lils

blog notice: hi angels! this blog is now inactive, and i will be posting all my ateez works via my main @cosmicalily. i'm keeping it up here to have all the links to my old works still posted here, but no new works will be uploaded on this account. thank you for all the love!

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

7. 'misty' - wooyoung x reader “look at me, i'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree.”

author's note: boy oh boy i need a love like this

From the second he’d caught your eye from across the crowded room, you felt every single nerve ending in your body melt like a jar of warm honey, sensation and common sense and any train of thought, finished or otherwise, oozing from your consciousness. Sticky, sweet and so addictive.

It had only been a small smile, maybe a wink.

It didn’t matter that you’d spent the past four years of your life together as a couple. It didn’t matter that the necklace hanging down your collarbone had been a gift for your first anniversary; silver, pearls and tiny white diamonds, dripping like starlight down your skin. No, it didn’t matter that you were his.

You still felt so overwhelmed with love in his presence, just by mere observation.

You weren’t paying attention to the conversation you were in anymore. Hell, you were probably the worst hostess in the universe. But the lights were dim, the moon was glowing through the window, and Jung Wooyoung, the love of your life, was mere metres across the room from you. Your guests were happy enough to entertain themselves. You needed to entertain yourself.

As soon as you appeared by his side, his focus immediately shifted from the smalltalk he was making with Choi San about business strategies. A hand slipped around your waist, fingers gently kneading themselves into the soft flesh of your hips. Your skin was warm, scented with musk and amber. Familiar. And your heartbeat began to settle, slowing to a less frantic rhythm, one that synced with the chest beside yours. 

You slipped your fingers into his, silver rings colliding against each other. He rubbed gentle circles into your palm, and the moment he found a pause in the conversation, he excused himself.

In a fit of lovesick giggles, Wooyoung led you to the balcony outside your shared bedroom. The wind was chilly, but you were wrapped in his embrace before you could complain. He held you close, lips ghosting your neck and collarbone. 

“Missed you,” you mumbled, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“Even from just across the room?” he teased, but his actions proved he’d missed your presence just as much as you had. His hands slipped to your waist, and the two of you swayed softly, the muffled sound of jazz from the party seeping through the doorway to the balcony.

The rest of the city was dark, aside from a few lit up windows. The wind blew, the buildings sparkled, and you felt every inch of your body fizz from head to toe, as if your veins pumped champagne instead of blood.

“I’m so lucky to have you . . . you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that, right? There’s nobody else I’d ditch a party for, let alone one I’m hosting. Nobody else I’ve felt this way for.”

“You talk a lot, my love,” you said, smiling up at him. “I know. I’m even luckier to have you.”

His eyes shifted into crescents, and you trailed your finger down his jawline adoringly.

You took a moment to admire Wooyoung; his warm, chocolate-brown eyes, the single freckle under his lower lashes, his habit of running his hands through his hair, his lips, the plumpest, most beautifully rose-tinted lips you’d ever seen.

He looked like an angel.

Now, in a silky black shirt and tailored slacks, his soft brown hair tousled, eyes sleepy from the lateness of the evening  and the smear of your burgundy lipstick on his left cheek, he looked perfect. It was enough to send you into another fit of overwhelming adoration for the boy you called your own, enough to set all your senses on fire and let the blood run through your body like stardust.

He pressed a kiss to your lips and ran a hand through your hair, holding you steady against his chest.

It had always been easy with Wooyoung. You’d always felt electrified, a buzz that was familiar and comforting. 

When you told him things, he never contradicted you, questioned you, asked you why, how, when. He would nod slowly, wipe the tears from your cheeks, rub your shoulders, kiss your cheeks, lips, forehead, nose. 

Whilst your love adored to talk, to express every single thing he felt for you in word after word, he also knew when actions were all that was needed.

You didn’t necessarily believe in soulmates.

You didn’t believe in the kind of love that could just walk in and make itself at home in your heart, even if you were to never, ever see them again. The kind of love that just appeared after moments of longing.

