#u can go ahead and follow

[revvywevvy]

Hey so... important thingy real quick pertaining to sharing f/os.

I get it- sharing f/os can be hard for some folks. Whether you get self conscious, jealous, nervous abt it, etc etc. I totally understand- I can open up here and admit that I get really self conscious and a little nervous when I see people who ship with the f/os I am uncomfortable sharing or have selective sharing with. However, that's a normal thing to feel, and you shouldn't feel bad about it at all! It's okay to be sad, or anxious, or jealous, or anything else along those lines. That's why we block and move on, and try not to let those negative feelings hurt us too heavily.

That being said, when it becomes NOT okay, is when you're posting on any of your blogs about wanting people who ship with your f/os dead. Or posting about wanting to cause bodily harm to other self-shippers. Oooor posting about said f/o harming other shippers. Or anything under that umbrella.

Seriously. I feel like it's already pretty obvious that you should never do that in the first place, but those who don't care and want to actively participate in said behavior should just stay in their own damn circle- away from the people who aren't harming anyone; who are just shipping and minding their own business.

We absolutely do not need those kinds of people running around and literally wishing death on folks, whether they think they're being sneaky about it or not. Nobody deserves to die for the 'crime' of loving the same character as someone else.

[yellowocaballero]

Character Work

Got an ask the other day that asked me how I developed a character, and there was no room to go into it on that ask at all, but I did want to note something. As a fic writer I feel pretty unqualified to write on how to create a character, but I do have something specific I want to say that I've been thinking for a while. I'll keep it just to that. I'll also say that I'm talking exclusively about writing, and not how you engage with fandom. It is, in fact, extremely fun to make an endless series of meaningless headcanons for random dudes. I'm just talking about in terms of how you approach the character from a writing perspective. Which is...

Your OC makes a bad character.

I mean your Dungeons and Dragons character. I mean the character you have a character sheet for, the character you've thought about for years, the one that you are extremely fond of and who feels like a real person to you. The character that is the character, and to change them would feel like changing a person.

Characters should feel like real people to the reader, but as the writer you cannot think of them as people. They are plot devices and a function of the story. They don't need to be fleshed out before you start writing. The actual creation of the character should take place in the outlining and drafting process.

I'm not saying you aren't allowed to stop and think about their favorite grilled cheeses or their sign. There's a few lists of good questions to ask yourself about your characters before you start writing them, such as their desires and their home lives, but the list of actual questions you need to answer are short. And you should try to stop there, because otherwise you're going to over-develop your character and it's going to get in the way of the story.

Assuming you're writing a character focused story, the character's journey is the plot's journey. But the character and the plot exist in relationship to each other. I think of them as two interlocking gears - some things in the plot just can't happen because Character A wouldn't do that, but some things need to happen for the plot to work, so Character A needs to be the kind of person who would do that. Both the character and the plot are in service of what the story is about (Theme, moral, message, etc). These three things have to line up, and they can't overpower each other. You shouldn't try and make round pegs fit in square holes. If a character doesn't fit in with what you want the story to be about (if the story's about vanity and your character doesn't care about vanity) then you need to change one of those things. You can bend the entire plot and meaning of the story around the character, but damn you better have a character who makes a really fantastic story.

You need a character that makes a good story. Some characters don't make good stories, and you need to work super hard to create a story that fits them. That's fine - that can create a unique and great story. Your character has to be consistent and work along their own internal logic. That is shit you absolutely have to stop and work out in the outlining process. Your character needs to make decisions that feel right to the reader - really good stories have the character making the worst possible decision, but in a way that makes the reader understand that they couldn't have done anything else and still been that character. And, like, obviously, give your characters faults and have them make mistakes. A character who does not do that cannot carry a plot.

Fic writers struggle with this. Of course you...shouldn't...be me and completely disregard every characterization, but I do think you can run into the same problem with your blorbo as your D&D character.

Your blorbos aren't actual guys.

