#a test that could have SAVED ME years of my life if someone had looked at me and said

[allthingsfangirl101]

My Archenemy – Tyler Owens

All anyone can talk about is Tyler Owens. My students are obsessed with his videos. They idolize him.

I, on the other hand, would love to go a day without someone bringing him up. After high school, I stayed in town and went to the nearby college. I remained here and ended up teaching science at my old high school. Tyler only reappeared when tornados came to town.

I tried not to think about him. I didn't want to. We were childhood archenemies. Tyler and I were constantly competing. From spelling tests to reading competitions to science fairs. I was better at biology. Tyler was better at environmental science. We were always going head-to-head.

Whenever one of us won something, the other jumped up and won at the next thing. It got tiresome for me, but Tyler loved the competition.

After a long day at work, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home. I roamed the aisles, grabbing things here and there. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that there was still one box of my favorite granola bars left. I went to grab it but someone had the same idea.

"Oh. I'm sorry. . . I was just. . . Tyler Owens?"

"Well, I'll be," he chuckled, instantly smirking his famous smirk. "If it isn't little Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I'm surprised to see you back in town," I said, resisting the urge to look him up and down.

"Did you miss me?" He smirked.

"No," I didn't hesitate. "But now I miss the peace that was here when you weren't."

I started to reach for the box of granola bars, but Tyler snatched it. "Really?" I mumbled under my breath.

"I seem to remember you always had several of these in your backpack in high school," he chuckled as he pretended to read the nutritional facts. He smirked at me before dropping it into his handbasket.

"And something tells me you're not going to give me the last box," I scoffed, grabbed my shopping cart, and started walking the other way.

"We could make an exchange," Tyler said after he jogged to catch up with me.

"You have nothing I would want," I scoffed.

"Not even in exchange for the only food I've ever seen you eat?" He chuckled.

"Nope," I said, grabbing some cereal.

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"Yep."

"You haven't changed, have you, Y/L/N?"

"You shouldn't change perfection, Owens."

* * * * *

After my weird run-in with Tyler, I went home and instantly ordered my favorite granola bars on Amazon. I then used a bottle of wine to help me forget about our town's hero.

When I went to work the next day, the students were all buzzed. I had no idea why until I heard a certain conversation.

"Can you believe he's here?" One of my female students giggled.

"Isn't he from here?" Her friend asked.

"He is!" Another one of their friends added. He did a video a few years ago, and they talked about how he grew up here and even went to this school!"

"Wait," the first girl said, "didn't Ms. Y/L/N go to this school when she was our age?"

I kept my focus on my computer, hoping they wouldn't do what I thought they were about to do.

They did.

"Ms. Y/L/N, we have a question."

"What's up, girls?" I asked.

"Is it true that you went to school here?" They started with a warm-up question. They did this all the time.

"I did," I nodded, leaning back in my chair and embracing myself for the question they really wanted to ask me.

"Is it true that Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler, went to school with you?"

"He did," I sighed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when they squealed.

"We know he's gorgeous, but what was he like in person?"

"Is he sweet?"

"Is he funny?"

"Was he always the 'risk his life to save others' type?"

"He is basically the town's hero! Did he ever save you?"

"Girls," I cut them off, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Sure!"

"Have you finished your assignment?" I smirked when they looked at each other. I almost laughed when they sighed and walked back to their desks. Luckily, the bell rang before they could come back and ask me those questions.

At the end of the day, I finished a few things before heading out. By then, it was raining. I pulled my jacket over my head and ran to my car. As I got in, I debated whether driving home in this weather could be unsafe, but there was no sign of it letting up.

My need for comfy clothes and a glass of wine convinced me to risk it. I carefully pulled out of the staff parking lot and headed home. I got to a red light and looked at the clouds, wondering if this would turn into a Tyler Owen's Worthy Storm. When the light turned green, I didn't hesitate to go.

I should've hesitated.

Right as I went through the intersection, another car ran the red light. I didn't have time to react before they hit my back tire. My car started spinning but there was nothing I could do to get out of it. Suddenly, I heard a large bang and my car stopped spinning.

I looked around but nothing made sense. I couldn't recognize any landmarks. I couldn't even remember what light I was at when I got hit.

"Y/N?!"

I couldn't respond. My head was spinning too much. I reached up, gasping in pain when I touched something wet.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

When I brought my hand back down, there was blood on my fingers. I leaned my head against the headrest, waiting for the spinning to stop.

"Shit, you're bleeding," the voice said. "Y/N, unlock the door."

I could feel my hand shaking as I hit the unlock button. As soon as I did, the door swung open. Someone knelt next to me, gently putting their wet hand on my knee. I could feel the rain hitting my face.

"Y/N," they said, their voice softer this time. "Look at me. Please?"

When I did, it took a second before I realized who it was. "Tyler?" I stuttered.

"Oh good," he joked. "You didn't hit your head so hard that you forgot about me."

"I wish I had," I mumbled as I looked away.

"You wanna know something, Y/L/N?" He chuckled. "I don't think you actually hate me. I think you pretend to hate me so I don't find out that you have a crush on me."

"You wanna know something, Owens?" I repeated his question, slowly lifting my head and looking at him. "I would. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the headrest when it got too painful to try and focus on his face.

"We can bicker later," he said lightly. "Right now, let's get you some help. He grabbed my hand as he stayed squatting down but called 911.

Tyler stayed with me the whole time. He was right by my side, getting soaked in the rain, as we waited for the ambulance. Even as they put me in the back and took me to the hospital, Tyler stayed in the rain, watching.

* * * * *

I was only in the hospital for a night. I called the school and let them know what happened. They didn't hesitate to cover my classes for me and reassure me that they could handle things until I was better.

When I got home, I instantly collapsed on the couch. I put on a show I was binging before the accident and soon fell asleep on the couch. I woke up about an hour later to someone knocking.

"Tyler," I gasped when I opened the door. I subconsciously wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were released from the hospital earlier this morning and I wanted to see how you were feeling," he said, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Are you sure? It was a bad accident," he shrugged. Something in his eyes changed. "Your car spun out and you ended up hitting. . ."

"I know," I cut him off, looking away from his weirdly soft eyes. "It was just a concussion."

"But it must've been scary," he said softly. I looked back at him, my heart feeling like it was in my throat.

"I don't remember it much," I mumbled.

"You don't?" He asked, taking a small step toward me.

"I remember my car spinning out," I recalled slowly. "And trying to turn out of it. Then. . . nothing."

"Y/N," he said softly.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, breaking this weird tension.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled.

"This," I said, gesturing between him and me. "You coming and checking on me. Being sweet. Saving me."

"Y/N," he gently cut me off. "Do you really think I'm the kind of guy who'd watch you get in a car accident and not help you?"

"You did it in high school," I said, dropping my voice.

As I stared at him, I remembered the day in high school when I got rear-ended on my way home from school. I still remember being on the phone, waiting for my dad to answer, and seeing Tyler drive by in his truck.

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"Thank you for checking on me," I said, clearing my throat, "but I'm fine. In fact, I should probably get some rest."

Before he could say anything else, I shut the door.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I sighed when there was a knock on the door. I stood up but had to stop because I felt dizzy. When it passed, I slowly made my way to the door.

"Tyler," I stuttered. "What are you doing here? Again?"

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I know we had our weird back-and-forth growing up, but I want you to know that I didn't hate you when we were younger. I've never hated you, Y/N."

I smirked as I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe. "So the time you stole my science notes and spilled soda all over them? Or the time you wrote swear words on my notecard for our biology exam? Or the time you almost tripped me at graduation?"

"Don't you notice flirting when you see it?"

"Bullshit," I scoffed a little too soon.

I saw the look on his face drop. Only for a second though. He quickly recovered his annoying smirk. My heart jumped into my throat when he took a step closer, instantly feeling like he was towering over me.

"Clearly, I need to take a more direct approach."

"Direct approach?" I repeated. "Tyler, what are you. . ."

He cut me off by grabbing my face and pressing his lips to mine. I wasn't sure what to do. My mind was racing and all I could focus on, besides Tyler's surprisingly soft hands holding my face, was the feeling of his lips on mine. Sooner than I would've liked, he broke the kiss.

"I may not have stayed," he whispered, "but I called the police."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, matching his tone.

"That day," he continued, dropping his hands from my face, "in high school. When you got into your crash, I froze. I kept driving because I didn't know what to do. When I got home, I instantly called the cops. I didn't even tell my mom until after I had gotten off the phone."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice was now under my breath.

"Because when I saw your accident yesterday, I didn't freeze," he said gently. "I knew I had to do something. And fast. I couldn't drive away again."

"I shouldn't have brought that up," I stuttered.

"No, it's okay," he cut me off. "I was wrong not to do anything in high school. I should've stayed around. I should've helped you."

"You did tonight," I said, my voice dropping again. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about the girls in my class the other day.

"What?" He asked, his playful smirk returning.

"It's something my students said the day of the accident."

Tyler smiled as he reached up and moved some hair out of my face, his hand lingering on my face. "What did they say, Ms. Y/L/N?" He lightly teased.

"You really are this town's hero."

Tyler laughed, slightly shaking his head. "I only care about being one person's hero," he said, slowly leaning in.

"Who's?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yours."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I ignored all the doubts that flooded my brain as our lips started moving in sync. I grabbed the front of his flannel, pulling him closer to me. He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Oh!" He broke the kiss suddenly. "I almost forgot."

Confusion flooded me as Tyler stepped slightly out my front door and grabbed something from the ground. When he turned back toward me, he was holding a box of my favorite granola bars.

"I believe I owe you these."

[samhadjblog2]

Hey there is nothing wrong hearing your rambles. I enjoy to hear other people's takes of the show.

And I agree that the story of season 2 was bold and stubborn. However I have my own outlook of its main message.

Which I think can be tied back to Jinx's imagined monologue of Silco.

No. Killing is a cycle. One that started long before Vander and me. And it will continue long after the two of you. We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation.

We inhabit these cells, these identities, and call them "us." I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailors.

But... Jinx... I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away."

This is the whole basis of S2,How conceding to an identity limits what we are capable of. In season 2 we see how all of each of the characters identities limited their actions and in turn contribute to the cycle of violence.

Jinx believed she could only ever cause problems, when al she ever wanted to do was help.

Vi is averse to change and has a very narrow view of how to deal with her issues.

Caitlyn holds on to the ideals of her mom (or her views of her mom's ideals) as means to navigate her heavy emotions.

Jayce is someone blindly chases the future in a very narrow way that often creates problems

Viktor believes he is a victim of fate and believes he is limited in his actions.

Mel has the burden of her family name as well as being adverse to violence.

Ekko believes that people can't change.

Isha looking to Jinx as a role model to follow.

And Ambessa lives by ideals of strength as a means to survive in the world.

And all of these identities are tested this season and in turn they either concede to them or they break away.

I believe its best to go over Jinx and Viktor's first because they both have the most parallels to each other.

For instance at the start of the season both Jinx and Viktor had already accepted their respected identities. Jinx accepted she will be nothing but "A Jinx" and Viktor accepted he is a victim of fate. With both of their scenes of acceptance having them leave their respective sibling.

However as the season go's on they both begin to see that there respective identities are capable of doing good. With Jinx its letting Isha into her life and beginning to better herself but still repress a lot of her emotions. And gradually she begins to embrace being a symbol for the people of Zaun. As for Viktor he uses his new found fate of being tied to the hexcore to heal the people of the undercity.

Both Jinx and Viktor begin to see that they are capable of doing good. However this comes to ahead in episode 6, where they made mistakes in-spite of their choices. Isha emulates Jinx by trying to save her from Vander which to Jinx's eyes was a sign that she is only capable of doing bad, when in Isha's this was her greatest good.

As for Viktor he saw the future where he die's at the hands of Jayce and accepted it. However him embracing that death has also led to the rest of the commune dying.

And so both Viktor and Jinx came to accept that not matter either do's they will always be limited what they are capable of. And so both decide to end it all. For Jinx she believed the right course of action was to kill herself because she isn't able to do good. For Viktor he believed that free-will was what led to all of these issues and decided to get rid of human autonomy. And so having witness the truth in light, "I can feel the light shine on my face", the same light that Jayce glares at in the intro, where he "Touches the Arcane". Viktor ascends into his ideal self.

However both Ekko and Jayce were just flung across reality and both gained a new perspective on their lives, that also helps both Jinx and Viktor.

Ekko get's to head to an alternate reality where Hex-tech wasn't invented, where Heimerdinger (who was sent there three years ahead of Ekko) uses his position on the council to help the people of the undercity. And where Powder didn't get lost to Jinx. All of this help Ekko not only get to let go of his past, but also recognize that a person's past doesn't define them. He also get's to see a new side to Powder, that being her desire to help people.

Meanwhile as for Jayce he is sent to a dark future were Viktor's glorious evolution happens and see first hand what Hextech has brought. ("This world is wasteland where nothing can grow, I use to have strength but I ran out of hope, I know its my fault that im here all alone, this world is a wasteland, please let me go,go,go," -Royal and the serpent wasteland)

As Jayce make it through this world his hammer break his leg. A metaphor of how his own narrow-minded pursuit for the future crippled him. And in turn he dismantles it as a means to rebuild himself, and travel a path similar to Viktor's life, a person who struggled to make it in the world getting up to the higher part of the city. Hence why future Viktor didn't save him immediately he was trying to show him that a world without fault is meaningless world, and that its struggles that give life there meaning. (The shooting Viktor part is still really dumb, just hear me out on this because I just want trying to explain this season which is really hard)

And with this both Ekko and Jayce come back to their time and used what they had learned in order to help their respective partners.

Ekko uses the same words that the alternate Powder said "That no matter what happened in the past, its never to late to build something new. "

For Jayce he showed Viktor his encounter with future Viktor. And from here they recognize now that they can must destroy their project in order save the world.

And so Jinx, Viktor, Jayce all walk out of Piltover and in turn "break the cycle of violence". And this led now allowed for Piltover and Zaun to begin building bridges.

A lot of this isn't done well though.

Because so much is reliant on the story bending backwards to get to this point. And a lot of it just doesn't lead to anything engaging.

Jinx believed she could only ever cause problems, when al she ever wanted to do was help.

Vi is averse to change and has a very narrow view of how to deal with her issues. However a lot of her arc is heavily reliant on other characters pushing her into a specific direction.

Caitlyn holds on to the ideals of her mom (or her views of her mom's ideals) as means to navigate her heavy emotions. However a lot of those heavy emotions aren't properly conveyed well.

Jayce is someone blindly chases the future in a very narrow way that often creates problems. However he has to learn this by being flunged into an alternate reality. On top of creating negative ramifications towards Hex-tech instead of building on the already established one.

Viktor believes he is a victim of fate and believes he is limited in his actions. However that just means things happen to him and he doesn't have much agency in where he ends up

Mel has the burden of her family name as well as being adverse to violence. However she learns this by being trapped in a dark room, with most of the story just simply being a tease for a future series.

Ekko believes that people can't change. However like Jayce he has to learn through jumping to an alternate dimension. And after that he doesn't get much

Isha looking to Jinx as a role model to follow. However it demonstrates how much of a plot device she is

And Ambessa lives by ideals of strength as a means to survive in the world. However it doesn't really make a consistent character with a strong presence compared to Silco.

Just watched the Noxus cinematic, As cool and amazing as it was....My hopes aren't as high if we are getting a Noxus show, especially after the writing route they went with Arcane S2 and Mel afterwards.

[thenarrativefoil]

genuinely. and from the bottom of my heart. FUCK doctors.

[tibby-art]

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

[vivwritesfics]

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Zac Brown ruled the McLaren empire. His daughter was constantly getting into trouble, getting herself kidnapped and whatnot. But she was pretty good at getting into those situations. Oscar was hired so that she wouldn't get into said situations. She thought he would be easy to break. But there was a reason Zac hired Oscar. He was the best of the best and he wasn't going to fall for her shit.

6.5K

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, mafia fic themes, smutty themes and talks of sex (but no actual smut) guns and death (nobody important)

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

Demands that wouldn't be met. The fact that he was even trying was laughable. Demands hadn't been met since she was fifteen years old. Her father would rather receive her head in a box than meet the demands that would have saved her life.

She tested the rope tying her wrists behind her back. it was a good, sturdy knot; she'd be the first to admit that it was a well tied knot. Grabbing the end of the rope, she tugged. It didn't budge.

She didn't panic. If she was to panic, it would have made things so much worse. Oh, her dad was gonna be so mad when she got home.

Her captor ended the call and let out a breathy, terrifying laugh. He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned on his heel to face her. "Sounds like daddy isn't going to come and save his little princess."

She simply raised her eyebrows at him. Clearly, he hadn't heard of her reputation. That was fine. She wasn't salty about it.

"Should we send him one of your ears? Show him just how serious we are?"

The rope gave slightly, allowing her to slip her hand out. She didn't, not yet, not while he was watching her. "Who is we?" She asked, pretending to look around the warehouse. She knew exactly how many people were watching her.

Barking out a laugh, she slipped one hand out of her bindings and grabbed the rope before it could fall, maintaining the illusion that she was still tied up. She stopped her eyes from moving to the men standing in the shadows. If they had weapons, she couldn't see them.

"Fuck it," she said and unravelled the rope in her hands, keeping it hidden behind her. "Let's do it, let's cute off my ear. Maybe then you'll get your money."

The grin that came across her face was sickening, but she steadied her nerves. He kept staring at her as he reached behind him. "Someone give me a knife," he said.

There was a moment before either of the men in the shadows moved. But then they strode closer and placed a knife into the bosses hands. He whispered something to him, and she didn't need to hear it to know what it was.

"I got it," the boss said, shrugging him off. He retreated to the shadows as the boss approached her knife balanced between his fingers. "Do you think you'll still be pretty without one of your ears?" He asked, his grin showing off his too white teeth. So white and perfect that they couldn't have been real.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably," she answered.

A hand hit her cheek. Her nostrils flared as she stared at him, head tipped to the side and cheek stinging.

He leaned down, knife held out. Before the sharp metal could make contact with her skin, she grabbed the rope in both hands and kicked him away. He stumbled back in surprise and dropped the knife as she stood up.

The second she was on her feet, she wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled him towards her. The knife was beneath her high heeled shoe, keeping it away from the men that rushed towards them.

"I wouldn't," she said, tightening the rope around the bosses neck. "I really fucking wouldn't. Holding both ends of the rope in one hand, she pulled him around just enough for her to pick up the knife. "This your only weapon?" she asked as she looked at it.

The other men looked at each other and raised their fists. She couldn't stop her loud, mocking laughter. "You guys are fucking stupid," she said and stabbed the boss in the thigh.

He fell to the floor with a cry. "Here's how this is gonna work," she began, "I'm gonna walk out of here and you guys are gonna get him medical attention." She reached down and stabbed his other thigh. "And if any of you want to stop me, I can always give you guys the same treatment."

Silently, they stepped to the side and allowed her through. She kept a hold of the knife and held her head up high as she walked out of the warehouse.

***

Daniel Ricciardo was so dead. His whole job was to take care of her, and she had disappeared.

He'd turned her room upside down, looking for her. When she got back from whenever she was, she was going to kill him for the state he'd left her closet in.

At least her dad didn't know.

Holding his phone up to his ear, he tried calling her. Again. And again, she didn't pick up. At what point did he start panicking? At what point did he stop searching and inform her father that she was missing?

Daniel didn't have to think about it for too long. His heart leapt into his throat when there came a knock at her door. "Darling?" Came the voice of her father, Daniel's boss. "Can I come in?"

Panic held him in a vice as he climbed over her things, scattered all over the floor, and pulled open the door.

"Sir," Daniel said, holding the door just open enough to show his face. "How can I help you?"

Zac frowned at him. "Tell me honestly, is she in there?"

Daniel's answer was to swallow.

Zac pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're fired, Daniel," he said and strode away, phone pressed against his ear.

She strode into the house just a few minutes later. Feet bare and dirty, high heels dangling from her finger by the straps. Her wrists were rubbed raw and there were splattering of blood on her skin.

"Shit, kid," said Daniel as he pulled her in. "I was so damn worried about you."

She kissed his cheek and then reached up to wipe away the lipstick left behind. "Sorry, Danny," she said with an amused smile. "I got bored."

She grabbed his hand to pull him along. After her evening she just wanted to sit Daniel on her bed and ride his cock until she forgot above everything.

There was a distinctive click, a revolver being cocked. "You're fired, Daniel," came the voice of her father. "Get the fuck out of my house."

She pulled her hand out of Daniel's and looked at him. "You got fired?" She asked, heels swinging as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"He did, Princess," Zac answered, his gun still pointed at Daniel. "His one job was to protect you, and he failed," he finished, pulling his daughter behind him. "He needs to leave before I blow his brains out."

She rolled her eyes. Her dad was so damn dramatic sometimes. There was no way Daniel, or anybody else, would have been able to stop her from sneaking out when she wanted to.

Daniel looked at her, desperation in his eyes. But she was too busy picking at the blood beneath her nails. So, he turned his attention to her father. "Zac, please," he tried, stepping forward. "I just want to protect her."

Zac pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged itself in the wall beside Daniel's head. Daniel knew just how good a shot Zac was, knew he was missing on purpose. He adjusted his aim slightly. "Five." Daniel's eyes went wide. He turned on his heel and began rushing through the house. Zac followed, but he stayed at a walk and kept his aim trained on Daniel. "Four."

She'd had so many bodyguards in the last few years. When she was a little girl she'd had Lewis watching over her. And then she had Jensen for a good few years, and then Fernando. When Fernando left to work under a different boss, to work for the enemy (as her father said), Carlos watched over her.

She'd liked Carlos, had pulled him into her bed. He'd kissed her sweetly and taken her virginity, the two of them hidden beneath the sheets of her big bed.

It had gone on for a year before her father found out. Carlos had been her first everything. The first man to kiss her, the first man to see her in a state of undress, the first man bring her any sort of pleasure. She had really, truly loved him. She had wanted to run away with him.

But when her father was found out, Carlos was sent away. He was sent to work for someone else, someone that they had something of a partnership with. She had loved Carlos, and her father had loved him, too. He'd loved him with a son, and that was why he couldn't kill him. If it had been anybody else caught in his daughters bed, he wouldn't have hesitated.

As her father followed Daniel out of the house, she turned on her heel and marched towards her bedroom, humming to herself. All she needed now was to scrub the other man's blood from her skin and find something to soothe her wrists.

"What the fuck!" She cried as she pushed open her bedroom door.

Her room was a state. Her drawers had been emptied, things pushed from their shelves. Her wardrobe had been emptied, the clothes either crumpled on the floor or thrown over her unmade bed. It was like a hurricane had torn through the room.

If her dad didn't kill Daniel, she certainly would.

She ignored everything but the wardrobe. The rest of it could be dealt with tomorrow, but her poor wardrobe. That was her space, her creative space, and Daniel had defiled it. How dare he.

As soon as her wardrobe was back in order, she walked into her en suite and turned on the shower. A yawn left her lips as she stripped out of her dress and climbed under the steaming water.

The rest of her night was a blur. She yawned again as she washed her body. Ready to sleep, she climbed out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. She fell into bed, crawled beneath her blankets, and immediately found herself asleep.

While she was sleeping, Zac was hard at work. He had people to do these things for him, sure, but he did it himself when it came to his daughter.

There must have been somebody that could look after his daughter. Someone experienced, like Fernando, or Lewis. Or Carlos.

He called Andrea, his right hand man, into his office. It had been Andrea's idea to look into their juniors, to see if any of them would be good enough to protect his daughter. That was how they got Lando, their best man

None of their juniors were. So, they looked a little further afield, at rookies working for other... empires.

Oscar Piastri. He had incredible statistics, stats that Zac and Andrea shouldn't have had access to. But they did, and they wanted him.

Andrea was privy to certain information about the different empires. He kept the secrets about his own empire, the McLaren empire, well guarded, but knew all the dirty secrets about the Ferrari empire, about the Williams empire, and, most importantly, about the Alpine empire.

He knew how staff were treated, knew what was expected of the juniors. That was why Oscar Piastri had such good statistics, because of how hard Bruno pushed him. Andrea and Zac both knew that Bruno was a piece of work. They knew how easy it was going to be to get Oscar away from him.

They sent him one message, holding nothing more than a job offer, and waited with baited breaths. Nobody else got to see this side of the boss, holding his hands together as if he was praying as they waited for Oscar to reply.

Three grey dots appeared on the screen. Oscar's reply appeared, only holding five words. The reply wasn't surprising: What's in it for me? Clearly, Oscar was a smart kid, Zac and Andrea could tell.

They laid it out for him, the benefits this job would come with. He'd be working for a bigger, more powerful empire, he would get paid more than he would working for Alpine, and there was more they could provide him with. Food and lodgings, anything he could have needed.

Interviews in this line of work wasn't an easy thing to arrange. But, as a junior, Oscar operated with a curfew. The interview was arranged for after the curfew. It was awkwardly done, a video call while Oscar hid himself in the junior barracks bathroom.

They outlined the job as much as they could with Oscar being part of the McLaren empire. Zac gave no information on his daughter as he tried to outline the requirements of the job. He made it clear that it wasn't going to be easy, and Oscar made it clear that he wanted the job.

All he had to do to accept the position was to show up at the house. Well, show up at the location provided that Zac and Andrea had given to him. The little café in the heart of town. A sweet little place, not the sort of place he would have expected to meet them.

They set Lando Norris, the best of their men, to pick him up. Lando took his favourite car, his baby. It was fast and sleek and far too expensive. It was an intimidation tactic, and it was working.

He pulled up, sunglasses covering his eyes as he climbed out of the car. The way he looked around was lazy. He pulled out his phone when he couldn't immediately find Oscar. Oscar couldn't tell what he was doing from where he was sitting. But he pulled his sunglasses down his face and looked around again.

Straightening up his tie, Oscar slipped out of his seat. He abandoned his coffee and strode over to the car. He had no doubt who this person was. His number plate was LAN, for goodness sake.

