#(( and they will not be able to get out of this without squaring with that single ever-important fact

[starlightkun]

➺ word count: 23.6k ➺ genre: two bodies one soul au, enemies to begrudging roomies to lovers, acquaintances of extreme inconvenience, fluff, humor, some hurt/comfort, there’s some moments with probably more horny energy than is warranted (sungchan and reader r always bickering/squaring up and sometimes it gets physical and everyone’s just like… uhm… that’s not how ppl fight y’all…), not actually a soulmate au bc even tho reader and sungchan technically do share a soul it’s not an inherently romantic thing in this world ➺ warnings: FLAWED CHARACTERS, reader and sungchan r both kinda mean to each other at the beginning (see first genre tag please) for sympathetic(?) but also not great reasons, reader does something knowing it will inflict physical pain on sungchan (i once again refer u to the first genre tag), descriptions of physical pain and injury, blood/needle/hospital depictions ➺ author’s note: omg starlightkun hiatus over? i didn’t mean to be gone for so long but moving was crazy. anyway, i actually had like the first 19k of this written before i moved (feb-ish) and just had to write the last couple scenes to finish it up. this one was so much fun tho! i love the worldbuilding i did, and also rlly had a good time with reader and sungchan’s characters

“This isn’t fucking fair!”

“Tell me about it,” Sungchan muttered.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You yelled, slammed the door shut, and stormed off towards your house.

“I know!” He called after you derisively.

Soulbound. That was the diagnosis that your parents had been handed when you were just a few days old. It wasn’t that you had half a soul, you had a whole one, you just shared it with someone else. One Jung Sungchan, another baby born just down the hall. While two people being soulbound was rare enough, it almost always happened in the instance of multiple births (twins, triplets, etc.). It was practically unheard of to occur between strangers—your families had never met before, the only thing you had in common was physical proximity at your births. But apparently you both had started experiencing symptoms of soulsickness the first night your respective families took you home from the hospital, which resolved upon being rushed back to that very same emergency room. The astute pediatrician who examined both of you put two and two together, and from then on, you hadn’t gone a single day without seeing Sungchan.

Your families moved next door to each other, you were enrolled in the same schools and classes in grade school, tagged along to each other’s extracurriculars, took family vacations together, got your first jobs at the shoe store at the mall, and even had to compromise on what university to attend and coordinate your class schedules. It was an absolute nuisance at best and an obstacle that prevented you from doing anything and everything you wanted at worst. Your options in life were limited by what Sungchan wanted, friendships were difficult to maintain since you had to accommodate his schedule as well (and you were never invited to sleepovers with the other girls), and God knows you’d never been able to really date like this—who would want to date someone that came with an obligatory third wheel forever?

“I have a job interview tomorrow, by the way,” you stated from Sungchan’s passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing buildings. He had gone to the gym this morning—bright and fucking early as always—which meant that you unfortunately had to go as well, since his gym was just far enough away that if he went alone, the distance would start putting stress on your soul. Sometimes you walked on a treadmill, but usually you sat in a corner on your phone until he was done.

“First I’ve heard of it,” he snorted.

“It’s your day off, stop bitching.”

He rolled his eyes. “What time?”

“Two. You’ll have to dress professional.”

“Yeah, right. I’m not interviewing.”

“But if I have to have you walk in with me, you can’t look like a fucking slob,” you pointed out.

“I’ll just wait in the car. Where is it?”

“Inverness & Wildwood.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not going.”

“Yes, I am,” you insisted.

“No, you’re fucking not,” he retorted. “It’s the next city over.”

“I haven’t interviewed yet, I don’t know if I’d even get it.”

Sungchan pulled into his driveway, putting the car in park but not turning it off as he shot you a withering look, pointing to the house in front of him. “Y/N, we still live with our parents because we couldn’t agree on a dorm or apartment complex to move into in college.”

“So you’re going to force me to live with my parents for the rest of our lives?” You asked incredulously.

“You can’t force me to move somewhere!”

“I’m sorry I have career aspirations past the part-time job we got in high school!”

“You don’t even have to come to my job, but you’re expecting me to fucking move for yours!”

“I didn’t say that!” You were seeing red now. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

Sungchan, meanwhile, looked like he was about to rip his own hair out. “It’s in another city, how exactly do you expect to work there without me and also without us fucking dying?”

“This isn’t fucking fair!” You grabbed the door handle and got out of the car.

Sungchan turned the car off and got out too. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You yelled, slammed the door shut, and stormed off towards your house.

“I know!” He called after you derisively.

Angry, hot tears burned your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you fumbled to unlock your front door. You slammed that door shut too in your fury, ignoring your dad’s ‘good morning’ as you ran upstairs to your bedroom. This was so fucking unfair. Your whole life you were going to be stuck to a fucking underachiever who was apparently content with keeping the both of you living with your parents forever, never pursuing any dreams or aspirations beyond working at the place that you’d worked at since you were sixteen. What did you do to deserve this?

The car ride to the gym in the next morning was silent. You had your headphones in before you opened the car door, not even bothering to give Sungchan a ‘good morning’ or listen for if he said it to you. You stared out the passenger window with your arms crossed over your chest for the entire drive, wordlessly unbuckling and getting out once you arrived. After his workout, you followed him outside and got back in the car. Except he didn’t reverse out of the parking spot.

Finally, you looked over at Sungchan to find his eyes already on you, fixing you with an expecting look. He motioned for you to take an earbud out. Rolling your eyes, you did so, then waited for him to say whatever he wanted.

“Silent treatment?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s not like we’re friends,” you huffed, moving to put your earbud back in.

“Hey, wait,” he stopped you. “I’m sorry about your interview, alright?”

“Whatever, just forget about it.”

Sungchan buckled in and reversed out of the parking spot. “Isn’t there another firm like that in town? By the mall? You could see if they’re—”

“I said forget it, okay?” You snapped.

He held one of his hands up in surrender, and you put your earbud back in.

With one final adjustment of your blazer, you left your room, hurrying through your house. Your parents were at work, thankfully. You locked the front door behind you and walked right by your car parked out front. Sungchan’s was in his driveway, and you quickly turned down the sidewalk away from his house.

Halfway through your subway ride, you felt a twinge in your head, and grabbed the ibuprofen you had in your purse. You knocked back a couple tablets to keep the pain at bay. Your fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on your knee as you watched the electronic sign for your stop. You were on your feet before the doors opened, rushing out ahead of the other passengers.

A knot formed in your stomach when you emerged from the subway station into daylight, and not from nerves. You swallowed down the nausea, grabbing a ginger chew from your purse and continuing on.

Smiling at the older gentleman who held the door open for you on his way out of the building, you entered Inverness & Wildwood right as a sharp pain started up in your chest. You breathed through it, approaching the receptionist with a calm façade. You gave her your name and interview time, then followed her directions to the restroom that you had asked for.

After locking yourself in a stall, you rooted through your purse for the other pill bottle you had in there, for emergencies. Unfortunately, there was nothing to fully prevent soulsickness—aside from constantly being near Sungchan—but souLOXin could dull the symptoms for a little while. Shaking one of the red and black capsules out into your palm, you made a mental note to put in a refill later; you had less than a handful left. You swallowed it right as you got a text.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where are you?]

You turned your phone on silent and put it in your purse along with the pill bottle.

By the end of the interview, the pain in your abdomen had returned, and you gritted your teeth as you stood up to bow to the three interviewers and thanked them for the opportunity. One informed you they would let you know by the end of the week, and showed you to the elevator. As soon as the doors had closed and you were alone, you let out a groan, clutching your stomach and leaning against the wall for support. You composed yourself again when a ding! rang and you were let out into the lobby once more. Pressing on through your throbbing headache, you rushed down the sidewalks back to the subway, desperately taking another couple of ibuprofen tablets.

Standing on the platform waiting for the next train, you continued to take deep breaths, digging your nails into your clammy palms to distract yourself. Finally, it arrived, and you forced your way in as the doors were still opening. Dropping down into a seat, you let your head fall back against the window behind you and your eyes flutter shut.

Your guts finally started unwinding and the pounding in your head started dulling as you approached your stop. When the announcement was made, you got up, trudging off behind a few other passengers. Halfway back to your house, you were no longer nauseous, you just felt like you were getting over a bad cold—essentially, like shit.

Sungchan’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which you noted in the back of your mind as you walked into your own home and straight up to your bedroom. You eventually checked your phone after getting into your pajamas and crawling into bed.

Four missed calls from Sungchan and a dozen texts total.

[sungchan 👎🍅: y/n]

[sungchan 👎🍅: hello??? i can see your car]

Two calls in a row.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where the fuck are you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: don’t tell me you went to that fucking interview anyway]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: omfg y/n pick up]

[sungchan 👎🍅: im being so fucking fr rn pick up]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: im going to kill you if we die rn]

[sungchan 👎🍅: get the fuck back home right now im not kidding]

[sungchan 👎🍅: what the hell is wrong with you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: i just took my last poppys but if ur not back before it wears off im coming to get u idc]

Poppy—the nickname for souLOXin due to the coloring of the capsules. Sungchan always ran out first, the effects wearing off sooner for him than you for as long as the two of you had been taking it. According to the limited studies that had been done, there was some indication that men may metabolize it quicker than women, and of course the fact that he was a gym rat presumably did nothing to help in that department.

[sungchan 👎🍅: if u don’t call me in the next ten minutes im going]

[sungchan 👎🍅: ur the fucking worst that’s it im omw to inverness & wildwood. if u see this and ur somewhere else CALL ME]

He sent that last text six minutes ago. With a sigh, you reluctantly hit the phone icon next to his contact. The first ring didn’t even finish before he picked up.

“Where the fuck are you?” He demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Home,” you deadpanned. “You can come back.”

“God, you are fucking impossible!” The sounds of screeching tires and car horns were audible in the background. “You went to the interview, didn’t you?”

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see it.

He must have taken your silence as a yes. “Fucking—Was it worth it? Huh?!”

“We lived, stop being so dramatic,” you scoffed. “Big tough guy can’t survive a little stomachache?”

“This time it was a stomachache. And what if I didn’t have any poppys?”

“That would’ve been your fault,” you snorted. “I’m not your mommy, you need to keep up on your own meds. Go get a refill since you’re already out.”

“They’re supposed to be for emergencies, Y/N, not when you want to just—”

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you pulled it away from your ear to see that there was another call incoming. Just in time, too, you didn’t have it in you to get lectured by Sungchan right now.

“Sorry, I’m getting another call,” you interrupted whatever he was saying loudly, not even bothering to attempt to sound actually apologetic. “Bye!”

Hanging up, you quickly accepted the other call from an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N Y/N?” It was an older woman on the other end, the voice familiar, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up quite yet.

“This is she,” you confirmed, quickly adjusting your voice from the tone that you had been talking to Sungchan in to a polite and enthusiastic one.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N, this is Kwon Siyeon, from Inverness & Wildwood. How are you?”

“Well, I’m well.” You scrambled to your feet, now anxiously pacing your room. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. I’ll make this short—Everyone loved you, and we’d like to offer you the job.”

You pumped your fist in the air, turning towards your window just in time to see Sungchan’s car pull into his driveway, immediately killing all your enthusiasm.

“Before I can accept, there is one thing you need to know about me,” you said regretfully.

The hiring manager prompted you hesitantly, “Which is…?”

Just rip the band-aid off.

“I’m soulbound. He will need to be somewhere in the building while I work. Honestly, we can just stick him in the broom closet if it’s too much trouble.”

Ms. Kwon chuckled, thankfully not seeming to take that as a genuine suggestion. “We can of course provide accommodations for your brother. And if he’s in need of a job as well, we may also be able to arrange something depending on his skills.”

“Oh, no, he’s not my brother,” you quickly clarified. “We’re not related, just… soulbound.”

“Oh…” She paused, obviously not expecting that. “Well, like I said before, we can provide accommodations, and if he’d like to submit his CV, we can see if we’ve got something for him too.”

“I will talk to him.” You nodded, staring down Sungchan’s bedroom window that faced yours, his blinds closed. “Thank you so much, Ms. Kwon.”

“Of course. We will see you both on Monday, then?”

“Bright and early,” you confirmed.

“Great. Goodbye, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Goodbye.”

And now for the hard part.

Not even bothering to change back out of your pajamas, you shoved your feet into shoes and headed next door. You rang the doorbell and waited, bouncing from heel to toe. Sungchan’s groan was audible before he even opened the front door.

“If the first words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m sorry’, I swear to fucking God.” He was already scowling at you, a look that probably would’ve been terrifying if you hadn’t been on the receiving end thousands of times at this point in your life and survived. That was what was so frustrating about your relationship with Sungchan, the very thing that had you at each other’s throats constantly was also the only reason one of you hadn’t actually killed the other.

“I’m sorry.” You tried your hardest to sound and look sincere.

He stared you down, clearly unimpressed. “No, you’re not.”

You dropped your apologetic act but still tried to keep a light and friendly tone. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“What do you want?”

“You didn’t get your refill while you were out, did you?” You surmised from how quick he’d returned. Pushing the pill bottle you’d grabbed on your way out into his hand, you forced a smile on your face. “Here, take mine. I’ll pick up a refill while you’re at work tomorrow.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but pocketed the bottle anyway. He repeated, “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

Sungchan backed up, opening the door wider for you. You stepped inside, and he shut the door before pivoting on his heel and heading further into the house. Your families had bought two homes next door in a newly built subdivision right after your diagnosis as newborns. This meant that in addition to you two sharing a soul, your houses were literal mirror images of each other. While you would normally take a right from the kitchen to go upstairs to your bedroom, you now had to take a left to go up to Sungchan’s.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you expectantly. You took a deep breath before just jumping right in.

“They offered me the job,” you said, bracing yourself for whatever reaction he would have. Anger, a rehashing of the fight you two had yesterday, a continuation of his ranting from today, all three in succession. His jaw clenched, but he surprisingly didn’t explode.

“…And?” He raised an eyebrow.

“And, I would like to accept it,” you stated the obvious, trying to keep your voice level and as non-venomous as possible. After all, you were asking for something big. “This could be the beginning of like, my dream career, so I would really appreciate it if you would consider doing this. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about the interview beforehand, or when I applied. I shouldn’t have just dropped it on you like that. It was unfair. This isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t really want to tell anybody since I didn’t think I would even get an interview, much less a job. But I should’ve told you, though, of all people. And what I did today was selfish and awful too.”

Sungchan sighed, the resentment dropping from his features. “Shit, you actually mean it.”

You nodded quickly, clasping your hands together in front of you, quite literally pleading now. “I do. And the job pays really good, I can totally cover your expenses for the move, too. Please.”

“Wait, we couldn’t even agree on a building to live in separately during undergrad, and now you’re seriously offering to pay for me to move with you?”

“Until you find a job. We may share a soul, but I’m not gonna let you also mooch off me forever,” you snorted, making him shake his head, albeit with a hint of a smile. “Inverness & Wildwood have even offered to consider you for a job too if you want.”

He tapped his finger on his arm as he mulled it over, eyeing you contemplatively. “I probably would’ve been cool with going to the interview with you if you had talked to me about it first, you know. Sooner than the day before.”

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“We won’t have our parents to mediate, if we do this,” he pointed out. “We’ll have to actually discuss things with each other.”

“You’re really considering?” You asked with wide eyes.

“My mom always said I was wasting my potential being assistant manager of a shoe store. Don’t know if being a copy boy or whatever is really a step up, but—” He finished his sentence with a shrug.

“Absolutely no dragging the other person around to stuff. Communication and compromise,” you confirmed excitedly.

“When would you start?”

“Monday. Obviously we’d commute until we found a place to live nearby and—”

“Monday?”

You winced. “I can see about a later start date…”

“Monday’s fine,” he relented. “I’ll put in my notice tomorrow.”

“You will? Ah, thank you! Thank you!” You did a couple little hops with excitement, in absolute disbelief that he was actually agreeing to this.

A voice called Sungchan’s name from the first floor, and he stood up from his bed. “That’s my mom, she—Huh?”

He’d been caught off-guard by you throwing your arms around his middle in your elation, still absolutely buzzing.

“Thank you, Sungchan.” You beamed up at him.

He sighed and loosely returned the embrace, patting the top of your head. “Yeah, you’re welcome. You better love this job.”

His mom called for him again, and you let him go to head downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs, you spotted a familiar older woman bustling in from the garage with a bunch of bags of groceries.

“There’s a few more bags in the car, then I need you to help me put everything away,” she directed her son without even looking.

“Hi, Auntie,” you announced your presence quietly, making her whip around.

“Oh, Y/N!” Sungchan’s mom blinked at you, eyes going wide with surprise as she hurried to put all of it down on the kitchen counter and greet you. “It’s been a while, sweetie. How are you?”

Sungchan’s family had obviously watched you grow up, always being kind to you and treating you like one of their own. While your two sets of parents tried their best to foster a friendship between you as well as be equitable when it came to your joint schedule, there was no way they hadn’t noticed your obvious disdain for each other, especially when you got older and avoided the other as much as physically possible.

You accepted her hug, a soft smile on your face now. “I’m good, I’m good. I’ve actually got a job offer, which is what I came over here to talk to Sungchan about.”

She let you go to look between you two with curiosity. “A new job?”

“Y/N’s going to be a bigshot at Inverness & Wildwood,” Sungchan explained, leaning against the wall.

“That’s… far,” she said hesitantly.

“I’m going with her,” he ended the suspense quickly. “It’s a good opportunity for her, and I’m tired of selling shoes anyway.”

“They’re going to let me keep him in the supply closet while I’m at work,” you reassured her with a snicker.

She burst into laughter, wrapping her arms around you again and rubbing your back. “As long as you feed him.”

“I’ll let even him out for exercise.”

“I’m not a gerbil,” Sungchan grumbled.

“Ohh, I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” his mom sighed happily, entirely ignoring her son’s complaints.

“Thank you, Auntie,” you murmured sincerely.

Monday morning, you and Sungchan did arrive at Inverness & Wildwood bright and early as promised. You had gone out and gotten him a button up shirt and properly fitting slacks this weekend in preparation, and his less-than-one-week notice had been turned in at the shoe store. Taking a deep breath, you approached the reception desk.

“Hi, Y/L/N Y/N, today’s my first day,” you told the receptionist.

“Of course, welcome to Inverness & Wildwood.” She smiled at you, though her gaze trailed questioningly to Sungchan awkwardly standing a couple steps behind you.

“He’s with me, he’s uhm, he’s—we’re uhm—I’m soulbound, and he’s—”

“Ahh, yes, I do have a note here.” Her face lit up with recognition then eased, her focus returning to speak only to you. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll buzz Ms. Kwon to let her know that you’re here, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thank you.” You turned and went to sit on one of the chairs in the lobby, the elevator in your sights. Sungchan followed you, taking the seat opposite you.

“Smooth,” he snickered under his breath, slumping down and pulling his phone out.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “And sit up straight. Aren’t you trying to work here too?”

He had his résumé in his other hand, and while he rolled his eyes, he did straighten out his posture, scooting up in his chair. “Yeah, as like the gofer who gets everyone’s coffees.”

“Why don’t you have any real aspirations for your life?”

“Keeping everyone caffeinated is noble. Why do you turn your nose up at service workers?”

You gawped, caught off-guard at his biting question disguised as playful banter. “I don’t! It’s just that I know you can do more—”

“You’re still doing it.”

“Fine, new question—You were Dean’s List in college, graduated magna cum laude undergrad and summa in high school. Why don’t you want to do something in line with your studies?”

Sungchan tilted his head. “You paid that much attention to me?”

You lunged forward in your chair to lean as close to him as possible, dropping your voice to a whisper that only he could hear and jabbing your pointer finger against his chest indignantly. “Bitch, we’ve been attached at the soul for over two decades, I would’ve had to be braindead to not have retained some information about you. Don’t do this shit right now! I’m serious!”

“You always are.” He clicked his tongue.

At his silence that followed, you decided that you had won and backed away from him again. Keeping your chin up, you remained on the edge of your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs at the knee nervously. Finally, you heard the elevator ding, and looked away from that direction, not wanting to stare directly at whoever was approaching, the sounds of their heels getting closer. Instead, you let your gaze fall back to Sungchan, who arched an eyebrow at you.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A woman called your name out, and your head snapped over to her, a smile coming to your face as you immediately recognized Ms. Kwon, the hiring manager who had been present at your interview.

You quickly stood, Sungchan following your lead as you walked over to greet her just past the reception desk. “Good morning, Ms. Kwon, it’s great to see you again.” You bowed your head.

“You too, we’re very happy you accepted our offer,” she said warmly. “Both of you.”

“Yes, right.” You cleared your throat, before starting introductions, gesturing to Sungchan. “Ms. Kwon, this is Jung Sungchan. Sungchan, this is Ms. Kwon Siyeon, she’s the hiring manager here at Inverness & Wildwood.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Sungchan said, shaking her hand that she had offered. “I appreciate you accommodating me.”

“Of course. It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Jung. Is that your résumé there?”

“Yes.”

She delicately snatched it from his grasp with two fingers, then looked back to you with a smile. “So, ready for orientation?”

“Absolutely.”

“We can leave Mr. Jung anywhere in the building, correct?”

“Yes, we’ll be fine at that distance.”

“Great.”

Ms. Kwon showed you to your desk first, and the one next to it happened to currently be vacant, so Sungchan was allowed to wait there while you continued your orientation. After briefly indicating him the bathroom and breakroom—in case he wanted to help himself to some coffee—Ms. Kwon whisked you away to her office. You went through your new employee paperwork, a powerpoint and other instructional materials, then you were off again. She brought you to another office, this time with ‘Oh Jieun’ on the outside.

Ms. Oh was to be your team leader and start off your training. After doing introductions, Ms. Kwon headed for the door again.

“I’ll be reviewing Mr. Jung’s résumé now. Call me if you need anything.”

“Please, take a seat, Y/N.” Ms. Oh gestured to one of the two armchairs across form her desk. To your surprise, she took the other one instead of sitting behind her desk again. “And you can call me Jieun, if you’re comfortable with that. Our team is pretty familiar with each other like that.”

