#i think that's the first time i get to use that tag for him... might need to go back and edit previous posts

[sortagaysortahigh]

Slim Pickins | Joaquin Torres x Reader

A/N: omg guys im so glad ts is over, yall know I love reading fluff but writing fluff is a whole other ballgame for me. However, i had fun writing most of this, very dialogue heavy, friends to lovers/idiots in love, love confessions, all that jazz! Plus my comedic timing is here, idk if its funny tho ngl i might be rereading sections too often. Thank you to chicken @love-chx for beta-ing this for me, i love u chicken <3. Also tagging @anxietyandtacos bc casserole is my biggest supporter in my shitshow writing and i love her <3

Summary: Every Friday for the past few months you've been going on shitty dates, and at this rate, you're convinced that you're either ending this life alone or settling for another douchebag. You can't find a genuinely good guy, it's not like there's one right in front of you or something!

Warnings: 2nd person POV, might be use of y/n honestly i cant remember, Spelling and grammar errors (I am who I am), cursing, mentions of violence, reader does throw things at people, self-deprecating humor and 'I'm gonna kms' humor, reader has a shitty love life, SAMBUCKY SUPREMACY WOOO (implied sambucky intimacy <3), reader does threaten to murder joaquin a few times but it's fine!! they're friends!! SMUT: nasty kissing/makeouts, choking, minor spanking, MATING PRESS WOOOHOO!! (not too detailed), giggly sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, cum eating, squirting, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, spitting, drooling, biting/bruising/hickies, praise, finger sucking

Word Count: 20.1k

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

Ngl guys, I NEED THATT BARK BARK BARK BARK!!!!!, anyways heres the fic:

Every Friday night ended in the same repetitive cycle of disappointment for you, and somehow, someway, you managed to continue the cycle over and over again. 

It was a simple routine, you’d spend the week talking to some random guy from some shitty dating app, or maybe you’d meet him in a random store, at the movies, hell, even a few guys from the Air Force base! You’d text, with the occasional phone call or Facetime sprinkled in. From there they’d ask when you were free, the reply was always ‘this Friday works for me’ because it was your only genuine day off.

From there they’d plan some lackluster date, and of course, like an idiot, you’d go. The date would be horrible from start to finish, they typically fell into three broad categories: The Narcissists, The Idiots, and The Wanna-be heroes. 

Those that fell into the third category were always the worst, mainly because they were overly full of themselves while simultaneously empathetic. It made zero sense to you, then they’d go on long winded tangents about how admirable the work you did was, or how amazing it would be to work side-by-side with heroes like Captain America and the Falcon. Then, after your third attempt of drowning their non-stop talking out with a drink, they’d subtly try to ask for a connection to Sam Wilson or Joaquin Torres.

As if you were the walking LinkedIn for hero networking.

You preferred to listen to the Narcissists constantly talk about themselves while trying to gaslight you into liking and sleeping with them. 

Maybe Joaquin was right and you really were a walking douchebag magnet. 

Tonight was no different, you’d gotten dressed up, opting to gaslight yourself into thinking that maybe things would be different, or the date would be enjoyable, or at the very least you’d get an ounce of good sex for the first time in months. It wasn’t as if there were a million and one options; genuinely good men weren’t actively lining up at your doorstep begging for a chance to take you on a date.

Of course, you’d been on a few dates with guys that seemed as if they were truly good for you and you’d even tried dating some consistently. However, around the one or two month mark, something would click into place and the potential relationship blew up in your face.

There was the guy who’d just finished veterinary school, he had a great relationship with his family, shared a lot of the same ideologies and beliefs as you, loved animals, spent his off-days doing volunteer work, and even knew how to actually do his own taxes. 

Everyone had faith in him—Joaquin and Sam had even nicknamed him ‘the tax guy’. 

Then he’d gotten black out drunk after a concert with you and vented about how much he missed his ex-girlfriend while simultaneously forgetting that you were his current fling. He’d even mentioned that the only reason he really liked you was because you were pretty and the fact that you shared a birthday with his ex so ‘it had to be a sign that she would come back’.

Plus he also said you gave great blowjobs. But that was neither here nor there.

To make matters worse, you had to call his emergency contact to pick him up from your apartment. That emergency contact just happened to be his ex-girlfriend.

To say you had a terrible dating history was an understatement.

Yet here you are, glaring at your own reflection and questioning every second that led up to being stood up in a lackluster fake Italian restaurant in the middle of Washington DC. The drinks were overpriced, you were practically stranded, and the straw that broke the camel's back was your server having the nerve to leave his number on the back of your receipt while he tried to ‘comfort’ you after watching you get stood up.

Said server didn’t look a day older than eighteen, and that was pushing it.

So you did what any responsible twenty-something year old woman would do. You yelled at him, practically screaming at the top of your lungs, made a scene, and then raced to the restroom to look at your angry blurry reflection.

The fitted black dress felt too tight, your heels felt too small, the restaurant was too hot, your skin felt sticky, and your bra was digging into your back to the point that you wanted to cry tears of frustration—not to mention your thong had shrunken in the dryer and was currently clinging to your hips to the point that you were convinced you’d get a rug burn. The icing on the cake. however. was the sound of ‘Rather Be’ by Clean Bandit playing over the bathroom speakers. 

This had to be your personal hell.

It wasn’t long until you were calling someone to pick you up. You sat outside for nearly twenty minutes on top of a random pile of crates that were left outside of the restaurant. The humidity left your hair frizzy and skin moist while you debated on running into moving traffic to end your misery.

Well, you were until a very familiar motorcycle pulled up in front of you. So familiar that you had to do several double takes to process who exactly was on the bike.

Then Joaquin took his helmet off, shaking his head like a dog fresh out of water, and if you had half a mind to actually consider your best friend attractive, then in that moment you would’ve realized that several women walking out of the restaurant stopped to gawk at him, one so drunk that she’d even whistled at him and proceeded to attempt to cat call him.

Sure you noticed them, but it hadn’t ever fazed you. Joaquin was objectively an attractive guy, but you saw him as your friend.That was that. 

It wasn’t as if one day you’d wake up and figure out that you were utterly in love with the guy that had to ask his own mother to make him ‘less spicy’ versions of traditional Mexican dishes.

Joaquin flashed the crowd of women a smile and a wink, but before they could approach him, you practically rushed through the crowd with your jaw clenched, looking like the epitome of irritation.

“Jesus Christ, Cabezona, you look like shit.” He smiled as he spoke, eyes quickly taking your disheveled appearance in. Then he glanced behind you at the few women still looking in his direction, debating on asking for one of their numbers while you pulled the extra helmet out, mumbling a series of curse words under your breath.

“Yeah, no shit. How the hell did you get Buck’s bike?” 

He blinked a few times before looking back at you and nodding. “Oh uh—he’s staying with Sam right now, and I was there when you called me. He said it’d be faster than taking my truck. Besides, I look pretty damn sexy on it, don’t I?” He elbowed you, wiggling his eyebrows up and down while you scoffed.

“Whatever you say, Quino—” Then you paused, now glancing at him, noticing he was looking past you towards the women near the entrance into the shitty restaurant. Then you slowly nodded “—I’m totally cock blocking you aren’t I? Oh my god, Quino! Go—flirt or something, tell them I’m your cousin or something!” 

Joaquin laughed, shaking his head while looking back at you. For a second there was something else in his expression—something you didn’t recognize. But the second you noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s alright, Cabezona. Now c’mon, Bucky’s gonna kill me if I’m not back with this baby in the next half hour. He’s doing paperwork or something with Sam, y’know after Sam’s whole ‘I’m gonna sue you’ fiasco. Now get on the bike.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving him lightly before pulling the helmet on.You glanced down at your dress, shaking your head before struggling to get on the bike without flashing the entire street.

It took a few minutes, and several curse words, alongside grasping onto Joaquin’s side—grip practically bruising as you attempted to slide your dress down lower while your legs practically clung to the sides of the bike. 

“If I flash D.C. my ass, you think people would respect me more?” 

He glanced back at you as he pulled the helmet on, a muffled ‘nope’ leaving his lips.

Then you were instinctively grasping onto his waist, helmet-clad face pressed into his shoulder while you squeezed your eyes shut. It wasn’t your first time on a motorcycle, but you hated it nonetheless. 

You met Sam and Bucky through Clint Barton. It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant meeting, not when Clint had actively tried to kill you during his assassin era, but after managing to clear your name and cut ties with several illegal weapons dealers and mafia-based families worldwide, you needed a job.

That job practically landed in your lap about four years ago when Sam had called Clint for a favor, and you just happened to be exactly what he was looking for. Someone well versed in weapon’s mechanics with enough global intel to land you in the Raft for life. It was a no-brainer to work for Sam Wilson.

Working for Captain America meant you weren’t a criminal, and that was enough to get you to say yes. Then with Sam came Bucky Barnes. Truthfully, you had a theory that anyone who held the shield at one point came with Bucky, even if it was reluctantly. 

You and Bucky bonded fairly quickly, and in a lot of ways, he was like a father to you. Which was odd at first because you’d never had a great relationship with your biological dad, and prior to meeting the former Winter Soldier turned Congressman, you admittedly stated on several occasions that you would’ve fucked him.

However, you would not do that now—you weren’t into the freaky things that Sarah Wilson’s dark romance bookshelf held. Hell, you tried getting into that genre of romance novels, but the second Sarah handed you something by Penelope Douglass, you read three chapters and silently returned the book, opting to re-read Lord of the Rings for the fifth time. 

It’s safe to say you also silently judged Sarah, but then again, when you had nowhere else to go after being practically stranded in Louisiana with Sam, she gave you her couch and for that, you’d forever be grateful—even if she did read kinky freaky books. 

Joaquin laughed at the way you held onto him, and admittedly, it made his heart race a little bit. He always had moments like these, moments when you were a little too physically close for comfort, moments that would tear down the facade that you and him were just friends. That he only wanted to be your best friend, that you weren’t more than that to him.

But he knew you didn’t see him that way, and it didn’t bother him. For the most part, he never really thought about it—but it always crept up on him when he least expected it.

However, the second the bike was parked in the garage under Sam’s building and you practically fell off of it as you attempted to get off, Joaquin was easily snapped out of those thoughts. Now, he was focused on holding his own abdomen as he doubled over in laughter, meanwhile you were leaning against the side of Sam’s suburban, hands braced against the windows while you held yourself up with a panicked expression and unruly hair.

“Stop fucking laughing at me! I’ve had a shitty night, Torres!” You glared at him as you regained your footing, now smoothing out the dress and pointing a singular manicured finger at him.

He nodded a few times, catching his breath while holding in laughs, doing his best not to smile at you as you stormed towards the garage elevators. Arms crossed in front of your chest while you waited for him to catch up—the key fob being the only thing that would get the elevators to actually work.

It took him a few seconds to catch up to you, offering a wide smile while he scanned Sam’s spare key then hit the button for the elevator.

“So, what happened with this guy, uh, the electrician?” 

You scoffed. “No, the electrician was last week’s idiot. This week’s idiot just happened to be mister tortured artist with an obsession with Instagram. Completely stood me up at that shitty restaurant that he recommended. I got like 4 drinks, cost me like thirty bucks, then mister barely old enough to serve alcohol hit on me.” 

Joaquin’s eyes widened, lips rolling inward as he tried not to laugh, he noticed the way you sighed, shoulders slouching lower as you shook your head.

“Laugh. I know you want to—go ahead. Sam’s gonna laugh—he always does. Just let it out now, and the usual ‘I told you so’, I’m all ears.”

The elevator opening caught both of your attention, and he motioned for you to enter first. So you did, then he followed suit before pressing Sam’s floor number. As the doors shut he glanced back over at you, raising a single brow at the sight of you pulling several bobby pins out of your previously curled hair, now it was more of a frizzy disaster.

You held them between your teeth as you took bits and pieces out of the half-up, half-down style you’d spent far too long on. To make matters worse, the heat damage wasn’t even worth it—the asshole you’d gotten all dressed up for didn’t even show up! 

Joaquin held his hand out in front of your mouth, you easily dropped the pins into his palm, then you started handing them to him as you pulled each individual one out of your hair.

“How many are in there?” he looked down at his hand then back at you, slightly concerned.

“Beauty is pain—that’s why my thong is so far up my ass I might be getting a free fucking colonoscopy.” 

Your serious tone had his eyes widening in horror, then he processed your words, and the laughter that he’d previously swallowed down bubbled out. You shook your head at him, still dropping bobby pins into his hand as you rolled your eyes. Meanwhile his laughter echoed off of the metal elevator walls.

Eventually the two of you made it back to Sam’s apartment, your hair now framing your face in an awkward frizzy afro of sorts. But you knew Sam had hair ties somewhere in his apartment for his dates, so you’d just steal from his stash.

When you walked in, both Sam and Bucky paused. They had the perfect view to the front door, watching as you walked in, kicking your heels off with a frustrated pout, meanwhile Joaquin held the door open for you, then followed you inside before locking it behind him.

Sam and Bucky exchanged a singular look. Both struggled to understand how you and Joaquin could be so close and not see one another romantically. It made absolutely no sense to them, you were perfect for one another. Yet somehow, every Friday you went on terrible dates and Joaquin was always the shoulder you’d cry on after the fact.

“So, how was the plumber?”

You scoffed at Sam, glaring at him the second you managed to get the heels fully off of your feet, then you walked into his kitchen, thankful for the open floor plan. Everyone watched as you rummaged through the fridge, finally finding the bottle of mango lemonade that Sam always kept stocked in his fridge for you.

Several months ago you’d forced him to buy one, and now it was a habit.

You were quick to grab a glass from the cabinet beside the fridge, pouring yourself some juice while mumbling a jumbled mixture between English, Russian, and Spanish curse words.

First you took a drink, then you spun around, looking at them.

“It was terrible! That idiot stood me up! What the fuck?” 

Bucky slowly nodded, looking from the tablet in his hand to you. “Have you ever considered that maybe you should take a break from the DC dating scene, I don’t think it’s ever done you any justice. Or just delete the apps. I hear they’re terrible.” 

“Have I considered taking a break from dating? Well Grandpa, I have actually because no matter what the fuck I do, everyone just fucking sucks! What the hell is this? Some shitty rom com from the 90s?!” You were shouting now, frustration evident on your features while you gripped the cup in your hand so tightly that everyone was afraid it would shatter.

When no one replied, you groaned, putting the glass down on the countertop then storming to Sam’s guest room. 

He just watched from his seat on the sofa, shaking his head at you. “Torres, make sure she doesn’t burn my place down.” 

Joaquin nodded at Sam, following after you, only to find you rummaging through the drawer that had his own clothes in it. There had been several nights when he had to stay with Sam because of work, and of course, following his accident last year, he wasn’t exactly able to live alone—so he stayed with Sam for a while.

That led to him having several clothing items here, clothing items which you were currently going through like a madman. He shook his head at your frustrated expression, slowly approaching you, then grasping both of your wrists and carefully pulling them away.

“Cariño, calm down and go take a shower. I’ll find you something to wear.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, nodding your head.

It wasn’t as if you were genuinely upset, you didn’t feel the need to cry or anything of that nature. But you were just overwhelmed, and everything was bothering you to the point that you couldn’t even think straight. 

Somehow Joaquin always knew how to ground you, it was as if his presence alone was enough to calm you down. 

While you showered, he looked through the options, settling on a pair of loose sweats, and a Twilight shirt that you’d gotten him with the words ‘Chica where have you been loca?’ on it surrounding a heart with Jacob Black’s face in it. The clothes had been oversized because after his accident that’s all he could really wear, so he knew it wouldn’t bother you the way your dress did.

He slipped into the steamy bathroom and placed the pile of clothes onto the counter, then let himself out.

By the time that you’d gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed, he managed to make himself comfortable on the bed, gaze focused on his phone while he mindlessly scrolled through TikTok, even giggling to himself at the random thirst-traps and edits people made of him—Joaquin would be a liar if he said he wasn’t deep in the ‘Joaquin Torres edits’ and the ‘The Falcon edits’ hashtags.

He liked to watch the videos people made of his clips from press releases, interviews, and the occasional interaction he’d have during his daily life. Not only did it fuel his ego, but it also made him feel like what he did mattered—and of course it was nice to know people found him attractive enough to comment things like ‘bark bark’ and ‘my legs are wide open rn’.

As you walked out of the bathroom in his clothes, you focused on braiding your slightly damp hair, you’d done your best to not get it wet in the shower, knowing that once it was wet that would be a whole other world of issues.

Meanwhile, Joaquin shifted onto his side, gaze now on you. “You feel better now?” 

You nodded your head at him, opting to walk around to the other side of the bed before plopping down beside him. Once you finished with your braids you laid down, pulling the comforter over your body while turning to face him.

“I think my love life is utterly hopeless…I’m sorry for yelling earlier, I was overwhelmed and I felt like my clothes were actively trying to murder me.”

Joaquin laughed at you, nodding his head as he turned to face you now, his phone still in hand playing the most recent edit. Your brows knit together at the song playing from his phone, and before he could fully process what you were doing, you’d already snatched the phone from him.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the video of him taking off Bucky’s helmet, clearly at a gas station. Then the beat dropped and several different clips of him biting his lip in interviews started playing, one transitioning into the next and so on.

His eyes widened, a rosey flush overtaking his features. 

“Seriously Quino! You’re over here watching edits of yourself! Oh my god! Wait do you save them into a folder—wait back up—!” you were laughing and giggling as he tried to snatch the phone from you, but you quickly tossed the blanket onto him, then used your legs to push him back slightly before rolling over and hopping off the bed.

While you moved you also went into his TikTok bookmarks, eyes widening at the several different folders, some labeled with emojis, others pertaining to workouts, a few having to do with places to visit, then there was a folder labeled ‘Cariño’ but you didn’t look at that one. Instead you focused on the one with the eagle emoji.

Then you looked back at him, watching as he practically jumped off of the bed. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

You shook your head at him, a wide smile on your face. “You do save them don’t you!” Then you flashed him his phone, now opening the folder, the several videos buffering through, and in the few seconds that you’d let your guard down, Joaquin was practically tackling you back onto the bed, now you were stretching your arm as far away as possible while attempting to shove him off. 

The mixture of your laughter and his practically bouncing off of the walls while you both rolled around the bed, then eventually you managed to pin him down, catching your breath as you held both of his arms above his head with one of your arms, straddling his waist, while you held his phone in hand.

Before either of you had a chance to process the position, the door to the bedroom opened, and Bucky stared at the both of you with wide eyes, his lips parted while he tried to process what he walked in on.

“Jesus Christ Sam, they’re about to have se-” before he finished his sentence, Joaquin’s phone was hitting him directly in the abdomen and Bucky practically doubled over as he choked on his words. Then you quickly got off of Joaquin, heat enveloping your features while you tried to process what you’d just done to Bucky.

Joaquin sat up quickly, blinking several times as he took in the sight of you rushing over to Bucky who was gripping his abdomen with his vibranium arm. Meanwhile Joaquin’s phone was now on the floor face down, but Ride by Sir-Mix-A-Lot was playing in the background.

“Bucky I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to throw it, I just reacted! Oh my god! Sam’s gonna kick my ass! Jesus this is it, I assaulted a congressman now I’m going to the Raft!” 

You were panicking while Bucky slowly stood up, nodding his head and catching his breath.

“Anyone ever told you that you have a strong arm, kid? You ever played softball?” 

You shook your head at Bucky’s question. Brows knit together as you tried to shrug off the shame and embarrassment of practically hurling Joaquin’s phone directly at Bucky all because you didn’t want him to finish his sentence. 

“You’re not going to the Raft for hitting me with his phone. Speaking of—” he squatted down to pick it up, eyes widening at the video playing before handing it to you, awkwardly clearing his throat before leaving the room.

You slowly turned to look at Joaquin who looked equally, if not even more mortified than you. Then you showed him the specific edit playing, a compilation of Joaquin shirtless when he played in a charity basketball tournament. 

“Y’know what, at least one of us is having a better day Cariño. Now, can you please, give me my phone back and stop judging me for supporting my supporters!” 

You blinked a few times. “I think this makes you a little narcissistic, y’know. Or at the very least, chronically online. Now Buck is gonna tell Sam about this entire situation—Jesus Christ, he thinks we were borderline fucking! Oh my god, this is mortifying for me!” 

Joaquin sat up, raising a single brow, slightly offended.

“Would it really be that terrible? Damn, just call a guy ugly why don’t you?”

You blinked a few times, now looking over at him, tilting your head to the side as your eyes trailed him. “You’re not ugly though, actually—wait nevermind. Not important, what’s important is I have to live knowing I hurled your phone at James Buchanan Barnes! He’s like a dad to me! I just assaulted my pseudo-dad!” 

He laughed at your panicking, lips rolling inward as you glared at him, throwing his hands up in a surrendering motion as he got off of the bed. “Listen sweetcheeks, you’ll be fine! Besides, if anything, Sam’s just gonna make awkward eye contact with us for a few days, and that’ll be it! It’s not like we’re actually having sex.”

You nodded at that, now handing him his phone as he walked towards you. Then you let out a deep sigh, opening the guest bedroom door again and grimacing as you walked back out.

The both of you silently walked back into the living room, sitting beside one another on the loveseat, both mirroring the same awkward expression and tense shoulders the second Sam and Bucky made eye contact, then looked at you two.

A tense silence filled the room for about three minutes. Then Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, if you two are getting freaky, that’s fine by me, but save it for your own place—not mine, and don’t let it screw up work.”

Your jaw dropped at Sam’s nonchalant nature, then you looked at Bucky who simply shrugged. 

“Yeah, as long as it doesn’t influence work, then you two should be fine doing whatever it is you’re doing, just don’t do it near me, around me, in front of me, or within my vicinity—”

You cut him off, “All of those things mean the same thing Buck—”

He nodded his head. “That’s the point.” 

Then you shook your head again. “—Wait a damn minute, we’re not having sex!” You motioned between yourself and Joaquin. “We’ve never, not once, ever done anything under the umbrella of sex. We’re just friends, that’s it.”

Sam slowly nodded his head, very clearly not convinced, then he glanced at Joaquin who had a distant look in his eyes, very clearly zoned out and focused on something else. “So you mean to tell me, you two have never, not even after a long night of drinking, have ever hooked up? You’re just this close and comfortable with each other with no semblance of sexual or romantic feelings?”

You nodded your head, then glanced at Joaquin, who blinked a few times as if he’d finally zoned back in.

“Yeah, we’re just friends. Best friends at that—right Cabezona?” he elbowed you slightly.

“Mhm, now stop calling me that! My head is not that big!” 

He scoffed, raising a single brow. “Yes it is. Even if it’s not literally huge, metaphorically it is, little miss ego-maniac.”

Your jaw dropped at that, now shoving Joaquin with both hands, he hadn’t anticipated it, and had to grab onto the arm of the sofa to stop himself from toppling back. “Don’t be fucking rude Quino!” 

Sam and Bucky slowly nodded at the exchange before glancing back at one another and shaking their heads in sync. 

You two were truly hopeless.

Three days later you found yourself at the grocery store with Joaquin in tow. He decided that he also needed to buy groceries, and he’d practically yelled at you over text about waiting for him to pick you up so that both of you could go together. Something about having multiple sets of eyes making the process faster.

If anything, shopping with Joaquin made things ten times slower. He was like a little kid, going through every single aisle, getting easily distracted—and you couldn’t stand how he managed to touch every single thing! Hell, he’d tried to convince you to buy snacks that he liked for your apartment under the guise that he ‘spent all of his time there anyways!’ 

You were currently in the produce aisle, looking through the tomatoes, brows knit together, biting into your tongue slightly as you focused on finding ones that weren’t overly ripe and still firm. In one hand you held the clear plastic bag, in the other, you lightly felt several individual tomatoes and rummaged through the large wooden bin of them. 

Eventually you settled on eight that you actually liked.

Meanwhile Joaquin was weighing limes, hyperfocused on getting exactly three pounds of them. He’d roped you into making him ceviche based on his abuela’s recipe, and she said that he needed exactly three pounds of limes. 

You knew she was just messing with him. Clearly, Joaquin did not.

His abuela had called you directly and given you the list of ingredients, telling you to measure the seasonings based on taste and what you thought was enough. She said that she trusted your judgement while making several jokes about Joaquin’s inability to cook, not to mention his spice intolerance.

You’d met his family three years ago when Sam had sent you with him on a recon mission in Miami. The mission was relatively simple and had been completed earlier than expected, so it gave him the perfect amount of time to head home to see his family, and he’d dragged you along with him because you’d been complaining about missing home cooked meals.

His family loved you immediately, it also helped that during your years of not-so-legal work, you’d managed to pick up some Spanish. 

Although, it did take a lot of convincing for them to finally believe that you weren’t Joaquin’s girlfriend. Everytime you’d visit Miami with him, you had to go through the same process and the same ‘so are you two together yet?’ questions from his cousins.

But you didn’t mind, not when his family was so welcoming, and of course, you loved his Abuela the most—something you’d never tell his mother. While she was strict, she was also loving, and funny, and embraced you time and time again while also letting you tease Joaquin. 

Plus, every time she saw you, she’d do an egg cleanse on you while ranting about the importance of doing a ‘limpia’ every now and then.

By the time you moved on to the onions, Joaquin had finally perfected the three pounds of limes, tossing the bag into the cart. Then you glanced over at him, raising a single brow which led to him sighing and grabbing the bag, now handing it to you. 

You gave him the onions then proceeded to open the bag, grabbing each individual lime, making sure they were the right texture and color. Meanwhile Joaquin waited, swaying back and forth on his heels while he watched you.

“Y’know you can just tell me I did a good job now. I’m pretty good at the whole produce thing.”

You scoffed at him, closing the bag again and handing it to him. “You did better than last time, when you literally brought me a bag of half-rotten limes. Now can you go get the fish from the butcher area? I don’t like how it smells over there.” 

Joaquin shook his head, hands on his hips while he stared at you with a singular brow raised.

“You look just like your mom right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t bring my mom into this, you know you’re supposed to go pick out the right cuts of fish!” 

You shook your head. “No, Abuela gave us both a list, you can read! Here—” you dug through your purse for a second, then handed him his glasses that he insisted he never needed.It got to the point where he put them in your purse anytime he’d have them on for more than an hour. When he didn’t take them from you, you shoved them right against his chest.

“Seriously?! Fine—but you owe me one!” 

You nodded at him, smiling triumphantly as he slipped the thin white wired-frames on. “Now go get the damn fish or I’m not cooking anything! Thanks! Love you! Bye Quino!” As you spoke you shoved him away from you, then clapped a few times, laughing at him as he tried to lightly slap your hands away from him.

He scoffed, shaking his head while turning around and heading towards the back of the store, leaving you to finish the produce shopping. 

About ten minutes later, as you were trying to get cucumbers, someone cleared their throat beside you. You glanced over to your right, confusion evident on your features as you made eye contact with none other than mister tortured artist that stood you up. His eyes trailed your figure, a single brow raised as he took in your fitted sundress.

It was hot, it made sense that you’d be wearing something breathable. What didn’t make sense was the idiot beside you having the nerve to clear his throat, then practically eye-fuck you in the middle of a grocery store produce aisle. 

“Can I help you with something?” his eyes met yours as you spoke, irritation and venom evident in your tone.

“Y’know, I was gonna call you, had an uh—family emergency. Damn, I didn’t think you’d be this hot.” His eyes were back on your body, which earned a loud scoff from you.

“Dude, fuck off. Besides, I’m glad you didn’t show, I got back together with my ex, I needed someone to pick me up and he just happened to be around.” The lie practically rolled off of your tongue, it wasn’t exactly a good idea, but there was no way in hell that you’d let this douchebag think he had any real effect on you.

“Oh, you sure? You don’t have to lie to me, I said I meant to call, we can always try again—maybe somewhere more private and intimate.”

He didn’t even bother making eye contact with you as he spoke.

Joaquin was your savior, walking right up to you and putting the now bagged and wrapped fish into the cart, then he noticed the way you were breathing, and your fists clenched at your sides while you glared at the artsy douchebag across from you. 

He didn’t need to know what had been said to know that you were pissed.

So he smushed himself right next to you, a hand wrapping around your waist, gently resting against your side as he planted a kiss to the side of your head. 

“You alright cariño? This guy bothering you?” 

You relaxed against Joaquin’s touch, glancing at him, a pleading look in your eyes that only he could recognize. “Yeah, I’m fine baby, this is the asshole I was telling you about. Remember? From Friday?” 

He nodded, now taking the time to look at the guy across from you. Joaquin knew his name was Dylan, that much you’d told him when you vented on the drive to the store, complaining about your terrible taste in men and rambling about how much you hated having to settle. 

Joaquin also didn’t know what you saw in this guy. Sure he was tall, but the guy was lanky, scrawny, and looked like he smoked two packs a day. Not to mention the way his ‘oversized’ clothes were mismatched in the worst possible way, and he had paint stains all over his jeans. Plus he had on god-awful boat shoes.

Maybe he managed to catfish you—that had to be it. 

Well, maybe he was funny, or something. Joaquin knew you’d ranted about constantly settling, but at this rate, the bar had to be in Hell.

“Ah, this is Daniel? Wish I could say it was nice to meet you man, but clearly, the circumstances aren't great.”

Dylan nodded slowly, blinking several times as he looked between you and Joaquin. “So this is the ex boyfriend that you’re back with? You sure you aren’t bullshitting me, I think you would’ve mentioned your ex-boyfriend being the Falcon.” 

You simply shrugged. “I like to keep my dating life private.”

Meanwhile Joaquin was doing his best to contain his excitement that someone recognized him in public. He had a fake boyfriend facade to upkeep! He couldn’t afford to squeal right now.

Dylan didn’t look convinced, and clearly he was persistent. To the point that it was starting to piss Joaquin off. So he did what any rational best friend would do in this situation, he leaned into your space, and littered the side of your neck with kisses—right in front of the guy. At first, he’d only left a few pecks—then he lightly traced his tongue along your skin.

Your eyes widened, shock evident at the feeling of Joaquin’s lips and tongue along your bare neck.

You didn’t know whether or not you wanted to whimper or gag. Either way you’d be kicking Joaquin’s ass over this later.

The public display of affection was enough to earn a loud scoff from Dylan as he walked off. 

Then you were shoving Joaquin back slightly, now whisper-shouting at him. “Seriously dude! Maybe that was overselling it!” 

Joaquin shrugged, matching your tone, “What? I had to sell it! I mean come on, ex-boyfriend?! You could’ve said I was a one night stand turned into a three night stand or something!” 

You shook your head at him. “You didn’t need to fucking lick me! You pervert!” Then you ran the back of your hand along your neck, wiping away the remnants of his spit from your skin as you grimace.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “God forbid a guy acts a little freaky with his fake girlfriend!” 