Lando stared at him as he approached. "Good weather we're having," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket.

"I think it might cloud over soon," Oscar answered.

Neither of them were looking up at the sky.

Lando checked him for weapons and listening devices as discretely as he could. When he determined that Oscar was clean, he gestured for him to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Oscar climbed in. He looked at Lando, staying quiet as he looked away. Lando was the best of the best, rivalled only by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. Being in the car with him was surreal.

The drive was silent. Lando fiddled with the radio until it played something softly. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove through Woking.

He pulled up to the house and parked his car up alongside more expensive cars. His car, which had once been the most impressive vehicle Oscar had ever seen, looked like crap compared to these.

"Good luck with the Princess," said Lando as he climbed out of the car.

Oscar swallowed and followed his lead. He climbed out of the car and walked up to the house. When he raised his fist to knock, he looked over his shoulder at Lando.

"Just go in," said Lando as he stroked the hood of his car.

Steadying his nerves, Oscar walked in.

***

This day was bullshit.

Her father kept her in his office for the day. As hard as she tried to leave, one look and he pulled her back, sitting herself in that little seat just behind his desk.

She could only file her nail for so long before she was completely and utterly bored. Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head. "I'm gonna-"

"Not until your new bodyguard starts," her father said, not even bothering to turn around.

She groaned and threw herself back onto her seat, hands dramatically covering her eyes. "Dad, I'm literally dying of boredom out here," she mumbled and groaned again, this time louder. "When is he starting?"

"Soon," Zac promised as he straightened out a stack of paper. "Andrea is just putting him through orientation."

She groaned again, for the third time in the space of a minute. "Quit bein' so dramatic," her dad said, shaking his head. "We wouldn't be having to do this if you didn't sneak out the other day."

Her gaze settled into a glare. If her new guard didn't show up soon, she was gonna steal her dad's gun and just leave. But her dad seemed to know what she was thinking. He pulled his gun from his belt and shoved it into his desk drawer.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Touch my gun and you're dead," he said as he stood up. Still wearing that glare, she threw her nail file at him. It didn't go very far, fell to the floor just in front of her seat.

Her father opened the door. "Oscar Piastri?" He asked, holding his hand out. From her seat, she couldn't see as her dad shook the young man's hand and welcomed him into the office.

He was pretty, she could tell that immediately. He was pretty, but he looked easy. Easy to manipulate, and that was the most important thing. "Oscar," her father said, leading him across the room, over to her. "This is my daughter."

She stood from her seat and folded her arms over her chest. "You're my new bodyguard?" She asked, clearly unimpressed.

"I am," he said and held his hands out towards her. "I'm Oscar."

For a moment, she just stared at his hand. Oscar kept it held out, waiting for her to shake it. "Oh, boy," he heard from his right as her father sat back in his seat.

Keeping her arms folded over her chest, she marched past him, her shoulder hitting his. Oscar allowed himself to be pushed out of the way. With her father there, he wasn't going to dare to do anything but go with what she wanted. As she strode out of the office, her hips swaying, Oscar followed.

He kept his eyes on the back of her head. Don't look down. Don't look at the way she's moving her hips. Don't look down.

She knew what had happened, why she needed a new bodyguard. Even with everything Andrea had told him, Oscar didn't think she could be that bad. He was very, very quickly proven wrong.

"Where are we going?" Oscar asked as she pushed her way into her bedroom. Maids had cleaned up since Daniel had torn it apart in an attempt to look for her. Her pyjamas were on a heap in the floor, one she stepped over to get to her black purse.

"Out," she said, the first word she'd spoken to him, as she placed the bag on her shoulder and strode past him.

Oscar followed, keeping close to him. Too close, and he had five seconds to fix it. But he didn't fix it. He stayed walking far too close to her, so close she could feel him breathing down her neck.

"Fucking hell, stop," she said and Oscar stopped. She turned on her heel, turned towards him, and held out her arms. At first, it was just to see how close he was. When her arms hit him, she pushed so that he stumbled back.

He steadied himself and stepped towards her again. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest and glaring.

"I've been hired to protect you," said Oscar, keeping himself calm.

Her glare was nasty, vicious. "You need to stay three paces behind me, okay?" She stepped closer to him. "I'm gonna get on and do whatever the fuck I want to do, and you're gonna let me, okay?" They were stood chest to chest. Her fingers touched his chest, danced up towards his neck while she let a coy smile grace her features.

He held his breath until her nail dug into his throat. Oscar reached up and grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling it away from his neck. "I've been hired to protect you," he said again. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

The smile dropped from her face, replaced with a glare. She turned back around and marched away, steps quick to get away from him. Oscar stayed just a pace behind her.

Oscar hadn't been ill prepared for this job. Andrea had given him plenty of warning of just how much trouble she was going to be. But he was prepared.

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. That was fine, Oscar was happy to follow her around and watch her antics. He followed her to a café, where she met with friends, followed her out to the park and listened to their chatter and gossip. He didn't take in much of the information, not unless he thought it was important.

Not until they started whispering about him.

His cheeks blushed red, but he stayed standing there. If he wasn't watching her, he was looking around, looking for any sign of danger. She whispered to her friends, giggling behind their hands. What they were saying, Oscar didn't care.

She still hadn't spoken to him as he drove her back to the house. Her car was a dream to drive. She handled beautifully, better than anything Oscar had driven when he was with Alpine. He couldn't hide his grin as he drove towards the house.

As soon as the car had stopped, she climbed out and marched towards the house. Oscar parked as quickly as he could and climbed out of the car, following her up the stairs and into the house.

She disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door in his face. Oscar let out a breath and raised his fist, knocking on the door. "Hey," he called and tried the handle. "Let me in!"

Nothing. Of course it didn't work. It shouldn't have been surprising. Oscar didn't panic. He did what he was best at and stayed calm. Shrugging off his jacket, he left it by the door and walked out of the house.

It was a gamble, whether her window was open or not. He walked around the back of the house, counting the windows until he found hers.

Oscar wasn't built to climb. He wasn't good at it, but he still tried, using the window ledge beneath to climb up to her own. His knuckles it the glass before he tried to push the window up, but it wouldn't budge.

Fuck.

He knocked away and watched as she turned around. Her eyes went wide but she didn't move, took a moment to watch him. Oscar tried again to open the window.

Finally, she walked over. She pushed open the window, allowing Oscar into her bedroom. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asked, heading towards her wardrobe as Oscar grabbed his jacket from outside of her room.

She couldn't deny that he looked good. With his jacket hanging over his arm, she could really see him, and she appreciated it. He was no Carlos, but he'd do.

Grabbing a dress from her wardrobe, she held it up to her body. "Did you ever think that maybe I shut you out of my room because I didn't want you in here?" She asked as she hung it over her wardrobe door and went digging for some shoes.

"Did you ever think that I can't trust you enough to leave you in here on your own?" He responded as he leaned against the wall.

She scowled at him as she stepped back out of the wardrobe, a pair of high heels hanging by the straps from her fingers. "Fucking creep," she mumbled and pulled down the zip on her skirt.

She didn't look away from him as she pushed her skirt down. Oscar didn't look away. She was challenging him, he knew, and he wasn't going to let her win. Once her skirt was on the floor, she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall away from her shoulders.

She stepped towards him, much like she had in the corridor earlier. "Do you know something, Oscar?" She mused as she stepped closer to him. He kept watching her, eyes locked onto her own. "I always get what I want. Do you wanna know what I want right now?"

His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at her. Even when she settled her arms on his chest, moving them up to his shoulders, he remained stoic. "What?" He asked. His wife didn't betray just how nervous he was feeling, just how much he was sweating.

Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "You."

Oscar took her arms from around his neck. He kept a hold of them as he walked her back, so that she was sitting on her bed. "You're a brat," he said and stepped back, leaving her there.

Their interactions through the evening were very limited. Any attention she wanted, Oscar wasn't going to give to her. That she caught onto very quickly.

Daniel had been the same when he first started. Of course, he'd never resorted to climbing through her window. Oscar was dedicated, and that made him a problem.

A problem that wouldn't let her sneak out, a problem that wouldn't sleep with her.

She was in agony.

The next day followed much in the same pattern. Oscar walking too close, Oscar watching everything she did. She couldn't escape his watchful eye. When she went to the bathroom he was standing outside, periodically nodding.

On her third day with Oscar guarding her, she was bored out of her mind. When she want to the bathroom, he followed to stand guard outside of the door. This was becoming her normal and she hated it.

There was a window in the bathroom. Small, too high for her to reach without assistance. For a moment she contemplated it. Contemplated how she was going to execute this admittedly stupid plan.

Beneath the sink was a little step stool. It was from when she was younger, when she was too small to reach her tooth brush in the cabinet above the sink. She pulled it out and positioned it beneath the little window.

It didn't give her much height, just enough to grasp the window ledge and hoist herself up.

There was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" She called back, but it sounded weird. She hadn't been this... polite to him since that first night in her room.

She hurried herself up. Pushing open the window, she slipped out and dropped down onto the gravel below.

The stones bit into her skin. But she didn't care. Pushing herself up and wiping the stones away, she could hear Oscar pounding on the door. When she didn't reply, the knocks became something more. Louder, harsher, his entire body pushing against it.

She didn't stick around long enough to find out. Straightening up her skirt, she walked around from the house.

The cameras were following her, she knew. Security guards must have been watching her, must have been radioing Oscar of her whereabouts.

She didn't bother running. There was no point when the gates would have taken their time to swing open. No, she walked calmly, like she had all the time in the world.

Suddenly, her feet were no longer touching the floor. A grunt left his lips as he picked her up and turned her around. "I don't think so," he said and put her back down.

She stared up at him, arms folded over her chest. He could see the indents of the gravel against her arm, the grazes on her skin. But then she stepped around him.

Oscar picked her up again. He scooped her up and placed her over his shoulder, ignoring her shriek as he carried her back into the house.

"Fucking put me down!" She shouted, fists pounding against his back. "Oscar! Put me down! Now!"

His only response was to tighten his grip on her and march through the house. He didn't care as he took her past her fathers men, past Lando and Pato. When they sniggered at her, she held up her middle finger towards them.

Once he got to her bedroom, Oscar put her down. She glared up at him, arms folded over her chest. "I need to use the bathroom," she said.

Oscar grinned down at her. She looked somewhat embarrassed, unable to meet his eye. "Come on," he said and gestured for her to lead the way.

She walked down the hall, wearing a nasty scowl and looking at the floor. As soon as she got to the bathroom, she turned to shut the door, to try and lock him out. But Oscar shouldered his way in. "Hey!" She cried and tried to push him out of the bathroom. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He grabbed the step stool, folded it up and tucked it beneath his arms. He pulled the window shut and locked it, pocketing the key. "I'll be right outside," he said and placed a single pat to the top of her head. It was condescending as all hell and she wanted to kill him.

***

A year had passed. An uneventful year. For six months she'd attempted to sneak out. The first month of that was to get away from the house, to get out to the club and see her girl friends on the nights that Oscar said no.

But those other five months weren't because she wanted to get away. Whenever she snuck out, Oscar would be the one to carry her into the house. It was like he didn't trust her to walk back on her own. That was how she ended up over his shoulder or in his arms, being carried like a princess.

The kidnapping attempts had stopped, too. There had been a couple sicne Oscar started his job as her bodyguard. But he had thwarted all of them, kept her safe when somebody tried to climb in through her window.

On this day, Zac called Oscar into his office. He gave him a time and Oscar readied himself for it. He spend his morning with her, following her as she ate her breakfast.

She no longer tried to fight him at every turn. Oscar was grateful for it. He was able to see how pretty her smile was and that filled him with warmth. She was cute when she didn't want to kill him, he realised.

"Come on," he said once she'd finished her breakfast. He picked up her plate, dumped it in the sink, and offered her his hand.

"What do you think my dad wants?" She asked as she linked her fingers through his own.

Oscar pulled her out of the kitchen and through the house. He checked his watch. Just fifteen minutes until Zac wanted to see him. He swallowed. "I don't know," he answered and led her through the halls.

Maybe Zac wasn't happy with the work he was doing. Maybe he didn't think Oscar was doing a good enough job at protecting her. Maybe he didn't like that Oscar sometimes held her hand as they walked together.

He took her through the house and to the library. There Lando was sitting, tapping away at his phone. "Hey, Princess," he called as Oscar sat her down and squeezed her shoulders. "You sitting with me?"

"Looks like it," she mumbled and let out a yawn. She watched as Oscar disappeared out of the library, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Lando leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What's up?" He asked as she turned to face him. "What's got you thinking so hard?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sank down in her seat. "How long did it take for Carlos to fuck me?" She mumbled, resting her cheek against her first. "What, a couple months? Maybe less than that?" She mumbled.

Lando snorted. "It took him a month to fall in love with you," he mumbled, his foot knocking against her own. "And Daniel slept with you on his first night on the job," he answered, finally locking his phone screen and letting it fall into his lap.

"What's taking Oscar so long?"

He properly laughed when those words left her lips. "Oscar is too much of a professional to sleep with you," he said and mockingly wiped at his eyes. She scowled at him. "He's falling for you, though."

Her head snapped towards him. "Huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, princess." The name was mocking and she flipped him off. "Look, he wouldn't be holding your hand and shit if he wasn't, okay? That boy is falling for you. You need to trust me; he told me himself."

She leaned forward. "Lando, I need you to tell me exactly what he said."

Lando went to reply, but the library doors opened and Oscar strode in. "What now, Sweetheart?" He asked and offered her his hand.

She allowed herself to be pulled out of her seat and grinned at Lando. Sweetheart? He mouthed, and she let her tongue stick out from between her teeth.

***

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

It had been so damn long since she'd gotten kidnapped, she was almost at a loss for what to do. Almost, but not quite.

The minute she realised she was getting kidnapped, she took a bobby pin from her hair and tucked it into the back of her skirt. The kidnappers slapped cuffs on her wrists and sat her on the uncomfortable chair.

She easily got her hands out of the cuffs, but these guys had weapons. They were certainly smarter than the last guys to kidnap her.

Oscar better get there soon.

She didn't know that as soon as they called to demand money, Zac had Oscar tracing the call. He let his computer do it's thing while he loaded his gun with bullets. He was going to do all he could to get her back.

As soon as he had the location, he set off with Lando and Pato. His knee bounced as Pato drove them, Oscar giving him the directions. God, they'd taken her so far away. There was no telling what they'd done to her for the time she'd been missing.

The outside of the warehouse wasn't well guarded at all. Lando and Pato counted all of the guards inside and Oscar caught sight of her.

The cuffs were still hanging from one of her wrists as she sat there. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't she getting up out of her seat and marching out of there like in all of the stories he'd heard about her?

"I'm going in," he whispered and pulled his gun from its holster.

But Lando pulled him back. "Wait," he said and gestured to Pato. "We'll make a distraction out the front and you go around the back," he said and Oscar nodded.

Lando and Pato's idea of a distraction was... interesting. At the sound of the music, several men headed outside. The ones that were left inside were easy for Oscar to take care of. When Pato started dancing, Oscar headed to the back of the warehouse.

He was a damned good shot. While Pato and Lando took out the men at the front, Oscar shot the others in the warehouse. When the first man hit the ground, the one who seemed to be running the operation pulled her out of her seat and pressed his gun to her head.

"Show yourself!" He demanded. He pushed the gun against her head more until it was tipped to the side.

Holding up his hands, Oscar walked into the warehouse. When he was told to put his gun on the floor and kick it away, he did. "You okay, Sweetheart?" He asked, looking at her.

"Never better," she answered, but her voice was shaking. Fuck, he needed to get her out of there.

"You're the big hero," said the man in charge. "You're here to save the day and ride away into the sunset." His laugh was utterly terrifying. "What if I just blew her head off right it front of you? Do you think this rich little bitch bleeds gold?"

Her eyes shut. This was it, she was going to die.

Red splattered across her face, but it wasn't her blood. The man in charge dropped his gun and slumped forward, the weight of his falling body pulling her to the floor with a shriek. Oscar shouted her name. He rushed over and pushed the dead body away from her own.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered and wiped at the blood on her cheek. Tears were falling and Oscar wiped them away as he checked her over for any injuries. Aside from a bruised wrist and trauma, she was okay.

Pulling her into his chest, Oscar looked past her. There was Lando, lowering his gun. His eyes moved to her, eyebrows raising in question. But Oscar shook his head and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek. "Hey," Oscar whispered, pulling away from her. "C'mon, Sweetheart, not now," he whispered and pulled her to her feet.

She blinked up at him and wiped away her tears. "Come on, Oscar. Let me kiss you," she whispered, her lip wobbling.

His thumbs moved over the back of her hand in such a soothing manner. "I love you," he replied. "Really, I do. But I don't want to kiss you if you just want to sleep with me."

Her head hit his chest. "Don't do this now," she mumbled. "Not in this disgusting warehouse with a dead body behind us." She let her arms settle around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

The way he was looking at her, it had her ready to cry. She hid her head against his chest and shut her eyes, ignoring the way her heart was beating. "I don't want to just kiss you to sleep with you," she whispered and sucked in a deep breath. "I-I like you, Oscar."

His fingers touched her chin and tipped her face towards him. "Sweetheart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. And then he kissed her cheek, the one that wasn't covered in blood.

And then he kissed her, lips slotting against her own. She sobbed into his mouth and Oscar squeezed her tighter. It said all that it was supposed to. I'll watch over you, I'll keep you safe. I love you.

Taking her hand, Oscar led her out of the warehouse. In that moment he vowed to never let anything like this happen to her again.

[lily-blue]

Relationship status: taken

☆ characters: uni student!mark & you ☆ genre: soulmate au, college au ☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, insecurities ☆ summary: you live in a world where your soulmate marks tell you fair and square whether your special someone is taken or single; clearly, it shouldn’t be too complicated to figure out who is meant to be for you… ☆ words: 18,4k ☆ also: this day marks the end of the eleventh year of our friendship (and the end of the first whole year since we’ve been living in different countries), crazy, isn’t it? but when you really look at it, i think it’s crazier that among billions of people, i could find someone as amazing and perfect for me as you are. the older i get, the more grateful i am for you and your unconditional love and support ♥ please, stay by my side for many more decades, @dat-town, because there’s just no way i’d ever consider letting you go ♥

Privacy was a unique subject in your world, and something you had always had a hard time to comprehend with your soulmate’s relationship status tattooed on your skin.

When you had been sixteen and stupidly in love with your best friend’s older brother, you had been terrified by the thought that he might have seen you only as a little sister - you had also been super anxious to have your feelings returned and get in a relationship with him just for his mark to remain the same: single. Not to mention the very likely possibility of you having an older soulmate somewhere out there whose heart you would have unintentionally broken the moment you had become someone else’s girlfriend.

At that young age, the concept of love had made you feel so petrified that you had pretty much given up on ever confessing to someone even before you had received your own mark on your eighteenth birthday.

It had come with time, with the influence of many different people and mindsets and your own emotional growth through yearning and heartbreak, but eventually, you could acknowledge that there was less harm in your marks than you had initially thought as a teenager. After all, no one had to be in love with the person they got in a relationship with for the magical tattoos to change. What you needed was a vocal confirmation of your desire to live as a couple, thus breaking off a relationship that wasn’t meant to be could save you from spending precious years on someone who was only killing time with you before settling down with the one their heart was beating for.

Logically speaking, your soulmate marks - when one was mature enough to understand that there was a significant difference between a good match and a perfect match in life - were only there to save people their time and tears. You just had to be brave and open enough to give people a chance to test your compatibility according to a higher power. 

Ironically, your closest friend at university had a completely different take on this matter. She openly hated the way no one seemed to cherish other people’s feelings, belittling their love just because they weren’t the one for them. Yuju romanticised the process of falling in love and those pure feelings that naturally grew stronger the more time one spent with those who made them feel genuinely happy and grateful to be alive. Your differences didn’t come in the way of your friendship, though. In fact, the two of you had become friends when you had seen her scream at someone for breaking up with her childhood friend not a second after their tattoos hadn’t changed once the boy had asked the girl to be his girlfriend.

You admired her for her lack of fear of confrontation. You could have never drawn so much attention to yourself at a crowded coffee shop.

You could barely bear the immense amount of attention your boyfriend was giving you on a daily basis. Hence, you were actually glad that Dejun never complained when you dragged your friend to your public dates, so you wouldn’t have had to be the only one who was asked about her mundane days and was showered in free drinks, snacks and desserts.

(It was also a nice addition that with Yuju present, it was less likely that your boyfriend went overboard with his spending despite being a gentleman who would have rather bought three movie tickets with his own money than let you and your best friend chip in.)

‘Man, you look so disappointed! Haechan will never let me live this down,’ someone’s whiny voice came from your side, effectively pulling you back to the present: to the biggest lecture hall in your university where your Creative writing professor and the Lyrics writing professor from the Music Department had assigned you a partner for your semester project.

With furrowed eyebrows, you straightened your back and looked at the boy who was talking to you.

‘Sorry?’

You couldn’t remember much of what he had said. You had been still thinking about your pizza date with Dejun after your class - for which Yuju couldn’t come with you because of her internship - when his voice had reached you and pulled you out of your head.

The boy lifted his hand and pointed at something on your right. Reluctantly, you turned your head, unsure whether you should have focused on the brunette who was staring at you two like she was about to slice your throat or the goofy guy who had his phone directed at you. The latter could have been as easily taking a selfie with the grumpy guy next to him - Renjun, if you had remembered correctly - as recording your weird conversation with the one who had addressed you.

You turned back to your assumed project partner.

‘What’s happening?’ You asked, hoping that your question didn’t come off as offensive as it sounded in your head. The lecture hall might have already been half-empty, but there were still a lot of students around you, and if this person scolded you for being a scatterbrain, the humiliation would have haunted you for weeks.

‘Don’t mind him, I’ll make him delete the video,’ the boy reassured you, so you finally knew for sure whom he had pointed at a few seconds ago. Still, the revelation left you with more questions than answers. Suddenly, you weren’t sure even of your most logical explanations. Was he really your project partner? Had he already introduced himself? Should you have introduced yourself?

Why was his friend recording your conversation? Was he even close enough for his phone to pick up on what you were saying?

‘… and it’s his new hobby to make fun of me since Haeri asked me out because apparently, I’m awkward with girls, and it’s ridiculous that my soulmate found me while he’s still single…’

You scratched your nape and turned your head back towards the boy’s friend. His phone was still in his hands, and his smile got visibly wider with each passing second as the guy in front of your seat kept rambling, super clearly digging his own grave for no real reason. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain their odd dynamic to you, why he was going into so much detail when you were strangers.

Speaking of which…

‘Are you a music major? We’re assigned to do the semester project together, aren’t we?’ You cut him off as gently as you could manage, deliberately disregarding the obnoxious laughter that came from your side almost immediately.

‘Yes, yes we are! That’s why I was asking for your name and whether you wanted to change kkt IDs, but you looked so disappointed, and Haechan thought it was funny how much you hated this pairing already, and…’

Oh. So this was what had happened. He had walked up to you while you had been in your head and mistaken your growing anxiety due to your outdoor date with Dejun for your nonexistent displeasure towards him as a project partner. It was so silly, but it did put the past couple of minutes into context.

You couldn’t help but smile.

‘I’m not disappointed. It’s… it’s just a misunderstanding. I was thinking about something…’ you tried to clear up the mess, mortified as you realised that you had almost told this boy that the real reason for the frown on your face was your boyfriend’s love language rather than your first impression of him. You weren’t usually this chatty, and you scolded yourself even more mentally when you remembered that his friend was recording your conversation. ‘Else. I was thinking about something else.’

‘Really?’ The boy’s surprise was palpable, his distressed facial features slowly morphing into something less tense as he reciprocated your small smile. ‘That’s cool. That’s more than cool, actually. Awesome.’

You weren’t so sure that it was really that awesome, but you decided to just let him be, then introduced yourself properly and you fished your phone out of your hoodie’s pocket, so he could add himself to your friend list on Kakao.

‘So… Mark,’ you stared up at him once he gave your phone back, and you checked his name in your app. His profile picture was unexpectedly cool: he was sitting in a dimly lit studio with neon lights in the background, holding onto what looked like an electric guitar. He was wearing a beanie indoors and you had this uncharacteristic urge to tease him for it despite not knowing him at all. ‘When would you like to brainstorm about our topic? Do you have any part-time jobs or other extra obligations after your classes? Anything we should calculate with?’

‘I do have one actually! I’m working at the vinyl store near campus on the weekends, but most of my classes are morning or early afternoon classes, except for my lyrics writing seminar, which is… right now. So yeah, weekday afternoons are cool with me,’ he explained without taking a look at his timetable, but you guessed it was okay enough since you were already a month into your first semester, which meant most people had memorised their schedules. 

If you still mixed up your Wednesdays and Thursdays, that was no one else’s business but yours. (And maybe Yuju’s, too, since she was the one who always had to remind you to bring breakfast for your first class on Thursdays, otherwise you would need to sit through two long seminars, one after another, with an empty stomach.)

‘That sounds manageable. I also have two free afternoons a week. How often do you think we should meet up? I guess, we both have other classes, too, but this project is fifty percent of our grade, so maybe…’

‘Twice a week works for me. I actually really like this class, you know. So call me nerdy, but I want to give this project my hundred and ten percent this semester,’ Mark confessed, his cheeks taking on a soft, rose-tinted hue, which you found quite endearing.

You were also glad that in spite of his clear discomfort - someone really should have told his friend to stop teasing him with his stupid phone -, the boy took the initiative, so you didn’t have to admit aloud that your grades were actually very important to you. Sure, you wouldn’t have gone as far as to say you were embarrassed that you cared about your education, and you would have mustered up your courage to ask him to take your project more seriously if he had been one of the slackers, but it was definitely easier on your heart this way.

‘You can absolutely call me nerdy then. I’m a self-diagnosed perfectionist,’ you decided to add with a semi-self-conscious giggle just when the silence could have stretched too long, Mark’s eyes lighting up at your confession.