“Maybe not yet,” you chuckled nervously.

“I understand.” She smiled. “I like to get to know my people a little first. Ms. Kwon did inform me that you’re soulbound, I’m assuming that’s who ‘Mr. Jung’ is?”

“Yes, Sungchan, yeah,” you confirmed.

“You’re not related…”

“No, we’re not. It was uh, a big surprise for our parents. Just happened somehow.”

“That must have been nice, though, growing up. Built-in brother?”

You flashed another nervous smile, trying not to show your disdain on your face. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but I’m very grateful to him for coming with me when I received this opportunity. Which is why I also appreciate Ms. Kwon agreeing to look for a position for him here as well.”

“He quit his job?” She surmised.

“Yes, we’re from the next town over. Our workplaces would have been too far apart.”

She waved her hands in front of her. “I apologize, I know you’re more than being soulbound. What do you do in your free time, hm?”

It wasn’t until lunch that you left Ms. Oh’s office. She declared that she had a lunch meeting, and encouraged you to take your break now too. You walked back to your desk feeling a little overwhelmed and dazed already, lots of notes in your notebook that Ms. Kwon had given you. Sungchan was still at the desk next to yours, looking up from his phone with interest as you pulled out your chair and flopped down into it.

“So…? How’s work so far?” He asked.

“Good, good.” You sat up straight. “You uh, doing alright?”

He shrugged. “Checked out the breakroom. Played some solitaire.”

“I’m on lunch. Do you want to go somewhere? Stretch your legs?”

“You really weren’t kidding about taking me on walks, huh?” He snickered, standing up anyway. “Making sure I get fresh air?”

You grabbed your purse and started towards the elevator. Through gritted teeth, you said, “You’re lucky I’m treating you better than a bug in a jar.”

He laughed at that, not seeming to care when a couple of your coworkers looked over. “Going to put a magnifying glass over me and set me on fire next?”

The elevator arrived, and the two of you stepped in. Once the door shut and you were alone, you dug your elbow into his side. “Don’t give me any ideas. God, do you have to be so loud?”

“What are you talking about?” Sungchan easily fended off your limb. “I laughed. It’s a normal thing to do. Heard some other people doing it earlier. You’re not going to be exiled for being seen with a guy who laughed.”

You took a deep breath. “You’re right, sorry. I’m just freaked because it’s my first day.”

“I get it. And I promise I’m not going to do anything to intentionally get you fired. Seriously, I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“That was obvious, huh?”

“We’ve never been able to keep secrets from each other.”

“Yeah, not for very long.”

“Anyway, Ms. Kwon has been busy, I think. I haven’t seen her since this morning, so no updates on a job for me yet.”

The elevator arrived on the ground floor, and he let you step off first. “That’s okay, Sungchan. You just quit your job for me, some grace is definitely owed.”

You two stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building, Sungchan closing his eyes and reveling in the sunlight while you lifted your hand up to shield your eyes against the brightness and look around. Tsking, you said, “I think there’s a kebab place down the street?”

“Sounds good to me.”

As you walked, you looked up at the buildings around your new workplace. Some were other office buildings, while others were apartments.

“That looks like a nice place,” you pointed.

Sungchan made a non-committal sound.

“Or that one? Everything here is definitely close enough in case one of us is at work and the other is home.”

A shrug.

“Okay, I’m going to need a lot more from you,” you snorted. “We have to live somewhere eventually, remember? It’d be a good idea to start thinking about it.”

“Dishwasher.”

“What?”

“It should have a dishwasher. We’ll get tired of hand-washing dishes really fast,” he said. “And in-unit laundry.”

You nodded. “We’ll look at some listings online while we eat.”

When you returned to the office, Ms. Kwon and Ms. Oh found you two at your desks at the same time.

“Mr. Jung,” Ms. Kwon zeroed in on Sungchan. “Time for your interview.”

“Y/N, let’s meet the rest of the team.” Ms. Oh gestured for you to follow her.

Ms. Kwon had already started off towards her office, leaving Sungchan to catch up. “Wish me luck,” He whispered to you under his breath.

“Good luck,” you murmured, watching him take off after her through the maze of desks.

Ms. Oh was still waiting patiently, and you grabbed your notebook off your desk before turning to her, offering a smile.

At the end of the day, you were exhausted. And you still had to commute back home. Grabbing your purse from your desk, Sungchan immediately perked up.

“Done?” He asked hopefully.

“Mm-hm,” you confirmed, heading for the elevator with a few other employees from this floor.

Sungchan was right behind you, squeezing onto the elevator with everyone else. Out on the sidewalks, you two started towards the subway in silence. Other office workers were converging on the street too, the city beginning to change as the sun started setting.

As you sat down on the subway with Sungchan, you got déjà vu to this morning, and suddenly remembered something. “Oh! How’d it go with Ms. Kwon?”

He straightened his shoulders and jokingly puffed out his chest. “You’re looking at Inverness & Wildwood’s newest part-time office supply and personnel logistics assistant.”

You squinted at him.

“I’m a gofer.” He grinned and flopped back against his seat. “I’ll make copies, get coffee, run documents between departments, do inventory, whatever they ask me to. They already have another part-timer so they didn’t need me full-time.”

“Congrats,” you said dryly. “We should find a place close to work, so you don’t have to come in when you’re not scheduled.”

“Downtown will be expensive,” he commented.

“I don’t know what your pay as a gofer is, but I can afford it.”

“Actually, they’re paying me more than the shoe store.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks for almost killing me to interview for your job,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a baby.”

Two more weeks of commuting and looking at apartments on your lunch break, and you’d finally found one that was available now, only a block away from work, and met all of your and Sungchan’s personal qualifications. You didn’t have a lot of things to bring over from your childhood bedroom—mostly clothes, personal belongings, and the odd piece of sentimental décor. Even your bed was staying put, as your parents had never upgraded you from the twin bed that you’d had as a kid, expecting you to go to college and only ever come back for visits, not stick around as long as you had. The first week you had the apartment, you still commuted back home to sleep, until your new bedframe and mattress arrived.

That was when it really hit you. After spending your whole Saturday unpacking and building furniture, you grabbed your bag of toiletries to take with you into your bathroom for a shower later. Your bathroom. You’d really be living here.

You turned back to Sungchan, who you had called in to assist with some of the two-person steps on building your bedframe. “We’re really doing this.”

“Hm?” He looked up from where he had still been fiddling with a couple screws. “No, we’re done with the frame. Mattress should be easy, it’ll unroll and inflate on its own.”

“I meant—We’re really living here. Together. Without our parents.”

“Guess so.” He stood up. “I’ll grab your mattress.”

The mattress had arrived sometime during the week, and you had pulled it in by yourself. Meaning that the heavy box was dragged in and left by the front door.

Finished arranging your shower products, you stepped back out of your bathroom in time to watch Sungchan carry the mattress box into your room by himself and set it down with no further indication of exertion other than a small huff. Which also just could’ve been from annoyance at helping you.

“Glad to see all our time at the gym hasn’t been a waste,” you commented as he started opening the box.

“Only a waste for you,” he teased back.

“That would hurt if I had been going there willingly.”

“This place has got a gym,” he said. “Pretty nice one too.”

“Yeah, so now you can go without me.”

He pumped his fist victoriously, and you rolled your eyes despite this very much being a win-win situation. With the plastic off, he arranged the mattress on your bedframe to inflate the rest of the way on its own.

“There.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

He nodded, heading towards your door. “I’m scheduled for the morning tomorrow.”

“Then you can sign for my dresser. Should be coming in the afternoon.”

“Where else would I be?”

Coming home from work the next day, you were not looking forward to building a dresser. You stepped out of your shoes at the door, carrying them in your hands as the apartment was suspiciously void of Sungchan. Sure, he could’ve gone to anywhere else within a few blocks safely, but you two had already agreed to give each other a heads-up when doing that. Figuring he was probably in his room, you let your shoulders relax as you pushed your bedroom door open.

You stopped in the doorway, shoes dangling off your fingertips, to stare blankly at the scene in front of you. Sungchan on the floor of your bedroom with what looked to be your half-built dresser and various pieces sprawled out around him and his head entirely under your bed as he appeared to be searching for something.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You asked plainly.

“Fuck!” He swore as he startled and hit what sounded like both his head and shoulder on the underneath of your bed and bedframe, then swore again at the pain, “Shit! Ow!” Carefully pulling himself out, he said, “I’m building a dresser.”

You tiptoed around him, careful not to knock anything out of place, to access your suitcase for a change of clothes. “How long have you been doing that?”

He sat back on his feet, pointing at the furniture, “Spent fifteen minutes building the dresser,” then gestured around the expanse of your room, “And the past two hours looking for a screw.”

You carefully used a hand on his head to balance as you stepped over him and a bunch of wood panels to get to your adjoined bathroom.

“Let me get out of my work clothes, then I’ll help.”

Emerging from the bathroom in more relaxed loungewear, you eyed him curiously. “Why were you even building my dresser for me? I just asked you to sign for the package.”

“I was bored.”

“So bored that you’d rather get pissed off at this than stop?” You asked humorously.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Apparently.”

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

He showed a screw to you, about as long as your thumbnail. You didn’t hide your doubt.

“Hm.”

“Yeah.” He turned his phone flashlight on and stuck his head back under your bed.

Peering back out into the hallway, you saw something glinting from just inside Sungchan's ajar bedroom door, and walked over there. You picked it up, having secured a small screw between two fingers.

“Sungchan,” you said, entering your room again.

“Huh?” He thankfully didn’t hit his head again as he rolled out from under your bed.

You held the screw out to him on your palm. “Is this it?”

His jaw dropped as he took it from you. “Where the fuck was it?”

“Hallway.”

“Ugh, I wasn’t looking out there! How did it get out there?!” He whined, then immediately closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and his features became neutral again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I wasted two hours of my life, but it’s fine.”

“Well, as long as it’s fine,” you replied skeptically.

Twenty minutes before the end of the workday, one of your team members whose desk was behind yours leaned his chair back to bridge the gap between you two. Mark whispered, “Hey, a few of us are getting drinks after work today. Want to come? We can celebrate your one-ish month. Three weeks?” His face screwed up as he was clearly trying to do the mental math on how long you had been there.

Truthfully, you were already beat from the work week, and still had more boxes waiting for you at the apartment. But you didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot when it came to establishing good relationships with your coworkers. One drink couldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t just your decision, unfortunately.

“I’ll have to ask Sungchan,” you replied, giving him an apologetic smile.

Mark squinted at you with confusion. “The… new stockroom guy?”

You hadn’t announced that you were soulbound to your entire team or anything, nor had it come up naturally yet. And it seems that Ms. Oh hadn’t mentioned it either, which you were both grateful for and also slightly annoyed by. Now you’d have to go through this with all of them until the whole building finally knew. Maybe a mass email would just be easier, actually.

“We’re soulbound. No, we’re not related, and we don’t know how or why it happened,” you rushed through the usual questions. “I don’t have to come, I know you weren’t expecting to have to invite him too—”

“No, of course he can come!” He reassured you easily. “I didn’t know that was possible, that’s all. We’re all meeting in the lobby in ten minutes or so, the bar’s just a couple blocks away.”

“I’ll ask him. Thanks, Mark.”

You had last spotted Sungchan heading for the breakroom, and checked there first. Your guess was right, he was, in fact, restocking the coffee station.

“Sungchan,” you called for his attention.

“Yes! Time to go home!” He cheered, putting the box of K-cups back in the bottom cabinet.

“Not quite,” you informed him, walking over to where he was on the opposite side of the breakroom from you. “Still got fifteen minutes.”

He groaned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Then what are you doing here? Other than getting my hopes up just to crush them? Unless that’s the entire point?”

“I’m actually not here to fulfill my dark, evil purpose of killing all joy on Earth this time.”

Sungchan snickered a little. “Don’t tell me you’re getting caffeine now.”

“A few people from my team are going out for drinks. We were invited,” you said. “I let them know I would have to ask you before accepting.”

“We were invited, or you were invited?”

“I was invited, then the invitation was extended to you once I told them about our situation,” you answered truthfully. “I understand if you don’t want to go, they’re not your team, and we’ve still got stuff to unpack at the apartment after.”

“No, we should go,” he said firmly. “You’ve got to network or whatever, right?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Then we’ll go. Unless you don’t want to, and you were hoping I would say no so you could blame me?” He tilted his head. “Because you totally can, I don’t care what these people think of me. I’ll be the bad guy any day if you want to get out of something.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, caught off-guard by how genuine he seemed. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. And I am tired, but it’s important to have a good relationship with my team upfront, I think, then I can start skipping out on stuff later on. I was planning on staying for at least one drink if you said yes.”

Sungchan nodded. “Okay, one drink. And if they’re pressuring you to stay, signal me and I’ll start being a dick so we can leave.”

“Signal you how?”

“Kick me under the table or something.”

“You’re giving me permission to kick you?”

“You’re acting like you never have? Or can you only kick me when you don’t have my express permission?”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.” You held your hands up, heading towards the breakroom exit again. “We’re all meeting in the lobby in a few minutes to head out.”

“I’ll meet you at your desk.”

Mark was standing behind his desk when you returned, his messenger bag strap slung across his front and computer turned off as he looked at you questioningly. You gave him a thumbs-up and a nod, receiving an enthusiastic fist-pump in return.

“You want me to wait up for you?” He offered.

“Nah, Sungchan and I will be right behind you,” you promised, saving your work.

“Cool.”

You had just started shutting your computer off when Sungchan approached your desk, a noticeable skip in his step at the workday being over. Shouldering your purse, you stood up, pushing your chair in. “Ready to go?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving work early.” He shook his head in mock disapproval, following you to the elevator.

You pushed the down button and looked at the time on your phone. “By ten whole minutes. What’s become of me?”

“Slacker,” he said in a sing-song voice, stepping onto the empty elevator with you. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator, hands resting casually to either side of him on the railing that went around the entire room. “If you’re not careful, you’ll become an underachiever like me, you know.”

“I never called you that.” You shot him a frank look over your shoulder as you hit the lobby button, then turned your gaze back to the screen to watch the number go down as the elevator descended.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Your subtext was pretty clear.”

“My subtext?”

“You’re not stupid Sungchan,” you sighed loudly. “I don’t know why you keep insisting on acting like you are, and in the process, like I’m stupid too, because that’s the only way I’d believe you were.”

“Have you considered that I am stupid, but you keep insisting that I’m smart because we share a soul, and if I’m stupid, then maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are?”

“Nice try, but we share a soul, not a brain.”

“Yeah, pretty sure you got the brain between us.” Sungchan startled you by suddenly pushing off the back wall and walking up behind you. You expected him to muss up your hair or push you around a little or something as the ground floor—and your waiting coworkers—approached. But he just stood next to you politely, also watching the numbers.

“Then you got the brawn.” You used your index finger to jab at where the material of his button-down shirt was straining slightly around the solid muscle of his shoulder.

He suddenly jokingly went to flex, and you immediately recoiled, turning away and covering your mouth as you made retching sounds.

“Ew! We’re at work! Have some self-respect!” You blindly smacked his arm as his laughter bounced around the elevator. “I swear to God, you better not be doing that in front of people or—”

“Or what?” He taunted. “I’m the brawn, remember?”

“I’ll smother you in your sleep, Jung Sungchan!” You finished your threat, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I know where you sleep, remember?”

He was still grinning breathlessly as he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll hold off on embarrassing you at work until I get a deadbolt on the inside of my bedroom door.”

The elevator had made it to the ground floor then, and you composed yourself right before the doors opened with a ding! to announce your arrival. You immediately spotted the cluster of your coworkers by the front doors of the lobby, most of them seeming to be from your team, with a couple that you didn’t recognize.

Mark noticed you first, raising a hand to wave you over. “Yo! Y/N!”

“Hi,” you greeted everyone brightly. Clearing your throat, you decided to just rip the band-aid off. “This is Sungchan, by the way. We’re soulbound. No, we’re no related. And yes, he’s also the new part-time office supply guy.”

“Hey,” Sungchan said casually from behind you.

“Let’s go drink!” Mark interjected into the silence that had befallen the group as everyone seemed to be trying to process the information you’d just dropped on them. They all immediately burst into cheers and started towards the exit.

You ended up staying much later than you anticipated, and for more than one drink, through no sort of peer pressuring. You were actually having fun with your coworkers, and it was Friday night, so what was the problem, really?

The problem, you realized, only when it was too late. You’d lived with your parents during college, and because all of your socialization had depended on Sungchan in the past, you hadn’t really done much of it out as an adult. So your alcohol tolerance was non-existent. As soon as it hit you, you froze, stopping in the middle of your sentence, talking with Huang Renjun and Lee Donghyuck about… something that you’d completely forgotten about. You were now of a one-track mind that you were well on your way to be way too drunk to be around your coworkers, and you did not want to make an absolute fucking fool of yourself in front of them, even if this was technically “outside of work.”

“Y/N? You okay?” Renjun questioned.

Sungchan was also in the booth with you all, zoning in and out of conversation whenever it happened to veer into something he was actually interested in. He didn’t care if people saw him looking disinterested, scrolling on his phone and sometimes even leaning his head back and closing his eyes until he was actively engaged again.

You did the only thing you could think of and kicked Sungchan. Hard. Except he didn’t startle at all, still resting his eyes. Instead, it was Renjun that jumped and swore. “Ow! What the fuck was that for, Lee Donghyuck?! Come here, you little—”

He reached across the table to grab Donghyuck’s collar as the other man sputtered and flailed to push Renjun off him, laughing and whining that he didn’t know what Renjun was talking about. The commotion was enough to disturb Sungchan, who peeked one eye open, then the other as he seemed to appreciate the scene in front of him. He looked between your quarreling coworkers and you, raising one eyebrow in a silent ‘what did I miss?’

You leaned back, trying to very casually peer under the table just enough in order to direct your kick at the correct leg this time. With Renjun and Donghyuck scrambling around, it was pretty easy to tell the difference. You kicked Sungchan probably more times than was necessary, but you were fully panicking now that you had inadvertently started an almost-bar brawl.

Sungchan, to his credit, hardly reacted to your assault. He slowly nodded once and sat up straight before clearing his throat pointedly. “Y/N, let’s go,” he demanded loudly, making a big show of checking his phone. “We did your work thing, now it’s time for my thing.”

“Right, yeah,” you nodded, not trusting yourself to say any sentences longer than two or three words. “Time to-to go.”

Renjun released his hold on Donghyuck, and they each slid out of the ends of the booth seats they were occupying to let you both out. Sungchan smoothly got out first and helped you up with a hand on your arm that you hoped didn’t make it too apparent that you couldn’t stand on your own.

“Sucks you have to go early, Y/N,” Donghyuck lamented with a sigh. “But we do this once a month! You’ll totally have to come next time!”

“Both of you!” Renjun added, looking at Sungchan too. “Hopefully it’ll work better for both of you next time.”

“Oh, yeah, maybe.” You smiled and nodded, and before you could stop yourself, more words were falling out of your mouth, “I’m really sorry to-to leave like, uh, like this, it’s just that—”

“I’m going to be late, Y/N!” Sungchan interrupted you. “We already stayed an extra hour longer than you said. You know I’ve had this planned for months!”

“I’ll let you go,” Renjun whispered, patting your shoulder sympathetically before turning away from you.

You leaned into Sungchan as he guided you towards the exit of the bar. Halfway there, you realized you didn’t have your purse, and turned around to look to see if you left it in the booth. “Wait, my…”

“I’ve got your purse,” he murmured, and the familiar jangle of the zippers was audible from his other side.

“Oh.”

“You guys leaving?” A voice accosted you right before you were free, and you did your best to disguise your look of ‘oh shit!’ as you turned to face Mark.

“Yeah, uhm, well, Sungchan has, uh—Sungchan’s got to—”

“I’ve got a thing,” Sungchan took over explaining, keeping his tone curt. “And I’m not trying to be rude, Mark, but I’m already running late, so if we could get going…?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Mark started backing away apologetically. “It was good hanging with you guys! Night!”

And finally, you were outside, which was comparatively much quieter, colder, and fresher than the inside of the bar. You took a deep breath of air, already feeling better.

“Oh my god,” you groaned with relief. “Thank you, Sungchan.”

“Are you alright? Other than being drunk?” He asked, holding a hand out to hail a cab.

“What are you doing? We can walk home.”

“From work, yes. Not from some bar we’ve never been to, at night, when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t you have a maps app on your phone?”

“Don’t you have a self-preservation instinct?”

A cab pulled up then, and he helped you into the backseat before giving your address to the driver. You slumped against his shoulder as you watched the city lights pass by in a blur, letting your eyes unfocus.

“Did it hurt?” You mumbled.

“When I fell from heaven? Meh, a bit,” he replied humorously.

“No, when I kicked you.”

He laughed, and you felt his shoulder shake as he did so. “Yeah, I think I’ll have a bruise tomorrow.” He sounded oddly proud and even reached over to pat your head.

“Thanks for being an asshole tonight, Sungchan,” you said sincerely.

“Anytime. It was kind of fun, actually.”

Today fucking sucked. You pushed the front door open, fully ready to beeline for your bed and bury yourself under your covers and cry for the entire night. You were just hoping Sungchan was in his room and would leave you alone.

But no, he had apparently used his afternoon off to put the couch together, as he was reclined on that, watching something on your TV that was still on the ground (you hadn’t found a TV stand yet).

“Hey, I picked up some pizza from that place on the corner for dinner,” Sungchan said, standing up from the couch and gesturing to said pizza boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “Get out of your work clothes then we can eat.”

You faltered, slowing to a stop. “You got it… for both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too?”

“There’s nobody else here? Right?”

You couldn’t help it, all of the stress of the day finally snapping inside you and coming out as tears. Your shoulders jumped with each hiccupping sob, and you dropped your face into your hands as tears streamed from your eyes, soaking your cheeks and blazer cuffs.

“Woah, woah, hey.” He was clearly trying to swallow down his panic and keep his tone soft and comforting. “Do you not want pizza? I can go get something else. What do you want?”

