#even if you care about none of this I Love You Now. Just For Asking.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[eevachu]

As someone who used to work in film post-production: they NEVER paid us enough to care about our work if we weren’t passionate about the project.

Budgets for projects varied wildly, and we were paid $16CAD/hour when minimum wage was adjusted to $14CAD/hour, by the time I’d quit. It created this culture of faster, senior artists getting all the crap shots that needed to be done fast with picky clients, and junior artists getting the better shots from bigger budget projects with more relaxed clients.

So your reward for staying and getting better at your job? You get revision after revision on some throwaway movie you don’t like, on a production that isn’t going to pay to have space for your name in the credits. The company I worked for didn’t care that I kept asking; I worked in film post-production for almost 3 years and watched as all my colleagues got to see their names on that big screen and I never did.

I was working in a literal windowless sweatshop in the finance district of the 4th largest city in North America, because they took our break room to make more room for workers. My health is still recovering from sick building syndrome induced chronic respiratory illnesses. I’d come to work in sick because I didn’t get paid sick days and my work wanted a doctor’s note (I had to pay for) if I was sick more than 3 days. The more I worked, the more I hated what I did, the more resentful I got and the less I cared about the end product.

And then: they had the audacity to union bust us.

Suddenly, I’m working 70 hours “volunteer” overtime, because the boss is guilting me. I’m on swing shift, even tho none of the clients we had were awake at those hours. My desk kept moving, my team kept switching and there were so. Many. Pizza. Parties.

And so I quit. And then a few months after, they fired the remaining employees at the studio, leaving millions in Canadian government grant money on the table, and opened a studio in India. Again. They’d done this before and I’d bet my meagre paycheque that it was all to make sure their USAmerican studio didn’t get any ideas about unions. They left most of the U.S. employees that moved to Canada in the lurch, and most couldn’t afford to move back.

I love practical effects, I prefer them honestly, but at the end of the day: in this economy, there aren’t going to be good practical effects, because studios won’t even pay for good CGI. It isn’t just a matter of time, it’s a matter of money. Disney, Paramount, whoever, almost every client we worked with wanted the shots done fast over done well. The minority paid enough to allot the time we’d need to make shots amazing, but even most of those wanted us working around the clock to get the shots done, and sent back revision after revision of nothing notes.

And I’m sure at this point, most of the specific job I did in the industry is done by generative ai now.

Bottom line: studios don’t treat their workers with enough compassion to get back movies with good cgi.

Today’s CGI is better, today’s workers rights are not.

Complain about that.

Nostalgic memory loss and cherry picking annoy me to the core.

2006 features other CGI-laden flims such as...

Son of the Mask

And Ultraviolet

While 2024 featured...

Dune 2

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

This shot was literally impossible to create in 2006.

Good CGI is made by good artists who have the proper funding, time, and resources. The year doesn't matter.

There has always been bad CGI. There has always been good CGI.

Current CGI is much more advanced and allows for much bigger stories to be told. Most of it is so good, people do not even realize they are looking at CGI. Yes, Top Gun 2 shot a lot of amazing practical footage. But they still had 2400 VFX shots.

And no one could tell the difference.

But also, movies with 2000+ CG shots usually have a quality delta. They run short on time and budget and they have to prioritize which shots get the most love. If there is one valid complaint about modern CGI, it is the lack of consistency.

You might have a weird looking floating head in one scene...

And that is very easy to cherry pick and say "look at how bad CGI is these days!"

But then later in the movie you have the shadow realm moon.

A gorgeous scene that used a groundbreaking lighting effect. Using a strobe technique and a high speed camera, every frame in the scene had six different angles of lighting.

They were able to show a fast revolving sun circling around the characters without having to rig up some crazy light that flies around the room.

Again, not possible in 2006.

When artists have proper resources they will blow your mind.

CGI isn't worse. It is better than ever. It's just that the artists making Davy Jones were amazing. They had the time and money to realize their vision. They had 1400 fewer shots to make than Top Gun Maverick. (Jurassic Park only had 63.)

They also understood their limitations and didn't try to force the CG to do something it wasn't ready for yet.

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh oh, feelings

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event 'it's complicated'

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 4,512 words | cw: open ending, steve/gareth sex | tags: established steddie, NOT cheating they're all super cool and fine with this, eddie watches, virgin gareth, first time, bottom steve, top gareth, blowjob, anal fingering, anal sex, left open on purpose because i'm insane and might continue it

also on ao3

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“Dude. You’re making me sad.”

Gareth groans. “I don’t care. I feel pitiful.”

“That’s ‘cause you are,” Eddie pushes his shoulder. It’s playful, but there’s a hint of actual annoyance in it and Gareth doesn’t want that. “There’s, like, a whole crowd of women out there who would fuck you if you asked.”

“I don’t want the whole crowd of women. I want one woman, maybe two.”

“You’re not going from zero to two. So knock down your expectations a little,” Eddie starts. “Also, just throwing this out as an option: plenty of men would be interested in you, too.”

“Yeah? Like who?” Gareth scoffs.

It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it. He has. Plenty of times. More often than he’d ever admit to anyone, especially Eddie.

“I dunno. Steve?”

Gareth blinks once, twice.

“Steve who?” He only knows one Steve and that Steve is very taken by the man hounding him about his virginity right now.

Eddie throws the pillow he’s holding at Gareth. “My boyfriend, Steve! ‘Steve who?’ Fuck, dude, how many Steves do you know?”

“I dunno! Sorry for not assuming you want me to sleep with the love of your life I guess!”

“Everyone wants to sleep with Steve,” Eddie shrugs as if he’s cool with everyone wanting to sleep with Steve.

“Not everyone,” Gareth insists, but he’s not actually sure. Steve is the hottest guy they know. “I don’t think.”

“But you do.”

Gareth stays silent. This feels like a trap. He doesn’t think Eddie would get pissed or anything if he admits it, but he doesn’t want Steve to find out.

“It’s okay if you do. Steve would totally fuck you.”

Gareth’s mouth drops open. “He would not.”

“He would,” Eddie nods. He’s smirking like he’s teasing, but Gareth thinks he’s actually being very serious right now. “Ask him.”

“I’m not gonna ask your boyfriend if he’d fuck me!”

“Don’t ask him outright!” Eddie throws his arms up. “Jesus, no wonder you’re a virgin. Flirt with him, see if he flirts back.”

“Is this some kinda fucked up friendship test?” Gareth stands and starts pacing. Steve will be on the bus any minute and there’s no way he should hear any of this conversation. He’ll cut off Gareth’s balls for even suggesting he cheat on Eddie. He’ll hang them out the tour bus window while Gareth dies on the floor and post an ad for a drummer at their next stop. “Or are you testing Steve? I’m not gonna be a part of that, man. Steve loves you and I’m not getting in the way-“

“Dude. It’s not a test. Get it out of your system and then maybe you can focus on something other than your miserable state of existence,” Eddie walks to his bunk and Gareth is reminded immediately that they’re all sleeping on the bus tonight. Eddie’s plan isn’t gonna work.

“It can’t be tonight,” Gareth is surprised at his own words, shocked that he’s apparently entertaining the idea of fucking Steve. Getting fucked by Steve? “Is Steve a top or bottom?”

Eddie laughs loud enough to make Gareth flinch.

