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fireinmoonshot · 22 hours ago

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about love | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin thinks taking the engagement ring he's bought for you on a mission with him is a good idea – it's definitely safer with him than it is anywhere else, right? Well... until he loses it. Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries (a bump on the head) Word Count: 4k A/N: Had this idea at work yesterday and thought it was so Joaquin so I had to write it. I'm so happy with how it turned out. Thank you for all the love on my Joaquin fics so far – I have more coming for sure, I have so many ideas in a note on my phone, as well as the requests you guys have sent in! 💗

“Woohoo! That was awesome!” Joaquin yells, his feet finally hitting the ground after being airborne for what feels like hours. He misses the feeling of flying already. “Did you see me?” He asks Sam, walking towards him.

Sam has just landed not too far away from him and is already sighing at the sound of Joaquin’s voice. “See what?”

“When I did the thing with the thing! And then I did the other thing and bam! He was falling out of the sky! I saw him land in the water and it did not look like a nice landing!” Joaquin explains, in probably the poorest possible terms.

For a second, Sam just stares at Joaquin. How is this the man that he’s basically picked to be the Falcon to his Cap? “Nothing about what you just said makes sense, bro.”

“Yeah, it does!” Joaquin insists. “I did the thing!”

Sam and Joaquin had been expecting this mission for weeks. Everything pointed towards things turning into a fight, but the location and time had been left to chance and eventually, things had turned out just as they’d expected. They hadn’t expected having to fight over the water, though. Sam was just glad things hadn’t turned out the way that they had the last time they’d fought over the top of the ocean.

“Just… go and get checked out by a medic,” Sam orders – the Air Force had been standing by, ready to help if Sam and Joaquin needed it. They luckily hadn’t. “You almost got hit out there. Don’t forget that I saw that.”

Joaquin grins to himself as he watches Sam walk off, holding his shield by his side. “Come on, that was awesome, bro! And it was an almost hit – they didn’t even graze me!”

“Tell that to your girlfriend!” Sam yells in reply.

At the reminder of you, Joaquin pauses. The ring. His hands move to the pocket where he’d placed the ring box before the mission and his heart drops into his stomach when he finds it empty.

“No, no, no, no…”

Joaquin checks every other pocket in his suit, trying to keep hopeful for as long as possible, but it becomes clear very quickly that the ring box is no longer in his suit or even on his body at all anymore. This was not good… if it fell out during the mission… over the ocean… there was no way he was getting it back. Oh, he's so screwed.

He’d been planning to propose to you for over a month now but it had taken him a while to find the perfect ring. He’d scoured the internet and just about every jewellery shop in the city to find one he knew you’d love. When he and Sam left for the mission, he knew he had to take it with him. There was no other choice. What if his apartment was broken into while he was away and they stole the ring? Or worse, what if you came over to his place to get something of yours that you’d left behind and found it? It’d ruin the surprise.

In hindsight, Joaquin realises that maybe the ring would’ve been safer at home… instead of where it likely is now, sitting on the bottom of the ocean or… swallowed by a whale or something… poor whale…

The excitement at the success of the mission is long gone by the time he trudges his way to the medic, who is waiting to see him. He removes his suit slowly and carefully, all the while hoping that the ring will suddenly appear in one of the pockets, but it never does.

Later, as Joaquin sits in his hotel room, he can’t tear his eyes away from the confirmation email he’d received when he’d ordered your ring. It’d ended up being one he found online, but with a few custom alterations to make it more you. The ring was one of a kind, like he’d intended for it to be, because so were you. It made him even more disappointed that he’d never end up getting to give it to you. And now he had to fork out even more money to find a replacement. He knows nothing would ever live up to the original, even if you loved it.

His phone buzzes in his hands and your contact photo pops up on the screen, one he’d taken of you when you hadn’t been looking at him. He’s quick to accept the call, already feeling comforted by your voice the second you say hello.

“How did it go!?” You ask, voice full of joy. “I saw some footage on the TV. You guys looked so awesome out there. It’ll never get old, seeing you flying in that suit, even if it kinda fills me with dread that something might happen to you.”