“No, no, Sungchan, pizza is fine,” your words were choked and half-sobbed. You pulled your head back up to see him already with his keys in his hand. “It’s just—Ugh, I messed something up at work today. And nobody got mad at me or anything, and we were able to fix it, and I know I’m still new, but it’s still making me think like—What if I don’t actually belong here? What if I never get good at my job? What if I never figure it out? What if I never figure anything out?” You sniffled, your next words coming out as a wail as your eyes strayed over to the pizza boxes and your sobbing intensified again, “And then you got pizza for me and I thought you hated me.”

Sungchan’s keys clinked as he set them back down, soft footsteps of his sock-clad feet getting closer before you felt his hands gingerly land on your upper arms. When you didn’t immediately pull away, his grasp tightened, squeezing your shoulders as his thumbs smoothed over the area soothingly.

“Okay, first, I don’t hate you. It’ll be really hard to live together if we hate each other.”

“True,” you mumbled, gaze on your feet.

“Y/N, you’ve worked there for a month. Nobody expects you to know everything yet. Except you, apparently,” he continued. “Who cares about having things figured out anyway? If you know everything, you never get to learn anything new. Seems pretty boring to me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed reluctantly. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you buried your face in his chest, adding a muffled, “Thanks, Sungchan.”

He hugged you back, holding you to him firmly. Sungchan let you stand there and keep crying for who knows how long, not complaining even as your tears definitely soaked through his shirt, or as the pizza had probably gone cold. He was pleasantly warm and sturdy, letting you lean almost your full weight against him. One of his large hands gently rubbed between your shoulder blades, eventually calming your hiccups down.

Finally, your feet and your legs hurt far too much from standing in one place, and you were really hungry. Letting him go, he took the cue and pulled away as well. You spotted the large wet patch of tears—and embarrassingly, shiny snot as well—on his shirt, and winced. “God, sorry. I’ll do laundry this weekend.”

“It’s fine,” he brushed off your apology, heading towards the hallway. “I’m doing laundry tomorrow anyway.”

You followed, needing to get out of your work clothes too. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m off tomorrow. Put yours in the hall before you go in the morning and I’ll toss it in there too.” He smiled, stepping into his room and shutting the door.

It was still slightly ajar, though, you realized as you went to close your door. You paused as your eyes caught a flash of movement, realizing too late that it was Sungchan tugging his ruined shirt over his head by the collar. You slammed your door shut all the way, locking it behind you.

Reemerging in your pajamas, you found Sungchan in the kitchen, two paper plates out by the pizza boxes. You also hadn’t gotten dishes or silverware yet. After helping yourself to several slices of room temperature pizza, you sat cross-legged on your newly built couch, squinting at the TV screen.

“What are you watching?” You questioned.

“Video essay about some movie I’ve never seen,” he admitted. “I tried logging into my parents’ Netflix but it kicked me out.”

You laughed. “I guess we need to get our own account, huh?”

The next day, you had a marginally better time at work. Oddly enough, you found yourself wondering what Sungchan was doing at random times, but restrained your urge to text him. He’d let you know if he was going somewhere.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mark caught your attention.

You spun your chair around to face him. “Yeah?”

“Sungchan coming in today?”

“No, he’s off all day. I guess it’s Yushi’s day,” you referred to the other part-timer who fulfilled the same duties as Sungchan. Yushi was an undergraduate student at the nearby university who worked at the firm when he wasn’t in class, and you’d already spotted him scurrying around a couple times today.

“Where’d you guys end up moving in anyway?”

“Terrace 403.”

Mark whistled. “Nice. Close, too.”

“Yeah, we like it so far.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

“The Lofts at Park Place.”

“Oh, that has the indoor basketball court, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sungchan liked the pictures on the website, but it was too far for us so we didn’t tour.”

He turned back to his computer. “Lunch?”

You checked the time too. “Sure. Cafeteria?”

“Might as well use the company meal credits.”

In the cafeteria, you and Mark spotted a couple of your other coworkers already eating, and joined them at a table by the windows.

“Just you today, Y/N?” Renjun inquired.

“Mark’s right there,” you quipped, pointing to the seat beside you.

“He meant your worse half,” Donghyuck informed you dryly.

“Uhm, Sungchan and Yushi alternate around Yushi’s class schedule,” you explained. “Sungchan’s off today.”

“Good for you.”

“What?” You tilted your head, a bit caught off-guard.

“He dragged you away when we went out for drinks! Did he even have something to do or did he just want to ruin your fun?”

“It was a bit…” Renjun seemed to be carefully choosing his words as he tepidly agreed with Donghyuck. “I didn’t like how he treated you. At least what I saw.”

“Being soulbound to someone you’re not related to—ugh, I can’t imagine. At least twins, it’s your brother or sister or whoever but this is just some random guy,” Donghyuck continued ranting on your behalf. “I feel so bad for you, seriously.”

Despite Sungchan already saying he didn’t care what your coworkers thought of him, you felt the need to stand up for him. After all, you wanted to leave the bar early, not him. And only you got to complain about Sungchan like that.

“Really, it was my fault. He was trying to get us to leave without everyone realizing that I had drank too much,” you insisted, having no problem coming clean now. “And Sungchan’s not some random guy—I mean, I’ve known him my whole life. He might as well be—He’s…”

You trailed off with a thoughtful frown, unable to even finish that sentence as you had no clue what to say next, how to articulate what Sungchan was to you. The bane of your existence, yes, but it was infinitely more complicated than that. More complicated than you’d ever told anybody, than you think anybody could comprehend, other than Sungchan.

“Of course, you guys have something we’re not going to be able to understand,” Mark said after your silence had gone on for too long. “Since we’re not soulbound.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck mumbled.

When you got home, you did in fact hear the laundry machines going, so you announced your arrival in case Sungchan couldn’t hear the front door.

“I’m home!” You yelled out, stepping out of your shoes by the door and carrying them with you.

Sungchan walked out of his room. “Hey. How was work?”

“Fine. Better than yesterday, I guess.” You shrugged, opening your own bedroom door. “I’m going to shower.”

“Leftover pizza for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You took your time showering, still thinking about lunch. It shouldn’t bother you so much, what your coworkers said about Sungchan. But they were wrong. Yeah, he was an asshole sometimes, but he hadn’t actually been one that night, or really at all since you started this job. The water turning cold pushed you out of the shower, and you hadn’t even realized you’d been in there for so long. You went to grab fresh pajamas from your dresser that Sungchan had so kindly built for you.

Empty drawer. With a sigh, you wrapped your towel around yourself tighter and poked your head out of your room. “Sungchan?” You called out. “Is the dryer done?”

“Uhm, it’s got like ten minutes left,” he replied from the direction of the kitchen. “Why?”

“I don’t have a shirt to wear…” You admitted dejectedly.

“Oh, shit. I did your work clothes first…”

“Fuck.”

“No, it’s okay. You can wear one of mine,” he said, voice getting nearer until he had entered the hall as well. He went into his room, asking over his shoulder, “T-shirt or hoodie?”

“T-shirt’s fine.”

He came back out, holding a folded shirt out to you. “Here. Sorry about that.”

“S’okay.” You accepted the garment, keeping your towel up with one hand. “Thanks.”

Sungchan’s shirt smelled like the detergent that you both used, so it kind of smelled like your clothes, but as the collar passed by your nose, you inhaled a more distinct scent too. It just… smelled like Sungchan. Like when he’d let you cry into his chest just last night, or the countless hours you’d spent in his car over the years, or the times on co-family vacations as kids when you’d call a momentary truce at night to stay up late giggling and whispering ghost stories to each other under the covers, or when a huge storm would come through and both of you were too old to tell your parents you were scared, but not too old to squeeze onto Sungchan’s top bunk together for safety.

Walking back out, you saw Sungchan already in the kitchen.

“So what else did you do today?” You asked, leaning against one of the kitchen counters. “Other than laundry. I assume the gym?”

“Yeah, worked out, laundry, cleaned a bit, found some places I wanted to check out this weekend,” he talked as he opened the fridge and grabbed the pizza boxes.

“Too far away?” You surmised, taking the boxes from his hand to set them on the counter.

“Thanks. A couple of them, but—” He had shut the fridge and finally looked at you, pausing when he did.

“Hello? Sungchan?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Are you doing a system reboot or something?”

He suddenly whirred back to life, rushing to grab two paper plates from the cabinet (you still didn’t have dishes yet). “Nope, nope, I’m fine. What was I saying?”

You eyed him skeptically, but moved on anyway, “You found some places you wanted to check out this weekend, some of them were too far but…?”

“Right, some were too far, but some I figured you’d want to go too, so it can wait until the weekend.”

“Oh.” How… considerate. “Sure, yeah, sounds fun.”

The next day at work, you were looking around the building cafeteria for somewhere to sit for lunch. Your other work buddies had a prior lunch reservation but Sungchan was running a last-minute errand in the area for one of the executives, meaning that you two couldn’t join them. You told them to keep the reservation without you two—you’d manage. A woman at a nearby table caught your eye and waved, and you turned around to see if she could’ve been waving at anybody else. You were pretty sure you’d seen brief glimpses of her in the elevator or passing by in halls before, but you definitely didn’t know her. There was nobody else in your vicinity, and she waved you over more insistently.

You hesitantly walked towards her, looking down at her questioningly as you approached her table, still unsure of if she meant you. “Sorry, were you—?”

“Y/N, right?” She asked expectantly.

“Oh, uh, yes. I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Please, sit!” She gestured to the empty seat across from her.

Having nothing else to do, you obliged, setting your tray down in front of you. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, I’m Han Sooyoung,” she introduced herself. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you. I’m soulbound too.”

“Oh, oh.” Your eyes widened as it hit you. “Really?”

“Yes.” Sooyoung quickly unlocked her phone to show you a photo of herself and another woman who was clearly her identical twin. “My sister, Soojin.”

“Does she work here too?”

“No, it’s not really her thing.” She laughed and shook her head. “She’s a freelance digital artist, so she works from home while I’m here.”

“I’m guessing you live close by then?”

“Villas on 5th.”

You were still staring at her in awe. “Sorry, this is my first time meeting someone else whose soulbound that’s not Sungchan.”

Sooyoung laughed again, “That’s okay, we didn’t meet another soulbound pair until Soojin and I went to college.”

“Have you—Have you met another pair like us? That’s not related? Uhm, Type 2?”

There were two types of soulbound connections, with three subtypes total. Type 1 was related multiple births—1A was identical twins/triplets/etc., 1B was fraternal. Type 2 was unrelated, like you and Sungchan. 1A was the most common, then 1B, with 2 in a distant, distant third.

“Once, yeah. But I’m sure you already know how rare that is.”

“Of course.”

You spent the rest of your lunch break with Sooyoung, eating and chatting. It was refreshing to be able to talk about things with someone who just… got it. Even when the conversation would veer into work, or the city, you found it easier to tell her the full story than your other non-soulbound coworkers. She just immediately understood everything.

Sooyoung had just finished telling you a story from when she and Soojin were in primary school, and stopped to take a sip of her water.

“I’m so glad we outgrew the emotional phase,” you said offhandedly with a chuckle, bringing another bite of food to your mouth. You were now reminiscing in your own childhood with Sungchan, a large portion of which was spent with you trying to push each other’s faces in the dirt, admittedly.

She set her glass down with a strange look on her face, head tilted. “What?”

You sat up a little straighter in your seat. You hadn’t told anybody else about this, but you figured that Sooyoung would get it—she understood everything else about your experience of being soulbound perfectly so far: poppys, scheduling conflicts, soulsickness. Surely she and Soojin went through the same thing. “When we were kids, there was like a weird year where we always knew when the other was upset. Like, if Sungchan skinned his knee, I’d start crying even though I was perfectly fine inside my house. Same thing vice versa. If I had a scary dream and woke up crying, my mom would get a call from Sungchan’s mom saying he was crying too but couldn’t tell her why. It stopped when we were six, I think? Our pediatrician said we probably just outgrew it.”

But she still had that same perturbed, concerned look on her face. She leaned forward, brows furrowed as she questioned you further, “You’ve never felt anything from Sungchan since then?”

“No…?” There was now a clammy, cold dread starting in your palms and quickly spreading past the backs of your arms and elbows throughout the rest of your body. Your heartbeat in your ears sounded like heavy footsteps coming down a hallway, like you were about to get in trouble for something, but you didn’t even know what you had done wrong.

“I’ve had that connection with my sister our whole lives,” Sooyoung said. “We feel almost all of the other’s emotions.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that… a bit much?” You blinked at her in surprise. “Like, invasive?”

“I suppose I’m used to it. I find it comforting, actually.” She placed a hand to the hollow of her throat, palm resting flat on her chest. “When I’m sitting at my desk bored, she could be watching her favorite show and I can feel how happy she is, which makes me happy knowing that she’s enjoying herself and makes it easier to do whatever task I’m doing.” The corner of her lips twitched. “And I see no point in keeping secrets from somebody that I share a soul with.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re Type 2?” You supplied a possible explanation for the difference.

Sooyoung still seemed troubled, shaking her head. “I mean, I have only met one other Type 2 pair, but they described very similar experiences to mine and my sister’s. I’ve never heard of a pair ‘outgrowing’ their connection like this.”

You pushed a piece of food around on your plate, unsure of what to say. You felt like you had completely ruined the mood, singled yourself out as a weirdo, exposed some secret you didn’t even know you had, and found out something was apparently very wrong with you and Sungchan that you thought had been typical your whole life. But if the connection that Sooyoung described having with Soojin was supposed to be normal, you weren’t sure if you even wanted to fix it—if that was possible. It sounded… uncomfortable.

“If your doctor wasn’t concerned, I shouldn’t be worrying you.” Sooyoung waved off the topic with a smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured her. Scrambling for something else to talk about, you asked, “So, how did you and Soojin manage college? Since I’m assuming you were different majors?”

As Sooyoung started telling you another story, you chewed on the bottom of your lip, no longer hungry for the rest of your food.

That weekend, you were so eager to finally get out of your apartment, you would’ve gone anywhere with Sungchan—the gym, a fish market, a dentist appointment, anything. This was your first proper time exploring the city now that you lived here. The initial few weekends you spent moving in, unpacking, and building furniture, only ever venturing out to get food or the bare necessities.

You could tell Sungchan was excited to be out too, as the list of locations he had in the notes app on his phone was so long, he had to scroll. You doubted you could go to all these places in one month, much less a day. But you figured you would be here for the foreseeable future, so you had the time.

“Okay, uhm, let’s see—” Sungchan suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your building, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked around, squinting down at his phone screen, then up and down the street. Other pedestrians pushed by you two, and you grabbed his arm to try to pull him to one side so you weren’t blocking the entire pathway.

“What?” You asked, peeking at his phone. He had his maps up.

“Which way’s east?”

You glanced around blankly. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Well…” He looked left, then right, before grabbing your wrist and taking off towards the left with you in tow. After several hurried strides, he clicked his tongue and turned around in place. “Nope. Other way.”

You chuckled, following his lead and spinning around to attach yourself to his other arm and keep pace in the rushed crowd. “We had a 50/50 chance.”

Apparently, Sungchan’s first location was the local library. You eyed him and the sign with mock surprise on your face. “Wait, you know how to read?”

“So I’m not allowed to call myself stupid, but you are?” He scoffed.

“Somebody’s got to keep your ego in check.”

“Oh you—” He caught you with an arm loosely around your neck to hold you in place while he went to grab your hat, presumably to take it off and then mess up your hair. “And who assigned you that job?”

“It’s a holy vow that I’ve taken on. Sort of like a nun, you kno—Ack!” Your banter got cut off by him applying just the slightest pressure to your throat, and you in turn made exaggerated choking sounds, smacking his arm zealously.

“For someone who’s supposedly the brains between us, you really have no survival instinct, huh?”

“See, I’m the brains because I know that you won’t actually kill me.”

“Then I simply have to assume that you keep doing this because you like when I rough you up a little.”

“Do you?” You taunted back, well aware that you were teetering right on the precipice of joking and something else. All the hours Sungchan had poured into the gym were now very apparent, your fingers clutching the well-defined muscles encircling your neck and your body pressed up against his. You gulped, feeling the bob of your throat push on his arm, then added, “Like it when I give you the chance to rough me up a bit?”

“There are families coming down the street,” he half-whispered, half-snickered, letting you go with a pat on the cheek. At his normal volume, he said, “Come on, I picked this one for you, not me. Since I can’t read.”

You clicked your tongue, taking off at a half-jog to keep up with his long legs and fast pace. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Channie. I’m sure we can find a really good picture book for you in here.”

“That’s it—”

You swerved out of his reach just in time as he had lunged for you again, cackling and laughing as you ran around the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and darted for the stairs, Sungchan chasing you the whole way towards the entrance of the library.

You and Sungchan had just stepped off the elevator one morning when you were immediately flagged down by Mark at your desk. Heading over, you set your own bag down on your chair with Sungchan in tow.

“Yo! Y/N! Sungchan!” He greeted you brightly as always. “Drinks tonight?”

“Has it been a month already?” You looked at the date on your computer lockscreen.

Sungchan hadn’t answered, looking down at you in a silent question. Neither of you had plans for tonight, so it was just up to you if you wanted to go or not.

“We’ll come out for a bit, yeah,” you half-committed.

“Yes!”

“Oh, hey, can I invite my friend Sooyoung?” You asked hopefully. “From Finance?”

Mark’s face screwed up in thought, and Sungchan also looked confused, before it seemed to dawn on your coworker. He replied hesitantly, “Ms. Han Sooyoung? The Director of Finance? You’re… friends?”

Your eyes widened, and Sungchan crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at you, but thankfully stayed silent at this revelation.

“I-I think so? I didn’t know! We get lunch sometimes, she said she works in Finance, she never said… her position…”

You felt a bit queasy now at the idea that you were so new and had been calling somebody so senior in the company so casually. You’d barely started calling your own team lead Jieun last week at the behest of the rest of your team. A Director was probably three or four levels above her in the office hierarchy.

“There isn’t another Han Sooyoung in the office that I know. Definitely not another in Finance,” Mark explained to you gently.

“So… definitely not inviting her for drinks…” You surmised sheepishly.

“No.”

“I’m going to get my coffee…” You walked off in a bit of a daze, vaguely aware of Sungchan following you.

In the breakroom, you started preparing your coffee, and Sungchan finally spoke.

“Your new friend is the Director of Finance?” He asked through a sputtering laugh, also beginning his morning restock of the coffee station.

“I didn’t know!” You insisted, well aware of whiny you sounded.

“How did you meet her again?”

“In the cafeteria! We ate lunch together one day, and just kept getting lunch sometimes. She calls me when she wants to get lunch, the phone just shows her name.”

“Her email would’ve shown her title.”

“I mean, I could tell she was a little older than us, but I didn’t think she was a Director! Seriously!”

He was clearly still relishing in the humor of the situation, putting sugar packets in the caddy as you plucked a couple out. “You totally would’ve killed the vibe inviting essentially everybody’s boss to drinks.”

“Good thing I didn’t, then,” you pointed out with an eyeroll, going to the fridge for the creamer.

“What do you even have in common with the Director of Finance?” He wondered aloud, grabbing the fridge door as you went to slam it shut, lifting each of the bottles of flavored creamers to feel how full they were.

“Obviously, that’s not really what we talk about! We talk about other stuff!” You huffed. “She’s soulbound too.”

“I’m assuming she’s soulbound to the head of Legal or something then, right?”

“Her sister works from home as a digital artist.”

“You know, you’ve never mentioned you met someone that’s soulbound.”

“I haven’t?” You echoed noncommittally, stirring everything into your coffee cup.

“First person we’ve ever met that’s soulbound and you forgot to tell me?” He said doubtfully. “I know you’re not stupid, Y/N.”

“Aw, thanks, Channie,” you snipped back sarcastically, putting the creamer away as he still had the fridge open, checking the sodas that were kept in there now.

“What’d she say?” Sungchan asked in the same casual tone of voice that he had been conducting the conversation the whole time. “That freaked you out so bad you didn’t want to tell me?”

You swallowed, then sighed. “Not now. Later, at home. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed easily. “After drinks tonight. If you’re not drunk again.”

“We need someone else to make it even,” Donghyuck declared, looking around the bar. He had been playing pool with Lee Jeno from the fifth floor and waved you over when he saw you awkwardly standing alone after Mark had left you to get another drink. You were still slowly, very slowly, working on your first one, which was honestly mostly melted ice at this point.

You also looked around, making eye contact with Sungchan sitting by himself at the end of the bar. He had excused himself to the restroom last you saw him, and was now freshly topped up with something.

“Sungchan’s back,” you suggested brightly, already starting to raise your hand to get his attention.

Donghyuck pivoted in front of you, blocking Sungchan from your view. “I was thinking somebody generally pleasant to be around. Like… literally any of our other coworkers.”

Jeno was across the pool table from you two, and having missed last month’s outing entirely, was not privy to the scene that Sungchan intentionally caused. He now tilted his head in confusion at the conversation unfolding before him. “What’s wrong with the new copy guy? He seems fine to me.”

“It was a misunderstanding, Donghyuck! I already told you!” You insisted. “He only did all that because I wanted to go home! He’ll be perfectly cool this time, I swear!”

“Ignore him. Go get your boyfriend, Y/N,” Jeno directed you in a reassuring tone.

“He’s not my—What?! Sungchan’s not my boyfriend. We’re soulbound.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He held his hands up. “I just—”

“It’s fine, Jeno, you didn’t know,” you brushed off his apology, veering around Donghyuck and beelining for the bar.

Sungchan was still in the same seat, sipping on his drink as he was preoccupied on his phone. He looked up as you stopped to lean next to him. “Oh, hey. What was that?”

“Two things—No, three things, actually,” you said, holding up three fingers. “One, we’ve got to start telling everybody we ever talk to at work that we’re soulbound. Lee Jeno just called you my boyfriend because he didn’t know.”

“You want to date Lee Jeno?”

You blinked at him. “When did I say that?”

“You’re upset that he thought we were dating.”

“No, the problem isn’t that he thought that, it’s that anybody thought that. Because it’s not true and—!”