Your jaw dropped at that.  “You’re so chronically online! You freak!” 

Joaquin watched as you rummaged through your purse, finally pulling out a small pack of makeup wipes, practically ripping it open as you grabbed a wipe and ran it along your neck. He raised a single brow at the dramatics of it all.Okay, maybe you weren’t being that dramatic considering he did run his entire tongue along the column of your throat in the middle of a grocery store produce aisle,but he had a point to make!

Besides, he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it. If you’d let him do it again, he would without an ounce of hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time you had to put on a fake show of intimacy and affection in public. 

But usually that was done under the guise of working recon missions, having to blend into large crowds at fundraisers and banquets, going undercover with one another, posing as a happy—and sometimes unhappy—couple. 

Hell, once he had you pinned against a hallway wall at a masquerade ball, his lips on yours while he held one of your thighs up, wrapped around his waist as his fingers dug into the plush skin. 

He thought about that night sometimes, having to shake his head and force himself to snap out of it. 

“I am not chronically online! You’re just chronically offline!” 

You rolled your eyes at that, tossing the used makeup wipe into the nearby trash can before looking down at the list of groceries and essentials that you needed for your apartment, and the list of things for the ceviche. “Let’s go get my coffee before I wring your throat.”

“As long as you tell me I’m pretty while doing it.”

Then you shoved him again, now pushing the cart towards the coffee and tea aisle.

By the time that you’d actually made it back to your apartment and put everything away, it was nearly four. Then you’d spent half an hour chopping up vegetables while forcing Joaquin to handle cutting the fish.

He was reluctant the entire time, making faces as he tried to avoid getting any fish juice on himself. He’d even opted to wear a pair of latex gloves and one of your frilly aprons.

“This is so disgusting.” 

You laughed at his complaining, nodding your head while you focused on juicing the limes into a bowl. “Well, you were the one who practically begged your Abuela for the recipe, if you hadn’t opened that big ass mouth then we wouldn’t be here! Besides, it’ll be good when it’s ready.” 

Joaquin shook his head, now putting the last bits of the cut up fruit into the large container, then he moved his knife and cutting board directly into your kitchen sink, pulling the gloves off and tossing them in the trash can before turning the water to the hottest setting to wash his hands.

“You better wash that cutting board too! Just wash it once and leave it in the sink, I’ll put it in the dishwasher when I’m done here.” You focused on pouring the lime juice overtop the fish while you spoke, ensuring that all of it was saturated. 

“It’s fine Cabezona, I’ll do the dishes too. I owe you one after licking you like a dog—even though I’m positive you liked it!”

You nearly dropped the bowl at his words, a loud scoff leaving your lips. “Joaquin! You’re such a perv!”

He nodded while he washed the dishes, then unloaded your dishwasher, stacking each bowl and plate on the counter before putting them in the right cupboards. “I’m just saying, everyone likes being a little freaky every now and then. Besides, you’re always wound so tight—I guarantee you’re into that nasty shit.” 

You tried to drown him out as you closed the container and put it inside of the fridge, focusing on cleaning up and putting the container of cut vegetables away, followed by the additional lime juice that you’d squeezed for later.

“Joaquin Torres, now is not the time to talk about my shitty sex life! We can’t all be you!” 

He turned around, now shrugging your apron off and leaning against the counter. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You raised a brow at him, looking over at him from your position next to the fridge. “Well lets see, anytime you get laid you walk into the office, my apartment, Sam’s apartment—hell you walk anywhere and you’re all smiles and laughs as if you’ve had the best night of your life. So clearly, only one of us is having good sex here, and it’s most definitely not me.” 

Joaquin’s expression was unreadable for a few seconds as he stared at you.

“Don’t even start pitying me either, and please, I don’t have time for another ‘you just have shitty taste in men’ speech, I’ve heard it enough from literally everyone. Maybe I’m just like an idiot because I genuinely can’t find a good guy to save my life.” 

Then you shut the fridge and moved back towards the small island that you were previously standing by, now focused on wiping down the countertop as Joaquin stared at you.

“Have you ever considered that you’re blind as hell?” 

You blinked a few times, pausing your motions to look over at him. “I’m pretty sure every good guy that’s left is either dead or in a committed relationship, so either I’m blind, or an idiot—or maybe both. I’m thinking I should just call a Nunnery and join a convent.” 

Joaquin sighed, shaking his head before turning back towards the sink, now loading the last few cups before shutting the dishwasher and washing his hands again. After he patted them dry on his pants, he was at your side again, leaning against the island while you reorganized your small fruit basket, putting the oldest fruits on the top to make sure you’d get to them before they went bad.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve dated guys that don’t know the difference between their, there, and they are.” 

You nodded at that. “Honestly, probably. Jesus, even the tax guy turned out to be an asshole. Maybe I’m like a douchebag magnet! What does a girl have to do to find a guy who isn’t a piece of shit,like, men are all shitty. No offense, well you don’t really count.”

He blinked a few times, arms now crossed in front of his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean? You always say I don’t count.”

“Because you don’t count. You’re my best friend, I don’t see you romantically. Yeah. I can admit that you’re attractive, but I wouldn’t ever date you.”

Joaquin didn’t know whether or not to be offended, so instead he pressed further. “Okay, elaborate on that.” 

You looked over at him, a bit confused. “Why?”

“Because, I’m pretty sure I should be offended—but I can’t tell.”

That earned a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t mean to offend you, it’s just, you’re my friend and I see you as a friend. I mean, if I wanted to, I’m positive I could see you romantically, but I just don’t. I like what we have and given my shitty relationship track record, I don’t want to ruin my friendship with you just for the chance to bone you. Besides, your abuela would kill you if we stopped being friends. Y’know she likes me more than you.”

He slowly nodded at that. “But you would—hypothetically bone me?” 

You shrugged again. “Why’s that important again?” 

Joaquin ran a hand through his hair, staring at you with that far-away look in his eyes again. “Can you just answer the question without answering with a question.”

You sighed, now standing up straight, hands on your hips as you turned to face him fully. “Hypothetically speaking? Like full on mind-wipe? Forget I ever said it?” When he nodded you took a deep breath, eyes trailing his figure for a few seconds before meeting his own again.

“Yes. Hypothetically, I’d bone you—but I think you’d be boning me. You’re too overconfident and cocky to be submissive at first.”

It wasn’t as if Joaquin was unattractive, there was nothing unattractive about the man. Of course, he wasn’t the tallest guy around—however he made up for that in almost every other department.

He had nice teeth, sure they weren’t perfect, but you loved his smile. His hair was always done, and his curls were to die for, they were always soft anytime you’d touch them, and you knew he spent time taking care of his hair. Physique wise? He was a wall of muscle, tan skin that was perfectly toned from years of being in the Air Force and now being an Avenger. 

Joaquin’s eyes always held so much emotion, they were deep pools of chocolate that you could drown in—if you really wanted to.

Not to mention his hands? Jesus Christ you could write a book about Joaquin Torres’s hands.

But outside of all of his physical traits, Joaquin was genuinely a great guy. He cared deeply for everyone in his life, and even those he hardly knew. He was observant and knew how to read people well—especially you. 

His words snapped you out of your daze.

“I’d definitely do the boning.” 

You scoffed at that, shoving him again. “You make me sick!” 

Joaquin smiled, nodding his head. “Well, it’s true! Besides, you’d love my hypothetical boning! Now, not to totally void the mind-wipe, but I was thinking that maybe, possibly, we could, well—y’know at least try once. You could use it.”

You blinked a few times. “Joaquin Torres, are you asking to bone me?” 

He nodded, jutting his bottom lip out slightly for a few seconds. “I guess so yeah, it doesn’t need to be like romantic—you just need to get laid, and lucky for you, I’m great in bed.”

“You’re literally offering to pity fuck me. Oh my god, is this what my life has really come to? My best friend has to pity fuck me? Jesus Christ!” With that you stormed off, leaving Joaquin standing in the kitchen with a confused expression on his face.

He wouldn’t really be pity-fucking you. 

Okay, maybe he did pity your lackluster lovelife and even shittier sex-life, but having sex with you would’ve been a win-win situation for the both of you. Joaquin would probably be able to get rid of the random fantasies about you, and you’d actually get to have a real orgasm that doesn’t require a vibrator.

Maybe Joaquin should’ve been more bothered by your blatant rejection—yet somehow he still had a semblance of hope that you’d cave. It wasn’t as if he’d ever force himself onto you, but based on the amount of stress you’ve been under, alongside your lackluster love life, this was something you needed.

Although, maybe volunteering to be the person to sleep with you wasn’t the best idea in the world.

He should’ve known you’d overreact to the simple suggestion. 

You were constantly a walking ball of emotional tension waiting to explode. He’d been used to it, and he was one of the few people that knew how to calm you down and help you relax. Granted, there were also other ways that would most definitely help you relax—but now you think that he offered to ‘pity fuck’ you, which was an insane thought in the first place.

You had to be blind. Joaquin was positive you were blind. 

Even Sam had made several quips in the past about the way that Joaquin looked at you when he thought no one else was paying attention. He was constantly overly possessive when it came to you, and sure, he did take things a little too far at times—hence the grocery store incident—but you outright refused to see him as anything other than a friend!

It was infuriating in a way that he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t just go on and yell at you or be mad that you didn’t see him romantically, not when your reason for it all was so valid and made perfect sense. You and him were best friends, you’d almost instantly clicked, it was rare to meet someone that you meshed with so well. 

If you didn’t want to ruin the friendship, that made sense to Joaquin and he didn’t want to push the issue. But he was currently trying to swallow down the minor sting of rejection while considering the best course of action.

He could easily play it off, acting as if he was joking and hadn’t meant for the joke to get that far. The only issue with that was the fact that he was a terrible liar and you always saw right through him, something about knowing his tell—whatever the hell that meant.

Joaquin could also just swallow his pride and chase after you, which seemed to be the most realistic option here. It wasn’t as if you were on the verge of starting World War III, well, not this time at least.

So he took a few deep breaths, ran his hands through his hair, then made his way to your bedroom, glancing over at the sofa, spotting your black cat sitting and staring at him as he stopped walking—hesitating as he debated on actually walking into your bedroom. 

“Binx, this is a terrible idea isn’t it?”

A meow was her only response, Joaquin pretended that it was a meow of encouragement, however he knew the cat didn’t exactly like him. If anything, she was probably shaming him for his terrible timing and horrendous ideas.

Then Joaquin walked down the short hallway, knocking on your bedroom door a few times. Of course you didn’t respond—he should’ve expected that. 

So he slowly opened the door, met with the sight of you laying flat on your bed, feet hanging off the edge slightly while your face was pressed into one of your many pillows. Then you let out something between a muffled shout and groan, raising a single hand, middle finger facing him.

“Oh come on, Hermosa! You can’t really be in here pouting right now!” He opened the door wider, arms now crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, looking directly at you while you let out another muffled shout.

“I have no idea what you’re saying right now, you do know that, right?”

Then you were sitting up on your elbows, groaning again as you looked over your shoulder at him, eyes squinted, brows knit together, and an evident pout on your face. “Fuck off Joaquin. I really don’t need your pity right now, it’s bad enough Bucky gave me relationship advice yesterday! A man who hasn’t been on a real date since the 1940s has a better dating history than me!”

Joaquin slowly nodded. “I mean, I think he’s technically dating Sam? Actually—I don’t know what the hell those two are, but I know I’ve heard some suggestive sounds from Sam’s room before. That was enough for me.”

You groaned again, face back against your pillows. 

He finally walked into the room, grasping your ankles and dragging you down slowly, ignoring your squeal as he leaned against your bed to usher you onto your back. Then he plopped down beside you, both of you staring up at the ceiling fan. 

“I didn’t mean to insult you y’know. I just figured it would’ve been a win-win. Besides, you said it yourself, you don’t see me romantically, so I thought it would avoid the whole awkwardness thing.”

You sighed, hands now folded together over your stomach, eyes following the slow rotation of the fan’s blades. “Okay, I might have overreacted. But Quino, my love life fucking sucks. People are always yapping about how your twenties are supposed to be like full of great experiences and I mean, yeah so far most of my twenties haven't been horrible—outside of being like a criminal for the first two years—but I have terrible luck with relationships and even worse luck with sex.”

Then you finally turned to look at him, eyes trailing his side profile, taking in the different curves and ridges of his face. “This shit sucks.” 

He laughed at you, a smile on his face as he finally looked at you, neither of you fully processed how close you actually were to one another until this exact moment in time. Your faces were inches apart, he could feel your shallow breaths against his face, and the smell of your minty gum lingered between the two of you.

Joaquin’s eyes traced your features. “Y’know, you’re really pretty, Cabezona.” 

You raised a single brow. “Yeah, because every girl wants to be called pretty, followed by an endearing nickname about how big their head is.” 

He bit his bottom lip as he smiled, nodding a bit before speaking. “It’s part of the Torres charm. Besides, you know how my family is, everyone has a nickname—at least yours isn’t something like Lindito. They basically call me a cutie pie because I was a cute kid—it was fine when I was six, now I’m almost thirty!”

You laughed at him, raising both brows. “Don’t make me call your Abuela and tell her you’re talking about her!” 

Joaquin scoffed, brows knit together. “I’d never! Now, can you please get up and stop wallowing in pity and embarrassment. If anything, I should be the one wallowing, you just brutally rejected me.” 

You rolled your eyes then looked at him again, except this time you made direct eye contact with him. “This is literally embarrassing, I can’t get laid to the point that you offered to bone me.”

Now it was Joaquin’s turn to roll his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything offensive by it, but let’s face it—you need to get laid. Like properly, not whatever mediocre shit you’ve been doing with guys.”

Then you sat up, shaking your head. “Yeah, but it won’t be with you, mister hot shot, now c’mon, we have to finish cooking and call your Abuela before she kills you. Not me though, I’m her favorite.” 

A grand total of four days have passed since the night that you brutally rejected Joaquin and assumed that he was offering to ‘pity-fuck’ you—whatever the hell that meant. 

Within those four days, you managed to walk in on Sam and Bucky in a very intimate position in Sam’s office, which led to you yelling at them both while they shrugged their missing remnants of clothes back on—honestly, you were glad they weren’t full blown fucking when you walked in because you probably would’ve stomped your foot and yelled at them even more.

Then you spent an hour laying on the sectional in the room with your head in Bucky’s lap as you vented about your lackluster love life and fear of commitment, which was followed by even more relationship advice from him—which you screamed into a throw pillow over.

It also didn’t help that both Sam and Bucky were acting incredibly awkward following you walking in on them, but you simply brushed it off, telling them you couldn’t care less about what they did with one another, while emphasizing the use of locks on doors.

Sam tried to argue with you about needing to knock, which you rolled your eyes at, while telling him this office was technically government property, and it was a shared space with Joaquin as well—so technically, you were within your right to walk right into the space without a care in the world. Especially since the door was unlocked.

It didn’t help that your younger sister had called and told you that she was engaged to her long-term high school sweetheart. You hated him—but he made her happy so you tolerated him. Although, given the opportunity, you would kick his ass, so you congratulated her and told him he was always on thin ice.

That sent you into a minor depressive period because truthfully, you felt pathetic. You knew there weren’t that many good guys left in the world, but the fact that your younger sister had managed to settle down before you really sent you over the edge.

Joaquin told you that you were just being dramatic when you told him that you would just end up alone with seventeen cats, you were already on the way there! Binx was your first cat, but what was to stop you from adopting seven more!.

Even today as you sat inside of Sam and Joaquin’s shared office, you were irritated and venting. 

“No you guys don’t get it! I have shit luck with love! Y’know this is the first Friday in months that I haven't had a date? Mind you, each date was shitty. But damn, at least I was trying! Now I feel like a sack of moldy potatoes. My little sister is gonna get married next year and I’ve never even been in a real committed relationship!”

Sam shook his head. “You do know you have your own office in this building, right?” 

You scoffed at him. “So what? Now you don’t even want to talk to me? You’re in a relationship with my pseudo-dad so you’re basically my step dad that doesn’t love me Sam!” 

Joaquin groaned, spinning around in his desk chair to look at you. “Cariño, you need to calm down and stop yelling at everyone, it’s three thirty, and for the first time in a while we’re not on some high-stakes mission or on crunchtime with some Avengers related deadline to meet, or handling a potentially world-ending crisis. You can’t be mad at Sam for wanting some peace and quiet.”

You blinked a few times, jaw clenched as you squinted, staring directly at Joaquin, wishing you had magical powers to light him on fire. “Peace and quiet? Coming from you? You never shut the hell up!”

He took a deep breath, over the past few days you’d progressively gotten snappier. Joaquin figured it was because you desperately needed to get laid, you were so wound up and tense that anything sent you spiraling into a fit of rage. It was most likely because you hadn’t had your weekly dose of mediocre sex to keep your inner turmoil at bay.

“Jeez, have you always been this mean and whiny?” 

You glared at Sam, who shook his head, raising a single brow. “Listen, I’ve got a sister, you don’t scare me. I’ve also fought literal aliens from outer space—wait put that down! What the hell are you doing!” 

Then you were hurling your plastic water bottle at him. He ducked right on time, eyes wide and jaw dropped as he looked at you, then he shook his head, now standing with his hands on his hips.

“That’s it, get out! You’re on time out. Go work on a report or something, get the hell out of my office.” He stared at you, eyes wide as he pointed towards the doors.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind you. They both winced slightly at the sound. The doors into the room weren’t exactly easy to slam—it was as if you’d put all of your strength into the action.

“You really are acting like her dad, man.” 

Sam scoffed, now looking at Joaquin. “And you’re acting like her shitty boyfriend. Go console her, give her a kiss so she stops letting all of her frustration out on everyone! It’s obvious you like her! Can’t you go confess your feelings and help her deal with her inner rage demon. She’s never this bad. She tried to shoot me once, but I think I’d prefer that over her hurling full bottles of water at me, in my own office!”

Joaquin’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as he stared at Sam. 

“Oh please, don’t look at me like I’ve got three heads, it’s obvious to everyone but you two. You’re basically in love with the maniac, and she’s so hellbent on just being your friend that she can’t process how un-platonic the both of you actually are! I mean come on! Her dating history is trash because she’s too slow to see what’s right in front of her, and you won’t man the hell up and tell her how you feel!”

Joaquin pursed his lips, eyes shut as he nodded a few times. He knew Sam was right, but he didn’t need the tough love, not today at least. “Listen man, I don’t know what to do about her, she’s just so—well you know how she is! Y’know I offered—”

Sam cut him off, blinking several times before speaking. “Offered to what? Don’t tell me you tried the whole ‘lets just have sex as friends’ thing. That never works!”

“Okay, it wasn’t exactly like that, in those words! But come on! She told me she doesn’t see me romantically! How’s a guy supposed to recover from that? I get it, we have a great friendship but if she doesn’t want to flush it down the drain, I get that, I just have to respect her boundaries, I can’t just bug the shit out of her until she snaps and fucks me.”

Sam grimaced, shaking his head. “Okay, a little too vulgar for me, kid. Were those her words, like verbatim?” 

Joaquin nodded. “Kind of, sort-of? She said that, but she also told me, she probably could see me romantically if she tried, but she doesn’t want to try so why should I push it? Besides, she’ll eventually relax! It’ll just take some time.”

“Yeah, how about you actually, y’know, act like the adult that you are and talk to her about your obvious feelings, and maybe little miss anger issues, might actually put two and two together and realize she’s practically in love with you, thinks you’re unattainable, so she settles for idiots and assholes.”

That conversation sparked one of Joaquin’s less-than-great plans. Instead of talking to you about things, he opted to simply do boyfriend-ish things around you while simultaneously being a little too up close and personal with you for several days, hoping you’d get the message, or at the very least, full-on reject him so he could actually move on.

It started the day after he spoke with Sam. That Saturday Joaquin showed up at your apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers—thankfully they were actually in season—and when he handed them to you, you were utterly confused. 

He was starting to think that maybe you were really that oblivious. Your reaction only emphasized that. The second he handed you the bouquet, you asked if he was apologizing for something, or if you’d forgotten about an important date—or if maybe these were ‘thank you’ flowers. 

Joaquin stared at you, utterly confused.

Who the hell just randomly shows up at someone’s doorstep on a Saturday with ‘thank you’ flowers—most people would just get them delivered. It also didn’t help that you simply shrugged, focused on trimming the stems before putting the flowers in water without any other questions. You were quiet the entire time, which also had him overthinking the gesture.

Mainly because you hadn’t been quiet in a while.

Then you decided it was time to grace him with the terrible news that you had a date on Monday. Who the hell goes on dates on a Monday?!

“Well, he seems nice enough I guess. He actually works on base, not directly with us, but I’ve seen him around. He stopped me yesterday on the way back to my office. I can’t even promise that he’ll be different—maybe if I’m lucky he’ll actually be good in bed.” 

Joaquin was glad you weren’t looking at him, he couldn’t even control his facial expressions, right eye twitching slightly at the news.

So he opted to step his game up, that day as the two of you spent time together, he stood closer than usual, and as he moved behind you, he made sure to place his hand on the small of your back, or he’d grasp your hips slightly, shimmying past you as if there wasn’t enough room for him to move without touching you. 

Throughout the entire day he helped you with your mundane tasks, and the domesticity of it all was getting to him—to the point that he had to give himself a pep talk in the bathroom

He even helped you unbraid your hair, fingers massaging against your scalp just enough to make you blush.

His final move that night was pulling you directly against his chest on your oversized sofa, arms wrapped around you, fingers gently grazing the sliver of exposed skin on your hip between the hemline of your shirt and the pajamas you wore. Hell—he even intertwined his legs with yours. 

Sure you’d cuddled in the past—but never like that. 

When you tried to question it, he hummed against your scalp, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while his gaze remained focused on the shitty slasher movie that you chose.

By the time the movie ended, the both of you had fallen asleep.

Sunday morning you were awoken by the sounds of Binx’s loud meowing and the rays of sunlight shining through your half-opened blinds. As you tried to get up, you then realized that Joaquin was still holding you in place—the motion had an unfamiliar feeling bubbling through you. 

Something similar to butterflies? But that wasn’t right—that was something associated with childish crushes and you’ve never had a crush on Joaquin Torres.

So you shoved his arm away, which in turn woke him up. Then you were up, walking to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the only goal of feeding Binx before she managed to start a feline uprising at eight in the morning.

“G’morning Sunshine.” Joaquin sat up as he spoke, yawning and stretching. Taking the time to roll his shoulders back then crack his neck slightly. The couch wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, however after a night of sleeping in the same position—he felt stiff. 

His voice was raspier than usual, and that didn’t help with the foreign emotions you were currently feeling. Your brows knit together as you looked down at Binx, who was now purring while rubbing herself along your calves. Of course the cat would be happy now that you were awake to feed her—she couldn’t give you thirty more minutes of sleep.

“Uh—morning Quino.”

Your voice was strained, and you cringed the second you finished speaking, glad he couldn’t see your face.

“So what’s on today’s agenda? Now that Sam and Bucky are on good terms, it looks like we’ll have a lot more free time.” 

You nodded your head without looking at him, now squatting down to give Binx her ceramic bowl of wet food, then you looked around, trying to find things to do that would help you avoid Joaquin’s stare. You were unfortunately, very unsuccessful, especially when the second you stood back up, he was already in the kitchen, one hand on your lower back as he walked past you, taking the time to brew a new pot of coffee.

You rushed to the bathroom, eyes wide, panic evident on your features as you looked at your own reflection. Maybe you were just imagining things, he’d always been touchy-feely with you, and it hadn’t ever affected you before. What was so different now? Maybe you were just overthinking things, this was Joaquin—your Joaquin.

There wasn’t anything different between the two of you. You were friends, best friends at that. You trusted him with your life, so why the hell did it feel like your skin was tingling from where he’d touched you, and why the hell were you blushing like a schoolgirl.

You tried to take longer with your morning routine, hoping that you’d be able to waste as much time as possible—maybe he’d get the hint and go home.

But instead, he walked right into your bathroom, which wasn’t exactly unusual for the both of you. Then he placed another hand on your hip, squeezing past you to grab his spare toothbrush and the toothpaste. Then he was brushing his teeth, standing right beside you—except he was closer than usual.

Or at least he felt like he was closer than usual.

You had to be losing it. This was normal, there was nothing different about this interaction—so why the hell did it feel so different?

The bathroom wasn’t exactly huge, so of course you’d be close. The counter only had one sink, it wasn’t as if this was a large dual-vanity bathroom with extra walking space. The bathroom had barely enough room for the both of you behind the wide-set counter, even then, you had your own organized chaotic mess of things along both sides of the white countertop.

Plus, with where Joaquin stood, his left shoulder was brushing against one of your plush towels hanging on a hook, and he hardly fit into the space between the wall and you. Usually he’d opt to lightly shove you closer to the wall, so you weren’t exactly sure why he chose that side today, maybe because it was closer to the toothbrushes.

While you swished your mouthwash, he flossed, humming the tune to Love Story by Taylor Swift. Then as you both made eye contact in the mirror’s reflection, you raised your brows at his song choice, taking a second to spit the mouthwash out, and in seconds, you were both scream-singing in sync.

“Little did I know! You were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles and my daddy said stay away from Juliet!” 

You were both incredibly off-key and pitchy. Bursting into a fit of laughter while trying to keep up with the song, except both of you only knew some of the lyrics, so you ended up mumbling and making up words while singing together.

He held one of your brushes in hand as he sang to you. “I've been feeling so alone—something about waiting for you—something something something—marry me Juliet you’ll never have to be alone!”

You laughed at him, a wide smile on your face while you shook your head, shoving him slightly before snatching your brush out of his hand. Then you opted to moisturize your face, using two fingers from each hand to rub circles against your face before tapping your under-eye cream on.

Joaquin watched you the entire time, brows knit together, focused on your movements. “The hell is all that even for? Can’t you just slap some lotion on and call it a day?”

You blinked several times, now turning to look at him, brows knit together in confusion. “You only use lotion?”

He nodded, shrugging “I mean yeah, I wash my face, then put lotion on. That’s really it.”

You shoved him once, then scoffed and shoved him again. “Of course you’d have nice skin just because. I can’t stand you, y’know that? Only using lotion, my ass—now c’mere!” 

Joaquin wasn’t exactly sure how he could get any closer to you, but then you stepped back a bit to grab one of your fancy little moisturizers, unscrewing the cap of the glass bottle, a dropper now in hand while you grasped his jaw—the motion catching him off guard, then you were focused on dotting the liquid along his face.

Before he could fully process it, you were rubbing circles into his skin, and he was staring with wide eyes and parted lips. 

“Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”

“So you’ve got flies in here? That’s disgusting, cariño. I think you actually should call someone about that.” Then you shoved him again, shaking your head at his antics.

The two of you stood in a comfortable silence as you moved on from one serum to the next, applying each product carefully to his skin as he stared at you with another unreadable emotion.

Maybe if you weren’t so blind you would’ve realized Joaquin had nothing but unending adoration in his eyes as he focused on your face, taking in each and every detail, committing this moment to memory.

Before he could get too caught up in the domestic fantasy, he cleared his throat. “Cabezona, are you finished yet? I think I’ll be fine without your ten step skin care routine!”

“Don’t you have your own apartment to be at? Instead of bothering me on my peaceful Sunday?”

He shook his head at you. “Nah, but I’m thinking, we should go out today. I heard about this great spot in Chinatown, you’ll love it, I promise! After we can go to the aquarium, you know you love seeing the octopi.” Joaquin sounded so excited and admittedly you were too—he was right, you did love seeing the ever expanding Octopus exhibit.

“Okay fine, but I have to get ready. No way in hell I’m going looking like I just rolled out of bed.”

“Works for me cariño, I think I have some clothes somewhere here too, gotta go find it in all of your shit.” Then for some reason unknown to him—he planted a firm smack to your ass as he walked past you.

Your surprised breath had him realizing what he’d done. It was something similar to a high pitched gasp—hell if he wasn’t so focused on the rush of heat throughout his entire body he would’ve registered it as a slight moan.

Joaquin froze in the doorway, and you froze in place, jaw dropped while you slowly turned to look at him. At the same time he was slowly turning around, absolutely mortified—the domesticity was really getting to him—to the point of no return.

“Did you just smack my ass? What the hell, Joaquin!” 

He slowly nodded “I don’t know—shit I mean yeah—but I don’t know what came over me! I’m sorry! I just—you and then me—and then—I’m sorry. God don’t kill me—I didn’t mean to, I just—I think I’m losing it here!”

You blinked several times, mouth opening and closing as you struggled to figure out what to say to him. 

“Listen Hermosa, I really didn’t mean it—like really. Oh my god—holy shit. I’m really sorry, like seriously sorry, don’t murder me—please you look like you’re about to kill me!”

He was full on panicking, this wasn’t part of his plan, hell his plan was supposed to be long and drawn out, he’d spend a week pestering you, doing relationship-esque things until you finally got the hint, then he’d do some grand gesture and ask you out on a real, genuine date. Not the shit that you’ve been so used to.

After the date he’d also fuck you until you forgot your own name—but now it was looking like he wouldn’t live to see that potential date ever happen. Not when your shocked expression was quickly warping into your usual glare. The glare was like a silent warning telling him to run, so that’s exactly what he did.

The moment you reached for your brush again—he was off, sprinting out of the bathroom, down the short hallway, and running away from you.

You were quick on your feet, chasing after him with your brush in hand, throwing several random things at him while he ran circles around your living room, then into the kitchen, then he’d ducked behind the Island for a few seconds to catch his breath before practically hurdling himself over it to get away from you.

“I’m sorry for smacking your ass! To be fair! It’s a nice ass!”

“You’re such a pervert! I’m gonna fucking kill you Joaquin!” Then you threw the TV remote at him, he barely managed to smack it out of the way mid-air, wincing at the impact on his palm. 

Now you were both at a stand still, the only real piece of furniture separating you both was your small sectional, he stood on the side closest to your bedroom door, you stood on the opposite end closer to the apartment door. He wished he had ended up on that side—then at least he would’ve been able to run down the building hallway.

“Come on Hermosa! I didn’t mean anything by it! I just—something came over me okay?! You don’t need to murder me—you’ll go to the Raft or something—Sam would kill you! Actually that’s a good point! If you kill me, Sam’ll kill you!” 

You blinked a few times. “Then let him kill me! At least I’ll kill you first you freak!” 

“You’re so mean! Take it as a compliment! Actually—shit! Don’t take it as a compliment, that's not how my mom raised me! But fuck—you’re so—just God—I can’t ever get you out of my head! Then you go and do shit like that! With the thing on my face and my heart is racing—and it’s not because I’ve been running. You just don’t get what you do to me Cariño!”