“You’ll find out soon.”

~~~

Soon is two days later, when they finally have a two day break so they can stay in a hotel. None of them stray far, always choosing to be in adjoining rooms and getting room service instead of trying to go out. It’s just easier; no worrying about being seen by fans or trying to book enough security for them to stay safe.

Goodie and Jeff are in the hot tub downstairs, probably trying to pick up chicks, so naturally Gareth is sitting in Eddie and Steve’s bed while they finish their dinner. He’s not worried about being a third wheel, especially not since Eddie told him that Steve would fuck him. He’s still not sure he would.

“Steve, you’ve taken most of Hawkins’ virginity, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffs a ‘smooth’ under his breath. Steve doesn’t even flinch. He finishes chewing, swallows, and sits back in the rolling chair he insisted on staying in while he ate.

“I wouldn’t say most. A good chunk,” Steve smirks. “Why? Trying to take someone’s virginity?”

“Yeah. Mine.”

Gareth slaps his hand over his own mouth. He feels absurd. He feels like he might puke. He thinks his heart is trying to escape his body via his throat or maybe his ass. He’s unsure if gravity is involved at all, actually.

“You’re a virgin?” Steve chokes on nothing. “Eddie, you didn’t tell me he’s a virgin.”

“I didn’t know you needed to know this about my best friend,” Eddie laughs, ignores the way Gareth is watching them with wide eyes.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell,” Steve is shaking his head, looking more disappointed with himself by the second. Gareth isn’t sure what to make of it. He thinks he’s supposed to feel ashamed, but he doesn’t. Not yet. “I can spot them from a mile away.”

Eddie snorts, but doesn’t comment. He’s stuffing his face with his dinner, and Steve’s eyes are focusing on Gareth in a way he isn’t familiar with from anyone, let alone…Steve.

“Uh…how exactly do you know from looking at someone?” Gareth dares to ask.

“Oh, it’s easy. I can’t tell you, but you might figure it out soon,” Steve answers, shoving another bite into his mouth and then standing up.

“How will I figure it out?”

“Because you won’t be a virgin anymore.”

“O…kay?”

There’s no way it’s this easy, right? There’s no way Steve is offering to fuck him and there’s no way Eddie’s just okay with it.

“Eddie, what’s your color on this?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks between them for a moment. “Green,” Eddie smirks. “But I’m watching.”

“Watching what?” Gareth knows what. He can’t believe it’s happening, but he knows.

“You cool with fucking me? Or do you prefer me fucking you? I’m good either way.”

Straight to business it seems. Gareth is chubbing up a little already. What the fuck is going on?

“Yeah, uh.” Gareth swallows around his nerves. He performs in front of thousands of people every night. He can fuck Steve Harrington. “Yeah, I can fuck you. That’s good. Cool.”

Steve raises a brow, looks to Eddie, then back to Gareth. “Is it because he’s gonna watch?”

Gareth shakes his head. He’s fine with that part. Honestly, it might help keep him from throwing up if Eddie’s there. Eddie’s seen him in every state of undress, and every emotion, and he trusts him more than anyone else.

“Is it because it’s me?” Steve steps closer. Gareth’s asshole tightens. It happens when he’s nervous, okay? It’s like fight or flight, except no matter what he chooses, nothing’s getting in his asshole or out of it.

“I mean, it’s not not because it’s you. I’d be nervous about anyone. I guess it’s just…like you do realize that you’re with Eddie, right?”

Eddie and Steve both laugh and it makes Gareth feel dumb.

“Yeah, I do. I love him a hell of a lot,” Steve finally says. “And he loves me a lot. And we both love you and want you to stop moping.”

“You’re not in love with me though?” Gareth has to clarify. He loves Eddie, and he loves Steve, but not like that.

“No, dude,” Eddie exclaims. “Neither of us wanna make you a third. You just need to get over this thing in your head that losing your virginity is the end all be all of your life or something. I can’t stand the face you make anymore. Steve’s sick of me complaining. We love you in the way where if we have to see that face anymore, we’ll bury your body on the interstate so.”

“Right. Okay.” Gareth nods because that makes sense. It’s hard to figure out how this is gonna work later on, after he’s seen Steve like this, after Eddie’s seen him like this. “So, we’re doing this.”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. He gets close enough to pull Gareth into him, kisses the corner of his mouth as a test.

It’s a little weird, but that’s because he was under the impression they wouldn’t kiss. He assumed this was a get in, get out situation. Get the job done and move on. He didn’t expect it to be soft.

“C’mon,” Steve whispers as he pulls back, smiling encouragingly at him. He takes his hand and leads him to the bed. “You know how to get me ready?”

Gareth nods. He’s messed around with himself plenty of times to know what to do, what feels good, what’s too much. He doesn’t know what Steve likes, but he can figure it out as he goes.

Steve takes his shirt off. Eddie groans.

“You look so good,” he groans. “I wanna touch you, too.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not now. Let Gare have this, baby.”

“He can…he can touch you. If you want,” Gareth says. “I dunno if I want him to touch me, though.”

Eddie’s hand goes to his chest dramatically. “No? My nimble fingers aren’t good enough? Fine!” He smirks. “I’m good just watching. This is for you. I get to touch him all the time.”

Steve is slipping his pants off quietly, letting them have this moment.

“Normally, I’d make you take my clothes off, but I think you know how to do that,” Steve teases. “Unless you’re unfamiliar with this model of jeans.”

“Levi’s?” Gareth takes his own shirt off. “Half my closet is thrifted Levi’s, dude.”

And then they’re both standing in just their underwear. Gareth’s in boxers that he doesn’t remember washing in his last round of laundry, and Steve’s standing there in the tightest gray underwear Gareth’s ever seen, already half-hard.

His dick is huge. Like, way bigger than Gareth’s, maybe also Eddie’s. He’d need to see them both at once to compare, but-

“We’re gonna use colors, even though it’s not a scene, okay? Just so you’re comfortable. Red is stop, yellow is pause, green is good. Use them anytime. If Eddie sees something I miss, he’ll ask you randomly, okay?” Steve pulls his underwear off.

He’s just…naked. Comfortably standing in front of Gareth with his dick out and leaning to the left, getting harder the more Gareth watches him. Who knew Steve was into being watched?

Gareth drops his boxers and he is fully hard. Achingly so. His dick pulses when Steve’s eyes drop down to get a look. Steve’s lips curl up into a smile.

He walks up to him, drops to his knees, and gets his hand around the base. Gareth’s breath catches.

Steve licks a stripe up his dick, sucking the head into his mouth before he takes him all the way down.

“Jesus,” Gareth moans. He’s got pretty good stamina when it’s just him. His dick is sensitive, but he knows how to edge himself. He kinda likes doing it on nights when they’ve got a hotel. He can shove his face into the pillow and get himself close four, five, six times before he shakes apart. He doesn’t know if he can hold back with his dick leaking down Steve’s throat. “Do you not have a gag reflex? Fuck.”

Steve smiles around him somehow, and Eddie is trying hard not to make noise, but Gareth can hear him huffing a laugh against his hand.

Steve pops off for a moment, looks up at him with a grin. “You can touch me.”

Right. His hands immediately go to Steve’s hair, threading through the locks and pulling him in again. He’s under no impression that he’s in control here. He’s just gonna try to keep both hands on the steering wheel while Steve hits the gas pedal.

His fingers tighten when Steve’s tongue swirls around his tip. Steve moans. The vibrations are enough to make Gareth’s legs feel weak.

“Shit. Bed, bed, bed,” he’s saying as he tugs Steve off of him and to his feet. He crushes his lips to Steve’s, any lingering doubt in his mind that this was gonna ruin their friendship long gone. He’s gonna fuck Steve and make him feel good, and Steve’s gonna return the favor, and then he’s gonna keep annoying Steve for the rest of time.

He could throw Steve on the bed, but Steve’s faster. He pushes Gareth down on his back, straddles his hips, and pushes his hands above his head.

Shit, that’s hot.

“How am I gonna get you ready if you have my hands way up there?” Gareth is nothing if not a little shit.

But Steve is also a little shit.

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve’s ass is brushing against his dick and he’s trying not to think about how it will feel inside him. But the more he thinks about not thinking about it, the more he realizes he’s gonna be inside Steve very soon. His restraint is flying out the window and up the street.

He feels Eddie’s eyes on them, but he’s decidedly not thinking about what he might be doing. If it were him in Eddie’s shoes, he’d be jacking it relentlessly.

Gareth is pretty strong. Like, he plays drums every day. Got used to lugging equipment around before they had people who did that for them. Started lifting weights occasionally when no one was watching. He likes being strong, he likes the way his muscles ripple when he’s beating the hell out of his snares and cymbals, angry but beaming from ear to ear.

He likes the way Steve moans when he throws him off of him, switching their positions in less than two seconds.

He doesn’t feel the need to say anything. Steve’s blushing, a pretty pink color across his face and neck, and his lips are swollen from sucking his dick and biting his own lips. Seeing Steve like this is life-changing.

It’s not a falling in love moment, but it’s a moment where he can see why Eddie did.

There’s always a certain charm floating around Steve, and it shifts now, while he’s under Gareth. It’s brighter, damn near blinding. Steve’s glittering gold, intensely blazing as Gareth’s hands run down his chest and sides. He adjusts so he’s sitting between Steve’s legs, pushing them back.

He hears Eddie groan from a few feet away. He’s ignoring it.

“You guys have lube?” Gareth asks.

Eddie throws a bottle on the bed.

“Thanks.”

Stupid of him to assume they went anywhere without some. They fucked like rabbits. He’s pretty sure if Steve could get pregnant, he would have had at least two accidental babies by now.

Gareth stares at the bottle in his hand.

“Still green?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah, sorry.” Gareth opens the bottle and uses entirely too much. It’s a different brand than he uses, and he’s nervous, and he can feel two sets of eyes watching his every breath and it’s- “Yellow.”

Steve sits up and takes the bottle from him. He hears Eddie step closer for a moment, as if he’s gonna try to fix it even though he isn’t technically involved in any of this.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, soft, careful. Unlike any way he ever talks to Gareth.

He kinda hates it. He likes when Steve’s a bitchy know-it-all to him. He likes when Steve gets frustrated at the way he pretends to be dumber than he is about band stuff.

“I just need a minute, I think,” Gareth admits. “This is a lot.”

“Okay,” Steve waves Eddie off and places both hands on Gareth’s face. It’s intimate. It blocks the outside world from view. It feels like it’s just them right now. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you wanna stop. It’s not me, it’s you.”

Gareth snorts. There’s the bitchy Steve he’s always loved.

“I don’t wanna stop. I just realized I’m fucking my best friend’s boyfriend while he watches and it’s taking me a second to wrap my head around that being a normal thing,” Gareth explains. He’s ignoring the way Steve’s dick is rubbing against his. He said yellow, so they have to stay paused until he’s mentally good to go. He knows that much.

“Should Eddie not watch?” Steve asks. As if Eddie would allow Gareth to fuck Steve without being there.

“No, that’s-” Gareth sighs. “I don’t care if he watches. It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah. You’re doing good, though.”

The praise sinks deep into his skin, courses through his veins. He isn’t able to hold back a whine. Holy shit, where did that even come from?

Steve looks thrilled.

“Oh. Well, this is interesting,” Steve says around a smile. “Didn’t think it would go like this.”

“Like what?”

Gareth feels unmoored. Something’s shifted. The entire room feels darker, heavier.

“Stevie, be nice,” Eddie says from a chair. Gareth didn’t even know there was a chair in the corner.

“I am being nice,” Steve doesn’t look away from Gareth. “This is just shocking information and I’m taking it in. Learning. Growing.”

“What information?”

“We won’t do anything with it tonight. But we’ll talk about it after. You gotta stay safe if you decide to try anything with someone and I won’t let someone hurt you.”

“Try what?”

“Later,” Steve pats his cheek and lays back again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here. Take your time, honey.”

The name feels like honey, dripping between them and making them sticky. Gareth wants to lick the word from Steve’s mouth.

Gareth watches as Steve puts his hand on his own dick, lazily stroking to keep himself hard. He can’t look away. A bead of precum falls, drips down his length until his thumb swipes it up, rubs it into his skin.

He licks his lips.

His fingers ghost over Steve’s hole.

“Good?” Steve asks, breathless.

“Green,” Gareth answers as he slides a lubed-up finger into him.

He’s tight, but there’s really no resistance. Steve’s relaxed. Gareth’s relaxed.

Steve rocks back into his touch, eyes glassy as he silently begs for more. It’s easy to read him when he’s like this, wanting more, being greedy in ways no one else ever sees. Steve’s a giver, the least selfish person of all of them, but not now. Now he wants.

Now Gareth is gonna give.

He’s three fingers deep when he manages to find Steve’s prostate. It’s easier on himself, he realizes. He’s spent years figuring out what makes himself tick. He has to watch every rise of Steve’s chest, every twitch of his brow, every bite of his lip. This is finding what makes someone– Steve– feel good, and doing it so they find pleasure.

Gareth sees why they fuck like rabbits.

Steve’s back arches off the bed as he flicks his fingers just right, rubs until he’s sure Steve’s gonna squirm right off the bed. Eddie’s barely even a thought in his mind right now, but he can feel his gaze. He’s making sure Steve’s taken care of, and he’s making sure Gareth doesn’t need to back out. He’s taking care of them in the only way he knows how.

He wants to hand over the reins. Steve’s taking what he’s giving, but he wants him to take more.

He doesn’t know how to verbalize that without sounding desperate.

But something switches between them and Steve seems to just know.

He’s an intuitive guy.

Steve sits up, waits for Gareth to remove his fingers. He pushes Gareth back on the bed, so his head is resting at where the sheets have gathered at the foot.

He straddles him again, throws his hands up above his head again, smirks again.

“Condom?” Steve asks.

Gareth knows from his mom, from health class, from Eddie, from Steve he should say yes. If this were a stranger, he’d say yes.

But this is Steve, who insists on everyone getting tested every three months like clockwork, who has only slept with Eddie for the last six years, who would never even ask if he was at all concerned about their safety. He’s letting Gareth make the call on something that’s normally important. It’s not a test, it’s just Steve letting him have control.

“Can we do it without?” Gareth’s voice is barely more than a whisper. He’s shy. Why the fuck does he feel shy?

Steve nods, soft smile taking over.

“But never do it without with anyone else unless you’re in a committed relationship and both clean,” Eddie says from the chair, ever the mother hen.

“Yes, dad,” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me dad while you’re fucking my boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“I’m not fucking him yet,” Gareth’s words end in a whine as Steve slides down on his dick. He’s so fucking tight, Jesus Christ on the fucking cross. “Holy shit. Is it this tight all the time?”

Steve breathes out, halfway laughs, halfway trying to not whimper.

“Eddie usually does four fingers first,” Steve says. It doesn’t even feel weird to hear him talk about what Eddie normally does.

“Should I have done four?”

“No, honey. Three is good,” Steve leans down to kiss him.

Gareth’s stomach flutters.

He’s inside Steve. His dick is in Steve’s ass.

Steve lifts his body up, falls back down. He holds onto Gareth’s chest, thumbs at his nipples, finds a rhythm.

He knows Steve is athletic, has always been that way and probably always will be that way. He’s got endurance that no one can match, probably not even Eddie. He’s stronger than Gareth by a mile, and it shows when his thigh muscles tighten and relax as he rides Gareth into the mattress.

His pace picks up. Gareth’s hands hold onto his hips, but he’s not really doing anything. He’s just along for the ride.

What a ride it’s been.

“Fuck, yes, there,” Steve gasps suddenly. His legs start shaking. Eddie makes the most high-pitched whine Gareth’s ever heard. It’s a lot all at once and his brain is dumbed down to processing how good he feels and nothing else. “Fuck me, honey. Harder.”

It’s ridiculous how easily he goes along with Steve’s demands now. Normally, he fights him on everything just to be annoying.

But Steve wants him to go harder and he wants what Steve wants.

His grip tightens against Gareth’s hips and he plants his feet against the bed for leverage. If Steve’s wants to get fucked harder, then Steve’s gonna get fucked harder.

“Shit, yes, feels so good,” Steve pants.

Gareth doesn’t know if he’s always like this or if he’s playing it up a little to make him feel more confident for whoever he fucks next. Either way, Steve’s making this a hell of a fun time.

“Is it good for you, honey?” Steve asks.

How he remembers to ask is beyond him. Gareth can’t do anything but nod and moan. He feels sweat beading along his forehead and neck. He doesn’t do this much work unless he’s on stage.

“Tell me how good it is.”

Gareth whimpers. He didn’t even realize he could make that noise.

“So good. So tight, Steve, shit,” Gareth is moving faster now, and he’s really not sure how it could feel good for Steve at this point, but Steve’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes all over them.

He’s impossibly tighter through his orgasm and it brings Gareth to his own peak. He’s shaking through it, not even sure what he’s saying. His hips stutter and stop and he’s filling Steve up with his cum. It’s already dripping back down his own dick, making a mess on the hotel bed.

Steve is brushing his hair out of his face, kissing his jaw, whispering about how good he did. It’s helping and also making it harder to keep this from getting complicated.

No one warned him about the attachment. He figured it would be fine, he could get off with Steve and then they could pretend it didn’t happen or joke about it. He’s crashing from a high he’s never experienced and he’s realizing how stupid he was to think he could ever look at Steve the same.

“Shit, Eddie, come here,” he hears Steve say, but he doesn’t really feel anything anymore. He knows he’s not inside Steve anymore, which kinda sucks. He likes the warmth, might already be a little addicted to it. “It’s okay, Gare. We’ve got you.”

Strong arms wrap around him, familiar in the way they don’t hesitate to pull him close. Eddie’s always been a cuddler, and he’s always known how to hold Gareth when his head’s too loud. Right now his head is silent, but his arms provide the same comfort.

A warm washcloth is on him and he blinks his eyes open to see Steve cleaning him up. Eddie’s behind him, holding him against his chest. He’s fully dressed and Gareth is not.

But he just fucked his boyfriend in front of him, so he guesses this is probably fine.

Eddie’s humming something. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’s still feeling a little out of it.

“Hey, honey,” Steve is next to him now, his hand on his chest. “You with us yet?”

“Mmm,” is all he can reply with.

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

A few minutes pass. He feels less like he’s having a crisis about feelings for Steve and more like he just got fucked within an inch of his life.

It’s a good change.

“Hey,” he says.

Eddie’s arms tighten around him. Steve smiles.

“Hey, bud,” Steve says, and it makes Gareth laugh.

“What happened to honey?” He jokes. But he did kinda like it. More than he probably should.

Steve gently smacks his chest. “I was making you feel special, jackass.”

Gareth sighs. “I know. I did.”

Steve has his underwear back on, but nothing else. Gareth can feel his thigh brushing against his. He’s a hairy son of a bitch.

“Was it good?” Steve asks.

“It was great. Thank you for doing that for me,” Gareth hates how his voice sounds now, a little broken, scared.

“You don’t have to thank me, Gare,” Steve says, careful and calm. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

“It’s true. Steve’s a stubborn bitch,” Eddie butts in. “Can’t get him to do anything he doesn’t wanna do.”

Gareth giggles, ducking his head down. He still feels a little delirious, maybe a little too sleepy for this conversation.

“You wanna stay with us tonight?” Eddie continues.

“Can I?”

“‘Course you can, bud. Need me to get you anything?”

Gareth shakes his head. He just needs sleep. Maybe in the morning, once he’s separated from this a little, he’ll have some coffee and a bagel and he’ll get over this feeling in his chest that’s trying to override the adrenaline of finally having sex.

He doesn’t know what to make of it right now.

But one thing his mom always says is to sleep on hard feelings. If it’s important, it’ll be there in the morning, and it might make more sense.

He sure hopes so.

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. MY KIND OF WOMAN !

⤷ FLUFF ﹫ kirishima eijiro x fem!reader ﹫ oneshot

⚠︎ pure fluff, friends to lovers, clumsy kirishima .ᐟ.ᐟ

kirishima paced back and forth in bakugo’s dorm room, running a hand through his already messy red hair. his mind was racing, his heart pounding like he had just finished an intense sparring session, but for once, it wasn’t because of training. it was because of you.

and now, here he was, seeking advice from bakugo, of all people—who currently sat slouched in his desk chair, arms crossed, an unimpressed scowl on his face.

“oi, quit pacing, shitty hair, you’re giving me a headache.” bakugo grumbled, kicking at kirishima’s leg as he passed by for the fifth time.

kirishima stopped in his tracks, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “ah, sorry, man. i just—this is kinda important, y’know?”

bakugo raised a brow, clearly not convinced. “tch. if it’s so important, why the hell are you asking me?”

kirishima took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of bakugo’s bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “because, dude, you’re… brutally honest. and i need that right now.”

bakugo scoffed. “damn right.”

kirishima exhaled heavily. “okay, so, it’s about her—”

bakugo groaned loudly. “of course it is.”

“—and i think i’m in love with her, man.”

that caught bakugo’s attention, if only slightly. his red eyes flicked to kirishima’s face, scanning for any sign of hesitation. there was none.

“yeah? no shit. took you long enough to figure that out.”

kirishima blinked. “wait, you knew?”

bakugo rolled his eyes. “dumbass. it’s obvious. you follow her around like a lost puppy, always hypin’ her up, always lookin’ at her like she’s the damn sun or somethin’. it’s pathetic.”

kirishima let out a defeated groan, flopping backward onto bakugo’s bed. “ugh, i knew it. i knew i was bein’ obvious. no wonder she doesn’t see me that way.”

bakugo made a face. “or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

kirishima sat up again, eyes wide with hope. “wait—you think she might like me back?”

bakugo shrugged. “dunno. don’t care. that’s your problem.”

kirishima sighed, rubbing his temples. “alright, well… that’s not even the main thing. the real problem is—how the hell do i tell her? how do i tell her that she’s the most badass, kind, and incredible person i’ve ever met without soundin’ like a total idiot?”

bakugo narrowed his eyes. “…that’s what you’re stuck on?”

kirishima blinked. “huh?”

“you’re actin’ like confessin’ is some kinda battle strategy. just spit it out.”

kirishima exhaled sharply. “i can’t! she’s my kind of woman, y’know? she’s strong, she’s passionate, she never backs down from a fight. she’s got this fire in her that makes me wanna be better. and she’s gorgeous, dude, like—way outta my league. and somehow, she still treats me like i’m someone worth standing next to.”

bakugo stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “god, you’re such a sap.”

kirishima groaned. “i know! that’s the problem!”

bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. “then stop overthinkin’ it. you already know what to do.”

kirishima furrowed his brows. “i do?”

“tch. you don’t gotta be some smooth-talking dumbass. just be you. tell her what you just told me—minus the whining.”

kirishima hesitated, then slowly grinned. “…y’know what? you’re right. i do know what to do.”

bakugo rolled his eyes. “obviously. now get the hell out of my room.”

kirishima laughed as he stood up. “alright, alright. thanks, man. you’re a way better listener than you let on.”

“shut up before i kill you.”

kirishima grinned as he left, heart racing—but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. it was from excitement. because now?

now he was really gonna tell you.

kirishima had faced a lot of scary things in his life. villains. grueling training sessions. bakugo in a bad mood. but somehow, none of those compared to the sheer terror he felt as he made his way through the dorms, heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to break free.

he was really gonna do it. he was gonna confess.

at least, that was the plan.

unfortunately, nervous energy had turned him into a full-blown disaster.

his first mistake was misjudging the distance between the common room couch and the coffee table. he tried to casually step over it, but his foot caught on the edge, and he nearly face-planted.

“shit—”

“dude, you good?” kaminari blinked from his spot on the couch, holding a controller mid-game.

“yeah! yeah, totally good!” kirishima laughed awkwardly, straightening up as if that hadn’t just happened. his cheeks burned as he quickly power-walked toward the exit before he embarrassed himself even more.

his second mistake? the door.

it was a push door. he pulled.

it didn’t budge. he frowned, yanked again. nothing.

“uh…”

sero, who had just entered the common room, raised an eyebrow. “you good, man?”

“i—yeah, i—” kirishima realized his mistake mid-sentence, quickly pushing it open instead. “see? totally fine.”

sero didn’t look convinced. “riiight…”

kirishima groaned under his breath as he finally made it outside, inhaling the crisp evening air. okay. deep breaths. he could do this.

then he saw you.

sitting on a bench near the garden, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, you were completely absorbed in your book. the wind played with your hair, making it dance around your face, but you hardly noticed, eyes scanning the pages with quiet focus. your fingers gently turned the page, movements delicate and unhurried, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

and just like that, kirishima’s brain short-circuited.

how the hell am i supposed to just walk up to her and drop a confession like that?!

his palms were sweating. his heart was racing. his legs? not cooperating at all.

but he had already come this far—backing out now would make him a coward.

so he forced himself to move, trying to act normal.

which, apparently, was not in the cards for him today.

the first thing he did was stub his toe on the edge of the pavement. he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before eating dirt.

then, as he tried to casually walk it off, he overcompensated, swinging his arms too much, like some weird overenthusiastic jogger.

you looked up just in time to see him approaching. his usually confident stride was replaced with something stiff and unnatural, like he was trying way too hard to look casual. you blinked at him, confused for a moment—then, a small, amused smile tugged at your lips.

“eijirou?” you called softly, tilting your head.

kirishima froze.

oh god, even just hearing you say his name in that soft, gentle tone made his heart do an entire gymnastics routine.

“uh—hey! hi! h-hey there!” he winced immediately. hey there?! who even says that?!

you chuckled, closing your book. “you okay?”

“me? totally fine! just… out here! enjoying the fresh air! like you! haha… yeah.”

he was dying.

you smiled again, patient as ever. “it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“yeah! nice! super nice. like… really, really nice.”

kirishima, for the love of god, shut up.

you hummed softly, shifting on the bench to make room beside you. “do you want to sit?”

oh. oh, that was dangerous.

but there was no way he could refuse, so he quickly nodded, plopping down next to you—too quickly. the force of it made the bench shake slightly, and he almost lost his balance again.

you let out another soft giggle. “you seem kinda jumpy today.”

“i—I do?”

you nodded, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “mhm.”

kirishima swallowed hard, gripping his knees to stop his hands from shaking. this is it. just say it. just tell her.

he looked at you, really looked at you—the way your eyes softened when you smiled, the way you always seemed so patient with him, the way your presence alone made him feel like he was home.

his throat tightened.

“i, uh—”

your gaze remained gentle, waiting.

kirishima’s heart was pounding. he could feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue—i like you. no, i love you. you’re my kind of woman. you always have been.

but suddenly, his fear kicked in full force.

what if you didn’t feel the same? what if he ruined this? what if this easy, natural friendship between you shattered because he couldn’t keep his damn feelings to himself?

so instead of saying what he wanted to say, he panicked.

“—i, uh, i was just wondering what book you’re reading!”

a pause.

you blinked.

then, you smiled. “oh, it’s just a romance novel.”

kirishima laughed, but it was a little too loud, a little too forced. “aha—yeah, romance, that’s cool! that’s, uh, really cool.”

you gave him a knowing look, but you didn’t push. instead, you simply opened the book and started talking about the story, your voice calm and soothing.

kirishima barely heard a word. his own thoughts were too loud.

damn it. i chickened out.

but as you kept talking, smiling so softly, so effortlessly, kirishima felt some of his tension ease. maybe he hadn’t confessed tonight.

but at least he was here, with you.

and maybe, just maybe, he’d find the courage next time.

kirishima barely processed a word you were saying.

he was nodding along, making the occasional hum of agreement, but in reality? his brain was still spiraling from the fact that he had completely chickened out. again.

you had given him the perfect chance, sitting beside him, smiling at him, soft and patient as ever. and what had he done? asked about your book. like an idiot.

but even now, as the two of you fell into easy conversation about other things—the day’s training session, how kaminari had nearly set off the fire alarm again, how aizawa looked two seconds away from quitting—kirishima still felt like his chest was too tight.

because you were right there.

the sun had nearly set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, and the soft glow of the dorm lights made your features even gentler. your voice, your laughter, the way you turned to look at him with that natural warmth—it was killing him.

and the longer he sat there, the worse it got.

his heart felt too full, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. the words were bubbling up again, just like before, but he was determined not to let them slip out.

so, of course, they did.

“man, i love you.”

the words left his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, that for a split second, he didn’t even realize what he had said.

then, he did.

