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[loudstan]

How to (not) Write a Book

Summary: For Taeyong, asking his mate out was easy. The hard part was not fucking her brains out every time he saw her.

Pairing: Werewolf! Taeyong x Female reader

Warnings: uh...smut as usual. Y/N is horny, bubu snaps at some point and...yeah she fucks around and finds out I guess. Also I made him cry, sorry

 You wanted inspiration and you had found it alright. This town had everything you could need to write your next book: witches, vampires, werewolves and you had even heard you could stumble upon a few faes if you went deep into the forest, which was amazing because faes were becoming a popular topic in literature and your editor was pushing you to write about them.  

The cheap motel where you were staying(which was probably haunted), the lively streets, and even the coffee shop you had just found were out of this world; the cozy interior was illuminated by candles and plates filled with cake magically floated towards their designated table while the baristas prepared beverages that smelled heavenly. 

Too mesmerized by what was happening around you made your way to the counter without looking where you were going and accidentally bumped into a customer who was picking up his order.

“Sorry!” you quickly said. “My bad, I wasn’t paying atten–”

The customer turned around and gasped loudly, dropping his coffee. 

Ok? That was either a very delayed reaction, or you looked ugly enough to scare the poor guy as soon as he saw you. You didn’t want to cause trouble in a foreign land, so you quickly grabbed some tissues from the counter and tried your best to clean the stains of coffee on his clothes.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you a new one,” you insisted, panicking at his lack of reaction. He was just standing there, frozen like a statue.

You finally looked at his face and it was now your turn to gasp.

He was the most alluring person you had ever seen. Was he a fae? A vampire? He had to be a creature who used his beauty to attract his prey, otherwise, it would make no sense that he looked like that. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out and regretted it immediately. Who says that to a stranger?

The man’s eyes sparkled, and his cheeks turned pink as his mouth morphed into a grin. The sight of his pointed teeth heightened his charming face, which you could only describe as unfairly perfectly symmetrical. The universe really had its favorites. 

He didn’t only have natural beauty; his hair was also perfectly styled to match an attire, clearly tailored to his body, and his perfume overpowering the aroma of coffee smelled expensive.

You cleared your throat before trying to communicate once again. “Uh, sorry about that. Are you okay?”

 He licked his lips and his reddened eyes scanned your entire frame, but his only reply was what sounded like a satisfied hum. It was a simple sound, but it did something to you.

It sent shivers down your spine and your heart beat at an erratic pace. Your face felt hot and your body weakened, your legs trembled, and suddenly the room was spinning around you.

But the man’s arms held you in place before you fell flat on the floor and then he pressed your body against his with urgency. 

 His warmth added to the mixture of strange sensations, but even if your body wasn’t functioning properly, your brain was on high alert: if this man had caused you to react like this against your will, then he surely wasn’t human.

You let out a silent cry when his lips caressed your neck. 

Oh no. A vampire. Just your luck. You were going to die.

“I found you,” he murmured against your skin. His voice was way too raspy and deep for such a delicate face like his, and it made you tremble from head to toes. 

Your heart was beating so fast and hard you could hear it. You would probably have a heart attack before he killed you. You whimpered in fear, but a small part of you liked his warmth surrounding you. Why were you suddenly feeling…good? Now you had no doubt he was a vampire, playing with his food by making you feel pleasure before devouring you. 

“Why do you smell distressed?” He purred, sounding a little wounded, and then you felt teeth against your pulse. 

This was it. You couldn’t believe your life would end like this.

You sobbed quietly and closed your eyes, preparing for what was coming, but suddenly you were on the floor, away from the man’s hold. 

You blinked twice and slowly started becoming aware of what was happening around you; the customers and staff were screaming and backing away from the commotion, the beautiful man you had assumed was a vampire was on the floor too, in the opposite corner of the cafe.  Between you and him there was another young man, who the vampire was glaring at furiously.

“What the fuck, Mark?” he hissed.

Mark gulped. His pale face and tense posture showed he was terrified, but he didn’t back down. “Taeyong hyung, you need to calm down.”

“Move,” Taeyong growled.

“I really don’t think this is the right–Oh my god,” he whined when the older bore his teeth and stood up.

 Taeyong tried to walk towards you, but Mark blocked the way.

“Are you challenging your alpha?” Taeyong gnarled.

Mark shook his head but when Taeyong tried to push him out of the way, he locked his arms around the leader solidly and they both fell on the floor, wrestling as their roars made the store’s windows shake and people ran away in terror. 

You tried to get up too, but your legs wouldn’t respond and you could only watch in fear at the animalistic display of power in front of you. 

Soon Mark was forced into submission by Taeyong, but he still made weak attempts to stop him from reaching for you.

In that moment you heard hurried steps and three more men jumped on top of Taeyong, who was furious at their insolence. 

A black haired man checked on Mark, before turning to the source of the riot.

“Taeyong, stop!’

“You don’t tell me what to do, Doyoung,” Taeyong snarled, trying to free himself from his captors. “Get off me!” he growled, jabbing and kicking at them.

“Don’t do this, Taeyong. Not like this,” Doyoung begged, holding Taeyong’s face in his hands. “You’re scaring her.”

Something clicked in Taeyong he stopped struggling. He looked around and saw that the coffee shop had been destroyed, some people were hiding under the tables, and Mark’s lower lip was bleeding. Finally, his eyes landed on your terrified ones and he was consumed by shame and guilt.

“I–” he wanted to apologize, but his body was overwhelmed and before he could say another word, he fell unconscious in his friends’ arms.

The group of men holding him let out a synchronized sigh.  

“That was horrifying,” Mark was the first one to speak, sitting on a chair nearby and wincing in pain.

“Jungwoo, please take Mark to a healer,” Doyoung requested. “Johnny, Jaehyun! Help me take Taeyong home.”

“Sure, I think I could use a visit to the healer myself,” Jungwoo said, limping slightly while walking out with Mark. 

“I had never seen him this…feral,” Jaehyun said.

“He does get a bit too brutal during his rut, but this was…,” Johnny trailed off, not sure of how to finish that sentence. “If Mark hadn’t been here, that girl…”

“The girl!” Doyoung quickly turned around to check on you but you were nowhere to be found. “I guess she ran away…”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t?” Jaehyun asked rethorically, as they all carried their leader to the car. 

“I doubt she’ll want to see Taeyong after this,” Johnny said.

“She’ll understand once we explain it to her,” Doyoung assured them.

“If we manage to find her again,” Jaehyun murmured.

You had been holding your breath until you heard them leave, hiding behind the abandoned counter. 

“Thank god it’s over!” a relieved voice exclaimed next to you, making you jump and yelp. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not dangerous! I was hiding here too! This is my coffee shop,” the man quickly explained. “My name is Taeil.”

“Oh– I’m Y/N…” you mumbled. “Sorry for the mess…”

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry. I’ll have a word with the pups later.”

“Pups?”

“Werewolves,” he said, grabbing a couple of cups from the shelf.

“Oh…OH! They said something about an alpha,” you remembered, trying to make sense of the whole situation. “So he wasn’t a vampire after all. He must have been close to his rut.”

“Yeah…you could say that,” the man partially agreed, offering you a cup of coffee. “On the house. This is embarrassing to admit but I’m a member of the pack who caused all this...”

“You’re a werewolf too?” you asked incredulously and let him guide you to a table that hadn’t been destroyed. “Then why were you hiding?”

“It was scary,” he shrugged and sat down across the table.

You let out an incredulous laugh and took a sip of your coffee. This guy was being serious but somehow he made everything sound hilarious. 

“Something’s different about you,” he suddenly said, observing you carefully. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I’m not,” you replied. “I’m here for business. I’m writing a book about some creatures that live here.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Something like that, yes,” you admitted, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s why I came. I’m hoping to rent a place near the forest to observe the faes.”

“Faes?” Taeil’s lips turned downwards. “Those are a bit too dangerous, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be careful.”

“There are so many other creatures to write about,”  he insisted.

“I’m really interested in faes,” you said. “And there isn’t quite enough literature about them, so I thought I should talk to them in person to understand them better.”

“Talk to them?” he repeated incredulously. “You definitely shouldn’t do that…”

“I heard I can find some in the East Forest,” you pressed, ignoring his apprehension. “Is that true?”

“...It is,” he conceded. “But there aren’t any places to rent in there,” he quickly added.

“I’ll just camp in the woods,” you shrugged.

The man choked on his coffee and coughed loudly. “CAMP?” 

“Just until I finish my book.”

“Oh my god,” he shook his head. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you replied without hesitation and finished your drink, ready to leave. “Thanks for the coffee, Taeil!”

“I HAVE A HOUSE FOR RENT! ” He blurted out in panic when he saw you standing up.

You raised your eyebrows. “You said there was no place available near the forest.”

“Technically, there isn’t…,” he sighed, brushing his hair with his fingers. “They don’t build homes near the forest because of the faes… but I own a little hut, not too deep into the woods, which I was using to store some stuff…”

“For real?” you asked excitedly. 

He nodded, taking out his phone and showing you some pictures of the place. It was a small, lovely, wooden hut surrounded by trees. 

“It’s not furnished, but I could get it ready for you in about a week,” the kind werewolf offered because he clearly didn’t want you to camp in the forest. “But you would have to promise me to stay inside the house at night.”

“Why?”

“Faes become… restless when the sun goes down. If you really need to talk to one of them, do it during the day.” 

You nodded and took mental note of an interesting new fact about faes. Then you asked a few more questions about the house, which he replied to, along with giving you some extra safety tips before offering you to rent the place for an incredibly low price. 

“Thank you so much!” you exclaimed happily, forgetting about what had happened earlier with the Taeyong, thrilled at the idea of moving to such a nice place, for cheap and meeting some of your favorite magical creatures. 

“No problem,” he said, handing you back your phone where he had added his contact information for you two to seal the deal later. “No one’s staying there at the moment, so it’s not an issue,” he added, walking you to the door and bidding you goodbye.

You thanked him again and happily walked back to the motel you were currently staying in. 

“Where were you?!” Johnny asked Taeil when he arrived home. “It’s your own cafe. How did you just disappear?”

“I was hiding behind the counter,” Taeil admitted shamelessly.

“Wow, thanks a lot, hyung” Mark said sarcastically from the sofa, holding a cold pack against his cheek.

“I’m not strong. I would have been useless anyway,” Taeil said. “I found Taeyong’s mate, by the way. Her name’s Y/N.”

“ Is she okay?” Doyoung asked, entering the living room. 

“She’s fine, it looks like she forgot about the whole incident already.”

“Do you know where to find her?” Jungwoo asked.

“Yes, well…about that…I need some help casting a protection spell on my old hut in the woods… because she’ll be living there,” Taeil trailed off as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bunch of herbs and salt. 

“WHAT?!” Doyoung hissed, following Taeil to the kitchen. “That area is infested with faes!”

“She has a thing for faes,” Taeil replied. “She was going to camp in the woods just to study them and write about it in her book.”

“Ah, so she’s a lunatic,” Jungwoo said.

“She’ll go to the forest no matter what, so I offered that hut because then we can at least know where she is and protect the place.”

“That’s actually smart,” Doyoung conceded and started looking for some herbs to help with the spell.

“We need to buy a bed and some other stuff because that house is empty right now,” Taeil added.

“Alright, to IKEA we go,” Jaehyun sighed and stood up. 

“I’ll go with you!” Jungwoo yelled happily.

“No,” Jaehyun groaned. “It takes you forever to choose what to buy.”

“And you have terrible taste in furniture,” Jungwoo replied. “Always buying the cheapest shit.”

“The bed can’t be cheap,” Johnny said. “Remember Taeyong can potentially spend his rut there. And you guys know how he gets.”

As if on cue, they heard a loud crash followed by the squeaking noise of the bed dragging back and forth on the floor mixed with guttural moans coming from the second floor.

“Looks like he’s awake…,” Mark mumbled, getting pale again, thinking that his leader would have his head after what happened at the coffee shop.

“Don’t worry. I secured his room with a spell,” Doyoung quickly assured him. “You’re safe.”

“I don’t know, I think I kinda wanna go to IKEA,” Mark said nervously.

“The more the merrier,” Jungwoo encouraged enthusiastically. 

The next few days were torture for Taeyong. He had a fever, his body ached and his erection wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times he came. He knew the reason: his wolf wouldn’t be satisfied until he claimed his mate. But his pack had put a spell around his room, making it impossible for him to leave, which made sense, because those were the instructions he had given them a long time ago in case he met his mate and couldn’t control himself. His pack had left enough snacks and drinks for him to survive for as long as his rut lasted, and he thankfully had his own private bathroom inside his room, but what he needed was his mate.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong approached the door and called for his friend. “Doyoung, open the door. I need out.”

No answer came from the other side of the door, but Taeyong wouldn’t give up. “I know you’re there. Just let me out. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“…I can’t do that,” Doyoung finally replied, and then he jumped when Taeyong banged on the door loudly.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” The leader yelled, before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Please. It hurts,” he pleaded.

“Taeyong…”

“I’ll be gentle,” Taeyong bargained. “I won’t hurt her. I just need to see her, please…”

“I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Doyoung agreed. “But this isn’t you.”

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke through gritted teeth. “Your alpha commands it.”

Doyoung inhaled sharply. Taeyong was using his alpha voice, which made his wolf ache to comply, but he knew if he let him out now, the leader would do something he would regret.

“My best friend is more important than my alpha. I won’t let you fuck this up for yourself. Get back to your senses and then you can see her,” he replied stoically. “Her name is Y/N, by the way,” he added before walking away.

“Y/N…” Taeyong sighed, leaning his head on the cool material of the door. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember your scent and the way you trembled in his arms like a scared bunny. Cute. His wolf loved it. “Oh…” he breathed out, pressing his lower body against the door, slowly humping the barrier that kept him from finding you. This would have to do until he caught you and had you shaking again.

 After a long night of sweating and cumming, he finally reached for one of the many bottles of water they had prepared for him. Three days later he gained enough clarity to eat something. Five days later his member would remain soft for a few hours a day, which allowed him to take a proper break. After a week he had successfully survived what he was sure was the worst rut of his life. He got up slowly, dizzy and sweaty, and took a look at his room: it was in ruins, with clothes and personal belongings scattered on the floor. His bed was disgusting, the bedsheets were sticky and wrinkled, his pillow had been torn apart, and its filling was everywhere. The door was marked with scratches that looked too deep and big to be human, which had to mean he had transformed at some point. If it hadn’t been for the spell, he would have easily broken the door and escaped. 

Taeyong started picking everything up and cleaning the place. Then he jumped into the shower and allowed the hot water to relieve his aching muscles and clear his mind. Slowly, memories of the scene he caused in the coffee shop popped up and he cringed. He had to apologize to so many people now. 

He got dressed in comfy clothes, dried his hair, and attempted to open the damaged door. This time he was able to get out easily, which meant that the spell was meant to last as long as he was in rut. 

Then he took a deep breath in and walked down the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. He heard his pack members laughing loudly over the sound of the TV, which meant it was movie night. It was a good thing that they were together, so he could properly apologize in front of everyone, but his anxiety grew and his eyes started watering as he got closer to his destination.

 He had made a scene and attacked his own pack. What type of leader loses control like that? He was so ashamed he turned back, ready to hide in his room again.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung’s calm voice called for him. Of course Doyoung would notice him before he had the chance to run away.

Taeyong whimpered and looked back, to where his pack was making space for him to sit. They had paused the movie and were looking at him, patiently waiting for him to join in. He bit his lip nervously and sat down. His eyes landed on Mark; he looked fine, but there was still a small bruise on his face as evidence of what he had done to him. Mark caught him staring and offered him a reassuring smile. Tears finally rolled down Taeyong’s cheeks.

“Mark, I–,” the leader sobbed and hid his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Mark said softly. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“You did him a favor,” Haechan added. “I think you fixed his nose.”

Taeyong snorted mid-sob at the unexpected joke and wiped his tears with the back of his hand, letting out a soft giggle.

“Everyone’s fine,” Jaehyun said, patting his leader’s back comfortingly. 

“Still, I should have controlled myself,” Taeyong mumbled.

“Pff…if you hadn’t controlled yourself, Mark wouldn’t be here,” Johnny said.

Mark laughed nervously. 

“And the place you destroyed was Taeil hyung’s shop, so no one cares,” Jungwoo said.

“Fuck you, guys,” Taeil said but he was laughing too. “No more free coffee for you.”

There was a pause when the laughter ended and Taeyong looked at Doyoung.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” he admitted apologetically.

“Oh, that? Your alpha voice isn’t as powerful as you think,” Doyoung shrugged smugly. “I think I’m the real leader of this pack.”

“Didn’t you have a panic attack right after you disobeyed him—“ Yuta tried to ask, but he was quickly interrupted.

“That’s not important now,” Ten interrupted, sitting closer to his leader. “You found your mate!”

Everyone cheered, making Taeyong blush and chuckle. He was overjoyed to finally meet the one he had been waiting for for so long…but then his anxiety came back.

“I don’t think I’m ready though,” he whispered.

“You are,” Doyoung rebutted.

“I almost bit her…”

“She’s fine,” Taeil said. 

 “You’ve helped many of us get together with our mate,” Jaemin agreed. “No one has prepared for this moment more than you.”

“But I didn’t know it would feel like this,” Taeyong said.

“Like what?” Kun asked.

“Like…like I’m some type of animal,” Taeyong groaned. “The things I wanna do to her I just–I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t—,” he paused and blushed. “...You know…”

“Oh, that’s normal,” Jeno assured him, laughing. 

“It is?” Taeyong asked, surprised. 

“Yeah!” Jeno insisted. “All of us who are mated have gone through that.”

“So it gets better later, right?” the leader asked hopefully.

“No,” a choir of voices replied. 

“But the bond works both ways,” Yuta added. “Soon she’ll be wanting you just as much as you want her.”

Taeyong’s face was hot. He wanted that. He wanted everything with you. “First I have to apologize to her.”

“Good thing we know where to find her,” Doyoung smiled.

Your new temporary home was more than you could ever wish for. It had a perfectly functioning bathroom and a kitchen. It was also fully furnished and excessively decorated in a way that made you think many people had been involved in the process because nothing matched. Your favorite thing was the little window in the kitchen which offered you a beautiful view of the forest while doing the dishes. You often opened the window to feel the breeze, smell the fresh grass and listen to the birds singing, and even if it was getting darker you could catch a glimpse of the stream and— were those eyes?!

You gasped and whoever was hiding far behind the bushes ducked down. They would have been successful if it wasn’t because of their pointy ears peeking out. 

You gasped again, this time out of excitement, and rushed out to meet your visitor. They had to be a fae!

Once you stepped out of the house, and stood near the entrance, waving at the creature, who was still hiding shyly behind the bushes.

“Hi,” you greeted them softly. “It’s okay! I won’t hurt you.”

The fae shifted enough for you to see their beautiful features, they seemed to be a male, with silky dark hair and pale skin. He looked at your house and tilted his head.

“I live here,” you continued talking, pointing at the wooden hut. “Do you live in the forest?” 

He gave you a short nod without taking his eyes off of you. Despite his lethargic expression, he seemed curious.

“My name’s Y/N,” you introduced yourself. You had this habit of talking non-stop when you were excited or nervous. “What’s your name?”

The fae’s plump lips twisted into a little smile. “Soobin.”

“Nice to meet you, Soobin! I guess we’re neighbors,” you smiled at him.

 “Sweet,” he whispered.

“Hm?” you asked.

“Smells sweet,” he said this time loud enough to hear, and he stood up, revealing he was way taller than what you expected. He was dressed in a pair of loose pants and a crochet open shirt that didn’t quite cover his lean torso and eclectic necklaces and pendants adorned his neck.

“Oh, that’s probably the pie I baked,” you replied. “Do you want some?”

The man licked his lips and took a step toward you, but then he tensed and glared at a spot on the ground in front of him. “I cannot get closer,” he muttered. 

You stared at the ground too, looking for whatever he was looking at, but you couldn’t see anything. Maybe he just didn’t trust you enough to get closer. 

“Let me bring you a piece, then,” you offered, running back into the kitchen and placing a big piece of fresh pie on a plate. Then you went out to see him waiting for you in the same spot, still glaring at the ground.

You tried to keep your distance while offering him the plate, not wanting to scare him. 

“Closer,” he whispered.

You took a step towards him, but contradictorily he took a step back.

“...May I come closer?” you asked confusedly. 

He nodded and looked at your feet.

You took a hesitant step towards him and he took another step back. It made no sense, but he was smiling now, so you guessed this was what he wanted. 

“Is this okay?” you asked, taking another step.

“Yes,” he chuckled, taking another step back. It seemed to be some type of game for faes. Whatever it was, he looked like he was having fun.

You couldn’t help but laugh too as you took another step, even without understanding the nature of the game. “Closer?”

“Closer,” he agreed. 

You took another step, but he didn’t step back this time. He moved his hands towards you and instead of picking the plate, he grabbed your arms.

 At that moment a growl echoed in the before peaceful forest, catching you by surprise. Soobin looked as confused as you, with his widened eyes scanning the already dark trees around you. He then turned around slightly, while still holding you and you saw it: a big grey wolf lurking behind Soobin, bearing his teeth threateningly. 

“Alpha,” Soobin acknowledged the wolf with a nod.

The animal’s red eyes glared at the fae, trying to communicate something that you couldn’t catch. But Soobin seemed to understand the message.

 “It is past dusk,” the fae said in a defensive tone, never letting go of you. “It is allowed.”

The wolf let out an aggressive snarl, and even you understood that they did not like whatever Soobin was implying.

The fae sighed and he hesitantly let go of your arms. “I do not wish to fight you, alpha. But let it be the last time. Rules are rules.”

“What’s going on?” you asked Soobin, still frozen in your place. 

“Alpha is not happy to see me,” the fae replied simply and took the plate from your hands. “Thank you for the pie,” he added, looking between you to the wolf one last time and walking away with a smile. 

“C-come back anytime!” you offered as you saw him leave. That was not how you expected your first encounter with a fae to go. He seemed to be sweet and willing to be your friend. You had so much you wanted to ask, but then this wolf had to scare him away. Soobin had called him alpha and you knew there was only one pack of werewolves in town. You had met the pack’s alpha before…

“Taeyong,” you turned to look at the wolf angrily. 

The wolf’s ears lowered and he winced. You knew it was him?

“Shift and come in. We need to talk,” you said before stomping back into the house, leaving the door open behind you.

A minute after the man you had met at the coffee shop a week ago and who had almost given you a heart attack stood at your door, fixing his clothes nervously. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw his human form. You remembered him being good-looking, but his beauty was surreal. You had to remind yourself you were mad at him.

“Get in and close the door already” you commanded. “It’s getting cold.”

The man hesitated momentarily before finally stepping inside the house and closing the door behind him, but he stayed as far away from you as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

God, why was he so cute?

“You should be,” you replied, setting a couple of plates on the table

“I lost control. I know it’s not an excuse, but–”

“Damn right it isn’t, you scared poor Soobin!”

“I–What?” he asked.

“He was opening up and now I don’t know if he’ll ever come back!” you replied, letting out a frustrated sigh as you searched for cups in the cabinet.

“...That’s what’s bothering you?” he asked.

“Yes! I need to interview a fae!”

“...You were trying to interview him,” he repeated slowly. 

“That’s right, and you interrupted us just when he allowed me to get closer,” you groaned, sitting in one of the chairs and pouring some tea into your cup. “Take a seat,” you told Taeyong. 

You may be mad, but you were still a good host. Taeyong was family to Taeil, and Taeil had been good to you, so you would be good to Taeyong and at least feed him while telling him off.

He bit his lip and sat down on the chair across from you. “I think you got it wrong. He didn’t allow you to get closer, he took you out of the protection circle on purpose.”

“The what?” you asked, biting on a piece of pie.

“The protection circle around this house,” he said as if it was obvious. “Can’t you feel it?”

You swallowed the pastry and looked around, trying to see if there was anything off with the house besides the odd decoration. “Feel what?”

Taeyong tilted his head. Anyone with a tiny bit of magic in their body would be able to notice the house was under a spell. 

Oh…

“You’re not a witch…” he gasped. Taeil said he had sensed something different about your aura but that he wasn’t sure what it was. This had to be it.

“I’m not,” you agreed. 

The color drained from Taeyong’s face. 

“Then what are you doing here?! It’s dangerous!” he whisper-shouted, looking around like he was afraid anyone would hear. 

“I’m writing a book,” you replied.

“About faes?!” he asked. “No, no, no, please. Do you even know what faes do to humans?!”

“...No,” you admitted. “Do you?”

“No! No one knows! They take them away. Make them disappear. That’s why this area is not accessible for tourists and even magic users stay away after sunset!” Taeyong let out a frustrated groan and placed one of his palms on his chest, trying to calm his beating heart. “Didn’t Taeil tell you to go out only during daylight?”

“He did,” you remembered. “But I thought he was overreacting.”

Taeyong could cry because of how stressed he was. Not only did his mate turn out to be human, but she was also clueless and living in an enchanted forest like it was nothing.

He took a deep breath in and tried his best to explain everything calmly. “Faes have been here for centuries, so this land belongs to them. We have no power to tell them what to do, but they at least agreed to make a deal with us and not hunt during the day.”

“...Soobin was…hunting?” you asked after a few seconds of silence. 

Taeyong nodded.

“He was going to take me away…” you whispered, staring blankly at your plate. You weren’t that hungry anymore. How could someone who looked so sweet and innocent be hunting humans? 

“Yes,” the Werewolf grunted. He hated how easily you had followed Soobin out of the protection circle. He hated the way he had touched your arm. He hated thinking about the possibility of you being gone who knows where. You were too careless for a fragile human. 

You both sat there without saying a word until you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he replied softly. “But please don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” you replied. “Sorry…”

“I should be the one to apologize. That’s why I came here today,” he murmured. “The way I behaved at the coffee shop was not okay.”

“...Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering the event. “Well, that was an accident, right?”

“Uh…yes…” he said, sipping on his cup of tea.

“I guess your ruts are irregular,” you hummed.

“My r–,” he blushed and choked. You had thought about him in rut? 

“Do you take suppressants?” you asked casually, not noticing that he was mortified.

“Y-yes.”

“Hmm… That’s odd,” you commented. “Then you shouldn’t have entered your rut so fast and out of nowhere. Did someone trigger it?”

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes were wide and glossy, as he stared at you in silence. He tried to think of something to say, but he didn’t want to lie to you nor did he want to scare you. 

You had studied supernatural creatures before, so you were able to put two and two together. 

“...It was me, huh?” you asked.

Oh, well. He was fucked. 

“H-how did you know?” he asked in the smallest voice you had heard, looking away.

You hummed.

“You went straight for my neck, so at first I thought you were a vampire, but you turned out to be a werewolf. I can only think of one reason why you would want to bite my neck.”

Taeyong gulped. He was shaking with anxiety. You probably found him disgusting.

“I’m s-sorry…” he whimpered with difficulty because of the way his breathing had quickened.

“Hey, calm down. Breathe,” you instructed.

“I’ve w-waited for so long I…I didn’t mean to– I just couldn’t-...” 

“Taeyong,” you called his name firmly and held his trembling hands in yours, making him gasp. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control it.”

He was still too terrified to look into your eyes. “I don’t w-want to force you–”

“I know,” you assured him.

“I just w-wanted to get to know you…”

“We can do that,” you conceded.

“...Really?” he finally looked up and his eyes lightened up with hope.

“Really,” you replied. “It’s the least I can do for someone who saved me from being abducted by faes,” you joked, but he didn’t find it funny.

“That’s not why I did it! You don’t owe me anything–”

“I know,” you chuckled. “That’s not the only reason. I also think you’re cute.”

You had broken him. His face was as red as the cherries that adorned the forgotten pie and he was struggling to hold back a shy smile. He sighed, relieved, and now it was his turn to hold your hands in his, bringing them to his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sighed. “I’ll do it right, I’ll treat you well, I’ll court you the way you deserve.”

You giggled. “Court me? How about you give me your number first?”

And that’s how you started dating the kindest man you had ever met. He was a walking green flag, gentle, respectful, and patient… Sometimes too patient. 

He insisted on taking things slow, and it took him almost two months of courting before he agreed to officially call himself your boyfriend, because, according to him, he hadn’t earned it yet. 

You didn’t want to be ungrateful but there were times when his chivalry frustrated you. Yes, he treated you like a queen, took care of you, and listened to you but sometimes you wished he actually kissed you instead of quickly pecking your lips and pulling away. 

You enjoyed his company as it was, but you couldn’t deny the burning desire that consumed you whenever he was near you. 

“Taeyong,” you called his name after you finished cleaning up the table. 

“Yeah?” he replied absentmindedly while washing the dishes.

“Can we make out?” you asked straight to the point.

He almost dropped the plate he was holding. His whole body tensed and he continued staring at the running water. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself. He had heard you perfectly.

“Is that a no?” you asked, taking a few steps closer.

Taeyong closed the water tap and turned around to face you, leaning against the sink.

“Of course, we can, my love,” he said, offering you a smile that somehow seemed a little forced. 

Before he had the chance to take it back you pressed your lips against his. He kissed you back softly, but as usual, he pulled away quickly. 

“That’s not making out,” you pouted.

“Let’s take things slow,Y/N,” Taeyong said, ready to resume his domestic task, but you were tired and frustrated, so you grabbed him by the nape and kissed him hard. 

He gasped in surprise but he had been controlling himself for too long, and his wolf was not going to waste this chance. He gave you an open-mouthed kiss that felt too urgent for someone who wanted to take things slow, and when you sucked on his tongue he moaned loudly, finally daring to use his hands on you. 

His still-wet fingers tangled in your hair and angled your head for his lips to fit yours perfectly, allowing his tongue to play with yours quite aggressively. 

A shiver ran down your spine when he switched positions to have you pressed against the sink, and you let your hands travel down his torso.

That’s when he detached himself from you abruptly. 

“Was that better?” he asked as evenly as he could with his chest rising and falling erratically.

“Yeah…” you breathed out.

He nodded.“Go rest, love.I’ll finish cleaning.”

For him, that had been the closest he had been to losing his sanity. He had to lock himself up as soon as he got back home due to another unscheduled rut–which was happening more frequently the closer he got to you– and he couldn’t stop thinking about how good you tasted and how easily he could manhandle your fragile body. 

He  had opened Pandora’s box. Now he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you every chance he got. 

‘Just a kiss,’ he kept telling himself. ‘I will stop before it gets serious.’

But God, was it hard when he had you all pretty on his lap, with your breasts pressed against his pecs and driving him crazy.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips. 

“Hm?” you murmured, kissing his jaw and neck slowly.

He tilted his head back and rested it on the sofa when your lips brushed a spot where you could feel his strong pulse. 

“Oh… Y-Y/N,” It was like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite remember what. Especially when you rolled your hips against his like that. So he just whined. 

“What is it, baby?” you asked, dropping more of your weight on his lap. 

His breath hitched and his eyes snapped open in your direction, a reddish tone replacing his usual eye color. His fingers dug into your hips as he pressed you against him harder, humming when he heard you moan faintly.

His lips chased yours and he wasted no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth. He kissed you fiercely and let out breathy moans while guiding your hips against his crotch insistently.

“Tae–...b-baby that feels…” you manage to breathe out as your hips shake in his hands.

“G-good?” he asked in the softest voice despite his lusty eyes and his hips thrusting against your core harshly. 

“So good, baby,” you gasped. “Can you g-give me more?”

“Anything,” he breathed out, eyes dazed, allowing his hands to travel your body. “Everything…”

“Good boy,” you praised him lovingly, reaching for the hem of his pants to free his painful erection.

“Mm…Ah,” he moaned softly as you palmed him over his boxers. When your thumb pressed against the head he let out an audible gasp. 

“Y/N, w-we have to stop,” he panted urgently, but his body said something different; one of his hands kept yours firmly pressed against his cock, while the other slid under your shirt, looking for your breasts. “Gotta…gotta s-stop…”

“Do you w-want to stop?” you asked him, whimpering when his fingers found one of your nipples, while his other hand guided yours up and down his cock.

He shook his head.

“Then why do we…ah! Why do we h-have to stop, b-baby?”

He stared at your lips dumbfounded, still moving your hand up and down, harder, faster. There was a reason why he had to stop. He had to. But why? He just couldn’t remember…

“I don’t know…,” he admitted.

 The hand that was caressing your breasts, slid down your stomach, drawing gentle patterns until it slid past the hem of your shorts. Your hips jumped slightly  and he breathed shakily when his fingers slid into your panties, immediately getting then soaked.

“B-baby…,” you breathed out when he slowly took his digits out and brought them to his mouth. 

He opened wide, sticking his tongue out , and then sucked on his fingers lewdly. 

Suddenly, his head rolled back, his back arched, and his body convulsed. He moaned around his fingers and a big wet patch formed on his boxers, right where he was holding your hand so desperately. 

You gasped at the sight of him cumming just because of your taste. “Oh my god…,” you murmured, pressing the palm of your hand against him harder and feeling his cock squirt another generous amount of cum while he trembled under you.

Once you thought it may be too much for him, you released his member and his body relaxed on the sofa. His mouth finally let go of his fingers, leaving behind a trail of saliva. He was panting and his wide eyes were fixed on the ceiling, trying to comprehend the pleasure he had felt. 

“Taeyong?” you called his name gently.

 It was like the sound of your voice brought him back to reality. Or maybe it drove him further into madness because he hugged your waist and pressed your crotches together urgently.

“Y-you too…” he begged, before kissing you messily, making an uncoordinated attempt to dry hump you.

You kissed him back, slowly moving against his still-hard member, but the pace didn’t quite satisfy him. He grabbed your hips harshly and moved your body insistently back and forth.

“Ah, right t-there,” you encouraged him, letting him set the pace. 

He hissed. The chaff of your clothed clit on his sensitive tip was pleasurably painful and your moans mixed with your aroused scent had him forgetting about all the possible downsides of letting his wolf loose. It felt too good.

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, shaking on his lap. “B-baby— Oooh!”

“Yeah…” he moaned, pulling you into a suffocating hug and giving your neck wet, sloppy kisses. 

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling weak and dizzy, but incredibly happy. You had wanted to feel Taeyong close to you since you had started dating and now it was finally happening. You sighed and looked down at your boyfriend who was still clinging to you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Then you felt liquid dripping down your chest.

��Tae—,” you laughed, thinking it was saliva and whipping it off with your hand but your smile dropped when you saw your fingers tainted red. “What…”

Did he bite you? You hadn’t felt anything at all. You could hear him panting, but you were sure his fangs were not on your skin. 

You quickly pushed him off you, pressing his back on the sofa and taking a look at him. He was pale, covered in sweat, displaying a lost expression and his mouth and chin were stained with fresh blood. 

Your hand flew to your neck, finding more of the red liquid, but the smooth texture of your skin proved you hadn’t been bitten. 

That blood wasn’t yours.

What he had bitten was his own hand.

The same he had earlier used to touch your folds and taste you was now covered in blood, displaying an injury in the shape of a crescent moon.

“Taeyong!” You screamed, forgetting all about the pleasure you had just felt and running to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you came back and started examining his wound he seemed more conscious.

“How did this happen?!” You asked him, carefully disinfecting the bite.

His beautiful eyes looked at you with sadness but no words came from his lips.

“Why did you do that?” you continued rambling on until you heard a quiet sob. “Taeyong?”

He looked away, but you had already seen the tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked gently, cupping his face on your palms and trying to make eye contact.

He placed his hands on top of yours gently, still weeping bitterly.

“Does it hurt that bad? Should we go to a healer?” You insisted, your worries increasing every second.

He let out a broken sob.

Broken-hearted you tried to hug him but he quickly stood up. “I have to go. I’ll c-call you later, okay?” 

“What? Taeyong, wait–” 

“I’ll ask Jaemin to heal me,” he said, trying to hold back his sniffles. 

“I’ll go with–”

“No, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “You’ll make it worse.”

“...I will make it worse?” you asked in a whisper.

“I–,” he let out a shaky sigh. “No, baby, I don’t mean it like that.”

You didn’t reply. What were you supposed to say after being told your presence would make your boyfriend feel worse?

His face told you he wasn’t happy with the way he had worded it either. He knew he had hurt you and he wanted nothing more but to comfort you, hug you, and kiss you stupid, but he needed to get away from you before his wolf took over.

“You did nothing wrong, my love,” he assured you. His words were gentle, but his body language was so distant. “I just need to be alone, right now, okay?”

You nodded. What else could you do?

And then you were left alone.

“You’re back already–Holy shit, hyung, are you okay?!” Xiaojun jumped out of the couch where he had been hanging out with Hendery when he saw his leader. 

“Fine,” Taeyong mumbled. 

“You’re bleeding!” Hendery yelled. 

“I just need–”

“TEN HYUNG!” Xiaojun screamed.

Ten came down the stairs running and gasped when he saw Taeyong’s hand covered in blood. “What happened to you?!”

“I need you to lock me up,” Taeyong mumbled tiredly.

“You need medical attention,” Ten replied, trying to pull him back to the door to take him to the hospital.

“There’s no time,” Taeyong groaned.

“Time for what?” Ten asked, but then he noticed the way his leader’s eye color kept changing and that the skin he had touched was burning up. “Wha—AGAIN?! You just got out of rut two weeks ago!”

“Lock me up,” the oldest repeated weakly, leaning against his pack member for support.

“Fuck,” Ten hissed, gesturing for the others to help him carry him up the stairs. “There’s no way this is healthy.”

“Hmm…” was the leader’s absentminded response before losing consciousness. 

If you had known what was happening, you would have just gone to sleep instead of waiting for the call that he said would come. He didn’t call you and he wasn’t responding to your texts

After two days you decided to look for answers somewhere else and visited Taeil’s cafe.

He received you with a warm smile, as usual. But you could sense some awkwardness when he asked that many trivial questions (even talking about the weather), as if he wanted to talk about anything but Taeyong.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you finally said.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he still gestured for you to go on. He knew he couldn’t avoid the topic forever.

“Have you seen Taeyong?”

“I have,” he said curtly.

“He’s not answering my calls. I didn’t think he would be the type to ghost someone, but here we are,” you laughed awkwardly.

Taeil let out a heavy sigh.