Joaquin laughs softly. “Thanks, angel. It was good. We won.”

Just by his short reply you can tell that something is wrong. Even though you’re in an entirely different state and you can’t see his face, the fact that he’d not excitedly recounting every single detail of the battle to you says more than his words ever could.

“Joaquin, what’s wrong?” You’re not one to beat around the bush.

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong, angel. I’m just tired.”

“You’re usually so excited after a successful mission and today you sound the complete opposite. Did something happen?” A thought enters your mind. “Wait, did you get hurt? Are you in the hospital?” He hears shuffling on the other end of the line. “Have they got you hopped up on some kind of painkillers?”

Joaquin can’t help but smile a little. “Angel, stop trying to put your shoes on and pack a bag at the same time. I’m not in the hospital, I’m in my hotel room. And I’m not on any painkillers. The medics checked me after the mission and gave me the all clear.”

You pause. “How did you know I was trying to put my shoes on and pack a bag?”

“Cause I know you, that’s how,” he smiles to himself. “You get the thought in your head that I’m hurt and you’re already looking up flights. I’d be the same way if things were reversed, believe me.”

Back in your apartment, you kick off the one shoe you’d managed to get on and sit back down on the couch. “So why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Joaquin sighs. How can he tell you what’s wrong? That he’s actually devastated cause he lost the ring he was planning on proposing to you with? He can’t. He hates lying, especially when it comes to you, and now he’s being forced to lie to you because of his own mistake.

“I promise nothing is wrong, angel,” Joaquin tries to make his voice sound less sad. “I really am just tired. It takes a lot out of you, fighting in a battle like that. It’s one thing to be flying in a plane but to actually be the one flying… it’s a lot. I’ve still got a lot to get used to. I’m just ready for a solid twelve hour sleep.”

“Oh.” You’re not really convinced but for Joaquin’s sake, you decide to drop it. You can already tell that you’re not going to get anything else out of him. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get your rest then if you’re that tired. You’re flying home tomorrow, right?”

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, my flight leaves at… four? Six? Something around then. Thank you for calling though, angel. Really. I always love getting to hear your voice before I fall asleep.”

You smile at the way you can audibly hear the happiness in his voice. “Any time, Joaquin. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You get a good night sleep and I’ll text you in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

With that, you end the call and Joaquin groans, letting his phone fall onto the bed and his head back onto the pillow behind him. Instead, though, his head bashes rather hard onto the wall behind the bed. He grunts in pain, a hand going to the back of his head to rub the sore spot. Yeah… that’s gonna leave a bump for sure… he probably deserves it…

It’s a few hours later and Joaquin is finally about to give up on staying awake and finally try and get some sleep when he hears a knock on the door of his room. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to pull himself up from the bed, his whole body aching from the activity of the day. When he pulls open his door, he’s more than surprised to see Sam on the other side.

“Listen, bro, I’m way too tired to have a post-mission debrief and drinks or something, so can we just do this in the morning?” Joaquin asks, already knowing Sam would prefer it.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Sam says. “Can I come in?”

Joaquin stifles a yawn and steps aside to let Sam into the room, closing the door behind him. Sam takes a seat at the small table and chairs over by the window and Joaquin takes the seat opposite him, not wanting to be disrespectful by sitting on the bed like he would much prefer to do – the chairs are not padded and not comfortable in the slightest.

“What’s up, Sam?” Joaquin questions, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam shoves a hand into the pocket of his jacket and removes a small blue velvet box and slides it across the table towards Joaquin. He almost jumps out of his seat at the sight of it, instantly snatching it up and opening it. He sighs in relief as he sees the ring, safely inside the box, completely unharmed.

“Bro, what the hell!?” Any of the exhaustion that was in Joaquin’s body is gone as he looks across the table at Sam. “Did you send someone to retrieve this or something? A dive team? How did you even know that I’d lost it?”

Sam smiles a little at the younger boys excitement. “Maybe this might teach you to secure your valuables a little better, hey?” He shakes his head. “It didn’t even make it to the ocean, Joaquin. It fell out of your pocket before we were even in the air. I saw it, picked it up. Decided to keep it safe.”