“So the problem is that it’s not true?”

“Are you drunk? Do we need to go home?” You grabbed his glass and sniffed it. It didn’t even have the faintest smell of alcohol, just the sugary sweet fizzle of soda.

“It’s soda,” he drawled, watching you taste test from the rim just in case. “You’re just being paranoid about your coworkers’ perception of you again.”

Definitely soda. You put his glass down, and he pulled it back over to himself to take a long swig from the straw. Opting to just move on, you said, “Whatever. Two, we need a fourth person to play pool. Do you want to?”

“Sure.” He nodded, then added knowingly, “I have a feeling I’m not on Donghyuck’s team.”

“That’s what three is about—I know you don’t care what any of these people think about you, and I really wish I could be like you in that way, but unfortunately, I’m not. And not only do I care what they think of me, but I care what they think of you. And because of the nice thing that you did for me last time, now they all think you’re a huge asshole,” you rambled in a hurry, feeling the impending clock ticking of Donghyuck and Jeno waiting for you. Squeezing Sungchan’s forearm, you pleaded, “So can you please be like, the coolest and chillest that you’ve ever been in your whole life during this pool game?”

Sungchan immediately burst into chuckles, an amused but oddly soft smile on his features as he keeled forward a little and patted your hand that was on his arm. “Alright, alright. You make it sound so life-or-death, you know? Fine, I’ll make them like me since it’s apparently causing you so much agony.”

He stood up, grabbing his soda and nudging you back in the direction of the pool tables. You whispered a ‘thank you!’ under your breath before taking off, knowing that he’d be right behind you.

“Got him!” You announced brightly as you returned to the pool table, stopping by where you had left your drink on a coaster on the edge. “Donghyuck, you remember Sungchan. Sungchan, this is Lee Jeno, from the fifth floor.”

“Hey, man, nice to meet you,” Sungchan offered his hand to Jeno with a wide, charismatic smile. “Y/N and I are soulbound, by the way. Always like to uh, get that out of the way. Since we’re still new, we never know who at the company knows and who doesn’t.”

Jeno nodded slowly as he shook Sungchan’s hand. “I heard, yeah. Crazy stuff. It’s nice to meet you too, Sungchan. I’ve seen you around, running errands, but I don’t think we’ve ever talked.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He turned to Donghyuck next, also offering a hand out for a handshake. “Good to see you again, Donghyuck.”

“Yeah, you too,” Donghyuck accepted it with a poorly disguised air of suspicion.

Sungchan clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, and you quickly bit your small plastic stirring straws in your drink to avoid laughing at Donghyuck’s alarmed look. He clearly thought he was getting pranked, or the world was ending, or Sungchan was on something.

“So, how do we want to do teams?” Jeno asked, passing out pool cues. “Has anybody not played before?”

“I haven’t played since I was… What, ten?” You scrunched your nose thoughtfully, turning to Sungchan with your question. “Was that when your family got rid of the pool table?”

“I banned you from using it when we were ten,” Sungchan reminded you. “We didn’t actually get rid of it until we were twelve.”

“Oh yeah, because I accidentally shot a pool ball into your eye and gave you a black eye.”

“You’re still claiming it was an accident?”

“It was! How could I have purposefully angled a pool cue to hit it in such a way that it would have flown up off the table directly into your eye? You think I was that good at physics at ten?”

“Fair point, you’ve never been that good at physics or pool.”

“That would hurt if I prided myself on either of those things, which I don’t,” you said smugly, pointing your pool cue at him.

He covered the end of your pool cue with his hand, pushing it away from his face as the corner of his lips curled with amusement. “Careful with that thing. I don’t want to lose my eye for real this time.”

Someone cleared their throat, and you suddenly remembered that two of your coworkers were there too. Jeno said, “Hyuck’s about as good as a ten-year-old too. So if you’re not bad, Sungchan, we can split them between us.”

“Yeah, I’ll take Y/N,” Sungchan agreed.

Sungchan, it turned out, wasn’t much better at pool than you. It seemed as though he hadn’t played since his family got rid of their pool table in the basement when you all were twelve. But you were having fun, and thankfully, were doing better to keep the pool balls on the table as opposed to accidentally launching them up at people’s faces.

Jeno and Donghyuck won, on no part of Donghyuck’s, but he was still celebrating heartily, high-fiving both of Jeno’s hands in rapid succession. “I’ll get us all the next round!” He announced, already walking backwards towards the bar.

You went to open your mouth to let him know that you didn’t want another drink, but Sungchan spoke up first.

“I’ll come with,” he offered, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as he went to follow your coworker.

Donghyuck didn’t protest, and the two of them sauntered up to the bar together. Jeno started taking the pool balls back out of the pockets, and you went to help him, digging into the one closest to you first.

“Switch teams this time?” Jeno suggested, rolling a yellow out into the center.

“I think you could beat the three of us with your eyes closed,” you snorted. “Do you hustle people in your off time?”

“You can be on my team.”

“I’m listening.”

Hyuck and Sungchan returned then, each with two drinks in hand. Sungchan gave you yours before reaching around you to set his down on his coaster. As he leaned in near you, he murmured, “It’s just soda water and cranberry juice.”

“Thanks, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him genuinely, lifting the glass to your mouth to take a sip.

Donghyuck rubbed his hands together excitedly. “So, rematch? Or—”

“I’m on Jeno’s team!” You declared loudly, sauntering over to the other side of the pool table with your drink and cue.

“Wait, hold on—”

“Y/N’s on my team this round,” Jeno confirmed, pushing Donghyuck out of the way to rack up. “We’re solids.”

Giving your coworkers all one final wave by the front door, you and Sungchan ducked out into the night. You didn’t argue when he went to hail a taxi for you two, happily humming the song that had been playing over the speakers when you left the bar to yourself as you waited. One finally pulled over, and you climbed into the backseat together.

“I think that was a success,” Sungchan said after giving the driver your address. “What do you think? Do they like me?”

“Donghyuck didn’t want you to go after pool,” you giggled as you remembered the way that the slightly tipsy man had clung onto Sungchan’s arm when you all started your goodbyes. “And Mark’s always liked you.”

“Mark’s always been nice to me, because he’s just like that,” Sungchan corrected you.

“Okay, fair. But I think he likes you now,” you reassured him. “Jeno too. And Renjun.”

“Are you happy now that my reputation has been restored? You’re no longer soulbound to the biggest asshole in the office.”

You frowned. “That’s not what bothered me. Everyone thought you were an asshole, but you’re not. You only acted like that in the first place to help me. It wasn’t true.”

“Whatever weird reason you had for it, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “Even though we made an awful pool team.”

“Yeah, we were terrible,” he snickered.

At your apartment, you stopped in the entryway past the door, preparing to take your shoes off as you always did. Sungchan stopping next to you gave you pause, however.

“You can go on without me,” you waved him off. “I know how to get to my room; I only had one drink.”

He stuck his arm out wordlessly, looking between you and your shoes. Usually, you just leaned against the wall to not topple over when doing this coming home alone after work.

“Oh, thanks.” You grabbed his arm for stability, easily pulling off your first shoe, then the other.

“Don’t forget,” he said from behind you as the two of you headed for your rooms. “You’re supposed to tell me about whatever Han Sooyoung said to you.”

“I know, I know.” You leaned back against your closed door, letting your head loll to one side lazily. “Can I at least get out of my work clothes that smell like the bar first? And maybe shower or something?”

Sungchan sighed, “If you’re tired—”

“I didn’t say that. I asked if I could get out of my yucky bar clothes and shower. Don’t you want to de-yuckify too? Or did you plan on sleeping like that?”

“Actually, you’re right, you should go shower.” He wrinkled his nose before pretending to plug it. “I can smell you from here.”

“Dick,” you hissed, smacking his arm. “Remember that summer you refused to pay to get the A/C in your car fixed and I still had to go to the gym with you six days a week? I deserve financial compensation for that, honestly.”

“We could’ve taken your car.”

“I had fabric seats! Your gym sweat would have permanently seeped into my car!”

Sungchan dropped his hand from his nose and pushed his hair out of his face as he started laughing. “We got into the stupidest fucking fights.”

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed quietly.

“Go shower.” He shooed you with one hand as the other reached for his doorhandle. “We both should. We stink.”

“I know you do,” you teased, slipping into your room.

Freshened up, you found Sungchan already in the living room, reclined in the middle of the couch with his head tipped back against the cushions, eyes shut and arms stretched out along the back of the furniture.

“Alright, make some room,” you announced your arrival, lightly swatting at one of his spread-out thighs. The two of you didn’t have an armchair or another piece of furniture to sit on yet, not even a coffee table.

Sungchan grumbled, but nevertheless scooted further towards one corner to open up the other half for you to sit down on as well. He opened his eyes to settle his gaze on you, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Well?”

“I wasn’t hiding Sooyoung from you on purpose—I think—I don’t know, maybe I was.” Your preface quickly fell apart. You folded your arms across your chest, pressing yourself as far back into the arm of the couch as you could, propping your legs up in between you as well. You needed space as you sorted through your muddied thoughts on the subject. “She and Soojin are Type 1A.”

“Makes sense.” He turned his body around towards you, mirroring your position but a lot more open, elbows resting on his knees and fingers laced loosely between his legs.

“She approached me in the cafeteria because she heard that we were soulbound.” You took a deep breath. “Anyway, we were talking about soulbound stuff and I mentioned when we used to be able to feel the same stuff. Remember that? You would scrape your knee or something and I’d start crying too.”

He nodded. “Dr. Park said it was a phase.”

“I know. But Sooyoung said…” You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you tried to gauge his reaction so far. His expression hadn’t changed at all, calmly listening to everything. “She and Soojin have apparently always felt each other’s emotions like that. They never outgrew it.”

“Yeah, but we’re not—”

“That’s what I said—We’re Type 2. But Sooyoung’s met another Type 2 pair and they were still like her and Soojin. She said she’s never heard of a pair of any type ‘outgrowing’ it.”

Sungchan’s eyes closed again as he slowly nodded, taking his time to absorb what you said. He squinted his eyes back open one at a time before asking, “Remember when we were convinced we had superpowers as kids because we were Type 2?”

“Ha, yeah,” you chuckled lightly, rubbing your upper arms.

“We were just guessing, right?” He pointed out. “Dr. Park was just guessing when she said it was a phase, and Sooyoung’s just guessing that it’s not supposed to be a phase. Soulbound people are barely studied as-is, and all of it’s been done on Type 1s, there’s no way to know what we’re supposed to be like. We’re lucky souLOXin even works for us.”

“Good point,” you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

“If not being able to feel each other’s emotions was going to kill us, I think it would’ve happened when we were six.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “I just… The look on Sooyoung’s face when I said it freaked me out. Like, we’re already weird for being soulbound, then even more weird because we’re Type 2, then it turns out there’s something even weirder about us?”

“I keep telling you—” He poked your shin with his foot, and you wrinkled your nose at him. “You worry about what other people think of you way too much.”

“But if I listened to you, wouldn’t I still be worrying about what other people think of me? Since I’d be worrying about what you think of me?”

Sungchan clicked his tongue. “I’m the one person you should worry about. Forget everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. Guaranteed.”

You laughed. “That’s true. One problem with that, Sungchan.”

“Hm?”

“You’re the one person whose opinion I’ve never cared about,” you grinned, poking him back with your foot.

“Yeah, I know,” he scoffed, catching your ankle and yanking you towards him.

You yelped as you were suddenly flat on your back on the couch. Pushing your other foot flat against Sungchan’s chest to keep him away was futile as he just grabbed that ankle too and knocked it out of his way. He had a smirk on his face as he got up on his knees on the couch cushions. You were giggling as you tried to fight back with your hands instead, only succeeding in getting both of them trapped in the grasp of one of his. He let out a sharp laugh as he swung a knee over to straddle your thighs and keep you from trying to kick him again. You were still squirming a little, though your squeals were quickly fading as you looked up at him looming over you.

He had a breathless, cocky smile on his face as he shamelessly appraised the visage of you beneath him, another airy chuckle escaping his lips. “You totally like this.”

“So do you,” you breathed out.

“You should see the dopey grin on your face right now.”

“I must be looking in a mirror then.”

Sungchan cocked his head. “Why did it bother you so much that Jeno thought we were dating?”

“You’re asking that now?” You indicated to your current positions, a bit flabbergasted. You reminded him with a huff, “Also, I already told you.”

“Yeah, because it’s not true.” He frowned down at you, all playfulness gone from his features now. “Do you still hate me?”

“What?” You tried to sit up, but Sungchan didn’t budge, so you just flopped right back down. “I must hate you because I don’t want our coworkers to think we’re dating? Which we aren’t?”

“It was just a misunderstanding, but you were acting like the sky was falling.”

“Like you are now?”

“I don’t get it.”

“And I don’t get you,” you retorted. “Why do you even care? You never care about what people think of you.”

“I care about what you think,” he said, not a hint of sarcasm, teasing, or malice in his voice.

“Wh…” You trailed off, staring up at Sungchan, at an utter loss for words. “Since when?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. College maybe, or after, maybe when you almost killed me to get a job.”

“Channie—”

Then, all at once, Sungchan climbed off of you, standing up from the couch and stretching. “It’s late and we both drank tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

You rubbed your wrists that he had just let go of, pushing yourself up on your elbow as you stared at him incredulously. “Okay…”

“Night, Y/N.” He ruffled your hair, though the gesture felt oddly hollow because his touch was fleeting, not trying to muss it up as much as he usually would have. He let out a very loud yawn as he headed for the hallway. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Night, Sungchan…” You muttered back, watching him disappear into his room, still trying to process all the sharp turns tonight had taken.

Monday morning you were sifting through your email when your desk phone rang. Han Sooyoung.

“This is Y/N,” you answered, tapping an anxious rhythm on your mouse.

“Morning!” Sooyoung chirped on the other end of the line. “Lunch today?”

“Oh, uhm…” You looked around, unsure of what to say. It felt hard to outright decline a director now, but also extremely inappropriate to continue such a casual relationship with one.

“Is everything okay?” She asked. “If you’re too busy, that’s totally fine, we can do a raincheck.”

The words came out before you could stop them. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re the Director of Finance?”

“Oh.” She paused. “I guess… it didn’t seem important. That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You let out a half-sigh, half-groan, rubbing your forehead.

“Are you mad at me?”

You laughed cynically. “No. It’s really the least of my problems right now.”

“Well… do you want to talk about all those other problems over lunch?” She proposed. “My treat?”

“I’m going out to lunch,” you said in lieu of greeting when you encountered Sungchan in the copy room later that morning. “It’s just around the corner, so you should be fine here.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, shutting the first paper drawer of the copier he had been refilling. “Have fun, then.”

“I would’ve invited you, but Sooyoung’s paying and that would be bad form, right?”

Sungchan shook his head, but there was an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Have you told her you know her real identity?”

“Yeah. I’m over it, for the most part.”

“Speaking of plans—” He paused to rip open another pack of paper. “Mark invited us to play basketball at his place after work Wednesday.”

“Us?”

“Mm-hm. That’s what I said, right?”

You arched an eyebrow as you continued watching him fill the copy machine. “I’m just trying to remember when I’ve talked to Mark about my undying love for basketball.”

“Okay, so the invite’s mainly for me, but obviously—”

“Wait, since when are you friends with Mark?”

“I work here too?”

“Yeah but…”

“But what?”

“But you’re…” You trailed off as you tried to both talk and assimilate this new information at the same time.

He crumpled the paper wrapper into a ball and pegged it into the wastebasket next to the copier before standing up straight. “I’m… what? Just a gofer?”

“No, Sungchan, that’s not what I meant!” You immediately defended yourself against his jibe.

“An extension of you? Only got a job so they could hire you?” He continued his snippy taunts.

“Stop it! You know that’s not what I was going to say!”

“Well you can’t seem to say it, so I’m just trying to help.”

“God, can you stop being so defensive for five seconds so we can have a fucking conversation?” You were seeing red, balling your hands into fists down by your side as it took every shred of self-control to keep your voice quiet enough that hopefully the entire floor couldn’t hear you yelling at Sungchan right now. “I was trying to say you’re always so busy running around doing things when you’re here, I didn’t realize you and Mark were like, office buddies or whatever. God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sungchan faltered, all coarse, biting sarcasm falling from his face as his jaw dropped. “Y/N—”

“You keep saying we can’t hate each other anymore, but you won’t let me! It’s like you’re allowed to grow and change but I’m not, and I’m fucking sick of it!” You weren’t done, and you definitely didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say next. “So no! I don’t want to go to basketball! Might as well embrace being the cold-hearted bitch you’ve pigeonholed me as!”

You stormed out of the copy room. A quick glance at your computer told you that it was almost time for your team meeting. You snatched up your notebook and folder, heading off towards the conference room.

“Oh! Before I forget—” Sooyoung perked up from across the booth table. “Soojin and I are hosting a little get-together for all the soulbound people we know in a couple months. It’ll be at our place, just a casual, potluck thing. You and Sungchan are invited, obviously. We don’t have an exact date yet, but just to put it on your radar!”

You couldn’t even muster up a fake thank-you and smile, instead groaning and dropping your face into your hands at the mention of Sungchan, and being soulbound, and specifically being soulbound to Sungchan.

“I just stumbled into all your other problems, didn’t I?” She asked knowingly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, nodding your head in your hands.

“Well, come on, tell me,” she encouraged you. “I’m all ears.”

You tried to explain your current predicament as articulately as possible, while also not taking up your entire lunch break. Sooyoung listened attentively, sipping on her drink and nodding.

“I just don’t know what he wants from me,” you finished with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and plopping back against the booth.

Your friend leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and folding her arms delicately over each other. “What do you want from him?”

“I—Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “That other Type 2 pair that you know—What are they like? Are they kinda like you and Soojin? Or are they like best friends or something?”

“They’re soulbound. I don’t think they really call it anything else.” She took another drink. “Sungchan’s being a bit of a dick, but he’s right about one thing; you worry a lot about what other people think.”

You gestured to her empty ring finger. “You’re not married.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed placidly. “We both know that dating when you’re soulbound has… unique challenges.”

“Everyone used to say we fought like siblings, or assumed that we must be like siblings because we were soulbound. But Sungchan’s never felt like my brother. He’s always just been Sungchan.” You shrugged. “An inevitable fact of my life. Nobody knows me better than him, and vice versa. For better and for worse. And for most of our lives, it’s been for worse.”

“But lately, it’s been better? Until today, of course.”

“Yeah, it really has been. He’s been great, but at the same time it feels like he still sort of expects the worst of me.”

“Like he hasn’t completely let go of how you used to treat each other.”

“I guess,” you huffed, dropping your cheek to your chin. “He’ll be all cool and fun and thoughtful to me, but then he can never let me be nice to him. And I just seriously don’t know what he wants from me.”

The waiter came by with your food then, and after taking your first few bites, Sooyoung spoke up again. “You still haven’t told me… What do you want from him?”

“I—” You cut yourself off with a disbelieving chuckle. “I was about to say, ‘I want more.’ But we already literally share a soul; how much more is there?”

Sooyoung’s lips twitched with amusement too, but she seemed to understand you nevertheless. “You want something different.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” You took another bite of your food, and to your relief, she didn’t push you on the topic any further. Instead, your conversation veered into other subjects, work, books she had read recently, a show you were watching, easy things.

At the end of the day, you briefly contemplated pretending to have work in order to stay late and not walk home with Sungchan, but also that would involve staying at work late, which sounded marginally worse in that moment. So with a sigh, you saved the document on your screen and logged out of your computer. You didn’t have to go looking for Sungchan, he was already heading towards your desk as you pushed your chair in and shouldered your purse.

He was silent in the elevator with your other coworkers, as he held the lobby door open for you, throughout the entire walk home, and in the elevator with some of your neighbors. It was as soon as your front door shut that he opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes as you leaned against the wall to pull your boots off, knowing that he couldn’t see it from behind you. “For?”

“What I said in the copy room earlier.”

You turned around, holding your opposite arm with one hand, your shoes in your free hand that was hanging down by your side. “Have other people said that about you? At work?”

“No.”

“Then… Is that really how you see me? That I-I think those things about you? Or could think those things about anybody?”

“No! No!” His eyes widened, panicked, hands waving in front of him hurriedly as he took a step forward. You took a step back. He stopped in his tracks, pulling his hands back closer to himself. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“I don’t believe you,” you said quietly. “Leave me alone tonight, okay?”

“I—Okay.” He watched you walk away, then after a beat, called out shakily, “Am I still making dinner?”

“I have leftovers.”

“Right. Okay.”

Sungchan wasn’t working the next day, and you were glad when he kept himself scarce in the morning while you were getting ready. Unfortunately, however, that was possibly the only good thing about that morning. You had turned off your alarm in your sleep, woke up with barely enough time to take a much-needed shower, were so disoriented while you were taking the aforementioned shower that you did your routine completely out of order and kept dropping all the bottles on your toes, and stumbled off the elevator into work almost twenty minutes late. As you were leaving the apartment, you hardly registered the note on the whiteboard on the front door that Sungchan was at the gym.

Being twenty minutes late gave you just enough time to grab your materials for your meeting that was in ten minutes and hustle across the entire building to the opposite side of the floor to the conference room—no time for your morning coffee. After that, you had back-to-back meetings and couldn’t even think about opening your email until noon, where you were of course greeted by an onslaught of urgent issues that needed to be dealt with ASAP. You waved off the invite to lunch from your coworkers, mindlessly lifting your blessed first cup of coffee to your lips, not even tasting it as you were focused on your computer screen.

The first time you swore you breathed was when the coffee cup was drained, and everything was no longer on fire in your inbox. You were contemplating whether to pop down to the cafeteria to grab something to bring back to your desk, or just get another cup of coffee and power through when the elevator dinged and someone stepped off, heading towards your desk. Figuring that it was Mark and the others back from lunch already, you glanced over, doing a double-take at who it actually was.

“You’re not scheduled today,” you told Sungchan plainly, eyeing his casual outfit of a hoodie, jeans, and backwards baseball cap. Very clearly off-the-clock attire.

