#and wasn't sure if these had been shared here before

[a2remedy]

Ride or Die and Beyond

Jason Todd, at 15, panicked and tired, didn't know what to make of the situation he was in.

Jason Todd, at 13, was oblivious to his best friend, who was, by all means, just as much of a medical professional as Leslie. That totally wasn't concerning.

Oblivious to how he'd always have a copy of Pride and Prejudice on hand whenever Jason was feeling stressed. Oblivious to dancing shadows and tricks of the light that lead him to hidden clues at crime scenes. But he was aware of the promise to be each other's ride or die when they had to beat up older Gotham Academy students that tried bashing them for not being from rich families.

Jason Todd, at 15, was aware that changed when it was his turn to tend to his friend who got a high fever. He had Alfred rush them to Leslie's and stuck by his side because he knew his friend was afraid of hospitals and needles. He held his friend's hand tight and squeezed to remind him that he was there.

They made jokes about how they couldn't avoid each other even in death. That's when it becomes Ride or Die and Beyond. Then he died. Screaming for his friend and for his dad. Jason Todd, at 15, has never failed to grasp that he couldn't get rid of his friend even if he wanted to. It was fucking annoying... and endearing.

----

Danny Fen Nightingale, at 15, never thought he'd be fighting back an assassin lady with a shovel in front of his best friend's grave. He's been feeling off for months. His grief over his friend felt... wrong? Something was happening. No, something was bound to happen. He couldn't explain it until a green sticky note told him to take a little walk down memory lane within Gotham. He dug up some flowers he was growing and stopped by a tool shop to get a bigger shovel to get the flowers closer to his best friend. As close as they could. But someone beat him there. Someone new? No, he knew this feeling. The unknown, the feeling that someone was watching whenever he visited. He failed to crack her upside the head for attending without flowers. But he felt the shift, somethi- time, time decided to set things right. ---- Talia was caught between a sense of shock and pride that the friend of her beloved's ward nearly got the jump on her. She wouldn't deny that it was within her expectation, though. The boy's steps were so light, she would've been hit if he wielded with less drag, something lighter. With the way the boy dodged and weave from her blows, she was ecstatic to see a dagger in his hands. Is this how the boy felt when he slipped out of here mentioning a 2 for one deal? It was only after her beloved's ward crawled out of his grave that the boy let his guard down so slightly while blocking her off from him. The boy lasted without her training. She was sure he had training of some kind, and yet his form was lax. So nimble, so adaptable.

Of course, she made quick work of the two and covered their tracks before making her escape.

Were her maternal instincts activating again? ----

She wasn't sure how to define her relationship with Danyal. The boy has finally seen the effort to correct her and Damien as pointless after months of being here. Yet, he's displayed a strength she hasn't seen in knocking down her father and dragging him through a brighter glowing Lazarus pit for "paperwork". She may not be sure of what or where her father was, but Danyal has ensured his good health with a devilish grin and that he never laid another hand on him. She was positive he was being tortured in a way the soft-hearted boy deemed fitting. But was he another son? He didn't seem opposed to the idea after her insistence to be trained and grimaced at being in a room with them for too long as he said they stink. He visits 3-4 times a week to ensure her beloved's war- Jason was good in his recovery.

She found herself agreeing with Jason less and less as the boy began turning red after they shared the night he was first back in his right mind crying and holding the other close. But Jason assures her that he's just his best friend... Maybe Danyal couldn't be her son. But he could be her son-in-law.

She wasn't against that.

She also wasn't against the glances she shared more often with Damien as two interacted. They grew closer in discussion of how Danyal fell first, but Jason was falling harder. Then there was this Roy character she's been hearing about more. She couldn't wait to take pleasure in Jason's reaction of his love interests assassinating the so-called Prince of Crime. It warmed her heart that they involved her in strategizing and cleaning up. They also seemed to be reaching a similar affection.

Now she and Damien just need to get Jason to realize he has two boyfriends. Oh, the struggle of motherhood.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH5

Day Two of your new life as Mommy and Daddy's little girl. This time, it's Daddy's turn to spoil you rotten. But before that: another shared shower that brings you very, very close to him.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Shared bed. Nudity. Shared shower. Size difference. Mutual washing. Angst/Comfort. Frottage/non-penetrative humping. Hand job. Cum shot/eating. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 11.1k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

A/N: REMINDER: Reader (we call her pumpkin) is in her 20s, Mommy and Daddy are in their early and late thirties. Everything's more or less consensual. There's a bit of backstory for Reader (who basically suffers from depression and anxiety), but other than that, she's pretty neutral (only attributes she has are: hair long enough to braid and female genitalia, and she's bisexual or at least bi-curious, and leans more to the submissive side of things). In this chapter: It's Daddy's turn, so Mommy only has a few cameos, if you will. ❗ (Please READ THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!) ❗

Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5 🔷️ Chapter 6

After dinner, which you finished full and sated, you spent the rest of the evening on the couch between Mommy and Daddy, both of them with their hand on your thighs. You didn't really pay attention to whatever movie they were watching, you quickly dozed off, snuggling against Daddy's shoulder with Mommy leaning into you.

You had no idea how you got into bed that night or out of your clothes, but when you woke up the next morning, you found Mommy draped around your body, holding you tightly, breathing softly into your neck. Had she spent the whole night here? You felt warm all over, moved by her care and affection, until you noticed that she was completely naked – as were you. Then you felt really hot.

Breathing a little harder, you felt her hand on your boobs, long fingers gliding up and down, pinching your nipple between them. She was fast asleep, you were sure, but you still didn't dare to move away. And when you did try to squirm, she pressed even harder into you, grinding her pelvis against your ass. You really wondered what had happened, what she did to you, what you did to her. There was nothing in your hazy mind.

Even though you should be shocked and appalled, you found yourself disappointed, because you wanted to remember whatever happened between you. Did she have her fingers in your cunt again? Did she make you do the same to her? Maybe she just wanted to cuddle, skin on skin, to share the warmth after a day spent together so intimately?

It wasn't a particularly new sensation though, to not remember what you did. You had phases in those months of darkness were entire days slipped away from you, gone from your mind forever, where maybe nothing happened, or maybe a bit too much. Yesterday had been an intense day, from painful beautification to an endless shopping spree, so maybe at the end of the day, your mind just shut off, not allowing anything new to get in.

Whatever the case, it didn't really matter, because you were sure Mommy would gladly repeat anything that happened between you when you were more conscious. You hoped so. The throb in your cunt hoped so. The way she'd looked at you before dinner (one of the last things you did remember) had been so intense, that hunger in her eyes unrivaled by anything you'd ever seen (except for a somewhat similar kind of hunger in Daddy's eyes).

You still wondered what she meant by having you for dessert.

Shifting slightly in bed, you let your eyes wander through the semi-dark room. Your room. What a strange thought. Maybe if you spent a little bit more time in it, it wouldn't feel as foreign anymore.

A sudden noise cut through your thoughts: the bedroom door opening with a quiet creak. Stiffening under the covers, unconsciously leaning more into Mommy's body, you listened, squeezing your eyes shut as you pretended to be asleep. Before your mind could come up with the only possible explanation for who would enter your room, it gave you a few more ideas, one darker than the next, and all of them made you shiver, some even elicited a little whine from you. You had always been afraid of the dark, and strange noises only fueled your vivid imagination.

But then you felt a warm hand on your shoulder as the mattress dipped a little. “Wake up, pumpkin,” you heard Daddy's quiet voice, a low thrum in the air, a vibration that surged through your body, pushing away any remaining dark thoughts.

Your eyes flew open, sleep (and Mommy) still clinging to you as you shifted to get closer to him. He helped you out of her death grip, and it was only when he pushed the covers down that you remembered that you were stark naked. While shame crashed through you as he pulled you out of bed and onto your feet, you tried to cover up, though he didn't even seem to mind when he gently nudged you into the bathroom.

With your heart nearly exploding in your heaving chest, you stopped in front of the shower, not daring to look back at him, but when you heard the rustle of clothes, you couldn't fight the curiosity after all. You caught a glimpse of tight skin and bulging veins snaking along his abdomen, a trail of dark hair guiding your eyes lower, yet before you got a look at something else, you looked away, your ears burning up badly, your breath hitching in your throat.

He stepped behind you then, his large hands on your shaking shoulders. “There's no shame in nudity, darling,” he whispered softly, leaning in to rub his beard against your soft cheek. “Right? It's all completely natural. Wouldn't you say?”

You swallowed hard, rolling your shoulders under his grip. “Y-yes, Daddy,” you replied quietly, not so sure you would agree. It was one thing to be naked with Mommy, or with another strange woman who was paid to rip hair off intimate places, but Daddy was very clearly a man, and while you'd seen naked men before, you'd never been so close to one as stunning as him. It was intimidating.

You felt even smaller, punier, uglier.

You just couldn't understand what he saw in you when he had someone like Mommy with him. She was clearly the better woman, a real woman, with big natural breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips, a well-shaped rear and long limbs, while you... were not, had none of that, at least in your eyes.

Biting your lip, you fought the strangled sob that tried to squeeze through your tight throat. Daddy seemed to feel your concerns, his hands squeezing your shoulders. You could feel his presence behind you, his tall, wide frame, his warmth, something brushing against your lower back.

“No need to be nervous, pumpkin,” he reassured you, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “It's just a shower. Mommy had one, didn't she? And now it's my turn.”

You inhaled sharply, your exhale a shaky little breath. “O-okay,” you muttered past trembling lips. He moved his hands to your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze, before he nudged you forward, his fingertips brushing against your butt cheeks. You stepped into the shower, still not facing him, and he followed you, closed the door and leaned past you to turn the water on.

You saw his big hands grabbing the bar of soap from one of the little shelves embedded in the wall, rubbing it between his large palms before he started spreading the suds on your shoulders, down your back, around your midriff, up your chest. You just stood there, frozen in place, your eyes closed as you leaned into his ministrations, the water spraying over your head. He is so gentle, you thought, for a big guy like him.

He would only soap you up, no uncomfortable touches, no groping, he wasn't as forward as Mommy had been. He did weigh your breasts in his large hands for a moment, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, his tall frame warm behind you, but it was just another means to clean your body, nothing more. And you almost wished it was more. The longer he moved his hands over you, the more you hoped he'd really touch you. In places Mommy had touched you.

Eventually he'd put the soap away and lean past you again to grab the shampoo. You blinked your eyes open against the constant spray of perfectly-tempered water, inhaling the steam surrounding you, watching his fingers work as he squeezed a little dollop onto his palm.

“Look up, pumpkin,” he said softly, and you did, tilting your head back so he could sink his fingers into your hair. Your eyes fell closed again as he massaged your scalp, little mewls escaping you as you sank into the relaxing touch. Once he'd lathered up your hair and wrapped it into a loose knot, his fingers rubbed down along your neck, before he tilted your head back even more.

You leaned into him, trusting him despite barely knowing him, and he held you with his hand around your elbow, the back of your head meeting his broad chest, and as your eyelids fluttered open, you met his gaze, a smile on his lips before he brought them closer to yours. One of his hands closed around your neck while one of yours moved up to grip his wrist as he leaned down fully to capture your lips for a chaste kiss, a simple pressing and brushing and gliding until a breathless gasp parted your lips.

He held you by the throat as his tongue dipped into your mouth, his beard scratching over your soft skin, the extra tingle sending shivers down your spine and straight between your legs. You clung to him, caught between his arms, back pressed into his chest, head tilted to meet his deep kisses. You didn't quite know what to do with your tongue, letting him move it around, while your own rapid breaths mingled with his.

You felt lightheaded by the time he leaned back a little, bringing his lips lower to kiss along your jaw before he nibbled at your neck, his hand sliding down between the valley of your breasts, his fingertips teasing at the soft mounds. You heard and felt him inhaling deeply, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, his beard rough against your shoulder. One arm snaked around you, while the other hand continued lower. He stopped, however, before he could reach the place you wanted him to touch you the most, where the throbbing was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

He pressed his wide palm into your stomach, fingers spanning so far, before he exhaled against your neck. Another moment ticked past and he straightened up again, shifting you slightly so you stood fully under the spray of the water. As if nothing happened, he returned his hands to your hair and rinsed out the shampoo. You were left standing on trembling legs, still a little breathless, lips tingling, skin aflame under his touches.

This shouldn't feel so good, so comfortable, the doubts kept reminding you as they tried pushing past the cotton in your head. You didn't know this man and yet you allowed him to touch you like this. Sure, it was just a shower, but he was washing you like he would wash a child, or at least it felt like it, someone under his care, someone who couldn't do it themself. But then this was your role now, wasn't it? Letting these people take care of you, pamper you, treat you like the little girl they wanted you to be.

You were supposed to call them Mommy and Daddy, so really, what did you expect would happen?

The thing was, beneath the few doubts still screaming in your mind, there was content silence as you leaned into the capable hands of the man you barely knew but felt strangely connected to already. There was a clear attraction you couldn't deny, the insistent throb in your core, the little drip of your arousal mixing with the water cascading down your body, it was all real. And frankly, you were too tired to fight it.

After months of neglect and darkness and wasting away, it was the change you needed, and you'd do anything to keep it that way.

Daddy still had his fingers in your hair, soothing out knots and snarls, so careful you barely noticed it. You kept your eyes closed, leaning into him, feeling the bulk of his body behind you, the constant little pressure of something against your back.

“Daddy?” you whispered through the spray of the water.

“Yes, pumpkin?” he replied, his voice that deep vibration that made your heart beat faster.

“Can I wash you too?”

His hands paused. “If you want to,” he said then, smoothing your hair down, brushing his fingers over your shoulders and along your arms.

You felt him stepping back a little, and you inhaled deeply, opened your eyes and turned around, not only presenting your front to him but taking a first look at him as well. Your cheeks were already burning, and you tried your damnedest to keep your eyes above his navel. You could see a little smirk as he leaned past you and grabbed the soap again, holding it on his palm.

Your fingers closed around it while you held his gaze, breathing a little harder. The spray of the water kept hitting the back of your head, but you didn't care, you focused on him, on his tall frame. You felt so small standing before him like this, having to tilt your head back to look up at him. The expression on his handsome face was calm, patient and curious, his warm eyes raking up and down your body as you rubbed the bar of soap between your hands.

And just like that, you felt nervous, that same intimidating feeling taking over as you finally took a closer look at his body. As cheesy as the thought felt in your head, you couldn't help but compare him to those marble statues you'd seen in the museum before. Smooth skin, tight over hard muscles and bulging veins, perfectly sculpted body, toned arms and torso and legs (you did dare a look lower, still vehemently ignoring the sight between his thighs though), the only difference were the patches of dark hair between his pecs, trailing down his stomach, leading lower to –

Suddenly you felt his hand grabbing yours, bringing the soap up to his chest. You blinked, looking up at him, your face positively aflame. His gaze was kind, but his eyes were darker than usual. He guided your hand (and the soap) over his skin, watching you closely. You inhaled deeply, focusing on the task, rubbing more and more suds over him, and eventually he let you do it on your own.

The cotton in your head expanded as the doubts grew quieter, and you simply enjoyed being able to take care of him like this. He turned around for you, presenting more muscles under tight skin, and as you massaged his broad back, feeling the occasional twitch jerk through his body, you let your eyes wander, blushing deeply as they landed on his (of course equally well-shaped) rear. He stood perfectly still, a mountain of a man, a sight you'd never seen up close before.

But the more you touched him and explored the bumps and dents and ridges of his body, the more comfortable you felt about it, no longer as intimidated. You stepped closer and stretched behind him, trying to reach around his shoulders and up his neck, but you gave up when you slipped on the tiles, stumbling into him. He turned then, one arm around you, holding you up, an amused smile on his lips.

Trying to play it cool, you carefully took his hand and lifted his arm a little, moving the soap up and down, smiling softly when you wondered if he was as ticklish as you were, but you fought the temptation and concentrated on lathering him up. Once the other arm was done too, you paused, nervously fidgeting with the bar between your fingers, your eyes fixed on the hard muscles of his abdomen.

“I can take it from here, pumpkin,” he said quietly over the rush of water behind you.

You bit your lip, wanting to focus lower, really wanting to, itching to look at him, all of him, but before you could make a move, he took the soap from you and moved it between his large hands. You blinked, caught between wanting to watch him and to give him some privacy (strange concept when you were so close to him, when from the moment you stepped into their house, privacy and personal space were no longer on the menu).

A finger on your chin made you look up at him. “Have you ever seen a cock before, darling?” he asked nonchalantly.

You almost choked on your own spit. After clearing your throat, you averted your eyes and nodded.

“Touched one too?”

You nodded again, though the memory of that was hazy and somehow not as pleasant as you'd like to think. But that didn't stop you from wanting to touch him, even if you had no idea how to approach the matter.

“Give me your hand,” Daddy said quietly, extending his own, palm up.

You inhaled deeply, chewing on the inside of your cheek, then placed your small hand into his. You watched with bated breath how he brought your joined hands to his groin, your eyes wandering over the thicket of hair where some of the soap suds had seeped into, and then...

His cock was warm, firmer than you expected, not hard, but definitely not soft like the ones you had come into contact with before. He gently placed your hand under it, holding it up. It was heavy and... Your hand looked so small, your fingers not even able to wrap completely around it. “Big,” you whispered out loud, blinking at the sight and feel of him. Long and girthy, a prominent vein pressing into your palm, a little throb to it, the head poking out from a layer of tight skin.

A soft chuckle sounded in your ears, making you look up nervously. He smiled at you, amusement making his eyes crinkle. Your lips twitched, but you had to look away again, feeling so hot and bothered your chest was rising and falling faster. He kept his hand under yours, slowly moving it up and down his thick shaft, knuckles brushing against the soft flesh of his balls, and the more you touched of him, the more intimidated you felt all over again.

You stared at how your hand, guided by his, kept stroking his impressive cock, unblinkingly, and your eyes started burning from the hot steam around you. Though your head was full of cotton, focused on him, a few louder voices made it through. The doubts were back, but also a nagging realization. Despite the intimate encounters you had with these people you were supposed to call Mommy and Daddy, it suddenly dawned on you that they were expecting something from you too.

They didn't just want to care for you, cuddle and pamper you, buy you clothes and feed you, and even if they never explicitly said so, you knew there was more. Like Mommy's fingers in your cunt. Daddy's hands weighing your breasts. Their deep kisses that were anything but innocent. You were their toy, in a way, something to play with, something to use.

And holding this heavy cock in your hand only churned the nervous tension in your stomach. That thing was supposed to be inside you. That much was obvious, clear as day, and yet, you couldn't see it. It wasn't that you didn't want it, the throb in your cunt definitely wanted it, but the thought was scary. Not just the fact that he was so big and you were so small and it would never fit, but somehow you couldn't quite understand why he'd even want this, with you of all people.

And what if he won't like it? What if he really won't fit, deeming you... unusable? What if you didn't meet his expectations? They never said so, but your whole situation, this entire relationship, was centered around kink and sex, wasn't it? And if you couldn't deliver, would they send you away again? Why would they keep you?

Your heart was thundering in your chest, breaths erratic, your hand unconsciously tightening around his shaft. Tears burned in your eyes, and when a single croaked sob escaped you, you felt him letting go of your hand before he cupped your face and pulled your chin up, leaning down to look at you.

“What's the matter, pumpkin?” he whispered softly, concern deepening the lines on his forehead.

You blinked your eyes into focus, meeting his warm gaze. Your lips parted, but no words came out. His thumbs rubbed over your cheeks, catching the tears falling freely now.

“Shh, it's alright, don't cry,” he cooed, bringing his lips to your temple. “Talk to me, baby girl.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Will... will I be enough?” you managed to croak out, licking your trembling lips.

He leaned back, watching you with a frown. “Darling, of course! You are enough, you are more than enough. You are everything we've ever wanted,” he told you, his hands tightening around your head as he bent down to press his forehead to yours.

“B-but you... you don't even know me...” you muttered, more tears welling up in your eyes.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, pulling you against him until your cheek rested right between his pecs, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear.

His strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing softly, the embrace tight enough to dampen the doubts for a moment. You went limp, your hands falling to your sides. When he spoke, his voice was a low vibration ringing deep in your bones, silencing the echoing voices.

“We may have just met, but the moment I first saw you, when I first looked into your beautiful eyes, I knew it,” he said, his large hands rubbing up and down your back. “Knew that I would never let you go, that I'd have to guide you, help you, do everything in my power to see this wonderful girl smile and laugh and be happy again. I saw how lost you were, pumpkin, and I know you have your doubts, but you are no longer alone, no matter what your mind is telling you and has told you for so long. We will not push you away, we're here for you, Mommy and me, and as strange as it may seem to you, we have been looking for you, and we will only let you go when you are the strong, confident person you once were, who was excited about the world and its opportunities.”

You leaned against him, crying soundlessly, warmed by the water and his words. He rested his chin on top of your head, curling himself around you.

“Don't be afraid or intimidated by us, by me, by anything. You have no reason to. We want you, sweet girl, all of you, and we will do anything to empty that pretty head of yours,” he whispered, his chest moving against you when he inhaled deeply. “But we'll do so at your pace, okay? No need to panic or doubt yourself. We'll make you feel so good, pumpkin.”

You had to give it to him. He could both calm and comfort you, but also make you incredibly hungry for more. The itch in your core grew so strong you had to clamp your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the tension. Squirming in his hold, your hands moved up to grip at his sides, fingers gliding over shifting muscles, warm skin pressing into yours, his cock hard and heavy against your stomach.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked softly, his hands teasing lower, fingers curling around the slopes of your rear. “You can ask for anything. I'm here for you, okay? Daddy's got you.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, breathing harder. You had no idea how to even word the need crashing through your insides, so you kept shifting from one foot to the other, rubbing yourself against his hard body, your hands clawing at his lower back.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” he rasped, his fingertips dipping between your butt cheeks.

You stiffened, pausing the squirming, before you pressed your rear against his hands, a mumbled “Yes” escaping you. A rumble went through his chest when he gave a little laugh, slipping his hands lower, cupping your ass properly. And then he lifted you effortlessly, pulling you up and against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck while you instinctively pressed your thighs against his waist.

He shifted you slightly, one hand curled around your shoulder, the other slipping beneath you, and then it happened, your heated center pushed right against his cock, hard and stiff, pointing upwards, pressed between his lower stomach and your body. The spray of the shower hit your back, a steady stream of warmth adding to the heat gathering low in your core.

His hands settled on your waist, a strong grip, and when you leaned back a little to look at him, you saw him watching you, his face a little tight, that muscle in his jaw twitching, and his eyes were... intense. There was hunger. A dark stare.

“Cross your legs behind me,” he told you, and you did. “Hold onto my shoulders, yes, like that. And now, grind on me, baby girl.” He started the motion by gently moving your body up and down so that his shaft would press right between your labia, the head catching on your clit, and just that first stroke already blurred your vision.

Your hands dug into his shoulders, your pelvis working against him, up and down, back and forth, a slow rubbing and grinding, the heat and bulk of him gliding through your slick slit. The tension grew, your lips parted, chest heaving, heart thundering. He kept his hold on you, watching you, guiding you as you moved against him. Little moans escaped you, your limbs tensing and twitching around him.

You could feel him getting even harder, throbbing against you. Every upwards slide and downwards stroke sent shivers down your spine, little tingles that went all the way into your toes and fingertips, and when you could barely move anymore, he kept going, pushing you up and down, his fingers tight around your waist, probably leaving bruises, but you needed the strong hold, the reminder that he was there, helping you.

The friction felt like nothing you'd ever felt before, somehow both soothing and scorching hot, burning through your nerves, setting the cotton in your head on fire, and all you could feel was him. You tried keeping up with the grinding and sliding, but all those shudders felt out of your control, so you leaned in, wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek against his, the scratch of his beard adding to the sensation. You were breathing frantically as your hips undulated against him, faster now, desperate to find that sweet release.

A low groan vibrated through him as he shifted his hands to cup your rear, pushing and pulling you into him, the additional pressure sending even more shock waves through your body. The heat built and built, your clit throbbing, the head of his cock rubbing and prodding it, his warmth all-consuming. You were teetering on the edge, so close, and then he spoke, low in your ear, a deep thrum that shot straight into your clenching cunt.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasped. “Come on Daddy's cock.”

You couldn't even control it anymore, it just happened, the tension almost painful until it finally exploded, like fireworks behind your eyelids, a sudden surge of energy through your entire body, a soothing wave, a roaring storm, all at once. You came with a croaked little cry, a breathless "Daddy!", burying your face in the crook of his neck, your hands clawing at his shoulders, your legs twitching as your toes curled.

He held you, slowed the grinding motions, and you noticed him twitching too, a little jerk through his big body, another quiet groan, before something warm and wet gathered between your bodies, slippery on your already soapy skin. You felt him, thick and warm pressed against your swollen labia, the echo of that delicious friction still thrumming through your nerves. Exhaling loudly, you relaxed against him, holding onto him.

His lips brushed against your damp forehead. “My good girl,” he whispered, his voice rougher than before, causing you to smile into his neck. You felt safe in his arms, any kind of worry silenced, pushed to the far back.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmured, slowly making the effort to lean back a little, angling your cunt a bit more against him, the motion making that muscle in his jaw twitch as you looked at him. The hardness left his eyes when he smiled at you. “That felt really good...”

“It did, hm?” he mused, nuzzling your cheek. “For me too, pumpkin.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, and you grabbed his face and pulled him closer, finding the courage to deepen the kiss. A surprised little moan escaped him, further pushing you to show him how much you liked whatever was happening between the two of you.

Your tongue pressed between his lips, quickly met by his, and while they glided frantically against the other, a wild dance that stoked the fire within you, he tightened his grip on your ass and suddenly moved, stepping away from the constant spray of warm water, until your back hit the wet tiles, a cold shiver crashing over you.

You gasped into his mouth, eyes flying open, meeting his heated gaze. His hands moved up your sides, big palms rubbing at the goosebumps spreading all over your body. The missing support made you clench your legs tighter around him (which pressed your cunt harder against his cock), your fingers curling around his neck as he cupped your face and pulled you in again, his tongue delving deep, your rapid breaths mingling with his.

You clung to him, desperate for more, your hips already grinding against him again, your back rubbing up and down the wall. He watched you through hooded eyes, slowing the movements of his tongue and lips before stopping altogether, tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours, labored breaths fanning over your tingling lips.

“Needy little thing,” he whispered in an amused tone. “You've warmed up pretty fast to me, hm?”

You felt the heat crashing into your cheeks, a slightly embarrassed giggle escaping you as you stilled the undulating of your pelvis. “You're so easy to warm up to, Daddy, I can't help it,” you mumbled back, biting your swollen lip.