You paused, dropping the brush in your hand, it hit the floor with a shallow bang. You stared at him, brows knit together in confusion, his words didn’t make any sense to you. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done something like that for Joaquin, you two were close, extremely close, so why was everything suddenly so different?

“Then you look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about! But I know you do! I know you feel it too! I spent all of yesterday trying to get you to really feel it! Then I had this whole plan about how I was going to act around you for a week—and honestly, I was just gonna do stuff that I’ve always wanted to do with you! But then waking up with you in my arms had my brain feeling like mush and my heart hammering in my chest—and you—you’re just—you’re everything to me.”

His confession had you in shock, brows raised, lips parted, heat enveloping your features while you struggled to process everything. 

“Fuck, last week you rejected me, and y’know what? I earned it, asking my best friend to have sex with me was a bit shallow, I can admit that!—but then you said you don’t see me romantically—which yeah it hurt, but you followed it with you could see me romantically if you wanted to, and that gave me enough hope that maybe you do feel the way I do, maybe you just don’t see it—or haven’t let yourself—but at this point, I have to let it all out because I literally smacked your ass like you’re my girlfriend and now you’re probably gonna behead me with some evil makeshift guillotine in your closet!”

As Joaquin spoke, he moved his hands rapidly, emphasizing certain words and phrases. He’d always done that—talking with his hands—but right now, something about it had your heart racing.

Or maybe it was the realization that Joaquin Torres had romantic feelings for you.

“Then I talked to Sam, and he told me that maybe you’re just settling for shitty guys because somehow, in the back of your mind, you won’t let yourself see what’s right in front of you.Not to sound like a narcissist here, but I’ve swallowed down my feelings for so long, and every now and then they come bubbling up and I have to gaslight myself into thinking that I’m just insane and don’t actually like you in the romantic sense!”

That’s when you realized why your heart was racing, not because Joaquin Torres has feelings for you—no. It was because you have feelings for Joaquin Torres. 

You really did settle each and every time, going for asshole after asshole and somehow convincing yourself that you just had bad luck and would never find a single guy that was actually kind hearted and cared about you beyond just having sex. Then you’d end up on a series of shitty dates, being heartbroken, angry, and frustrated—and the first person you always called was Joaquin.

Joaquin Torres who had every single positive trait that you wanted in a man. 

Joaquin Torres that knew you like the back of his hand.

Joaquin Torres who’s family absolutely adored you—and you adored them.

Joaquin Torres, the same Joaquin Torres that you’d instantly clicked with when you met several years ago.

You’d managed to completely drown out Joaquin’s mixture between ranting, venting, and confessing his feelings for you. Then you shook your head, walking around the sofa in three long strides until you were toe to toe with Joaquin.

“If you’re gonna kill me, at least tell me I’m pretty fir-” you immediately cut him off, rolling your eyes at his terrible attempt at humor. One hand tugged on his shirt, the other caressed the side of his face, practically pulling him into you as you smashed your lips against his. 

Joaquin was practically frozen in place for a few seconds until he felt you pulling away—clearly reading too much into his lack of reaction. So he gently grasped both sides of your face, kissing you back, pouring all of his frustration into the kiss. 

Things started slow, however the second you parted your lips, letting him in—things picked up very quickly. He kissed you as if he’d never be able to again, like he wanted to memorize this exact moment, and he held you firmly against him—one hand moving from your face to your hip, pulling your lower body flush with his own.

He bit your lip as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours for a moment while you both stood in silence, your uneven breaths filling the space.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for years—Christ the day I met you I wanted to kiss you. Then when you came to the hospital to see me after I got my ass handed to me by that Flag smasher? All I wanted to do was kiss you until I couldn’t breathe.”

You bit your bottom lip slightly, eyes finally meeting his as he leaned back a few inches. 

“I think I might be an idiot, Quino.” 

He nodded at that, thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Oh absolutely, your taste in guys emphasized that.Would now be a bad time to ask if you want me to bone you?” 

You laughed at his joke, shaking your head with a smile, before lightly shoving him and taking a step back. “You’re such a freak!” 

“I never said I wasn’t! Come on, you’re basically my girlfriend now, let’s all be honest here—you could be my wife if you wanted to, I’ll propose right now, drop down on one knee and everything.” Both of his brows were raised while he shrugged, hands out in front of him and a smirk on his face.

“Oh my god! Quit being yourself for ten minutes Joaquin Torres!” Then you walked away from him, towards your bedroom. 

“Wait! Where are you going?!” 

You glanced over your shoulder with a single hand on your doorknob. “What, did you think you were gonna defile my couch?!Now, come on—I prefer having sex on a bed, besides, I haven’t even had sex in my bed.”

He blinked a few times. “Like ever?” 

You nodded. “I usually don’t bring my dates here, besides, letting random men know where I live isn’t the safest bet. Honestly, I think I settle for car sex the most. Wait—does my vibrator count?” Then you giggled as you walked into your bedroom, mentally counting to five to see how long it would take him to follow you. 

You only made it to three before he was practically running through the door and shutting it behind him. Then his hands were back on you, walking you towards your bed before pushing you down.

Before you knew it, he was shirtless and on top of you, his lips back against yours. He kissed you like he had a point to prove, lips moving against yours, kissing you deeply, moaning against your lips while you fought him for control of the kiss. 

Joaquin knew he’d won the second you whimpered as he rolled his hips against yours. He was perfectly situated between your thighs, and your toes curled at the feeling of his evident bulge pressing against your clothed core. 

Your hands were all over him, tracing his chest, then his shoulders, then his back. Eventually, one settled in his hair, lightly tugging at the curls, earning a low moan. But he hadn’t stopped kissing you, his lips perfectly moulded against yours, and you were both lost in one another. You had years to make up for. 

Eventually he pulled back for air, heavy breaths against your lips while he struggled to fully regain his composure. Then his eyes scanned your features, your eyes were slightly hooded as you looked up to him, an evident flush on your skin, and your lips were swollen.

“You’re so pretty.” 

You laughed at him, raising both brows. “Yeah, you aren’t too bad yourself, Torres.” Then you moved the hand in his hair to his jaw, thumb grazing against his bottom lip, tugging on it slightly while holding eye contact with him. 

He smirked, nodding a few times. “I always knew you were a freak in the sheets.”

You scoffed. “You’re so annoying!”

Joaquin smiled. “That’s why you like me, isn’t it?” 

That earned an eye roll. “Isn’t there something else you could be doing with your mouth instead of annoying me on purpose?” 

Then there was a glint in Joaquin’s eye, and he tilted his chin down slightly, just enough to pull your thumb into his mouth, lightly sucking on it for a few seconds before letting it go. 

The sight had your eyes widening.

“Yeah—there’s something I’ve been dying to do with my mouth. Promise you’ll love it.” Then his lips were on yours for a few seconds before he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, taking the time to run his tongue against your warm skin, then as he kissed down your throat, he nipped a few marks into the skin, smirking at the sounds of your quiet whimpers.

Then he ran his tongue along your freshly bruised skin—the motion so familiar that it made you giggle. Well at least you giggled until the found the spot below your ear, which earned a surprised gasp from you—and that was all Joaquin needed to hear before he was kissing against your skin, sucking your skin into his mouth, teeth lightly tugging at it—your fingers digging into his back at the feeling.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he started kissing back down your neck, and along your exposed shoulder in your cut up t-shirt. His hands focused on pushing the shirt up from your waist, exposing more and more skin until he was met with your bra. 

You pushed him away, slightly embarrassed at the older plain black bra, it was your comfiest bra—it even had a few holes along the band closer to the hooks on your back. 

“What’s wrong, Hermosa?” He sounded so soft and concerned, looking at you as if he was afraid of breaking you.

“Nothing—don’t judge my ugly bra.” 

He laughed at that, shaking his head. “You think I’d judge something that’s coming off anyways?” Then, he was sitting back on his haunches, gently pulling you up before his hands grasped the edge of your shirt—making eye contact with you, waiting until you nodded—then he was pulling it upward, helping you take it off.

The second his eyes landed on your chest, he groaned, biting his bottom lip at the sight of your tits—even if they were confined in the plain bra—he didn’t give a shit about that, to the point that he was pushing you back onto the bed, lips back on your skin. Joaquin started from your shoulder, then moved along your chest to the swell of your breasts.

He took his time with you, a trail of bruising kisses along your plush skin, then he reached behind your back with one hand, fumbling with the clasp of your bra—the motion making you laugh as you shook your head.

He glanced up at you from your chest, a rosy flush overtaking his cheeks. “Don’t laugh at me, you’re gonna give me performance anxiety!” As he spoke, he finally managed to unclasp the bra, taking the time to pull the straps off of your shoulders, then he squeezed his eyes shut as he took it off of you. 

“Quino, what the hell are you doing?” 

He laughed, “Giving myself a grand reveal! Duh.” Then he opened his eyes, lips parted as he stared directly at your bare chest. He blinked a few times, then licked his lips while nodding his head. “Yeah—you’re so fuckin pretty, all of you—Christ.” 

You gasped as he practically dove into you, lips back on your chest, one hand massaging against your right side, his mouth focused on the other, a mixture between bruising kisses and low groans being left against your skin. Then he wrapped his lips around your nipple—gently sucking on the hardened peak, earning a high pitched moan from you.

Eventually he moved onto your other breast, repeating the motions until your back was arching into him while you pulled his hair so hard that it stung—although that wasn’t why he stopped. Joaquin opted to kiss along your stomach, even taking the time to bite into the soft skin, smirking against you at the sounds of your quiet whimpers.

By the time that he made it to the waistband of your pajamas, he paused, now looking up at you, giving himself the chance to process how truly wrecked you really were. Your hair framed you in a messy halo, your eyes were hooded, swollen lips parted, and you stared at him as if he was everything and more.

His heart was about to beat out of his chest.

Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants. “Can I?” 

You nodded at him “Please—” 

Joaquin didn’t need to be told twice, he was pulling your pants and panties off in one motion as you lifted your hips, easing the process along. Once they were full off, his eyes focused on you—taking in every single detail of your body, from the budding bruises he’d left, to the scars, stretch marks, hell even the few moles and birthmarks he’d never seen before.

His stare made you feel insecure in the moment, opting to sit up with your back against your pile of pillows leaning into the headboard, legs pressed together and arms wrapped around your chest, as if you wanted to hide from him.

“Mi Vida, don’t hide from me, you’re so beautiful, everything about you is beautiful.” His voice was full of adoration as he stared at you with a fondness you’d never really experienced before.

Joaquin stared at you as if he was in love, and that alone was enough to have you sitting up further, grasping his shirt and crashing your lips against his. He laughed against your lips, smiling into the kiss as his hands found their way to your waist—one at your thighs, pushing them apart to slot himself between them once again. 

Your hands were all over him, moving from his hair, to his cheeks, to his jaw, then down to his chest again, now beneath his shirt, fingers splayed against the toned ridges of his abdomen. The warmth of his skin was comforting in a way you couldn’t explain.

He moved away enough to pull his shirt off, tossing it aside somewhere, lips back against yours. The kiss was somewhat sweet, but now it was a mixture of teeth and tongue as he deepened the kiss, mouth practically overtaking yours.

Joaquin Torres had always been competitive, it was clear that his competitiveness was incredibly prominent in every aspect of his life—to the point that you felt as if you were drowning in him trying to keep up.

Eventually you pushed him away to catch your breath. He smiled at you once before moving back down, following his previous trail of bruising kisses, except this time with light open mouthed kisses. He’d even grazed his tongue against a few of the blooming marks along your skin.

Then he was between your legs, kissing along your inner thighs, gently biting into the skin—doing his best to leave marks. He’d always been possessive, and to him, you were his girl. The world didn’t need to see every single mark he’d leave against you, some were just subtle reminders for you.

Joaquin used both hands to spread your legs—wide. He was a bit shocked at how wide he was able to get them, raising both brows with a satisfied smirk. “Never knew you were this flexible.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze, feeling the flush of embarrassment taking over as he stared directly at your wet center. 

“Can I?” You didn’t look at him as you mumbled a quiet ‘please’. Too embarrassed to actually meet his gaze. 

Joaquin smiled, shaking his head at you, you’d never been the shy type, but maybe the intimacy was getting to you—however, he reveled in it. He’d never felt more in love.

He didn’t hesitate to lick a flat stripe along your cunt, the motion caught you off guard, eyes widening as you looked down at him, giving yourself a better view of him.

“That's it baby, I want you to look at me—promise I won’t be mean.” Joaquin’s teasing tone made you groan, both hands covering your face for a few seconds before you shook your head.

Joaquin winked at you before repeating the motion, this time with more pressure—starting at your sopping hole, ending at your clit. “You’re so fuckin wet—taste so good too. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long—wanted you for so long.”

Then his tongue was back on you, he hadn’t started slow, if anything he’d dove straight in—as if he was a prisoner on death row and this was his last meal. 

You couldn’t stop your moans and whimpers, Joaquin had been a man starved and he clearly had a point to prove. Your hands were in his hair, tugging at his curls, back arching into him while you tried not to roll your hips against his face—doing your best to keep some composure.

He knew you too well, and he noticed the way your thighs had already started tensing up. His tongue moved against your clit, alternating between small circles to rapidly flicking against it, the mixture of sensations eliciting borderline pornographic moans from you. He wasn’t stopping anytime soon—and he wanted you to let go. 

Joaquin knew you needed this, and honestly, he needed it too.

So he hooked one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you even closer to him, pulling your clit into his mouth, harshly sucking on it while moaning against you, his eyes now shut as he let himself get lost in the motions.

You looked down at him again and nearly lost every sense of composure you had left, his brows were knit together, eyes shut, and as he sucked on your clit with his fingers gripping your thigh, he moaned against you—as if he was doing this for his own pleasure, not yours.

Then you noticed the way his hips rolled into your mattress—that had you whimpering his name, biting your bottom look as you tugged on his hair, fingers grazing his scalp while you finally let go—now grinding yourself against him.

Joaquin let go of your clit, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips at the feeling of you grinding against his face, then he moved lower, nose now pressed against your pearl while his tongue lapped at your dripping hole. 

The second he slid his tongue into you—you whined his name like a prayer. Now fully rolling your hips against his face, moaning at the pressure from his nose against your clit and the feeling of his tongue licking into you—practically darting in and out of you at a brutal pace.

Your body was on fire, the coil in your abdomen wound so tight it felt as if you were about to explode, and all you could focus on was the feeling of Joaquin Torres’s tongue fucking into you.

He managed to press his face deeper against you, moaning at the taste of your cunt, drowning himself in it. His hips were grinding against your mattress as one of his hands held you against him, then he slid his tongue out of you, two fingers now prodding at your hole, his tongue back on your clit as he slowly slid them inside of you.

The stretch of his fingers alongside his tongue moving against your clit sent you over the edge—practically gushing against his face as you came with a high pitched “Quino!”.

Joaquin’s eyes fluttered open as he looked up at you, your lips parted, brows knit, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as your orgasm consumed you—fuck you’d never looked more beautiful.

You expected him to stop, but he was far from finished with you. Fingers now curling into you, fucking you through your orgasm—prolonging it. One of your hands moved from his hair, now on his shoulder—nails digging into his skin as you held onto him, unknowingly grinding yourself against him even more—rolling your hips over and over again—using him for your own pleasure.

“That’s it Hermosa—use me—fuck just like that.” His words were muffled against your core, you didn’t even fully register them as he finger fucked you through your high and into the world of overstimulation. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, your nerve endings on fire and all you could think about was Joaquin.

He brought your clit back into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on it, tongue swirling over it slightly—just enough to have you seeing stars as his fingers brushed against the velvety spot inside of you that left you gasping his name. Joaquin focused on that spot, fingers moving rapidly and purposefully, moaning against your clit at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him.

This was downright sinful, prior to this moment, you were positive you’d be going to hell—but Joaquin Torres’s greedy mouth on your cunt had you convinced there was a spot dedicated to the both of you.

It wasn’t long until you were toppling over the edge again, vision blurring as a white heat overtook your entire being—practically screaming his name as your eyes watered slightly.

He looked up at you, eyes hooded, mouth still focused on your clit—moaning at the sight of you, knowing that he was the one bringing you this much pleasure was enough to have him on edge.

Thankfully, as you came down from your high, you gently pushed him away, whimper and shaking your head, voice breathy while mumbling. “It’s too much—fuck—give me a second”. 

When he finally moved away from you, he licked his lips, now staring at you with a dopey smile on his face. You should’ve been embarrassed at the shiny layer of your essence along his lips and chin—but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. 

Neither of you said a word as you held eye contact. 

Something unspoken in the air, an evident shift in your entire relationship—but neither of you cared. Not when he’d already confessed his feelings for you and made you cum twice in the span of twenty minutes.

Especially not when you knew that you were practically in love with Joaquin. It’d just taken him slapping your ass and word-vomiting a confession for you to realize it.

Your eyes moved from his, trailing along his body, stopping at his waist—the evident tent in his sweats had your eyes widening slightly. You’ve always had an inkling that he was big just based on the way he carried himself—but now you knew you were right and your mouth was already watering.

“Take them off Joaquin.” 

He nodded at your request—although it was more of a demand.

You laughed as he stood up, rushing through the process of taking off his sweats and briefs—stumbling a bit as he kicked them off. However, the second your eyes landed on his cock you stopped laughing, lips parted, mouth watering slightly—just enough that you were drooling.

He was big—huge even—thick and girthy in a way that you knew would make your head spin, a few defined veins traveling along the shaft of his cock, and the head had a pink-ish flush to it, already leaking precum. 

The sight was salacious.

Joaquin watched it happen, the sliver of spit gliding along the edge of your open mouth—then in seconds he was back on you, his tongue trailing along your chin, gathering it before kissing you. It was downright filthy, the way his tongue explored your mouth—the taste of cunt still fresh on his tongue. 

You moaned against his lips, one hand on his jaw, the other sliding along his torso, then down to his cock, fingers trailing the length of it, before you grasped him in hand, his hips bucking into you. You kissed him as your hand slowly pumped along his shaft—thumb spreading his precum along the tip, dragging it down his cock—using it to move faster, gliding along the length of it all.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours as you jerked him off, pausing for a moment, long enough to spit on your hand—then it was back on him. 

“You’re gonna kill me—y’know that?” 

You laughed at him, head rolling forward the slightest bit, gaze focused on his cock—biting your bottom lip as you tighten your grip on him, speeding your motions up just enough to make his abdomen flex. “I want you in my mouth Quino.” Your words were quiet whispers, then your eyes met his again, faces only a few centimeters apart.

“Not today—fuck don’t think I’ll last today—shit” he moaned, heavy breaths against your lips while he rocked his hips forward—chasing his own high. But he needed more. “I need you, Corazón”.

You smiled, kissing him softly before shoving him away from you. 

“You’re giving me whiplash baby—but if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” He laughed at his own joke, smile on his face while you looked up at him, shaking your head, biting your lip, holding back your own grin—or at least attempting to hold it back.

“Tell me how you want me, Joaquin.” 

His eyes widened at your seductive tone, you’d never sounded sexier—it made his cock twitch, and he was blushing. How one sentence managed to make him blush was insane, considering he’d just had his face between your thighs to the point that you were practically squirting against his tongue.

“Shit baby—on your back, but trust me okay? You said you’re flexible right?” 

You nodded at him, brows knit together as you slid down the mattress, now flat on your back with your legs bent at his sides. Then you watched as his palms met the backs of your thighs, lifting them slightly until you got the message and raised them up—legs now in the air. 

You were laughing at him, and soon enough, he was laughing too.

That was until he rested your ankles on his shoulders and leaned closer into your space, practically folding you in half. You were in shock at his position of choice. “What the hell, Quino? Basic missionary too boring for you or something?” 

He smiled, nodding his head. “Trust me—you’ll love it, I promise. Oh shit wait—I don’t have a condom.” His movements faltered as the realization dawned upon him, minor panic evident on his features.

“I’m on the pill—and I’m clean. I’ve never let anyone else ever—y’know without one. Wait—you literally go to the clinic with me to get tested!” 

Joaquin shrugged, which in turn made your legs stretch a bit more—earning a short gasp. “Well, when you put it that way corazón, I might end up cumming inside of you—I gotta ask now, are you okay with that?” 

You blinked several times “Quino, you literally have me folded in half and you’re asking if I’m okay with you cumming inside of me when I just gave you the okay to fuck me raw? Are you hearing yourself right now?” 

“I made you cum twice and you’re still so mean—jeez. God forbid a man wants full consent before creampie-ing his girl.” His hands left your calves, now up in faux-surrender as he spoke. The motion made you both start laughing again, but the second he moved his hips forward the slightest bit—his cock nudged against your clit and you gasped.

Then you were making eye contact again.

He hesitated for a few seconds. “You sure?”

You nodded, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

That’s all the encouragement he needed. Joaquin teased you the slightest bit, running the tip of his cock along your dripping folds—tapping it against your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

Then he slid in the slightest bit—and the immediate stretch had your eyes squeezed shut, a breathy gasp leaving your lips while he slowly rocked himself into you, inch by inch. 

“You’re so big—fuck Joaquin” 

He nodded, shushing you in a comforting manner “‘s okay—you’re doing so well baby, fucking cunt feels so good—just like that, relax into it cariño.” He kissed along your calves as he focused on filling you to the hilt, taking his time with you, letting you adjust to his size. 

Your hands gripped the comforters, knuckles practically white as you bit your bottom lip, doing your best not to clench around him—trying to relax, trying to let him in fully. The stretch stung in a painfully pleasurable way, something you couldn’t put into words, it was too much and not enough all at once. 

He was so deep—and you had a feeling the position also had something to do with that. It was like you could feel him in your stomach. Your toes curled while your back arched into him, head lulling back, brows knit, all the while mindless moans and mewls filled the space.

When Joaquin fully bottomed out he moaned your name, eyes focused on where your bodies met, you held him in a vice grip, he wanted nothing more than to ruin you—fucking you so hard you forgot about every single shitty guy that you’d been with—making you his and only his. 

But he also wanted to take his time with you, wanted to be slow and considerate—wanting to make this good for you.

It was as if you could read his mind, eyes fluttering open as you met his gaze. “Quino—I need you to fuck me, hard—” before you could even finish your sentence he was pulling out of you in a swift motion, to the point that only the head of his cock was inside of you, then he practically slammed back into you.

You screamed his name.

Your words snapped something inside of him, and as his fingers gripped your legs—he focused on fucking you into the mattress, hips unrelenting as he rocked into you, moaning at the feeling of your cunt. 

“So fuckin tight, you’re making such a mess baby—fuck look at that, just like that Hermosa—just like that” he praised you while he fucked into you, eyes trailing your entire figure, then pausing at your cunt, moaning at the sight of you practically sucking him back in, his cock coated in a layer of your slick, pussy practically drenching him.

Then he leaned even closer to you, one of your legs slipping off of his shoulder, however he still held you in place, hand on the back of your thigh, practically folding it against the mattress as his lips found yours again. 

The kiss was sloppy, neither of you could really focus on it, but Joaquin needed to be as close to you as possible—needed this moment to last. 

You couldn’t think straight, Joaquin clouded your every sense to the point that all you could do was moan and whimper a mixture between his name and slurred praise. Your thighs were tense, hips practically burning, and the pleasure radiating through your body was too much.

You tried pushing him back, but you didn’t want him to stop—you just couldn’t focus on anything but the fire raging throughout your body.

“‘S okay baby—you can take it, I know you can. Fuck you’re so good for me Corazón—mean the world to me too.” Joaquin was rambling, letting your other thigh go—giving you a quick sense of relief, but his thrusts hadn’t let up, and he wrapped a single hand around your throat—applying the slightest bit of pressure—testing the waters.

Your moan was the very definition of desperate as you grasped his forearm, holding him in place, eyes slowly opening, meeting his intense stare.

That’s what sent you over the edge, holding eye contact with Joaquin as he roughly fucked into you, his hand wrapped around your throat, and you finally realized the odd emotion you’d always seen in his gaze was just love—pure, undevoted love.

“Fuck—I love you Joaquin” your words were mumbled as you moaned, eyes squeezed shut again, legs shaking as your final orgasm hit. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pleasure sweeping through your body in waves, when you thought you were alright—it was like mini aftershocks kept hitting you.

He hardly processed your words, part of him couldn’t tell if he was hearing things or not, but it hadn’t stopped his hips from tensing up, cock twitching inside of you as he buried it to the hilt, thick ropes of cum filling you with an overwhelming warmth as he moaned “I love you—fuck love you so much—.”

Joaquin practically collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, shallow breaths hitting your flushed skin, meanwhile he intertwined his fingers with yours, his other hand grasping the comforter below as if it was a lifeline while he came down from his high.

The weight of him on top of you was relaxing, it was everything you needed in the moment.

Then your doorbell started ringing, and it wasn’t just once, no it was several times in a row—something only Sam did when he was irritated and couldn’t get a hold of you.

Your eyes widened and so did Joaquin’s, he lifted himself up, using his hand on the mattress to brace himself as he looked at you.

“Is that—?” 

You nodded, then you looked over at your bedside clock, ‘10:38’ showing. Then you realized you were supposed to send over the finished satellite reports by ten thirty today, meaning it was eight minutes late, but also, you most likely had several missed calls and texts from Sam.

“Oh my God, he’s gonna kill me!” 

When the doorbell started ringing again, you groaned. Then Joaquin slowly pulled out of you, kissing your forehead as he whispered apologies against your skin, hearing your subtle wince. He was quick to stand up, pulling his sweats back on, then he looked between your open thighs, pausing in his motions—eyes trailing your fucked out cunt, practically moaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

“God—I should take a picture of that. Fuck—shit Sam can wait another second—” Then he was back between your thighs, tongue lapping at your leaking hole, your eyes widening as you whimpered, one hand already in his hair, meanwhile Joaquin’s tongue was back inside of you—the motion outright filthy.

It didn’t take much for you to cum again, you were already too sensitive, you felt like a live wire.

A few seconds after Joaquin started rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb, you were moaning his name and gushing—this time you were genuinely squirting, legs shaking, and body tense.

You pushed him away from you—thighs clamped shut as you caught your breath. Both of you exchanged a look before glancing at the clock, five minutes had passed.

“That’s gotta be a record for you huh? Five minutes was all that one took?” 

You shushed him, slowly sitting up, looking around the room for your clothes. But he was already off the bed, wiping his forearm against his face—doing his best to clean himself up before opening one of your drawers, pulling out a pair of shorts and tossing it at you.

You’d already found his shirt, so you pulled that on, then slipped into the shorts on wobbly legs.

“You really are a fucking freak Joaquin.” You spoke as you tried to find your footing, grasping the edge of your nightstand and taking a deep breath. Your legs were already sore, so was your abdomen. 

“Yeah, but you liked it, besides, I didn’t miss the way you reacted when I choked you, you love that shit don’t you?” He wiggled his brows as he teased you, now helping you stand up straighter, both of you looking at one another before walking out of your bedroom. Then he sat on your sofa while you opened the front door.

Sam was clearly annoyed as he looked at you. That’s when you noticed Bucky was also outside of your apartment, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

This was about to get even more mortifying.

Sam practically invited himself in, already ranting. “Y’know kid, the job’s been relatively easy lately, and all I asked you to do was finish those reports because you’re the best data analyst I’ve got. You know everything about illegal and legal weaponry, practically specialize in foreign and alien-based tech, and you can spot an anomaly a thousand miles away, and yet here you are, damn near fifteen minutes past the deadline which I gave you on Wednesday—when usually you’d have everything over a day or two early.”

He paused, now turning to look at you again, shaking his head—he still hadn’t registered Joaquin sitting shirtless on the couch. “Then I called you, several times, I called you yesterday and today, you didn’t answer, I thought you died or something! How would I feel thinking you died when the last real conversation we had was me kicking you out of my office!”

Bucky cleared his throat as he looked at Sam, the first time Sam hadn’t noticed, then he did it again, which led to Sam looking at him with wide eyes.

“Yes, Buck?!” 

Bucky then nodded his head in Joaquin’s direction, Sam easily followed the motion.

Joaquin awkwardly smiled and waved at Sam. It didn’t help that he had red scratches along his chest—something you hadn’t even realized you’d done to him. Then of course, his hair was disheveled, and he looked a little too relaxed. 

That’s when Sam looked back at you, eyes taking in your figure, now noticing your own messy hair, the U.S. Air Force t-shirt you had on, and he noticed the way that you leaned against one of the countertops closest to you.

“Oh my god—are you two serious?! Didn’t I say don’t let this get in the way of work! I’m over here dragging that walking museum piece around because I thought you were dying, meanwhile you’re over here screwing Joaquin?!” 

You nodded. “Bucky’s the one who told me I needed to pursue less shitty guys.” 

Bucky shook his head at you. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t throw me under the bus here, he’s already pissed because I forgot to make brunch reservations—I don’t even like brunch.”

Then Sam looked over at Joaquin. “Did you at least tell the girl you’re in love with her before sleeping with her?” 

Joaquin shrugged, grimacing slightly before replying. “Does it count if I told her while we were having sex?” 

Sam blinked several times. “Those are details I didn’t ask for. Jesus Christ! Get those reports done and sent to me by tonight! And at the very least, answer your phone calls! Torres—you need to answer yours too! Let’s go Buck, before I lose my mind.” 

Then Sam was leaving, Bucky gave you an awkward smile, and a final, “for the record, I’m glad you came to your senses and realized you like him” before following Sam out.

Once the door clicked shut, you locked it. Now left with Joaquin.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” You spoke as you walked to the sofa, plopping down across from him, feet now resting in his lap. 

He just stared at you for a few moments. “Y’know I do love you, right? It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. I’m in love with you, and I was serious about the whole having to gaslight myself into thinking I’m not into you when I know I am.”

You laughed at him, smiling as you leaned against the couch cushions. “I can’t believe I’ve been this blind for so long, y’know how many shitty dates I could’ve avoided? Like genuinely—also you’re still a fucking freak.” 

Joaquin smiled, nodding his head. “Yeah? What—was the head too much at the end? Want me to tone it down some, I dunno, I think I might’ve set a record for you today, four orgasms? That’s more than you’ve had in months.”

You scoffed at his teasing. “Oh, shut up! It’s not my fault I didn’t know you were Mister munch!” Then you paused. “I need a shower.” 

He watched as you stood up, walking away from him, then you turned back, clearing your throat, waiting for him to meet your stare. When he did, you smiled. 

“Well, are you coming or what?”

Joaquin was positive he’d never moved faster, following you right into the bathroom, but before he could fully process what you were doing, you pressed him against the bathroom wall, a mischievous smile on your face.

“For the record, I’m positive that I love you too, Quino.” Then you were kissing him.