and his whole world stopped.

you stopped talking mid-sentence. your eyes went wide, lips slightly parted in surprise.

kirishima’s heart nearly gave out.

“—wait, no—” he shot up from the bench so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet. his arms flailed, his hands waving in a panicked frenzy. “i-i mean—not like that! i mean—I do! but not—I mean, yes, but—oh god, i wasn’t supposed to say that!”

you just stared at him, stunned.

kirishima’s face was on fire.

his words kept tumbling out in a messy, frantic rush. “i—I didn’t mean to say it like that! i was gonna say it eventually—no, wait, i mean—I wasn’t not gonna say it, but not right now! i had a plan! a good one! and now i ruined it—”

you blinked. then, slowly, your lips curved into a soft, amused smile.

kirishima’s heart stuttered.

“i’m an idiot,” he groaned, running both hands down his face. “i—I swear, i was gonna do this properly, not just—blurt it out like that—”

you let out a quiet laugh.

kirishima froze.

he peeked at you through his fingers, confused. “w-what?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you stood up, stepping closer, until you were right in front of him. the sudden lack of space made his breath hitch, but before he could freak out further—

you leaned up on your toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

kirishima went completely still.

every thought in his brain short-circuited.

then, just as he felt his soul leave his body, you pulled back, still smiling that gentle, beautiful smile of yours.

“i love you too, eijirou.”

kirishima forgot how to function.

“you—you what—” his voice cracked mid-sentence.

you laughed, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours. your fingers were warm, soft, delicate against his own calloused ones, and it made his entire body light up.

“i love you,” you repeated, softer this time, looking up at him with eyes full of warmth. “i have for a while.”

kirishima genuinely thought he might pass out.

his mouth opened. then closed. then opened again. his brain was running at a thousand miles an hour, desperately trying to process what was happening.

you… loved him?

him?

his face was burning, his heart was pounding, his entire body felt like it was buzzing. he was so sure that he’d ruined everything. that you’d look at him with pity or let him down gently.

but instead, you had kissed his cheek. held his hand. told him you loved him.

and suddenly, every single ounce of nervousness and panic melted away.

because this was you.

the girl who always cheered for him. the girl who always listened to him ramble. the girl who had been by his side through everything.

the girl he had loved for so damn long.

a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “you—you love me?”

you giggled. “yes, eiji.”

a breathless laugh escaped him, and suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with himself. he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, his heart soaring. “oh my god—I—wow—I cannot believe i just accidentally confessed—”

“would you have ever done it on purpose?” you teased lightly.

kirishima let out a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “…probably not.”

you squeezed his hand. “then i’m glad you did.”

his stomach flipped.

for a moment, he just looked at you, the realization settling in fully.

you loved him back.

you had always been his kind of woman. and now? now you were his.

he exhaled deeply, then, without thinking, squeezed your hand and tugged you just a little closer.

“so, uh… does this mean i get to kiss you now?” he asked, grinning despite the heat still burning his cheeks.

you laughed, rolling your eyes fondly. “yes, you dork.”

and with that, kirishima finally—finally—closed the distance.

the end.

[sillyuin]

Valentine's day with svt (Vocal Unit)

Genre: fluff fluff fluff.

Pairing: svt vocal unit x reader.

Warnings: none.

- Yuin's note: This is the part 1/3 of my valentine's day with svt special. I'll be posting the next parts during the day or next, so wait for it ♥ also, happy birthday my fellow Carat, take it as a gift for you ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

Jeonghan. Playing board games.

He likes games and loves to cheat on them, that’s nothing new for you. When he told you to have a game night for valentine’s you were expecting for him to be the mischievous angel-faced he is. But he had an ace up his sleeve that you weren't prepared for.

“The loser gotta give the winner a kiss,” he said in a serious tone.

You raised an eyebrow, “if you want me to kiss you just ask me.”

He laughed softly, like he was expecting for you to say such a statement. “But, the winner has the right to ask the way they want it to be.”

“What… Does that mean?”

“I don’t know” Jeonghan bit his lower lip, locking his eyes on yours. “Just try not to lose the game”.

It was probably the hardest game you ever played in your life, not because you haven’t played Monopoly before, but because his gaze was on you all the time, as if Jeonghan was able to read even the deepest thought in your mind.

Whatever he was thinking, you made a double effort to not fail into his love games. But let’s be honest, it’s a sweet temptation you’d like to try without hesitation.

Joshua. Baking cookies for each other.

Something so simple and so endearing at the same time, there’s nothing like an afternoon filled with laughs and the delicious smell of cookies, as the promise of a sweet and romantic night.

“Josh, can you give me the choco chips?” you asked, while checking the recipe on your phone. However, he said nothing, “Josh… Joshua!”

 “Hey, don’t scream at me” he complained in a sassy manner, “I’m just beside you, and I’m busy”.

You turned to see what he was doing, and raised an eyebrow, confused. “Aren’t we supposed to make cookies with choco chips?”

“Yeah”.

“Then, what is that?”

“Oh, this” Joshua’s smile was so big that the corners of his eyes narrowed slightly, and he proudly show you his creation, “it’s for you. Do you like it?”

He was holding a tray full of those calico-shaped cookies you wanted to try. The kitty shaped cookies were actually very cute, so much that you even forgot why you raised your voice at him.

“When did you baked them?”

“Before you came home. I wanted to try something different.” Joshua stared at you tilting his head, “I bake for you and you bake for me, then we watch one of those romcon you love as much as me”.

“Sounds good for me.” you laughed low as you continued with your cookies, “but you have to wait for me, I need to finish these.”

“Okay” He approached you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugged you from behind, “I'll be here just checking in your work. Please do as if I’m not here”.

Woozi. Spa night.

He’s always about work, but also needs a break from time to time. Now, your time has come: No phones, no responsibilities, just the two of you taking care of each other in the warmth of your shared apartment.

The pleasant aroma of scented candles filled the whole room, and Jihoon let out a deep sigh. When was the last time he felt that relieved? He can’t remember, but now he feels like touching heaven and the best part, it was in the comfort of his own home.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet” you protest with a playful tone, “I just started with your shoulders”.

“I’m sorry” he apologized in a lazy tone, “but I’m serious, you're so good at it, you'd become a millionaire with this job.”

“I’m not that good, this is just a hobby,” you laughed in a low tone. “Do you want some more tea?”

“Yes, please!” Jihoon agreed cheerfully, “Is amazing, what did you make this tea with?"

“Oh, you know; chamomile, other natural stuff” leaning towards him, you let a kiss in the top of his head, snuggling your face on his hair, “and all my love for you”.

Dokyeom. Homemade pizzas.

He loves pizza and he loves you even more, that’s all he needs. In the warmth of your cozy apartment, a messy yet funny meal takes place that you both are going to remember for a long time.

“What in the world is this?” you said trying not to laugh, “looks like my heart after I watched that sad movie”.

“But it was fine!” he stammered, laughing in embarrassment, “the oven tricked us!”

Seokmin has been planning this night with the highest expectation, but the heart-shaped pizzas didn’t turn as he visualized. They smell good for sure, however something went wrong and now you have something that looks more like an attempt that a pizza itself.

“Ah, we put in so much effort” he made a small pout, “I’m so sorry, babe.”

“Oh, it’s okay! It’s our first time” you patted his back trying to comfort him, “I bet they’re delicious, let’s just eat”.

And it was indeed the best pizza you ever tried before; your praise words encouraged him as you both sat on the sofa and started eating your homemade dinner.

It didn’t turned out as expected, but your heart was so filled with joy and happiness that it didn't really matter, it is priceless and you’d never change this day for nothing in the world.

Seungkwan. Trying a new café.

Making changes is always good and Valentine’s Day is the perfect excuse to do something different. Unfortunately, you’re not the only couple who had the same idea.

“This place is full too” Seungkwan signed, running his hand through his hair in annoyance. “It’s the third one”.

“It’s okay Boo, we can do something else”.

You were sitting in the car and the atmosphere started to feel a little heavy. Maybe going for a café date on Valentine’s Day wasn’t the best idea, every place was crowded as if everyone just had the same braincel and decided to occupy every single café in town. And Seungkwan was part of that unplanned collective.

“I’m so sorry, love” he placed his hand on your shoulder, his voice was low and a little sad, “I should’ve planned this better and made a reservation.”

You remained thoughtful, an idea came to your mind and you said it with a big smile. “Hey, what about if we buy something and make our own café at home?”

“That… Actually doesn’t sound bad” he raised both eyebrows tilting his head, “What’s on your mind?”

And so, a few purchases later, you ended up drinking delicious coffee at home, accompanied with a sweet strawberry cake and a tender playlist you both made at that moment. It has the potential to become a tradition, after all, it doesn’t matter the place or the activity; every moment with Seungkwan is special for you.

[strawberryblue-blog]

PABLO GAVI fluff were he comfort the reader after their big argument please love your works 💫

Thanks💓

Our home —Pablo Gavi.

summary: request.

warnings: none. a little of angst, fight, discomfort, cute, soft, clingy.

words count: +2k.

#SEXYNOTE: Happy Valentine's Day 💌 Enjoy it, love you 🎀

The sound of your snort clashing with the overwhelming silence in the living room, interrupting the tranquility of the night. You're standing by the kitchen, hands on your hips and frowning as you stare at the pile of dirty utensils you haven't stopped noticing since you got home. Gavi, he doesn't even look at you. He's sitting on the couch, remote in hand and TV on, seemingly oblivious to your frustration.

"Really?" you ask aloud, turning to him with your arms crossed. "How many times have we talked about this?"

He looks up turning to look at you, surprised, but quickly his expression changes to a mixture of tired and defensive.

"I will do it later" he says nonchalantly as he resumes playing again.

"Yeah, like always" you mutter starting to pick things up. You shake your head as you turn on the water.

"I'll always end up doing it myself anyway" you whisper angrily.

"What are you talking about now?" he replies, setting the controller down on the table and turning to you again.

You ignore him, starting to wash the dishes in the sink. You don't answer because you know it will be in anger, you'd rather shut up again.

"Are you saying I never do?" his voice sounds closer and you can feel his presence.

Making him get up from the couch when he's playing video games is a reward for you.

"That then you don't do shit" you spit loud and clear. "You always say the same thing about the dishes, the laundry, everything you always leave lying around" you reply, pointing to the sink with an exaggerated gesture.

"That's not true" he shriek angrily. "I said I would do it later..."

"When were you going to do it, huh?" you ask interrupting him. "After I do it? Tomorrow when you finish training? When?" you shout.

Gavi frowns but you can see his features look angry. But angrier are you. You're not overreacting. These last months living together has become difficult, you fight constantly, Gavi doesn't help you enough and you understand that he's tired after training or whatever, but you also have your job and that's not why you leave everything like that.

This morning you had left with all the mess, dishes from last night, clothes on the floor next to the washing machine, garbage cans full and when you came back, everything was still the same. And Gavi had the day off today. You expected at least the simple, basic housekeeping. You didn't expect him to deep clean, just tidy up. But he'd clearly spent the day playing videogames.

"I can't handle this, you know? I work all day, I come in exhausted, and the last thing I want is to see the house a mess because you can't do your part."

"My part?" he retorts, stepping closer and facing you with open arms. "And what do you think I do all day? I'm not just sitting around doing nothing. I'm also exhausted when I get home."

"But I'm always the one who has to take care of everything," you say, feeling frustration rise from your chest to your throat. "The dishes, the laundry, the cleaning? When was the last time you even tried to pick anything up?"

He rolls his eyes and that gesture fires you up even more.

"Don't exaggerate the situation. It's not like I never do anything. I may not be as obsessive as you, but that doesn't mean I don't help," he says pointing at you.

Oh no. He didn't just call you that. He didn't just make everything worse.

"Obsessive?" you repeat, in disbelief. The word hits you like a slap in the face. "It's not obsessive, it's wanting our home to be a place where we can be comfortable, where I don't feel like I'm living on a battlefield." It comes out as an angry scream.

You can't believe it. Now you are the obsessive and exaggerated one who wants some basic order in your own home.

"It's not like that!" he replies, raising his voice. His tone is defensive, but also weary. "Just because I don't do things exactly the way you want me to, doesn't mean I'm doing everything wrong."

"It's not about doing it 'my way'!" you shout, feeling on the verge of tears. "It's about the fact that I can't handle everything by myself. I'm exhausted, and you don't seem to care."

That shushes him. Gavi turns his head in denial but you turn to continue washing through your eyes fill with tears. All that screaming, the desperation, the anger, it makes you feel bad. You've had a rough patch for a while now and you're afraid this could be the straw that breaks the camel's back. But you are so tired. You just want to finish and go to sleep. Arguments won't get you anywhere but you're exhausted from the same situation.

The atmosphere in the room is tense, charged with unspoken words and pent-up emotions. You don't want to cry because you don't want to look weak but you feel so fragile that if he says anything else, you will cry.

Finally, he sighs and takes a step towards you. You feel him coming closer but you won't move, you just want to finish.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he says, his voice softer this time. "I care a lot, more than you think."

Just then you finish rinsing and deposit everything in the dryer. You take off your gloves and dry the counter, leaving everything clean and ready.

"Then prove it" you reply, with a lump in your throat, as you turn around. "Because when I come home and see all this, I feel like you don't care about our home or the effort I make or even us."

You try to walk towards the room but he stops you, processing your words. He's still angry about the argument, you can see it in the way his brow furrows but you can't go on like this.

"If you cared, you would. I get it once or twice, Pablo. But not for months now, it's pure cohabitation, I'm not trying to force you into anything or ask you to be my maid" you spit out harshly, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. "And I won't be your fucking maid either"

You release yourself from his grip and move for your room, looking for some quiet. Your bed seems to be waiting for you the moment you open the door and you quickly strip off your clothes, dressing in your pajamas. You just want to sleep. You crawl into bed and turn your back to Gavi's side, covering yourself with your warm blanket. Tears slide down your cheeks as you think about the argument, how vulnerable you are right now. You're scared, maybe moving in with Gavi was a hasty move and you've been thinking about it for weeks.

You love him. You love everything about him but you can't stand that your relationship is turning into what you hate the most. Maybe you are pushing him a little bit but he lives here too, each of you have your obligations and responsibilities and the only way to survive is to work together.

You're not so angry about the argument, you're helpless. Lonely and scared, what if he doesn't want to be with you anymore, what if Gavi is only acting this way because you are broken? The sobs come out of your mouth and you try to cover them but it's unavoidable.

A faint noise makes you swallow a sob and when you feel the mattress sink behind you, you cover your face with the whole sheet. Gavi comes up from behind and embraces you slowly, carefully, waiting for your rejection or acceptance. You say nothing, just melt into the warmth of his arms embracing you, as you sigh calming your little fit.

"You're right" he admits, with a deep sigh. His voice sounds weak, slowly. "I've been relaxing too much, trusting you to do it because you always do. That's not right and I'm really sorry" his words make your heart shrink.

You didn't want to make him feel that way, you didn't want him to be angry, maybe things got out of place all because of your bad reaction.

"It's not true what I said, you're not exaggerating, you're not obsessive" he murmurs hurt as his hand runs down your body, caressing you. "I care about you, about our home and I care about our relationship" he whispers close to your ear, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

Your heart softens a little at his words, but you still feel the weight of everything built up in your chest. You barely nod. You know he didn't have a bad intention and maybe it was you who took it to another dimension but you really wanted Paul to understand.

"I haven't been around much these days and I understand your approach, Y/n" he whispers again.

Your nose rubs the drops of tears and you sigh searching for air. Su cálido cuerpo comienza a calentar te y solo quieres saltar a sus brazos, como siempre lo deseas.

"Forgive me, okay? Please?" he asks in his hoarse, weak voice.

You turn barely, pulling your body out of the fabrics until you see him clearly.

"It's not just about the dishes or the clothes, Pablo" you confess as tears begin to escape your eyes. "It's because I want this to be a home, our home. A place where we can both be at peace"

"I understand" he says, looking you straight in the eye. "And you're absolutely right. I don't want you to feel like you're carrying everything by yourself. I promise I'm going to get better, I really am"

His hands take your face as you turn to him fully. He takes it upon himself to wipe away your tears, one by one, as he pulls you into his warm chest. Your heart aches for everything but you feel more relieved now.

"I'm sorry for exploding like this too" you admit hurt. "I just want everything to work out, that we don't have to argue about these things. And I thought that..."

Pablo looks at you seriously, confused.

"I thought things between us were breaking up, that maybe your pulling away was my fault and I exploded" you confess as the tears come again.

His eyes hold back the tears as his fingers tighten on your face.

"I would never do anything like that, nothing changed between us, I promise. It's just me, being kind of lazy" he says trying to blame homself but you deny.

"I'm sorry, Gavi" you cry exhausted. "I didn't mean to fight with you like this, just.... I'm tired..."

Your body hurts, your mind does too. Maybe you need more sleep than a day is enough and all this anxiety, nervousness, is driving you crazy.

"You are my home, you are my whole life, I just want to be here, for the rest of my life, with you" he says in front of your eyes.

"You are mine, Pablo" you assure with a laugh.

He smiles slightly and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"Let's promise something" he says, whispering against your hair. "Let's talk before things get to this point. If something bothers you, tell me, and I'll do the same"

You nod against his chest, feeling relieved to hear those words.

"I promise" you reply, clinging to him tightly.

His arms come around you again and you feel yourself melt under his touch. Gavi is soft, gentle and sweet. And you love that.

"And I promise I'll always wash the dishes from now on" he adds, with a touch of humor in his voice that manages to get a small chuckle out of you in spite of everything.

You both stay like that, hugging, letting the tensions dissipate. You know you still have room for improvement but you also know that, as long as you are willing to work together, nothing can affect what you have.

The silence in the room lingers as you are cuddled together. He watches you from above, his fingers stroking your back, your arms, your chest. He leaves little patterns on your skin, running over every nook and cranny of your body. You smile. He smiles back. The two of you look at each other and touch again. It is inevitable.

Your body is on top of his, one of his legs is wrapped around you and your hands rest on his firm chest, caressing his pecs. You talk for a while, then kiss, then just lie there. Pablo keeps running his warm hands up and down your arms, resting occasionally on your hip as he kisses your forehead or hair, then back up your back slowly. If touch burns on your skin, but it's the kind of fire that feeds the flame in your heart.

Then you apologize again, talk, joke and kiss again, in a loop. It's warm, perfect and beautiful. You two love and understand each other, yes, you argue but it keeps you stronger than ever, just like right now.

One of his hands goes into your hair, the other resists on your lower back, massages your scalp while your fingers move on his chest. That starts to make you sleepy, you close your eyes but you don't want to stop seeing Gavi, so you open them again.

He spots you and laughs. You lift your head and his eyes are waiting for you, loving, watching you.

"You can rest, baby" he whispers, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

"See you tomorrow, Pablo" you whisper barely.

"Good night, baby" he kisses your forehead again affectionately.

You settle into his chest again, letting the sound of his heart soothe you. His other hand continues to stroke your hair, and you can feel how his caresses are slow and full of affection, as if he wants to make up for everything he has made you feel. His fingers press your skin to your waist and you feel filled with his love.

And in that moment, even though you know you still have things to work out, you feel that everything will be okay. Because you are together.

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please give us damian having to tell readers he got moved to smack down and she’s on raw please ❤️❤️❤️

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️some feels, love and angst‼️

stay, somehow

“y/n…” damian starts, his voice tight like a rope about to snap. he won’t meet your eyes. he’s staring at the floor, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides like he’s bracing for impact.

your stomach churns. you don’t like this. damian is always so confident, so sure of himself, but now he looks… afraid.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.

he flinches. just barely. but you see it.

he exhales sharply through his nose and finally looks at you, eyes dark and stormy “i got the promotion, smackdown.”

for a second, you don’t understand why that’s bad. this is something he’s worked so hard for. countless nights spent training, perfecting his mic skills, practicing new moves until his body hurt.

you should be happy for him. and you are. but something isn’t right.

“that’s amazing!” you say happily “but… why do you look like someone just died?”

and then it clicked.

you were, are on raw.

he swallows hard. his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but can’t “i have to leave you behind.”

oh.

everything inside you goes still.

“what?” your voice is barely above a whisper “no, no damian…you will still see me…not as much as we use to” your heart broke “but nothing will change”.

“it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. if i say no, i might never get something like this again but i can say no. i can ask them to keep me on raw” he knows they don’t have many plans for him on raw but he can stay, for you. he will stay.

it makes sense. of course it does. but logic doesn’t stop the ache blooming in your chest.

“look at me, you’re not leaving me behind” you say, and it’s not a question. you tried to bring him some comfort that was missing.

his hands finally unclench, and now they’re shaking “i have a choice, i can stay on raw.”

you laughed “damian…it’s not the end of the world, we can work it out. we always do.”

you’re going to miss having him driving you to the arena, and then straight back to the hotel. you’re gonna miss him carrying your luggage, him pretending to be annoyed by your whines about how heavy your luggage is.

or the sleepless nights spent together making love in a random hotel room. the sleepless nights spent watching movies that none of you cared about.

but he has this new opportunity and you aren’t the reason he is going to fuck up his career.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

he looks at you like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight back, but instead, he just says, “i love you” he takes a step forward “i do. i love you, te amo y/n. this doesn’t change that.”

“it doesn’t. you are my everything.”

he was going to miss you.

one or two days a week were left for you.

how was he going to survive? how were you going to survive?

he reaches for you then, fingers ghosting over your wrist, hesitant “please don’t hate me.”

your emotions fizzles out just like that, because how could you ever hate him? you’re not mad, you’re a little hurt, but beneath all of it, you still love him too.

so you let him hold you. his arms wrap around you tightly, like if he holds you close enough, maybe he won’t have to leave at all.

you let yourself lean into him, just for a moment.

you couldn’t lie. you were going to miss him. you got used to stay with him everyday, all days.

he sensed you were thinking about the whole situation.

“what happens now?” you ask against his chest.

his grip tightens “i don’t know.”

neither of you do.

but when he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, something in your chest settles. because no matter what happens next, no matter where he goes, you were going to be there for him. even if it meant seeing each other once a week.

and somehow, that’s enough.

[psychoticallykind]

Terrible

Jegulus Microfic

In honor of the kind anon earlier.

--------------------------------------------------------------

James snapped his fingers, focusing his energy on the charm, watching anxiously from the corner of the room.

Eight feet away, rose petals showered down on the group of first-years. They looked up from their studying with wide eyes, and James grinned to himself as he watched them laugh.

Regulus had absolutely forbidden him from doing anything on Valentines day - he wasn't even allowed to see his boyfriend. So James was passing the time another way.

Now that he was sure he could do it, he took a deep breath, deliberately not reaching for his wand as he scanned the room. It was about half-full - everyone who could be on a date was, leaving the single Gryffindors gathered together. Commiserating, maybe.

"Rosa Petalis," he whispered, snapping his fingers.

Seconds later, hundreds of petals began to rain down from the ceiling. Regulus had told him a few times about flower languages - different colors and flowers meant different things. Different colors of roses stood for different types of love.

James had made sure to include them all. Red, pink, yellow, white, purple, orange, peach, green, blue, and even black.

"Impressive."

"You think?" He glanced at Lily. "How'd it go in the library?"

"Perfectly," she replied. She gave him an annoyed look. "But not wandlessly."

James shrugged. "Theo was watching me. I didn't want him to realize I was doing it."

"Because credit would be so horrible," Lily rolled her eyes. Then she clicked her tongue. "Pandora's got Ravenclaw, but I don't have anyone in Slytherin. Barty, Evan, and Dorcas are all out."

"Slytherin is covered," James assured her.

Lily frowned. "What? How?" Then her eyes widened. "No way."

"Yeah." James grinned.

"Regulus?" Lily checked, disbelieving. "You got Regulus to cover the Slytherin common room?"

James nodded. "He offered to help us."

"I did not."

Lily flinched in surprise, but James laughed. "Reg!" He pulled the other boy into a hug. "I thought you didn't want to see me today?"

"I always want to see you," Regulus mumbled. "I was just trying to prove someone wrong." He pulled out of the hug, but stayed next to James. "And I was helping you. Only you. I don't care about anyone else."

Lily snorted. "Message received." She pushed off the wall. "Bye, James. Bye, psycho." She flipped Regulus off as she walked away, and he returned the gesture without looking over.

"Thank you for helping me," James said sincerely.

Regulus made a face at him. "None of that or I'm leaving."

"None of what?" James asked innocently. "No talking?"

Blue-grey eyes caught his own. "No being nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you."

"I know." Regulus shook his head, but there was a fondness that he couldn't quite hide. "It's awful."

James took his hand, raising it to kiss his knuckles. "Who were you proving wrong?"

Regulus made a grumbling sound. "No one, apparently."

James laughed. "What do you mean?"

"Pandora told me I wasn't going to make it through Valentines Day without kissing you," Regulus admitted.

"But you haven't kissed me," James pointed out. "So you could still prove her wrong."

"You'd be okay with that?" Regulus checked. "Not kissing on Valentines Day?"

"Of course," James replied. He tangled their fingers together. "We don't ever have to kiss if you don't want to. Holiday or not."

Regulus smiled, almost sounding annoyed. "I made you promise not to celebrate Valentines with me. You're meant to be upset with me about it."

James shook his head. "I'm not."

"Yeah." Regulus sighed. "I know." He moved so that he was in front of James. "It's rather predictable of you."

James felt his breath catch when Regulus's arms came around his neck. "Is that bad?"

"Terrible," his boyfriend replied, leaning a little closer. "Absolutely terrible."

A second later, Pandora was proven right.

[gamergirlwrites]

Title: Watchful

Pairing: Carlos Oliveira x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You get to the bottom of why Carlos hasn't been sleeping.

CW: none, just a some self-indulgent fluff.

Parenting was much more difficult than you had imagined. You had heard the horror stories, and luckily your daughter was a good baby; everything was just hard. You were constantly tired, despite Carlos taking time off to be there with you. On top of that, even now that your daughter was sleeping through the night, neither you nor Carlos seemed to be any less exhausted. If anything, Carlos was even more tired now than he had been before.

You weren't sure what was going on, but Carlos was just sitting silently and suffering through it. You could see it starting to weigh on him in the way his shoulders were constantly slumping or how he'd almost fall asleep the second he sat down. Even now, he was struggling to stay awake as the two of you ate breakfast together.

"It's supposed to rain today, so I was hoping that we could have a nice day in. Maybe cozy up together in bed," you suggested. Carlos smiled at the idea. It had been a long time since you'd done something nice like that for yourselves. Everything had been about either the baby or Carlos trying to take care of you.