Whatever had happened to you and Wooyoung, it was long built up. Catching each other staring, quick kisses to the cheek whenever you left the house, and nights like these.

Maybe this was the kind of love you’d been waiting for.

Maybe? No, this was what you’d been waiting for.

Helpless in his gaze, the kind of vulnerability that you found so much comfort in around him. 

“Why did we host this party?” you asked quietly, arms slung loosely around his waist and face pressed into his chest.

“For you, my love,” he replied, eyes sparkling.

“But nothing’s happened,” you said in confusion, looking up at him. The glint in his eye brightened, and he gently pried your body off him.

“Not yet,” he smiled, kneeling down on one knee.

taglist: @zelinkcrossing @hyunjiiza @zenlackszen @kur0kki @peskybirdysya @nujeskz @jessxxxfwd @xuchiya @bee-gremlin @radblizzardpizzas-blog @matchahintonagar @diekleinesuesse@xh01bri @lunaryoongie @k1xiara @cloudy-lilly @sunnysidesins @lveegsoi@arcvillie @flqwrlvr @huachengsbestie01 @subby-men-forever @lezleeferguson-120 @mrsminseochoi @alyssajavenss @0sunshinecryptid0 @silveritydreams @moonlitarcade @ahuiahoe @urlocalmultigroupfan @my-neurodivergent-world @wooyoungsbrat @eunwonji | send an ask, dm or comment to be added :)

"true romance" - a jeong yunho smau by @liliesformingi | random bf texts

"you know you got me, so much, i took my loving over there, i got a tattoo just to show how much I care" - 'true romance' by pinkpantheress

author's note: my fav pinkpantheress track boy oh boy (also how much aura did i gain for using kpop media as inspiration in both my art and design folios) warnings: sex jokes bc i think i'm funny af

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

3. 'valentine' - yunho x reader “i tell him he's pretty too, can i say that?”

author's note: bring me 900 million jeong yunhos right now.

People raised their eyebrows at you for rooming with a guy. “And you don’t have feelings for him?” they’d ask, over and over.

But Yunho wasn’t just a guy, he was your friend. Supportive, protective, kind. He was a comfortable presence, something familiar.

Yunho was studying sports science and physiology at university, but also wrote lyrics on the side. You knew he loved physiology and understanding the human body, but music was what he truly loved, what he spent ungodly hours working at and obsessing over.  But it’s not stable enough, he’d sigh, stretching his arms before returning to the essay on human development he’d been procrastinating for the past week.

You were studying psychology, but also took art history classes on the side. Yunho knew art was something you desperately wanted to pursue, but it was the same as it was for him. You took the smart route. Not necessarily the easy one, or the one you liked. You did what you needed to, securing your futures.

Both of you were scared of risking something, messing stuff up.

He’d bring you an iced coffee when he knew you’d forgotten to drink one while studying.

You’d make his preworkout for him to take before he went to the gym.

He’d go out and buy things for you when it was that time of month and you couldn’t get out of bed.

You’d blow dry his hair late at night when he was too tired to do it himself, insisting he’d get sick if he went to bed with damp hair.

He’d comfort you after each failed date, after each guy ghosted you or simply told you “You’re not what I want.”

Basically, you two were cosy.

It had been a quiet day. Both of you had upcoming exams, not for another few weeks, but close enough that it felt real, and both of you had fears of not doing enough. So if that meant going through notes for hours and revising on the sofa while he sat at the dining table, tapping his pen along to whatever he was listening to with his headphones while occasionally annotating a diagram, so be it.

Eventually, you were bored, hungry and worn out. 

Yunho had dark circles under his eyes, and you were struggling to retain your gaze on the harsh light of your laptop, but both of you refused to give up. Until you checked your phone and realised it was 3pm, and you were yet to have lunch, let alone breakfast.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, standing up and stretching before you made your way into the kitchen. You automatically pulled out two bowls and ripped open a packet of yours and his favourite ramen, setting the water to boil while you chopped vegetables and stirred the soup. 