“That's okay, pumpkin, I'm glad you did. I like to see this hunger in your eyes,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “But we should take it slower now, wouldn't you say?” You pursed your lips, considering, when he added: “Show me your fingers.”

He leaned back, shifting you in his hold, his hands back under your thighs, when you took one hand away from his neck and held it up to him, frowning slightly. His eyes traveled from your face to your fingers, a smile widening on his lips.

“Look at that, you're all pruney...” he mused, leaning his head closer until he could press a kiss to your digits. “This shower escalated quite a bit, huh?”

You chuckled nervously, teasing your wrinkled fingertips against his beard. He exhaled loudly through his nose as the muscle in his jaw twitched again, moving under your fingers.

“So tempting,” he muttered under his breath, his dark eyes boring into yours as you kept tracing the edges of his facial hair. “Pumpkin, we have an entire day of this ahead of us, let's get moving, yeah?”

You nodded, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. With a little grunt, he pulled you away from the wall and set you on your feet again, after nudging your thighs apart, and begrudgingly you let go of him, sliding down his body, your core mourning the loss of his cock pressed against it.

This time, you openly stared at it, marveling at the different shape, noticing it was even longer and girthier than upon your first inspection. The mushroom head was red and glistening, the shaft tight, the veins more pronounced, and it bobbed angrily against his lower stomach as he took a step back.

“Eyes up here, baby girl,” he said sternly, but when you looked at him, blushing profusely, he grinned at you.

You blinked, your eyes flicking over his face as your lips twitched, and you watched him curiously when he leaned up and grabbed the shower head. He rinsed the rest of the soap suds off your body, then his, and you noticed something else smeared on his abdomen, but then he rubbed his hand over it and washed it down the drain too.

“Can I clean you too?” he asked quietly, shower head in his big hand.

You frowned, wanting to say he already did, when he pointed the jet of water at your stomach, slowly moving lower. “Oh,” you mouthed, then nodded, your blush spreading down to your shoulders. Slowly you opened your legs a little, holding your breath when he brought the warm water to your mound. Your heart gave a sudden jerk when he lowered his free hand and gave your core a gentle rub, your cunt clenching around nothing when he brushed against your swollen clit.

He bent down a little and moved his hand and the water between your thighs, rinsing your legs, fingers pressing lightly into your soft flesh. The need flared up again, your eyes skipping from what he was doing back to his cock, and you wondered why he didn't do anything about how hard he was. You were right here, weren't you?

From the deepest point of your mind came a weak shout of rage, reminding you that you shouldn't be so eager, so willing, so easy. He might not like that. He did call you needy. But at the same time you were kind of proud of yourself to even have these urges. It had been so long, and it only took this man (and Mommy) a bit over twenty-four hours to change the wires in your brain, at least a little. It was a start. A horny start, but a start nonetheless.

“Daddy?” you whispered as he put the shower head back, letting the two of you soak in the steady stream from the rainfall shower above you for a bit longer.

“Yes, pumpkin?” he asked, his hands resting casually on your hips.

“C-can I help you with... y-you know...” you stammered, losing your confidence as soon as you uttered the words, or tried to.

A smirk tugged on the corner of his lips. “With what, baby?” he teased, making you squirm, your eyes moving from his face down to his groin. “No, say it. Tell me what you want to do.”

You inhaled deeply, shame burning through your body. “I...” you started, forcing yourself not to lose steam. “I want... I mean... you... you're... hard... right? And I... I thought...” You averted your eyes, your nostrils flaring. You couldn't say it. You could touch it, rub your cunt against it, come on it, but say its name? Never.

His fingers pushed against your chin, making you look up at him while his other hand gently grabbed yours, long fingers curling around your wrist. “What do you want to do, pumpkin?” he asked pointedly. “Give me a full sentence.”

You kept squirming, furrowing your eyebrows. “M-make... makeyoucome,” you blurted out quietly. “Iwannamakeyoucome!”

He laughed softly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Once more, slower.” As gentle as his tone was, there was an underlying authority behind his words, demanding, dominating. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“I...” You squared your shoulders, facing him fully. “I want to make you come, Daddy.”

He nodded, smiling. “And how do you want to do that?”

A frustrated huff escaped you, and the flicker of a dark shadow moved over his handsome face. You blinked, staring at him. “By... by touching your...”

“Yes?”

Your eyes were burning, his scrutinizing gaze tightening your throat. You looked away, down his body, basically staring at his cock again, willing the word onto your tongue. But it didn't work. Only a croak escaped you.

Daddy's hand curled around your jaw, pulling your face up and closer to him. You blinked a tear away. “Cock,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. “Say it.”

You licked your lips, shivering even under the warm spray of water. “C-co...”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting, his lips forming the word, trying to help you along.

“Cock,” you gasped out, your eyes widening, your cheeks burning up.

He rubbed your chin and smiled wider. “Now give me a full sentence.”

You exhaled loudly through your nose, swallowing hard. “I... I want to make you come by... by touching your... your cock...” you muttered.

“Good enough,” he said, patting your warm cheek. “Let's get dried up first, okay?”

You heaved a sigh of relief, nodding with a shy smile.

After he patted you down with one of those soft towels, your hair in a tight towel turban on top of your head, he held out a tube of lotion, for your skin, he said, watching you as you took it with your cheeks still aflame. As you dared a look into the large halfway-fogged-up mirror, you could see the reddened skin on your legs and your mound, under your armpits, still sensitive from the waxing. Unscrewing the cap, you chewed on your bottom lip, that need flaring up again as your eyes moved back to him.

He was drying himself off, one towel around his waist, the other on his head where he rubbed it over his short hair. “Need my help, pumpkin?” he offered with a smirk.

“I... I can do it,” you muttered, awkwardly crouching down to start applying the lotion to your legs.

“I know you can,” he said, lowering the towel, his hair tousled in a way that made him look at least five years younger. You looked away quickly, that insistent heat settling low in your stomach. “But you can still ask for help, you know? I wouldn't mind...”

You kept chewing on your swollen lip, quickly finishing your legs, before you stood up again, watching him. You put another dollop onto your palm and rubbed your hands together, then put the cool cream under your arms. He took a step closer, his large frame towering over you as he gently took the tube from your slick hands.

You froze when he squirted some onto his hand and started rubbing it into your back, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure that made you shiver deeply, quiet moans slipping from your lips when he kneaded your stiff shoulders. His hands moved lower when he leaned over you a little. “This okay?” he breathed into your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Yes,” you whispered, closing your eyes when his fingers slid along your sides, following the curves of your body.

A sudden slap to your ass cheek made you yelp and jump forward, his other hand curling around your shoulder to pull you back. As a dull little pain throbbed beneath your skin, he leaned in again, resting his bearded chin on your bare shoulder. “Ask me, baby girl,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

You swallowed audibly, blinking against the steam of the room and the shame filling your cheeks. “C-can you...” His hand moved around your body, large palm pressing to your stomach. You looked down, breathing a little harder. “Can you... touch me...” you whispered barely audible, your pulse thundering in your ears as you moved your own hand to place it on top of his, giving it a gentle nudge downwards. “Here?”

“Where, pumpkin?” he rasped into your ear, rubbing his rough cheek against your jaw.

“Between my legs?”

“What's it called?”

You huffed a frustrated little sigh, pulling your hand away and clenching it into a fist at your side. It wasn't that he sounded condescending or trying to mock you, but you just couldn't talk like that, you never had, never even asked for these things in the first place.

He sensed your apprehension, exhaling against your cheek as he straightened up again. His hands found your arms, and he turned you around a little, then grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.

“You have to learn to voice your needs, baby,” he told you quietly. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. I cannot read your mind, even if I can sense what you want, but I want you to say it. I told you, you can ask me absolutely anything.”

His eyes moved over your flushed face, your own blurry from the tears burning within them. Tears of frustration mostly, anger at yourself. The lump in your throat grew bigger the longer you looked at him, at his handsome face, cheeks slightly red from the warm air, hair still messy, eyes so warm and deep, the shape of his lips so enticing... And you felt so small and so stupid.

Averting your eyes, you clenched your hand around the tube of lotion, before you raised it up, showing him, then moved your eyes down, tilting your hips slightly. An amused exhale escaped his lips. “Say it, pumpkin, I know you can do it.”

“I can't!” you huffed, shaking your head, the first tear spilling from your lashes. You struggled in his hold, and he let you slip from it when you turned around and slammed the lotion onto the vanity, your shoulders shaking. “Never mind...”

He didn't sigh or show any sign of disappointment or frustration himself, he just followed you, his arms coming around your body as he pulled you back against his chest, embracing you tightly, his chin resting on top of your head.

“It's just a word, baby girl,” he whispered. “Don't beat yourself up over it. But for the future, we're going to work on your communication skills. And we will, and it'll be fine. It's so important to know what the other wants and needs and thinks, and there is no shame in sharing. It's freeing, trust me. One day, you'll like it too.”

He moved his hands down your sides as he leaned back a little, his fingers curling around your hips before he gripped them tightly and pulled your rear against his front. You gasped a little when you realized he'd dropped the towel, his cock pressing warm and hard into your lower back.

“I for one would really like to feel your small hands on my cock now,” he said quietly, continuing to rub your backside against himself, his fingertips digging into your flesh. “But I would also really like to rub my fingers over your cunt. Your skin must be burning a little, right, pumpkin? Let me help you. Would you like my fingers on your cunt, baby?”

You swallowed, your chest rising and falling faster. The throb between your legs grew with every low vibrating word he uttered. “Yes, Daddy,” you mumbled under your breath. “Please... touch my...”

“Cunt,” he repeats quietly, one of his hands moving lower, fingertips teasing at the irritated skin. “Or would you prefer pussy?”

You couldn't help the shame crashing through you. It was a deep-rooted thing, words you'd never used before. You knew it was silly, they were just words, like he said, but it felt wrong to say them out loud, as well as voicing your depraved little needs. But then it should also be wrong to be this intimate with a literal stranger, or to call a grown man who wasn't your father Daddy. Thinking about it, you realized naming certain body parts really was the less perverted thing here...

He shifted behind you, taking a half-step around you. You turned your head a little, watching him out of the corner of your eye when he gently grabbed your hand and moved it back until your fingers brushed against something warm. You inhaled sharply when he curled your digits around his shaft.

“Cock,” he whispered, holding your hand there, while moving his other to grab your free one, bringing it to rest flush against your mound. “Cunt,” he added.

You chewed on the loose skin on your bottom lip. After taking another shaking breath, you gave his length a gentle squeeze. “Cock,” you whispered, then moved your other hand a little lower, fingertips teasing along your slit. “Cunt.”

A soft laugh escaped him before you felt his lips on your warm cheek. “Good girl!” he praised, the words rushing through you like liquid fire, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

He pried your hand off his cock and gently turned you around, smiling down at you. Your face was practically burning, but you met his gaze, a timid smile grazing your lips. He leaned past you and grabbed the lotion tube off the vanity, squirting some onto his fingers. Then he waited.

Swallowing the remnants of the lump in your throat, you looked at him. “Can you put that on my... cunt?” you then asked quietly, a little furrow between your eyebrows.

His face lit up. “With pleasure, baby girl,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against yours while his hand moved right between your thighs, the cooling lotion making you gasp against him as he rubbed it gently over your warm skin. He put most of it onto the gentle slope of your sex, teasing it against your outer labia, but then used his other hand to give your clit a little prod.

You twitched against him, your breath hitching in your throat. His thumb pushed firmly between your lower lips and rubbed upwards under the hood, and the coming nudge against that sensitive bundle of nerves made you squirm into him, your hand finding his wrist. To keep his hand there or to push him away, you weren't sure.

“Remember what else you wanted to do, pumpkin?” he said quietly against your lips, his hooded eyes intense as you met them.

“Make you come,” you replied just as quietly, blinking the rising embarrassment away.

He nodded, giving you another peck, before he leaned away, his hands moving around your thighs. In one swift motion he had lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the vanity, your legs pushed wide apart as he stepped between them, his cock bouncing slightly against his thigh and then against yours. He settled his hands on your hips, looking down at you with a smile.

“Do you want to try out what works or do you want me to show you how?” he asked, tilting his head.

Your hands already inched closer to him, your eyes glued to the long and girthy appendage in front of you. He wasn't as hard as before anymore, the head halfway covered by his tight skin, but the veins were just as prominent, a little throb to them as you stared at them. With your gaze fixed on him, you didn't even care how exposed you were, though your cunt seemed to weep just being so close to his cock, the constant clench of it as soothing as it was infuriating. But this wasn't about you.

You wanted to please the man who had been so patient with you, so gentle. Nobody had ever treated you like this, and you felt as if you owed him something in return. “I... I wanna try,” you finally mouthed, licking your lips as you looked up at him. He nodded, still smiling, his hands on your hips giving you a soft squeeze.

“Go ahead, don't be shy.”

You had told him you'd seen and touched a cock before, but now that you were so close and personal with one (without water and anxiety clouding your vision), it could have been all a lie. You remembered hesitant fumbles under blankets or into loose shorts, something warm and fleshy, sometimes leaky and wet, a throb to it. Your hand moving up and down, squeezing, shifting skin, a little jerk, a groan, then stickiness all over your fingers. All in a matter of seconds, really. Compared to what you'd already done to Daddy's cock, everything else you ever experienced was blatant child's play.

Inhaling deeply, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and focused on the task at hand, literally. When you eventually touched him, cradling him in both of your hands, feeling the weight again, the warmth, the bulging veins, your mind slowly emptied, the cotton expanding, your entire concentration on doing a good job. You looked up gingerly, meeting his patient gaze, eyes crinkled, lips curled. Your heart beat faster just seeing him like that.

He didn't do this for his own pleasure, this was about you getting used to handling his cock. And you were grateful. You still had no idea what they expected of their new submissive, but you'd figured it must be sexual favors, and judging by how your whole body tensed under the prospect, in a good way, you knew you could handle it, you wanted it, wanted to please them and make them proud and stay in their favor.

Still mesmerized by his dark eyes, you curled one hand around his shaft. You weren't able to close your fist, but when you started moving it slowly up and down, you knew it was enough when he hummed softly. “Just like that, pumpkin,” he whispered, watching you closely, his hands still on your hips as if he wanted to ground you, show you he was there if you needed him.

You gave him a shy smile and continued, squeezing his warm flesh, shifting the tight skin and veins under your palm. Whenever you reached the head, you'd curl your hand a little, giving it an extra squeeze before pulling the skin taut again, eliciting more little hums and low moans from him. You kept watching him, taking in every tiny twitch, of his lips, of that muscle in his jaw, observing how his mouth opened slightly, how his eyebrows moved a little.

“Is this good, Daddy?” you breathed softly, increasing your ministrations.

“Perfect, baby girl,” he rasped, voice already tense and hoarse. His fingers dug deeper into the soft flesh of your hips before he suddenly let go. You paused, frowning. “Keep going,” he said with a nod while his hands moved up to your head and slowly unfurled the towel turban holding your hair.

He freed it with confident fingers while you kept stroking his cock, your wet tresses falling over your shoulders before he eased them down gently, carefully pulling at some snarls. Then, he cupped your face, leaning in.

“You're so good for me, baby,” he cooed, nuzzling your temple, inhaling deeply. You closed your eyes, smiling softly as you felt his lips trail along the side of your face until he reached your mouth. “So beautiful, so talented.”

Heat crashed through you as you gasped into his mouth when he pushed his tongue between your lips, the kiss slow and gentle, your hand on his shaft stilling its movements for a moment. He kept one hand on your face, thumb under your chin to guide the kiss, while his other hand joined yours, giving it a gentle nudge as he curled his long fingers around yours, picking up the pace again. You replied with a tighter squeeze to his hardened cock as your joined hands slid up and down his length, quicker and rougher, his breaths sounding more labored as they mingled with yours.

He broke the kiss, panting into your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, and your eyes fluttered open as his squeezed shut, and you watched the tension on his face growing stronger, tighter, before it suddenly eased, a low groan escaping him as you felt his cock throbbing against your palm, his hips bucking into your hand. The hand that used to guide yours slammed down on the vanity to steady himself, his body giving another jerk, and then you felt something warm splashing against your thigh and stomach.

Looking down you saw the angry red tip spurting thick ropes of cum onto your skin, your hand still holding him steady, his hips still pushing against your fist. He stilled eventually, his tall frame relaxing, a deep exhale, a warm breath, hitting your tingling lips. The hand on your face (that had curled into your hair but you had been too mesmerized by the sight in front of you to complain) slipped down to your shoulder, then landed on the counter next to your hip as well as he just stood there, breathing deep, eyes still closed.

You didn't dare to move for a moment, just holding his still heavy but slowly softening cock, some of his cum dripping down your digits. You'd think you'd be disgusted by it (like you'd been in the past), but instead you were fascinated, enthralled even, by the feel and warmth of his spend, almost tempted to bring it to your lips and taste it...

He moved then, straightening up a bit, his hands finding your face again as his eyes opened, a soft warm glow in them, a smile spreading over his entire face. “Thank you, pumpkin,” he said hoarsely, watching you as you smiled back, heat crashing into your cheeks.

“You're welcome, Daddy,” you whispered a little timidly.

He caressed your warm face, thumbs rubbing over the corners of your lips. Slowly he tilted your head down as you both looked at how his cum covered your stomach and crotch and legs in thick globs, gravity slowly pulling it lower. He leaned back, taking one hand off your face to touch the hand still clutching at his cock. Let go, he whispered, and you did. Holding your hand, he moved your fingertips up your lower stomach, gathering his seed.

“This will always be yours, baby girl,” he said softly, raising your joined hands to make you look at the wet sheen on your fingers. “Soon, very soon, I will put every single drop into your cute little cunt, because that's where it belongs, right, pumpkin? It belongs to you... just like your cunt belongs to me, and I will do whatever I want with it...”

His voice was so low and gentle, a little hypnotic, and almost as if he was talking to himself. You blinked at his words (both vile and enticing), not quite understanding but nodding all the same. “Yes, Daddy,” you mouthed, watching him, your eyes going a little cross-eyed as he brought your glistening fingers closer to your mouth.

“Tongue out, baby,” he ordered gently, and you parted your lips and extended your tongue, waiting. He moved your fingers closer, and as soon as they touched, the taste exploded in your mouth, a little bitter and salty, but there was something about it that set the cotton in your head on fire. Your cunt clenched as you flicked your tongue around your digits, licking up as much as you could gather.

He watched you with dark eyes, his face a bit stoic, focused on how you cleaned your hand. His own moved back down and swept up more until your stomach and sex were more or less clean, and when he brought his fingers to your mouth, your saliva-slick hand closed around his wrist as you pulled it closer, hungrily licking up the rest.

“Pumpkin,” he croaked out, a little shiver crashing down his tall frame as he observed you with an intensity that made you lick around his digits slower. You felt him pushing them deeper into your mouth, onto your tongue, almost teasing at the back of your throat, and you didn't mind, you just stared at him, your vision a little blurry, overcome by whatever kind of lust was swirling through your body. “Pumpkin!”

You gasped, his fingertips giving a little nudge, a deep prod, that made you flinch and almost gag, and he quickly pulled his hand back, soothing it along your throat. You swallowed against his palm as you blinked in slight confusion.

“You are quite the temptress, hm, baby girl?” he mused, leaning back fully now, his hands mindlessly rubbing over your inner thighs. “I just wanted to take a shower with you... and look at us now,” he added, chuckling slightly.

You bit your lip, giving him a smile/frown combo, wondering yourself what had happened. He bent down a little, brushing his nose against yours before pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.

“It's alright, we still have enough time,” he said, and you noticed him stealing a glance at the watch lying on a pile of clothes on a cupboard opposite the vanity.

“For what, Daddy?” you whispered curiously.

He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck, before he flashed you a dazzling smile that made your core throb badly. “For another little adventure,” he replied cryptically. “I'm sure you'll love it just as much as I will. Come on, now, let's get you ready, okay?”

You were still sitting on the counter, crossing your feet to swing them innocently as you watched him fumble with something in the cabinets next to the mirror. When he handed you your prepared toothbrush, you blushed deeply, but quickly took it, turned and held it under the faucet for a moment before following the hint. While you brushed your teeth, he grabbed a hair brush and started untangling your tresses, gently gliding it through once it was all smooth.

“Come down for me?” he asked, and you jumped off the vanity and turned for him, facing him in the mirror as he stood tall behind you, his hands quickly continuing taking care of your hair. He was really good at it, you were surprised, even more so when his nimble fingers parted your hair and started arranging it into two braids that started at your temples, working around your head until he picked up a small hair tie and fastened the thin ends.

“Where did you learn that?” you asked past the toothbrush in your mouth, honestly mesmerized by what he was able to do, too mesmerized to mind your manners, but he didn't seem to care.

“Mommy taught me,” he replied, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “And you know, braiding hair and braiding rope is kind of similar.”

“Braiding rope?” you asked with a frown.

He finished the second braid, then put his hands on your shoulders, leaning down. “All in good time, pumpkin. I'd say you're in for some surprises,” he mused with a soft chuckle. While confusion washed over you, he kissed your cheek, then nudged you closer to the sink.

After you were done with your teeth, he made you wash your face, still as gentle and patient as before, and when he told you to use the toilet, you felt a little weird and like a child all over again, but he'd give you a kiss, then gathered the clothes from the cupboard and left the bathroom, telling you to join him when you were done.

Luckily the cotton in your head kept you from falling into that familiar pit of doubts again, so you just did as you were told, not thinking much of anything except wondering what else he had planned for you, before you eventually stepped out of the bathroom, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He was already dressed, not wearing that fancy suit you saw him in before, but a pair of jeans and a T-shirt (making it impossible not to stare at his toned arms). Standing in front of your closet, he rummaged through its contents. You realized it looked different, full of clothes you recognized, those that Mommy had bought for you yesterday. Speaking of Mommy, you looked around for a moment, wondering where she was, but the bed was made and she was gone, because you probably spent too much time in the bathroom with Daddy.

You looked back at him, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror beside him, realizing you were still completely naked. But before any kind of panic could settle into your bones, he turned around, his arms laden with a variety of clothes he fanned out over the bed. He met your gaze with a smile, extending a hand.

You quickly walked to him, putting your hand onto his palm and pressed into his side. “Choose something,” he told you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

Your eyes wandered over shirts and shorts and skirts and several sets of cute underwear, and in the end you decided on a pair of jean shorts and a white T-shirt with a pink kitten printed on the front. Before you could pick which color underwear you would wear, Daddy moved in and pointed to the soft pink ones, a matching set of a cotton bralette and panties adorned with little white bows.

He gathered your choices for you and gently shoved them into your arms, nudging you back into the bathroom, where you got dressed quickly. Returning to the room, Daddy motioned you to sit down on the bed before he crouched down in front of you. You watched, with your cheeks burning almost painfully, how he put your feet into frilly white socks and a pair of blue running shoes, his fingers working quick, his touches as electrifying as before. You didn't even care that he didn't let you put those on yourself. It felt kind of nice to have him do it, not as degrading as you would have thought.

You guessed that was what Daddies were supposed to do. And if it made him happy (he did look rather pleased having your small feet in his large hands), you played along gladly.

When he eventually led you down the stairs and into the kitchen, you saw Mommy sitting on one of the stools surrounding one side of a large kitchen island, sipping a cup of coffee and lazily flipping through a newspaper spread over the counter. Daddy paused, his hand tightening around yours a little.

“What are you still doing here?” he addressed her, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she sighed, and swiveled on her chair, her long legs crossed, feet clad in black high heels, a different black dress adorning her beautiful curves. “We really gotta work on your time management, you know?” she added, looking at the elegant watch on her wrist.

Daddy huffed a laugh and looked at you. “We got a little distracted, hm, pumpkin?”

You blushed deeply, deciding not to say anything while leaning into him.

“How about I'm the one to take care of her morning routine from now on?” Mommy suggested, getting up from the stool and taking a few clicking steps towards you. Without saying anything else, she swooped in and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you against her body. “Morning, mi amor,” she whispered, pressing her lips to your cheek.

“Good morning, Mommy,” you whispered, giving her a shy smile.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, and you nodded, suddenly remembering that you woke up in her arms, still not knowing what happened last night.

Daddy cleared his throat, his hand tugging on yours. Mommy threw him a dark glare before returning to the island, picking up her phone. You looked from her back to him, feeling a little out of place between them. You'd noticed it before, but there was always a strange kind of tension hanging in the air whenever they were in the same room.

“I got her the 12pm appointment tomorrow,” she said, turning back to Daddy who nodded. “I will take her, you have to go back to the office. They're already going haywire because you took one day off...”

He sighed. “Sure.” He turned to you then, raising his free hand to put a finger under your chin. You looked up at him, mildly confused. “But today is all about us, pumpkin, never mind anyone else, okay? Just you and me and the great outdoors.”

Your frown deepened, but at least now you knew why he dressed you so casually. There were more questions in your head, but as soon as he smiled at you, they didn't seem to matter anymore.

“Greta packed you a basket. Have fun,” Mommy said distractedly, her thumb swiping quickly over the screen of her phone. “I gotta go now.” Finally, she lowered the device and her eyes met yours. Daddy had let go of your hand to walk to the fridge, while you stood there, a little lost in the big kitchen. Mommy approached you, her hand finding your face before she twirled her fingers around the end of your left braid. “You look so cute, kitten,” she said gently, her hand trailing down to the print on your shirt. “I wish I could come with you, but I am highly allergic to anything nature,” she said with a stiff laugh. “But you have fun, okay? Be a good girl for Daddy.”

You nodded eagerly, looking past her to the tall man leaning against the counter, watching the scene with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Of course, Mommy,” you replied, turning back to her.

She smiled, leaning down to press her lips to yours, her fingers back on your chin. The kiss grew from a quick peck to a deeper tongue wrestle that left you utterly breathless. Eventually, Mommy inhaled deeply, leaning back slowly. “I'm gonna miss you,” she cooed, caressing your jaw.

Then she turned abruptly and walked away, the click of her heels echoing through the room. She didn't say goodbye to Daddy, she just left. You watched her in growing confusion before you felt Daddy's hand nudging your elbow.

“Ready to go, baby girl?” he asked, his fingers curling around your side, pulling you into him.

You had no idea what was going on, but you nodded anyway, knowing whatever he had planned, it would be fine as long as he stayed with you. It was a strange realization, but after spending such an intense (and intensely intimate) morning with this man, it didn't really matter anymore that you still barely knew him. Somehow, you trusted him, and the biggest thing: you wanted to be with him. The cotton in your head wanted it as much as your clenching cunt.

Being with him felt good, cleansing, distracting. No matter where the journey would lead you.

Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5 🔷️ Chapter 6

End notes: Nothing to say, just:

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: Daddy takes you on a little road trip, happy to have a new passenger princess...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

..

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.  

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

..

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

[hrts4nagi]

i tira-miss-u!

♡. . ! valentine's day special

synopsis :: it’s been 3 months since you broke up with nagi seishiro. he soon realizes how important you were to his life. and all he can do is try to win you back, but the question awaits, will you take him back?

pairing :: ex-bf! nagi seishiro x gn! reader, exes to lovers?

wc :: 3.6k

a/n :: happy valentine's day! i came up with this on the whim after seeing this tweet and became inspired :> hope u enjoy!

୨ ୧

when you proposed the break up nagi was ever so nonchalant. the two of you parted ways, no bad blood. just a plain old mutual break-up. ever since you moved out of your previously shared home, nagi’s starting to realize how empty the apartment was. and he did not like it, one bit. 

he would turn around looking for you in the middle of the night, patting around on your side of the bed to be met with a cold empty space. he calls out your name asking where his cleats went, to no response. at the convenience store, he finds himself reaching for two cups of noodles out of pure instinct. he looks at chokki, frowning that chokki’s partner was also gone. 

it becomes all the more clear to him, nagi wants you back. 

scratch that. 

he needs you.

how was he supposed to do that within a week from valentine's day?

he dies in a game with a large GAME OVER plastered over the screen. he grumbles placing his phone face down. 

it was practically mocking him.

nagi can't help but think how his apartment hasn't felt like a home ever since you left. he misses the sweet vanilla scent of the perfume you wore. the scent nothing but a distant memory, leaving a painful reminder that you were no longer his.

he sighs at the thought. it was bothersome how he longed for you yet nagi wasn't sure how to get you back.

nagi: hey reo

reo: what’s up

nagi: i want y/n back

reo: congrats? but weren’t they the one to break up with you

nagi: yeah and?

reo: nagi, you can’t just show up on their doorstep asking them to take you back

reo: you have to show them you care

nagi: okay

nagi: i think i have an idea

reo: i’m trusting you with this one

before he knew it, nagi seishiro was standing in front of your apartment door with your favorite flowers in hand. he looks down onto the flowers, was he really about to do this? no second thoughts, he had to if he wanted any chance of getting you back. with a shaky breath, he knocked on your door. 

“huh, sei? i mean nagi? what are you doing here?” 

his eyes light up at the sight of you. though, nagi frowns at your lack of nicknames but that was to be expected. nervously, he holds out the bouquet to you.

“i got you flowers.”

“wow, uhm thank you?”

he looks at you expectedly, awaiting a response. you tilt your head in confusion. “did you need anything else?”

“oh, uhm no that’s all.”

“well, thanks again!”

you slowly close the door with a smile. being met with the door once more, nagi sighs. he had absolutely no clue how to execute his plan. he walks away in defeat, texting reo on the way back to his place.

nagi: it didn’t work

reo: what did you do?

nagi: i gave them flowers

reo: and then?

nagi: that’s it.

reo: …..

reo: we have a lot to work on

after a much needed pep-talk, operation win y/n back was put into action! reo sat nagi down in front of a projector to give him some well needed advice on winning you back! reo’s baffled on how nagi pulled you in the first place with his lack of competence in the romance department.

he scrolls through instagram noticing you posted something new to your story. nagi knows he shouldn't click on it. i mean wasn't that one of the many un-offical break-up rules? but alas, his curiosity gets the better of him. to his surprise, you posted the flower bouquet along with one of your favorite songs as the background. a smile breaks onto nagi's face.

maybe all hope isn't lost.

୨ ୧

step #1: take them to their favorite places!

nagi knew you were an avid animal crossing enjoyer, ever since you two played it together for the first time. it was where many dates of yours took place! specifically, in the aquarium area of blathers museum. you even had an animal crossing collection yourself. with that, nagi somehow had a good idea for once!

there happened to be an animal crossing aquarium that opened recently, so nagi knew it was the perfect opportunity to take you out! with new found confidence, he found your contact and initiated the plan.

nagi: hi y/n

you: oh hey nagi!

nagi: are you free tomorrow?

you: yeah why?

nagi: cool, i’ll meet you at 12.

you: nagi????

nagi showed up bright and early at 11:55 am at your doorstep. you blink, astonished. you already prepared yourself a youtube video to watch to keep you busy.

nagi seishiro was never on time.

typically, you'd be the one who ended up going to his apartment to wake him up for his slumber. it was a pleasant surprise to see him early for once.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“you ready?”

“yup! where are we going anyway?”

“it's a surprise, just trust me.”

hesitant, you follow letting the white-haired boy lead the way. he notices you falling behind, due to the long strides he takes. nagi takes your hand so you can match his pace, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people. your heart flutters at his actions.

your eyes widen in surprise, looking up at the vibrant, yellow sign which read animal crossing aquarium experience. 

“how did you know? i’ve been meaning to go but tickets were always sold out!”

“lucky guess.”

“what are you waiting for? let’s go!”

you drag nagi by the arm leading him into the museum, while he stumbles at the sudden action.

from exhibit to exhibit, he watches you awe at the various sea creatures who used to be visible on the other side of the screen. he smiles fondly at the scene of your eyes lighting up in pure, child-like joy. nagi really missed seeing your face.

nagi notices the gift shop selling all types of animal crossing merchandise. slipping away from the scene, he purchases a tom nook headband for himself and an isabelle one for you. he gently places the headband on your head with your attention focused on the fish. 

you blink in surprise turning to face him, pulling out your phone camera for a better look. you laugh noticing the yellow ears falling onto the side of your head. you turn the camera towards nagi where he throws up a peace sign in response as you snap a picture of the two of you.

“hey, can you also do a 0.5? it’ll look better from your angle!”

“sure.”

nagi pulls you slightly closer as he captures the picture of the two of you. the two hearts feeling warmth at the familiar action. the aquarium ventures continue. the two of you end up by the penguin enclosure where you excitedly snap multiple pictures of the animals. when you weren’t looking, nagi snapped a candid polaroid of you watching the penguins. he stifled a laugh, noticing how you were mimicking the penguins on the other side of the glass.

“hey, wait here.” you nod unsure what he was planning.

dumbfoundedly, you watch nagi approach a stranger asking him to snap a picture of the two of you. before, it was always you who asked strangers to take pictures for you. it felt foreign watching nagi do it, but it was a nice type of foreign. you notice him wielding the polaroid camera you bought him for his birthday last year. the cinnamoroll sticker you placed near the lens still in the same spot you left it. 

nagi hands you back the camera, you fan the polaroid back and forth waiting for the film to develop. the picture slowly comes into color as you freeze at the realization. he recreated the scene of one of your many online dates at blather’s museum. 

“nagi, did you recreate this from one of our animal crossing dates?”

“yeah, i did. do you like it?”

“i do like it, a lot actually.”

“good cause there’s a lot more where that’s coming from.”

the two of you ended the day with matching souvenirs and shared laughter over slushies. (you and nagi fought back and forth on whether red cherry or blue raspberry was the superior coice. the two of you came to the mutual agreement that the combo of both flavors was the winner).

nagi: gn pretty! i’ll see you tmr @ 5 :) 

୨ ୧

step #2 - do the little things!

yet again, nagi seishiro showed up at your door with a variety of your favorite snacks in hand claiming it was time for a movie night. lucky for him, you had no plans! as usual you welcomed him into your apartment. he rests his bag on the floor and your eyes widen seeing the keychain you put on still in the same place.

“you still have that sugarbunny keychain on?”

“huh, oh yeah. i couldn’t really bring myself to take it off.” 

“to be honest, neither could i.” 

nagi clears his throat, breaking the silence. “so, what movie?”

“surprise me!”

nagi scrolls through the movie titles on the screen before landing on your name. a classic pick for movie nights. you clap your hands in joy at his choice. you usher to the kitchen grabbing the snacks he brought along with popcorn. you notice nagi watching you, sticking out your tongue at him in response. he roles his eyes playfully. you return to the couch as he grabs a blanket sprawling over the two of you.

“this reminds me just like old times. i thought you'd forget.”

nagi puts down the remote, making direct eye contact with you. “what? how could i forget?” you pause trying to find your words.

“i don't know,” you start. “it's just that i always felt like a second option.”

“oh, im sorry i really didn't know.”

“it's okay, at least you acknowledge it now.”

the two of you stare at each other in comfortable silence. nagi rests his head on your shoulders. to his surprise, you let him. the dialogue from the movie provides comforting background noise. 

“can i stay like this? just for a little?”

“go ahead.”

out of instinct, your hand finds the top of his fluffy white locks as you softly rake your fingers through his messy hair. nagi hums at the familiar feeling, snuggling closer to your neck. he hopes you can’t hear the rhythm of his heart going at an inhumane speed from the contact. and you hope the same.

the knock on your door startles the both of you. to the point, where nagi shot up in fear, your shoulder already feeling cold from the lack of warmth.

"the pizza."

"oh yeah, i'll get it."

what a way to ruin the moment.

୨ ୧

step #3 - make-up for past experiences!

nagi remembered how you would beg him to take you out to this fancy restaurant months ago. as usual, nagi found dressing up to be quite bothersome. he didn’t really feel the need to dress up and throw on fancy clothes. he preferred just a hoodie and sweats. i mean, have you seen his closet? all those thoughts melted away when he saw you in your formal attire. 

he made a mental reminder to thank reo for securing reservations to the place. 

nagi thought you looked absolutely breathtaking, your hair was styled nicer than usual. the attire you chose for the night fit in all the right places. the sight of your collarbones made it hard for nagi to look away. red truly was your best color.

“woah, you look really good.” nagi admires, his eyes feel heavy on you.

“i can say the same thing, sei.”

a soft smile appears on his face at the familiar nickname. he always loved the way you would say his name with such fondness. he could hear you call his name all day. 

the two of you are seated near the window, overlooking the city skyline. your jaw drops at the view as you snap pictures of the horizon matching perfectly to the numerous tall buildings. 

“i swear i can see my apartment from here!”

“how much is this place anyway?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

nagi brushes off the question. “don’t worry about it, all i did was make sure you liked the menu.”

that was a lie. 

nagi begged reo, practically on his knees, to book this specific spot since he knew you loved city views like this. not to mention, he also forced reo to make said restaurant add a special menu item or two, just for you. 

who knew having connections would be so useful?

the waitress comes by and takes your orders where nagi orders for you two. you sit there playing with your hands. you couldn't stop staring at nagi. he was already handsome but when he made the effort to dress up, it was almost a total makeover. he even styled his hair slightly differently and all you could think about was your hands getting lost in his locks. you thank whoever chose this look for him.

you snap out of your daze as nagi finishes ordering.

“you two are super cute by the way!” the waitress compliments.

“thanks.” 

you blush at nagi’s confirmation. it’s not like you minded being mistaken for an couple, since you used to be one. but you weren’t exactly sure where your relationship with nagi lies, with labels and all. it wasn't exactly commonplace sharing a candle-lit dinner with your ex at an overly expensive restaurant.

after some idle chatter, the waitress comes back with both of your dishes, placing them onto each respective side. nagi watches as your smile drops, noticing tomatoes on your dish. you hate tomatoes. you sigh defeatedly, reaching for your utensils. before you could even say anything, nagi grabbed your plate and moved the tomatoes to his. even giving you some of his sides which he knew you’d enjoy.

you sit there, bewildered at his actions. he quietly slides the plate back over without another word. you hum in satisfaction, enjoying your dish free of tomatoes. 

nagi was reminded that night how much better food tasted eating alongside you.

୨ ୧

you kick your feet in your bed like a teenage girl, fawning over her crush. the same attire you wore to dinner sprawled onto your sheets. you felt like a lovesick fool. laying your cheek on one of your plushies, which nagi definitely won for you. you sit up at the realization throwing the poor bunny to the ground. 

your mind was in shambles. nagi seishiro really changed, he’s become everything you that he lacked in the past and yet there’s that voice nagging at the back of your head.

what if this is all temporary

what if he really doesn’t mean any of it

what if.

you shake your head wanting to get rid of those thoughts on your mind, but you couldn’t. there’s a part of you that’s scared. scared that everything will go back to the ways they used to beforehand. and you didn’t want that.

if you were to say you moved on from nagi seishiro, that would be a big fat lie. you never stopped loving him over the course of the break-up. you still yearned for him as he yearned for you. unsure at your predicament, you opted to text one of your friends for some well-needed advice.

you: HYO I NEED HELP

hyoma: what happened this time?

you: okay so you know how i broke up with nagi like 3 months ago?

hyoma: all too well… you were slumped for two weeks straight.

you: moving on…

you: okay so he showed up at my doorstep a couple days ago and he’s been taking me on all these dates and i think i still love him and i want him

you: like REALLY bad

hyoma: woah woah woah

hyoma: can we back track here?

hyoma: WTF WERE THOSE FLOWERS FROM HIM THAT YOU POSTED ON YOUR STORY

you: guilty!

you: but yeah

you: he’s been super sweet and has been so proactive but a part of me is still scared

hyoma: how so?

you: i dunno

you: i feel like i’m gonna wake up tomorrow and all of this is just a dream :( 

hyoma: hmmm

hyoma: from what you’ve said, he’s changed for a reason

hyoma: if he’s making you THIS lovesick, i think that’s all the confirmation you need

you: ur the best, love u bro <3

hyoma: yeah yeah same here

hyoma: now go get ur man!!!!

୨ ୧

step #4 - just be upfront and honest!

once again, nagi is at your door sporting his usual outfit composed of a comfy oversized hoodie and fleece sweatpants. you thought that was his best look.

“i got you flowers but i realized they would eventually wither so,” he reveals a flower bouquet lego set. “i bought these, so you will always have flowers with you. you won’t have to water them either so that’s a plus.”

he still hid his other hand behind his back. “what’s that in your other hand?” you question.

“that’s for later.” he shuffles against the wall hiding the object from your view, sneakily sliding it into the fridge. you laugh at his antics before waving him over to start on the lego flowers with you. you dump out the box and start organizing the pieces into piles. you start working on the flower bundles while nagi builds the stems. 

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“why did we break-up?”

you ponder, setting down the lego piece deep in thought, trying to find the right words.

“truthfully, i always felt like i was the one putting in all the effort in our relationship. i was always the one doing the planning but most of our dates didn’t even end up happening. sure, i loved spending time with you but i felt neglected from time to time. i felt like you didn't even want to be in a relationship with me, so i broke it off before you could hurt me." you look down feeling tears swell into your eyes. 

“y/n, can you look at me?”

you shake your head not wanting to look into his eyes that you loved so much. softly, he tilts your chin up frowning at the sight of your downcast face.

nagi hates himself for being the sole reason for your tears. 

"i would never break-up with you. to be honest, i've been a mess ever since you left me." nagi confesses. he hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth once more.

“can i kiss you?”

“if it’s you, you don’t even have to ask.”

that was all the confirmation nagi needed. he looks into your eyes before gently grabbing both sides of your face as your lips interlock. the way your lips mold together was like a perfect fit. nagi pulls away first, retracting his head but his hands never leaving your face.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry for everything i did in the past. i’ve made so many mistakes and i regret every single one. i didn’t realize how important you were to me until i lost you. and that’s why i’ve been trying to make up for everything this past week. which i know is not enough but i was an idiot, well i still am one, but i’ve come to realize that i’d rather be your idiot than just an idiot.”

you press a finger to his lips to stop his rambling. you let out a playful scoff at his words, a smile bringing its way to your face. 

“hm, i don’t know? are there any more compelling reasons for me to take you back?”

“chokki misses his partner by the way.”

“oh yeah, what about chokki’s dad?”

nagi looks away in embarrassment. “he misses you. like a lot.” you smile, grabbing his cheeks and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“lucky for him, i missed him lots too!”

“i got you one last thing,” he holds out a heart shaped tiramisu to you. how could he forget your favorite dessert? 

“i tira-miss-you.” you giggle at the slight pout resting on nagi's face. you dip a finger in the dessert tasting it humming in satisfaction at the sweet taste before wiping a dollop onto his face.

his pout deepens. suddenly, you're being lifted into the air, bridal style as he makes his way to your room. you start flailing around, begging him to put you down. 

“sei!” 

“shh.”

he gently rests you on your bed and lays himself on top of you. “i just want you in my arms, is that too much to ask for?” you sigh, letting him envelop you in his arms.

“so, does that mean we’re back together now?” you flick his forehead, slightly annoyed.

“of course, you dummy.”

“hey y/n.”

“yeah?”

“i love you, like a lot. i never stopped.”

“you're silly sei, i never stopped loving you either.”

operation win y/n back, success!

nagi seishiro was lazy to everything, but for you, he'd do anything. and i mean anything. he would even quit gaming if you asked him to. not like you’d be cruel enough to ask that of him. no matter what, nagi seishiro would go to great lengths if that meant putting a smile on your face. 

୨ ୧

[allertonhoe]

unbridled love - rafe cameron

chapter 1

summary: You end up taking a trip out to OBX to attend your estranged brother, John B's, wedding. You also happen to meet someone while you're there that you just can't seem to shake. (post-s3, if s4 didn't happen—all canon same except rafe & sarah get back in touch sooner … and no sofia technically lol).

content warnings: john b's sister!reader, original afab!reader, obx!universe, use of petnames (sweetheart, baby), kissing, 18+ MDNI - smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of being under the influence/consumption of alcohol, totally unrealistic love at first sight plot lol, a little mix of angst and fluff for valentines day 🥰🥰🥰

length: 3.2k

As excited as you were to be present to witness this milestone, you were nervous above anything else. You and John B had never been particularly close, the circumstances in which you'd met your half-brother not the most conventional either, but when has anything in your life been?

He'd reached out a couple of years ago, not having known he even existed prior to that point. The younger boy had been riddled with panic because your shared father had gone missing while on some sort of work excursion. That was the only other time you'd been in the Outer Banks.

You'd stayed with him for a few weeks, trying to get to know him and help him get some sort of balance in his life. The two of you finding out you weren't very alike despite being siblings, which ultimately resulted in you deciding to return home and letting him handle it all himself.

You only heard from him again months later, offering you an apology and an unbelievable story about his wild adventure looking for the same treasure that had once consumed your father. Having kept a distant but amicable relationship with him since then, which is why you were back on the island.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Sarah cheered as she ran up and engulfed you with a hug, your brother not far behind as you stepped off the ferry. "Now the wedding can officially start."

"I take it that you guys are ready for this?" You gush as they led you to the truck.

"Absolutely." Sarah proclaims, turning to your brother with a bright smile.

"Never been more sure about anything in my life." John B adds without delay, taking his bride-to-be's hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

As they drove you to your hotel, you watched the scenery pass through the window, becoming familiar with the small town once again. Catching up with the couple over mundane life stories, Sarah eventually changing the subject to gossip with you about final arrangements.

"I'm sure you're exhausted from travelling all day, and the weekend is pretty jam-packed, so we'll drop you off and let you chill tonight." Sarah explains. "Tomorrow, we're having a barbecue at the new Chateau for the wedding party, and then the rehearsal later on."

"Sounds good." you affirm, trying to absorb all the new information. "Is there anywhere around here for me to grab dinner?"

"The Wreck's nearby," John B suggests. "Kiara's parents own it. Food's pretty good."

"Did you want us to pick you up tomorrow morning?" Sarah extends graciously.

"I'm sure you have enough running around to do with final touches. I'll figure it out," you reassure them as they pulled up to an elegant hotel.

You thanked them again for picking you up from the dock, the couple helping you get your luggage from the van before finally bidding you goodbye and driving back off. Leaving you to enter the swanky lobby of one of the nicest resorts in Figure 8.

This was one of the things you didn't meet eye-to-eye with your brother on—having grown up in a much different tax bracket than he had. It was nothing close to the extravagance of the crowd that lived here, but the middle class was a life of luxury compared to what he experienced in The Cut.

By the time you'd checked in and gotten settled in your suite, you were starving. Looking up the place they'd told you about and deciding to walk over since it wasn't longer than a fifteen-minute journey. The trip there being much different than when you'd go to the bars at home, passing vast forests and being surrounded by the sounds of nature instead of honking horns.

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived, locals scattered around the beloved establishment as they kicked off their weekends. Spotting the bubbly brunette right as you wandered inside, assuming she was on the clock from the creased apron tied around her waist.

"Hey!" Kiara beamed as she came over, instantly recognizing you. "So good to see you! When did you get in?"

"A few hours ago."

"Came for a bite?" she correctly assumed. "Did you want a table, or did you just wanna sit at the bar? It's a lot less crowded over there."

"Whatever's easier for you guys," you tell her, blindly following as she took you into the busy area.

You sat at a long counter with rows of liquor bottles displayed behind it, assessing the array of options, impressed at the selection since it wasn't the busiest of towns. A bartender came to take your order, opting for a gin and tonic. When they brought it to you, however, a filled shot glass was also set alongside it.

"Oh, I didn't get this," you inform the employee.

"It's from him," they reply, nodding their head towards whoever they'd been referring to.

You prepared yourself to be confronted by some creepy old dude or dopey hick that you knew you'd need to outwardly turn down, but that wasn't how the culprit looked at all. If anything, there was a subtle familiarity about him even though you couldn't recall meeting him during your last visit. 

He was incredibly handsome and clearly ripped, despite the fact his arms were mostly hidden by the rolled up sleeves on his button-up shirt. Your brother had mentioned the deep-seated politics of the island—the distinct class divide—but there was no questioning that this guy was well-off. His style was preppy and clean, hair buzzed down and accentuating his sharp features even more.

Sending you a devilish smirk as he raised a shot identical to the one he sent to you like an indirect greeting, tossing it back with ease and swiftly meeting your gaze again. Immediately picking up that he had an edge to him, not missing how the other patrons had been giving him apprehensive looks as they passed by.

Your indifference didn't seem to discourage him at all as he sauntered your way about ten minutes later, his strong musk and overall presence hitting your senses and providing a different kind of intoxication. Not anticipating for him to tower over you like he did because of his large stature.

"Hey," he establishes, his voice more gruff than you'd expected. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" you quip back.

"Just know I would've remembered such a pretty face." He banters, scoffing at his cliché line even though it totally made you blush. "You here on vacation?"

"Something like that." You shrug, not wanting to expose too much to the unknown man, no matter how attractive he was.

"Yeah?" he notes curiously, taking a swig from his old fashioned. "Business or pleasure?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You avert, taking a sip from your own beverage, not having touched his initial offer yet.

"That is why I asked," he asserts, not making his interest in you a secret. "The least you could do is answer that for me. I did send over that shot."

"That I never asked you for, by the way." You flip back onto him, a little amused by his shameless flirting.

"Is it a crime to buy a beautiful girl a drink?" He grills, bringing his glass back to his lips, inadvertently glancing at them. Realizing he'd caught you when his cheeky grin grew even more. "Just trying to show some Southern hospitality, since you're from out of town and all."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you finally took the small glass in your hand. Giving him one last pointed look as you knocked the tequila down your throat, feeling the alcohol burn through your body. You rested your elbows on the table, propping your face in your hands as you examined the cute stranger keeping you company.

"You're welcome," he teases lightly, inherently leaning closer.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, wiping off a drop that hadn't reached your mouth. A faint tingling erupting where his finger had barely caressed you. Popping it between his lips and sucking it suggestively, a dangerous glint sparkling in his gaze.

You were grateful when the server interrupted you, abruptly diverting the conversation and giving you the opportunity to order dinner like you'd originally gone there to do. You had no idea where this guy came from and why he was so infatuated with you, but you couldn't deny that you liked his unwavering attention. Even with his constant provoking.

"Two more, please," he sneaks in right at the last second, not letting you get any input.

This time, when the shots showed up, you decided not to stall. Rafe tapping his cup against yours before simultaneously tossing them back. The effects from your liquid courage giving you a surge of confidence in handling his magnetic charm.

"Got any more plans tonight?" He interrogates, still not letting up on his pursuit.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" You retort smartly.

"I doubt it." He remarks. Taking the opportunity to steal a french fry off your plate, tossing it in his mouth. "As a matter of fact, I have a feeling I might end up being involved."

"Oh yeah? Cocky much?" You sneer.

"You don't seem to mind," he observes, revealing you might not have been acting as sly as you thought. "Let me take you home," he deadpans out of seemingly nowhere. 

"Do you really think I'm just gonna leave the bar with a stranger in some random town I'm passing through?"

"Fine. I'm Rafe," he introduces smoothly. "Now we aren't strangers."

"Is this what you consider Southern hospitality?" you reference back to his earlier comment, getting a hearty laugh in return.

"Only the best, sweetheart," he persisted. "What do you say? It's getting late."

You pushed the remnants of your food around the plate as you contemplated your next move. On one hand, it's not like you'd never had a one-night stand, having dealt with your fair share of doting admirers. There was just something about this guy that you couldn't ignore, and you weren't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"Just for, like, a drink or something..." you concede begrudgingly.

"Yeah. For sure." he concurs, not hiding the pride in his expression.

He took you back to his place at his insistence, boasting about how he resided at one of the biggest properties on the island, something he was not shy about showing off. The previously chatty man letting a thick silence fall between you after that, making you grateful that the drive wasn't too lengthy. 

You lounged on the passenger side of his Range Rover as he raced through the unfamiliar neighbourhoods. One of his hands clutching the top of his steering wheel with his other arm stretched across the back of your seat, his thumb brushing against your shoulder every so often.

And even with his exaggerated description of the house, that was still an understatement. Turning onto the long path, a huge manor sat at the top, surrounded by extensive acres of land. The car rolling up the steep hill and taking up the otherwise empty driveway. 

You hadn't expected him to jog to your side of the vehicle and open your door for you, his hand finding your lower back as he led you towards the home. Taking you inside and into the equally impressive kitchen, the counter in the middle of the room finally giving you some space from all his poking and proding. 

"How the hell did you score this place?" you investigate as he grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, unable to hide your absolute awe for the lavish home.

"Uh... It was my dad's." he indicates somberly. "He left it to me when he died." he clarifies, tearing his focus from you for the first time that evening as he poured the whiskey.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry for asking." you apologize, although he didn't look particularly upset.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses, feeling a discomfort rise as he poured out the gold-coloured liquid.

"Mine did too..." you disclose, not knowing how else to respond. "But we weren't super close."

"I get it." he acknowledges. "Didn't have the best relationship with mine."

"The house is a pretty sweet consolation," you ramble on. "And you live here, all by yourself?"

"Yeah..." he trails off, passing one of the half-filled cups to you.