-

Thanks for reading my super hot and sexy ppl <3 Im literally posting ts from my job rn bc im so over working on a Saturday

[mullermilkshake]

Break a leg

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

Satoru interrupts your quality time with your mother.

Sperm donor!Satoru Gojo x Fem New mom!reader x Husband!Suguru Geto Tags - Gaslighting, Manipulation, Physical/emotional abuse, Mentions of infidelity, Yandere! behaviour, Possessiveness

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Your phone dinged. A message from your husband.

Suguru: Had to bring up divorce. He wouldn't let it go, I think he might come to you. It’s worse than I thought. Do you need me?

Realising what Suguru predicted came true, you messaged back.

You: No, I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to my mom. I’ll call you after. It’ll be fine.

So, Satoru must have taken the bait Suguru planned on hooking him with. Get him riled up enough to take his mind off of the main objective. To get him away from you and Sakura for good.

Going to the police would do nothing about a donor father with no contract wanting to see his daughter, and a man who held no parental responsibility over Sakura wanting that no contact to hold water.

A long drawn out process with an almost guaranteed ending.

Satoru could win it.

Worse than he thought. What could that even mean? 

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, darling. What is it?” She held your daughter close, snuggling into her on the armchair while a movie played in the background.

“Something’s happened and I need you to play along if you can.” You set your phone down and sat forward with an air of seriousness you had to train yourself to keep up and maintain.

“Is Suguru alright- is he safe?”

You nodded. “He’s alright, it’s his friend. You remember Satoru?”

“I do.” She disapproved of him clearly, like she already knew. “What’s he done?”

“So, apparently he’s in love with me and he wants to be in Sakura’s life as her father. Not a donor.”

She tutted, sitting forward to grab the bottle from the side table to feed the baby. “I knew it- I just knew it. I saw the way he looked at you at the wedding, I should have said something then- I should have said something-“

“It’s fine, mom.”

“You all agreed that he would donate to bring this little angel into the world and that’s it, then he has his name on the birth certificate and all of a sudden he’s causing issues.”

Burying your head in your hand only emphasised how fucked up it all was, like you had some clarity with blinkers on. “I know. I never thought he’d do anything so hurtful to Suguru.”

You stood up in a test to calm her down while she fed Sakura, her face getting red with a quiet anger. “What do you need me to do, sweetheart?”

“Well, I think he’s coming over- before you say no, that’s why we need you to play along with it. He’s dangerous, mom. Suguru told me to be careful, we can’t go all hardheaded with this. He reckons we can manipulate him enough to get everything reversed. The birth certificate, his involvement- but we need to get his guard down first. So please just play along for now, happy smiles if you see him.”

“Fucking hell.” She swore under her breath, standing up with you and swaying side to side instinctively. “What happens then?”

“Suguru’s told him think we’re going through with divorce, Satoru tried making him think we wanted to run off together, that there’s some weird relationship between us when there isn’t-“ You never meant to gasp audibly, but you did.

The doorbell rang, followed by a frantic knocking. “It must be him. Mom, take her upstairs and keep away for now. Please, just do this for me, I won’t bring any more trouble to your door, I promise.”

She approached you and pinched your cheek like she always did when you were a child. “Baby, nothing you could do would be trouble. Call me if you need me and I’ll throw him out, okay?”

You believed every word of that too. Your mom was a powerhouse to be reckoned with when she, or her family were threatened. A mama bear of sorts that would crush the entire forest just to keep the house from falling down.

“Alright-coming!”

The door knocked again, your mom trudged upstairs with the baby and you waited until she was out of sight much to Satoru’s dismay. You knew it was him just by his silhouette.

“Can you be any louder? I have a sleeping baby.”

Satoru pushed past you and stepped into the hallway, looking around the house like he’d never been there before.

“He wants a divorce. Then we can be together, no sneakin’ around. A real couple.” The creep was smiling like it was good news.

Time to act. Ugh, fucking hell. 

“No, he said he’d consider it if we couldn’t work things out.” You slammed the door and stormed past him back to the living room. “I might end up losing this marriage because he thinks I cheated on him, Satoru. That is all your on actions. You did this to me, you’ve ruined my life. Suguru’s life .” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, disbelieving your words. “I haven’t ruined anything. I’m the one you should have been with in the first place- look at the beautiful baby we made together. We would already be on our second by now if you chose me. So why didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?” It clicked for you immediately.

Satoru was worse than Suguru thought. Utterly delusional.

You chose to ignore the second child comment, getting into it now feeling like a brood mare would shake your confidence to put Satoru into his self made trap. You trusted Suguru, you knew he relied on his gut.

'Trust your husband'. Your new mantra.

“You know what I mean.” His voice dropped an octave. 

“I’m not talking about Suguru’s fertility here, Satoru- what do you mean?”

Satoru’s movements were erratic, jittery until he came right to you, snatching your hand in his to slip your wedding band off.

“Stop that- give it back, Satoru!” 

You’d never taken it off, not since the day Suguru slid it right on your fingers during his vows.

“What I mean is, why did you choose him, when I was right there all along? We’re perfect for eachother, made for eachother. Look at how our fingers fit together.”

He laced his fingers with yours, your back pressed against the wall you hadn’t realised you were up against. You eyed the gold band between his thumb and index finger as though he'd toss it away down a drain or sink that you'd never get back.

“Satoru… give me my ring back.” 

Self preservation, yes. But your ring was off limits.

"You're getting' divorced, do you really still need this?" He said, dipping his head closer to you. "Tell me why."

“I do- I do need that. Give me my ring back and I’ll tell you.”

A stalemate. A staring competition.

Satoru never moved, he gave no indication he was even thinking about giving it back. You begrudged the intrusive thought that he might keep it and would never return it, he must have known Suguru had it engraved.

He held onto those rings at the ceremony.

“Fine.” He kept still, his tone a little sore. “Take it back, for now. But I want an answer.”

Once you slid the cool band back onto your finger, you watched it glisten in natural light, sitting in its rightful place.

What the hell do I say? 

“I fell in love with Suguru immediately. I never met you until a few months later. Though, if we met before, I honestly don’t know… but how you’re treating me right now, I’d say I made the right choice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru leaned in closer, his pine cologne meeting your nose that overpowered you.

“It means that you aren’t being the least bit nice to me. Quite frankly, you’re scaring me, and I don’t want to be around someone who does that.”

You tried to move, to get past him. Satoru blocked your way, gripping onto your shoulders and holding you in place like a petulant child.

“Fine.” The word, though most certainly a threat, growled in his throat. “I didn’t want to tell you this, because I knew it would hurt you. But I can’t see any reason to keep this away from you anymore…"

"What do you mean?" You regretted asking that.

"When I tell you this, you'll understand that what I'm doing right now isn't hurting you. I'm just trying to make you realised what good we can have if you weren't so stubborn." Satoru dragged his hand down his face and looked away for a brief second. "Suguru cheated on you.”

“N-No... What?”

It was almost believable, you nearly took that bait hook line and sinker. ‘He might try anything to get you on side. Don’t fall for it. Whatever he might say, we can talk it over when you’re home. But take everything he says with a pinch of salt.’ Suguru said this morning before you left.

Satoru planned for this.

“Y’know when he said he was on business last year to attend that convention for the weekend, while you were pregnant? He was with his secretary, he didn’t even attend it that weekend.”

Manami, so believable too. She was pretty, young and had a tendency to dress in skirts a little two short. But she was the most loyal member of Suguru’s staff he had.

She was your bridesmaid for fuck’s sake.

She was also at the office during that time. 

How did you know that? Because you had lunch with her on the Saturday and video called Suguru the night before. You remembered the layout of the hotel room by memory and saw the vast amount of photos on social media of that convention, Suguru went through each one with you, he’d just landed a big client.

Satoru’s words were bullshit.

Still, you played your part. “He wouldn’t do that. Suguru wouldn’t do that to me, just like I wouldn’t do that to him either.”

“Hate to break it to ya, baby. But he did. You wanna change your answer now?”

“I just-“

He walked you back again until you were flat against the wall. “I’m faithful, reliable and I would never hurt you or our daughter. Our daughter. I’ll always be there for you. I mean, where is Suguru right now? He’s not exactly trying to win your affection now, is he?”

“Suguru is… Satoru, just drop it- I want to fix this. You aren’t helping! Get off of me, I want you to go.”

Satoru shook his head, determined to stay. “I won’t stop loving you, I can’t stop this. I want us to be a family and I’ll fight for it if need be. Once suguru is out of the picture we can be together. I want you to give me a chance, at least. And I’ll show you how good I am for you.”

You were utterly speechless. “Satoru…”

“From the minute I realised I wanted you to be mine, I knew I wouldn’t stop until you were.” He pulled your hand to his chest like before, his heart thumping into the palm of your hand. “We have a baby together, we’re in it until she’s eighteen at least so we might as well try, can’t you give me that much? Let Suguru go through with the divorce and let me show you how perfect we are for each other.”

Eighteen years entangled with him. No fucking way. 

You wanted Satoru out of the picture as quickly as humanly possible. Suguru wanted the same. Just how messed up was it going to get, trying to remove a madman from a situation he’d latched himself into like a bloodsucking leech?

Sakura’s cries could be heard from downstairs, you picked up on it immediately, as did Satoru.

“I wanna see her.”

“My mom’s seeing to her, leave her alone and just go, Satoru. Please.” 

“Nah, I’ll see her now, then I’ll go. You have a lot to think about.” He took off up the stairs, heading straight to your mom’s room.

“Hey there, I’m satoru, I don’t know if you remember me. I was the best man at your daughter’s wedding.” Satoru was almost too pleasant.

“Oh yes.” When you reached the bedroom, your mom was offering her sweetest smile. “I remember you, you’re the one who donated so that my daughter could have this little bundle of joy. I can see the resemblance.” 

While it was for show, you couldn’t help but sit in the helplessness of your mothers positivity. she grinned and rocked the baby in her chair, slotting her little finger into Sakura’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m so glad I could help bring her into the world.” Satoru bent down to get closer.

“Must be nice being an uncle to such a sweet baby.”

Oof. There was the dig.

“Yeah.” Satoru saw it as such too by how he turned to you with a lidded glare. “It’s great to still be in her life the way that I am. I’m so greatful your daughter is so understanding and willing to compromise on how Sakura’s raised.”

You shouldn’t have been on edge with your mom here. So why was your heart hammering in your throat? Just what could he do to ruin you, to ruin the family you tried so hard for?

“Mom, Satoru just happened to be in the neighbourhood, he was about to leave actually.”

In other words, ‘Get the fuck out of this house.’ 

“Yeah.” Satoru stood up and awkwardly waved your mother off. “I gotta be goin’, I have lots of big things coming up with work and other stuff. I can’t stay long.”

In his own indirect words, ‘Watch it.’ 

“I’ll show him out, and we’ll get ready for that walk. I’m sure Sakura could do with the fresh air.”

You led Satoru down without another word, yanking open the front door to let him pass. He did something you hoped he wouldn’t.

Satoru held your hips, walked you backwards against the front door and stopped short of your lips by an inch, two at most.

“Don’t keep her away from me. I’ll do everything I can to make sure we end up together. I’ll see to it that divorce goes through if need be, and you and I can make a go of it… don’t make things difficult.” 

He left without another word, another glance. Nothing

You heaved into your hands before you hyperventilated in the doorway, scrambling over for your phone to call your husband.

He was worse than you thought.

He was far more invested than you hoped.

He was more attached than you could have imagined.

He was deranged.

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

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[crowttore]

Genshin characters as ways animals court and mate

Welcome to another round of (hopefully) the weirdest biology lessons you'll ever receive. Essentially a shitpost, someone should take away my writing privileges. There could be better suited animals out there, I just chose from the ones I know.

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Xinyan, Dainsleif, Diluc, Albedo, Ganyu, Ifa

Not seeing your fav character? Find more here

Tags: nsfw in the way a national geographic documentary is, there are no graphic details but proceed at your own discretion

Childe / Ajax / Tartaglia - Vulpes vulpes (red fox)

Am I pushing an agenda here? Absolutely. Childe gets excited when he notices that you're beginning to pay attention to him - however sparse it may be - and does everything he can to interact with you, making sure to keep it fun and engaging (both for himself and you). Bright and cheerful while courting you. Childe is generally very easy-going but doesn't take kindly to others getting too familiar with you and he can, in those instances, turn quite territorial. Has a habit of disappearing for long periods of time on missions, but when he's there, he's very devoted. Male foxes get aggressive towards other males around breeding season. Courting includes loud calls and frolicking around with a chosen mate, typically play fighting and nipping at each other. Male foxes stay to help raise the pups, letting the female stay with the pups for the first weeks while he fetches food daily.

Xiao - Drosophila spp. (fruit flies)

This one isn't exactly a calculated move on Xiao's part, and he'd prefer that this wasn't a byproduct of sexual intimacy (intimacy of any kind really). Due to his karmic debt, Xiao affects his surroundings and 'taints' them. On his partner, this means that for a time after being with him, they experience mild symptoms akin to those you'd experience after being in close proximity to old god remains. The emotional effects last a couple of hours and make others less likely to engage in any kind of social behaviour with you. Drosophila males use a pheromone to mark a female as unattractive after mating, reducing the chances of his sperm being outcompeted. Some evidence suggests that the pheromone has mildly harmful effects on the female.

Xinyan - Cebuella pygmaea (Pygmy marmoset)

It might not come as a surprise that the courting (or dating) phase isn't particularly long with Xinyan, after all, you lose every chance you don't take. She has little care for norms, if she likes you, she'll let you know first chance she gets! Through music, Xinyan has a multitude of ways to convey her thoughts and feelings, be it with or without vocals. No matter her way with words, writing songs couldn't prepare for standing in front of you and getting the words past her lips, but she'll figure it out. One thing you hadn't expected is the way she slowly adopts your way of speaking (as you do hers) allowing you to develop what might sound like a completely new language to outsiders. It makes both of you laugh from time to time while spending quality time together, realising what you're saying sounds like a load of nonsense. Pygmy marmosets have incredibly complex vocal calls and a great intuitive understanding of how sound travels and interacts with things around them. Pairs will 'sing' together to strengthen their bond, and new pairs will rapidly adjust the sound, length etc. of their calls to create new and unique ones to use with their partner.

Dainsleif - Antechinus spp. (Marsupial mice)

Dainsleif yearns. And he lingers. His love is vast as an ocean and just as deadly- he knows (thinks) it will drown you both the moment he lowers his guard. For this reason, you're kept at arms length for a while, unsure if he wants you gone or not. It's impossible to tell with his tendency to appear for a moment and be gone the next. Every time you think yourself free and healed, he appears again to drive the blade further into both your hearts. When he finally caves, in a moment of weakness, the love he shares is passionate, the ferocity of a starved beast, keeping you awake throughout the night, crying out his name in pleasure. When you awake next, there's nothing but a scribbled apology next to you. Dainsleif doesn't return after that, but you swear he still lingers in your periphery. Marsupial mice have uhh interesting mating habits. Males are ready to breed a few weeks before breeding seasons start and females enter ovulation. Mating is intense but has a narrow window of opportunity. The males funnel so much energy into maximising reproductive capabilities, using up all energy storage, that a vast majority of males die off after mating. The level of free corticosteroids increase in the males during mating, which suppresses the immune system significantly.

Diluc - Pygoscelis papua (Gentoo penguin)

Once Diluc finds himself ready to settle down, you can rest assured that plenty of care went into that decision. After hovering around you for a while, slowly finding that he doesn't wish to be without your presence (I could write so much about this turning point for Diluc whew) he presents you with two seemingly odd items. One is an old-looking key, the other a locket containing a few grape seeds. The key is for the back-door to the winery so you can always come and go. The locket belonged to his mother and the seeds inside are for you to plant. He hopes you're as ready to settle down and build a life together as he is. Gentoo penguins build their nests out of rocks and males will essentially present a female with a carefully selected stone to signify "I would like to build a nest with you". Gentoo penguins are also known for being very strictly monogamously, to the point that sleeping around or attempting to can get an individual kicked out of the colony.

Albedo - Siphopteron quadrispinosum (sea slug)

This is dedicated entirely to you Petal <3 And to everyone else, sorry. While Rhinedottir did everything she could to make Albedo, he's lacking in certain places. Which was fine. Until he met you. But that's fine, he has a solution to that. He's spent weeks fussing over creating everything that would be needed, a bottle of pheromones to get you properly prepared and a perfectly shaped rod for insertion, the tip sharpened for piercing your skin of course. A lot of sea slugs are hermaphrodites and will, after feeling each other up, stab the other with a penile stylet and inject their fluids. Some of them do it directly into the other's head. The penile stylet regrows.

Ganyu - Capra spp. (Goats)

Sweet docile Ganyu absolutely adores it when she gets to cuddle up to you, especially if your arms are wrapped securely around her. At first, you find her tendency to bury her head into your armpit a bit odd, but it's pretty endearing to be honest. Xianyun clearly makes sure her daughter is dressed to impress, and although Ganyu flusters easily; especially when you grin happily upon seeing her, you have no doubt she enjoys the compliments. Each sweet word is rewarded with a little kiss to your forehead (why her smile always looks a little sad when she pulls away is something you'll have to ask about, maybe she's still insecure around you?) Oh I promise you dear reader, this particular behavior is not a sign of insecurity. Goats are self-anointing animals, meaning they make sure to smell. For goats, this behavior includes males urinating on their forelegs and his own face, which combined with a secretion from glands located at the base of his horns, ensures a seductive scent. Some females have been observed to completely refuse mating with a buck who's had those glands removed.

Ifa - Giraffidae spp. (Giraffes)

When Ifa has to travel, he makes sure to always stop by your place every chance he gets. Some might call him clingy (and they would be correct) but he simply can't stand being away from you for more than a week at a time. There are, of course, certain benefits to dating a vet (what are humans if not animals as well) and Ifa is always looking out for you, running a few tests here and there, and making sure you're in top condition, he's quite the attentive partner! Back to the 'needy' point, Ifa can't keep his hands off of you. In fact, he can't keep his tongue away either, always licking at your skin before inevitably nudging your legs apart to have a taste. Male giraffes roam while looking for opportunities to mate, with them going into rut approximately every two weeks. They determine if a female is in oestrus by tasting her urine. If the male moves on to courting, he will start licking the female, attempting to rest his head against her, and occasionally give a little nudge with his ossicones.

[wonyology]

Blueprints Of Us (m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG) - part II

part I - part III (not yet)

Summary: A heartbroken architect. An ambitious girl. They didn't know each other existed - until the day they met in Hong Kong. What began as a pleasant encounter slowly turns into something neither of them planned: a connection, and perhaps... a new beginning.

tags(?): fluff, first date but not really, wony being beautiful, i don't even know man, the ending might surprise u guys a bit hehe

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~10k - i tried something new at the ending so... hope u guys like it. also, shout out to all my architect readers/followers (sorry too... i know nothing about architecture)

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Mapo-gu, Seoul

You woke up before the alarm. The morning light filtered through the blinds, warm and familiar. It was Seoul, it was home. Your ceiling stared back at you, smooth with that one faint line where the paint never quite dried evenly. You’d always meant to fix it. You never did. Your neck ached. The flight back to Korea had done something to your spine, or maybe it was the way you had slept for hours trying not to think about her.

The bed still smelled like fresh laundry. Clean. Lifeless, but cozy. You sat up slowly, your body was stiff and unsatisfied since sleep hadn’t done what it was supposed to do. You’d only been back in Seoul.

Mapo was quiet this early. Your apartment was modest, thoughtfully designed. It sat near the edge of Yeonnam-dong. Not big, but it was yours. A unit on the second floor of a three story walk up - one of those multi-use buildings with clean renovations and just three other tenants. No elevator, no security desk. 

There was a small row of garages tucked behind the building - nothing fancy but secure enough, One of them was yours. You’d bought the car a year ago - a 2023 Kia K5, grey, low mileage. A good friend from school was leaving Korea and offered you the deal, it was too reasonable to pass up. You had money to spend. You didn’t need the car every day, but it was good for site visits around Seoul. You just felt good driving around in it - it did what it needed to do, and did it well. You kept it parked in the corner. Sometimes, late at night, you’d drive around to clear your head - those drives gave you new ideas. More than once, a project breakthrough started with you just driving around with no destination. People told you to get a foreign, they said women loved it and it looked way better. They meant well, probably, but you didn’t care for all that. Hey, you also support the local car industry. Too many people in Korea buried themselves in debt trying to appear richer than they were - German cars, Swiss watches, French designers, Italian jewelry. You’d seen it. You’d designed for some of them. It wasn’t for you.

Inside, the apartment was exactly your type. The kitchen bled into the living room. A long counter ran along the black wall, doubling as both workspace and dinner table. To the left, a door to your bedroom. To the right, your work room - wide desk, shelves stacked with binders and materials. The bathroom sat between both room. Nothing was excessive, but they all functioned. It wasn’t a designer place or anything, just a place that didn’t ask too much of you when you came home exhausted. You’d gotten the apartment through one of your old professors at SNU - a favor, or maybe just nice timing. The previous tenant was another architecture friend of his, and your name came up. The monthly payment was reasonable, especially for Seoul.

You finally swung your legs over the edge of the bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom. While brushing your teeth in silence, you stared at your own reflection like you weren’t ready to be him yet - the aspiring architect who had things to do, places to be. You then splashed cold water on your face, ran a towel over your jaw and stood there for a long second, just breathing in and out. Not too tired now but not too awake either. You then walked to the living room, fingers combing absently through your hair.  You sat on the sofa for a few minutes - not thinking, not planning, just… pausing. For a moment, nothing moved.

Then, without any planning, you pulled out your phone and tapped the photo gallery. Dumb photos in Hong Kong. Site visits. Sketches. Drinks with Dabin and Barom. And then, those pictures of her.

Right, Jimin.

You stared at those photos, one longer than the rest - her birthday, maybe. A blurry shot of her laughing in a red sweater, leaning into your shoulder. You didn’t know how to feel anymore, after Hong Kong. 

What is she doing now?

You thought for a bit too long before making the decision. You tapped. 

One. 

Two. 

Three… Too many photos. 

Confirm. Delete. Photo by photo. Memory by memory.

All deleted now. It was on this same couch a few weeks ago that you’d cried your eyes out, after she dumped you. You’d stayed there all night, rethinking your life choices. And now? You didn’t even know. You exhaled slowly, setting the phone down.

What should I have for breakfast today?

Your phone suddenly buzzed.

Who is it?

[워녕이녕이🐰]  sent 1 image.

good morning oppa

back to reality already? or still thinking about me?

The photo was a close up selfie. She wore a face mask, bangs held up with a roller. Her mole, just under her right eye, stood out more than usual. It was… stupidly cute. Too intimate for someone you weren’t even dating. Too soft. Jimin used to do things like this too. But it didn’t feel the same. Wonyoung just stared into the camera like she already knew what it would do to you.

Why am I thinking about Jimin?

You didn’t have an answer for it. With Wonyoung right now, it felt like something new was trying to start. And you weren’t sure if you deserved it yet. You ran your hand down your face, trying to think of what to reply instead of backing down whenever things got too close too quickly like you used to do.

[You]

still thinking, but maybe that’s your fault

how was your flight back to korea? sorry i couldn’t text you last night. too tired and fell asleep immediately when i got home

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

omg u finally replied

i was starting to think u were ghosting me ><

do you have work today?

[You]

no i was just tired lol

yeah i was about to get ready for work

why? do you want to do something?

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

maybe…

just something to eat? 

casual thing

unless u are too busy being a serious architect~

Another text followed immediately.

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

i mean…

im free tonight

and i look really pretty today, oppa

You smiled. Of course she made it sound casual. Of course she had to slip that part in, You could imagine her voice saying that, like she wasn’t asking but daring you to say no. You typed slowly, carefully - not too much, not too eager.

[You]

i’ll try and get off work a little early for you. what time are you free?

send me the address, i’ll come pick you up

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

look at you~

picking me up and everything

is 7.30 ok? it’s this place in sangsu dong

i heard the food is good, also the lighting is nice… just in case we take pictures

i’ll send you my address later

Another message followed seconds later:

wear something dark, oppa

you look good in those colors

You smiled again, slower this time. The lighting, pictures, dark colors - it didn’t feel like a casual meet up, but a mood she wanted to set. You didn’t answer right away. Maybe tonight was already the beginning of something. Something new. You weren’t sure what it really was. But you weren’t going to walk away from it either. Not this time.

When you were driving to work, Mapo was still shaking itself awake. You rolled past narrow cafes getting ready to open, delivery trucks parked on the side of the street, a rich looking woman walking her dog in slippers and an oversized coat. It was July - too humid for that, but maybe that’s how people were around here. Always dressing like someone is watching. The light was soft but not too bright, filtering through low clouds like the city hadn’t decided what mood to settle into yet. That was Seoul, too curated, too restless, but it was home. You didn’t always love it. But you knew how to live in it.

Turning into the narrow alley behind your office building, you locked the car and slung your bag over your shoulder. The elevator here sucked, you always took the stairs. The office looked half finished on purpose - concrete floors, open shelves, sketches taped all over the place. Music played low from a speaker no one remembered buying and the place somehow smelled like burnt coffee and foam board dust. Dabin looked up from his screen as you walked in, chewing on something that looked like leftover food.

“You look well rested, that girl you met in Hong Kong still texting you?” he asked.

You didn’t answer right away. Just dropped your bag on the floor and booted up your monitor.

“So that’s a yes,” he muttered. “You’re in trouble, man.”

You didn’t deny. Maybe he wasn’t wrong. 

The morning passed in pieces - sketches, emails, render updates. You kept your head down mostly, tuning out the lum hum of conversation, clatter of coffee mugs around you. Around eleven, Barom’s voice rang out from the back.

“Haejoon-ah. Got a sec?”

You glanced up from your screen and grabbed your notebook. His office was tucked behind a sliding glass door - clean enough but always cluttered with a whole bunch of material samples. He didn’t look up as you walked in, already scrolling through something on his tablet.

“Close the door.”

You did.

“What about Hong Kong?”

You spoke. Updates on the renovation proposal, logistics stuff, something about budget, material revision. You flipped to the right page in your notes, answered what needed answering. Routine stuff. Nothing out of hand. Just as you were about to leave, he leaned back in his chair and gave you a look.

“Oh, what about that girl? Was it Wonyoung?”

“What about her, hyung?” you blinked.

“You haven’t told me much about her.” he smirked, too sharp to be harmless.

“I mean… we texted, like a lot after that day.”

Barom leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you too closely now.

“Okay, do you like her?”

You gave a small shrug, trying not to give too much away.

“She’s fun to talk to. I’d say a mix of cute shyness and confidence. Sharp. Easy going.”

“You talk about a girl like she’s a design brief.”

You huffed a short laugh.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, hyung.”

He waited, quiet. Not pushing but not letting you off the hook either. You scratched your jaw, hesitated. 

“She was…shy but got flirty after drinking a bit that night.” you admitted.

“But also honest. She saw that picture I took with that chaebol’s daughter, Seo-yoon - the one I designed the gallery thingy for - and her model friend. Maybe she got a little jealous. She pinched me.”

“She pinched you?” he didn’t expect that part.

You nodded, reenacting what Wonyoung did to you that night - the way her fingers rested on the back of your hand before pinching twice. He watched you do it, then speaking up more gently:

“And… Jimin?”

Your fingers paused in the air. You let your hands fall back to your side.

“It’s over, hyung.”

“Are you still thinking about her?” he asked after giving you a slow nod. 

You didn’t answer right away. The question doesn’t sting, but it landed heavier than you expected.

“Only a bit.” you answered, honestly. “But much less than before.”

Barom leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

“You don’t have to rush it, you know. Don’t do it because you want to forget about your ex quickly. That thing never works.”

You nodded. You knew that already. He paused for a bit then shifted slightly in his chair.

“So, that floral studio thing. How serious is that?”

You glanced at him, already knowing where this is going. 

“She wants it done right. It’s not just some cute idea. They’re serious about it. I said I’d help… without going through you first. But that also means one more deal for us.”

Barom didn’t react right away.

“You know I don’t micromanage. And you told me about it that night already, Haejoon-ah.” he said. “I’m okay with that. I trust your call.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Just brief me properly once things are agreed - site conditions, budget, whatever comes up. Do the heavy stuff, I’ll handle the boring stuff.”

“Paperwork.” you said.

“Yeah. Client agreement, contractor docs, other things. Leave that to me.”

He glanced at you, then added.

“Until you get your license, I’m still the one who has to sign everything.”

“I just hit the requirement this year, hyung.”

“I know.” he smirked. “Scary how fast that came, huh? You’re almost legit now.”

You gave him a look.

“I’ve been legit.”

“Legit? Sure. Legal? Not yet.”

You were already halfway to the door when you added, offhandedly.

“I’m picking her up tonight, by the way.”

“Dinner?” Barom looked up, asking you.

“Yeah, somewhere in Sangsu-dong.”

He raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Damn. Back from Hong Kong with a new girlfriend. Don’t say anything weird, man.”

“Shut up.”

That day, you left the office earlier than usual. Didn’t make any big deal out of it. Just grabbed your stuff and nodded at Dabin before leaving. But the second you stepped into the parking spot, something shifted. The car was clean. You’d asked Dabin to have it washed a few days ago and vacuumed inside just last weekend. But here you were, standing there, staring at it like something wasn’t right. You opened the door, checked the dashboard. Adjusted the position of the phone mount even though it was fine. Brushed an invisible speck off the console. Straightened the folded umbrella in the backseat. You weren’t fixing anything. You were… just stalling. 

So you drove to the nearest GS25 on the way home. Picked up two bottles of water, just in case. A few light snacks - something sweet, something salty. A hangover relief drink, just in case you two drank and wine turned her red. Maybe a pack of gum for the ride. She didn’t ask for anything. But you liked being prepared - even if you didn’t know how the night would go, you could at least make sure she was comfortable.

You got home just in time to shower quickly and changed twice. Something dark, like she said. You checked all your belongings and rushed to the car before you had time to overthink anything else. She sent the address as you got into the car.

[워녕이녕이🐰] 

here~

im hanging around with my friend near this place

text me when you get here oppa

Garosu-gil.

It was trendy, expensive, the kind of street where fashion enthusiasts shop and TikTokers walk around to interview influencers. But still, one more stop before picking Wonyoung up. You swung by a small flower shop - the one near the Mangwon market with old signs and buckets lined up on the curb. Not fancy, but the flowers were fresh and the auntie who ran it knew her stuff. You stood there longer than you meant to, staring at everything like you were about to fail an exam.

“It’s for someone who knows flowers, auntie.” you said.

“She’s very into floral work… This is my first time taking her out, she said it’s just a normal hangout but I want to impress her.”