"Yeah, just let me set up the portable crib," Carlos said. You watched him hop up from his seat. You loved the way that Carlos always wanted to be around Valentina, but you had hoped for time just with Carlos. He was a great dad, taking to it much quicker than either of you had expected. Ex-mercenary didn't exactly sound like the most family friendly occupation in the world.

You finished your coffee and then got up to make your way back to bed. Carlos was holding Valentina in his arms, cradling her as he walked around your bedroom. You could hear him speaking to her in Spanish, something small that he did to make sure that she had a strong foundation with the language. Carlos had told you a few times that he wanted your daughter to know both English and Spanish.

"Oh look who it is! There's Mommy Val! Isn't she just the prettiest?" The excitement in Carlos' voice bubbled over in your daughter. She looked at you in the same way that he did sometimes. Your heart swelled in your chest as your eyes watered. You had a very loving family, something that you had been afraid you wouldn't get after everything you'd been through.

"Do you want to bring her to the bed?" you asked him. Carlos didn't even wait to let you finish the question. He sat up by the pillows, holding Valentina against his chest. She looked half-asleep, and despite how tired Carlos had been before, he was surprisingly alert as he watched her. "She's practically out like a light."

"She's a heavy sleeper, gets that from me," Carlos said proudly. Valentina was a pretty heavy sleeper, as was Carlos. You were certain that both of them could sleep through explosions if you'd let them. Waking Carlos up in the morning was like a chore, and you were glad that Valentina didn't have any real obligations like school yet.

"It's a good thing with her for now, but you'll be on wake ups for school when that time comes. Now, let me put her down so that we can get more rest. You look like you haven't slept in days," you teased. Carlos huffed as he handed Valentina over to you. You placed her in the portable crib Carlos had set up by the bed before turning around to face Carlos again. He was sitting up a bit more to look inside the crib, watching Valentina like he was afraid something would happen.

You curled up to his side on the bed again. He had been working out again to get ready to go back to work. You missed the softness of his body, the bit of fat that had begun to pad his muscled physique. Carlos would always look good because he took care of himself, but the lapses in his formerly intense routine had begun to show. Still, he was every bit as attractive to you, maybe even more so.

"Carlos, you can relax too. Val's asleep, I'm getting tired again, and I know that you're exhausted. Just close your eyes and drift away for a bit," you told him. Carlos tried, but it didn't work. He was nearly asleep when he heard the little cough come from Valentina's crib. He shot up at that, jostling you awake as well. This time, Carlos was standing over the crib with a worried expression on his face.

"Sorry, go back to sleep. I'll watch her for a bit," Carlos tried telling you. You didn't listen to him, instead getting up and standing behind him with your arms wrapped around his waist. "You're tired, go back to sleep."

"Not unless you come with me. You can't stay up and watch her forever. Come on, back to bed with you." You pulled Carlos back, slightly surprised that he was letting you move him. It wasn't easy, but you managed to get him laid down long enough for him to fall asleep. It wasn't for long, but you were glad that he at least got about an hour more of rest. And if when you woke up for lunch, Carlos was carrying Valentina around the apartment, you didn't mention it.

[saebyeokbliss]

ALL I REALLY WANT IS YOU

chapter one

"what are you willing to do?" "anything if it's for you."

synopsis: you never wanted to be part of this world—this business built on desperation, where people come seeking hope and leave with nothing but empty promises. but working under mr. lim means you don’t get a choice. your job is simple: take calls, organize paperwork, and never get involved. but when two sisters walk into the office, carrying the weight of the past and the fight for their family on their shoulders, something shifts. you weren’t supposed to care. you weren’t supposed to listen. now, you’re starting to wonder if staying out of it is something you can really do. pairing: kang sae-byeok x fem!reader x kang no-eul warnings: violence, abuse, exploitation, trauma, kidnapping, human trafficking, emotional manipulation, poverty, gambling, debt, crime, corruption, mentions of illness, blood, injury, psychological distress, mild language, substance abuse, family separation, mentions of war, betrayal, moral dilemmas, unethical business practices

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this series!! and thank you for all the love on JMMATA!!

Lim Do-yun never asked for much—not in words, at least. His demands were implied, expectations set in stone long before you ever had the chance to question them. It was the same every morning: wake up before the sun, get dressed in something professional but not too eye-catching, and take the earliest bus to his office in downtown Seoul. The walls of that cramped, dimly lit space weren’t just where you worked—they were where you existed. Where you endured.

The air always smelled of ink and stale coffee, the scent clinging to the stacks of paperwork cluttering the desk you sat behind. It wasn’t a glamorous job. You weren’t even sure it counted as a real job, considering the only reason you were here was because Do-yun hadn’t given you much of a choice.

"It’s experience," he had said when you first started, sliding a pile of documents toward you without so much as glancing up. "You’re studying business, aren’t you? Think of this as practice."

Practice. Right. Because working as an assistant for a man who made his living exploiting desperate people was exactly the kind of future you had in mind.

But you didn’t argue. You never did.

Instead, you sat at that desk every day, answering calls, organizing files, making sure his schedule was in order. You watched as people came and went, their faces etched with worry, desperation, sometimes even anger. You knew better than to get involved. You were just the assistant—just the girl sitting behind the desk, pretending not to hear the whispered negotiations, the thinly veiled threats.

And when your shift ended, you packed up your things and left, heading straight to Seoul National University like none of it had ever happened.

You had worked too hard to get into SNU to let this job consume you. You told yourself that every time you sat in a lecture hall, surrounded by students who had never known what it was like to struggle, who had never been forced to live two lives at once. They talked about investments and startups, about ambitions that stretched sky-high. You listened, nodding along, pretending that your own aspirations hadn’t already been decided for you.

You were studying business—more specifically, finance. Numbers made sense. They weren’t unpredictable like people, didn’t come with hidden motives or unspoken debts. If you could just hold out a little longer, get through school and graduate, you could find a way out. A way to leave Do-yun and his world behind.

But for now, you were here.

And here, in this world of hushed conversations and unspoken rules, you had no choice but to play along.

"Cheol!"

The moment Kang Sae-byeok stepped into the visiting room, her little brother looked up from where he sat at a small table, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He scrambled out of his chair, nearly knocking it over in his rush to get to her. No-eul, standing just behind Sae-byeok, barely had time to brace herself before he barreled into both of them, his thin arms wrapping tightly around their waists.

"You came," he mumbled into Sae-byeok’s coat, his voice muffled.

"Of course, we did," Sae-byeok said, running a hand through his dark hair. "What, did you think we'd forget about you?"

Cheol shook his head, but he didn’t let go. No-eul crouched down slightly, placing a hand on his back. "You okay, buddy?"

There was a pause. Then, slowly, Cheol pulled away, looking down at the floor. His small hands clenched at the hem of his sweater.

"Some kids were saying stuff," he muttered. "That I’ll never leave here. That I’m gonna be stuck in this place forever."

Sae-byeok’s stomach tightened.

"Who said that?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"It doesn’t matter," Cheol mumbled, kicking at the scuffed tile floor. "They’re probably right anyway."

No-eul sighed, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Hey. Look at me."

Cheol hesitated before lifting his gaze to meet hers. His eyes—so much like their father’s, so much like Sae-byeok’s—were filled with something that made No-eul’s chest ache.

"You’re not going to stay here forever," she said firmly. "We’re going to get you out. We just need a little more time."

Cheol’s lip trembled. "You always say that."

"Because it’s true," Sae-byeok said, crouching down beside No-eul. "We’re doing everything we can. We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’re gonna bring Mom back, too."

Cheol blinked up at them. "You promise?"

Sae-byeok hesitated, knowing better than to make empty promises. But this wasn’t empty. She meant it with everything in her.

"I promise," she said.

No-eul nodded. "Me too."

Cheol sniffled, but a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. He launched himself into their arms again, and they held him tightly, neither of them willing to let go first.

But eventually, visiting hours would end, and reality would pull them back.

They stayed with Cheol a little longer, talking about things that didn’t make their hearts feel heavy—his schoolwork, the books he’d been reading, the new caretaker who always snuck him extra snacks. They laughed when he did impressions of the other kids, rolling their eyes when he exaggerated his stories just to make them laugh harder.

But when a staff member stepped in to remind them their time was almost up, that weight settled back onto their shoulders.

Sae-byeok ruffled Cheol’s hair one last time before standing up. "We’ll be back soon, okay?"

Cheol nodded, his smile a little steadier this time. "Okay."

No-eul squeezed his shoulder. "Be good."

"I’m always good."

Sae-byeok snorted. "Sure you are."

With one last reluctant glance, they turned and walked out, leaving behind the little boy they had sworn to protect.

As soon as they stepped outside, the cold air bit at their skin, but neither of them paid it any mind.

"You ready?" Sae-byeok asked, her breath visible in the winter air.

No-eul tightened her coat around herself and nodded. "Let’s go see what this stupid guy has to say."

And with that, they made their way toward the broker’s office, carrying the weight of a promise they refused to break.

The office was just as suffocating as ever. Dim lighting, cluttered desks, and the ever-present scent of burnt coffee mixed with stale paperwork. It wasn’t the kind of place that welcomed people—it swallowed them whole, chewed them up, and spit them back out either more desperate or more defeated than when they walked in.

You had seen it happen a hundred times before.

You sat behind your desk, sifting through a pile of documents, your fingers moving on autopilot as the door creaked open. Two women stepped inside, their presence commanding attention even before they spoke.

The first was sharp-eyed and guarded, her stance rigid with distrust. She wore her exhaustion like a second skin, but there was a fire in her gaze—a stubbornness that said she had been fighting for too long to give up now.

The second was quieter in her strength, but no less formidable. There was something heavy in her eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. She carried herself like someone who had lost too much but refused to let it break her.

They didn’t look around the office, didn’t take in the fading wallpaper or the piles of discarded folders stacked against the walls. They were here for one reason, and they weren’t interested in anything else.

"Mr. Lim is expecting us," the sharp-eyed one said, her voice sharp and to the point.

You nodded, setting aside the documents in your hand. "Names?"

"Kang Sae-byeok," the first woman said.

"Kang No-eul," the other added.

Kang.

Your fingers hovered over the appointment log for a split second before you forced yourself to move, grabbing two clean cups and filling them with fresh coffee from the machine beside your desk.

"Follow me," you said, leading them toward the door in the back.

You knocked lightly before pushing it open, stepping inside just long enough to set the coffee down in front of Mr. Lim. He barely acknowledged you, his focus already on the two women stepping into the room.

"Sit," he said, motioning lazily to the chairs across from his desk.

Sae-byeok and No-eul exchanged a glance before doing as they were told. You remained standing by the side, silently preparing to sort through any paperwork if needed.

"I assume you have an update for us," Sae-byeok said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

Mr. Lim exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair as he picked up his coffee. "That depends. You have the rest of my payment?"

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. "Not yet."

"Then my update is that nothing’s changed."

Silence hung heavy in the room. You could feel the frustration radiating off them, thick enough to suffocate.

No-eul was the one to break it. "Please," she said, leaning forward slightly. "We just need to know if she’s safe. If she’s still in the camp."

Mr. Lim took a slow sip of his coffee, setting the cup down with an infuriating lack of urgency. "Your mother was last reported in Hamgyong. The camp she was in had a tuberculosis outbreak recently. If she’s still alive, she’s not in good condition."

Sae-byeok’s fingers curled into fists against her lap, but she said nothing.

No-eul swallowed hard. "And my daughter?"

You hadn’t expected that.

You glanced at her, but her gaze was locked onto Mr. Lim, her expression carefully composed.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I told you before—there’s no way a child that young survived on her own up there."

No-eul’s face remained unreadable, but the way her nails dug into the fabric of her pants gave her away. "You said it was a possibility."

"I said there was a chance. A slim one."

You looked away, pretending to focus on the papers in your hands even though you weren’t actually reading them. You had heard a lot of things in this office—desperation, anger, bargaining—but there was something about this that felt heavier.

Sae-byeok took a breath, forcing her voice to remain level. "If we bring the rest of your payment, how soon can you get her out?"

Mr. Lim shrugged. "Depends on when she’s stable enough to move. And if she’s still there to be moved."

The room fell into silence again, thick with unspoken words.

You cleared your throat lightly. "Would you like more coffee?"

It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing you could offer.

Sae-byeok shook her head. No-eul didn’t answer.

Mr. Lim leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Look, I get it. You want her back. You want both of them back. But things like this take time. And money."

"We’re working on it," Sae-byeok said, standing abruptly. "Let’s go, No-eul."

No-eul hesitated for half a second before nodding, pushing herself up from her chair.

As they turned to leave, something in your chest twisted.

They were getting screwed over.

You had seen it happen before, countless times. Mr. Lim always made promises, always dangled just enough hope to keep people coming back. And most of the time, they had no choice but to play along.

But something about them—about the way they carried the weight of their family on their shoulders, about the way No-eul had asked about a child she refused to believe was gone—made you feel something you weren’t supposed to feel.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But as the door closed behind them, you found yourself gripping the edges of the paperwork a little too tightly.

Maybe this time… you did. Because the office felt heavier after they left.

You could still feel their presence lingering in the air—the frustration, the desperation. The way No-eul had clung to the possibility of her daughter being alive, the way Sae-byeok had clenched her fists so tightly you thought she might break skin.

And the way Mr. Lim—your father—had dismissed them so easily, as if their suffering was just another transaction waiting to be completed.

You swallowed, setting down the paperwork you had been pretending to organize.

"Dad."

The word felt foreign on your tongue in this office, like it didn’t belong here. And maybe it didn’t—not in a place where you were just his assistant, not his daughter.

But you said it anyway.

Mr. Lim barely looked up, his focus still on the papers in front of him. "What?"

You hesitated for a split second. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you said, "Is there anything I can do to help them?"

Silence.

For a moment, he didn’t react. Didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to you, dark eyes sharp and unreadable.

"You want to help them?" His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous underneath it.

You nodded. "They’re trying to get their family back. And I—" You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "I have access to information, to your files—I could help move things along, push the process faster. Maybe even—"

The sound of his palm slamming against the desk made you flinch.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You forced yourself to stand your ground, even as your heart pounded against your ribs. "I just—"

"You just what?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the already tense air. "You think this is some charity? That you can bend the rules just because you feel bad?"

You clenched your jaw. "It’s not about that."

"Yes, it is," he snapped. "You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. You think you can fix everything just because you want to? That’s not how this business works."

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t back down. "I just don’t see why we have to make it harder for them than it already is."

Mr. Lim exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair, expression dark. "You’re weak."

The words stung more than you wanted to admit.

"You’ve always been weak," he continued, voice cold. "That’s why you’ll never last in this world. You get too attached, too emotional. You think people like them wouldn’t screw you over the second they got the chance?"

You knew better than to argue. He wouldn’t listen. He never did.

But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, "They’re not like that."

His eyes narrowed. "And you know that because…? You sat in a room with them for five minutes?"

You pressed your lips together, fingers curling into fists at your sides.

"Stay out of it," he said firmly. "Do your job, keep your head down, and don’t get involved in clients’ business. That’s not your place, and it never will be."

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded once, stiffly.

"Good," he muttered, turning back to his paperwork, already dismissing you. "Now get back to work."

You stood there for a moment longer, staring at him.

Then, without another word, you turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind you.

You had spent your entire life listening to him. Following his rules, staying in your lane.

But for the first time, deep down, you knew you weren’t going to listen.

Not this time.

taglist: @yenyu1s @monroesturnns @katieschry1 @noeulswifeyy

[kazuhahalol]

—Valentines Day with Five Hargreeves | Five Hargreeves x reader

Five notices your longing to celebrate the holiday of love.

Warnings: none

Five never understood the big deal about Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t that he was incapable of romance—he just didn’t see the point of dedicating an entire day to something that should be expressed year-round. Love, in his mind, wasn’t about grand gestures or overpriced chocolates. It was about consistency. Presence.

But he knew you cared, even if you never said it outright. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on the displays in shop windows, the way your fingers hovered over the heart-shaped chocolates at the grocery store before pulling away, as if convincing yourself you didn’t really want them.

So despite the fact that he was running on four hours of sleep, despite the fact that he had spent the past seventy-two hours cleaning up the CIA’s mess, Five found himself standing in your kitchen at 8:47 PM, cooking dinner.

He wasn’t particularly good at it. Hell, half of his meals consisted of black coffee and whatever was fastest to prepare like a TV dinner, but for you, he was willing to try.

By the time you arrived home, exhausted from your own day, the scent of something—actual food—filled the apartment. You paused in the doorway, confused.

“Did you break into someone’s house and steal their dinner?” you asked, setting your bag down.

Five snorted. “As much as I appreciate your faith in my abilities, no. I cooked.”

Your brows shot up. “You cooked?”

He rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair for you. “Yes, me. Now sit before I regret this decision.”

You sat, still somewhat stunned, as he placed a plate in front of you. The food wasn’t restaurant-quality, but it was warm, and it smelled good.

“…What’s the occasion?” you asked, though you already had a feeling you knew the answer.

Five sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’d say nothing, because you don’t want to seem like you care, but I know you’d secretly be disappointed if I didn’t do something.” He nodded toward the small box on the table, heart-shaped chocolates, the ones he’d seen you eyeing a week ago. “So. Here.”

You stared at him, warmth blooming in your chest. He looked tired, his tie loosened, dark circles beneath his sharp eyes. And yet, he was here. With you.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Thank you, Five.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in what almost could’ve been a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect this every year.”

And you did exactly that.

[yubellia]

Tales of a traveling Creator…. „Am I an author now?…“

Imagine that we, the creator, finally made it back home. Back home to Teyvat that is. „Because this is where you belong, your grace!~“…. Yeah… great.

Actually, life is pretty sweet. Sure, there are certain things we don‘t have in Teyvat but… we can look past that. Mostly.

The characters don‘t know that for us, all of this was a game. Literally a video game. And there were many others too.

Now imagine how it must feel to never see your favorite show or cartoon again. How it feels to never play your favorite games again. (Especially if you know that a series would get a new game or season soon…. Gosh the horror!)

One day, you notice how your memories of these things start to fade. You forget the name of a character. Small things. But it’s scary enough to make you do something. You do the next best thing.

„Somebody bring me empty notebooks and writing tools! Hurry!“ Your always loyal followers almost run over each other to get what you requested.

And so starts the time period of none stop writing. Really. You carry notebooks everywhere. You start to write down the plot of your favorite games, shows, movies. You name it.

Until one day, because it had to happen, someone asked you where this enthusiasm came from. You and some of the other archons were having tea and snacks in inazuma. Ei insisted that you had to come for a visit again. Zhongli, your loyal shield („shield for what?“ „better be safe than sorry.“), Nahida was there too. Naturally considering that she is pretty much your daughter. Ei brought Miko with her and that’s when it happened.

„Your grace? I heard you always carry these notebooks around these days. Would you be willing to share your thoughts with us? Hm?~“

Zhongli gave Miko a slightly stern look but you shook it off. „sure. Why not. You see, i noticed that i started to forget certain things. Books I read in the other world.“ (you had to think on how to put this.) „stage plays I saw, songs and the adventures I had in…. Other worlds.“ „you visited other worlds too? Like the traveler?“ „yes. I did. Just like with the traveler or you guys, I used…. ‚Vessels‘ and guided them through their adventures. And i started writing things down so that I won‘t forget.“ You showed them a picture. „I even used my powers to create images of the characters.“

Miko‘s ears started to twitch. „Oh my…. Would you mind if… I took a look at that?“

„Sure…. But wait. Not this one. Here. This story is finished.“

You take another notebook from your pocket and hand it over. Miko promises to take very good care of it and the others look on in jealousy.

That was a few weeks ago. You continued. You did everything you could. Even create pages with character sheets and detailed descriptions.

One day, there is a long line in front of a book store. You could hear the owner talk about the newest story.

„Witness the the tale of a chosen hero in a distant world! A fight between good and evil. An innocent child chosen by destiny and the gods! One of their graces many vessels in another realm. This is The legend of Zelda. Ocarina of Time.“

For a moment, you just stood there with your mouth slightly open… „Miko…. Why? Zhongli can you believe it?….. Zhongli?“

You didn’t get an answer because instead of next to you, Zhongli was waiting in line for a copy of the book…..

„Oh hello your grace! The people of Inazuma and Teyvat as a whole love the adventure of the young hero and the princess…. When I read it, I just new it would be a hit.“

You didn’t have it in you to be surprised when Miko showed up. Oh and Zhongli returned with a copy of the book soon after that.

„So… I am an author now?“

„Well, it would be a shame to keep you loyal readers hanging no? Also, I heard some people discuss the criteria for becoming someone worthy of your guidance.“

„Well fortunately Link and Zelda have enough adventures. And i visited enough worlds…..“

Once Zhongli is next to you again, you grab his sleeve and pull him away before others see you.

(Heaven forbid I tell them about Kingdom hearts. The legend of Zelda has enough lore to keep them busy.)

[remuswriting]

THE ESSENCE OF LIFE; BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Bakugou chuckles. “Yeah, ‘cause no one fucking cared about us.” You shake your head a little. “I don’t think that’s true.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you. “I think they were just scared.” He looks at you, eyes scanning your face. “And you weren’t?”

WORD COUNT: 2,211 words

TAGS: Canon Divergent; Psychiatric Hospitals; Angst with Hopeful Ending; Discussion of Vomit; Platonic; Second Person POV; Not Beta Reader; M! Reader

NOTES: This is very much a self-indulgent thing as I deal with some stuff. Some of this is inspired based off of my experiences, but not all of it. Although nothing is explicitly said, please be careful if you think this could be triggering for you.

Bakugou Katsuki is a strong hero. He and everyone else in the world knew that, even if they feared he could potentially become a villain in the future. It was unlikely, but people liked to fear things. People know of his nature, how he’s abrasive, but care lies underneath. He may not be the kind who gently reassures civilians with his words, but he makes sure he sees them get to safety either in the ambulance or in their loved ones’ arms.

Something people don’t know is how much he cares about Midoriya Izuku. Back in high school, you saw a strange rivalry between them that you couldn’t depict if it was friendship or lingering hatred. You never thought too hard about it, though. It was none of your concern since you were in two different classes. Despite that, you thought Bakugou tolerated Midoriya at best back then. The current sight in front of you disputed that.

Bakugou’s hair is unwashed and messy. His clothes are disheveled and stained as if he put on whatever he first saw in his hamper. The dark circles beneath his eyes are dark and sunken in—he hasn’t slept properly in days, most likely. You don’t blame him, because if you were in his shoes, you’d be the same.

“Midoriya-san can’t have visitors currently,” you say, and Bakugou stares at you. His crossed arms squeeze against his chest slightly, as if holding himself back. “I can answer some questions, but he’s not ready to see anyone yet.”

 Bakugou nods slightly, and you think he’s going to leave. “I asked for you,” he says instead. Because of the nature of the ward you work in, none of the staff’s information is online. So, you don’t know how he knows you work here.

“I know,” you say. “Why?”

Bakugou furrows his brows, and he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. Or at least you’ve always believed so. Ever since high school, it’s been easy to read him. However, you’re a nurse at a psychiatric hospital now. Maybe that’s why it’s always been so easy.

“What do you fucking mean?” he asks, and his aggressiveness means he’s being honest. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I didn’t know you even knew who I was up until five minutes ago,” you say, and he slowly nods as if it’s connecting in his head. “So, excuse me for being a little confused.”

“I saw you when we were in high school,” he says, and your brows furrow slightly. Never had you two spoken in high school. Both of you stayed in your designated areas. “In the beginning of our second year, there was a villain attack. You were the only non-hero course student that didn’t fucking run away. You actually ran to us and tried to help.”

You nod a little. “I remember,” you say, because you do remember. You remember never hearing thanks and learning that heroes never thank those who haven’t made saving people their profession. It was what led you to no longer be impressed by heroes anymore. “I’ve never been one to run away, especially when the ones trying to save us needed saving, too.”

Bakugou chuckles. “Yeah, ‘cause no one fucking cared about us.”

You shake your head a little. “I don’t think that’s true.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you. “I think they were just scared.”

He looks at you, eyes scanning your face. “And you weren’t?”

You’re silent for a moment as you look behind him at the koi pond. The eating disorder unit is currently out for activities and surrounds the koi pond. They’re the ones who steal cereal the most to feed the fish, because it brings them so much joy. It’s always hard to tell them no, and most nurses don’t.

“Sometimes, fear makes you do stupid shit.” You pause as you look at him. “Every patient here was scared before they got here—before they got better.”

Bakugou is smart, and you hope he understands. You hope he understands that Midoriya fear made him end up here. The fear of what is something for them to talk about, not for you. The crease between Bakugou’s eyebrows softens slightly. He understands just a little.

“You should’ve fucking replaced one of those extras,” Bakugou says, and his arms aren’t squeezing his chest as much. “You weren’t scared.”

“None of you were ever extras,” you scold as you cross your arms. “I never thought that. I always thought that we were all children. You guys were forced to fight a war that heroes weren’t even willing to fight.” You look at his shoes. The laces aren’t even tied correctly. When you make eye contact, it’s overly intense. “It showed that heroes are just people no matter how much we idolize them.”

“Don’t tell Izuku that,” Bakugou says with a chuckle. Although he doesn’t sound serious, you both know he is. That’s something Midoriya refuses to hear—to acknowledge, even if it’s what he needs to survive. He deeply sighs. “We all wanted to fight.”

You nod. “I know, Bakugou-sama.”

“You can call me Bakugou-san.”

You pause as you watch him. He’s finally relaxed, and his honesty is loud. “Okay, Bakugou-san. How can I help you today?”

“Can you tell me how he is?” he asks, and there’s a slight hint of desperation in his voice. He won’t let it come out completely, but you still heard it.