This feels kind of obvious, but sometimes I think people don't feel that way. We write fanfic because we like the characters, and we'd rather use these characters and this setting than use our own. I see people projecting on these characters a lot. Like, a lot a lot. It gets to the point where an attack on the character feels like a personal attack - where people defend the character as if they're a real person because they ID so much w/the character. We all know this is dumb, but it also makes for some really shitty fic. The writer becomes completely unwilling to bend the character at all. And they don't try to make the character good for a story, because that kind of involves a lot of faults and mistakes that they don't like seeing their blorbos make. I sound dismissive but it's pervasive. The character becomes a character who makes them feel good instead of a well-written function of the story. The story suffers. Which is alright for some stories, but if you're writing a heavily character focused story like a lot of fic, then nothing is really propping up this story or making it engaging.

None of that is how I develop a character but that is what I wanted to say about characters lol (fwiw, how an OC is created for me is: "I need a character in this spot or representing this thing. Yoink!"). Of course I spoke hyperbolically and took a hard stance on all of that, haha, and of course all of this is rule of thumb. I'm sure your OC is wonderful. Just don't get caught up in them, okay? Go write. The best possible OC is an OC who is born from a good story. That's how you get rich and real characters.

[thisperfectmonsoon]

Why do you let daddy issues be the biggest part of your personality

if u checked the tag, babes, you’d see I’m actually grieving the very recent death of my dad, after his decade long battle with cancer. and guess what? It’s been traumatic! so I can make this as much of my personality as I fucking want to ❤️

[taylor]

still reeling over the fact that almost 2 months ago the guy i was talking to (not dating, but definitely 'seeing') took another girl TO MY AND MY ROOMMATE'S APARTMENT to FUCK HER ON OUR AIR MATTRESS while i was ON VACATION THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY

honestly. how do i get myself into these situations

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[punkcherries]

sonic prime so cool ............

[elegyofthemoon]

gotta love my schools not-actually-optional optional classes :^)

[gnawd]

i think about everything ends being a comfort to jules before they turned but how it's now their fear <33

[trueloveandy]

feeling inadequate about my writing tonight

[radrobotz]

i was planning to finally move dc stuff to a sideblog but i keep posting abt it here 😭

[cadaverousdecay]

☠️ creaky-freak Follow

i get d/newlyturned can be useful but why are there vamps asking the stupidest questions like how to bite….. even humans know that u just open your mouth and close it on something… not that difficult.

⚰️ draculabitme Follow

I’m so tired of this new generation of vampires. Back when i was turned, if you didn’t know how to hunt, you starved. These fucking babybats with their bloodbags and willing victims are defanging the name of vampires.

🧛🏻 garlicker Follow

why are these vamps asking deaddit anyway, shouldn’t they be learning these things from their sire???

🦇 batty-betty Follow

hey, biting correctly can be tricky to master! and some vampires don’t have a relationship with their sire where they feel comfortable asking for advice. when i was turned, my sire was my former master and it took awhile to feel like i could talk to her freely. plus, most fledglings are abandoned by their sires these days. i think it’s great that these babybats have a place to figure these things out.

🧛🏻‍♂️ snacula Follow

op left out the full screamshot anyway

he’s having trouble sucking enough blood from the wound, which is something most fledglings struggle with tbh.

tip to all the babybats: if you feel you’re not getting enough blood you probably aren’t sucking hard enough. you gotta really work at it. it takes time to build up the muscles to drain someone within minutes. and if you really want to puncture an artery go right ahead, just prepare for things to get messy haha (and don’t expect your victim to live through it)

and here is a site made specifically for newly turned vampires, it’s got all you need to know as a fledgling

🪦 f34st-of-bl00d Follow

reblogging for that last bit, i struggled with sucking when i was a fledgling and i had no sire to tell me why.

another tip: bite the chest when starting out. you can move on to the neck once you’ve gotten a hang of that. and i wouldn’t recommend the wrist or thigh as a convenient bite

🧛‍♂️ fresh-blood Follow

saving this post for later

[productivefairy]

your guide to build a morning routine:

So, do u wanna build a morning routine because it can give your day a structure, boost productivity and just makes you feel better? Here is how :-

start your day atleast 2-1.5 hour before your work or school. so u are not in a rush.

your morning routine should be realistic so that u can stick to it. cause' lets not lie the morning routine u see your fav wellness influencer have is hard to do.

Consistency is the key. The more days you follow your routine the more it becomes as habit.

Dont use phone or social media during mornings There are four pillars essential to have a morning routine which is healthy for your body and mind.

1.Things that keeps your body healthy.

2.Things that keeps your mind healthy.