“Lunch?” He suggested, and despite his casual posture with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the waver in his voice and the way he squinted one eye belied his nerves. Obviously you two were on… uncertain terms at best right now.

You pursed your lips and gestured to your computer. “I’ve got so much to do—”

“I figured, Mark told me you didn’t go to lunch with them.” Sungchan shrugged off a bag that you hadn’t even noticed he had slung over one shoulder. “That’s why I brought you food.”

“Oh, Channie…” You breathed out as he handed you a lunchbox from inside the bag.

He shouldered it again, turning to leave. “See you at home.”

“Wait, I can take ten minutes to eat.” You offered. “If you want to stay.”

He beamed. “Of course.”

The two of you went to the rooftop, where a lounge area for employees had been set up with tables, chairs, and various greenery around. You eagerly dug into the bento that Sungchan had prepared for you, much hungrier than you had realized. Sungchan had no meal of his own, obviously not planning on you inviting him to stay with you, but he seemed quite content to sit across the table from you and silently watch the city.

When you were no longer completely starving, you finally slowed down enough to talk. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” He belatedly accepted your thanks, pulling his gaze back and turning his head over to you, as if he weren’t even expecting you to speak to him.

“Do I take it too far sometimes? When I tease you?” You asked, brows furrowed together tightly.

“What? No, never,” he assured you adamantly. “You were right, I-I was using you to focus my own insecurity. I told myself that you probably thought all that stuff, but it was all coming from me, not you.”

“I wish the me in your head would be kinder to you,” you said, blinking away the tears in your waterline that you told yourself were thanks to the wind. “When I think about you when you’re not here, I think about what we’re going to have for dinner, or try to guess what you’re doing at the moment, or about wherever we’re going this weekend.”

Sungchan looked down guiltily, picking at the skin around his nails. “I’m afraid—I don’t want you to be stuck to a-a loser for your whole life, you know? You’re so smart, and you have all these ambitions, and you’ve started your dream career. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Sungchan.” You set your utensils down, squaring your shoulders. “You quit your job, uprooted your entire life, and moved to a new city for my dream career. How could you possibly think you’re holding me back in any way? And stop calling yourself a loser! Or just a gofer! Or anything else! I’ve literally never seen you sit down at work, and when you’re not at work, you do everything at our apartment. I don’t think I even know how to operate our laundry machines!”

“I have the time…”

“Do you know how quickly I’d get burnt out if I was doing all the work I did here and all the stuff that you do at home by myself? Without you?” You continued. “You are not holding me back. You’re why I can do this at all, okay? And not just because we’re soulbound and I physically need you nearby, but you make everything else easier.”

He smiled softly, a little bittersweet, and dropped his hands to his lap. “I’m sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You pick your utensils back up and start gathering your next bite of food to look away from him, to break the heavy moment. Clearing your throat, you asked lightly, “So, basketball is tomorrow?”

“I mean, I already told Mark we weren’t going to make it—”

“Tell him our plans changed and see if the offer’s still on,” you encouraged him. “I did tell your mom I’d let you out for exercise.”

“Kind of feels like you’re arranging a playdate for me right now.”

You reached across the table to teasingly tweak his cheek as you cooed, “You need to make friends, sweetie. I’m worried about you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I bite.”

“Promise?”

“We’re at work,” he snickered, in the same tone as when you were outside the library.

“You offered,” you tutted, withdrawing your hand and picking up your utensil again.

The indoor basketball court at Mark’s place was nice, just like the pictures you and Sungchan had looked at before. You sat on the small set of bleachers pushed up against one wall of the court as they played, grunts, shouts, and sneaker squeaks echoing around while your attention was on your phone.

A cacophony of shouts of your name and presumably the word ‘duck!’ caught your attention, and your head snapped up just in time to spot a basketball headed straight for your face. You hit the deck, pitching yourself to the floor between the seats of the stands as the ball flew right over where you had been sitting and bounced off the wall behind you.

“Shit, Y/N, you alright?” Sungchan leaned down over where you were still lying between the bleachers.

“Busted my elbow I think,” you groaned, accepting his hand up and maneuvering back up into a sitting position to inspect the wounded area. “I’ll live, thanks.”

“Nice reflexes!” Zhong Chenle, one of Mark’s neighbors that had joined the game, called from the far end of the court with a big thumbs up.

“Sorry, Y/N!” Mark yelled as he was still chasing down the basketball.

Sungchan took your arm and turned it over. Despite the awkward angle that it put your shoulder at, you let him. He inspected the area, and presumably upon seeing no split skin or blood, he clicked his tongue and nodded. “You’ll live.”

“Thank God. I really did see the light at the end of the tunnel for a second there.”

“Want to learn how to shoot?”

You cocked your head as you looked up at him strangely. “Aren’t you like… in the middle of something right now?”

“We’re taking a break.” He grabbed his water bottle from his bag by your feet, taking a swig.

It was then that you took stock of the court and realized that quite a few of the other players were missing, while others were getting water and chatting by their own bags.

“I mean, from what I’ve heard, I don’t think I should really be learning from you…”

“I actually get 100% better when I’m showing off, you know.” He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “The fact that you’ve been focusing on your phone has really been hurting my game.”

“A hundred times zero is still zero,” you teased, but stood up nevertheless, looking at him expectantly.

He rolled his eyes as he turned on his heel, leading the way onto the court. The ball had been left in the middle, and he picked it up, guiding you towards the hoop devoid of your coworkers. Sungchan talked through the basics of shooting a free throw, finishing off his explanation by doing one himself. You watched the orange ball leave his fingertips and move in a smooth arc through the air, swishing cleanly through the net.

You clapped politely for him as he fetched the ball at a light jog. “Wow, Channie. You really do get better when you’re showing off.”

He shrugged and smirked cockily, stopping in front of you to deposit the basketball into your hands. “Your turn.”

When he still hadn’t moved after a beat, very much blocking your view of the net, you bumped him in the chest with the ball. “You mind?”

He circled around behind you, and before you could even begin positioning yourself how he had instructed, he clicked his tongue. “Wrong.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Yeah, but I know you were about to do it wrong,” he snickered, and was suddenly much closer. Both of his large hands came around to adjust exactly where your fingers were resting on the seams of the ball. “Right… there…” Sungchan murmured, breath washing over the shell of your ear as his fingertips lingered on the back of your hands.

“I don’t think you actually care very much about how well I shoot this ball,” you stated, turning your head towards him, very aware now of how close he was.

“Mm, of course I do.” His hands fell to your hips. “Bend here, and at your knees too.”

“If you teach me how to shoot a basketball, do I have to teach you how to read?”

“Might be too ambitious. You have to make this basket first.”

“Not confident in your teaching abilities?”

A throat was cleared from much further behind you, overlapped by a voice that definitely wasn’t Sungchan. “Uh, you guys know there’s other people here, right?”

Despite the white-hot embarrassment churning in your stomach, you kept your face calmly neutral as you slowly spun around to face—yep, all of your coworkers, who had been standing around watching and waiting to continue to their game for God knows how long. You were pretty sure it had been Jeno who cleared his throat while Donghyuck actually spoke.

Sungchan took the basketball back from you, innocently asking, “Water break over?”

“I can’t do lunch today by the way. Sorry,” you informed Sungchan as you reached around him to grab the toast that had just popped up. He was off today, so the two of you would usually meet up for lunch, either at a restaurant, work, or home.

Sungchan handed you the plate of eggs he’d just dished up. “That’s okay. Other lunch plans come up?”

“I’ve got a last-minute presentation to prepare for. I’m just going to have to get something from the cafeteria and eat it at my desk.” You didn’t even sit down, grabbing a fork and shoveling food into your mouth as you eyed the time on the stove clock.

“Alright, well good luck with that.” He took his own breakfast to the kitchen table. “We’re dogsitting for the Chois for the next two weeks, so I’ll probably take Apple around the block a few times and feed her.”

“The old couple in 801?” At his nod, you cocked your head questioningly. “When did we agree to that?”

“Mrs. Choi cornered me in the elevator coming home from work yesterday. Apparently, their daughter-in-law just had their first grandbaby so they’re staying with them to help out.”

“Huh.” You dropped your plate in the sink. “I’ll wash that when I get home.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks Channie. Have fun with Apple!” You bent down to give him a fleeting hug as you ran out of the kitchen.

“Have fun with your presentation!” He called after you.

Truthfully, the reason why you were in such a rush to get into the office early this morning was so you could take an extra-long lunch break—not because you weren’t taking one at all. Saving your work, you slung your purse over your shoulder and hurried out of the building. Sungchan’s self-assigned birthday was this weekend, and you wanted to do something extra special.

Ever since you were kids, you and Sungchan hated having to share your birthday with each other, because you also shared classmates and friends who could only go to one party at a time if they were on the same day. Joint parties were out of the question after the age of three, leading you to also fight about which of you would get to have your party on the actual day of your birthday each year. It had become such a vitriolic topic that the only solution your parents could come up with was for neither of you to get your real birthday—each of you picking a new day in a completely different month to celebrate your own birthdays on.

Since you’d never really done anything nice for Sungchan on any of his birthdays before (without being forced to by your parents), going out of your way to do something was already astronomically kind by those metrics. But this time, you wanted to find him a really nice present. After everything he’d done for you lately, you finally had a chance to do something for him.

You knew that technically, for both your safety, you should be telling Sungchan that you were leaving work and where you were going. But this felt like a pretty safe bet to you. He’d already told you he was just going around your apartment’s block with Apple, and the shopping district you had in mind to look around in would be just on the outer edges of the safe radius for you two. And this was supposed to be a surprise, after all. Telling him that you were going to a shopping district just a few days before his birthday? That would completely give it away.

The train zipped away from the station, the city buildings rushing by the window. You smiled down at your phone as you looked once more at the pictures that Sungchan had sent you with Apple that morning. Apple was a tiny dog with curly brown fur, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth as Sungchan had clearly walked her for more than a just few laps around the block. Sungchan was grinning at the camera, holding Apple up with one hand to get her in frame. You’d been too busy to reply earlier, and did so now.

[you: don’t tell me you made poor apple do a marathon, there’s no way the chois take her further than the cornerstore]

[channie: we went around the block as promised]

[you: how many times?]

[channie: normal amount]

[channie: so what’s for lunch?]

[you: salad. you?]

A thunderclap of pain suddenly exploded through your head, and you threw a hand up to clutch your forehead as it seemed to be splitting open. At the same time, it felt like someone had reached into your abdomen, grabbed your insides, and twisted them. You couldn’t catch your breath through the sharp pressure constricting around your chest, desperately rooting around in your purse for your bottle of poppys. The longer your fruitless search went, the more panicked you became, until a horrifying realization struck you. You’d given your bottle of souLOXin to Sungchan after your interview—and you hadn’t gotten a refill since moving. Your hands were shaking as you had enough of a mind to take your phone that was in your hand, your texts with Sungchan still up on the screen, and press the call button next to his name.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady beeping of a machine woke you up. A faint, dull, persistent ache permeated your body, settled deep below your skin. You let out a sigh that turned into a guttural groan as you tried to move your limbs, immediately feeling the heaviness. You tried to open your eyes instead, having better success at that.

It took several slow blinks to clear out your blurry vision, but you finally started piecing together the scene in front of you. Your gaze landed on Sungchan first, sat in a chair next to the bed you were in—Not your bed, a hospital bed. You were in a hospital room, though it was dim, presumably nighttime.

Sungchan finally spoke, “Did you know we have the same blood type?”

That drew your attention to where his arm was laid out on the armrest of his chair, an IV taped down at his vein, the tubing looping up into a machine, coming back out and ending in your own arm. You allowed yourself a moment to process this, how serious the soulsickness must have been to require a direct blood transfusion. Then you answered Sungchan’s question with another question, “We share a soul and you’re surprised we have the same blood type?”

“Fair point.” He fidgeted with the tape over his IV, smoothing down a corner that had curled up. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit, but I’ll be fine. How-How about you?”

“I had my poppys, so it wasn’t so bad. Or, I had your poppys, actually.”

“We should be better about getting refills, huh?”

“We’re together all the time, I completely forgot…”

You squinted upon noticing a bouquet of yellow and pink carnations on a side table. “Please tell me those are from somebody else and that you did not stop to get me fucking flowers while I was dying.”

“They are from me butbutbut,” he held his hands up defensively, “I had already gotten them by the time you called. As soon as I knew what was happening, I came straight here. Promise.”

“Mm, alright,” you hummed in amusement.

“You should rest some more—”

“Wait, why were you getting flowers? For the apartment?”

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands as he leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, Y/N.”

“No, Channie, you didn’t—”

“Yeah, I did,” he insisted, his voice clearly pained and angry with himself. “I… lied this morning, when I said that I was just going to stay around the block. When you said you’d be stuck at work all day, I wanted to do something nice to surprise you, so I left without telling you. God, it was so stupid, I thought I was close enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You got those for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, I was going to get something from that bakery you really like before it closed, too. I shouldn’t have—”

“Sungchan.”

“—on the other side of town, why did I—”

“Channie!” You clapped your hands loudly to get his attention. When he finally looked at you, eyes wide with surprise, you burst into laughter. “I lied too. I didn’t have a presentation. I was out getting you a present.”

“For… what?”

“Your birthday?”

“Oh! Fuck! With everything that happened, I completely forgot!” He ran a hand through his hair, face finally cracking into a smile.

“And it’s extra my fault for not refilling my poppys,” you added. “Really, I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“No, Y/N, it’s okay,” Sungchan reassured you, scooting his chair up closer to your bedside. “I’m just glad you’re alright. But no more surprises. For either of us.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you chuckled. “You’ll just have to close your eyes when you come shopping with me for your birthday present then.”

“And how will I navigate the store? Echolocation?”

“As much as I’d love to see you do that, this might work better.” You slipped your hand into his.

Sungchan’s hand immediately wrapped around yours, squeezing tightly. “Maybe this year we can celebrate our real birthday? Together?”

“After all the trouble I went through trying to get you a present?” You joked, punctuated by a cough.

“All this and you didn’t even get one.” He shook his head in feigned disappointment.

“How about we celebrate all three? Your birthday, my birthday, our birthday.”

“Three parties?”

“Hell yeah. And twice the presents for each of us.”

He laughed softly. “Sounds good to me.”

You watched him fondly, the crinkle of his eyes, the curl of his lip as he smiled, the way his hair fell in his face before he reached up to push it out of the way. “I’m glad it’s you,” you admitted. “That I’m soulbound to.”

He pressed his cheek against the back of your hand. “Me too. I’m glad it wasn’t some other dumb baby in that hospital…”

“Yeah, I just got this dumb baby,” you snickered, patting his head.

“That’s right.”

A yawn escaped your mouth, and you settled back against the pillows. “Mm… I think I’m going to sleep again.”

“Okay.” He laid his head on your leg. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Of course.” You smiled as your eyes fluttered shut. “Night, Channie.”

You were released in the morning, and took the rest of the week off from work to recover fully. Much to your chagrin, Sungchan had already informed both your families of the incident. Your assurances that you were fine fell on deaf ears, as they insisted on needing to see you themselves, with the tacked-on excuse of also celebrating Sungchan’s birthday while you were all together again. That visit wasn’t until the weekend, to give you a few days’ rest and in hopes that there would be nicer weather.

A storm had been raging outside all day, the cold sheets of rain not letting up even into the evening and nighttime after dinner. The two of you had already taken poor little Apple out twice today, which is how you knew that the rain was freezing cold.

“Can’t believe we’re going back again,” you commented, scrolling through your phone as you laid on top of Sungchan’s covers, and he folded his clean clothes that were taking up the other half of the bed.

“Are you excited? Despite being pissed at the fact that I told them what happened,” he asked.

“I was more-so pissed because I know my mom is going to start nagging me about my meds again,” you huffed. “I finally got her off my back when we moved.”

“Maybe she was justified in her nagging.”

“Don’t even joke like that around her.” You pointed at him threateningly. “We both just picked up fresh refills yesterday, it’s fine.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I think it’s going to be weird.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally just our parents.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re going to know what to do with us now that we’re getting along.”

“Hmm, yeah, you’re probably right.” You turned your phone off as you mulled this over. “My mom still doesn’t seem to get that we go places together instead of one of us forcing the other to come with. Like, I mentioned that we went to that farmer’s market last month to her, and she asked me what you were doing while I was at the market. I mean, we were obviously shopping together?”

“She thought you had dropped me off at daycare or something?” He snickered.

“Or left you in the car with the windows cracked? I don’t even know,” you huffed. “They’ll get over it. We’ve always been soulbound, it shouldn’t be that weird that we like each other.”

Sungchan looked over at you as he went to shut a drawer, his open mouth as he went to say something instead screwing up in pain at the same time a dull thunk was audible.

“Fuck!” You both cursed in unison. Your right index finger was throbbing, and you immediately dropped your phone to inspect it.

“What? What happened to you?” He asked as he shook out his right hand.

“My finger…” You pouted, seeing no injury to your own skin. Suddenly, you heard another drawer slam shut a split-second before pain shot through your other pointer finger. “Ow!”

“Left hand this time?” Sungchan questioned, extracting his left hand from one of his dresser drawers with a wince.

“Yes. I’m literally just sitting here, I don’t—”

“That’s what I thought.” He groaned a little as he picked up another shirt and went back to folding. “We’re feeling each other’s pain again.”

“So you purposefully slammed your finger in a drawer to test that?” You reached over to smack his arm, maybe a little too hard as you felt the sting on your own skin. “What is your problem?”

“Bit hypocritical coming from the person who went to a job interview knowing it could’ve killed me.”

You didn’t have a good rebuttal in the moment, so you just hit his arm again. He shook you off with a smirk, picking up the last article of clothing to fold. You flopped down in the middle of the wide-open bed, crossing your arms and openly glaring at him.

Sungchan put the final pair of pants away, and upon turning around to see you, held up both of his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Now come on, make some room or get squished.”

You wordlessly rolled back over to one side, staring up at the ceiling as Sungchan flopped onto his bed as well. When the sounds of him readjusting and getting comfortable under his covers had faded out into just the sounds of your breathing, you asked into the quiet, “Why now? Why do you think it came back?”

“I don’t know.” He breathed out, then added jokingly, “Want to go see Dr. Park while we’re home?”

“I’m sure she’d just say it was another phase,” you snickered. “But this better be it, I don’t want whatever Type Ones have got going on.”

“It does sound like it’d be overwhelming.”

A flash of lightning illuminated the edges of the curtains, followed closely by a crack of thunder so loud you jumped a little.

“Need to hide under the covers again?” Sungchan asked through barely concealed laughter, holding up the blankets next to him.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who couldn’t sleep alone during those storms,” you argued, but slipped under the blankets anyway.

Sungchan did, in fact, pull them over your heads, swallowing you up in darkness. “Yeah, because I could tell you were scared and I knew you wouldn’t ask—”

“Oh, you’re such a liar!” You blindly reached out to push on his chest indignantly, pretty much hitting your target.

He laughed as he used his free hand to try to grab your hands, his other still preoccupied with holding the covers up off your faces. He successfully secured one, “Alright, hold on. Doctor hasn’t cleared you for rough-housing yet.”

“That just means you can’t fight back.” Your eyes were adjusting to the light, and you aimed for his side this time to tickle him.

The sheets were dropped as he went to protect his sides, and you were momentarily sightless again as the cloth entirely obscured your vision. Sungchan took advantage of your incapacitation to (gently) wrestle you off of him and back to your side. You were laughing too much to fight back now, half-heartedly hitting his hands or arms as he grabbed you. He was laughing too, the light, breathy sounds mixing with your own.

“Channie,” you went to get his attention as the playful moment subsided. You couldn’t tell who was holding whose hands at this point, one of his legs half on top of yours as if he were preparing to hold you down at a moment’s notice.

“Hm?” He hummed back inquisitively.

“When you picture your life in ten years, what does it look like?”

“Well… You’re there…” He paused to think for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m with you. The rest… I don’t know. Depends on how this career thing goes for you. Maybe you’ll have gotten a really good promotion by then and we’ll be in an even nicer place. Or maybe you’ll have an early midlife crisis and we’ll become farmers or something.”

“I want something different,” you blurted out, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that his words brought.

“I mean, I guess we could do something else. Beekeeping?”

“No, not in our hypothetical life after I have an early midlife crisis.” You swallowed down the lump growing in your throat. “Now. I mean, I know we’re soulbound, so there’s not much more we can be, but I want this to be different.”

“Different how…?” He asked lowly.

You took one of his hands that you were already holding and pulled it to your cheek. “I’m not kidding this time, Sungchan.”

“I never was,” he murmured, thumb running over your cheekbone gently.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, deliberate kiss. Everything from your head to your toes was buzzing, and you melted into him immediately. Sungchan kept the kiss short, eyes scanning your face as soon as he broke it.

You couldn’t help but snicker a little. “That’s it? After all that talk?”

Sungchan narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re a menace,” he declared before claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. Using the leg that was already over yours as leverage, he flipped you onto your back, holding you in place with a knee on either side of you.

“Your menace,” you laughed into his mouth, twisting the hair at the nape of his neck around your finger. “Forever.”

The smile on his face as he looked down at you was far from annoyed, overly fond and tender as he laced his fingers with yours. “Yeah, I know.”

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@jvngw0nlvr @kingsoowolves @aishonline @kamelyrics @dwcljh

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Misaligned [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1k

summary: when you get home, you find your boyfriend has had a little confusion. Still, he's adorable.

masterlist

Coming back to your apartment was always comforting. Coming back when your boyfriend Bob was visiting was even more so.

After the dangerous and classified mission—whose details he hadn’t even been able to share with you—the U.S. government had granted him a few days off. Naturally, he’d decided to return to Lemoore to see you and his family.

When you found out, you were over the moon. Even though your work obligations didn’t let you spend the whole day with him, you tried to make the most of every minute together.

You found him sitting in your living room, completely focused on something on his laptop.

"Are you busy?"

“Mav sent over some reports we have to go through,” he answered without taking his eyes off the screen. “It’s all government paperwork, but we have to make sure everything checks out.”