“He… There’s no correct time frame for grief,” you say, and he slowly nods. “I can’t tell you the things you want to know—what he’s saying—but I can tell you that Midoriya-san isn’t the first person to be like this over grief. Nor will he be the last. He just needs time.”

“Are you putting him on more meds?” Bakugou asks. “Cause they had him on a shit load on meds in the hospital, and it was fucking him up. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“That medication was pain medication, and you told them he needs heavier dosing so his quirk doesn’t burn through it,” you say, and there’s a line you’re walking on. Midoriya hasn’t been conscious enough to sign anything saying Bakugou can know everything. “They may have gone too heavy with the dosing. I don’t know, but he’s been dealing with that the last couple of days as well.”

“How long until he’s not sick?” Bakugou asks, and you open your mouth. “Everyone keeps asking me when he’s gonna fucking be okay, and I don’t know.” He pauses, and his voice is softer when he speaks next. “I don’t know what to tell them.”

“Once the medication is out of his system, he’ll be able to have visitors,” you say, and his posture slouches slightly in relief. “Tell everyone that he’s safe. I’ll call you when he can have visitors, and it’ll be an appointment only because of who we have in our unit.”

Bakugou nods as he lets out a deep breath. “Thank you, L/N-san.”

It’s still strange that he knows your name, and it’s even stranger to actually hear him say it. “How do you know my name?”

“I looked you up after the villain attack and tried to get into 2-A.” Bakugou chuckles. “Thought I imagined you for a while, but Dunce Face remembered you. So I went to Aizawa, and he said he’d look into you, but nothing ever happened.”

You froze before letting out a light laugh. “You.” Your smile grew. “You’re the reason I got to work with Recovery Girl.”

Bakugou’s grin resembled the one he had when he was named Number One Pro-Hero last year. It was strange for him to look this happy without that award in front of him. “That sneaky bastard.”

“Thank you,” you say as emotion swells in your chest. You know what it’s like to never get thanks, and it’s so relieving to give it. “Without you, I would’ve never gotten here. Thank you.”

Bakugou’s smile turns into a smirk. “Wasn’t all me. You’re the one with a badass quirk.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t even know my quirk.”

“Don’t need to know it to know you have hero potential.” He pauses as he looks around you two. There are trees and the koi pond, along with the entrance to the lobby. There’s not much to look at. Then he looks at you. “Before Izuku got his quirk, he ran into danger for me once. What you did back then reminds me of him.”

Your smile is small and soft. “From what I’ve learned about Midoriya-san, that’s a genuine compliment.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Bakugou says, as if to make sure you understand. You do understand, though. There are more people similar to him than he realizes, and they’re not as difficult to handle as most people make them out to be. Misunderstood isn’t the right word for them, because it’s easy to understand them if you try. Maybe looked over emotionally is a better way to put it. “Can you… Can you tell him I stopped by?”

“If he’s up to hearing that, then I will,” you say, and he nods. “The beginning of being here is always the hardest, and I want to make sure he’s comfortable before we talk about anything that may be… triggering.”

“I understand,” Bakugou says, and his entire posture is relaxed. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so relaxed. He’s either always standing up as straight as possible or has his arms tightly crossed against his chest. This is a good look on him, though. “I just don’t want him to think I gave up on him—you know, because of what happened.”

“Can I be completely honest with you, Bakugou-san?” you ask, and he reluctantly nods. “I may not fully know what your relationship with Midoriya-san is, but I do know he has full faith in you. After all the years you’ve spent fixing whatever problems you once had, he knows you’re still here. I have full faith in that.”

He slowly nods, trying to wrap his head around it. “Okay,” he says before taking another deep breath. “Thank you, L/N-san. You still have my phone number in case anything changes?”

The wind brushes both of your hair as it pushes by. “Yes, and you’ll be the first person we call.” You pause. “I’ll make sure to call you myself.”

Bakugou’s leaving is simple. There’s someone waiting at the lobby door for him to unlock it. He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you as he walks away, but you watch him the entire time. There’s a pull in your chest as you think about someone caring so much about you that they seek you out, even when they’re told no to seeing you yet. You know what love is—you see it every visitation and between the patients who grow close to each other—but what Bakugou and Midoriya have is something far greater than you understand.

Once he’s completely out of sight, you turn around and head toward the unit. You know several of them are going to ask where you went, and you’ll need a story that doesn’t reveal anything. They can’t know that Bakugou came here, especially when so many of them know him personally.

The door opens, and Hamasaki, one of the youngest patients, is waiting there for you. “L/N!” he says, and his eyes are bright. “You were gone forever.”

You look up at the clock. “15 minutes is not forever.”

“It is to me,” he says, and you give him a look. “I need my medication, and you’re my nurse.”

You chuckle. “Alright, give me a second.” Midoriya is sitting at the table across from the nurses’ station. “Midoriya-san, are you needing something too?”

He looks at you, and he’s looking better than he has, but exhaustion weighs him down. He’s not been sleeping well here, but from what you understand, he’s not been sleeping well for a long time. “Can I get a boost?” he asks, and you nod before looking over at Aiko, one of the techs.

“Can you grab him a boost while I get Hamasaki’s medication?”

Aiko nods as you two pass by each other at the nurses’ station entrance. She looks at Midoriya with a soft smile, one he slightly returns. “Do you want vanilla or chocolate?”

He pauses, looking ready to throw up again, but there’s nothing in his system to throw up. He’s not been eating because he’s been sick, and they’d give him one of each if he wanted to try them both. You know how difficult it can be for patients in the beginning, because this place is not their home and it resembles a form of control being taken away. However, it gets easier the more comfortable you let yourself be.

“Vanilla, please,” Midoriya says, and you smile as you log into the computer.

“Of course,” Aiko says as she goes into the kitchen.

You look at Hamasaki, who stares at Midoriya with a proud expression. He’d been similar in the beginning, so he knows how it is. “Alright, Hamasaki,” you say, and he looks at you. “What are we needing to get?”

[xylatox]

And alas, the final chapter the thorns and flowers, it's such a bittersweet feeling that the end is here.

God I love the change in their relationship like—by the time yeonjun was leaving, he couldn’t be less surprised—and more content—when you were there to hug him goodbye, cozily wrapped into his cardigan and cute fluffy socks he put on you himself to keep you warm. he pecked your nose and promised to text you every free second, as you hugged him tight mumbling that you wouldn’t stop bothering him if he didn’t keep the promise. — they are so cute, but my poor darling reader overthinking it noo :(

The progressive intimacy is so insane like??? I genuinely have no other words but it's so good, it does hurt to see that the busyness(?) made the relationship a bit strained, and the fights:( I'm heartbroken, and I know people can say things in the heat of the moment, but yet my heart really does break when the quarrel occurs. I know this part is the thorns, but it still hurts yknow.

but yeonjun wouldn’t be himself if he let it stay that way—he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him for it—and scooped you up, careful to not let the plushie fall, as he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently and checking that you had everything you needed. he threw one last glance at you before grabbing his own things, including one of his t-shirt that you used to sleep in, now carrying a mix of both your scents, and left the bedroom—it was his obligation to sleep on the couch, never yours.— I know they stoll love each other, but fights still break my heart :(

the bond was back. his soulmate was back too. right when it was the worst possible moment—when he wasn’t even sure if his lover would forgive him, when he needed love and comfort more than anything, when he wanted nothing more than be weak. he thought he wouldn’t care, thought these parts of him had long since healed or dead, but now… now it felt like someone who had been by his side through the warmest moments of his life, who had grown up with him, who had been a long-forgotten dream and long-abandoned hope and could only bring tranquility and happiness into his life, was suddenly back. like his first love had come back.—oh my god no.

Like ik it's a soulmate au, but I feel like a clown LOL, I know they're meant to be but I couldn't help but feel so shocked at that moment, like ofc we realized from readers perspective that it was just her but God. Something about this soulmate bond makes me so scared. But Jjun also thinking it's coincidence just :((( baby no

“can we take our time, please?” you asked quietly, looking up at yeonjun, as he moved your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a puzzled expression. “all that… soulmates thing. i'm still so confused…” you admitted, ashamed. not even because you were postponing talking about it, but because you felt so unbelievably dumb for not noticing it earlier—the way yeonjun just fit right in into you life, mind, heart and soul, as if there was a place shaped exactly for him and no one else, made it pretty obvious. — god I love them your honor.

A moment to appreciate the world building of this fic, it's so darn amazing oh my god.

“they align, jjun,” you whispered into his skin, and he instantly understood why your heart was beating so fast. there were myths about aligning marks, but none of the wild roses ever mentioned it, so he had brushed it off as another lie without a second thought, never even considering checking it with you. “so…” you swallowed thickly. “is it enough to… be sure we’re soulmates?”—this kind of intimacy is so insane.

I absolutely love the end, I love that despite a the chaos that came with their bond, they still found each other and will always be meant for each other. This was an insane 3 part series and a lovely way for me to end of the valentines series. This was absolutely amazing.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀wild roses | chapter 3 ; the thorns and flowers

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

← to chapter 2 | ♡ you're here ♡

genre ; soulmate au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, humour, smut            wordcount ; 19.6k

warnings | tags ; unhealthy relationship with pain [mentions of self-inflicted pain and self-neglect]; yeonjun does some kinda questionable stuff [less questionable, but yeah, he continues]; self-hate and self-pity; fighting, injury and yeonjun overworks himself

smut warnings ; dom + soft sadist yeonjun x sub + soft masochist reader; no condoms [reader is on pills]; pain inflicting; yeonjun and reader are horny and use it as copying mechanism. ⠀⠀⠀mentions of wet dreams, free use kink, oral, somnophilia, cockwarming, dumbification; ⠀⠀⠀descriptions of spit play and cum play, hair pulling, choking, spanking / slapping; ⠀⠀⠀smut scenes with marking, fingering, cumming inside.

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

the next morning was a bit strange, but in a good way—yeonjun woke up early and tried to carefully leave the bed so as not to wake you up on a saturday, but you still stirred awake and sleepily followed him to the kitchen. he couldn’t stop throwing glances thinking how cute you were as you struggled to stay awake, your head leaning against the wall—you kept yawning, rubbing your eyes, looking like a little sleepy kitten that just needed to crawl back into bed and sleep as much as it wanted. he tried to send you off, but you refused to leave the kitchen, insisting you were perfectly awake—your sentence was interrupted by a yawn not once, but twice. 

when yeonjun returned from the bathroom to grab the hairdryer, he found you curled up on the couch right where you could see the bathroom door—well, if you weren't fast asleep. he almost let you rest, but considering how stubborn you’d been earlier… he woke you up, asking if you wanted to keep him company while he dried his hair. of course, you didn’t say no, trailing after him like the cutest little ghost before perching on the countertop. you were a bit more awake now, watching him drying his hair and giggling when he kept using the dryer to warm your cold hands and feet. he couldn’t stop smiling the whole time—he felt the happiest he had ever been.

by the time yeonjun was leaving, he couldn’t be less surprised—and more content—when you were there to hug him goodbye, cozily wrapped into his cardigan and cute fluffy socks he put on you himself to keep you warm. he pecked your nose and promised to text you every free second, as you hugged him tight mumbling that you wouldn’t stop bothering him if he didn’t keep the promise. 

but you started overthinking more and more the more awake you got—were you too clingy? too annoying and needy? at first, you wanted to bring yeonjun lunch and spend extra time with him, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to see you, so you decided to stay at his apartment, grabbing your laptop from your place to busy yourself with something. you still couldn’t stop thinking about it, though, trying to figure out how you were supposed to behave now, when you were dating—you didn’t want to ruin everything.

yeonjun noticed the way your texts were becoming more closed off, so he wasn't sure you still were at his place, and he was relieved to see you there. you even came out to greet him, making his heart melt at your slightly awkward hug as you shyly pecked his cheek. he still noticed something was wrong, though, and when you told him what was bothering you, deciding to be honest, he tried his best not to smile at how cute you were. he felt like his heart was going to burst, but he took your hands in his, kneeling before the couch you were sitting on and saying that you could do anything you wanted, anything that felt natural for you, and while he knew it could be risky, he still wanted to give you freedom.

that was how yeonjun found out you were clingy—you loved hugging him, being held by him or just touching or being touched in any way. you never was too much, though, always just perfect—you never got upset over him asking you to give him some space or wanting to spend time with his friends, welcoming him back into your arms just as warmly as if he’d never left. you always reached out for him despite shyness—if he didn’t reach out first, of course, and you always seemed to glow when he did, looking at him like he put stars in the sky, not simply took your hand. 

and yeonjun loved touching you—he was basically obsessed with it, as if he were a man who had never touched or been touched in his life. it felt like he needed to have his hand on you whenever he had the opportunity, and he couldn’t be happier when he found out you were just as clingy and enjoyed his touches as much as he enjoyed giving them to you. every time he felt you leaning into his hand or murmuring how nice it felt and how you wished his touch could stay on you forever, his heart grew a little fuller.

later, when you progressed to yet another stage, yeonjun also found out that your sex drive was… high. strangely enough, it matched his own well, and while he tried to keep things vanilla between you, the two of you still managed to test out almost every surface of his and your apartments, whenever and wherever he managed to get a hard-on or you clung to him just a bit differently than usual, looking at him that way with the softest ‘jjun…’ he had ever heard. 

yeonjun wasn’t sure he had ever found you not wet. of course, there always was at least a bit of foreplay before putting his hand down your bottoms—grinding against you for a bit, kissing every sensitive spot on your neck and shoulder, whispering a few praises with a huge emphasis on ‘my’—but it only affected how wet you were. he teased you once about it and you, completely embarrassed, admitted that he was just too hot while doing basically anything, let alone touching you or saying all this “hot stuff”. he wouldn’t believe your words if he wasn’t ‘witnessing’ it with his own fingers pretty much often.

so it wasn’t much of a surprise that while yeonjun tried to keep his kinks hidden from you, as most of them walked hand in hand with pain or other sides of himself that he wanted to hide, because he was almost sure you were that kind of a wild rose that wasn’t into it, a free use kink was introduced relatively early, and—oh—how bad you both loved it. he hadn’t really had an opportunity to try it fully despite being interested, sticking to one-night stands for years, and you heard of it before, thinking it was hot and, well, it suited the sex life of you two pretty well. at first, yeonjun wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay vanilla—free use kink sounding kinda rough—but it was just as giggly, happy and full of smiles, while the bed was reserved for something more serious and prolonged. 

it slowly flowed into a low-key somnophilia, when yet another night yeonjun woke up from your soft whimpers of his name into his neck, as you clenched the fabric of his t-shirt in your hand and tried to grind yourself against his thigh. these nights were the hardest for him, because his body immediately reacted to how needy you were for him, but he never woke you up—until one night it was just too much after almost a week of no proper sex because of your busy and draining schedules. 

yeonjun shook your shoulder gently, whispering your name along with a bunch of sweet nicknames, when he realized his already painful hard-on wouldn't go away on its own. you stirred awake eventually, heart almost thumping in your chest as you tried to catch your breath and shoosh the remnants of the dream away—they had become softer and more vanilla when you started having sex, but recently the dreams were getting more and more kinky, returning to the way they were before you started dating. 

you knew yeonjun understood what kind of dream it was, and you feared he'd laugh at you or, worse, be disgusted, so you sat up, crawling back from him and looking down on your hands in shame, ready to hear anything he wanted to say. but when he sat up too, facing you, you saw the tent in his boxers, a dark gray wet patch on top, visible even in the dim light. your mouth filled with saliva as you clenched around nothing—you wanted to taste him and feel him stretch you so perfectly and actually just anything he desired after that long week, the remnants of the dream making your already insane need for him almost maddening.

yeonjun nodded when you finally looked him in the eyes—he was too horny to joke about them being up there, and you were feeding his ego so badly by looking at his dick like you were ready to beg for it any moment. the thought made him twitch—gosh, he hoped he'd hear you truly begging one day. he moved closer, parting your knees with his, as he put his hands on your bare thighs, ready to manhandle you the second you agreed. “right now or til morning?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you looked at him almost towering over you, resembling a predator ready to pounce—hell, how anyone could be that hot in the middle of the night with hair in a complete mess? just looking at him made you dripping wet. you thought you would do anything he told you right now, and if he didn't, you were ready to beg. you licked your lips before answering almost breathlessly. “right now.” 

neither of you were sure you actually finished the already short sentence before yeonjun's lips were on yours, and you were lying on your back, his elbow by the side of your head as he wrapped your leg around his waist—the rest of your limbs followed the action on their own accord. how badly he tried to keep his teeth to himself, licking your lower lip instead of biting it, as he grinded his dick against you, mentally cursing himself for not thinking about taking your underwear off earlier—he knew he wouldn't be able to stop and detach himself from you now. 

you moaned into yeonjun's lips—the angle he grinded at was just right, and your mind went absolutely crazy when you thought of these messy, full of saliva kisses he blessed you with unfairly rarely. his tongue slipped between your lips almost reflexively the second you gave him space to do it, and he groaned at the way you tightened your legs around his waist, your calves trying to press his hips closer to yours. 

if yeonjun thought it'd be difficult to stay vanilla before—considering he already failed it by the too dominant way he was treating you— he realized it was absolutely impossible, when you whimpered a few needy “jjun, please, inside”s into his lips and then neck, clinging to him like that. how could he not pull your hair, wrap his fingers around your neck, grip your wrists, dig his nails into your thighs, cover your neck in bites, spank you and do everything he did to you in his dreams when you sounded exactly like you did there? 

yeonjun needed to be inside you—fuck, he probably needed it more than you did, before your tiny, beautifully pathetic ‘please’, repeated again and again, managed to rob him of the last pieces of sanity and control he was holding onto so desperately. he clenched the bed sheets as hard as he could, stopping himself from grabbing your jaw to force your mouth away from his neck so he could shut you up with his lips. or how good you'd look with my hand on your face, he thought, tilting your head as gently as he could in his current state to press his lips against yours again, swallowing your last whimpers before you got distracted by his tongue once more. 

you doubted you would ever feel or taste heaven—definitely not after what was happening right now—but were you sure yeonjun tasted and felt better than any heaven anyone in the universe could imagine. he barely started, and you already didn't want it to end—the thought, the only thought your dazed mind could come up with except ‘more’, ‘jjun’, and ‘please’, making you tighten your hold around him, not wanting to let him go.

yeonjun cursed quietly—he loved having you close—any moment actually—and especially when you were having sex, but the way you refused to move your hips away, tightening your legs around him the second he wanted to move his boxers down to free his dick so he could finally fuck you, was driving him mad. he wanted to slap your thigh, telling you to behave, but he couldn't—he groaned into your shoulder in frustration, as he managed to finally place his hand the way it let him push your hips down. you whimpered at the loss of contact, sound soft but sinful in his ear, but kept your hips where he put them, earning a ‘good girl', that he groaned through clenched teeth as he finally freed himself and wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping a few times.

you jerked when you felt yeonjun's fingers move a damp fabric to the side, uncovering your pussy—you almost mewled at the cool air hitting the wet skin, but he was quick to cup your center, pushing a finger inside immediately and adding a second one just a few seconds later, making you whimper. the embarrassing squelching sounds were loud in the night air, and his quiet chuckle next to your ear only worsened the embarrassment, arousing you even more and making you clench around his fingers—you enjoyed the effect he had on you too much.

every drag of yeonjun's fingers was delicious on your sensitive walls, each joint and bone and his fingertips dragged over all the needed spots, making you bite into your lip and try to move your hips too—his fingering skills were just as god-like as any skill he carried, and you would be glad to have his fingers inside of you much more often, especially if he was going to be like that from now—rough and impatient, which only made his touches and groans even rougher.

yeonjun wasn't even sure there was a point in stretching you out, given how wet you were for him already, but he was—he clenched his teeth—a fucking gentleman, never wanting to hurt you in any way—except so many ways that made his cock twitch at the thought of each one. he grinded his hips against the back of your thighs subconsciously, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling at least a bit, as he gripped the bed sheets over your head in his fist, and it was like he reminded you what exactly you wanted to have inside. 

“jjun, please—” you choked out, holding him tighter and mewling into his neck. “need your dick s’much,” you whimpered, trying to find his cock with your hips. you loved his fingers, but, gosh, how much you loved his dick. he was almost cruel with how unfair he was about not letting you suck him off often enough. the thought made you almost sniffle. “please, jjun-ie—”

yeonjun’s eyes rolled back, as he clenched his teeth harder—his sweet, shy, vanilla girl was getting so shameless in her need for him to fuck her. gosh, he thought. he had already gotten you begging for his dick, but if he’d be able to make you go dumb for it—just the mere thought sent shivers down his spine—soulmates of you both could go fuck each other. maybe they’d be lucky enough to be as perfect for each other as the two of you were, but he didn’t give a fuck actually. he didn’t give a shit about anything, if he was honest, as he aligned himself and slowly pushed inside with a groan—he knew it was what heaven felt like.

you arched your back, digging nails into your palms, as you tried to pull yeonjun closer to you—the slight stretch was maddening, as it burned just a bit, giving you the smallest pain that you had desired for so long. he cursed into your neck, his forearm finding its place between your back and the bed for a better hold of you, pushing your t-shirt up a bit to feel your skin on his. he dug his nails into his palm too, despite almost dying to leave marks on your skin—you, already a bit less stretched out than usual, were clenching on him like a vice. you were a menace to his sanity—he knew you could do it on purpose. 

your brain fogged when yeonjun started moving—he wasn’t going exactly hard, but his thrusts were sharp, each one pushing more and more thoughts out of your head, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him, pressed into his body. a sight to behold for him—he hoped to never forget how you felt, sounded and looked at the moment, your brain completely empty for anything except his name and ‘please’. you were shaped for him—he was completely sure—no one ever felt that good, not even close, never to the point where he just never wanted to pull out. 

it was the same for you—yeonjun always overwhelmed each one of your senses, and now he was the only thing that mattered or even existed, as if you were made for each other—he knew how to bring you to absolute madness and submission, and he didn’t even have to do anything, just existing was more than enough. each drag of his cock against your walls, was pulling you further and further away from sanity and thinking, his name being the only thing on your mind, bright as a neon sign amidst fog. his pants and groans against your neck were sending shivers down your spine, as well as the way he pressed you into himself so strongly, nearly hurting. you almost wished he did it just a bit harder, sinking his fingers and teeth into you.

yeonjun knew you were getting closer—your legs tightened yet still trembled around him, your whimpers became a bit more high-pitched, and every ‘please’ sounded more like a quiet sob, making his cock twitch at each one—was he having a thing for crying now?—and you were clenching around him so hard, he could barely move some moments. he wanted to sit up so he had a free hand to stroke your clit, but you tightened your arms around his shoulders, sobbing out a quiet ‘please, don’t’ so desperately, as if you thought he was going to leave at all. he cursed, his heart melting despite the heated moment. 

yeonjun still managed to find a way to push his hand between your bodies without moving away from you, and you threw your head back at a mere touch to your clit, clenching around him so insanely strong at the precise tight circles on it, that he gave up on thrusting at all—he didn’t care for cumming himself. his name sounded like a broken prayer on your lips, repeated again and again as you were squeezing him, your body trembling. he wanted to tattoo the image on the back of his eyelids—you looked like such a beautiful mess, the neck he wanted to bite into so badly out in the open, almost begging him to do it, but he clenched his teeth—no, he couldn't. 

you bit into your lip so hard, you were too close to draw blood, but you craved it in that moment, as if a tiny glimpse of pain was the only thing that was lacking amidst the waves of shudders going through your body as you came. it felt like you were floating, your body and mind completely consumed by yeonjun, and you couldn’t wish for anything better. he was leading you through your orgasm until your body relaxed—you could barely feel your limbs, let alone hold as tight as you were holding before, heart thumping in your chest as you tried to catch your breath and understand where you were, everything around feeling like it was behind a thick wall of water. 

yeonjun was still hard as rock inside of you—he knew he wouldn’t be able to cum, his head too busy holding back and trying to control himself, so he just held you letting you come down from your high, heavy breaths of you both mingling together as you both tried to calm your hearts down—you from the hardest orgasm you had ever had, and him from the hardest inability to cum he had ever experienced. 

but you noticed it—of course, you did, you loved it when yeonjun came inside, making you so full of his seed, that you were sure he could make you drip with it for days sometimes. it always made you feel so full, so his. so when he tried to move away, you put your last strength into your still jelly arms, trying to hold him with a quiet whimper. “jjun, need your cum, please,” you whimpered into his neck between tiny kisses, trying to tighten your legs around his waist too. “please, want to be full.”

you were a menace, yeonjun thought. a little devil sent to break his control and composure, disguised as the sweetest angel heavens could only dream of. he was almost convinced you knew how your whimpery begging affected him and used it against him, but you were too fucked out to think properly and try to manipulate—it was you. he knew you simply wanted the same thing he wanted—you always did, his softest angel pushed into that state of neediness and submission by his own hands. 

and yeonjun couldn't say no—fuck, he needed to cum more than anything, and filling you up in the process just like you both craved, was just a bonus. he started moving again, his thrusts sharper and much less controlled now as he tried to chase his own high, letting your sweet sounds consume him. he pulled you closer by you lower back again, harder that time, wanting to be as close as possible when he finally was on the verge of cumming. 

yeonjun was too far gone to notice the way he dug his fingertips into the skin of your waist, nails leaving tiny crescent moon marks and making your skin sparkle with tiny tingles, sending shivers all over your body. he did the last hard thrust, trying to get as deep as possible, stilling as he finally came, thick ropes of cum filling you one after another, as he moaned your name right into your ear. the sounds he made, the feel of his cum, mixed with the way his fingers gripped your waist in such a delicious way, brought you so close to the edge, you could barely form words in your head, but you never foresaw him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, trying to muffle his groans. the unexpected, but so desired feeling of his teeth on your skin pushing you over the edge again and making you almost black out for a second. 