“He’s not ghosting you.”

“Yes, he is,” you said bitterly. “If he wanted to break up he could have just said so.”

“Y/N, I promise you he wants to be with you,” Taeil insisted.

“Then why is he ignoring me?”

“He’s in rut…”

“…Again?!”

He nodded. “Again.”

“This is happening way too often.”

“I know.”

“What about his suppressants?”

“They don’t work anymore.”

“There has to be something we can do!”

Taeil groaned. “We can’t force him.”

“Force him to what?”

“Just…ask him, okay?”

“When?! He’s always in rut and  disappearing!”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know this must be hard for you, but trust me, it’s hard for him too. He’s trying his best to be a good boyfriend for you.”

Part of you knew he was right. Even if it felt like he was ghosting you, deep down you knew that was not Taeyong. You agreed to wait until his rut was over and he contacted you, but you felt so lonely without a single text from him.

One day you thought you heard a noise outside so you ran out of the house, thinking Taeyong had came back, but there was no one there. The only thing that was new was an empty plate a few meters from you; the plate that Soobin had taken the day you met him. 

“Soobin?” you called nervously.

 You may still be a bit wary of him, but your editor still wanted you to write that book about faes. You had been researching at the local library and asking your boyfriend questions about the mysterious creatures but you knew that talking to one directly would be better.  The sun was still shining so talking to Soobin should be safe, right?

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” the fae’s calm voice replied as he came out from behind the tree where he was hiding. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said, trying not to show the fear in your voice.

“Are you, really?”  he asked.

“Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well, I’m a little scared,” you admitted. “But I’m still glad. I wanted to talk to you.”

“That’s interesting,” he purred, walking towards you and stopping right before the protection circle–which now was very visible to the human eye thanks to your boyfriend’s efforts– started. “I love a good conversation. What is it you want to talk about?”

“I’m a writer,” you said, sitting on the other side of the line that drew the circle. “I’m writing about faes and I was hoping to ask you some questions.”

“Ask,” he encouraged you, placing his elbows on his crossed legs and leaning forward, with his face resting on his hands. 

You gulped, deciding to go straight to the point. “Do you hunt humans?”

He smiled in a way that would have been sweet in a different setting but now was giving you chills, and not in a good way. “I do.”

“Why?”

“For different reasons. It depends on the human,” he shrugged.

“Do you…,” you shifted uncomfortably. “Do you eat them?”

He laughed out loud. It was the first time you saw him express himself so openly. “Your kind is not as nutritious as you think you are. Not with all that coffee and fat that you consume.”

You gasped, a bit offended. “Are you calling me fat?!”

He laughed harder. “Are you offended I don’t want to eat you?”

“N-no, but…”

“We did eat humans in the past. But we know better now. Eating you won’t bring me any benefit.”

You sighed in relief. “Then what were you planning to do to me? The day you took me out of the protection circle…”

He tilted his head. “I was not going to eat you…but I wanted a taste.”

“A t-taste?” you repeated.

“Mhm…You carry a very sweet smell. I was wondering if you taste like you smell.” 

You didn’t want to be dirty-minded. He probably didn’t mean it like that.

“Y-you mean in a cannibal type of way or—”

“A sexual way,” he deadpanned. 

“O-oh…” you mumbled awkwardly. “So uh…faes do s-stuff like that with other species?” 

“Not often. I haven’t fucked a human in centuries,” the way he stressed the word fuck made you blush. You knew that faes preferred to speak eloquently, but he had deliberately chosen a word used by humans.

“Isn’t it better to do those things with y-your kind?” you asked.

“You see, faes can gain vitality from emotions we elicit from others.  And, compared to faes, humans are so, so deliciously sensitive, meaning your emotions would be more intense than those I could possibly get from one of my own kind,” he said, eyeing you up. “If I feed on your pleasure I’m sure I’ll become even stronger.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Aren’t there other ways to be stronger?”

“There are,” he conceded. “But don’t you think this way is more fun for both of us?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to decline,” you said firmly. “I’m seeing someone.”

He looked at you dumbfounded for a second, expecting an explanation as to why that was relevant and then his eyes widened. “Ooh…are humans still monogamous?” 

“Uh…I am,” you replied.

“How disappointing,” he sighed. “Is it alpha?”

“Yeah…” 

“Hm…Congratulations…”

“Thanks…”

“You don’t sound that excited,” he teased. 

“I’m just a little tired,” you lied. “But thanks for answering my questions today. You were very helpful,” you said, reaching for the empty plate Soobin had left on the grass, when you felt his hand grabbing your wrist firmly.

You froze.

How could he touch you when you were still inside the circle?!

Oh shit.

The plate was outside of the circle.

And now so was your hand.

“Not so fast,” he warned you. “What do I get in return for all that valuable information?”

You had been fooled by the fae once again. How could you be so careless?

“Soobin, please,” you pleaded. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” he asked, tugging your wrist towards him playfully and almost making you lose your balance and exit the circle. 

“Please, there has to be something else I can give you,” you bargained desperately. 

He chuckled and finally let you go, making you fall on your butt. “Y/N, the sun hasn’t set yet. I can’t do anything to you. I was just playing.”

“That wasn’t funny!” you fumed. 

“But I would still like to propose a deal,” he said casually.

“Forget it,” you said, standing up, ready to go back inside the house. 

“Don’t you have an entire book to write about me?” he asked.

You looked at him suspiciously. 

“I can provide all the information you need,” he continued. “For a price.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you snapped at him.

“As delectable as that would be, that’s not the only way you can pay me. During this conversation, I absorbed a variety of emotions coming from you. They may not be as powerful as pleasure, but they satisfy me for now.”

“You were feeding on me the entire time?!” you accused him incredulously.

He shrugged. “Isn’t it convenient? I give you what you want, and you pay me back without even noticing.”

Well, he had a point. He wasn’t even hurting you. All you had to do was your job and he would take what he needs without disturbing you.

“Deal,” you said. “Come back tomorrow at the same time. No funny business.”

He smiled and gave you a short nod before you walked into the house.

“If alpha doesn’t satisfy you, the offer still stands!” you heard him say before you slammed the door shut.

True to his word, Soobin showed up the next day and the day after that. Separated by the protection circle, you had long conversations in which he answered your questions regarding faes while sneakily asking about your life. You often prepared tea and snacks for him, and while he enjoyed some of them, he did not hesitate to let you know when something wasn’t tasty. So far, the snacks he liked the most were whichever you prepared using fresh fruit, so it wasn’t surprising to find a handmade basket full of fresh berries on the spot where he usually sat. He said it was a gift, but you knew it was his way of asking you to bake something for him. 

You were kneading dough when Taeyong showed up at your place, looking exhausted. He kissed your forehead and hugged you softly, apologising a thousand times.

“I’m so sorry for leaving like that,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going into rut?” you asked him, hugging him back. You weren’t accusing him of anything, but you needed to understand him.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course I worry! How many times has it been since we started dating?”

“I got it under control, Y/N. My pack knows how to keep me locked away.”

“Baby, you shouldn’t have to...”

“I have no choice, love.”

“You have me,” you reminded him.

He gulped, pulling away from the hug. “I would never force this on you–”

“You’re not forcing me. I’m offering.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he warned.

“I do!” you said. “Your wolf should calm down after you claim me–”

Taeyong groaned, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t say stuff like that…”

“Taeyong, I can take it,” you insisted. “I knew what I was getting myself into when we started dating. I want to do this with you–”

“No,” he said harshly.

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous, Y/N.”

“I trust you–”

“I don’t trust myself!” he confessed. “I’m not myself when in rut. An alpha wanting to mate is not someone you can reason with. I wouldn’t stop even if you begged. Don’t you understand?! I’m not human!”

You looked at him with wide eyes. He had always been human to you–an equal. You couldn’t understand his fear, but it was obviously something that tormented him. 

“I don’t wanna argue, Y/N,” he said weakly. “I missed you so much…Can we not talk about this right now?”

You nodded, leading him to the sofa, where you lay down in each other’s arms in silence until he fell asleep. He probably didn’t sleep well the past week; he looked tired and thinner than before. That was the last bit of physical contact you had with your boyfriend; after that, he avoided every touch. It was torture, but he knew if he touched you he would kiss you like he was dying to, and then another rut would probably be triggered, which meant he would have to be away from you again. 

You tried to be understanding, even if it hurt to see him pull away like he was repelled by you. At least his words were still very loving and assuring, but you missed his touch.

Soobin noticed you sulking during one of your scheduled interviews. 

“You’re not even listening,” he said suddenly.

“I’m sorry!” you said quickly, snapping out of it. “I was thinking about something else. 

“That’s annoying,” he sighed. “Humans normally can’t think of anything else when in the presence of a fae.”

“I guess I got used to your presence by now,” you shrugged. 

He glared at you. He was in a bad mood because he couldn’t feed on your emotions unless he was the one causing them. Right now you were sad, but it was because of someone else so he didn’t get to absorb it. He had you right in front of him and he couldn’t get anything from you.

Unless…

“I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t been marked,” he said casually, looking at your neck. “Did alpha find another partner?”

You scoffed. “Our relationship is going well, thank you for asking.”

‘Yes,’ he thought. ‘Anger.’ He would take what he could get.

“It’s strange,” he continued. “Normally werewolves claim their partners as soon as they can.”

“He wants to take things slow,” you defended him.

“Hm… I guess he doesn’t need to mark you to please you,” he conceded.

You bit your lip an that told him all he needed to know.

“Oh? Alpha rejected sex with you?” he asked in a condescendent tone.

“I told you we’re taking it slow…”

“You’re telling me one of the most libidinous creatures–a half animal– refuses to copulate?”

Your face was red because of shame and anger. “Don’t talk about him like he’s just some animal.”

“I’m not looking down on him, Y/N. I genuinely find it unbelievable. I don’t see why he would hurt himself like that.”

That caught your attention, and your anger switched to worry. “Hurt himself?”

Soobin nodded. “If he imprinted on you, denying himself the pleasure of having you should hurt him physically. He shouldn’t be able to control himself.”

“Are you saying I’m not his real mate?” you asked in a small voice.

He seemed to consider it for a moment and then he shook his head. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m certain he imprinted on you. There has to be another reason why he rejects your body.”

“Like what?” you asked urgently. All your anger was long forgotten. Now you wanted answers.

The fae licked his lips. “I can’t think of a reason not to want to fuck you, Y/N. I’m still hoping you  accidentally step out of the circle at night.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up, Soobin.”

“But…” he said tentatively.

“But?” you repeated.

“If it hurts him not to have sex, and he still chooses not to, it could be that maybe…”

“Maybe what?!”

“...He’s not attracted to you.”

Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t even considered that possibility. You knew werewolves imprinted for life and that they would be loyal to their partner no matter what, but now that you thought about it, they couldn’t choose who they imprinted on. What if you were not his type but he was stuck with you? What if he was trying his best to be a good mate, but he genuinely did not want to sleep with you?

“...You think he’s not attracted to me?” you repeated.

“No. I’m saying that could be a possible reason for someone not to want to lie with their partner.”

You nodded. It was only a possibility. It wasn’t necessarily true, right?

But the more you thought about it the more it made sense. What if the reason he pulled away every time wasn’t to protect you, but because you disgusted him?

Seeing you like that, Soobin felt guilty. He wanted to make you feel something and feed on it, yes, but maybe he had taken it a bit too far. ”I’m sorry, please forget what I said”

“Okay,” you said absentmindedly, picking on the blueberries he had brought you today. 

He grabbed your hand, which once again had incautiously crossed the shield around the house. This time you were too sad to be scared.

“You’re attractive, Y/N.”.

“Thanks…,” your emotionless voice replied.

“I mean it.”

“Right,” you said, not believing him and attempting to stand up.

“Wait!,” was the last thing he said before he hastily pulled your hand and took your entire body out of the protection circle. 

You landed on top of him, spilling the berries all over the grass, and just when you were about to demand an explanation you heard a hoarse familiar voice.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Taeyong commanded. His tone was scarily calm. 

You quickly stood up and so did Soobin.

“Taeyong–” 

“Get back into the circle, Y/N,” he demanded, making his way towards Soobin.

“We were just talking,” you insist but your boyfriend had already grabbed the fae by his necklaces and pulled him closer threateningly. 

“Didn’t seem like it,” he growled, staring down at Soobin’s calm expression. He had arrived right in time to see the fae pull you towards him and his blood was boiling.

“Let him go!” you pleaded, trying to separate them. 

“Get the fuck back inside the circle!” he yelled at you. “Don’t you see how dark it is already?!”

You finally noticed that it was indeed late. You had been talking for so long that you didn’t pay attention to the sunset and the fact that it was the time for faes to hunt.

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you insisted.

“You don’t know that,” Taeyong disagreed.

“Soobin, tell him!” you begged the fae, who had been quiet the entire time.

“I do not intend to cause her pain,” Soobin finally said, causing Taeyong’s hold to loosen up a bit as he knew faes did not tell lies. “But my intentions are not pure either.”

You opened and closed your mouth dumbly. Did he have a death wish?! Why would he admit that?

“...What do you mean?” Taeyong hissed.

Soobin’s lips twisted into a lazy smile. “You know exactly what I mean, alpha.”

The werewolf lost it, and slammed the fae against a tree. Soobin didn’t even try to defend himself, nor did he show any sign of pain. He just stared at the furious man back.

“NO! STOP!” you yelled. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near her again,” Taeyong grunted. “Do you understand?”

“But she has a book to write,” Soobin replied arrogantly. 

“TAEYONG!” you screamed, hugging your boyfriend from behind before he had the chance to throw a punch. “Baby, please, let him go. Please.”

Taeyong glared at the Soobin furiously. He was nowhere near done, but he could feel your arms shaking around him. He would not be the cause for your distress. Hesitantly, he let go of Soobin. “Get lost.”

Soobin wasn’t done either, but because of how scared you were, he decided to stop for now. Without another word he walked away. 

For a minute, you and Taeyong stood where they were in silence until he sighed and grabbed your arm, walking back into the safety of the protection spell. You were about to enter tne house when he stopped.

“It’s not the first time, is it?” he asked seriously. “I could smell him on you before, but I thought I was imagining things.”

“He comes here often,” you admitted, feeling Taeyong’s grip on your arm tighten. “But we are always separated by the spell.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was bothering you?”

“He’s not bothering me,” you mumbled. 

Taeyong looked confused…and nervous. “So you were willingly spending time with the fae prince?”

You shrugged awkwardly. “He’s been helping me with my book.”

“Faes don’t do anything for free,” he said apprehensively. “You know that, right?”

“I do…”

“...Whad did he want in return?” 

Now he was alarmed. What had Soobin done to you?!

“He’s been feeding on my emotions,” you admitted. It sounded more intimate and shameful now that you had said it out loud.

“...What?! Y/N why–...what were you thinking?!”

“Taeyong, he didn’t hurt me. Other thatn that, all he did was talk to me and bring me fruit,” you groaned, tiredly.

He stared at you in disbelief. “…All those baskets of fruit in the kitchen are his doing?!”

“What, you think it’s poisoned or something?” You asked sarcastically.

“Fruit has a sexual innuendo for faes,” Taeyong deadpanned. “They exchange them and eat them together during the courting stage.”

Your jaw dropped and your confidence left your body. 

“He left out that detail, huh?” Your boyfriend asked rhetorically.

“I…I told him I wasn’t interested,” you said.

“Yet you accepted his courting gifts and let him absorb your emotional energy.”

“Are you jealous?” You scoffed for a lack of a better comeback.

“Yes! Jealous and furious at your naivety!”

“I know what I’m doing, okay?” you said defensively.

“No, you have no idea what you’ve been doing ever since you came to this town!” he exclaimed. “You came to live into the forest having no magical abilities, without even knowing about protection spells, let a fae court you without telling me, and even let him feed on you like it’s no big deal?!”

“Would you have preferred I fucked him as payment?!” you blurted out. 

Taeyong’s eyes widened.

Oh no.

“That’s what he originally asked from you, huh?” Taeyong scoffed. 

“It’s fine, I rejected him–”

“It’s not fine, Y/N, what the fuck?! He could have taken you regardless!”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know him!” he roared. “You don’t know how men think! I could smell his desire for you, Y/N, goddammit!”

“Good to know someone desires me…,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes and trying to walk past him and into the house, but he pulled you back towards him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“At least he’s not disgusted by me.” 

“What are you even talking about?!” he growled, starting to lose his patience.

“Oh, please! It’s obvious! You’re not attracted to me, Taeyong!”

Taeyong shook his head and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?!”

“You hate it when I touch you. You pull away when I kiss you. Honestly, Taeyong, why are we even together?”

“You can’t be serious right now,” he chuckled bitterly. “All this because I haven’t dicked you down?”

“Fuck you,” you said, ready to end the discussion and get into the damn house but once again he yanked you back, this time kissing you forcefully.

You wished you had the will to push him away, or at least to remember you were mad at him, but his lips felt so warm and soft against yours and it had been so long you couldn’t even try to resist him. You let him take the lead, moaning at the way he basically fucked your mouth with his tongue while his hands travelled up and down your body. 

You gasped when he pulled up your shirt swiftly and the cold breeze caressed your stomach. It reminded you you still hadn’t gone into the house.

“B-baby, shouldn’t we go inside?” you asked.

“Why?” he asked nonchalantly before pulling the shirt even higher, along with your bra. “Like you weren’t about to let the fae prince take you against a tree,” he said sharply and attached his mouth to one of your nipples.

You moaned and threw your head back. “I-I wasn’t going to–”

“I would have killed him,” he said between wet kisses placed on your chest, licking up to your neck. “I would have started a damn war and put the entire town in danger. But you don’t care about that, do you? You just wanted sex.”

“W-with you only–Ah!” you gasped when one of his hands slid inside your pants, cupping your center and patting it roughly.

“I’ll give it to you. Again and again,” he promised, nibbling on your ear. “But don’t say later I didn’t warn you.”

All of a sudden he turned you around so you were facing the forest and he was standing behind you. He held you in place by circling your waist with one hand while the other found its way into your underwear making you squirm nervously. 

“Oh! B-baby, wait–” you wanted to convince him that it was scandalous for him to finger you in such a compromising position where the whole forest could see. “The faes–Oooh!”

“I know, my love. I see them,” Taeyong chuckled by your ear, easing a finger into your entrance. 

“F-fuck!” you moaned. Unlinke Taeyong’s your human eyes could only see some trees in the dark of the night, but it was hunting hour, so you had no doubt someone was out there. Soobin probably hadn’t gone too far. He could be watching this lewd spectacle right now. “It’s so embarrassing…Nngh!”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t be embarrassed,” he panted between messy licks on your neck. He slid a second finger inside of you and curled them in just the right angle to have your vision go blurry and your toes curl. “Soobin wanted to see you cum, so we’re going to show him, yeah?”

You shook your head, but you could feel yourself getting close to your climax. “Taey-aah…Baby I’m s-so sorry, p-please–Ah!”

“If you’re sorry you’re going to cum on my fingers for the entire forest to see,” he dared you, pumping into you faster and pressing his palm against your clit. 

“Taeyong!” you moaned, tilting your head back and resting it on his shoulder as he fingered you furiously with one hand and bounced your tits with the other.

“Come on, come on, Y/N, cum, cum, fucking cum!” he demanded darkly before sinking his fangs into your skin and pressing your G-spot harder. 

For a second you couldn’t breathe. Your body felt light and tingly and the only thing you could focus on was your boyfriend’s raspy voice as he complimented you.

“That’s my mate,” Taeyong cooed, licking the fresh mark on your neck and finally  taking his hand out of your underwear. “From now on only I can make you cum, mmkay?”

You nodded dumbly and allowed your legs to give out, landing on your knees on the grass. That had been so intense you were still coming to terms with the fact that you had had an orgasm in public and, potentially been seen by Soobin. 

More importantly, you had been marked as Taeyong’s, meaning he did want you after all.

Before you had time to celebrate you felt a sharp pain on the back of your head as Taeyong pulled your hair to make you look up. 

The first thing you saw was his massive hard cock as he jerked it slowly, and if you looked a bit higher you could see his red eyes staring back into yours. 

“Suck,” he commanded, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth. 

You didn’t hesitate. You were salivating the moment you saw it and you wanted nothing more but to have it in your mouth, completely forgetting all decorum and the fact that you were still pretty much out in the open. You parted your lips and licked the precum leaking from his tip, making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.

“I said suck, not lick,” he grunted, pushing the tip past your lips and shuddering at the warmth. “Mmm…yes.”

You sucked on the tip enthusiastically, hollowing your cheeks occasionally to hear him curse, and then taking him deeper…or at least trying to, because even though you had heard about an alpha’s size, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

He was barely half way in when you gagged around the tip and a loud moan escaped him. “Ooooh…Oh, Y/N, fuck…”

You tried to get used to the feeling, but he wasn’t feeling patient today so he used his grip on your hair to angle your head in a position to fuck into your mouth comfortably, making you gag again.

“Come on, love, relax your throat,” he instructed, thrusting faster and trying to go deeper, but his size was too much for you. “What was The Moon thinking? Giving an alpha such a delicate human to breed? How will you t-take my knot?” he asked teasingly, but his words caused damage to himself, making his cock twitch at the thought of fucking you somewhere thighter and more wet than your mouth.

You moaned around him, struggling to breath as he kept assaulting your mouth. Luckily he took his member out, allowing you to gasp, desperate for air. 

“Almost there, love,” he grunted, using his cock to slap your cheek. “Open up,” he urged, now slapping your tongue, before he placed both his hands on the back of your head and thrusted into your mouth with full force on more time, rolling his eyes back at the pleasurable feeling of you moaning and gagging around him while his cum filled your throath. “F-fuuuck…,” he breathed out, moving your head harshly from side to side for a little extra stimulation like you were nothing but a toy.

When you thought you would pass out he released you, making you cough loudly and take desperate breaths. 

Once you calmed down, Taeyong kneeled down in front of you and kissed your forehead, which was a crazy contrast to his previous behavior, before he took you in his arms and lifted you up.

“Show’s over,” he said, looking into the dark forest. You still couldn’t see anything, but it was obvious who Taeyong was talking to. “She’s taken,” he added before (finally) carrying you inside.

It finally hit you that he wasn’t finished when you found yourself landing on your bed on your back, with your legs hanging off the side. Taeyong climbed on top of you and looked at you as he caressed your hair. His gentle touch showed you that your sweet boyfriend was still there, even if he wasn’t the one in control of his actions.

He leaned in and licked a string of cum from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, before kissing you. “Don’t say I’m not attracted to you,” he said. He didn’t sound angry anymore, but his tone was serious. “Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked and coughed a little, your throat still sore.

He nodded, now looking at the trail his fingers were drawing, from the mark on your neck to your still uncovered breasts, and going down your stomach. He then got off the bed and in the blink of an eye he ripped off your pants and panties.

“Tae–” you called his name questioningly, sitting up, but he gently pushed you back on the mattress and kneeled in front of you. 

He kissed your inner tigh slowly, nibbling on it occasionally as he got closer to your center.

“Oh god,” you whispered when blew on your clit before looking into your eyes, sticking his tongue out and immediately flattening it against you. “Ooh! B-baby…ah…”

He moved his head in small circles, slowly, moaning at your taste. Then he licked his way down to your entrance, using his fingers to spread your folds and thrust his tongue inside.

Your back arched and you screamed at the intrusion, and he loved to hear you losing your cool like that, so he pressed his head harder against you, licking and drinking as much of you as he could while his nose teased your clit just enough to drive you insane. Your hands landed on his head, pushing him harder against you and he moaned appreciatively and sliding a digit in along with his tongue.

“Taeyong oh–...Oh my g-god,” you gasped, feeling yourself getting close for the second time.

He knew exactly what to do. He attached his mouth to your clit and sucked on it slowly, but thrusted another finger into you at a faster pace. The contrast was delightful and your body tensed, finally releasing as his tongue circled your clit languidly.

Satisfied, he parted from you, taking his fingers into his mouth to suck on them wantonly. “Mm…Y/N, that was heavenly,” he purred.

You were still registering his words and the tingling feeling in your body when you felt something hot and hard rubbing your pussy. It was finally happening; Taeyong had taken off his pants and underwear and was standing between your legs guiding his cock into you. His size was intimidating, but more than scared, you were eager.

“B-baby,” you gasped at the intrusion.

“Mm?” he hummed, focused on the way your walls squeezed him.

“Take me,” you pleaded and winced when he thrusted more of him inside.

“Y-yeah…” he agreed pushing a bit harder and groaning when he couldn’t get any deeper. “Fuck, Y/N, so tight…” 

He held your ankles against his shoulders, pulled out until only the tip remained inside and then rammed back into you, letting out a shaky breath. “This is…oooh…this is all y-your tiny cunt can t-take…f-fuck,” he grunted building up a steady pace even if he coldn’t fit completely inside.

“Ah–ah, ooh…,” you whimpered, gripping the sheets for support. The pain was being replaced by a pleasant tickle in your lower abdomen, and his breathy moans only made everything a thousand times more erotic.

“N-need to–....,” he licked his lips and pushed your legs towards your body, folding you. “Go deeper…”

“Can’t b-baby, sorry–OOH!!” You moaned in surprise when he climbed on the bed, one foot planted on each side of your body, and he pressed your legs all the way to your chest, and pounded into you using his whole weight. He indeed went deeper than before.

“We c-can,” he mumbled like he was entranced. “We ca–aaah!” he insisted, bouncing on top of you to fuck into you deeper with each thrust. “S-see, my l-love? Your pussy is w-welcoming me, squeezing me s-so good…” he added deliriously. 

Your eyes rolled back when he doubled up the pace. His balls slapped against your ass and he grunted each time he felt himself get a centimeter deeper inside of you. One of your hands travelled down your body to pinch your clit and you tightened around him, making him cum with a throaty groan.

He closed his eyes and filled your cunt with his load with relish. The first of many times to come.

“Haa…Y/N…my mate…,” he breathed out, slowly opening his eyes to look at you with adoration. 

He pulled out slowly, and got off the bed to once again stand between your legs, which he held open to admire the view of his cum spilling out of you.

“Taeyong…” you croaked tiredly. “B-baby, my legs hurt.”

He kissed your calf and put your legs down, but just when you thought you could catch a breath he manhandled you so were on your belly. 

“B-baby?” you asked hesitantly, trying to turn around, but a strong hand on your nape held you in place. 

“Present properly,” he growled with his thick voice.

Instinctively you knew what he meant. You placed your knees on the mattress and arched your back, lifting your lower body while keeping your chest down. 

Taeyong hummed with approval, letting go of your nape to caress your back and then knead your ass cheeks. His hands then travelled down your tighs and pushed them open, allowing his dick to tease your folds and making you clench around nothing. 

“Should have done this since the beginning,” Taeyong murmured, sliding into you slowly. “You wouldn’t have–aah….,” he gasped and his hips faltered when you pushed back to meet him midway. “Shit… you wouldn’t h-have entertained another man’s advances if I had…haa… kept you—Mmh…full…”

“You were t-too busy avoiding me–” you had the audacity to say but were quickly interrupted when he plunged into you hard enough to leave you breathless.

“You have a lot of nerve for someone who c-can’t even…haaa… take me all the way in,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “My bad,” he sneered. “I treated you like a queen when you wanted to be fucked like a whore.”

“You’re so petty when you’re jea– Fuck!” you whined when he positioned one feet on the bed and curled his body over yours, quickening his thrusts.

“You still don’t know your place, hmm?” he muttered darkly as one of his hands drifted towards your folds. “I was too lenient with you. But that stops today,” he grunted rubbing your clit roughly. 

Your brows furrowed with pleasure and you shrieked when your orgasm hit you. Your body tensed and then fell limp on the bed, making him slide out of you, much to his disapproval. 

“We’re nowhere near done, omega,” he purred.

Your eyes snapped open. What?

“W-what did you call me?” you asked, turning around and crawling back cautioslly. 

He followed you, climbing onto the bed and landing on top of you, giving you a passionate kiss. “My omega,” he mumbled in between kisses.

“B-baby I’m,” you sighed when his kisses travelled down your jaw. “I’m not an omega…” you reminded him, caressing his hair gently.

He looked at your face, then at the mark on your neck and then back at your face. Then he laughed softly and shook his head, cupping your face. “You’re confused,” he cooed.

You were astonished. 

He was gone gone.

Is this what he meant when he said he wasn’t himself when in rut?

“Taeyong,” you called his name while he tried to take off your wrinkled shirt and bra. “What’s my name?”

He threw your clothes somewhere on the floor and went for another kiss. “Y/N,” he sighed against your lips. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, my mate, my omega…”

Okay, at least he knew who he was fucking. He was only mistaken about one detail.

““I’m human,baby,” you tried to reason. “Humans can’t be omegas.”

He took his shirt off, and positioned himself between your legs. “Nonsense. Only an omega has hips like these,” he reasoned, looking at your body, enchanted. “Perfect for breeding,” he muttered before sinking into you in one go.

“Oooh! Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whined, arching your back.

“And these tits,” he uttered, leaning down to burry his face between them, kissing, licking, biting. “Perfect to feed our pups.”

You let out soft moans and gave up on trying to reason with him. He was in rut and to be honest, it was turning you even more how pussy drunk he was.

“All you have to do is let me in,” he growled, pushing his hips onto yours harder, still trying to fit it all inside.

“G-god, shit–Aaaah!” you squirmed in his arms.

He sit up and held your hips in a strong grip to start fucking you with intent. He was sweating and grunting, tensing his muscles every time he pushed into you, trying to reach deeper. “Accept me, omega,” he moaned. “Be good.”

“I’m t-trying, baby I– fuck, I d-don’t think it’s possi–Aaaah!!” you screamed when thrusted hard, finally burying his cock into you completely. Your legs shook and you threw your head back, completely caught off guard by an intense orgasm. “T-taeyong—Tae, fuck!”

Taeyong’s jaw had dropped. He himself was shocked at how deliciously good it felt to be one with you. He laughed breathlessly and gave you an open-mouthed kiss, which you barely responded to, as you still hadn’t completely came down from your high.

“See? Y-youre my perfect little omega,” he breathed out, pulling out and fucking back into you, satisfied with the depth of his thrusts. “F-fuh…fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing,” you heard him say when you got back to your senses.

You couldn’t believe this was your sweet, shy boyfriend. His moans were loud and shameless, his words were highly indecorous, his movements were precise but harsh, his body was covered in tattoos you didn’t even know he had, his teeth were displayed in a content smile that seemed sinful with the sounds that came out from his mouth, and his pupils were so dilated you couldn’t even see the red in his eyes.

 Then you looked down and saw a slight bump forming in your tummy along with his thrusts. 

“Oh g-god…Baby y-you’re in my stomach…” you sobbed, making him groan appreciatively.

“Ooohh fuck, yeah,” he hissed, using one of his hands to press down on your lower abdomen and making you whine. “Yes, love, yes, yes,” he murmured.

“S-so big,” you whimpered

“All y-yours, my love,” he cooed, pressing his pelvic bone against your core and rotating his hips.

You  tossed and turned desperately, the stimulation becoming too much for your spent body, and then everything turned black. You coun’t see anything, your ears were ringing and your heart rate slowed. You felt weightless and then came nothing. 

You don’t know how long you were gone, but when you woke up Taeyong looked absolutely deranged, fucking into you fast enough to have the bed shaking and panting like a dog in heat. When you made eye contact he shivered, cumming inside of you with a guttural moan, but he didn’t stop. He winced and kept going like his life depended on it.

He had warned you.

He told you he wouldn’t be able to stop.

You knew there was only one way to calm him down. 

“Oh, baby,” you called for him. “My baby needs t-to knot me?”

He nodded quickly panting, looking at your belly, dazed. “Pups,” was the only coherent word he could say and even that was probably hard to pronounce in such a lust-induced state.

“W-wanna give me your pups?” you taunted, pulling him impossibly closer by circling his waist with your legs. “Make me a mommy?”

He groaned animalistically, snapping his hips hard.

You heard a loud crack. 

And then, before you could comprehend what had happened, the room moved slightly and you felt yourself fall along with Taeyong, and the mattress.

 One of the bed legs bent–or broke, you had no idea–and now you were lying on a slightly bent mattress on the floor with your boyfriend still humping you.

“B-baby—we broke the–Oh!” you tried to speak, but Taeyong couldn’t care less. He was so close and it felt so good he went even harder and faster.

“Haa…,” he panted, furrowing his brows. “Aah–ah haa my–...my omega.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, not trying to correct him anymore. “I’m yours, baby–ah! Ah! Oh–AH!”

His eyes rolled back until only the white part was visible, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as a lewd expression of pure bliss when his knot finally started forming.

“Yeess, baby, g-give it to…aaah! Give it to m-me, come on,” you urged him, using one of your hands to rub your clit.

 Heavy pants were the only thing coming from his mouth. He forced his knot into your entrance and let out a high-pitched moan, cumming so hard he felt dizzy. 

You tossed your head back, stroking your clit faster until you came one more time. This orgasm was not as intense as the others, but Taeyong’s constant spurts of cum inside of you made it feel just as satisfying. 

“Pups,” he repeated, sighing shakily and caressing your stomach and whimpering when his cock twitched and released another string of cum. “T-take my pups…,” he said, finally collapsing on top of you.

“Holy shit, Taeyong,” you breathed out, weakly lifting one of your hands to play with his hair. “You weren’t joking about this whole rut thing.”

He hummed,  looking for your neck to lick his mark possessively.

“But I told you I could handle it–” you continued speaking before he silenced you with a kiss.

“You have no choice now, Y/N,” he said when he pulled away, finally sounding lucid. “You’ll have to endure it until the end.”

You scoffed. “I just did.”

He raised his brows. “You think it’s over?”

“Well, it looks like you’re back to normal now, so…yeah?” 

He stared at you in silence and then sighed.

“Y/N…my ruts last a week,” he said slowly. 

“A week?!” you repeated in disbelief.

“Mhm,” he confirmed. “I gain some clarity back after cumming a few times, but that will probably last about 20 minutes before I’m fucking you again.”

Your eyes widened at the discovery of this information and he tried his best not to laugh.

“But like you said, you can take it, right?” 

[cokou]

Hello can you please give me deflamingo headcanon the scenario would be that y/n came to dressrosa for a new start. She opened her cafe+flower shop and is a regular human living her life. Doffy comes there with his crew and got attracted by her and begins to terrorise her. She doesn't know Doffy is the king of Dressrosa

Thank youuu in advance 🥰

Note ✉* ~ || Definitely! Tysm for requesting this anon! I'm more than happy to give this to you, +headcannons and storyline on the fic! <33 || Do not translate, transfer, or reform, this is my only account (exp. Ao3), will not be cross posted anywhere. || 𖤐٭┆Masterlist

Summary* ~ You were ready for a new, fresh start in Dressrosa, only to be taunted by a certain man. Warning* ~ Stalking* Yanderism* || Genre* ~ SFW-ish

ᴴᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵘˢᶦᶜ, ᵈᵉᵃʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ?

Author's note ✉* ~ Hello reader, see the end of the storyline for Doffy's headcannons! Love ya💗

—

You sat on a bench just outside of your newly constructed shop, your first very own shop. You couldn't hold back smiles as you imagine how you would run it, so much ideas struck your mind and you started arranging furnitures one by one inside your little cafe and your flower shop.

Arriving at Dressrosa was exciting, you had picked it specifically to start a new. Then just a few months in, you decided to open your first shop, a cafe and a flower shop. It had always been your dream to have your own shop, and now, you had perfectly fulfilled your dream. With it being colored as your most adored gradient, the designs being carefully and delicately made by your own preference.

Everything was going smooth, opening the shop just after 7 days of preparation, everything was perfect and beautiful. This was definitely going to be such a wonderful start.

The first day, costumers had filled your shop, ranging from 12-30 person the whole day. Everyone had complimented your interiors, your menu's, everything was smooth and on going. The first day wasn't all so bad, the costumers were all kind and even promoted your business to their families. You had earned approximately 12,457 Berries on your first day.

The second day, your business was BLOOMING, ranging from 31-79 person the whole day. Just like the first day, they had complimented the menu, saying that everything was perfect and even gave perfectly rated stars on your ratings, even seeing a cute couple buy from your flower stand. The second day was the best for you, although, some customers were a bit hard to contain, over all, everything was good. You had earned approximately 21,735 Berries on your second day.

The third day, fewer customers had shown up, but still a lot for new starters like you, ranging from 9-28 persons the whole day. It was definitely a different path from day one and two, but everything seemed all fine and all. The third day was an average day at least, the customers who came from day one still served as your early bird customers, being the first one's to arrive shortly after you open up the shop. The flower shop had been sold half of it's contents, good job! You earned approximately 11,622 Berries on the third day.

The fourth day was a lot different, a big pirate crew had shown up in your shop, causing everyone to leave unfinished with their businesses.

"Oi, Woman. Give us the menu." A guy, almost as tall as your shop ordered. He had a pink feather-like coat, his tone was menacing and almost disrespectfully demanding. You hated him already, but he's your customer, so you quickly obeyed and gave them the menu book.

Not even a few minutes in by looking at your menu, they ordered your best selling coffee. You left their table to approach the register, tapping and calculating their total.

"Oi, Woman."

"Sir, i do prefer getting called by my name, (Name)." You spat.

"Hm, no. Come here, we won't bite." He was slowly getting into your nerves, some crewmates of his was already bickering about you, laughing and whispering.

"I'd like to know what you put in this coffee."

"I'm sorry, I won't tell you about that, this is my business, and it serves a part of it."

"Name your price, princess. I don't take no for an answer."

His prideful demeanor was causing you deep in rage inside your mind, casually trying your best to keep it to yourself. You know how badly you wanted to punch this man.

"Sir the ingredients are surely not for sale! So please, if that's all you want, you are free to leave!" The tall man stands up, ordering the crew to do as well. The man slammed the money in the table and began to leave your shop, making you sigh in relief.

"We won't be done so soonly, Princess. I expect you to give in soon. ~"

The door closed loudly and you backhandedly mocked their intentions as you close the shop to take a moment to load all the things that had happen during this day. The Flowers hadn't had a sale, only 23 people came in, what a disaster. You had earned approximately 4,615 Berries on the fourth day.