You started leaving your things as you walked toward him, slowly. When you were finally close enough, Bob leaned in a bit, asking for a welcome kiss like no time had passed at all.

“How was your day?”

“Normal,” you said with a shrug. It was true—nothing worth mentioning. “Just a bit tired.”

You were going to say more, but stopped cold when you noticed something odd. As you sat down next to him, you looked at his face. Perched on his nose were a pair of glasses. That wasn’t unusual—he needed them. But these weren’t his usual square frames. These were smaller, oval-shaped, barely covering his blue eyes.

“Babe… what are you wearing?”

“This?” he asked, tugging gently at the white shirt with beige stripes. “My mom gave it to me. Don’t you like it?”

“I do,” you said honestly. That only made his frown deepen “But I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then… what?”

A small smile curved your lips as you looked at him, amused.

“Sweetheart… how do I look?”

“Pretty?” he murmured, still confused but clearly sincere. Your laugh surprised him “What’s going on?”

“Bob, you’re wearing my glasses.”

He brought a hand to his face, blinking in disbelief as he quickly took off the glasses to inspect them.

“Oh…” he muttered with a sheepish laugh. “No wonder everything looked so... off. I’m sorry, I was so distracted I didn’t even notice. I must’ve grabbed them this morning without thinking.”

“And you didn’t realize you couldn’t see properly?”

“I thought I was just more tired than usual,” he said, shrugging, and you burst out laughing.

You gently took the laptop off his lap and settled in closer beside him.

“You and your selective vision…”

You stayed there, wrapped in each other on the couch, not saying much for a while. He kept lazily running his fingers along your arm, and you absentmindedly played with the buttons of his shirt. Every now and then, an amused smile crept onto your face.

“You know what the worst part is?” he murmured suddenly, his voice still low.

“What?”

“At one point I adjusted them and thought, Huh, these feel lighter, but just kept working.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

“You're hopeless.”

“I know. I’m so out of it, I’m surprised I didn’t accidentally put on your underwear too.”

“I doubt you’d get very far before realizing. My lingerie isn’t exactly built for your frame.”

“You wear it better, no contest,” he added, making you laugh again.

You pulled back a little to look him in the eye. He lowered his gaze to you, and you brushed a loose strand of hair away from his face.

“So… why are you so distracted?”

Bob sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really landed yet. I’m here, but my head’s still over there. Sometimes it takes me a few days to feel like I’m actually back.”

You nodded. You didn’t need the details. Just seeing him there—alive, a little off-kilter—was enough.

“Do you want me to give you some space tonight?”

He shook his head immediately.

“I want to be with you. Even if we don’t do anything. Just… be.”

“So you’ll let me lie on your chest and fall asleep halfway through your paperwork?”

“Yes. And I’ll pretend to be offended when you stop listening to me halfway through a sentence,” he said, smiling softly.

You leaned in and gave him a short kiss, unhurried.

“Should I heat up the food?”

“No, I’ll do it. You’ve done enough today.”

Bob stood up slowly, and you followed him to the kitchen, saying nothing. He moved at an easy pace, opening the fridge and checking the containers you had prepped. Meanwhile, you sat down at the table, watching him in silence. He opened the microwave, put a plate inside, and started it without checking any buttons.

“Are you sure you know how that thing works?”

“Don’t mock me. I’ve had military training,” he replied without turning around.

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

Bob turned and looked at you for a moment, then walked over and leaned down to kiss you again. This time it was longer. Unhurried. Quiet. It tasted like home, and like things that didn’t need saying.

“Thanks for waiting for me. Not just today… I mean, all the time.”

“Always,” you replied honestly. You stole another kiss before adding, “But give me back my glasses, please.”

He smiled against your forehead.

“Tomorrow.”

“Bob…”

“I’m attached now.”

You just rolled your eyes as the microwave beeped softly in the background and the night kept unfolding—not with grand moments or important words, but with the quiet certainty that, finally, the two of you were here. Together.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

Can you do Headcanons of Post Realization Telly and Eddie & Volt waiting for Reader/Homeowner for a date when they saw Keith again*who somehow survive* remembering his betrayal to Homeowner breaking there heart and stealing there money they decide to have a "polite" conversation with Keith before Homeowner arrives for there date

breaking news: evil manipulator found alive and semi-well, but not for long!

Telly goes by They/He pronouns, sorry for any confusion

cw: drug use mention

Post Realization Eddie & Volt/Reader: Finding Keith alive

= Volt is the first to notice Keith while talking with Eddie about upcoming date ideas with you. He perks up, pausing mid-conversation as he stares and realizing who it is. He glares, feeling red, hot anger running through his veins. Eddie, confused on why Volt is suddenly pissed off, looks over and instantly becomes pissed off as well.

= They remembered how sad you looked, close to tears as you explained with both anger and sorrow how Keith had lied to you, manipulated your feelings, robbed you, and then flew off somewhere to go get high and waste your hard-earned money. Eddie had to calm Volt down from blowing a fuse and charging after the key himself to strangle him. Eddie also wanted to find and get back at Keith, but you needed them first. You got a lot of free comfort drinks and snacks.

= Volt rises from his chair, his eyes never leaving the retreating Keith. He suggests having a "nice" chat with the key. Eddie gets a bad feeling, wanting to interject to have a nice night with you without any distractions or bad past memories. But then he remembers the sadness in your eyes, how you stared up at the two of them with vulnerable tears in your eyes, seeking their comfort. He finds the right motivation to punch an old man in the face suddenly.

= The two walk up to Keith, Eddie behind, as Volt wraps an arm around Keith and pulls him away from the crowd forcefully. Keith struggles and opens his mouth to speak, only to see Volt barely holding back from beating Keith. Eddie could tell that Keith was not sober.

= "Ah, how *lovely* to see you again, Keith! Now, a certain live wire told me that you haven't been the nicest person when you were Realized... really made our beloved human cry." Volt's voice was strained and forced, laced with fake happiness.

= Eddie and Volt only get more pissed off as Keith tells Volt that he could care less about what happened to you after he left, he could never love someone like you.

= Eddie was right behind Keith to get back what the key owed until Volt punched Keith square in the nose, knocking him out cold. Eddie quickly looked around before looking back at Volt, asking him what the hell he was doing. Volt gives Eddie a satisfied smile and says that Keith was lucky that he wasn't made of electricity, still, or it would have been much worse.

= The two were able to conduct their own personal revenge for you and even get back most of the cash that was stolen. They place Keith at an empty table in the back unceremoniously and go back to the table you three were supposed to meet up at.

= You were pleasantly surprised to receive an "early/late birthday gift" of a couple of hundred bills. They two said that you deserved it after everything that a certain key had done to you, and thankfully, you still thought Keith to be dead. Eddie and Volt planned to keep it that way to keep that lovely smile on your face.

= "Wait, what's all this white stuff on it?" "Oh, shit."

= Alt Ending: Volt strangles Keith while Eddie comes up behind him with a baseball bat. Don't ask about the strange mound of dirt in the back.

Post Realization Telly/Reader: Finding Keith alive

= Telly invited you to a new, limited-time restaurant based on a TV show you both enjoyed. They arrived first, making sure everything was set up nicely just for you, when he spotted Keith.

= "Houston, we got a problem."

= Why was someone like Keith doing at a place like this? Telly wondered, looking around the place, before spotting a very important producer sitting with a few clients. The owner of the show itself. Telly was both excited and... slightly nervous? If Keith was able to lie and manipulate his way into the rich producers' friend group, or worse, the show itself, who knows what the lying key would do?

= Telly remembered how sad you looked when you explained to them how Keith had lied and used you, stealing your money, and making fun of you for being stupid enough to be so trusting. Telly comforted you with lots of hugs, kisses, favorite snacks, and comfort shows to try and cheer you up.

= They stand and make their way over to Keith, loudly greeting him with a forced smile.

= "Hey, Keith! My man with the diabolical plan? Still robbing people for no reason other than to be cruel? 'Cause that makes you just a fool!" (rhyming is hard sorry.)

= Keith pauses, clearly surprised to see Telly and hesitates. Telly's plan worked, thankfully, the producer glaring at the two of them and moving away with a suspicious eye. Telly smirks and walks up close, his cheerful expression dropping to a hard glare.

= "I'm bein' for real, don't come back now, ya hear? 'Cause if you do, you'll scream with fear." It was very rare that the cheerful ex-televison made threats, making the line even scarier. Telly has seen a lot of TV, meaning a lot of violence and other unmentionables. Bones has nothing on him if he were to... Keith was gone without a word, thankfully, otherwise Telly probably would have punched him in the face.

= Telly's mood shifts instantly when you show up, waving you over. They hesitat to tell you about their encounter with Keith, wondering if you would rather be better off knowing that the scumbag was dead. But it would be best to warn you if the key did come back.

= Telly bravely tells you about how Keith came in and how they bravely defended this amazing new restaurant, kicking the key to the curb and telling him to not come back before slamming the door. They tell you that the restaurant applauded for saving the day, heavily overexaggerating the story to make you laugh and smile.

----

i dont write or want to write for Keith so sorry for just throwing him in and then just pulling him out,,,

also i just pictured telly swinging the shusher from home at Keith and eddie jumping him like that markiplier gif lmao

thank you for reading mwah

[teaandinanity]

What OTP True actually does: shows fics that have ONLY that relationship tag. What OTP True would do in my perfect world: automatically filter out every fic that has any of the attached character tags for the OTP showing up in ANOTHER relationship tag.

[waywardsalt]

there is undeniable opportunity to make bellum x linebeck fucked up but i dont have it in me. im a sucker for it just being fine with a side of like. light nautical crimes against nature but i cant make it toxic or w/e after a certain point. theyre chilling

[livelaughlovekill]

panic

[aquasoftware]

★ VANILLA WITH A CHERRY ON TOP 🜼

Desc | Kento Nanami meets you at the library, recommends you filthy books, wears his fancy business suits, and kisses your hand like a gentleman. He’s patient, polite, and sweet. But when you finally give him your body, you realize there’s absolutely nothing vanilla about the way he makes love to you.

Cw | MDNI 18+ Cherry popping, soft/service dóm! Kento, súb! Reader, body worsh!p, óraI f!xat!on (f rece!v!ng,) f**t play, chóklng, brèèd!ng/cr3amp!e, overst!m, pra!sè, tùmmý buIgè, nanami has a Prince AIbert piercing, f!nger!ng, cúm pIay, d!rty tàIk, & aftercàre + ML | Drabble

“Vanilla”! Nanami is a man who you meet at a library, his gentle smile is so warm your heart completely melts everytime you glance at him and he flashes one, but you ignore the fact that he’s standing in the erotica section, glasses perched on his nose, quietly flipping through each page like it’s classic literature.

“Vanilla”! Nanami is observant to a pulp. He notices how you always ask for help reaching a book on the top shelf, even though he’s certain you’ve worn heels taller than that. He picks up on how you linger after conversations end, eyes dancing between his lips and his shirt that’s slightly unbuttoned allowing his pecs to happily greet you. How your gaze is anything but innocent, yet he never calls you out on it.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who never flirts explicitly—he just speaks in a tone so sultry and calm it makes your stomach twist.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who always has book recommendations for you, and every time they’re a little more suggestive than the last. “This one had beautiful prose,” he claims, handing you something with chapters full of longing, pinning, or toe-curling tension.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who underlines details in his books that remind him of you, then gets shy when you find them. He’ll mumble "It's just good writing,” but won’t meet your eyes when you see what he underlined is the filthiest smut possible.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who gives you his number after realizing you often come to the library just to constantly see him, he slides you his phone like he’s making a business deal with the contacts screen open uttering “let’s keep in touch.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami is the type that easily falls in love with you, your conversations over the phone nearly lure him in over the screen, your voice is so saccharine he’s desperate for a glass of wine to calm him down, he’s almost embarrassed at how weak in the knees he is for how intelligent you are, your shared hobbies and how your personality is just as attractive as your face.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who sends you photos of his open books along the cozy spots he reads in with captions like “Wish you were here.” (You wonder if he means the reading with him or his lap.)

“Vanilla”! Nanami officially takes you on a plethora of dates after a long while of talking and he’s this huge gentleman, he takes you on real dates. The kind with linen napkins, dim lighting, and soft jazz in the background. He pulls out your chair without thinking twice, gently wipes sauce from your cheek with his thumb, and feeds you bites of dessert with his fork, as his eyes never leave yours.

“Vanilla”! Nanami chuckles when he eventually meets your best friend and she mutters into your ear “I didn’t know you were into squares Y/n.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who goes quiet for a moment when you tell him you’re a virgin—not because he minds, but because he suddenly feels the weight of your trust.

“Vanilla”! Nanami becomes careful with his words when he finally speaks “I just don’t want to overwhelm you,” he says nervously, placing a loving kiss on the back of your hand. “You deserve someone who’s patient with you… who makes it feel right.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to become too emotional when you tell him that someone is him, his ears are tainted a rose pink. His eyes gloss over you as if you’re only someone he’d be able to find in his dreams.

“Vanilla”! Nanami tries to make things perfect for your first time, wanting things to be so memorable that he (unknowingly) ruins you for any other man. He lights coconut scented candles, decorates the entire room with rose petals and there’s a tray of two wine glasses waiting for the both of you afterwards.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who isn’t so vanilla after all, especially when you makeout with him, you’ll understand exactly why he was in the erotica section. Your cherry flavored lip gloss is only an excuse why his lips keep chasing yours for more, he holds your jaw with his fingertips like he’s unworthy of being able to touch you.

“Vanilla”! Nanami takes a deep breath when you tell him you’re finally ready, asking “Are you sure about this?” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead once you eagerly nod.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who bites his lip trying not to laugh when you apologize for not wearing anything sexy underneath your clothes and he undresses you to reveal a matching SpongeBob set. He reassures you by saying “You’re sexy in whatever you feel comfortable wearing.” And he gently rubs your back.

“Vanilla”! Nanami unclasps your bra, carefully planting kisses on your bare chest as if it's a delicate flower waiting to be picked. At first he acted as if he had all the time in the world, twirling your bud between his fingers, but then he instantly gave in when you pleaded for more—latching onto your nipple, while suckling as if it could produce sweet nectar.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you for hours eating you out, and if you’re insecure about how you look down there? It’s just an excuse for him to eat you out like his life is on the line, sucking your clit until your thighs are shaking, until his head is practically being crushed to death by your thighs, or until you’re desperately humping his face like a needy slut.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you with another hour of fingering, going painfully slow, refusing to rush things at all. His fingers are thick, so when he curls up and hits that g-spot each stroke? You nearly drool, throwing your head back into the flood of pillows, swearing it’s better than the smut you read.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who shocks you when you learn he has a prince albert piercing and you quickly learn what those hours of prepping was for. When you tell him “I would’ve never guessed you’d have a piercing there!?” He responds, shaking his head “I got it in my youth, but couldn’t bring myself to remove it.” If he notices any concern on your face he tenderly kisses your jawline and lets you hold his hand.

“Vanilla”! Nanami eases in but he goes feral when you cry “Kento, fuck! N-need you faster baby, please.” He throws your legs over your shoulders and can’t help but to suck your pretty white manicured toes, causing you to gasp out of shock, yet pure pleasure.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who thrives off the erotic books he reads, knowing it ingrained the words in his head on what to say, he feels like he won a medal each time he evokes deafening moans when he praises you murmuring “You’re doing so well for me sweetheart,” or “take all of me, mmmh, just like that.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami purposefully presses a big hand on your tummy bulge as he slows down his pace just so you can feel his piercing nudge deliciously against your weak spots.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to cross any boundaries with you but when you guide his hand to your throat it’s practically testing him, he remembers from a guide that teaches you should start off with small pressure. When you squeeze his cock at the light pressure? He considers putting a baby in you on the spot.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who makes you orgasm for the ninth time that night, when he reaches down to rub your clit while you're spasming around him. As soon as you finish, he doesn’t last long asking “Where do you want me princess?” His eyes nearly roll back when you say “I want your cum inside me baby.” He cums so deep, you’ll feel it in your womb the next day.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who watches as his cum oozes out your swollen cunt, and eats you out one last time, “for good measure.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who has insane aftercare he cuddles with you, constantly asks if you’re okay, feeds you grapes like he worships the ground you walk on, and holds up your wine for you to drink.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who is anything but vanilla.

Divider/Boarders produced by uzmacchiato & dollywons

‹3 Masterlist!! | more nanami smut?

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3

[cesium-sheep]

I ended up chatting with amy for a bit about how sick I am, and about fighting to exist before. it was really nice to talk to them. they understand the shit I say, I have some longer friendships but they're the longest contiguous contact so they understand me to an exceptional degree. they understand how bad it is, even though or because I can't actually explain.

it's easy to just depersonalize and forget and drift by, I was depersonalized for so long both interpersonally and psychologically and it's so easy to fall back into, especially with the brain fog and the literal physical numbness. but being sick is so lonely.

I miss them. I miss you all.

I miss everything.

[sacredsorceress]

Mocha / Bob Reynolds

PAIRING: bob reynolds x cafe owner!reader SUMMARY: yelena decides to make it her mission to set up bob with her close friend. WORD COUNT: 2.6k A/N: not beta read, and named mocha after my favorite coffee! I am also realising I struggle with meet cutes so next fic is probably an established relationship whew. hope you enjoy!! WARNINGS: just insecurities, a beef mention of bob's drug-fueled past and fluff

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Get dressed, Bob.”

Yelena tossed a pair of jeans and a sweater into Bob’s lap before placing her hands on her hip.

Confusion twisted his face.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Bob asked.

Truly there wouldn’t be anything wrong with what Bob was wearing if he hadn’t already been wearing it for three days straight.

In the months since… the incident… as they all now referred to it, Bob had made significant progress. He had stayed sober, gained a healthy amount of weight back, and worked on his mental health to a degree that even John had to admit that he was impressed by it. However, all this progress had been made inside the Avengers Tower.

Not that Yelena didn’t enjoying being around Bob, but she’d like to wonder where he was for once instead of being able to turn her head and see him curled up in his book nook every single time, without fail. At times she wondered if his skin had merged with the fabric of the seat.

“You are not going out like that.” She said matter-of-factly. “And you are starting to smell.”

Bob placed his book to the side and pulled himself up to look at Yelena.

“Going… out?” He asked.

“Yes, we are going out.” She said with a huff. “I cannot watch you sit on this floor all day again. So get dressed… and do not forget the deodorant.”

Yelena left without another word, leaving Bob to his own devices. Lifting up his arm and taking a sniff, he cringed and shuffled towards the bathroom toting the clothes Yelena had given him in hand.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Where are we going?"

Bob stumbled after Yelena as she effortlessly weaved her way through the busy Manhattan street. It was 5:30 pm and it seemed that all of New York were leaving their offices, on a mission to get home which, to Bob's understanding, seemed to all be in the opposite direction from where he was heading. With rushed apologies and too many elbows in his ribs for his liking, Bob had begun to miss the comfort of the tower.

"For coffee." Yelena replied without looking at him.

"Coffee?" He asked, glancing at sun setting between high rises. "Isn't it.. isn't it a little late?"

"Never too late for coffee, Bob." She said, rounding a corner. "Besides, it is quieter at night."

Bob bumped into Yelena's back as she slowed her pace.

"Here!"

Yelena opened her arms towards the café in front of her. A warm glow poured out through its windows and onto the sidewalk as if it wanted to sneak up their ankles and pull them through the doors. Through the glass, Bob could catch a few people doing work on their laptops or catching up with friends, lounging on the couches or curled up in the booths alike. What truly caught his eye, though, were the filled bookcases that covered every square inch of the walls.

Yelena, observing his fascination, smiled.

"I knew you'd like it." She said, grabbing his arm. "Now come."

In an almost cartoonish fashion, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans reached Bob's nose the second he stepped inside and carried him to the counter.

The barista's face lit up at the sight of them and Bob felt himself grow warm under her gaze. Her smile, warm and inviting- not like the polite ones Bob often got thrown by underpaid workers to evade the scrutiny of their boss- made him brush his tussled hair from his face.

"Lena!" You laughed, leaning against the counter. "Fancy seeing you here. Want your usual?"

Lena? Bob thought. Did she know you?

Bob glanced from Yelena to you.

"D-do you guys know each other?" He laughed awkwardly.

The blonde raised her eyebrow.

"Are you surprised that I have friends, Bob?" Yelena asked pointedly.

"N- no!" Bob said, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I was just wondering-"

Then you piped in: "Oh are you Bob?" You asked, your gaze falling on him. "I've heard so much about you. It's so nice to meet you!"

God, he thought, it's hot in here.

You were pretty and kind- the first confirmed by his eyesight and accompanying heart rate and the second, by your friendship with Yelena.

If there was one thing that Bob was not used to, it was receiving warm attention from strangers. With a past riddled with crime and self-seclusion, he couldn't remember the last time someone had actually been happy to meet him. Even his current team had been mildly annoyed by his presence the first time they met.

But you had heard about him. That couldn't be good, right?

Bob pulled at the neck of his sweater and smiled.

"That's me." He answered timidly. "I'm sorry, Yelena's never mentioned you-"

Waving her hand in his face to cut him off, Yelena turned towards you.

"I'll have my usual." She said before turning to Bob. "What do you want?"

Suddenly it occurred to Bob that they were at a coffee shop. Hyper-aware of your gaze, Bob shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from nervously fiddling with them.

"Oh I- I've never had coffee." He said.

He said it in the most innocent way in the world, so much so that you couldn't even find it in yourself to make fun of him for it. If anything, you wished you had super speed to be able to fly out the doors, get ingredients for whatever Bob did like to drink, and whip it up in seconds so you'd never have to see him disappointed.

Yelena however, did not share the same sentiment.

"You are embarrassing me." She whispered.

Seeing the shame in his eyes, you cut in.

"I can surprise you if you want?" You offered. "I'll just come bring it to your table when it's done."

Pretty and kind.

"Y-yeah," He smiled. "That sounds nice."