when yeonjun’s mind cleared he was already peppering kisses all over your neck and jaw, whispering praises in between—it happened unconsciously, even before he could register that he bit you, so he didn't realize it; not at that moment at least. the tickling feeling of his gentle kisses and breathing made you giggle tiredly, as you opened your eyes and looked at him, enjoying the weight of his body on top of yours—you wanted to move the bangs away from his wet forehead, but you were still so weak, that your hand gave out when you just tried to lift it, and yeonjun caught it with a soft giggle, pressing his lips to your palm. 

“we should sleep, baby,” he whispered, preparing to roll off you—he already tortured your poor, tired body with his weight for longer than he had any right to. “we don’t have to get up early tomorrow.”

“mm, we don’t?” you asked quietly, not letting yeonjun move away from you, and he smiled into the skin of your neck and replied with a ‘mhm’ sending the softest vibrations into it. “stay inside?” you asked it so innocently, that he wasn’t sure he heard you right—did you mean ‘let’s stay home tomorrow’?.., but you continued. “then we can start the morning the best way. you can… wake me up that way if you want?” 

yeonjun felt his dick almost twitch at your idea and the way you said it. he wondered what he had done to his angel that night—he needed to know it so he could continue doing it to you to hear more needy filth leave your mouth in such a sweet innocent manner. he teased you about being so needy despite just cumming two times, but of course gave in, positioning you the way you’d be able to sleep without him leaving your body—cockwarming sounded nice for him too. he wondered how many kinks of his you had too—maybe he didn’t have to be so scared of opening some of them up to you?

the next morning—that, no doubts, started ‘the best way’ and brought you to the bathroom together to shower ‘the best way’ too—yeonjun noticed the mark his teeth left on your shoulder. he felt his heart sink as he whispered apologies into the bruised skin, but you said he didn’t have to apologize for anything. you were too embarrassed to say you loved it, so you just said it was ‘okay’. but he had hard times believing even ‘okay’, until he started noticing more and more often the way you caressed your shoulder, even through clothes, exactly where the mark was, with one of the softest smiles he had ever seen on you.

it was the first time yeonjun thought about something not being right in the way how right everything felt. at first, he tried to push these thoughts away, convincing himself that he was just overthinking and scared—he had been betrayed by someone ‘perfect’ already, so it was predictable. but no matter how much he tried, he knew it wasn’t about you. or him, for that matter—it was about everything. he knew you’d never pretend to be someone you weren’t, everything that was changing in you because of him, to suit him, was changing naturally, without you doing anything for it—it seemed like you already had all of it in yourself. 

clicking immediately and talking like you had known each other for a few lives already wasn’t weird, if you were alike. and being alike—or being opposite—wasn’t weird either, but it was about the amount and things that were the same or completely different. sometimes yeonjun thought you were basically twins—sleep schedules, views on the future and personal space, values, humour, expectations from relationship, approaches to conflicts, expressing love, everything that truly mattered in a long and committed relationship, were the same for you two. and sometimes you were different like fire and ice, but exactly where it was either required—like power dynamics—or didn’t matter much. 

and yeonjun thought that sex life wasn’t that—you weren’t completely the same when it came to kinks or completely opposite when it was about giving-receiving, you were just… different, and your similar sex drive was just a coincidence. but that night planted the seed of doubt into his mind—was it possible that you were holding back your true wants too, just like he was? the tiny glimpses into the way you, maybe, were, only showed him that he could be too wrong about it, and that—maybe—your sex life obeyed the ‘rules’ too. he was quick to brush it off, though, after careful thinking—if you were more submissive than he expected, it was natural for you to fall into his view on things. it started with the corruption kink after all.

what was harder to ignore was the way you fit perfectly with his flaws—the way your own ‘flaws’ aligned with his. yeonjun knew he was far from perfect. he had his… moments. moments of being possessive when he had no obvious right to be, requiring obedience in the smallest of things when he was in a truly bad mood (and just enjoying it in any mood), acting full of himself and wanting to be worshipped and admired. he always thought it was too much and had been hiding it from you for months, especially his possessive tendencies—it wasn’t hard as he wasn’t exactly jealous. he just liked knowing and seeing that you were his. it was harder when it was about his need to be obeyed and worshipped. 

but all were natural for you—yeonjun realized it much later than you started acting on it. you had no problems with wearing his t-shirts or cardigans to work, and nonchalantly telling your prying colleagues the truth about the obviously men's clothes on you that still smelled like men's perfume—“it’s of my man”. you proudly wore anything he gifted you, and when you found the custom-made velvet choker with embroidered tiny pink roses along a thorny stem on the outside, and his name in the same pink threads on the inside—he got it for you but was too embarrassed to give because of his name there—you were ecstatic, saying ‘for the better!’ and asking him to put it on you when he hesitantly pointed at his name inside. you wore the choker daily, taking it off only when he could replace his name on your neck with his lips.

you were obedient too—especially when he was in a bad mood; you once told him it wasn't because you were scared of him or anything, you just wanted to make things more comfortable for him and lighten his mood at least by it, and actually—you added much quieter—it felt natural, and he told you to do what felt natural when you only started. you never belittled him even teasingly, never trash talked him after occasional winning in video games—you preferred to do the opposite and be constantly in awe of something he had done, which he knew was sincere despite an annoying voice in his head that sometimes tried to convince him otherwise. you were just open about your feelings to him, never giving him any doubts about the way you felt. 

it wasn’t one-sided, of course—he was ready to drown you in signs of all five love languages just to show you how much he loved you—adding extra on the ones you preferred the most; you could get a bit possessive from time to time too, and yeonjun had no problems with it, wearing a tiny mouse charm and the first letter of your name on the bracelet he never took off—but to him it seemed almost insignificant compared to how many subtle or not-so-subtle signs of belonging to him you had all over yourself.

at some point the thoughts of covering the mark of the bond on your chest with marks of his love became too loud in yeonjun’s mind, so it spilled out almost against his own will in a form of asking you what you thought about marking. by the time it happened, your sex wasn’t vanilla anymore—it had a noticeable power dynamic, and he introduced more and more messy kinks into the sex life of you both—creampie, cumplay, spitplay, snowballing, sucking on fingers—each one, met with interest and excitement, making him think more often about how suspiciously compatible you were. he still was hiding the most of his kinks based on causing pain, though, but marking had a different origin for him—possession. 

you were taken aback by the question and specified if he meant the process or the result—you felt like you were fine with both, but wasn’t sure about wearing it in the open, so the result might not be what he expected. yeonjun didn’t care, though—the area he wanted to mark was always hidden by your clothes anyway, so he didn’t waste a second when you said yes to his question about marking your chest right there, on the couch of his living room. he tugged your t-shirt off and lied on top of you, his lips under your left collarbone, leaving the first mark right on the top of the stem, making it look like a rose crossing your chest. yeonjun still had a polaroid picture of that in his wallet under the pressed rose, turned away so no one could see it.

when you said you were ‘fine’ with both process and result, you had no idea you’d never be able to choose which one you loved more—the way yeonjun was gently biting, sucking, licking and kissing you skin so thoroughly, making shivers run down your spine as you were particularly dripping by the time he barely finished with the first one third of the stem, or the way each one of these marks basically claimed you to be his and even thinking of wearing so many signs of belonging was making your head spin. 

and then yeonjun bit you—harder than he was going to, he could swear it was an accident. but your eyes rolled into your head as you arched your back and moaned a soft broken ‘oh fuck’ right before biting into your hand the second he was going to start apologizing. his brain short-circuited—it didn't sound like a moan of pain at all. were you… 

yeonjun's heart started beating faster as he quickly moved his kisses up your chest to the sensitive spot on your neck, giving it a tiny lick before pressing his teeth to your skin. every inch of his body was tense, trying not to miss any slightest change in your reaction as he started slowly tightening the bite—he felt like even his breathing became quieter and rarer so he could hear if your breathing changed at least a bit. your soft whimpers were getting more desperate with each second, as you tightened the hold on his arm, and he did his best not to let it affect him.

just when yeonjun was at his limit, knowing he just couldn't bite harder, because it’d cross the line of his soft sadism and wouldn't be enjoyable for him anymore, you choked out a ‘not harder’, making his heart thump. here was your limit, he found it—exactly where his own one was. he still asked you if it was too painful already, but you shook your head and said it was on the verge of it, but the peak of pleasure was even earlier—he didn't tell you that, but he assumed where it was, and it wasn't only about how he heard you reacting to it. 

it was no surprise the discovery of your soft masochistic tendencies affected your sex life, and in addition to goofy quickies and passionate love making, the two of you started having rough, kinky sex anyone could only dream of. and at some moments, yeonjun was glad he only had one mouth and two hands—sometimes even one hand, as he preferred to be on top—and he couldn't do everything he wanted to do to you at the same time, because he wasn't sure at least one of you would leave the bed sane if it was possible. but no, it wasn't possible, and he had to choose. 

it was easy when it came to scratching, slapping, gripping, pinching and biting your skin anywhere yeonjun knew you’d enjoy it—he could find each one of your sweet spots with his eyes closed now, knowing your body like the back of his hand as if he was the one who placed each one on your body—these five were fast. well, most of the time, as sometimes you had full-on marking or spanking sessions, but they were rare compared to how often he did all of these almost automatically, without thinking about it. but it was much harder when it was coming to the rest. 

yeonjun loved pulling your hair—he loved the way it made you arch your back, no matter the position you were in, be it on your knees as he pounded your face into the sheets, your legs trembling at the way his fingers tangled into your hair to pull you up and press your back against his chest, hand moving to your neck to tighten his hold on it while he was whispering how well you were taking his cock, as if you were born just for that and nothing else; or in missionary when he thought you weren’t close enough to him and he couldn’t bring you closer with the other arm, as it was a bit too busy with leaving scratches on the back of your thigh, so he pulled your hair just to feel your chest against his. 

yeonjun absolutely loved pulling your hair to lift your face when you were on your knees before him or when he towered over you in any position—he loved the look you gave him, eyes full of admiration and worship, but the way your mouth was opening almost on its own was absolutely maddening. he didn’t even have to tell you to push your tongue out—it was like you knew he wanted you to, as he gathered his saliva in his mouth before letting it slowly drip from his tongue to yours. and if your mouth was full of his cum at that moment… he was getting hard again, no doubts. 

the hair pulling also matched well with spanking sessions—it made you stick your butt out so adorably, when you were laying across his lap, your chest and knees on the bed, skin of your butt red, as he caressed it, feeling your wetness coating the skin of his thigh already. but yeonjun found it the cutest when you were drooling while he was slapping the gentle sensitive skin of your ass and thighs, so he preferred stuffing your mouth with his fingers to make you drool even more as you tried to suck on them instinctively, your saliva flowing down his fingers waiting for him to lick it off later and make a show for you out of it. 

yeonjun enjoyed to push his fingers between your lips in missionary too, when he was able to see the way the rest of his fingers dug into your cheeks and, more importantly, to see the way you rolled your eyes in pure bliss, obediently wrapping your lips around his digits, your tongue caressing them in the most angelic way possible. he always had too little patience at these moments, wanting to have his tongue in your mouth instead of fingers, so he withdrew his fingers, earning a beautiful pathetic whine from you before shutting you up with his lips, as his fingers wrapped around your neck. 

his fingers found your neck in missionary more often than not, when yeonjun wasn’t making love to you, usually slick with your saliva or arousal, but some nights—the most restless ones—with a mix of the cum of the two of you—with what was left after you both licked and sucked it out of his fingers. but choking was the best when he fucked you from behind, hovering over you lying flat on your stomach and holding you by your neck so you had no opportunity to miss each one of his dirty whispers of what else he was going to do you that night, tomorrow night and every night further. everything before he couldn’t take it anymore and tilted your head by your jaw, finally pressing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, catching every sweet sound you were making.

at some point yeonjun realized he tried to press his lips to yours every opportunity. it was far from gentle whenever you chose to be kinky, but it barely was about ‘kinky’ at all, often becoming a bit softer and slower a few seconds in—if he wasn’t in a too hard mood, of course. it felt intimate, something he never gave anyone for years—a strict ‘no kisses’ rule for friends with benefits and one-night stands. his lips were only for you and no one else—the thought making him so sentimental once or twice, that your kinky session full of degrading praises, dumbification and sweet pain he caused you, turned into a love making. 

yeonjun was soft, actually. it wasn’t even about the fact that you still could feel his love in the kinkiest moments through the softest whispers of praises or questions of your well-being and unexpectedly gentle touches between the rough ones; not about the way he regularly made love to you, reminding you of how much you meant to him while he was driving you insane with slow drags of his cock against your sensitive walls, when nothing except him mattered. it was about the way he held you the moment both of you were done, endless praises leaving his lips as his hold on you was tight and firm, reminding you that you were safe in his arms. 

and you… you loved whatever yeonjun wanted to give you in any moment. it felt like he was reading your mind, and the moment you opened your mouth to ask him for something, he immediately did it. it happened so often that you started thinking that when you had to beg for something, it was because he wanted you to beg, not because he didn’t know you wanted something. but begging was hot and you were eager to please, so it wasn’t a big deal.

of course you both had your favourites in general when it came to, well, hurting you or craved something specific on some days—and it was completely unsurprising that they were the same for the both of you—but yeonjun had the softest spot in his heart for leaving love bites along the soulmate mark on your chest—it felt like covering it completely was making you his. the amount of attention he was paying to the mark you used to hate for what felt like your whole life, made you realize how much you'd changed. 

being with yeonjun seemed to make you forget about almost all of your worries—whenever your head wasn't busy with the task in hand, it was occupied by him, making you smile like a dummy at the mere thought of seeing him soon. it felt like endlessly falling in love with him after months of dating, and knowing that, at the same time, your love managed to be a grown-up, serious one—a love you shared with the person you chose to love and loved not only with your heart but also brain—only made it much better. you took the best part of blue and mixed it into your pink love.

you hadn't thought about your soulmate or the bond for a few months already, and when the realization suddenly hit you, you only smiled, shaking your head—you didn't care anymore. your happiness was right there, and you hoped your soulmate would find theirs too. just with someone else, not with you—you doubted even your own soulmate could make you happier and complete you better than yeonjun, no matter what they said about soulmates and their connection outside the flower-type bond. he already was all of that for you and more.

you felt safe with yeonjun, always protected, and you knew it was foolish—at least the first few months—but you just couldn’t get rid of these feelings, and even when you were cautious, they were still present. it was easy to talk to him, easy to open your heart and mind. you knew he’d never judge you or call you an idiot for your own mistakes. instead, he simply helped you deal with them if you needed it, because he knew you could draw conclusions yourself—without his nagging. it felt like you had known each other for a few lives before meeting in the current one, with how naturally everything started.

silence was comfortable with him too—sometimes yeonjun was tired from talking to so many people, which was required by his work, and he just didn’t want to talk, but still needed to recharge, so you could sit silently in the same room or shoulder to shoulder, doing your own stuff comfortably. he easily did the same for you, back-hugging you and watching you play on your phone or switch, when you needed to recharge—he was your personal charger, not letting you go until you felt fine. and it was natural for you both to know when the other one needed it, slipping into charger mode immediately. 

yeonjun… synchronized well with you and your emotions, just as you did with his—you both were empathic and knew each other really well. he knew when you faked your smile while meeting someone from your past or someone you simply disliked when you were out together, and you knew when he was trying to keep his anger inside over some minor inconvenience on a bad day, even when his face remained completely calm. and you both knew what the other one needed at those moments, whether it was a tiny kiss or a hand squeeze. 

his touches always felt so, so right, from the first day. yeonjun knew where and how you preferred to be touched, and what areas you’d rather stay untouched. he always—always—made sure it was okay before touching you in a new way for the first time, and he always made sure you knew you could ask him to stop or even make him stop with your own hands. you never did, though—his touches were comforting and grounding, making everything so much better.

you were in synch on the kitchen, never colliding or hitting each other with cupboard doors and drawers; in the bathroom when you both needed to get ready at the same time; in the crowded elevator when yeonjun cornered you to shield you from strangers—just in case—his giggles warm against your ear. it felt like you were always waltzing, no step wrong or out of place, and even if it happened, the other one adjusted naturally to match or catch.

it was like that with everything—you barely had any fights because there were almost no problems, and if something did happen, you were quick to deal with it by talking it out before it escalated into anything more. but of course, there couldn’t be no fights at all. it was too good to be true, and you should’ve expected for it to happen one day. 

the month was tiring for yeonjun—the k-pop agency he was working with had comebacks stacked one after another and wanted him to work on more of their groups, so he had to manage three at roughly the same time, which was three times more than he was used to. it wouldn’t have been too difficult if he was only handling choreographies for well-established artists who had a team of trainers working with them regularly, but audition season for another agency was starting in a month, and out of habit, he had opened a few training slots for it—already too tired to think before doing it.

yeonjun tried to find a way to keep it from affecting your relationship, especially now that it finally felt like you were fully opened up to each other, but it was almost impossible. he felt like shit for neglecting you—you were going home alone more and more often each week, as soobin was rushing to his not-just-friend-anymore the moment the workday was over, and yeonjun often couldn’t find even five minutes in his tight schedule. at least the sun was setting late already, so you didn’t have to go in the dark. you barely had any dates now, too—he was always too tired, and even the ones at home ended with him falling asleep most of the time. 

you were an angel, though, more patient than he ever deserved in his honest opinion. you were waking him up with the tiniest kisses all over his face whenever he fell asleep on the couch, just so he’d go to bed and not be even more sore in the morning; you were bringing him lunch, wasting your own lunchtime on it, when he had no time to go and buy himself something or forgot to order—you always said it was completely fine because you could eat while working; some days, you woke up at five a.m. just to kiss him goodbye, wish him a good day, and remind him that you loved him more than anything.

it wasn’t easy already, but that week was straightforward hell for yeonjun—it felt like everyone needed him at the same time, and each one thought their need was the most important one, the lack of sleep and food was taking a toll on him, and every time you were nothing but patient and loving to him, he was ready to pull his hair out in anger and frustration, because he couldn’t understand how in the world you didn’t hate him yet. it was bound to end in a fight, and he started avoiding you just to keep from snapping—and not like it was too difficult with his schedule.

you noticed it, of course—how could you not? you still tried your best to be understanding, but it was starting to feel forced. you couldn’t keep trying to comfort someone who kept subtly refusing it, especially when you needed comfort yourself. you were going to bed alone, waking up alone—it felt like you were living with a ghost, and at least the ghost was leaving signs of his presence in the form of dirty dishes in the dishwasher and sweaty training clothes in the washing machine. you weren’t even sure when was the last time you looked at yeonjun properly, let alone touched or kissed him. he still held you in his sleep, but it didn’t count. 

it didn’t help that your body started getting sore out of nowhere, your muscles nagging and tugging each morning. it wasn’t unusual to feel physically weakened due to emotional exhaustion—not to mention you weren’t sleeping or eating well either, worrying your heart out for yeonjun—but it was just annoying, as if your body couldn’t just cooperate for a bit until that period passed. it kept piling up, and on a particularly bad day when nothing seemed to go right, you ran out of patience—it was a friday night, and you needed your boyfriend. needed to at least know he was fine. 

it was already dark when a young boy left the practice room yeonjun was working in, seeing you outside and bowing. you knocked on the door and entered without waiting for the response. relief washed over you at finally seeing him—it felt like both physical and mental exhaustion were starting to leave your body, the walls you had built around your emotions  beginning to crack. you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and finally relax in their safety. at least until you saw the way he didn’t even try to pretend he was happy to see you.

“what are you doing here?” yeonjun asked, his voice harsher than he expected—it wasn’t just exhaustion; he was starving, his head was pounding, and seeing you, the one person he could allow himself to be weak with—the one he had been mistreating so badly—only made things worse. he just had to push through this last class of the day, and he could go home, but now, with you standing in front of him, he wasn’t sure if he would break down or explode, and neither was welcome. 

you were taken aback—that was what he had to say after barely seeing you for a week? “wanted to check on my boyfriend,” you snapped—the soreness was creeping back, and you felt a dull pain starting to form in the back of your head. “have you seen him maybe?” 

yeonjun rubbed his temples—he was so not in the mood to fight, it was probably one of the worst moments of the month for it. “listen, if you want to fight—”

‘to fight’?! what the hell was he thinking of you? “no, yeonjun. i don’t want to fight. i want you to rest properly and stop overworking yourself,” you barely noticed how your voice was starting to rise. 

“it’s my job, can you understand?” he threw the small towel he had been wiping his sweat off with to the side in frustration—he had five minutes left until the next class, and now he had to waste them fighting with you, when you weren’t even supposed to be here.

“i’m your girlfriend, can you understand?!” you couldn't remember the last time you had been so frustrated. “can you, please, try not to forget there's your girlfriend waiting for you at home, worrying about you every night,” the words were full of venom, but you just couldn't stop.

oh, yeonjun never forgot—you waited, worried, cared, wanted to make everything easy for him instead of just doing the only thing he truly deserved after neglecting and mistreating you—leaving him. he was so frustrated that the next words left his lips before he could think twice. “maybe she should've waited at home then instead of coming here because she can't live without my attention?” 

your eyes tingled, as you felt your heart sink, a dull pain spilling over inside your chest. you knew yeonjun didn't mean it, but that didn't to stop the lump from forming in your throat. because it wasn't even about him—it was about you. you were that girl again, the one who realized her soulmate was having sex with someone else, invisible lines on her back burning almost as painfully as her eyes as she tried to not to cry in the middle of class. the pain was almost the same, and it felt like all those years of growing up, maturing, trying to accept the betrayal, and finally moving on had never happened. you were her once again—completely alone in the world, betrayed by the person who was supposed to be the closest to her heart. 

yeonjun felt it too—the tugging pain spreading from the middle of his chest to his throat, making him want to throw up in the desperate hope that it'd rid him of the feeling. he was there again, he was him again—it was the same time, soon to be night, but the other side of the world, and one moment he was the happiest person in the universe, and the next—he felt that pain. he remembered what came next—it was engraved in his brain no matter how much he tried to forget. realization. the most painful realization of his life. it was different that time, though—he wasn't the one who was in pain, he was the one who was the reason for it. 

but no, the realization followed this time too—yeonjun felt like he was punched in the chest. he was the reason his soulmate had felt that way all those years ago. they could feel the deep drag of her nails down his back, and it was the clearest sign he had betrayed their bond. just like he had betrayed your trust and feelings now, your bond. he wasn't that poor boy anymore—he was worse. the boy had been deceived, he hadn’t meant to hurt his soulmate, but yeonjun had no excuse for his words.

you took a deep breath—you couldn't be that girl now, you had to protect her despite your own pain—and looked at yeonjun. “maybe she should have. maybe even at her own home” you said quietly, turning around to leave the practice room, placing a hand over your heart involuntarily, hoping it'd ease the uncomfortable tugging feeling.

yeonjun could barely register the pain in his chest, lost in thought—was that what he was? back then and now to?. all these years had meant nothing because he had stayed the same—someone who didn't deserve to be happy. your words reached him, though—almost too late, but they still did. “don't leave alone, it's dark,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “i’ll tell the trainee i’ll be late and walk you home. wait for me on the ground floor.”

you didn't say anything, just nodded—despite knowing yeonjun didn't see it as he turned around to grab his jacket. you didn't wait for him here either—not wanting to endure the uncomfortable awkward elevator ride, and, after all, he had told you to wait on the ground floor, not here. but of course, it didn't help anyway, because you still had to walk home together, and it was the worst walk home you'd ever experienced—you didn't hold hands like you usually did, didn't talk, didn't even say goodbye properly when he brought you to your floor and didn't even step out of the elevator, simply pressing the ground floor button.

when yeonjun returned home, he found you sleeping on the couch and it was obvious that you hadn’t just dozed off while waiting for him—you were wrapped in your blanket, the fox plushie held tight against your chest—you had brought your belongings here, because you didn't want to share a bed with him tonight. the choking pain in his chest rose, but… he finally got what he deserved after this month and especially this week. there was still a small spark of hope he wanted to ignore, though—you had chosen to sleep on his couch, leaving him the bed that was far more comfortable, instead of sleeping in an even more comfortable bed at your place that was just two steps away.

but yeonjun wouldn’t be himself if he let it stay that way—he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him for it—and scooped you up, careful to not let the plushie fall, as he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently and checking that you had everything you needed. he threw one last glance at you before grabbing his own things, including one of his t-shirt that you used to sleep in, now carrying a mix of both your scents, and left the bedroom—it was his obligation to sleep on the couch, never yours. 

it was a bad night for both of you—it was cold, uncomfortable, and lonely for you two who hadn’t slept alone since you started dating. you wanted to apologize early in the morning—for coming to his work and making him stay there longer because he had wasted time walking you home and had to start an already late class later, for starting that fight in general, and for being petty by making a scene of sleeping on the couch, and, of course, you wanted thank him for carrying you to the bed. but by the time you woke up at five a.m., he was already gone, and you thought that maybe it was too late to apologize now.