However, the fifth day was even. worser. The man with a pink feather-like coat came back, with lesser people this time. He didn't let any other person enter your little shop, cauding you to have very little sales. They stayed inside your cafe for the WHOLE day, asking you all types of personal questions uncomfortably.

The man had introduced himself as 'Doflamingo', not even giving a single care in you. All you wished was for them to get the fuck out of your shop, to continue your business like any other person would. But unfortunately, they wouldn't let that happen, they began giving you so much problems just by being around that you were tempted to call security.

After around 4PM, they finally left, you were exhausted and frustrated for earning almost norhing with their asses being on your business. You walk over their table to collect the bill.

. . .

They left 50,000 berries on the table. You had earned exactly 50,000 berries on your fifth day... how strange.

The next following days were hell, your customers had ran away from your business ass the man kept visiting. The flowers were fastly withering, the menu wasn't selling much. But hell, you were earning lots. Even a single 350 berries coffee was payed in large sums of tens of thousands, you weren't complaining.

It was definitely your lucky and unluckiest week ever.

Weeks passed by, the man hadnt been visiting your shop anymore, your customers were slowly coming back, and your flowers weren't withering anymore!

Things were starting to get back onto the normal side, however, you never fail to notice that the shop would get late, late, late night visits outside. Feeling as if there was a presence of someone watching you restock for tomorrow's morning. It left you goosebumps all over your skin as well as shivers on your spine. It was unsettling.

A windy storm was getting closer as the clock reached midnight, the walk towards your home was cold, windy, and you felt that wrongly presence behind you, yet seeing no one as you turn around to peek.

It wasn't to your shock as a newspaper landed on your face after a strong wind blew.

'KING OF DRESSROSA, "DOFLAMINGO" ANNOUNCED A NEW PUBLIC RULE TO ALL CITIZENS! '

"Doflamingo? I swore i heard that name somewhere." Your jaw dropped as a picture of the 'king' was attached on an opinion giving. Holding your mouth to a shock, all this time. All this time, the person who terrorized you in your cafe was, the king of Dressrosa, Donquixote Doflamingo.

—

Author's note ✉* ~ Hello reader, you have successfully reached the end of the storyline! What goes under would be headcannons.

—

• Doffy would regularly send calmly threatening letters on your mailbox at exactly 3am, nonetheless, the letters were personally detailed identifications of you.

• Your cash register was FILLED with money right after you open it first thing in the morning.

• Your regular customer was found dead near a lake that happens to be connected nearby your shop, so that being interrogated by random security and being on a look out.

• You forever felt that unknowingly presence behind your back once you look away.

• Doffy still comes back by himself to order atleast once on your shop, he gives you less headaches from now on and has ordered everything from your menu. (He payed people to bomb vote your shop to 5 stars)

• No matter how cheap his order is, he pays you exactly 50k berries per order he makes, which makes you around 500k berries a month. Yes, you're able to expand your business and all.

• It won't be a surprise to see regular gifts inside your mail or infront of your porch, these items were the ones you usually eye when going to a store.

• It was all strange how almost all the persons you talk to had gone missing right after they walk home, it didn't bother you until 14 of them had gone missing. Maybe you dont need to understand.

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me!

[cagesofgold]

jean kirstein headcanons <3

🎵 cry baby - the neighborhood 🎧

You and Jean had been friends for about a year before you confessed your feelings for each other, and for your one year anniversary, Jean’s gift, alongside the bundle of others he got you, was a notebook full of sketches he had made of you. You only found out how long he’d been drawing them when you realized that the one at the front was you sitting in the lecture where you first met.

a total plant dad. for one of your first dates he took you to a plant market and let you pick out three plants to take with you, which now sit on the windowsill in your shared apartment. (he also named all of them and speaks to them when no one’s around)

his favorite place to paint/draw is outside. in your apartment you have a relatively minuscule balcony, where he can often be found shirtless, letting paints coalesce across a canvas in the early hours.

he likes his coffee strong, will refuse to add sugar to it and tends to lean more towards savory than sweet.

he is the BEST gift giver. he is so thoughtful and will always paint you something for every birthday or gift giving occasion.

he’s very sentimental, harbors a cardboard box under his bed full of photos from high school and various nick nacks he had acquired throughout his life.

loves lamps. he likes a space to be cozy, and turning the overhead light on, to him, is the same as stabbing him in the eyes with a ten inch blade repeatedly. will whine, “noooooo” and bury his face in his arms any time you have to turn it on.

will pay for everything, wont even let you reach for your card, he’s just too fast.

is easily agitated, not by you though, mainly by Connie and Eren who always find a way to torment him on the regular. He blocks them at least four times a week.

loves the colour green. mainly darker shades, bring him a neon and he’ll act as if you’ve shot him.

is like a kid in a candy shop if you take him to an art shop, will take you by the hand and talk your ear off about different painting techniques and consistency’s of paint.

is extremely attentive. will instantly know if you are even so much as a little off. he knows you in and out and will simply ask, “listen or solution?” and will provide service on which you choose.

has a comically large phone, due to his hands. whenever he holds your phone it looks ridiculous.

his mother absolutely adores you, has a groupchat with you and jean where she frequently asks you two to come over for dinner.

he is an extremely cautious driver, this man will never be caught with a speeding ticket. this also manages to drive connie insane because of how fucking slow he is.

“i’m just being careful!”

“yeah okay, grandpa…” 💀

he loves to dance with you, arms wrapped around your waist as you sway to a gentle rhythm, him humming softly in your ear.

your apartment is extremely well decorated due to Jean’s artistic nature. he’s painted the walls, and made sure everything explodes with color. he believes beige home to be the death of interior design.

this also applies to beige babies, jean’s child will be having colorful toys and that’s that.

despite his size, he loves being little spoon. The feeling of your body heat against his spine helps him drift right off.

whenever he’s sick, no matter to what degree he always watches “singing in the rain” - it’s a comfort film to him due to his mother putting it on any time he had the flu growing up.

he adores jazz clubs. he just loves how peaceful and calming they are, and he likes to observe the different types of people who all come together to listen to the sweet hum of a saxophone. a lot of his art pieces are set in that environment.

he has a collection of hand cream. due to his career his hands constantly mirror that of a paint palette, and so, to ensure he doesn’t have cracked hands he always makes sure to moisturize them. his hands are his tools after all, in more ways than one….

you will always be his no.1 muse. a perfect day for him is letting you indulge in any hobby, read, watch tv, cook, bake, and as you do that, he’ll sketch, taking extra time on your eyes and smile. he just truly believes no landscape, no still life, and no composition will ever be as beautiful as what you can make occur on his page. <3

3 aot boy headcanons down, six to go 💋

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 4

stunning artwork of a scene from chapter 1 by @dominaarts that I've been dying to share!

Summary: A miscommunication between Thomas and Des results in a night of Dahlia and Mary dog sitting together. When a record breaking storm rolls in, Dahlia's faced with the decision on exactly how much vulnerability she wants to reveal. Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Mary Goore x OFC / 15.4k words Warnings: language, thigh-riding, p in v sex, mentions of recreational drug use, alcohol, storms, thunder, slight angst

A/N: Thank you for your patience and support as I've taken the time to write this. This was a difficult chapter to write as it starts building the foundation for the turning point of the story and I wanted to get it just right. Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🥰 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

Codependency was something I tried really, really hard to avoid. I’d long prided myself on my 

feral independent streak and would be damned if anyone, man or woman, made me reliant.

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

This was the shitty part of relationships. It seemed that when the people you love found someone that they wanted to devote themselves to, their time seemed to be sucked along with it. I understood where she was coming from. The novelty of a budding relationship is a unique and addictive feeling. I don’t blame her for chasing the high. 

While she tended the fire that she and Thomas were building, she was opting for spurts of lighter fluid rather than bits of soul-sourced kindling. And now her fire was growing and spreading, sometimes out of control, and it seemed like all of her time and resources were devoted to managing it. Which meant that some of her other relationships had to be put on the backburner until the flames could be brought to a dull roar. 

As if a sign from the universe, the stars finally aligned (or perhaps just our schedules), and Des and I were able to spend the afternoon together. It was exactly what I needed: some time with my best friend. 

After grabbing a couple of iced coffees from the boutique coffee shop downtown (at her insistence, of course, because the higher price was reflected in the quality of the roast, or something like that), we walked to one of our favorite thrift stores to pillage through the inventory. I felt a certain warmth creep through my chest as we entered the store. The smell was a bit musty, perfume-like, a permeating oxymoron of both dirt and cleanliness. It reminded me of our friendship: unlikely, brutally opposite at times, but unique and complimentary. 

The shop worker greeted us with a nod and a smile from the front counter and went back to browsing through her magazine as she sat on her high-rise stool, painted fingertips skimming over something about interior design. Des and I beelined to the back racks in the furthest room from the front of the shop. We knew that this was usually where they kept the good stuff. 

Thrifting was an exercise of equal parts skill and patience. It was best to go in with zero expectations of both finding anything or looking for a specific piece. My most successful trips had been ones where I’d happened upon things I didn’t even know I’d wanted (or like, for that matter). In fact, I’d long ago learned not to become discouraged when a trip turned out to be a bust. Busts were to be expected. The goldmines, however, outweighed the insolvencies. 

“It feels like forever since we’ve gotten to do this,” Des said as she stopped in front of a circular rack of short-sleeve knit shirts. She began sliding the hangers across the scraped metal, pausing to glance over each shirt as she did so. 

“It has been,” I replied. It wasn’t said with malice; more so, my tone conveyed a neutral honesty that I knew we’d come to appreciate about each other. Despite this, I could tell I’d struck a cord at the slight fall of her facial features. 

Des took a half-step back and turned to me with a sad smile. “I know I haven’t been around as much. I’m sorry.” 

“I understand.” And I did. She knew I did. But the morose feeling was still etched into her features in soft hatched lines and so I quickly added, “Not everyone can be a hot musician with Heraculan biceps. I’ll take my spot in line.” I gave her a wink, which seemed to soften her expression. 

I turned back to the rack and started thumbing through the medium-sized graphic tees. Quite a few were worn crewnecks of casinos or bars from around the state, though a couple school spirit shirts were peppered in. I nearly shuddered at the smiling beaver mascot that reminded me of puberty. 

Des broke my focus. “What about this one?” She held up a small white t-shirt with an image of Strawberry Shortcake on it. “Your muse!”

“One time I tell you about my obsession with Strawberry Shortcake and the Big Apple City as a child…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I continued culling through the rack. Des laughed and set the shirt back. 

“I don’t think your tits would fit in a small, anyway. Plus, it had a stain.” She pushed a couple more shirts to the side before turning her torso to me. “Speaking of cake, I heard you and Mary had a get together last week.”

A week had passed since I’d last seen Mary. I’d received another text a few days after our night of baking telling me that the cake was killer and his mom was impressed, but it’d been radio silence since. In any other situation with any other person, I’d probably feel irritation or some sort of anger; an inward creeping as to why this guy wasn’t at all interested in seeing me after a weirdly uncharacteristic close-knit evening. But this was Mary. He wasn’t known for punctuality or routine. On the contrary, Mary was a bit of an enigma, coming and going as he pleased, with zero rhyme or reason to his decision making. He seemed to do what felt right to him in the moment — whatever that may be. Or at least that’s how things appeared. 

The hanger I was sliding across the rack stilted, the fabric of the shirt still pinched between my fingers. My eyes widened slightly, and I failed to control the blush that crept into my cheeks. I refused to meet her stare, but knowing Des, she was giving me an all-knowing look. 

“You know, when I suggested that you make a cake for his mom’s birthday, I didn’t think that meant that you’d be doing it together,” she teased.

“Neither did I!” I said. Although I’d meant for it to come out nonchalantly, I’d sounded more defensive than intended. I tried to brush it off by swirling the iced coffee in my hand, ice cubes clinking and clashing as I brought the straw to my lips to take a sip.

“I didn’t know you and Mary were that close,” she speculated. 

I choked on the watery coffee that had been midway down my throat and brought a hand up to wipe at my mouth, coughing a little into my palm.

 Before I had a chance to respond, she cut me off, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Wait, no. Doll, you didn’t!”

I looked over at her with a surprised defensiveness that completely gave away the truth. Shit. Time for damage control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Des’ smile only widened. “Dahlia, did you sleep with him?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t as if I was ashamed to admit it. Mary was attractive. Sure, his reputation was a bit strange and extreme, but to those in the metal scene, it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But there was something that I liked about keeping Mary and I’s friendship hidden. Or were we friends with benefits?  Was it even a friendship? 

“You totally did!” Des said in response to my silent rabbit hole. I sighed and started to aimlessly shuffle through some sweaters on the next rack. Des began to laugh and looked at me coyly.

She walked over to the same rack that I was currently stationed at and rested her hand against the metal bar, leaning into it. “I swore I saw you two making out on the couch a while back at Thomas’, but he told me I was seeing shit,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. 

I hummed a noise in response, barely audible. My fingertips traced along a loose thread of a knit sweater and I rolled it between them, trying to focus on the scratchy acrylic yarn instead of the beet red burning in my face. 

“That WAS you two! How long has this been going on?” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger. They reminded me of saucers. Or satellite dishes. Maybe of the middle-aged woman at my work that thrived on office gossip and smelled like cat piss. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled a sweater off the rack to pretend to check the tag. “Nothing is going on,” I said. 80% Polyester, 20% Cotton.  “We’ve just hooked up a few times. That’s it.” 

Des cocked a curious brow. “A few? Wow, add that to my list of shit I didn’t expect.” She brought her half-drank iced coffee to her pink lips and took a slurp of the drink. I couldn’t tell if I was more annoyed at the sound or at her. 

 “So, what’s he like?” She grabbed a cardigan from the small section and pulled it up to inspect it, holding it to her thin frame to gauge the fit. “I bet he’s into some spooky, dark shit, like bloodletting or autoerotic asphyxiation or something. Oh! Or a piss kink!”

The garment I was holding was slammed back into the rack with more force than I’d meant. “Des! What the fuck?” I whispered loudly, trying to make a point that this was not something I wanted to talk about in public. Sure, no one else was in the back of the store, but that was besides the point. 

She held up a hand in defense. “Sorry! He looks like the kind of guy that’d be into that stuff.”

I brought the hand to my face that wasn’t holding the slippery, condensation-covered cup of coffee. With a sigh, I rubbed my left eye. “I am not having this conversation.”

Des brought her hands down and tilted her head with a look of disagreement. “Oh, come on! Why are you always so uptight about talking about this stuff?”

I took a step towards her and lowered my voice just slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to advertise my sex life, thank you.”

“I don’t advertise it, I just…reflect on it. It’s what normal girlfriends do — talk about the guys they’re with.” She turned to the next rack that was uncomfortably close to the one we had been rifling through and pulled a pair of corduroys out to give them a look over. “Who else would I talk to about it?”

She had a point. I breathed out a sigh and set my cup on the display atop the circular rack. “I guess you’re right.”

I looked up at her to see her sporting her signature smirk. “I’m always right. Now tell me, what’s he got hiding in those tight jeans?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“You are the last person I need to explain the intricacies of the male anatomy to.”

“Come on, Doll. I need details!” She whined, tossing the corduroys back onto the rack. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing cats have nine lives.” She stuck out her tongue at me and I reached over to make a swipe at grabbing it, earning me a chuckle and a shove. 

I laughed too, and if I was honest, I felt a semblance of relief that the weight of my secret had been lifted from my shoulders, even if just minutely. 

She took another annoyingly loud slurp of her iced coffee, the drink now edging the bottom line of the cup. Peering at me from above the lid, she broke contact with the straw. 

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

It was early evening on a Friday. I’d managed to get off of work a little earlier than expected — a relief given that I’d worked overtime these past few weeks to try to save up enough money for an unexpected car repair. The extra time turned out to be just what I needed to pack some last minute items in my backpack for the weekend. 

Des had asked — practically begged — for me to “do her a solid” and pet sit for her for a couple days over the weekend. My confusion rang heavy in the air when I realized that one, she didn’t have any pets, and two, neither did Thomas. 

“It’s his parents’ dog. He’s supposed to watch it this weekend, but he was able to book a couple last minute shows out of town that would be really good for the band,” she’d explained. Then, in almost overly characteristic Des-fashion, she gave me the eyes. The fucking Puss in Boots look. 

And those damn Dreamworks eyes had me hesitantly agreeing to watch the pawned pooch at Thomas’ place.  

It didn’t sit well with me. He was supposed to be watching his parents’ dog. But instead, he was having a friend of his girlfriend stay at his place to watch a dog she’d never met. I’d just hoped the dog was nice. 

After walking my bike to the back porch to lean it against the siding hidden from view from the street, I rounded back to the front door and gave it a few cursory knocks. As if on cue, loud barks began to sound — distant at first, but louder as the seconds went on — and I could just make out the scuffle of feet and claws against the hard floor. 

The door swung open and Des was restraining a black blur of tail and tongue and teeth. He wasn’t overly big, per se, but from what I could tell from his overexcited movements, he had to be at least forty or fifty pounds. 

“Hey! Come in—” she strained, holding the excited dog back as it wagged and wiggled in her arms. 

I slipped past the dog and kicked off my shoes on the hinged side of the door as she slammed it shut. “Brutus!” Des grunted as she tried to crouch over him and use her body weight as leverage. 

I straightened up and watched with choked giggles as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep him from charging me. “He’s — umph — he loves people —” said grumbled as the dog, presumably named Brutus, broke from her grasp and hounded over to me with a tail so violently wagging that I was afraid his hips would fly right off. He knocked into me with surprising force for his size and I toppled over to the ground. A slimy, velvety tongue began to attack my face and neck and I shrieked out in laughter as we rolled around on the floor. 

“Brutie! Brutus, off!” Des yelled. I could barely hear her over my screeches and giggles. 

A couple of moments passed and the dog calmed, crawling comically into my lap before curling up and looking at me with a panting smile. I ran my hand along the top of its head, scratching behind his pointed black ears. 

“Sorry, he really, really likes people. Not much of a watchdog,” Des said.

“It’s fine. He’s cute,” I replied, moving to scratch under his chin. “What breed is he?”

Des snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thomas says he’s a mutt. I think he’s a rescue.”

“Those are always the best ones,” I countered, earning a nuzzle into my hand from the furry canine nearly falling out of my lap. 

After a while of chit chat and petting the mammoth-sized wannabe cat splayed in my lap, I peeled my backpack off and set it against the wall and stood up  to follow Des into the kitchen. She explained Brutus’ feeding schedule (“He will try to convince you that he’s starving to death. Do not fall for it.”) and his typical routine, then showed me where Thomas’ parents had left the vet info in case of emergencies. It seemed pretty straightforward (easier than I’d expected, honestly), and I felt grateful that Thomas’ backyard was fenced off. A lost dog was the last thing I needed in life right now. 

Just as Des was setting the written feeding instructions back down on the counter, the door leading to the garage opened from down the hallway, and a pair of heavy footsteps came thunking toward us. 

Thomas came into view. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks a little as he glanced around the kitchen and dining area, turning a bit in his spot as if running through an imaginary list in his brain. By now, I’d seen Thomas in a variety of moods: ecstatic, embarrassed, exhausted, angry, piss drunk, and of course, the moments where he was absolutely enamored with Des, but I’d never seen him look so stressed before. His eyes looked tired yet his pupils were wide, countering the lines that were settling in around the corners of his eyelids. I’m not sure that he even noticed his shirt was inside out. 

“We found the pedalboard at the guys’ apartment. Some asshole put it on top of the fridge,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to visualize what he needed to do next. After a beat, he looked back down and his eyes met Des’ quizzical look. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t even fucking know.” He seemed to finally register that it wasn’t just his girlfriend in front of him and his demeanor changed a little. He straightened, almost toughened, and gave me a confused quirk of the eyebrows. “…Dahlia, what are you doing here?”

I mirrored his look. “Uh, Des said you needed me to house sit?”

Thomas looked between myself and Des, his face moving from a look of confusion to a look of what could be argued as annoyance. “Really?” he asked, taking another step closer to Des. “I thought I mentioned I’d figured all that out, babe.”

Desiree looked up at him with an innocent smile and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.”

He sized her reaction, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. Sure.” I was certain he was going to add something, but his potential dialogue with Des was cut off when the garage door opened again and the telltale sound of clunking boots against hard flooring cut through the air. I felt my heart simultaneously drop and expand in my chest. I had come to know that sound. 

“Everything is tied and tarped. I feel like fucking Patrick Bateman sans nailgun and Huey Lewis and the News.”

I had really come to know that voice. 

Mary rounded Thomas and Des and joined the impromptu party in the dining area. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet as I felt his stare bore into me from feet away. It was clear there had been a mix up, and although I couldn’t be certain that Des had something to do with it, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. 

“What’s going on?” Mary asked as he looked around the uneven circle of his friends. Brutus trotted over and began to sniff at his pant legs and Mary reached down to scratch the hound’s forehead. Mary’s long hair hung around him in strands, the ends clumped together in damp sections as it fell from around his shoulders and back. 

“Why is your hair wet?” Des asked him. I was sure it was her way of breaking the awkwardness. 

Mary looked at her with an air of obviousness. “Shower,” he replied. 

“Oh…weird,” she said, and I had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s full of shit. It’s raining outside and he’s been helping me load and tarp equipment in the truck.” Thomas reached out and clasped a hand to Mary’s shoulder, which to be fair, was dotted with what appeared to be wet raindrop marks. “We all know you hate bathing,” he added. 

Mary scoffed and shoved Thomas. “Fuck you guys.”

The air turned uncomfortable again, bordering sour, and it was Thomas who broke the silence. 

“Well, it looks like there’s been a miscommunication on who’s looking after this asshole,” Thomas started, looking directly at Des as he spoke although it was clear he was referring to the dog. She continued flashing her innocent smile, eyes still large as if concurrently seeking forgiveness and feigning ignorance. 

I felt compelled to speak up. I hated awkward silences, and I especially hated being the butt of one. “It’s not a big deal. I can head out if Mary’s got this,” I said with a shrug. 

“—It’s pouring out there!” Des quickly countered, looking between Thomas and I. 

Her defensive quip caused me to crinkle my eyebrows in response. “Bullshit, I was just outside and it was fine.”

I looked over at the sliding glass door to my left and sure as shit, the glass was coated in fine droplets sliding down to puddle at the deck below. The sky hadn’t been much more than overcast on my ride over, but it now swirled with tones of ash and charcoal. A storm was approaching. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Shit, well…I rode my bike over here.”

I could tell that the cogs were turning in Des’ mind as she tried to decide if she’d respond with comfort and support of her best friend or her boyfriend: the ever present dilemma. I felt a pang of guilt plague my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. You guys go,” I offered with a small smile. Forced, of course, because now I was stranded at someone else’s house with someone else’s dog and of course a particular…someone else. 

“You sure?” she asked. I could see Thomas eyeing me from behind her, his own expression mirroring her words. It was clear this was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to Mary and I. 

My gut told me to stay focused on the couple ahead of me, but my impulsiveness won over, and I glanced at Mary. He was watching with a look of amusement, arms crossed over his chest as his head batted to and fro between speakers. I swallowed lightly.

“Yeah, go. Go! It’s fine.” The voice was mine, but the words were clearly not my own.

A few uncomfortable and quick words were shared, and both Des and Thomas grabbed their overnight bags and popped them into the cab of the truck before driving off down the quiet residential street towards the gig a few towns over. And I was stuck in the ranch-style home with Mary Goore, an overexcited rescue dog, and an approaching storm. 

🜏🜏🜏

After piling into the car and sloshing down the road en route to the gig a few cities over, Des and Thomas were mid conversation about the situation that had happened just moments before. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” Thomas started, fingertips tapping against the wheel as they sped down the interstate. 

Des rolled her eyes. “They’ve been fucking!” Her voice was defensive. She quickly added, “Did you know that?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the road and drummed his fingers along to the song playing in the background. “No, and I don’t—” he sighed, removing one hand from the wheel to grasp at the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ, Desiree, you can’t play matchmaker on this one.”

Des crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Thomas briefly turned his head and gave her a serious look, sternness that nearly reminded her of her father. “Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Des shot him a look that dripped in sass. Any other time it would have spurred a different set of emotions in him, but not this time. He held his ground. 

“Just — fuck, baby, I’ve known Mary for a long time and he’s not really one to settle.”

Des scoffed. “You think getting with Dahlia would be settling?”

“No, not like that.” Thomas sighed again in frustration. “He’s not big into commitment. Doesn’t like to be tied down. Mary’s…not a relationship kind of guy.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Des pondered his response. “Well, I’m not saying they need to get married or anything,” she reasoned, “I’m just giving them a little push, is all. A weekend together, alone, no one to barge in and no expectations. It’s the perfect recipe for them to realize what they have going on.”

Another silence filled the cab of the truck. The sound of steady rain pelted against the windshield, only for the squeaky wipers to flick it off rhythmically, creating its own song and dance that counteracted the punk tune on the stereo system.  

After a moment, Thomas relented. “Don’t come crawling to me with those big, sad eyes when this ploy of yours blows up in your face.”

“What big eyes?!” Des craned her neck over and stared him down, though it was clear she couldn’t hide the smile bursting through her tough facade. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, babe.”

Des winked in his direction and the tension seemed to melt away. She reached over to grasp at his hand — the one that had fallen to his lap after drumming on the steering wheel —  and laced their fingers together. 

He let out a long breath and relaxed into the touch before grumbling, “They better not fuck on my bed.”

🜏🜏🜏

When Des and Thomas left, it was like they sucked what little comfort there had been straight out of the room. Sure, the house was occupied by two people and a dog (which some would even consider to be too crowded; three’s company and four’s a party and all that), but there was a timidness that I felt that seemed to have grown since my other outings with Mary. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all. Or perhaps it was my own lack of control in the situation. Regardless, I’d planned on staying a couple of days anyway — what was so bad about waiting out the storm to ride home?

I stood there, hands in my pockets as I continued to rock on my heels, before deciding to break the tension. “I should probably pick up my stuff,” I motioned to the general area my backpack was in and then quickly turned to retrieve my things. 

Backpack in hand, I headed to the bathroom to unpack. I’d packed light (because in all honesty, who did I have to impress), but I was searching for any and all excuses to put some distance between myself and the awkward situation I’d been thrust into. I pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of a plastic bag I’d jammed into the front pocket of my rucksack, mirroring the action with my face wash, moisturizer, and small bag of makeup essentials. I futzed for too long with the placement of the items, moving them from sinkside to against the wall and back again, before I gave up and sat back against the wall opposite the vanity. 

A few minutes went by and I felt a low growl erupt in my stomach. It was nearly six o’clock and I’d had yet to eat anything. I pulled out my phone, deciding to order takeout, and scrolled through the suggested nearby restaurants before settling on a well-rated Chinese place down the street. 

I was ready to press send on my order, but I remembered the elephant in the room and groaned, heaving myself up and making my way out to the main area of the home. Mary was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and upon noticing the garage door was ajar, I walked the short distance down the hallway and slipped into the adjoining garage. 

Mary was sitting in a camper chair in the empty space, lit cigarette between his fingers, with Brutus at his side. He was tossing a rope toy to the dog somewhat lazily, taking drags of the lit stick every so often. The garage was partially opened, just enough to let in the cool, damp air of the storm, and raindrops pittered in at the edge of the threshold. 

As soon as I shut the door to the house, his eyes shot up to meet my own and he nodded in greeting before tossing the toy to the opposite end of the garage for Brutus. 

“I’m ordering Chinese — you want anything?” I eventually spoke, body still against the steps connecting the sunken garage to the house. 

Mary let out an exhale of smoke and tapped the cigarette into a coffee can on the ground. “Whatever’s fine. I’m easy to please.” His telltale smirk painted his lips and I could see the mischief swirling behind his eyes. “But you already know that,” he added. 

I felt my eyes nearly roll out of my head and hopped down off the step, rounding him to sit in another nearby chair. As uncomfortable as his digs were supposed to be, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t do “awkward” with Mary that well. Sexual tension was another story. 

I added a few more items to the order and typed in my card information from memory before submitting the order, quickly clicking my phone off and stashing it in my pocket. My focus was broken when Mary interrupted the silence. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” he asked, head turning to glance at me. 

I sighed and rubbed the side of my face, showing my slight annoyance. “Desiree.”

Mary laughed, a warm chuckle that I’d grown to appreciate, and he ashed the cigarette into the can below him. “You’d think they’d learn to communicate with how they fucking act around each other.”

I stretched out my legs, sinking back into the camper chair. “Oh, I’m sure it was communicated…” I remarked.

Mary looked at me quizzically, head turned towards me again to flash those phthalocyanine eyes that somehow looked brighter in the odd lighting of the garage. I brushed off his look, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation I had with Desiree or the fact that she knew about our history. “The dog seems to like you.”

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

Mary laughed out again in response, that ever-present balmy giggle that pulled at the corners of his lips sending a wave of warmth through my body. “No, I’m just fucking with you. I’m good with animals,” he paused and his lips curled into a grin, ”when I’m not microwaving them, of course.”

My mind raced back to our first encounter together. The streetlights on the walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Paper bags with shaved ice and forties. Shitty gas station snacks. And our conversation about reputation. Namely, his reputation. “Oh, of course.” My tone was one of mock seriousness, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

I watched as he took another drag from the dwindling cigarette and then turned to look out at the half-closed garage door. The raindrops pelting against the shingled roof and cracked concrete driveway were the only audio that suffused the space, with the occasional exhale of pillowy smoke from the musician next to me. 

It was Mary that broke the silence again. He always seemed to be the one to do that. “Thanks again,” he started, hand waving around aimlessly as he spoke, “y’know, for the cake and shit.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad your mom liked it.” I spoke earnestly and my expression was one of sincerity. It felt foreign.

“She fucking loved it. She was surprised I had anything to do with making it,” he laughed and tapped his cigarette into the can. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad of a cook,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he turned to face me. “I’ve burned water.”

My jaw dropped just enough that I was sure it looked like I’d catch flies. “I…didn’t think that was possible.”

He shrugged and turned back to face forward, the cigarette now a stubby, crinkled nub between his middle and pointer fingers. “You should know by now that I’m full of impossible surprises.”

I leaned forward, turning my torso to point towards him while I pulled my legs criss-cross into the camper chair. “How on earth do you woo a woman if you can’t even cook fucking Kraft Mac n’ Cheese?”

“Women aren’t typically after my cooking skills. Or lack thereof,” he flicked the remaining ash of the cigarette down and it missed the can. He didn’t notice. “I’ve got other talents,” he paused, “Wooing isn’t really my style.”

I let his admission ring in the dampened air. It wasn’t surprising. From what I’d heard, he’d never had trouble landing women — particularly after gigs. “The life of a musician…” I trailed off. 

Another silence built as the rain colored the absence of our conversation. I could hear Brutus’ slight snores as he lay curled at Mary’s feet, seemingly tired from their earlier game of fetch. A breeze broke through the cracked garage door and swirled around us, bringing a chill into the otherwise comfortable space. I pulled my hoodie a little closer, feeling the cool air dance across my cheeks and the skin peeking through the jacket. 

“I think I’m gonna head in. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

Mary didn’t say anything in response — merely nodding and taking out another cigarette from the worn Marlboro carton — and I made my way back inside with a heavier mind than I’d come out with. 

🜏🜏🜏

I’d puttered around the house for what had seemed like ages, but in reality was likely only a handful of minutes. As familiar as I was with some of the rooms at Thomas’, I had to admit that there were areas I’d never been to,  namely his room or the basement. As rude as it might have been, I’d given myself a self-directed tour of the place, noting the half-completed projects he seemed to be working on to fix up the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of Des domesticating him or if the house really was a secret pride-and-joy. 

Eventually, I found myself in the den, sinking into the worn plaid couch that already held too many memories. I pushed them down and reached for the remote to the TV, opting just to hold it as my thoughts zoomed. I could probably put on a movie to kill some time until dinner arrived. It wouldn’t be long and it would serve as a nice distraction. 

I got up and thumbed through the impressive number of DVDs stacked next to the TV. Most of them were action or horror (no surprise there), and I settled on a film I’d never seen before: The Amityville Horror. I told myself that the fact that a young Ryan Reynolds was on the cover had absolutely nothing to do with the choice. 

After some cajoling, I figured out how Thomas’ TV and DVD player were set up and popped in the disc, pressing play on the machine before sinking back into the couch. The blue screen transformed to darkness as the credits played and I waited to be taken to the home screen. 

Mere seconds into the film, I heard a knock at the door and I paused the movie to jog up and out of the sunken den to the front door. I was met with an absolutely drenched delivery driver holding out a large brown bag in one hand and a soaked receipt and pen in the other. I shot him a look of apology and took the receipt, signing and adding on a much more generous tip than I’d originally intended, before trading him for the food. His eyes lit up when he saw the receipt and he dashed back to his clunker parked out front. 

I ended up parking the heavy bag of Chinese on the kitchen table. My thoughts were broken when I heard Mary coming in from the garage, heavy footsteps once again thunking down the hallway.  A pitter of claws trotted behind him. 

“Food’s here,” I said, already opening the bag to take out the various containers. 

We grabbed our respective containers and utensils and made our way to the den, me sitting on the couch while Mary sat on the floor, his back against the edge of the couch with his legs spread out wide. I opened up my container of sweet and sour pork and doused it in sweet and sour sauce, mixing it up with the cheap excuse for chopsticks that they provided before settling into the back corner of the couch and pressing play. 

“You’re watching this trash?” Mary said, words muffled by a mouthful of Beijing beef. 

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it from his position on the floor. “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s a shit remake.”

I grabbed a piece of pork between my chopsticks and lathered it in sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Well,” I said while chewing, “no one’s making you watch it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with a hint of facetiousness. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he all but grumbled, reaching in the container to grab a piece of beef with his fingers.“You knew what I meant.”

I shuddered as I watched him pop the piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers. “Are you…eating that with your bare hands?” I asked with a surprised chuckle. 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Chopsticks are frustrating. Why use those when I have built in chopsticks right here?” He pinched his fingers in the air, just high enough that I could see them from my spot on the sofa. 

I paused, reaching into the takeout container to fish around for some sort of accompanying vegetable. “I…don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my fingers the last time you were on that couch,” he retorted, tone dripping with cheekiness that I knew was accompanied by a smirk I couldn’t see from my vantage point. 

I sighed, trying to pay no mind to his constant coquettishness. “Well, they weren’t covered in Chinese food when that happened.”

“They could have been.”

I reached over and grabbed one of Thomas’ throw pillows from across the sofa and tossed it down directly at his head. Mary yowled and grabbed at the back of his head. 

“Hey, ow- fuck, you almost made me spill!”

I waved my chopstick dismissively. “Shh, I’m missing what’s happening.”

“Not missing much…” he grumbled, grabbing another piece of beef with his fingers. I looked down and dug into my food again, picking at some snow peas, and took a bite to keep me from my desire to respond with something sarcastic. 

I watched the screen as the beginning of the movie continued to unfold with the dreary undertone of music and darkened filter plastered over shots of the house and rainfall outside. 

I knew that in fiction, rain was often used to signal something darker, uncontrollable, and innately scary. While a gentle storm could symbolize rebirth or the washing away of something unclean to show a new beginning, a thunderstorm was different. Thunderstorms were brash, explosive, and undeniably cacophonous — a symbol of power, wrath, danger, and darkness. As the scene cut to a shot of the rainy setting, I couldn’t help but liken it to the rain pelting the windowpanes of the window behind the couch. They were both intense storms and I wondered what symbolism life could be trying to show me, if any at all. 

We watched mostly in silence, with the occasional jolt from me during a poorly timed jumpscare or a shake of the head and grumble from Mary (which after the third shove of my foot into his shoulder, he got the message that he was being obnoxious). 

Unbeknownst to me, the movie had a quick sex scene, which with anyone else would have been a non-issue watching. But with Mary, I felt oddly different. I found myself wondering what he was thinking as we watched the main characters move intimately against one another. Because, if my memory served me right, the last movie we watched together had something similar, and he had reacted in very specific—

 My thoughts were interrupted by yet another jumpscare and I squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping my empty takeout container. Mary chuckled and turned around with a smug smile.

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

“Just fine. ‘Surprised me…” I grumbled, pretending to dig around in the empty container for more food. I was sure he could see right through me. I was easy to spook.

Eventually, I set my empty container on the side table and reclined back into the couch again. It felt weirdly quiet, and I noticed that Mary had gotten up at some point and left. 

“Seems he found something better to do with his time,” I thought. Not that it mattered, anyway. I hated the kind of people that talked constantly during movies, and I could tell Mary was doing his best not to criticize nearly every piece of dialogue and every scene. 

“Here.” The voice snapped me from my thoughts and my eyes refocused to the space in front of me, noticing an uncapped beer just in my line of sight. I took it with a thank you, noticing Mary had one of his own as he decided to sit opposite to me on the edge of the couch instead of on the floor. I tried not to think anything of the change and cast my eyes towards the movie. 

“Did….did she just put a whole ass bong into her purse?” I asked after watching the babysitter in the film try to hide her bong after smoking in the bathroom. I took a swig of the beer Mary gifted me and looked over at him. 

He laughed. “I’m telling you — this movie is idiotic at best.”

“I hate that I’m invested enough that I want to see how it ends,” I replied after a minute, adjusting my position on the couch to spread out a leg, my foot barely missing the side of Mary’s thigh. 

“I’m happy to tell you how it ends,” Mary countered, taking a pull from his own bottle.

I shook my head in reply. “Might as well finish it. In your words, we’ve ‘got nothing better to do,’” I grinned at him with a chuckle and set my eyes back on the screen. 

After the movie finished, we both stretched out our limbs, and I stood to collect the empty containers. 

“That’s 90 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Mary grunted with a sigh. 

I rolled my eyes. With how things were going, I’d be surprised if they didn’t roll straight out of my head and onto the shitty shag carpet on the floor. “Oh come on,” I began, “It wasn’t THAT bad…”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t good,” he chuckled sarcastically.

I let out a defeated breath. “Okay, I’ll admit that it wasn’t the best movie I’ve seen.”

“Clear from it,” he postured, lounging back a little as he took a swig from his beer “The original does a much better job of staying true to the book and creating that building suspense th—”

His words were cut off by another loud crack of lightning. This one sounded close, and by the looks of the fulmination that painted the windows, it was. 

