as Jiseok wanders over to the neighboring photocopier to gather his own papers. "What are you doing?"

"Yeah," Jiseok drawls, a shit-eating grin on his face. "What are you doing, Jooyeon-ah?"

"The light was on, so I wanted to turn it off if nobody was in here," Jooyeon says, even though the door has a window. He turns to you. "I can carry your papers for you, Seonsaengnim."

You wave your hands. "You don't have to. I can do it."

"I want to do it."

"It makes me feel a little guilty, though."

With raised eyebrows, Jiseok slips past the two of you, throwing you two exaggerated thumbs ups behind Jooyeon's back before the latter turns to see what's going on. They pause for a moment, and you start to become a bit suspicious before Jiseok heads out and Jooyeon turns back to you.

"Don't feel guilty. You help me all the time, even when it's annoying."

His earnestness softens you yet again. You sigh with a smile, handing the warm stack of papers to him. "All right, then, here. As long as you tell Jiseok that I'm not leading you on."

At that, Jooyeon laughs, holding your papers against his chest and opening the door to let both of you out.

"What's wrong with being led sometimes?"

—

five;

You want to go home. You want to go home and take a shower and change into soft clothes and cry yourself to sleep in your bed.

Your breaths escape you in soft hisses between your hands. Your hands, damp despite having wiped the sweat from them a minute or two ago, press hard into your face. The fan on your desk whirs gently.

"Seonsaengnim?"

Shit.

Inhaling, you tear your hands from your face and reach for your water bottle, leaning back and taking a long sip of water to excuse your late reply. "Yes?"

"It's Jooyeon." You know. There's a lengthy pause behind the door before he continues, uncharacteristically tentative, "Can I come in?"

You probably look like a wreck. "Sure."

The door opens. You fiddle with the cap of your water bottle, not meeting Jooyeon's eyes as he steps in and carefully closes the door behind him.

Clearing your throat, you say wryly, "Sorry, no art lesson today."

"I know. I just heard about what happened." He looks down at you, brow furrowed. "Really, it's messed up."

"I just ... can't, sometimes." The frustration suddenly escapes you in a burst. You feel hot. "The parents want me to teach their kid. I can't teach them because they're busy bullying other students. I can't discipline them because I'm not their parent. I scold them for scratching another kid and the parents threaten to report me and tell me I should be fired. What am I supposed to do?"

Jooyeon bites the inside of his cheek. "... I don't know," he mutters. "At least you know you're not going to be fired."

You laugh, bitter. "Yeah. This time."

Resting your elbows on the desk again, you rub your temples, willing the sting behind your eyes to go away.

Movement from Jooyeon's position catches your attention. Your chair swivels and then he's close, almost too close, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as he says your title with conviction.

"You worked fucking hard for that title. If the school ever decides to throw you away because of shitty parents, then it's a shitty school and the rest of us should quit."

Your bottom lip trembles almost imperceptibly. "That's not fair to the kids."

"We'll open a new school for them."

"Their parents will still be shitty."

"I—come on!" Jooyeon whines as you chuckle wetly, shaking your chair with a pout. "I'm trying my best to comfort you here."

"I know," you say, wiping half a tear from your eye before grinning up at him. His expression lightens, and he lets go of your chair, only to continue hovering close. "Thank you."

He smiles back.

—

+ one;

"Seonsaengnim!" The sudden boom after hours of silence causes you to jump about ten feet in the air. You snap your head towards the door to see Jooyeon, who grins and waves at you. "Hi."

"Jooyeon-ssaem, you scared the crap out of me," you scold. The man's grin only broadens, and you shake your head, leaving the craft table to walk over to him. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."

Jooyeon scratches the back of his head. "Ah … I forgot to finish some paperwork," he admits. "So I figured I should do it now before I forget again and get in trouble."

You raise your eyebrows. "Thinking ahead? That's new."

His eyelids crinkle at the corners as he laughs. That's Jooyeon for you—always taking your teases in stride. "You're so mean," he exclaims. "I was gonna say that I also came in because you said you were gonna be here today, but maybe you don't deserve my help."

"No, no, no, wait," you say quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, judging by the way his eyes glint. "I meant to say that you're proactive and hardworking and really helpful. Like, you always ask if I need help when you have time, because you're that nice."

He waves you off, feigning modesty. "Ah, please, I'm just doing my part. Anyway, do you need any help?"

"I thought you had paperwork?"

"It can wait for a little bit," he says dismissively. He leans to peek around you, then trots over to the craft table. "This is what you're working on?" He picks at one of the many small, triangular flags strewn over your table.