You could see it on his face that he was about to ask you something - your best guess was that just like you, he didn’t have any more classes that afternoon, so he was wondering whether you would have liked to get a headstart on your project together -, but then he quickly pressed his lips together, into a tight smile, when his friend threw his arm over his shoulder.

‘Makgeolli, let’s go,’ the guy with the silver-lavender hair exclaimed, pulling his friend close to his side like he hadn’t been bullying him in the past five minutes or so. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the name he chose to call Mark on had annoyed the other, too. After all, it was hard to picture anyone who would have liked to be addressed as “rice wine” when there were so many other options… 

‘Man, get off me,’ the boy tried to push his friend’s arm off him, but the other was too clingy and insisting, while Mark clearly had enough experience with this kind of behaviour to know that any future attempts would have been futile.

They had such a weird dynamic, it was borderline concerning.

(Now it made more sense why the boy had felt the need to explain his friend’s actions to you despite your short acquaintanceship. Without your project partner’s vocal confirmation, you would have assumed that he was in real danger around the other boy.)

‘Canada, I’m starving,’ the hyperactive boy whined before he pointed at you with his head like you had already been at that level, when you didn’t even know his name. Wasn’t he a bit too mannerless for his own good? Maybe, it wasn’t that his soulmate wasn’t around, it was just she didn’t want to be found. ‘I’ve seen you already exchanged numbers, so we’re good to go,’ he reasoned, his argument reminding you that you couldn’t have worked on your project that afternoon even if you had wanted to. Therefore, Mark and you didn’t have more business together for the time being.

‘Yeah, but…’

‘It’s okay. I actually have… somewhere to be today, so I’ll text you about my schedule later?’ You half-said, half-asked, a little unsure because of all the attention his friend was giving you with his mischievous eyes. Were you hallucinating things, or were his eyes looking for the soulmate mark on your wrist?

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie lower on instinct, before you stood up abruptly and threw your notebook and glitter gel pens into your backpack.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll be waiting!’ You swallowed back a giggle when you saw his friend elbow him in the side right after his eager exclamation had left his mouth. His red cheeks and wide eyes were kind of cute. ‘Khm… I mean, not literally. You don’t have to feel pressured, I have other things to do, too. You can text me any time,’ Mark tried to save the situation by making it four times worse.

You willed yourself to take him seriously, though. It felt like the right thing to do.

‘Thanks. But I’ll message you once I’m back at the dorm. Self-diagnosed perfectionist, you know,’ you smiled at him, and tilted your head forwards just enough to be considered as a somewhat polite goodbye when your gaze shifted from him to his friend. You would have felt bad for judging him silently if you hadn’t shown him any manners, either, but this was where you drew the line with people who didn’t pass your vibe check: at the bare minimum. ‘See you.’

Nearing the exit, you could hear both boys reciting the same two words to you in surprising harmony, but you were already too far away from them to tell what his obnoxious friend had said to Mark to make him scream his name from the top of his lungs. Haechan. Hm, it didn’t ring any bells.

Two weeks into your Creative writing project, you could confidently say that your professor tried his best to make his class the most unique and enjoyable that semester. Having shorter lectures in order to provide additional quality time for brainstorming for the students was a praised idea as well, something both Mark and you appreciated despite your frequent text messages and meet-ups. After all, you hadn’t known each other before this semester and to be able to create something as personal as your topic required… You both had to become more comfortable around the other. Otherwise, you would never be able to connect on an intimate - strictly platonic, yet undeniably deep - level. That was just how art worked.

Afraid of possible rumours on campus, the inevitable misunderstandings based on them and how the unnecessary drama would have affected you - a notorious conflict avoider - and your grades, you had told Dejun about Mark and your future interactions at the first chance you had gotten: the moment he had picked you up for your date that afternoon. Like the greenest flag he was, your boyfriend had had more questions about the project itself than the boy as the only thing he truly cared about was that Mark didn’t try to force all the work on you and didn’t act inappropriately in your company.

Which he didn’t. Mark was always on time, he always did his parts, he always brought new ideas to the table and was always kind and respectful towards you even when his actions came off a little timid. So naturally, you had nothing to complain about. Dejun had nothing to be worried about. Everything was beyond picture perfect on paper.

So why was that the more time you spent with Mark Lee, the more you felt like you were cheating on your boyfriend in a way? Even though both of you were mindful of the other’s relationship, hence never sat close enough to one another to start any gossip. There had been one time when you had even refused a free chocolate croissant that a barista had offered you because he had thought you were a couple, hence entitled for their promotion.

Looking down at the half-eaten chicken-mayo sandwich on your plate, then back up at the boy in front of you who was jotting down snippets in his notebook like wildfire, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this nasty feeling inside of you rooted in the fact that you were open with Mark about something immensely personal that you had never had the guts to tell Dejun. Were you unfaithful to your partner whenever you admitted that even after a year with the boy you called your soulmate, you weren’t sure about the hype that surrounded these types of relationships?

Sure, yours was an amazing person who cared for your physical and mental well-being, but as awful as it sounded, you didn’t feel like you couldn’t have lived without him. His affection gave something extra to your boring, everyday life, but you could have gone without his gifts and questions for a long while, which didn’t seem to match with all those low-key desperate and dependent descriptions people could find in papers that analysed this phenomenon.

Where was the gut-wrenching feeling of being away from your soulmate for too long? Where was the soul-consuming contentment their presence was supposed to give you? You weren’t sure you had ever gotten to experience those butterflies in your tummy, either. It was more like anxiety that took over you whenever you thought of all the money and time Dejun spent on you when you were so plain and boring.

Not that you hated your personality. You were confident in your own, quiet way. Something just didn’t add up. It wasn’t how you had pictured it when you had been younger.

‘What do you think about these lines? I’m not quite sure yet… Prof might think it’s a bit too dramatic. Man, I don’t want that,’ he grimaced as he pushed his notebook towards you, then took a sip from his lukewarm drink. The whipped cream on top of Mark’s iced chocolate had become such a sorry sight, honestly.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

So you didn’t ponder over it, either, despite your unreasonable urge to take it out of his hands and order a new iced chocolate for him for his hard work. He really hadn’t exaggerated when he had said he wanted to give his all during this project.

Hovering over the worn notebook, you read through the new passages, frowning at how much his words actually resonated with you not because it was a bad thing, but because despite the ugly truth in them, they did sound dramatic. You could totally picture your classmates calling you ungrateful for not appreciating what both of you had: a caring significant other.

‘Yeah, I… Maybe we could switch up “lifeless” with… Hm,’ you tapped your lower lip with your index finger once, twice, three times, before you leaned back against your chair and let out a contemplative sigh. ‘You know, I thought writing a whole ass story about the same topic is difficult, but these rhymes! It feels like I’m writing nursery songs when I finally come up with something,’ you let out a pained chuckle because seriously, even with your expanded vocabulary, your ideas were nowhere near as amazing as Mark’s verses.

He was so good at what he was doing.

But then again, he was in his last year just like you. And he had passed the uni entrance exam of his major with flying colours, if his stories could have been trusted.

‘I like your nursery songs,’ Mark comments between two sips, his gaze on his notebook so damn intense, you were kind of convinced he didn’t even notice he was complimenting you. Otherwise, his cheeks would have already had a rose-coloured tint to them (like it usually happened when he felt embarrassed or too exposed). ‘Besides, I could never write over twenty pages about the same characters. That’s just wild.’

You sucked in your lower lip, the sudden hit of shyness dressing your whole face in a darker, crimson colour as you tried to downplay your hard work in your head, as you tried so hard to find the perfect words that could have simultaneously got the spotlight off you and belittle those hours you spent on your stories…

Your struggle must have been written on your face, because before you could have done as much as open your mouth, Mark smiled at you and your mind went blank.

So you just accepted the compliment - was that a compliment? - with a small ‘Thanks,’ and an even smaller smile.

Since you preferred working on your stories in silence, in the sanctuary of your room where no one judged you for rewriting the same paragraphs way too many times, you didn’t have your Google doc pulled up in front of you. However, you did take a couple of notes in your phone while you were munching on the rest of your sandwich.

You liked how neither you, nor Mark felt the need to fill the silence all the time with mindless chatter. You also liked how he was undoubtedly curious, but never pushy. He made sure you knew he was eager to hear about your process, your life even, but kept his questions to the minimum.

It had been a while since you met someone who adjusted to your needs so easily, Yuju being the last and second addition to the group right after your father. 

‘You know…’ Mark started in a neutral voice, urging you to shift your focus point and look up at him. Hence, you did, abandoning your phone slowly as you carefully put it back on the table.

Mark was silent for a moment, wordlessly scribbling out words then rewriting entire lines in his already messy notebook, which admittedly made you smile under your nose. The peculiar sight almost made you believe that you could have written a page or two yourself in the boy’s company: that as unthinkable as it sounded, his presence wouldn’t have forced you out of the zone while you were immersed in your work.

You shook your head to get rid of this useless train of thoughts. It wasn’t appropriate; and the fact that your instincts told you it wasn’t appropriate just made it even more inappropriate, because seriously. Why was it freaking you out internally that the two of you clicked so much when it should have made you relieved instead? Wasn’t it an amazing thing that he was a nice project partner?

‘Sometimes it feels like Haeri likes me more than how much I like her.’

Your eyes widened in shock before you quickly schooled your facial expression. You didn’t want him to feel judged when you were the last person on Earth who had the right to call him out on his confession. Not that anyone should have been allowed to make comments on other people’s personal business, let alone their relationship with their soulmate.

Trying to disregard just how heavy the atmosphere got, you tilted your head sideways and gave the boy a non-judgemental smile, because that was the best you could do with your lack of experience in comforting people. You hoped your seemingly calm demeanour would distract him long enough, so you could think back of the last time your father had helped you through a rough period in your life.

What had he done when you had gotten rejected by the university you had wanted to attend the most? Ah, he had brought you something sweet, a slice of red velvet cake maybe, and told you his own experience with rejections and how he had gotten his shit together each time he had come face to face with a closed door. 

‘Sometimes I get anxious when it’s just the two of us with Dejun.’

The urge to cover your mouth with both of your hands as soon as the words were out in the open was strong, but you tried your best to fight it and act rather nonchalant: like what you had just admitted didn’t go against everything the society taught you about soulmates. Like it was normal that you felt so on edge around someone who was made especially for you.

You reached out for your own drink and slurped it until the last freaking drop, so you had a convenient excuse to stand up and leave the scene. You didn’t look back as you walked up to the counter and stood in the line, wishing for the barista to work at the speed of a snail. You intended to waste at least five or so minutes on waiting, so your heart could have rested a bit before you had to face Mark again.

Why had you said that? You shouldn’t have said that. Not like that. You should have found a better way to put it. Or you should have just kept your mouth shut and found another way to reassure Mark that there was nothing wrong with him.

You felt so ashamed of yourself suddenly. You simultaneously wished that your pitiful words had never gotten back to Dejun and that somehow he had figured your true feelings out, so you could have been freed from this choking weight on your chest.

Since when were you so goddamn selfish?

Once it was your turn to order - it was too soon, way too soon -, you asked for a matcha latte and two slices of chocolate cake, then paid with your card and reassured the barista that his coworker didn’t have to carry your tray to your table, you were more than happy to wait for it by the counter while he took the next customer’s order. If he wanted to look at you funny because of your strange request, he did his best to conceal his thoughts. He simply informed the female barista behind his back about your instructions and turned to the next customer.

Mark said thanks for the sweet treat when you eventually placed the chocolate cake between his drink and notebook and teasingly promised to buy you something equally high in sugar the next time you two met up as he reached out for the tiny, metal fork. He didn’t bring up the soulmate topic for the rest of your supposed brainstorming session despite how it should have been the main subject of your meeting. Instead, he shared random stories with you about Haechan, and how his weird friend was competing for Renjun’s attention these days with a dude called Yuchan - his own partner for the same project you two were working on.

‘He likes Renjun a lot, doesn’t he?’ You asked, more as a mindless statement to show some interest in the topic than anything else.

The boy simply hummed in response, his knowing smile barely hiding in the corner of his mouth as he turned back to his notebook and jotted down a couple of new lines and potential rhymes while you were busy finishing your dessert.

Your afternoon ended up being pretty productive in the end, and the additional two pages you wrote later that night only added to the satisfaction you felt as you got ready for bed.

You didn’t pay any mind to them initially. In fact, you hardly noticed the slight changes in your own body language and the slowly decreasing distance between your bodies whenever you spend some one on one time with Mark outside of your shared class. However, your obliviousness didn’t change the fact that your meetups were getting longer and longer, or that your conversations became more and more diverse.

The first time you heard people talk about your “dates” with the boy, you were at the popular organic coffee shop on campus with Yuju, who immediately pulled you towards a different table when she realised what was going on.

Rumours. There were rumours about you cheating on Dejun with Mark Lee.

Your hands were shaking the whole time you were waiting for your food and drink, and when you finally got them, you tugged on your best friend’s sleeve to plead with her, so she would ask the barista on your behalf to change your order into take away. You didn’t want to spend your free period in public anymore. On the other hand, you also couldn’t make yourself speak up, too ashamed for inconveniencing the poor worker.

You didn’t go to your last class that day. You didn’t even leave your dorm room until Dejun sent you a text that he was waiting for you in the communal area.

Your messy bed hair and your loose sweatpants and hoodie combo had never resembled your mood more than at that moment you dragged yourself to the lounge, towards the khaki couch your boyfriend was sitting on, patiently waiting.

The major part of your anxiety rooted in your belief that your actions and conscious decisions had finally made Dejun see that you were a horrible soulmate. And while you did have your doubts about the whole system and how compatible these magical bonds truly were, the idea of losing your destined partner so early into your life was terrifying.

You were terrified of failing that one person in the world whose life you were supposed to fill with nothing but happiness.

‘It’s okay, love. Come here,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and your eyes got a little teary upon seeing his arms spread wide open for you. Like always, he made sure you knew that you could find peace in his embrace if that was what you needed.

You crushed into Dejun’s body without hesitation, and he scooped you up in his arms, letting you get comfortable on his lap despite those students nearby who were not-so-subtly looking at you. You didn’t even notice them, too occupied by holding onto your boyfriend’s tee and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m so sorry. I… I’m so, so, so sorry,’ you apologised over and over again, until your throat got dry and your voice a little husky.

Meanwhile, Dejun kept petting your hair and stroking your back gently with his other hand that didn’t help with your balance.

‘It’s okay. I know you. I know you would never do anything like that,’ he whispered in your ears, reassuring you that he didn’t believe any of those nasty stories that were circulating on campus about you and Mark Lee, and that he would never give you any ultimatums, either, because you were free to make friends regardless of their gender.

Until Mark treated you with respect and didn’t cross your boundaries, he was okay with the guy. Especially because neither of you had ever given him any reasons to suspect you of cheating. You never failed to inform your boyfriend about your meetings in spite of them being regular occurrences, and that one time he had met Mark in front of your lecture hall, the boy had told him he was okay with the two of you going on an impromptu date instead of your scheduled study session if that had been Dejun’s reason for waiting for you. Mark Lee hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t tried to make you choose or outright guilt-trip you into staying with him.

He had simply introduced himself and wished you a good time.

‘But the…’

‘Not buts. These people are just bored out of their mind. I’m telling you it’s okay. So believe me, please, when I say these rumours don’t change anything for me,’ he kept coaxing you out of that dark place your mind had pushed you into, starting to rock you back and forth as much as he could in your less than ideal position on the couch.

You didn’t know how long it took him to make you stop blaming yourself for the current situation, and you had no idea how many people witnessed or recorded this intimate moment between you two, but it didn’t really matter in that soft, fluffy bubble Dejun’s love and care created for you to heal in.

You felt safe and secure in your relationship.

Pulling a little further from his shoulder and looking him in the eyes, you had absolutely no doubt about it that he meant every word: both about his feelings for you and about your friendship with Mark.

‘I…’ you choked on your words, unable to express yourself the way you wanted to due to the sudden guilt that washed over you when you realised you couldn’t tell him you loved him, even though a part of you knew you did. You loved Dejun, but saying it out loud felt wrong, almost like a white lie that could break your relationship over time. And you hated how damn frustrated your own incapabilities made you feel.

Because you loved your boyfriend.

You just weren’t sure your love had the same weight his had for you.

‘I’m so grateful for you. I really am,’ you said at the end, slowly lifting your hands to his cheeks and cupping his face. As you were caressing his skin with your thumbs, you wished your eyes could convey just how honest you were at that moment; you wished he knew you loved him in your own way, you were simply too insecure about your feelings in comparison to his.

He gave you too much.

‘I know,’ Dejun gifted you a brilliant smile, before he mimicked your actions and cupped your face, so that he could pull you closer for an innocent peck on the lips. It was lovely, he was lovely, hence naturally, you couldn’t have helped yourself but mirror his pleased grin, your heart lighter and not at the very same time.

It was confusing, this whole soulmate bond you shared, but you decided to not ponder over the torrent inside you, but be happy that you still had this amazing person in your life.

You stayed in the lounge for a little longer, your face buried in the junction between Dejun’s neck and shoulder, then let yourself be convinced to change into less cosy clothes, because apparently, your boyfriend had hoped to take you out on a date once your situation had been sorted out.

Even though it was a program for only the two of you, you didn’t find the power in yourself to cancel his plans. Tagging along was the least you could do for him after he had proven you his unfaltering support.

You didn’t have huge expectations for how the rest of your afternoon would go. Since you had an inkling that it was Yuju who had informed your boyfriend about how upset you were about the rumours, you were kind of certain he was aware that you had never gotten to eat your late lunch after your European Literature lecture around two. Therefore, you accepted that he would feed you as an act of kindness and genuine care for you, and pushed down the knot in your throat that took away your appetite.

Walking up to an empty table at your favourite hamburger place - which was a comfortable, ten-minute walk from your dormitory -, the last thing you could have imagined to see was Mark Lee being berated in public by a pretty brunette you had only ever seen pictures of. Your slow steps came to an immediate halt and your eyes widened in horror when the furious girl abruptly stood up from her chain and reached out for the milkshake her boyfriend was anxiously playing with.

‘Shut the hell up, I’m not doing that. We’re not doing that, you asshole,’ she screamed in his face, and was clearly about to do something drastic when one of the waiters marched up to their table and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

You could feel Dejun’s fingers being wrapped around your own, too, before he gently pulled you towards an empty table on the other side of the customer area. You barely registered your feet moving, hyper fixated on Mark’s resigned face and overall emotionless demeanour. You had never seen him so unresponsive. It was as though he felt nothing - no anger, frustration or desperation, no fear - while his girlfriend felt everything on behalf of the both of them.

The longer you were watching them, the more uneasy you felt and at one point, you had to force yourself to tear your gaze away when you felt your boyfriend push you down on a chair with your back to the commotion. 

‘If you want to comfort him, send him a text,’ he suggested, his voice gentle. There wasn’t a hint of accusation in it, like he wasn’t talking about the very guy people on campus claimed was fucking you behind his back. Your lips trembled not only because of how ashamed you felt at that moment, but because you really, truly wanted to be there for Mark, and Dejun had realised it sooner than your mind had caught up on it. ‘I just don’t want you anywhere near that girl. Especially right now.’

You pursed your lips together and nodded, understanding where he was coming from while you were simultaneously grateful for the reminder of how bad it could have ended if you had given in to your urge to walk up to the couple. You hated public attention - you couldn’t have been able to handle the negative spotlight.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you,’ you said and reached out for the laminated menu card in the middle of the table despite how familiar both of you were with each item on it. It was more of a way of stalling, of putting yourself back together than anything else.

You didn’t want any of the waiters to come up to you and take your order. You didn’t want any attention on you, no matter how miniscule, until Haeri was still in the same building. You were scared of her anger and just how justified it might have felt if she had blamed you for their relationship troubles.

Dejun reached out for your hand tentatively and stroked your sensitive skin between the base of your thumb and index finger in a calming manner before he started to chat your ears off about the hamburger he wanted to try. Apparently, there were three new items on the menu that you hadn’t even noticed, one of them a burger with two patties, tomato and pickle slices, blueberry jam and various spices you would have never thought of mixing together, but hell if it hadn’t sounded intriguing.

Thus you decided to order a similar one with strawberry jam and caramelised onion rings and refused to think about Haeri, Mark Lee and any of the stupid rumours that might have led to their fight.  

You told yourself you had to set your priorities straight.

You told yourself contacting Mark could have waited an hour or so. Because it could. It had to. You had no justifiable reason to put him before your own relationship.

Except, when you eventually got down to message him, Mark left your first text on read and didn’t open any of the following ones. A nasty voice inside of your head told you that he was reading them through his notifications, but you couldn’t have been sure, thus you couldn’t decide whether you should have felt annoyed or worried.

On the first night, tossing and turning in your bed, you settled on the latter. However, when he purposely avoided as much as looking at you during your weekly Creative writing slash Lyrics writing seminar, it took everything in you to not look hurt and irritated. On the one hand, you had seen his fight with Haeri, so you understood that you might have been the last person he wanted to be near. On the other hand, you didn’t want to accept that either of you had done anything wrong just because you had become friends.

If you had let yourself believe that what you two had was hurting your soulmate bonds, you would have started to spiral again despite how much time and effort your boyfriend had put into convincing you that everything was alright.

That your connection wasn’t damaged.

So you shook your head and accepted his decision with dignity - albeit, with a heavy heart. It was a soothing gel to your open wounds that at least you had already agreed on the plot for your story and his song. This way, you really didn’t have to force any conversations with him that would have surely spoiled your precious memories with the boy.

As expected, Mark Lee didn’t join you during the second half of your class for your usual, light-hearted brainstorming session, so you busied yourself with a book that you were reading for a different course. Not a second after the bell signalled the end of the seminar, you were walking towards the wooden double doors like a man on a mission.

Your steps didn’t falter: not when you heard Haechan calling your name, nor when he scolded Mark for something you didn’t quite catch and had no interest in anyway.

You were a horrible liar. And a horrible soulmate.

Because while you were determined to convince yourself that Mark’s cold behaviour didn’t bother you at all - it was his loss, wasn’t this what people always said? -, you couldn’t stop thinking about his blank face throughout the rest of the day.

Did this alone make you the worst soulmate in history? Debatable. However, what definitely earned you that title was the fact that you were currently cuddled up with your boyfriend on his couch, watching a silly Chinese movie about high school sweethearts, and you had no idea what the real story was about. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Mark Lee and the possible end of your friendship.

You hissed, skin burning around your soulmate mark underneath your hoodie’s sleeve. It was Dejun’s hoodie, to be precise, but he always put it on his bed, neatly folded, when he knew you were coming over, so you wouldn’t have to look through his massive wardrobe in search of your comfort clothes. This was how precious your time was to him.

How precious you were to him.

You swallowed down the panicked lump in your throat and deliberately disregarded the pain. You told yourself that it was nothing, that until your boyfriend showed no sign of discomfort, it was only in your head. After all, if your bond had reached its breaking point because of your shameful thoughts, he would have felt it, too.

It was so itchy, though, as though your mark craved your attention and was determined to get it no matter what it took. It was driving you up the wall, and it also made it even harder to concentrate on the movie you were watching.

So at one point, you gave in and excused yourself, heading straight to the bathroom.

‘Do you want me to stop it?’ You could hear your boyfriend’s worried voice, and you gave it a quick thought on your way, concluding that it would have been suspicious if you had acted any differently from how you usually were on these nights, so you took him up on the offer despite having no interest in the movie.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed behind your back, you rolled up your sleeve like a maniac and came face to face with your biggest fear: your soulmate was single. Which could only mean two things - one more terrifying than the other.

You let your arm fall back by your side with a defeated sigh and sat down on the toilet lid, so your legs couldn’t give out at the most inconvenient time possible. You had to start breathing again. There was no way you could have afforded falling apart at Dejun’s place after you had single-handedly undermined your shared future.

Pulling on your hair out of frustration, you almost let out an unhinged laughter as you were contemplating which one would have been worse: you losing your soulmate because of a new friendship that might not have existed anymore, or you wasting both Dejun’s and your time in a relationship that was built on a false sense of belonging.

Could it have been a cruel joke that your soulmate marks had changed at the same moment, just when you had agreed to be his girlfriend? Seriously, what were the changes? How many other couples could have been out there, oblivious to the fact that they weren’t meant to be? You had gotten lucky with Dejun, his gentle and caring nature always wanting the best for you, but what about those people who were convinced that they were with the right person while being abused by their own partner?

Your head in the gutter, you couldn’t stop thinking about how much more sense this error in the system made when you were recalling stories about domestic violence, cheaters and financial abuse. God, you felt so stupid. You felt so damn angry.

Why was no one talking about the existence of mismatches? Why were they swept under the rug like they weren’t real?

‘Hey, love! Are you okay in there? Do you need me to bring you some painkillers or a cup of your peppermint tea?’ Dejun’s worried voice filtered through the fog in your mind, your lips trembling because of how amazing this guy was. A gem of a man. He didn’t deserve a shitty fake-soulmate like you.

You choked on the first sob that escaped your throat.

‘Jun…’ you cried, drowning in the crazy mixture of your emotions, unsure which ones were appropriate to begin with and which ones you should have focused on in the first place. You didn’t want to lose Dejun: this one thing you were sure about. However, the ugly realisation that it was more because of the stability he gave you than the love you felt for him filled you with instant disgust.

You were shaking as the world around you slowly fell apart.

‘Can I come in?’ You didn’t respond, but you didn’t have to, because the next thing you heard was your boyfriend warning you in a slightly louder voice: ‘I’m coming in!’

Your body tensed up and relaxed simultaneously when Dejun scooped you up and pulled you against his chest, so he could rest your head in the crook of his neck and caress your back like his touch could brush aside all your distress.

‘It’s okay, everything is okay,’ he repeated over and over, holding you a little tighter once you showed a sign that you were there with him despite your silence. ‘Whatever happened, I’m here for you. I’m here for you.’