The auntie glanced up from where she was wrapping a bouquet. Her eyes softened.

“Oh my, how sweet. You’re so thoughtful. That alone should impress her.”

You scratched the back of your neck, embarrassed.

“I don’t know too much about flowers so maybe you could help me, auntie.”

“Of course. Lucky for you, I almost closed ten minutes ago.”

“Really?”

“Mm. I had a feeling someone nice would stop by today.”

Weird.

She hummed softly as she moved through the buckets, pulling a few delicate freesia stems, soft ranunculus and some spray of greenery carefully.

“Let’s keep it light and gentle.” she said. “Pretty but not too much.”

You nodded, watching her work. She wrapped the bouquet in kraft paper and tied it neatly.

“There. Give it to her properly, okay?”

You paid and bowed before taking it carefully.

“Thank you, auntie.”

“Drive safe. And tell her she’s lucky too.”

You got there at 7:17, found a parking spot just a few blocks away. Turned off the engine and stepped out. The sky was already darkening, the street buzzing with people heading out to dinner or go clubbing.

[You]

i’m here. across from the cafe with the green sign. 

You leaned against the passenger side of the car and waited, checking your reflection in the window without making it too obvious. The bouquet sat quietly in the passenger seat. A few minutes passed. And then, you saw her standing on the corner with a friend, laughing at something. She turned as her friend pointed toward the car, eyes landing on you. And just like that, your heart did something it hadn’t done in a while. Not because Wonyoung looked good, she did. But because she looked like she was genuinely happy to see you. 

Wonyoung crossed the street, her friend peeled off in the other direction - not without giving you a quick look over, maybe to check if you were worth the hype. You tried your best not to react, keeping your gaze on Wonyoung. She walked with that easy kind of confidence, the kind that didn’t try too hard but always made people focus on her. The kind that made everything around her feel more interesting. When she spotted you, she waved with one hand, smiling like the two of you had done this a thousand times before. And that was when you noticed, her bangs were gone. Her forehead was bare now, clean and open. A small change but it sure made her look different. You straightened your posture as she reached the car, and for a few seconds, neither of you said anything. You, holding the door. Her with both hands at her sides, suddenly shifting her weight. She looked up at you.

“Hi.”

Barely above a whisper, like she forgot how to use her voice. You nodded, a smile tugging at your mouth.

“Hi.”

For some reason, that made her laugh under her breath. She looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, the edge of her lips pulling in like she was trying not to grin too much.

“You’re not gonna say anything about my hair, oppa?”

“I was about to,” you replied. “You look really beautiful.”

She looked at you again, this time not hiding the way her cheeks warmed.

“You too, oppa.”

A pause followed. She stepped closer, finally glancing at the passenger seat. And when she saw what was waiting there, her whole expression shifted.

“Wait… Are those-?”

Before she could finish, you just smiled and opened the door for her to see. Wonyoung got a clear look at the bouquet - soft, simple - then back at you. She let out a giggle, soft and shy. The kind that made you feel like you made her whole day.

“Oh my, you got flowers?”

“You’re into flowers, I had to try.”

She looked at the bouquet again, then slid into the seat, still smiling. 

“You’re dangerous, oppa. You know that?”

You closed the door gently behind her, still smiling like a fool as you made your way around to the driver’s side. In the car, neither of you said anything for the first few seconds. Just the quiet hum of the AC and the soft rustle of the bouquet in her lap. You adjusted the mirror then glanced her way.

“Can you type the address in for me?”

She nodded quickly, like she was waiting for you to speak first.

“Mm. Here.”

She reached for the screen, her shoulders brushing lightly against yours as she typed.

“It’s in Sangsu-dong. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Okay.”

The road opened up in front of you, quiet and slowly. A few blocks passed. She settled back into her seat, bouquet still in her lap. Then, like she couldn’t help it anymore.

“Are you nervous, oppa?”

You glanced at her, eyes flickering back to the road just as fast.

“A little.”

“Me too.” she smiled.

“Why are you nervous?” you asked, voice low. “We’ve been texting since that day. And you weren’t exactly shy in Hong Kong either.”

She blinked, surprised.

“Huh?”

Your tone low, genuinely curious now.

“You unbuttoned my shirt, leaned your head on my shoulder, pinched me when you saw the photo of me and the chaebol’s daughter with her model friend.”

She let out a soft laugh, not denying any of it.

“Yeah… and you didn’t stop me.”

“I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

“And I had a little wine.”

You glanced at her, smirking.

“You’re blaming the wine?”

She tilted her head, still smiling.

“No.” she said. “But the wine helped. I still meant everything I did and said.”

You chuckled lightly. Your hands tighten slightly on the wheels. Wonyoung shifted, the bouquet crinking lightly in her lap as she reached for her phone.

“This wrapping’s really nice, oppa.” she said, casually while holding the flowers up just enough to get the right angle. “Not really overdone. The palette’s soft… maybe a little wild.”

She tapped the screen twice to adjust the light before snapping a photo.

“Good taste, oppa.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself.

“Uh, that’s all the flower shop auntie. I just told her you were hard to impress.”

Wonyoung let out a quiet laugh, already typing something. She looked at the photo for a few seconds, adjusted the filter slightly then, without saying a word, uploaded it to Instagram. You didn’t ask, but your phone buzzed almost immediately. You glanced at it then back on the road. 

“You can play music, if you want to.”

She looked at you, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, anything’s fine.” you gave a small nod.

She smiled at that like she knew exactly what that meant and reached for the screen.

“You’re giving me too much power right now.”

You didn’t reply, letting out a light laugh. And when the first song came on - Insomnia by Dvwn, Yayyoung - you realized you hadn’t heard it before. It was warm, melodic and soft. As it filled the car, it made sense. Of course this would be her choice. You drove in silence, letting the music settle in for a bit before asking, quietly.

“Wonyoung-ah.”

“Huh?”

“Are you thirsty?”

She glanced at you, lips pouting, then nodded a little.

“Umm… maybe a little.”

You reached one hand back behind your seat, careful not to swerve and pulled out a cold water bottle and a small bag of snacks - nothing fancy, but you hoped it was enough to impress her.

“I got you some water, just in case.” you said, setting it gently into the cup holder. 

“And… some light snacks too. If you’re hungry before we get there.” you set the snacks on her laps, next to the flower bouquet.

Wonyoung blinked, staring down at what you’d handed her. Then she looked up.

“You’re full of surprises, oppa. I didn’t think you’d think that far.” her voice was soft.

You glanced at her for a bit.

“I mean, I have to when I’m with you.”

The car felt warmer all of a sudden, or maybe it was her. She looked away quickly, uncapped the bottle and took a sip, trying to hide her smile. But you caught the way her cheeks turned a little pink. She let out a cute laugh, holding the bottle like it gave her something to do, cheeks still flushed. The rest of the car ride passed in peaceful, warm conversation - the kind that didn’t rush, didn’t try too hard and enough to make you want it to last longer.

A little while later, the two of you were seated at the restaurant, you across from her. It had a warm, intimate glow. Gold accents, ambient lighting and tall leather booths definitely gave you and her a sense of privacy. Thin bamboo rods lined the back wall, catching the light just enough to feel modern but not flashy. The plating was precise, deliberate - like those in the movies. The meals came out in courses. You two started with a salad - fresh greens layered with tomatoes, citrus and some radish. The cheese on top really gave it a richness that balanced the brightness of the dish. She ate it slowly, with one hand curled lightly at her chest as she took each bite.

“How was it?” you asked. 

She looked up, nodded and smiled softly. 

“It’s good, oppa. Really balanced.”

Then, after a beat.

“I like that they don’t overdress it. A lot of places try hard.”

You nodded, took a bite yourself - but your eyes kept drifting back to Wonyoung. She looked effortlessly put together. A soft ivory shirt with delicate straps and ruffled edges, something simple but screamed elegant. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, with a soft scrunchie tucked at the back. A few strands framed her face just right. With the lighting in the restaurant, she looked like an actress straight out of a romance. Then she made this face, cheeks puffed slightly, brows raised like she was reacting to something in the salad. Your heart dropped and stumbled at the same time. You pulled out your phone without much thinking.

“You look too cute right now.”

She looked up, mid bite but amused.

“Hmm?”

“Just eat” you said, lifting your phone up, finding her good angle. “I’ll take pictures for you.”

She let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with one hand while still holding her fork in the other.

“You’re not serious, oppa.”

“I’m not kidding. You look great in this lighting.”

She gave you a look, a mix of playfulness and shyness, before straightening up a little in her seat, adjusting her posture slightly.

“Get my good side, please.”

And just liked that, she smiled and posed for you. Her eyes looked like she was enjoying this more than she let on.

You snapped a few quietly, steady hands, trying to get it right. This mattered too much right now. When you lowered the phone, she reached across the table with both hands, palms open.

“Let me see, please.”

You hand the phone over. She brought the phone close, scrolling slowly.

“Whoa… This is really good.” she looked up, genuinely happy.

“I was literally about to ask you to take pictures for me too, oppa.” she laughed a little. “You just beat me to it.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off.

“I guess I’m learning how to lead you.”

Maybe that caught her off guard.

“You’re kinda… good at this.” she blinked, then looked down at the photo again, trying to bite back a smile.

“Like not just the pictures. The whole thing too.”

The main course came not long after - steak, pink and perfect. Wonyoung lit up the moment it landed.

“Ooh. Wait, take pictures of this too, oppa.”

You smiled, obeying immediately.

“You want only you or you and the food.”

“Both, obviously.” she said, adjusting her posture. “Make it look candid.”

You raised an eyebrow but played along, catching her mid pose as she faked cutting her steak.

“A few more.”

She fixed her hair, elbows on the table, angling her face just right on her fingers. 

“Okay, now.”

You snapped a few, doing your best to stay cool but your heart was working so hard. 

“That’s beautiful. Okay, eat it before it gets cold,” you said, setting your phone down.

“You’re weirdly good at this, oppa. Have you done it before?” she said, hand reaching for the water.

“I’m just a fast learner.”

She gave you a look, lips pouting like she was a bit skeptical - maybe didn’t quite believe you and liked that more than she let on. She glanced at her steak.

“You want me to cut it for you?”

“Are you offering?” she smiled slowly, flustered.

You reached for her plate without saying anything, pulled it toward you and cut it into neat, bite sized pieces. She watched you, chin resting lightly on her hand.

“You didn’t have to.” her voice soft.

“I know. That’s why I did.”

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, she looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t. You slid the plate back to her, now perfectly cut.

“There you go.”

“Hmm, that was smooth, oppa.” 

You smirked, picking up your fork again.

“You said I was good at this.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be that good.”

She took a bite, cheeks a little pink, and the two of you eased back into conversation - soft, lighthearted. She dabbed her lips with a napkin then looked at you across the table.

“What’s work like these days?”

“Umm, busy. I’m juggling a few projects. One of them just got approved, so there’s a lot of back-and-forth.”

“Is that the hotel renovation thingy in Hong Kong?”

“That one’s almost done.” You smiled, deciding to tease her. “This one is smaller. A studio.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

“Oh? What kind of studio, oppa?”

“A floral studio.” you said casually, watching her expression.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Huh, sounds familiar.”

You chuckled. 

“Yeah, really familiar.”

She took another bite, then leaned forward.

“And your MBTI, oppa. You never fully told me that day in Hong Kong.”

“You got close,” you said. “But not quite.”

“Mmm…” she tilted her head slightly. “You’re definitely not an E. Quiet, calm but not passive.”

“Keep going.” you took a bite of your steak.

Wonyoung squinted at you.

“You seemed like a T at first, oppa. I think you pretend to be all logical and chill but I feel like you care a lot more than you show.”

You smiled slowly.

“Still not done guessing?”

“Nope. I’m invested now.” she tapped her fork against her plate, thoughtful.

“IS…TJ? No, wait. ISTP?”

You looked at her long enough to make her lean forward more. Then you shrugged.

“Maybe.”

She narrowed her eyes, lips forming a small pout.

“Oppa~! Just tell me.”

“I mean…” you leaned back, wiping your mouth with the napkin.

“You did get kinda close.”

“Kinda? I was right, wasn’t I?’

“Were you?”

“Ahhh.” she pretended to scream, softly, sinking back in her seat.

“You’re annoying, oppa.”

“But you’re enjoying this.” you said while grinning.

Wonyoung looked away, but not before you caught her blush creeping back in.

“Whatever, I know I’m right.”

You shook your head as you reached for your water. But then, out of nowhere.

“You’re the kind of guy that doesn’t always say what he feels but thinks about it all the time, right oppa?”

The question hung in the air, playful on the surface but something about the way she said it felt more honest than teasing. Your gaze moved to Wonyoung, she was watching you carefully now. Before you could respond, the waiter returned and placed down a dish. Sweet and soft. Strawberries and cream.

“That looks dangerous.” she whispered, still half watching you as the waiter left.

You glanced at the dessert, then back at her.

“So was the question.”

Her lips curved into a smile, but she didn’t press. Instead, her gaze flicked to the plate.

“Okay, oppa. One last time. Take pictures for me?”

You reached for your phone again, already smiling.

“You’re getting spoiled.”

“Mmm.” she said, tilting her head to lure you in with her charm. “And I like it.”

I like it too.

You took the photos and showed it to her. She didn’t ask to take them again. She just nodded, pleased and dug into the dessert with a happy smile. The rest of the night eased into warmth again. The tension from earlier melted between bites of cream and bits of laughter. When the bill came, you’d already handed your card to the waiter without saying a word. She noticed but didn’t fight it, just smiled quietly to herself. As soon as you stood from the table and walked out the restaurant, she was beside you and hooked her arms through yours like she’d been waiting for this moment to come. She leaned into you just enough to feel close but not clingy. Wonyoung was light on her feet, humming softly. You opened the car door for her, but she didn’t get in. She stood there for a second, eyes drifting down the street, lips pursed in thought. Then she looked at you.

“Oppa.” she said shyly. 

���I don’t want to go home yet.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just stepped a little closer, slipping your jacket off your and draping it over her shoulders. Her cheeks were blazing, the sleeves long past her hands.

“Get in.” you said. “We’ll drive around for a while.”

“I don’t want to go home yet either.”

She smiled and got into the car without a word.

Sangsu-dong blurred gently passed the windows as you drove, without rush or reason. Just the hum of the wheels, the quiet music in the background. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat quietly with your jacket pulled around her, hands tucked into the sleeves. Her bouquet rested in her lap again. She turned her head slowly, looking out the window, Seoul’s night lights shining on her face in flickers of yellow and red.

“Where are we going, oppa?” she asked eventually, soft.

“Wanna stop somewhere for a bit?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere we can sit. Take in the view. Just for a while.”

Her nod said more than words. Then she shifted slightly in her seat, reaching for the snacks you bought her earlier on the dashboard. “You really bought snacks and everything?” she asked, her tone light but fond.

“I told you.” you said, keeping your eyes on the road. “Just in case.”

She opened one of the bags, maybe something sweet, took a bite and chewed quietly. Then she picked up another, turned toward you and hesitated for half a second before holding it up between her fingers and moved it near your mouth.

“Open, oppa.”

You took a quick glance at her, a small smile forming.

“What happened to being shy?”

“I’m still shy.” she mumbled, the blush on her cheeks gave her away. “Just something for you… since you took pictures for me.”

You leaned in slightly, still focused on the road but let her feed you the piece.

“You didn’t even hesitate, oppa.” she said, embarrassed but now grinning. 

“Didn’t want to waste the moment.”

She shook her head, holding in a laugh and fed you another, less hesitation this time. The car was filled with soft music and silence that didn’t need fixing. It was like that for a while - her snacking slowly, you driving. You pulled off the main road, followed the slope down toward a quieter part of the riverbank - not far from Mangwon, but far enough to feel private. The lights of the city blinked gently across the water, the bridges in the distance humming with movement, none of it felt loud. 

You parked, got out and opened her door before she even reached for the handle. Still in your jacket, bouquet in one hand, she followed you to a bench that sat not too far away. She sat first, pulling your jacket tighter around her. You sat down beside her. For a while, the two of you just looked at the view. Faint ripple on the river, bridge lights, Seoul at night. Then without a word, Wonyoung leaned over. Her head rested gently on your shoulder. She let out a quiet sigh, like something in her chest had finally been released. You didn’t move and just let her be.

Life hasn’t felt this peaceful in a while.

A few seconds passed before she spoke, something uncertain in her voice.

“I haven’t done this before, oppa.”

You glanced at her, but didn’t interrupt. 

“Like… let someone in this far. This fast.”

Her voice didn’t tremble, but it was careful.

“I know I come off as confident but… most of the time, I’m also just trying to keep up with myself.”

You nodded, slow and steady, enough to let her know you heard everything.

“But tonight… I didn’t feel like I had to try so hard.”

Those words hit you, fragile and real. You turned a bit so her head sat more comfortably against you. Then you spoke, voice low and warm, disrupting the peaceful silence.

“You told me that that night in Hong Kong too, you know.”

You felt her shift a little, just enough for you to hear the breath she let out.

“Told you what, oppa?”

“Everything you just said. And that I better gain your trust.”

You glanced down at her.

“You were a bit drunk. Maybe a bit bossy and territorial.”

Wonyoung then let out a small gasp, pulling back to look at you. Her expression was somewhere between embarrassment and playful outrage.

“I was not territorial.”

“You pinched me when you saw that picture.” you raised an eyebrow.

“That’s because you looked way too comfortable next to those girls.” she muttered, lips forming a pout.

“So you admit you were jealous.”

“I was a little tipsy.” she countered, voice smaller now.

“Still cute, Wonyoung-ah.” 

She went quiet after that - maybe not because she didn’t have anything to say, but because she didn’t want to ruin the way her heart fluttered in the moment. So she leaned back on your shoulder again. No arguing. No denying. Just staying close. 

A breeze passed by, rustling the trees behind you. Neither of you moved.

“Oppa…” her voice was soft, hesitant. You turned to glance down at her.

“I’m here.”

She stayed leaning against you, fingers fiddling with the bouquet and the cuff your jacket draped over her.

“Do you… want to come in for a bit later?” she said slowly. “My house. Like… after this.”

You blinked, surprised. Not because you couldn’t hear what she said, but because you didn’t expect her to say it. Wonyoung straightened, clearly aware of your silence and cleared her throat before clarifying.

“I was going to make some tea. And I wanted to show you some pictures of that place for the floral studio we asked you to help design. I  saved them on my iPad.”

After a short pause.

“But don’t get the wrong idea, okay oppa?”

“What kind of idea?” you asked carefully, fully understanding what she said.

“I’m not… like that. I’m not easy or anything.” she said, cheeks flushing as the words tumbled out. 

“So don’t even think of taking advantage of me, oppa.”

You watched her for a moment, then let out the smallest breath of a smile - not amused but warm. 

“I wasn’t going to.”

Wonyoung looked away, embarrassed, but you kept your tone calm.

“I wasn’t going to, Wonyoung-ah. I don’t think that about you.”

“If you’re inviting me in just to make me tea and show me pictures, I’ll come in for exactly that. Nothing more.”

Her eyes met yours, lingering for a bit longer. Then she exhaled, soft and steady. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” you repeated.

She smiled, the tension in her shoulder easing just a little before leaning into your shoulder again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The moment you stepped inside, her apartment looked exactly like her. Soft lighting, muted pastels and little touches of elegance everywhere. Glass vases, nice curtains, fresh flowers. It wasn’t all too much, you could easily tell Wonyoung came from money. Everything here was quietly tasteful. Carefully arranged and effortless in the way expensive things often are. Wonyoung slipped off her shoes and gestured for you to do the same, then walked further inside like she’d only just remembered you were still following her.

“Oh, you can sit there oppa.” she said, turning to you with a smile. “I’ll make us tea.”

She refused your help, waving you off with a confidence that left no room for argument. So you sat, letting yourself take in the space while she moved around the kitchen. She looked comfortable in her own home, and somehow, you felt the same too.

When she brought the tea over - floral, lightly sweet - she settled beside you and pulled out her iPad. The conversation turned to the floral studio. She showed you photos of the space she had her eyes on, a ground floor unit tucked in a street in Yeonnam-dong with great natural lighting. 

“So… I talked with Yena-unnie and Hyewon-unnie a lot about this.” she said, scrolling through the photos. 

You nodded, listening as she showed you the pictures. She was right, it had potential. You started explaining gently. What parts could be kept as is, what needed reinforcing, how you could utilize lighting, material balances… Not showing off, just answering her hopes with quiet precision. At some point, she stopped answering and just watched you talk, pretending to sip her tea.

“You really know your stuff, oppa.” she said, almost to herself.

You looked up at her. She blinked and glanced down at her tea like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You laughed.

“I mean, I’m legit.”

She let out a soft laugh, but the look in her eyes lingered, a mix of admiration and something warmer you two didn’t have words for yet. You took a sip of tea then set the cup down.

“But again, we have to visit the place soon. I have to take a closer look. And I have to hear more from you, Yena and Hyewon too. Everything you guys want. How you guys want me to design..”

Wonyoung perked up slightly, thoughtful.

“Do you have time tomorrow morning, oppa?”

You thought for a bit and nodded.

“I can make it work.”

She smiled, her eyes curving softly, fingers playing with the rim of her cup.

“Then… pick me up tomorrow? We can grab breakfast first. Just the two of us.”

I would love to.

Then she added, almost as an afterthought.

“After that, we’ll swing by to get Yena-unnie and Hyewon-unnie. Then we can visit the place together.”

You smiled back at her, trying not to look too eager.

“Sounds great.”

And just like that, the night that had started with nerves and soft hesitation now had a quiet promise in it. For tomorrow, and hopefully more after that. 

Wonyoung leaned back slightly, stretching her arms and hugging one knee to her chest.

“So, architect-nim…” she tilted her head.

“What do you think about my house?”

You glanced around again.

“It looks just like you. Warm. Elegant. Not trying too hard but… unforgettable.”

She smiled, like she hadn’t expected you to say that but was glad you did. A few minutes later, you stood at the door while she walked you out, still wrapped in your jacket. She handed it back reluctantly, her fingers lingering on the sleeves just a little longer than they needed to.

“Thanks for tonight, oppa.”

“Thank you.” you said. “For trusting me. And for the tea.”

“Pick me up tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Bright and early.”

You were about to step out when she reached for your arm, pulling you back just a step. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek without any warning.

“That one’s for dinner.” she said quietly.

Before you could react, she kissed your other cheek, light and warm.

“That one’s for the flowers.”

You froze, not knowing what to say now. And that was when she kissed you one last time, just a little longer, a little closer to the corner of your mouth.

“And that one,” she whispered, lips still close. “...maybe just because I felt like it.”

You swallowed, your heart doing something ridiculous in your chest. Your eyes flickered to her lips, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in. Not too fast, just carefully, like asking her but without words. But before your lips could meet hers, she smiled. 

Soft. Knowing. Mischievous. She lifted her hand and placed a finger over your mouth.

“Not yet, oppa.” she murmured.

“Not yet.”

You let out a breath, cheeks blazing before nodding.

“Umm, okay. I’m sorry.”

Wonyoung let out a quiet laugh, not mocking, just sweet.

“You’re cute when you’re shy, oppa.”

Fuck.

“You kissed me like that… What was I supposed to do?” you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to recover.

“Take it like a man.” she teased, eyes twinkling. 

“And wait your turn.”

You let out a soft laugh. This time, she stepped back with a softer smile and waved.

“Good night, oppa. Dream of me.”

You smiled, still a little dazed.

“Good night.”

As the door closed gently behind you, you stood there for a second. Hands in your pockets, hearts still not quite steady. 

Yeah, I will dream of you.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You didn’t even remember the drive back. By the time you stepped into your apartment, everything felt a little surreal. The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely managed to kick off your shoes before walking to the living room and crashing down face first onto the couch. A laugh escaped your lips. In the best way possible. Your jacket still smelled like her shampoo… or is it her perfume? You turned your face into the pillow, grinning like an idiot. You hadn’t felt like this - this stupidly happy feeling - in a long time. Just then, your phone buzzed where it had slipped out of your pocket onto the couch.

[워녕이녕이🐰]

are u back home safe, oppa?

[You]

i just got in

collapsed straight onto the couch ㅋㅋ

[워녕이녕이��]

ㅎㅎㅎ i knew it

don’t fall asleep in your jacket

[You]

i might just do that now that you mentioned it

it still smelled like you

[워녕이녕이🐰]

…creepy

but kinda cute 

i’ll allow it

You laughed to yourself.

[You]

what about you? no regrets inviting me in?

[워녕이녕이🐰]

no regrets 

i made great tea

you were…

decent

[You]

excuse me? just decent?

[워녕이녕이🐰]

okay fine, oppa

you were better than the tea >.<

[You]

i’ll take that as high praise

[워녕이녕이🐰]

u should, oppa

no man gets praised like that from the jang wonyoung

also… i liked how you talked about the floral studio

you sounded so cool

You stared at that one a little longer than you meant to. 

[You]

you’re gonna kill me

[워녕이녕이🐰]

ㅋㅋㅋ that’s the goal

don’t get cocky tho

[You]

i’ll keep my ego in check

just in case the jang wonyoung wants to keep inviting me in

[워녕이녕이🐰]

hmm… maybe

but don’t get any wrong ideas, oppa

[You]

no weird thoughts, young miss

just excited for breakfast with you

[워녕이녕이🐰]

you text like an old man ㅋㅋㅋ

but good answer

now sleep, oppa. u have been working hard

[You]

you too

sweet dreams, wonyoung-ah

[워녕이녕이🐰]

dream of me 🐰

You locked your phone, lips still curved up, staring at the ceiling like the world was finally spinning in the right direction. And yeah… maybe you would.

Then, the doorbell rang. The sound echoed through your apartment, too sharp for this hour. You glanced at the clock.

12:47AM.

Who the fuck comes to my house at this time?

Your brows furrowed as you pushed yourself off the couch and walked slowly toward the door. No one ever visited this late - unannounced. You pressed the button on the panel, and the screen lit up. 

A figure.

Standing under the light.

Disheveled. Crying. Wobbly. 

It took you a few seconds to recognize her.

Yu Jimin

She looked like she had just stepped off a runway. Or maybe out of a club. The black mini dress clung to her frame, sleek, modern, expensive. Her heels were high, too high for how unsteady she stood. Her designer bag dangled loosely from her hand, like she forgot she was holding it. Her long hair with waves were a little messy, strands sticking slightly to her cheeks. Her makeup started to smudge at the corner of her eyes. From crying too much. 

She was stunning. And utterly wrecked. For a second… you forgot how to breathe. Staring at the screen, your heart pounded for all the wrong reasons. Jimin looked like a ghost of herself.

“Please open the door for me, oppa… I can’t take it anymore.”

You hesitated. She sounded so broken. Familiar. Small. Once yours. And maybe you still knew that version of her. With a sigh, you opened the door. When you opened the door, she stood there, eyes welling. Before you could say anything a single word, she stepped in and kissed you. Hard.

Her mouth crashed against yours with all force of desperation - hot, messy, tongue. Her hands clutched your collar like she was holding on for her life. It took you a second to even register what was happening. Then your hands came up, pushing her back firmly, not violent.

“Jimin-ah!” you gasped, stepping away.

“What are you doing?”

She stood there, her face crumbling.

“I miss you, oppa.” she said through a sob. 

“I made a mistake… I still love you…”

All you could think about was the text on your phone. The warmth that was still lingering on your jacket. The girl who made you feel like tomorrow was something that was worth looking forward to again. And it wasn’t Yu Jimin. Not anymore. Jimin’s voice cracked, her knees then buckled. She dropped to the floor, arms wrapping around your waist as she collapsed into sobs. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

You froze, standing there completely caught off guard. The person clinging to you now wasn’t the Jimin you remembered. Not the confident, bubbly girl you once knew.

“I’m so sorry, oppa…”

This version of Jimin was unraveling. Suffocating on her own guilt.

“Please, I can’t do this anymore.” she sobbed. 

“Everything is so hard without you in my life. I thought I could move on easily but I can’t. I can’t…”

You closed the door behind her and lowered yourself, crouching in front of her. Carefully. Cautiously.

“Jimin… you need to breathe, okay?”

She clung to you tighter, burying her face into your jacket.

“I thought you’d wait for me to come back…”

You gently pried her arms from around your waist, guiding her to sit properly on the floor. Her hands were still shaking. You didn’t have the heart to yell. But you couldn’t pretend that nothing had changed. And now her crying didn’t undo the silence she left you in back then. It also didn’t erase the girl who had kissed your cheeks three times just an hour earlier and told you to dream of her. Then, your phone buzzed on the table across the room. You didn’t look at it.

“Jimin-ah… let me get you some water, okay?”

Before you could stand, Jimin’s head tilted slightly, her nose scrunching slightly - that signature nose scrunch always did something to you back then. She then leaned in closer, eyes narrowing - sharp and suspicious. She sniffed the collar of your jacket that you hadn’t taken off yet. The same one Wonyoung had spent over an hour curled against.

“What is that smell?” her voice dropped, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

She pulled back, hands brushing against your cheeks, stopping mid motion. Her fingers touched something. She stared at you. Her expression changed. She wiped near the corner of your lips with her thumb, then again on both sides of your cheeks. Her mouth trembled.

“Oppa… you’ve been with someone, haven’t you?”

The way she said it sounded like a fact, not a question. She then stood abruptly, anger now twisting with grief.

“Is that why you wouldn’t kiss me back?”

“That’s why you looked at me like I was a stranger?!”

“Jimin-ah…” you stood quickly, hands raised trying to deescalate the situation.

“Who is she?” she shouted, grabbing your wrist. 

“Who the hell is that girl?!”

“Stop, Jimin. Calm down!”

“Answer me!!”

She pulled you toward her by your collar, eyes wild, hands trembling. You stared at her, breathing hard. The perfume, the kiss, the tears, the yelling - this wasn’t the Jimin you knew and loved. This felt like someone, not her. This was something else.  Her grip on your collar only got tighter.

“Who is that bitch?” she hissed through her teeth.

“I’m gonna make you forget her, oppa. I’ll make you feel better than that bitch ever could.”

You recoiled, out of fear and disbelief.

“Jimin-ah” your voice firm. “Don’t say things like that.”

She didn’t stop. Her words came out like knives, rage coating every single syllable. Jealousy. Regret. Anger. They all came crashing down at once. 

“You are mine, oppa.” she spat.

“Mine, Han Haejoon. How can you be holding someone else already? Didn’t you beg me to stay that day, oppa?”

You shook your head and gently pulled your arms from her grasp.

 “You ended it.”

“And I’m back now!!!”

“Too late.”