You set the steaming bowl in front of him along with a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He looked up gratefully, taking his headphones off and shoving his work aside. “Thank you, angel, I’m sorry, I could’ve made myself something-”

“Don’t worry, Yun, it’s fine,” you sat down opposite him, beginning to eat your food. You slurped noodles and yawned, occasionally exchanging the odd comment about work or school. You asked him about his music projects he was working on, and he started off on a vivid explanation about this amazing website of free music samples he’d found. You watched him happily, resting your chin in your hands.

“Sorry, I’ve been talking for a while,” Yunho chuckled. “How’s stuff with you? Got a psych exam coming up, yeah?”

“Mhmm. I just . . . my head’s in it, but my heart kinda isn’t. And it’s a lot of work. I’m tired all the time,” you yawned and stretched. “And my shoulders hurt like hell from sitting so awkwardly for hours.”

Yunho tilted his head a little. “C’mere.”

You stood up and winced slightly, waddling over towards him. He stood up, gesturing for you to sit in his place. You sat down, rolling your neck. He started pressing his hands into your shoulders, upper arms and neck; each movement releasing the pent up tension and stress from your body.

“Feel a bit better?”

“Mm, feels nice, Yun,” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at him.

Yunho didn’t know what came over him in that moment. Hands still resting on your shoulders, he leant down, and kissed your forehead.

You gasped a little, body startling. “Yunho, what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, immediately redacting his hands from your shoulders. “I don’t know why the hell I did that. Actually, no, I do know, and that’s the problem.”

“Yun-”

“No, let me talk. Please. I like you. Not even like, maybe love, I don’t know. And it hurts, knowing you probably don’t feel the same way and it hurts seeing you go on those dates and get hurt. It hurts seeing you hurt yourself by overwhelming yourself with schoolwork. So maybe I should just go. Maybe that would help.”

“Yunho, shut up.”

He looked a little hurt at that, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me talk,” you replied, eyes sparkling and cheeks a little pink. “I like you too, maybe love. I don’t know either. You just . . . surprised me. But I want you . . . I want you to do that again. But not on the forehead. On the lips. Do it properly, please.”

Yunho walked back over, leaning down and placing a hand on your cheek.

“That I can do,” he smiled.

"red . . . blood supernova?" - an ot8 ateez smau by @liliesformingi | bf ateez texts when you're on your period

author's note: i thought i was so clever for this title tell me im clever guys :( also new smau theme bc i fucking fucking HATED the ugly ahh blue (it doesn't fit my niche internet aesthetic) so tell me if you prefer the default text theme or this one! i'll be doing the same but pale pink to match my skz theme over on @cosmicalily <3 warnings: periods, blood, reader has a uterus!

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

6. 'fragile' - mingi x reader “and as it shatters, let me shatter into you.”

author's note: okay so maybe i'm insanely biased by picking this song for myself (i want this to be my first dance at my wedding, specifically the version live at the symphony!) but pls, this song is such a fucking dream :( also, whilst this fic is primarily inspired by 'fragile', i listened to 'fade into you' by mazzy star while writing it and WOW, i almost ascended. pls guys i can't do casual i need to merge souls with somebody. warnings: discussions of anxiety/insecurity, past relationship issues, general emotional vulnerability, brief mention of alcohol

Love with Mingi was gentle. 

Of course, there was intensity. Long minutes spent in each other’s presence during the limbo between night and day, bodies tangled and hearts entwined and knotted with red string. Feverish kisses, lingering touches. Fits of laughter and collapses on the sofa, limbs colliding and noses bumping and lips anywhere, everywhere. 

And whilst you adored the chaos, the passion, it was the gentleness of his affection that you treasured the most. Soft kisses, soft touches, soft words. How he’d cradle you like you were made of glass and feathers, how he’d cherish you as if you were the most fragile, priceless possession he knew of. Vulnerability, in all of its forms, was something that you felt you could express easily to Mingi. Sensitivity. Nebulosity, fading in and out yet eternally present in your world.