‘But you won’t be…’ you objected even though you didn’t truly believe that he would pack his things and leave the moment he realised you weren’t the right person for him. He was just too kind to do something so cruel, especially when you were clearly having a breakdown. If anything, you could have bet on it that he would make sure you were in the right state of mind before he cut you out of his life. Yeah, you had little doubt about that: he would have tried to put you back together before he left.

However, at the end of the day, facts remained facts. He wouldn’t be here for you for much longer and not many things were quite okay, either.

‘I will be. I’m not leaving you,’ he kept repeating, every time a bit firmer, which pretty much made it impossible for you to break the news to him. This imaginary, ugly, sticky, hairy lump in your throat just got bigger and bigger.

So you gave yourself a pitiful moment to bask in the warmth of Dejun, the comfort he never failed to provide you, then slowly pulled away from his chest and rolled up your sleeve. You couldn’t take your eyes off the slightly red skin around your new soulmate mark, which was the less painful sight anyway.

The look on Dejun’s face when the realisation hit him? You could barely steal a glance at it while your gaze loitered over his tense body and hasty movements as he checked his own mark, but it already broke your heart.

‘We are…’ your boyfriend - was he still your boyfriend? - tentatively took your arm into his hand, then brushed his thumb over the new letters, shaking. It was clear that he had a hard time putting his feelings into words, and you couldn’t blame him. Out of the two of you, you had always thought it was him who loved you more. Thus, his pain must have been ten times worse than yours and you were already over at least one mental breakdown.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ you repeated like a broken record, because you genuinely didn’t know how else to express the guilt that weighed down on you even though logically speaking it was neither of your fault. You had agreed to become official, your tattoos had changed, it had worked just like in the textbooks.

Why would anyone have questioned the validity of your bond? You had never been taught about the precautions you should have made. Up until this moment, you didn’t even know it was possible to end up with someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

This whole situation made your head hurt and sucked the energy out of your limbs.

The heavier the silence became, the gloomier the atmosphere got, but you were too drained to figure out how to fix it, so you let Dejun process the unbelievable at his own speed, letting him caress your skin as if his strokes could have erased or re-written the black lines under your skin.

They couldn’t. But they did ease some of the tension in your muscles after a while.

You started to wear long-sleeved clothes and nude covers after that tear-filled night to avoid another wave of nasty rumours around campus about you and your relationship with Dejun. The two of you had decided to talk about your future once you calmed down properly and let yourselves think through your options without jumping to conclusions. As far as Dejun knew the two of you worked well together, so it was understandable why he didn’t want to rush the break-up. On the other hand, your rational side and your heart saw the current situation as the perfect opportunity to start an internal war.

Your life was definitely enviable with Dejun, so you could see the appeal of staying with him for a very long time, building a home together and maybe even starting a family, because you had no doubt about it that he would be a wonderful husband and a wonderful father, but… It finally made sense: why a part of you always missed that something special people liked to brag about when they were talking about their significant other.

Fortunately, the deadlines of your semester projects and lengthy assignments slowly arrived, along with your upcoming exam week, so you were too busy to think about any of the drama in your personal life. Mark Lee ghosting you without any heads up? Who could care about that when they had a six-pages-long essay to finish on the political influence of French literacy? Dejun checking on you every morning, lunch break and evening while also refusing to meet you face to face? Nah, the importance of the founding of Hangul with hundreds of Chinese characters to memorise had to be your top priority.

You couldn’t lose both your boyfriend and your scholarship in the same semester. You had to focus on your education. You also needed to finish the first draft of your thesis by the end of the week.

Letting out a tired sigh, you took a sip from your lukewarm coffee latte and shifted your gaze from your notes to the person in front of the professor’s stand. Renjun was talking about the story he and Yuchan had come up with for this class, yet, if anyone had asked you what was their final topic, you couldn’t have answered beyond the very basics: that just like everyone else, they had built their project around the soulmate system.

God, you couldn’t have waited to be done with this shit for good.

‘Thank you, Yuchan, Renjun,’ the two professors clapped their hands modestly after their constructive feedback, then jotted down a few more comments on their papers and called for the next group.

Your duo with Mark Lee.

Since you hadn’t talked with the boy in a while, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect of your presentation; however, you had done your homework and prepared a neat PPT about your concept, so it should have been okay.

Except, when you walked in front of the class, in front of the stand where Mark was already waiting for you with his guitar in his hand, your brain went blank. He looked… different yet so damn familiar, it was messing with your head.

‘Okay, which one of you would like to start?’ The Lyrics writing professor asked, his curious eyes wandering from you to his own student as he leaned back against his seat comfortably.

You gulped and quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, but before you could have raised your hand or blurted out a timid “Me!”, Mark beat you to it and pulled a chair in front of the professor’s stand, so he could play the guitar with more ease.

You stepped a bit further from him to give him space - you also appreciated the invisibility that came with your decisions, the other students’ attention laser focused on the boy -, and linked your arms under your boobs, pressing your notes against your chest. Due to his sudden silent treatment, you hadn’t had the chance to hear any snippets of the melody in advance, but it didn’t surprise you how soft the short intro had come out to be. 

It sounded beautiful, in a very bittersweet, heart-churning way.

It was the perfect OST for your short story.

Towards the second verse, when he was singing about the oblivious victims of a system that should have only brought them happiness, your eyes filled with tears to the brim, but you quickly turned away and wiped them harshly, because it really wasn’t the time. You would need to present your story in detail in less than two minutes. Three, if you were lucky.

You didn’t remember the presentation. You couldn’t process any of the constructive feedback you received from your professors. The only thing you were quite sure about, somewhere in the back of your head, was that Mark Lee had led you back to your seat by your elbow, then taken a seat in front of you.

The latter was still a thing: his messy, brown hair in your line of sight while the next duo was talking about their own perspectives with vivid hand-gestures, almost like they were openly arguing in front of everyone. It was weird. You felt weird.

Your eager fingers picked on the edge of the nude plaster you had put on your soulmate mark that morning. Deep down you knew that if you had taken off the cover, nothing would have changed. However, a part of you still hoped that things could go back to how they had used to be.

Did that make you a relationship addict?

Had you developed an unreasonable fear of ending up all alone?

You let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t healthy: your thoughts focusing on one thing so restlessly like you were starting to become obsessed with your relationship status, although Dejun had never broken up with you. He was still choosing you despite the palpable distance, putting your well-being first. So why couldn’t you just let it go?

You furrowed your brows when you felt the light vibration of your phone against the small of your back, and you turned your upper body slightly in order to fish it out of your tote bag as it could have been something important. You deliberately silenced the voice inside your head that told you it could be Dejun reaching out to you. For one, he also had a class in this period. For two, he was a meticulous person. He wouldn’t have rushed himself make a decision as important as your future together.

You shook your head, mentally debating whether it would have been a good or bad thing if you had been wrong about your boyfriend’s stance on this whole mess, when your gaze fell on the notification on your screen. It was a kakao message from Mark, asking you to meet up with him after your class. Just a laconic “pls. same place, same time”.

You were ashamed to admit, but you were staring at the message for quite a while before you sent back a hopefully nonchalant “ok” and shoved your phone back into your bag. You had mixed feelings about his sudden interest in you, but it was the day of your presentation, the end of your project, so you might have as well entertained him a little. As far as you were concerned, he wanted to discuss the feedback with you or give you his two cents on the rather bitter ending of your story.

You told yourself it was a writer thing: that you wanted to hear his opinion.

It wasn’t that you were hopeful, and God forbid did it mean that you were hoping that the two of you could still be friends.

By the time your shared class ended, you were half-convinced, though. And you also had this baseless confidence that despite your nerves, you appeared to be nonchalant. Whether that was true or not, it didn’t really matter. The belief alone gave you enough strength to not walk a step behind Mark Lee while the two of you were heading towards the coffee shop you had used to frequent at.

You were walking side by side as if everything was alright.

As an introvert, you would have never thought that ordering your drink from a trainee barista you had never seen before could be the least stressful part of your meet-up with someone you had once considered your friend, but as soon as you took a seat and Mark did the same across from you, the silence turned unbearable. It made your palms clammy, your heart rate unstable and your stomach upset with the whole situation. At one point, you were genuinely afraid that the new employee had messed up your order and you would shit yourself on campus because of a few sips of fresh milk, like that was even possible.

You weren’t even lactose-intolerant. You simply preferred drinking plant-based milk, like oat and almond milk, when you had that option because of your acne-prone skin.

‘I broke up with Haeri,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and it pretty much made it impossible for you to form any coherent sentence.

Mark had broken his bond with his soulmate - and there was a big possibility that he had been pushed to do so because of the rumours your friendship had started. You felt sick to your stomach. You had no idea what to say, whether to comfort him or give him advice. Whether you were even qualified to act as a relationship expert when yours was hanging on by a thin thread.

You refused to take your eyes off your drink, your quiet reaction no more than a soft hum. You wished Mark would have told you what he had expected from this conversation. If he had wanted to reconcile or simply inform you about his break-up before the two of you went on separate ways.

The carrot cake you ordered was way too sweet. You frowned once you swallowed down the first bite.

‘Both of our soulmate marks stayed the same, though…’ he added after a bit of hesitation, like he was carefully looking for the words to explain the situation. ‘Which means our real soulmates are… yeah. Still in relationships.’

Eyes wide like saucers, you looked at Mark in bewilderment. So Dejun and you weren’t the only ones. (Of course, you weren’t the only ones, that part had never been a question!) God, if it hadn’t felt unreal to know someone who was going through the same experience! What were the chances?

‘Dejun is not my soulmate,’ you blurted out without any regard for those who were sitting at the table next to yours or checking if anyone was listening in on your conversation. Maybe, it wasn’t the wisest idea to discuss something so raw and intimate in a public space; however, at that moment these concerns barely crossed your mind.

You accidentally found someone who could fully understand your current fears and struggles without being involved in the situation itself. Someone who had enough insight to support you without the need to shelter his own heart, thus distance himself from you. That was… you were right, and he finally decided to stop ghosting you in the first place.

‘Oh…’ Mark acknowledged your confession with a disappointed little sound, his lips jutting out while he stole a quick glance at the soulmate mark on his wrist.

Your surprise was genuine when you realised that unlike you, he was wearing his unchanged tattoo on his skin with confidence. But you figured, it was different when most people around him still thought he was happy and very much together with Haeri.

He would have had more questions to answer if he had suddenly started to cover up the proof of their love.

‘Do you think the profs liked our take on the topic?’ You asked when the silence became too long, and Mark showed no sign of adding anything more to your discussion. You took a small yet determined bite from your cake. It was still overly sweet, but you would be damned if you had let it go to waste for the money you had spent on it. ‘I kind of… zoned out when they were giving us feedback.’

The corner of Mark’s lips twitched, but he tried his best to swallow back his giggles. He even went as far as reaching out for his drink, so he could occupy himself in a somewhat subtle way.

He was painfully obvious. Still, you appreciated the gesture almost as much - if not more - as his willingness to go along with your lame attempt at changing the topic.

Two hours and a half had never flown by so fast, so easily.

Your life took on a new norm after your final exams.

For once, you moved back to Ansan for the school break (partly) to save some money on savoury fast food and unnecessarily yet aesthetic coffee dates that you liked to take yourself on. It was also less stressful to work on your thesis in the comfort of your childhood home, your dad never the one to skip out on serving you freshly cut, peeled fruit slices to boost your brain. Naturally, the closeness of your family was a real remedy for your troubled soul.

Meanwhile, Mark Lee took it upon himself to keep you updated on the city life and got into a never-ending conversation with you on instagram and kakao, his random questions and lyrics snippers seldom preceded by any hellos or his. Long story short, he took the whole “never making you feel ghosted or left out again” very seriously, even though you had reassured him on multiple occasions that you didn’t have to know everything about his days. Once he had started, there had been no turning back.

He kept your mind constantly occupied - that was your only excuse for forgetting about your relationship troubles with Dejun and not realising just how unhealthy and dependent it was to keep sending your boyfriend the same three messages each and every day: a curt good night, a somewhat more lively good morning and a repeated promise that you were taking good care of yourself despite your tendency to skip meals when they weren’t pre-made.

So imagine your surprise when Mark absent-mindedly asked you during one of your chill video calls whether you were still in a relationship despite your new soulmate mark, and the answer didn’t come to you as naturally as it was supposed to. Sure, Dejun wasn’t your one and only whom the universe had sent especially to you, and it had been over a month since you had seen his face, but he had promised you that… 

You still referred to him as your boyfriend in your head!

Not to mention that he would have told you if he had made up his mind, if he had wanted to put an end to your relationship and stay in your life only as a friend. Because he would have wanted to stay in your life, wouldn’t he? He had said he wasn’t leaving you, he just needed some time to digest the undeniable: that your soulmate was suddenly single, but the two of you had never broken up.

You had never broken up. You still hadn’t broken up.

Right?

‘I think so?’ You semi-asked, semi-claimed while you were picking on your nails, resisting the urge to pick up the fantasy book you had carefully put on your bedside table when Mark had called you. It was difficult to look into your front camera, so you kept your gaze on your hands.

‘You think so?’ The boy asked back, clearly taken aback by your answer.

You huffed, annoyed at him for no reason. 

Hell. Maybe it was yourself you were truly frustrated with. Had you even made the smallest attempt at fixing your relationship with Dejun? You were just waiting on him as though the ball was on his court now when in reality, you had never made the first move.

It was comfortable, way too comfortable, that you didn’t have to deal with the situation head on since Dejun wasn’t around. Because he “needed space”. When had been the last time you had checked on how he was doing? A good girlfriend would have been more worried about his well-being.

You gulped as a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

‘I didn’t…’ you let out another strained sigh, your cheeks burning due to embarrassment, although you were fairly confident that Mark wouldn’t have judged you for what you were about to say. ‘I haven’t seen him in a while, and I never really asked him how he feels about us or… how he feels.’

‘Oh…’

‘It sounds horrible,’ you murmured under your nose, willing yourself to glance at the screen of your phone, so you could see Mark’s face. You had to look him in the eye to decipher how he felt about your actions, because his silence wasn’t easy to read. Was he disappointed? Did he think you were a bad person?

Somehow, the first option was scarier.

‘I’m not gonna lie, man, it does sound like you’re delaying the inevitable because it’s easy to not be the “bad guy” who breaks his heart, but…’

‘But?’ You interjected a little desperately as you were hoping that there would come a part in which you didn’t sound as selfish as you did in his analysis. Surely, you weren’t keeping your boyfriend in your relationship because it was convenient or because you were a coward who couldn’t put an end to your suffering.

You swallowed back a groan. You were being ridiculous, comparing whatever you two had to real agony. 

‘You’re not a horrible person. I know you, you were talking about yourself and not this whole thing when you said that, so yeah. Don’t think about yourself that way, because it’s not true,’ he confirmed a second time, sending you a tight-lipped smile through the camera before he turned over and made himself more comfortable on his own bed.

You reciprocated the gesture with a smaller albeit grateful smile.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. Mark was humming a song you hadn’t recognized, while you were thinking about how to make things right.

‘Do you think I should meet up with him? Talk things through? Break up with him?’ You asked, but the more you spoke, the clearer it became that these were exactly the things you had to do, so you weren’t actually surprised when instead of giving you a direct answer, Mark gifted you a proud smile and asked you about your thesis.

He was so unsubtle whenever he made an attempt at diverting the topic, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it quite adorable.

‘Actually! I might be able to wrap-up my analysis this week. It depends on whether or not my period gets in the way on the weekend,’ you bragged, genuinely proud of your progress that was only possible because you loved the topic you were researching: the differences between the storytelling of theatre plays and movies written for the silver screen.

‘Cool,’ Mark smiled at you, his teeth on full display. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard, though. You still have a lot of time until the deadline,’ he reminded you immediately, which gave you the perfect opportunity to tease him about his over-protectiveness and his own progress.

You didn’t think about Dejun for the rest of your call, but that also served as another reminder that it was time you started to be honest with him and yourself. Your issues hadn’t started with the change of your soulmate mark. They hadn’t even been brought upon you by the rumours that were still circulating around campus.

They had been there from the very beginning, in your heart, in the way you had always felt the need to invite your friend to your dates with Dejun, in your mild anxiety when the two of you were together without someone else keeping your boyfriend’s attention off of you.

You might have loved Dejun, you still did. However, you had never been in love with him, you could see it now clearly: the subtle yet undeniable difference between these two feelings. God, it was time, wasn’t it? That you finally set him free.

You went back to the capital city the next Saturday, because that was the first afternoon when neither did Dejun have an eight-hour-shift prior, nor were you in constant pain that made you feel easily irritable. One would have thought that one of these conditions would make THE TALK that much easier, but nothing could spare you the heartbreak.

In hindsight, you were grateful to the boy for allowing you - and suggesting - to have this conversation at his own place instead of in the uni dorm or at a public coffee shop, because you were shamelessly ugly crying while you were talking about your doubts and insecurities you had never mentioned to him while you two had been together. It was hard, seeing the hurt in his eyes. It was harder, when despite everything, he still tried to comfort you on his couch, but you did feel a little lighter by the time you two said your goodbyes.

Feeling melancholic, you blinked away another stubborn tear while looking up at the ceiling, then muffled a broken sob that threatened to escape your throat. You were in public now, trying to mend your heart with your favourite blueberry milkshake - and a slice of chocolate cake -, so you really couldn’t have afforded to break down again. That would have done no good to anyone involved; you got exhausted from the mere thought of more drama.

‘Here,’ you heard a familiar voice coming from across the table and something heavy being placed on the metal furniture. Confused, you let your head fall forwards and stared at the new glass of untouched blueberry milkshake in front of you. ‘This one is on me,’ Mark Lee said, not showing any signs of willingness to sit with you - nor to leave you be.

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked, because it was easier than saying thank you. Still, you made sure Mark knew you wouldn’t have minded if he stayed by not-so-subtly dragging your gaze from his face to the empty chair at your table, repeating the movement as many times as he needed to see it to understand.

Mark scoffed, more amused than anything, then took a seat.

‘You told me you were about to meet Dejun like…’ he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. ‘Four hours ago. Then, you went complete radio silence,’ he explained, making you frown. Had it been really that long since you had gotten off the bus near your ex-boyfriend’s place? ‘I was worried about you.’

It still didn’t explain how he had known where to find you when it wasn’t your usual coffee shop on campus, but you figured, you must have mentioned this particular milkshake shop to him enough times for him to draw the right conclusion. It was touching, that he paid so much attention quietly, and just knew when you needed someone’s silent support.

Albeit still only halfway through your first drink, you reached out for the free milkshake and pulled it closer to yourself with a grateful smile.

‘Thanks,’ you exclaimed with a bit more enthusiasm, although your liveliness soon deflated as you didn’t know how to start a light-hearted conversation. You didn’t necessarily want to talk about your mental breakdown in your ex-boyfriend’s living room, still embarrassed about the fact that you had needed to be comforted by the same person you had been deliberately breaking up with.

‘So…’ Mark broke the silence once you finished your first shake as though he wanted you to enjoy every drop of it before he dropped a bomb on you in public. You weren’t sure if his consideration had made any difference, but it was undoubtedly nice to not choke on your drink, so you decided to be grateful. ‘How did it go? Are you two singles again?’

Your first instinct was to hide your soulmate mark from him, which was stupid and irrational, but you guessed that was how instincts were. Your brain didn’t have much say in the process, overwhelmed by your inner need to protect yourself. Like Mark would have ever hurt you. Like your tattoo would have been affected by your recent break-up when its curves and lines had never had any connection to Dejun.

Slowly, you took your hand off your wrist and shrugged.

‘I guess so. I mean… His soulmate is still in a relationship, but… We both acknowledged verbally that we are no longer together, so somewhere in the world, his person also got a new tattoo and…’ you rambled, going on strong about the terrifying possibility that his soulmate - his real soulmate - might have also just realised that she had been in a fake “we’re meant to be” relationship this whole time.

The butterfly effect had never sounded so real and frightening - like a divine punishment that reached hundreds of thousands of innocent people just because once upon a time, two had made a silly mistake.

Someone took your hand. Mark took your hand, and only then you realised that you were trembling slightly. With anxiety? With frustration? Anger? You weren’t sure. Maybe, with a mixture of all three and more.

‘Take a deep breath,’ he instructed you gently, rubbing tentative circles into your skin, on the back of your hand that actually helped a lot more than you would have thought. ‘I know it feels like that right now, but not every relationship is as messed up as you think. Sure, there are people out there like us, like Dejun and Haeri, but there are others, too, who found their person and are happy,’ he said in a quiet voice, holding onto you the whole time.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him how messed up the world was, but was there anything new you could have said to him? Mark was right, he had gone through something similar with his own ex. He knew.

Yet, he sounded almost hopeful. As though he still believed in his bond with his real love, his real partner for life. In the embodiment of the other half of his soul.

You scoffed and turned your head away, but didn’t take your hand out of his hold.

‘I’d like to show you something,’ he tried to ease you back into the conversation, squeezing your fingers lightly to get your attention, which you gave to him without much coaxing. He gifted you a brilliant smile in return.

Mark let go of your hand soon after, so that he could roll up his hoodie’s sleeve and show you his inked wrist.

Single.

His soulmate was single.

‘It changed not long after your last message. Maybe an hour, an hour and a half into your meet-up,’ he confessed, simultaneously shocking and rendering your brain. Was he trying to tell you that he was…

You yanked your hand out of his and stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry but… I really can’t do this now. I’m sorry,’ you apologised while you gathered all of your stuff and bolted out of the milkshake place as fast as an olympic athlete.

You weren’t dense. And despite those mistakes you had undoubtedly made during your first relationship, the insecurities and uncertainty each and every one of them had brought into your life, you could see the logic behind Mark’s reasoning. You could see the potential of the two of you becoming more than friends in the future regardless of your differences, because at the end of the day, he made you feel balance and peace.

However, your first-hand experience with misleading hints and mistaken bonds held you back from accepting his theory with open arms. For one, there could have been dozens of other people out there who had gotten single in that time frame he had mentioned. It didn’t matter to your brain that your tattoo had also changed after his fight with Haeri, which should have been suspicious. For two, you weren’t in love with Mark. Sure, you liked the guy, you might have gone as far as to say you felt connected to him on your good days, but was that enough to risk being tricked by destiny for a second time?

Your heart was still tender, and you told this much to Mark who reassured you that he hadn’t intended to come off that strong. He liked you as a person, and more than wanting to be your boyfriend, he wanted to be someone you felt comfortable around, so he was fine staying just your friend. A close friend, but a friend nevertheless.

His words gave you a reason to resist your urge to shut him out. Naturally, you needed a few days to respond to his triple texts and worried voice notes, but once you convinced yourself that meeting him face to face wouldn’t end up in a disaster, your friendship healed itself on its own.

So it didn’t feel rushed when after the new semester began, you started to spend more time in each other’s company than you had done so during your project regardless whether you were working on your schoolwork or enjoying your scarce free time. You justified your decision to meet-up with the boy regularly during your free periods by claiming that Mark brought the best study snacks to your study sessions out of everyone you had ever worked with. He was also a perfectionist, so he understood your need to finish your tasks in advance and never disturbed you when you were writing your assignments. He was… just right, in every sense of the word.

He fitted in your life so seamlessly, without taking you away from your family, Yuju or your other, less present friends, it was insane. Yet, whenever your heart tried to tear down the wall that you had deliberately built between the two of you, your mind hesitated.

It was too early. It was too soon.

And then, it was already time for the annual New Year’s party in your dorm. Time was such a weird, human-made construct.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ You could hear Yuju’s concerned voice when you reached out for one of the shot glasses in the middle of the communal kitchen table, the amateurly mixed brandy-soda-coke combo promising nothing good after your second can of cheap beer. Most of the time, you weren’t a big drinker. Not to mention that you hadn’t been to any social gatherings since the semester kick off party way back in February, long before most students had learned your name around campus. However, this time, you had an acceptable reason to put your limits to the test.

After all, it hadn’t been ten minutes since your best friend had asked for your blessing as apparently, she and Dejun had gotten closer after your break-up in August and started to develop feelings for each other along the way. Obviously, Yuju had made sure you knew she would have turned down the guy if any possibility of them working out despite the odds had hurt you, but should your opinion have mattered that much?

Dejun and you had already been history. And while you appreciated Yuju’s thoughtfulness, it made you feel a tad troubled: that a part of her might have seriously considered it as an option that you wouldn’t have been able to put her happiness first.

That aside, you obviously weren’t unaffected by the revelation. You couldn’t put your finger on how they were so ready to give a try to a future together when their real soulmates were out there somewhere, completely unaware of their decision to settle down with someone else. With a person who shouldn’t have felt perfect, right or a complementary part of their life. How could Dejun - of ALL people - be so unafraid when you were terrified to let Mark in?

As another wave of realisation hit you in the face, and you once again learned something new about yourself and your feelings, you sent a bittersweet yet reassuring smile in your friend’s way and lifted your drink a little higher.

‘It’s the last day of the year. If I’m about to make mistakes, there’s no better time for it,’ you reasoned, finding it absolutely hilarious how uncharacteristic you sounded even to your own ears. ‘It’s not because of you guys, I promise, it’s not,’ you added, though, almost as an afterthought, because the concern in Yuju’s eyes didn’t seem to fade, and you didn’t want her to give up on a happy relationship due to something you had to deal with on your own.

It took Yuju an eye-killing staring contest to not question your sincerity, but she did give you a semi-convinced nod after she had lost, so you were able to join the group shot. You could even have a second round before she pointed at something behind your back and informed you that Mark Lee was clearly elbowing his way through the crowd to get to you.

Just the person you wanted to see! How did he even know on which floor you were when the dorm had six floors, each one of them filled with students partying for a different genre of music?

Your heart skipped a silly beat when your fuzzy mind came up with the idea that Mark Lee was going through floor after floor just to find you. Then, it sped up again as you imagined him knowing you well enough to be aware of where you would be hiding from him. (If you had been really hiding from him, which you obviously didn’t do and would have never admitted doing so, anyway.)