3.Things that keeps your surrounding healthy.

4.Things that you enjoy.

Lets talk about each one, one by one:-

Things that keep you healthy :-

i) Drink water first thing in morning. If you dont like the taste of water. Add lemon or lime in it or maybe citrus infused water. But please drink water it'll help you sm.

ii)Do stretching, yoga, cardio, pilates, hot girl walks. Basically anything that keeps your body moving. It boosts productivity and puts you in good mood.

iii) eat healthy. Well it doesnt mean count all your calories or drink nasty juices NO. This means eating a healthy breakfast that will keep you full.

iv) Do your skincare and take shower in mornings.

v) Brush and floss your teeth. Oral healths are often neglected but hot girl like you shouldnt do that.

2.Things that keep your mind healthy :-

i) Meditating. Meditate for atleast 5-10 mins before starting your work day. It just stops the rush going in your mind. you can do guided meditation.

ii) If you believe in this then you can do affirmations in front of mirror. universalitgirlblog2 has some amazing affirmations you should check it out.

iii) Journal. If you are someone who enjoys journal then do it as it can set the tone of your day.

iv) . Make to do lists in morning it helps you declutter your day.

3.Things that keeps your surrounding healthy.

i)If you happen to have windows in your room then open them up. Lets the wind and sun come through.

ii)Make your bed. Its a kind gesture toward yourself and a less messy bed can fasten up your productivity.

iii) wash your breakfast dishes. or atleast the plate you ate in. It helps you not have a pile of dishes.

iv) optional but take a dusting cloth and play a song as your timer and just clean the surfaces which seems to have dirt. Just 3-4 mins and you'll feel better.

4.Things that you enjoy:-

This part is super important cause' if you follow a morning routine you deserve a reward and if one someday when u are not your best even then you deserve pamper. I dont know you or your intrest but you do so just add what you like in your routine. You wanna read that book go ahead read it, grab a starbucks drink on your way home, cook yourself a beautiful breakfast, get dressed as main character, water your plants or maybe just stare at the sky admiring them.

What do you do when you are not in the mood or you are on your periods or feeling underweather?

i) Make an altearnate easy routine to do which mostly consist of things that you like.

ii)Do only first step of your regular routine like you dont wanna excercise then just play the video of routine that you follow.

Additional tips-

ROMANTICIZE. This is the key. Enjoying and being grateful for most mundane moments of your day. Buy yourself a flowers. Acts as you are on vogue while doing skincare. Blast your fav playlist in morning.

Dont overwhelm yourself. You cant change your life in a day but you can add habits each day one by one.

Remember why you are doing this. You are doing this cause you love yourself thats why you wanna give everything to your body and your mind to make it its best version.

I try my best to make these post as concise as I can but I just feel like everything is necessary and dont wanna miss out on anything. I hope this helps.

[samara444]

THE 3D DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST.

the 3d is 100% irrelevant. shadow? mirror? delay? FUCK THAT BRO it doesnt even exist! the onlyyy power it has is the one you give it.

you think you fell off? till now u were affirming and persisting but something horrible happened in your 3d and now everything sucks again? congratulations, it doesnt matter, cuz you still have it. you still have your desire.

you fucked up? you have doubts? you start looking at the 3d for validation? congratulations. doesnt matter. I still have what i want.

you felt negatively? you acknowledged the lack of ur desire? you thought whyy is it not here yet? congratulations. doesnt fucking matter at all. i already have it.

spiral. go ahead and cry and whine and have doubts and question if this is real or not. hate everything and feel like shit. doesnt matter baby, YOU STILLLL HAVE WHAT YOU WANT!!!

when we say the 3d doesnt matter. it truly doesnt. the only meaning the 3d has is the meaning we give it.

i felt like i fell off, the month changed and my 3d didnt so i started wondering where is it, why dont i have it, am i doing something wrong, then the intrusive thoughts follow “what if its not real” “omg am i just wasting my time” “what if i dont get it” “what will i do now” you know what i did? i gave myself the biggest smile and told myself….it doesnt matter sam, my love. you still have it. and i dooo. i still do.

you have to understand that this disgusting ass stinky crappy old 3d which is literally a graveyard, an absolute shitshow that does not have anything to do with us, its all the past, its all dead, so it doesnt matter how i react, when i know i have it in my god state, aka my imagination, aka the only true reality, aka the only reality that matters at all.