"Yep. The kids designed their own flag, and I'm putting them together to hang around the classroom. Oh!" You pick up one of the younger students' flags, showing Jooyeon a doodle of two stick figures. "Guess whose this is?"

Jooyeon squints at it for a few moments. Then he breaks into a smile and snickers, holding the other side of the flag in such a way that his fingertips meet yours underneath the paper.

"Shit, that's me! This's gotta be Hongseok's flag." He points at the taller stick figure, squiggled ponytail and all, running after the shorter stick figure. "This isn't true, by the way. He's never actually beaten me in a race yet."

"Really?" A proud nod. "Congrats on winning against a nine-year-old."

"He's the fastest kid in his class!"

You snort, letting go of the flag to cross your arms. "Y'know, most adults would let him win at least once. To encourage him?"

At that, Jooyeon shakes his head. "Nine-year-olds are smart enough to catch onto stuff like that. I'm teaching him persistence," he says. "Plus, I told him if he ever beat me, he wouldn't have to do P.E. for the rest of the year. I don't think the principal would like that."

"Ah, geez."

He sets the flag down with care, placing it where it had been before you'd picked it up. His eyes meet yours before he leans in conspiratorially. Your skin prickles in delight, even more so when his voice dips the slightest bit lower to accommodate the close proximity.

"I was the Hongseok in my class. It's bad to have favorites, but you won't tell on me, right?"

You swallow. "How can I, when you're my favorite teacher?"

"Aw, I am?"

"Don't look so smug. You already know that."

"I do?"

He seems to lean closer. The sunlight streaming through the window hits his skin and turns his eyes amber.

You have the sense to pull away and fuss with your flag project, adjusting the spacing for no particular reason. Dammit. You wish you had the guts to say something.

Jooyeon sticks by you nonetheless, still chipper.

"Since I'm your favorite teacher," he says, "do you want to take a lap around the track?"

You blink at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I'm working."

"And how much have you gotten done since you started talking to me?" You open your mouth to protest, but he powers forward. "Just one lap. Exercise is important. Come on," he urges, shaking your shoulder. "It'll just be you and me. Don't you want to try to beat me in a race?"

You narrow your eyes. "'Try'?"

"Well, you said it yourself that you're slow."

And that's how you end up outside, tightening the knots of your shoelaces as Jooyeon hops up and down next to you on the school's running track.

"Ready yet?"

"Yep." You stand up and stretch your arms half-heartedly, wondering how liking your coworker this much has led to this situation.

"Okay," he chirps, leaning forward into position. You copy him. "One lap. Three, two, one, go!"

With that, Lee Jooyeon leaves you in the dust, practically halfway around the track by the time you register what had happened.

Gritting your teeth, you chase after him, pumping your arms in an attempt to catch up. He looks back more than once to see how far you are behind him, and you make a face at him whenever he does so. The promise of only one lap disappears from the back of your mind as you continue running after him after he's crossed the starting line.

"What! I won already!" he yells over his shoulder, fleeing to the grassy area inside the track.

"Yeah, so let me give you your prize!"

"No way!"

Still, he eventually stops short, whether out of belated pity or fatigue, and you barrel into him with reckless abandon.

The grass is slightly damp. Jooyeon topples over, bringing you along with him, and the two of you land with a groan.

"Ow, shit."

"Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay."

With him on his back and you on your stomach, one of your arms splayed across his chest, you start to remove yourself from him to push yourself up. A hand closes around your wrist before you can fully do so.

"Wait," Jooyeon says quickly, breathless. You lock eyes with him; his face is flushed and his gaze is wide. "What's my prize?"

You struggle to catch your breath. It seems much harder to do now. "I thought you didn't want it."

"I changed my mind."

"Hm." The sound that leaves your throat is rough. How can it not be, when Lee Jooyeon is staring up at you like that? You wet your lips and he seems to lock onto the movement. There are a million ways to answer him, but your mind is fuzzy from adrenaline and the lack of distance, and the only thing you can come up with is, "What if you don't like it?"

"I'll like it." There's not a shred of doubt in his tone, but it's raspy. "Pretty sure you'll like it too."

It's all the encouragement you need.

His other hand moves to the back of your head as you lean down and press your lips to his.

It's a short one. The groan Jooyeon lets out is enough to make you dizzy and his mouth is so soft you want to melt into it, but your stupid lungs still feel like they're going to collapse and you pull away to save them. Blood pounds in your ears, your chest heaving against his, and you almost don't know where your breaths stop and his begin.