Love had not always been so gentle to you, and Mingi both knew and didn’t know this. He loved you in the way he wanted to love you, not to prove himself against your past. You hadn’t been sure if this softness was a good thing, if it meant he was uncertain about you, if he truly wanted you.

My God, did he want you. He showed that to you in every quiet moment, every embrace, every touch. You had learnt that, and had learnt to accept, and now adore, fragility.

It was moments like this that you now cherished.

One of his hands was threaded through your hair, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail after hearing your complaints about it getting in your eyes. The other was pressed against your hip, holding you close against him. His thumb rubbed soft circles into the exposed skin below your tank top, and he breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo. Song Mingi, the human hair tie.

And as you worked on your essay, his glasses perched on the tip of your nose, he stayed seated below you, occasionally pulling your waist closer from where you sat on his lap. Every now and then, you’d let out a little hum of approval or a sigh of frustration, and he’d knead his fingers into your waist, rubbing gentle circles onto your hip bones. 

It was the way he didn’t need anything more from you than your presence. He just wanted to be close to you, to love and care and give, fully, without distraction. As you typed, your heartbeat would quicken as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, traced the mole on your waist, tucked a loose strand of hair away.

He knew your body like it was your own, something you’d been afraid of. Your system was yours, something you existed within. But his attentiveness and unconditional affection and understanding was something you fell harder for. 

He knew you like you were his, because you were. And he was yours.

“Done!” you exclaimed in relief, closing your laptop and leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder. 

“Good job, baby,” he beamed, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You let yourself breathe, in and out. His hand was splayed across your lower belly, rising and falling with your movements. He traced lazy patterns across your skin, eyes fixated on you, all of you.

He always felt so lucky to be able to adore you like this.

You had been beautiful when he’d first met you, sprawled on the couch at the apartment at a party. Hair loose, skin bare, tank top twisted at the straps and riding up your stomach. You’d been in a fit of hysterical laughter, probably influenced by the half-finished bottle of apple cider by your side. You’d been beautiful on your first date, dressed in a silky top and loose-fitting navy jeans, hair blown out and makeup glowing. And you were beautiful now, hair still gathered in his hand, his glasses still balanced on your nose, eyes a little glassy from staring at a screen for so long.

You’d always be beautiful to him. He hoped you knew that.

Suddenly, you shuffled yourself on his lap, taking off his glasses and setting them on the desk behind you. You cupped his cheeks with your fingers, gently tracing soft shapes onto his skin, eyes locked. You blinked a couple of times, a tear gathering in the bottom of your lid.

Mingi didn’t move his hand to wipe it away. He didn’t want to dismiss, to ignore. He wanted to let you feel fully. Vulnerability. Sensitivity. Nebulosity, fading in and out. He remained present, eternally so. 

“Thank you for loving me,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he breathed. “I do it voluntarily. I want to love you. I do love you.”

“I love you too.”

He drew your body in closer, your chest against his, your face in his shoulder.

He held you for as long as you needed, as long as you wanted him to.

You’d always been beautiful to him, and you would remain so, in all your forms. In all the shards of shattered glass that scattered across the floor, the parts that might prick him and draw blood, the parts that others may stray away from.

He wasn’t afraid to confront the debris.

Your parts always formed a whole under his gaze.

"what's in my bag" - ot8 ateez headcanons by @liliesformingi | what i think ateez's gfs would keep in their bags

author's note: these are just some fun little collages i put together!! i'm also thinking of releasing a skz version on @cosmicalily so keep an eye out! warnings: reader is referred to as a girl, however no feminine pronouns are given (i tend to use girl/girlie kind of as a gender neutral overarching term)

seonghwa & hongjoong

the breakdown: seonghwa girlies keep their bag organised and cohesive; a consistent theme guarantees that everything goes with everything (from scent to lippie) regardless of the situation, and this certainty keeps them at peace! hongjoong girlies need headphones on hand, good quality ones at that. they won't be caught out of the house without them! silver coordinated contents pay homage to their resident silver-jewellery loving boy.