so you cann spiral. you can fuck up. my god you can have a mental fucking breakdown and ur 3d could turn into absolute shit and ur sp can hate u and ur dad could get cancer and a tsunami could come and world war 3 can start…IT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER!!!! IT HAS NOOOO EFFECT AT ALLL.

take ur power back. literally announce that no matter what this old dead reality shows u, ur life could go to complete shit, trust me that doesn’t matter when fulfillment is present in your heart. ur only job is to have it. stop reacting. stop stop stop reacting and start having, thats where all your power lies and thats the way to pure fulfillment.

-love, samu <3

[luveline]

hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close. 

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath. 

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch. 

“Hurting?” he whispers. 

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.” 

“I have a bad feeling.” 

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again. 

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek. 

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.” 

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.” 

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.” 

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.” 

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.” 

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours. 

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position. 

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?” 

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.” 

You wait. 

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.” 

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question. 

Your hand strays up to your face. 

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies. 

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.” 

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward. 

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically. 

“Bad?” you whisper. 

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.” 

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask. 

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would. 

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask. 

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw. 

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises. 

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

[sixosix]

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

[puppym3]

Heyaa! Is it possible to request an enemies to lovers one bed trope smut with bangchan? Like maybe reader and skz go on a trip but there’s not enough rooms so they decide to pair u guys up so that y’all can make up or whatever. Little did u know that Chris has a massive crush on u and was only being insufferable because he thought he didn’t have a chance but little did he know you thought he was cute too. Maybe he pops a boner while sharing the bed and becomes embarrassed but you decide to take matters into ur own hands and dom him for treating u liek shit lol 💀

↠ friction ↺ and ⊜ fire

*+:｡.｡ bangchan x fem!reader

wc: 4.8k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, smut, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, dom!reader, servicetop!bangchan, subby!bangchan, brat!reader, one-sided pining (kind've?), they're both idiots, piv, unprotected sex (sighh), they traumatize the other members, oral (m. rec), creampie, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: thank you so much for the suggestion anon hehe.. it was so good and i hope i served what needed to be served!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

*+:｡.｡

Stepping out of the van after a long, winding drive, you stretched your arms above your head, relishing the cool mountain air. The cabin loomed ahead, a cozy refuge nestled in the heart of the forest, promising a weekend of relaxation and fun. You were close friends with the boys and these trips were a regular occurrence. However, there was one member you couldn't stand.

Bang Chan.

Ever since you first met, the two of you had bickered incessantly over the most trivial things. Whether it was your taste in men or the way you folded your clothes, Bang Chan always found something to nag you about. You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. How could someone be so insufferable?

It reminds you of the time you had just broken up with your ex-boyfriend after you found out he had been cheating on you the entire time, you had unknowingly been the side piece throughout your relationship. Bang Chan warned you about him the entire time, saying he wasn't good for you. And now that things had crumbled, he was in your ear about how right he was. It frustrated you.

"Hurry up! We need to check out the rooms!" Felix excitedly called out, breaking your reverie.

You grabbed your bag and followed the boys into the cabin. As they scattered to explore, you took in the rustic charm of the place. It was perfect, except for one glaring issue: you only spotted eight bedrooms.

"Hey," Minho announced, holding up a hand-drawn map of the cabin. "There are only eight beds."

"Great," you muttered under your breath.

The boys gathered around, frowning at the realization.

"Well, who wants to share?" Seungmin said, glancing around.

"I don't mind sharing," Jisung shrugged.

Everyone seemed to share a knowing glance across the room.

"How about Y/N and Chan share a room?" Minho suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You and Chan simultaneously snapped your heads toward Minho, protests ready on your lips, but the rest of the boys quickly agreed.

"Yeah, maybe you two will finally stop bickering," Jisung added, smirking.

"Fine," Chan sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a challenge.

"Fine," you echoed, refusing to back down.

"Awesome," Jeongin laughed nervously, trying to defuse the tension in the room. "We can check out the rest of the cabin tomorrow, so why don't we call it a night?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted," Changbin agreed, calling out from his room, already laid out on his bed like a starfish.