‘So it’s the 2000s’ Disney classics now, hah?’ He greeted you with a cheeky smile, his brown orbs twinkling with amusement and a pinch of mischief - two things you tried to shut out as much as possible. Dealing with his stupid grin was already challenging enough, you didn’t need more.

‘Everyone loves High School Musical,’ you retorted, although you both knew these kinds of songs weren’t high on your preference list. In fact, you could have been found listening to drama and anime OSTs sooner than any of these western classics.

Luckily, Mark was wise enough to not call you out on your bullshit for the second time under one minute.

‘Hey, Mark! Can you make sure she doesn’t drink too much, at least, not unsupervised? The second floor has, apparently, a few legendary ballads in their karaoke machine, and I want to get there before Dejun is up,’ Yuju explained before she turned towards you and cupped your cheeks with her hands. Your pout was genuine and sulky, not because she was about to check on her soon-to-be-boyfriend or because said boyfriend-to-be was your ex, but because she was about to ditch you and consequently leave you alone with your supposed-to-be soulmate. You whined as you held onto her sleeve. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. Be good,’ she reassured you right before she peeled your fingers off her clothes and left.

Your lips trembled in distress as your head fell forwards and your shoulders sagged.

You barely flinched when Mark’s palm tentatively touched your blade bone. In fact, the warm breath that accompanied his worried ‘Are you okay?’ had a lot more impact on you when he leaned closer to make sure you could hear him clearly.

As you slowly turned around to face him, you were wondering how it would have felt to just let yourself be and seek comfort in Mark’s closeness. Would he have found it weird if you had buried your face in the crook of his neck? Should you have gone for his chest instead, using it as a pillow and a safe haven?

Why were you still hesitating when you knew he was convinced the two of you were meant to be? Why couldn’t you admit that none of these questions were about him? They were all about you. It was you who couldn’t decide whether hugging him more intimately would have made you feel creeped out. It was you who had a hard time accepting that the only thing you had to do was giving it a try and you could have been more.

So, so much more.

‘Man, do you need some water? Are you about to throw up?’

You had no idea what kind of face you were making, but you must have looked horrible or in pain. Otherwise, Mark wouldn’t have been thinking in such extremes, wouldn’t he?

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. Yet, he gently led you to the sink in the communal kitchen and got you a glass of cool, filtered water just to be sure.

The two of you stood in front of the sink in silence for God knew how long. The songs came and went, some more upbeat than others, some blending into the conversations around you. You kept your gaze on the half-empty glass in your hand, unsure and a tad insecure about too many things to keep count of.

‘Yuju and Dejun like each other,’ you blurted out at the most random moment, without any sign or warning in advance. If anyone had asked - if Mark had asked -, you would have put the blame on those shots you had drunk not that long ago, and a part of you actually believed there was some truth to your excuse. Being tipsy weakened your filters, so the words came out more easily.

Your thoughts were out in the open.

‘I think they will be official soon. Boyfriend and girlfriend,’ you added when your rambling was met with no verbal reaction, then took a forced gulp from your water because it started to feel a little embarrassing: the lack of response, the one-sided conversation.

‘Does it bother you?’ Mark asked eventually, slowly taking the empty glass out of your hand, so he could refill it for you.

‘No… Yes… No, but…’ You were struggling to find the correct words, maybe because your head was a mess, and you were trying to explain everything all at once when it wasn’t that simple. Your thoughts on the situation were complicated since this piece of information was still new to you. You had barely had time to comprehend, let alone accept the drastic change in your best friend and your ex’s relationship.

Mark’s fingers were cold and wet when they sneaked around your wrist and pulled your hand closer. The movement, sharp but gentle, pulled you back to the present.

‘If you still—’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

You didn’t let him finish, cutting him off a bit too loudly, which gained a couple of students’ attention for a brisk moment. Cheeks hot and scarlet red, you felt relieved when you realised that your sudden silence and the overall upbeat atmosphere of the ongoing party made them move on from the awkward situation quite quickly.

You willed your lungs to take in some of the suffocating air while you simultaneously mustered up your courage to place your palm on Mark’s chest to keep him still physically as well. You needed him to listen to everything you wanted to say, otherwise, there was a chance he might have misunderstood the mess in your head that you yourself also had to detangle real time, during your all-over-the-place monologue.

‘Yes, their relationship bothers me, but…’ you started, digging your fingers into Mark’s chest a bit firmer. You bit into your right cheek from the inside quite harshly as you were fighting against your growing frustration. ‘The fact that they are happy together? I know that I can get over that.’

Maybe, it would take a few days. Maybe, it would feel weird to see them together the first couple of times, especially if they held hands or cuddled in front of you, but you were pretty confident this development wouldn’t have hurt your relationship with either of them. And Mark seemed to believe you if his encouraging, almost proud smile was anything to go by.

You nodded to yourself, satisfied with where this conversation was going.

You could do it. In that moment, with alcohol coursing through your veins and Mark Lee smiling down at you like you were invincible, you truly believed that you could accomplish anything.

‘Their relationship bothers me because… Because!’ You were almost there, you could feel the words on the tip of your tongue. ‘They see a future together despite knowing they weren’t meant for each other and… And…’ You gulped, desperate eyes boring deep into Mark’s. ‘And I’m too afraid to be with you and see our tattoos remain the same.’

There it was. 

It hadn’t been that hard, had it?

(It had been.)

You didn’t realise how much energy it had taken you to confess until you were over it and the lack of stress left you with nothing. For a second, you felt numb. Then, your shoulders fell forwards and all you could feel was the tiredness in your bones.

It was a long night - despite the clock still one and a half hours away from midnight - with a lot of interactions you weren’t quite used to. Your social battery could only do so much after dealing with Yuju and now… even with your own feelings for your possible other half.

‘It’s okay. We don’t have to put a label on us until you like me enough to not care even if our marks remain the same,’ Mark reassured you, petting your head like you were some child, although you had to admit that it did feel nice. So you closed your eyes to be able to enjoy it more - with one sense being shut down, the others like touch were bound to get heightened, you supposed -, the goofy smile on your face a clear indication that you were more than just tipsy at that point. ‘Do you wanna go back to your room? I can get Haechan to buy us some ice cream or something,’ the boy offered, making you giggle for no goddamn reason. Still, it was funny, picturing him begging his friend to get you something sweet from 7-eleven when he must have been also partying somewhere in the building.

‘I have potato chips under the bed,’ you announced, willingly tailing Mark after he took your words as an okay sign and started to pull you towards the hallway.

Much to your surprise, the music remained just as overpowering until you reached the third or fourth room, however, Yuju and you lived at the end of the corridor, near the communal shower area, so it was all dandy. Once you were behind closed doors, the party turned into literal background noise.

‘So…’ Mark started, and on any other day, you might have been able to sense his uncertainty about how to act nonchalant in a room where it was only the two of you, but at that moment, all you could concentrate on was how good it felt: the relative silence after people screaming around you for hours while pretending to be singing.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and laid back with a relieved sigh. The mattress was so damn comfortable, you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

And you might have just blacked out for a second after that thought had hit you, because the next thing you were aware of was a pair of calloused fingertips grazing along your temple. A feather-light weight on your entire body. Someone apologising for the jeans you would need to sleep in and then…

Then, a pair of pillowy lips, chapped and unexpectedly soft, touched the top of your head.

Albeit shocked, you didn’t find the power in you to re-open your eyes.

The next day, you woke up with a massive headache and a sore body that you wholeheartedly blamed on those jeans you were still wearing as though you hadn’t been completely yourself when you had gotten ready for bed.

You couldn’t recall much after Yuju had left you alone with Mark. At least, not until you fell back on your sheets and the phantom caress of two firm, hardworking fingers punched you in the guts.

Shit! You had fallen asleep while Mark had been still in your room. It had been his first time in your safe space and you had blacked out before you could have given him a tour or… Had he tried to talk to you? Had you managed to completely ignore his existence? Ahgrr. He must have felt so uncomfortable.

A mild panic attack started to brew in the pits of your stomach. Consequently, your carnal need to check up on the boy and confirm that nothing had changed between the two of you pushed the symptoms of your hangover in the back of your mind. Like you had never been in physical pain.

You jumped out of bed as quickly as if someone had set the whole furniture on fire. Your eyes were loitering over your interior rapidly, searching for your phone since you honest to God couldn’t have told where you had put it the previous night. Knowing yourself, it could have been anywhere from the back pocket of your jeans to the dusty floor under your desk, hence you proceeded with an open mind.

Just to find it on the pillow you hadn’t even used, plugged into your charger. The thoughtful sight dressed your cheeks in a light shade of coral pink.

Tentatively, you laid back on the sheets and took the slightly warm device in your hands. You used your fingerprint to unlock the phone, then opened your kakao app, because reading only the notifications would have been useless with the amount of unread messages you had.

Your thumb was hovering over the latest text you had received, Mark’s full name greeting you with a guitar and a nerd emoji next to it, but then your gaze fell on your chat with your best friend, and you decided to be more reasonable. Sure, the fact that she clearly wasn’t in your shared room despite her inability to reach you must have meant that she knew you were okay, but still… It was only fair you put her first.

It didn’t matter that you were more curious about those five messages Mark had apparently sent you. 

It also didn’t matter that the sole reason you hadn’t fallen back asleep was your eagerness to clear up any possible misunderstandings with the boy: like him interpreting your behaviour last night as if you couldn’t have cared less about him.

You cared so much about him.

(Too much, maybe. You just sucked at expressing it and were a coward who couldn’t admit these kinds of things even to herself.)

Your smile was brilliant when you skimmed through Yuju’s messages and noticed the visible change in her tone once she had gotten to know that albeit wasted, you were well taken care of. She said Mark had called her as soon as he had tucked you in - his words, not hers -, then reminded you of the first aid kit in her lowest drawer where you could find painkillers in case you were struggling. She also lectured you about drinking too much alcohol, but it was hard to take her words to heart when she wished you a happy new year and promised you to bring home some chicken trio pizza for dinner on her way home.

You sent her a selfie with your thumb up and reassured her that she didn’t have to rush. You could take care of yourself just fine - and you didn’t have any groundbreaking plans for the first day of the year anyway. To be honest, you doubted you would even leave the safety of your room for more than occasional toilet breaks.

Your lazy plans immediately got cancelled, though, when you opened Mark’s messages and saw that he had invited you out for a brunch slash lunch, depending on when you woke up or which one you were more up to.

You didn’t realise how ravenous you were until your eyes fell on the photo he had sent you of the sunny side ups that he had made for breakfast, offering to cook something simple for you in the communal kitchen in case you didn’t feel like going out. (And while you appreciated the thought and were genuinely tempted to spend the whole day on your bed with him, you couldn’t have helped but remember his friends’ teasing, which heavily indicated that he was a horrible cook.)

You asked for an hour to put yourself together and let him decide where you would eat until the restaurant wouldn’t be too crowded and the food wouldn’t be too heavy on your sensitive stomach. Your hangover was no joke. Just thinking of your favourite pizza, you already felt like throwing up again.

Had you even thrown up the previous night? For the life of you, you couldn’t tell.

But it didn’t really matter. Because the moment you stepped outside of your room, you came face to face with Mark Lee, and he gave you that look: the look that said he was happy to see you and might have even thought you were pretty despite the oversized hoodie and leggings combo you were wearing, hair in a messy bun on the top of your head. There was no way he felt grossed out by the sight of you even though he had been the last person who had seen you last night.

You gave him a small, almost bashful smile.

The diner Mark chose was a noodle soup shop near campus that you had never tried before, but you trusted his taste and did not get disappointed when the middle aged ahjumma placed two steaming bowls on your table in the back. The smell was rich, but not overpowering. The taste… The taste was heavenly.

‘Last night was pretty wild, hah? I usually don’t drink that much, by the way. You can take my words on that,’ you stirred up a conversation as soon as the boy’s eyes on each and every movement of yours started to get a tad overwhelming. Not in a bad way, of course. You rarely felt any negative emotions when you were with him; you considered thinking about the boy when he wasn’t around a completely different thing. And even then it was more about your insecurities and fears, never about something he did intentionally.

Gosh, here you were again, casually overthinking like it was your hobby.

‘Were you drinking because of me?’

You froze with your hand in mid-air, noodles slipping through your chopsticks as your grip got weaker due to your shock. The broth splashed on your face the moment they hit the soup, the hot liquid burning your skin a little, though that wasn’t the real reason your cheeks put on a light, pinkish shade.

You hadn’t seen it coming: the almost confrontational turn your conversation had just taken when it was Mark sitting in front of you. It would have been different if it had been Yuju or Mark’s talkative (and lowkey annoying nosy) friend, but… It was Mark!

You were lucky, you hadn’t choked on your meal.

‘I…’ You cleared your throat, unintentionally making the atmosphere heavier. You couldn’t look Mark in the eyes. ‘Maybe?’ You half-admitted as you placed the chopsticks on the edge of your bowl and dropped your hands in your lap with a helpless sigh. You didn’t want to lie. You also didn’t want to talk about your feelings without proper preparation, but clearly, your life wasn’t a wish-granting factory. ‘I also took some shots to celebrate the New Year.’

Mark’s amused giggle was yet another unexpected slap in the face. However, you welcomed it like a caress as it encouraged you to meet his eyes. His happiness didn’t help much with your confusion, but it warmed your heart, so you let it be.

‘Cute,’ he complimented you as soon as he calmed down, his gaze shifting from your scarlet cheeks to your abandoned, wooden cutlery. You knew he wanted to encourage you to pick the chopsticks up again, but you weren’t so sure whether that would have been a good idea. You weren’t in the clear just yet.

In fact, your conversation might have been just about to get tougher if his mischievous eyes were anything to go by.

‘I’m not sure how much you remember from last night, but I understand your feelings. It’s scary for me, too,’ he said with enough nonchalance to make you wonder whether he was panicking under the collected facade. The Mark you knew would have rather let his friends bully him (affectionately) than engage in a fight. He had never been this confrontational, and you weren’t sure how you felt about this development.

Unsure whether he was finished or there was still stuff he wanted to bring up, you remained silent and mentally scolded yourself for even thinking about picking on the skin around the base of your nails.

‘I want, more than anything, to test if you’re it for me, but that’s not why I wanted to meet up with you,’ he eventually blurted out before he took a big mouthful of his noodles, probably to steal a bit more time. You waited, patiently. ‘Please don’t push me away. You don’t have to like me like that. You don’t have to agree to become my girlfriend like ever, man. But please, don’t avoid me.’

His pleading broke something in you, not because of how desperately he was talking or how he felt the need to have this request, but because this had been what you had tried to do the night before, when Yuju had pointed him out in the crowd.

He knew you. He knew your instincts were working against you two, and he was begging you to stay.

To choose him, in whichever way your heart was able to handle your relationship.

‘I’m not gonna do any of those, I promise,’ you mumbled, hoping that you could keep your promise to him, because he was being so tolerant, so patient with you, it was the least you could do.

Just like Dejun, Mark deserved so much better.

But unlike your ex-boyfriend, his presence in your life felt so effortless, so good, a part of you could almost believe that the two of you were…

You bit into your lower lip and shook your head. This wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have given him a chance because of a system that had already screwed you over. Because a sick part of your brain rationalised that the universe knew you better than you knew yourself.

‘I want to give us a try,’ you admitted slowly, choosing your words with utmost care as if one wrongly chosen synonym could have broken your friendship. Like you were still working on one of your most draining assignments for a professor that took points from you for using the same word in two consecutive sentences. ‘But I have one condition.’

Mark didn’t take his eyes off you. He wasn’t blinking, and you weren’t sure he was breathing properly, either, but his complexion looked convincing enough for you to keep going instead of stalling and checking up on him.

‘I don’t want to be your girlfriend.’ The pained look in Mark’s eyes squeezed your organs, and if you had felt a bit more poetic, you would have said, it twisted the knife in your heart, too. So you willed yourself to push through. ‘What I mean is that… I want what Dejun and Yuju have. And since we don’t know whether we are meant to be like how they already know they aren’t… I…’ you were clearly struggling at that point, but you were almost there.

You almost detangled the mess in your own head.

You almost managed to communicate your concerns.

You only needed a little bit more.

‘You want to be with me regardless?’ Mark asked, sounding hopeful and something else, too, something akin to melted butter on your toast.

You nodded, embarrassingly eager to get to the end of this topic and finally be on the same page as the boy.

‘If we don’t agree on being boyfriend-girlfriend, our tattoos won’t change. They’re not gonna spoil it,’ you argued, feeling significantly lighter after the last word fell from your lips, your smile bright and a lot wider than it had been at any moment in the past few days.

And the best part?

Mark Lee was shining like the damned Sun and all the stars in the sky upon hearing your confession. 

‘I can do that! Let’s do that! I want that, to have a chance with you, be with you. Because it does feel right. You. Us. You make me feel all gooey and boom boom inside. You make me feel like all those cringey love songs that secretly everyone likes,’ he rambled, awakening half a dozen long-dead butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this was how falling in love should have felt in the first place. Weren’t you only giving him a chance to see where this would lead the two of you? Were you really, truly, genuinely falling for him already?

Were you in love?

As good as you were with words in most cases, Mark’s rambling quite literally rendered you speechless. You didn’t know what more you were supposed to say without revealing your inner turmoil. After all, you had already admitted that you wanted to give it a try.

If you had been one of your characters, you would have described what you were about to do as cowardly, but at that moment it sounded rather logical (and definitely convenient) to just pick up your chopsticks and dive into your noodle soup. So that was what you did, keeping your eyes on your food while blaming your flaming cheeks on your hot lunch.

You didn’t entertain the topic more than it was strictly necessary, and you didn’t bring it up again when Mark took pity on you and decided to ask about something completely different yet maybe just as important: your plans for after your graduation ceremony next week.

Sadly, you were still struggling with finding a full-time job, but your parents were happy to have you back at home, so at least, you didn’t have to worry about housing or wasting money. You would be fed three times a day for free and have all the time in the world to find out how desperate you were to find a job in your field a.k.a. how much longer you could go without giving in and just taking the first offer that came your way.

‘I don’t want to lower my standards just yet. Maybe… after a month or two,’ you pondered aloud, then took a bigger slurp of your soup just before you asked for Mark’s opinion.

You didn’t call your lunch a date, nor did Mark ask you out on one when he suggested you watched a movie in the cinema on Saturday, but he did walk you all the way back to your door once he paid for the food and held onto your clammy hand during the second half of the elevator ride.

Hence, you assumed you were official. In your own, cautious albeit determined way.

the end.

[sweetbunpura]

Blaze

First - Second

"Rolls, you keep all these books, but where's the one you were reading?" Yuu muttered to herself as she looked through the dorm for the book Rollo had asked for.

He was still at S.T.Y.X, having tests run on him by Idia and the others as they tried to learn why Rollo's blot levels weren't going down. The damage Malleus had done to him during his overblot had caused him to be bedridden. Yuu bit her lip as she remembered that Rollo had gone back in for surgery before she had left.

".....Child of Man."

Speaking of the devil, Yuu closed her eyes and sighed through her nose before slowly turning to see Malleus standing behind her in the hallway. The draconic fae didn't have any visible damage on him, outside of the tired look in his eyes, he was relatively unharmed. Yuu felt anger begin to boil in her stomach and she glares at him.

"What?"

"I...I came to apologize-"

"Keep it to yourself then, cause I don't wanna fucking hear it."

He flinched at her harsh words. "Please. I-"

"Draconia, do you know how much damage you did to everyone? And I'm not just talking about NRC, I'm talking about the entire world." Yuu folds her arms. "Locking someone in their dream hurts the person. What we dream about is often times us at our most vulnerable."

Malleus' eyes focused on her. "I..."

"Do you know what Rolls' dream was?"

"...."

"I know you know what it was, you were keeping an eye on everyone's, including mine." Her voice got sharper. "What was it?"

"His brother... he dreamt that his brother was alive."

"And mine?"

"Child of Man-"

"And mine?"

"You were back home and your father was alive." Malleus' hand curled into a fist. "Everything was happening at once! Lilia leaving and you talking about finding a way home! I was going to be alone again!"

Thunder boomed outside causing a green light to flash and illuminating the room. The fae flinched as he stared at the cold look on Yuu's face.

"You'd be alone? So, Sebek and Silver are what? Dead weight? Not there?"

"N-No-"

"But you'd said you'd be alone. Three years you've spent here, Draconia, and not once did you make yourself out to be friendly. You made yourself be aloof and mysterious. You were powerful and untouchable with an air of majesty about you."

"That is not-"

"But it is, right?" She raised her eyebrow. "It was only after you interacted with me did people start seeing you as being approachable. Sure you'll live for far longer than any of us will, but you'll have memories. Even if they hurt, you can look back on them with fondness."

"Then I'll be haunted by them instead." He bared his teeth. "You speak of all the good it brings, but never the hurt that follows. The memories you have of your father, they hurt you, do they not?"

"Of fucking course they do, but you know what else comes with it? Happiness. I'm glad those memories happened, I'm glad I can look back on them despite everything."

"You are not cursed with a long life!"

"And you were blessed with a loving living father!" Yuu snapped. "Lilia may not be your fucking blood, but he loved your ungrateful ass like his own son!" She snarled. "I would give anything to have my dad by my side! For him to see me graduate and grow into the woman he knew I could be!"

"And I gave you that, did I not?"

"That was a imitation, you sack of shit! You, who only thought to save Lilia and me, didn't think to regard the others! Call what you did for what it was, Draconia, it was you being fucking selfish! You fucking spoiled little brat!"

"I'm not a spoiled brat and I am not selfish!" Flames erupted around Malleus. "Such names you call me, but you are equally unable to see what you are! A sad and angry little girl!"

"I know what I am, Draconia, I just don't hide it! You expect me to roll over and accept what you've done!? To welcome you back with open fucking arms? News flash, you piece of shit, I didn't do that with the others and you certainly ain't getting the special treatment for this!"

"And yet you befriended them just like you have me."

"I gave them a second chance because they gave me time to fucking heal and think about what happened." She rolls up her sleeves, showing off the numerous blot scars. "Everyone caused a blot scar. They didn't come at me with a 'woe is me' story. They gave me time and a heartfelt apology. Meanwhile, you come to me after three days and expect me to open my arms up to you."

The flames died down as Malleus looked chestfallen.

"Draconia." Yuu's voice is quiet as she holds up the book Rollo requested. "Rollo is stuck at nearly overblotting, Idia and Ortho can't figure out why, and he's gone in for a 2nd surgery because of the wounds you caused him."

"I-"

"The amount of anger and malice coming off of you overfed his Unique Magic, that's how he was able to take you down. If I lose the man I love, I will personality hunt you down and show you how hard this 'sad and angry little girl' hits."

With that, Yuu shoved her way past Malleus and left Ramshackle. Leaving the young heir there to ruminate on what he had done.

[petew21-blog]

An apple a day...

21st January 2021

Dr. Mikhail Varshavski, or how many people know him - Doctor Mike, is a famous succesful physician and an influencer making money out of his YouTube videos etc. Still taking a bit of his time to examine patients between his videos and interviews.

But today an elderly patient was suppse to come for a visit. Mikhail decided to make it a tv spot where the satisfied patient would come to the hospital and thanked him for treating him.

The patient's name was Arnold Jefferson, a 71 year old man suffering many conditions, such as diabetes, arthritis, hypertension and many many more. Quite common in older people.

Mr. Jefferson arrived an unaware of the upcoming spotilight was greeted by am assistant and led to a room with cameras.

Mr. Jefferson:"I was supposed to come for a vistit with Dr. Varshavski."

Assistant:"Doctor Mike wants to speak to you in front of the camera if that's ok? I am sure you have already signed multiple forms considering your privacy, while in his care. So we won't keep you long and I will go get doctor Mike."

Mr. Jefferson looked around confused. He came for a one on one dialogue, not an interview. He had no interest in all of this.

Docotr Mike arrived to the room. His hair ready, wearing his best scrubs that were ironed that day.

Mikhail:"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson. How are we feeling today?"

Mr. Jefferson:"Good morning. I.. well just as I normally do." he spoke nervously, looking at the cameras and the crew.

Mikhail spoke loudly for the microphone above them to hear and smiled way more than usual. "Amazing. We will do a standard check up and then we will take a look at your blood tests together. Is that ok?"

Mr. Jefferson nodded and was then examined in front of the camera. But they also did many photos where they were wearing masks and touched each other with elbows just to prove how safe they were while handling the ongoing pandemic.

He felt uncomfortable. "Could I please be examined alone for the part where I get to undress?"

The smile from doctor Mike's face disappeared. "Sure. Yeah. Can all of you from the crew go and take 5? Thank you. We will finish with Mr. Jefferson quickly.

The crew left and Dr. Mike was left alone with the patient.

Mr. Jefferson:"You complicated things for me, you know? I would have done this much sooner."

Doctor Mike had his stethoscope in his ears listening to Mr. Jefferson's heart. "What do you mean by that?" he said confused by what the patient said.

Mr. Jefferson placed his hands on Dr. Mike's head. "This". Flashes of lights shined between the two of them. Mikhail wanted to run away, but the force from Mr. Jefferson's hands was so strong. He couldn't let go.

Mikhail's eyes closed by themselves. He didn't see anything.

The first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was his reflection. Nothing unusual. He saw his face everyday in the mirror. But he felt anxious as soon as his body started moving on his own and flexed.

His body spoke out loud:"Oh my. It feels great to be this young again. It seems you take a great care for your body, Mikhail. Or I should say Arnold now."

Mikhail was in disbelief. What was happening? Is this all real?. "What did you do to me?"

Arnold:"I didn't hear that question for a very long time now. It will be easier to show you." he handed him the mirror. In the reflection was the same old man that he trested seconds ago. He touched his face and the reflection did the same.

Mikhail:"How are you doing this?"

Arnold:"Couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. I am honestly not sure."

Mikhail:"Why me? I am a doctor. I am not someone you should steal life away from."

Arnold:"You almost answered your question. If I don't have the right to do that then why should you? Remember my wife you treated? How you misdiagnosed her?"