yunho & yeosang

the breakdown: yunho girlies definitely have a high-quality digicam on hand; how else are those boyfriend pics gonna get taken? i see them as minimal, classy and timeless, but also collectors of cute trinkets (hence the puppy sonny on hand). yeosang girlies keep what they have by their side simple but sentimental; practicality is key, but it's a bonus if their items are cute, which they are. a claw clip is a must (for both theirs and yeosang's hair!)

san & mingi

the breakdown: san girlies have a bag very reminiscent of the boy they adore; seemingly tough on the outside, but with heavily contrasting contents. anything sweet, warm and musky can and will find its way into this bag! mingi girlies have an aesthetic curated to fit their beloved gentle giant, filled with all the essentials they could possibly need while out. the off white wallet was a gift, naturally, and the keychain probably was too.

wooyoung & jongho

the breakdown: wooyoung girlies love having their options, so a range of lippies, devices and trinkets to keep them entertained is a must! they tend to pick up something small to remind them of each outing, and these accumulate (wholesomely). jongho girlies go all-out on the teddybear aesthetic, keeping anything and everything soft, sweet and fluffy on hand at all times. most of the little trinkets and plushes are gifts from him, a little friend to spend the day with!

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

2.'falling behind' - hongjoong x reader “a sickly romance in the air, lovers stroll without a care in sight.”

author's note: i love, love, LOVE this song! yes, it's not a niche nonchalant mysterious unknown laufey song, but there's a reason it's so good. laufey, i love you, thank you for speaking up on lovesick girl nation! warnings: alcohol consumption, angst, mentions of breakups

In your silky black dress, shiny burgundy stilettos and thin bolero, not only were you physically freezing cold, but emotionally icy, too. The wine you were drinking was only fuzzing your brain and increasing your nausea, yet you continued to sip at it, wallowing in your misery. When your niece tugged at your hem to ask if you wanted to play a game with her, you uncharacteristically swatted her away. Then the guilt settled in, and you had dragged yourself to the snowy front porch to reflect on your mood.

Which was where you were currently sitting, and currently reflecting.

You usually loved spending winters with your family in your old neighbourhood; there was gossip in the kitchen with your mother and her sisters, and card games and movies in the living room with your younger cousins and grandparents. Your nieces and nephews were sweet-natured and funny, not irritating and sticky like other children, but well-mannered and entertaining. Your siblings and their partners were lovely; amazing parents and partners and endlessly giving. 

The way your sister had pulled you aside to gently ask if your boyfriend would be coming a little later on had been from a place of nothing but kindness and sincerity, and the way you had snapped at her had been from a place of anger and humiliation.

It had been childish of you, really. Since that interaction, you’d been avoiding her like the plague, fearful of her approaching you to apologise and only causing the guilt to settle in even worse. 

But even more childish had been the way your boyfriend had broken up with you a mere month before. The same boyfriend who had accompanied you the past three trips, grown on close terms with your parents and regularly helped you babysit your nieces and nephews. The boyfriend who had promised you that one day, he’d marry you, and then you too could have children of your own running around at chaotic family gatherings like this one.

“Fucking liar,” you hissed to yourself, the warmth of your breath melting the icy air in front of you.

“Aren’t you cold?” a voice had asked, a little distantly. You looked up, squinting through the flakes of snow that blew in front of you, making out a man standing a metre away by the front gate.

“Aren’t you? Who the fuck takes a walk in winter, let alone half an hour to midnight?.” you snarled in response, then sighed and massaged your temples. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch. I need to put this away.”

You set your wine glass down beside you on the wooden slats and looked at him a little closer. He was still standing there, and the expression on his face wasn’t one of offence like you’d expected.

He was smiling.

“I’m a bit cold, but I just wanted to get out of the house. It’s nice seeing everyone, but it gets a bit overwhelming. I’m assuming you’re doing the same?”

“You’re a Kim,” you’d said, meaning it to be a question but saying it like a statement.