I let out a shriek when the lightning and its ancillary crash cracked through the den and beyond. My hand flew to my mouth in surprise and I soon rubbed it over my eyes bashfully. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you could make that noise,” Mary chuckled, eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise. I looked over and flashed him the middle finger, a scowl on my face, which only increased his laughter. 

“How about we put on another movie,” he suggested, then added quickly “—but I pick.” I thought about it, pondering the many choices of movies that Mary could choose on a night like tonight, and shook my head. 

“Maybe music is a better idea?” I replied. I walked to the edge of the den and started up the few stairs that connected it to the hallway. “I’ll toss these while you get it set up,” I called over my shoulder. 

When I returned, Mary was finished messing with the stereo system and Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was playing softly through the speakers. I took a seat on the floor, copying Mary’s earlier posture with my back against the front of the plush furniture, and spread my legs out and crossed them at the ankles. 

“Didn’t take you as a Sonic Youth fan,” I said as I settled into the space. 

Mary smiled and turned his head towards me. “I told you I’m full of interesting surprises.”

I suppressed a giggle. “I was thinking of other types of surprises when you said that.”

“What kinds of things were you thinking of?” he asked, brow quirked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the coy look on his face and looked away, trying to figure out a way to change the conversation. Mary just laughed. 

“Wow, doll face, I didn’t expect to take up that much real estate in your mind. I’m flattered.” He put a hand to his chest and stared over me with a broad smile. 

“Stop it.”

He cast me a look of confusion. “Stop what?”

“That thing you do!” I began. My voice raised a little in volume and pitch. “The thing where you act all smug and ooze sex appeal!”

This seemed to intrigue him and he turned to face me from his spot in front of the entertainment system. I knew that if his shirt was off, I’d be able to see the flexion of the muscles in his abdomen. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking that. 

“Sex appeal? I didn’t know you were so pious.”

I felt myself bristle and sat up a little straighter. “What? No, it’s not about piety.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You just don’t have to make everything an innuendo!”

At this, the crusty metalhead in front of me had the audacity to laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled, “way to act like a total prude.” 

“I am not!” My eyes shot daggers at him and I’d hope they’d materialize and hit him straight in his smirking face. 

“I’m surprised you made it through that sex scene…” he looked up at me from under a raised brow.

I huffed. “You of all people should know that sex doesn’t bother m—” I cut myself off as I felt fire heat my cheeks. 

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

As soon as his name was said, Brutus’ ears perked up and he let out a whine. I realized it had probably been hours since he’d been outside.

“We should probably let the dog out,” I said. As soon as he heard the word ‘out,’ Brutus sprung up and began trotting to the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I got up with a slight groan, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor, and Mary followed. 

“I can take the dog out by myself, y’know,”

“Yeah, but the view is so much better if I come with.”

I felt frustration pool in my chest at this and he seemed to sense it as well, adding, “Chill out, I was just  grabbing a couple more beers.”

After coaxing Brutus outside with some choice words said in the nicest voice I could muster (and maybe a push on the bum), I waited at the sliding glass door for him to return from doing his business. A towel was thrown by slider and I grabbed it to wipe down the dog on his re-entry. 

I watched through the window as the storm really began to rage. Fat water droplets ricocheted off the glass pane like rubber bullets and thunder rumbled a low death rattle. Mary came up behind me and put the two bottles on the kitchen table. He fished around in his pockets for his bottle opener on his key chain. 

A loud, booming sound followed by a high pitched crack and a monstrous thud rattled the foundation of the house. I let out an embarrassingly loud scream and jumped back from the sliding door. My body collided with Mary’s more solid one behind me, and immediately his hands found my upper arms to steady the both of us. I leaned back into him, not caring enough about self-restraint as my head tipped back against his shoulder. 

My chest heaved as my adrenaline dissipated, and I could feel Mary’s hands rubbing up and down the lengths of my arms. I swallowed thickly, then clenched my eyes tight. I felt his breath arm against my ear as he leaned in. 

“You good, Doll?”

His voice was smooth, oddly soothing, and the reverberations that pulsed through my ear and into my chest were much different than the shaking of the foundation from the subsonic boom moments prior. 

I nodded and looked out the window. A mature tree limb, one measuring at least 15 feet long, had fallen to the ground in the backyard from the force of the thunderstorm. My immediate thought went to Brutus and I feared for the worst, but as if on cue, his body came running towards the door like a bullet. His little black body began pawing at the door and yet, I felt frozen in my spot to Mary. His body stayed pressed against the back of mine, hands still rubbing little circles against my triceps. Neither of us moved to open the door. 

Brutus’ bark seemed to jolt us both from the haze. I slid the door open and immediately wrapped the medium-sized dog in the towel to dry him off. The little black mutt followed me as I walked back into the wood-paneled den and I sunk down on the couch next to Mary with a sigh. 

Mary handed me another beer and I graciously accepted. “You know,” he started after taking a sip of his own, “I’m not used to women screaming around me unless my name is involved somehow.”

“Is it usually preceded by ‘fuck off’ or ‘get the fuck away from me’?”

“I was thinking it comes after ‘harder’ or ‘fuck me,’ actually,” he said, pausing a beat before casting a look of cautious puzzlement. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I chewed on my cheek as I picked at the label of the beer bottle. “I hate storms,” I admitted with a sigh.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The squall of the storm caused the windows behind the weathered old sofa to vellicate. Stills from the movie of torrential downpour around the boathouse flashed into thought. I recalled the swirling blackened sky from the sliding glass door from moments before and found myself comparing the dread from the film to my stomach sinking the moment the tree limb fell heavy against the hard ground. What if it had fallen on the house, or the dog? What if it had been a consequence of a lightning strike and started a fire?

I shook myself from spiraling. “I’m not afraid of a lot of things,” I pointed out, “but storms...they freak me out. They have ever since I was little. Loud noises and all.”

Mary chuckled at this. “You listen to thrash metal,” he countered. 

“That’s different!” I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the back of my scalp in frustration. “Storms are destructive. One minute it’s a normal day and the next - bam - people lose their homes, their jobs, their communities…decades and centuries of history even. It’s chaotic and terrible and…unpredictable. It’s fucking armageddon.”

Mary had turned to face me from his spot on the couch, one leg semi-crossed over the other. “Big bad metal chick like you afraid of some thunder and lightning? Color me surprised, dollface.”

The asshole had the audacity to smirk at me. So, I reached out and smacked him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! I was being serious!” His tone was playful as rubbed at the spot on his shoulder. “You’re not the kind of person to let a lot of emotion show.”

I felt myself bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…you just don’t seem afraid of anything. Kinda just ‘go with the flow’. It’s weird to see ya all panicked and shit.”

I scoffed and clicked my tongue. “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you inside and out, dollface,” he grinned. 

My cheeks blushed garnet. “Only some of me,” I grumbled.

“Really? What else you got hiding?” he chided, sitting up a little straighter, a little closer. “Got any secret pockets in those pants?”

Now, it felt like my whole face was on fire. I remembered the cargo pants he made fun of me for on our first excursion, and the tongue-in-cheek wording was absolutely purposeful. I rolled my eyes. 

Any other time I would have had a quick quip or nonverbal response lined up to banter with him, but another crackle of thunder roared through the sky, and instead, my body physically flung itself up an inch off the cushions in a reactive jolt. My hands gripped onto whatever was near me — which in this case, was the right arm of the couch and coincidentally, the right arm of Mary. 

The sound of the thunder was replaced with the onslaught of water against the windows behind the sofa and I let out a breath I didn’t remember inhaling. I looked down at my hand gripping onto Mary’s forearm, fingers digging into the demon ink staring up at me across otherwise pale flesh, and I quickly retreated. 

I cleared my throat. “S-sorry,” I choked, “Reflex.”

Mary didn’t seem phased at all. He turned towards me, his upper torso craning to meet mine perpendicularly, and a hand came to my knee. “What helps?” he asked plainly.

“I…what?” 

“What helps?” he repeated, his tone still matter-of-fact. 

“Oh. Um…” I swallowed and looked down at his hand resting on my left knee, right over the fabric of my pants. I wracked my brain in a feeble attempt to think of something that had aided my fear in the past.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe properly as the heat from his hand sunk through to my covered skin. I imagined that hand six inches higher, resting on my thigh as he spread them apart on the rooftop all those weeks ago—

“Distraction!” I blurted out. I hardly even recognize my voice as I did so. I finally looked over to meet the stare I’d felt carving into my irrationally fearful form and saw those fucking eyes, green and honey and framed with brows that were pursed in a way that conveyed allure. I finished letting out my caged breath. “Something to keep my mind off things and give me another sense to focus on. My parents used to, uh, read to me. Make up stories. When I was old enough, I’d hum songs or picture scenes from movies…”

Embarrassment flooded my bones. I felt childish, weakened, exposed like a raw nerve or a root scabbing from crisp air. We didn’t talk much about our pasts and he wasn’t somewhat I typically indulged with this kind of vulnerability. But as I searched his eyes for a crinkle of amusement or a flash of judgment, I found none. Instead, I found focused pupils and a heady stare. 

He broke the pregnant pause. “Maybe I could distract you with something different.”

I rolled my lips in and stilted the air in my lungs. His hand weighed heavily on my leg. 

“We’ve tried music. And movies,” he began, briefly casting his glance towards the middle of the living room where the TV sat against the wall and we’d sat and listened to Sonic Youth. “We drank shitty beer and ate shitty Chinese—”

“—I liked the Chinese—” I interrupted in a murmur, still watching as he soaked in the visual of my legs pressed together, his hand firm and steady. 

“—so in my eyes, we’ve used sight, hearing, taste, and by association, scent. Which means, we’re missing one…”

Touch, I thought to myself. A shiver whispered down my spine. While his words trailed off, he mimicked the action with his hand. The firm hand that once sat solid on my knee began to travel up the expanse of my left leg. His fingertips ghosted my inner thigh with just enough pressure to make a point. 

I gathered up the courage to look up at him again and this time, the verdant hue of his eyes was overtaken by wide pupils that bore into me like he was clawing his way to comfort. 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. The haze in my brain matched the low visibility from the storm outside. But before I knew it, I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the grip of his hand tightening on my leg as his other one gripped the nape of my neck, tugging and pulling me into him like a life preserver. 

His kiss was exactly as I had remembered. Soft yet slightly chapped, starting as a fervent pressing of lips on lips that moved into tilted heads and the drag of a tongue against my own parted mouth. I reveled in the feeling and gripped onto his shirt with both hands, fisting it like he’d float away if I let go.

Had I been more cognizant, I’d have laughed at the fact that his action was much more than touch. It was scent (cheap cologne and leather and musk) and it was taste (cheap beer and filmy cigarette residue that I was surprised I could crave) and sight (technicolor behind my eyelids that erupted against dark) and it was sound (of the smacking of lips on lips and the occasional clang of teeth, the rustle of fabric and the springs of the couch as we shifted to accommodate one another). 

And down we fell, my twisted torso mirroring his own as I lay plush against the flat seat of the couch. Mary moved to encapsulate my form with his own, knees brushing the worn plaid upholstery as I parted my legs to gift him space. My hands found the tops of his shoulders and as I gripped, his own hand moved from its entrapment on the nape of my neck to cup my jaw, thumb bruising against bone. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his body and hold him in like he was to me. Touch. I didn’t care.

But before I could, he slotted one of his legs between my own, the other digging between my left thigh and the seam of the couch. I let out a groan as he pressed the meat of his thigh against my center and he smiled against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. 

Touch. I craved that movement as heat built deep within my abdomen and pooled down past my navel. Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against his leg to chase the feeling of pressure, of grazed fabric on fabric. Testing the proverbial waters. 

Again, a smirk against my lips. His free hand gripped squarely onto my hip. But instead of a teasing nip or squeeze, he pulled away just barely, breath ghosting against my face. 

“That feel good, Doll?” 

I couldn’t begin to think of how to respond. Instead, I canted my hips up again, slower this time, enjoying the friction of denim against my own clothed core. I suppose that was enough of an answer, because he held his leg firm and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

He hummed. “You gonna use me to get yourself off, dollface?” he breathed in question. His voice was lust-dipped and low, barely above a whisper yet it rang so heavy in my chest that I could swear it was deeper than the thunder. 

I let out a noise in response (something like a mix between a whimper and a hum) and again rocked up into the muscle of his leg as I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut to focus on the sensation blooming between my thighs. 

“Use your words,” Mary all but tutted, voice still low in timbre. 

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

He hummed in response and captured my lips with his again, pressing hard as he kissed me with purpose. His hand on my jaw moved to grab my other hip and he let his body fall into mine as he pulled my body up into his leg in time with my own movements. “Keep going,” he murmured against my mouth. Touch. Sound.

Unabashedly, I moved my hips into his thigh with the help of his strong grasp. The friction changed as I felt my own arousal begin to dampen the fabric of my panties and I groaned into the kiss at the feel of the cotton gliding over my clit with each quickening movement. 

Mary’s mouth moved across my jaw and down to the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he began to work at the skin there, biting and sucking along the sensitive areas he’d been cataloging since our last time on this couch. My eyes fluttered open half-lidded in the darkness and I raked my hand through his long hair, gripping it against the scalp as I moved senselessly against him, chasing a release I knew he could provide me. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he growled out against my skin. I swear I could feel the pounding of his pulse through our mashed chests and his words only increased a need that I’d been suppressing since he’d fucked me breathless against my kitchen countertop.

Mary’s distinct scent clouded me, wet-straw colored hair hung in my peripherals, cigarettes and cheap beer and the taste of his kiss covered my lips and tongue, fabric rubbed against fabric and wet mouths primed heated skin, and every explosion of his body rocked and pulled and ground against mine into a sensory explosion. Smell. Sight. Taste. Sound. Touch.

No more storm. No more thunder. No more rain. We made our own natural disaster. 

And I was distracted. Fully distracted in that I didn’t recognize it was my voice that let out a breathy ‘so good’. So successfully distracted that the beeping of the notification on my phone was easily discounted. In fact, the subsequent beeping that followed seconds later was also minimized. And the one after that. I could feel the fuzzy feeling building deep below my navel and I chased it with every movement of my body against Mary’s, and the feeling of his own hardness growing against my thigh made me that much more desperate. He was clearly getting something out of this, too. 

“Take what you need,” Mary’s muffled voice sounded against my clavicle. “Take whatever —fuck— take whatever you want, babydoll.”

So, I did. I ground furiously against him and reached for the peak of my climb, oblivious to the buzzing and chiming of my phone on the coffee table beside us. Except, we’d forgotten we weren’t alone, and not everyone was able to ignore the phone’s noises. 

Brutus’ deep, loud barking rang through the sunken den unexpectedly, causing both Mary and I to jump in surprise, Mary’s head knocking against the side of my jaw. He rose up on his forearms instantaneously and gripped his forehead with a loud ‘fuck’ and I matched his reaction as I cupped my jaw and let out a slew of expletives. 

The light from my screen illuminated the once sleeping dog’s face and I groaned out as I haphazardly reached an arm towards the table to feel for my phone. I unlocked the device and was met with a litany of notifications from Des. I groaned and slammed my head back against the couch cushion. For working so hard to get Mary and I alone together, Desiree sure knew how to cock block. 

I brought the phone up and with squinted eyes, I read over the text messages that had gathered over the last hour. 

Des: how’s it going over there? 

Des: i heard the storm is supposed to get even worse

Des: is brutie doing okay? He gets whiny with loud noises sometimes

Des: shit someone on instagram posted that the power is out for like 5,000 people. you still okay?

Des: wow. okay. don’t answer me. you guys must be really busy 😏

Des: there are condoms in the bedside drawer 😘 cum stains wash out best with cold water ❤

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

By now, Mary had sat back on his haunches and the pressure of his thigh was completely gone from where I most wanted it to be. “Who is it?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

Mary let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does she want?” He leaned down to try to get a peek at the phone screen and I snapped it to my chest tightly. 

“Just checking in to see how we’re faring the storm!” I said a little too quickly. I cleared my throat to try to force down the nervous lump that was forming. “And wanted to see how Brutus is doing with the thunder.”

I expected Mary to eye me suspiciously, but if he had caught on to anything, he surely didn’t show it. I typed out a quick response to Des, explaining that yes, we were okay, and no, Brutus wasn’t being a handful, before adding a quick ‘fuck you’ and an eyeroll emoji to her later comments. 

I set the phone down on the table and looked up at the man currently straddling my body. My heart began to speed up again as I took in my surroundings. It was dark in the room, but the light from the storm outside and the glow of the kitchen nearby illuminated him with chiaroscuro that any Renaissance painter would envy. Judging by the bulge in his jeans, the interruption wasn’t enough to sully his erection, and he looked down at me as if he was waiting for me to say the words to continue. 

I felt my chest tighten and another crackle of lightning peppered the room in flushed white. What was I doing? This was Mary: resident bad boy, metal enthusiast, best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, and come to think of it, a guy who never seemed to show up with the same girl at his side. I didn’t sleep around purely from the fact that it was impossible for me to avoid catching feelings. Blame it on the oxytocin release.

But nothing we had done was wrong and nothing had been the result of deeper feelings, right? We were two consenting adults, two friends that enjoyed each other’s company. Couldn’t that be enough? Sex didn’t have to equal commitment or a deeper connection. It could be loose, free, fun. It was what Des always encouraged me to explore, anyway. Right? 

Despite my reasoning, I felt a weight pressing on my sternum and threatening to rise up my throat. His stare was piercing, and all I could smell was leather and cologne and cigarettes, and the taste of him on my bottom lip, and his weight on my legs, and my breath felt like it was going to rip my lungs open and—

“We should turn in for the night,” I blurted out.

I searched his face for any sort of reaction and was met with a split second of confusion before his demeanor went calm. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Take what you want rang heavy in my ears from just moments before. 

“Y-yeah, it’s getting late and I worked today, so…”

He stood up from his position over me and I sat up against the arm of the sofa. I chewed my lip, battling the decision I’d just made for the both of us. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have Tommy’s bed,” Mary said nonchalantly as he took a swig from the forgotten beer bottle on the coffee table. Oddly chivalrous. 

I shook my head almost immediately. “No, I’ll take the couch.” Mary opened his mouth to protest, but I held firm. “I am not sleeping in Thomas’ bed. That sounds like the 7th circle of hell. My best friend is frequently naked in that bed and who knows when those sheets were last washed.”

Mary laughed at this. A deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he motioned towards me with the beer bottle between pointer finger and thumb. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen her naked.”

Embarrassed, flustered, and wholly unsatisfied from practically humping the metalhead in front of me, I scoffed. “Not like that and not by choice.”

Mary grinned in enjoyment of my response. “Stay up late and play with each others’ tits after a pillow fight?”

A frustrated groan breached my lips. “You’ve been watching way too much porn, Goore,” I said. I reached for one of the long discarded throw pillows and lobbed it at him, feeling a hint of disappointment when he dodged it easily.

He held up both hands, one still holding the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he began, backing up while still facing me, then adding with a smirk, “don’t get too scared with the storm.”

I watched as he turned and made his way down the hallway, beer in hand as he ventured to Thomas’ room. Leaning back into the cushions of the couch, I sighed. 

🜏🜏🜏

My fingers curled around the stiff microfiber blanket that I’d lazily thrown over myself as I’d sunk into Thomas’ well-worn plaid couch.

I tried to coat myself in the scratchy throw to avoid the feeling of the couch cushions on the exposed skin of my legs and arms. It was a touch-memory that brought me back to flying high in the same den, legs straddling the man that now slept peacefully down the hallway in the master bedroom. 

As much as I didn’t want to reconcile with the feelings of fear, I was on edge. The movie set my panic into motion, but the worsening storm was what lit the engine. It had progressed from the percussive pelting drops against the windows and siding to roars of wind and sprays of harsh rain that sounded like fire hoses. Thunder boomed every so often and I heard its fallout whip through the trees with horrid whistles — true cries of the damned. 

I let out a shaky breath and reached my hand down to pet the dog curled on the bed on the floor. Focus on the fur. Soft. Spindle it between your fingertips. Smooth. Warm. My heartbeat started to calm and my lizard brain crept back into its recesses. 

My eyes relaxed in their shut state and I nuzzled a bit harder into the pillow. I felt my exhaustion begin to take hold. And just as I began to float into the downward spiral of sleep, a boisterous crack sliced through the sky. It reminded me of the jet planes that flew at the air shows when I was little - the ones that broke the sound barrier - and my shriek that followed rivaled in volume. 

Bright white lightning strobed through the windows of the house. A quick succession of flashes flickered like a searchlight on the fritz. The house went dark again. 

The dog's ears perked as he sat up and I followed suit, blanket bunched around my knees and clutched with firm fists to my chest. Just like after a blinding camera flash, my eyes were shot. I could just barely make out the shapes of the furniture and walls. 

“You okay?” a voice asked mere feet away from me.

Startled, I let out another quick scream before slamming my palm tight against my mouth. My eyes continued to adjust and I noticed the figure turned from swirling black mass to humanoid to Mary within a split second.

“I’m fine,” I breathed out. I brought my hands down to grip onto the couch cushions. Mary stood before me in his boxers. Messy hair tousled around his shoulders and chest in waves a la 1980s glam rock (though I was certain that bedhead was a more likely culprit) and willed myself not to search through the inky black of the den to determine if he was wearing a shirt or not. 

“Do you usually scream like a banshee when you’re fine?” he quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

No shirt I noted. 

I rubbed my hands against my face, pressing my fingertips into the sockets of my eyes. “Just not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, so you said.” A moment passed. The only sound in the air was the howling wind from outside until he broke the quiet. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“I’ve got Brutie.”

“Alright,” he sighed. After a moment, I could feel he’d left again, and I willed myself back into the couch cocoon I’d built myself. 

I must have fallen asleep. Be it the adrenaline crash or the exhaustion, I wasn’t sure how I’d finally managed. It was in vain, however, when another loud burst of lightning and thunder rumbled through the house. The same strobe of light pulsated briefly, and in the distance, a booming crash. Before I knew it, I was on my feet. 

Fuck this fuck this fuck this I whispered to myself as I sped through the house. My hands reached out in front of me as bumpers to the still unfamiliar landscape, and after padding down the hallway in bare feet, I reached around for the doorknob to Thomas’ room. 

His room was better lit than the living room. The orange-y glow of the one working street lamp in the distance painted the walls with a near apocalyptic hue and illuminated Mary’s sleeping form on the bed. He was facing away from me, but I could tell he was out (shocking considering the resonance of the lightning and thunder). 

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my shoulders as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep in Thomas’ bed, and the thought of sleeping next to Mary made me more anxious than anything. Well, except the storm. What was I thinking? I felt like a child standing at the foot of their parents’ bed after having a nightmare, waiting with fearful eyes and too-small pajamas for them to invite me in for the night. 

Duller thunder hummed outside and I was reminded of the fear that had clenched my chest just minutes prior. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having another person with me, could it? Clearly, the dog wasn’t enough.

I slowly sank onto the opposite edge of the bed, making myself featherlight, and lifted one leg up along the mattress as my other foot held firm against the floor. Mary didn’t move. I swung the other leg up onto the bed and pulled the covers down before sliding under, the shifting sheets whisper silent, and leaned back against the pillow. 

I lay board stiff, hand on my chest, and watched as the tree branches dappled the streetlight in whooshing patterns across the ceiling. Like dark sparkles, it lulled me into a sense of calm, and I let my eyes fall shut again. The bed shifted and I felt Mary turn over, arm flopping out towards the middle of the bed to land hand first into my arm. His eyebrows crinkled in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered wearily at the feeling of his skin against my own. 

“Doll?” he asked, eyes stained with sleep. 

I turned my head to face him, hands still clasped against my chest. “Sorry, I—” I began, taking a moment to let out a shaky breath, “ — I freaked out.”

I braced for a chuckle, eyeroll, anything that was typical of Mary, but it never came. Instead, he lifted up the blankets as if to silently beckon me over. “C’mere,” he croaked, voice clearly still lethargic. 

In any other situation, I’d take pause, but this wasn’t any situation. I scrambled over like a child. He tucked his arm around me and brought me to his bare chest. I could smell the fragrance 

of the shampoo he used as I rested my head in the crook of his neck (I guess he’d been telling the truth about that shower), and my own arms came up to curl against his skin. An arm flopped around my middle, pulling me impossibly close, and our knees brushed under the blanket. 

Surprisingly, I felt calmness wash over me. I likened it to the bear-like embrace, skin-on-skin, some sort of instinctual response to the comfort of another human. But his heartbeat pumped strongly beneath my fingertips and I could feel his steady breath floating across the top of my hair and down my neck, and in that moment, I wondered if it was a little more than just human instinct. 

A beat percussed in time. I traced my fingertips along the skin of his arm, ghost-light, dipping down the valleys and peaks of muscle that I knew flexed taut when he strummed his Epiphone SG. Goosebumps appeared under my digits and he shifted under the sheet. 

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

“Sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands back to rest against his torso. Sandwiching them between the cotton of my oversized tee and the smooth skin of his pecs would have to do. 

It was quiet — so quiet that I assumed he had fallen asleep again. But his soft breaths were broken by his even softer voice. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” he said. 

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

He hummed and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear his tongue wet his lips, jaw pressing against the top of my head from the movement. “It’s different from the typical Dahlia.”

My mind raced back to our earlier conversation, the one where he’d accused me of hiding my emotions. Is this what he meant? Was fear what he considered transparency? I looked up at him quizzically, breaking the connection of his chin using my crown as an actual headrest. 

His eyes were open, and despite the foreglow of the streetlights and darkness, I could better feel his stare than see it. His hair was still a step down from a rat’s nest, tangled from sleep, and strands hung down around his angular face. His cheeks were beginning to stubble with five o’clock shadow. Breaths pushed past his lips steadily, even, but beneath the pads of my fingers, I could sense his heart pumping solidly in his chest. Only a hairline fracture separated our faces. 

Outside, a whistle of strong wind thwipped against the siding of the house like a widow’s cry and my body instinctively tensed. His arm that had lethargically slung across my waist impulsively tightened and he pulled me even closer. 

“Hey…” he soothed. His brows were drawn in concern, and his hand traveled from the c-bout of my waist and up, up, up my tricep. It was less of a greeting and more of a reminder to land back in the present, to focus on my senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, sound), to remember I was right here, right in this moment, and I wasn’t alone. 

The mortar holding the bricks built around my heart began to disintegrate. Every block melded in a bond pattern to cage in my overcommitting self, to protect from obsession, from the inevitable swoon that I had felt with Brody and had ripped out from under me — they began to fall, piece by piece. 

It was the both of us that drew our mouths to meet. The kiss was lazy, sleepy, languid at first, morphing into prolonged pecks that added a harmony to the pattering rain, gusts of wind, and bouts of thunder rumbling the outside earth. His hand continued to rub against my upper arm and beat by beat, the kiss heightened, and slowly, surely, lips met tongue, and then teeth, and I was angling my neck to the right to keep him from digging into the pillow. 

Mary shifted. His fingers gripped my arm as he moved to lay halfway on top of me. Our legs tangled together, and as he slid his own against my calf, barely stilling, I was certain he’d just discovered that my nightwear consisted of only an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

I could sense his erection pressing through the thin cotton of his boxers against my thigh. My brain zapped back to hours prior when he had boxed me in on the couch and let me take pleasure from his strong quads. A fire raged within me that rivaled my hair spilling across Thomas’ pillows like a red sea.

Mary’s hand moved to skim under the hem of my shirt, tracing against my hip bone before it, too, went up, up, up, hovering just over the curve of my breast before cupping it. His finger traced the outline of my nipple. Once again, surroundings faded. Nothing else existed at this moment, here, right now. 

I exhaled shakily against him. Our lips were still passionately pendulating in a rhythm that the both of us had mastered by now. I took a leap of faith and pressed my thigh to his crotch, earning me a squeeze to my chest and his own shaky exhale. 

Releasing my breast, Mary swept his hand to the waistband of my panties. His fingers, rough and calloused from frets and strings, dipped underneath. He sat up slightly and broke the kiss. The smooth cotton was seesawed down my legs in a series of yanks from the free hand, and he quickly repeated the action on his own boxers, tossing them aside before returning his hand back to my chest. 

“Mary,” I breathed out.

“What?” he echoed. His eyes searched for something as he drank in my expression. 

I swallowed lightly. “I-” I began, not knowing exactly what I was saying.

But he did. “I’ve got you,” he said. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. 

He kissed me again and fully framed my body with his own. I relaxed back into the pillow and he sat back to dip his hands underneath my shirt, pushing it up and off with a temporary break in our lips’ union. As he slotted himself between my legs, I looked up at him, body completely bare. I felt the anxiety creep into my chest and I was certain I looked visibly unsure — not at the prospect of what was to happen, no, but what would follow. How this would, or could, change things. 

“So goddamn pretty when you’re spread out like this,” he murmured as his hands roamed up and down my torso. I took the moment to soak up the image in front of me. His lean torso was flexed as he ran his hands along my breasts and stomach, and his cock stood heavy against his pelvis, bobbing with every movement of his touch.

He gripped himself with a soft moan, stroking slowly, methodically, and his eyes raked over my form. This wasn’t our first encounter, no, but I felt truly naked for the first time. 

With oddly found confidence, I reached forward to grasp at the junction of his shoulder and neck. I pulled him towards me and his other hand shot out to brace himself against the squeaking mattress. His stroking continued and I jolted when his knuckles came in contact with the ache between my legs. Without any spoken words, he lined himself up and then embraced me, hand on my shoulder as we met chest to chest, covering me like a blanket. 

His pause was obvious — an unspoken ask of consent to proceed which I answered with a soft kiss. I trusted him, and I assumed he trusted me. We both craved the connection, to complete the incomplete. 

As Mary pushed in, I melted beneath him. His tip pushed past and he groaned and buried his face in the curve of my neck. My hands darted out to grip onto his back and pull him close. I wanted to feel him take up space in my ribs. 

Inch by inch he sank before canting steadily. I could feel every bit of him as he rocked in and out, pulling and pushing as my heat gripped him, and for some reason it felt different. Not just raw, but whole. I took in every bit of him physically, but as we moved together in the nightglow, I also consumed the parts he’d been dressing up in leather and denim and metal and dissolved it into my flesh. I took him. 

And through my euphoria of connection, I barely registered my small eruptions of noises that highlighted each stroke of his cock to my core. I focused on the sensation of sprinkled electricity spreading from my cunt outwards, and his hot breath on my neck that I drank in like I was oxygen-starved. 

Mary’s hips began to stutter as he thrusted a little harder into my own and my legs moved to wrap instinctively around him. I keened out louder, and he lifted his head to look at me again. 

The eye contact was searing. Hot. It charred my retinas, but this time, I didn’t care. He must have sensed the vulnerability because his hand cupped my jaw and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone before our foreheads met together. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

Like his own hail Mary. I believed him. He had me now — I was in his clutches, both literally and figuratively. 

His pace increased to match my ever-racing pulse. It was still steadied, sleepily focused, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back as I clenched down against the movement of his length, nearly trembling at the pull at my navel as each drag of him spurred fire. It was building, and I let it. My breath began to stutter and I felt tears at my waterline. The sensory overload was rhapsody and the simple, obvious connection was juxtaposed by the chaotic climax lapping at my center. I was so close it almost hurt. 

I moaned his name in a half-whimper and he must have felt my urgency and desperation and the increased slick coating our joined union because he crushed his lips to mine. His thumb dug into the side of my chin as he drove firmly into my aching need. But the jerking of his hips was almost too much and I could tell he wasn’t far behind me. 

As my thighs began to tremble at his sides, he broke the kiss. I looked at him with desperate longing. 

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me. 

And unlike every other situation in life where I found myself stubbornly resisting direction, I obeyed. I followed his demand and allowed the fuzzy heat of my release to unfurl around him. I cried out in rapture and he swallowed the sound with an opened mouth kiss at the moment of impact. I tensed around him and my pussy spasmed with every lunge of his hard cock.

“Good girl,” Mary praised as gripped hard onto my shoulder and pressed his head to mine, lips separated, and I was enveloped in a curtain of golden-brown tangled strands. He began to move faster against me and I knew my orgasm had spurred something deep within him as he moaned out, “So good for me, taking me so damn well.”

His thumb brushed the breadth of my lip and dipped into my mouth, pulling down just barely against my tongue and teeth. I looked up at him with full eyes, grey hues drowned by pupils swimming from release, and I inwardly begged him to complete me as aftershocks of a violent orgasm short circuited. 

“So tight,” he grunted in response. “Fuck— feel so good around me, babydoll.” His hands moved to grip my hips and with a few more jolts of his hips, his cock twitched and he groaned, features melting as he spilled inside of me. His body jerked with each spurt and his fingers dug into the flesh covering my pelvic bone as he rode out his high.

Mary collapsed into me and I allowed my eyes to close as we savored the aftermath. I’m not sure how long it was, minutes, maybe more, but eventually he pulled his softened dick from me and I let out a long breath of satisfaction. My hand moved to rest against my chest as I digested the gnawing deep within me that questioned what this was. 

Mary fell to his side and pressed a quick peck to my lips before rolling onto his back and mimicking my sigh. A brief silence filled the sweat-scented air, and I moved my hand to grasp at his, squeezing it, only to receive a slight squeeze back.

Our ragged breaths eventually calmed and I opened my eyes to the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

“You good?” Mary asked after a minute. I rolled my lips inward as I thought about the weight of those two words. 

“Yeah, I’m…I’m good— I’m great,” I replied.  It was the truth. 

He hummed in response and pulled the flat sheet over himself. 

“Glad I could distract you,” He said as he nestled into the right side of the bed. Before turning, he added, “get some sleep.”

My eyes searched for patterns in the swirls of the painted gypsum of the ceiling as stillness settled in. Mary’s quiet breathing turned to soft snores. Despite the calm, serene relief from a shared orgasm, my chest was tight from the inward battle of how unbelievably intimate that experience was and how deeply I was freefalling into a mess of adoration for the man next to me.

I wondered how he could so easily turn to the side and fall asleep.

🜏🜏🜏

Despite the after effects of the record-breaking storm, Des and Thomas were able to make it home a couple of days after they’d left, right on schedule. 

They greeted Mary with their normal affections (a pat on the back from Thomas and a warm wave from Des), and the conversation immediately turned from a Brutus report to a play-by-play of Thomas’ shows out of town. 

Des noted there was no sign of her best friend, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d received my text the day before that I was heading home and that Mary was fine staying the additional time. And despite her prodding, I’d remained tightlipped.

Both she and Thomas were unaware of the telltale morning after where I’d woken up to sunbeams instead of lightning, choosing to pack up my belongings and head out early to check on my own pet at home. 

They were also unaware of the brief goodbye between Mary and I as I readied to leave — him, acting cool, aloof, and casual, as if nothing had changed, while I tried my best to mirror his demeanor with little success. Because as much as I tried to build the bricks back up, I’d let him in the night before, and he’d taken root inside the boundaries of my chest. 

I suppose that just like a day spent thrifting, I’d gone into every interaction with Mary with no expectations, and each time I’d come out with something I didn’t anticipate. The goldmines outweighed the insolvencies. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be aware of this.

Above all, I was happy for my momentary blissful unawareness (at least until later during a phone call with Des) of Thomas’ outburst upon entering his bedroom after Mary had left. His exclamation of “god damn it!” rang as loud as the thunder two nights previous, causing Des to dart in with a “what?” on her lips and the expectation of disaster. 

Thomas sighed, stained top sheet in hand. “They fucked on my bed.”

taglist: @soup-14 @copiasghoulfriend @thew0man @na1ven3vy @portaltothevoid @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool @discountdemonwarehouse @oaksdottir

[onegayastronaut]

Having a Relationship with Emily Junk Would Include...

Requested by @fairy-geek-ackerman

This was meant to be a fic, but it's more a longer version of HC's with Emily, if that makes any sense. Hope y'all like it!

The calendar had circled the date in red for weeks, a constant reminder of the impending event. Not a birthday, nor a performance, but a first date. Excitement and nervousness waltzed hand-in-hand, creating a fluttering sensation in your stomach. The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of indecision. Every outfit felt wrong, and you were forced to take a breath to calm yourself. Emily was the one who asked you out, so that means she must like you back, right?

The chosen attire, a testament to countless outfit changes, hung neatly on the back of your dorm door. As the clock ticked closer to the designated time, the air crackled with anticipation. Should I call and confirm? Should I text a witty one-liner? The phone remained untouched, the desire to appear effortless warring with the bubbling anxiety.

Finally, the moment arrived. Stepping out the door, the familiar neighborhood felt different, painted in hues of excitement. The fluttering in your stomach wasn't just nerves; it was a symphony of anticipation and excitement. The scent of your chosen perfume, usually comforting, morphed into an intoxicating reminder of the impending encounter. Each passing car horn and distant laughter felt amplified, weaving a soundtrack of the approaching moment.

The walk held a new rhythm, each step leading to the unknown. Arriving at the chosen venue, a cozy café bathed in warm light, a wave of relief washed over you as you saw Emily waiting for you. There, right next to the door, sat the object of weeks of anticipation. An initial wave of shyness washed over you, momentarily silencing the carefully prepared conversation starters. But as smiles were exchanged, the ice began to thaw. The warmth of the interior enveloped you, offering a comforting contrast to the crisp autumn air. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of baked pastries, creating a sensory dance. Across the table, your Emily’s eyes held a glimmer of curiosity, her smile triggering a cascade of warmth within you.

The conversation between you flowed with surprising ease. You discovered shared passions, unexpected connections, and the joy of finding common ground in the vast landscape of human experience. Time seemed to bend, minutes morphing into hours. Laughter filled the air, a testament to the easy connection that deepened with every minute you were together. The conversation wasn't just words, it was a bridge built upon shared laughter and stolen glances. Jokes landed perfectly, eliciting genuine chuckles that echoed in the dimly lit space. In moments of comfortable silence, the unspoken understanding resonated deeply, communicating more than words ever could.

The two of you talked for what seemed like hours, until the coffee shop closed and you had to leave. As the date drew to a close, the lingering anticipation transformed into a newfound warmth. The walk back home, once a solitary journey, now held the echo of shared experiences and whispered promises of future encounters. It was a reminder that sometimes, the most ordinary moments can blossom into extraordinary experiences, leaving one with a heart full of anticipation and a smile that lingers long after the goodbyes are said.