Mikhail:"This is medicine. Mistakes can happen. It's not an exact science. Sometimes we don't have the power to save everyone."

Arnold:"Maybe. But my wife was special, like me, you know. We did the same thing I just did for you for almost a century. But we fell in love with the life that these bodies had. The love they had for each other, the family. We even had a new young couple found to move over to, but you just had to fuck it up. So... let my face be a constant reminder of what you messed up."

Mikhail:"You can't do this. No one will believe you. Everyone will find out. I will tell them."

Arnold:"Yeah, not really my concern. Whenever one of you does this, they end up in a mental hospital. So I guess it's up to you now, if you want to finish the shooting quietly or get a quick ticket for mental hospital for the short rest of your life you have left. So what's it gonna be?"

They finished the spot and Mikhail in Arnold's body was escorted out of the hospital. He was old now. His body ached. Every step he took was like a needle. He was picked up by one of his family members. He had no idea who it was. His son? Grandson? Maybe they'll know more about the swapping. Maybe the clues will be inside the house. Or maybe none at all.

18th February 2021

Mikhail sat in his new arm chair and held a mug in his hands. It has been almost a month since he lost his body.

One of his grandsons played with a tablet next to him.

Mikhail:"What are you doing there, Joe?"

Joe:"You wouldn't understand, grandpa."

Mikhail:"Maybe I would. How about you show me?"

Joe gave him initial instructions he would normally give Arnold, but Mikhail already knew all of this and confidently asked for him to put up YouTube.

Joe was surprised that his grandpa now knew all this, but he did what grandpa asked him to do.

They found Doctor Mike's channel. There was only one new video from the last time that Mikhail has posted anything.

The video had a bad quality. The one who edited the video was definitely an amateur.

The name of the video was: Why I decided to quit medicine

Mikhail froze. His life was all about being in the medical field. And now Arnold ruined it all.

He played the video. Arnold seemed very happy with his new body, because he kept touching his arms, his pecs and hair even while talking about how unsatisfied he became while working as a doctor.

Mikhail took the tablet and searched for more information about his old body. He found information about a lawsuit for malpractice, that the new doctor Mike how faced.

But something kuch worse caught his attention. An Only Fans account.

Mikhail left the room with the tablet and his grandson screaming behind him. But he didn't care about that now. He opened the page and immediately subscribed while entering his credit card info.

The page unlocked.

Mikhail had tears in his eyes. There were videos of his old body pleasuring himself, embarassing himself, pleasuring others...

All of that for a bit of money from horny peopl, that wanted to see the famous doctor.

Mikhail decided to send a message that cost extra money.

He sat there for a while and thought about what it would say.

"Dear, doctor Mike. Or maybe you still remember your old name, Arnold. I wanted to say something mean about you ruining my life. But after watching the videos, I have to say I miss my body. Even though I would want it back I don't expect you'd give it like that for free. But maybe you could let me enjoy that body once again from someone else's view? What do you think? It might get a lot of views.

Sincerley,

Dr. Mike Arnold Jefferson"

On the other side of the screen sat Arnold in front of the computer, his dick hard. Reading the message from his old body.

"This might be interesting" he said, grinning mischievously.

Two woman called out behind him from the bed:"Coming to bed, honey?"

Arnold smiled and turned around. "Ready for round three?"

Anonymous request from inbox

Could you please write a body swap story where an elderly patient steals Dr. Mike’s body when he is seen by him for a visit?

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 1

Hey, first thing I'm posting here. Character consistency with AI is difficult for me, so just go with it.

It wasn't a good time in my life. The pandemic hit, making me unemployed. I stayed at home to avoid getting sick and with nothing to do I was starting to find any excuse to go out of my room. I was renting this flat with another guy I found on Craigslist, Roy.

Roy was my age, he moved in from some place outside the county a few years ago and we managed to stay out of each others' way. Maybe except a few times I heard his booming voice shout at the TV, cursing other players in some online game. He was also too comfortable in the house, taking off his shirt and staying like that even when guests came over.

Slowly, the world came back to order. The quarantines stopped, but I was still out of a job. I ended up searching for a long while. I was struggling and really tried to be frugal. Eating cheap, saving up, the usual. But my savings were about to run out.

I was desperate, and even though I felt bad doing so, I asked Roy if he could lend me the money for rent. Roy, to my disappointment, refused. He said he had really bad experiences with friends he lent money to, but never payed him back. I begged, said it was a sure thing, I was willing to do anything, sign contracts, whatever he wanted.

"Sorry man," He said. "You know how it is, I can't let my friends owe me money," He insisted. "But if you're willing to do something for me in return, I think we can still work something out." I was hesitant. "What do you mean? Like doing your laundry?" "Well. Sort of." He smiled. "Just make sure to be free this weekend so you could help me with that thing." It was either that or become homeless, so I jumped to hug him "Yes, of course! Anything! Thanks man!" "No worries. I'll give you the details Friday morning."

The week went by quick. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I guessed it was just some house work or doing errands for him. He was straight, so anything sex related was out of the question. I relaxed and knew that I won't be kicked out of my place. At least this month.

…

Friday morning came, but my alarm didn't go off. I woke from the direct sunlight peaking through the window curtains when I knew that my window was facing west. But the first thing that I knew was wrong was the smell. Something smelled... Wrong... Like someone else's laundry. In my half-asleep state, I turned on my side to get my phone to check the time. Eyes still closed, I couldn't feel the phone on my nightstand. I opened my eyes to see where the hell was it, but my heart stopped when I first saw my hand.

It definitely wasn't my hand. Darker skin, hairier, and a bit bigger than mine. I saw it was attached to a foreign arm with the same features of the hand. Darker skin, more hair, and bigger than mine. I gasped in fright and used the hand and arm to take off the blanket and reveal what was underneath.

Not my body. This is definitely not my body. I was wearing only pajama shorts, which I never do. My chest was thick, heavy, and hairy. My gut spilling over its own weight. My legs wiggled with fat from my movement. Wait, is this… Roy's body? I touched my chin and felt the beard Roy had. I took a look up from my body and saw I was actually in his bed, which is also in his room. What the fuck happened to me? What is going on? I run to a mirror to see if my fear is true. All I saw was Roy, having the same expression of horror I had.

I screamed, only to quickly stop and cover my mouth. What the hell was this sound coming out of me? "Ahh, test, test." I tried to listen and realized I also heard Roy's voice coming my throat. MY throat! I couldn't escape it. I tried looking for a way out of this body, clawing my skin to find an opening, but all I did was hurt myself.

I was out of breath. I started to sweat. The world was spinning and I had to sit down. After crashing on the shared living room sofa, my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace, but I was still shocked. "What the fu-" I said, surprised again to hear Roy's accent through my teeth. Was this a dream? What the fuck is going on?

"Can you keep it down? It's barely 8 o'clock." a voice behind me said. My voice. My real voice. I looked up to see who I assumed was "Roy?". I stood up to face him. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early, but whatever, I guess we can do this now." "You… You knew about this?" I stammered. "Wait. Did YOU do this?!" "Don't make a big deal out of it man, I told you I'll needed you on Friday." "FOR WHAT!?" I shouted, with his booming voice. "For replacing you?!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It's just for this weekend.". He started getting ready to go out. "And I don't need you to replace me, I just needed to not be me for a bit." "WHAT THE FUCK ROY?!" I started getting out of breath again. Maybe even a low-key panic attack. "Why didn't you say anything about that? I thought I was just gonna clean your room or something!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. You're getting free rent money for basically just sitting on your ass all day." "Because you TOOK MY BODY." "Don't be dramatic, it's just for the weekend. I'm borrowing it." He put on my coat on his way out. "Couldn't you tell me before? How did you even do this?"

"That's not important, I've had this thing since I was little." He started putting on my shoes and tying his shoelaces. Listen, if you don't want this, we can switch back now, but forget about the rent. I'm not giving out free money. It's your choice."

I started to form an insult, but quickly realized this might be my only option. And is being in Roy's body for a weekend really that bad?

"And this is just for the weekend?" "Yes." "And all I have to do is stay here?" "Or go out, I don't care. I just need your body." "But why?" "That's where the money comes in. Most of the pay is for you being discreet about this." The gears in my head turned. "What, like something illegal? Sex? Don't do weird shit in my body." "Nothing sketchy, I promise, but I really need to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He closed the door after him, leaving me still shocked at the situation he got me into.

Thanks for reading. Part 2 out soon.

[ccoconutmall]

THIS WAS A SET UP??!

⪼ home

smiling, toge gently set yuta’s phone back on the table it laid on previously. you’d actually believed he was yuta, honestly, toge’s shocked how well he managed to sound like him. “i’m out, yuta! i gotta study for this test tomorrow!” toge called out to yuta who was still in the bathroom taking his shower. “mkay! just close the door on the way out!” he screamed back from behind the bathroom door. the click of the front door could barely be heard from the rushing water. you had gotten yuta’s location after ‘he’ had asked you to come over. for someone you thought was so shy, he sure was pretty forward in that moment. you thought it’d take another 3 years before yuta adjusted to you even being in his life, let alone inviting you over to stay at his dorm. 

you played your music quietly in your headphones as you searched for his dorm. purposely walking just a little bit slower so you could enjoy your music a little more. when you saw the dorm number, you double checked to make sure you weren’t at some other guy’s dorm at almost 10 pm. after knocking on his door, you heard the quiet taps of footsteps and shuffles come to the door, and when he opened it… 

all your eyes could focus on was the fact he was shirtless, drying his damp hair with a small white towel. “hm?” your mouth felt dry, and he didn’t even notice it was you until he opened his eyes and saw you staring at him. his face turning a bright shade of red when he noticed that he was partially naked, in front of the person he actually really fucking likes. ‘y-yn?!” he couldn’t help his stutter. he didn’t even know you were coming, or how you got his dorm number, but in all honesty, he didn’t mind one bit. 

“is this a bad time..? i can go back.. but i you called me over this late and…” you rambled a little and yuta was trying to hide his goofy little grin before the realization hit him. “wait… i invited you? i’ve been in the shower for the past… toge.” he mumbled the last bit before he let you into his dorm. everything was so yuta. from the dirty white converse that lay messily by the front door, to the taped posters on his walls. his small kitchenette was in an organized mess and pictures hung neatly against his black fridge. 

when you walked into the kitchen, you noticed one of the pictures. a small 4 picture strip the two of you guys took at the fair. your smile grew, as you looked back at him. his toned muscles were the first thing in your view as he had his back faced away from you so he could talk to toge. all the other pictures were of him on various trips, his friends and what looked like him and a little girl next to each other, dated in 2007. he clicked off his phone and walked up to you. 

‘yeah toge invited you to stay… if you’re not comfortable then you don’t have to stay if you don’t want..” he sounded serious, but you couldn’t help but look down “yu… are you wearing minecraft boxers?” he quickly looked down and went behind the counter to cover his lower body. “oh my god… i forgot i was like… completely naked! let me get dressed!” he went to run to his room but you held his wrist gently and laughed “they’re cute! i didn’t think you’d have something like that!” he looked at you. why wasn’t he as embarrassed as he should be? all he could think about was you, your smile and the way your eyes closed when you smiled widely. 

clearing his throat, he looked at you, trying to change the topic and skew it away from his boxers. “i saw that you were looking at the pictures on the fridge…” you were reminded of the pictures. specifically the one of you two that resided directly in the middle, like he’d saved that space just for you. “yeah! i see you put our picture up!” he smiled and recalled the memory. 

“c'mon yuta! let’s take a picture!” you pulled him into the photo booth. after all the riding around you guys did, it was nice to get a small break in between. you grabbed a $5 out of your purse and put into into the slot. he thought the flashing light just made your face 10 times more radiant than normal. “do a silly face!” you grabbed him and pulled him close. his heart practically jumped out of his chest when he felt the warmth of your hand grip his arm. he copied your face before you directed him to make more faces. but the last one was different, you had blown a kiss towards the camera and he just couldn’t stop staring at you. your lipgloss made your lips plump and shiny, and that was all he could think about. when the photos were finished, you left the booth to look at the two strips of pictures with a smile. 

“ugh! i love these so much!” you exclaimed before gently setting them into your purse, and him, his pocket before going off to the next ride. 

“yeah. i really like those ones.” he looked at them longingly before you pointed at the other picture you were looking at. “who’s this?” your finger leading up to the dated picture, you looked over at him as he bent down to look at where your finger was pointed. “that’s me and my little sister, i was 6 and she was 5, so we were probably on our way to school then.” he laughed and looked over. “you’d like her alot, she’s really sweet. i think you two would have a lot in common.” 

the two of you were up for a while, just talking. before you felt your eyelids grow heavy. you laid on his couch and closed your eyes. he hadn’t even noticed you fell asleep until he looked over and noticed how slow your breathing got. you looked at peace. he went over to you before gently picking you up off the couch and to his bedroom. he laid you on his bed and covered you in his blanket, the smell of him filling your nose. he pushed your hair back slightly and kissed your forehead before making his way back to the living room with a blanket to sleep on his couch, while you laid comfortable in his room.

© property of ccoconutmall ‘24. please do not repost, copy, modify, or translate.

taglist;

@sunflowertingzzzz, @k0z3me, @mollzaj, @mixzimi, @chiefinvestigatoremma, @dearneverland , @sad-darksoul , @luvvmae , @demiitria , @morideadcat , @puppyminnnie , @luv-cinnamon , @conitagray, @princess-peachys , @theclassbookworm , @iiwaijime , @digitaltrippers , @1ndee , @satoryaa , @kaedeyo , @dmoonrrr , @lucislovebug

≪ PREV ꒱ NEXT ⪼

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 12

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You wake up shivering. The AC blasts over your bare legs and speckles across your skin. You roll over as your skull rattles. Your left eye twitches as you sit up and hug the pillow against your middle for warmth. 

For a second, you’re at your dad’s house; the next you’re in the cabin; and at last, you come back to the present. 

Andy’s voice rolls in a low timbre but you can’t make out his words. His tone is dire and has you stumbling to your feet. Something’s wrong. Your dad! 

You follow it to the kitchen and find him with his hand to his ear. He’s on the phone with someone. Your phone. You blink as you stare at your pearl case. He nods in recognition and wraps up the call. He comes around the square island and offers you the cell. 

“It kept going off.” He explains. 

“Was it the hospital? Is dad okay?” You nearly snatch it away. 

“No, no. I called earlier. He’s going through some tests and exercises.” He crosses his arms and leans on the counter. “That was the insurance company.” 

“Insurance?” You cringe and lower your hand to your side. You squeeze the phone tight. 

“I know, shouldn’t have touched it but you were out and I was concerned. You got enough on your plate.” 

“What-- what did they say? Why did they call?” You demand. 

Did they change their mind? What there something else you can do? Andy purses his lips and rubs along the angle of his jaw, his other hand still folded over his chest. 

“Claim denied. You’ll have to deal directly with the hospital for payment.” He exhales and frowns. “Those kinda bills are never easy. I know it well. A lot to deal with on top of everything else.” 

“Yeah, I... I spoke with them before but... I haven’t had time to figure out—I could get a credit card? Or a loan? Maybe. I don’t have anything on my credit so...” You shrug and shake your head. “It’s not your problem.” 

“But I can help.” 

You flinch at his offer. You scoff and wave the phone at him. “No, no. You’ve done so much. More than enough. I couldn’t... couldn’t ask that. No. No.” You’re arguing with yourself as much as him. “I can do this. I’m an adult and it’s my responsibility. I’ll... I’ll drop out. Dad has my tuition in savings. I’ll have to look over his accounts and--” 

“What about the nurse? The physio? The counseling?” Andy asks. 

You freeze and stare at him. You shiver again but not because you’re cold. You grimace and move your lips wordlessly. 

“This isn’t just a hospital stay, sweetheart. This is going to be a long recovery. It could even be the rest of his life.” 

His grim tone sinks into your stomach and you feel sick. You press a hand to your cheek and nod. You roll your eyes up in an effort to bid back the tears. 

“I know. I’ll... I’ll figure it out. I will. I can... I have to.” You turn way to hide your mounting distress.

You don’t think you can do all of this. You didn’t think about tomorrow or the next day or next month or next year. What do you do when the savings run out? You don’t even know how much your dad has? 

“You don’t have to do it alone. I could--” 

“Why would you help?” You spin to face him. “I’m young and scared but I’m not naive. No one just helps someone like that. Someone they barely know. Even my mom--” You choke back a sob and steady yourself. 

“Your dad’s my friend.” 

“Yeah, for what? A couple of years?” You put the heel of your hand and the butt of your phone to your temples. 

“You’re a nice girl. I wanna help.” 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Because you shouldn’t have to do this alone.” 

“No, why did you answer the phone?” Tendrils creep up your back and wrap around your neck. You drop your arms. “Why... why did you rent this house? Why are you doing all of this?” 

“You need it--” 

“Answer my question. I can’t-- I can’t handle anything else.” You snap. “I’ve been so distracted, so swept up in it all that I didn’t stop to think why a fifty-year old man is doing all of this?” 

He’s quiet as your heart thumps and you look him in the face. He stares back and a line forms in his forehead as his cheek dimples. The silver at his temples is more obvious and the speckle in his beard as well. This man is your father’s age. He might be a neighbour and a friend but your dad isn’t exactly the nicest guy. 

“I do want to help.” He speaks at last. The lilt in his voice says it all. All your suspicions coil tightly in your chest. “I could help. I could take care of you and your dad. I would--” 

“Jesus. Are you serious?” You warble through the swell in your throat. “It’s... no, no, not that. How—you could be my father?! Your son--” 

“I’m not your father.” He insists tersely. “And I’m not too old.” 

“Oh god!” You hit your head in frustration. “I’m so stupid. I’m so goddamn stupid. How could I—but why would I ever--” You rant wildly as you pace around frantically. You spin and face the walls and examine every inch. “I-- I’m already fucked. I’m--” 

Your legs shake and you wobble around. You stagger into the door frame and cling to it. You heave, a sharp whistle rising from your throat with each crushing breath. Your tears roll down your cheeks and you slide down to your knees. You claw at your neck as the air snags in your throat. 

“Sweetheart,” Andy nears and kneels. He touches your back and you flinch. “You gotta breathe. You’re having a panic attack.” 

“Y-yeah. I—ammmmm.” You squeak as your vision swims and you grip the door frame tightly. 

“It’s okay.” He coaxes and rubs between your shoulders. 

“No-” 

“I’m not asking for much--” 

Your head pulses and you sit back on your heels. Your look at him in a flume of rage and horror. You slap his shoulder. Once, twice, again. Then you shove him away from you. You sob and fall forward onto your hands and shake in a storm of grief. 

This can’t be real. You just need your dad. You need him to hug you and tell you it’s going to be okay. 

[crsssie]

i'd stay, cancel my flights, change everything just to be in your life

word count: 11.3k

summary: parallel lines holding hands, side by side til the end of time

"You're leaving?" You raise a brow, watching as Leon, sweet 21-year-old Leon, pulls his suitcases to the door with all the boxes of his things.

"I have to." He frowns. "You won't move to Raccoon with me, and it's—"

"Landlines cost a fortune to use. I know." You close your eyes. "Will you write to me?"

"I can try." He doesn't dare to look you in the eye. You know he doesn't want to leave. He knows he shouldn't just break up with you like this. Is this the end of your relationship? All because the two of you refuse to do things to stay together? Is this selfishness... or is it something else? Did Leon ever really truly love you?

"Trying is too much. If we're truly meant to be, may we cross paths in the future once more." You hum. "I'll help you move the boxes."

"Will you visit?"

"Depends if you invite me." You crack only the lightest of jokes, boxes put into the back of his car as he closes the trunk with a thud, fiddling with his fingers as he looks at you.

"I guess this is goodbye?"

"May our paths cross again." You hold your hand out, and Leon pulls you in instead, arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes, heart racing painfully against his chest.

He doesn't like that he has to make this decision.

"I'll see you again, I promise." He mumbles.

You watch Leon Kennedy drive into the sunset, stuck staring from your place in the suburbs as his car eventually loses itself in the light. You wonder if that is a sign of something. Is it possible to blind yourself from the light? Is it dooming to force oneself into the sun? May his wings not burn off, you decide. No matter how far, you hope that he will be kept safe. That is all that matters to you. And when he is inevitably too close to the sun one day, may the embrace of the stars catch him and hold him close. The sun is a star, after all.

Yet, the sun gives warmth to life, and when you're stuck staring at the two lines on the test, you think the sun has burned you for getting too close.

You only ever receive one letter from Leon the entire time the two of you are apart.

Signed two days after his new beginning, delivered five days after the destruction of Raccoon City, you are given all of the details of what had occurred during the time that Leon had been in that place.

Don't come find me, as I no longer hope our paths cross ever again

Heed my words, LSK

You decide to do what Leon knew you did best. The story of Raccoon City is turned into a bestseller, people crowding to read more about what your mind could conjure about the mystery of Raccoon City on the news, desperate to get some sort of twisted release. You do not heed Leon's words. You do not answer to the desperate public. Instead, you disappear after the release of the novel. You're sure that Leon's more than happy to see you disappear from the public as he had instructed you to do so. You would become a thorn in his side— or something. You're not quite sure. Do you care all that much? You wish you could say no. You know nothing more than the fact that Leon survived. However, from the fact that he knew so much, you can only assume that he ended up working somewhere in the twisted political system. Perhaps not politics... perhaps government.

Your daughter is born, a sweet girl that you decide should take your last name instead of his. It is a curse, that last name of his. His sweet girl should not have to deal with everything that comes with being of his blood. Your sweet girl belongs to you rather than to him. She will be raised and loved and cherished until she knows that it is not worth it to throw your life away simply because you have fallen in love with someone. She will be the new light in your life, and you will choose to bring joy to her life to the best of your ability.

When you catch Leon at 27 on the news after saving the president's daughter from Spain, you do not feel anything.

You hope not to feel something. Are you supposed to feel something? Is there anything left to feel for a man who has not been part of your life for over 6 years? It would be pathetic to mourn over what could have been. It is truly not your problem. You do not get the luxury of being in his life anymore. Perhaps, he did not want the luxury of being in yours. "I no longer hope our paths cross ever again." Are you supposed to just move on? Leon, the man that you are.

Your daughter asks you how work was when you pick her up from elementary school, and you tell her that you had caught a government agent returning home after a particularly hard mission. She asks you if you have a story to tell her, so you tell her the story of how you met Leon, his youth and yours entwined as you promised to stay together until the stars in the sky burned out, but you don't tell her that it was her dad. You tell her that it was a story you heard from a friend because you would rather bear the guilt of lying to her than let her know that her parents were cowards — that you were a coward.

At 28, you catch a glance of Leon in the window of a coffee shop in the capital, eyes meeting his for a second before he turns away first and decides that you are not worth the time.

It hurts more than you'd like to admit.

Instead, you continue on your way to your interview, wondering if you should just ditch now that you are aware that your blind guess had been correct. Leon Scott Kennedy was in the capital of the country, and you would be stuck in the vicinity of him at all times if you took the job. Though, you really can't pass up on such good pay. What right do you have to complain if you receive a pay far better than anything else? Who are you in a capitalistic system that will inevitably drive you to ruin one day?

You wonder why there are so many rhetorical questions that spin in your mind.

Yet, you stay in the capital because you know it is better to move on face to face than to mull over the shadow of what it could have been.

What use is a hypothetical in the face of reality?

Besides, it mattered more than you had a child to feed.

When Leon is 35 (you're still counting), the two of you meet at a press conference. You stare at him and he stares at you, and the two of you exchange a nod before you both go your own ways. You are here to help someone just as he is — only in different ways. Leon is to serve with his body, and you are to serve with your mind. What difference does it make if you both are serving someone in the end? What difference does it make if it's the body or the mind? Can you truly say that the two of you are different at all?

You wonder if Leon is truly healing when he looks so distraught over something. Perhaps he's busy with whatever the government is tasking him with. If he's by the president's side, then surely he's someone of higher ranking now. You think it's been a long time since you've seen his face properly. Age has wrecked through his body, fine lines in the corners of his eyes and lips, facial hair so much more defined than when you had first met him. Time is ticking, yet you are stuck in place.

Your daughter moves quickly, high school starting as she gets to tell everyone that her mom is a major journalist, at the frontier of covering big issues regarding the rumors that spread around. She treats you like her hero, and for the first time in a while, you let out a sigh in relief that makes your whole body relax. It is as if the tension that you would accidentally let the frustration of raising her alone ruin her life has finally been lifted from your shoulders. You will be alright. No matter how much the two of you would fight, you will be fine because you have survived for so long and you will continue to.

At 38, you watch Leon return after a mission abroad with the rest of the press, staring at the bandages on his cheek, watching as he passes you with a glance, movements never stopping once. You are stuck in place, you think. You are moving at the same pace as Leon when you could be running ahead, and it will inevitably come back to destroy you. What use is there in matching someone's pace when they do not think of you? Are you stuck in place? Will you be stuck here forever? You thought moving to the capital could change things, yet you are back where you began.

The world is moving too fast for you to keep up.

At least someone grounds you.

One day, your flip phone becomes a smartphone, and your cents charged for the landline become a monthly phone plan that you pay at the beginning of the month with your rent and just about everything else. The world is moving on, so why are you stuck in place? Maybe it was you who needed to be caught in the stars and not Leon. Who will catch the moon when it collapses from the sky? What chasing is there if the moon will never see the sun?

What does it take to break a cycle of destruction?

Not much, apparently.

When Leon himself is banging at your door at the crack of midnight, you know better than to open the door, but you do it anyway. If you are to die, then you might as well let it be at his hands.

"I'm sorry." He's gasping for air, on his knees.

Leon Kennedy, a grown man in his forties, kneeling at your open front door.

You wonder if you should just cut it right here.

"Do I—"

"You don't need to." He heaves, breathing heavy as he dares not to look at you. "I'm sorry."

You stare down at him, and you wonder if this is the universe's way of apologizing to you.