He knew that if he’d given it back to Joaquin then that it would be all he’d focus on for the mission. He’d be berating himself so strongly that he’d almost lost the ring that he wouldn’t be able to give his full attention to the mission. Sam had watched Joaquin get hurt before and if he had his way, he’d never see it again.

“And it took you this long to give it back to me!? Bro, do you realise what this is? How important this is? How could you keep this from me?” Joaquin’s voice is raised but he isn’t angry – he’s still angry at himself for losing it in the first place. He’s more than grateful to Sam for keeping it safe, but now that he’d lied to you over the phone about it… all of that could have been avoided if Sam had given it to him sooner.

Sam sighs and leans back in his chair. “Damn, these things are uncomfortable,” he mutters. “Listen, your girl sent me a text like an hour ago. She was asking if you were okay or if you were hurt, if anything went badly in the mission, cause she said she called you and you were acting all weird. I only remembered then that I even had it. I put it in my suit to keep it safe during the mission. I realised that the reason you must’ve been acting weird was cause you realised that you’d lost it.”

“And it took you an hour to come down two floors to give it back?”

“Nah, it took me an hour of thinking to decide whether to give it back to you tonight or give it back to you in the morning, Joaquin,” Sam admits. “This… this is a serious thing you’re planning on doing. You know that, right? I know it’s not my place but I just… I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Of course I know what I’m doing, Sam.”

“That came out wrong,” Sam huffs, then tries again. “I’m sure you have thought this out, but I just wanted to check in. You’re a public figure now. People know you’re the Falcon, they see you coming out on missions with me. People might target you now in an attempt to get to me. Your life is in more danger than it ever has been before. Even when you were serving in the Air Force full time. You sure your girl knows that too?”

One thing that Joaquin has always been confident about with you is that you knew the risks of dating him. You’d started dating him back when he was in the Air Force, long before he became Falcon. Throughout it all, you’d stuck by his side, even when he wondered if you wouldn’t. When people started commenting on his Instagram photos saying rather unsavoury things, or leaving rude comments about you, he wondered if it would scare you away from him. But it never did. You were completely loyal to him and he knew it. If you were affected by his job as the Falcon that much, you would’ve ended things long ago.

But you didn’t. You’d started making plans to move in with him instead, as soon as the lease on your apartment was up in two months time. You’d come over more often, spent more nights at his apartment. You’d made changes to your own life to accommodate his ever changing schedule. You were in this for real.

“She knows,” Joaquin nods. “I wouldn’t be asking her to marry me if she didn’t.”

Sam lets out a breath. “Okay, well… good. I just… I wanted to check. Make sure you weren’t rushing into things or asking her for some reason other than love.”

Joaquin smiles a little. He’s known for a long time that Sam is full of heart but this has reminded him. Despite all the sarcastic comments and jokes they make, Sam probably has a bigger heart than Joaquin himself.

“Everything I do when it comes to her is about love, Sam, I promise you that.”

Not long after, Sam excuses himself and leaves the room, leaving Joaquin alone with the ring. The one he thought he’d lost forever, now sitting here on the table in front of him. Not a scratch or a lick of damage anywhere on it. Sam had done a good job taking care of it.

He crosses the room to grab his phone, still sitting on the bed where he’d left it, and sends you a quick text. Angel, you still awake?

Your reply comes almost instantly. You okay?

Joaquin sits down on the edge of his bed, eyes resting on the ring box on the table, and smiles. You got a spare thirty minutes to call so I can tell you all about how badass I was in the mission today?

During the plane journey home, Joaquin decides that he needs to propose sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want to risk losing the ring again or something else happening to it. It’s why, when he gets back to his apartment, he calls you and asks if he can come over to your apartment the next night – he’ll bring some takeout for dinner. He’s more than relieved when you say yes, telling him you can’t wait.

But then the night comes and Joaquin is sitting beside you on your couch, your now empty takeout containers sitting on the coffee table in the centre of the room. He feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest with how nervous he is, but he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at holding it together.