You followed Chan to your room and set down your bags. The bedroom was spacious, but the lack of a second bed left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Guess you're sleeping on the floor," you smirked, taking note of the single queen-sized mattress.

Chan raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down.

"Like hell, I am. You can sleep on the floor," he argued, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You let out a scoff, but before you could open your mouth, Felix appeared in the doorway.

"You're both responsible adults, you can share a bed."

You shot Felix a glare.

"Goodnight!" He quickly ducked out of the room, leaving you and Chan alone.

Chan crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

"Don't get any ideas, pervert," you sneered, brushing past him to get ready for bed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

The rest of the evening passed in tense silence. The two of you were cordial when brushing your teeth and washing your faces, but once you were settled under the covers, you turned away from each other, as far as you could go without falling off the bed.

Lying there, staring at the wall, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the room. It was more than just annoyance; it was a palpable electricity that seemed to spark every time you argued. You hated to admit it, but there was something about Chan that intrigued you, something that made your heart race in the most frustrating way.

And you were overly aware of how attractive he was, secretly ogling him when he would perform on stage. It annoyed you, a lot.

You shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body and it was driving you crazy. The more you tried to ignore him, the more aware you became of his presence.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You rolled over, determined to confront him, but the words died in your throat. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, that you couldn't bring yourself to wake him. Instead, you watched him, admiring the way the moonlight illuminated his features.

You traced the line of his jaw with your eyes, trailing down to his full lips. Your heart skipped a beat as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him.

You quickly shook your head, berating yourself for even thinking such a thing. Chan was the last person you would ever want to kiss.

But the more you denied it, the more you thought about it. What if his lips were soft? What if he kissed you gently, his hands caressing your body?

The thought made your cheeks flush.

"Can you stop eye-fucking me? I'm trying to sleep."

Chan's voice snapped you out of it, and you quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks burning.

"I wasn't- I just, wanted to say something," you stammered, the defensiveness in your voice showing.

The fact that he was so cocky and attractive drove you crazy, you wanted to put him in his place then and there, you wanted to pick another fight with him, the fights you had him ignited a certain fire in you that you couldn't explain.

"What is it?"

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even form a coherent sentence around him.

"Just..." you scoffed, giving up when the words in your head scrambled.

"Goodnight."

With that, Chan rolled over, putting his back to you.

You huffed, annoyed at the way he dismissed you. You knew he was trying to get under your skin, and it was working. You glared at the back of his head, wishing you could slap the smug look off his face.

But even as you silently fumed, you laid in bed next to him. Unable to relax, you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. But the bed seemed to grow smaller with each passing moment, and the space between you felt like an infinite chasm.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his mere presence setting your nerves alight. You were overly aware of his breathing, his steady inhale and exhale. And the longer you lay there, the more restless you became.

"Will you stop moving?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound made you jump.

"I can't sleep," you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Try harder."

You scoffed again, turning your head to look at him, and before you could come up with something to spit back at him, your gaze lowered, and your eyes landed on the very prominent tent on the bed.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly averted your gaze, but the image was burned into your mind.

Your cheeks flushed, and your heart began to race. Chan was hard. The realization sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

Now this was an argument you could easily win, you could definitely embarrass him with this.

So why couldn't you say anything? Why was the heat in between your thighs growing undeniably unbearable?

You couldn't stop yourself from stealing another glance. Your eyes trailed down the length of his body, coming to rest on the bulge straining against his pants.

Chris turned over to face away from you. You couldn't help but smile. You knew he was embarrassed, and the thought of him being uncomfortable made you feel satisfied.

Without hesitation, you moved closer, pressing your body against his. Your chest was pressed against his back.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice in an innocent tone as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Don't act stupid."

You couldn't help but smirk. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and it only made you more confident.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"This isn't funny."

You couldn't believe how much this was affecting him.

"You're telling me," you purred, sliding your hand down his torso.

Your fingertips brushed over the hard outline of his cock, and you felt his breath catch.

You couldn't resist, he was a brat, and now it was time for payback. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his pants.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his hips jerked involuntarily. You bit your lip, trying to contain your own excitement.

"You're a fucking tease."

"Says the one with a boner," you retorted.

"I'm serious," he breathed.

"So am I," you said, tightening your grip.

The sound that escaped his lips made you shudder.

You knew that if you didn't stop now, there would be no turning back.