yeonjun wanted to wake you up with breakfast in bed, a huge bouquet, and an even bigger apology, along with a serious conversation about that month—the way it went for both of you, how he could make it better, and how to avoid repeating it in the future. but four hours of bad sleep, full of draining dreams on the verge of nightmares, left him even more exhausted than before he had gone to bed. being jolted awake by a call from the agency, saying he was needed there in half an hour, only made things worse. that tiny spark of hope he still had before falling asleep was extinguished under a cold, bone-deep exhaustion, and he came to the conclusion that you deserved much better than him.

the gap between you two seemed insurmountable—neither of you had even noticed it growing over the past month, and now you didn’t know how to make it smaller, or if that even was possible. these thoughts, along with the persistent ache in your chest, made you careless—you kept stumbling over completely flat surfaces, managed to knock a pack of ramyeon down on the floor, and at least had been quick enough to jump back before the hot water could spill on you. little, frustrating things kept happening—your bag strap getting caught on the door handle, your sleeve snagging on a cabinet—and it was such a terrible time for all of it...

yeonjun, however, barely had time to think about anything. the first half of his day was pure chaos—there were always at least two dozen people around him, loud and hectic, pulling him from one place to another, his brain constantly on overdrive. but when it was finally time for personal classes, which were much quieter and calmer, the thoughts of how badly he had ruined everything returned. the last time he had been in a state like this, he had overworked his mind and body until he could neither stand nor think, but this time, he already barely had any strength for either. still, he opted for stretching—it was necessary anyway and the tugging pain in his ligaments might at least distract him from the one in his chest.

yeonjun was almost done with the stretching when he suddenly felt something prick his finger. he hissed, instinctively looking down at his hand and the floor beneath it—but everything seemed fine. the floor was completely clean, and there was nothing visible on his skin either. he brushed it off—maybe there had been some crumb or something, and he pushed it away when lifting his hand. but throughout the entire class, he kept  feeling the same thing here and there on his hands, even when the only thing around them was air. the pain in his chest was soon replaced by a much nauseating feeling in his gut—deep down, he knew what it was, even though he had long forgotten how it felt, but he didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. it was just a coincidence, his body was playing tricks on him, he was imagining things—anything except that one. 

but it was impossible to deny, when yeonjun felt as if his whole hand had been pushed into a thorny bush while he was simply making himself coffee—his replacement for lunch between classes. he felt nauseous, staring at his hand, his head spinning—it was like a few lifetimes had passed since he had last experienced this, and now all the memories came crashing down on him like a wave. scraped hands and knees, pulled hair, paper cuts, bee stings, cold burns, sewing prickles, sprained ankles, growing pains, headaches, ear piercings, blisters and sore feet, tongue burns and bites, minor cuts, period cramps—he had never seen them, but it felt as if he’d been by their side for their whole lives, experiencing every significant stage of their growth along with them.

the bond was back. his soulmate was back too. right when it was the worst possible moment—when he wasn’t even sure if his lover would forgive him, when he needed love and comfort more than anything, when he wanted nothing more than be weak. he thought he wouldn’t care, thought these parts of him had long since healed or dead, but now… now it felt like someone who had been by his side through the warmest moments of his life, who had grown up with him, who had been a long-forgotten dream and long-abandoned hope and could only bring tranquility and happiness into his life, was suddenly back. like his first love had come back.

the thoughts made yeonjun want to throw up, as he slowly lowered himself onto the floor, back against the mirror. he had betrayed you yesterday, he was betraying you now with these feelings and thoughts, and more than anything, he was terrified that he would betray you in the future. he ran his fingers through his hair and hid his face in his palms—he didn’t know what to do. he knew what he wanted—to break the bond completely, to never meet his soulmate, to live a happy life with someone he had chosen and would choose again and again in every lifetime—you. but the first part was impossible, and he knew he had to get a grip on himself and hold onto it for the rest of his life. but he was ready to do it—for you.

yeonjun took a deep, shaky breath—the class was starting soon, and it was time for him to pull himself together. there were people waiting for him, expecting their choreographer to guide them, not to crumble under the weight of something they had nothing to do with. and he couldn’t let them down—he had been letting down too many things recently, and if he let you down too… the only thing he’d have left was his job. so he pushed himself up from the floor, took another deep breath, and tried to drown himself in his work. 

it was almost impossible to notice that something was wrong when yeonjun was in his element, giving himself completely to the music and movement. but each little break, when the music wasn't filling his mind, made him feel worse, as if overthinking and the tiny invisible cuts in his hands were gathering strength whenever his head was busy—only to hit him harder the moment his mind emptied. for the first time, he counted down the hours until the day was over with dread—he was scared to come home and not see you there. you, and any traces of you, because you had finally realized you deserved better.

but yeonjun had no choice—if you chose to leave, he had to accept it, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how painful it would be to see you every day as nothing more than a neighbour. he simply wanted you to be happy, with him or without him. and his soulmate… he hoped the bond would shut down again—which wouldn't take long if you decided to leave. he knew his heartbreak would be too strong for him to cope with it in a healthy way, and the bond would try to protect them from him. 

the first thing yeonjun saw when he opened the front door was the light from the kitchen. he swallowed thickly—it still wasn’t too dark, so maybe you had just forgotten to turn it off when leaving…? but the next second, he heard a quiet sniffle coming from inside, followed by a dull thud—something falling or, more likely, being thrown—and his heart felt the lightest in a whole day, you were here. then, a second realization hit him—you were crying. and you had thrown something. you needed to be held. he quickly took off his shoes, tossed his bag and jacket somewhere, and rushed to you.

you were sitting on the bar stool, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you tried to wipe away angry tears that just refused to stop. you didn’t even notice yeonjun until you felt his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his hold. the moment he did, the tension in you melted away, the safety of his embrace making it easier to be weak. with a quiet hiss, you wrapped your arms around his waist, and your angry tears shifted—becoming ones of exhaustion and relief at the same time. you needed him more than anything.

yeonjun couldn’t believe how close he had been to throwing everything away because of some stupid soulmate bond, close to ruining it all with his own hands, choosing to overwork himself and make you worry, leaving you completely alone and calling you an attention seeker when you confronted him about it. and yet, you still took him back, still clung to him like you needed his comfort even though he was the reason you needed it in the first place. his fingers combed gently through the hair on the back of your head as he held you, letting you cry into his shoulder. his darling, his poor baby, his sweet angel, his little mouse. the only person he'd ever need.

your sobs started getting quieter, and yeonjun relaxed a bit, growing curious about what you had thrown when he came home. he glanced around, but his gaze fell on the first aid kit and bunch of plasters scattered around the table—both barely used and still unopened. were you hurt?.. he leaned back slightly and cupped your face, looking for any signs of pain, but there were none—except for your puffy red eyes and still slightly quivering lips. “baby, what happened? are you hurt?”

you sniffled and looked down, slowly withdrawing your arms from around his waist before showing him your palms. “not exactly… that bouquet making class was…” you sniffled again, biting your lip as he cupped your hands from below. “i was careless and i… maybe i should've asked for tulips, but… but these roses were so cute and tiny and pink, and i…” the more you spoke, the more sorry you felt for yourself—and the more stupid you felt for everything that had happened. “and i got them by raffle… and i thought, maybe it was destiny—”

yeonjun couldn't hear anything—his heart thumping in his ears, drowning out your words. it felt like the whole world had stopped and disappeared completely, leaving nothing but him, you sitting on that bar stool, and your hands cupped in his. and slowly, the world was closing in even more, until only one thing remained—the reason why so many plasters were discarded barely used. it wasn't easy to put them on your own hands, especially with so many tiny cuts scattered across your skin. the same cuts he had known about hours ago already, but had never realized whose hands they belonged to.

every little thing made sense now. every tiny detail had fallen into its place, completing the picture that had barely made sense before. of course, it had been easy to talk to you from the very beginning. of course, it had been easy to open up to you—so much easier than when he forced himself to open up to others. trusting you came naturally. your smile made every burden lighter, and your touch made his problems feel small and insignificant. of course, everything with you felt right—he had sometimes questioned whether the way he was living was right, filling his mind with ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s, but he never, not even for a second, doubted that his place was next to you. holding you. being held back.

that's why you were so perfect in every sense—you were made to be perfect for him, there wasn't anyone else in the world who would fit him better than you, no one else could bring him more peace and happiness, because no one else could. and—yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat—he was the same for you. all his worries about not being good enough, about not being worthy of you, suddenly made no sense—he was perfect for you, because he was made to be perfect for you, too. and he was making you feel the same—safe, certain, content. now he could be sure that you were truly happy.

“—and then… i just laid my hand on—” you looked at yeonjun and your heart sank. “jjun… jjun-ie, why are you crying?” you tugged one of your hands away from his hold, cupping his cheek, as you felt your eyes start tingling again. “i’m not in pain, it's just annoying a bit,” you sniffled, unable to hold your own tears at the sight of his wet lashes. “and if it's about the fight, i’m so sorry, i overreacted and—”

yeonjun carefully wrapped his fingers around your wrist, not wanting to hurt you by touching the cuts and scratches on the back of your hand, and brought it to his mouth, kissing each little cut as gently as he could. “i just love you so much,” he cupped your face with his other hand, brushing your tears away and caressing your quivering lips. “so, so much. you can’t imagine,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “and i’m so sorry for being such an asshole.”

you opened your mouth to say that it wasn’t his fault, that he was just overworked and tired, and that you should’ve been comforting him instead of coming to his work and making a scene. but just as if he knew you were going to say absolute nonsense, he pressed his lips to yours in the gentlest attempt to shut you up. he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, chuckling softly when you chased him as he pulled away. 

“it’s my fault,” yeonjun whispered, pecking your lips again, unable to stop himself from doing it when you were sitting there so cutely, wanting to comfort him more than anything, even though you needed that comfort yourself. “i’ve been doing everything wrong for the whole month, and—” 

you pouted and shook your head. “no, not everything,” you frowned, and yeonjun tilted his head, so you continued. “you held me every night. that wasn’t wrong,” you mumbled, your hand clenching the fabric of his t-shirt at his side.

he pressed his lips together, trying to hide the wide smile—your attempts at comforting him were the cutest, but you had no idea that you’d already done everything that he truly needed—became a part of his life. yeonjun pecked your nose and took a small step back. “come on, baby, let me wash and disinfect my hands and i’ll treat these little cuts that are my fault,” he kisses the corner of your lips too and rushed to wash his hands before you could argue that they weren’t. 

yeonjun was the softest while treating the cuts—he kissed each one before putting ointment on it, carefully covering it with a plaster, and kissing over it again, making you giggle. you got many forehead, nose, and lip kisses too, as “it seemed like there was something too”, he explained, before pecking one more time to “check properly”. you never realized how much you’d missed him over this past month and how happy you actually were when he was happy. 

you didn’t do anything the rest of the day—yeonjun was spoiling you like a princess, and you had to almost tear cutlery away from his hands because he was unironically going to feed you himself. he still felt bad for everything, if he had to admit, feeling like he needed to make up for his behaviour. but he was glad he didn’t bring you flowers as an apology—he doubted you would be in the mood to see more flowers that day; and the bouquet you made yourself and brought home was the prettiest anyway. so he decided to apologize with food, cuddles, one of your favourite movies and an hour-long session of eating you out. or maybe with letting you suck him off—he hadn’t decided yet. 

yeonjun didn’t tell you the truth that evening—you both were tired, emotional and a bit shaky, the two of you needed rest and comfort—especially you—instead of another shake. he didn’t tell you the next few weeks either, because he was still busy with work, leaving early and half-asleep, coming home late and tired, only wanting to eat something and cuddle you. and when the tiring period finally ended… you went on a vacation together, renting a small house in a closed area on the seashore—these hellish months had brought him enough money—and your mouths were mostly busy with other things. 

you, as the one who was getting the most exhausted—but satisfied, and yeonjun always made sure you were it—after these ‘other things’, were falling asleep early, snuggled against his side, your soft breathing warm on his bare chest, as he played with your hair or caressed the love marks and reddened skin, appreciating the trust you were giving him. but whatever he was doing, was always happening almost automatically, as his mind was occupied with the thoughts of how truly fucked up he was now for not telling you earlier, because he had absolutely no idea how to let you know that you didn’t have to be anxious of any of you meeting your soulmate anymore. 

yeonjun tried to convince himself that the right moment just hadn’t come yet, and if there was a ‘right moment’ it wasn’t perfect. so yeonjun waited. and waited. and waited some more, until it was too late already, and the only thing that was left was to admit that it wasn’t about a right or perfect moment. he was afraid. of your reaction—you might start overthinking, questioning the reality of your feelings; of the way it'd affect what you had—it already was absolutely perfect, and trying to make it ‘better’... might only ruin everything. 

but more than anything yeonjun feared repeating the past. when you were sleeping so peacefully on his chest, making him feel like the happiest person in the universe, he couldn't help but recall the night when it felt like his whole world had burned to ashes, because at these moments everything around the two of you seemed and felt the same. what if he was mistaken? what if it was just a coincidence? what if the sting he felt wasn't because of the bond at all? the further that day went into the past, the more he doubted it—the more ‘what it's started appearing in his head. 

and if yeonjun was wrong, he'd live through it easily—loving you the same as he had loved before that day, and the same as he loved you now, which had always been easy. but if he told you and it turned out to be a mistake… he felt his heart sink as he pulled you a bit closer—he’d be like her. lying about one of the most sacred things and breaking your heart exactly the same way his one had been broken years ago, and it was the wound only you managed to heal. but he knew you’d forgive him, telling him he was just confused and assuring him you’d be too. he just wasn’t sure he would be able to forgive himself. 

so yeonjun stayed silent, despite knowing he was only making it worse in the end. he simply hoped it’d somehow solve itself on its own. it did. and he thought that maybe he should’ve told you everything straight away instead of waiting until fate would force the truth out of him in the worst way possible. 

the vacation was almost over, so you refused to leave the nice water unless you really had to—yeonjun had to basically drag you out when, in his opinion, it was time for you to stop being a little mermaid and walk in the human world for a bit. he still kept you company in the water too, enjoying swimming just as much, but he tried to look out for you—mostly because he cared, but partly because he wanted to spoil you by doing everything for you so you didn't have to leave the water.

yeonjun wanted to bring you cherries that time—they were tasty, the tastiest you both tried that season, and, oh, so juicy, you could never stop yourselves from trying to help each other clean what was left on your lips. it never failed to lead to something more, so he was eager to bring another bowl of cherries to put on the dock for both of you to enjoy them and, perhaps, each other. eager and careless.

you both had no idea how it happened. one second yeonjun was peppering kisses all over your face, his fingers caressing the skin of your ass under you swimwear, as he murmured he’d be back soon as that you should wait patiently and be a good girl; and the next second, maybe the dock was too slick from the way you’d played around splashing each other near it, maybe he was too distracted by thoughts of what you two could do on the last day of vacation, but as he pushed himself up on the dock, his left hand slipped, and his right wrist bent at an awkward angle, trying to hold his weight. 

the pain wasn’t unbearable—yeonjun experienced worse when he barely cared about his health and well-being while trying to drown himself in dancing years ago—ankles, wrists, fingers. so he cursed with a groan, falling back into the water and wrapping fingers around the sprained wrist. and then, his brain registered something he had ignored because of the unexpected pain just seconds ago—your yelp that slowly turned into a sob behind his back. he turned around in a rush, his instinct to protect you flaring up until he saw you holding your right wrist the way he was holding his. cold shivers ran down his spine—he was right. and the pain wasn’t too bad because you took half of it. 

you were scared more than in pain—much more—and just a glance at you was enough for yeonjun to know that. he swam closer to you, careful with his wrist as he wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to calm you down, even though you were simply frozen—he knew that you’d go through it (and through anything, actually) easier in his arms. he didn’t say anything, unlike his usual whispers of praises and support, didn’t caress your back or play with your hair. he simply held you, letting you get your head around what had just happened.

your brain was on overdrive to find a logical explanation for what had happened, refusing to acknowledge that there was only one. “i… i’m just empathic,” you said quietly, your voice shaky. “i… i saw you and… and felt the same, and…”

yeonjun tightened his hold, as if trying to shield you better. “you are, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “but it’s not the reason.” 

it felt like your mind, heart and soul were a mess—you had no idea what you were supposed to feel or think, and what you actually felt and thought. you couldn’t grasp even one thought—they kept on flashing in your mind, blending into an unrecognizable mess, as if you were on some broken carousel—let alone decipher what you felt. you couldn’t even put the very basics into words to ask for yeonjun’s help. gosh, you weren’t sure that you understood the situation right. all of that just made the fuse go off, and you slipped into apathy. 

yeonjun felt your hold on his waist relax, and leaned back a bit, studying your face. “baby, are you okay?” he whispered, his left hand cupping your cheek and lifting your head so you looked him in the eyes. “does it hurt too bad?” he asked, despite knowing that you felt the same as he did, the bond giving you half of what he was supposed to feel.

“huh?” you blinked a few times trying to focus on his eyes, his face worried. “i…” you looked down at your slightly throbbing wrist, before looking back up. “not… not next to you…” you pressed your lips together before continuing. “we should call a taxi to take you to the hospital,” you said quietly, almost without any emotion. 

yeonjun hated himself for putting you in that state. he should’ve told you earlier, you were supposed to find out from him, and in other circumstances—the ones where he would’ve had the opportunity to comfort you properly. “it’s okay, mouse,” he murmured into your skin, lips pressed to your forehead. “it’s not the first time it’s happened. we have ice, so i’ll make an ice pack, and i brought an elastic bandage,” he looked at your slightly puzzled expression, and continued with a chuckle. “just in case.”

you replied with a small nod of acknowledgement and a quiet ‘okay’, your head still blank. it probably was a dream. yeonjun probably fucked you so well before you fell asleep, that your mind just decided no one except the one destined for you could do it, so it makes him one. yeah, it was probably that. when you woke up, you’d tell him what happened in your dream, and you’d laugh together at how ridiculous it was. because—pfft—it was absolutely ridiculous. wouldn’t you have noticed earlier? of course, you would! so it meant you were just asleep, and that throbbing pain in your wrist was… just an uncomfortable position?...

you still acted according to the dream, helping yeonjun get out of water and make an ice pack with ice and a towel, pressing it to his slightly swollen wrist and sitting next to him. you felt a bit better now, as your mind was convinced you were just sleeping, but the dream didn’t want to end, neither when you helped yeonjun put the bandage on, tying it a bit too tight and making you both flinch uncomfortably, nor when you decided to make pizza so he didn’t have to bother with trying to eat with his left hand and almost burned yourself on the cheese. 

you pressed your lips together, gathering courage, as your head rested on yeonjun’s chest after the dinner. “it’s not a dream, is it?” you asked quietly, your question a mere whisper. 

his heart skipped a beat—so that’s why you were so calm. you thought it wasn’t real. “no, baby,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. “it’s not,” he managed to get the words out, knowing what you were going to say next. he just hoped you wouldn't be mad.

you nodded hesitantly, lickling your dry lips. “you didn’t seem surprised,” you mumbled, still not completely sure if you were talking about the same thing, but too scared to say it out loud. what if he meant something else? or worse—exactly that. but… was it ‘worse’ though?.. 

yeonjun took a deep breath—here it came. it’d either make you two basically inseparable or burn everything to ashes because he betrayed your trust. “after the fight, when you went to that bouquet-making class… i felt it,” he confessed, and it felt like even his heart stopped beating because he was afraid to miss your answer. but you replied with a quiet ‘oh’—nothing else—and yeonjun realized he’d prefer you be mad than so quiet. “you don’t have to…” he took a shaky breath, “to stay because of the bond. if you want to leave—”

you clenched your teeth—your brain went into overdrive again, trying to place all the puzzles together, and yeonjun wasn’t making it better. why would he tell you that? did he want you to leave? no, he couldn’t. not your yeonjun. you sniffled, nuzzling into him. “no, i don’t. just shut up, please,” you squeezed your eyes, as the tangled ball of your emotions started unraveling itself in the form of tears. “i don't want to think about not being with you,” you sniffled again as those thoughts started filling your head anyway. “not now. and not ever. but if you want me to leave—”

yeonjun felt like he was punched into gut at the thought of him ever wanting you to leave. he tightened his arm around you, and content shivers ran down his back when you snuggled closer, showing him you wanted to stay with him despite all of his mistakes. “i don't. never,” he whispered into your hair. “i’d handcuff you to myself and throw away the keys if i could,” he murmured, but immediately froze, realizing what he had just said. was it too much?..

but you only chuckled into his neck through tears. “why would we need two pairs of handcuffs?” you asked, your giggles warm against his neck. “but if you want, we could be using the ones you choose, not me.”

yeonjun shifted a bit, hinting at wanting to change position, and you sat on his lap before helping him sit up too. he immediately wrapped arms around you, his face in your neck, peppering kisses everywhere he could reach. “you’re a menace, my love,” he murmured, the uninjured hand getting under your t-shirt, caressing the skin of your lower back. “the sweetest, the most angelic menace the world have ever seen,” he lowered his hand to squeeze your ass before slapping it lightly to hint at you to move closer.

you moaned, obeying and immediately feeling how hard he was, your eyes rolling back. “jjun,” you moaned out, as his kisses turned into gentle nibbles. “y-your hand…”

yeonjun’s chuckle was breathy against your neck as he slipped fingers under the leg opening of your panties, digging his nails into the soft skin of your butt. “your hips are moving like they don’t care,” he whispered into your ear, making you shudder, as you realized you’d been grinding on him all that time. “it’s okay, baby, i’ll guide you,” he moved his hand between your legs, hissing at the accidental touch to his dick, and moved your panties to the side, immediately feeling how wet you were. “gosh, you make me lose my mind every time i feel how fast you get wet,” he said, voice hoarse, before sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, making you arch your back.

“i-it’s you, jjun—” you choked out a moan, feeling his fingers part your folds to teasingly caress your clit, as he whispered a soft ‘yeah?’ before quickly returning to your neck to leave more bites. you knew he enjoyed hearing you talk while he tortured you—he loved seeing how little it always took you to lose the ability to form coherent sentences when you were with him, and you wanted nothing more than to talk. “just you,” you choked out as he pushed his finger inside, moving it in and out gently—too gently. it only took you one thought, and he withdrew his finger, making you whine. “you drive me—oh g-gosh!—crazy,” you whimpered, the wet sound of him slapping your pussy loud and embarrassing. 

yeonjun chuckled at the way you tried to hide in his shoulder. “you’re absolutely drenched, baby,” he whispered mockingly into the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “so wet and ready for me. always so eager,” he murmured, pushing two of his fingers inside again and scissoring them, your whimpery moans music to his ears. “tell me, angel, do you always get this way when i’m around? always thinking of my cock, aren’t you?” 

you could only whimper in response, your body squirming on his lap, as his fingers curled inside you. he rarely used left hand for fingering you, so now his every move was a bit less controlled, making your head spin, as you arched your back pressing your chest into his. he wasn’t satisfied with you, though, stopping his movements, and you whimpered trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. you knew he wanted you to answer, but his fingers had always felt so good inside, and now especially—it was nearly impossible to stop. 

shit, yeonjun thought. he really needed the second hand for the moments when you were a brat—to grab your neck, slap your thigh or just simply stop your hips without having to withdraw his fingers. he knew you were perfectly aware of what he wanted, but decided to misbehave. “answer,” he said firmly, smirking at the way you clenched around his fingers at his tone—his baby loved being ordered around.

you whined quietly, stilling your hips and trying to gather your thoughts, as yeonjun’s thumb caressed your folds so close to your clit just to make it a bit harder for you. “i d-do… always so needy, always thinking of you,” you mewled, tightening your arms around his shoulders, his warmth sipping into you in the nicest way possible. “you’re always on my mind…” you added quieter, biting into your lip trying to keep the sniffle inside.

yeonjun immediately felt the way your mood changed—even before you finished the sentence—and he slowly withdrew his fingers, quickly wiping them on his thigh—he hated wasting something so sweet and mind-blowingly delicious, but that was the furthest possible moment from the right one. “it’s okay, mouse,” he hushed you, wrapping both of his arms around your middle. “i’m always thinking of you too. of how happy you make me, of how happy i want to make you,” he whispered, slowly lying back down and tugging you with him. 

“i’m sorry,” you sniffled, hiding your face in his neck. why couldn't you be just a bit less of a crybaby—at least for once? at least not when your man was painfully hard. “i ruined the mood,” you mumbled, your fingers clenching the fabric of his tank top on his chest. “and keep ruining it.”

“you did everything right, darling,” yeonjun murmured softly, his hand combing through your hair. “i know i would get carried away eventually and try to grab you with my right hand,” he tilted your head a bit, pushing your chin up to press lips to your forehead. “and i'd hate to hurt you like that,” he murmured, then pushed your chin up a bit more, and you, catching the hint, pressed lips to his softly, making him smile into the kiss. “see?” he whispered, not moving away an inch. “you're so smart. you always know what i want.”

“can we take our time, please?” you asked quietly, looking up at yeonjun, as he moved your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a puzzled expression. “all that… soulmates thing. i'm still so confused…” you admitted, ashamed. not even because you were postponing talking about it, but because you felt so unbelievably dumb for not noticing it earlier—the way yeonjun just fit right in into you life, mind, heart and soul, as if there was a place shaped exactly for him and no one else, made it pretty obvious. 

yeonjun's heart melted—it always did when you admited something people might consider embarrassing. he cherished your trust more than anything. “of course, darling. just start whenever, wherever and however you're ready,” he paused for a second before his lips stretched out in a foxy smile. “even if you'll wake me up at 6 a.m. on sunday,” he added quieter, as if sharing a big secret. “because i love you.”