His focus fell to the amber spirit, swirling it around as he contemplated how to proceed with your encounter. Sensing a palpable shift in his attitude after that. Not wanting to create any more awkward tension, you lifted the beverage in the air. Rafe following suit and clinking his against yours in ritual.

"To shitty, dead dads," you toast earnestly as Rafe brought the drink to his lips, choking slightly upon hearing your declaration. Noticing a sheepish grin appear through the crystal pattern on the glass as he went for another swig.

"So, what's your deal." he surveys, purposely changing the subject. 

"You really don't stop, huh?"

"Just making conversation. Unless you just wanted to get right down to it," he taunts.

"Is that how it usually goes for you?" you quiz.

"What do you think?" He throws back to you, not being subtle as his eyes dragged themselves down your body.

"I don't think I need to inflate your ego even more than it already is."

"You're acting like you don't want this as much as I do. You did agree to come back here with me, you know," he reminds playfully, raising his brow at you in challenge.

He topped up both of your cups, sauntering around the countertop so he was standing beside you again. Taking a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face and placing it behind your ear. An obvious move but still making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You were already pretty tipsy leaving the restaurant, but the strong liquor quickly pushed you into drunk territory. Knowing your clouded mindset was due to all the alcohol but inwardly recognizing Rafe's effect on you wasn't just physical. Your head spinning just from the way he was staring at you.

"What?" you press, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. A bashful smile settling on Rafe's lips as he shook his head.

"I don't know... There's just something about you."

"Really, Rafe?" You sass, giggling at the vagueness of words. "How many girls have you used that line on?"

"You'd think more, but..." he falters, his brows furrowing in concentration. "Seriously, I have no idea. There's just something different about you."

He kept his hand on your chin, cradling your face upwards and cutting right to the chase. His other hand going to your waist, rubbing circles over the fabric of your shirt. His warm breath mixing with yours the closer he got, literally dangling what you wanted directly in front of you.

"Is this okay?" he whispered right as his lips ghosted yours, as if he was feeding you the question. Looking up at him wide-eyed, nodding because you couldn't form an answer at that point.

The kiss was initially slow and sensual, the two of you savoring the moment. A rush of heat passing through your body as he embraced you with a mix of caution and raw passion. Letting him maneuver you through the halls without breaking away from your kiss, both of you giggling drunkenly with every stumble or misstep.

He pinned you up against the wall, one of your legs instinctively lifting and wrapping itself around him. Leaning back on the hard surface for some sort of balance, your earlier skepticism having disappeared and turned into total hunger. Tasting the mix of booze on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, Rafe swallowing every moan that escaped you.

"Jump," he instructs hoarsely, catching you without difficulty and carrying you up the grand staircase.

Once you hit his bedroom, all bets were off. Nudging him to lie back on his mattress, you straddled his waist as you continued making out. His hands grabbing your ass and prompting you to grind against him. Realizing in that moment that as easily as he'd gotten you to agree to come back here with him, he was unraveling twice as quick under your regard.

You gave him one last kiss, roaming further down his body, mirroring each other's fierce demeanor. Your fingers went to his waistband, removing his belt and undoing his pants, palming him over the fabric. Removing them with his boxers, you spat in your hand and started stroking him.

"Fuck," he groaned, mesmerized just at the sight of you.

You bent slightly forward, pouting your lips and dragging his glistening head against them, coating them with his precum. Finally taking him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around him. You hollowed out your cheeks to fit as much of him as you could, gagging lightly when he hit the back of your throat.

While you took your time getting used to his size, he wasn't as patient. Threading his fingers through your hair to gently guide you back and forth, craving some kind of relief. Grasping whatever you couldn't fit, letting him determine your rhythm. Your jaw feeling sore at his needy movements.

"Just like that, baby," he mutters, completely mesmerized by your skills.

You bobbed your head at his faint urging, his grip on your hair tightening as you swallowed around him. Pulling back to give yourself some air, focusing on his tip and spreading your saliva along his shaft. Watching his feral reactions through your lashes, unknowingly pushing him even more.

He started thrusting again when you could tell he was getting closer to his peak, his motions becoming frantic and desperate. With a few more pumps, his cum coated your throat, his head falling back as he reveled in the sensation. Looking absolutely blissed out as he rode out his high, brushing his fingers down the back of your head as you both caught your breath.

And it just picked up from there. It was explosive and fast and hot, neither of you making your desires a secret throughout the night. Rafe claiming dominance over you as if you'd known each other for years, picking up on your ticks and locating all your sweet spots without difficulty. Worshipping you and your body like it was the most magnificent thing he'd ever encountered.

You wanted to blame it on your intoxication, how enamored you felt over a man you'd only met hours ago and barely even spoke to properly. Boiling it down to pure lust, fundamentally knowing this was a one-time thing and that assuming otherwise was unrealistic.

When you finally heard his breathing still, indicating he'd fallen asleep, you decided to make your exit before you could be caught. Not wanting to deal with the post-hookup routine in the morning, especially when you'd have to spend the day with your brother, his fiancée, and their rowdy group of friends.

You knew the island wasn't huge, remembering how your brother was able to greet almost every person he'd pass by their first name. But you couldn't have guessed the predicament you'd just managed to accidentally get yourself into.

note: ahh i went so back and forth over actually posting this… love the concept but not super excited over what i actually wrote?? let me know if you guys like this, i probably will post the whole thing (it’s 4 parts!) just to get it all out lol but apologies in advance if there’s a bit of a delay 🙈 hope you guys like it!! always appreciate your support & msgs!! 💞💞

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀wild roses | chapter 1 ; the roots

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 2 →

genre ; soulmate au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, humour, smut            wordcount ; 17.5k

warnings | tags ; unhealthy relationship with pain [mentions of self-inflicted pain]; yeonjun does some kinda questionable stuff; a bit of self-hate and self-pity.

smut warnings ; dom + soft sadist yeonjun x sub + soft masochist reader. wet dreams, heavily based on pain kink [choking, marking, spanking and so on]; male masturbation.

✉ notes ; oh wow... my first collaboration event ever and it was AWESOME. the idea was just incredible and i'm honoured to be a part of the event and write for the idea. i want to thank each one of beautiful talented moa who took part in the event, please-please-please, read other event fics, all of them are wonderful

i got a tiny bit carried away, so there are going to be two more parts. that just... happened. i was possesed

⠀⠀⠀[ event masterlist | my masterlist | wild roses masterlist ]

it felt like a cruel joke of fate, destiny, the universe or whatever force might be pulling the strings of your life. you were sure you could post an advertisement for your services—“spend a few days with me and find your soulmate. 100% guarantee”, because yet another one of your colleagues had returned from her vacation particularly glowing—she had met her, her soulmate, the one she had been waiting for her whole life. 

she couldn't keep quiet about it, and you couldn't blame her, despite the tiny, bitter part of your mind whispering that you were a lucky charm for everyone else, leaving yourself with nothing but emptiness and heartbreak. you'd only been working here for a year, and four of your colleagues had found their soulmates before your very eyes—five, including the one who had announced it today—and each time, the quiet whispers of pity behind your back only grew louder. of course, you heard the hushed “shh, don't be so loud” that meant to show care—you had stopped paying attention to it long ago. 

the bond you had once shared with your soulmate was a complicated one, tangled in endless conditions and rules, most of them uncertain, suspended between truth and myth. it had already felt impossible to navigate it, while you still had it, but now, when it was broken for years, finding them felt like a distant dream. you weren't even sure if they were still alive, if you were being honest, but thinking about it unsettled you to the point of near-physical pain, so you chose not to think about them at all.

your mind sometimes thought differently, though, keeping you awake until early morning and haunting you with visions of you staying alone until your last days. on those days you’d find yourself deleting your browser history in shame and embarrassment on your way to work—“would you know if your soulmate had died”, “is it possible to get another soulmate”, “is it possible to have more than one soulmate”, “wild rose bond”. you hated those nights and the days that followed, because your brain wouldn't stop overanalyzing everything you'd read, twisting every possibility into something even more unbearable—hope. 

but more than anything, you feared returning to the dark months after you had felt your soulmate for the last time. looking back, you wondered if their heartbreak had somehow resonated with your own—the one that had started just a few hours before. you had felt a faint sensation of nails dragging down your back from your shoulder blades, as if someone was scratching at your skin with their nails, but it wasn't your back, it was their back. you had thought you were devastated then, but a few hours later, when the real weight of it hit, you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore, and it wasn't your pain.

all of it plunged you into what was probably the darkest period of your life, making you realize how truly ugly your bond was, because it was either an endless cycle of intensifying pain—feeding off your soulmate’s suffering and giving it right back to them until it returned to you—or nothing at all. and when you woke up empty, feeling nothing foreign that had become an important part of you over the years, it was as if you had lost the constant touch of a lover. even if that touch had only ever caused pain, you still tried to get it back. 

you didn't know if you were trying to get your soulmate to respond to you, or if, in some twisted way, you were just to mimic the pain they had once caused you—desperate for anything that might keep you from feeling so utterly alone. but it never worked—they never replied and you never felt any relief. 

and now you felt yourself slowly sinking into that darkness again—the more happy stories told behind your back you heard, the stronger the itch in your fingers became. what if—just a tiny what if—they would reply to you if you pinched your arm just a little? what if they pinched back? what if you could finally do something you had wished for years you had done earlier—agree to meet somewhere through morse code? the sickening feeling of hope was so much worse than that mutual heartbreak had ever been. 

you shook your head—no. the “unbreakable bond” that was supposed to never fade—not by time, not even by death—was broken, and the was nothing you could do about it. maybe some people were simply meant to stay alone, and maybe you were one of them. so what? surely, you weren't the only unlucky one like that, there was no way everyone in this world had a person they were destined to live and die with. after all, you could be your own soulmate—at least that bond would never shatter.

the overly confident thoughts, which felt more like bravado than anything sincere even to you, took up all your attention, and you reached out for your coffee cup, completely forgetting it was still too hot. the burn on the pads of your fingers made you wince, a quiet "shit" slipping past your lips—all these existential crisis thoughts, that were creeping in more and more often recently, were making you a bit too careless, and that was a dangerous match to the way you were starting to perceive pain. again.

“you okay?”

you looked up at soobin—another one of your colleagues, but not annoying one— and pressed your lips into a thin line. “i’m fine. please don’t join them in looking at me like i need pity, i beg you.”

he smiled and shook his head. “wasn’t going to. you’re overthinking it, you know?” he glanced over your shoulder at the suddenly quiet, happy circle before returning his gaze to you. “well… you’re overthinking my behavior, i guess…”

you sighed—of course. “they’re looking, aren’t they?” he replied with a tiny nod, making you bury your face in your hands. “with pity?” you mumbled, your words muffled.

“yeah…” he admitted, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. he wasn’t one to enjoy much attention, but sitting across from you left him no choice when their conversations inevitably turned to soulmates. “hey,” he tried to get your attention, holding out his paper cup to you over both of your monitors. “it’s the same as yours, but not as hot anymore. haven’t drunk it either.”

the man was a savior sometimes. you took his cup, giving him yours. “thanks. what would i do without you?”

“drown in pity gazes and whispers?”

you laughed. “most probably.”

he smiled at you, glad that your face was no longer painted with ridiculously funny determination he knew you faked—trying to make yourself believe it—and got back to work, mirroring you.

but you had trouble focusing on your work anyway, and the worst part was your boss, who kept throwing worried glances at you whenever he passed by—it felt like a few more found soulmates in your branch, and he'd start asking if you wanted to take a day off or work from home for a few days whenever someone said. after all, whenever someone announced—because it was impossible to keep it inside—that they had found their soulmate, he always reacted the same way.

you already had the ick from the word—soulmates this, soulmates that. all those “don't worry, you're still young” reassurances coming from people you had met maybe three times in your life while making yourself a coffee in the office kitchen. it wasn't even about your age—though there were countless depressing myths about soulmates and age, especially when it came to wild roses—it was about the nature of the bond itself that made people pity you.

you had no idea why in the world they cared about their colleague—nothing more!—finding or not finding their soulmate. and worse, you'd never told anyone about your lack of one, nor about what kind of bond you had. yet, somehow, someone must have seen your mark—which wasn't too hard to notice, but the situation had to be very specific for anyone to actually see it—and now people knew about it before they had even met you, the rumours about you entering the room first. 

as if that wasn’t bad enough, at some point, they started matchmaking you with any soulmate-less new colleague. you were still sure those glances at you interacting with soobin meant something, just because he didn’t have a soulmate either. it was funny how they barely cared that he wasn't a wild rose—and you didn't even question how they never seemed to care about what the two of you actually thought of it, just being two introverts in an office full of extroverts. 

but soobin was nice enough not to care about it and was basically the only person here you talked to about something other than work, and you were thankful he was there for you without trying to assure you that you were still young and that your soulmate was still out there somewhere. he knew everything that had happened around your bond and understood that wild roses didn’t have it easy, so he never bothered you by feeding the hope you kept buried deep inside. 

“you know…” soobin started while you two were packing up to go home—you both started your workdays half an hour later than everyone else, meaning you stayed half an hour after everyone left, which was basically the reason for shifting your work hours in the first place. “i haven’t met my soulmate either, and…”

you shook your head, giving him that ‘are you serious?’ look. “soob, don’t start. you haven’t met them because you either work or play league.”

soobin laughed, nodding. “you’re right. but i just wanted to say that soulmate or no soulmate, it doesn’t define you—or anyone—as a person,” he smiled reassuringly, grabbing both of your jackets and handing you yours. “you’re perfectly complete without someone who was chosen for you by something unknown.”

you nodded, biting your lip and fidgeting with the pull on your jacket. he always knew what to say, and it was always sincere—probably, because he was in the same situation as you, but with a completely different perspective on it. soobin seemed much more mature than you could even hope to be. no—you pushed these thoughts away. you weren’t going to pity yourself. he was right—it made no sense. 

“thanks, soob. you always know the right words.”

he smiled. “i could say i’ve been there, but i think they bother me much less about not having a soulmate,” he scratched the back of his head in thought. “male advantage?” he assumed, and you both laughed—maybe it really was male advantage. “keep you company on your way home?”

you shook your head, checking the time. “you won’t be home by seven if you do,” you patted his shoulder, and he tilted his head in question. “it’s thursday. your league-i-promise-she-is-just-a-friend will be waiting for you,” you sing-songed, making him press his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile—a failing attempt—and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

soobin opened his mouth to tell you something, but it seemed like every thought he had about his “just friend” only made his smile grow bigger and harder to hide, so in the end he just shook his head with a shy but obviously happy smile. “okay. you sure you'll be fine?”

you nodded, giving him a quick goodbye hug. “completely. be safe too. and don't stay up too late!” you waved before turning around. soobin was a nice guy and deserved all the happiness in the world—you hoped things with his “just friend” would work out, whether she was his soulmate or not.

still, your head felt like a too-crowded beehive, a dozen thoughts overlapping each other, refusing to let you focus on any of them before stealing your attention away to another. you had a bond when you were younger. yes, now it was a distant memory that felt more like a dream—you weren’t even sure you would recall how it felt to experience someone else’s pain or discomfort, but you refused to believe you’d been imagining it for almost ten years of your life, ever since you first understood that some feelings weren’t caused by yourself.

and that connection… it was supposed to be unbreakable, because it was one of the strongest bonds between soulmates—it was based on pain. you could never stop experiencing it, even if it happened rarely, you would still burn your tongue on tea from time to time or hit your elbow in just that spot, and your soulmate would feel it, just as you would feel their pain—there was no way to break it. that’s what you thought, at least—before it was broken. 

these thoughts kept looping in your head, all the information you had read about the bond between wild roses throughout your life swirling in your mind, as if you hadn’t already gone over it hundreds of times, trying to find something you had overlooked—something that could solve the problem you had. but that kind of connection was surrounded by chaos of myths, assumptions, and lies from people pretending to be wild roses. you could never know what was true unless you experienced it yourself and, preferably, discussed it with the other end of the bond. 

and you weren’t even sure of what you had gone through yourself, because you had no idea what your soulmate had done for you to mirror their pain more intensely. it was believed that the strength of the pain you felt from your soulmate grew with distance, and you assumed that, a few years before the heartbreak and the breaking of your connection, they had moved far away from where you were—probably another side of the world. the faint touch of guitar strings on the tips of your fingers had become cruel, invisible marks and calluses, awakening a habit of scratching the pads of your fingers with your nails, trying to get rid of the sensation. the habit stayed—but because you missed the way it felt now. 

the quiet ding of the elevator pulled you out of your thoughts, even through your earbuds. you opened the case, carefully placing each one inside while waiting for the doors to open, and your soul almost left your body when they did, hand flying to your chest to calm your racing heart—a man was sitting on the floor, headphones on his head, too immersed in something on his phone to notice you.

you knew the man—he was your neighbour, but you had never really talked to him, so you weren’t exactly sure how to get his attention, especially since he was wearing headphones. so you stood in front of him like a complete weirdo, looking down at him, your brain still not fully functioning after a busy workday that was made worse by your overthinking. 

but you didn’t have to do anything—he noticed you almost immediately, looking up and quickly standing, pushing his headphones down to his neck. “oh! hey. don’t be freaked out, please,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake. you hesitantly took it, shaking uncertainly—his hand felt… nice. “i’m your neighbour from—”

“apartment 139, yeah…,” you finished for him slowly, your hand still in his, now just held. “just across the hall. i see you sometimes, but you never greet back, always wearing headphones,” you shrugged—it wasn’t a big deal. he never seemed rude, more like he was always in his head, his hands and head making little weird moves, so you assumed he was dancing to the music in his headphones, the outside world forgotten.  

“oh…” he pulled his hand away and ran his fingers through his hair. “i’m sorry. i tend to get too into my work sometimes, not noticing anything or anyone around.”

you shrugged again, pulling your keys from your pocket, the bunch of keychains jingling softly. “it’s fine. just be careful on the streets. sometimes drivers are…” you scrunched your nose, and he chuckled. “reckless? some make me wonder if anyone can just go and buy a driver’s license now, without even graduating from elementary school, where they give you basic knowledge on traffic rules.” 

he looked at you with an amused smile, and you mentally slapped yourself—it was your first conversation, and you were already burdening him with the grumpiness of a ninety-year-old lady no one liked. no wonder your soulmate had broken the bond even before meeting you, the thought made you smile mentally despite how bitter it actually was—it was a good joke. you made a note to repeat it to soobin tomorrow when telling him about encountering your neighbour. 

but he only laughed, nodding a few times. “i see where you’re coming from. you can never be too careful when it comes to traffic,” he adjusted his headphones, turning them to rest on his collarbones with the ear pads facing in, and your gaze fell to the bare skin of his upper chest for a brief moment, making you involuntarily touch the tight collar of your t-shirt. 

“so…” you fidgeted with the strap of your bag nervously—small talk was nice and, dare you to say, comfortable, especially considering you'd never talked to him before, but he couldn't be sitting here for no reason, could he? “what happened?.. i mean, why were you sitting here?”

“oh! right,” he cleared throat. “i lost my keys. i was going to call for locksmith services, but i don't want to lockpick the door to the corridor,” he paused, because it suddenly started sounding stupid, but shook his head—too late to rethink it now. “so i was waiting for someone to open it.”

you nodded a few times, and he let out a breath—at least you weren't looking at him like he was a complete idiot, and he certainly felt like one. you simply took the key and opened the door to the corridor, letting him in before locking it behind you—he thought that he probably should've been nicer to you instead of just giving a tiny nod as a greeting once every few weeks, which, as it turned out, you didn’t even notice. 

he dialed the locksmith service, throwing glances at you as you unlocked your door. he noticed you pause, your key still in the lock, fingers rubbing it nervously as you stared at it, seemingly lost in thought. he wanted to ask you if everything was okay, but the moment he opened his mouth, a man on the other end of the phone line introduced himself and asked how he could help. 

you glanced at your neighbour as he turned away, still on his phone, his hand rubbing the back of his head. eavesdropping wasn’t good, but you wondered—if the locksmith was going to take some time to arrive, maybe he’d need a place to wait? you could invite him in… he seemed like a nice person, so— you shook your head, he’d probably prefer to wait at the convenience store across the street. with that, you pulled the key out and opened the door. 

“at least half an hour?” he asked, checking the watch before chuckled. “of course. not like i have any other choice,” he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying before nodding. “yes, five minutes is fine. thank you,” the ‘beep’ of the ended call was almost loud in the empty corridor as he turned to look at you, still standing by your ajar door. “thank you. really,” he smiled warmly. “i’m yeonjun, by the way. it was nice to meet you.”

“[ yn ]...” you replied quietly, still debating whether you should invite him in—half an hour seemed long, but then again, sometimes waiting for an elevator to arrive could take five whole minutes. if he was unlucky, he’d only have time to buy something at the convenience store before having to come right back. no, you thought. don’t be stupid. “it was nice to meet you too,” you almost shut your front door when you realized how much of an idiot you were—just a few minutes ago you basically locked him in the corridor. “wait.”

“huh?” yeonjun looked up from his phone, confused. ‘wait’ for what?.. not like he had anywhere to go right now.

you grabbed the spare key to the corridor door from the key rack and walked up to him, holding it out. “here. you lost yours, and i have a spare one, so you can take it,” you felt so stupid, but it was too late to back out now. “for now or til you get a new one or… or you can keep it,” you finished quietly, each word sounding worse than the last.

yeonjun smiled and shook his head. “i have another one at home, don’t worry. i won’t need it until then anyway, i was going to wait here.” 

you pressed your lips together, cheeks burning, before asking quietly. “how would a locksmith get inside here?..” 

yeonjun froze. he hadn’t thought about it at all. it was almost funny—how he, the one who had that confident, almost intimidating aura, had somehow managed to make himself look like a complete idiot in front of his nice neighbour. not only had he lost his keys, but he also couldn’t think thirty minutes ahead. usually, he didn’t care much about what people thought of him, but he still expected himself to feel ashamed now. but he wasn’t. somehow, it felt like you wouldn’t see him that way—probably because you were just as awkward. 

he took the key from your hand, the little rose keychain getting his attention, as its tiny silver thorns nestled against his skin. yeonjun looked up at you, puzzled—a rose keychain wasn’t strange on its own, he had seen countless of them, but most didn’t have a stem, let alone thorns. he felt his heart skip a beat—the small silver trinket reminded him of a part of himself that he tried to ignore. you only shook your head, though, clearly telling him to not pay any attention to it. but he still didn’t like coincidences like that one. 

you nodded goodbye to him one more time and had already turned away before pausing and biting your lip. “look,” you said before you could stop yourself, turning back to face him. the worst thing that could happen? he would decline, and things between you two would get awkward. but—if you were honest—what things? there were no ‘things’ between you two. you took a deep breath. “you can wait for the locksmith at my place, if you want. it’s warm, and you wouldn’t have to sit on the floor or stand for half an hour. if you want.”

it was inviting. it sounded really nice, actually. yeonjun already felt like his butt was as flat as the floor he’d been sitting on for an hour before you appeared and saved him from what he jokingly thought of as flat-butt disease. but you had just met—neighbours or not—and even though he knew he had no ill intentions, he wasn’t sure you felt the same way. making you feel uncomfortable or, worse, unsafe in your own home was the last thing he wanted. “are you sure it'd be fine? we just learned each other's names a few minutes ago.”

“well…” you frowned and tilted your head—what kind of things was he thinking about? “yes?.. i mean, do you have any… bad intentions?”

yeonjun was taken aback by your question. “um, no?” oh god, pull yourself together, yeonjun! why do you sound so unsure? he cleared his throat and repeated more firmly. “of course, not. but… is that it? you're just going to believe my ‘no’ and let me in?”

you took a few steps toward your door, glad to see him following you. “yep?.. do you really think maniacs would ask in the first place?” you asked him, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in.

yeonjun glanced at you, narrowing his eyes. “do you really think maniacs would just say ‘yeah, of course, i have all the bad intentions in the world’? it sounds…” he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “naïve?”

“yeah? then why would you put these thoughts into my head? sounds like you’re giving me a lesson on how to spot a maniac,” you said, hanging your jacket on the coat rack and pointing at the free hook next to it. yeonjun immediately got the hint and hung his jacket there too, without letting either of you get distracted from the conversation. “so—” you glanced down at his shoes. “i can give you slippers, if you want. brand new. still unpacked even,” you added, waiting for his nod and little ‘thanks’ before continuing. “so. why would one of them do it? give me a lesson on it, i mean.”

yeonjun let out an exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “to lull your vigilance, of course. to make you ask yourself exactly that question and come up with an answer that it doesn't make any sense for a maniac to explain things like that, so it can only mean that this person isn't one,” he ‘explained’, waiting for you to take your shoes off and walk further into the apartment before crouching down to untie his sneakers—he didn’t want to risk making you feel uncomfortable, like he was looking up your skirt. 

“ah, really?” you held the slippers out to him. “why would you—or maniac—tell me that, then? why give further explanation?” you asked, waiting for him to put the slippers on and grab his bag before leading him toward the kitchen. you were enjoying this conversation a lot. maybe even a bit too much, but who cared? “no, no, no, let me answer it myself. to lull my vigilance?”

“exactly!” yeonjun sat down on the bar stool, his smile wide—not because you got something ‘right’ in that silly little banter, but because it felt so comfortable. he couldn't believe you two had never talked before, given how easy it seemed for both of you. “the same thing, but a bit more layered.”

“wow, you seem like a really thought-out maniac, yeonjun. just piling on layers to lull my vigilance,” you sighed in exaggerated awe, pressing a hand to your chest with a little bow of your head. “it's an honour.”

“well,” he shrugged nonchalantly, straightening his back in mock pride. “just doing my best at everything, you know?” 

you let out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. he was… cute. funny too, and so easy to talk to—it felt like you had known him your whole life but had just forgotten. it wasn't unusual for you to get loud or talkative, but you usually needed more time to get used to someone before feeling comfortable enough to do so—much more time. but it wasn't like that with yeonjun; he made you feel at ease around him almost immediately. you assumed it was his confident aura that didn't waver even when he was being playful or silly. that level of confidence, unspoiled by arrogance, was truly admirable.

you bit your lip, though—you weren't sure how to reply, but you gaze fell on the coffee machine. “do you want something to drink, by the way?..” you asked, washing your hands in the kitchen sink. “i don't actually have too many bottled drinks, but i have a coffee machine, ice and a bunch of syrups, or i can make you tea.”

it actually sounded tempting. yeonjun still had a bit of his coffee when he left the elevator on this floor and realized he had lost his keys, but that was long gone. he hadn’t risked leaving the spot to buy something to drink, afraid someone would come home while he was away, so now he was pretty much thirsty. but he wasn’t sure if he preferred burdening you over just waiting for half an hour, so he shook his head. 