With their orders sorted, Yelena wrapped her hand around Bob's arm and pulled him to a nearby table. Nestled in an alcove between bookshelves, Bob settled into his chair and glanced around him.

"This place is nice." He observed, peeking over the side of the bookshelf to catch a glimpse of you at the counter.

Yelena, following his eye-line, smiled.

"Good." She said, crossing her legs. "Because we will be staying here until you ask her out."

And there it is: why Yelena actually asked him to come out.

He should've known by her attitude- how she demanded he get dressed, how she weaved through passerbys without a second glance, how she stopped him from fumbling over himself in front of you... she was on a mission.

Bob would have been lying if he said he wasn't attracted to you. In the past, he had barely experienced attraction- his attention consumed more by illicit substances and how to get them rather than the affection of a woman. But he knew by the warmth that creeped up his neck and onto his cheeks and the way his heart seemingly flipped in his chest when you spoke to him that you had him.

However, that didn't mean that he could have you.

"Yeah- Wait." Bob said, tearing his eyes from you to look at Yelena. "W-what. I'm not- I can't... I don't know her."

"No," she said, folding her hands. "But I do. You two will make cute couple."

She said it as if it were simple. As if she could flip a switch and make him the perfect boyfriend.

"But-"

As if on cue, you strode over to the table with a tray in hand.

"One flat white for Lena," You said gifting the mug into her waiting hands. "And for Bob, a mocha: decaffeinated. I figured you might want to be able to sleep tonight."

You said the last part with a wink as you gently placed the mug down in front of him.

The warm drink sat in an orange mug with a foam heart on top and although he was sure you did them for everybody, Bob's insides felt like mush all the same. He couldn't remember the last time he had something that didn't come from a drive-thru window.

"And I know you didn't ask," you said, placing down another plate. "but I also brought over a chocolate donut to go with the coffee. I thought you might like it."

If Bob didn't know any better, he would have thought you were nervous because once the tray was free of any beverage, you tucked it behind your back and shifted on your feet as if you were finding any excuse to stay.

"Oh this looks really good," Bob groaned.

Careful to not burn himself, Bob gingerly brought the mug to his lips. The drink, filled with notes of chocolate that overpowered any bitterness of coffee while maintaining the taste, warmed him to his core. Feeling the temperature of the drink spread throughout his body, Bob sank into his seat and moaned.

A real, actual moan in front of the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

It was only once he opened his eyes that he realized they had ever been closed in the first place.

"I think he likes it." Yelena chuckled.

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, he cleared his throat.

"S-sorry." He apologized, "it's really good."

The weight of your gaze bared heavily on him as he avoided your eyes, too afraid to feel the judgement they no doubt held at his reaction.

Instead you smiled.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Bob." You assured him. "That's the best compliment I've ever received."

A silence hung in the air then as the three of you stood at an impasse. The radio flicked between songs as it did, leaving the rhythmic clicking of a keyboard across the room the only escape from becoming intimately familiar with each other's breathing.

Yelena glanced between the two of you. She rolled her eyes and kicked Bob underneath the table.

"Ow!" Bob yelped. "What was that-"

"Didn't you have a question you wanted to ask her, Bob?"

Fuck, now you were really looking at him.

You were like the sun. As tempted as he was to stare at you, his eyes darted anywhere but your face as if it would hurt him just to look.

"Uh, um yeah..." Bob said nervously, "I wanted to... I was going to ask..."

You eagerly leaned forward.

"Yeah, Bob?"

Bob could listen to you say his name forever. A once held insecurity, dissipated like cotton candy in water.

He cleared his throat.

"Uh- what kind of milk did you use?" Bob said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Because I'm uh... lactose intolerant."

The end of the sentence dragged on awkwardly and although he was internally beating himself up for embarrassing himself in front of you, he was clouded by how much more humiliating it would have been to ask you out in front of Yelena.

Any hope you had in you that he would ask you something more personal faded as you physically deflated.

"Oh uh, oat."

Yelena thought she could kill him. She really could.

"Well uh," You said. "Enjoy."

And with that, you were gone.

The second you were out of earshot, Yelena leaned over the table.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I- I don't know!" Bob whisper-shouted back. "It just came out-"

"That you are lactose intolerant?" She argued. "You are suppose to ask her out and instead, you tell her you have tummy problems!"

Bob slammed his face into the table and groaned.

"You put me on the spot-"

"Because she was looking at you with the heart eyes!"

That picked Bob's head up.

"N-no. You're just saying that." He argued. "She doesn't like me"

Yelena rolled her eyes and jammed her pointer finger into the table.

"Listen to me, Bob." She said. "I know my friend. She likes you, okay? So we will sit here until you ask her out."

"But-"

"No buts!" She shouted, flicking her hand. "You will ask her. Now, I will enjoy my coffee before it gets cold."

And that's how Bob and Yelena ended up sitting in the coffee shop until close.

It wasn't that he didn't try, because he did. After a hype up session with Yelena he would stroll up to the counter with the intention of asking you on a date, but the second you smiled at him, he psyched himself out and just ordered another coffee instead.

As minutes turned to hours and the patrons began to file out of the cafe, you, Bob and Yelena were the only ones left- unless you counted the elephant in the room.

"Hey so," You said saddling up to the table. "I'm gonna start closing up. Don't worry about the bill or anything, I put it on Yelena's tab. Just head out when you're ready."

You hesitated.

"Oh, and it was nice to meet you, Bob."

Yet, as you turned to leave, you felt a clammy hand wrap around your wrist, holding you back.

Your eyes trailed from the hand up to Bob's face where his cheeks had been painted red. As if his lips had been sewn shut, he said nothing, but instead longingly gazed up at you, taken aback by your features so close.

"Oh for God's sake." Yelena said slamming her hand on the table.

Bob yanked his hand from your touch as you your attentions ricocheted towards Yelena.

"Lena-"

"I cannot keep watching this." She said, gesturing towards Bob. Her eyebrows had knitted together and a sigh escaped her lips. "Y/n, will you go on a date with Bob? Please? I cannot do the puppy dog eyes any longer."

If there was ever a moment Bob wanted to crawl into his own skin and let the Void consume him, it was right then.

Yelena meant well, he knows she does, but no matter how much she thought she knew her friend, what Yelena was not aware of was the clinical aversion that women seemed to have to him. The most Bob would be lucky enough to receive was a platonic fondness, never the affections of a woman so pretty and kind and warm and-

"I'd love to."

Pulling himself out of his own self-pity, Bob's mouth flew open.

"Y-yeah?"

You smiled at him.

"Yeah," You said with a laugh. "I thought you'd never ask."

Were you sure you didn't put caffeine in his coffee? Because Bob felt the sudden urge to throw himself out of his seat and run around the coffee shop.

Instead, he settled on handing you his phone to let you type your number in and allowing Yelena to usher him out of the coffee shop- him longingly looking over his shoulder at you until he physically couldn't anymore.

With a renewed pep in his step, Bob pulled out his phone and smiled.

Bob: Hi, this is Bob :)

Bob: From the coffee shop.

Bob: Yelena's friend.

Bob: I'm not really lactose intolerant, you're just really pretty. :)

And although Yelena couldn't see what he was typing on his phone, seeing the content smile that painted his face was more than enough for one to reach across her own- rolling her eyes fondly at the idea of her two friends in love and a mission, accomplished.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[kozachenko]

Shortly after that Zanmu drawing, I went on an art spree and made small little drawings of a majority of the current playable characters in Touhou (I've been procrastinating on drawing Aya and Ran) and finally gave myself refernce points for how to draw all these characters going forward! Also, don't mind the change in background colour, that's just me changing the background so the values are actually visible lol.

Artist's Notes;

So the first one I started with was Reimu, and the inspiration for her pose came from this pose reference on Pinterest of a girl doing ribbon dancing, and I thought "Damn, that's very Reimu-coded" and did a quick little Reimu drawing from that.

This was also the drawing where I finally learned what makes a Reimu drawing feel like Reimu. It's the shirt, it's literally just the shirt. I decided to try making Reimu's shirt have a stronger square shape and oh my god it's like I discovered some kind of secret sauce because it just feels so much more like Reimu. I also gave Reimu a tabard and loose pants because I felt like that also fit her very well and also tied in some element's of Yukari's design into hers. I also made her bow look more like a very geometric butterfly as a bit of a tie in to "Diochromatic Lotus Butterfly" and also because I think butterfly symbolism fits her a lot. I also left the hands unfinished because they are not the focus of this piece, Reimu is, I don't wanna cry over how I can't get the hands right and then never get to the actually fun parts of the drawing. Previously, I did some design experimentation with Reimu where I added a little ornament on her obi that was inspired by Yuna's design from Final Fantasy 10 (I can't remember if I ever posted that one lol, also FFX is so good you guys I love it so much) and I like it, I think it adds some fun assymetry to her design that I think makes it look neat. I also gave her some more traditional Japanese shoes (I don't know the name of them so please correct me if you know) since I've seen other artists doing it and I love that look so I added that to this drawing as well.

I also really like how Marisa turned out, I experimented a bit with her body type and outfit, though I didn't really go too off-model with her compared to Reimu. I liked the longer sleeves on her and I gave her a big bow on the back of her apron since I thought it looked cute. I couldn't find a spot for the bow on her hat that looked good so sadly that isn't present in this version of her :( I do like how her face turned out though, since I've also been experimenting with how differently stylized I can make faces in my art. I will always love mangas like Hunter X Hunter that can put two extremely differently stylized characters on the same panel and make it look cohesive, it's why I love the style so much.

I think the crulest irony is not being able to draw your favourite character well while you're hyperfixating on them, but then only being able to draw them how you picture them once they're no longer your favourite, and that happened with Sakuya here. I was initially gonna give her the flashiest eyeshadow known to man but when I removed the layer wih the eyeshadow rendering on it I ended up liking it more without it, so now she's just got some nice bottom lashes. I tried giving her more of an hourglass shape for her body type, mainly to differentiate her more from Reimu and Marisa, and I focused on making as many points in her drawing as sharp as I can. I also gave her some white gloves because I like the idea of Sakuya having fancy gloves, it fits her. To me, Sakuya has always been the most high femme of the main Touhou characters. Maybe this is just because she was my gay awakening, maybe it's just influence from the fandom, but it just kind of makes sense to me. Much like Marisa, I also emphasized the bow ribbons for extra oomph with the silhouette and when I added the red bows and looked at the overall design, I fixed the lack of red anywhere else by just... covering her in blood... I mean she does work for two vampires and she's exactly the sanest person in Gensokyo so please pardon my indulgence in edginess it couldn't be helped.

Youmu was really fun to do but also kinda challenging. In my mind I wanted to make her feel different compared to everyone else I've drawn so far, short enough to be somewhat accurate to canon, but not too childish looking since she never really acts all that childish in cannon and it wouldn't make sense for her to look like a child. I also had to make her look fast and speedy without her looking like Sakuya and potentially avoiding same body syndrome with Aya, who's whole gimmick is speed. In the end, I think her drawing is my favourite, mainly because of the shapes and silhouette. I also really like how I golden-ratioed myon. I also took a few liberties with her outfit and decided to give it some layers to add visual interest. I also like how the cuts in the clothing add more triangles, which adds to the shape language. For her face, I was wondering what to do with her eyes until I decided to just go for the simple, glowing, circular eyes she has in the final product. I was also listening to a bunch of Gorrilaz albums while drawing these (Demon Days is my favourite album btw, idk how basic of a take that is though) and my brain 100% was subconsciously influenced by some elements of the art style (it's so good omg). I also like the shade of green I gave her, though I am a certified green lover so I am 100% biased.

Reisen is where I let myself get a little weird with it, because as you can see, I turned her into an anthropomorphic bunny because she is a weird moon rabbit god dammit, why should she look normal? I was more excited about drawing her IN design than her modern design so that's why she's dressed like that, but I do have a sketch of her in my sketchbook of her modern design. I also had fun rendering her velvet suit jacket. This also helped me tie in some of the reds in her eye and ear, which is also a nice bonus. I also gave her pure white fur to create more visual contrast. Overall, I'm pretty happy with how she turned out, though I wish I didn't shade the legs too much because it's kinda blending with the skirt colour....welp, ya win some ya lose some I guess.

Sanae is also relatively on-model compared to everyone else here, though I did try to make some changes to her outfit to make her feel different from Reimu. First of all, I made her big sleeves (IDK the proper Japanese term for them, if there is one, so again if you know please correct me on this) more open than Reimu's, as well as making them more pointy to give her a different silhouette. I also tried out a new rendering style on her eyes that I also applied to Cirno (we'll get to her in a moment) to also make her face feel different from Reimu's. I'll be honest, I didn't really know what to do with her body type so she just kinda got the "basic slim girl" look in her drawing. I'm not too big a fan of the frills I added to her skirt though, I don't really think she needs them. I'm glad I gave Reimu pants and a tabard instead of a normal skirt because that does help to make the two of them feel different. I also kept her little frog hair clip the same shade of blue as her dress, mainly to economize my colour usage and limit the palette into something a little more tight-nit. I do like how her little hair snake looks though, it's cute lol.

And finally, we have Cirno. I have been a firm believer of "long sleeve Cirno is best Cirno" ever since I saw the art of her in PMiSS because she's an ice fairy, I think it would make sense for her to want to keep herself warm, same reason she has little socks too. Now that I look at it more, her colours are pretty similar to her design in Great Fairy Wars, and honestly I like that, I think keeping her colour palette simple is a good idea so I'm happy about that. I mainly wanted to focus on rendering her wings though, mainly because rendering ice and crystals is fun even though I have done zero studies of them! I also wanted to experiment with rendering her eyes in a similar way to Sanae's, and I like how they turned out! I don't know if I'll continue with this style in the future but it will probably stick around because to me, any stylistically different way of doing eyes is another facial feature I can use to bend the rules of same face syndrome.

While I'm on the topic, I want to mention that the reason Hunter X Hunter's art works so well is because everything is kinda rendered the same. It showed me that if you do everything else consistently in your style (i.e. rendering, lineart, shading), stylizing each character's faces differently will be a lot easier, at least that's how I see it. IDK if I'm ever gonna do drawings of Aya and Ran in this style since I gotta think about them more as well as stop procrastinating lol.

[shidoglazer]

Hii! Nagi and breeding? Pls (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

lazy ..

nagi seishiro smut mdni breeding kink ＠shidoglazer

nagi seishiro? everyone describes him as lazy and sloppy. and you were no exception to that, whenever you two went out? he’d be walking like he was half-dead. morning routines? it takes a war tank just to pull him out of bed. even during sex, you practically have to beg him to pull out whenever you felt his dick twitch inside of you, signalling he was about to cum, “n-nagi! pull out! fffuck, mnngh!” “mmn, i know, i know. you jus’ feel so good, angel.” he mumbled against your shoulder before he pulled out, lifted his body up and giving his cock some shallow pumps as he came onto your stomach.

one day, nagi suddenly went out without you. weird. you didn’t think much of it, maybe he was with reo, or a game caught his eye when you were out the other day. you were sat at the living room on your phone while waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

your head snapped to the main entrance as the lock made a “click!” sound, nagi didn’t have anything on him, but a square-shaped thing in the pouch of his hoodie. “sei! welcome back, where were you?” “mmh.” he responded hesitantly, going over to where you were at and sitting next to you, reaching into the pouch of his hoodie and taking out a box, handing it to you.

…birth control. you stared at the box dumbfounded for a bit, then staring back at him, waiting for him to say something while his blank face was still staring at you, swallowing the lump in his throat as he started to speak softly. “pulling out’s a hassle. and you don’t like condoms. so,” he pointed towards the box.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you were on top of nagi, hands on his shoulders as your body was bouncing up and down onto his cock, it hitting your g-spot everytime you slammed down onto him as usual. he had his eyes shut, moaning each time gravity pulled you down as he kept his hands on your hips. “y-you’re 100% sure this’ll be okay? mnngh,, cuz i’m on the pill n everything,” “yes. jus’ keep going, sweet girl.” in all honesty, he had no idea. he was more than willing to take care of you if anything went wrong, so what was there to worry about?

you couldn’t help but trust his gentle words, his tender voice, his soft expression . . . it was all so attracting. you nodded gently, falling limp onto his body as you let your hips do the work, the slapping from your skin being able to be heard echoing down the halls to downstairs. nagi placed multiple hickeys onto your neck while his hips jerked upwards occasionally to contribute to the pleasure. your lower body was burning, yet you couldn’t help but to keep chasing your high in desperation.

eventually, you tapped out , being a panting mess as you laid atop of your boyfriend. nagi caught on quickly, holding onto your waist and starting to thrust upwards, earning a moan from you from the unexpected contact to your cervix. “mmmgggahhh! ssseiii!!!.. right there!, ffuck babe,” your body arched towards him as he placed tender kisses onto any patch of skin he could find. “g’na cum inside you, mmkay?” he mumbled against your neck, feeling his dick twitch inside you.

“uhuhhh.. pleaase seiii..” your moans were staggered all around. you felt yourself getting closer, gripping onto nagis shoulders out of the pleasure you were feeling. “nagi!! gonna cum, gonnacumgonnacum!!—” he let out a hum before you released onto his cock, feeling a sea of his cum filling your stomach. he whimpered softly, throwing his head back as he placed one last thrust into you to make sure everything went in you. “fffuck angel.. lift y’rself up for me. lemme see.” he said in a demanding yet soft tone.

you slowly lifted yourself up with the support of your legs as one of his hands trailed to your lower stomach, feeling the bulge there caused by his cum and his cock filling you up. he let out a low hum at the sight, pulling you back down and kissing your temple, slowly pulling out of you, letting everything leak onto the sheets. “mmnn. we should do this more often.” he muttered. nagi felt a sense of possessiveness and ownership over you when he saw you take such a big load of his arousal into your petite hole. safe to say, you need to make trips to the pharmacy every once a month to get more pills for yourself now.

★ check out my masterlist !

[suksatoru]

it's half past midnight when you hear the first telltale sign that someone is trying to break into your apartment. the shifting footsteps outside the front door were too loud to ignore, there was the unmistakable sound of someone breathing, and then came the dreaded, incessant jingling of the door knob.

dabi kept an extra pair of his combat boots outside your apartment door to scare off anyone from even attempting to break in when he's not around—you'll be sure to tell him his little trick did in fact not work if you manage to survive this entire ordeal.

dabi was a pretty resourceful boyfriend. he had given you some... questionable self defense weapons. prioritizing your peace of mind, you didn't ask him where he got the illegal artillery from and simply tucked it into the back of your coat closet (the world was a scary place, you weren't an idiot who would turn down extra protection).

and thank the universe you didn't, because now you have a bat with a bunch of nails tacked onto every square inch of its surface to, hopefully, fight off your intruder. your fingers tremble as you dial dabi's number, hearing it ring before it goes straight to the automated voicemail—anxiety prickles in your stomach, and you flinch when you hear the door knob shake even harder than it was before.

just your luck. tightening your grip on the bat, you take a tentative step backwards to keep yourself out of sight in case the door does cave in and open.

"the one time he isn't home," you mutter wearily under your breath before quietly gasping when you hear something scratching against your doorknob—it takes you half a second to realize the perpetrator was picking the lock, because it suddenly snaps off its latch and opens with a horrifying clink!

the door doesn't open. not for a heartbeat, at least. but the moment it does, you swing the bat as hard as you possibly can—throwing all your body weight into the hit.

dabi had less than a second to duck out of the way.

you miss—or in other words, he avoids getting his face bashed in by a single millisecond as the nails slam against the doorframe behind him instead.

he's crouched on the floor, eyes wide and a little breathless while you stand above him, completely stupefied

"dabi?" you shriek, half relieved and half mortified as you let go of the bat still stuck in the wood, gently pushing his boot with your slipper clad foot in questioning

"at least i don't have to worry about leaving you alone on missions as much," he says, eyes simmering with amusement and fatigue as you sputter, trying to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence

"what the hell! wha—how—why would you scare me like that! you have a key, you asshole! use it! a-and i called you! why didn't you pick up?!" you snap, delivering a swift kick to his shin as he hisses through his teeth, grin wide and toothy as he stretches his legs out in front of him, making no move to get off the floor

"first of all, my phone got crushed in a fight. second, i accidentally melted the key—don't ask me how. and third, the reason i picked the lock was because i thought you were asleep. i just wanted to come in quietly without waking you up. what the hell are you doing awake, anyway?" he muses, slumping a bit against the wall as you stay quiet.

with a sigh, you close your front door shut and make sure to lock it properly before lowering yourself onto the ground beside him. he smells like smoke, and there's dried blood on his pants. it doesn't stop you from pressing yourself into his side and dropping your head onto his shoulder

"you woke me up," you murmur, and he scoffs

"as if. i was as quiet as a mouse. you just have freakishly good hearing senses," he says with a breathy chuckle as you frown

"i could've seriously hurt you with that bat. can you please try and give me some sort of a warning next time? i don't think i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dabi doesn't answer for a while. he's staring straight ahead to where your bedroom door is left ajar, the warm golden light of your lamp spills into the hallway and illuminates it in a soft glow that looks like sunshine

"it's gonna take a lot more than that to kill me."

silence settles over you two, and dabi takes a split second to glance at you through his peripheral vision—you have both of your arms wrapped around one of his, and your brows are furrowed as your eyes remain closed.

he glances up at the bat, still jammed into the door frame, thanks to the nails, before he grins.

"it's pretty sick, huh? that bat's gotta be one of my favorites. and you have good aim—pretty lethal combination, if you ask me.