You finished her. You hadn’t meant to sound so final. But maybe it needed to be. For a moment, Jimin just stood there. Her breathing slowed, uneven. Maybe she realized her outburst wasn’t working the way she wanted. She took a step closer, her tone now shifting into something fragile, almost broken.

“I don’t want to go home, oppa.”

You didn’t answer. She blinked up at you, eyes glassy again, voice trembling in the way that she knew would make you weak.

“You know I can’t sleep alone when I’m like this.”

That was low. Jimin knew damn well it was. 

“Let me stay, oppa… just for tonight. I’ll be quiet. I just need someone.”

You hesitated, and she knew she had you on the spot. Her hands brush your arm, almost tender. 

“I know you, oppa. I know that part of you that can’t leave someone crying at your door.”

You shut your eyes, jaw tense.

“Jimin…”

But then, her expression darken again - a dark side beneath the sweetness.

“She kissed you, didn’t she?”

You opened your mouth to calm her down but she cut you with a scoff.

“That fucking bitch. I can smell her on you. See her on you.”

And her voice transitioned into the sweet Jimin.

“But you still open the door for me, oppa. That must mean something.”

You let out a long breath, dragging a hand through your hair.

“You can sleep in my room. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll pay for your trip home tomorrow morning… And you have to leave early since I have plans.”

She blinked at you again. And just like that, the tears returned. Or at least, the sound of them. Her face contorted with sorrow, shoulders trembling.

“You’re not even going to hold me?” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Not even tonight?”

You studied Jimin carefully. The crying… it sounded real. But you weren’t sure. That was the worst part. Somehow it felt like she was trying to blur the line between real pain and performance. Still, something inside you clenched just a little, maybe that soft spot she used to lean on.

“You should shower.”

“What?”

“You smell like alcohol. I’ll get you something clean to wear. While you’re in there, I’ll make you something to help with the hangover.”

She wiped under her eyes slowly. Her lashes were wet but her expression didn’t match.

“After that, you sleep. In the bed. Alone.”

She hesitated, clearly not expecting that tone. Then she finally gave you a nod, almost like a child being scolded.

“Okay…”

You turned and walked toward your room to grab an old hoodie and sweats for her. The soft click of the bathroom door echoed through the still apartment, followed by running water. You stood at your closet, staring at the folded clothes in your hand. You felt heavy, for reasons you weren’t sure. Jimin knew your weaknesses, too well. You turned and headed back out to the bathroom, knocking once.

“Jimin-ah, I’m leaving the clothes by the door, okay?”

No answer. 

“I’m leaving them by the door.”

Still nothing. You exhaled and leaned down. Just as the door cracked open with a hiss of steam, Jimin stepped out. She hadn’t showered. Her skin was dry. Her hair untouched. Not a hint of shampoo or soap.

And worse, she wasn’t dressed. She was… naked. Nothing on her but the trembling look in her eyes.

“I couldn’t find the towel…” she whispered. 

You knew she was clearly lying, your hands still holding out the clothes like they were some kind of shield between you and her.

“Jimin.”

She stepped closer.

“Don’t you miss me, oppa? Just a little?”

She stepped closer, her arms wrapped around your waist from the front, pressing her body against yours. Her… breasts pressed into your lower chest, like muscle memory. Then she nestled her head under your jaw.

“We used to sleep like this, oppa.” she murmured, voice soft and slow.

“You said I made you feel peaceful.”

Her hands slipped around your back, fingers playing with your jacket like she still knew how to disarm you. You didn’t move for a second. But only for a second. You reached down and gently took her wrist, unwrapping her hold from you firmly.

“Look at me, Jimin-ah.”

She looked at you, eyes wide - part pleading, part daring.

“Don’t do this.” you said. “We are over.” She swallowed hard. Her lips quivered. 

“You’re still kind, oppa.” 

“I am. That’s why I’m asking you to shower. I’ll make something warm for you. Eat, rest. You’ll go home in the morning. You’re too drunk.”

Jimin stood there, breathing softly, looking for a crack in you - maybe the old version of you that would take her back instantly. But you stayed calm, steady. Still holding her wrists. Eventually, she pulled her hands back.

“Okay. I’ll shower…” she said, voice small.

Jimin slowly stepped back, turning toward the bathroom with your old clothes. After the door finally clicked, you stood there for a while - wondering what had happened to her. It had been over a month since things ended between you two. The heaviness that she had started when she walked in hadn’t gone away, if anything, it grew heavier. 

Was she always this manipulative? Even back then?

After she finished showering, she sat at the kitchen table with damp hair and quietly ate the warm soup you made. Between spoonfuls, she tried again. Subtle touches, long stares, soft signs and memories that meant to wear you down. But you didn’t respond the way she wanted, and after enough gentle but firm urging, she finally relented and made her way into your bedroom - silent, curling up in your bed like it still belonged to her, at least for tonight.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

In the middle of the night, long after the apartment had gone dead quiet, Jimin crept out of your room, her steps ghostlike on the floor. You were fast asleep on the couch, one arm over your chest, blanket half slipped down. She crouched beside you slowly, eyes scanning your face. Her fingers reached out, brushing out along your jaw, your cheekbone, then finally your lips - pausing there a bit too long. Then she leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your mouth like she was reclaiming something, whispering against your skin.

“I’ll get you back, oppa. You’ll see.”

Just then, your phone buzzed on the floor beside you. Jimin’s eyes flicked down. The screen lit up with a name that made her freeze. 

[워녕이녕이🐰]

Her breath hitched. That name. That ridiculous emoji. Her fingers curled into fists before she could stop herself. Her lips that were still close to you now twisted into something tight. 

So that was the girl that had taken her place. 

The one you were smiling at now. Texting late. Dreaming about. Her heart pounded from rage, not heartbreak. Her gaze found its way back to you - dead asleep, peaceful, unaware, still wearing that scent from a girl named Wonyoung, not her.

This wasn’t about missing you anymore. 

Now it was about winning you back. 

No matter what.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

uhhh... yayy! let me know what u guys think about this? thank you for the support. i didn't know why but making karina an obsessive ex suddenly came up in my mind. i think it suits her in this story, also... crazy ex karina is hot...

[remxedmoon]

Are. Are you still working on Isatscryption? I hope u are... Bcuz I just read through the entire tag. And I saw the WIPs. Please tell me ur still working on ittt.....

hi! i had to rewrite this entire thing, because tumblr doesn’t want me talking about isatscryption, i guess. anyways. sorry to disappoint, but i lost the drive to work on it last year after hitting a particularly bad roadblock (why did i think making a hundred variants of the frozen opossum was a good idea) and my fixation on isat faded earlier this year, so it’s kinda just. in limbo for the time being. but since im here, i might as well showcase everything i’d made before losing steam, since people are interested. who knows, maybe i’ll pick the au back up someday but for now, heres what i had.

long ass post under the cut, i had a lot more to say than i expected.

okay, first things first, terrain cards! exciting, i know. i actually had an entire inscryption campaign planned out for this au, complete with new maps and everything. those maps being the ghost town (a frozen dormont), the frost path (the path between dormont and the house), the castle (house of change), and the throne room. each map also had a list of cards that appear in encounters, because i’m deranged, but those are also: kinda boring.

petrified wood was intended for the frost path and is pretty self explanatory, while the barrel and pillar were meant for the castle. their sigils are references to memory of barrels and pillars respectively, and they would’ve given you a free item at the start of the encounter. in hindsight, i think that made the castle way too easy, especially for a final map. i think those sigils should’ve probably been locked behind a cabin puzzle. yes i was thinking about game balancing for an au that was never going to be made into a mod.

the 4th card in this terrain set was going to be the frozen creature card i mentioned earlier, which was a copy of the frozen opossum that could drop other beasts. unfortunately, i bit off way more than i could chew and decided to make a variant for every tribe in the game, including the hidden rodent tribe. this was the worst decision i ever made, and i couldn’t even get through one before it killed all my momentum. if i ever pick this au back up, im just making it one card.

while i did have other custom cards planned, they were all boss exclusives + never really got made. speaking of those bosses though, they had a lot going on! i realized pretty early on that turning the isat bosses into masks was impossible, they just aren’t human enough to look good and recognizable. so, i turned them into stage puppets instead! they had visible strings holding them up, and you would’ve been able to see them hanging on the wall in the cabin! i’m still pretty proud of that idea

that being said, they aren’t all. finished. so i’m just going to start with the ones who had the most work done.

the lovers were the boss of the frost path and my take on accablement and abattement! a sheep and a wolf stitched together by the mycologists. the sheep was lovestruck while the wolf was detached, and at the phase 2 shift, the sheep would either sacrifice itself to the wolf or the wolf would suddenly attack and eat the sheep. fun stuff! they would use powerful fusions of canine and hooved cards during phase 1, and replace them with regular fused canines during phase 2. i really wanted to use the mycologists’ boss gimmick here, but i couldn’t figure out how to make it work with only 4 spaces for cards. alas… despite that, they were my favorite of the bosses.

skipping straight to the final boss here. the frost king (or just the king, according to my notes??) was meant to replace leshy/royal as the final encounter. this art of him is actually fairly outdated by now, i drew it before i decided on making the bosses puppets, and all of those candles are supposed to be frozen in the air! they would’ve gone out and abruptly fell at each phase change.

phase 1 was. pretty boring? the king primarily used strong tribeless/canine cards, and he used royal’s gimmick of targetting certain spots on the field. instead of destroying the cards on them, he would turn them into frozen creatures. if i did this now, i’d probably him freeze your entire board, similar to the prospector.

phase 2 on the other hand, was actually the reason i made those party deathcards way back when! they were intended to be used by the king during this fight, because i thought it’d be fucked up. this does mean that leshy’s quote on that post doesn’t actually appear in the campaign, because he’s not narrating this fight. i feel like king would have something to say about them, but i never wrote anything down. sad!

and phase 3 is predictable i think. the king monologues about how he’s doing the universe’s will and doesn’t get why he’s losing, only for him to suddenly understand what the universe wants him to do. he then takes leshy’s camera, points it toward himself, and turns himself into a card to fight you. something about the cards being a perfect snapshot of life, eternal in ink. i don’t know, i never finished writing that scene. probably an obvious direction to go, but i think it’s neat.

as a note, this is where my first draft of this post got sent directly to the void. it survived this time, at least!

i’m going to just do the calamity (calamité) and the pestilence (bourdon) here because im less proud of them. the calamity was the first boss, and i never actually found a design for it that i was happy with. their boss fight revolved around the transformer sigil from act 3. their cards would cycle between avian, canine, and reptile, and their tribe would be shown on calamity’s face. during the phase change, their head and half of the field would get covered in fog, so you’d have to keep track of which tribe their cards would be yourself. i actually quite like this boss gimmick, i just never really managed to make them a Character.

and i had fucking NOTHING for the pestilence. my notes literally are just about bees, because bourdon is french for bumblebee. i think the only idea i had for them was that they’d have some kind of card that’d grow stronger depending on how many unique tribes were on the field. i never managed to make a design for them… sorry bourdon.

and finally, the secret boss! the change god!! yipee!! this was a fun one. i never fully figured out how you’d encounter them, but they required you to do a puzzle in the cabin. they’d take you into a white void, be a little asshole, and then challenge you to a battle. they were an absolute shithead, iirc they refused to give you information without doing a battle because it’d be “boring”. i love them.

mechanically, this is also one of my favorites! much like magnificus in act 2, they’d replace the sigils on your cards with new ones. but, instead of the mox sigils, every single sigil is now amorphous. this extends to their cards once they enter the field and cards without sigils. at the phase change, they’d clear the field and start playing cards from your own deck, starting with your strongest card. i haven’t talked about totems here, but they use the hooved totem head! because vaugardians are all hooved animals :3

aaand i think that’s all i can fit in here without tumblr yelling at me. i actually had a lot of fun writing this (despite having to do it twice), i didn’t realize how much i missed isatscryption. part of me actually kinda wants to revisit it now?? that’s not a promise or anything, don’t get your hopes up. maybe i’ll do a part 2 to show off some of the stuff i couldn’t fit into this post at least?

hope this was at least somewhat satisfactory 👍

[ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs]

89,651 words left.

I may have started another short story for Azrael- I thought this was mostly going to be like oneshots. But for some reason it is definitely not. The last one I wrote was gonna be like 3 chapters and instead ended at 7. The first one was gonna be 10 and ended at 7. I think I just like 7s 😂

But I made his life so much more complicated 😂😂😂 it's almost hilarious at this point.

Also I'm trying to tag things better for this series because the first few books weren't tagged that specifically.

There's a chance that this book might have me rewriting AJ's story in a different way because I have better ideas for it now and I wanna portray them a bit better. I wanna get further into Azrael's story way before I do that though because Azrael did come first in my brain and has more of a story to him than AJ does right now, though of course that might end up changing.

I know that like Robyn's story could desperately use a rewrite. And their own series because she is also a very important character in my little universe.

Keiko, Nova, Chaos and Juno as well because their lives diverge a lot more.

But that is all work for laterrr.

I wanna write at least to present day for Azrael's story because he's currently still in like early 2000s as far as his timeline goes.

Their age ranges are so odd though.

Like Robyn was born in like 200 B.C and tossed through time a LOT

Chaos was born about a hundred years after that.

Nova was born right before the American Revolution.

Azrael and AJ were both born in 1960 like the marauders were.

Juno was born in 1985.

Keiko was born in 2016.

But like. Most of them are married to each other. Keiko, Nova, Robyn and Chaos are all married. Robyn and Azrael are married. Azrael and Juno are married.

Naturally they're married to other people too but still.

This is gonna be a wild series. My plan right now is:

Forged Gold (currently 8 books long)

A Vigilante's Guide To Heroism (currently it's own book but going to be a series)

Tales Of A Travelling Author (not written yet)

AngelRealm (another of Azrael's series that's not written yet)

Shattered Gold (not written yet but is Juno's series)

Sun And Moon (Chaos and Nova's series that isn't written yet)

SuperNova (Nova's series that isn't written yet)

Celestial Fury (Chaos's series that isn't written yet)

Mozzafiato (technically has it's own book both posted and not but needs to be a series and needs to be redone)

The Tales Of The Multiverse (not written yet but includes all of them)

And a lot more that I don't have plans for just yet.

So as you can tell I write a lot of stories in my head. They're never in order but I might come up with a name for all of them and try to arrange them in order if anyone ever wants to take on reading that stack of nonsense.

But I've always wanted to make a whole series so I might try and set up different series for my other characters and fold them into the huge expansion.

Anyway back to my madness.

Doing my best to keep up with writing but legitimately made a deal with my mother that I'd keep trying to make like 600-700 a week to support my own lifestyle while paying rent so it is becoming 100% harder. So if you keep up with my ao3 at all, you might have to expect slower updates because dude, that much is like 15 hours of work a day. Not that I sleep much but STILL.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress uh--Someday

Hi, hello. I am back to some type of bullshit but it's not the usual bullshit. Nope. This time it is Anders flavored. Another mage done stole my heart and blew it into tiny little pieces.

This goes out to my beloved, @aldisobey for they have motivated me to come back to life and actually post something. <3 Actually, you get TWO WIPS. Bonus art after the writing.

Also tagging the dearies. I'm so sorry if I haven't gotten to your works or if I missed you. My will to create and interact is only coming back now. @redheadsramblings @caughtnyact @guacamolleee @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @silshinobii @sofiemystique @avantegarda @dragonracer @draco-illius-noctis @holdingontojupiter @theyearningghoul. Lemme know if you want tagged in whatever I am doing.

“That’s because he isn’t interested, and you and Varric—”

“Sweetie, the boy is interested. I’d bet my last copper on it.”

“You don’t know that!”

Isabela sighs as she leans over the bar, looking for the owner. “I think of anyone I’d know the look of interest. You know, he looks at you the same way that you do at him.”

“And how is that might I ask?”

“Like a stray dog with a bone.” Her lips curl into a smile. “And you could chew on his bone freely if you—”

“No, Isabela! No, I—” She shakes her head vehemently, arms crossing out in front of her. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Ah, so you’re scared. Pity.” She finally flags down the bartender and orders another round. “Care to make a wager?”

“First, you and Varric tease me relentlessly, and now you try to take my money.”

“I bet if you walk out that door, not 5 minutes later Anders would follow.”

“You’re out of your mind if you—”

“20 coppers.”

“I’m not going to—”

“2 silver.”

“This is—”

“5 gold. Take it or leave it. If I’m wrong, you take me for all the money in my pocket, and if I’m right…well,” she winks, “what happens in a back alley in Lowtown, stays in a back alley in Lowtown.”

“I—”

Isabela lifts a brow. “Pony up, and put your money where your mouth is, or go back to that table and make us all crazy with your lingering glances and breathy sighs.”

“Fine, fine. You know what? I’ll enjoy taking your money.” She is not sure what possess her to do it, but she slams 5 gold up on the counter, a finger pointing at Isabela as she narrows her eyes. “5 minutes. Do try not to spend all my money in that time.”

And for some art WIP. I'm still obviously tweaking this. I didn't decide to put clothes on them until after and I need to fix the proportions. <3

[imririe]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. it's so sweet, knowing that you love me ⋆. •*

╰┈➤ rambles ab bf!nagumo

cw : mild swearing

note : nagumo had a little crush on reader before you met him !

( a / n : i swear this will be just fluff🥲. hope you all enjoyed the rion one hehe. ALSO look at me go w three fics in the span of two days🥹. my writers block is officially gone ! ! )

• thinking about batchmate!nagumo who you first met during lunch break. you were sitting alone on a park bench within the premises of the JCC campus, doodling something in your notebook, when you felt someone's presence nearby. there he was, standing behind the bench with his head tilted to see what you were doing.

" why are you watching me... "

" no reason. what'cha drawing there? "

" just something... "

• batchmate!nagumo who sat right next to you, eyes glued to your notebook. you thought, 'well whatever, he might just need something from me. like a favor.' and went back to your notebook awkwardly. and he. just. sat. there. for the whole lunch period.

• batchmate!nagumo who is now always glued to your side if not with akao and sakamoto, always right next to you, never a pace behind.

• batchmate!nagumo who somehow wriggled his way into your daily routine, propping himself right up in that little fold of your brain ( LMAO WHAT ).

• batchmate!nagumo who eventually stole your heart ( and many pain meds and bandaids ). althought you never took any of his 'hints' seriously. after all, he was the hotshot of this batch. girls and guys alwaus flocked towards him. what's to say you weren't just some silly person to him!

• batchmate!nagumo who is a littleee disappointed after valentine's day after recieving 0 boxes of chocolates from you! sureee had a mountain of them just stacked up in the corner of his dorm, but none of them was from that special someone.

• batchmate!nagumo who walks up to you during lunch break on white day. you were sitting at the park bench you sat on when you first met him.

• batchmate!nagumo who pulls out a red heart-shaped box from his coat, a darker shaded red ribbon closing it shut.

" oh? what's this now? "

" jus' a little something for you. "

" me? "

your eyes widen as he puts the box in your hands, your name engraved in the name tag tied to the box with a loop of twine. it had a silly little smiley face at the end. who knew you had equally stolen the heart of this little charmer?

• bf!nagumo who was secretely panicking on the inside if you would reject him or not, all hidden behind that enigmatic smile.

• bf!nagumo who is always your first notification of the day, greeting you with a chipper good morning.

• bf!nagumo who always takes you on dates. from one to the aquarium, another just wandering around the city, and another being a screening of some horror film. but in your opinion, just being with him was a date of itself, seeing how he always manages to pull off grand gestures.

• bf!nagumo who lets you color in his tattoos as you sit on his lap, coloring the one on his neck first.

• bf!nagumo who always manages to prank you, like you never get used to it. be it little jumpscares to harmless pranks, there never really is a boring day with him.

• bf!nagumo who is surprisingly timid during the night, quieting down like some natural occurrence. it's like nighttime is this time of peace for him, where he can be alone with himself and his thought, although now he had you.

• bf!nagumo who always gifts you with little trinkets he found when shopping that he thought you would like. as time went by, your apartment became filled with little stuffies, keychains, clay sculptures, and random finds that he bought just because it reminded him of you.

• bf!nagumo who became the center of your world, someone your life revolves around. and you became his. like two stars gradually being drawn together. how silly attraction works. it was like the red string pulled you two together, tying you both up in this intricate web of love.

masterlist

( a / n : did you guys notice the heart-shaped box reference🥹 )

[beelzecxi]

“My haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets.”

Haunting you pt.2

Pt.1

Synopsis- Months after being kidnapped by Simon, you two go grocery shopping. Things happened, and you get raided 7 ways to Sunday!!

Tags- Kidnapper!Simon! M!reader! NSFW! MDNI! Fem-aligned!DNI! Reader!still!gets!called!princess! Belly!bulge! Cream!pie! Dark!Simon! Lwk!Feral!Simon! Dom!Simon! Subspace! Stockholm!Syndrome! Double!Penetration! Possessive!Simon! Obsessive!Simon! DUB!CON!

A/n: This is so rushed, I started writing it a month ago but got writers block and powered through. (￣▽￣)

Living with Simon has been overwhelming in a sense. You’ve grown close to him— might even go as far as to say you’ve grown to love him. He’s sweet, unbelievably so. You wouldn’t expect someone as gruff as him to treat you so kindly and honestly. It’s kind of laughable. There are some rules given the fact that he did kidnap you. For example, you’re only allowed outside with him. He’s still scared that you’ll try to run away from him. It’s kinda cute. At first, he wouldn’t even let you use the bathroom alone, but after a lot of begging and pleading, he realized he was being unreasonable.

He almost never left you home alone, not unless he absolutely had to. That’s what brings us to the current situation: grocery shopping. You’ve been craving chicken parm pasta for the longest. Being the best kidnapper anyone can ask for, Simon takes you to get the ingredients for it. You’re almost done getting what you need. Only two things are left— heavy cream and Parmesan. Surprisingly, shopping with Simon is rather peaceful. Sure, he won’t let you out of his sight, and he glares at anyone who gets too close to you.

Which he was currently doing, ‘ugh, he’s so adorable, like an overgrown guard dog’. Smiling, you grab his hand and tug him along. “Let’s go, Si, we still have stuff to get.” You remind him, sighing to yourself when you realize just how in love with this idiot you are. He lets you tug him along, of course; he’d do anything for you! That’s exactly why he hasn’t beat that guy’s face in— wait— is that little shit still staring at you? God, he must have a death wish. He’s so lucky you’re here— Si wouldn’t want you to be scared of him… everyone else? Great! But you? Fuck, he might have to tighten your lease— he doesn’t want to— no, of course not— it’s just— he doesn’t want you to run away. He doesn’t know what he’d do with you; he fucking needs you. He’d trade all of his blood just to hear you laugh— laugh, goddamn you.

But this little cunt keeps staring at you, and if he doesn’t stop, he’s not going to have any fucking- “I’m ready to check out, let’s go!” And as if you could hear the route his thoughts were taking and trying— key word— trying, he still wants to break that fuckers’ neck. “After you.” He manages to huff out, letting you lead the way to check out. And you did, humming softly to yourself, totally oblivious to what’s happening around you, not that Simon is complaining. It’s one of the reasons he took you in the first place; you need someone to protect you from this dangerous world— you needed Simon.

“Okay, ready to go home?” You beamed, collecting your bags. Home— you already think of his place as your home? Fucking hell. You couldn’t be more perfect. He couldn’t wait to get you back home so he can bundle you up and— oh, that fucking cunt, why is he—“Hey. Excuse me— I uh— I was wondering if— “ “No.” The word was out of Simon before either of you realized, “I’m sorry? Who even are you? I wasn’t even— “ “No.” This time it was you who said it, and Simon has never been more in awe of you. It’s like you get better by the second.

“Bye now!” You say, grabbing the blue-eyed male and scurrying out of the market. On the walk home, Simon kept you close to him, practically hissing at anyone who came near you— you could swear his back was even raising just like that of a cat. “Si, calm down. Nothing’s going to happen,” you said, which only resulted in him gripping you tighter. Not that you can blame him; someone tried to take you away from him, some lowlife tried to talk to you. Nothing pissed Simon off more than someone who doesn’t know their place.

“Come on, Si, you know I only want you,” you try to reassure him, nuzzling into his shoulder. “My entire being belongs to no one but you, Si,” you hum, gently kissing his neck before pulling back to look at him, “let’s hurry home.” You said, forcing him to pick up the pace.

Reaching ‘home’ didn’t take very long, due to the market being fairly close to where you now live. “Come on, Si, let’s put all the groceries…up?” You trailed off, stepping away from him. “Si, what’s wrong?” The way he’s looking at you is both scaring the living shit out of you and turning you on immensely. Unfortunately for you, even as you stepped away, he followed. Head hanging low, but his gaze burned into you. The hair on your neck began to raise and every fiber of your being screamed for you to run— run and hide. And before you knew it, your body was moving on its own accord, turning and running down the hall towards the bedroom, ignoring the sound of his heavy footsteps following after you. Really quick, let’s both agree that running from someone with the military background that Simon has is very idiotic, right? Right. Simon tackles you before you can even reach the bedroom, pulling you close to him, grunting as he does so. The way he holds you is the same way you’d hold a frightened bunny. That’s what he sees you as— a frightened bunny. A stupid little bunny who needs someone big and strong to protect them from the horrors of the world. This you knew—that is why he kidnapped you after all.

“Calm down, princess,” he soothes, going as far as to pet the top of your head and rub your neck. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he grunts out before standing with you in his arms, heading towards the bedroom. “Just going to make you feel good. Don’t you want to feel like a princess?” he asks, though he’s not really asking. It’s more of a taunt. Someone as naive as you doesn’t know that they need it until it’s given to them, and that’s what Simon is doing—giving you what you need.

The moment he walked into the room, you were on the bed, thrown there actually, with an order to, “stay.” Like a pet. While he went to explore the closet, “Si,” you whine, curling up on the corner of the bed. You’re quickly shushed as he walks over to you with only two items in hand: lube and a… dildo? It’s almost as big as him, just slightly thinner. “Don’t worry, princess,” he says, grabbing your leg and tugging you towards him. “I’m just making sure you’re filled.” He grunts out, as he begins taking off your pants and underwear.

“Don’t you want to be filled up?” He taunts as he cups your crotch. “What am I saying? Of course, you do.” He answers the question for you, knowing you’re way too small-minded to answer such a huge question by yourself.

Trailing his hand down to your hole, he presses the pads of his fingers against it. Ignoring your whines and twitches, he squeezes some of the lube onto his fingers, chuckling to himself at the little jump you made when you felt the coldness of the lube.

He waits a second, then two before pushing two of his fingers in. “Wait—” you cry out, though your cries fall on deaf ears. Simon is way too focused on having his way with you. He didn’t care if you thought it was too much. He knew you could take this and more. And he’d prove it to you.

“I’ll never get sick of seeing you hole open for me.” He grins, scissoring your hole. “I know you’ll never get sick of having your hole opened,” grabbing the dildo, he taps it to your hole before hooking his fingers on it and tugging it to the side. “This might hurt a bit.” He pushes the dildo in, being none too gentle about it.

“Simon—” you choke out, “please—“ you whine, grabbing at the sheets, “I can’t, please—“ he— like before— ignores your cries, pushing the dildo in until it won’t go any further, “there.” He cheers, letting you breathe for a little, “you did so well, princess,” he praises, leaning up to place a small peck on your lips. “Keep up the good work, okay?” This is all you get before both his fingers and dildo are moving in tandem inside of you. “Si-Si-Si” you chant, almost choking on your spit, “Simon please!!” You beg, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. Do you want more? Surely not, this is already too much, your hole is stretched so far as is. But it can’t stop, not now. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know exactly what you need.” He reassures you, leaning down to kiss your temple before adding another finger inside of you.

“Do you think you’re ready?” He questions, tugging on your hole with his now three fingers. “Ah, what am I saying? You can’t even understand me, can you?” He taunts before pulling his fingers out of you, quickly shushing the whines and whimpers that followed, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. “Don’t worry, you’ll be filled again soon,” placing his cock against your stretched hole, right against the dildo he begins to push in.

“Too much! Too much!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from him. This, of course, doesn’t stop Simon; he simply grabs your hip with his now free hand and says, “Stay.” Sliding home into your warm, slick hole. “Fuck.” He groans out, calming his breath before matching his thrusts to that of the dildo. “Bloody hell. Why did it take me so long to try this?” He mutters, his thrusts getting harder and faster.

“Do you feel good, princess?” He asks, wrapping his free hand around your neck, chuckling to himself when he sees just how out of it you actually are. “Yeah, you’re feeling splendid, I bet.” He smiles, tightening his grip around your neck just so. Groaning when you tighten around him, “You feel so good,” he leans down to suck on your neck, “and you’re all mine.” He grunts out, fucking into you harder. “I should keep you locked up. So that no one but me can see you like this.” And harder, “Mine. Mine. Mine” He growled out, biting into your neck, just beneath his hand.

“I love this hole.” He praises, “I’m so glad it’s all mine.” He growls, twisting that dildo out of you. “When you cum, you’re going to cum on my cock alone.” He demands, fucking into you like an animal. “Simon,” you whine, finally able to get something out other than those pathetic moans of yours. “Please, wanna cum,” you beg, rutting back against him. “Wanna cum so bad.”

“Then cum,”

And cum you did, moaning out loudly as you did so. Whimpering when Simon followed soon after you. “There you go, princess, that’s a good boy,” he breathes out, petting your sweat-soaked hair, “Sorry if I got a little rough there, was just jealous, is all.” He says sheepishly, sucking and kissing down your neck.

“I think we could go another round though, don’t you?”

[five-rivers]

Experiment: Monochrome Maniacal (part 2)

This is the second entry of the first of my two experimental audience participation fics. Participation instructions are below the fic segment. The masterlist can be found here.

The winning prompt for the previous poll was: if Fenton and Phantom are apart for too long it has negative effects (by GooseQueen26 from AO3). I also included Ghost injuries/scars become more obvious as they're remembered by the ghost (by @everfascinated) because I liked it so much and this part needed a little more spice.

Tags for this section: Pitch Pearl (Danny Fenton/Danny Phantom), ghost catcher, discussion of canon events and attitudes towards ghosts

.

“I, okay, it sounds bad when you say it like that,” said Danny, crossing his arms, partially mirroring Phantom.  “But you’re down here all the time.  Like, literally every day.”

Actually, why did Phantom have his hand like that?  It wasn’t a very comfortable or natural position.

“So what?  You’re in your locker every day and you hate that.”

“Okay, harsh.  Where do you want to go?”

Phantom shrugged.  “Our room?” he suggested.  He adjusted his grip on his arm, and Danny saw ashy marks, like lightning bolts, lancing up through the plasticky material of his suit.  

Oh.  

Danny was an idiot.  And a jerk.  And apparently amnesiac, too, because he remembered how bad the accident was.  