“Yeah,” he’d laughed. “I am. I’m Mrs Kim’s son, Hongjoong. You’re Y/N, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” you offered him a small smile. “Here every winter. You aren’t, though?”

Hongjoong nodded. “It’s my first time back in a while. Do you wanna walk with me? Bring the wine. I want to talk to someone that isn’t my overbearing grandmother.”

You held the glass between your fingers, taking turns sipping as you walked. Your heels were darn uncomfortable but the cold numbed the pain, and his presence was almost warming, in a way. As he spoke, explaining his occupation in Seoul and how he’d left as a teenager to pursue his love for making music, your heart softened a little, and you felt a tiny bit less resentful. A lot less resentful.

“And why are you feeling like shit?” he’d asked, stopping and looking at you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Hair a bleached blonde, a couple of strands hanging loose and low in front of his warm eyes, cheeks tinged pink in the cold.

“My boyfriend dumped me. Three years and he only just decided a month ago that he ‘wasn’t ready for something long-term’.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have asked, though,” Hongjoong insisted, eyes apologetic. 

“It’s fine, truly. I’m not upset,” you replied, and for the first time all evening, you honestly weren’t. Your body felt warm in his presence, thawing the cold air settling in your lungs. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked, looking at the goosebumps on your skin. Before you could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and slipped it over your shoulders. 

You could’ve kissed him.

“Thanks,” you breathed, the cold air on your cheeks suddenly heating up.

“It’s the thing to do, isn’t it?” He replied casually, although his cheeks were a little flushed. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from something else. He paused, looking into the distance a little. “Do you want to sit in my car? I’ll put the heating on, it’ll be warm and a lot quieter than what we’re dealing with.”

“I’d love that.”

So he led you to the direction of his car, parked out the front of his mother’s house. When his hand brushed against yours, you opened up your palm and slipped your fingers between his. And whilst yours were icy, his hand was warm. 

Your whole body felt warm as you sat in the passenger seat beside him.

The two of you talked, passing the glass of wine between you until it was empty and discarded in the centre console. You laughed, louder and truer than you had in a long while. He played soft music in the background. Mazzy Star, Fleetwood Mac, Laufey. Your body loosened in his presence, and soon, your leg was thrust across the middle of the car and on his, and his hand was resting gently on your thigh.

At 3am, you yawned and told him you probably should be getting to bed. He helped you out of the car, walked you to the door of your house, his hand still warm in yours. He was leaving the next morning, he’d told you this.

“See you next winter?” you asked, more of a manifestation than a question.

“Hopefully sooner than that,” he replied, slipping a note with a number scribbled onto it into the palm of your hand. 

You smiled at that, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Thank you for tonight, Hongjoong.”

“Anytime. And I mean that.”

You let him pull you in and bring your lips to his, skin cold but breath hot.

"much love, laufey" - a mini series by @liliesformingi. view series masterlist, and outline here.

5. 'silver lining' - san x reader “what a miracle, i found a darling.”

author's note: this song is so dreamy, and the music video is even more beautiful (i'm such a sucker for stunning creative direction!) and i immediately thought of this storyline. hope you enjoy, atinys and lauvers! warnings: alcohol consumption

You’d been given strict conditions for the evening. 

Be sweet, but not too sweet. Smile, but not too much. Engage in conversation, but don’t dominate.

And, for God’s sake, don’t be so friendly to Choi San. 

Your parents were hosting their annual dinner party, essentially a fanciful excuse to brag about their achievements for four-and-a-half hours while guests were placated with expensive wine and French cuisine. And despite your father’s petty grudge against Mr Choi, their family’s name found its way to the top of the guest list year after year. Perhaps it was tactical; perhaps it was just so they were forced to be kind while your parents missiled question after passive aggressive question.

Whatever it was, the Choi family were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Maybe they genuinely enjoyed the presence of your parents, although you found this unlikely. 

Your glass of red wine sat untouched by your side, as did your sense of boredom. It was past eleven, and the other four families had bid their goodbyes. San, his older sister and his parents sat in various spots in your formal living room, listening politely to whatever your mother or father had to say.