"You can crash the couch. If you leave tomorrow morning, then I'll take all of this as a mistake you're making while drunk." You let him in, and you know he'll be gone in the morning.

Leon was not one to go against his own words.

Yet, in the morning, you find yourself staring at Leon as he serves you breakfast, terrified of talking to you or something. It makes you raise a brow, but you thank him as you start on breakfast. He wants to say something. You wonder if he hasn't changed at all since you've last seen him. Maybe somewhere deep down, he's still that rookie who had his first day in a zombie-infested city.

"I really am sorry."

"There's no way you're deciding this now." You don't bother looking at him, sitting down as he hands you a plate of food for breakfast instead. Always an action. Always an act of service in order to remind you that he loves you instead of speaking up. You wonder if you're the one being stubborn in that case. Maybe the reason your relationship went downhill was all because of you. It is always you, you find.

Yet, despite all odds, your daughter is in college now.

"I heard you have a daughter." He laughs dryly, leaning against the kitchen marble as you raise a brow at him.

"Yes. I do."

You stare at Leon as he sucks in a breath, and you refuse to tell him. Even if he asks, you will lie through your teeth to make sure that the wound in your relationship would be severed. You do not understand why he still insists on checking in on you, but as you start eating, you do not complain. If he wishes to drag your severed limbs through the mud, then let him do so. If he would have to exist in your life only to wound you over and over again, then let him do so. If you should exist only to be hurt back because you had hurt him first, then let it be so.

"Is she mine?"

You stare at Leon, and then shake your head.

"Who's the... father?"

"Hookup. I forgot to take the morning after pill." You start at the breakfast, humming quietly as Leon stares at you apprehensively. "You didn't burn the bacon this time."

"That was once." He points.

Yet, you finish the food, watching as Leon still lingers. He stays. You don't know what prompts him to stay, and quite frankly, you're too scared to ask how he managed to get your address, but you keep quiet. You do not want to know. You should not want to know. You aren't someone in his life anymore, so does it really matter if you know or not. Maybe you should let your daughter know that her biological father has decided to crash at your apartment door at two am on a Monday all in the name of apologizing. You're sure that she'd be disappointed after you had told her to never take a man back unless he groveled.

"Why are you really here?" You stare up at Leon as he slides you a mug of tea, and he sighs.

"Wanted to know if Leona was mine. She..."

"Don't delude yourself." You press the mug to your lips, and Leon exhales.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Should've started with that."

"You're on a wanted list of potential conspiracy theorists."

"What the hell?"

"Leaking government secrets... or something. That book you published."

"Ah." You mumble. "All over the book?"

"Too accurate of a retelling. The government didn't cover up the nuking, but they did cover up the zombies, so—"

"So they think I somehow am convincing the masses with the book that there were zombies."

"It's a national security concern."

"Which involves you? I thought the CIA covered that."

"I asked the president personally to be put on the case... didn't wanna fly international again. Also, it was you." He swallows slowly.

"So, if I get caught, you go down with the ship too, huh?" You laugh dryly, sliding him the half of breakfast you didn't touch. "You need to eat too."

You wonder if it mirrors all the times that Leon had been too tired after a day of drills to even respond to you when the two of you had been together, but even then, he had threaded his fingers between yours, telling you to sleep well before he headed off to bed himself. Age or PTSD? You can not imagine the trauma that goes into shaping Leon into who you see before you now. The blonde he used to dye his hair has faded out into a darker color — damaged hair making it a lighter brown rather than the one you had been used to when you first met him. Are you overstepping your boundaries? Is he overstepping your boundaries? You can not tell.

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

"It's been nearly twenty years." You mumble. "They shouldn't be habits anymore."

"Trust me. Some of them are just embedded into your soul." He glances at the door as it rattles, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I'm home." Your daughter, Leona, pauses when she notices the man in the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Leon Kennedy." You don't give her any more details beyond that, exhaustion written all over your face enough to tell her to save the question for another time. "How was the trip?"

"It was fun. I'll show you photos after I unpack. Hi, Mr. Kennedy."

Leon nods in response.

"Of course, baby. Did you eat yet?"

"I had a bagel in the morning, but I'll need lunch. Did the stuff in the fridge go bad?"

"No. I'll make lunch for us today."

"Thank you, ma."

You smile, waving as she tugs her luggage with her into her room.

"She's the spitting image of me." Leon stares down at you, brows furrowed. "How can she not be mine? Everything matches up."

"I cheated on you with a blonde man with blue eyes before you moved, or something." You half-ass it, standing up as you close your eyes and watch him eat. "What's next? I go to the town hall? I turn myself into the CIA?"

"No, I just need to monitor you regularly. That's it. You've been inactive in terms of writing for years. They just want me to keep you in check." He hums. "They moved me in next door. Let me know if you need anything."

"For how long?"

"Only a couple of months." He nods. "Can I meet Leona sometime?"

You glance at her open door, wondering if you should treat this a little more seriously.

"Make us lunch."

"Hm?"

"Lunch. We can talk about this over lunch. Dinner is too formal." You sigh. "Are you trying to be back in her life?"

"So she is mine." He mumbles. "I had a daughter all this time and you never bothered to tell me?"

"Didn't feel necessary. It would have stirred up too much press. Can you imagine me yelling at you that you have a daughter? The government would go insane. Now, answer my question. Are you trying to involve yourself in her life, or do you just want to introduce yourself to her?"

"You'll let me co-parent her?"

"Leon Scott Kennedy." You seethe. "Answer the fucking question."

"I don't know, but I think introducing myself would be a good start."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Shakshuka for brunch."

"Shakshuka?"

"We have the ingredients for it. You're on cooking duty. I trust that you haven't just been living off of store-bought food this whole time."

"No, I picked up cooking recently." He looks up a recipe on his phone, searching for the ingredients in your pantry as you knock on your daughter's door.

"Hm?"

"Leon will join us for brunch. Is that alright?"

"It's fine, ma." She smiles. "I have an idea on what's going to come out just... based off of his face."

"It wasn't to hurt you."

"I know." She nods. "I'll mull over it later when my insomnia hits, but I'll mull over it. I know you didn't do it to hurt me."

You glance at the souvenir she's decided to bring back and raise a brow. "Is that a mug?"

"Isn't it cute?" She grins. "Found it at a local potter's place while there."

"It is." You take it from her, tilting it to get a good look at the colors as she starts explaining the rest of her little trinkets.

"This one's for you." She hands you a mug that looks the same, and you raise a brow at the design.

"XOXO Gossip girl?" You raise a brow. "My coworkers are going to love this."

"Did you call off work today?"

"Yeah. Leon crashed last night, and I told the team that I wasn't able to make it."

"PTO?"

"PTO." You hum. "Thank you for the mug, baby. Did you see anything fun?"

"Met the president's daughter."

"On the trip?"

"Yeah. Our sorority was introducing ex-members, and she was one of them. She brought up how I reminded her of the dude who saved her that one time she got kidnapped... said we shared a name too."

"Ah, is that how?"

"Felt like a strange coincidence more than anything." She places her two bags of trinkets on her desk, and she hands you her mug. "Did you name me after him?"

"Partially. I just wanted you to be brave like your name." You listen to the way that the kitchen hood turns off. "Brunch is ready."

"How long did you date?"

"I'll tell you that after I've had my first glass." You hum. "I need one if you're going to ask me all of these questions."

Leona laughs, lips curled upwards as you take her out with you. She's taller than you, yet she is still your baby. Your sweet child whom you adored so much has grown up so much. The spitting image of her father that you had grown to be thankful for rather than get haunted by in the narrative. Your sweet daughter that you adored.

"Brunch is— oh, you both are already here. Your mother requested shakshuka."

"Oh... it's been all over my Tiktok lately." Your daughter mumbles.

"And I saw some bread, so I toasted some slices." Leon nods. "I figured I should introduce myself. I'm Leon—"

"My father." Your daughter is curt, nodding as Leon takes her hand. "Nice to finally know who you are."

"Trust me, had I known earlier, I would have come running. Your mother is insanely good at keeping secrets."

"Yes, ma has always been like that." Your daughter sits back down to start eating. "What do you work in?"

"Government."

"Like administrative or politics?"

"Security."

"Like FBI or internet?"

"I'd say it's closer to FBI, though, we don't do the same missions. I've been protecting the president lately."

"So like... bodyguard."

"Something like that."

You plate your daughter's food first and then Leon's, and yours last. You watch as your daughter makes small talk with him, surprisingly unbothered by the sudden intrusion of her biological father in her life, getting to know him over brunch. Though, you know your daughter better than anyone. She's not getting to know Leon, she's just making small talk so that Leon lets his guard down around her. You can't say you blame her. It's hard to accept a man who's been missing all of your life as soon as he comes back.

Your daughter turns to you as you hand her the plate. "Can I drink?"

"Careful, Leon can arrest you for that." You bite into your slice of toast, giving her no other answer.

"You let her drink?"

"It's safer to know what her tolerance is than to have her find out on her own. The answer is no, though. Not today, at least. Maybe when Leon isn't here."

"Tough luck, I'll be here pretty often from now on."

"What?" Your daughter raises a brow at you, and you give her a look that can only mean you'll tell her later.

"There won't be a later." Leon hums.

"If you write this in the report I'm going to burn you alive." You grumble. "Mom's under suspicion from the government because of a book I published years ago. A fiction book."

Your daughter raises a brow, and realization strikes her.

"Oh my god, it was true?"

"Leon wrote all of it in a letter to me." You hum. "And yes, it's what Leon does."

"You eradicate zombies? Like The Walking Dead?"

"Well, not as dramatic—" He pauses. "Alright. Sometimes it gets that dramatic, but it's nothing super big. They're moreso mutated biological weapons than zombies—"

"You fight bioweapons for a living. That's huge." Your daughter mumbles. "Do you know the biology behind it all? What are the—"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The government would suspect you next."

Your daughter huffs, going back to her egg instead.

"Are you in college? What are you majoring in?"

"Biology. I'm specializing in bioweapons"

"What."

You hold back the laugh that threatens to break onto your face, eating quietly as you watch Leon blink at your daughter twice.

"Biological weapons?"

"More specifically, I study gene mutation. I study how they come to be."

Leon turns to look at you, and you shrug. "Her choice. Whether she uses it for good or bad ultimately depends on her."

"They teach that?"

"GWU does." Your daughter shrugs. "Can I continue unpacking?"

"Of course, baby." You nod. "I'll keep chatting with Leon."

"Thank you for brunch." She nods, heading off.

"You're letting her study something that dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous unless she decides it is." You wipe your mouth, staring at the last egg. "What am I expected to do?"

"Not much." Leon hums. "I just need to report your day-to-day."

"Alright. I'm gonna rot on the couch all day, so you'll have nothing much to do. Is this your job for the next couple of months?"

"Don't worry, you'll have me all—"

"If you say another word, I'm going to shoot myself."

Leon laughs in response.

You find that having Leon around isn't the end of the world. You still exist in your day-to-day life, Leon hanging around your apartment while you're at work and your daughter is in class, and it makes for an interesting icebreaker when people ask how your weekend went. (It isn't "my ex moved next door to me", no, it's "a government agent paid me a visit over the weekend"). Yet, life goes on, and you find that despite your brooding over how the end of the world was coming because Leon had slipped back into your life, it's very much not the case. If anything, Leon sort of just exists in your life.

At the very least, someone cooks for both you and your daughter when you return home.

"What's the menu tonight?" You raise a brow, your daughter coming in after you as she kicks off her slippers.

"Beef stew."

"I'm surprised he knows how to season his food."

You hold back a laugh, sliding your heels off as Leon feigns a look of offense. Your daughter peels her tablet out, settling on the couch as you sit next to her, yawning.

"How was work?"

"Leon, stop acting like we're married." You grumble.

"Yeah, but you like coming home to a home-cooked meal, no?"

"Caught red-handed." You put both your hands up, watching as your daughter does some sort of witchery with her ochem homework. You don't wish it upon anyone, ever. Though, the idea of Leon trying to figure it out does amuse you just a little bit. You decide a short nap would work in your favor, telling the two to wake you up when dinner is ready, eyes closing as your daughter tells you good night.

Good night means you wake up at two am in bed, Leon knocked out on the couch, and just about a hundred question marks floating over your head. You glance at the pot of stew that sits in the fridge and a smaller bowl portioned out for you, and you jump in your skin when you hear Leon move.

"Awake?"

"Yeah." You reach for a can of beer, cracking it open as you sit back on the couch. "Why are you still here?"

"I was going to take you to bed, but I remembered you don't like your outside clothes on in your bed. I can't change you anymore since... yeah." He pauses at the beer. "Drinking on an empty stomach isn't going to feel so good in the morning."

"Wow, how kind of you."

Leon has not forgotten you. You're made aware of that at the very least, eyes still full of a sincerity and warmth that you had grown used to decades ago. It makes you sick to the stomach that you had such an effect on him despite the two of you ending on good terms. It was not good terms. It was surface-level good terms, but both of you had secretly wished the other would say something about sticking together. Both of you are cowards, now that you think about it. He probably would have stayed had you let him know that you were pregnant, but you didn't wish to hold him back. Maybe it was selfish of you.

Yet, you do not regret all that you have done for your daughter.

"I never moved on." Leon speaks slowly, light in the living room dim as you raise a brow at him. "I... I thought about you all these years, and—"

"If you're staying back to tell me all of this useless stuff, I don't see a point in you staying back."

"You're not ready for this conversation?"

"Leon," You glare at him. "This isn't a conversation we should be having at all. Our feelings mean nothing now. You're here to monitor me casually, nothing else. Imagine if the government found out that you were being so lacking on the job."

You watch as Leon's voice gets caught in his throat.

"We're too old for this."

"We aren't." He tries.

"We are." You leave it at that, shaking your bottle as you realize it's half empty. "Leon, we're in our forties and both have jobs—"

"You can't just say shit like that to hurt me!"

"Keep your voice down. Leona's a light sleeper." You grumble. "It's fine. Let's just end it at that."

Leon stays quiet, and the look behind his eyes tells you more than enough that he wants to continue the conversation, but he learns to keep quiet. It feels the same as before. It was always petty squabbles that could be fixed the morning after once you've cooled down, but you don't want to. It's a conversation you refuse to have with Leon. It's a conversation that's been rotting in the display case of your heart — something you refuse to let go of all because it would feel foreign. You're selfish, you find. You used to care for Leon's heart as your own, but the rotting has consumed your heart and mind. Maybe you will only hurt him if you stay close.

"Morning." Leon hands you your cup of tea and your daughter her flask of water, waving to her as she rushes off for her 8am.

"Morning." You press the mug to your lips.

"Ready to talk about it?"

"I told you the conversation was over." You hum, turning to stare at the clock. "I have work in an hour and a half."

"We should get breakfast by your workplace."

"Sure, mister bodyguard." You mumble. "Didn't feel like cooking?"

"You need to diffuse."

"I'm very good at separating personal life and my work life." You hum. "You're paying."

"Yeah, yeah." He grabs his jacket from the rack as you hit the button to lock the door, clicking on your phone as you start the security system.

"You driving?"

"I'd have to pick you up from work, no?"

"Leon... I take public transport to work. Leona uses the car."

"Oh." He pauses. "... I have a bike?"

You raise a brow.

When Leon said bike, you were expecting more of a... bike bike rather than a motorbike, and as Leon steps on the gas and you're chanting quiet prayers in your mind to stay alive, something feels all too foreign yet familiar. Leon wanted to get a motorbike when the two of you had first started dating years ago, so to be able to see Leon have his own and drive safely was interesting. You are watching him grow. He has changed in little parts of his life. It is comforting to know that the pace you had been matching was moving at the very least. Perhaps you can not see how far you've come if no one can show you how far you've gone.

"Ugh, my hair." You huff, fixing your hair as Leon pays for parking.

"Is this a date?"

"If you somehow remember my order." You brush at the loose strands, following behind Leon as he guides you around the uneven pavement. You wonder if you'll bump into someone you know. It's a popular brunch place even for government workers. You follow Leon in, blinking as somehow a table clears up and the two of you are seated. It makes you raise a brow, but you don't think too much, looking at your emails as he orders for the two of you. You wonder how much of you he does remember.

When one of your coworkers comes up and asks you who you're with, you glance at Leon and tell the guy that it's your neighbor. He was plenty of trouble already, and as Leon raises a brow at the man that only means trouble, you worry for the poor guy's health. Leon's going to decimate this guy, even if it's unintentional. You can only hope he doesn't go around telling everyone you're hooking up with your ex again. Though, it's not like they knew you had an ex. You could play everything off. Perhaps this was the curse of working in journalism with men whose temper breaks at the slightest aggravation.

"If you're just neighbors, then this should be fine, right? What, you won't date me because your daughter's still young? She's an adult now. You should be honored that—"

"Hey, man, I wouldn't go that way if I was you." Leon raises a brow at the man, and your coworker raises a brow.

"Shut it, neighbor."

"The father of her child begs to differ."

That's all it takes to shut up your coworker, his face red as he storms off, and you grin into your palm, eyes meeting Leon's as he hums.

"Didn't even need to pull out the badge."

"Now, that would have been a power move." You thank the waiter as the food comes and eat. "You keep it on you?"

"Required at all times. It's helpful when out, definitely." He glances at the food. "Will you have leftovers?"

"Definitely. Can you take them back for me?"

"Of course."

When you arrive at the company, you're bombarded with questions — unsurprising considering everyone here is an investigative journalist of some kind, and you wave all of them off. You don't want to talk about it. He is the father of your daughter. That's all. He's not someone you're allowed to love anymore, and you should leave it at that. It won't just take a handful of months for him to somehow get you back. It would have to take more than that. No one pries further when they notice you refuse to budge. Perhaps time would tell.

When you return, you note your daughter's text about staying over at a friend's place and step home.

"Where's Leona?"

"Out with her best friend." You hum. "House is just me for the week. Don't try anything funny, though."

"Do you still have the old photobook?"

"Of before we broke up?" You raise a brow, pulling out another can from the fridge.

"Can I get one?" He thanks you as he catches it, nodding to your question.

"Yeah. It's somewhere in the study's cardboard boxes. Why?"

"Wanted to look over them."

"Well, haven't you grown sentimental?" You crack open the bottle, holding it out to clink bottles with him, pressing the drink to your lips as you hum.

"Maybe I just miss you."

"I'm right here."

"Sometimes I worry you aren't."

You laugh in response, brows knitting and resembling a sneer, but it isn't malicious. It's the same smile that Leon knew you put on when you were annoyed that someone had read you like an open book. It wasn't fair. Leon hadn't moved either, and the two of you had been stuck matching pacing in life only to stay exactly where the two of you had started. It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Were you stuck where you began all because you had been fixated on your past? Unfair. It was unfair.

Leon stares at the can in his hand, sighing.

"What's wrong now?"

"I should have looked for you earlier." He mumbles, grimacing at the taste of the alcohol on his tongue. "I should have known."

"I didn't expect you to."

"You had been nauseous the days leading up to my departure."

"And? I kept her from you."

"It was not your fault. I left you with no way to contact me." He mumbles. "I should've... worried about her instead of someone else."

"It's not your fault. You didn't start the outbreak, and you didn't choose to join the government."

"How did you know that?" He turns to look at you, and you hum. "Despite our cutting news, we also take bribes. One of the first archival information I was given was that you had been forced into your position because of your stellar behavior in Raccoon City. They threatened you with that other girl.,, Sherry, was it?"

Leon grimaces. "I ended up seeing her so little because of my position."

"It wasn't your fault." You tap the rim of the can, blinking slowly as Leon meets eyes with you.

"You haunt my world."

"Good to know." You swallow slowly, staring at Leon as he meets eyes with you. You wonder if he's actually drunk or just taking the opportunity to be honest with you. Regardless, you appreciate the attempted honesty. Shall you bait him? Tear your soul bare all for him to look at you and touch your heart all over again? Shall you present yourself bare to the bone to Leon so he could feel that you were finally being honest with him? How unkind of you — to think that way.

"Leon, did you love me?"

"I don't think love could even begin to describe how much I adored you." He runs his hand through his hair, laughing as he takes another drink. "I couldn't sleep without you for months after I left."

"Really?" You think back to all the nights you had woken up in need to empty out your stomach, grimacing at the memory. "But you moved on, no?"

"Hm?" Leon turns to look at you completely now, eyes going half-lidded as you get the idea. "No, sweetheart. I never did."

"I guess those shitty bedroom eyes you give me when you want something hasn't either. Couch is all yours. I'm locking the door tonight."

"I love you." Leon manages, swallowing as he stumbles out of the chair, reaching for your wrist as he ends up on his knees again. "Fuck, I'd rather die than live without you again. I'm already here begging for you — what, what else do I need to do? I'll—"

"Leon." You stare down at him, brows furrowed as you seem to remember this scene all too well. "We're both adults with jobs—"

"With a daughter." He swallows. "We're parents too, you know? We're also our own people. Why do you keep stopping me from making choices to put you first?"

"You work for the government. As much as I despise it, you keep all of us safe." You mumble. "Let's talk in the morning if you remember anything about this conversation at all."

"I'm not drunk." He mumbles, and you drag him back to the ouch, helping him get comfortable as you stare down at his closed eyes.

You've hurt the two of you more than enough, you think.

You check your daughter's location, fingers clicking on your keyboard as you wonder if you should take a trip out too. It had been a while since you've actually taken paid vacations and not sick days. You wonder if you'd get your ass kicked if you just decided to take PTO off a day in advance, but considering the lack of news going around lately, it wouldn't be impossible.

A break. You need a break to collect yourself.

So, you leave Leon a note, refusing to diffuse too quickly out of a fear that you'll snap, and you call the head office right first thing in the morning to let them know that you'll be taking two weeks off for personal reasons. You assure them anything left to you will be handed in on time, just... you wouldn't be able to make it to the office. It's not PTO, the more that you think about it. You're really just working remotely.

You leave in the morning with a suitcase, ticket booked for the middle of nowhere. Anywhere but home, you decide. It is not that home is where your belongings are. Your home is where your heart is, and for a long, long time, it has been with Leon. You can not recall a moment in which he hasn't been the place your heart was, but you wonder if it was possible that at some point, your heart had just shattered and broke in your chest instead of staying with him.

You step out onto the sunny beach houses of your company's private island given as a bribe and think you're in utter bliss. Though, the story that would have sold was worth a couple million dollars, you guess. You don't care at that point. It had been a long time since you had last taken a while off for the sake of your body. You draft things to discuss when you get back. You're sure Leon will probably find you somehow, but it really isn't your problem. Until you're nice and warm from the inside out under the sun, it is not something you'll care about.

You should probably have a talk with Leona once the two of you return as well.

Your days on vacation are nice, sand in your toes and drink in your hand as you abuse company privileges, checking your phone to like your daughter's photos as she sends you updates about her day. You're glad Leon doesn't have your number (though you're sure that he could get it if he really wanted it). You trust that he lacks in nothing when it comes to stalking you down.

Which is inevitably true when Leon finds himself on the same island, texting Ashley a thanks as he steps up to your beach chair, covering you from the sun as you stare up.

"Took you long enough."

"Still haven't changed that awful habit of yours, huh? Running away when you need to have a conversation?" He takes a step back, taking a seat on the beach chair next to you.

"It took you a while this time."

"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly the small town bar we used to visit, no? I can't believe your third place has become a private island only certain government workers can get into."

"Yeah, but you're here, no?" You sit up, taking your sunglasses off. "Let's talk."

"I'm sorry."

"I still don't understand why you're apologizing if there's nothing to apologize for."

"I feel guilty that I left."

"We weren't in a place where we could decide where we wanted to go." You pause. "The child would have slowed you down. Leona's great, but if I told you that you had a daughter, you would have left everything behind just to return. I did not want to tear that away from you."

"I—"

"You couldn't have raised a child with your job." You hum. "I don't despise you for it."

"And then? Did you love me at all? You never let me decide what I wanted and didn't want to do." He grimaces. "I would've put you two first. You know that. I loved you even while I should not have. You should know better than anyone that I would have been hung up over you. You can not replace my first love in my heart and then not tell me about Leona."

"It's unfortunate I did, then."

"I... still love you." He mumbles. "It's fine if it's not mutual, but please don't cut me out of your life again. Let me make the choices this time. We're both at an age where we can."

You finally look at Leon, and you sigh. "I won't stop you, but do not expect anything back from me."

"I won't."

You wonder if you should fear getting used to being taken care of by Leon. You play cards with him by the pool, drink with him at the bar, lie with him under the warm sun, and you wonder if you've gone back in time for a moment. Is this it? Is that it? Is that all there is to this? Is all it took a sincere apology from him? You feel like you should apologize as well, but there's just something stuck in your throat whenever you try and bring it up.

"Hey, Leon, did you ever hate me?" You glance at the wine in your glass, and Leon raises a brow from the hotel room. You wonder when the two of you had become close enough to share a room again. Is this some weird form of being roommates? You're too old for this, you think. You're far too old to be having a moment like this.

"No. Well, I was hurt when you told me to leave, but I never hated you." He hums.

"Good, since I feel like I still owe you an apology and all that." You mumble. "Sorry for forcing choices upon you. I just... I always feel like you can do better."

"Oh, honey, you are better." He mumbles, raising a brow at you from his bed as you frown.

"Sure, but I'm still sorry for being a terrible person." You mutter. "I can't guarantee anything from your efforts, but I appreciate you a lot."

Leon raises a brow at your words, but he doesn't speak up.

"Anyways. Maybe I'm just some control freak who needs to know everything that's going on like some maniac." You tuck your legs under your chin, staring out at the ocean as Leon seems to remember something. You don't know what, but you feel too vulnerable to find out, opting to stay in place and blink instead. The waves crash against the sand gently, and even when the lights are turned off and you're stuck in bed, you wonder if something's wrong. There's always something wrong.

You step out of the room, stepping on the beach as you wrap the robe around you tighter. The waves are higher now, and as you dip your feet in the cold water, you wonder what it'd be like to float off into the distance. Right. right. No, you have a daughter who would ruin her life in order to fix yours. You wonder how you managed to raise her to be the way she is without a father in the house. Maybe you sold your soul in order to do that.