------------------

The sun, a hesitant guest, peeked through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the room. Anticipation hummed in the air, an electric current buzzing through every nerve. Today was the day – the day you would walk down the aisle and say "I do" to the love of your life.

The morning unfolded in a flurry of whispered secrets and excited laughter. Surrounded by the women who had shaped you, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and support. As your best friend helped zip up the dress, a wave of emotion washed over you. The pristine white fabric shimmered, a symbol of new beginnings and a lifetime of promises.

Standing at the end of the aisle, your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Every detail seemed heightened – the scent of lilies, the hushed murmurs of guests, the way the sunlight glinted off the tears glistening in your Beca and Aubrey’s eyes. And then you saw Emily, waiting at the altar, her smile radiating warmth and love that pierced through the veil of nerves.

The ceremony was a blur of emotions. Vows were exchanged with trembling voices, tears of joy freely flowing, and the weight of commitment settling comfortably upon your shoulders. As you exchanged rings, a symbol of your eternal bond, the world seemed to shrink, focusing solely on the two of you standing hand in hand.

The reception was a whirlwind of congratulations, laughter, and dancing. The clinking of glasses served as a soundtrack to our love story, each toast weaving memories that would forever be etched in our hearts. As the night deepened, and the revelry subsided, we stole away for a quiet moment under the starlit sky.

Holding each other close, you whispered sweet nothings and shared a kiss under the moon, a perfect ending to an extraordinary day. The wedding day was more than just a celebration; it was a culmination of a journey, a promise whispered to the future, and the beginning of a new chapter in our love story. It was a day that painted itself onto the canvas of your lives, a memory to be cherished forever, a testament to the unwavering power of love.

-----------------------

Married life, like any complex melody, is composed of countless notes: some high and jubilant, others low and melancholic, all weaving together to create a unique and ever-evolving symphony. While outsiders often romanticize the concept, the reality is far more nuanced and multifaceted.

The initial years were marked by a whirlwind of new experiences - navigating shared spaces, building routines, and learning to compromise. Laughter fills the air as inside jokes bloom, and adventures, both big and small, are embarked upon together. The foundation of trust and understanding is laid brick by brick, each conversation, each shared meal, solidifying the bond.

Yet, the journey isn't always a bed of roses. Disagreements arose, casting temporary shadows on the sunny landscape. Life throws curveballs, testing the strength of the bond that you two shared. But it is in these moments that the true essence of married life shines through, and you remembered why you fell in love with her. Communication becomes the bridge, allowing for open expression and the exploration of different perspectives.

Over time, the symphony evolves. The initial intensity of passion settles into a comfortable warmth, a deeper sense of connection built on shared experiences, unwavering support, and quiet companionship. The laughter may shift from explosive outbursts to knowing smiles, but the joy it brings remains.

The melody also encompasses shared responsibilities and a deeper understanding of the word "partnership." You decided to have children, and of course, Fat Amy insisted on being their favorite aunt.

Married life isn't a destination but a continuous journey. It requires constant effort, dedication, and a willingness to grow alongside your partner. It's about celebrating each other's triumphs, offering comfort during hardships, and finding joy in the ordinary moments. It's about weathering the storms and emerging stronger, the melody of your love story growing richer and more complex with each passing year.

[ladysif8]

Captured in Color

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Baker Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Meetcute, Gay Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Photo Shoots, Stucky, First Meetings, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Pride Month.

Summary: Milia Cooper, a talented photographer for a renowned New York magazine, is all set for an important Pride Month shoot when her models cancel at the last minute. Desperate and determined, she turns to her childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes, and her college confidant, Steve Rogers. As they step in to save the day, Milia seizes the chance to play matchmaker, hoping to spark a connection between the two. Amid the vibrant backdrop of the Pride celebration, unexpected feelings emerge, making this shoot one that none of them will ever forget.

Welp, it's taken a year to write. But better late than never! I present to you my first Stucky fic! It's a little rough; all mistakes are my own.

A special shoutout to @talia-rumlow for planting this seed in my brain and helping me water it.

Nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, Pride Pastries & Perks occupied a cozy corner of an old, charming building that had stood the test of time. The bakery's façade was a delightful blend of vintage and modern aesthetics, with exposed brick walls that told stories of decades past. The large, floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop bathed the interior in natural light, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The bakery's name, Pride Pastries & Perks, was elegantly scrolled across the glass in bold, whimsical lettering that drew the eye of passersby. Inside, the scent of freshly baked goods mingled with the rich aroma of brewing coffee, enticing customers to step in and indulge.

The interior was a haven of rustic charm. Wooden beams ran across the high ceilings, and the original hardwood floors creaked softly underfoot. A mix of colorful, mismatched chairs and tables added a playful touch, while potted plants dotted around the room brought a burst of greenery, complementing the earthy tones of the space.

Behind the counter, a glass display case showcased an array of vibrant pastries and cookies, each one a small work of art. The pride-themed confections were especially popular, their bright colors and intricate designs celebrating love and diversity. And it's not just the pastries that are a work of art. Bucky, the skilled baker, could often be seen working in the open kitchen at the back, his concentration evident as he piped delicate patterns onto freshly baked treats. His personal touch is what makes our pastries truly special.

The bakery was more than just a place to get a sweet treat; it was a vibrant community hub where locals gathered to share stories, laugh, and enjoy the cozy ambiance. Pride Pastries & Perks was a testament to the spirit of Brooklyn—diverse, welcoming, and full of heart. It's a place where you're not just a customer but a valued member of our community.

Bucky stood at his workbench, his hands rhythmically kneading a vibrant swirl of rainbow bagel dough. The colors blended together in a mesmerizing pattern, a testament to his baking skills and creativity. The scent of yeast and flour filled the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of pastries and freshly brewed coffee.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer. Instantly, his two front-end employees called out in unison, "Welcome to Pride Pastries & Perks!"

Bucky smiled to himself, appreciating the enthusiasm they brought to the shop. He continued working, focusing on achieving the perfect texture for the dough when he heard a familiar voice.

"Is Bucky busy?" It was Mila, his best friend since kindergarten, her voice carrying the same blend of curiosity and determination it always did.

"Yes!" Bucky hollered without looking up, knowing that if Mila was here, she was probably up to something.

But Wanda, one of the baristas, chimed in cheerfully, "No, he's not!"

Bucky glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Mila flash a grateful smile at Wanda. "Thanks!" she said, heading towards the back.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as he saw her approach.

Mila took in the sight of her best friend, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled up in a bun on his head, undercut freshly trimmed. He was wearing jeans, and a black tee stretched across his chest, dusted in flour from his baking. It was a shame Bucky Barnes was gay, she thought to herself with a small smile.

His rugged good looks and strong physique were enough to turn heads anywhere he went, but his kind heart and unwavering loyalty made him truly irresistible.

"That was so rude," Mila said, walking into the kitchen, a mock pout on her lips.

Bucky wrinkled his nose at her playfully. "You never visit me at work unless you need something from me or you're having a bad day and need to vent," he said, glancing at his watch. "And since it's only 9:30, I'm assuming you want something. So, which is it?"

Mila rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. "Can't a girl just visit her best friend without ulterior motives?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not you," he teased, continuing to knead the colorful dough.

"Okay, fine," she sighed dramatically. "I do need something. But it's for a good cause, I promise."

Bucky stopped kneading for a moment, giving her his full attention. "Alright, spill. What's so important that you had to disrupt my dough time?"

"Okay, so you know how I'm doing this piece for Pride for the magazine, right?" Mila asked.

Bucky nodded. He knew his best friend was working on a Pride spread for the New York Chronicles. Mila was one of the best writers and photographers the magazine had, and she'd been working on this project for months. She was showcasing queer-owned businesses and their owners.

"Anyway, the two guys we had to do the spread dropped out. So now I need new models. The shoot is in two days."

Bucky plopped his dough into a bowl to proof a second time before draping a cheesecloth over it. "Okay, what does this have to do with me?" he asked, dusting the flour off his hands.

"I need you to model for me," Mila said, her tone pleading.

Bucky laughed and outright cackled. "No," he said, shaking his head emphatically.

"Please, Bucky!" Mila begged, following her best friend around the kitchen.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not a model, Mils. I'm a baker," he said, grabbing a tray of white-frosted sugar cookies.

"Buuucky..." she whined, stomping as she followed him to his station.

Bucky had laid out an array of bright, colorful royal icing from red to purple; all twisted up in piping bags ready to be used. He'd already finished three trays of cookies cooling on the rack, each one a half-circle shape with a rainbow piped on top. Underneath, in beautiful script, was the phrase "Love is Love." The colors of the rainbow popped against the white frosting, making each cookie a little piece of art. There were three other designs as well: one was a heart-shaped cookie with the word PRIDE stretched across it in bold letters, each letter a different rainbow color. Another cookie spelled out the word "Love" in purple, while "Wins" was in red, yellow, green, and blue. The last cookie said "Pride," with a cute little heart over the 'i.' The base of this cookie was rainbow-striped with a thin white line between each color. They were beautifully made.

"Mila, don't whine, honey. That's not attractive," he smirked, picking up a red piping bag.

Mila frowned, crossing her arms and resting her hip against the silver table. "Bucky, I'm serious. I'm in a bind here. I need someone who embodies the spirit of Pride and community. And you're perfect for it."

He shook his head again. "I wouldn't even know what to do."

"Just be yourself," Mila insisted. "That's all I need. You, being your amazing self. Plus, it'll be fun. Think of it as a new adventure!"

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "Why me, though? There have to be other people who can do this."

Mila stepped closer, her eyes earnest. "Because you're not just anyone, Bucky. You're passionate and talented, and you care about this community. And you're my best friend. Please, I really need you."

Bucky looked at her, seeing the desperation and sincerity in her eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering. "You really think I can do this?"

"What if I told you the other guy is a tall, bulky, blonde hunk?" Mila said, wagging her eyebrows as Bucky looked over at her, his blue eyes narrowing with interest.

"He's an artist, 33," she added, seeing him pucker his lips as he thought it over. "And he's single," she sang, dragging out the last word with a playful smile.

"Gay?" Bucky asked.

"Bi," Mila replied, biting her lip with excitement. They both knew she had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "You're relentless, you know that?"

Mila grinned, knowing she had him hooked. "Yup. So, what do you say? Will you do it?"

Bucky shook his head but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Fine. But you owe me big time."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Mila squealed, clapping her hands. "You're amazing, the bestest of best friends, you're a goddess, you're—"

Bucky quickly stuffed a cookie in her mouth. "I get it," he laughed.

Mila frowned for a moment before taking a bite of the heart-shaped cookie, chewing happily. "These are really good," she mumbled around a mouthful.

"Of course they are; I made them," he winked over his shoulder.

Mila walked out of the bakery, balancing two to-go coffees in one hand and a bag with two cinnamon rolls in the other. She smiled triumphantly, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The morning sun was shining, and the streets of Brooklyn buzzed with their usual energy.

As she strolled down the street, she pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Peter Parker, her intern.

Miss Mila: Got Bucky!

Peter's response was almost immediate.

Parker: Great! So, does that mean Steve agreed?

Mila quickly typed back.

Miss Mila: On my way to secure him now.

Parker: So you lied to your friend?

Miss Mila: No, I told him a little fib.

Parker: Isn't that the same thing?

Mila rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone. Interns, she thought with a smirk, always so literal.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, she picked up her pace. The sidewalk was bustling with people, but Mila weaved through them effortlessly, her mind focused on the task ahead. She needed to convince Steve, and she was determined to ensure the success of her Pride photoshoot. The thought of the vibrant, celebratory spread she envisioned filled her with excitement and anticipation.

Steve stood in his studio, surrounded by a vibrant array of paints and canvases. Soft jazz music played in the background, mingling with the quiet hum of the city outside. The room was a chaotic symphony of color, with splatters of paint on the floor and various completed pieces lining the walls, each one a testament to his creativity and passion.

He wore a white tank top, now speckled with a rainbow of paint, and his jeans bore similar evidence of his artistic endeavors. His hands moved with practiced ease, applying bold strokes of color to the canvas before him. He was working on a Pride piece, a celebration of love and identity, and the canvas was already bursting with life.

The painting featured an array of abstract figures in a joyous dance, their forms intertwining in a kaleidoscope of colors. Each stroke was deliberate, and each hue was chosen to convey the vibrancy and diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. Steve stepped back for a moment, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blue paint on his forehead. He smiled at the small mess he had made on himself, a familiar part of his artistic process.

He took a deep breath, feeling the music and the energy of the piece fill him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. This was more than just a painting; it was a statement, a tribute to the beauty of diversity and the power of love.

As he worked, he lost himself in the rhythm of the brushstrokes and the soothing melodies of the jazz music. The outside world faded away, leaving only the canvas, the colors, and his passion for creating something meaningful. The paintbrush glided effortlessly across the canvas, each stroke adding depth and emotion to the unfolding scene.

Steve paused again, examining his work with a critical eye. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the progress. There was still much to do, but he could already see the piece coming to life, reflecting the spirit of Pride in every vibrant detail. The figures on the canvas seemed to dance with joy, their colorful forms celebrating the beauty of being true to oneself.

Steve was lost in the flow of his painting when he heard a knock on the door. Without looking up, he hollered, "Enter!"

The door creaked open, and Mila walked in carrying two to-go cups of coffee and a small brown sack. The rich aroma of the coffee quickly filled the studio, blending with the scent of paint and creativity.

Mila eyed Steve carefully as she crossed the room, taking in his paint-splattered clothes and the blue smear on his forehead, even a little in his blonde hair. Steven Grant Rogers was an absolute mouth-watering specimen, with golden blonde locks, sweet blue eyes, and an impressive physique. His broad shoulders, muscular chest, and trim waist accentuated his glorious backside.

Mila had met Steve during her freshman year of college. They had an art history class together, and after being paired up for a partner project, the two became fast friends. Mila had even written her first article for the magazine on local artists featuring her dear friend.

"Darling, you look like shit," she commented with a smirk.

"Hardy har har," Steve replied dryly, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He set down his brush and wiped his hands on a rag, turning to face her.

Mila handed him one of the coffee cups and the brown sack. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," she said. "And maybe a break."

Steve accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a long sip. "Bless you," he mumbled around the cup as the warmth and caffeine instantly revived him. "This is exactly what I needed."

She grinned, settling herself on a stool nearby. "So, how's the masterpiece coming along?"

Steve glanced at the canvas, his expression softening with pride. "It's getting there. Still, a lot of work to do, but I'm happy with how it's shaping up."

Mila nodded, taking a sip of her own coffee. "It looks incredible, Steve. I can already see the energy and emotion in it."

He smiled, appreciating her encouragement. "Thanks, Mils."

"Here, brought you breakfast," she said, handing over a styrofoam container and a fork.

Steve's bright blue eyes lit up. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, snatching the container from her hands. He opened it to reveal a massive, hot apple pie cinnamon roll.

The surface of the roll was dusted with a generous coating of cinnamon sugar, adding a delightful crunch to each mouthful. A heavenly aroma of warm cinnamon and baked apples wafted from the roll, tempting anyone within smelling distance.

Steve quickly dug into the cinnamon roll, taking a large bite. He moaned happily as he chewed, savoring the sweet and spicy flavors melting in his mouth.

The roll was large and fluffy, with layers of soft, buttery dough spiraled around a rich apple pie filling. Each bite revealed tender chunks of cinnamon-spiced apples nestled amidst a sweet and gooey caramel sauce that oozed out with every bite.

As Steve indulged in the decadent treat, he couldn't help but marvel at the perfect balance of flavors and textures. It was comfort food at its finest, a sweet escape from the demands of the day and a reminder of the simple joys in life.

"I swear," Steve started to speak around his full mouth, "these get better every time," he mumbled rather obnoxiously.

Mila rolled her eyes, a smirk on her lips. "Manners, Steven," she chided playfully.

"Swrry," he mumbled, his bulging cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Steve took another bite of the cinnamon roll, savoring the flavor before he glanced at Mila. "So, what are you up to? I thought you were getting ready for a photo shoot in a few days."

Mila shifted on her stool, her expression turning slightly sheepish. "Yeah, about that..." She hesitated before continuing, "I need to ask you something. I need you to be my second model."

Steve blinked at her, utterly shocked. "Me? A model?"

Mila nodded, looking a bit desperate. "My models quit at the last minute, and now I'm scrambling. I don't have anyone else."

Steve fumbled with his words, trying to find a way to say no. "Mila, I'm not a model. I don't know how to do that. I can't..."

"Please, Steve," she begged, batting her pretty lashes at him.

Steve huffed. Mila was a very attractive woman. Her beautiful brown doe eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, dark brown hair, and naturally tanned skin, thanks to her father, who hailed from Spain, always caught attention. Steve had been attracted to her the moment he saw her curvy, voluptuous body. While he preferred men, he wasn't blind. Thankfully, they had developed a brother-sister relationship over time.

"Mila, I really don't think—"

"Please, Steve," she interrupted, her eyes pleading.

He sighed, knowing he was already weakening. "You know I'm terrible in front of a camera," he protested half-heartedly.

"Steve, you'll be perfect," she insisted. "I just need you to stand there and look like the amazing person you are. You don't have to do anything special."

He looked at her, those doe eyes full of hope and desperation. He couldn't say no to her, not when she looked at him like that.

"Fine," he relented, "but only because it's you."

Mila's face lit up with relief and gratitude; she squealed happily, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Steve. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Steve sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Alright, alright. But who am I modeling with?"

Mila's eyes sparkled with excitement. "He's a tall, dark, and handsome guy with steel blue eyes. Trust me, you're going to get along great."

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Tall, dark, and handsome, huh? Sounds like you've got quite the catch."

Mila grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, definitely. You'll see. He's perfect for this shoot, and I think you two will make an amazing team."

Steve couldn't help but smile back at her infectious enthusiasm. "I'm trusting you on this."

Mila's grin widened. "You won't be disappointed, Steve. This is going to be fantastic, I promise."

Bucky walked into the studio, where Cage The Elephant's "Cigarette Daydreams" played softly in the background. The familiar sound of a camera shutter clicking and a deep, resonant laugh filled the air. He suddenly felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he stepped further into the room, his eyes landed on a tall man with artfully messy blonde hair and a neatly trimmed, darker blonde beard. The man's cerulean blue eyes sparkled as he laughed, a sound that seemed to light up the entire space. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was sinfully tight, showcasing his impressive biceps, and light-wash denim jeans with rips at the knees. Bucky couldn't help but notice that he was barefoot, adding an unexpected casualness to his appearance.

Bucky almost forgot to breathe because that man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man he had ever seen. His presence was commanding yet approachable, and Bucky felt an overwhelming mixture of awe and intimidation.

Trying to steady himself, Bucky took a deep breath and stepped further into the studio, feeling his palms grow sweaty. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man, who was effortlessly captivating even as he laughed and joked with Mila.

Mila spotted Bucky as soon as he stepped into the studio. "Bucky!" she hollered, jogging over to him with a bright smile on her face.

Bucky tried to play it cool, standing straight and giving a casual wave. But as she got closer, his facade cracked. "Mila, you didn't tell me the other guy was built like a Greek god," he scolded his voice a mix of awe and exasperation.

Mila laughed, glancing back at Steve, who was still engrossed in his conversation with the photographer. "Oh, come on, Buck. You're no slouch yourself. Besides, I did say he was handsome."

Bucky shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Handsome is one thing, but that guy could be the poster child for perfection. You set me up."

Mila grinned mischievously. "Maybe a little. But trust me, you two are going to look amazing together in this shoot. Just relax and have fun with it."

Bucky sighed, glancing back at Steve, who caught his eye and gave a friendly nod. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with," he muttered, though a small part of him was actually looking forward to working with Steve.

Mila beamed and grabbed Bucky's hand, leading him towards Steve. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

As they approached, Steve turned to face them, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. Mila's excitement was palpable as she gestured between the two men. "Steve, this is Bucky Barnes, the amazing baker and my oldest friend I was telling you about. Bucky, this is Steve Rogers, the incredible artist and the only reason I made it through art history in college."

Steve extended his hand with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm a huge fan of your cinnamon rolls."

Bucky blushed as he took Steve's hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip. "Nice to meet you too, Steve."

Peter Parker, with his ever-present enthusiasm, popped into the studio with a grin. He was dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie, his hair slightly tousled from running around.

"Hey, Bucky!" he called out, spotting Bucky talking to Steve and Mila. He jogged over, barely able to contain his excitement. "Good to see you; they're ready for you in wardrobe."

Bucky glanced at Peter, appreciating his youthful energy. "Thanks, Peter," he said with a nod, turning to Mila and Steve. "Guess I'll go get changed."

Mila patted Bucky on the back reassuringly. "We'll be waiting."

Steve gave him an encouraging smile. "Looking forward to seeing the final look."

Peter led a blushing Bucky toward the wardrobe area, chatting animatedly. "You're going to look awesome, Bucky. Mila had the whole awesome idea planned out for the spread."

Bucky chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease with Peter's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Peter. I'll try not to mess it up."

Steve was laughing as Mila took test shots of him, her enthusiasm infectious. "Yes, darling, you're fabulous! Work it, darling; the camera is your friend," she cooed, her voice dripping with playful encouragement. Steve played along, striking exaggerated poses that made both of them burst into laughter.

The sound of footsteps caught Steve's attention, and he turned to see Bucky walking in. His heart nearly stopped. Bucky was dressed similarly to Steve, though his shirt wasn't nearly as tight. His brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing his face. The light caught his steely blue eyes, making them shine. His smooth, baby face and cleft chin gave him a look of rugged yet gentle charm that made Steve's breath catch.

Steve's mind raced, an unexpected wave of desire surging through him. He wanted to grab Bucky and kiss him right then and there, but he forced himself to stay composed. Instead, he offered a welcoming smile, trying to steady his suddenly racing heart.

Mila, sensing the tension, turned to Bucky with a grin. "Bucky, you look amazing! Come on over; let's get some shots of you two together."

Bucky, looking slightly nervous but determined, walked over to join Steve. As they stood side by side, Steve couldn't help but feel an electric charge in the air. Despite the playful banter and lighthearted atmosphere, there was an undeniable connection forming between them.

Mila adjusted her camera, ready to capture the chemistry that was already palpable. "Alright, boys, let's make some magic happen."

Mila snapped a few shots of Steve and Bucky smiling at each other, capturing the natural chemistry between them. "Perfect, you two are naturals," she praised, her excitement evident.

"Peter!" she hollered, causing the young intern to spring into action. He and another assistant quickly pulled out a large white backdrop, setting it up behind Steve and Bucky. Peter then brought in a cart loaded with bottles of paint in every color of the rainbow and handed each of them a paintbrush.

Steve and Bucky exchanged curious glances, each holding a brush as if it were a foreign object. Steve finally asked, "What are we supposed to do with these?"

Mila grinned mischievously. "Just have at it! Get creative, have some fun."

Bucky, embracing the spontaneity of the moment, dipped his brush into a pot of blue paint. As he turned to look at Steve, Peter accidentally dropped a bottle of paint behind him. Startled, Bucky whipped around, flinging paint off his brush. A streak of blue splattered across Steve's face, making both men freeze for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Nice aim, Barnes," Steve teased, wiping some of the paint from his cheek with a playful smirk.

Bucky laughed sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Steve. Didn't mean to give you a new look."

Mila was already snapping photos, capturing the candid moment of chaos and fun. "That's it! Keep going; this is fantastic!"

Steve, deciding to embrace the chaos, dipped his brush into a pot of red paint and flicked it toward Bucky, leaving a streak across his shirt. "Payback," he said with a grin.

The room quickly filled with laughter and vibrant splashes of color as the two men playfully painted each other and the backdrop, losing themselves in the joyous spontaneity of the moment. Mila kept her camera clicking, capturing every playful exchange, knowing these were the shots that would truly bring the Pride photoshoot to life.

Peter hurried back into the room, this time holding a vibrant Pride flag. "Here, hold this behind you," he said, handing it to Bucky.

Bucky and Steve, both now covered in splashes of paint, took the flag and positioned it behind them, stretching it out so its bright colors were on full display, draping across their shoulders. Despite the paint and the mess, they couldn't stop smiling. Mila's camera clicked away, capturing the raw, joyful energy of the moment.

"Perfect, you two! Just like that!" Mila called out, her excitement evident in her voice. She snapped shot after shot, loving the way the colors and their expressions told a story of pride and connection.

As they held the flag, Steve found himself unable to look away from Bucky. He noticed how the blue of Bucky's eyes sparkled even more against the colorful backdrop. His gaze drifted down to Bucky's lips, then back up to his eyes, and then down again. It was as if the world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

Summoning his courage, Steve took a leap of faith. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Bucky's, his heart pounding in his chest. For a split second, he worried about how Bucky would react, but his fears melted away as Bucky responded, pushing up into the kiss and deepening it.

The studio seemed to pause, the sounds of the city outside and the soft hum of the studio equipment fading away. It was just them, lost in a kiss that felt like a culmination of everything unspoken between them.

Mila, sensing the significance of the moment, snapped a few more pictures, capturing the intimacy and raw emotion of the kiss. The Pride flag behind them fluttered slightly, adding a symbolic layer to the already powerful scene.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Steve whispered, "I've wanted to do that for a while."

Bucky, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining, replied, "Me too." They both laughed, a sense of relief and happiness washing over them.

Mila lowered her camera, grinning widely. "Now that's what I call a perfect shot."

After they were cleaned up and ready to leave, Steve walked with Bucky to the door. The evening air was cool and refreshing after the colorful chaos of the photoshoot. As they stepped outside, Steve hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand, stopping him gently.

"Bucky," Steve began, his voice a mix of nerves and hope, "I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner sometime."

Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes twinkling and a smile tugging at his lips. He bit his lower lip, clearly pleased. "I'd love that," he replied softly.

Steve's heart lifted at Bucky's response. Emboldened, he asked, "Would it be too bold of me to suggest that dinner could be this evening?"

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Yes, it would be bold of you," he said, leaning in a little closer, "and yes, I would love to go to dinner tonight."

Steve grinned, his relief and excitement evident. "Great! There's a nice little place not too far from here. How about we meet back here in an hour?"

Bucky nodded, his smile widening. "Sounds perfect."

They shared a lingering look, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air between them. With a final squeeze of Bucky's hand, Steve reluctantly let go. "See you in an hour, then."

"Can't wait," Bucky replied, his voice full of anticipation.

As they parted ways to get ready for their impromptu date, both of them felt a thrilling sense of new beginnings and the exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

Mila and Peter had overheard the whole exchange, their eyes following Steve and Bucky as they walked away in different directions. Peter turned to Mila, a knowing look on his face.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Mila dropped her bag over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied innocently. As she walked past Peter, she patted his cheek affectionately. "You did good today, Peter," she added, her tone warm and approving.

Peter blushed slightly at the praise but couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks, Mila. And thanks for letting me be part of this. It was... pretty amazing."

Mila winked at him. "Just wait, Parker. This is only the beginning." With that, she strode confidently down the street, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Her plan had come together perfectly, and she couldn't wait to see where Steve and Bucky's newfound connection would lead.

Bucky and Steve walked side by side down the street, heading toward a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, Nona Pias, that Steve had suggested. The evening air was cool, and the city around them buzzed with life, the hum of traffic and distant chatter creating a lively backdrop.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand, his thumb brushing lightly over Bucky's knuckles. He glanced at Bucky, his expression a mix of hope and nerves. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

Bucky blushed, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He dipped his head, looking up at Steve from under his lashes. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They continued walking, hand in hand, the simple connection feeling both new and wonderfully right. When they reached the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm fairy lights and the inviting smell of garlic and herbs wafting from inside, Steve let go of Bucky's hand only to open the door for him.

"After you," Steve said, a charming smile on his face.

Bucky smiled sweetly a light blush on his cheeks, "Thank you," he stepped inside, and as he did, Steve placed his hand on the small of Bucky's back, guiding him gently. The touch was warm and reassuring, and Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, thinking he might faint from the sheer perfection of the moment. This man was too good to be true; Steve was everything he had hoped for and more.

The hostess, Vicky, greeted Steve by name with a warm smile. Steve blushed at the look Bucky gave him, his face heating up in the soft light of the restaurant.

"I come here a lot," Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bucky raised an amused brow, his lips twitching into a smile. "Is that so?" he said.

Steve's blush deepened, but he chuckled. "Yeah, the food's just that good."

Vicky smiled warmly at their exchange. "This way, gentlemen," she said, leading them to a quiet corner table nestled away from the main dining area. The table was set with a simple but elegant arrangement, a small candle flickering in the center. The atmosphere was intimate, the perfect setting for their first official date.

As they sat down, Steve pulled out Bucky's chair for him before taking his own seat. They exchanged shy smiles, the initial nerves melting away in the warm, inviting ambiance of the restaurant.

"Here's your menu. Tori will be your waitress tonight," Vicky said, placing a menu down in front of each of them.

Steve smiled, "Thanks, Vicky," he said.

Once they were settled and had a few minutes to look over the menu, Tori came over with two glasses of ice water, setting them down with practiced ease.

"What can I get you, gentlemen, to drink?" she asked, pulling a pencil from the red bun piled on top of her head.

While Bucky perused the menu, Steve glanced at the wine list. "How does Barbera d'Alba sound?" he asked, looking at Bucky for approval.

Bucky nodded, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through him at Steve's consideration. "Sounds perfect."

"We'll take a bottle, please," Steve said to Tori, who jotted it down with a nod.

"What can I get you for dinner?" she asked, her pencil poised above her notepad.

Bucky glanced at Steve before turning to Tori. "I'll have the chicken Parmesan, please," he said with a smile. "It's been ages since I've had a good one."

"Excellent choice," Tori nodded while jotting it down and then turned to Steve. "And for you?"

Steve glanced at the menu one last time before deciding. "I'll go with the spaghetti Bolognese," he said.

"I should have known, a creature of habit this one," she jerked her pencil in Steve's direction.

Steve shrugged, "I know what I like," he chuckled.

"I'll put this in and get the wine right out for you," she smiled, tucking the pencil back into her bun and heading off to retrieve their wine.

Before long, Tori returned with the bottle of Barbera d'Alba and two wine glasses. She expertly uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Steve's glass for him to taste. Steve swirled the wine, sniffed it appreciatively, and then took a sip, savoring the rich, fruity notes.

"This is great," Steve said, nodding his approval.

Tori filled both their glasses and left the bottle on the table with a smile. "Enjoy, gentlemen."

They toasted each other, clinking their glasses together gently. "To a great evening," Bucky said, his eyes meeting Steve's over the rim of his glass.

"To a great evening," Steve echoed, feeling a thrill of excitement.

They took a moment to savor the wine, letting the warmth of the alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere envelop them. The restaurant buzzed with soft conversations and the clinking of cutlery, creating a cozy, intimate setting.

As Steve and Bucky continued to talk, their conversation filled with laughter and shared stories, Tori returned with their meals. She balanced the plates expertly, a warm smile on her face as she approached their table.

"Here we are, gentlemen," she said, carefully placing Bucky's chicken Parmesan in front of him. The dish was a masterpiece of Italian comfort food, with perfectly breaded chicken, melted mozzarella, and a rich tomato sauce that made Bucky's mouth water.

"And for you," Tori continued, setting down Steve's spaghetti Bolognese. The generous portion of pasta was coated in a hearty, flavorful meat sauce and topped with a sprinkle of freshly grated Parmesan.

"Enjoy your meals," she said, giving them a friendly nod before heading off to attend to other tables.

Bucky inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious aroma wafting up from his plate. "This smells amazing," he said, picking up his fork and knife. He cut into the chicken, the crispy breading giving way to tender, juicy meat. His first bite was pure bliss, the flavors dancing on his tongue. "Oh wow, this is incredible."

Steve grinned, twirling his fork in the spaghetti and taking a bite. The rich Bolognese sauce was everything he had hoped for, bursting with robust flavors. "I knew this place wouldn't disappoint," he said, nodding in agreement. "It's just as good as I remember."

They ate with gusto, the conversation flowing naturally as they enjoyed their meals. Bucky's eyes sparkled as he recounted a funny story from his days learning to bake with his mom, and Steve found himself laughing along, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

"So, what made you decide to pursue art as a career?" Bucky asked, taking a sip of his wine.

Steve paused, thinking back to his early days. "It's something I've always loved, even as a kid. I was always drawing or painting, trying to capture the world around me. When I got older, I realized it was more than just a hobby—it was a passion. I couldn't imagine doing anything else."

Bucky nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get that. Baking is similar for me. It's my way of creating something tangible, something that brings joy to others. There's nothing quite like seeing someone's face light up when they taste something you've made."

Steve's eyes softened as he listened, appreciating Bucky's genuine passion. "It's amazing how art and food can both connect people in such profound ways," he said.

As the meal went on, Bucky found himself more and more captivated by Steve. The way he spoke about his art, his eyes lighting up with passion, and the gentle, thoughtful way he listened and responded to Bucky's stories made him feel seen and appreciated.

Steve, too, was drawn to Bucky's warmth and sincerity. He admired Bucky's dedication to his craft and the genuine joy he took in making others happy through his baking. There was an undeniable connection between them, a chemistry that was both exciting and comforting.

By the time they finished their meals, they were both feeling pleasantly full and slightly tipsy from the wine, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the restaurant around them.

Tori returned to clear their plates, her smile as warm as ever. "How was everything?" she asked.

"Perfect," Steve said, glancing at Bucky, who nodded in agreement.

"Absolutely," Bucky added. "Thank you."

"Great to hear," Tori replied. "Can I get you anything else? Dessert, maybe?"

Steve looked at Bucky, a playful glint in his eye. "What do you think? Dessert?"

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'm stuffed. But maybe next time?"

Steve's smile widened at the promise of a future date. "Next time, then," he agreed.

Tori nodded at their decline and left the check for them. Steve insisted on paying, and after a brief, friendly debate, Bucky relented, touched by Steve's chivalry.

As they prepared to leave, Steve looked at Bucky with a soft smile. "This was really nice, Bucky. I'm glad we did this."

Bucky smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the wine. "Me too, Steve. Me too."

After dinner, they decided to walk back to Bucky's apartment. The night air was crisp, and they walked close together, shoulders brushing. They talked and laughed, their voices mingling with the sounds of the city.

Their faces flushed with the warmth of alcohol as they made their way to Bucky's apartment. They swayed slightly as they walked, their steps not quite aligned as they walked under the dim streetlights. The sound of their laughter echoed softly through the quiet night air, and their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between stories and jokes.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand again, the touch warm and reassuring. Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of excitement and contentment. The simple act of holding hands felt natural as if it was something they had been meant to do all along.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their most embarrassing moments. Steve shared a story about a disastrous high school art project, and Bucky laughed so hard he had to stop walking for a moment to catch his breath.

"You seriously glued your own hand to the canvas?" Bucky asked, still chuckling.

Steve nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, it was a mess. Took hours to get it off."

Bucky shook his head, smiling. "I can't believe you just told me that."

"Well, I figured you should know what you're getting into," Steve said with a wink.

They continued their stroll, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by lighthearted banter. When they reached Bucky's apartment building, they lingered outside the door, neither wanting the night to end.

Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes soft in the dim streetlight. "I had a really great time tonight," he said quietly.

"Me too," Bucky replied, his voice equally soft. He felt a nervous excitement bubbling up inside him.

As they reached the brownstone that housed Bucky's apartment, their voices quieted. Steve gripped Bucky's hand a little tighter, not ready to say goodbye just yet. As they reached Bucky's apartment door, they paused, standing close together. The air between them was charged with anticipation. Steve looked into Bucky's eyes, his heart racing. For a moment, neither of them spoke, simply reveling in the presence of the other.

Steve wasn't sure if it was wine or if he was feeling particularly bold that day, but Steve ducked his head and kissed Bucky softly, his lips brushing against Bucky's in a tender, tentative touch. He pulled back slightly, searching Bucky's face for any sign of discomfort. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time. Their tongues tangled together, and Bucky moaned into the kiss, tasting the sweet red wine on Steve's tongue.

The world around them seemed to blur and fade away.

Steve responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist. As the kiss deepened, he pressed Bucky into the wall next to his apartment door, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The kiss was full of promise, a silent agreement that they were both exactly where they wanted to be.

Bucky's hands roamed up to Steve's hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands. He tugged gently, eliciting a low, pleased sound from Steve. The heat between them was undeniable, the chemistry electric.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and a little dazed, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky's. "I've been wanting to do that all night," he admitted, his voice husky.

Bucky smiled, his eyes shining. "Me too," he replied, his breath mingling with Steve's. They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other, before reluctantly pulling away.

"Do you want to come in?" Bucky asked, his voice soft but hopeful.

Steve smiled, his heart pounding. "I'd love to," he replied, knowing that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

Bucky unlocked the door and ushered Steve inside. The dimly lit apartment offered a cozy sanctuary from the chilly night air. Steve took a moment to appreciate the space, a mix of vintage finds and modern elegance that spoke volumes about Bucky's taste and style. The warmth and familiarity of the place made him feel even more connected to Bucky.

Bucky led Steve to the living room, where they settled onto the plush leather couch. The soft drapes were half-drawn, casting a warm amber glow over the room. Steve's eyes lingered on the framed photo on the mantel before shifting back to Bucky.

"I love your place, Buck," Steve murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shy smile spread across Bucky's face as he reached out for Steve's hand, tugging him towards the couch. Steve went willingly, his gaze dropping to meet Bucky's, their fingers intertwining in a silent understanding. Slowly, Steve's hand moved from Bucky's grip to gently cup his jaw, his thumb caressing the plump bottom lip of the brunette. Without hesitation, Bucky pushed Steve down onto the couch and straddled his lap, seeking permission with uncertain eyes.

"Is this okay?" Bucky asked, unsure of himself.

"It's more than okay," Steve rasped, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist.

Bucky hummed with delight, his hands gently tracing Steve's chest's defined muscles. He leaned in, pressing his lips against Steve's as their bodies moved in perfect sync. Slowly, Steve's tongue slipped into Bucky's mouth, and a wave of desire washed over the brunette, causing him to melt into Steve's embrace. The kiss was passionate and intense, igniting every nerve in their bodies as they lost themselves in each other's touch.