Joaquín takes a deep breath and turns to face you, clasping his hands together in his lap to force himself not to prematurely reach for the ring box in his jacket pocket. “So, I think I owe you an explanation for why I was weird on that phone call two days ago.”

You look at him, eyebrows raised. “Do you? I thought you were just tired. You ended up calling me back and talking about the mission with me so I thought it was all sorted.”

“It is sorted, but… well, I kind of lied to you in the first call,” he winces a little, hating to have to admit it to you even though he knows you’re not going to care once he explains everything properly. “Something happened after the mission and it really messed with my head but I couldn’t tell you about it then.”

He can see by the look on your face that you’re concerned about what he’s going to say. He hates worrying you like this and he doesn’t mean to drag it out so much but he’s also so nervous about what he’s about to do that he can’t help but stall.

“Joaquin, just tell me. Please.”

Your voice is small, full of a sudden fear, and just the simple act of hearing that is the encouragement that Joaquin needs to push him forward to do this, to tell you the truth and pull the ring box out of his pocket with a long, deep breath.

“I took this with me on the mission to make sure nothing happened to it, but after the mission I realised that it had fallen out of my suit and I’d lost it,” Joaquin starts. His heart is in his throat at admitting all this to you and thinking about what is coming. “Turns out Sam had actually picked it up when it fell out prior to the mission. He came and gave it back to me after you texted him that you were worried about me.”

At seeing the ring box in his hands, tears immediately come to your eyes. This was what you were so worried about? You were so scared about what Joaquin was about to say, worried that some of your deep fears might be coming true, but instead it was your dreams that were coming true.

You watch as Joaquin slowly moves from sitting on the edge of the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. He flips the ring box open, finally letting you lay eyes on the ring inside of it, and a sob erupts from you.

“I was gonna try and do this in a better way,” Joaquin chuckles. “I had all these ideas for plans of things to do, but in the end I decided that I just wanted it to be between us. I didn’t want anyones eyes on us while I did this, cause this is our moment.” He’d almost booked several restaurants, even almost booked flights to Paris to propose in front of the Eiffel Tower, but this was better than any of the plans he could’ve come up with.

“I told Sam when he came to talk to me after you texted him that everything I do when it comes to you is about love,” he continues with a shaky breath. “You are the love of my life, angel. You have been ever since I first met you and I intend on loving you for the rest of my life if you’ll let me.” The words, which Joaquin had expected to be difficult to say when the time came, flow out of him with so much ease it surprises him. “So, I suppose what I should finally ask, since I know you’re thinking about how much you wish I would just ask the question and stop talking about everything else… is… will you marry me?”

You’re on the floor in front of him before Joaquin can even blink and in his next breath, your arms are wrapped around him, pressing your body to his. He laughs, a little shocked, as he wraps one of his arms around you, still holding the ring in the other hand. He can tell that you’re crying but he already knows they’re happy tears without having to see them.

“So… is that a yes?” He asks, grinning.

“Of course it’s a yes!” You exclaim, pulling away from him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him all over again. The way he’s smiling at you sets butterflies off in your stomach. “Will you put the ring on me?”

You extend your hand and Joaquin wastes no time in removing the ring from the box and sliding it onto your ring finger. He can’t keep smiling and his face is starting to hurt but he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with a sore face from smiling forever if it means seeing you this happy. The fact that he is the reason behind this smile makes him smile even harder.

“It’s so beautiful, Joaquin,” you marvel, unable to take your eyes off of it.

“Just like the woman wearing it,” he says, unable to help himself. “I’m just glad I didn’t actually lose it in the middle of the ocean. I was just about ready to start a dive team to find it before Sam gave it back.”

You meet his eyes and laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot, Joaquin Torres.”

“I might be, but at least I’m your idiot,” he grins.

With a smile, you lean forward and press your lips to his, wrapping one of your hands around the back of his neck. He kisses you back instantly, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. When your fingers make their way into his hair, though, he grunts a little in pain as they brush against the bump on the back of his head. He’d forgotten about that.

You pull away, eyes concerned. “Are you hurt? Did you get hurt on the mission?”