Finally, you break the silence. "Does this mean we're work spouses now?"

Jooyeon stares at you, flabbergasted. "We better be more than that," he retorts, "'cause I'm gonna want you on top of me every single day."

You tap his chest, shushing him, and he laughs, pulling you in to peck your lips once more. And it's just as good as the first time.

[acetechne]

thankfully you can't tell how little light i have from this picture but every time i put my arm over it i cast a shadow and have to squint like a little old lady and what colour im trying to put down aaaaaaa (and sorry for the eyeless nightmare fuel it'll look better eventually i promise)

on the one hand having 4 characters to go back and forth on is great because it gives the layers time to dry before i get impatient

on the other hand, even though sunset isnt until past 8:30 today, the sky is getting darker and darker because we are supposed to have snow overnight and im trying to paint as fast as i can while i still have light ;~;

[tigerdovefan34-realone]

Doing TFP BeeCee Requests

I'll write them and post them as soon as I can. Can be any sort, from Lemony to Kid friendly, but it has to have some focus on BeeCee and be TFP continuity.

If any ideas are thought, send it here via reply or PM. Seriously guys, I want to show off my writing talents here.

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

Part of Your World

A little gift for @kleeklutch, who also inadvertently gave me a quote prompt to work from.

Note that this fic is directly connected to, and is an elaboration on, this AU concept for Dex.

And if you want to see what Nursey’s wearing... check out this awesome piece by @gouachemole.

Also it’s now on AO3.

Being out on the water in the Gulf of Maine can present you with quite a spectacle.  

The rising sun just beginning to cast its light. Clouds in the horizon concentrating that dawning light into golden shafts that slash across the sky and reflect upon the calm water. A light fog giving an aura of stillness over gently rolling waves. And little white terns flitting around and calling to one another in sharp tones.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Or it would be if I didn’t feel like upchucking over the side of the lobster boat… and in front of a judgmental William Poindexter, who stares at me with that now-predictable mixture of crankiness and concern. Refusing to buckle before Dex is probably the only thing that’s keeping me upright.

“I thought you told me that you've already been at sea.”

“Yachts,” I correct him. “I was on yachts.” Ones that were a bit bigger than this vessel and didn’t rock uncontrollably whenever a damn cruise ship would pass by.

“Well that explains everything…” Dex emphasizes that by doing an obvious once-over of me with his eyes.

“Take it all in, Poindexter.” I emphasize my own statement with a weak gin and by gesticulating over my pink lobster-embroidered shirt, pastel lobster-print chino shorts, and… regular boat shoes. “You know you like it.”

Dex found the whole get-up horrifying. To Dex’s increased horror, the uncle — I call him “Boatdexter” — running this boat and cousins helping along found it hilarious, and they encouraged me to wear it out to sea. Besides, at least for this first trip, they fully forbade me to haul traps — though that may change if I go out with them again — so I might as well be comfortable.  

Well… as comfortable as I can get. Because right now, chirps are the only thing keeping me from wigging out, and I’m not sure how long that can last.  

And of course Dex just has to make things harder by hovering around me — when he isn’t hauling traps — to make sure I’m inventorying correctly.

Before long… after Dex asks for an obscure tool… then asks if I know what I’m doing and want to take a break… that last fraying thread snaps.  

“Dude like I don’t even know bc this whole mermy Dexy thing kinda came out of nowhere and I don’t know why you’re down there or what you need and you think I know these things but I don’t Nemo!”

Fuck that feels good!

It really does, even if I have to take a deep breath to make up for the lack of pause in that rant. As my breathing slows back down, I plop down on a pile of ropes to stare at Dex, who just scowls back at me with the usual reddening of his ears.

A couple minutes of silent staredown passes before a cousin takes pity on us, grabs the requested tool, and hands it to Dex… who mutters curt thanks, puts the tool in one of his utility pouches, and dives back into the depths. Though not before soaking me with a flick of his tail.

Oh, did I mention that Dex is a merman? Well Dex is a fucking merman.

Now did he warn me in advance about that little tidbit? Did he warn me in advance that he was a figure of myth and fantasy? Of course not.

Though to be fair, I think he was trying to tell me but, in true Dexy fashion, was shit at communication. It certainly explained why he kept second-guessing my decision to come along in the trip… or looked like he was about to say something but kept stopping himself. But I didn’t want to assume or pressure him.

Still, I should have been suspicious when I first saw that Dex wasn’t dressed in the rubber overalls like his relatives but rather his regular clothes.