But you didn't care. You wanted this.

You grabbed his shoulder, pulling so he was lying on his back. His eyes were wide, his breath ragged.

Without a word, you straddled his lap, the thin fabric of your pajama shorts doing little to hide the heat between your thighs.

"You're a brat, you know that?" he groaned.

You smiled, your confidence growing by the second.

"Maybe, but I think you like it."

You rolled your hips, and his cock twitched beneath you.

"Fuck," he cursed. You couldn't help but smirk. He was clearly losing his composure.

"Don't get too cocky," he said, grabbing your hips and grinding up into you.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how turned on you were.

"That's funny, coming from you," you managed to say, rocking your hips against him.

He was rock hard beneath you, and the friction was sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The outline of his cock through his pants was aligned perfectly with your cunt, gently brushing against your clit through each movement.

It was agonizing.

You leaned forward, your lips grazing his ear.

"Is this what you want? Then beg me."

You could feel his resolve breaking, and the satisfaction was almost overwhelming.

"Please," he choked out, the shyness poking through his cocky demeanor felt rewarding.

"I'm not sure I heard you."

You rocked your hips again, the friction making your head spin.

"Fuck, please" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could tell he was embarrassed, but you didn't care. This was too good to stop now.

"You're a pervert," you whispered, tugging at the waistband of his pants. "Getting hard from sharing a bed with a girl?"

He couldn't meet your eyes, his face flushed red.

"It... it's not like that..." he murmured, but the tent in his pants told a different story.

You slipped your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length.

He gasped, his eyes widening.

"You-" he breathed.

"Tell me what it's like then," you teased, stroking him slowly.

His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was struggling to form words.

"I'm waiting."

"It's because- fuck, it's because of you."

His response caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice, and the way it caused you to clench around nothing.

"It's you," he breathed, his gaze finally meeting yours.

You could see the desire in his eyes, and it took your breath away.

"But don't we hate each other?" you protested, unable to hide the hint of confusion in your voice, feeling like maybe you lost the plot somewhere along the way.

"I don't hate you," he admitted. "I just- I thought I did. But it was only because I couldn't handle the fact that I liked you so much."

You couldn't believe your ears. Chris liked you? It made your heart flutter, a million fantasies running through your head in a second. Why did this excite me so much? Why did I like hearing those words coming out of his mouth?

"You like me?" you echoed, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

"God, you're dense," he groaned, his frustration evident.

Before you could respond, he sat up and pulled you in, his lips were on yours, and his hands were gripping your hips.

You melted into the kiss, the taste of his lips and the warmth of his skin setting your nerves on fire.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, and you moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth.

His kiss was fervent, lips melding with yours in a way that made your mind go blank. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both urgent and unrelenting. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of mint toothpaste and something uniquely Chris.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your back before settling on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked against him. Each touch sent sparks shooting through your veins, and the friction between your bodies was driving you wild.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his breath, heavy and labored.

When you pulled back, you pushed him back to lay on the bed.

"You really are a brat, huh?" he panted, his eyes dark with desire.

"You have no idea," you smirked, tugging his boxers down his hips.

His cock sprung free, and the sight of him made your mouth water. He was big, bigger than you expected, and the thought of him inside you made your stomach twist in anticipation.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly.

He let out little breaths, his head falling back. You could tell he was struggling to hold himself together, and the sight made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

This feeling wasn't unfamiliar, you felt this way sometimes when you watched him on stage, his expressions, his confidence, everything about him. It was why you pretended to hate him. You were attracted to him, and the thought terrified you.

But right now, in this moment, there was no room for fear. All you could focus on was the feel of him in your hand, the taste of him on your lips, the heat of his skin.

You moved down the bed, kneeling between his legs. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Fucking hell," he cursed, his hand tangling in your hair.

"I'll be gentle," you teased, wrapping your lips around his tip.

The sounds that came from him was unlike anything you had ever heard, and it only fueled your desire.

You swirled your tongue around his length, savoring the taste of him. He was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough.

You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently. Your hands searched his body as you tasted him, feeling every inch of his chest and every detail on his body.

He was shaking, and you could tell he was holding back. And you had no intention of stopping, not until you had your fill of him.

"F-fuck," he breathed, his hand tightening in your hair. The feeling of him tugging on my hair sent shivers down my spine.