“no, thank you. but… do you mind if i wash my hands?” yeonjun asked, getting up and rubbing his palms on his jeans. and then what? what was he going to do when he came back after washing his hands? he wasn't socially awkward, but staying with a barely-not-a-stranger in a small space with no one else around—and no alcohol to loosen the atmosphere? he should've just agreed to the coffee to make things a bit less awkward for both of you—he doubted you'd eat or drink something while he was just sitting there. was it too late to say he'd changed his mind?

“oh! kitchen sink or…” you walked out of the kitchen and he followed you, standing next to the kitchen door in the hall. you pointed at a door. “the bathroom is the only door to the right. a small gray towel on the towel rail is for hands, and…” you turned your head to look at him, still leaning on the door frame with the front of your shoulder. “i can bring you another towel if you want to rinse your face or anything. it was washed and dried that morning, so you can be sure it wasn't used.”

yeonjun blinked a few times, looking at you, his mind completely blank—he couldn't even find the words to describe how… adorably weird everything you were doing and saying was. why would you ask him if he wanted to wash his face? it was fine and clean—he had checked in the mirror by the door when he entered out of habit—but you were still unbelievably nice, offering another towel in case he wanted to do it. it felt like the thoughts in your head were completely random, yet it was interesting that you weren't afraid to say them out loud. 

“no, thanks. just hands,” yeonjun said, giving you a small smile before following the direction you had pointed to.

you watched him shut the door before turning back to the kitchen—it wasn't that you felt like you had to keep an eye on him, making sure he didn't wander somewhere he wasn’t supposed to, it was just somehow he already occupied your thoughts, and you only snapped out of it when he disappeared behind the door. but as you sat at the bar table, your overthinking started again. everything was… weird. good, but still weird. you’d never met someone you clicked with this quickly, and it felt almost… suspicious.

you threw a glance toward the bathroom as if you could see through walls, before shaking your head—you had been overthinking too much lately. if you were honest, you always did. maybe it was time to stop thinking and just… be? just accept that you had met someone you felt comfortable with immediately, without questioning it? making new friends—ever heard of it? you thought. yep. it was time to just live your life without looking back at any soulmate issues—past, present, or future.

yeonjun found you with a strangely determined expression on your face and chuckled to himself. he liked that you were like an ajar book—not fully open yet, but easy enough for him to read at least your basic emotion, and it also seemed like you weren’t trying too hard to hide them either. he thought that maybe he should be just as honest.

he cleared his throat, getting your attention. “i know i said no,” he started when you looked up at him, all your focus on him immediately, “but i think i’d actually like something to drink,” yeonjun admitted, watching you standing up immediately to start preparing something, but he was quick to reassure you. “water would be fine, though.”

you paused, hand on the cupboard, looking at him. “water would be ‘fine’ or ‘preferred’?..” you asked, unsure if it sounded too blunt—you didn’t want to sound pushy or impolite, but you could make him something specific, if he wanted. it wasn’t a problem. 

yeonjun hesitated, but admitted nevertheless. “to be honest, i wouldn't say no to some tea. i guess it's a bit too late for an americano,” he smiled warmly, sitting back where he was sitting before, his eyes following your movements. 

he was surprised to see how excited you got, reaching for a box on the top shelf, standing on your tiptoes, the tips of your fingers trying to grab it. he had to almost force himself to stay where he was, resisting the urge to rush over and help you—the scene inside his head immediately played out in slow motion, filmed in third-person with a random lyrical song and that weird corner-whitening effect they always used in dramas for moments like this. he cringed at the thought.

yeonjun still kept an eye on you in case you asked for help or needed it if everything started tumbling down, but you successfully won that round against heights and gravity, placing the now-open box in front of him. it was filled with different colourful foil bags—he was sure anyone would find something they liked here.

“you can choose any you want,” you said, grabbing the kettle to fill it with water the moment he nodded and started going through the box. you turned the kettle on and were about to sit back down when you suddenly realized you were still wearing your office clothes. “do you mind if i go change?..” you asked hesitantly, but yeonjun only nodded.

“of course. i promise to behave,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender, smiling—and making you smile back—before you disappeared around the corner, and he returned to choosing tea, wondering which one both of you would like. 

you tried to change quickly, not wanting to make yeonjun wait, but you froze the moment your gaze fell on your reflection—the t-shirt you were about to put on still in your hands. a huge mark, resembling a thorned rose stem, stretched from your left collarbone down to your right ribs, crossing your chest in a jagged line, and stood out even in the dim light of your bedroom. 

involuntarily, you pressed your fingers to the top thorn, right under your collarbone, as if expecting to feel it pierce the skin of your fingertips. it didn't, though—of course, it didn't—the skin felt the same as the rest, smooth and unbroken. if you didn't look at it, you wouldn't even realize it was there—you wished it was that way. ut no, you knew every detail of it. you knew the exact placement of each thorn, each uneven ridge in the stem. you knew where it started and where it ended. you could draw it with your eyes closed and get every millimeter right. 

the way you tugged the t-shirt on was almost harsh, the tight collar scratching your nose slightly on its way down—you just wanted to hide that reminder as soon as possible, even though you knew you couldn't keep running from it forever. one day, you would have to accept it as part of you—which it was—and stop seeing it as a reminder of your broken future, misfortune, and a cruel fate. but not today. maybe, one day, your view on it would change naturally, when the way you saw soulmates did?..

but for now, you would opt for t-shirts with tight collars and turtlenecks, whenever someone else might see you. alone? crop tops and tank tops were fine—if you tried to avoid looking at the mark—but not in public, and not in front of someone you barely knew. for many other reasons too, of course. 

when you entered the kitchen again, yeonjun was almost done choosing the last kind of tea—he grabbed the foil package from the box and placed it on the table next to six others. he turned to you, a bit surprised at your precise timing, and gestured toward the table. “i chose the ones i’d like to try. the final choice is yours,” he said with a smile, leaning his back on the wall and watching you. 

his choices were great. at first, you thought about suggesting that each of you make tea in your own cup to avoid drinking something you didn’t like, but all seven options were good, so you could actually brew tea in the teapot for both of you. 

you took two packages and placed it closer to him. “one of these. i can't choose,” you said, turning to the kitchen counter to grab the teapot and pour hot water into it, bringing it to the table along with two cups. yeonjun handed you the tea bag that he had chosen, and you dropped it into the teapot, waiting for the tea to brew.

as yeonjun busied himself putting the packages back into the box, the kitchen fell into silence. it wasn't the tense, uncomfortable kind of silence you might expect—it was a soft one, where both of you seemed to be lost in thoughts without worrying about getting silently judged for not supporting some awkward small talk. it felt like either of you could start or continue a conversation easily whenever you wanted, so there was no need in trying to fill the air with meaningless, forced words.

you were already sipping your tea, when yeonjun's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “there’s a lot of handmade stuff,” he noted, looking at the wall to the side of you. you followed his gaze and nodded, waiting for him to continue. “a great variety too. sewing, collages, patchwork, crocheting, pressed flowers, diamond mosaic… have you done all of that?”

you nodded, taking another tiny sip—your tea was still too hot. “yep. all of these were done by me,” you said, glancing over the countless little handmade things scattered all over the wall, and it felt like you lwere looking at them from a completely different perspective than before. “but i do none of these seriously. it was… some kind of attempt to find myself,” you admitted. a failed one, you added mentally. none of these felt completely you. 

“successful?” yeonjun asked, his gaze fixed on a small patchwork of a rose, the only rose work out of a dozen—it would’ve been almost cute with the pale pink flower, some parts not sewn to the canvas, giving it some volume, but, just like the keychain, this one had thorns, carefully stitched onto the dark green stem. he lifted his hand to touch them almost unintentionally, but stopped, glancing at you.

“you can touch,” you said, and he gently pressed his finger to the top thorn of the rose, making your heart skip a beat. the stem was a smaller version of the mark you had on your chest—you made it in hope it would help with accepting your hopeless soulmate situation—and it felt strange, seeing how gently and cautiously yeonjun's fingers caressed it exactly where your own fingers had been not so long ago. you shook these thoughts away, though—close stitches were just nice to touch. “but no. not successful, as you can see in variety,” you chuckled.

yeonjun hummed—your works looked neat, at least in the eyes of someone who only knew the names of some of them, so if these were some of your first works of every kind… you were impressive. “do you like roses?” he blurted out and immediately realized the question made no sense—your apartment wasn’t full of roses, he had focused on only two things just because of his own issues.

but you simply shook your head and let out a tiny, sincere laugh. “i don’t. hate them, actually,” you admitted, making him nod in acknowledgement. “i know it makes no sense that i made that one—” you threw a glance at the patchwork he had been paying so much attention to. 

“no, it’s fine,” yeonjun interrupted. “i can see why you’d want to make it despite disliking roses. the picture itself is beautiful,” he said. he used to hate roses too, but he’d learned to only hate one. he caressed the length of the stem one last time, not noticing the way you swallowed thickly at his words and movements, eyes glued to his finger. he turned to you with a smile. “i have a silly question, but i assume you cross-stitched too, and i’ve always been curious about something.”

the speed with which yeonjun switched topics almost gave you whiplash, but you tried to compose yourself. “uh, yes. yes, when i was a child. not a too enjoyable activity for me, but i did.” 

he tapped the pad of his finger with his nail as if imitating a needle. “do people often pierce themselves while cross-stitching?” 

you tilted your head—the question wasn’t exactly weird, but it was unexpected. “i don’t think so?..” you weren’t completely sure, since you’d never really discussed it with anyone—you’d only had your own experience. “i mean, you might when you only start, but you learn to avoid it pretty quickly, and pierce your skin on accident to the point where it hurts, maybe… a few times in a few projects?” 

yeonjun hummed, his thumb rubbing the pad of his pointer finger on his left hand. maybe they were just careless?.. or it wasn’t cross-stitching at all? what else could it be, then? just sewing? 

you thought for a second before continuing. “but… i guess some people use their finger pad to feel the needle while piercing the fabric or canvas?..” you said, uncertain if that’s what he wanted to know or if it made any sense in general. “you know… instead of turning the canvas back and forth, you just control the needle with one finger on the back and another one in the front,” you tried to mimic the moves but it looked ridiculous. “it doesn’t really pierce the skin, but it’s technically poking your finger with a needle constantly…”

yeonjun frowned, trying to recall the feeling. “does it hurt? or is it just uncomfortable?” 

but before you could reply, his phone buzzed, breaking the conversation. he threw a quick glance at the number and grabbed the phone, accepting the call hurriedly, mouthing ‘locksmith’ to you. you nodded, watching his back as he rushed to the front door, quickly tugging his sneakers on, phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder, the rose keychain attached to the corridor key dangling out of his back pocket.

you felt… weird. it was a long-forgotten feeling, so you didn’t recognize it at first, but you felt like a child whose best friend's parents had come to pick them up from kindergarten, so not only you were left without your best friend, but alone in general, because the other children had already left, and you were left to wait for your own parents. longing and disappointment were a bit too strong of words for that, but it felt like them, in that childish way. 

yeonjun stopped in the middle of tying his shoe, though, listening to what the person on the other side had to say, before slowly untying his shoes and taking them off. he ended the call and turned to you, making you look at him in question. 

“something happened, and they had to move me further in order…” he mumbled, sitting back, embarrassed now at the way he’d hurried to leave the table. he only wanted to deal with the locksmith as quickly as possible so he could get back and continue talking to you, but by the way you looked at him—a tiny bit like a beaten-up puppy—he realized that it looked completely opposite of that. “they said i have to wait for an hour or two. they’ll call ten minutes before arrival.”

you nodded, rubbing the edge of the cup nervously. was he going to leave, as he now had much more time to go back home from some cafe and didn’t have to stay at your place? you didn’t want him to, but at the same time… you wouldn’t be surprised. 

yeonjun, on the other hand, was unsure how to show that he wanted to stay without making you feel like you had to let him stay if you didn't want to. but… food was always an option, wasn’t it? “it’s around time for dinner. are you hungry?” 

“oh!” you didn’t even realize that you were hungry, too consumed by the conversation. you stood up and went to the fridge. “i can cook somethi—” you paused, your shoulders falling—it was almost empty. just some snacks, milk and an egg. you were going to go to the convenience store after changing into something more comfortable, but that lost keys situation messed it up.

yeonjun looked over your shoulder at the fridge, holding back a chuckle—a typical fridge of a bachelorette (he assumed you were one based on the way your apartment looked), his own looked exactly the same. but it actually made the situation much better. “i can order something if you want? or we can go somewhere,” he proposed. “a friendly dinner as a thank you for giving me a place to wait.”

you froze for a second—he wanted to stay? you cleared your throat. “ordering something sounds great,” you admitted, shutting the fridge and sitting back. “i’m craving pizza, to be honest.” 

he smiled widely. you didn’t want him to leave—it was great. “pizza it is!” he unlocked his phone, laying it on the table between you two. “choose anything you want.”

you started scrolling through the app. “i’m the host, i’m paying…” you mumbled, adding a pizza and a drink to the order. yeonjun replied with a little ‘mhm’, turning the phone to himself. you wish, baby, he thought, choosing food for himself. 

of course, you didn’t pay. yeonjun had sworn he chose the “pay on delivery” option and even took your card when the doorbell rang. his face had been so trustworthy, you didn’t think twice. but it turned out his skill at lulling your vigilance was far better than you could expected. when he walked into the kitchen carrying the pizza boxes and a plastic bag of drinks, his expression was one of absolute shock. he announced that something had gone wrong—the order was already paid for. and, of course—how could you doubt him?—he had absolutely nothing to do with it. perhaps, he suggested, some kind soul (most likely a very handsome one, he added) had paid for it instead.

yeonjun had a way to make the atmosphere around him lighter and people around him more comfortable, you didn’t have to spend too much time figuring it out. but he also seemed to be stubborn—if he wanted to do something and thought it was right, he would do it, or find a way to do it if he was told not to. and he didn’t feel any remorse for that. but at the same time it was… fine? you didn’t want to confront him about paying for pizza, because you could easily find a way to return the favour some time later. ‘later’. the word made you feel warm inside, and you pushed all the questioning thoughts aside. yes. later.

“so,” you got yeonjun’s attention and he looked up at you, his mouth full of pizza—as if he tried to push the whole slice into his mouth without biting, which was almost cute—so you continued. “pineapple on pizza. yes or no?” 

he made a face, which was ten times funnier with his stuffed cheeks. “absolutely no,” yeonjun announced as he finally managed to swallow. “like, absolutely. you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. you just shrugged, your face sly, and he made an expression of pure horror. “don’t tell me—i can’t believe i’m living next door to a psychopath! were you lulling my vigilance for the past hours just to hit me with this news?” 

you couldn’t help but laugh your heart out at his endless drama skills, and he obviously had troubles keeping up the act and not laughing too. “it’s not that bad, yeonjun. don’t be so judgy! did you know,” you pointed at him with a pizza crust before biting into it, “that sweet and sour sauce is heavily based on pineapple juice?” 

yeonjun rolled his eyes dramatically. “everyone knows it, girl. but it’s different,” he made a huge accent on the last word. “okay. my turn. mint choco ice cream.”

you scrunched your nose. “nope. but don’t tell me it’s a yes from you,” you warned jokingly and he smirked in response. “and you dared to call me a psychopath?! you? a mint chocolate ice cream lover?” it was getting harder and harder to keep your laugh inside, especially as he kept on laughing himself, but you tried to do your best. “i’ll be much more careful while leaving home now.” 

“actually,” yeonjun tried to say it through laughter, but was completely failing. “it makes you a psychopath one more time, because mint choco is awesome! so you’re a double psychopath while i,” he pointed into his chest, “a poor victim of someone with questionable taste.” 

you shook your head—you felt so full, content and comfortable now, it was almost unbelievable, but you loved it. “okay, expect a few tones of mint choco ice cream at your door as revenge for your shameless lie about paying for pizza.”

yeonjun laughed. “you don’t really understand the concept of revenge or punishment, do you?” 

“invite me when you’re trying to find a way to store it, and ask me that one more time,” you stuck your tongue out at him, your cheeks already sore from laughing and smiling. “you’ll be watching it slowly melt while not being able to do anything about it, because you don’t have enough cold space.”

yeonjun pressed his hand to his chest, absolute terror all over his face. “a psychopath, no doubt… will you tie me down and feed me pineapple pizza next?” he asked, doing his best to keep his face straight.

“well, if that’s what gets you going…” you winked at him, but the ridiculousness of the exchange made you crack into a grin and laughter. 

he moved a bit closer to you over the table and whispered. “really wanna know?” he winked back at you, but he was so bad at it, basically just blinking with both of his eyes, making your smile only bigger.

“okay-okay, keep it to yourself, perv,” you replied through laughter, and yeonjun moved back with a grin of a winner, grabbing another pizza slice. 

talking with him was easy—he knew so much, able to continue basically any conversation, but most of them still were silly and ridiculous. you talked about everything and nothing at the same time, getting to know each other better all the while. yeonjun was a choreographer and a dance teacher. he used to be a dancer in his late teenage years, but eventually started giving lessons, making his own choreography and, well, giving lessons on his own choreography. he joked about missing the sore muscles after endless dance practices some days but always reminded himself he wasn’t that young anymore.

at some point you both somehow stumbled into a soulmate topic. it was a pure accident—you wouldn’t be able to recall how it happened or what led to it even if you tried, but you quickly changed the subject to friends, and you could swear he looked relieved for a second before composing himself. but even just a few words were enough for you two to realize that you both had some issues in that area and wandered around soulmate-less. 

you barely even noticed how another hour passed, and yeonjun’s phone buzzed with a call from the locksmith. he didn’t rush to take the call that time, though, knowing it’d only mean that this tiny two-people party was over, as if the longer he would take to answer, the more time he’d get with you. but he knew it didn’t work that way, so he accepted the call and listened to the locksmith, who was saying he’d be there in ten minutes.

yeonjun ended the call, and stayed still for a second, looking at his phone screen before tapping a few times and holding it out for you. “save your number, please. or kakao id. whichever you prefer more.” 

you hesitated, but he shook the phone softly to hurry you a bit, and you obeyed, taking it and typing your kakaotalk id in the “add friend” section. you paused, thinking of a way to save yourself, throwing a quick glance at yeonjun. he wasn’t so smiley and warm anymore, clearly dissatisfied—you were surprised how strongly his mood affected the atmosphere around him. or was it affecting just you?.. you typed in the safest option you could come up with—‘[ yn ], apt. 138’ —and tapped “add” before handing his phone back.

yeonjun looked at his screen, noticing the ridiculous name, small smile appearing on his face, as he quickly opened the editor and changed it to ‘little psycho’. he made sure you could see it just to witness your reaction, and he didn’t regret it a second, because you looked at him with one of the cutest angry expressions he had ever seen—your lips in a small pout and brows frowned.

“i’ll save you as ‘mr. maniac’ then,” you stated, but it only made him smile. you realized you were happy to make him smile and be the reason why he stopped being a thundercloud with tiny lightnings all around him—even if it was just for a second. 

“please, do. i like the way ‘mr. maniac’ and ‘little psycho’ sound,” yeonjun said, checking the watch—he had to go soon. “i’ll even put red velvet’s ‘psycho’ as your ringtone, hm?” he proposed it like it was the best idea in the world, smug about coming up with it. the lyrics flew quickly in your mind, making you press your lips together, and he noticed it immediately. “no, nevermind, sorry—”

but you composed yourself quickly. “but only if you’re getting stray kids’ ‘maniac’ as yours. fair and square,” you said, trying to keep the most serious face you could manage, holding out your hand to “seal the agreement”. yeonjun took it just as seriously, shaking it a few times, but not letting go when it was clearly time to do so. you tilted your head in question, and that was the moment you realized you should never expect anything good from that man.

yeonjun stood up from the bar stool, placing his other hand behind his back and bowing slightly as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. “deal, milady,” he said, a foxy smile playing on his face—you were sure he wasn’t even trying to hide it, no attempt to pretend not to do it on purpose just to play with you! 

you narrowed your eyes at him, turning your hand a bit to pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger, making him tsk at you, but it quickly turned into a chuckle when he noticed the way you hissed as his ring scratched exactly the same spot on your hand. 

yeonjun's grin grew bigger at that. of course, he didn't do it on purpose, but it was funny nevertheless—the way your intent to “hurt him” turned against yourself. “the revenge was quick that time, wasn't it?” he asked mockingly, with no actual bite to his words, and somehow he was sure you knew it. his phone buzzed, though, and he realized he’d lost track of time again. “i’ll text you, okay? ‘mr. maniac’. don't forget,” he warned jokingly, trying to make you smile as he saw your face slowly falling. 

you nodded and followed him to the front door, watching him open the corridor door for the locksmith and let him in. they both came closer to you, the man asking for yeonjun's id to confirm he was living there. you almost retreated to your own apartment, not wanting to create a crowd when it obviously wasn't needed, when your eyes fell on yeonjun's wallet that he had taken out to get his id. inside, in a small window people usually used for photos, was a tiny pink pressed rose bud, the little flower made your heart skip a beat. why would he have something like that?.. even the locksmith's question didn't tear your attention away from it; it was yeonjun's soft, almost concerned ‘[ yn ]?’ that pulled you out of your head.

it was impossible to describe how embarrassed you were, trying to quickly recall what the question had been. “uh, yes, that man is my neighbour. of a few years,” you said quickly, and the locksmith nodded, giving yeonjun his id back and saying something about two confirmations being better than one, to which you only nodded absentmindedly, image of the flower still in front of your eyes. 

you waved yeonjun goodbye and mumbled something about having a good day to the locksmith before disappearing behind your door—completely unaware of yeonjun’s worried look.

the moment the door was locked, the last ‘click’ going through the heavy air, you realized how stupid you were for overthinking it—it was probably a little nothing from someone important. a girlfriend, perhaps. yes, he didn't have a soulmate, but that didn’t mean people who hadn’t met their soulmate couldn’t date anyone else—after all, your own soulmate did the same thing so many years ago. and you wouldtoo, you admitted to yourself, given the opportunity—that endless chase for someone who was god knows where, if they even were, was exhausting.

you didn’t even turn away from the door yet when your watch buzzed and you saw ‘be a cute psycho, not a sad psycho ;)’ on the screen. you looked into the peephole, and there he was—sending his failing wink at you and making you smile. you unlocked your phone and sent a quick ‘okay, mr. maniac’, accepting his friend request and changing ‘choi yeonjun’ to the nickname he wanted. you thought for a second before taking a screenshot of his name and sending it to him, getting a reply almost immediately—’good girl’. you paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to reply, when another message came in: ‘tell me when i’m too much, okay? don’t put up with my behaviour if it makes you uncomfortable’. it was nice—really nice, warmth spilling inside, as you sent ‘okay. but it’s fine so far, don’t worry’.

the conversation didn’t stop there—just like you two were talking about everything and nothing when yeonjun was sitting in your kitchen, you continued talking through texts, completely losing track of time—friends, families, funny stories from work. turned out he was three handshakes away from you—one of the guys who took yeonjun’s dance lessons about a year ago and became his good friend was regularly playing league with soobin. the guy he moved to japan a few months ago and kept complaining to yeonjun that his playing buddy chose a girl over him until three of them started playing together. 

it was past midnight when yeonjun said that it was time for you two to sleep, and you couldn’t even fight him on it—you tried to, but he kept correcting your sleepy typos instead of answering, and you quickly realized once again it was useless to go against him, because he would find a way to get everything done his way. so you wished him sweet dreams and locked your phone, putting it on the bedside table, your sleepy gaze still glued to it. you hoped yeonjun wasn’t finding you annoying—you liked talking to him. 

just like your head was full of him for the previous few hours, your last thoughts before finally falling asleep were the same.

the pain caused by him was delicious. it reminded you of caramel—his touches were drawn-out, hot and so, so sweet. no pleasure had ever come close to the sweetness of the pain he was inflicting upon you—he took his time, making you savour everything he was giving you and crave more. 

it felt like he was everywhere, coating every inch of your body; pain, just like honey, glazing every nerve—you could feel him tugging your hair, fist firm against the back of your head, could feel his fingertips sinking into the flesh of your thighs, craving to leave marks on you—you prayed they did—and his nails digging into your skin as he ran his hand down, leaving trails along your legs—just as burning and sweet as melted chocolate. 

his fingers around your neck felt like the only necklace you would ever want to wear from now on—hand firm, warm and sweet too. if only he tightened his hand—he did so immediately, making you roll your eyes and part your lips, and he didn't let the opportunity go to waste, sliding his index and middle finger into your mouth, the other ones and thumb digging into the gentle skin of your cheeks. 

but the most delicious pain was brought by his teeth, sinking into the skin of your neck and chest, holding it as he sucked the soft surface in, making the lonely thorny stem on your chest bloom, as he held you pressed into him. it was as if he wanted to merge you together, never letting you leave him, and you would beg him to even sew you two together just to never stop feeling that pain. would beg for more of it. 

you felt him part your legs, one hand still on your neck, another one digging fingers into the inside of your thigh as he opened you for him, sinking his teeth into the flesh of the other thigh. he leaned in, and the feeling of his warm breath between your legs made you lose the last shred of sanity you still had after all the sweet torture he put you through. at least, you thought so until his wet, warm tongue pressed against your aching clit. 

you arched your back, clenching the bed sheet in your hands. “yeonjun—” you choked out, eyes flying open, heart pounding in your chest. the ceiling of your bedroom felt pressing and heavy, trying to bury you under its weight, as if the guilt and disgust at your own dreams weren't heavy enough. 

everywhere his hands had been just mere moments ago felt dirty, as if every inch of you was covered in filth instead of the sweet honey his touches had coated you in. you wanted nothing more than to go shower and scratch away the remnants of the disgusting dream you’d had, but even the thought of touching yourself—not sexually, just touching yourself anywhere—made you want to throw up.

yeonjun was nothing but kind to you, making you feel warm and comfortable, asking if you were fine with his behaviour almost on the clock, and you paid him with having a fucking wet dream. not even a soft vanilla one—though, that one wouldn't have made the situation much better���but a dirty one, where you craved him to hurt you, and absolutely nothing was fine about it. it was that stupid masochism again, the one you tried so hard to ignore.

you sat up slowly, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling between your legs—you touched the fabric and it was basically soaked, feeling under the pads of your fingers adding to the guilt, because you weren't sure when was the last time you'd been that wet. you had to pull your panties off just not to feel your wetness against your skin—cool night air making you hiss.

the floor was cold under your bare feet, but you didn't care, finding a clean pair and pulling it on almost violently. you needed some water—your throat and lips were dry, and you prayed to all the gods that you had been just as quiet while having a wet dream as you were while touching yourself. if you remembered correctly, your and yeonjun's apartments were mirroring each other, meaning his bedroom was just behind the wall from yours. 