The waves eat at your ankles, night breeze rustling your hair, goosebumps snaking up your calves as you continue staring into the distance. You don't know. You wonder if you could just keep playing stupid and not knowing. It had worked until Leon stumbled back into your life. Well, stumbled would be the wrong word. He kind of... crashed into your life again. You still wonder if his mission was truly a mission. He was always the type to make harmless jokes when it came to you.

It probably isn't. You saw him working on his laptop before you tucked yourself in.

"You're up." Leon's voice emerges from behind you, and you take a step back to turn.

"Yes." You hum.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No." You close your eyes as the wind blows again.

"What's wrong?"

"A lot." You mumble. "Though, not much of it is my choice. I'm wondering if I can just go back to playing stupid."

"You should see a therapist." Leon cracks a smile. "Mine's pretty good."

"No wonder you've changed so much." You sport the same smile, stepping out of the water back into the sand. "Let's go back."

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"Time will tell."

You aren't able to, but at the very least you catch three hours of rest before you emerge from bed with bedhead you hadn't seen since your youth. Leon laughs as he brings you breakfast, and you sigh, raking your hands through your hair.

"How's Leona?"

"I think she went to Amsterdam or something."

"How are you sustaining her lifestyle?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but our company actually pays a livable wage for all of us since we know too much. The government has compensation for our work too. We're basically entangled with the government at this point."

"And you don't pay for your life?"

"No bad sides. I don't know which senators and people of the cabinet decided to bomb the city. I just know it was bombed. It's why you received such a vague order."

Leon puts your breakfast down by your legs.

"Thank you." You hum. "How'd you sleep?"

The look on Leon's face implies something along the lines of getting the best rest in a while.

"That's good." You start at breakfast, staring at the lower tides before glancing at Leon. "Did we ever go on a beach date? I forgot."

"Us and what beach? We were landlocked."

"True, huh." You think to yourself, eating absentmindedly as Leon changes in the bathroom. You glance at the robe on yourself, and you wonder if you should just go naked or something. No, you'd probably get sniped or something. Shorts it is.

You place the tray on the table as you finish, wiping your mouth when Leon steps out of the bathroom.

"Wowwwww..." You grin. "Stay in shape, Agent Kennedy?"

"Government-mandated." He chuckles. "When do you go back?"

"In like, two days. You gonna catch a flight back with me?"

"How else am I going to get back?"

"Not sure." You hum. "Maybe swimming?"

"On an island in the middle of the Atlantic? Tough luck." He hums.

Leon settles back into your life after that. You wonder if this would categorize as co-parenting or being roommates, but you don't put a label to anything. It's not worth the time and effort. The PTO was good for your soul, but you return to being a corporate slave in the end anyway. Only, you wish Leon would stop stirring up more trouble when picking you up downstairs at your office each day. Would it kill him to be a little more secretive? Well, not like you told him about it. You used to like it when he did that while dating.

"You got me flowers?" You raise a brow, taking them from him as he nods.

"How was work?"

"It was fine. If you think this is all it takes to win me back, though? Not happening." You glance at the flowers. "Though, thank you for the flowers."

You're sure your coworkers are going insane over this. You don't know how long you had been single when most of your coworkers had gotten married and hitched. It really wasn't something on your mind after having Leona. So, for you to be going through the whole courtship thing again from Leon was a little strange. Well, not that you mind being pampered.

"Are you driving us home?" You raise a brow.

"I promise not to crash." He shows you the car keys, and you sigh. Well, if you die, you die.

You yawn as you get on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as he takes you home. You wonder if Leona's home by now. She's probably unpacking again. You're not really surprised when you get home and she has her stuff sprawled out in the living room. Well, as long as it's not hurting anyone.

"What's this?" You pick up a keychain with a rabbit. "Miffy?"

"Miffy! The Dutch rabbit that Japan loves." Your daughter hums. "Isn't she cute?"

"Yes, she is." You hum. "Should I..."

"Don't check my credit card statement, please." She mumbles. "I've made some bad decisions."

"As long as you can pay it off." Your brows furrow as you contemplate. "Yeah, as long as you won't end up in debt."

She gives you a thumbs up. "You can have the one you picked up. There should be another one in blue for Leon."

"You got him something?"

"Appreciate it." He picks up the keychain, glancing at the doll. "The agents are about to have a field day when they see this keychain."

"Too out of character?"

"No, last time I had a keychain was in Spain." He hums. "I ended up giving it to Ashley."

"She still uses it." Leona speaks up. "I was out with her this time."

"When the hell did you get so close to the ex-president's daughter?"

"When I went on my sorority trip. She liked me a lot since I look so much like Leon."

"When are you going to start calling me dad?"

"Never." Leona deadpans. "You've been missing all my life. Don't push your luck."

Leon pouts, squeezing the keychain gently to calm himself.

"Yeah, she flew me over. She's great. Saw her texting Leon on the trip, though. You wanna explain that?"

"I was looking for your mom." Leon hums.

"Oh, the flowers." You remember, kicking your shoes off as you rest them on the counter.

"Yeah, I told her you're my biological dad and she told me about some agent you were flirting with in Spain."

"Not a government agent." He clears up. "She's someone I met in Raccoon City."

"Kissed?"

He grimaces as your daughter takes it as a yes. "If you cheat on mom, I'm going to ruin your life."

"How?"

"You'd be surprised how many senator's children go to my uni. Stay keen, and don't be an ass."

Leon settles into a schedule of picking you up after work, a different trinket in hand each time he picks you up, and you always take it, placing it in a box in the living room, the three of you eating together for dinner. You wonder if Leona has ever considered having a dad. Maybe she gave up a long time ago when you explained to her that her dad was someone in your past. Well, that statement sure came to bite you in the ass. He's not so much of someone in the past now, is he? You wonder if Leona would have something to say if you were to start with Leon again.

Yet, you don't tell her what happened on the island for the time being, her busy with her studies before the start of summer. So, instead of calling her and keeping her up, you let her tend to her own watching as she grumbled over all-nighters and classwork that wasn't ending. Despite her running around for her break, she wasn't gonna be able to run from her finals.

"Can you lobby so my professors get fired and I have no exam?"

"Tough luck, baby." You laugh. "I'm not in that line of business."

"I am, though." Leon hums. "Who do you need gone?"

"Leon." You warn. "No."

"His name's—"

You sigh as the two of them get into hypotheticals about taking out her professor with a sniper rifle, and you wonder where Leona had learned all of that. Though, from the stuff you had seen on the shared desktop before she got her own laptop, you think you know. It's whatever... it was probably from Twitter or one of her fanfictions. You wonder if the unrestricted internet access as a teenager was worth it — well, not your problem. She's gotten off boyfriend-free and kid-free so it's fine. There are worse things that could happen.

You wonder how much more help Leon could have been when she was going through that fic writing phase of her in middle school. You're sure all that knowledge of weapons could have helped her a lot. Well, not that you mind it anymore. It's nice to see the two of them get along. She is her father's daughter, after all. It makes you wonder if this could have happened under different circumstances. Well, what point is there in moping over a universe that isn't yours?

"What's for dinner?"

"I made a reservation for a place." Leon hums. "It's pretty basic so you wouldn't need to dress up."

"Well, if anything, you'd be the one who needs to dress up." You raise a brow at Leon as he glances at the two of you, nodding slowly.

"It's just a family restaurant that gets busy around this time." He stares at his t-shirt and jeans.

"You know, Leon." Leona raises a brow. "I'm sure you don't just wear this while on duty. What do you wear normally?"

"It depends on the occasion. Most of the time it's a suit."

"Government agents in suits is crazy." You mumble. "And when you're out on a mission?"

"It's typically some sort of body armor and a compression shirt with cargo pants and combat boots."

"What brand does the government use?"

"There's a variety of suppliers, but the material stays the same. We aren't just sponsored by one."

"Democracy, or something." You hum. "What time is dinner?"

You wonder if Leona has ever entertained the idea of having a dad in her life. She had been adamant about letting you know as a teenager that she didn't care if she had no dad as long as you wouldn't disappear or just die, but you had a feeling that she had just lied at the time to make you feel better. Well, she had grown up without a dad, so it wasn't super surprising that she had ever wondered what it would feel like to have one. You wonder if you should have just dated, but there was no way you'd be able to with such a young child. Maybe you shouldn't have—

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?"

You space back in, striking the hammer one last time as the tent is set up properly. The insulation is set up thanks to Leona, and you start the grill outside in the camping zone. The stars are starting to show, and the moon sits high in the sky as you grill the meat. Leona refreshes for her grades, chewing on her bottom lip as you serve her dinner. She only lets out a sigh in relief when her grades all come back as normal.

"You alright?"

"My GPA will live." She huffs. "Thanks for dinner."

"Of course."

"It's been a while since we've done this." Leona stares up at the stars in the forest as you crack open a can of beer for the two of you. "Is this about Leon?"

"You don't need to call him that." You hum. "I thought I'd get your opinion. I'm your mom just as much as I am my own person."

"I'm fine with it." Leona hums. "You've... I don't know. You've grown softer since he's joined us. Ugh, I'm not good at this like you are."

You laugh, adjusting the blanket on her as you turn to face her.

"You won't be mad?"

"No. It'd be... nice to experience having a dad. officially. I can't lie and say I've never once wondered what it's like to have a dad." Leona huffs. "Though, please let me punch him at least once when he officially asks you out."

"In the face?"

"I might break my fist, but hey, at least I broke his nose."

You wonder what universe you saved in a past life to deserve a daughter like this. Though, not that you complain of it. Leona lets out a sigh in relief when her grades come out unscathed, and you press the can to your lips as she catches you up on what was going on. Sorority drama sounds like a lot to you, but Leona handles it all just fine. She likes it there, and while the people around her have their flaws, you're glad she can see past most of them. At least she knows how to stay sane.

You can tell Leon's trying. He spends less time on his laptop at night, typing less and less details on your day-to-day life before it completely is voided, and when you try and ask, he tells you the mission is over. You wonder if that means he'll go back to his work clothes. Yet, for some reason he stays in the apartment next door, taking you to work each morning as he insists it's "on the way" (it's not). He always takes you back with flowers, your coworkers getting unbearable to a certain degree as they pry into your day-to-day life. You tell them that he's just trying to court you.

"Water," Leon hands Leona her bottle as she waves goodbye, handing you your bag as you follow after her while doing your hair. You stare at the mirror by the door, smoothing it out as you blink at Leon's crooked tie.

"Tie." You don't think, fingers sliding under Leon's tie as you unravel it, tying it properly as he holds his breath, daring not to move as your fingers smooth over the clothes, patting his chest as you turn back around you make sure your hair is fine. Leon tries to calm his racing heart as the two of you step into his car, his heart beating so hard he's sure he could throw up on command. Intimate. Too intimate. You can feel it too. The last time you had done that was when the two of you were young. Much younger. The racing heart makes Leon think that the two of you really haven't changed all that much.

"Have fun at work."

"Thank you." You step out of the car, waving as Leon watches you enter the building before driving off.

You calm your racing heart, ears ringing all the way to your floor as you exhale. Habit. You hadn't done it for Leon in such a long time, but the familiarity of reaching for his crooked tie and fixing it was like second nature to you. Maybe you haven't changed. Maybe neither of you changed, and at the rate that things were going, you think it's fine that neither of you has outpaced the other. The two of you are parallel lines, holding hands all the way as the two of you move through life. It's fine. You're fine. You'll be fine.

Leon picks you up after work like he always does. You stare out the window the whole time, silence pooling in the car as you think. You think too much while you think less and less these days. What are you doing here? Why are you here? Is the only thing stopping you from dating him your own flaws? Why are you letting them get in the way when you could be peeling back your skin and laying bare to him? He won't hurt you, you know that much.

You know what comes next. You have the feeling, you always do. You know that at one point Leon's going to try and confess to you, and you wonder if he could possibly outdo himself from last time. You wonder if he'll show up with flowers and a teddy bear to your apartment like he did the first time. You wonder if you could skip the formality and just confess to him first. It would be funny and catch him off guard, you think. When you spot your favorite for dinner, you think you will.

"Leona's gonna have dinner with friends." You sit down, thanking him as he hands you a plate.

"I know. She texted."

"Mhm." You wait for him to sit down before eating, lips curled upwards as you grin. "Leon, will you go out with me again?"

He's caught off guard, fumbling with his fork as he blinks at you. "Pardon?"

"Will you go out with me again? I have a lot of flaws, but—"

"Yes! Yes. Oh, my god. Yes." Leon blurts. "I was supposed to confess first, my god. I feel like this is our first date all over again— I'm still in love with you despite everything, and I'm begging you for the chance to date you again on a clean slate. This time, we both make our own decisions without regrets, and we talk it out when we have disputes. This time, I won't leave no matter what, and if I need to leave, I bring you with me. Please go out with me— I will kneel and beg."

"There has got to be a better way to say that." You laugh, watching as Leon slides out of his seat to grab something behind the counter for you. "And if I say no?"

"I imitate the meme that Ashley's been sending me with the text messages and fall on my knees and beg."

"Sounds really tempting..." You tap your chin. Leon grabs your hands, frowning at you gently as you reach up instinctually to smooth out the crease between his brows. "I was kidding. Please treat me well."

"I'll make sure you never need to think again." He mumbles, pressing your fingers to his lips as you hum. "Please accept the flowers."

"Will you get me flowers once a week?"

"I'll make sure you never have to lift a finger to do housework. I'll retire for you."

"Are you really sure you'll be allowed to do that?"

"As long as the president orders it." He mumbles. "I'll just say I can't work anymore and fake a doctor's order."

You laugh, raising a brow. "You'll do that for me?"

"And much more." He mumbles, lowering his head into your lap. "As long as you give me the chance."

"Then be sure to hold on."

"Forever and ever, always."

The door to the apartment clicks open, and Leona stares at the second bouquet on the living room table.

"Ma?"

You nod.

"Leon, how sturdy are you?" Leona raises a brow, tossing her backpack to the side and ditching her jacket.

"I'm mostly muscle. Why?"

"Leona's gonna swing at you, give her a second." You take a step back with the flowers, Leona winding up her arm as Leon blinks. "No, you're not allowed to dodge. Think of it as playful fighting. It's to welcome you into the family."

"Please be gentle. I've seen your arm muscles, and there's a high chance it'll bruise or kill me." Leon clenches his jaw, wincing as Leona lands a hit on his cheek, sound making the two of you blink. Leon rubs his jaw, laughing as he winces.

"Sorry, dad. Had to do it." She grins, shaking her hand as the words punch Leon a second time.

"Say that again."

"Hm? Sorry?"

"No, you called me dad."

You hide behind the flowers as you laugh, watching as Leon grabs Leona by the shoulders and beams.

"Say it again."

"Alright, old man. You're pushing your luck now." She rolls her eyes, kicking her shoes off and falling back onto the couch to escape his grasp. "We've got plenty of time. Also, you're paying for my tuition now."

"Oh my god, I'm a dad."

You squat to the ground as you laugh, back shaking as Leon stands there, dazed.

Leona takes the chance to slip away, and as the living room fills with your laughter, you think it'll be fine.

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[idkplzhalp]

The Admin in TF2 comic 7 was so GLaDOS and Caroline (Portal) coded. Her character has made me tear up multiple times, there's such complexity to her I'm so upset.

(TF2 comic 7 spoilers)

Anyways. I think her arc is Caro/GLaDOS coded due to similar ways of keeping up this cold facade and then being the pettiest woman on the planet. GLaDOS' cut voice lines are so petty, I posted some earlier but like the way she tries to guilt Chell and makes stuff up... oh girl. And Admin put up a big fake idea of what she was doing and then turns out she's trying to keep one single guy alive for an event she cannot even remember.

They both are so focused on their goals and only do things to help themselves (though GLaDOS definitely gets more of a redemption, at least end of Portal 2). Admin only cared about Pauling & her team in comic 7 because of potentially having australium, then abandoned Pauling when she said no. GLaDOS sent the co-op bots out to rescue the humans, they saved them so she stopped using the robots, and only chose to use them again because she killed all the humans and had no one left to test. They both seem to get bored easily of whatever doesn't help their goals. Bored of anything outside of their path. An obsessiveness. GLaDOS because of the mainframe, it's built into her, and Admin because of wanting to get vengeance for her parents, which had spiraled into her full personality.

Pre-australium Helen was more Caroline in my mind, mainly in her appearance, but also the section about Zepheniah dying? The frame of Admins absolute apathy for life? She lost all her purpose now that he's dead and she feels like she didn't win.

The general story of getting so wronged by someone and basically traumatized into a different personality (Caroline -> GLaDOS -> PotatOS, Young Helen -> Pre-Australium Helen -> Administrator) is very similar. There's this spiral/shift that both of them had.

^ (Her appearance in these, like okayyyy slay girl you look just like Caroline (similarish hair & nose shape)).

^ The feelings that come from the panels of Admin are so strong, you can so easily read what state she's in. Caroline coded in my heart. The way the mansion is left uncared for while Admin sits depressed in bed was just. So emotional for me?

I don't think Caroline felt that way about Cave, the hatred Admin did for Zepheniah, as it was very implied they were besties at least for awhile (notably in scrapped voicelines from Cave about her). The hatred was more likely at the scientists, as they genuinely had no care for her (think about LabRat where they dehumanize GLaDOS and call her "it" during activation tests). Though I feel she'd hold the grief that Admin did for Zepheniah in a different way. Admin is grieving because her purpose in life since childhood was lost, she has no one to focus revenge on anymore once it settles in that Zeph' was dead forever. Caroline lost a friend and was forced into a fate she didn't want, mistreated by employees, left angry and isolated forever. She lived to be the highest assistant of Aperture, working as one for 40 years prior. So in a sense, her purpose was lost as well. We don't hear anything from the Caroline CEO era so I'd like to think she took a step back as she awaited her fate. She probably was barely keeping things together from the stress (though not to undermine how good at her job she was, I just think she'd be depressed for at least some of her CEO time). That's more headcanon territory though, and I wish there was a way we could get more confirmation on how she acted then.

Caroline wanted to live out the rest of her natural life, but it was forcibly cut short and turned into something else. Opposite end, Admin wanted to end her natural life and was forcibly kept alive. While Admin initially didn't want to live, she got stuck in a cycle of trying to spite this guy forever and it was for nothing, she ruined people's lives in the process (Mainly Pauling, ohhh she was so betrayed, someone SAVE HER).

Both were fated to live basically forever and forgot the reasons why they feel the way they do.. GLaDOS didn't remember Caroline/her being a human while Admin forgot how her parents died/that Zepheniah likely killed them.

They are wasting their time forever. GLaDOS is testing and evolving science for NO ONE but herself. Forever. She's alone. Implied to feel lonely in the Lego Dimensions song + her VA thinks so too. Eventually she'd run out of materials and there's no people left to either help her or torture her. Admin admits herself that her plan was a waste of a hundred years and for a moment she's sad. Such big efforts for something miniscule in the end!

TLDR, Both characters were mistreated at some point in life, causing them to became isolated from everyone around them. They're both self absorbed and manipulated everyone they knew for an objective that only mattered to themselves. They had no reason to be rational anymore and their hatred for normal life pleasures grew as they strayed farther from humanity.

And both are voiced by Ellen McLain, nicest woman on the planet. Wow. Thanks Valve.

Really gives same character different universe, doesn't it.

[huffelpuff210]

Only Mine Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader

Only Mine

Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader 

Warning: Dark Themes,Age Gap,  Forced relationship, drugging kidnapping, Grooming, Stalking, Non Con

Steve was bored and tired it’s always the same thing, Students come in here to achieve, but just end up flunking his class, He was a history professor, And most students come in here thinking it will be easy, since it’s History and end up disappointing him as usual, 

He knew he was being a little too harsh, and He knew that he was missing something in his life that’s why he was so miserable and so harsh on his students, but he knew that he had to find something and outlet or someone, someone to make him happy someone who wouldn’t disappoint him like everyone did. These girls today are just so self absorbed and whore around it’s nothing like before he got frozen in ice, after the serum, and now being retired from the avengers.

He was looking down at his papers grading them, when he saw something he hasn’t before, your name, you have every answer right, an ‘A’ 

Steve smirked knowing that someone was paying attention, You just transferred here from Colorado and this isn’t the first Ease you got an ‘A’ on either Steve has taken notice to you and you payed attention taking notes, watching closely. 

Steve had taken notice to you, and he had one more test for you and then he would make his decision. 

You had you bag hanging on your shoulder as you walked to class with your roommate you were just entering Professor Rogers class room, she was laughing, 

“It’s not funny.” You say

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” Jessica says wiping the tears away, 

“Your a nineteen year old virgin.” She says 

“I told you I’m saving myself!” You yell

As you sit down 

“Okay class settle down.” Professor Rogers says as he starts handing everyone’s work, out your paper was and ‘A’ you were so glad, since you studied your ass off and went over all the notes you could to get a perfect score, You let out a breath of relief so happy that you got a great score,

Jessica slams her forehead on her desk You look over at her she holds up her paper that says ‘D-’ 

“Told you. You should have studied instead of going to bakers party.” you say 

“Oh shut it nerd!” She says 

You chuckle, After taking diligent notes and sitting through an hour lecture you and Jessica were leaving class chatting to one another little did you know Steve was following close behind you two, listening closely to your conversation, 

“God how do you always get ‘A’s’!?” Your friend complains 

“Because I study my butt off unlike you. Who decides to go party.” You say with a chuckle 

“So I like to have a bit of fun sue me why don’t you.” She says 

You laugh, 

“You’re too much of a good girl.” She complains 

“Well that’s what happens when you have a Military father.” You chuckle  Steve smirks, feeling a bit turned on. as the two of you walk

You two walk towards the coffee shop 

Steve knew right then and there that you were perfect for him that you were going to be his girl no matter what, He knew he had to be careful on how he did this, he also knew he had to get you away from your roommate she was a bad influence on you, He also knew that you would make the perfect wife and mother, That’s all Steve ever wanted was a perfect family with the perfect woman, 

Sure you were young but that’s what made it perfect, You could bare many children, you were a quick learner meaning he could train you, 

He smirked at the thought, He had been looking for so long not finding the perfect woman but now it seems that dream is just within grasp. 

“Do you want to go to a party tomorrow night before spring break?” Steve’s attention was caught by your friend asking you, 

You hesitate 

Steve knew you were a good girl, but if you accepted he knew it would be the perfect opportunity 

“I don’t know I still need to study.” You say 

“Oh come on live a little bit.” Your friend says

You sigh

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, I need to study for my next midterm.” You say 

“Yeah, Yeah, the good girl can’t have fun.” She says 

You chuckle grabbing your coffee as the two of you leave Steve smirks knowing he had to plan this just right that you were going to be his girl, Spring break will be in two days, meaning, This is perfect And he knew he had to prepare before tomorrow night.

[huh-i-guess]

The Choice

(Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader)

Summary: Miguel needs your help with the Miles situation.

Warnings: Angst (?) 🛑SPOILERS 🛑 idk if this is fluffy or not -_-

Word Count: 683

“Miggy. I think you are being too hard on him. The kid’s 15 and he's scared. You and I both know what that is like.” You started as you paced through Miguel’s lair.

“He doesn't know what it is like to lose someone- EVERYONE that he loves. He’s a selfish immature kid who doesn't deserve to have his powers. That bite wasn’t even meant for him” He fumed as he slammed his fist onto his desk console.

“Please mi amor. Have some compassion for him. He is a kid.” You pleaded.

“Y/N this isn't just about his dad okay. The world. His world. Ours. The multiverse. Everything could collapse. I can't lose anyone else. I can't lose you.” Miguel drops to his knees in front of you and places his head onto your stomach.

“Cariño there will be nothing left. I have dedicated my whole life to keeping the multiverse safe. I can’t let this anomaly mess it up. It's not just him and his dad. It’s you and me. It’s all of us.” He looked up at you with tears rimming his waterline. He looked at you with a pain that was normally reserved for his memories of his daughter. It pained you to see him like this.

“Miggy… I don’t know what to say. ” You ache. You look down at your partner and feel something that you haven't felt in years. It's uncertainty. The deep gnawing feeling stuck in your chest. You felt like it was wrong to trust your heart. Miguel is a man who has been through a lot in his life. He has always been knowledgeable and understanding. He is the one who has always made the difficult choices but this. This felt like some horrible test that assesses your moral compass. Choose your lover and the universe or a scared, curious kid whose future holds great potential for bad and good, who wants to save his family. This dilemma was one that ripped you apart because at some point in your life, you have been in Miles’ shoes but now you are a grown person who has had the blinders of youth ripped away from you. You have felt fear and loss in your life but never have you expected and anticipated it. To know what Miles knows must be gut wrenching. And that is why you feel what you do. This situation has broken you and what you stand for. It has made you doubt yourself.

“I need to stop him. This has to happen. It's happened to all of us and we are built stronger from it. He’s caused too much damage.” You lifted Miguel from his knees and embraced him in your arms. You tugged at his suit and felt your tears fall from your face. You inhaled deeply and felt the drum of his heartbeat. This man who has fought for you for so many years and loved you deeply. The fear that flooded you at the thought of his heart stopping was enough to shake you. He was right. No matter how wrong it felt to let your love force a child to watch his father die, you knew he was right.

“I need you with me. Please, Cariño. You are one of our strongest and brightest. Stay by my side. Please. I need to know that you will support me.” You knew Miguel would never beg unless he was in desperate need. Looking around and seeing the damage Miles caused to the tower, you felt his desperation was well placed. He removed his clawed gloves and placed his hand on your cheek. You leaned into his warm touch.

“This feels so wrong Miggy. I don't want him to go through this pain. I can't wish that grief onto anyone.” You pleaded as you lifted your head to meet his gaze. He let out a small sigh and brought his lips to yours. His plump warm lips met yours and filled you with a sense of calm.

He placed his forehead against yours and stated with anguish, “It’s our only option.”