You hummed in response, the vibrations making him gasp.

You worked him slowly, teasing him with your tongue and lips. He tasted amazing, and the sound of his breathless moans was music to your ears.

You could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth.

The power was intoxicating, but it wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You released him with a pop, his length coated in your saliva.

"Don't move, I'm going to ride you."

"What?"

You could see the shock on his face, and it only made you smile.

"I'm going to ride you," you repeated, climbing back onto his lap.

"But- wait- are you sure?"

His expression was comical, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Chris, do I need to spell it out for you?"

He shook his head, his eyes wide.

"Good, because I don't have the patience for it."

With that, you pushed your panties to the side, letting your legs spread wide so he could get a perfect view as you prepared yourself for him.

His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you slipped a finger inside yourself.

You couldn't believe how wet you were, your arousal coating your fingers as you stretched yourself open. You could feel him twitch beneath you, his length throbbing with need.

You added another finger, moaning as you worked yourself open. He was still watching, his gaze locked on the movement of your fingers as you fucked yourself on them.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your hips as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into you.

"Impatient, are we?"

He shot you a look, and you could see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck you," he said, though his words lacked any bite.

"I thought that was the plan," you teased, withdrawing your fingers and wiping them on his thigh.

"God, just- please," he breathed, his resolve crumbling.

"Since you asked so nicely."

You positioned yourself over him, his tip brushing against your entrance. You were already so wet, so ready for him.

"Are you sure, with no protection?"

"If you ask me one more time, I'll leave you here to take care of this yourself," you threatened.

You were on the pill, and you were too needy now to look back, the thought of feeling his raw cock stretching you out also made you super impatient.

You inserted the tip, the feel of him filling you up was overwhelming. He was big, bigger than anyone you've ever been with, and the stretch was almost too much.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you adjusted to his size.

"Fuck," you breathed, sinking down until he was buried to the hilt.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"And you're fucking huge," you replied, the pressure and heat building within you.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I've never had complaints."

"Shut up," you smiled, pulling him in for a kiss.

Your tongues met, dancing together in a messy tangle. He kissed you like he was starving, and you could feel his hunger for you.

You began to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips against him. His breath hitched, and his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"God, that's it," he groaned, his head falling back. His hands pushing at your inner thighs to spread your legs further.

His eyes intently staring at your body made you shiver, you grabbed at the hem of your shirt before pulling it off, giving him a better view to take in.

He groaned, his gaze roaming over your body. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hand trailing up your thigh.

"I could say the same for you," you replied, tracing the lines of his abs with your fingertips.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and the attention was overwhelming. You increased the pace, rolling your hips as you rode him. He was buried deep inside you, the sensation of him filling you up was incredible.

"God, yes," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moaned, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He was hitting all the right spots, and the pleasure was building, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't bring yourself to form words, the sensation was too much, your head was spinning.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, the taste of him only adding to the pleasure.

His tongue darted out, tracing your bottom lip.

"Fuck, Chris," you breathed, breaking the kiss.

He was breathing heavily, his gaze locked on yours. "Use me to come," he urged, his hands on your hips encouraging you.

"Chan," you moaned, his name on your lips like a prayer. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and the sensation was incredible.

"Come for me," he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

And then, the pleasure washed over you, the waves crashing into you with such intensity that you saw stars. You felt yourself tremble as you clenched over him, falling on his chest as you cried out, whimpering as you lightly grinded your high out.

He broke when he felt you cum on him, the soft breaths coming out of his mouth, and you could feel him twitch inside you, his cock throbbing as he came, his cum filling you up.

The feeling was unlike anything you've experienced, and you could feel the pleasure coursing through your veins.

When he finally stilled, the two of you were a panting, sweaty mess. You could feel the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through your body, and the sensation was incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"That's exactly what we did," you teased, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

He couldn't help but laugh, burying his face in your shoulder. "You're insufferable," he murmured, his breath tickling your neck.

"Oh, and you're not?"

"I guess we're perfect for each other then."

He raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. The sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but press a light kiss to his lips.

"Maybe," you conceded, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

"I'd like that," he smiled, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in for another kiss, a little longer than the last.

"So... I'm guessing this means you like me too?"

His question caught you off guard, and the thought made your heart flutter.