you stood by the counter, your fingers clutching the glass—you two were sitting just a few hours ago behind your back, and you wondered how you'd be able to look him in the eyes now, if you couldn't even look at yourself. 

just a wall away from where you were only a few minutes ago, yeonjun stirred awake with a soft groan on his lips, head thrown back. his heart was beating like crazy, and his entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, as he struggled to catch his breath and grasp at least one coherent thought amidst the dozen flying through his mind. but most importantly, he wanted to focus on anything but the images that stayed in his head even after he woke up.

yeonjun couldn't believe these thoughts, these fantasies were back. they weren't too hardcore, but he still had been pushing them down and ignoring their existence for years. no matter how he tried to phrase it, none sounded good—‘i’m a sadist’? he was, but he was a softcore one—that wasn't what anyone would think when hearing the word, though. ‘i enjoy causing pain’? it was even worse. and even knowing the truth himself, he couldn't accept it, too afraid of being labeled a psychopath. again. 

but they were back, and in the worst way possible—dreams. something yeonjun couldn't control. and what dreams they were—about the sweet neighbour he had only started getting to know better, and never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. but his brain thought differently. too differently, throwing in images of the way your skin felt between his lips and teeth, of the way his fingers fit perfectly around your neck, as if it was made for him to hold it, of the way you trembled and clenched at every little glimpse of pain he was giving you.

yeonjun felt himself twitch in his boxers—pictures too vivid in his head. he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the damp bangs away from his sweaty forehead and tugging at the roots. he didn't want to do it, truly didn't, but it was almost hurting, and his free hand—almost on its own accord—drifted down to jerk his tank top higher and then palm his hard cock through his boxers. he groaned at the feeling that was releasing at least a bit of pressure—pressure so unbearable, it almost shadowed the guilt he felt over thinking about you in such way.

the fabric was soaked through with precum, and yeonjun pushed it down with a quiet, low moan, freeing himself, his pulsing cock slapping against his stomach and leaving a smear of precum on his skin. he wrapped his hand around the shaft, stroking it slowly, images from the dream finding its way back into his mind—he tried his best to keep his fantasies to the needed minimum, not letting anything else in. he was doing it only to get rid of a boner.

but you felt so good beneath him there, your expressions, your sounds, the little trembles of your body and the way you clung to him, begging for more—all of it was sweeter than honey. yeonjun couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering. was it possible to make you even sweeter? of course, he thought, cock twitching in his hand even before he finished the thought. because he could want anything, crave anything and you would give it to him, because you craved the same thing. like his lost puzzle piece. 

yeonjun stroked himself faster, his grip tightening around his throbbing cock as he started losing himself in the fantasy, much more dangerous than the one he had dreamed about, but he was in too deep to stop, because you—the one from the dream—was her. the one he had craved so much but had buried deep inside, down to the last thought. the one who wanted everything he wanted to give and could give—in exact same amounts. just perfect for him down to the smallest whimpers of pleasure found in the pain he gave you.

the thought made yeonjun groan, his hips bucking up into his fist as he felt his release building fast. he could almost hear your mewls and sobs of begging to never stop, feel your hands on his body, holding him and accepting him and his every dark part. he came, biting into his lip hard to muffle his moan of your name, as thick ropes of cum painted his stomach and hand. 

yeonjun tried to catch his breath, guilt slowly creeping in—much stronger than before—but there was something worse. the word was still bright, almost blinding in his mind, and he couldn’t believe a mere wet dream and just jerking off had awakened in him something that he had been hiding from himself for nearly a decade.

he looked at his hand, covered in cum, in disgust and grabbed the pack of facial tissues, pulling them out harshly to get rid of the reminders of everything that had happened. yeonjun wasn’t disgusted by his cum—he was a grown up, after all—but he hated everything that was somehow connected to it this time, and tissues weren’t enough. he threw the box somewhere on the bed and got up to go to the bathroom to at least wash his hands properly. 

yeonjun didn’t even bother to wipe them dry, just pausing in the doorway on his way out and shaking the drops off, as his gaze fell on the key you had given him, the silver rose keychain dangling down from the shelf, reflecting a light that went through the window from somewhere outside in the night. it was too dark to see the thorns, but he knew they were there, mocking him with the cruel coincidence. 

the way yeonjun tugged his tank top off on his way to the large mirror was almost cruel—he couldn’t care less if he tore it, he needed to look at it. he turned his back to the mirror, looking at the reflection over his shoulder, and there it was—mark of a wild rose, a thorned rose stem crossing his back. looking at it was almost foreign, feeling like a distant memory of someone who he had been years ago. 

yeonjun had always thought he was lucky to have it somewhere he just couldn’t see it—wild roses didn’t always find their soulmates, and their marks were a constant reminder of that, so he felt sorry for those who had to look at it regularly. he had the privilege of only seeing his own when he wanted to, and he never did—he hadn’t seen it for years. but had it helped him now? 

had his dismissal towards it helped him, when his tired and stressed brain clung to the nicest and most relaxing thing that had happened to him in weeks and distorted it into something dirty and disgusting, which had awakened a craving for something that he had given up on getting long ago, because his soulmate was nowhere to be found? 

had his pretending helped him, when he came with the thought of just being accepted? 

everything melted under the morning light, though—just like how it could turn the monster in the dark corner into a coat carelessly hung on the coat rack, when you were a child, in the same way, it transformed all the thoughts, fears and, most importantly, guilt into indifference for both of you. 

in the darkness of the night, you weren't sure how you could even think of yeonjun, but now, as you were applying healing lip balm to you sore lower lip—that you, perhaps, had bitten too hard last night—while trying to type with your other hand, you didn’t see any problem—you couldn’t control your dreams. your brain had probably been so overloaded with yeonjun for hours before you went to sleep, that it just continued thinking of him even subconsciously. god, you even had a wet dream about soobin once, after you two stayed in the office until almost midnight and you were just too tired. 

yeonjun would never know about it anyway—unless you told him, and you surely weren’t going to. you were going to just go with the flow and let stuff happen the way they were supposed to, without ruining everything for yourself by feeling ‘guilt’ and ‘disgust’ toward your subconscious. you would just deal with the consequences later—if there would be any, of course. you sure there wouldn’t be.  

and it was the same for yeonjun, who was almost embarrassed with how dramatic he had been in the dark shadows of his apartment and thoughts, longing for a soulmate who would ‘accept’ him. yes, his soulmate would—just as he would do the same for them—because his darkness aligned and blended perfectly with theirs. that was the point of soulmates. but who said his soulmate was the only one who could do it? his friends accepted him—yes, it was different, but it was still acceptance. who said there was only one person in the world that could accept him as a lover? bullshit.

and when it came to the filthiness of thoughts yeonjun had about you… he wasn’t so sure it was truly you, if he was being honest. in the chill morning air, it felt more like a phantom of his soulmate—one he secretly craved so badly to hold—had shaped itself into your form just because he spent so much time with you yesterday. it probably had to do a little with you as… you. too little. almost nothing.

so yeonjun had almost no remorse sending you a good morning text in the form of ‘so, are you having pineapple pizza for breakfast? or are you going to add pineapples to kimchi maybe?’. before he could even wonder if it sounded a bit too rude or aggressive, you hit him back with ‘okay, jokes aside, serious question now. do you put choco mint ice cream on your fried chicken or do you prefer to dip it?’, making him smile—you matched his sass, and he loved it.

yeonjun asked you if you wanted him to keep you company on your way to the ground floor, so you wouldn’t get bored waiting for the elevator and in it—a kind man he was—and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to burden him, but keeping in mind that he was the one who offered. he didn’t have to, but he still did, so it was safe to assume he at least had no problems with it—and at most, wanted to. so you chose not to think for him and just be honest. 

it was awkward, leaving the apartment and seeing him by your door, waiting for you, but you brushed it off—it reminded you of a friend waiting for you to walk to school together, and it wasn’t a big deal. what was a big deal was the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, images from the dream still haunting you, a weird feeling blooming in your lower stomach. seeing him after the way you had felt him in the dream was unsettling, but you tried to push the images away—of course, they were still there, barely any time had passed.

it was the same for yeonjun, his breath hitching when he saw you—so composed and neat compared to how messy and ruffled you had looked in his dream and his fantasies. he quickly corrected himself—not you. his soulmate. with your appearance, but still not you. but he didn’t realize that it took him a bit too long until your question pulled him from his thoughts.

yeonjun was looking at you so intently that you felt an almost overpowering need to make yourself seem smaller. he couldn’t read your mind, could he?.. “is there something on my face?” you asked uncertainly, your hand shooting up to touch your lips. you didn’t have a coffee mustache, did you? that’d be so embarrassing!

“huh?” yeonjun quickly ran his eyes over your face. “no, nothing,” he shook his head, but almost immediately narrowed his eyes, leaning in just a bit closer, making your eyes widen. but then he shook his head and straightened back. “nope, nothing.” 

that man was something else, you thought. “what did you think you saw?” you asked curiously, as you both headed to the elevator hall.

“hm?” yeonjun threw a quick glance at you. “it seemed like you had a whole pineapple slice in the corner of your lip,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but the tiny smirk tugging at his lips gave away his intentions to tease you. he continued, “probably imagined it.” 

you quirked an eyebrow at him, keeping the play up as you stepped into the elevator. “really? just a few hours with me, and you are already imagining pineapples everywhere?” you leaned your back against the mirror, watching as he stood a bit to the side to adjust his hair. “what’s next? ordering pineapple pizza in the middle of the night so no one sees it?” 

gosh, yeonjun thought, throwing a quick glance at your reflection. you fit right into the circle of people he enjoyed spending time with. and what was even better, he knew he’d always have the last word with you. “mhm,” he turned to you. “wait til you look at mint choco ice cream in a convenience store, and the next second, you find yourself eating it with a tablespoon in the middle of the night, thinking of me,” he smirked.

you rolled your eyes playfully, covering up the weird way your insides reacted to ‘thinking of him in the middle of the night’. “you wish,” you stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he’d take it as your defeat. yeonjun seemed to like making you flustered and having the upper hand, and you could get flustered easily sometimes and had never been too sharp-tongued, sometimes struggling to come up with extremely clever and sassy responses—but he didn't seem to mind.

but ‘keeping company to the ground floor’ became ‘keeping company to the nearest bakery’ to get morning coffee for both of you—yeonjun said that he since was already outside, he might as well use the opportunity to get americano for now and some baked goods for later. you weren't sure who was the first to joke when he handed you your cup, but his question about whether there was a pineapple slice in your coffee blended with your question about him deciding against adding chocolate-ed toothpaste to his coffee this time, and neither of you had even finished—your shared laughter filled the little bakery instead. 

when you parted your ways, though, yeonjun realized that while talking to you made his exhausting thoughts disappear and he could just stop worrying about basically anything—which was only weird because you had met a little over twelve hours ago, as his friends were able to do the same—whenever you two weren’t talking, his mood became even worse than before, thoughts about not meeting his soulmate yet coming back to haunt him. he thought he had stopped caring a few years ago. 

it wasn’t easy to keep himself from turning around to look at you, but he managed to, gripping the cup in his hand tighter, the ice cubes clicking together and cooling his skin even through plastic. was the temporary happiness worth the dark thoughts that crept in the moment he hadn't heard from you for a minute? he wasn't sure. it still wasn't too late to go back to being just neighbours—you still had nothing between you two except one and a half inner jokes. it'd be easy to pretend things just didn't work out. 

yeonjun unlocked his phone, the chat with you still open on the screen. his eyes ran over the lines of the morning conversation, a soft smile appearing on his face. he wasn't sure he could do it—to pretend it just didn't work out—because it did, and your messages were perfect proof of it. he wasn't a weak man; he knew how to fight bad habits and addictions, and he could fight this one too, but… did he want to?

you, on the other hand, felt like you were shining from the inside. it seemed like the universe, destiny, fate, or whatever else was up there had heard your intentions of letting the soulmate situation go and sent yeonjun to support you along the way. maybe yeonjun was a sign, hitting you right over the head, telling you it was time to move on and focus on something else. for example, building a good friendship with someone nice and kind? it probably was. what else could it be? 

it became a regular habit—not a daily one, but yeonjun kept you company on your way to your work until the bakery at least two or three times a week, when his schedule allowed him—sometimes, his lessons started early in the morning, and he left while you were still sound asleep. he usually told you about it the morning of the previous day, adding something like “just don't miss me too much” or “i hope you won't cry on your way to work”.

yeonjun developed a habit of visiting the bakery and paying for your regular order beforehand these days, but of course, when you asked him about it, he had sworn it wasn't him—just some other kind and extremely handsome soul. perhaps the same one that paid for the pizza the first day. but you weren't going to let it slide, so whenever you both visited the bakery, it turned into a competition who could pay for both orders faster, and eventually two orders became one—to make it impossible to have a tie and to minimize the playful wrestling your competition was turning into.

what surprised you the most, though—because yeonjun's desire to pay for you didn't—was that he and soobin somehow got into contact, probably through beomgyu, and almost made a schedule. whenever soobin couldn't walk you home after working extra hours—either because he had his own plans or because you were the only one who stayed behind—yeonjun was right there, waiting for you. you knew you could tell soobin you wanted to go home alone that day, and he'd text yeonjun, telling him not to worry, but somehow, you were sure yeonjun would still come, not wanting you to walk alone when it was getting dark even before you left work. and you liked spending extra time with him, so you never fought him on it.

every time yeonjun saw you and your bright smile directed at him, he thanked his past self for deciding against pretending things between you and him didn't work out. he realized it wasn't you who was a problem despite triggering these dark thoughts, he was one—he had never really worked them through, choosing to just ignore them until they disappeared. and he thought they had, but of course they hadn't. yet somehow, it felt like just your presence was slowly healing him, motivating him to work his issues out, and it was getting better, even though he never shared his burdens with you. 

unexpectedly enough, you hadn't visited yeonjun's apartment in these two months, and he had only visited yours on the day you two talked for the first time. your schedules just didn't seem to match well enough—your nine-to-five job barely aligned with his packed weekday evenings (some days he had to rush back to the dance studio after walking you home) and almost full weekends, where he could have up to twelve hours of lessons each day. 

“as i spent two hours at your place the first day,” yeonjun once stated while walking you home, your fingers wrapped around his arm, as he held an umbrella over you both, “it'll be only fair if you spend just as much time at mine,” he threw his regular glance at you to check if you were fully shielded from rain.

it pulled you out of your head and you looked at yeonjun with a little ‘hm?’ but your brain caught up before he could repeat himself. “two hours? don't tell me you're going to set a countdown and push me out the moment it runs out,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“nah, don't worry,” yeonjun assured you, poking your shoulder. “i’ll set a countdown and won't let you out until it goes out,” he paused for a second, wondering if he should say that, but jokes like that had become more or less regular between you two pretty quickly. he just hoped you'd tell him if he ever made you feel uncomfortable. “might even tie you up, hm?” 

you looked at him with ‘are you serious?’ expression, trying to contain your smile. “you're such a perv, jun,” you said, shaking your head, but you weren't serious about it, and he knew it—you often were the one to start these jokes. “how did we get from jokes about tying you up to jokes about tying me up, though?” 

yeonjun shrugged. “got to know each other better?” he was only half joking—he had enough experience to be almost completely sure where exactly you leaned on that… coordinate line. and considering you were keeping up with that direction of jokes, he assumed he was right. 

you narrowed your eyes at him—were you that obvious? “what does that mean, choi yeonjun?” you asked with mock pressure, but he only laughed, shaking his head. “are you free to hang out today?” you asked quietly, hoping he was. why would he mention it in the first place if he wasn't?

but yeonjun only shook his head, sighing. “no, sorry, mouse,” he squeezed your hand on his arm with his in an attempt to comfort you at least a bit. “i have classes in twenty minutes and almost til midnight,” he said. he hated to upset you—you never said it outright, but he could hear it in your voice. and he knew he’d hear that little hint of disappointment now too. 

of course, he did… you nodded, eyes glued to the tips of your shoes. “okay…”, you mumbled, looking at the reflection of you both in the puddles. it was his job, and he already somehow managed to find time between classes to walk you home when soobin couldn't and woke up early some days to keep you company on your way to work. you wished you could hide your emotions better, but it was difficult to pretend with him. you wanted to be sincere. “sorry. don’t think about it, okay?”

yeonjun pressed his lips together—you both still hadn't passed that stage. you could show your emotions to each other, but never really shared deep feelings, quickly pushing them away and covering them with a smile. and he couldn't ask you to open up, because he wasn't sure he would be able to do the same. “okay,” he smiled warmly at you. “i’ll record myself dancing between classes and send it to you, okay?”

you nodded, already happier—you loved watching him dance because you could see how much he enjoyed doing it, basically shining from the inside when he was doing it, his happiness almost contagious. and yeonjun enjoyed showing his skills to you too—he had only showed you his dancing in person a few times, but each time you looked at him with such awe, as if he were performing miracles rather than just moving his limbs. it fed his ego to no end, if he had to admit.

a few weeks later, though, yeonjun managed to free up his schedule a little and finally invited you to his place, swearing he didn't have any mint choco ice cream there, and you promised your pockets were free of pineapple pizzas. he had admitted he had nothing against pineapples on pizza less than a week after joking about it for the first time, and you said you were only joking about mint chocolate too, but the joke still stuck—it was your first inside joke (or the second one, after the one about yeonjun being a maniac one).

you found out he played guitar—the tips of your fingers itched at the memory, but you pushed it away—but he hadn’t played much recently, barely having time to practice anymore, so he figured he had probably lost all his skills. but yeonjun tried to remember a melody, playing it for you as you sat in his living room, watching him try to recall finger placements. and he was actually good, making you wonder why he gave himself so little credit sometimes. he was a great singer too—another skill from his middle school years—and while the highest notes weren’t his strongest suit, his soft, breathy singing was one of the nicest voices you had ever heard.

since then, yeonjun managed to free up even more time to spend it with you and his other friends—he was glad you motivated him to do it, because he realized he had been overworking himself like crazy for the past two years, taking on more classes than he could realistically handle while still enjoying his job. he could finally sleep properly too, minimizing the number of classes that started too early or ended too late, which also gave him opportunity to meet his old friends more often and spend time with you at his or your place almost on daily basis. 

it made you both slowly start opening up to each other about your current problems—work, friends, families—as you sat on the couch late at night,the room dimly lit by a paused movie or tv series on the screen, a slightly open window letting in cool air and making you wrap your blankets tighter around yourselves. all of it made the atmosphere too comfortable, almost intimate, making each of you think about the things that were burdening you and stealing the desire to keep them to yourselves when getting asked about them. 

often, you were the one who shared your burdens, and yeonjun listened, giving advice or, more often, sharing his point of view on the things you were worried about. you never expected him to be so emotionally mature, if you had to admit—he was extremely stubborn and even short-tempered some days, occasionally seemed to have issues when his authority was questioned, and you had noticed some light possessive tendencies, but his advice was always great, and most of the time, he was able to help you decipher your own feelings and emotions when you were completely confused.

yeonjun preferred to keep his burdens to himself—not just from you, but from almost everyone. he was the oldest in his friend group, and didn’t want to burden others in general, especially the ones who were younger. and, he once admitted, he also felt even more protective over you. he never said why, but you knew—he saw you weak. not in a bad way, just as someone who needed protection, and he wanted to take that role, which meant he wasn’t allowed to make you feel worse in any way, even if it was worrying about him. 

but at the same time, yeonjun tried his best to open up about things he was sure wouldn’t worry you too much—an annoying person in his class, spoiled milk because he forgot to put it back in the fridge, or a takeout order that was delivered wrong. things that made him annoyed or angry, not upset or hurt, because he was afraid you’d mirror his feelings, and being annoyed was much better than being upset. but even so, it still helped him open up more and more to you.

the only thing neither of you ever mentioned in these months was soulmates—the first slip into that topic had drawn a line you both didn’t want to cross, realizing how difficult it was even without knowing the details. mostly because it was the same for both of you. but at the same time, neither yeonjun nor you worried too much about it recently, too focused on maintaining a newly found friendship. of course, some dark thoughts still haunted you in the dead of night, but it happened much less frequently. 

wet dreams started happening more frequently, though. so often, you didn’t even bother anymore, simply going right back to sleep after waking up from another one in the middle of the night. all of them were based on the same thing—pain, which was more or less understandable, given your type of soulmate bond affected your relationship with it a lot. but you couldn’t wrap your head around yeonjun being the one in your dreams. he seemed so gentle with whatever he touched, so soft, a complete opposite of how he was in your dreams, and despite him being an extremely handsome man and everything anyone could want in a partner, you weren’t sure you were sexually attracted to him. at least, not until yet another wet dream that made you look at him differently for a few days.

for yeonjun, it was even worse—the fantasies he had been suppressing for years started creeping closer to the surface, which didn’t match well with his already naturally high libido, more free time from work, and not wanting to look for a friend with benefits or even a one-night stand. some nights he even managed to jerk off and clean up while being half-asleep, waking up in the morning with only a fleeting memory of what had happened. he felt more annoyed by it than guilty, but refused to admit it even to himself—the thought felt extremely selfish and wrong. he wasn't sure why you were the one who pushed his pain kink to the surface, unable to find an answer no matter how much time he spent thinking about it.

it became such a regular thing for both of you, that you just went about your days like nothing had changed, neither of you trying to put any distance between you. you kept getting closer, and at some point, yeonjun gave you a spare key to his apartment—he wasn't sure why, but said it felt ‘natural’. you joked that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his keys anymore, before giving him a spare key to yours—it felt ‘natural' too. 

while you barely used yeonjun's, he used yours almost regularly—his uneven working schedule was giving him an opportunity to go grocery shopping in the middle of the day sometimes, so he started buying groceries for both of you, so you wouldn’t have to bother with it after work, leaving them at your place. of course, he always asked beforehand if he could come into your apartment or if you'd prefer him to keep them at his place until you could take them later, but you had no problem with him visiting your place, so you always gave the green light.

yeonjun never took it as a “permanent green light” though, and kept asking for your permission. so when one friday evening you texted him about not feeling too well and probably having a cold—just to explain why you couldn't hang out with him—he asked if he could check on you in the morning and maybe cook something for you. you agreed hesitantly, under the condition of him not getting too close to you so he wouldn't catch a cold too. you both knew perfectly well that he'd do whatever he wanted anyway, but it was obvious he wouldn't visit you without your permission. still, he'd worry his ass out if he didn’t, so you just agreed—you’d take care of him if he got sick. 

in the middle of the night, your fever got much worse, your temperature rising significantly and you were so cold, that you could do nothing except pull thick warm pajamas over the skimpy top and shorts you usually slept in and add another blanket, wrapping yourself in two of them like a hot, feverish burrito. and that was exactly how yeonjun found you in the early morning.

it was still dark, but yeonjun decided he could check your temperature in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through your window—he didn't want to wake you by turning on the bright lights, so he stepped to your bed, already feeling uneasy at the sight of how little of your face was visible between the uneven layers of blankets.  and it only got worse when he crouched down next to the bed and touched your cheek with the back of his hand—you were practically burning.

yeonjun almost jumped up, quickly slapping the nightlight lamp you had on your bedside table, the room filling with a soft yellow glow as he started unwrapping you from the layers of blankets. “come on, mouse, don't be stubborn,” he mumbled, when you tried to cling to the fabric, but he was stronger in general and you were weakened by the cold, so he had no problem uncovering you. “shit… are you trying to burn yourself alive?” he cursed, when he saw how thick your pajamas were. 

but that's when yeonjun froze, towering over you, his knee on the bed as you tried to keep warm, curling into a ball, your back facing him. he wasn't sure you were wearing anything underneath—panties, most probably, but a top…? cautiously, he slid the pajama top up your back, revealing the thin fabric of a crop top, damp with sweat and clinging to your skin. your skin felt like fire under his fingers. shit, he thought. please, don't hate me. 

he turned you on your back, trying to tug your pajama top off, but you clung to his arms with quiet sniffles. yeonjun thought his heart was breaking at the way you kept softly sobbing his name, saying how cold you were—he wasn’t even sure how you recognized him in that state, but you did. 