The heated press of their bodies against each other sent a tingling shiver down Bucky's spine, causing him to roll his hips instinctively. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the impressive bulge of Steve's clothed erection against his bottom. The sensation was both exhilarating and overwhelming, sending a rush of desire coursing through Bucky's veins.

Steve's heart raced as their kiss deepened. The intoxicating chemistry between them was undeniable, and he was grateful for the opportunity to be with Bucky in this way. Bucky's hands continued to roam over Steve's body, drawing attention to the way they felt connected - their fingers intertwined, their hearts racing in unison.

Steve pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping Bucky's face in his hands. He looked into those deep blue eyes filled with raw emotion, and he knew that this was a moment he'd never forget.

"Bucky," he whispered, his heart pounding against his chest. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

Bucky's gaze mirrored his own, reflecting both his admiration and the fire that now burned within him. "I want you too," Bucky whispered, the words barely audible as he leaned in to kiss Steve once more.

Suddenly, Steve stood up, lifting Bucky effortlessly with him. Bucky let out a surprised squeak, his cheeks flushing a deep red, caught between embarrassment and arousal. The display of Steve's strength sent a shiver down his spine, intensifying his desire.

Steve's arms held him securely, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment. "You okay?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky bit his lip, nodding as he wrapped his legs tighter around Steve's waist. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice shaky with excitement. "More than okay."

Steve chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through Bucky. Their lips met again in a passionate kiss, the world outside disappearing as they surrendered to the heat between them. Bucky's fingers curled into the other man's thick blonde hair. The kiss was intense, their shared desire palpable in how their bodies pressed together.

"Bedroom?" Steve mumbled against Bucky's lips, his breath hot and urgent.

Bucky nipped at Steve's bottom lip, causing a low groan to escape from Steve. "Down the hall, second door on the left," he replied, quickly moving his lips to Steve's neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

Steve navigated through the apartment, Bucky's directions clear in his mind despite the haze of desire clouding his thoughts. He carried Bucky with ease, feeling the solid strength of Bucky's body against his own. Each kiss and touch sent shivers down his spine, urging him forward.

When they reached the bedroom, Steve pushed the door open with his shoulder, never breaking contact with Bucky. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow creating an intimate atmosphere.

Steve laid Bucky gently on the bed, his large hands roaming over Bucky's body, feeling the soft muscles beneath his shirt. Bucky's hands were equally busy, tugging at Steve's clothes, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. Their movements were hurried but careful, each action fueled by passion yet tempered with the thrill of newness.

"Off," Bucky whined, tugging at Steve's shirt buttons with impatient fingers. God, Steve, get this off," he groaned, his voice filled with frustration and desire.

Steve chuckled deeply, a sound that sent a thrill through Bucky. "Alright, alright," he rasped, his voice thick with amusement and arousal. Pulling himself up to his knees and hovering over Bucky, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it off, and tossed it aside.

Bucky's eyes roamed hungrily over Steve's chest, taking in the defined muscles and the faint scars that marked his skin. "Sweet baby Jesus," Bucky whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to touch Steve, his fingers tracing the lines of his torso with reverence.

Steve's breath hitched at the contact, his skin tingling under Bucky's touch. He leaned down, capturing Bucky's lips in a searing kiss, their bodies pressing with newfound urgency. Bucky's hands moved to Steve's back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

As their kiss deepened, Steve's hands explored Bucky's body, pulling at his clothes until they, too, were discarded, leaving them both in their boxers. The heat between them grew, their desire a palpable force in the room. Every touch and kiss spoke of their longing and the connection they had found in each other.

As Steve pulled away from the kiss, his face flushed with desire, he looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was a burning intensity that mirrored his own. Encouraged, Steve slowly started running his fingers over the tense muscles beneath the miles of olive skin. Bucky's breath hitched as Steve's touch sent shivers down his spine.

Bucky arched his back to allow Steve better access to his chest, their eyes locked in a silent plea for understanding. Steve's fingers traced the curve of Bucky's pectoral muscle, his mouth following suit as he kissed along the soft, defined ridges. Bucky moaned softly, his head falling back in pleasure.

Steve's lips traveled lower, teasing the trail of hair that led to Bucky's stomach. The brunette's gaze never left his lover's face. Bucky shivered at the sensation, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. When Steve reached the waistband of Bucky's boxers, he looked up, hesitating for a moment before reaching into his boxers.

Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve's fingers slid inside, his breath catching in his throat. Steve's fingers wrapped around Bucky's erection, gently stroking him. Bucky gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure washing over him. Steve's lips curved into an absolutely murky smile as he watched Bucky's reaction.

"So responsive," Steve rumbled.

With a deliberate, intimate movement, Steve tugged the waistband of Bucky's underwear down, revealing his hardened length. Bucky's breath hitched as the cool apartment air brushed against his sensitive skin. Steve hummed, pleased, taking in the sight before him.

Steve traced the line of Bucky's hip bone with his finger, eliciting a soft moan from his lover.

"You're stunning, baby," Steve breathed, his voice rough with desire.

Bucky blinked, momentarily stunned by the words of praise. He looked down at Bucky, their eyes locking once more.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky reached down and removed his underwear completely, revealing himself to Steve, his body trembling with anticipation.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are," Steve murmured, his voice thick with lust.

As Bucky watched Steve's eyes devour him, he felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest as he even began to crave more.

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Bucky's inner thigh, sending a shiver down his spine. Bucky let out a soft moan, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure.

Stevey's lips continued to trail upward, finally settling on Bucky's erection, which twitched in response to the gentle touch. Bucky's breath hitched as he felt Steve's warm breath wash over him, the sensation both erotic and intimate.

As Steve's mouth closed around him, Bucky's hands reflexively clenched in the cool devout, his back arching off the mattress as a deep, visceral moan escaped his lips. Steve's skilled tongue worked its magic, sending his body into overdrive as he sucked and licked, driving Bucky to the brink of madness.

Every nerve ending in Bucky's body seemed to be alight, allowing Steve to stoke the flames higher with each passing moment. Bucky's hips bucked, his body responding to Steve's ministrations with an intensity he never knew possible. His mind was a haze of pleasure, his body wracked with the most intense sensations he'd ever felt.

Steve popped off his cock with a lewd pop; he gently nudged Bucky's thighs to part further. He nuzzled Bucky's heavy sack on his further south.

"Steve.....oh...oooohhhh," Bucky gasped, feeling the blonde's tongue over his puckered hole.

Steve hummed, "Taste so good," he rasped, licking at Bucky's hole again.

Bucky's heart raced as Steve's tongue worked its way around his most sensitive area, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He gasped and moaned, feeling alive and free in ways he never thought possible. For the next ten minutes, Steve explored every inch of Bucky's hole with a combination of licking, sucking, and teasing touches. It was like heaven and hell mixed together in a delicious frenzy. As Bucky surrendered to the intense sensations, he couldn't help but think that Mila would probably inscribe on his headstone that he was rimmed to death by a Greek god.

"Fuck," Bucky gasped when Steve finally pulled away from in now relaxed hole. He blindly reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube, shoving it toward Steve.

Steve chuckled softly, his hand deftly squeezing a dollop of slick lube onto his fingers. He traced them teasingly up and down the curve of Bucky's backside, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. With expert precision, he gently pressed his ring finger against Bucky's tight entrance, watching in awe as it slowly opened up to welcome him inside. The sensation was like sinking into warm velvet, inviting and intoxicating all at once.

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the pleasure coursed through him. He was already so relaxed, thanks to Steve's skilled tongue working him over. Every nerve ending in his body felt alive and on fire.

"You're so tight," Steve murmured, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I can't wait to be inside you." Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve slowly worked a second finger into him, stretching him further. He moaned at the sensation, his body begging for more.

Steve continued to work his fingers in and out of Bucky's asshole with a rhythm designed to drive him wild, adding a third finger when he was confident that Bucky was ready. Bucky whimpered, his body writhing with pleasure as Steve stretched him even further.

"You ready for me, Buck?" Steve asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Bucky nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation.

With a smug smirk, Steve pushed himself up onto his knees and discarded his boxer briefs to the side. His thick, curved cock was proudly on display, nestled in a thatch of neatly dark-trimmed hair. Bucky's eyes widened as he stared at it with desire and anticipation.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at Bucky's reaction. "Oh, fuck me," Bucky mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from Steve's impressive member.

"That's the plan," Steve replied with a playful grin, fully aware of the effect he was having on Bucky. The room was filled with the scent of arousal and the sound of their heavy breathing as they both anticipated what was about to happen.

Bucky reached down and guided Steve's cock to his entrance, feeling the fat head nudge at his sensitive opening. He gasped as Steve slowly pushed in, the fat head of his cock pushing against Bucky's hole, his girth stretching Bucky in ways he never thought possible. It was like being swallowed whole by a tempest of pure pleasure. Bucky's body trembled at the sensation, his heart rate increasing with every inch that Steve thrust inside him.

Steve's breath was ragged as he continued to push deeper, his fingers gripping Bucky's hips tightly. Bucky moaned softly, his own excitement growing with each passing moment.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Steve groaned, thrusting deeper into Bucky with each stroke. "Squeezing me so tight."

Bucky moaned, his body arching to meet Steve's thrusts. The sensation of being filled by Steve's thick hard cock was more intense than anything he'd ever experienced, and he couldn't get enough of it.

As Steve's hips pistoned between Bucky's legs, the room filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together, their breaths turning to ragged gasps and moans. His thick cock dragged along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls, rubbing against his prostate.

Steve's thrusts grew more forceful, his hips slapping against Bucky's ass with each powerful stroke. Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the pleasure building within him as Steve's cock rubbed against his prostate,sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Steve......Steve...." Bucky chanted as he teetered on the edge.

But Steve was not ready to let go quite yet. He paused, his cock buried deep within Bucky and reached a hand between their bodies. He found Bucky's erect cock and began to stroke it with steady, sure movements.

Bucky let out a low moan, his hips bucking against Steve's hand as the sensations grew more intense. Steve's other hand gripped Bucky's hip, pulling him closer with each stroke.

"You feel so good," Steve panted, his breath hot against Bucky's ear. "I want to feel you come around me."

Bucky's body trembled, the pleasure building to a crescendo within him. He could feel the intensity growing, the pressure mounting, and he knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Steve continued to stroke Bucky's cock, his movements slow and deliberate. As he did so, he began to thrust deeper within Bucky, his hips swiveling and grinding against him, sending shivers of pleasure through every inch of Bucky's body.

Bucky cried out, his body writhing in pleasure. Steve's cock continued to rub against his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Bucky's body.

Steve's thrusts grew more powerful with each passing moment, his cock dragging along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls. Bucky moaned loudly, his body trembling with each powerful thrust. The pleasure built up inside him, reaching a crescendo as Steve's cock continued to massage his prostate.

Arching his back beautifully, Bucky moans, "Steve—nnghh—fuck!"

"Oh fuck, baby—Bucky," Steve groaned, his thrusts growing frenzied as his climax drew nearer.

Bucky's heart raced, his body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure Steve was giving him. He reached back and grabbed onto Steve's hips, urging him deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck Steve, I'm so close, don't stop," Bucky panted, his body arching with each powerful thrust.

Bucky could feel the orgasm building, his body tensing and his breaths growing shallow. The pleasure was overwhelming, and he knew that he was close. With every thrust, Steve's cock pushed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

Steve's breathing became ragged as he continued to stroke Bucky's cock and plunge deep into his body.

Steve's eyes locked with Bucky's, his expression a mix of lust and adoration. He pulled out, leaving Bucky's wet entrance exposed. With one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock buried itself deep within Bucky, the head of his cock rubbing against the highly sensitive spot inside Bucky. The sensation was too much for Bucky to bear, and he cried out in pleasure as he felt his orgasm take hold of him.

"Yes!" Bucky cried out, his entire body shaking as he came harder than he ever thought possible. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his orgasm seeming to go on and on. Thick ropes of milky white come erupted from his straining, pulsing, flushed cock, coating Steve's hand, his own stomach, and chest.

Steve continued to thrust inside Bucky as he came, his own pleasure building to a peak. The sight of Bucky's cum-covered body, the sound of their heavy breaths, and the slickness of their skin slapping together was almost more than Steve could bear.

Bucky felt Steve's hips bucking wildly against his, and he knew that his lover was about to join him in climax. With a grunt, Steve thrust deep inside Bucky one last time, and the sensation of Bucky's tight, hot walls milking his cock was more than Steve could bear.

He released Bucky's cock from his grip, and with one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock erupted, filling Bucky's body with his own release. His orgasm hit him like a tornado, and he cried out Bucky's name as his cock spasmed inside him, releasing streams of his seed deep inside Bucky's body. The sensation of Steve's hot cum filling him made Bucky's orgasm even more intense, and he vibrated with pleasure, his body arching into Steve's.

As the last of their orgasms subsided, Steve slowly pulled out of Bucky, their bodies sticky and sated from the passion they'd just shared. They lay on the bed, panting, their bodies still joined in a post-coital embrace.

Steve leaned up on one elbow and brushed the sweaty hair from Bucky's forehead, smiling softly as he took in the sight of the man beneath him. "That was incredible," he whispered.

Bucky returned the smile, his eyes filled with satisfaction and happiness. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was."

As the two lay there, their breathing began to slow, and their bodies cooled. Bucky couldn't help but wonder if this was real. He had always been wary of emotions, afraid of them even, but there was something about Steve that made everything feel right.

Steve traced his fingers along Bucky's cheek, his touch gentle and tender. "I'm really glad I agreed to do that photo shoot," he said softly.

Bucky smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at Steve's words. "Me too," he replied, his tone equally gentle. He closed his eyes, basking in the glow of the moment, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known in a long time.

Suddenly, Bucky started to chuckle, the sound low and rich.

"What?" Steve asked, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

Bucky rolled onto his side and buried his face in Steve's chest, his laughter muffled. "Mila is going to be unbearable after she finds out about this," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

"If she finds out," Steve pointed out, though his tone suggested he knew it was inevitable.

Bucky looked up at the blonde, raising an eyebrow. "If?" he repeated skeptically.

Steve sighed, his smile widening. "You're right, she probably already knows."

Bucky laughed again, shaking his head. "She's got a sixth sense for these things. I bet she's already planning how to tease us both."

Steve pulled Bucky closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly. "Let her. I don't mind," he said, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. "As long as I have you."

Bucky's heart swelled with affection, and he nuzzled closer, feeling the steady beat of Steve's heart against his cheek. "You've got me, Steve," he whispered. "For as long as you want."

Steve's arms tightened around Bucky, and they lay there in a comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

[lily-blue]

13 reasons why | reason no.9: the cupcakes are heavenly

☆ characters: baker!mingyu & food critic!you (Sooyoung - ‘97 liner) ☆ genre: coffee shop au, slowburn ☆ summary: your love life consists of flavourful dishes, delicious desserts and your best friend’s stories about his relationship with the sweetest girl; that is, until Mingyu decides to add something luscious into the mix ☆ words: 12,9k ☆ massive thank you: to @dat-town​ ♥ for everything! ☆ taglist: @soobin-chois​

➼ chapter index

Food, especially sweets, had always had a special place in your heart, because as soon as you had grown old enough to understand your parents’ relationship wasn’t ideal, they had become your safe place. Shortcakes, cupcakes, croissants - when they were made expertly, they could put a smile on your face even on the most emotionally draining days as if they had indeed been made with that one magical secret ingredient that you were desperately missing around your parents: love.

Becoming a food critic had been a semi-conscious decision that had become your passion in university. It had started small: with silly albeit professional posts on your Tumblr blog under the sarcastic nickname Joy where you had uploaded aesthetic pictures of the food you had tried, given stars to the places in different categories with a few additional words to express your opinion and credited the experience to the restaurants and coffee shops by mentioning their name and address.

When your curt comments had turned into few-paragraph-long articles was lost on you. But you still remember the day when your blog’s popularity had skyrocketed and you realised that you could make enough money from your hobby to never have to look for a job that’s related to your major: boring finances. It had been the day you had posted your first short video on Youtube with your article’s link in the description below. People had loved your sarcasm and the dynamic pacing of your edit. They had loved it so much and so actively that sponsors had started to email you about collaborations and the platform paid you for creating content. 

It felt surreal up to this day, but you had gotten more than fifteen minutes of fame.

You were still as hated as loved: truly, at the peak of your career.

Fancy restaurant and small diner owners alike kept requesting reviews from you so that they could boost their popularity, but you rarely gave the time of day to those emails, because they made you feel as though you were buyable despite never taking their money. Therefore, even if those places piqued your interest, you simply jotted their names down in your notebook and gave them a try months later when the pressure to write them a good review wasn’t palpable anymore. You didn’t do well with pushy people.

Except when that pushy person was your best friend, Felix, who couldn’t shut up about his new favourite coffee shop close to his girlfriend’s workplace. Coffee Carat was a constant in your conversations ever since Yewon had started her internship in March and you finally got to a point where you thought you had to see for yourself whether their cupcakes were really as otherworldly as Felix claimed them to be or else there was a huge possibility you would snap at him. And there were only a few things you hated more than fighting with your loved ones.

The morning rush’s buzzing noises were pleasantly lively when you walked up to the counter in your red high heels and your steps came to a halt at the end of the shorter line. You didn’t mind the crowd nor the extra time you spent in the shop waiting, because you had chosen this time of the day on purpose. You wanted to see how well the baristas worked when customers had just a tad bit less patience and so far you weren’t disappointed in their professionalism.

You offered a grateful smile to the barista who took your order and carried your tray to one of the empty tables in the back of the customer area, pleased with the interior design and the amount of sunlight the voile curtains let into the coffee shop. Even with purposely taking the chair that was facing the window, you weren’t blinded by the light, which definitely earned the place a couple of brownie points. You liked places that took their time to cater to all of their customers.

Comfortably seated, you took your phone out of your long coat’s pocket and took a few takes of the pretty decoration on the curtains, your table and the cupcakes you had bought. You made sure the videos had similar starting and ending points so that the transitions would be smoother and more natural in the final product. Then,  you were ready for the taste test.

‘Excuse me!’ A pleasant voice, albeit a bit unsure, addressed you and you put your chocolate cupcake back on the porcelain plate before you turned towards your intruder. It wasn’t hard to recognize the coffee shop’s uniform in the man’s outfit, but that just made you confused. You knew for a fact that making videos at places that were open for the public wasn’t against the law until there were no concrete signs that asked you not to take pictures or record videos. Had you missed a sign like that?

You were about to apologise and ask for special permission if that was the case, when the man shot you a small smile and bowed his head respectfully.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just wondering whether we could take a picture together? I’m a big fan of your blog and I just… had to give it a try,’ the barista was rambling and while it wasn’t the first time someone recognized you, it never ceased to amaze you how some people turned so shy in your presence when they were clearly brave enough to walk up to you. You could have never done the same when it came to your idols, but it was true that you weren’t in the same league as Taemin and Junho from 2PM.

‘It’s okay. We can take a photo,’ you agreed easily, never one to say no for such easy requests despite your sarcastic personality. Stealing a glance at the counter behind the man’s back, you actually appreciated that he had waited until the lines had gotten shorter.

You decided to stand up so that the barista - Seokmin as his nametag suggested - didn’t have to bend his back too much and took a couple of different pictures with his own phone until there was at least one in which you looked presentable. Not that you asked him to delete the rest. It didn’t matter to you, really, but your society was fixated on beauty standards and you wanted him to be able to share this experience on social media in case he wanted to. For that, he needed a good photo.

‘But you being my fan won’t affect my review. I’m not this easy to charm,’ you stated with a pinch of playfulness in your voice, facial expression stoic. You obviously meant every word, but Felix liked to tease you about how unintentionally rude you could come off whenever you were overly honest, so you tried to lighten your tone lately when breaking down the obvious. You weren’t sure it was working. A part of you felt it made you sound ridiculous, but well… practice made perfect.

‘Of course! You really shouldn’t be,’ the barista agreed with a wide smile and you wondered how some people made acting friendly look so easy. Not that you were a bad friend material. If anyone, your best friend could vouch for you that you were caring and understanding under the surface. But smiling at someone you had never met before so brightly? You could have never. ‘And I’m not worried about your review. Mingyu’s cupcakes are seriously the best,’ he said before the female barista called his name from behind the counter and he bowed his head again, grateful for the pictures you had taken.

You kept your gaze on Seokmin as he jogged up to his coworker and helped the girl with the coffee machine. You watched as he joked around with her effortlessly while a part of his focus was always on the task at hand and shook your head before you could have gone into a detailed analysis on how ineffective it made his work. It would have been a useless train of thought and you had come here to work anyway.

So you sat back on your chair and took the chocolate cupcake, you had been meaning to try, in your hands. It smelled delicious, a little citrusy, which was an achievement in itself taking the intensity of the dark cocoa powder you assumed they must have used when making it. The tiny card behind the display had suggested that it had an additional, orange flavour, but you had already tried a dozen of chocolate cupcakes in your life. Finding the balance between their rich, characteristic aroma and other, milder flavours was harder than it seemed.

One bite from the dessert was enough to acknowledge it was good; whoever had made the recipe was talented. However, the execution was almost amateur, and you didn’t understand why this made you disappointed when it shouldn’t have mattered. Coffee Carat was nowhere near the first coffee shop on your long list that failed to back up the hype. Still, you had more faith in Felix and his love for quality cupcakes and brownies.

Having been taught to never leave your food on your plate just because it didn’t reach your expectations, you finished your cupcakes in peace while you answered a couple of asks and comments on your social media accounts. Then, you left with a polite smile and the thought that you needed to take your best friend to a better coffee shop on your next friendly date on the weekend. Maybe you could have bought something sweet and creamy for his girlfriend, too, so that neither of them lowered their bar.

Food was self-love. Especially with desserts, no one should have made compromises.

You were used to the amount of notes, mentions, asks and messages you usually received on the day you posted a new review. You had learned it in the hard way not to be too hang up on the hate comments in your comments section for the sake of your mental health - people were more brutal in the Youtube community, a significant downside of expanding your brand and advertising your blog on another platform - and while it would have been a lie to say you had a foolproof method to scroll through the hate, now you were able to stop reading those lines when it became clear they had been written with malintention. You could focus on the good: the fun remarks, the constructive observations and the appreciation you received.

You tried out low quality places, so your followers didn’t have to and discovered rare gems, so that they could visit them knowing their food and drinks were worth the money.

Receiving demanding texts wasn’t a new thing, either. It was almost ridiculous how many people wanted you to change your opinion about a restaurant or café either for the worse or the better just to justify their preferences. You never wasted your time on these requests; that would have gone against your principles. And still, a week later, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, you found yourself in a situation when you couldn’t ignore the reappearing name in your spams anymore: Kim Mingyu. 

Every damn message you got that week was about Kim Mingyu.

Thus, when you saw that a new Tumblr blog with the default profile picture of a triangle sent you a private message, you opened it and typed out an answer.

milkgyuandcookies: “please, you have to come back to the coffee shop again!” milkgyuandcookies: “i’m telling you we have the best cupcakes” milkgyuandcookies: “it’s all a misunderstanding! i’m begging you 🥺🥺” you: “i wrote my review about the cupcakes i purchased at your coffee shop, so i can’t see any misunderstandings or mistakes here” you: “i rarely visit the same place twice, let alone in such a short period of time” you: “i’m sorry, but you had your chance” milkgyuandcookies: “then make an exception, please!! you can’t just write a review like this about my cupcakes when those weren’t even my cupcakes 😭😭 have some mercy” you: “you sold those cupcakes, i wrote a review about them. next time don’t sell them if you’re not satisfied with how they turned out” milkgyuandcookies: “aren’t you listening? those aren’t my cupcakes!!” you: “well that’s not my problem. i’m not going back” milkgyuandcookies: “just this once, please!🙏🙏i’m on my knees” you: “i’m blocking you” milkgyuandcookies: “no!!” milkgyuandcookies: “wait!! 😭😭” milkgyuandcookies: “come back!! 🥺🥺”

You clicked on the three dots next to his username and blocked him like you promised before he could have kept going on about how you should have given their coffee shop a chance to redeem themselves despite your definite no. Whether those cupcakes had been baked by him personally or not shouldn’t have mattered. They had given their name to those sweets when they had let their customers buy them, so it wasn’t your fault that you had chosen a cupcake that tasted average. You didn’t see why you should have revisited their place because of a few pleading emojis and a half-assed excuse.

You weren’t heartless - it just wasn’t easy to coax sympathy out of you with pleading emojis. They had taken a poorly calculated risk and lost when you had picked a dessert that had not reached the promised quality. End of the story.

You spent the next two hours blocking every blog that messaged you about Kim Mingyu and another half an hour phrasing a curt answer to a polite ask that claimed Coffee Carat deserved more stars. Then, you disconnected your phone from your wifi and spent the rest of the day in your bed, binge-watching the Chinese drama you had found last week. Wang Yibo’s gamer character might have driven you up the wall when he started to neglect his girlfriend because of his mentally unstable ex, but the reappearing cliffhangers did their job wonderfully, taking your mind off your followers’ obsession with Kim Mingyu.

His cupcakes or not, what you had tasted didn’t deserve your praises and you stood by your opinion.

The original plan had been to celebrate Felix’s promotion at his favourite high-end restaurant, but that place was full until the end of August, so you had ended up making a reservation for his birthday instead and invited him over, promising the blondie an inexhaustible supply of doenjang jjigae and permission to choose the movie you would watch. It was the second best thing you could give him, you were both aware of it, because your tastes in movies were pretty different and most of the time he was powerless against your arguments. You prayed he wouldn’t make you regret each one of your life decisions - such as letting him sit next to you at the American diner you had first met or befriending him - and make you watch something that left you with no other choice but to sleep with the lights on. You still couldn’t get over your unreasonable fear of rollercoasters because of your Final Destination marathon and that had been ages ago.

‘Hm, it smells delicious,’ your best friend’s voice came from the front door along with those struggling noises that coaxed a genuine chuckle out of you without witnessing his battle with his shoes. His habit to tie his laces so tightly it became impossible to get rid of his sneakers without his hands was beyond you, especially because his hands were almost always full. 

‘Better! It tastes delicious,’ you shouted back and turned off the stove with a snicker the same moment Felix finally emerged from the hall and walked past you to put his plastic bag on the counter and wash his hands by the kitchen sink.

As you two had previously agreed, he had taken a small detour to bring something sweet for dessert because while this jjigae recipe was your pride, you couldn’t bake to save your life and after numerous disheartening attempts in the past, you would have rather not given it another try at such a short notice.

‘What did you bring? Shortcakes? Pancakes?’ You asked while you stepped to your cabinet and took out half a dozen tiny bowls for your side dishes. The yellow radish in the lowest compartment in your fridge had been fermented by you a couple of weeks ago, but the napa cabbage and cucumber kimchis were new additions to your poor collection that you had purchased in the morning at the best organic food market downtown.

Although you couldn’t resist stealing a few bites here and there while you were distributing the side dishes, you did manage to leave the volcano steamed eggs untouched, which in itself was an achievement. Therefore, you let out a proud hum when you scanned the dining table, looking for important details you might have forgotten about.

‘Cupcakes,’ Felix said as he also opened your cabinet and fished out two inox rice bowls with their lids for the rice you had left in the rice cooker. Oh! How could you have forgotten about the rice? It was almost as important as your main dish.

You raised a brow without much elegance and watched as your best friend made himself at home in your humble flat.

‘They better be good,’ you threatened, although your voice was more playful than anything. It might have been over a month that you had set foot in Coffee Carat, but your friendly banters about those damned cupcakes and what delicious meant for the both of you had been a constant in your life ever since.

The pseudo-outraged scoff that left Felix’s mouth was the only retort you got, so you counted it as a win and didn’t drag out the topic. Instead, you put the jjigae in the middle of the table and let your friend dive in first although you were older than him. You were celebrating him, after all. And you had never been too keen on following conservative sentiments, anyway, like showing unconditional respect towards your elders and relatives. Your relationship with your parents had pretty much predetermined your thoughts on such matters. Thus, ever since you could have remembered, you appreciated one’s effort more than their age. Obviously, it had caused you headaches during your studies, but without a strict supervisor or a boss, it was almost too easy to live by your own rules. Even if it meant, some people called you rude and a disgraceful brat.

While eating, you listened to the blond boy’s endless chatter about the company dinner at which they had celebrated his promotion with his coworkers: how the other candidate, a loud guy named Yuksun who came from old money, had gotten wasted because he couldn’t have handled the decision. There were tears in your eyes from all that laughing when Felix’s story reached the climax, Yuksun’s futile attempts to drink Felix under the table being a comedy at its finest with the guy calling up his mom to take him home.

Since all you could have bragged about in exchange was the speed at which you had finished the tteokbokki you had ordered on Monday and the series you had almost finished the same day, you asked your friend about his girlfriend, because for 1) you genuinely liked how sweet she was and you had the habit of living your non-existent love life through their relationship and 2) you preferred the role of the attentive listener while eating.

‘She said it’s a surprise, but I’m pretty sure we’ll have a picnic,’ Felix said with a little laugh before he went into more details about Yewon’s lovely idea for their own, private celebration next week as she had needed to go home to Busan due to a family emergency you didn’t plan to pry about. It clearly wasn’t your business.

As always when you spent time with your best friend, your laugh was a bit more honest, your personality a bit more dorky and you couldn’t stay pissed at him for longer than two minutes when he chose a movie you would have never even considered watching without him being around. You were hiding behind the blondie’s shoulder, drumming with your legs out of fear and frustration while you reached for one of the cupcakes he had on a metal tray atop of his lap. You had sworn you wouldn’t have tried them until the movie had a calmer vibe, but you were already halfway through it and it showed no signs of less psychological torture.

Since your eyes were half-closed and the only source of light in the living room was your TV, you didn’t bother with checking which flavour you put your hand on. Instead, you peeled off the cupcake liner with one swift movement and took a huge bite from it as though Felix had ever restored your faith in his taste. 

Cinnamon and orange mixed perfectly atop of your tongue and the fluffy texture of the dough melted in your mouth. You needed to take another bite and one more to make sure your taste buds weren’t messing with you. The dessert your friend had brought was just this good.

‘Heol! These are heaven!’ You moaned a bit breathless when you tried a different flavour and it tasted just as good: the white chocolate and the raspberry complementing each other instead of fighting for dominance. You found yourself hoping Felix had brought dark chocolate ones, too, while you were simultaneously wondering which additional flavour would have balanced out the bitter aftertaste. Mango? Banana?

‘I know, right? Like I said, my favourite place,’ he bragged with a cheeky smile as he picked a random flavour and shoved the cupcake into your mouth. It tasted like salted caramel and reminded you of summer vacations when you had finally had enough money and freedom to visit the countryside on your own.

‘Oh, yeah? Where did you get these from?’ You asked between two bites. You narrowed your eyes and hovered over the tray, so that you could make a better judgement on the flavours of the remaining cupcakes. They all smelled delicious and two of them had that unmistakable, chocolatey aroma to them that made your mouth water.

‘Coffee Carat, obviously,’ Felix said and you snapped your head in his direction so abruptly, you headbutted his chin on accident, eliciting a groan from him with your carelessness.

In any other situation, the apology would have already rolled off your lips, but the revelation closed up your throat and made your tongue feel heavy. Confusion and disbelief knitted your brows together as you took another tentative bite from the cupcake in your hand. Obviously, it tasted nothing like the ones you had tried back in the coffee shop and suddenly the private messages you had gotten after you had posted your review flooded your mind.

Your fingertips dug into the soft texture of your dessert and the dough stuck under your nails, clinging into you like the memories of Mingyu’s whining that it hadn’t been his cupcakes you had tasted, that he wanted another chance to redeem his worth.

You didn’t notice how hard your teeth were tearing into your chapped lower lip until the damage was done and you could taste your own, coppery blood in your mouth. Fuck. Why were you feeling sorry for how you had replied to him when it didn’t change a thing. They had sold those cupcakes to you. And they were nothing special.

Your concerns must have been visible due to the deep furrows on your forehead and the small pout on your lips because the first thing your messy mind successfully took in was your best friend nudging you with a poorly concealed smile on his face. You straightened your posture and leaned your back against the backrest of your couch.

‘Is that guilt on your face?’

It was. However, you refused to acknowledge it out loud. That would have meant you had made a mistake when you had written your criticism, that blocking Mingyu hadn’t been the right thing to do and a rational part of you knew you did nothing wrong. Sure, lots of places, from high-end restaurants to family businesses, had a star chef or baker they advertised their menus with - especially when these people were not only talented, but handsome as well -, however, it didn’t necessarily mean they prepared all the food on their own. In fact! It was rather rare that one person was behind all the delicious creations. Which meant it was their own responsibility that each and every employee reached the bar.

‘Tsk, why would it be? I wrote about the food they served me,’ you retorted and stuffed the damned chocolate cupcake into your mouth out of spite so that Felix had no chance to taste it. Not that, in the back of your head, you weren’t aware that he must have been a regular at the coffee shop, hence could have tried all of these flavours out already.

To show your friend how determined you were to put an end to this conversation, you steeled yourself and kept your eyes on the screen even during the most disturbing scenes. You didn’t cave in when Felix tried to stare a hole into your temple with what you assumed was his best kicked puppy eyes. You didn’t seek shelter in the crook of his neck even when you felt like you were at your limit. You stayed strong, stubborn as a mule, and finished all the cupcakes on his tray as some sort of childish punishment that he let you have.

Damn. They tasted so much better. You hated the perfect balance of flavours and the fluffy yet filling texture with every fibre in your body - you did so almost as fervently as you loved each bite. You were clearly and unequivocally screwed.

You weren’t stupid. You might not have known every teeny tiny detail of Felix’s motives, but you should have been extremely oblivious to not realise he was trying to make you go back to Coffee Carat with the amount of cupcakes he had been bringing to your friendly dates lately. Even when you had been supposed to go out and grab some coffee at a different place, he had managed to bring you some of the sweet desserts for later and acted like it was perfectly normal to walk into a café and order brownies with another place’s cupcakes in your hand.

Slowly but surely he had been getting on your nerves until the situation had gotten to a point where you had needed to confront him whether he had accepted money from those people in exchange for his help. The accusation had earned an offended scoff from the blondie, but you had had every right to be suspicious, so you had refused to apologise.

Instead, you were thinking of ways he could have made it up to you when fueled by Felix’s persistence that festered into your own, growing guilt, you crossed the threshold of Coffee Carat for a second time, barely three months after your first visit.

While you were waiting for your turn in front of the counter, you gave yourself a pep talk and brainstormed about how you should have recorded your video differently since the interior design barely changed over the months. It more or less took your mind off the unfamiliarity of the situation and the possibility of another disappointment.

‘Hey! You came back!’ The barista who had approached you last time said, his smile so big and bright that it made you believe he still liked you and your articles despite your opinion about his workplace. His attitude made you grateful; you made a mental note to mention his professionalism in your follow-up criticism. ‘Are you here to try out our seasonal specials? They’re made with peaches.’

You stole a quick glance at the displays: all those cold drinks and sweets that were made with peaches, but still shook your head.

‘No, actually I’m here to—’

‘You!’ Someone exclaimed and you turned your head in the direction from where you heard the voice on instinct just how Seokmin did.

The man whose index finger was pointing at you was almost too tall to stand on the threshold comfortably, but somehow he managed even with his chin held high and his spine unnaturally straight. The flickering flames in his chocolate brown eyes dressed your arms in goosebumps, but you stood your ground and resisted the urge to look behind your back and check whether he was talking to someone else.

‘Me?’ You asked, breaking the momentary silence, eyebrows furrowed more because of your confusion than his intimidating aura.

‘Yes, you!’ The man claimed and let his hand fall back by his side before he took a few loose steps towards you and grabbed your wrist so naturally like he had every right to touch you even though the two of you had never met before.

Later, when your nosy best friend would ask you where did your survival instincts go when a random guy dragged you to the closest empty table without your consent, you would put all the blame on how freaking ridiculous this whole situation was. You wouldn’t admit that his grip was actually gentle or that he smelled like raspberry and chocolate, one of your all time favourite combinations. The latter two were obviously irrelevant.

‘Wait here!’ He commanded leaving you no choice but to comply because of how quick he was to turn his back on you as soon as he pulled the chair out for you and pushed you down on the hard, wooden furniture. You had never been so lost for words in your entire life.

As the shock started to slowly wear off, you contemplated whether you should have stood up and finished your order at the counter, but considering that Seokmin had done nothing to save you from this man and they were wearing the same uniform, you assumed it was for the best if you did as he asked you. Worst case scenario, you could still ask for the manager or make a complaint directly to the owner. Nothing too extreme that would have gotten him fired, but something that would have made him think twice before he did anything like this to another customer in the future.

You were a strong believer that manners should have been of the utmost importance in every establishment in the catering industry.

It was the sharp sound of a metal tray colliding with the top of your table that pulled you back to the present, the delicious smell of freshly baked cupcakes only registering in you a couple of seconds later. In front of you, there were at least a dozen of different flavours from peach and white chocolate through bananas and cinnamon to raspberry and mint. The amount of saliva that gathered in your mouth at the heavenly sight wasn’t even funny.

Caution being thrown out the window, you acted on autopilot when you reached out for one with melted chocolate chips on top and took a huge bite from it. Good gracious! It tasted just as good as everything else Felix had brought for your friendly dates.

‘Here! It’s on the house,’ a familiar voice said and you shifted your gaze from the iced white mocha to the person who had placed it in front of you, worry clear and evident in his words. ‘Please, forgive him for acting so disrespectfully.’

Seokmin looked like he was about to throw up (or throw fists, you really weren’t sure) when his eyes accidentally met yours and he bent his back so quickly and deeply, you were afraid he would hit his forehead into his knees because of the momentum. 

‘I’m not acting disrespectfully. She’s the one who blocked me for no reason,’ the giant said, proving your assumptions right. He was an employee at the shop: the baker who was praised by many and defended by even more because of his delicious creations. As childish as he acted, you had to admit that a part of you could understand why he was so upset about your article. It mocked his worth and hurt his ego although you still stood by your opinion. It was on them that they had sold those average quality desserts.