"You could say that," you replied, unable to hide the hint of hesitation in your voice.

He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "That's not an answer," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

You bit your lip, the uncertainty rising within you. You couldn't help but worry that this was a mistake, that it was all a joke.

"Hey," he said, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "Talk to me."

"It's just... are you sure? I feel like you're fucking with me again, this is just too good to be true," you said, completely honest and a little too vulnerable in front of him.

"Oh my god," he sighed, his frustration evident. "How much proof do you need? If it wasn't obvious, I don't usually let people ride me."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

"Fair enough," you conceded, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He hummed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I think I'm going to enjoy proving myself," he murmured, his fingers running along the curve of your ass.

"Is that so?"

He nodded, the glint in his eye making your heart skip a beat.

"I promise you'll be begging for it next time."

"That's a bold claim," you challenged, unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

"One that I'll gladly prove," he said, his tone playful.

"We'll see about that," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Don't challenge me unless you're prepared for the consequences."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the idea of him having his way with you was intoxicating.

You giggled, stealing a quick kiss before climbing off his lap.

You couldn't help but laugh looking at him, "God, you're so cute," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before padding over to the bathroom.

You woke up early, the sunlight streaming through the window and the sound of birds chirping outside.

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up.

The events of last night rushed back, and you couldn't help but smile, the memory of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the sting you felt on your legs from the workout.

As you looked around, however, you were met with an empty bed, the sheets beside you cold.

A wave of panic washed over you, the realization that he wasn't here was jarring. You couldn't help but think that it had all been a dream, the thought of us doing anything already seemed unreal to you.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and the sight of him made your heart skip a beat.

"Morning," he greeted, a wide smile on his face.

You felt way too giddy seeing his face, seeing him just made you want to plant kisses all over his face.

"Morning," you replied, the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You couldn't help but stare at him, the sight of him in a plain t-shirt and shorts, his hair tousled and his skin glistening from his morning shower.

"Well, you didn't snore." you teased.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture making you giggle.

"I'm glad my princess could sleep without any disturbances, then."

The words made your heart skip a beat, and you were left speechless. You couldn't believe how quickly he had gotten under your skin.

You couldn't deny the effect he had on you, the way your heart raced when he was close, the way your body craved his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to push down the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Yeah, just... I was worried, that's all," you confessed, unable to meet his gaze.

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "Worried? Why?"

"I thought... I thought it was all a dream, that I was just imagining it."

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room.

"You're too adorable," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I really do like you," you countered, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them.

His expression softened, the laughter dying on his lips.

"I really do like you, too"

You couldn't help but melt, the words echoing in your head.

You leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you.

Suddenly you heard loud pounding knocks at your door.

The door opened and Minho with a tired face walked in, Seungmin shyly trailing behind him.

"I'm glad you guys... 'made up', but for fucks sake," Minho complained.

"Couldn't you have saved that?" Seungmin joined in, equally mortified.

You couldn't help but blush, the thought of your friends hearing the two of you was embarrassing.

Chris, trying to keep a straight face, couldn't help but giggle a little.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry," you apologized, holding your hands up in surrender.

"Sorry," Jisung says, barging into the conversation, "I'm just so happy for you, I've had to endure this guy whining about you for the past 2 months."

"Shut up," Chan blushed, his cheeks tinted red.

"Oh my god, is that why you were such an ass? You were pining?" you teased, pinching his cheek.

"Don't," he whined, pulling away from your grasp.

"Well, Jeongin left last night, he fled to a hotel room." Minho chimed in. "I should've just done the same."

"Why didn't you?" Jisung asked, clearly amused.

"I don't know, I was hoping the walls would be thick enough."

"Lee know, oh my god," you blushed, hiding your face in Chan's shoulder.

"You were loud, we could hear you from our room, which is right next to yours. We can also hear everything," Minho complains.

"Okay, okay," Chan concedes.

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Felix pipes up.

"What elephant?" Changbin asks, who clearly hasn't caught on.

"These two fucked," he says, just now coming into the conversation.

"Okay, that's enough, I'm leaving." You say, your face red with embarrassment.

"I'll come with," Chris agrees, and you both get up and leave the room.

"Oh my god, can they just hate each other again?" Seungmin complains.

"For the love of god, yes," Minho agrees.

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