“baby,” he whispered, trying to lift your arms, but you only tried to wrap them around him, desperate for even a bit of his warmth. “we need to lower your temperature. please, let me take this off.”

you only whimpered his name again, your nails digging into his forearm. “jjun-ie… it’s so cold,” you sobbed quietly, and yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat—you had never called him that way before, and the way you did now made him want to protect you from everything. or give in. but he knew better. “you’re so warm…”

yeonjun hushed you, quickly throwing a glance at the medicine and glass of water on your bedside table beside the thermometer—you prepared it before going to bed. good girl. “i’ll warm you, i promise,” he murmured, pressing his palm to your side—your temperature was only getting higher. “just let me take this off, okay?” he said, tugging the pajama top up slightly. 

you nodded with a quiet ‘okay’, and yeonjun, finally getting permission even though a questionable one, pulled the over your head—at least you cooperated now—and froze with it in his hands, his eyes locked on your skin that wasn’t covered with the short top. he almost forgot how to breath. 

when he realized he had to undress you, he had told himself this was nothing, that he had seen enough women naked before, that there wouldn’t be anything new. and there wasn’t anything new. but there was something he had never expected to see—the mark. the one that resembled the one on his back. the same mark he had seen on the bodies of other wild roses he knew. half of the stem hidden beneath your top.

you were a wild rose. yeonjun felt like a complete idiot—everything had hinted at that. all the wild roses he knew disliked or even hated roses before meeting their soulmate, yet they always had something connected to roses on them. some wore jewelry, some had keychains or little paintings of one in their phone case. he had a pressed rosebud in his wallet, and you never took off a velvet bracelet that—he now realized—would look like a thorny rose stem if you laid it down. 

you had some issues with connection or your soulmate—yeonjun didn’t know the details, but he had never met a wild rose who had it easy. that type of bond being probably the least stable and the most unpredictable one. and you also tried your best to be extremely carefulб even in your clumsiest moments—that was something wild roses learned early on. and, well, you hadn’t met your soulmate, which wasn’t too strange before, but made sense now—many wild roses wandered alone for a really long time. 

yeonjun almost touched the thorn under your collarbone as if hypnotized when your sob of his name pulled him out of the haze. you sat up, reaching for him, and he was actually glad you did, because he needed you to take your medicine. he sat on the bed next to you, and you clung to him almost instantly, one of your hands slipping under his hoodie to press against his back, as you tried to warm yourself. he froze—his own mark was there, and even though you couldn’t feel it, it still made him feel weird. 

but yeonjun only adjusted your position slightly, settling you between his legs, your side pressed to his chest. he suddenly felt weak, wondering if the discovered information was already taking its toll on him. but he shook his head—not the right time to think about it. he popped the pill out and grabbed the glass, placing the medicine in your palm and guiding the glass to your hand, his own holding it over yours in case you were too weak. 

you stopped sobbing about being cold, though you still shivered and trembled slightly in his arms. maybe, the fresh air in your room had cooled you down a bit, clearing your mind, but either way, yeonjun was glad you had calmed down a bit—it made you much more cooperative. you took the medicine almost without needing his words, earning a quiet  ‘good girl’ from him, which you probably paid no attention to.

your arms were around yeonjun’s waist the moment he took the glass away from you, holding him tightly as you pressed your chest against his as much as you could in that position. he quietly asked you if he could take off your too-thick pajama pants as well, and you nodded with a quiet ‘yes’, your head resting on his shoulder, breath warm against his neck. you even lifted your hips slightly to help him pull your pants down, getting another ‘good girl' in response.

yeonjun put the thermometer into your mouth and rested his palm on your bare knee, as you pulled your legs closer to your chest, cold now as your pajamas were gone. he tried to warm you at least a little, but mostly, he let you warm yourself against him the way you wanted to, like your own personal human heater—it was the first time you two had been this close, and it was extremely close compared to the simple hello and goodbye hugs, which had been the closest you’d ever gotten. and he was too lost in thoughts anyway to think about how to warm you actively without crossing any boundaries. 

somehow, the discovery was horrifying, and mostly because yeonjun had no idea why it scared him so much. was it because it made him feel so much more protective over you, knowing perfectly how painful that type of bond could be? or because of how close it would naturally bring you together in search of comfort whenever it came to anything about soulmates? or maybe because he knew he would have to open up now and tell you who he was—because he knew who you were, and it would only be fair. because he was afraid to open that pandora’s box he called his soul. afraid to do it again, and realize, too late, that he had chosen the wrong person. one more time.

but as you finally fell asleep on his shoulder, your breathing even, your hold loosening and your skin no longer burning—the second temperature check confirming it—yeonjun knew he would never tell you how much you clung to him or how helpless you had sounded, unless you remembered it yourself. he didn't want you to feel embarrassed, especially when there was nothing to be embarrassed about in the first place. he caressed your cheek without thinking, surprising himself both with the action and with the way you instinctively leaned into his cool hand.

carefully, yeonjun laid you back down on your bed and covered you with a thin blanket, holding himself back from pressing lips to your forehead the way his mom always did to him, even when he had grown up. he got up slowly—he still felt weak, but he had to cook something for you, so you’d have something to eat when you woke up. he slapped the nightlight one more time to turn it off, and threw one last quick glance at you before leaving the bedroom. 

you were much more surprising than he could ever expect, and he had no idea what to do with these surprises. 

♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 2 →

taglist ; @pagelets ; @hoefororeo ; @sbnslver ; @napipope-ta ; @sxmmerberries ; @whatblop ; @missychief1404 ; @brrytears ; @saejinniestar ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @urlocal-moa ; @melmochii

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Reassigned

Prompted by @clonexocweek's day one: First Meeting for the rather massive series of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

We'll return shortly to your irregularly scheduled programming after this short, angsty break!

Warnings: Not a ton of warning: some bullying, some angst; written via phone, so probably could have used some more editing

WC: 1,480

There was a way these things were done; an unspoken social contract dictating some illusion of pleasantries in spite of whatever prejudice or disdain seethed beneath the surface, but I'd been warned long before forcing myself down the nauseatingly pristine halls of Kamino: the squad I’d been reassigned to flaunted their independence in every way they could absent thought of maintaining even a glimmer of such abstract notions of decorum.

I wasn’t deterred by those warnings. The thought of clones not only celebrating what self-autonomy they could but boasting that sense of individuality with unapologetic acts of rebellion offered a comfort both in ridding me of my own nervousness for adhering to the strict code of conduct dictated by rank in those first introductions as well as in the simple relief that they were allotted some glimpse of such freedoms at all. The variation in how closely these soldiers followed that code was staggering, fluctuating not just from legion to legion, but even between squads in the same platoon. Seeing some of the more reserved groups left me with a sense of gratitude for the men I’d initially found myself working with. Wolffe presented himself as some uncompromising, heartless tyrant, but the reverie and warmth that I'd so come to love amidst him and his men was evidence of just how deeply he cared.

But Wolffe wasn’t here. He hadn't offered to escort me like Boost had, a gesture I’d forced myself to turn down lest my first impression with my new squad present me as the weak, needy civi they surely expected. Still… I couldn't deny the deep disappointment, the confusion in how… clean our farewell had been… I hadn't expected tears… not from him, though I’d shed more than my share since learning of my reassignment, but he'd been so indifferent… cold… and that wasn't something I was used to from him… not anymore…

I tried not to focus on the shock that had stolen through me as he’d offered his hand when I'd moved in for a hug, tried to dismiss the ease with which he offered some rote semblance of gratitude for the work I’d done and platitudes toward my continued service with the GAR. I couldn't let myself focus on it, on him. He wasn't my commander anymore. I was no longer the medic of the 104th… For some unknown reason, a captain of the 501st had requisitioned me for a different squad altogether. None of it made sense, but I was in no position to voice objection to those orders. So, I walked through those sterile halls alone, cursing the way my heart pounded harder with each step toward the single room they'd been allocated in the stead of a proper barracks.

I'd read their files; studied reports of their unique abilities in addition to character evaluations that, even from the hands of a Kaminoan were… colorful, and I didn't doubt that they’d been granted ample warning about me, as well. I hadn't decided yet if the incredible strengths they were preported to possess were reassuring or frightening, and tried not to let myself form any conclusions until after at least meeting them.

The door to their room opened without preamble or warning, the software controlling it apparently already recognizing me as a squad member with full access. I stared into the jumble of gear and cables and miscellaneous supplies strewn between beds and tables and couches that certainly weren't regulation for several seconds too long, frozen in both surprise and confusion long before finally realizing that, as cluttered as the room was, it lay utterly empty before me.

Frowning, I slipped my helmet back on, eyes flicking to the chrono. I wasn’t late, nor was I inappropriately early… Glancing once more around the room, I also noticed a striking lack of footlockers at the base of each bunk…

Frown growing even harsher, I stepped back and started quickly toward the hanger. There was a mission already assigned to us, but we weren't slated to depart for several hours… My jaw tensed at the obvious conclusion I tried not to let myself draw, strides just short of rushed. I’d been so focused on what first impression I’d wanted to present that it never dawned on me how readily they'd use the opportunity to fully illustrate their apparent disinterest. Part of me wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, to grant excuse for an unintentional mistake, but inventing such excuses would only lead to the creation of an endless cycle of similar events, and I had no intention of falling into that role, nor did I intend to make it easy for them to dismiss me so effortlessly, pace growing faster as I finally neared the hanger.

Their ship stood out among the far more popular LAATs, sharp fins boasting an elegance abandoned by the more utilitarian transports around it. I could just make out a pair of figures carrying crates up the ramp. The first quickly vanished within the cabin upon seeing me, but that quick glance was enough for me to note the shear mass of him, thick legs moving with surprising quiet as those final steps quickened to hide him from sight. The man behind him made no such effort to escape as I approached, dark helm tilting with an air of disdain I didn't need to see his eyes to feel.

“Think you've got the wrong ship.” His voice sounded almost hoarse, words drawn out with a slight drawl from lips clearly twisted into a scowl behind the cover of his bucket.

“Afraid not.” There was no apology in my retort, nor did I try to hide my own annoyance as I looked up at him. “I'm-"

“Don't care.” He interrupted, already turning back toward the cargo hold. “This isn't a cruise ship. Go play nurse somewhere else.” I felt the snarl pull at my face, shoulders pulling sharply back as I drew in a short breath to fuel my reply, but another man stepped out from the ship, strides deceptively laxed beneath a haughty stance, arms loose, torso leaned back just enough to give the impression that he was looking down on me despite his slightly shorter statute compared to the others, and I forced myself to release that breath in silence as I turned my attention to him.

“Thought we were supposed to meet at your barracks half an hour ago.” It wasn't a question.

“Must've missed that briefing.” My jaw clenched at the subtle, mocking lilt in his smoky voice.

“You certainly didn't miss the one about Scipio…” I muttered too quietly for the mic to pick up, but the barely perceptible tension that stole through him assured me he'd heard every word, proving the report of his enhanced hearing shockingly accurate. The home planet of the banking clan was, by all political standings, far removed from the war, thus any form of military presence could be grounds for far reaching repercussions. My knowing the location of their next mission was evidence enough of my place here, and he knew it.

I let that silence linger a moment, head tilting down just enough to indicate my impatience toward whatever hazing they’d planned, and to let him know that I knew he'd heard me.

“Seems like you intended on an early start. If your medbay is fully stocked, then I'm ready to go as soon as you are.” I let out a slow breath before I said it, tone reluctantly gentling into an unspoken olive branch I had to convince myself he deserved as I reached up to remove my helmet. He watched me for several seconds, and I loathed the way my skin crawled at that nauseating sensation of being studied, judged; of the unsettling certainty that I would never measure up to the impossible standards granted through a lifetime of training and meticulous genetic design, but I didn’t shy from the emotionless black crescent of his visor.

“It's stocked.” He finally replied, voice stiff, begrudgingly removing his helm as well. He looked so nearly identical to Wolffe and the others… but… not exactly. Beyond the startling half mask of faded ink, I could spot some differences. His nose was bigger, if only just, the already pronounced ridge even more prominent. The arch of his brows was softer, and his jaw slightly narrower. It was his eyes, however, that threatened to paralyze me.

I’d been to feral planets before; found myself the prey of frightfully dangerous beasts. Staring at him carried that same sense of dread, of danger. Here was a predator. He was stronger than me, faster than me, and I’d come to invade his home.

Without another word, he turned and tread back into the sanctum of his ship, and I knew it was the closest to a welcome I was going to get.

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

[batboysanonymous]

In the Back of My Mind

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: She was his past, and you were his present—but in the quiet moments, when his gaze lingered too long or his touch felt too careful, you couldn't shake the feeling that some ghosts never truly leave.

Based on the song: WILDFLOWER by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

Things fall apart And time breaks your heart I wasn't there, but I know She was your girl You showed her the world But fell out of love and you both let go

There were nights when you could almost forget. When Rhysand’s hands mapped every inch of your skin with reverence, when his laughter echoed through the town house, dark and intoxicating, filling the space between your ribs with warmth. Nights when his love wrapped around you like the starlit sky, infinite, undeniable.

But then there were nights like this.

You weren’t sure what triggered it. Maybe it was the way he had hesitated when he mentioned Velaris earlier, his lips barely forming the name before his voice tapered off like he had suddenly lost the words. Maybe it was the way his fingers had brushed over a certain page in a book—a page you hadn’t seen, but something in his expression had shifted, just for a second.

Or maybe it was the fact that, no matter how many times he told you he loved you, a whisper of doubt always lingered in the back of your mind.

She had been here first. Feyre.

And you were the one who came after.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder All I could do was hold her Only made us closer until July Now, I know that you love me You don't need to remind me I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I?

You curled your fingers around the edge of the silk sheets, your back pressed against the headboard as Rhys sat on the other side of the bed, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You should have left it alone. He had been nothing but patient with you, had never once made you feel like you were anything less than his equal. His mate.

But the words clawed their way out of your throat before you could stop them.

“Do you ever think about her?”

Rhys stilled. His breathing barely changed, but you felt it. The shift in his energy, the careful way he lifted his gaze to meet yours. The High Lord of the Night Court, with all his power, all his control—hesitating.

You swallowed, wishing you could take it back. But the damage was already done.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before answering. “Y/n—”

“Just tell me.” Your voice was quieter than you intended, but it didn’t waver. “I don’t need you to lie to me, Rhys.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, finally, “Yes.”

The word landed like a weight in your chest.

“I see her in the back of my mind sometimes,” he admitted. “Not because I love her. Not because I wish things were different. But because…” His voice softened. “She was a part of me. For a long time.”

You nodded, lips pressed together, ignoring the way your throat burned. “I know.”

Well, good things don't last And life moves so fast I'd never ask who was better 'Cause she couldn't be More different from me Happy and free in leather

Feyre was everything you weren’t. She had been a warrior, a queen in her own right. A beacon of strength and fire. You… you weren’t sure what you were. A woman in love? A second love?

You pulled the blankets tighter around yourself. “Do you think about what it would’ve been like if things had worked out?”

Rhys turned then, fully facing you. His expression was unreadable, shadows flickering in the violet depths of his eyes. “No.”

You exhaled. “You don’t have to—”

“I don’t.” His voice was firm. “Because things didn’t work out. And they weren’t supposed to.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “But you were meant to be mates.”

His silence was deafening.

You already knew what he was thinking. The bond between mates was rare—rare and sacred. And yet, here you were, bound to him, despite the one he had once shared with Feyre.

What did that mean?

You say no one knows you so well But every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel I know you didn't mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself

The worst part wasn’t the memories he had. It was the ones you didn’t.

It was the fact that he had once known her body as well as he knew yours. That his fingers had once traced someone else’s lips, his voice had once whispered devotion to someone else in the dark. That there were moments—small, seemingly insignificant moments—where you wondered if she had ever felt the same way you did now.

You thought about the way he held you at night, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the way he kissed you like you were the only thing tethering him to this world. Had he held her that way? Had he ever made her feel like she was his universe?

You hated yourself for wondering.

Rhys moved closer then, his palm cupping your cheek. “I know what you’re thinking.”

You forced a laugh. “Doubt it.”

“I do.” His thumb traced a slow line along your jaw. “You’re wondering if you were the second choice.”

The words sent a sharp ache through your ribs. You hadn’t meant to be so transparent.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You weren’t.”

You swallowed. “Rhys…”

“I loved her,” he admitted, voice low. “But I love you differently. I love you more.”

You blinked up at him, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

“Feyre and I…” He sighed. “We were never meant to last. We held onto something that had already faded, because we were too afraid to admit that we had outgrown each other.” His fingers brushed against your collarbone. “But you? You are my future. You are the one I wake up for, the one I fight for, the one I dream of.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

“I need you to believe that,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “Because I do.”

And I wonder Do you see her in the back of your mind in my eyes?

You inhaled shakily, letting his warmth sink into you, letting his words settle into the cracks of your doubts.

Maybe she would always exist in the back of his mind, just as the people you had loved and lost existed in yours. Maybe there would always be echoes of the past.

But they did not define the present.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[hils79]

Hils Watches Matz Travel Vlog - Part 3

Aww Seonghwa is doing his old man walk again

Bwahaha! And Hongjoong called him on it

I can't. Seonghwa staring at someone else's food and Hongjoong just looks so fond as he finds the dish on the menu so they can order it.

It's really interesting watching them order food in Italy because generally over here you would just order one dish for yourself. I think Korean food is more about ordering lots of dishes and sharing them, which seems to be what they are doing. It's cute.

They've only just ordered food and Hongjoong is already thinking about how they're going to get back to their hotel in Milan.

Happy engagement/anniversary/date/whatever this is

God, Seonghwa really did just start grooming him at the dinner table

I love it when Hongjoong describes things as a new experience. Like that time they made him try fish and chips in London and he clearly didn't like it 😂

The way Seonghwa just lifted Hongjoong's sleeve to stop it getting in the food. This is why we all call him mother. This is also why all my kpop kids say I'm like Seonghwa and call me mum because this is absolutely something I would do.

And then he just takes over because Hongjoong wasn't doing it right. God, I love them.

I'm pretty sure that's not true...

Hongjoong saying how it's safer to travel with someone else than alone and Seonghwa starts talking about what he'd do if someone tried to attack him. They are both so delightfully weird in different ways

Hongjoong is like 'I thought this was going to be a funny disaster video where we missed our boat or train or got lost but instead it just reminded me how much I love Seonghwa'

I love how they both talk about the other almost like a kid. But also in the way that people who have been married forever talk about their spouses.

All they needed was a day away from the kids to reignite their relationship

Hongjoong: this was such a healing trip Seonghwa: yeah, because we were recording content and that's relaxing for you

That's his husband no wonder he looks so smug about it

Next Matz date should be Loch Ness

They should do a Where's Seonghwa book. Has he learned this habit from Yeosang, who also has a habit of wandering off.

So Seonghwa went to bed at 4am and got up at 9am, whereas known insomniac Hongjoong went to bed early especially for this trip. How the turntables.

Some last minute boyfriend content

Welcome to public transport, Hongjoong

And of course we have to end with them being nerds

Aww sleepy boys

Holy shit their poor necks that does not look comfortable

I have to say watching that was kind of healing for me too. I haven't liveblogged anything since before I went on my Ateez trip and it felt good to start it up again. I should probably go back to liveblogging my dramas again. I just haven't had the energy to do anything since I got back but I'm starting to feel more like myself again now

[softestqueeen]

if your prompt requests are still open, could you do prompt 17 with gn!reader x könig? maybe sprinkle in some friends to lovers if you feel like it as well🙏

prompt: "Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you." a/n: this is very out of character for könig, but oh yeah. i hope you still like it! enjoy <3 warnings: fluff, a lil bit of comofrt, brief mention of nightmares, love confession, kissing pairing: roommate!könig x gn!reader I 1,110 words special prompts I special masterlist

It wasn't often that you and your roommate König got to spend time together. Unfortunately, with him being on deployment most of the time and you woking a busy job, there weren't many opportunities for the two of you to spend time with each other.

Still, you and him both loved the movie nights you spent cuddled up on the couch or occasionally on Königs bed. In these rare cases he was very glad that he wore a mask, because you - his best friend - on his bed next to him, all cuddled up and comfortable made his heart beat faster and a blush creap up his neck.

The soldier had been harboring feelings for you ever since you first met about 2 years ago, when you applied to be his roommate. He immediately told you that you could move in and that his home was now also yours. Everytime he saw you, he couldn't belive his eyes, your face so perfectly balanced, you body so well shaped and your height - you were just so perfect in every way.

But he knew, a man like him, who had casued so much pain in the past would never deserve someone as pure as you. Still, he enduldged here and there with your movie nights.

You were currently sitting on Königs bed while he was getting snacks, ready to enjoy your next film pick. Tonight it was your turn after König got to pick last time, though it doesn't really matter. He always chose movies he thought you could like and didn't really think about himself during those moments.

Once he returned from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of sweets, he slipped under the blanket next to you, wearing only a pair of sweats, a long sleeved shirt and of course his mask. Though you had seen him without, he prefered to keep it on and you respected that.

Now under the blanket he could feel your body heat next to him and for the next two hours he couldn't concentrate on anything but you, as usual. Everytime you laughed you felt his eyes on him and when the surprisingly sad ending made you cry, König offered you his beefy shoulder which you gladly excepted.

But, all good things eventually must come to an end, so you bid him a good night and slipped out of his bed, leaving only traces of your perfume behind.

This meant only one thing for König - a restless night of yearning was ahead of him. He desperately needed you close to him, his body practically calling for you but he wouldn't dare to confess his feelings. He'd rather be only your friend forever than be a stranger to you.

Surprisingly, he slipped into a light sleep very fast, though his mind wasn't as kind to him. At first his dream seemed more or less normal, there was you and him in a grocery store. The dream took a quick turn though and once his dream turned into a nightmare he jolted upright, a scream tearing from his throat before he could stop himself.

His breathing heavily and prayed to whoever was out there that he didn't wake you up. The fast and sudden footsteps that he could now hear in your shared flat though told him something else.

You didn't even knock before tearing open his door, you eyes quickly searching for an intruder. Once you saw König breathing heavily it dawned on you what happened and you let out a breath.

Slowly, you krept towards his bed and put one of your hands on his shoulder. He flinched slightly beofre relaxing into your touch.

"Did you have a nightmare?" though the answer was obvious you still wanted to be sure. König only answered with a short nod, before moving aside so you could slip underneath the blanket next to him.

You didn't hesitate to accept his quiet invitation. It wasn't often that you really noticed that he was having a nightmare, usually he wouldn't dare talk about it. But sometimes you did catch wind of it and never hesitated to comfort him.

This meant you also had a little routine for cases like this. You leaned back against the headboard, slightly propped up, allowing Königh to put his head in the crook of your neck and slightly cover your torso with his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and drew mindless shapes on them.

You didn't ask about what the dream contained, he never told you.

"You don't always have to comfort me and stay up with me, you know. I appreciate it, but you can go back to your room and get some sleep," König interrupted the silence that had formed around you. It pained you to hear the slight insecurity and uncertainty in his voice.

"Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways if I knew that you would be here all alone with your worries," you reassured him.

The warmth in his words made his heart ache and in that moment he knew he had to tell you how he felt. He didn't care if it could potentially end your friendship, but he realised he had to take the chance.

"I have to tell you something, I haven't been completely honest with you," his words made your breath slightly hitch and your hand on his shoulder stilled, "I have to confess, I am in love with you and have been since we first met. Every time you show me so much kindness that I dodn't deserve it pains me to know that you are not mine. If you don't feel the same, that's fine, but I thought you should know." His head was now angled more towards you, his shiny eyes making contact with his. Moments like these were also the only instances where you saw him without his mask and his beauty made your heart roar.

"Hey, don't say that. You deserve so much love, you know. And it's silly that you don't think I feel the same about you, because I do. I love you too, so much. I'm surprised you haven't realised yet."

König couldn't belive what he was hearing. Once he had been staring at you for some time, he realised he should probably say something. Or rather, do something.

He propped himself up on one of his arms, so he wa face to face with you. He leaned forward and lightly placed his lips on top of yours, and oncce you kissed him back, he knew he would never let you go again.

the requests for this event are closing today, so be quick if you still want to request something! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

Scar was going to explode, maybe literally if saer emotions were going to be this intense. Thir heart pounded in thir chest, threatening to burst out from thir ribcage if it didn’t calm down soon. 

Valentine’s Day was coming up, and Scar’s feelings for Mumbo were as strong as ever. 

Oh, how he wished it weren’t so! He’d already been combating his emotions for Grian, and now he was doing the same for their shared best friend? Oh, how life is a cruel, cruel mistress! 

Jellie stared at Scar, slowly blinking to show her disinterest at his lamenting. The nymph stared at her, big wet puppy eyes on full display, but to no effect. She turned away, jumping down from the counter and wandering off to somewhere else in the Swaggon. 

Thae sighed, standing back up straight from where thae’d crouched in front of Jellie. Vae were gonna have to face this on vaer own, weren’t vae? Sure, she could always turn to Grian for help, but Scar was certain that would lead to less progress on confessing to Mumbo and more teasing from G than anything else. 

Scar's eyes strayed back to the tin off to his right. Below the tissue paper were an assortment of cookie goodness, on top of which read a simple request: 

Be my valentine?

The nymph buried his face in his hands with embarrassment. Cheesy, ny knew, but what were nym if not a man of cliche? Besides, vae weren’t sure if vae’d be able to ask Mumbo the question vaerself once the conversation came down to it. And so, writing on the cookies became the next best option.

Scar braced himself, taking a deep breath, he could do this. He could do this! It was now or never- and he had chosen now. Xe gently tucked the cookie tin into xyr inventory, walking out of the Swaggon and pulling out a rocket for the trip to Mumbo's waterfall. Here goes nothing.

--------

"Mumboooooooooo!" The person in question jumped at the sudden noise that interrupted the quiet of building. Was that Scar? Where was h-

Mumbo's question was succinctly answered when he was tackled from behind, yelping as he landed in the moss.

"Mumbo! So glad to see you!" He opened his eyes, rolling over to find Scar hovering over him, grinning wildly. "Sorry about the crash landing, wind's a bit unwieldy today. Can I help you up?"

Mumbo couldn't find it in himself to be mad, giggling as Scar pulled him up from the ground. "Hey, mate, thanks for the warm welcome."

Scar's lopsided smirk never waivered. "Of course, of course, anything for you, Mumbo."

The two stared at each other for a bit, the silence growing ever more awkward as it dragged on. Scar's smirk started to fall, and a panic set into his eyes before he cleared his throat. All of a sudden, the confident, easy-going front was back up and ready to roll. "Actually- I came here to give you something."

Mumbo perked up at that. "Oh- you did?" He hadn't been expecting gifts, but he was never one to turn down a present.

"Yes, yes, I have it right here!" Scar fiddled around in his inventory for a moment before producing a red metal tin. "For you! For- for Valentine's Day."

A dread set into Mumbo's stomach. Oh. Oh no- This wasn't what he thought it was, was it?

He fumbled through a thank you, accepting the container to hold nervously in his hands. He hoped, prayed even, that this was just a friendly gesture, a gift from a pal! Buddies, mates, chums, other words for friends! A feeling in the back of his mind said otherwise, though.

His suspicions were confirmed as he removed the lid, revealing the very romantic-meaning question. Mumbo's heart sank. He was going to have to let Scar down, wasn't he?

"Oh- um..." The words jumbled in Mumbo's brain, leaving him opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Oh gosh, how do I say this?"

It was then that he made the mistake of looking at Scar again. The man already appeared defeated, xer pointed ears drooping downward, and xer eyes fighting to push back the hurt of rejection. "No, no, I get it, I do!" Scar chuckled, though it sounded wrong with its usual mirth missing.

"No, no, mate, I mean- I mean that I just... don't feel that way about people," Mumbo admitted, which was strange to say out loud. Sure he knew that for a fact, but he'd never allowed himself to truly think it. "It's not you, mate, I promise."

"No, no- it's never me ,” Scar rambled, and Mumbo could smell the start of a spiral from a mile away. “It’s just the fact that I'm..too loud a-and chaotic and-” Xe stopped abruptly, pressing his palms into xyr eyes. “You know what, I shouldn't be doing this to ya, Mumbo, you didn't ask to see my pity party-” He let out another soulless laugh, twisting Mumbo’s gut with guilt. “Uh, enjoy the cookies!" And with that, Scar turned on nys heel, already pulling out a rocket to speed away.

Thankfully, Mumbo was able to catch him by the elbow before he could fly off. "No!” He shouted, startling both Scar and himself. He made sure to lower his volume before continuing. “Scar, wait, it's genuinely not you- People- er, romance- it's… It's not exactly my cup of tea, so to speak,” Mumbo trailed off. 

"...Really?" Scar’s voice came out quiet, a relieved sort of curiosity peaking through.

Mumbo shrugged. "Never has, t'be quite honest with you. I'm sorry, for leading you on, i-if I have- that wasn’t my intention.”

"Don't be!" Scar defended fiercely, grabbing both of Mumbo’s hands in aeir own, and Mumbo definitely didn’t feel a flush spreading across his cheeks. "You don't have to apologise for your feelings or for who you are, that’s not in your control."