‘Dude, shut up,’ Seokmin hissed, the action so raw and human that you had to swallow back an amused chuckle. Their friendly bickering in the customer area, right in front of a customer no less, was highly unprofessional, but somehow you couldn’t mind their actions. You should have done so, you always did, but their duo was more entertaining than anything else, so you let them be for a couple of more seconds before you cleared your throat.

‘It’s okay. I appreciate your kindness, but I would rather pay for this,’ you said with a small tilt of your head. You lifted your mug a bit higher, then pointed your index finger at the tray on the table. ‘And the cupcakes as well.’

‘You don’t…’ Seokmin started, but you dismissed his worries with a firm set of mocha-tinted lips and a pair of eyes that accepted no further objection.

‘I insist,’ you added before you took another sip, satisfied with the silence that followed your statement. You watched as the barista’s gaze met his coworker’s for a brief moment before he nodded in a tentative manner, reassuring you that in case you finished, you wouldn’t have to wait in line to pay until it was him behind the counter, and turned his back on you two.

Knowing well that you wouldn’t have jumped the queue even if you hadn’t had the entire day for yourself, you stared at his back while leaving for a tad bit longer than it was necessary, then turned back to the giant with a raised eyebrow. 

‘So?’ He asked as soon as he had all your attention and you took another bite from the dessert for good measure, as though you hadn’t been addicted to his cupcakes since the day Felix and you had celebrated your best friend’s promotion.

‘They’re one of the best cupcakes I’ve ever tried,’ you admitted, blunt and raw in the way you formed your opinion, which earned a goofy smile from the baker. His sharp canines and naturally rosy lips did something to your head; you almost bit back the rest of your words just to protect his smile, but the realisation what you had been about to do horrified you enough to sober you up and push you forwards. ‘But you have to understand that I still can’t give this place a ten even though it might deserve a correction,’ you claimed, turning back ahead, so that you faced the table, at the first sight of an ugly twitch in the corner of his mouth.

Considering what you had already seen from his personality, you had a vague idea what to expect and with his darkening facial expression and pitched voice, the man did not prove you wrong.

‘What? But you’ve just said it yourself that—’

You lifted your empty hand next to your head to make Mingyu shut up before he could have started a tantrum. You had already known he felt wronged, you didn’t need the reminder.

‘Your cupcakes are exceptional, but this place clearly has employees whose aren’t,’ you said, not letting your arm fall back on your lap until you were at least eighty percent sure that he understood your reasoning.

Mingyu’s pouty lips and sad eyes made him look like a giant puppy who had been kicked out from home and your heart clenched when you saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other while he was struggling with his thoughts. The furrows on his forehead made it clear that he desperately wanted to come up with a good comeback that could have potentially changed your mind, but to his misfortune, there was no such thing. You spoke straight facts no one could argue with.

‘I didn’t even want a baker’s assistant, it’s all Rina noona’s fault,’ he mumbled, his complaint quiet enough to make you question whether these words had been meant to be spoken in the first place.

In the end, you didn’t ask for a more detailed explanation nor did you make comments on how he should have trained his assistant better instead of putting the blame on a third party. You simply took another cupcake in your hand and opted for letting him know with your dismissive body language that your decision was final.

Luckily, the afternoon rush was about to start and the more people walked into the coffee shop, the less baked goods stayed behind the displays. Therefore, the man had to go back to the kitchen and leave you alone with your cupcakes despite the desperation in each one of his movements that made it painfully obvious that he didn’t want to give up yet.

Without his overbearing gaze suffocating you, you could finish your food in a good mood and record a few videos for your channel as well before you walked up to the line in front of the counter and paid once it was your turn.

It might have gone against your principles to visit a place so soon just because your criticism made them upset, but these cupcakes… they were worth bending your ways for. Even if you refused to redeem their name entirely.

You had never been at Coffee Carat with Felix before. Not because you refused to go back to the coffee shop after your second visit, but because you liked to discover new gems during your friendly dates and the blondie had never complained about it so far.

However, when one of the chefs you had given a bad review decided to mess with your tires and fuck up your car, that was where your best friend took you after his shift to take your mind off your horrible day.

‘No way man! Is she your girlfriend?’ The blond barista asked as soon as his gaze fell on you and Felix and you furrowed your brows in confusion because of two totally different things: 1) since when was your best friend so close with the employees of this place that they used not only informal speech with him, but threw their manners out the window when they talked to him? And 2) how could this guy mistake you for Yewon when your personalities and your preferences in clothes and colours couldn’t have been more different?

A part of you was convinced that the couple was a regular at the shop, hence the only logical explanation you could have come to was that this barista was either a newbie or somehow he never worked when those two walked into Coffee Carat together.

‘Best friend,’ came the correction from your right and the mortified look on the barista’s face made up for his mistake generously. His red cheeks and crimson ears, his dilating eyes tugged on the corners of your lips and coaxed an amused scoff out of you.

‘I’ll have an iced white mocha and a brownie, please,’ you decided to order to spare all three of you from embarrassment and turned towards Felix with the intent to ask him whether he wanted to carry out the whole cheering-you-up agenda and pay for your drink or you should have fished your wallet out of your bag. 

‘No cupcakes?’ The boy asked before you could have spoken and you pressed your lips into a firm line, not pondering over the question for longer than three seconds. Felix was right. You had had a terrible encounter with a maniac earlier that day. You deserved the extra dessert.

Humming in contemplation, you eyed the cupcakes behind the display and pointed at the pile that was placed behind the plastic card I Feel Peachy written on it.

‘And two of those,’ you asked, feeling a bit better already at the sight of the generous amount of chocolate chips sprinkled atop of the cupcakes. You hoped they were made by Mingyu and not the giant baker’s assistant as you were rather sceptical that he had trained his subordinate to perfection in the past few weeks.

‘That’s my girl,’ Felix cheered and asked for a matcha latte and a brownie, swiping his card like he was a billionaire.

Only later, when you were sitting in the customer area, teasing your best friend because of his sugar daddy vibe, did you get to know that so close to the closing time every baked good was sold for a lower price. It surprised you, pleasantly so, and you couldn’t have helped but think that it was very nice of the owner to prioritise not having too much leftover instead of money. After all, those pastries they failed to sell by the time they closed the shop couldn’t have been sold the following morning. They had to be thrown out according to the local regulations.

You were thinking of buying some more cakes to support the shop and their attempt to reduce food waste when someone pushed the front door open with such force, the wood crashed into the wall with an alarming thud. Your best friend and you - along with the other six customers in the coffee shop - snapped your head in the intruder’s direction, shocked by the petite girl’s dishevelled hair and tense body language. She looked like she had come here to commit murder and you had never been more relieved in your life that it hadn’t been you who had rubbed another person the wrong way.

‘Do you kno—’

‘Where is he?’ She demanded, pointing at the blond barista accusatively as though he had already refused to answer her question when in reality he just seemed too speechless to form a coherent sentence. You felt bad for him, but you weren’t sure you had any right to confront this girl - not to mention that you had enough drama in your life with a vengeful chef who had promised to make you regret ruining his career. Considering that he hadn’t been fired after giving you food poisoning, you were convinced that he was stretching it.

You lowkey wondered whether this girl was acting like a drama queen as well or her attitude was justified. Not that you supported screaming in public under any circumstances.

‘Excuse me, miss! Who are you looking for?’ The blond barista asked as soon as he collected himself and you leaned your elbow on the table so that you could have rested your chin atop of your palm. Although his reaction time was definitely on the slower side of the scale, you were genuinely impressed by his manners; you were sure you would have failed miserably if you had been the one who had to handle a cyclone like this girl.

‘That good-for-nothing Kim Mingyu, who else?’ She spat, not giving a damn about the man who walked into the coffee shop after her or the old woman who tried to make an order, but failed to gain the barista’s attention because of her tantrum.

You watched as a handsome guy with round, nerdy glasses rushed out of the staff only area with an anxious-looking girl behind his back and wondered when she had disappeared behind the curtains to find the manager because you admittedly hadn’t paid too much attention to her presence. You had been too engrossed in your own world and the wide variety of desserts you could have chosen from.

In your defence, you were sure most customers didn’t care about the staff of these kinds of places, only that one employee who was serving them.

‘I’m not leaving until he grows some balls and speaks to me!’ The girl claimed angrily when the guy said something to her in a voice too quiet to be audible from where you were sitting. You lifted your drink in front of your lips and took a small sip, just as shocked as Felix was when the girl pushed the manager aside and hit the counter with her palms. Your bewildered gaze met your best friend’s eyes for a sheer second before you both turned back towards the ongoing drama. ‘I know you’re in there,’ she pointed at the door close to the counter. ‘Come out you self-centred bastard or else I’ll drag you out myself.’

While everyone was waiting for the baker to make an appearance - you saw two teenage boys recording the happenings with their phones -, you recalled your first encounter with the giant, puppy-like boy and wondered what he could have potentially done to piss this tiny girl off so badly. Considering that he had completely disregarded your personal space last time, you had a couple of ideas, but for some reason none of those sounded too believable, not even in your head. Sure, he was headstrong and whiny, but would he have hurt her on purpose?

You shook your head. It didn’t matter what you thought. You didn’t know him.

Still, you sucked in your breath when the baker walked out the door with a piece of cloth on his shoulder. He looked like a mess: there was flour on his apron and shirt, his hair stuck out in numerous directions and he also had some dirt on his chin although you couldn’t have told what exactly. Maybe some chocolate cream or cinnamon syrup.

‘I’m here. Can you please stop making a scene?’ Mingyu asked in a surprisingly icy tone that complemented his rigid posture perfectly. His arms were linked in front of his chest in a way that highlighted his muscles and you had to take another sip from your mocha to cool down before your imagination could have run wild. So what if he had looked like someone who hit up the gym frequently? Trouble was clearly written all over his face with capital letters.

‘Why? Does this feel humiliating to you? Am I humiliating you?’ The girl asked with a scoff, tilting her head to the right to mock him with her body language, too. You knew the type: she was petty and ready to give back tenfold whatever Mingyu had done to her. ‘Then you finally know how I felt when I was waiting for you for hours in that restaurant where even breathing in the wrong way is a crime,’ she raised her voice even more, enlightening everyone on what had hurt her so much and getting different reactions from those who were witnessing their (pretty much one-sided) fight. Looking around in the customer area, you saw your best friend shaking his head in disappointment and a boy having enough of the drama and turning back to his laptop. One girl pointed at Mingyu while whispering to the person next to her. You just drank some more. You had been to those kinds of restaurants dozens of times. You had no doubt the experience had been humiliating. Especially if it had been her first time at a place like that where even the waitresses wore tailored uniforms. ‘They had to send me away so that people who actually went there to order more than a glass of wine could eat,’ the girl spat, her frustration slurring her words a little at the end of her monologue.

You felt sorry for her even though you thought she was overreacting.

‘I’m sorry, but I’ve already told grams I’m not interested in going on random blind dates she and her friends set up for me,’ Mingyu said, not taking his eyes off the girl he had stood up intentionally or unintentionally. He claimed it was their grandmothers who had organised the date, but he had never said he hadn’t known when and where he should have shown up. Did he have the girl’s number saved? Did he know her name?

‘Not interested?’ She scoff-laughed. ‘You think you’re so amazing because you’re tall? Your skin looks like you were sweating on a farm your whole life, pathetic, really. I wouldn’t want a second date with your sorry ass even if you begged,’ she said with her index finger pointed at the baker. She acted more pathetic than a minute before if that had been possible.

Objectively speaking, everyone must have been aware that Mingyu’s beautiful, tanned skin didn’t fit your country’s ridiculous beauty standards, but this was the core problem with how a lot of people in South Korea looked at beauty. It should have been a subjective matter, not a long list with endless items everyone tried to tick off.

You genuinely believed that the boy’s natural, sun-kissed skin looked a lot healthier than the pale complexion many people desired to have and tried to achieve with make-up.

‘Excuse me, miss,’ the manager raised his voice while taking a step to the left to protect the baker from the girl as though there hadn’t been a big enough distance between the two. ‘We don’t tolerate degrading comments like this in our coffee shop. I need to ask you to leave or else I’ll call the police,’ he gave the petite girl a fair warning, something you weren’t sure she deserved, but knew it was necessary.

‘The police? On what grounds?’ She asked back, shifting a part of her attention to the person who was talking to her without really looking at the young man. Instead, she put her other hand on her hip, too, shaking her head.

‘You’re disturbing the peace, harassing the employees and as of now, you’re banned from the shop, which means you’re trespassing,’ the manager listed, making you furrow your brows in question. You might have done a detailed research on media law when you had started to gain fame on the internet just to avoid some unwanted, nasty consequences, but you had obviously never studied law. You had no idea whether she really committed trespassing if she refused to leave, but the manager sounded confident enough for you to consider it as a valid option. The question was whether she believed him as well or was willing to take a chance.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

You sucked in a breath and leaned a little closer to the commotion subconsciously. This girl was clearly furious, most probably because she had felt humiliated in that restaurant, but was it really worth being called the cops on?

‘Seungkwan, call the police, please. Tell them that—’

‘Screw you! All of you,’ she screamed into the manager’s face, pointing at the blond barista, Mingyu and everyone who were watching the drama. Then, she pushed the manager’s broad shoulder with her hand, fueled with frustration, and turned her back on everyone, so that she could speed-walk to the double door.

The straw between your teeth was so damaged, you could barely use it anymore when your gaze loitered over the employees a tad bit longer than it should have and your eyes met the baker’s chocolate orbs. You turned your head away so quickly like he burnt, shame creeping under your skin and tinting your ears and neck crimson in fist-sized patches. There was no way he didn’t know now that you had been paying attention to the drama, which meant he must have thought you were nosy.

You let out a pained groan.

‘People are getting crazier and crazier these days,’ Felix commented and you needed to make extra effort to not concentrate on your iced mocha in a way that could have been considered suspicious when you let out an affirmative hum.

Despite having your own car and preferring it over the crowded metros and buses you should have taken to get around in the city, you knew how public transportation worked. You even had your own T-money card somewhere in your wallet, so you really didn’t understand why your best friend acted like he owed you a ride home when he told you that he had plans with two of the baristas after closing time. Clearly, you had had a terrible day and your car had been caught in the crossfire, but you were also an adult. You could get your ass on the metro when you needed to.

‘I can take her home,’ you heard a familiar voice say and you both snapped your head in the baker’s direction on instinct, slim fingers tightening around the paper cup of iced coffee you had gotten along with the cupcakes you had purchased for the morning.

As if he had no shame, Mingyu shot a lopsided smile in your direction and made no attempt to hide that he had been eavesdropping. His elbow was still resting atop of the counter while his chin was casually on the back of his hand.

‘Would you really? Thanks, mate! You’re a lifesaver,’ your best friend exclaimed, completely disregarding the displeased glares you were giving him. He knew damn well that you didn’t like owing people, let alone someone you weren’t close with. If anything, the fact that the two of you had known each other for years and you still had problems receiving help from him when you were sick should have been a telltale sign.

You cleared your throat to express that you also had your own two cents to throw into the conversation that should have involved you in the first place.

‘Thank you, but I can take the metro. It’s no big deal, really, Felix’s just acting like I’m still five and snotty,’ you declined the baker’s offer with a patient smile, keeping your cool with grace in your every movement: in the way you held your chin high, how you lifted your paper cup in front of your lips. You took a small sip from your drink as elegantly yet unbothered as you could, mentally ready to leave the coffee shop for another month or two.

A boy and a girl left the building in the background, the unmistakable sound of a heavy door slipping into its frame encouraging you to bid your goodbye, too.

However, you were too slow.

‘She lives in Hongdae,’ your best friend said so casually, it made you wonder whether he was oblivious of the dangers of such a statement in public or he would have trusted this guy with his life and was messing with you on purpose.

‘Yongbok!’ You hissed, but he just laughed it off with a gentle wave of his hand as if you had been pseudo-sulking and he had better things to discuss than dealing with you. You bit into your cheeks and swallowed down a curse, making a mental note to tell on him to Yewon, because you knew for a fact that she would have taken your side without a second thought. She was a young girl who had moved to the capital city because of her studies. She knew the differences between the countryside and Seoul at night and in general. 

‘Then it’s not even a detour,’ Mingyu said and you rolled your eyes, because he couldn’t have known for sure just from the district. It was a big area, considering the traffic, it could have meant an hour-long detour, too, for all you cared. 

Honestly, you didn’t understand why he had offered you a ride in the first place. It wasn’t that the two of you were friends. You might have written a correction about his cupcakes, but his blog was still blocked on your Tumblr.

When his gaze landed on you, you let out a sigh.

‘It’s already dark outside. Let me take you home,’ Mingyu asked after he finally spared you a glance and it took everything in you to not squeeze the living daylight out of your coffee. You didn’t want to inconvenience the baristas who would need to clean up the mess, especially because both Seungkwan and Junhui had been fun when they had prepared your orders.

‘What makes you think I’m comfortable with you knowing where I live?’ You asked back, tongue sharp and merciless. Obviously, you would have liked to believe that your best friend wouldn’t have pushed you into a shady person’s arms just to be able to hang out with his other friends right after closing time, but the baker was technically still a stranger, so you had every right to put up your defences even if some considered it rude. It was your life, your sense of safety.

The silence that fell upon your trio didn’t resemble anything poetic. It didn’t feel like a warm blanket that shielded you from the cold; it wasn’t ugly and sticky and uncomfortable. Instead, it existed without picking on your skin or filtering out the background noise.

You gulped when memories from an hour prior popped up in your mind. You saw the petite girl storming into the coffee shop, screaming at Mingyu and calling him a farmer like it was an insult. You saw the baker’s unbothered facial expression slowly morphing into something sad and you could feel your resolve breaking as your brain identified the sight with a kicked puppy. You swore, the boy’s chocolate orbs were shining in the artificial light, tricking your heart into thinking he was about to cry.

‘Fine,’ you groaned in defeat. ‘Do you need me to wait here or…’

Mingyu’s smile was blinding.

‘Give me five more minutes and we can go,’ he promised and you acknowledged his words with a silent nod before you took a seat by a random, empty table.

You liked to believe that you were an independent, mature adult, but after the bravado he had pulled, it wasn’t below you to give your best friend the silent treatment. Thus, you paid him no mind while you were waiting and bid him goodbye only because it would have been rude if you hadn’t. You didn’t hate him. You simply wanted him to think twice before he had even thought of doing something similar to this in the future without your permission.

A part of you was hoping that the ride to your apartment complex would be spent in silence, maybe, listening to the radio or a playlist you would have never put on on your own, but of course you couldn’t have been so lucky. You couldn’t have reached the first red light, Mingyu was already rambling about his grandmother and her obsession with his love life as he was her only single grandchildren.

‘Look, it’s really not my business. I’m sorry I was eavesdropping when that girl came in, but in my defence, it was hard not to,’ you decided to put an end to both of your suffering, since it wasn’t an easy topic - family had never been one, not to you at least. If he insisted that you should have gotten to know each other while you were in his car, you would have much preferred starting with lighter subjects like what had made him become a baker or how he had come up with those recipes he was so proud of. Food… that you could have talked about for hours.

‘I know, I’m just saying tha—’

‘I can’t bake to save my life,’ you blurted out the first thing you could think of before he could have given you another lengthy explanation he didn’t owe you at all. Whether Mingyu had stood that girl up intentionally or he had underestimated the length his grandmother was willing to go to like he had said, it didn’t matter to you. At the end of the day, even if you had become acquaintances, you weren’t interested in him romantically, were you?

‘What?’ He snapped his head in your direction, making you point towards the road ahead in fear.

‘Eyes on the road!’ You demanded and you didn’t let your hand fall back on your lap until he did as you said. Once the shock of the moment passed, you needed to take a few deeper breaths to calm your heart, while the baker on your left let out an embarrassed, little laugh like he didn’t actually know what to do with himself.

You were grateful that he didn’t let go of the steering wheel with one of his hands to scratch his nape awkwardly like most people usually did in similar situations. Not the letting go of the steering wheel part, but the unconscious scratching.

‘Would you like me to teach you? How to bake,’ Mingyu specified, his question rolling off his lips with a little uncertainty, like he was fearing your reaction, which was ridiculous. You didn’t have a significant place in each other’s life, you were nobody to him but a girl who had dared to criticise his workplace and knew a guy his coworkers were close with.

You raised an eyebrow. Where was the infamous confidence that urged him to drag you to an empty table without a fair warning and feed you with his best desserts just to prove a point?

‘If I remember correctly, you didn’t want your own baker’s assistant. What makes you think you’re not an insufferable teacher?’ You asked, not out of spite, just to trigger a reaction that showed which one was the real him. Was his confidence all an act, something he perfected over the years because of his relatively handsome face? Did his personality change so much around particular people? Was it harder for him to believe in himself because of the article you had written about Coffee Carat or because he didn’t know what to expect from you?

Mingyu’s laugh was deep and it reverberated around the interior of the car, tugging on your edges and smoothing them effortlessly.

‘That’s a fair point. We might have to give it a try to figure it out,’ he teased as he took a turn to the right then stopped at the end of a painfully long line in front of the closest red lights. The traffic was as heavy as you had predicted. ‘But really, my offer still stands,’ he made sure you were aware and you acknowledged it with a curt nod.

It wasn’t that you totally hated the idea, you just weren’t sure you wanted to accept his offer and spend time together with him in an informal environment. Not because you thought he was bound to catch feelings for you; you knew more frequently than not people simply didn’t feel that spark regardless of one’s looks. Instead, you had doubts you could manage one more person in your private life. You might have been your own boss, you might have been able to spare time for friends almost whenever you wanted, but keeping in touch with more than two or three people at the same time was draining even for your generally extroverted ass. You didn’t like retelling a story multiple times, sometimes you were demotivated to answer texts immediately. One more person meant one more relationship to put effort into.

Unless he gave up on you as soon as he saw what a disaster you were in the kitchen when it came to desserts.

‘Can I turn on the radio?’ You asked after a couple of heartbeats, sneaking a glance at the boy by your side, trying to decipher how he felt about your question and your dismissive attitude. Was he disappointed? Did he feel stupid for bringing it up?

‘Sure,’ he agreed kindly, letting you pick a channel and telling you in way too much detail how you could have connected your phone to the audio system if you couldn’t find anything up to your liking.

During the rest of the ride, you didn’t speak much. You chose the first channel that played a pop song you were distantly familiar with and opted for staring out the window, watching the colourful neon lights blending into the yellow beams of the street lamps.

Still, when it was time to say goodbye, it wasn’t unpleasant or unnerving. On the contrary, there was a visible smile in the corner of your mouth when you closed the passenger door and lifted your hand for a polite wave.

You unblocked Mingyu’s blog on Tumblr two weeks later, in early August, when your best friend was unavailable because of an unannounced family visit - an early birthday surprise from Australia because his parents couldn’t take any days off at the same time in September - and you had too much food to eat on your own. The two of you had planned to have another movie night, so you had ordered plenty of mandus, kimbap balls and tteokbokki, while Felix had been supposed to bring dessert, which is why the giant baker came to your mind in the first place.

you: “is your offer still standing?”

You sent the message with quite low expectations. After all, it had been months since you had last spoken on this platform and you couldn’t have been sure whether he had remembered it existed. Based on the default profile picture he had and the lack of reblogs other than a couple of cooking memes from a month ago, you honestly doubted he checked on it regularly.

And he really didn’t. But at least the food didn’t taste horrible after you reheated it the next day in the microwave.

Your bi-weekly baking sessions with Mingyu had started with a bunch of double-texts:

milkgyuandcookies: “are you free tonight?” milkgyuandcookies: “i’ll be there in an hour just need to take a quick detour” milkgyuandcookies: “with which flavour should we start?” milkgyuandcookies: “seokmin said felix said you like chocolate so i bought chocolate chips and tons of cocoa powder” you: “are you really coming? like… are you really on your way here?” you: “what if i’m busy? or if i’m not even at home?” milkgyuandcookies: “are you?” milkgyuandcookies: “that’s a bit awkward then cuz i’m already here” milkgyuandcookies: “so you’re really not home?” you: “…” you: “give me five minutes”

Mingyu as a teacher was more patient with you than you had expected him to be based on his displeased comment on his baker’s assistant and a lot more zealous than he should have been considering your repeated mistakes with the baking soda that made even you, a complete newbie, feel tired and snappy on the fourth week, let alone a professional. Shouldn’t have he gotten tired of you after the second time you failed to measure the powder accurately? If your pride could have taken the blow, you would have given up on baking a long time ago.

‘I still think it’s the size of your kitchen,’ Mingyu claimed after he crouched down and took the tray out of your oven. Watching him move around in your small space, you remembered the disbelief on his face when he had first come over: how he couldn’t have believed there were kitchens out there where the oven and the fridge weren’t built into the complete set of kitchen furniture, preferably at his chest’s height as though being so tall was common in your country.

‘Yeah, sure,’ you shook your head in amusement, loving the chocolatey smell of the cupcakes you had baked, the third and most promising attempt that night.

You reached for the cream you had prepared for decoration, skipping on the fondant because last time you had given it a try, it took hours to make them look good and you started to get tired of standing. As usual, Mingyu had come over after his morning shift around four and it was already nearing eight. Thankfully, you had had a dinner break an hour ago.

‘No, but listen! With more space, you could feel less crowded and more relaxed,’ he argued, coaxing an airy scoff out of you when he hit your hand lightly to remind you to be patient. The cupcakes were still hot, you shouldn’t have touched them with bare hands.

‘Just admit you want to show off your kitchen and shut up,’ you groaned pseudo-annoyed with a hint of a smile hiding in the corner of your lips. You were genuinely waiting for the comment, anticipating it even, and if you wanted to be honest, you had heard so much about his kitchen equipment by now, you were actually considering asking Mingyu to facetime you from home just to show you around. However, your curiosity needed to stop there for both of your sake. ‘I won’t go over to your place just to destroy your kitchen, too. I don’t earn that well,’ you complained and watched him as he placed the warm cupcakes on two separate porcelain plates.

When Mingyu’s hand came to a halt in midmotion, you slid your gaze from the dessert to his face. He looked at you sceptically like he was about to call you out on your bullshit and you shrugged in response. Okay, maybe you earned that well, but it wasn’t what mattered.

‘What if I want you to come over, so I could cook for you? We could call it a date,’ he asked and it was your turn to raise a brow. By now, you knew that his confident and insecure selves came hand in hand, but it was the first time he didn’t beat around the bush by flirting with you shamelessly.

On most occasions, Mingyu brushed aside his own advances with a carefree chuckle before you could have taken him seriously. This time, however, he kept his warm eyes on your face, waiting.

You looked away and cleared your throat.

‘Aren’t there like a dozen of granddaughters in your hometown who are waiting for your grandma to set them up with you?’ You asked, because you could and because deep down you were a little desperate to avoid answering his question with the level of seriousness he most probably wanted you to. The teasing chuckle that stuck in your throat tasted bitter, like a nasty knot that went bad the moment you decided to not let it out.

You took a transparent bag filled with lilac coloured cream in your hand and pulled one of the porcelain plates closer to yourself.

‘You know I hate those blind dates,’ he claimed firmly and you hummed because you knew. Mingyu had the habit of giving you detailed explanations about things that were absolutely not your business. How could you have not known at this point? ‘I only go on dates with girls I genuinely want to get to know. I really don’t understand what’s so bad about this! So what if I don’t date that much, it’s not like I’ll die alone,’ he groaned, the pain in his tone so real, you could feel it in your own chest. You were being unfair and you did feel bad. However, taking him seriously would have meant you had to give him an honest answer and you weren’t sure you were ready for the consequences.

It was easier when it was all about harmless flirting.

Sneaking a glance at the boy on your left, you recognised his frustration in the way the deep furrow between his brows became even more bottomless and you swallowed your guilt when the thought that he looked adorable with his darted out tongue crossed your mind.

‘I don’t think it’s bad,’ you stated, late enough to call it an afterthought, but not too late to make things awkward with your commentary. Or so you hoped.

‘But you don’t think it’s maintainable,’ Mingyu retorted, finishing the rose petals on his first cupcake with ease while the cream was still hanging clumsily in your hand. You took a deep breath and got to work.

‘I’m only saying you have a lot of options,’ you explained and while your words came out less neutral than you would have preferred, you kept your focus on your dessert to make up for the pinch of annoyance in your voice. You shouldn’t have cared how many girls he could have gotten with a flick of his fingers, so you told yourself you didn’t.

‘So? There are hundreds of restaurants that want you to write about them. Still, I don’t see you eating out every single night,’ he argued, forcing your brain to see the logic behind his metaphor.

You nodded in acknowledgement as you got started on your next cupcake, not finding the perfect retort for a couple of minutes, but thankfully, Mingyu didn’t rush you. Instead, he put a second colour in his plastic bag atop of the first pastel cream and created the most beautiful lilac-marigold roses you had ever seen.

If you wanted to be honest, you would have admitted you were scared. Not of Mingyu, even though he had some questionable habits you were still trying to adjust to and accept - but who didn’t have those -, but of a romantic relationship with another person: the quality time you had to spend with a significant other, the responsibilities you needed to share. How long could you two have been together before everyone around you started to talk about marriage and babies? How long could you have been with Mingyu before he started to yearn for all the conservative steps a relationship entailed?

What if you had fallen in love with him one day, but not the idea of raising his children? You liked your freedom and the simplicity of taking care of only yourself although life in general could be difficult.

You went over the pros and cons in your head repeatedly, until there were no more cupcakes in front of you without a poor attempt of a rose on top of them and reached for a chopstick as soon as you made up your mind. Sure, Mingyu might have been childish and whiney and a lot of immature adjectives in your dictionary. He wasn’t familiar with personal space when it was convenient to him and his ego could take only one or two blows when it came to his profession.

However, he gave you space and time when he realised you needed it and made you laugh with his dorky behaviour more frequently than not. He was patient and optimistic. He baked the most delicious desserts you had ever tasted and hated those disgusting movies Felix used to drive you out of the world under the disguise of your friendly dates.

Your hand was shaking slightly when you scraped the sugary cream off your last cupcake with intent behind each one of your swipes. Then, with your breath caught in your throat, you slid the finished baked good in front of Mingyu.

To keep your mind busy and the mood nonchalant, you didn’t turn towards the boy to ogle at his reaction. You simply walked up to the sink and washed your hands, so that they would be clean when you placed each one of your cupcakes on a tray that fit into your fridge.

You became aware of Mingyu’s presence right behind you sooner than you felt the light touch of his dirty arms around your shoulders. You shuddered from the unexpected weight he put on you. Or was your body reacting to the warmth of his breath against your ear?

‘I’ll never eat it. Never,’ he claimed and you rolled your eyes (affectionately).

‘Sure, I worked so hard to bake and decorate these, so that you wouldn’t eat them,’ you said, then turned off the tap water without pulling away or making any attempt at putting more distance between the two of you.

For a split second, you hesitated whether you should have turned around in his arms to make him let you go with your sharp gaze, but soon you came to the conclusion that doing so would have been too risky in the current situation. The ugly, clumsily craved “yes” on the top of your cupcake might have given him enough confidence to realise he also had some power over you. It wasn’t just the other way around.

In the end, you stepped aside, but he still followed you like a giant puppy, his chin resting on your shoulder. Your movements felt uncoordinated as though your body was suddenly three sizes bigger, but you managed to reach the kitchen counter and the confession you had left on it.

Grabbing the lukewarm dessert, you lifted it to your lips, but before you could have taken a huge bite from it, Mingyu linked his long fingers around your wrist and pulled it in front of his own mouth. The crumbs that accidentally fell into your shirt tickled your skin in places that were lowkey unpleasant, but instead of scolding him, you turned your head and dived into the sweets from a different angle.

‘Delicious,’ the baker moaned, exaggerating, earning another eye roll from you and you two finished the cupcake in the middle of your small kitchen until the back hugging position got too painful to maintain due to your height difference.

That night, while you were cleaning the kitchen, you promised Mingyu that you would show him the coolest restaurants in the city and that he could have called all of your dinners dates if he wanted. In exchange, he promised to bake you every cake from his grams’ famous recipe book, which you, too, were allowed to call a date.

You doubted it fitted the definition, but you didn’t draw his attention to his mistake. You were too content to care about semantics when you (thought you) knew exactly what he meant and couldn’t wait to experience it all.

➼ next reason

[kittysdiary]

How do you find a sugar daddy or what did you do to get one?

First things first…real sugar babies know that real sugar daddies are not on any sugaring websites. It’s very rare when someone gets someone who’s the real deal on a website/app!

{I either go the sugar baby route or the spoiled girlfriend route!}

Free styling: Going out in public is the best way to meet a potential!

High end bars

Country clubs

Coffee shops by hospitals or business buildings

Golf courses

High end restaurants

Be knowledgeable: Sugar daddies love brains! I’m very into the arts, literature, philosophy, history + psychology and my potentials eat it up! Having hobbies are important as well. My hobbies include:

Creating art

Writing

Playing badminton + croquet

Horseback riding

Reading

Learning foreign languages

Take good care of yourself: Always dress well and keep your hygiene routine in motion!

Nails done

Hair kept

Perfumed + oiled

Capsule wardrobe complete

Understand the world of the upper class: I grew up in a family of doctors + professors + teachers so I grew up learning proper etiquette as a classy lady!

{I also come from a lineage of royalty so it’s naturally in my blood! 🤭}

Know your table manners

Carry polite conversations

Learn how to properly shake hands

Smile and dress well during business dinners + events

Have good hosting skills + a clean home environment

Know what you want: I tend to stick with doctors + engineers. I also typically date men from different countries! Men who I have dated include:

An interior designer for Mercedes Benz

A civil engineer

An industrial engineer

A sport scientist

Have goals: Focus on yourself, create goals and set yourself up for success!

Stay educated in school

Start a business

Get a real estate license

Understand what career you want in life + make goals to get where you want to be in life

Strict boundaries are a must: Set yourself up with high standards! Know what you want and leave when someone isn’t fulfilling you. Trust there’s someone better out there that will treat you the way you deserve to be treated!

Make a list of red flags

Make a list of the kind of person you want to date (ex: career, personality + looks)

Make a list of things you expect and will not tolerate

These are just a few tips but if there’s any interest in going the online route, I do have a few tips!

More sugar baby, spoiled girlfriend + trophy wife tips can be found on my side blog @kittyboudoir under the advice tag in my side blog bio!

Xoxo- Kitty 🐈🎀

[deli-writes-fanfics]

Led Zeppelin & Sweet Drinks - Eric Carr x fem reader

MDNI (SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE STUFF)

-------

I don't know how many words but it's kinda long sorry lol. It'll be a two-parter if there's enough interest.

Not proofread - sorry for any mistakes. Love you all. Please reblog and show some love, I'd really appreciate it!

------

April 9th 1976

Slow was the summer rain that fell against the window of a quaint little coffee shop on the corner of the street you lived on, just opposite the record store where you gazed lazily among its customers. You couldn’t say for certain how frequently you visited both the cafe and the record store but it was enough to be cheery with the owners and get free drinks or for the man behind the counter to hold back any newly released albums they thought you may like before they sell out. You had grown quite fond of the two places over the last couple of years, you wouldn’t say you were too much of an extrovert or introvert, perhaps you were a bit of both depending on the occasion. Nevertheless, you enjoyed your Friday afternoons where you had the day off, you worked two jobs which were both contrasting and yet in some way vaguely connected if you thought about it enough. You worked mainly as a magazine packager for a well known interior design magazine where you packed orders to be sent off for those with a subscription. It was repetitive which you didn’t mind so much but your second job was a lot more to your likening as a music lover; you worked any free shifts at the record store, it was rare to get a shift but it was nice to help out when you could. You swirled what was left of your drink in your cup, glancing down just long enough to decide whether you wanted another but you ultimately placed your cup drown and grabbed your things, eyes set on the record store where you knew, surely, Reggie had something waiting for you behind the counter.

You steps quickening as you passed over the road, waving to a incoming car before slowing down as you made it to the sidewalk, a few more steps and you were pushing the door open to the store and giving a wave to the middle aged man with salt and pepper hair that stood behind the counter, watching him tap it as a means to tell you he had something you’d want to collect. He had taken you under his wing when you had first moved to the area, graciously giving you your first job while his son was away at college. You strode up enthusiastically, passing someone as they were leaving.

“Whatcha got for me, Reggie?”

“I think you’re gunna like this one. It sold out pretty quickly so I knew I had to snag you one.”

“Well, that sounds promising! Hit me with your best shot”

“Lee Zeppelin. It’s called Presence. I can’t keep up with you youngsters these days” he chuckled as he handed over the record for you to see.

Your face lit up at the sight of the pristine album, you couldn’t of handed over the money quick enough and within a matter of a moment the item was bagged and you were itching to get home to listen to it.

“Thanks again, what would I do without you?”

“You wouldn’t have had to buy an extra three record cases” he remarked.

You laughed and moved to look at what was in the sale section, though you hadn’t the room for more records, looks like you’d have to buy yet another case. You couldn’t help but have your attention snagged when you heard a strong New York accent inquire about the album you had just purchased. And you recognised the disappointment in their tone when it was revealed it was sold out. You knew all too well that sinking feeling and you turned to glance as the man, made of mostly hair, decided to also browse what was being sold. You turned away when he moved along closer as he scanned the covers, not looking up, just shuffling sideways, much like you were doing. Your fingers flicked through the album one by one, caught in the surge of curiosity of what you could find as you meticulously scanned, like you had done so many times before, every Friday for the past couple of years. You weren’t paying attention and neither was someone else by the looks of it as you felt an arm bump into yours and quick

“Sorry-!” His voice was followed by the dash of a closed-lip smile

“No problem…” you were quick to respond, with your own smile too except you were beaming without meaning to.

“You…uh- looking for anything in particular?” He perked up as he still looked through the collection of ‘60s hits and compilations.

“Uh- no. No not really, I just like to browse. Though I’m sure I’ve seen every record in this store at least three times before now” you joke which earns a chuckle from him also.