“Yeah, that’ll probably be fine,” he said.  “If Mom and Dad come in–”

“We’ll merge or whatever.”

“I was thinking you could just go invisible.”

“Mom and Dad have way too many tracking devices for me to try that,” said Phantom, rolling his eyes.  He reached out to Danny, and without another word, wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him up through the ceiling.  

“Some warning, next time,” said Danny as he was set down on his carpeted floor.  “That felt… weird.”

“Weird?”

“Different from how it feels when I– When we do it– When we aren’t split.”  Danny huffed.  “You know what it’s supposed to be like.  Did it feel weird to you?”

Phantom shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Whatever.”  He walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, backwards.  Somehow, he was already exhausted with today, even though he’d hardly done anything.  

He had been up a good chunk of the night, though, and getting himself to the point where he actually went through the Ghost Catcher had taken an effort.  He sighed heavily.  

“Want to talk about it?” asked Phantom, tone just sharp enough that it didn’t sound like a joke.  Danny sat up.  

“I’m tired,” he said.  “I’m always tired, and everyone is always mad at me about it.  I can’t trust anyone anymore.  Ever since I became half ghost, it’s like…”

“I bet this thrills you, then,” said Phantom, sitting in the air and propping his cheek on his knuckles.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet or not, but you’re not half ghost right now, and I’m not half human.  You just got to cut out the cause of all your problems.”  He gestured at himself.  

“That’s–”

“Actually, I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to go back together.”

Phantom’s eyes glowed brightly, but there was something very dark behind them.  “Don’t be stupid,” said Danny.  “If you’re a ghost all the time, you’re going to show up on stuff like the Fenton Finder all the time, too.  You’d have to go live in the Ghost Zone.”

“I wouldn’t be living anywhere, is the thing,” said Phantom.  He shifted his position, and his fingers wrapped around his electricity-scarred arm again.

“Okay, that’s–  You know what I meant.  We’re going to merge back together.  Amity Park needs you - us - to protect it.”

Phantom scoffed.  “They’ve got an awfully funny way of showing that.”

“They don’t know what we do, that’s all,” said Danny.

“Yeah, because they might kill us if they did.  Or you, anyway.  Me, they’d cut up forever.  Or until I dissolved or something.” 

Danny winced, but there wasn’t a lot to say about that.  

“Except now, you don’t have to worry about that,” continued Phantom.  “You’re still their son.”

“So are you.”

“Am I?  I’m just a ghost.  You’re obviously still alive.”

“Well,” said Danny, frustrated, “now I just feel guilty.  Happy?”

“Not really,” said Phantom.  “What else have you got?” 

“What have you got?”

They stared at each other again, and then Danny fell back.  

“I can’t believe we’re having, like, I don’t know.  We’re doing this to each other. This is dumb.  I’m dumb.  You’re dumb.  We both know what our problems are.  Probably.”

“Probably,” echoed Phantom.  “You’re really not going to ditch me?”

“You do know we’re the same person?”  Most of the time.  

“Not right now, we’re not,” said Phantom.  “I…  It’s…”  His mouth twisted.  “Everyone hates me, and I hate it.  The ghosts hate me for stopping them, your parents–”

“Our parents.”

“Let’s be realistic here, your parents hate me for being a ghost, everyone else hates me because of Walker and Freakshow and all the property damage.  And I don’t have any friends who aren’t your friends.  And you barely have friends.”

“Wow.  That’s great to hear,” said Danny.  

“It’s true,” said Phantom.  “You hardly ever hang out with Sam and Tucker outside of school.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, shoulders slumping.  “I…  You’re right about that.  I should try to– to–”

“With what time?” asked Phantom.  

Danny shrugged.  “It’s like that with everything, really.  I’m just…  It’s like I said.  I’m tired.  I’m tired, and I’m disappointing everyone.  I just–”  He breathed in deeply, shuddering.  “I’m tired of disappointing everyone.  I’m tired of everyone looking at me like that.  I’m tired of having to do all this, all the time.”

“Me too,” said Phantom.  He didn’t breathe, but a sort of shudder ran through him anyway.  “I’m tired of being hurt.  This is like living in a world where everyone is Dash.”

“But we can’t stop,” said Danny, quietly.

“No,” said Phantom.  “Not without other people getting hurt.”

.

Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to participate, please reply to this post with what you want to happen or want to see in the fic next. This can be an event (e.g. the lab suddenly explodes), a character appearing (e.g. Wes, Sam, Undergrowth), a headcanon being added to the story (e.g. ghost hunger), a POV switch (e.g. switch to Jazz), a setting element (e.g. the year is 2104), a ship (e.g. Everlasting Trio), or something else I've forgotten to list here.

To be used in the poll, your suggestions must:

Fit in a poll option (80 charaters or less)

Not include crossover elements

Not include minor/adult ships

Be compatible with already established story elements

Other feedback is also welcome! Feel free to send me an ask!

[justwinginglife]

Lifetimes and Lifelines

Synopsis: An AU where Jinshi was always Ka Zuigetsu because you saved him by coming into his life. Approx Word Count: 5000 Tags: adults being dicks I guess, child abandonment, Jinshi likes to be a little shit but we love him anyway

You’re six years old and you think adults are cruel. 

Even in the short amount of time you’ve been on earth, you already know this. You aren’t sure why they say the things that they do, only that their words leave destruction and despair in their wake. It didn’t take you much time at all to figure this out. 

Your mother, you’ve been told, is a waste of space. Barely useful even in the pleasure district, which is what she’s been resigned to after your father, a waste of air, left her with you. She left you almost as quickly as he did. You couldn’t recall a sliver of their faces even if you spent all day trying, so all you have to go off of are the nasty recollections given to you by nasty adults who present their distasteful words to you as though they are some sort of gift, as though their testimony serves to comfort you from the tragedy of having such parents. And so what if they abandoned you? After all, you’re better off without them, right? Or so that’s what you’ve been told by every adult you’ve ever been pawned off to.

You spend a lot of time in and out of homes, everyone arguing about whose problem you are. You’re tossed around so frequently, you even learn how to sleep sitting and standing, because you never know when one adult will get tired of assuming responsibility for you and rip you from your bedsheets just to hand you over to the next. But no matter how many different houses you are brought into and kicked out of, everyone shares the same sentiment: your mother was worthless, your father was worthless, and now, by default, so are you. It isn’t until you're adopted by a friend of your mother’s that you are ever taught any different. 

It is fortunate for you that your mother ever had a friend so generous, and it is even more fortunate for you that her friend had gone on to become one of the Emperor’s most valued concubines, allowing you to be welcomed into the rear palace with the Emperor’s blessing. 

You are skeptical when you first arrive. You sleep with one eye open. Eat as much as you can in case it’s the last time you eat for a while. Exercise good manners but never engage in more than minimal, polite conversation. But the sun and moon come and go, over and over, and your clothes never fray, your belly never empties, your education never wanes, and the roof over your head -the very grand roof- never changes. Under your adoptive mother’s tutelage, you learn how to be graceful, how to be skillful, how to be successful. Under her roof, you learn how to be thankful, how to be joyous, and above all else, how to be kind.

And kindness soon becomes the most useful tool in your arsenal. 

During your time at the palace, you hear that somewhere on these grounds there lives a boy about your age. As refined as you’ve come to be, you’re still just a child, in want of a playmate. You’ve always been cautious about straying too far from your home, but boredom does wonders for your courage. You sneak out -making a mental note to apologize to your attendants for the trouble later- and begin your search for your new friend. You hope he is kind. You hope he is fun. You hope people have nothing but good things to say about him.

As you near the location where you hear he might be staying, you realize that the men and women passing by do, in fact, have plenty to say about this boy. But none of it is good, and you are sure, without ever even knowing him, that none of it is true. 

They speak of how he must be an imposter. How he must be illegitimate. How he’s been handed a lavish life that is not deserved. And then there is that phrase again. “A waste of space.” You’re sick of hearing it. You wonder if the adults who are so casually spewing these words know just how destructive their ridiculous declarations are. How those words can make even an adult want to lock themselves away from the world, and how it can be even more detrimental to a child. 

And when you finally catch a glimpse of him through a cracked door, peeking out from underneath a blanket, hands trembling yet forcefully attempting to cover his own ears, you know you’re right. And you hate it. 

You wait for the court ladies to walk by and then quietly slip into his room, closing the door behind you. Like a scared cat, he backs himself into the corner of his bed, pulling the blanket around himself tighter as he watches you enter. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” You speak gently but it isn’t gentle enough for him. He’s still wide-eyed and panic-stricken. You give him a soft smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. I just have-” You slowly reach into your pockets so as not to startle him further, “-a lot of candy and I wanted to share it with someone. You seem like you’re good at sharing. Want some?” You hold out your candy-filled hand in offering to him. 

He stares at them for a moment. Then looks back up at you. Then back down to the candy. He nods slowly. 

You crawl into bed with him and begin separating the candies by flavor. “This one’s my favorite- I love strawberry. How about you, what’s your favorite?”

“Ch-chocolate.”

“Oooh, yummy! Good pick.”

He gives a small smile. It’s minimal but you can work with it.

“Go on, try the chocolate and tell me how it tastes!”

He pops a candy into his mouth and then wrinkles his nose. “That’s gross, what is that?”

You look at the wrapper and laugh. “Sorry, sorry. You don’t want that one. That’s dark chocolate. I think you want something sweeter, yeah?” You hand him a different candy.

��Mmm, much better.”

“See, I told you.” 

He hesitates before offering you a similar candy. “You wanna try?”

You graciously accept his offer, wasting no time in popping the candy into your mouth. “Mmmm- yummy, yummy, yummy!”

He cocks a grin at you. “Do you know any other words besides yummy?”

You feign thinking for a moment. “Hmm. Lemme see. It’s SUPER yummy!”

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at you. “That doesn’t count, silly.”

Several minutes later (though both of your stomachs would soon wish you’d taken more than just a few minutes) you’ve eaten all the candies with his help, and have now begun to sprawl out across his bed, groaning and giggling to each other about how full you both are.

“Zui, your bed is so fluffy. I can’t believe you get to sleep in this every night.”

He nods his agreement, still lethargic from stuffing himself full.

“Must be nice having such a nice, warm bed that’s all yours. No one else’s.”

He fidgets with a nearby candy wrapper. 

“It’s like, if you sink deep enough into the bed, you can’t hear anybody else talking. Right? Like your pillow might just swallow you up and you won’t have to hear stupid people in the hallway.”

His eyes widen. Could you…have heard those people talking about him earlier?

“I think this bed is perfect for you. Like it was made just for you to have. Like you were meant to be here.”

He bites his lip. “You…you think so?”

“I do. Because if you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have a new friend. So I think you were always supposed to be riiiiiight-” You lean over to poke his nose, “Here.”

He laughs and shoos you away. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Well I…I think you’re meant to be here too. You know. Feeding me and stuff.”

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “I can do other stuff too, ya know.”

He turns on his side to face you, eyes alight with challenge. “Like what?”

“Like…this!” You reach over to attack his sides with tickles.

“Hey, hey! Do you want me to puke on you or something?!” He rolls away from you, grumbling. But when he’s turned himself far enough away from your prying eyes, he allows a sincere smile to spread across his face. He’s made his first real friend. And he intends to keep you. “Anyway, I’m tired now… but come back tomorrow, or something?” His breath hitches as he waits for your answer. 

He doesn’t expect arms to suddenly be thrown around him in a tight embrace. 

“I promise. Tomorrow then.” 

You’re six years old and you’ve made your first friend and your first promise. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re ten years old and you think life is unfair. 

“How come Zui gets to train with a sword and I don’t? I wanna do what he’s doing!”

Your mother sighs. “Darling, remember what I told you; you cannot address the Prince so casually. And as for the matter of sword fighting, I simply will not allow you to wield a sword. It’s dangerous.”

Your brows furrow. “But it’s not dangerous when he gets to use it?”

“It is, but it’s part of his duty to learn the sword as he assumes the role of the Prince. And he will have special training on the way of the sword.”

“And why can’t I have training?”

“Because you’re a proper lady now, and if word gets out that you run around swinging swords, I might not be able to protect you from what others say or do to you.”

You cross your arms stubbornly. “Well, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to, sweetie, but I want you to be safe.”

Once your mother has thoroughly finished lecturing you, you meet your friend -you meet the Prince- in your secret hiding spot: a little garden tucked away where no one can interrupt the two of you. Ever since you’ve known him, you’ve always found time to sneak out and meet him, but now that you’ve both been growing up and he has more important things to attend to, you find yourself desperately clinging to any time you have with him at all.

He looks up when he sees you coming. “Your mom finally done scolding you?”

“Barely. I’m sure she’ll have more to say about it later.”

He laughs. “About how dangerous this all is, and about how you’re a girl?”

“Pretty much. Sucks.”

“You know, I don’t think that’s a very lady-like thing to say,” He teases.

You scowl at him and he laughs again.

“How about this- I teach you one move and I stay right beside you the whole time so nobody gets hurt, deal?”

Your eyes light up. “Really? You would?”

“It’ll be our little secret.” He holds a finger up to his grinning lips. “C’mon, we gotta figure out your stance; now, get over here, slowpoke.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hop off the bench you’ve been sitting on and eagerly join him at the practice dummy. 

“You’re going to want to brace yourself; a sword is heavier than you think.”

“It can’t be that heavy; I carry all those textbooks around with me all the time-” You curl your hand around the sword handle and hoist it up. A spark of pain shoots through your arm and you let the sword fall back down. “Okay…so it’s kinda heavy.” 

He begins to chuckle but when you are quick to glare at him, he chokes it back down. “Look, you’re just holding it too close to the end of the handle. Here, hold it like this.” 

You feel his arms wrap around you as he adjusts your positioning, and at this moment, you swear you can’t feel anything else. Not the sun beating down on you, not the sweat rolling down your neck, not the wind sifting through your hair. You only feel his hand on yours, his breath along your skin, his warmth against your back. And you don’t want to feel anything else. 

You’re ten years old and you’ve already found exactly where you want to be and who you want to be with. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re thirteen and you’re completely soaked and it’s all his fault.

“Mom is going to kill me!” You groan as you look down at your drenched garments. You’d had the not-so-smart idea to accompany Zuigetsu down to the river for a morning stroll when he decided it was much too hot outside and the both of you were much too dry. So he pulled you into the river with him for a swim. 

He grins with no remorse as he watches you squeeze the water out of your dress. “So what? We’ll just wait until it rains and tell her we got caught in the rain.”

You emphatically point at the sun, burning bright in the morning sky. “With what rain??”

He tugs you closer to him. “That rain.” He points far off into the distance where storm clouds have begun to gather.

“Zui, that’s like, so far away! We’ll have to spend half the day here before we can use that excuse!”

He chuckles. “It’ll rain soon, I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

You raise a brow. “You seriously want me to answer that?”

He purses his lips into a pout. “Now when have I ever steered you wrong?”

You tap a finger to your chin in thought. “Hmm, oh, I don’t know, maybe when you lied to me and told me the latest fashion trend was hair buns and I showed up looking like a panda to the last picnic! Or maybe when you had me wasting my entire evening searching for a secret passage in the library that you swore existed but you knew didn’t! Maybe then!” You jab a finger pointedly at his chest. 

He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t being serious then. But I am now- I swear it’ll rain soon.”

You sigh. “Your Highness, you’re the worst.”

His brows immediately furrow upon hearing your formality. You only call him by formal titles when you're in public together and you're trying to pretend you don’t know him. “Hey. That’s not my name and you know it.”

“Does your grand Majesty have proof he can tell it’s going to rain soon?”

His scowl deepens. “Don’t call me that, not when we’re alone. You know I don’t like it.”

You take a daring step closer to him. “Does your Lordship not like when I address him so formally? What a shame.”

“Damnit- Y/N, cut it out.”

“Your Grace wants me to cut it out-?” You take another step towards him but the rock beneath your foot gives out, and before you know it, you tumble forward and topple the both of you into the water again.

He emerges from the river, gasping. “Damnit, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He trudges back up to the river bank and begins to squeeze the water out of his hair. “You’re always so careless and you like to push my buttons and you-” He turns to find he’s been ranting all this time to thin air. He scans the surface of the water for you, but you still haven’t come up yet.

“Real funny. You can come out now. Do you hear me?”

When he is met with more silence, his heart begins to squeeze in his chest. He immediately dives back underwater to look for you. He discovers that the current has taken you slightly downstream and he finds you at the bottom of the river bed, passed out, hair tangled in a bundle of branches. He frees you as quickly as he can but it isn’t quick enough for his liking. He carries you back to the river bank and deposits you gently on the shore. Wasting no time at all, he begins compressions. When you exhibit no reaction at all, he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I have to.” He bends down and presses his lips to yours, blowing air into your lungs. He resumes compressions again and you sit up in an instant, coughing up water. 

“Are you okay??” He hovers over you, examining you worriedly. 

You take a couple of unsteady breaths. “I…I am now. Th-thanks…” When you finally regain proper control over your breathing, you press your fingers to your lips. “Did…you…”

Zuigetsu blushes and looks away, not willing to admit to you that he’d basically kissed you. 

Suddenly clouds began to flood the morning sky. Thunder crackles once and then twice before the rain starts to pour. He quickly scoops you up and carries you to a nearby gazebo to wait out the rain. 

“So you…”

His heartbeat quickens. Damnit, are you going to make him admit what he did? He bites his lip nervously.

“You…were right…after all.”

He blinks. He was…right? Right about what? Kissing you?

“It did…rain.”

He exhales a sigh of relief. You must not have realized he’d kissed you. Thank the gods. He cracks a weak smile. “I’m always right.” 

You sneeze. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Being right once doesn’t qualify as ‘always being right.’”

His eyes widen as he takes notice of the way you shiver, hands coming up to rub your arms. He wastes no time in pulling you to him, arms surrounding you to provide some semblance of heat, even though he’s also soaked to the bone.

“You…smell like a wet dog.” You tease him tiredly, resting your head against his shoulder.

He snorts. “And you don’t smell any lovelier, princess.”

You laugh softly and move to bury your face in his chest. 

 He feels you snuggle closer to him, figuring you’re just freezing, and he holds you tighter. 

What he doesn’t realize is that you have full recollection of the way he’d kissed you and you’ve chosen to seek refuge out of his line of sight so he can’t distinguish the shade of red blooming in your cheeks. Your first kiss and you were barely conscious for most of it. 

You’re thirteen and you wonder if he’d humor you if you asked for a redo. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sixteen and there are too many goddamn hairpins. Or, at least, that’s what he says. 

You know you’re at the age when men start noticing you but you don’t know what it is exactly that you’re doing to make them notice. All you know is that it puts Zui in a bad mood all the damn time. He’s become so difficult. But you still love him.

“So what if I got a lot of hairpins? I can just sell them all, can’t I?”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s not about the hairpins; it’s about accepting the hairpins. May as well just go around telling everyone you’re a free buffet because everyone’s trying to take a bite and you’re letting them.”

You glare at him. “I’m not letting anyone do anything. I just like accessories.” 

He scoffs. “But I’m telling you, it’s not about the accessories! It’s about what they want to do to you after you accept the accessories!”

You raise a brow. “And what are they going to do to me?”

He coughs. “Well. You know. They…they…”

“Yes?”

He sighs, exasperated. He absolutely does not feel like explaining the birds and the bees to you today. “It’s just not good things, okay?! And it’s not like you can just kick these guys in the balls if they act up!”

“Yes, but you taught me how to fight. And I’m never alone; I have, like, a million attendants. Okay? I’ll be fine.”

His lower lip juts out in an emphatic pout. “Sure, sure. Big girl over here. Grown adult, she says.” He grumbles.

You roll your eyes at his antics. “I am a grown adult and I can make my own choices. And right now, I’m choosing to shut you up with food.” You take a fruit off of a nearby platter and shove it into his mouth.

He glares at you but then realizes you’ve picked his favorite fruit and swallows happily. “Okay, but I’m still mad at you.”

You sigh. “Fine, what do you want me to do, give all the hairpins back?”

“You can’t just ‘give the hairpins back,’ idiot. The sentiment is already there. They already mentally have their hands all over you.” He shudders. 

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“Exactly- ew. So just don’t accept anymore hairpins, okay?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly bring anything to wear in my-”

“So wear this. Here.” He shoves his hair pin into your bun.

You gesture to your other bun. “Now it’s uneven. What am I supposed to wear in this one-”

He quickly pulls out another hairpin and slides it into your second bun. “Happy now?”

“I think, just to sell the image, we should walk around together. Probably have my arm around you. Wouldn’t want other guys to think I’m available, you know.” Your words drip with innocence and Zuigetsu registers none of your ulterior motives. 

“That’s a good idea; stay close to me.” He wraps his arm around you and parades you around like you’re his. He knows no one would dare offer a token of affection to the Moon Prince’s beloved and he’s happy to play the part of your lover if it means it will keep others away from you. 

You’re sixteen and you know, deep down, it’s not an act when you cling to him and claim to be his; now you just have to figure out how to make him yours. 

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You’re eighteen and you are impatient as all hell.

You’ve already had a line of suitors in and out of the door, all damn day, and not one of them was Zuigetsu. Not one. Sure, he’s busy as this kingdom’s Prince. Sure, he’s off doing royal things that royal people do, whatever that means. But it doesn’t mean that he can just ignore you on the day you’re supposed to be getting engaged. You can only hold back the floodgates of men for so long before your mother finally just picks one of them for you. So you hope and you pray to God (it’s honestly less praying and more threatening) that Zuigetsu will show up and make you an offer, because if he doesn’t, you’re trapped for life. And then you might kill him for ruining all of your plans.

The sun starts to kiss the horizon and you’re mentally imagining horrific methods of torturing him whenever he finally decides to show his face again. But the moment he walks through the doors, your previous mental threats are nowhere to be seen, your anger dissipating. When you see him, your heart can’t help but soar over the moon. He’s sweaty (probably from more sword practice), and he’s so, so late, and in so, so much trouble, but he’s still here and goddamnit, you love him, and you’ll say yes no matter what stupid thing he says. So he better hurry up and ask already. 

You fix your hair quickly before gesturing for him to come into the sitting room where you’ve been poised on the couch all day like a perfect, porcelain doll, allowing suitors from far and wide to gawk at you. 

“You have something to say?” You prompt him, heart skipping in your chest. 

“Yeah, you got any food?”

You give him a pinched smile. “Sorry, food?”

“Yeah- I’m starving. Whew, it’s been a long day!” He plops down on the couch next to you. “By the way, why’re you wearing that fancy getup?”

This is it. You’re going to kill him. 

You stand up stiffly and cross the room to grab a platter of delicacies. You walk them back over to him. When he thinks you’ll hand it to him gently, you drop the tray in his lap, not even bothering to watch as the food splatters all over him before you leave. 

You’re eighteen and you think you’re in love with an idiot.

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You’re eighteen and a day, and he’s taking you out to apologize, even though he has no idea what he’s apologizing for, and you think you might kill him. But preferably after the date. Just in case it ends up being worth it. And then, if it isn’t, you’ll kill him. 

You watch his expressions -and to your frustration, he appears to have none- as he leads you through a route you are now realizing feels quite familiar. It’s been ages since you’ve been down this road, but you recognize it nonetheless. He’s taking you to your secret garden. It’s a good start. Invokes sentimentality. Maybe he thinks you’ll go easy on him in the place you always go easy on him. You haven’t decided yet if you want to go easy on him or not.

It isn’t until he clears away the vines and unlocks the door with the key you’d thought lost to time that you realize he’s done something different with the garden. He’s strung lights all over the place. Got the fountain that never worked to actually start flowing water. Planted new flowers- your favorite. And in the center of it all, he’s set up chocolates and strawberries on a little stone table. 

“Thought it might be better than the candies we used to eat. As fond as I am of those, they don’t age well.” He jokes. 

“I think you’re right. I nearly cracked my tooth open on one of them the other day,” You admit, eyes still raking over the impressive scene before you. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hopefully.

You give him a shrug. “Looks okay.”

His shoulders slump ever so slightly and suddenly you’re caving. You hadn’t expected to cave this soon. You had hoped you could hold out longer, stay indifferent, the way he appeared to be. But you can’t keep up the nonchalant facade anymore. Not when he looks like that. 

“I’m just kidding. It looks beautiful. Better than it ever did. I seem to remember this-” You hop onto a nearby stepping stone, “Always being cracked and now it’s repaired. And this section of the hedge-” You run your hand along its leaves, “-I’m pretty sure I remember us accidentally burning it when we tried to light candles in here after skipping out on the New Year’s Festival to hold our own.”

“Yeah, you know, I thought about keeping the burnt hedge for nostalgia’s sake, but I just thought it might ruin my proposal.”

Your heart stutters to a standstill, the sun stops its rotation in the sky, and the birds all around you freeze their flights in mid-air. “Your what???”

“Oh, you know, the proposal you thought I forgot yesterday.” He mimics your earlier casual shrug.

“So you…didn’t forget.” You say slowly.

“Of course I didn’t forget your eighteenth birthday. But I wasn’t going to propose to you when you just spent an entire exhausting day being proposed to. Granted, I didn’t expect you to walk out on me, so I must admit, I did panic.”

“Yeah cuz you could’ve downplayed the indifference maybe just a little bit!” You scold him.

He laughs abashedly. “Sorry. Maybe asking for food wasn’t the best idea when you’d clearly been waiting for me. And sorry I was so late. Your birthday present wasn’t ready yet.”

“My…present?”

He gets down on one knee. “Well, it’s really more of a present for me. That is, if you say yes.” He pops open a ring box.

You knew the moment was coming. He’d already admitted that this was his proposal, so you shouldn’t be surprised. But the moment you see the ring -the gorgeous, gigantic, jade ring- you feel your heart trumpet in your chest. “Yes!” You stammer out.

He laughs. “I haven’t asked yet.”

“Oh. Right. Carry on.” You mumble sheepishly, cheeks tinging red.

“You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. You’ve saved me over and over again. Saved me from boredom, saved me from running away from the throne, saved me from myself. I know, with your high standards,” He gives a fond laugh, “That I may probably spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy and may only succeed half the time, but please, I’d like to spend the rest of my life trying. You’ve already succeeded at making me the luckiest, happiest man alive, and I can only hope that one day, I can make you feel even a sliver of what I feel whenever I’m around you. I know it’s not much of a deal, but will you allow me this chance? Marry me?”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” You grin, accepting his ring.

“I hear it’s part of my charm.” He returns your grin.

“Unfortunately, it is. But you’re wrong about one thing. I’m not happy only half of the time you’re with me. I’m happy every second I get with you, even if you drive me crazy. I’m happy even if you’re not around but you happen to cross my mind. You make me happy just by existing and I’m even happier that I get to call you mine. So I do feel the way you feel. I do feel like the luckiest, happiest person alive. And it’s all because of you.”

He coughs and turns away.

“Zui, you did not just turn away from my grand speech because you don’t want me to see you cry, right?” 

He clears his throat. “N-no! Course not!”

“So look at me.”

“One moment.”

“Darling. My love. Would you just look at me?”

He turns, tears in his eyes. 

There he is. The man of your dreams. The love of your life. 

You’re eighteen and a day, and you’re about to have the best kiss that’s ever been recorded in history. And then you’re going to marry the hell out of this man. 

@pixelcafe-network

[kangaracha]

dragonfish; chapter two

fandom; kpop demon hunters

tags; romance, angst with a happy ending, enemies to lovers, alternate ending

read on AO3

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← previous chapter

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The sound of many voices rouses her from her sleep, their raucous cries loud enough to wake even the long dead. 

She thinks they are screaming at first, that she's back in that stadium on the hill, watching her people walk into Gwi-Ma's flaming maw. Their voices are so warped and their mouths so twisted that it takes her several moments to recognise their screams as laughs instead -demon laughter, chortling and depraved.

Groaning, she covers her ears and turns her face deeper into the thick fur of her pillow, determined to drown them out with her own misery.

Beneath her, the pillow grumbles and shivers, its fur tickling her cheek as it moves.

She shoots upright, alarmed - and then crumples again just as quickly as dizziness claims her, blinking away the spots that bloom across her vision. The waves of blue fur swallow her as easily as they had let her go, great lungs deflating beneath her as they billow out a breath to help her settle. 

Above, the sky is a haze of blue and grey scattered with stars that shiver in and out of their places uncertainly, leaving trails of light streaked across her vision. It's hard to place a certain time of day from the uncertain light or the still air that is neither hot nor cold. There is no moon nor sun, nor hint of dawn or dusk. The stars are many, yet too few to be night, and there is no cloud to obscure them. The ground beneath her is hard and uneven, beaten rock swept clean of any dirt that might have once settled on it. She doesn't remember coming to this place; in her dreams, she had thought she was on a stage, watching gold spread over the Honmoon as the whole world gasped and pointed at the patterns on her arms. 

She lifts her hands to scrub at her face and finds them there, all over her skin. Upon her fingers and around her wrists and melting into the old marks that had drifted their long fingers down her arms just last summer, stealing the loose shirts of her friends' summer away from her for good. She has to stare at them for a moment to be sure they are real. Cranes her neck, just enough to see the dark blot of them crawling down the strip of stomach visible beneath the hem of her shirt and then her legs, purple and black like bruises.

"They're pretty, don't worry," a voice says, accompanied by the melodic twang of some instrument. She twists and turns, but cannot get far enough to see until he takes pity on her and moves into view, her body too strung-out and sore to move.

Jinu. 

The same old feelings come rushing back when she sees him; hatred and betrayal, and yet the weakness in her that insists on seeing her own pathetic fate echoed in his eyes. Even now it is there, tugging at her heart despite all he has done to her. She remembers that much clearly, the lying and betrayal, using her to his own end just to look at this thing she's become and mock her with the word pretty, like she's some shallow pop star who only ever cared about her appearance.

"Where am I?" she asks, instead of all the accusations that come to mind when she looks at his face. She's surprised to find that her voice works, even if it is as wispy and hoarse as the end of a long show. She remembers it failing, last time she was awake. She remembers it hurt to try to sing.

Guilt still flashes past Jinu's face, washing it of the pleasant smile he'd been trying to paste there. "Underneath," he tells her, gesturing up at that strange sky. "Gwi-Ma was above, so we came below."

She follows the line of his finger, blinking away the last of the blurriness of her vision. A mirage of Seoul city stares back at her, glinting through a black fog that hangs like miasma in the air up there. The image shimmers in the trails of shooting stars as they pass by. It takes her a moment to puzzle out, that she's looking through a window rather than the sky, and that those are not stars but rather-

"Are those souls?" she gasps, fighting off the nausea of sitting up under her own power, her head tipped back to follow their paths. The tiger helps, moving in his slow, deliberate way to prop her up before she can fall again.