“You sure, mate?” This was going a bit too well, wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of big conflict they’d have to work on? 

“Of course,” Scar seemed adamant in that fact, and Mumbo was inclined to believe him. 

“What now?” He squeaked out, still very aware of their hands being intertwined. 

Scar hummed to xyemself for a moment. “I think… I think I'm going to need a bit to think on it,” xe admitted. “But, when I’m done, I’ll let you know where I want to go from here. Does- does that sound good?”

Mumbo could stop the chuckle from rising in his chest. “Sounds great.”

[alacants]

nadalcaraz as a dynamic is so interesting to me. rafa playing at the philippe chartier like always. He knows this place so well and this is probably the last time he is playing there and he going for the ultimate prize for his country which he has done countless times before but only this time. this time he isn't alone. there is this kid with him who wants it as much as he does only. he wants it for him. for rafa. he could etch history and focus on solidifying his name even more in the history books but no. he is here for his idol smiling and tussling and being a bit silly and lost but he is giving so much. for rafa. and then it doesn't happen. and the other thing doesn't happen as well. (credit novak djokovic but that's a whole other ghost and story.) but rafa is there for him after that in a way he wasn't before? cheering for him at the davis cup on his feet (again. he is doing it for him.) congratulating him on both instagram and twitter (in emoji code too mind you.) and just yeah. Nadalcaraz. sorry for the rant lol

NADALCARAZ. man there is so much there. because in a sense they're both trapped in this relationship imposed upon them. i'm not trying to imply they wouldn't have wanted to have one anyway, just that it's out of their control. the moment carlos won a grand slam at nineteen he became the new rafa and there was nothing that either of them could do about it. 

SO given what has been imposed upon you, you can fight the relationship or embrace it. and both of them have embraced it.

on rafa's side—i've wondered if his enthusiasm for carlos was a sign that he'd more or less come to terms with walking away. this is an imperfect analogy, but i'm always, always thinking of serena williams and sloane stephens, after sloane's ao victory in 2013, when everyone was like, wow serena must be like a MENTOR to you and the response from both of them was, "hell no. absolutely not."

and like yeah, that was about racism. obviously. but i do think the response was not just pushing back at the racism, but also the raw reaction of competitors in their prime. i'm not here to teach/to learn, i'm here to kill the pretenders and feast on their bones/i'm here to overthrow the queen and take MY place on the throne.

(got a great ask-essay about novak and jannik that touches on this idea, op i am slowly but surely making my way to it!) 

sure some of that is just, like, their personalities. i just doubt that the relationship would look exactly the same if carlos had hit the scene even like… 5 years earlier. to quote @oldlizzie's juanki tags that i am always thinking about, they're trying to bury you but you're not dead. until you are.

meanwhile, it's tough for carlos because yeah. you have to live up to THAT. and we see him and juanki doing their best to politely push back on the comparisons—which is a hell of a balancing act, "of course i love rafa, of course i'm flattered, please don't"—because i mean! this is a doomed comparison! for reasons that have nothing to do with talent, carlos is very probably not going to win 22 grand slams! (though, like, i can't see the future. who knows.)

don't let the comparisons get to you. don't let the hero down. don't let him down at his last olympics. don't let him down at his final tournament ever. (the way the stress manifested during those olympic doubles matches was actually so funny, iirc it went like—rafa would indicate something unintelligible and carlos would be like where do you want me to go senpai you have to tell me i don't understand.) it would be very easy to resent this person who is going to shadow you for the entirety of your career no matter what you achieve. but he doesn't. 

like you said, it would have been easy for carlos to want to focus on singles. it would have been easy for rafa to back away from sharing the spotlight and setting himself up for an unflattering side by side comparison. but they both wanted to live that experience of tennis together—to create a moment where pastpresentfuture collide.

so yes. nadalcaraz. :')

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Happy (belated, sorry, I'm bad at planning and deadlines!) Valentine's day @tellmegoodbye ! Here's your gift for the @tarlos-secret-cupid exchange!

You said you liked different first meeting AUs, and those are some of my favourite things to write, so I hope you'll like this one.

For one weekend only (AO3)

What if Carlos and TK had met in NYC before Owen and TK came to Austin?

----

"What are you doing for valentines day?" Luisa asked, walking into Carlos' town house without bothering to ring the doorbell or even knock.

"Do you mind?!" Carlos demanded, quickly closing his laptop. "I'm busy. And how did you get in?"

Luisa held up a key.

"Mom and dad have a spare key."

"Yes they do. For emergencies. This is not an emergency and you shouldn't have that key."

"I told mom you borrowed something of mine that I needed and you were at work." she sat down on one of the barstools in Carlos' kitchen. "I didn't think I'd be walking in on my little brother watching porn though." she nodded at his laptop.

"I wasn't watching porn!" Carlos protested. "And even if I was, that's none of your business. Now what are you doing here?"

"How would you like to go to New York City?"

Carlos frowned.

"New York City?"

"Yeah. Big city on the east coast. Times square, statue of liberty, Broadway, that kind of thing."

"Yes I'm familiar with it, thanks."

"Ok so, how would you like to see it for yourself?."

"Are you offering me a trip to NYC?"

"Yes. Kind of. You and me together." Luisa told him. "It'll be a nice brother and sister bonding trip."

"You want to go to New York with me... What's the catch?"

"What makes you think there's a catch?"

"Because the last time you were nice to me for no apparent reason was when I was 10 and you got Miguel to put a lizard in my bed on the ranch."

Luisa laughed a little at the memory.

"I never knew you could scream that loudly."

"Yeah, yeah, it was hilarious. So now tell me what's up with this trip to new York?"

Luisa rolled her eyes.

"You're so suspicious. You're just like dad."

"Lu…"

"Ok fine. Remember that guy I was dating? Ricardo?"

"Hmm."

"I dumped him."

"Good. He was a tool."

"You only met him once!"

"And yet I know he's a tool. You only ever date tools."

Luisa rolled her eyes. She knew Carlos had a point but she'd be damned if she was going to admit it.

"Anyway, he was sleeping with two other girls behind my back."

"See? A tool."

"I only found out because one of the other girls DM-ed me and showed me pictures."

"Still not beating the tool allegations."

"So I dumped him but I'd booked a trip to NYC for us for valentines day."

"Ok…"

"And everything is paid for and I'll lose my deposits if I cancel. And the flights are non refundable."

"Right."

"So I thought I'd take my baby brother to the big city." she clapped in her hands. "We can go to a gay bar and get you a guy. And who knows, maybe I'll find a girl who is worth my time."

"Since when do you date girls?"

"I don't. Well. Not yet. I've never been with a girl so I don't know if I'm actually into girls or not. This could be my gay awakening."

Carlos sighed but decided against arguing with his sister about the details of her sexuality.

"Come on Carlitos. You and me and a wild weekend in the big city. There on the Thursday, back on the Monday."

"What if I'm working?"

"You can take a few days off."

"Ok. Fine. But I'm not sharing a bed with you so you better make sure there are two beds in that hotel room."

“Fine. I wouldn’t want to share a bed with you anyway. I’d end up with a black eye. You’re such a restless sleeper. Even as a baby.”

“Never had any complaints.”

“Yeah? And when was the last time you shared a bed with someone for more than a quick hook up?”

“No comment.”

“Thought so.” Luisa said and got up. “Anyway, the flight is booked for 4pm on the Thursday and I booked an airport shuttle to drop us off at the hotel there. You do have a valid ID right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up around two. Don’t pack too much, we only have a carry on bag each.”

“You’re driving? You want to pay for airport parking the entire weekend?”

“No. Ricardo is. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Luisa gave him a sweet smile and walked to the door. “Be ready on time. And don’t forget condoms!”

“Lu!”

By the time Thursday rolled around, Carlos had to admit he was getting excited about this trip. It wasn’t every day he got the chance to visit a big city like New York for free.

Even if it was with his big sister.

Luisa picked him up in a car that was definitely not hers, and just grinned when Carlos asked whose car it was.

Their flight was delayed and by the time they got to their hotel in NYC, all either of them wanted was food and sleep.

They decided to grab a quick burger from the place around the corner from their hotel and planned out their itinerary for the next few days.

“Do you want to do the tourist thing?” Luisa asked. “Statue of liberty and all that? The hotel offers all day walking tours.”

“That could be fun.” Carlos shrugged. “We could try to get tickets to a Broadway show. Don’t they have this lottery deal? I read about it online.”

Luisa nodded.

“I kind of want to do something more… active than sit in a theatre though.”

“Like that tour?”

“Maybe. Or we could just walk around and see where we end up? I had all these romantic things planned… but I don’t want to go on a horse-drawn carriage ride through central park with you.”

“I could drive one of those myself.” Carlos commented around a bite of food. “Remember when dad and uncle Emilio let us drive one around the ranch?”

“I hated that thing. You always tried to crash it.” Luisa pointed a fry at her brother. “But you never got in trouble because you were the baby. Carlitos wouldn’t do such a thing.” she mocked.

“You and Ana got me in trouble plenty of times!”

Luisa shrugged.

“Payback is a bitch.”

They spent the rest of the night just hanging out in their hotel room and the next day they decided to do all the touristy things you’d see on TV.

They walked around Times square, went to the Natural History museum, had lunch in central park, and hit up some of the tacky touristy shops for some souvenirs.

Though Carlos drew the line at I ♥ NYC t-shirts, Luisa did convince him to buy a shirt with the NYPD logo and a key chain of the New York city skyline.

“So I got a reservation at this restaurant in Manhattan that’s supposed to be really good.” Luisa said when it was nearing dinner time and they were walking through the city on the way back to their hotel. “It’s also supposed to be really romantic and a great place for couples to get engaged.”

“I’m not fake proposing to you to get free dessert.” Carlos said immediately. “Or have you fake propose to me.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that! It’s just… that’s why I booked it you know?”

“You were going to propose to the tool?”

“No! Well… maybe?” Luisa groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “Things were going so well between us. I really thought… well…” She sighed. “I thought he was the one. That I was the one for him… but I was just one of many.”

Carlos’ face softened.

Despite her questionable taste in men, he did love his sister and wanted nothing more than for her to find a guy who was actually worthy of her and be happy.

“I’m sorry Lu.” He let her link her arm through his. “Tell me about this restaurant. Can we eat there and not max out our credit cards?”

She smiled.

“It’s not that bad. I looked for mid range prices. Something nice but not too expensive… Not gold plated truffles, but no fast food either.”

“Alright. I’m in. But I’m still not fake proposing to you.”

After a quick stop at their hotel to change and freshen up, they made it to the restaurant and Carlos had to admit it was a nice place. Though they definitely had gone all out for the holiday and there were pink and red hearts all over the place. They even had a guy sell roses at the tables.

Carlos declined but Luisa ended up buying one for him and calling it feminism.

The food was nice and they talked about everything and nothing and just enjoyed catching up, not paying much attention to the couples around them.

That was until Luisa excused herself to go to the bathroom and Carlos was alone at the table. He played with the swizzle stick in his drink and tried to subtly look around.

He didn’t want to be the weirdo openly staring at people.

There was an elderly couple at a table to his left, holding hands and looking every bit as in love as Carlos imagined them to have been when they first got together.

A little further away there was a couple who were barely looking at each other. She seemed bored and looked longingly at the exit, but the guy didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

He shifted his focus to the other side of the restaurant and saw a guy by himself at a table. He seemed nervous. Constantly looking to the door, playing with the table decorations, his leg bouncing up and down, and taking deep breaths to calm himself; which didn’t seem to be working much.

After a minute another guy walked in and the first guy’s face lit up. He smiled and got up to greet the second guy with a hug and a kiss.

Oh. They’re on a date.

Carlos kept watching them. He figured it must be a first date, given the first guy’s nerves, though they seemed comfortable around each other.

Maybe they’d been friends for a long time?

“Next time I’m going to the men’s toilets. There was a line a mile long for the ladies’ and the entire time I was waiting, only one man went into the men’s.” Luisa complained when she got back to their table. “I’ll pee in a urinal if I have to, I don’t care.”

Carlos scrunched up his face in mild disgust.

“Can we not talk about you peeing while we’re eating please?”

“We’re not eating anymore.” Luisa pointed out. “Do you want another drink or dessert?”

“No, I’m good.”

Luisa nodded and put up her hand to call over a waiter and ask for the bill.

They paid and made their way outside, but as they were trying to decide what to do next, Carlos was suddenly knocked to the ground by someone rushing out of the restaurant.

He wanted to yell at them, but the second he gathered his bearings enough to do so, he noticed it was the nervous guy from before and he didn’t look very happy. The date must not have gone well.

"Are you ok?" he asked, getting up and holding out a hand to help the other man up.

"I'm fine." he said, dusting himself off and avoiding Carlos' gaze and ignoring his outstretched hand. "Just look where you're going next time."

"Uhm you ran into me." Carlos pointed out. "You couldn't get out of that restaurant fast enough.”

"Exactly. So please move aside so I can get out of here. I haven't had the best night ok, I just want to go home."

Carlos stepped aside to let the man pass, but then saw a small box on the pavement.

"Hey, wait, you dropped this."

The man glanced over his shoulder and Carlos swore he saw tears in his eyes.

"Keep it." he said and started walking again.

Carlos frowned and opened the box, revealing a diamond ring.

"That's an engagement ring." Luisa said, looking over his shoulder. "Go after him."

“I don’t think he’s really in the mood for company, Lu.”

Luisa rolled her eyes and ran a few steps after the guy.

“Hey, we were thinking of going dancing somewhere, want to come with us?”

The man looked at her like she’d lost her mind, Carlos thought she might have but still went after her.

“Why would I do that?”

“To improve your night? To show a few helpless tourists a good time?”

“Wow, hold it right there.” the man stopped walking and looked back between her and Carlos. “I don’t know what your deal is.” he motioned to the two of them. “But I’m not looking to be anyone’s third. And I don’t do women. I’m gay.”

“So is Carlos.” Luisa said happily, like that was the best thing to come from the entire exchange.

“And she’s my sister.” Carlos clarified. “We are not together. Not like that.” he shuddered and Luisa punched him on the arm. “What?! You’re my sister. I’m not supposed to find you hot.”

“You didn’t have to be all disgusted. Way to make a girl feel special!”

“I apologise for my sister. Obviously I’m the only normal one in this family.” Carlos explained. “But the offer does still stand. If you’re maybe in the mood to forget what happened in there?” he nodded at the restaurant.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll be very good company tonight. And I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Neither is Carlos. He does a little shimmy, puts on a tight shirt, and turns on the fuck me eyes, and thinks that counts as dancing.”

“Whereas Luisa is obviously America’s next top… dancer?” Carlos said and laughed a little.

The man smiled.

“Alright. I think I know a place. I’m TK.” he said and shook hands with both Reyes siblings when they introduced themselves.

They followed TK and ended up in a bar where he seemed to know everyone. The bouncer let them in without question and once inside several people came to say hello. He introduced them to some people and soon Luisa was dancing with a girl with green hair and a drag queen in 9 inch heels.

“Looks like your sister is enjoying herself.” TK commented. He and Carlos were standing by the bar, nursing a drink, and watching people let loose on the dance floor.

“Yeah. She usually does. She’s a people person.”

“And what about you? Does it run in the family?”

Carlos smiled.

“Sometimes. But I tend to prefer smaller groups of people.”

“Yeah? How small?” TK’s eyes flicked down to Carlos’ lips

“I think… two people is probably my limit.”

TK took Carlos’ drink from his hand and put it on the bar, before running his hand up Carlos’ arm until he reached his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Carlos knew it was a bad idea. The guy had just broken up with his boyfriend (Probably? Maybe?) and a weekend hook up was definitely not his style, but TK was kissing him like a man possessed and Carlos would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

So he decided to just let go.

They ended up on the dance floor, kissing, grinding, groping, not caring who saw them.

At some point TK’s shirt had become unbuttoned, and Carlos’ own shirt was hanging from his back pocket.

He’d felt exposed for about .03 seconds after he’d taken it off, but TK running his hands over his chest and abs had quickly made him forget any discomfort.

And when TK started kissing his neck and slipping his hands into the back of his jeans to pull him even closer, every coherent thought Carlos had ever had went out the window.

“Do you want to get out of here?” TK asked him, breath hot on his ear.

Carlos could only nod and let TK drag him to the toilets.

They ended up in the last stall, and before Carlos’ brain had caught up with what was happening, TK was on his knees giving him the blowjob of a lifetime.

He grinned and wiped his mouth after he was done and pulled Carlos’ in for a lazy kiss, letting him taste himself on TK’s tongue.

“I bet you didn’t expect that when you came to NYC with your sister.” He said, sounding rather smug.

“I really don’t want to talk about my sister right now.” he pushed TK back against the wall and slowly kissed down his chest as he sank to his knees. He undid TK’s jeans and looked up at him as the other man ran a hand through his hair and tugged on his curls.

He had better things to occupy his mouth with.

---

A few months later.

“Morning.” Lexi greeted Carlos as she walked into the locker room to change into her uniform before their shift. “How was your weekend?”

Carlos shrugged and finished the last of his coffee.

“Not bad. It was my nephew’s birthday. He turned 5. So I kind of helped my sister and her husband wrangle twenty hyper five year olds.” he said and Lexi winced. “The kids had fun, that’s what matters.”

He waited until Lexi finished changing and the two of them made their way to the precinct garage to get their patrol car for the day.

“I’m driving.” Lexi insisted, and after the weekend he’d had, Carlos was happy to sit back and let her.

"Did you hear about fire station 126?" Lexi asked, fastening her seatbelt while Carlos did the same.

“Yeah they lost the whole crew a couple of weeks ago, didn't they?”

"Yeah, my sister is AFD, she said the whole department took it pretty badly. Only one guy survived."

"Damn…"

“Yeah...” she trailed off. “But they brought in this big shot fire captain from New York to rebuild the place. It's in our jurisdiction so I figured we should go say hello? We're going to be working with this guy and his crew, might as well get to know them.”

"Sure."

They drove to the fire station where somehow every builder in Austin seemed to be working at the same time.

"Officers, what can I do for you?" a man in his 50s in an AFD uniform approached them as they walked in.

"We're just coming to say hello to the new neighbours. Welcome you to the neighbourhood." Lexi told him and extended her hand. "I'm Lexi Mitchell, this is my partner Carlos Reyes. We work this part of the city too so we'll probably run into each other in the field from time to time."

"Oh well thank you for the welcome." the man shook her hand before moving onto Carlos. "I'm Owen Strand, I just moved here from new York City with my son... Who should be around here somewhere." he looked around. "TK!"

"What?" came a voice from further into the fire station.

"Come down here a second."

They heard footsteps coming closer and someone walked down the stairs. When TK came into view Carlos had to remind himself how to breathe.

TK the new fire captain's son, was the same TK he'd spent the weekend in New York with. One of the best weekends of his life.

He was vaguely aware of Lexi introducing them and shook hands with TK on auto pilot.

He remembered the way those hands had felt on his body. How it had felt to kiss those lips.

"Nice to meet you both officers." TK said politely.

But apparently TK didn't remember him. Or didn’t want to remember him.

It wasn’t like they’d kept in touch after that one weekend, or even exchanged phone numbers. TK didn’t owe him anything. They didn’t owe each other anything. They weren’t dating.

“You too. You work here too?” Carlos asked and TK nodded. “Yeah, I’m a firefighter, just like my dad.”

“Yeah it’s a family affair here.” The fire captain joked. “We’re working on getting the house back in order and getting a new crew together. Hopefully station 126 will be back in business soon.”

Carlos gave him his most professional smile and nod.

“I look forward to working with you, sir. Station 126 has always been an important part of our city.”

They exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes before Carlos and Lexi left the station to continue their shift.

“What was that?” Lexi asked, pulling out of the parking space by the fire station.

“What was what?”

“You sucking up to the new fire captain and his son? Are you switching teams on me Reyes?”

“What are you talking about? I just said hello. Welcomed him to the city.”

“Please. The guy is probably wondering when your application will be coming in.”

Carlos rolled his eyes and debated telling Lexi about his weekend with TK, but decided against it. TK clearly wasn’t interested in a repeat performance and Lexi didn’t have to know everything about him.

“Whatever.” he mumbled, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

The rest of their shift was thankfully uneventful, as was the rest of the week, and by Friday Carlos had convinced himself he didn’t care about TK Strand and accepted the invitation from some of his coworkers to go out for drinks after work.

Jason from Missing Persons wasn’t bad to look at after all.

The place was busy when he arrived, and he looked around for Jason and the other guys from work. When he didn’t see them, he figured he was the first one there, and ordered himself a drink. He sat down on a free stool at the bar and watched a group of people laughing and line dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

He recognised the new fire captain and found himself looking around to see if his son was there too.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A voice in his ear made him jump. He turned around and came face to face with TK.

“Oh… uh… yeah… hi.”

TK smiled.

“Hi. You come here often?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow at the cheesy come on.

“Sometimes. I’m supposed to meet some people from work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But they’re not here yet.”

“Good. That means I’ve got you all to myself.” TK said, and didn’t give Carlos more than a second to think before he put his drink on the bar and pulled him in for a kiss. The move so much like what he’d done in New York it gave Carlos a sense of deja vu.

And also he remembered he really liked kissing TK.

“I was hoping I’d run into you here sooner or later. I heard a lot of cops come to this place too.” TK admitted after they’d come up for air.

"Wait… So you do like me?" Carlos asked, confused. Between TK’s kisses and the cold shoulder from earlier in the week, he had trouble keeping up.

"Yeah... I thought that was obvious. Especially after what we did in New York.”

“But you pretended not to know who I was when I came into the fire station.”

“I know… but you were working. And my dad was right there. I had to keep it somewhat professional."

Carlos nodded. He understood keeping up appearances while on the job.

“So… if this had been the first time you would have seen me again… what would you have done?”

TK grinned and pushed open Carlos’ legs and stepped between them, hands coming to rest on his thighs as he leaned forward, face inches from his.

“I think you know.”

[cursedvessels]

The rest of their morning was beautifully mundane. They went to breakfast and Anna let Tylio talk about himself, fascinated enough by his life and relieved to feel no need to interject with information about herself. He made her feel comfortable, in more ways than one. Of course, hearing more about him was just making her like him more, but at least it wasn't being fed both ways. At least, she wasn't making herself open to him...He didn't need to hear about her problems. Or her past or family...

She'd easily dismissed his apologies for talking for so long, just happy to have had a few quiet moments over coffee spent with someone who was genuinely very interesting to have in her company. She would, perhaps, miss him...though she tried to shove that idea into the back of her mind as they parted ways. She didn't give him a number or social media handle, no contact whatsoever. It was better that way. Less complicated. And maybe for the next week or so she'd be sad about it, but she would move on. And so would he. As most people always had a tendency to do...

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

Unfortunately, she'd once again taken the liberty of returning home early from her vacation, heading back to the city within the next week. Of course, once she's returned her days go back to the way they were. For the first few, she thinks fondly of Tylio and the time they shared, wonders absently what would have happened if things had been different...If she wasn't so overburdened with her own life...But she lets those thoughts drift away with the wind, with the leaves on the trees and the petals of the flowers on her balcony. Dreams that would never be...They hurt for a time, but she was far better at letting them go than most.

Although things are mostly the same, she has incorporated a slight change to her routine. After work, she's started frequenting a coffee shop near her house to decompress. Going home was always a chore--she'd have to check on her brother, make him some food, get herself cleaned up...It felt like the evening flew by. At least this way, she had a few moments of quiet to herself in which she could spend time drawing, or just sitting and thinking...People watching, even.

She's sketching one of the baristas haphazardly with some charcoal at a table in the corner of the café, a hot cup of tea perched next to the mess of pencils on the tabletop. Her hair is pulled back, though there are several loose strands framing her face a bit messily. She's got paint stains on her hands, a smudge of charcoal on her cheek...Yet she looks far more alive than she had when she'd first gotten there. Finally getting a chance to breathe after a long day with small children was extremely rewarding like that.

It's when she looks up to get another glance at the barista again that she sees him...He's trailing up to the line already and she has to do a double take. Brows furrow, heart suddenly racing. Was that truly him? Had he..? Surely he hadn't followed her here. Was he stalking her? No...She was being paranoid. Still, her palms were sweaty and heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him from across the café for a moment too long.

Blinking, she quickly looks away again just before he can catch her gaze, biting down on her lower lip in a shy attempt at hiding the embarrassed smile gracing her features.

"Two of them", Tylio nodded, and he smiled a little when she told him that she'd never been much into fishing because she felt it was rather cruel to the fish. It was funny, he used to say the same thing as a child. From that point on, he and his brothers started tossing the fish back in the water. It was never about the food anyway.

That morning was spent having coffee in the café and chatting superficially. That wasn't to say he didn't have a nice time. Since they were unlikely to see each other again, it was sort of easy to talk about himself. He told her about the types of art he appreciated, about his family, the fact that they lived far away and he sort of wished they were closer. He told her about the few years he'd lived with one of his brothers and how it had been quite an adjustment once his brother moved out and he was finally living on his own. Before he knew it, an hour had passed and Anna had barely said a word but he'd told her plenty. She seemed to be alright with that, though he still apologized for it. When their breakfast came to an end, Tylio told her goodbye and that he was glad to have spent the night and morning with her.

He wouldn't have another meeting like this for the rest of his vacation. Not that he expected to, he was still processing the time he spent with Anna. How for a night, they seemed to have connected so much but then it turned out she was not as available as she seemed. He was disappointed for a while but when it was time to go home he was able to leave the whole thing behind him. He didn't mind going back to work, and now at least he had a story to tell the friend who always claimed he wasn't doing enough outside of work.

Tylio returned to his city after a week and readjusted back to his usual rhythm almost instantly. Every day he took the same route to work, stayed at the office from 9 to 5, took the same commute back. He rarely ever deviated from this route. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he had. That was when he realized his friend might have a point. Maybe he should do something different. Even just something small. After all, his vacation had shown him that interesting things could happen quite easily if he just tried something unusual.

That evening, he decided to do something simple. Take a different route home, walk for a while. Why not? He had enough time, and he didn't feel like going home yet anyway. Rather than hop on the subway train, he went for a walk through the busy street center and ended up entering one of the many coffeeshops. Little did he know, he would be running into a familiar face.

[blujayonthewing]

reflecting on how all of my other DMs have gone above and beyond to lovingly weave my and my friends' backstory elements into the larger worldbuilding of the campaign by contrast to all of the ways Elyss' DM has gone out of his way to suppress or excise any influences her family may have ever had on anything and I'm genuinely near tears over it

[queer-ecopunk]

So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.