Then we reached the first trap. Then he proceeded to strip down to his swimsuit before gearing up with something that looked like a utility-belt-and-small-backpack combo. Then he dove out into the water… and didn’t surface.

I was already caught off-guard by him getting into the water. When a minute passed without him surfacing, I didn’t pay attention to how unbothered the rest of my companions were. Instead I frantically rushed over to the side of the boat to peer into the aquamarine depths.

“Dex? DEX? DE—”

“WHAT?”

Dex’s irate exclamation from the other side of the boat made me turn around… right in time to have his speedos — his claim is that they’re easier than trunks or jammers to carry in a pouch and wear clothes over; which… whatever…  — slap me in the face.

As I peeled that… garment off, I heard Dex berating me for running around the deck recklessly. Then I saw him, and anything else he was jabbering about faded into a muted drone. Nothing else mattered more than the sight before me.

Overall, if you look at him from the waist up, Dex looks like he normally does at first glance. That is until you notice his eyes and how those gold irises have not only gotten more reflective but twice the size, with the sclerae that’s visible having gone from white to pitch black. Or how his canines are noticeably larger and sharper than you’d expect from a human. Or how his coppery hair really does look like fire in how it pulses with light bright enough to be noticeable even with the morning sun.

Then you notice the tail. Not a legs-replacing fishy tail like popular culture sells. Nope. This is a segmented exoskeleton-clad structure around ten times the length of his torso, patterned in an aquamarine hue similar to its surroundings, and terminating in a fan-like articulated fin. His actual legs are transformed into large fins, a multitude of mini fins are undulate along the underside and flank of the tail, and the top of each segment has a set of spiny siphons to shoot water out in a jet-like stream.

I must have been gaping at Dex long enough for him to finally remember that this was the first time I saw him like that; because he suddenly clammed up, got really red with that blush accompanied by a heightened intensity of his hair’s glow, and dove back into the water.

While Dex was down in the depths, Boatdexter took the time to explain things to me.

They don’t know how or when the ability first arose; just that it’s magic in the fullest sense — including the transformation, which happens at will and not just in the presence of water — and probably involves something akin to a Land of the Fae. It’s not guaranteed that someone in the family will have the ability, but everyone who has the ability has been born in the family. Some have used that ability in joining the Special Forces or working in underwater construction; others are just satisfied hauling traps.

In any case, by the time Dex brought that first trap up, I recovered from the revelation and was able to do my assigned job of recording the number of lobsters taken in or thrown back. I’d probably do better if not for the concerned glances he kept sending me.

Leading to this poi—

“Wait…”

That word, uttered right by my ear, does not cause me to jump up and yelp in an undignified high-pitched manner that would be a non-ending source of chirps if it ever reaches the team. Nope. Not at all.  

Dex ignores my not-reaction as he gingerlly drops a basketful of a sea cucumbers into the boat; the Chinese pay top dollar for those creatures, so he harvests a few on the side when he dives down. “Did you just use ‘beecee’ in place of ‘because’? Why… why am I not surprised?”

Despite everything… Despite my sluggish acclimatization to being at sea in a boat smaller than I’m used to… Despite this frustrating sense of uselessness… Despite my fellow D-man turning out to be a creature out of a fantasy book… I offer Dex a lazy grin.

Dex’s scowl deepens enough to allow one of those oversized canines to peek out, the glow of his hair increases in pulse and brightens to the point of casting mild flickering shadows, and a part of me ponders the veracity of those stories where pissed-off mermaids drag mariners to the depths.

Still…

I widen my grin and peck him on the nose before giving my answer:

“Hashtag linguistics.”

Memo to self: being beaned in the face with what's essentially a living dildo of the sea is not a pleasant experience. Boatdexter tells me that the white, sticky, rapidly-solidifying goop that had been squirted all over my face and hair — yes, I'm aware how this sounds, fuck you very much — are the innards the creature releases for self-defense; which… the fuck…

Still, as I peel away the nylon-like filaments, one thought crosses my mind:

#worthit

[boy-comics]

✨ anon i hope you see this!!!

i got your request and just wanted to know what you would prefer ^^ in making a fourth part to the crush series, if it follows the plot of the other three parts, reader will realize the xh members have a crush after most of the members have realized it themselves. i can do that + them getting together

OR

if you specifically want scenarios where reader finds out about the crush before the members realize it, i can write those instead, but with different plot lines/reader characters from the other three (so this one would stand by itself rather then be a continuation)

lmk what you'd like!!! <3