you snuggled into his side, nuzzling face into his chest. “i love you too,” you whispered. “more than my heart can take,” your mumble was almost unheard, but yeonjun tightened his hold on your waist for a second, showing appreciation. “i don't know what i feel about all of that, but…” you bit your lip nervously, and he froze, worried about what you were going to say. “i know i want to be with you. no matter what.”

“thank you,” yeonjun whispered, his heart beating faster. maybe, it was obvious by the way you were nearly lying on top of him, constantly trying to snuggle closer. maybe it was obvious by the way you didn't leave when you found out he had known for a month and hadn't told you. but he needed that clarification as much as air and almost as much as he needed you. “and don't think about not noticing earlier, okay?” he said, as if reading your mind. “it wasn't that obvious as it feels it was,” he caressed the soft skin on your lower back, sending shivers all over your body, as you replied with a quiet ‘okay’. “good girl.”

a few weeks had passed when you were finally ready to talk about it, as the thoughts, feelings and emotions had finally settled down in your chest and you could try to organize them in some way. you didn't know why you had reacted that way—going into denial and pretending it didn't exist for weeks. it wasn't a big deal at all, as it barely changed anything. if anything, it only saved you from all the midnight anxieties and midday worries about one of you meeting their soulmate—you both already had. long ago and in the best way possible.

of course, you didn't wake yeonjun up at 6 a.m. on sunday to talk about it—on sleepless sundays at 6 a.m. you were usually busy with something else—you simply started the conversation while cuddling on the couch and watching a movie. warmth spilled inside your chest as you realized how ‘serious conversation’ had changed throughout the year—starting at the table while eating dinner, drifting into cozily sitting on the couch facing each other, and eventually ending up just cuddling, where there was no need to see each other's faces anymore—you felt everything.

when you apologized, yeonjun playfully slapped your thigh, saying that even if you decided to never talk about it, it wouldn't change anything between you or about the bond, and he'd never mention it either, simply trying to lessen all the possible injuries because he never wanted to hurt you. you murmured that it would be the same for you, but you just didn't want him to think you had kept quiet because you’d had a change of heart—you hadn’t and you never would.

“why did you feel it then?” you asked quietly, gently tracing random patterns on his chest with your nail. “the cuts from the roses, i mean,” you added even quieter, unsure if he even had an answer. you knew he had spent years researching the bond, but it wasn’t easy to find the wild roses soulmates who had met each other—or, it turned out, recognized each other—and wanted to talk about it, so maybe he didn’t exactly know the way it worked. “it’s fine if you don’t know.”

yeonjun shook his head. “i’ve been thinking about it for the whole month,” he admitted. “and i feel like my solution is so easy, that it can’t be true, because none of the wild roses i talked to ever mentioned it to me,” he paused but shook his head. “but maybe they barely fight… it was our first fight, and it happened… three? four months in?”

you leaned up on his chest a bit, his words picking your interest immediately. yeonjun kept surprising you when it came to researching the bond—he never seemed like someone who would hunch over books and a laptop, making notes on every little important thing he found about the wild roses soulmates, or spend sleepless nights reflecting on everything he knew and brainstorming. you still had a hard time imagining university student yeonjun, who had done all of that while majoring in arts and being a really good student.

“so, the second rule in fleur de destin was about distance, right?” yeonjun looked at your nod, and lost the trail of thought—you were looking at him like that again. like he was the smartest person you had ever met. like he was about to turn your whole world upside down, and you couldn’t wait for it, like it was the most expensive gift. he knew he’d never be able to live without it now that he had tasted it. he cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. “it doesn’t say ‘soulmates’ or ‘wild roses’, it says ‘souls’. the reflection of pain increases with the distance between souls to make them want to lessen it.”

it felt like the thought had appeared in your head on its own, and it was earth-shattering. “it’s not about bodies, it’s about souls,” you mumbled, your eyes widening, mouth slightly open. it made perfect sense—it was so simple yet so genius at the same time. he was a genius. 

yeonjun couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pecking your lips quickly, pulling you out of your monumental discovery and your admiration for him. you gave him a soft slap to the chest for making you flustered, but it only made him want to fluster you more, yet he still tried to keep himself in check. “it’s also about souls,” he corrected. “i think, while we had no emotional connection, it was about the distance between our bodies, which was… not so far?” he said uncertainly. “considering we were neighbours.”

you nodded a few times, the thought continuing to unravel in your head. “but when we got one, the distance between our souls started to matter too,” you picked up his thought—it felt like you were slowly untangling a ball of threads, and yeonjun watched you, ready to help any moment, as he had long since unraveled his own. “and we…” you paused, pressing your lips together, memories of the stupid, completely unnecessary fight resurfacing. 

“and we had a fight,” he finished for you, cupping your cheek. “and there’s nothing wrong or bad about it,” he pecked your lips. “you helped me see that i was unfair to both of us and what we have,” he watched the way you pressed your lips together harder, trying to believe him. “there’s nothing wrong with fighting if we talk it out and learn to be better, okay?”

you pouted. “okay… why are you so… blue?” you tried to tease him, but it didn’t quite sound like it—more like a childish attempt at offence. 

but yeonjun only chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours—he knew it was a compliment and a sign of gratitude. he knew you like the back of his hand. “because my baby needs me to be blue right now,” he whispered. “and i’ll be anything she needs,” he pressed his lips to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other tugged at your leg,, guiding you to straddle his lap. he deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against your lower lip, but even before you could part your lips, he leaned back slightly with a quiet curse. “sorry. you’re so distracting…” he whispered, breath warm against your lips.

you tried to clear the fog that almost immediately filled your brain—the effect yeonjun had on you was outstanding. “you’re no better,” you murmured, still struggling to tear your gaze away from his lips, stretched so beautifully in that knowing half-smirk, half-smile. you loved it when he looked like a cat who had just stolen the biggest fish. “i…” you shook your head, trying to refocus. “uh, i wanted to ask why you didn’t say earlier,” you admitted, finally looking him in the eyes. 

“oh…” yeonjun licked his lips nervously. “at first, i had no idea how to tell you,” he confessed, running his fingers through his hair. “and it was getting worse with every passing day because then i had to explain why i hadn't said earlier. and then…” he paused, memories filling his mind—fear of rejection, of getting his heart broken, and worst of all—of being a liar. “i was scared. scared of ruining everything and of your reaction. and…” he let out a shaky breath. you pecked the corner of his lips trying to give him a bit of strength, and he smiled tiredly. “and it felt more and more like misinterpretation.”

“i know,” you whispered. “i feel the same now… it doesn’t feel real, even though the way i felt you spraining your wrist was more than real,” you said, laying your head back on his chest.

yeonjun sighed—the guilt was almost as strong as it had been on the first day. he just couldn’t believe he hurt you because of his own carelessness. “i’m still so sorry for that…” he murmured, wrapping his fingers gently around your right wrist and caressing it with his thumb, before bringing it to his lips.

you shook your head. “i’m happy i could take half of your pain away. remember the third rule? ‘taking half of the pain of your lover is a blessing, desired by many’,” you reminded him, despite perfectly knowing he knew these rules by heart in both languages. “it was much easier when i was next to you,” you admitted. “it was… the one i couldn’t understand along with the fourth rule. fifth? ‘when they’re truly close, pain subsides and pleasure grows instead’?” you asked, and yeonjun nodded, chuckling at your rough translation, but you continued. “and you looked hella hot in the wrist bandage,” you teased, earning a chuckle. 

“you’re always so horny, darling,” he laughed, squeezing your thigh.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, making sure he saw it. “i wouldn’t be, if you weren’t always so irresistibly hot, choi yeonjun,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out, and he laughed, shaking his head. but there was still one thing that you couldn’t get out of your head—you’ve been dating for so long, yet you’d never properly seen his soulmate mark, too scared to wander into something so intimate, especially if it connected him to someone else. but now… “can i…” you cleared your throat. “can i look at your mark now?”

yeonjun froze—he had never realized he hadn’t ever shown it to you properly, except for teasing you every time you looked away when he was changing, “baby…” he cupped your chin. “you could’ve asked it half a year ago, and i’d have undressed faster than ever,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, before sitting up. he lifted his arms to tug the tank top off before pausing for a second to peck your lips. “have i told you you’re breathtaking in the last five minutes? i feel like i’m failing in my duty of being a man worthy of you.”

you felt your cheeks heat up as you pinched yeonjun’s arm, crawling away from his lap to give him space to take his tank top off and turn around. you weren't surprised when he made a show of tugging it of, making sure you saw his muscles at the best angle, but you were more than thankful, your eyes glued to his arms as you nearly felt your mouth fill with saliva. he smiled smugly—the way you openly and sincerely fed his ego on a regular basis… no one could fight his insecurities the way you did. he made a mental note to make sure you were thoroughly aware of how thankful he was that evening.

surprisingly, yeonjun felt… completely okay with showing you the mark. he expected to feel exposed and uncomfortable, but instead, he was calmer than he had ever been when it came to the mark, simply letting you explore it. you, on the other hand, were far from calm, your heart pounding like crazy. the second you saw the mark, you were sure you forgot how to breathe for a moment. you traced it slowly with the tip of your finger, your hand trembling. it was so, so close… if only you had been a bit more brave and asked earlier…

you let out a shaky breath, sure your voice would tremble as bad as your hand. “jjun, can you… stand up, please?” you asked quietly, and yeonjun threw a puzzled look at you over his shoulder but stood up nevertheless as you followed him, tugging your t-shirt away. 

he didn’t even have time to ask you anything before you wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed yourself to his back, his hands subconsciously covering yours on his stomach. he loved it when you hugged him like that—usually sleepily nuzzling into his shoulder, not wanting to be far from him as he cooked breakfast early in the morning—but now, your heart was racing, and he felt it perfectly against his back. he almost turned around to ask you what was wrong, but you broke the silence earlier.

“they align, jjun,” you whispered into his skin, and he instantly understood why your heart was beating so fast. there were myths about aligning marks, but none of the wild roses ever mentioned it, so he had brushed it off as another lie without a second thought, never even considering checking it with you. “so…” you swallowed thickly. “is it enough to… be sure we’re soulmates?” 

your voice sounded so small, almost scared, that yeonjun immediately turned around in your hold, wrapping his arms around you, both of your hearts now beating in sync—the hearts of soulmates, confirmed at last. “you should rest, mouse,” he murmured into your hair. “let’s go to bed, and continue later,” he said, feeling your nod as he grabbed your t-shirt from the couch, helping you put it on and leading you to the bedroom. 

yeonjun knew you were overwhelmed—even though the news wasn't exactly new, and it was definitely good news,it was still too good, too much to process all at once. he had gone through it already—it felt like shedding the heaviest weight you had carried on your chest your whole life, but the problem was, you had learned to live with it, learned to breathe with it, and now, when it was finally gone, each breath made uncontrollably came too freely, too strongly, giving you more oxygen than you needed, making your head spin; and it was taking too much strength to control each one. but he was more than happy to help you find a new way to breathe.

when yeonjun laid down and you clung to him without wasting a second, he chuckled, pulling you closer. he reached for the nightlight on the bedside table, realizing he had forgotten to turn it off a few hours ago. his hand found the book instead, and he paused before wrapping his fingers around it, taking it with him.. “darling, can i tell you something?” he asked, not wanting to overwhelm you more without your permission. “it's about the book, though.”

you murmured a quiet ‘yes’ into his neck, trying your best to stay awake and listen to him. you didn't really want to think about anything even remotely connected to soulmates right now, but you also knew that yeonjun had always known your limits like the back of his hand. whatever he had to say wouldn’t disturb you or make you feel like too much—you were sure of that. still, you nuzzled closer, just in case you were a bit less stable than either of you expected. and he was warm, softer after the vacation, and you simply wouldn’t leave his side if you could help it.

“so i bought that copy of fleur de destine from a library,” yeonjun started and, before you could point out that libraries usually don't sell books, added. “let's just say i paid a really bad late fee for being overdue on my whole life,” he explained, your soft sleepy laugh being the most beautiful song to his ears. “and when i was looking through it for the first time, i found a folded paper tucked between pages…”

yeonjun saw it as if it had happened just yesterday. he had just started researching about his bond after returning home and only wanted that book for the page about wild roses, since it was believed that despite the bond having only five rules there, each one was completely true. the book was so beautiful, though, that he ended up looking through it fully—he only translated the wild rose passage, but the rest was aesthetically pleasing. and then, between the pages about the daisies bond, he found a little note. the translation was terrible—it hadn’t taken much for him to put two and two together and realize it was written by a child—but it was undoubtedly about his bond. 

the note became just as important as the book, if not more—whenever he thought he couldn’t continue researching because his head pounded with how much information there was and how actually little of it had at least some value, whenever he got angry at yet another so-called fact turning out to be a myth, whenever he just wanted to give up, he looked at the note. at the simple words written by a child’s hand, trying to translate an old-fashioned french—both in language and meaning—into something they could understand. he was almost certain half of it barely made sense to them, but they hadn’t given up. and he, a grown-up with anything he could possibly need basically at the tip of his fingers, couldn’t give up either. 

yeonjun barely remembered the way things had been translated there—the correct translation had long since replaced the child’s work—and the note was tucked back between the pages where he had found it. he never forgot it, though, sometimes pulling himself up from the lowest moments of his life solely by the thought of some child who had been dedicated enough to finish a task that probably seemed impossible. 

your eyes were closed, but you still listened to the story attentively, cherishing each one of the stories from yeonjun’s past and not wanting to miss a single one. your peaceful listening was disturbed, though, when he started sitting up, shifting your legs across his lap and tugging you closer so your shoulder rested under his arm. you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his shoulder and getting ready to listen further. 

yeonjun opened the book on your lap, taking out the folded paper but setting it aside as he flipped to the endpaper, where a small envelope was glued, holding the names of everyone who had borrowed the book. “usually, these lists stick out, right?” he asked, and you murmured a quiet ‘yes’, having a hard time keeping your eyes open and focusing on a bunch of yellow-ish papers in the dim room. “and i thought for a really long time that they took it out before giving me the book,” he said, grabbing the tweezers from the bedside table and carefully pushing them into the envelope to fish out the tiny paper. the action fully woke you up. “but a few days ago, i found out it was just too small and had been pushed inside.”

you knew the action too well—when you put your name on the paper in the copy you borrowed, you had accidentally pushed it too deep inside. the librarian had to hunt for tweezers to pull it out, grumbling the entire time, and maybe a few more times whenever you visited the library after that. but it couldn’t be your copy, could it?.. you took the paper carefully from yeonjun’s hand, looking at your own name written last in your handwriting.

“so…” yeonjun started, picking up the folded paper and holding it out to you. you took the note, carefully opening it, eyes quickly running over the lines. “i think it’s rightfully yours?” he watched as your fingers traced the old writing on the torn-out page from a school notebook.

when you had written it, you were full of hope—hope to meet your soulmate, to ask them about each bruise and scratch you had felt, to tell them about each of yours, because somehow, you had been completely sure they’d be interested to know the way your mom didn’t even scold you anymore for scraping your knees on the asphalt, especially after they had healed and reopened for the third time, and you had thought your clumsiness was funny. you had planned to ask them who their favourite power ranger and pokémon were, and probably tease them for being so basic about choosing red and pikachu. 

you smiled at the memories—how silly and childish it all was. and now, here you were, snuggled against your soulmate, reading a translation that felt like the worst work of your life, while his lips pressed gently to your temple, murmuring words of love and gratitude into your skin.

“you were helping me stay afloat in the worst moments of my life for so long…” yeonjun murmured, his hand caressing your thigh, kisses moving lower by the side of your face until he pressed his lips right under your jaw. “keep me afloat til the end of our days? i promise to do the same and much more for you,” he whispered, peppering kisses over the column of your neck, as his hand moved between your legs. 

“do wild roses die at the same time?” you asked, the question more of a thought out loud, but yeonjun froze before letting out a chuckle into your neck, making you giggle at the tickling feeling.

“baby, you’re being horny when we’re talking about my sprained wrist that hurt you, and think about death when i’m ungodly close to flipping you over and making you go dumb for my cock long before i touch you even with my fingers.” 

you pouted, parting your thighs and making more room for his hand—he immediately got the hint, tracing the outline of your pussy through thin, already wet fabric and making you gasp softly. “i—i can be horny too! can you imagine how many times you can make me go dumb for your cock? and in how many ways?” 

yeonjun groaned a rough ‘menace’ into your neck and pushed you down, making you lie across the bed, as he towered over you, quickly tugging your panties off and throwing them somewhere—tonight he was going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, not some stupid fabric. “i’m starting tonight,” he promised, pushing your t-shirt up to your neck to fully open the mark on your chest, groaning at the sight of a few layers of his marks, new and bright over the old fading ones, before continuing, “and i’m making a list, baby.” 

you whimpered at the way he had bitten into the skin on your ribs, arching your back, as he moved his bites lower. “can i—ah!—choose favourites?” you squeaked, as he slapped the thigh he put on his shoulder, before biting into the soft flesh inside of it and working on a mark.

yeonjun murmured something in thoughts, before shrugging and pressing his lips to your pelvis. “you can, but i know you’ll choose the ones that make you go dumb the fastest,” he chuckled, digging nails into your thigh and waist, as he watched the way you arched your back so beautifully. he was going to absolutely ruin you now. “which are my favourites. but it’s obvious. we’re soulmates after all.”

← to chapter 2 | ♡ you're here ♡

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[nelyoslegalteam]

please tell me about your dnd campaign, stranger

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi do you have any idea how happy i am to get this ask. you have activated my trap card this is going to be SO long i am sorry in advance but The People Need To Know About My D&D Campaign.

so we’re playing in Adventures in Middle Earth, which is. supposedly a Tolkienverse-specific 5e mod but frankly it’s robust enough to fully count as its own system if you ask me. like it has its own guidebooks, character sheets, premade adventures, and features mechanics that 5e just straight up doesn’t have. it’s like if 5e were actually good. anyway. may i present to you:

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ The Mirkwood Campaign ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

so what, exactly, happened in the intervening years between the events of the Hobbit and LOTR? we did, BAYBEEEEEE!!

we are:

Murdoc, a hobbitish warden (adventures in middle earth’s version of a bard), played by yours truly!! raised in the shire and eventually moved out to the middle of mirkwood by an eccentric uncle who idolizes bilbo baggins, murdoc is the heir apparent to the brandybuck family inn. unfortunately for murdoc, he has developed extremely nasty prophetic dreams and is now burdened with the ability to see the future! a skill that has definitely left him with a very normal relationship to his new day job of Being An Adventurer!! i am unhinged and have uh. Talked About Him A LOT If You Care To Read This, but he is full of murderous rage and also tea and loves his friends very much. he also, more recently, surrendered himself as bait to the great werewolf plaguing mirkwood, trusting completely that his friends would come and save him. he was right. they did. and he lost his right hand in the process. :)

Ríros, an elven warrior (aime version of a fighter), played by @jaz-the-bard. tall, buff, sunshiny, and an absolute himbo. ALSO loves his friends VERY much and this is KEY. unfortunately for ríros, he is a redhead, and that does cause problems in a world where maedhros feänorion once existed. (stranger, i am so sorry if you are not one of my silmarillion regulars and did not know what you were getting into by asking me, a silmarillion blog, to tell you about my d&d campaign, and now have no idea who or what the fuck i am talking about). ríros is notably not maedhros though! he isn't even noldorin!! maedhros is a ghost who lives in his sword (and who is also played by jaz)! and who also maybe kind of accidentally possessed him one time, if you wanna read this here for a better explanation of ríros mostly but also all of the above.

The Bearer, a human slayer (aime barbarian), played by @thymo-leonta. grumpy old man. unwilling father to all these young and stupid adventurers he’s been stuck with. are they all adults? yeah sure. they’re still Children. we are making him go grey. also full of murderous rage. looks like he's running from his perfectly normal, happy, loving family. is actually acutely aware of the fact that he has been doomed to die. killed the werewolf that took murdoc's hand. as a consequence, became the werewolf that took murdoc's hand. has two dogs, both named Dog <3

Déorwyn, a human wanderer (aime ranger), played by @shadowkat2000. resident party Horse Girl. a fellow sufferer of The Bad Prophetic Dreams^TM. because this is not quite unfortunate enough for her, déorwyn Hears Dead People. apparently our GM gives her extra secret bonus ghosts that the rest of us do not hear or know about! this being the source of her foresight makes her pretty distinct from murdoc, despite them both seemingly suffering from the same thing, in ways that i have LOTS of emotions about. her horse is named windrider and Their Bond Is Unbreakable uwu

and @potatoobsessed999, our obligatorily Extremely Ominous GM!

(we are also occasionally joined by Ioreth, a human treasure hunter (aime rogue), whose player is unfortunately not on tumblr. a founding member of the party, has earned the epithet The Feral, mostly loves to hang out in the woods by herself, look for shiny things, and cause chaos. as a beorning, she CAN astral-project herself as a bear. it rules. once got possessed by a ringwraith, probably holds the most compassion for characters who have been through similar out of any of us. is usually covered in mud.)

initially in the employ of radagast the brown, a tenure that did not last due to murdoc's insistence that saruman is evil (i mean. yeah lol.), we're a group of adventurers traveling mirkwood with the aim to defend it as sauron slowly gathers power. we are

very

successful at the Fighting And Killing Things part of this

we specialize in:

lugging unconscious bodies through the woods!

lugging DEAD bodies through the woods!

lugging EACH OTHER'S bodies through the woods!

lugging things through the woods in general!

setting things on fire (usually murdoc's fault)!

making fun of our enemies so bad they just give up!

INCLUDING the ringwraiths (shoutout to ríros)!

serving annoying politicians subpoenas!

murdering them like the one time it was totally justified we promise!

accidentally convincing the council of mirkwood that murdoc's inn is a small fiefdom!

being generally cursed (except for ríros) (he just looks that way)!

HIRE US to take care of whatever problems are happening in YOUR local cursed forest! wights? patricidal politicians? generally awful politicians? sauron? the same fucking werewolf again? it's definitely just tuesday to us!

you can count on

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ the union of murdoc ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

anyhow, jaz is absolutely wonderful and has written several fics of our party, including (but not limited to):

Cooking Contest for the Free Peoples, based on an in-game conversation about beating sauron at competitive cooking,

In Which There Are More Ghosts, which is not canon to game but is in fact Extremely Representative of the exact kind of nonsense we get up to (campaign's haunted),

A Stranger With a Friend's Face, a canon to game horror story of how ríros got slightly possessed, the party acquired maedhros, and neither murdoc nor déorwyn managed to explain the presence of the vengeful ghost residing in murdoc's scepter and bullying him in his dreams to any of the rest of the party right up until this very moment,

and this wonderful drabble from the horror arc in which we were isolated inside of a haunted longhouse. complete with party memes here.

there's more, and i am going to a.) pick on jaz to add them if they can find them, and b.) pick on my beloved friends in general to Please Help Me Infodump About our Game!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Top to Bottom, Left to Right: Murdoc, the Bearer, Déorwyn, Ríros, Ioreth]

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Your previous post regarding burnout really resonates with me as I'm currently struggling through a mountain's worth of uni assignments.

I hopeyou're being compassionate to yourself where you can. I know you rely on your writing for income but ould cutting down to working on only 2 or 3 fics instead be a viable solution?

Because longterm I don't think that even your insanely impressive skills can hold up to that kind of pressure.

Maybe if you cut back a little you'll be able to enjoy your hobbies again and rest a little more.

I know that I'm not the only reader that wants you to take care of yourself x

Hi anon,

Firstly, good luck with all those assignments! I do not miss the grind of uni when all the assignments suddenly seem due at the same time and it's like 'oh fuck' and it just...is truly exhausting. Remember to take a break after if you can!

I am trying to be compassionate where I can. Working on expanding my capacity / juice left in the tank is actually a big priority with both therapists this year, and it's something I'm actively chipping away at.

Unfortunately cutting down fics is not really something I can do because it would personally stress me out more to put a lot of things on hiatus like that. Underline the Red is already on hiatus, and The Nascent Diplomat on my end is finished, and I'll take a few months off after that before starting the next installment.

Ideally I will be finishing out some fics that will clear my calendar a bit more over time. For example, A Stain that Won't Dissolve won't last forever, and isn't going to be replaced by anything new (Palmarosa will likely slot into that space and I'll be able to work on it more). Underline the Black will be replaced by Underline the Red, and Blue and Gold will be replaced by Underline the Silver.

Eventually, ideally, I'll be working on a smaller and smaller load until I'm at about 2-4 projects (which is how I used to work). Also quite a few of my projects only update once a month or every few months, and that helps a lot. It's just that I have too many fics where I'm on a more regular schedule (Stain, Palm, Black) and normally I only have one or two fics that are on a more regular schedule, so yeah, I am looking forward to that slowing down!

But putting something on hiatus just makes me feel more burdened and overwhelmed than knowing I'm getting closer and closer to wrapping something up. It's just how my brain works! I am a finisher, and while that's really good for not abandoning projects (which is extremely rare for me and tends to only be very short projects or PWPs which I will turn away from), it's less good when I have too many projects lmao. I've gotten better at holding back (there's three fics I'm dying to write right now, which is an Efnisien/Kadek fic that I've already started but not posted anything of, Silver, and Red).

So yeah, I will be cutting back. I've already started. The Nascent Diplomat is no longer on my schedule, which means for the next 3 months while it's still posting, I don't have to write anything for it. That's lovely because I can still share in that world with no extra labour (it's edited and everything). Likewise, Stain and Black are both in their last act/s now. That's still a lot of chapters for both, but it feels good for me to know that both will likely be finished out this year.

But we are getting there! So yeah the view is to cut down on projects, but organically (by finishing out stories and not replacing every single one with new titles, only some of them) rather than forcefully via hiatuses. I mean obviously if I get too sick I will have to go on hiatus and I've done that before, but so far it's looking like I've written enough chapters ahead (most of May is written) that I can take about 2 weeks off from writing in April, and that will help a great deal as well. :)

Anyway, take care with your assignments too! I do not miss that part of uni at all