“Bit of a music junkie then huh”

You laughed at his comment and moved along and in turn he took your previous spot. You both contently followed that pattern for about five minutes, only looking over when one of you pulled up album to read the front or back, taking curiosity in each other’s interests and piqued attention. You stopped to glance at your watch and realised you had to get back home to tape a rerun episode of The Ghost Busters where two men and their pet gorilla hunt spooks. You were about to wave and leave but something tugged in your chest, looking down at your bag. You sighed quietly and turned back around to face the man.

“Hey- listen. I feel like you would appreciate this more than me, seeing as you asked after it at the counter. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You piped up as you thrusted the bag almost into his hands.

“Uh- what do you mean?” He asked before looking in the bag. “I can’t take this- you paid for it and everything”

“Call it a favor. This means you owe me. So…”

“Eric. And really this is too much-“

“Eric, how about…you take me on a coffee date? As friends-! I’m always looking for ways to connect with people, especially if they like music as much as me” you chuckled and started to move toward the door.

“Okay- yeah…what day?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t. Sunday?”

“Okay! Sunday! Lunch time at the cafe opposite here!” You called as you left, hurrying off back to your apartment.

You made it home just in time, barely. The fact that you had just got a date of sorts with a handsome man hadn’t hit you until after you set the VHS recorder up. You were still getting used to it since it was all brand new stuff and though your very skilled friend had told you many times, you had still managed to mess up a few times. After that ordeal, you finally pulled off your bag, jacket and shoes and discarded them next to your velvet-feel green couch. You moved almost sluggishly to your kitchen and put on your coffee machine, the good ol’ Bunn-O-Matic coffee maker which your aunt had gifted to you as your moving-out gift. It kept you running during busy weeks like this. As you watched the coffee drip into the pot, moving to grab your favourite mug from the cupboard above, placing it down but not letting go as it finally sunk in that you had a date. You actually had one. Okay, maybe it was just a friend date as you had blurted out but still…maybe there was a chance. He was gorgeous after all. And that smile….wow, he could’ve had you fainting with just that.

With your cup ready in its entirety, you just had to pour the coffee before taking your cup of happiness to your window chair in the kitchen, grab the book you’re halfway through and sink into one of your favourite parts of the day.

Saturday flew by, and your morning was filled with housework while you had some errands to run you would usually have done on Sunday but as you now had plans, you had to undertake the tasks early. Once you were home you had laundry to tackle, there was a particular outfit you wanted to wear and unfortunately, it seems it had been wasted on your big trip to the grocery store earlier this week. So you were going to wear it and look damn good in it.

Sunday 11th

The morning came, and you got a surprisingly good amount of sleep which gave you a good feeling about the day, you just hoped it stayed going good. One of the new songs from KISS's new album came on the radio; Flaming Youth from their new album Destroyer. You smiled, glancing over to your poster that displayed The Demon, The Starchild, The Catman and The Spaceman. The song reminded you of how things were like between you and your parents when you would listen to music that they didn't understand when you were younger, not so much younger. And nothing had changed other than the fact you had your own place and no one to complain.

You had discovered KISS when you were on a naughty night out after work, which you shouldn't have done given it was a Tuesday and you had work the next day. But you somehow ended up at the Popcorn Pub with two of your friends who were born and raised New Yorkers. The pub was way quieter than you were expecting but you had been happy to sit somewhere more docile with a drink and your friends, having just come from a packed club. And then these four guys with white facepaint and instruments rocked up, you remember just sitting there with piqued interest and a confused look plastered on your face but you remained open-minded. It took a few songs but you grew to love it. You were totally in your element by the end of the night and you were sad when it came to an end. Eventually, you stumbled home to your small apartment at the time, you missed work the next day.

The memory made you smile, the song was long over when you came back to earth. Sighing as you moved to make yourself a strong cup of coffee, needing a boost to get your butt in gear. You wanted to give your apartment the once over before you left just incase you ended up back here with Eric. Unlikely but not impossible. You plodded to the couch, flicking on the news to see what was going on in the world. Boring. Politics and votes. Nothing of interest to you. You switched over and watched some random rerun of a soap. You eventually found yourself nursing an empty cup as the credits rolled, glancing at the clock before you realised you had to get moving. Like. Now. Or else you'd be late.

"Damn-!"

You scurried around getting your clothes out of the dryer which you had left running way too long and knew you'd pay for it later, literally. You pulled on your clothes while trying to do other things at once and failing. You finally were dressed, shoving your feet into some shoes haphazardly as you nearly fell trying to walk in them too soon, hunting down your jacket and bag. Finally, you make it out the door with everything, hopefully.

---

You push open the door to the cafe, the bell above the door announcing your arrival, prompting its customers to glance your way. You slow your pace, looking for a familiar set of brown eyes. You didn't find them but you did hear someone behind you, you realised to should move out of the way, moving in ans turning to apologise.

"Sorry...I didnt- oh"

Well, it seemed that timing was on your side, Eric had turned up just about the same time as you. You couldn't help but smile at the chances.

"I was worried I was going to be late. Let's go find a seat?" Eric spoke up and motioned for you to walk ahead.

You nodded and moved towards the other end of the cafe, sitting in the comfy seats nestled in the corner. You both got settled and looked at the menu.

"I always look at the menu but end up getting the same thing I always get anyway..." You comment

"That is...very true. How about we pick each others drinks. Take a chance?"

You thought for a moment. "Alright. Let's hope it goes well" you laugh.

"I usually get a coffee, but only one cup. It's rare I have a second cup unless I'm really drained" Eric admitted, you nodded along. You knew not what to pick now.

"I get hot chocolate, usually." You inform which earns a simple nod before you both turn your attention fully back to the menu.

You browse the menu with new curiosity, you decide to get an "everything hot chocolate"

You both put in your orders at the counter separately so it would be a surprise. You definitely snuck a few looks at Eric when he wasn't looking, you just had to check him out, he was the definition of eye candy.

"So...Eric. what do you do for work?"

"Ah. It's going to sound super boring but I fix ovens, not the best job but it pays, y'know."

"It's honest work. One that not many think about I suppose. You don't think about that kind of job until you need your oven fixed. Remind me to get your number in case my oven brakes"

"Yeah. Right. That the only reason you'll need me after this date huh? Are you sure your oven ain't broken ans that's why you haven't run a mile yet?" He chuckled.

"Of course not! Who do you take me for? Some con? No. I'm totally just here for your wallet" you joke. As you watch as Eric looks and notices it's gone from the table and his pocket. The panic on his face was comedic. You had sneaked it off the table as he hadn't been looking while you were joking. Moments before you commented about taking it. You offered it back with a smile just as your drinks came.

"Oh. Sly. Very sly." He smirked.

"I've learnt a few better tricks as a kid than taking a wallet when people aren't paying attention. My estranged-ish uncle was a pickpocket and on the days when my parents let him see me, reluctantly, he taught me tricks secretly." You admitted

"Well I'll be checking my pockets before I leave" he laughed a bit.

You thanked the waitress for the drinks and gave a surprised hum. A coffee milkshake. You noticed Eric seemed to be happy with his order of hot chocolate with fresh whipped cream, cocoa powder, marshmallows and a mini cookie on the side.

"Good choice" he said

"Ditto"

You both took a sip of your drinks and nodded in approval.

"So what do you do for work? I told you mine. Now it's your turn."

"I'm a waitress at a fancy restaurant and hotel" You admit as you use the straw to try and eat some of the whipped cream before it all melts away. "It's not much fun but it pays pretty well due to its popularity. Especially if I'm working evenings."

"Honest work. As you said. If there's a need. There'll be a job." Eric spoke truthfully and you nodded in agreement.

For the rest of the date you spoke about everything, and conversation came easily. You debated on music, movies, aliens even. Back to music again and then got into a heated debate about the best sci-fi movie but you didn't come to an agreement but laughed it off anyway.

"So, what do you do in your free time?" Eric asked as you both 6 the cafe and started to just walk. No destination in mind.

"Hm. The only free time I get is usually the weekend. I should've been working today but someone owed me a shift to be covered. But usually I just read or watch shows. I do love Saturday Night Live with a hot drink. God...that makes me sound like a pensioner" You laugh

"No no. You like what you like. You like music though, do you go to concerts?" He asked as you watched while he kicked a pebble out of the way

"Oh yeah. I go to gigs at bars and pubs. I go to concerts whenever I can. I don't even mind if I'm not big on the band. It's about the experience."

"Any bands I'd know?"

"Black Sabbath, Queen, Led Zeppelin and KISS"

"Oh damn-! That's so cool. Looks like I know who to call when there's a good band playing though I haven't really heard any KISS. They good?"

"Yeah. I actually saw their first show. It was at a place called the Popcorn Pub. They've already come a long way. Oh...since we're heading that way anyway, do you wanna go to mine?" You ask as you turn to him and stop, pointing the same way you're both walking.

"Yeah sure. I've got nothing planned." Eric smiled and you nodded.

You ended up in your apartment, kicking your shoes off, Eric followed suit. You lead him to the living room where you both sink into the couch and relax.

"I hope I wasn't too forward with inviting you here. Or even asking you out on a date" you laugh lightly

"Not at all. It's been a while since I've been on a date...and it was surprising but not in a bad way. I've enjoyed myself. It's hard to find people to connect with nowadays. Plus. How many men can say they'd been asked out by a beautiful woman."

A flush came to your cheeks. "I uh...you're not too bad yourself." You said as your voice gets a little caught in your throat. You hear Eric laugh.

"Oh don't get all shy now! Where'd all that confidence go? Was it those huge platform boots that held all your confidence?" He chuckled and it only make you redder.

"Oh whatever" you swat him and laugh. "Want a drink? I've got some homemade lemonade in the fridge."

"That'd be great, thanks"

You nodded and left to get two servings before heading back in, your face less red and you didn't actually feel embarrassed, you felt quite comfortable in Eric's company. You place the drinks down, moving to stand straight before you put a record on, Stevie Wonder's Signed, Sealed and Delivered. You head back to the couch and move to sit down but your foot is caught under the rug, you don't even register that you're falling until you're on top of Eric, your hips on his, your face dangerously close. The only sound is the faint singing and each others ever quickening breaths. You should get off him. You should move. But part of you feels stuck. You can feel your heart in your chest, it feels thunderous to you. And you could swear you could feel Eric's too. He hasn't pushed pushed off yet. His hands had moved to your waist when you fell to catch you and you could feel his grip tighten, you guessed it was an unconscious action but the feeling of his hands on you stirred something inside. A yearning. A want. Your grip on the cushions under Eric tightened, your eyes flickering down to Eric's lips. Fuck. Was that a bad move, you felt Eric shift as soon as your eyes moved from his. You went to speak but nothing came out. You looked back up to meet his suddenly intense stare. You didn't know if it was intentional but Eric's hand placement and grip were pressing your hips into him, the feeling of his bulky jeans made something stir in you. It had to be obvious to him. The way your breathing was picking up. The way your cheeks were reddening. The way you almost closed the gap between the both of you. And then you did it. You made the mistake of squirming.

"I- sorry- I should-" you stuttered out, gulping, you knew you should get up but you ended up squirming more as Eric kept you in place. Did he...want you to stay there? Your gaze moves back to his, you could feel his chest heaving more than before. How his cheeks had grown red. How a particular part of him was a little more obvious than the rest. You could feel it. Finally, Eric spoke. In the softest of tones. His voice barely a whisper. Stuttering out his words a little before he fully said what he wanted to.

"Do you...wanna..."

[sprintco]

SprintCo offers premium F&B interior design and build services for restaurants, cafes, and bars. Led by award-winning designer Sona Mantri, we specialize in fast openings, renovations, and scalable brand expansions. Modern, Premium and budget-friendly solutions.

[escandidesign]

Escandi Design - Soap Dispenser

Escandi Design's attractive soap dispensers will enhance the appearance of your bathroom. Our collection includes streamlined designs made of high-quality materials, ensuring longevity and elegance with each pump. Escandi Design is well-known for its commitment to simple Scandinavian aesthetics and quality craftsmanship, and its Soap Dispenser complements any modern bathroom design. Explore our selection to find the ideal dispenser that blends usefulness and aesthetic appeal, bringing a touch of luxury into your everyday routine.

[hermioneismyrealname]

Ep 6 empty mugs and jealousy

Well... Hm. I'm angry at mugs.

More sugar daddy shopping. Belts? Mahasamut, you innocent darling... He doesn't want them for you. The writer needs his bedroom inspiration, and he's thinking of a belt.

Rak is actually pretty cheery. Hm. Yes, I completely agree that he looks adorable.

JEALOUSY?! Hungry? Two scoops? Wah. DONT LIE TO ME THERE WAS NO WATER IN THERE! NONE. Also that mug is iconic. I want it but it looks small for the amount of tea I drink.

Shh.. not yet.. now you may speak

That was a good move, Mahasamut. You listen if they want to tell first. Brilliant. And wishing for someone's misery, heh. I really like his character. So far, other than abandoning the town that relies on him, there isn't much fault with him. Oh and Rak's heart eyes.

OH cousin! Wow... i want to be his mom. the money part not the getting cheated on. and... being obsessed with a complete ass. wow. abusive too. MAME ENOUGH WITH THE TRAUMA. As easy and terrible of a man like this sounds, to the point that this is unbelievable... I know some of my friends with this sort of background. So yeah. Yeash. And being called annoying when crying.. yup. been there. Next.

I feel like that the bratty cousin is going to be forgiven by the end of this. ONLY 14 MINUTES THROUGH? Jeez MAME. Ok. That hug was cute.

So i respect the hustle of a bunch of friends getting the inside scoop on an author's latest work, I'd be guilty of that too. However, if it wasnt at Mook's expense. Poor girl.

Ok this was also adorable.

but that steel beam must be uncomfortable. aaaand there goes the adorableness. HHAAHHAAHAHAHAHA! oh hello friend. Oh... wait... Did Rak change his pants? OI CONTINUITY STAFF!

my guy.... Khom... you were bought too. I read your book. Dont play coy.

Also

Yes Rak. Send it to Connor and have him come fetch his hubby. THERE IT IS! JEALOUSY! OOOOHHH!! Hydro turbines! Go green energy! (at least what i think they are)

oh. oohohohoh Connor... Oh Connor. You bitter jealous bastard. Who does Rak hug when he has writer's block. ahahaahahah! IF he is going to show up, I want the awful blond hair. YOU HEAR ME MAME?! Give me the full cringe.

That fight was cute but immediately i was distracted by this terrible interior design.

VIE IS MANIPULATING AGAIN. WAH! WAH! Her acting is very convincing. Ah kantoi. A hug? I really want to hate Vie here, but I do admire her manipulation tactics.

Mahasamut, why are you wearing a jacket around the house, near water? BINGO!! A CHILD! HEY NO DISRESPECTING MY MINT CHOCOLATE! YES. MEENA. I AGREE WITH YOU. YOU ENJOY THAT MINT CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM! DONT LET ANYONE DISRESPECT OUR FLAVOUR.

Oh. yeah. Escape that deadass grandpa.

Oh they are going to get interrupted again. Mahasamut, I suggest you put your phone somewhere other than your trousers pocket. That was quick coffee making. AGAIN THERE IS NOTHING IN THAT CUP!!! WHY JUST FILL IT UP WITH SOMEHTING ITS PISSING ME OFF! I WAS GOING TO GIVE THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT THAT HE DIDNT MAKE IT THATS WHY IT WAS SO QUICK BUUUUTTTT NOOOOOOOO

THAT MUG IS EMPTY!

OH THAT IS FUNNY. One always thinks its best to give people space, so afraid of disappointing someone while the other cant stand being left alone. HAH!

yeahp. RAk. Mood.

ehheheheh kid's got attitude. Oh brililiant attitude. Ok. Meena is favourite character. and she is emotionally intelligent. I'm completely Meena here. She is so expressive too!

Yeah... and the music change... welp. Sorry but where is the prep? We end it like that then? Sure.

What the hell do they keep pointing at?

And so now I realize, this is going to get worse. Today's ep was a little sweet. Soft. Comforting even. Rak's character development is back, it will go again next episode because of his cousin. His cousin, by the way, I do not like but I think there is going to be some sort of Oh, can i say it? Tong level redemption arc™️. And by arc, I mean a 2 degree curve because her character is shallow and close to pointless when the giggolo father plot exists. A little disappointed with this week's bingo, but alas.

[siriannatan]

Not So Generic Coffee Shop AU

Just dug through the mess that is my fic file and dug out an old forgotten bit.

Jimmy was sure he had his life figured out. He had a stable job - the coffee shop he worked at might be owned by his sister but she would not keep him if he was bad at his job. He had a lovely boyfriend, Tango, and all his friends and Lizzie liked him well enough. But the longer they were together the more Jimmy felt that... 

Tango was a great... friend. He was handsome and charming and a perfect boyfriend. But to Jimmy, all they did together didn't really feel that much like they were a couple more like friends who occasionally made out and did all the other couple stuff. But their dates always felt just like friends hanging out. Tango's plans for them were never too concrete and easy to drop if Jimmy didn't feel like going out for pizza and to the games parlour. He saw nothing wrong with staying at home with popcorn and watching movies. They rarely did too many couple things...

Scott was likely to blame for Jimmy's disappointment. Who's Scott? Jimmy's boyfriend from his university days. They stayed together a couple of years after they graduated and decided to have some time apart and somehow that led to them drifting apart.

No matter. What Scott did was set a high standard for anyone Jimmy would date now. Scott was a romantic through and through. Even if Jimmy was tired he'd make his time magical and special. He'd surprise him with gifts and random small outings and dates. A performance in a small park Jimmy didn't even know was near their apartment. A dinner for two in a cosy, family restaurant two blocks away. Give him random gifts accompanied by flowers. Be it a single flower or a whole bouquet. Make breakfast in bed after dragging a tired Jimmy to a theatre. Get them dumb matching sweaters and mugs Jimmy still had deep in his closet, in an old shoe box. It was honestly an old box from Scott's shoes... Jimmy was pretty sure he got them for Scott though.

As much as Jimmy loved hanging out with Tango he couldn't stay with him as he was. It would not work out for either of them in the long run. He knew Tango would not 'break up' with him. Jimmy would call it a mutual agreement that they were not working out. No matter how he'd call it Tango would try to work it all out. Jimmy could not go on like that. And he knew where Scott worked a year ago... He might not be working there anymore. But a coffee shop nearby was hiring so Jimmy started by dropping his resume. As corny as 'the Swaggon CO.'s branding was it was a nice spot and store.

The next thing he did in this uncharacteristic bout of spontaneous possible self-destruction was look for an apartment nearby. He had enough personal savings to get a small place for himself. Worst case scenario he could drop his resume at the swanky interior design company Scott used to work at. he was no Scott but he did have a fancy IT degree even if he wasn't using it. It'd be much harder to get into or leave later. Once the apartment was secured he slowly moved some of his things. Whenever Tango was at work and he had time he'd take small sections of his belongings.

When the shop eventually called him he told Lizzie he was breaking up with Tango. He didn't tell her about Scott, she was a bit angry at him for his and Jimmy's break up. She was sad but understood that maybe Jimmy was not feeling the relationship. The secrecy was confusing to her. "Liz, Tango's a sweetheart and an amazing buddy but I'm not feeling this as a serious relationship," he'd explain to her over coffee. "And he won't just let this go, it's not who he is... And I'll not force this to last until we're both rotting in misery..."

"So you think it's best you just vanish?" Lizzie glared at him.

"I'm feeling like I'm suffocating, Liz, I think I rushed things too much after Scott, I need to breathe a little bit more, and be my own man," Jimmy sighed. It was partially true. He should have just gone back and tried to convince Scott they should have stayed together. And he'd likely stay single for some time if he managed to find Scott but not get him back. Things felt rushed with Tango.

"If that's what you feel then okay," Lizzie sighed. She seemed convinced. "He's at work today? Then you can go and finish moving before I change my mind and call you an idiot," she added, leaving Jimmy with his styrofoam coffee cup. It was a slow day so it was no wonder she was okay with losing him.

Jimmy did not wait for Lizzie to change her mind. And quickly moved the rest of his things to his new place. He did leave Tango a lengthy letter explaining why he decided to leave. He wasn't a complete jerk.

He had no idea what to do in the three days before his first shift at the new shop. A morning shift since he already had experience and the place was relatively new. He got reacquainted with the area. Most of the small tucked-away spots that Scott used to take him to were gone in the year Jimmy didn't visit this part of town. There were still some left but not many. Oh, and he changed his number, that was like the first thing. Just to save Tango the pain. He did give it to Lizzie. She was his sister after all.

He did avoid the coffee shop and Scott's old workplace like fire even if he did live close by. Despite all he did he was somewhat scared to see Scott again. Scared and excited.

As expected of the more busy, modern and full of offices part of town the morning shift was a lot. A lot of the same order for simple black coffee. Did no office types drink interesting coffee? At least it was easy to make. Jimmy was slowly getting mentally drained by the same order for plain black coffee and plain bagels that sudden "Jimmy?" had him more spooked than he expected he'd be. As he looked up there he was.

Scott. In a dark plum suit with a dusty pink shirt under his vest. Teal hair already a mess. His nails painted in many colours as he ran one hand through his hair. And he still had that nice, leather bag Jimmy bought him for the last birthday they spent together. Or a very similar one. "Hi," Jimmy sent him a nervous smile. Very aware he must have looked atrocious in the dark maroon uniform of the Swaggon Coffee. "Should I ask about your order or see how well I remember how you like your coffee?" he might as well shoot his shot.

It seemed to be worth the risk as Scott chuckled and said "Sure, why not," he shrugged with a very familiar smirk. The smirk he had on whenever Jimmy would swear he'd do something nice for Scott just to have another nice thing thrown in his face. Or be pulled by the lapels of his shirt into a make-out session that likely leads to them leaving dinner plans for later.

"Got it, you're number eighteen," Jimmy did his best to answer with similar levels of confidence. And a wink he hoped wasn't too flirtatious.

Coconut caramel brown sugar latte with double whipped cream. It's as much of a mouth-full to say as a sugary punch to the face. Scott's favourite drink, which luckily was within the shop's policy. And had other baristas who hoped they'd be making interesting drinks looking at Jimmy with jealousy. He completely ignored them, focusing on making this the best drink he's ever made and he made this particular drink many times. While writing down the number on a cardboard ring that went around the cup Jimmy hesitated for a second. Scott would not mind if he... He might as well try. Scott was the type to like getting a number written on his cup.

"Number eighteen?" Jimmy called out and Scott almost skipped to pick up his coffee. Just coffee, Scott did proper meals and not two bagels for lunch and no breakfast. "Coconut-caramel brown sugar latte with double whipped cream," Jimmy listed off without a stutter. "I hope I remembered it right," he grinned.

"Perfectly," Scott chuckled back. "It's great seeing you... I shouldn't hold the line, but I hope I'll see you again, maroon's cute on you," he grinned.

"Hope to see you too," Jimmy waved as Scott left and instantly switched to business mode for the next customer.

Scott was internally screaming at himself for not asking for Jimmy's number. He missed him terribly in that year and was more than once considering trying to contact him. Having all of Jimmy's technology knowledge was nice and he sure knew more than the whole current IT department of the design company Scott was working for. But most importantly, Jimmy was an amazing boyfriend. He seldom insisted they drop any plans Scott made for them. And even tried to return it. Scott was more than okay with being the one doing all the spoiling of Jimmy.

He didn't even have time to take more than a couple sips of his coffee as his boss waltzed into his office - Scott was high rank enough to have his own small office. "Scott, we have a new head of IT and...," he announced as a very handsome, red-headed man with very pretty blue eyes followed him in. "I need you to show him the designer's side of our systems," the boss grinned and before Scott could even try to refuse left. 

'Damn you Sausage, why won't you send him to Pix?' Scott sighed internally. "I'm Scott, sorry about him..."

"I'm used to that, fWhip by the way. Is it normal to get someone's number on your cup around here?" redhead waved it off.

It took Scott an embarrassing couple of seconds to register what fWhip said. Cup. His coffee cup. That Jimmy made. And there was indeed a number on the cardboard protector on it aside from the number eighteen. "No... I just happen to know the barista," Scott quickly covered up his mild shock. Did it mean Jimmy wanted them to talk again? He dared not hope for more but a small part of him thought there might be a chance. Jimmy was never good a flirting, in the cutest way ever. "Anyway, get a chair, our current IT team sucks," Scott was not going to lie to fWhip and be completely honest about all his issues with the system that he was always told to send to IT who just ignored it. This time he was going to be heard.

And heard he was. By the time he was done, fWhip had a long list of things that could be improved and an even longer list of complaints to bring up with Sausage. "He might be an old friend but I'm not staying unless he lets me change some things. How can anyone work under those conditions?" fWhip huffed as they were wrapping up. Just in time for a late lunch. He was honestly pretty (and) cute when angry. Maybe if things didn't work out with Jimmy... Maybe. He didn't even know if fWhip would be interested or if he was into guys in general. But he could always try to be friends.

He really needed to check in on how things would go with Jimmy. Did he remember he left his guitar with Scott? He still had it, set up in the corner of his bedroom. At all not helping him move on even if he moved into a bigger and nicer apartment after his latest promotion. He still had several of Jimmy's things. Some of his old hoodies were probably Scott's most praised possessions. With Jimmy being considerably taller than him they were very comfy if he had to stay up and work on a boring project... 

Not now. Now he had to get lunch and text Jimmy. Just so he knows Scott's not angry and willing to talk to him. And to know it's actually Jimmy's number... 

*Hi Jim, it's Scott* he texted once he had his lunch all sorted out in a casual small restaurant next to the office building, great spot for lunch. He was absolutely not expecting Jimmy to answer anytime soon. Fully expecting blonde was busy with making great coffees. So imagine his shock when he did indeed get a text back.

*Lunch time in office world?* Jimmy's text asked.

*Yeah, late one, been talking to a new IT guy.* He missed texting Jimmy during his lunch breaks. But at the same time, he had no idea if it would be okay to ask Jimmy out... Not on like a date, not yet at least, just to meet up and catch up or something like that. *You free tonight? We could meet and catch up?" Screw it, he might as well ask and get it over with.

*Sure. Where?* 

It was happening. *Eight by the coffee shop? I know a cool little restaurant not too far from there, no need to dress fancy* Was Scott as excited as when he was asking Jimmy out for their first date after living together for like two weeks in a college dorm? No. He was much more excited.

*It's a date then, gotta come back to work, see you at eight* Jimmy texted, as if that wasn't a big deal and the word 'date' wouldn't spin in his head for the rest of his work day. How was he supposed to finish his sandwiches and fries now? Was he supposed to be normal and professional and not like he was about to go on his first date ever with his crush? He did still like Jimmy a lot...

He should probably respond. "See ya then handsome ;)* he said, feeling himself blush a little. 

Why was he acting like he was never on a date with Jimmy? They were and they kissed and all the more and... He was just excited to maybe have another chance with Jimmy. His new apartment had pretty good soundproofing and... He better not get his hopes up too much just yet. Now he needed to survive the rest of his work day. Quickly go home, change into something nice and casual and hopefully charm his way back into Jimmy's heart... Hopefully.

[yuzukahibiscus]

Minami Maito’s Research 100

This was taken from the Minami Maito photobook, as kindly scanned by a mutual. At this time, Maiti was still in Flower Troupe.

Note: This is the second of my Research-100 translation series and it couldn’t be made possible without the contributions of fellow mutuals. Find my first translation of Aizuki Hikari’s photobook here!)

PROFILE

Name: Minami Maito Troupe: Flower Troupe Birthday: June 28 Blood Type:  O Nickname: Minami, Maitii Height: 170cm Vision: 2.0 Shoe size:  24.5 Finger size: I don’t know! Charm point: Nose Strenghts: I am passionate on anything Weaknesses: Shy Catchphrase: I want to be “All Maiti!!”...so I’ll do my best!! Birthplace: Osaka

FAVOURITE THINGS

1. Favourite season –> Autumn 2. Favourite event –> New year 3. Place that you want to go –> New York. Because I want to see Broadway musicals. 4. Favourite animal –> Dog 5. Favourite song –> Yuzu’s “Bridge of Glory” and Ozaki Yukata’s songs 6. Favourite movie –> “Les Misérables” 7. Favourite musical genre –> Musical 8. Favouite television genre –> Probably TV dramas. Recently I’m watching “Stepmom and Daughter Blues” (Japanese drama 義母と娘のブルース), “Your Turn to Kill” (Japanese drama あなたの番です), “TWO WEEKS”. (Korean dramas 투윅스） 。 9. Favourite colours –> White and Black 10. Favourite book –> “A Letter from Father”（父からの手紙） 11. Favourite scent –> I like how the clothes smell after I finish washing them.

FOOD

12. Favourite thing to eat –> Noodles 13. Things I dislike eating –> This is probably quite problematic for me... (sweating) but there’s actually a lot. I hate all kinds of beans but I can eat Edamame!  I also don’t like foods with too strong taste, but I also don’t like foods that’d be difficult for me to guess “What is this smell”? Oh and I also can’t eat bugs (laughs)/ 14. Good at cooking –> Fried vegetables maybe.

I LIKE...

15. Meat or fish –> Um... meat 16. Japanese or Western or Chinese food –> Japanese 17. Japanese sweets or Western sweets –> Japanese. 18. Coffee or red tea –> I’m conflicted! Usually, it would be coffee, but on rest days or when I want to spend the day slowly, it would be red tea!! 19. Salt or soy sauce or sauce –> Because I’m from Kansai, it might be more often to say “sauce”... (laughs) but it’s probably salt for me.

OFF (STAGE)-ME

20. Morning or night type –> Night 21. The first thing I do in the morning –> Wash my face 22. I shower with hot water or cold water –> Hot water 23. When you sleep do you like to turn on some lights or leave it dark –> Leave it dark 24. What is the longest time you’ve slept before –> More than 12 hours 25. What do you do for a change of moods –> Clean up the house, watch television 26. How much time do you use your phone –> Depending on time and circumstances, around 2-3 hours a day 27. Do you like to contact by mail or by phone –> Mail 28. Usually I’m the speaker or the listener –> The listener 29. The joker or the teaser –> Depending on the partner, but I think I’m mostly the teaser. 30. Only hot or only cold –> Either. I feel I can be more tolerant than others on the very hot or very cold side. 31. You like to go on group activity or individual activity –> Individual activity. 32. Qualifications you have –> Car license. And also, Kanji qualification, English qualification and mathematics qualification. But I forgot which level I was at (laughs). 33. Favourite kind of shoes –> Sneakers 34. Your taste in interior design –> I don’t want to have too sharp colours. So it’d probably be just all white. 35. Things that you can’t stop doing, or habits –> My go-to phrase is always saying “Well, I dunno but” (laughs). I’m from Kansai so I can’t stop saying with a Kansai-dialect. 36. Jinx (bad luck) –> Don’t particularly have one 37. Something you’re scared of –> Bugs 38. Treasure –> People I’ve met so far

REST DAYS...

39. Indoor or outdoor –> Outdoor 40. Karaoke must-sing choice –> Ozaki Yukata’s songs 41. The place you’d always go to shopping –> Umeda 42. You’re quick to decide or conflicted when you’re shopping –> Quick to decide 43. The thing you want to do the most in rest days –> Would it be going to have a massage or going to a cafe...But it’d probably be going for a massage. 44. You spend your rest days slowly or with a plan –> Slowly.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES...

45. The childhood nickname –> Minami 46. Favourite subject –> Sports 47. The subject you dislike –> Science. 48. The game you’d always play is –> Dodgeball 49. The club or interest you were engaged in –> Classical ballet 50. The dream job –> It has been being a Takarasienne since I was little. But if I could have another choice, would I be a cashier (laughs). Recently, there were more self-service cashier services and I thought it could be fun being a cashier.

RECENTLY, I...

51. Recently I’d always wear –> White 52. Last time I cried –> It was the shonichi performance of “Dream On!” where everyone wrote a message and autographed on their photos even though given a tight schedule. I was touched by the collaged decorated makeup desk I had. 53. Last time I laughed –> It was during a troupe dinner party where we were watching the DVDs of when Sayumi-san (Asumi) has become Top [Star]. Rather than feeling all nostalgic, everyone was happily singing and dancing together. From the tug of war to the relay videos in the sports day, even though we didn’t know about the results, we saw how everyone was supporting for their own troupes, and that excitement had been so long ago that I laughed and cried watching it. 54. Last time I was surprised –> I returned home and when I opened the curtains, some big moths flew in. I immediately took the bug spray and chased after them. 55. Something I could do –> I could come out of the shower and finish putting on makeup in 5 minutes. That’s only for the makeup spray part though (laughs). 56. Something I’m obsessed with –> Looking at the news in my smartphone.

IF 〇〇?!

57. If you have to describe yourself with a colour –> Marble. I have many emotions and they’re quite flexible. 58. If you have to describe yourself as an animal –> Since I’m shy it’s not easy for me to be close to others, but upperclassmen have described me that I was like a big dog. 59. If you lost your way, would you return to the original path or continue moving forward on an unknown path –> Even though I’m confused, I’d continue moving forward. Since I’m already at somewhere I don’t recognise, it would be difficult returning back. 60. If you’re a musumeyaku, what outfit would you wear? –> I want to wear a wide dress with a gradation that expands spreads out. 61. If you have to challenge to be a director or a choreographer, which would it be –> Director. I think it would be touching when you could portray your thoughts through the people, the lighting, the set through this dynamic stage. 62. If you could be born again would you be a boy or a girl –> Maybe a boy. I want to try walk on a different life. 63. If you have a time machine, would you go to the past or future –> I don’t want to go to both. 64. If you could use magic –> I want to wake up quickly in the morning and I want to have a charger for my body energy where I would never be tired no matter how much I dance. 65. If you could meet a historical figure –> Elisabeth. I love “ELISABETH” and I also want to try to be a role like Elisabeth, and when I was playing as Lucheni in the newcomers’ performance, I was always chasing on Elisabeth, so I was curious as to what she thought while she was living. I also want to hear how her real voice sounded like.

FAVOURITE 〇〇!! 66. Favourite tourist spot –> Saipan Islands. The shallow water below my knees continued all the way to the other islands that I could see, and the water was so beautiful that I thought I could walk there, so I recommend it. 67. Favourite stretching method –> Yamuna ball. It really helps the blood flow for the whole body. 68. Your favourite skincare routine –> Washing your face without using soap in the morning.

A-LA CARTE

69. Favourite picture style would be close up or full photo –> Close up 70. Do you like coloured or monochrome photos –> Coloured 71. Standby motion –> My dog, the toypoodle Pochi-kun.

72. Something you want to try –> Gymnastics. Because there were many cool actions such as backflip. 73. Someone that’s always influenced you –> Mother. Because she knows me the best, she’d be the first to realise if I had any changes, if I was doing something other people won’t be doing. Because that is really moving to me, I would often realise so much more about the stage performance and about being an otokoyaku from my mother’s words. 74. A thing I want the most –> Perfect head-body balance ratio (laughs). But if we’re talking it realistically, maybe I’d be wanting more time. To spend time slower, to relax at a home a little more, to think more about the stage performances. If only there was more time, then I could do so much more.

RELATED TO STAGE 

75. When do you enter in the dressing room –> 2 hours and a half before the performance begins. 76. When do you leave the dressing room –>  If I have to return to the dressing room it would take about an hour. 77. Which is your start of the warmup routine –>  Stretching. I start from stretching. 78. A detail in stage makeup –>  Eyes. Of course it’s important to do the foundation well, but it’s also about considering if it’s a cute role, a beautiful role, a fresh role, a warm-hearted role, the way I do my eye makeup would determine the role that I’m going to be playing. 79. The time to do makeup –>  Around 45 minutes. I’m not sure but I could probably do 30 minutes the quickets but recently I’m trying to do it carefully and slowly (laughs). 80. Nervous level before entering for your scene –> Since it’s probably not a good thing to be nervous, I would say I am focused but not really nervous. But even on Shonichi (first day) performances, I am nervous as I could almost hear my heart beating. 81. Quickest time you could finish changing –> Within 1 minute 82. How far could you see into the audience –> Around until row 15 83. What would you do after a performance –> Sit on the chair 84. Are you good or bad at remembering choreography –> Good at it 85. Are you good or bad at adlibs –> Bad... Even if I could do, I probably wouldn’t (laughs). Because if you say this, then you would think of the next thing to say and it would be a hit or miss. 86. Do you like wearing military uniform or black tailcoat –> Tailcoat 87. Do you like acting in tragedy or comedy –> Tragedy 88. For love scenes, do you want to act in wordless embraces or say pretentious (shameless) lines –> Wordless embrace 89. Your detail in tailcoats –> Since black tailcoast are the royality scene of Takarazuka, when I’m wearing the tailcoat, I would have the feeling of “Otokoyaku Minami Maito!” And also depending on the difference of dancing, I’d focus on my bodyline and how the white shirt and the black jacket juxtapositions, and I’d also have to pay attention to how I do my hairstyle for the dance.

TILL NOW, MY FAVOURITE...

90. Song –> Nathan’s song when he was thinking about the difficulties with his father in “Stardom”  91. Dance –> “SANTE!!” where I paired up with Seto-san in the dance and when I danced as the character of Death in the bullfight scene choreographed by Yan-san in “Beautiful Garden -A Profusion of Flowers-”. 92. Costume –> That white and orange gradation jacket and that it was fluttering on the sides of the costume in the Finale of “DREAM ON!” 93. Scene –> In “For the People: Lincoln, the Man Who Sought Freedom”, when I saluted to Todoroki-san playing as Lincoln till Elmer died. (Mr) Lincoln was probably far away from where was, but he called out “Elmer!!” to [when Elmer died]. I really like how the flow of sentiments from Elmer was delivered to (Mr) Lincoln like that. 94. Still –> “CASANOVA” where I had a new image there. 95. Lines –> In “Messiah -The Legend of Shiroh Amakusa-” that final battle scene where [Matsudaira Nobutsuna] (her role) successfully advances and then he later said “You couldn’t come forward, could you” I thought how much emotion could I put into this line and it was so important so I was nervous eery day when I spoke that. 96. Role –> I can’t choose!!

CHALLENGE 〇〇!!

97. Handgrip –> Right 42kg, Left 38.5 kg 98. Wink (could you do left and right?) –> I could do left and right 99. Sit and reach –> 30.5cm 100. Ken-dama (you were given 10 chances) –> Done in one try successfully!