"dabi," you scold tiredly, but he just brings a finger to your lips

"shh shh, don'cha think you've yelled enough? do you want another noise complaint from those nosy neighbors of yours? can't say i could fault them this time, though—it is pretty late."

your lips settle into a pout, and you grumble quietly under your breath as he tucks an arm under your knees and behind your back before standing up

"come on. i'm tired as shit—and bloody. i'll shower and join you in bed, all right?"

you don't say anything, simply nodding as he carries you to your room. he settles you onto the heap of blankets before heading to your shower.

normally, dabi would've just passed out the second he got home. but he didn't want you laying in filth. so, here he was—scrubbing himself down and hopping out of the shower after another ten minutes to see you curled up under the blankets.

it had been a horrible couple of weeks for him. fighting in terrible conditions and sleeping in even worse—but coming home to you was always something that made the torture bearable.

he slips into bed after turning off the lights, and you instinctively move to hold him. your arms wrap around his middle and your head falls on his chest. a warm palm slides under your shirt and settles onto the planes of your back a moment later

"next time, i'll sneak in through your balcony. be the perfect knight in shining armor for you—i don't think you'll have enough time to grab the bat by the time i get in."

you don't open your eyes, but your lips stretch into a small smile that has dabi grinning widely

"missed you," you murmur with a yawn as he hums, staring up at the ceiling

"go to sleep. i'll be right here when you wake up, promise."

once your breathing evens out, dabi peels himself out of your embrace as quietly as he possibly can. he takes a quick walk around you apartment—ensuring all the windows were closed, the front door was locked, and no one suspicious was lurking outside before he re-enters your room and slides back into bed.

he finally lets himself fall asleep, and it's the best sleep he's had since he left you.

it's not because of the air conditioning, it's not because of the bed, and it's not because he'd gotten to take a shower—really, the only reason he was able to fall asleep peacefully was because he had you with him, tucked into his side and in bed, right where both of you belonged.

[pathologicalreid]

i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it | s.r.

in which Spencer Reid is a mosaic of every person he's ever known, and you are the only one who has ever been able to bring him back to the present

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (flangst) content warnings: pregnant!reader, takes place following the believer storyline, abandonment issues, fear of being a parent, spencer reid is sooooo in love with his wife word count: 1.84k a/n: long ass fic title idk blame matty healy!!

His hand was growing sweaty in yours, but he couldn’t get himself to relax his grip. Slow breaths moved your chest while you slept peacefully next to him, the occasional whistle from your nostrils made the corner of his mouth quirk up. 

Adjusting his head on the pillow, Spencer winced slightly at the way the pillowcase felt on his new wounds. Cuts and bruises littered his face, but nothing hurt him the way the tear tracks on your face had when he finally made it back to the BAU. It had been the only thing on his mind when that blade had been pressed to his throat—what it meant to be leaving you behind. 

Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off of you, continuously studying your sleeping form to ensure you were undisturbed. He knew you hadn’t been sleeping well, a result of the wriggling baby that was growing in your womb, and yet, you’d still been up for the majority of the night, waiting for him to return to you and then making sure he was taken care of once he got home. You’d spent an hour trying to take care of the cut in his hairline while he tried to herd you to bed. The glorious symbiosis of marriage, he supposed, you being there to take care of him while he took care of you. You brought him to his knees. 

Though you were past viability, he still worried about you and the baby, knowing you hadn’t closed your eyes until four in the morning did nothing to quell the anxiety thrumming through his body. It seemed that the only thing that was helping was seeing you sleep, having the physical representation of his life on the other side of his mattress was all he could do to stay calm. 

His anxiety about becoming a father had manifested itself in stacks of parenting books littered throughout his life—piled up on his nightstand, the coffee table, and even his desk in the bullpen. Not only had he been collecting books on fatherhood, but motherhood as well, so he could help you adjust to your new role even better than he could adjust to his own. Though, none of that mattered if he never lived to see this dream come to fruition, and ever since he saw your positive pregnancy test, he found himself considering a life without the BAU. 

Everyone considered him still young, still the kid of the team, but his future faced him square in the eyes everytime he looked at you. He was eye to eye with a decision to make, to choose which mentor he truly wished to emulate. Did he want to be the one who took on everything until it became too much? Tearing him apart limb from limb until he had to take off in the middle of the night to put himself back together, only to have the ghosts of his past come back to haunt him. He could be the one who nearly lost everything, sticking it out even when everyone would’ve understood taking the other path. Remaining a leader to the team because he was a hero to his son—until he wasn’t. Then, there was the one who had chosen ambition over everything else in his life, collecting beginnings of stories only to never experience the middle, only finding answers when the story had reached a resolution. 

Maybe he placed too much stake in the men that he had once looked up to, previously too young to see the flaws in the way they forged their paths and too captivated to recognize the flaws in their process. 

Lost, he opened his eyes again to find you, taking up the arduous task of committing your every trait to memory. Naturally, your likeness was branded to the backs of his eyelids, making you the first person he saw when he woke up in the morning and the last person he saw when he went to bed every night—even when you were miles away. He’d never had the privilege of seeing you in this exact moment before, how your nostrils flared with each exhale and your lips had parted slightly against the pressure of your pillow. Once every few minutes, your fingers would twitch from their place intertwined with his, and he’d just watch. 

The way your hair fell across the champagne colored pillow case was nothing short of art, as if it had been precariously arranged on the sheets instead of mere happenstance. The way your sleep shirt had bunched up over your shoulder, pulling the side of the shirt up to expose the skin of your hip and, coincidentally, your bump, threatened to take his breath away. 

There were moments, blips in his timeline, where he nearly forced himself to acquiesce the concept of becoming a father. Having a kid of his own, moving on from being the friend who was the designated godfather and allowing himself to endure everything that a child had to offer. Only, he worried he didn’t have enough to offer his child, if he’d lost too much of his own childhood to have empathy for the baby you were carrying. Everyone told him that the concern would wear off eventually, but there was no light at the end of this tunnel. There was no end for terror when the catalyst was right around the corner. 

Shifting himself down the mattress, he held his arm over his head so your fingers could remain intertwined, shuffling until your belly was eye level. He sighed gently, silently admiring the work that your body was doing—changing, shifting—all to bring new life into this world. “I have to tell you something, Kit,” he murmured to the baby. 

The nickname had been chosen by you, deciding that no matter the gender of the baby, their nickname would be Kit. You didn’t yet know if they’d be Christopher or Kathleen, but they would be Kit. 

“When everyone asked, I told them I wasn’t scared of the Believers,” he explained to the fetus, who was just barely developed enough to hear what was going on outside of the womb. He’d spoken to them before, reading aloud from whatever book he happened to be reading at the time. Once, when you’d been upset, kept awake by a baby who was active at night, he’d even sung a lullaby to them, trying to console both of you at once. 

He glanced up at you, ensuring that his tender whispers weren’t prohibiting your sleep before continuing. “I wasn’t. I knew that the team would get to me, but at the same time… I was petrified. Scared,” he pointlessly simplified his phrasing as if he were speaking to a child sitting on his lap. 

There had only been one word cycling through his head while a knife was held to his throat—baby. “I was scared I wouldn’t be able to meet you.” 

If he committed himself to ignoring his work and the interpersonal relationships that he’d curated at work, Spencer would find that there was little else in his life that held significance—save for you and the baby. He had his mother, but even the simplest of memories were continuing to fall from her mind like the petals of a flower. The inner beauty of you was that this life was just beginning, a newly sowed garden of his own to share—to cultivate and protect. 

Every moment of his life had been forcibly seared on himself by his memory, even the terror that burned his chest earlier tonight would remain in a locked box for years to come, but sometimes, when he closed his eyes and searched for you, he discovered gratitude. There was a blessing beneath what he previously would’ve sworn was a curse, he could travel with the team and see memories of you and the family that the two of you created.

But would that ever be enough? 

What was the true value of a glimpse of his own child when he knew you’d be at home, facing all of the late nights and diaper changes alone? Would he feel content in being a part of his child’s life when what he truly craved was being a whole of their life? He’d never truly had that, his own father perpetually had one foot out the door for his entire childhood before he finally left. He’d experienced loss of that caliber time and time again until he met you, the one person who took his breath away. You had stayed, and he felt as though he belonged beneath you. On his knees before you while you took on responsibilities that couldn’t fit into his own schedule—menial tasks like laundry and grocery shopping and taxes. This wasn’t fair to you. This wasn’t fair to your baby, being mistreated by the world before they took their first sobbing breath. 

The night before your wedding, he’d confessed to you that he was scared he’d given up the best years of his life to the BAU, and you’d assured him that was impossible. That didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in at times like these, moments where the job got a little too scary, when there had to be a call home and a protective detail placed. Those were the moments when he looked to you and knew if you told him it was too much, he’d throw in the towel, but you never did. You’d never ask that of him, and part of him has always known that it needed to be a decision he made for himself. 

Next to him, you shifted slightly on the bed, your nose wrinkling in distaste as the sun rose, resulting in rays of light beaming in through the blinds. As always, you brought him back, returning his thoughts to the present tense because he was here now, in bed next to you. The sun was walking up his wife, the mother of his child, and after everything he had put her through the night before, he couldn’t tolerate the actions of the celestial being. 

Spencer got out of bed, precariously placing his feet on boards that wouldn’t creak while he made his way to the window, tugging the string of the blinds until light had been completely forbidden from the bedroom. When he turned around, he saw your hand reaching out, flexing your fingers like you were trying to grab something—trying to grab him. “Come back,” your sleep-muddled voice called out for him. 

The smile that bloomed on his face was unavoidable, everything that’s grown in his garden before him in plain view. He made his way back to bed, climbing under the covers with you and opening his arms for you to slide into. You rested your head gently on his chest, falling back to sleep to the beat of his heart, leaving him with nothing left to concern himself with but the gentle way your eyelashes curled over your cheeks.

[maruflix]

MEA CULPA ✴︎ THE SALESMAN

The Salesman knows that love is truly the most dangerous game of all, and there is penance in yearning for someone who can never be yours. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

feat. the salesman / the recruiter　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.4k

cw: female reader, recruiter!reader, cheater!reader, language, the salesman is probably ooc, unreciprocated crush, one sided love, friends with benefits, cheating, kissing, choking, face-fucking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, slight frontman x reader, no beta we die like gi-hun’s mom

I.

Busan is so hot this time around.

You plop down with a sigh. Thankfully, having met your daily quota, you can go home early tonight. There are lots of desperate people nowadays, so finding ten people to join a game with a prize of 45.6 billion won isn’t really that difficult.

The clacking of shoes snaps you from your trance.

Without having to look up, you immediately figure out who it is. The scent of expensive cologne comes first, followed by the rustling. You grumble and slam your briefcase down, using it as a wall to separate the two of you. “Hey, not-so-friendly reminder: you’re on my turf.”

The Salesman blinks at you, feigning surprise. “Oh? I was under the impression that this was a team effort.”

His innocent tone makes you want to hurl, so you choose to ignore him completely. Instead, you stare at him in annoyance and wonder how he’s able to look so perfect in that cashmere suit of his. Not a single hair out of place, his tie straight and his shoes laced.

“You’re done for the day, aren’t you?” Your colleague tilts his head to look at you, a smile adorning his features, “Let’s play a game.”

You scoff.

He ignores your obvious displeasure and inches his whole body to face you, one arm shooting forward to grip the side of your bench. “Say, should we play ddakji? I’m in a good mood today.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of smacking paper squares?” It’s hard to keep a straight face when his handsome face keeps getting closer to you, “Get your ugly face away from me.”

The Salesman doesn’t budge. “Not until you say yes.”

He has a certain charm to him, you had to admit— he is so assertive, with just the right amount of pushy but not to the point of being obtrusive.

“Fine,” you exhale, “what do I get?”

II.

When you agreed to play a game with your fellow Recruiter (specifically, the totally unhinged one you’ve grown to dub as ‘The Salesman’), you didn’t expect this to happen.

Your colleague’s body pressed on top of yours, both your suit jackets thrown away somewhere in his fancy condo—he doesn’t even bother to wait for you to finish unbuttoning your shirt before he captures your hands and pins them on top of your head.

“Fuck,” you rasp out when he pushes himself into you agonizingly slow, savoring the way you tighten around him, “s-slow down—”

He chuckles breathily. “Darling, I’m barely moving. Besides,” eyes clouded with lust, he revels in how defenseless you look under him, “you lost our game, so you’re in no position to tell me what to do.”

With that, he sloowly drags himself out before slamming his full length into you, causing you to moan loudly. Greedily, he drinks in the sight of you, sprawled on his bed, legs open, taking all of him like a good, good girl.

“Who knew you were hiding all this underneath that suit of yours?” He teases, running a hand over your breasts, “I should’ve done this sooner.”

“I can, ngh,” Pushing yourself up on one elbow, you use your other hand to grip his chin, yanking him closer to you, “say the same about you.”

His smirk widens. “Always has to get the last word.”

He grips your throat, pushing you back down to the bed as he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly while you mewl in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you struggle, clawing on the hand that lodges itself around your throat like a serpent, “ngh,”

Your panic excites him like no other. “What’s wrong, darling? Having trouble breathing?” straightening his back, he keeps his hand securely wrapped around your neck, eyeing you down as he continues drilling into you, “Do you realize how wet you are?”

You wanted to look away, but his strong hand firmly keeps you in place. It’s not like you can hide yourself away, not when the sounds of plap! plap! plap! keeps echoing around the room—a testament of how much your cunt is drooling, soaking the bedsheets. His constant pace feels so good, and the way he gazes at you makes you feel lightheaded.

“You’re- haah, so tight,” he feels how you’re spasming around him and groans, “enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he’s all out of breath now—you feel so good when you clamp down on him like that, so right, like the two of you are made for each other.

“Fuck! Yes!” You whine, your nails digging into his back, delicious jolts of electricity running along your spine when his girthy cock hits your sweet spot over and over, “Don’t stop, I’m, ugh, close-”

He doesn’t miss the way your legs wrap around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. Raising an eyebrow, he loosens his grip on your neck to bend down to your eye level, “What’s this? You want me to fill you up?”

His thrusts never decelerates and you’re too fucked out to even muster a reply, your moans nearly drowned out by the sloppy sounds of skin slapping against skin.

“You want that, huh?” Although his voice drips with arrogance, he’s also reaching his limit—the sight of you with your cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open drives him to the edge of insanity. He throws his head back, groaning, shooting his load deep into your womb.

You’re still shaking when he lets go of your neck, falling on top of you. Before you can think about the consequences of your actions, the fatigue catches up with you. Your body feels heavy, like it’s being pulled to the center of the earth—and your world goes dark.

Sensing that you’re not moving, The Salesman takes a glance at you and finds out that he’s quite literally fucked you unconscious. “Hey.” he shakes your shoulders a bit, but you’re unresponsive, your chest heaving up and down.

He huffs and rolls down to your side, studying your sleeping figure with a smirk. You look so beautiful in your afterglow, your hair framing your face like a halo. Like a man possessed, he moves to your ear, mumbling—

“I like you.”

III.

You groan loudly when the scent of your colleague’s cologne invades your nostrils again, ignoring the weird looks you got from strangers boarding the oncoming train.

The Salesman bats his eyelashes at you innocently.

“No, I don’t want to play with you again.”

“Aw,” he straightens his tie, “even though you told me that you had such a good time?”

At a loss for words, you can only stare at him.

The motherfucker has the audacity to cross his arms over his chest, gasping, “Stop ogling me!”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on,” He scoots closer to rub the back of your hand sensually, “I know you want me.”

It’s always a game with him. You just don’t know what kind of game it is right now, and why he’s so hell-bent on having you as player two.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two bags of groceries to carry home, so good bye.”

The Salesman keeps a trained smile on his face, but his heart clenches—he doesn’t know when he started to view you differently. It was fun to pick on you at first, but he’s slowly started to feel weird around you.

Like watching an oncoming crash, he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Wait! Let me help!”

IV.

Looking back, you probably should’ve stood your ground. But it’s hard to say no to his stupidly handsome face.

Your groceries are forgotten, your apartment still dark. You probably should start cooking dinner, but instead you’re on your knees, your back pressed against the wall.

“Open up,” his eyes are as cold as ever, his lips pulled up to form a victorious smirk as he guides his leaking cock to rest on your mouth.

You find yourself obeying, allowing him to fill your mouth full of his cock. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, already thrusting his hips, making you gag almost immediately.

“Just like that, baby,” he takes hold of the hands that’s trying to push him away and pins them against the wall, quickening, smirking down at you as you struggle to wrap your mouth around him, “You feel so good.”

Meanwhile, you’ve finally adjusted to his throbbing length. In an act of protest, you hollow your cheeks, deciding that it was your turn to dominate this man. You move your head to his pace and even quicker, your eyelashes wet with tears when you look up to glare at him.

He feels like he’s going to explode—your adorable defiance is so cute and your crying face—oh, don’t get him started on your crying face.

“Mmngh?!”

He jerks his hips sharply, moaning at how good it feels when the muscles of your cheeks tightens at the wide stretch of his cock. Oh, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you—

“Mmfh—?!”

Your muffled exclaim makes him halt and he looks down at your shocked face. Only now does the realization dawns on him that he’s accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

IV.

You no longer look up when you sense a presence sitting down next to you.

“This was a mistake.”

He’s silent, so you turn to look at him. The Salesman has a poker face on, but you can tell that he’s thinking. Contemplating.

“Honestly, stop it. I... I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You sigh in frustration. “Look, I..” squirming in your seat, you finally confess, “I’m already in a relationship.”

“So?”

The genuine confusion in his tone makes you look at him in incredulousness. He doesn’t back down, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to love me, I’m asking you to let me love you. I don’t care if you’re married—hell, I don’t care if you have kids.”

“Wha-” You flinch away from his touch, shocked, “W-well, I care!”

“Do you?” He shoots back, his gaze sardonic, you felt like you might crumble underneath it. “Is that why you begged me to cum inside you?”

“I-”

“I know you want me.” His smile is confident, “so stop acting. You suck at it.”

You tremble, but lets him guide you away.

V.

You’re whimpering, your hands shakily unbuttoning his dress shirt. In front of you, he chuckles, bringing his hands up to grip your waist and pushing them up and down.

“Wait, fuck,”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he murmurs, rocking you back and forth, “a purely physical relationship?”

The Salesman keeps his grudges, and right now he’s punishing you by rutting into you, sending you gasping and moaning, but he’s unrelenting—one of his arm circles your waist as he pulls you closer, his thumb starting to circle the nub of your clit.

“Fuck, please, please-”

“You want to cum?” He stops touching you and you whine in despair, leaning on his broad chest.

“Yes, yes, touch me-” you grab his hand and aligns it to your sopping wet hole, but he easily yanks his hand away.

“Say it.”

You’re close to crying now—your nerves are ablaze, but he refuses to let you reach your climax. “W-what?”

“Say you love me.” his hand hovers above your clit, “Say it.”

You know what you’re doing is wrong—but right now, all you wanted was release.

“I love you, fuck-” your body quivers when he instantly rewards you by a sharp thrust followed by his finger deliciously circling your sensitive nub, “I love you, I love you-”

He’s moaning with you now, shutting you up by kissing you sloppily on the lips, his free hand reaching to grab your hair, pulling it. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tasting you fervently.

“‘m gonna-” Before you can finish, your orgasm shakes your whole body. You can feel your walls clenching and unclenching around his length, trying to milk him dry. He groans in response and buries his face on your neck, pushing his hips up and down to chase his own high. He fucks you through your orgasm, making you scream, pounding into you raw until he shoots his load. It trickles down your pussy onto his own shaft, coating it with a thin layer of cum.

He kisses the top of your head and lays you down on the bed, your body shuddering in his arms. “Now, was that so hard?”

You look away as he wraps an arm over your naked body, pulling you close to him.

The first ray of sunlight peeks through the curtains and you realize that you only have about four hours to sleep.

VI.

It’s unusual, but you were a special case: recruiters work on the outside world so there’s really no need for them to visit the game venue, but you’ve received a special invitation.

Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors as you pass by the guards. The Salesman follows you closely, ignoring the stares that he got.

“Ah, you’re finally here.”

The Salesman stops in his tracks when he sees a man in a black mask standing several steps away. The masked man puts away his mask to reveal his face and his heart drops.

“Oh, you’re here too. Have you come to watch 456 play?”

The Salesman stays silent when you smile and walk away from him to the direction of his boss, thinking— ‘so you weren’t lying after all.’

The Front Man instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, his lips claiming yours. “Long time no see,” your lover smiles as you rest your head on his chest. “I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble. You miss having him by your side—so much so that you let another man hold you in his absence.

“Come on, the games are going to start.” None the wiser to your actions, he guides you away, taking one last look at his other subordinate, “Don’t stick around too long, the VIP’s are going to arrive soon.”

The Salesman smiles and nods, watching as you disappear behind the double doors with your lover in tow. His heart feels like it’s being stabbed and ripped to shreds—deep inside, he has held out hope that you’re lying; making up excuses to ignore the obvious chemistry between the two of you.

Now, when he closes his eyes, all he can see is the image of you kissing another man—but can he blame you? You told him the truth, he was the one who chose to keep loving you like a fool; dancing to the beat of your rhythm, losing himself in the process—

You are not to blame, he is. He’s the one at fault; he’s the one to blame.

As he turns away and walks to the direction of the exit, all he can think about is this: Your lover may have you now, but when the games are over—oh, his turn will come.

Patience. Patience. Your turn will come. He repeats it like a mantra.

Patience.

note: ok this is probably the most self indulgent fic i’ve written. first time writing smut i hope i did okay 😭 anyway english is not my first language so please be gentle with me 😭

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS HERE

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

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[svtiddiess]

Sex Education

Synopsis: In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?

Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader

Genre: smut, slight crack, med school! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.

Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!

Read part 2 here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Mingyu.

That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.

You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.

You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.

Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.

You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.

Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.

"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.

"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.

"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.

"Uh…" you trail off, completely lost.

Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.

You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.

"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."

Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.

"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.

You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.

You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.

You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.

You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.

He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.

After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.

"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.

"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.

You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.

You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.

"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.

"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.

You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.

You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.

The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.

One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.

You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.

You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.

You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.

You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.

Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.

Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.

But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.

You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.

"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace…"

"What's the next topic?"

"The reproductive system."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.

"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."

Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.

"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.

Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.

"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.

"I-I’m not sure h-how…" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"

He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.

"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.

He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.

"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.

"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.

You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.

"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.

"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.

You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.

You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.

You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.

"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.

You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.

"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.

"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.

He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.

"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.

Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.

Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.

"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.

You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.

"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.

Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.

You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.

"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.

He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.

Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.

"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.

You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.

"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.

"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.

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