Jinu's eyes turn downward, fingers picking a solemn note from the bipa that rests in his hands. "Gwi-Ma is feasting," he admits, as if he knows how the very thought of it makes her sick to her stomach. "It's been a long time since he's had enough souls to sustain him, let alone all the others. He'll try to rebuild his strength as quickly as he can."

"What about you?" she asks, her eyes damning even though he won't look at them. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I don't eat souls," he answers. "I just...deliver them."

"Like pizza?"

There's no humour in the way that he frowns at her. It's not very funny anyway, not when the meal is the very people she let him serve up to the demon king, the people she couldn't save. "Sure," he says, and then asks, "Are you  hungry?"

She stares at him, her eyes wide. "I don't eat souls either," she snarls, and then coughs when the words rasp painfully in her throat. 

Jinu shrugs. "Just checking." His eyes trail back to the souls, following the arc of their trail to the place where they touch down. It's not so far, Rumi realises now that she's sitting up; if she strains her neck, she can just see the black mass of the crowd that had woken her, laughing and crying out as they catch the souls that come tumbling down from the world above. And at their head, elevated above them, a spot of red and white fire shooting towards the sky with every soul that comes its way-

Gwi-Ma.

"Do you feel...okay?" Jinu asks as she lays eyes on her greatest enemy, in the sort of voice that nearly makes it sound like he actually cares.

"I'm fine," she answers curtly, ignoring the sharp ache in her chest and the weakness of her limbs and the way her head still kind of spins when she concentrates too hard. "Why?”

"You didn't look so good when we got here. And then you passed out."

She has dim memories of the rocks and the pain in her chest. Not being able to talk. Or move. The memory of pain blinds most of it from her view; all the way back to that performance of Takedown, the last moment of her human life. Had she been dying? Obviously not, if she's still stuck here having to listen to him - unless she died and now she's here, a demon. She doesn't really know how demons are made, only how they scream as they end, on the edge of her sword.

"I still hate you, if that's what you mean," she says, because if there's one thing she knows how to do, it is avoid a conversation she doesn't want to have. 

She sees the crack in his perfect face this time, in the moment before he closes it up again. Guilt and shame, and maybe even sorrow. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he says, plucking the notes of his feelings from the bipa. "I should have believed you. I...I do now, but-"

"Too late," she finishes for him, the words bitter on her tongue. "I thought you did. I thought we had a deal - I-"

She hates the way that she breaks before she can get all of the words out, all of the wounds in her chest that carved themselves open the moment that he looked her in the eyes and said it was all a lie.

"We did," he says, his eyes drifting way towards the distant glow of Gwi-Ma before she can see the raw edge of his voice become tears in his eyes. "And then Gwi-Ma showed me what he would do to me if we lost, and I was too scared to do it."

"And that's it?" she questions him fiercely. "You just...gave up on everything we worked for? Gave up on me? Because Gwi-Ma threatened you?"

"I didn't give up on you," he pleads. "I came back for you."

"But you destroyed everything else!" Her palms slap the rocks, stinging where the sharp edges dig into her skin. "The Honmoon - my whole life! Me !"

His hands slip to his sides, the bipa disappearing into the air just the way her sword would. "I didn't mean to," he says; but he won't look at her, or the angry marks splayed across her skin. "I made a mistake. I was just so-"

"You're a coward," she spits, struggling to her feet. Wavering there, her hand on the tiger's back as she swallows past a wave of dizziness. "You're a liar. You're an ugly, rotten, hopeless-"

"Demon?" he asks over his shoulder, his eyes flashing. "So are you."

Her patience snaps. 

Like an arrow, she launches at him, screaming in rage; only his unnatural speed saves both of them from toppling over the edge of the cliff. He falls on the rocks instead, rolling in the dirt as they scuffle. Her fists swing wildly, her feet scrabbling to get under her. He fends her off with his forearms, always one move too fast to be pinned down or pummelled.

He's toying with her, she realises at the same time as she does the ebb of her strength, the frailty of her body that fails her with every consecutive swing. He matches her efforts blow for blow, never quite letting her hurt him. Never hitting back. Frustrated, she growls again, the sound ripping unnaturally from her throat as her fingers reach for her sword-

Her back hits the dirt, hard enough that all the air leaves her lungs. Her weapon dissolves in her hand, her back arching as pain splits through her chest. The patterns on her skin take on an unnatural light, casting uncertain shadows across the ground that shiver as she writhes, railing against the pain, and the memories, and all that she has become.

A heavy weight settles on her thighs, pinning her to the unchanging reality of the ground. Her breath returns in gasps, sharp in her throat but a balm to her aching chest. So are you , his voice says over and over in her head. So are you. So are you. So are you. 

And she is him. Liar, coward. Fool. Ugly. She knows it, in that place she finds when fight and flight are no longer options. She's known it her whole life, from the first moment Celine held her in her arms to the last time she saw Mira and Zoey, weapons drawn and eyes wide, but not disbelieving, because when they thought about it, it made perfect sense. Worse, she'd been pretending all this time that she could be something else, stacking up lie after lie that she tells herself just to make the inevitable fall even taller.

"Are you done?" he asks, staring down at her.

She swings at him again.

He shoulders the blow without a word, fights her off and pins down her arms like she is some errant child rather than a formidable enemy, descended from generations of killers.

"I'm sorry," he says again when he is sure that she is still, his breath floating over her face. "I was a coward. I wanted to forget, but what I did was the same thing as what I was trying to avoid. I can see that now."

Rumi stares at him, eyes wide and chest heaving. She searches for a tic, a tell that he is lying - but there is only brutal honesty in those eyes, too close to turn away from. It forces its way down her throat and chokes her, points at her castles of lies and laughs. It bleeds the rage from her veins, one cut at a time, leaving behind-

"Kill me," she tells him, as vehement as when she'd been throwing insults. "Just do it already, and go and get your memories erased."

Shock pales his face, turning him ashen and wan around the bruises of patterns that circle towards his mouth. "I don't want to be like you," she adds when he doesn't move; he won't even breathe, he's so fearful that one wrong move will tip her over some knife edge. "I don't want to be this ."

His grip on her arms tightens, as if she isn't boneless beneath him, the fight in her gone. "I don't want to be this either," he says. 

"So end it," she answers, "and go and forget."

"No." 

He sits up suddenly, releasing her upper body like he's disgusted by her, like he's afraid that he'll catch something from the violent glow of those patterns. "How is that any different to being a coward? I want to save your life, not end it. I want you to save me."

She snorts. There's no humour in the noise. "You could have decided that before you ruined my life."

"I did." Jinu sighs. "I thought I did, anyway. Then I listened to Gwi-Ma again."

"It's too late-"

"No it's not!"

His hands land on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. His eyes are like a bonfire, lingering in her vision even when she closes her eyes; between them, his chest heaves for a breath he's suddenly lost. She can see every line of his patterns, tighter and more concentric than hers. They twist and claw their way around his brow and over the bridge of his nose like scars, leaving only his mouth unblemished.

"It's not too late," that mouth says again, the only part of him that she's ever seen dare to hope. "You can't do that. I didn't save you just so-"

"Save me?" she interrupts. "When have you ever saved me?"

He seems to realise several things in the next moment; how close they are, for one, and how little she knows for another. He sits up slowly, allowing her room to breathe, but not to throw herself off the cliff.

"I brought you here, didn't I?" he says, as if she is lying on a beach in paradise. "I found you before Gwi-Ma could. And then I saved you from dying right here on the rocks."

Flashes of memories, uncomfortable as they crawl under her skin to return to her. Her hand reaches unconsciously for her chest, for the phantom of the pain that had thrilled every nerve to its last ending there. For a moment, she feels like he has robbed her of something once again. "You're lying," she says to distract herself, steeling herself against the memories that say otherwise. "I wasn't dying. No one would kill me."

"Yeah?" he says, and she has no doubt, in seeing the sarcastic tilt of his head, that what he says is true. "Why did your heart stop, then?"

Several things run through her mind, chased by the memory of pain in her chest. "What would you know about hearts?" she throws at him. "You're a demon."

He shrugs. "Doesn't mean I don't have a heart. One that beats. Which yours definitely wasn't doing."

"That's what happens when someone becomes a demon. They die."

"Not literally. Not usually, anyway."

"How'd you save me, then?"

For some reason, that is the question that he locks up on, his shoulders stiffening and his mouth snapping shut. His weight rolls off her, setting her abruptly free as he shuffles back against the face of the mountainside, slumping into the stone. The absence of his presence leaves a gaping hole in the sense of self she's been rebuilding around him, harder to ignore than the beckoning cliff to her right. 

"You won't make it over the edge," he warns without preamble, following the line of her eyes. 

She turns sharply to the sky instead, watching another soul carve through the black fog. Seoul glitters in the distance beyond it, city lights at night and traffic moving in squares. If she squints, she thinks she can see the tower that she used to call home. Before he ended her life.

"Why did you save me?" she says instead; the question she hasn't asked yet, not even of Celine.

His breath answers her, whisper-soft as it exhales into the eternal night. "I ruined everything for you," he begins, his voice quiet enough that she can still hear the whoop and cry of the demon crowd beneath it. "The only thing left that I could save was you. I didn't think you would want to be Gwi-Ma's puppet forever." A pause, and then, "I didn't think you'd want to die, either."

She sits up slowly, her mouth firmly screwed shut until she is sure that what comes out will be what she wants to say. "I hate this," is what she settles on, as she stares down at her marked hands lying uselessly in her lap. There's a small tremble in them that wasn't there before, a symptom of adrenaline. A mark of fear, because they know she would cut them off just to spite herself.

She closes them into fists and squeezes hard, ignoring the pinprick of pain as her nails cut into her palms. It feels seperate to her, alien, like the skin on her body is not her own. The tears that gather in the corners of her eyes are foreign too; they are hot and angry and full of someone's grief, but she doesn't feel it like she had in moments before. She has gone numb under the weight of it, slowly breaking apart.

"Stop," he says, and suddenly he is there again, kneeling next to her as he pries her grip open. "Stop doing that. They're patterns. They're not going to go away."

"I don't care," she replies, wrenching her hands from his grip. "I'm not a demon. I won't be a demon."

"The patterns don't make you a demon," he tells her, and the grip he takes on her wrists is tighter now, harder to break free of. She stares at him sullenly. 

"Look at your hands," he says, and when she obeys, turns them over to show her palms. Their clear skin is studded with small crescents from the edge of her long nails, so lovingly manicured only yesterday. One of them drips blood at the base of her thumb, dark red and gleaming unnaturally in the half-light.

"Not all demon," he murmurs, wiping it away. A new drop beads in its place, evidence of her beating heart, her continued humanity.

Her shell is hard though, her mind set on sheltering her from any futile hopes. Too much of her life has been spent on hope. "Demon in all the ways that matter," she spits. "The hunters will never look at me again. The fans-"

"I thought being a hunter was about your voice and your soul," he says over the top of her. "Not what you look like."

She stops and stares at him. Curls inward in shame of herself and scrapes up an excuse. "It is," she has to admit, "but - they're everywhere. They're on my face. They're - I can't hide them. This is all I can be."

His eyes are pitying. "So just be."

"I can't," she insists. "I don't want to. My face is-"

She makes the mistake of looking at him, and the words die in her throat; because there are his patterns and those eyes of molten gold...and they aren't ugly, not really. Not in any way that would matter to her if she was talking to a fan, or a director, or another idol at a show. If you ignore the ripple and glow, they are just like any tattoo someone had willingly gotten, a story told in bold abstract across their skin.

Her can't be beautiful though. The way they had looked at her, Celine and Mira and even kind Zoey - they must be ugly to behold. Her career must be over, in fickle and commodified Korea. It stings and it stings, for every time she's been complimented on clear skin, told how beautiful she was. It was important to be beautiful, in order to be successful, in order to reach the souls in the wider world. It felt good to be beautiful - her arms were a blemish, she's always known that, but at least she'd had her face. At least she'd had control over her life and her image, and the things all those millions of fans could say about her online.

Now, no one will ever tell her she is beautiful again; least of all the people that matter most.

"Have you seen your face?" he asks, and she has to swallow her pride and her self-righteousness and shake her head. "It hasn't spread all the way, you know. Look."

She flinches away from the first reach of his fingers, has to steel herself and still her entire body when he hesitates and then reaches again. His fingers brush her skin with a care she has never afforded the places where patterns have shown, drawing jagged lines around the edge of her forehead. He never reaches far; just two lines forking down to her brow, and then a series of claw marks arcing around her left eye. Every touch leaves a fire in its wake, like her skin doesn't want her to forget where the marks are, and where it has refused their touch.

She gasps when he reaches below her eye, a deep inhale of breath that turns to stone in her chest as he traces a long, straight line across the curve of her cheekbone. She waits for him to keep going, but that is where he stops, his thumb brushing over the intricate gold of an earring as it draws away.

With shaking fingers she reaches up and touches her nose, her mouth, her chin; parts of her that he has never touched. Places where she might still remain herself, even all the way down here.

"You look the same as you always have," he promises. "The fans might even like you more like this. They're pretty."

"You look-"

"I know what I look like." He pushes to his feet before she can think of something equally stupid to say, looking once more towards the long, flat plain of Gwi-Ma's lair. Rumi watches as the demons there devour another soul, and then narrows her vision back to the rocky shelf she sits on, the mountain peak above and the deep-cut valley that falls away below. 

"Can you walk?" Jinu asks when he has seen whatever it is he was looking for, his shoulders rolling to shrug off some invisible weight.

"Where?" she replies, looking around at the rocks and sand and empty air. 

His finger points down the narrow shelf to the place where it meets the side of the mountain. "Not far," he says, as if there is anywhere to go but off the edge.

She takes his hand anyway, lets him haul her to her feet and steady her balance when it wavers, her body wary of being thrown at him again. It doesn't mean she's forgiven him, she tells herself. Not even if his arm stays close as they walk, and she does not push him away. She can still hate him once she gets off this mountain and figures her way back to Seoul.

The path becomes clearer as they walk, stepping carefully across loose shale and uneven ground. She sees it in glimpses, following the curve of the mountain where it becomes part of a long ridge, a threadbare trail previously hidden behind a jutted outcropping of rock that she had taken as the end of the line. They have to slip around it one at a time, backs to the wall and toes an inch from the edge of the world.

The void calls to her in the split second she spends at its cusp, staring down into it. He won't let go of her hand until her boots land on the other side of the rock. 

Her feet tire quickly as they walk, following the line of the ridge far above. The aches of her body turn quickly to sharp pains that echo with each ragged breath she forces down her lungs. Jinu becomes her crutch, and then the tiger too, one on either side. It's humiliating. She decides if either asks, she will blame her boots, fancy things made for dancing on a stage, not hiking. 

Eventually, a cave comes to find them, a warm, dry thing with a gaping black maw. She collapses just inside its mouth, falling into a bed of soft sand and curling up where she lands, her head tucked in the crook of her elbow.

She doesn't wait to see what he will do, what he will say. She sleeps again, as deep as she ever has and still not yet dead. 

Somehow.

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next chapter ➜

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Taglist

@amyyscorner @kokinu09 @keepswingin @rainfallingfromthesky

@rylea08 @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul @atinyniki @nougatjade

[stonylovessteve]

2025 Creator Reveals

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Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2025, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!

Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.

You can now post your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2025 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.

Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.

Wish I Was Home With You By Now by ishipallthings for FotiBrit (MCU, 2.2k)

To his surprise, Steve shakes his head and steps closer. “I’m happy right here. I want to be here with you,” he says. Tony feels his jaw slacken in surprise, warmth flooding him at Steve’s words. In which Steve gets Asgardian drunk and can’t stop saying nice things about Tony.

it’s where we began, and what we built everything on by Thahire for meidui (MCU, 7.7k)

He tells himself it’s not a big deal, and maybe it isn’t, when he snaps a picture of the puppy and sends it to Tony, along with a quick found this little guy abandoned by the side of the road. His phone shows the message as received, which—why is Tony awake? A moment later, Steve’s phone starts ringing.

Steve finds a puppy. It changes his relationship with Tony forever.

Tie The Knot by BladeoftheNebula for Jeniouis (AU, 3.9k)

Steve is always the bonding ceremony planner, never the bonded-to-be, and he likes it that way. Really, he does.

Stay. by captainstars for FrankTheSnek (MCU, 1.8k)

Even the back of Tony’s neck is flushed, and Steve can’t bring himself to look anywhere else at the moment. He knows this is not just because Tony is going through pre-heat. It’s the fact that Tony is on the cusp of his heat, and he got into the elevator with Steve while no one else is around.

why is he wearing it??? by wingheads for dntat (616, comic)

steve just wants to find his sweater.

He Who Owns The Sky by sililoquent for BladeoftheNebula (MCU, 6k)

Steve’s an architect with opinions. Tony’s a visionary with money, bad taste, and a terrible blueprint. It’s not love at first sight, but it might be something.

when i can be brave (say we’ll be always) by xWinterDreamsx for capsicleonyourleft (616, 8k)

“Oh. He didn’t tell you?” Carol asked in surprise, putting Steve on edge. “No,” he said slowly, trying to mask the agitation he felt. It was probably nothing, just something that slipped Tony’s mind. He couldn’t think that Tony would deliberately keep something important from him. “He has a date. Seemed really excited about it too.” “Oh.”

Love Thy Neighbor by ABrighterDarkness for sadieb798 (MCU, 6k)

In hindsight, Tony wondered just how long that confidence would have lasted if not for the chance meeting and unexpected kindness of his new neighbors. Would he have held his own or would he, like Obie had sworn, come crawling back by the end of the year? If Tony was honest, he didn’t know. It was terrifying to think too hard about, frankly, and so he tried not to. For once, Tony opted to count his blessings where he could find them.

astronomy in reverse by medui for DragonoftheShadows (MCU, 10k)

Steve’s body kicks into adrenaline overload and there are a few long seconds of panic before he registers something foreign lodged against his heart. He looks down and finds a glowing blue circle in the center of his chest with a bright white triangle of light in it, and when he reaches to touch it, his hands aren’t his hands. Tan and calloused. Marred with little scars, like a mechanic or welder might have.

Baby, I'm perfect for you by dingadur for Becci_chan (MCU, 2k)

In a world where your soulmate's name appears on your skin only after you touch, Steve had all but convinced himself that a soul bond simply wasn't in the cards for him. Imagine his surprise when he discovers the name Anthony inscribed across his ribs.

Man vs. Myth by waywardmillenial for ABrighterDarkness (MCU, 5k)

There's the myth of the legendary figure that everyone expects when they think of Captain America. And then there's the truth of the man, Steve Rogers.

Hold me steady by DragonoftheShadows for xxDustNight88 (MCU, 1k)

Steve is badly injured in a battle. As Tony tries to stabilise him, both men realise they have something they want to say to the other. Things get... a bit complicated.

Why I’m Here, Why I’ve Always Been Here by FrankTheSnek for Thahire (MCU, 15k)

For Steve there had always been hidden feelings between him and Tony. Always ignored, always repressed. The war has been long over, and now all that's left is having a normal life. He wants Tony in it, but those feelings have never gone away. There are few things Steve is afraid of, but his true self is one of them. When he finally gets the courage to attempt acknowledging it—Steve has no clue what he's doing or if he can even follow through.

4 Ur Eyes Only by sadieb798 for wingheads (Ambiguous, 1k)

Steve keeps getting his husband's nudes. And it's making his life hell.

Gilded Distractions by XxDustNight88 for waywardmillenial (MCU, 2k)

While the Avengers enjoy a royal retreat in Asgard, Steve and Tony find themselves navigating unfamiliar stars, quiet truths, and the possibility of something more.

Then the Man Found Blue by Wikketkrikket for dingadur (MCU, 10k)

They call him America's Soulmate. When Steve gets the serum, he can see colours for the first time. It makes sense; Steve found his purpose in being Captain America, now he can see colour - that should be the end of it. Except, once he reaches the future, all the colours are wrong again and his assigned babysitter - one Tony Stark - definitely isn't telling him something.

The License Affair by Neverever for picturecat (AA, 2.5k)

Steve is presumed to be Tony's husband when Tony is reported to have died in an accident. But Steve can't get his body unless they are married.

The Abduction by dntat for Wikketkrikket (MCU, 2.8k)

After being abducted by aliens, Steve and Tony have to undergo three trials to make it back home. Steve's not sure if he's going to make it.

Mondays Are Ours by becci_chan for ishipallthings (MCU, 4.5k)

After working for years in a bar, Steve was sure he’d seen and heard everything, met all kinds of people. Honestly, Steve didn’t think he could be surprised anymore during one of his shifts – the night shift, as usual. He looked up and had to admit that he was surprised. Tony Stark of all people was not who he had expected on a random Monday night. Especially not in his business attire.

missing each other by FotiBrit for sililoquent (MCU, 9k)

Nobody gets to decide when two people stop loving each other. Not even when one of them breaks off the relationship.

The Red Dot by capsicleonyourleft for Neverever (616, 6k)

Art is both Steve’s refuge and his most terrifying act of truth-telling. When a mysterious buyer begins collecting his art, it threatens to expose pieces of himself he doesn't want known.

I hope you understand (there's a reason why) by picturecat for captainstars (MCU, 2.5k)

Kamala ships it. Nadia is curious about the social sciences. Miles does not want to get yelled at. Steve is just trying to take a road trip.

Better Than Shield by Jeniouis for xWinterDreamsx (MCU, 4.7k)

Steve is adjusting to civilian life now that he's retired. Doesn't mean he doesn't still care about his team.

[host-of-your-screen]

WHY HELLO, [OBJECT]S AND [ITEM]S!!!

Have YOU ever wanted to SHAMELESSLY throw dark dollars at THE LORD OF SCREENS?! WHAT'S THAT?? You don't have any DARK DOLLARS?? THEN SIT THROUGH 2 MINUTES OF ADS FIRST!!

THEN you can send chats to the LORD OF SCREENS, YOUR "HOST!" Show him images! Spam his chat with emojis! (don't do that.) He's the only "AI SLOP" you'll ever need! Hah! Don't ever say that about me again.

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a roleplay/askblog for a DELTASWAP Tenna, "THE HOST"! currently in heavy WIP as I'm just starting this with no real plan (yet!)

(mod disclaimer : i have chronic pain so i may not be able to answer everything quickly. please be patient with me!)

(also as said in the description, this is shamelessly HEAVILY inspired by @checkthescript , PLEASE go check out their work!!)

>[CHECK]

YOUR HOST is currently trying to find the source of the flood!

Status: Dry.

HP: 4500/4500

AT: 10

DF: 4

EQUIPPED: DropletStickr

HEIGHT: About 7 Wailord Plushies

BLOG STATUS: Mansion is flooding.

MAGIC ANON: Water around The Host Dissolves, by virtue of the DropletStickr.

TAGS:

#YOUR HOST! - Every post including Host, which would be.. Most of if not all of them..

#PARASOCIAL TIME WITH STREAMER! - Flirts and the like. Remember kids, parasocialism is bad! ..Can you say it again?

#HOSTING FUN TIME! - dubiously canon interactions with others, that are usually just for fun.

#IMPOSTER HOST?! - ooc stuff, from the mod

will add more...

individuals will get their own tag!

OTHER:

-The Host will remember you if you're off anon or use signoffs!

-He will keep things you give him, either in his inventory or in his mansion somewhere.

-I will try to respond to any asks I get, but please try not to send them repeatedly unless you think it got eaten. Sending lots of asks (that are obviously not the same thing) is encouraged, though! Host might even grow fond of you!

-This blog is technically multi/selfship friendly, its just that Host is very.. Picky. You're free to try and befriend and flirt with him, but he won't swoon over strangers! ..not in that way at least.

-Host is a smoker, but not an alcoholic. I'm not personally comfortable/fond of writing someone with an alcohol addiction -- though his nicotine one isn't much better. But you could try to knock that habit out of him..!

-if you want to know about how the swap works -- you can ask Host yourself! It's more fun that way ^)

-My deltarune main is @tennaromantic, though do mind that is also our headmates sideblog, so be nice to him. If you have any questions for me specifically I'd prefer you stick them to here!

-This pin is subjected to change as I fine tune the blog.

-Have fun!!

-I repeat again. this is pretty much all based on checkthescript. PLEASEEE go check them out i love their work

[whenmemorydies]

Thanks for the tag @freedelusionshere and for this really thoughtful meta! I definitely think you're onto something with the scallop dish being an analogy in and of itself of Carmy and Syd's relationship: to each other, to their histories and to the industry they're in.

I do think, as we've discussed many a time, that ultimately the star is not going to be the point and that Syd will come to that realisation. Like others have said, I am curious as to what is driving Syd's desire for a star in the first place. Is it to show that she can achieve it given how shit Michelin's track record has been in giving the star to non-white chefs and/or to establishments with a focus outside of European tradition? I think more likely, her desire for the star is to give her father, her family, and maybe her broader community something to point to, to say that their time, love, investment in her was worth it. This goes to Sydney's fear of failure which she articulates in her Ina-Garten-fuelled nightmare at the start of 4x08 Green and in her teary confession to Claire in 4x06 Sophie.

But like you point out, once you get the star, then what? I mean it could increase business for the restaurant but then we have that crush to retain it (and its accompanying anxiety and dread as Carmy articulates in S2), the pressure to churn out products like replicants which Marcus and Tina are already feeling in S4. Is that really what folks think this show has been telling us from the start? That a happy ending for these characters is to gain recognition in a stacked, racially biased system? To be towering stone monuments in their field, frozen in time and fear? Or is it to subvert that system, in pursuit of connection, joy…in being the sand?

I haven’t really looked at the significance of scallops in Italian or in West African cuisine (the two heritages we know Carmy and Syd have respective ties to. Carmy shifting Syd’s dish to just scallop and served in a scallop shell certainly evoked strong imagery for me: The Birth of Venus by early Renaissance Italian painter, Botticelli. But that’s another romantic meta for another romantic time lol.

I actually think Carmy may have learned a lot about his heritage through his chosen profession (e.g. him being able to identify tonnato sauce for his mother who may have lost that cultural knowledge or never had it to begin with…as so much gets lost in the shift to becoming a diaspora). I’d be keen to see this explored next season. I wonder if this might also be the case for Sydney. Imagine learning about your mother’s heritage after she’s gone, by learning about the food she would have eaten growing up. I can’t think of many things more intimate and visceral. I think there are clues to this throughout the show including in The Bear’s office. I can’t recall the exact titles but once the office gets set up in S2, we see a DIVERSE range of books on its shelves with lots featuring African American and Southern Black food cultures. These go well beyond anything we’ve seen in terms of the books on the floor of Carmy’s apartment. I presumed they were added by Syd as at that point, she’s the only other character we’re told and shown has a store of her own cookbooks.

I’ll stop there as this will get exceedingly long otherwise! But thanks again for tagging me and the delicious food for thought!

The Twisted Journey of The Bear's Scallop Dish

Syd first makes this dish in S2 as 7 Fishes, and her father eats it on Friends and Family. There is part of her in that dish, there is a specific scene where Emmanuel tastes it and looks towards the kitchen window with pride. I wouldn't be surprised if it's not connected to her mother's influences.

See that little scallop sitting in there?

When Carmy gets stuck in the walk-in on F&F, he gets out, Syd is waiting there for him, and he tells her that he'll never leave her alone again, after she completed service without him (with Richie's help). This is actually the origin and sticking point of Carmy's resentment for Richie which @fairestbeard has pointed out; Syd needed Richie, but did not need him. Also, possible that Carmy realizes Richie has met Syd's dad in the FOH and he has not, when Syd knows his whole family and he wants to meet her dad.

In S3, Carmy subtracts her dish (shades of Chef David) to the point that all that is remaining is a scallop, and it doesn't even look like the same dish. She's not happy about this at all but doesn't really push back and even agrees with him that it's better for service. Because Carmy promises Syd that they are going to get the star she wants.

Later, Shapiro will bring up this exact dish, and say that it doesn't feel like Carmy, and she will tell Adam that it's her and Carmy's dish. But clearly, Syd is holding onto bitterness here about what Carmy has done, which is how Shapiro worms his way in.

In S4, Syd takes this scallop dish and subtracts Carmy from it, or rather, Empire Carmy, and makes it affordable with fewer and more available ingredients and makes it taste even better, and the dish goes viral and becomes a hit. What also takes a hit is Carmy's ego, and the idea that Syd needs him in any way at this point.

It's perfect, he says it's even better than perfect, and this is what Syd wanted. She wanted Carmy's validation. You can see it in her face. It comes up repeatedly throughout the season what she thinks about Empire Carmy, she speaks to both TJ and Donna about him like this. She admires him. It's complicated. Is it just about the dish she ate at Empire, or about him being one of the best in the world?

But Carmy doesn't seem to want to be that guy anymore. I don't actually think Carmy is as concerned about his greatness as a chef at this point, but about how much he's lost by investing his entire personality into that, but a convo for another time.

Adam brings up wanting Syd to bring her Afro-Carribean influence to his new place, meaning, regardless of how much the appearance of the dish has changed, there are flavors still within it that are distinctly not Carmy. Which, there is of course this meta by @whenmemorydies that I return to time and time again when I think about this show and the nature of imperialism and cultural appropriation which the fine dining scene is rife with and always acts like it's trying to get better at this, but then you have white chefs beating indigenous chefs on cooking shows all the time because they changed things up to appeal to Western (white) palates.

On Carmy's list of Non-Negotiables? Respect tradition. Didn't do such a great job of that with this dish the first time around, did he? Does he even know himself or his own heritage, which @whenmemorydies has brought up before? I doubt it.

Syd's Nigerian on her dad's side, and we don't know about her mom's background yet (Adam switching up the music on Syd at his new place might be a hint about how clueless he is about the flavors going on) but we also see hints from the original 7 Fishes she made and when they grill outside The Beef in S1 that seafood comes up often, and Emmanuel calls her mother a southern belle and now we know she did community theater, so she loved artistic expression.

With Syd having red shoes on in her dream and that connection to the themes of the movie The Red Shoes, it starts to paint a picture of what is going on here and how extractive and consuming it is to chase fine dining dreams and Michelin stars, when underneath it, these two people are seeking connection and authenticity and validation, but I still continue to think it's about love at its core.

The scallop dish is Syd and Carmy's blood orange hamachi dish mashup at The Bear. They are doing things to themselves and each other through this dish, in ways that tell a story about the system, and specifically Empire (not subtle at all).

I don't think that this is the dish that will ultimately bring them closer, but it seems to be representative of the push and pull going on with them right now and where they both want to get validation.

What do you guys think? @whenmemorydies @moodyeucalyptus @fairestbeard @currymanganese @ambeauty

[baker-chan-senpai]

some friends