Occasionally, your parents would encourage you to chime in, to back them up on their grandiose brags. “Isn’t it impressive that your sister is studying French abroad and can already speak the language immaculately, Y/N?” “Oh, no, your brother has been excellent at polo since birth, hasn’t he, Y/N?”

It was embarrassing, honestly.

“And our eldest is in Paris at the moment,” your mother beamed, clasping her hands together.

“You’ve already said that, Mama,” you replied, swallowing a yawn and rolling your shoulders back.

She looked back at you with a fierce glint in her eye, and you mouthed an apology, standing up and pushing your chair in behind you.

“If I may, I’m going to go get some air, then head to bed.” you stated, slotting your fingers between the handle of your wine glass and offering a sweet smile to the gathering.

“Oh, darling, don’t you want to stay and chat a little longer?” your father pressed, reaching for your hand.

You let him take it, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I’m quite sure. Thank you, though. Goodnight, everyone.”

There was a soft chorus of goodnights, and you walked yourself out of the room and down the hallway, settling yourself on the stairs by the glass French doors.

The rain was pouring, pittering gently on the window panes. The sky was dark, moonlight peeking through the oak trees outside. You pulled the pins and clasp from your intricate updo, letting your hair fall past your neck. From this small distance, your family’s voices were muffled, and you let yourself take a moment of near silence, sipping from your glass. 

“Can I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder, face melting into a smile when you saw San, tie undone, blazer unbuttoned, hair a little tousled from where he must’ve ran his hand through it.

“Only if you can get me out of here later,” you sighed, scooting yourself over to give him space. He gently lifted up the silky skirts of your dress and handed them to you, not wanting to sit on your dress. You felt your cheeks flush a little, and you handed him your glass to sip from.

His lips positioned themself right where your lipstick had left a stain, and your heartbeat quickened.

“I’m sorry about the way my parents go on,” you said, taking the glass back and drinking from it. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”

San chuckled. “It is a bit, but it’s not your fault. Besides, they’re never talking about you. Only your siblings.”

“That’s because I haven’t done anything miraculous,” you snorted, and San took in the sight of you. Your eyes sparkled, your cheeks were tinged with pink, your lips wine stained. 

He wanted to taste it off your lips, but restrained himself and settled for a discrete shuffle closer to your side.

“I’m sure you have,” he replied. “You seem like that kind of girl.”

“A miraculous one?”

“Sure.”

You shook your head in amusement and smiled. The rain started to slow down, little rivers tracing paths down the glass. The grass outside was damp, the trees swaying slowly in the breeze.

Suddenly, you stood up, almost knocking your wine glass over. You reached out a hand to San, and he took it, blinking in confusion.

“Let’s go outside. The rain will stop any minute, and I need air, like I said.”

“Won’t your dress and shoes get wet?”

“Not if you hold me,” you smiled, and his cheeks tinged peach pink.

And who was San to deny an embrace with the girl he’d been quietly admiring for years?

He slipped an arm around your waist and another under your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. You kicked your feet, giddy, letting out a giggle as you reached for the doorknob. San let the two of you out, closing the door and quickly holding you up with his knee as he reached to adjust your heel, which had started to slip off your foot. 

“What a gentleman,” you hummed, and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. 

He sat down on the soaked iron bench, you still dry on his lap, letting you talk to him about the types of constellations you could usually see from this patch of garden.

He actually didn’t know what on earth you were talking about when you asked what his star sign was, and laughed alongside you when you said you didn’t actually know their significance either. His hands gently gripped your waist, occasionally moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Then, your hands were cupping his cheeks, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“You’re drunk,” he stated, less of a warning and more of a reminder. “And your parents are gonna hate you, and me.”

“Don’t care,” you giggled, gently nuzzling your nose against his. “Do you?”

“No,” he breathed, and you pressed your lips to his in a kiss so sweet, San felt like he was falling through the starry sky that blanketed the two of you.

He never wanted to come to these events, but God, he was glad he had.

Otherwise he may have never found his silver lining.