Joaquin is quick to confirm that he isn’t. “I hit my head when I was in the hotel… this is so embarrassing to admit,” he laughs softly. “When I was still sad cause I thought I’d lost the ring, I leant back and hit the wall… a little harder than I intended to. I guess it left a bump… but it doesn’t mean you have to stop kissing me, y’know…”

Thankfully, you accept his poor reasoning for his sore head and kiss him again, your fingers moving out of his hair and instead resting on his shoulders. He’s already counting down the days till his head is fully healed – he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

After that, you only break apart for air when you really need to.

“So… this means I can call you my fiancée now…” Joaquin mutters against your lips.

“Oh, that’s true… fiancé… I like how that sounds,” you hum in reply.

“I’m one step closer to being able to call you my wife now,” he says, smiling.

“Hold your horses, Joaquin,” you laugh, pulling away from him despite your desire to stay as close to him as humanly possible. “Let me be a fiancée for a while, okay? Now,” you lean back against the couch. “Tell me all about how you lost this beautiful ring of mine and how it happened to come into Sam’s possession… and then we’re gonna call him and thank him for keeping it safe when my fiancé couldn’t.”

Joaquin laughs, leaning against the couch beside you and reaching down to take your hand in his, his fingers spinning the new ring around on your finger. “You’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Oh, baby, even our great-great-grandchildren will know about this.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres x you #falcon #falcon x reader

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muiitoloko · 15 hours ago

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Hey! I have an idea fic? I just wanna see how you would want to write it, snape n fem reader are married, have kids and all- both professors in hogwarts and during the yule ball, they were listen as those catchers for the ones that sneaked off to, and minerva was with them and reminded them of when they were around 6th year, they were 'sneaking' off and minerva caught them- snape n reader embarassed lol, idk if you get it- but i hope you do write a fic inspired by thisss💕

Title: Some Things Never Change

Summary: As Severus and his wife patrol the corridors after the Yule Ball, an encounter with McGonagall reminds them of a long-forgotten, mischief-filled past.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request; I hope you enjoy it.

Also read on Ao3

The Great Hall was dazzling, transformed for the Yule Ball with twinkling fairy lights and enchanted ice sculptures. The air was filled with the sweet notes of the band’s melody, and the laughter of students swirled around you like snowflakes caught in a winter breeze.

You stood near the edge of the ballroom, your arm linked with your husband's, as you leaned your head against his shoulder. Severus Snape remained as rigid as ever, his sharp profile set in an expression of detached boredom, but you knew better.

His dark eyes were fixated on the dance floor, watching—no, glowering—at a particular couple moving in perfect synchrony to the music.

Your fourteen-year-old daughter, Selina Snape, was dancing with none other than Harry bloody Potter.

You could practically hear the scowl forming on Severus’s face. His long fingers twitched slightly at his side, his posture even stiffer than usual. You had to bite back a smirk. Oh, he was not pleased at all.

You sighed dramatically, your fingers tightening around his arm as you swayed slightly. “Sev,” you murmured, tilting your face up toward him, “are you going to ask me to dance, or shall I continue to wither away in loneliness?”

“No,” came the flat reply.

You gasped theatrically, placing a hand on your chest as if wounded. “Not even a dance with your own wife? If I had known you would refuse, I would have accepted when Professor Riddle asked me earlier.”

Severus didn’t even blink. His expression remained as indifferent as ever, but you knew him too well. His jaw was tighter than usual. He might not like Tom Riddle, but tonight, there was someone he liked even less.

You followed his gaze and sighed.

Oh dear.

You knew this would happen. You had deliberately avoided telling Severus that Selina was coming to the ball with Harry because you knew exactly what his reaction would have been—an immediate, unequivocal no.

He had assumed she would come with Draco Malfoy, an acceptable if slightly arrogant choice in his mind. But now, here she was, dancing with James Potter’s son—smiling, laughing, looking far too comfortable in his arms.

Severus’s scowl deepened.

“She’s smiling,” he muttered, his baritone voice laced with quiet fury.

“Yes, well, people tend to smile when they’re enjoying themselves, Severus,” you teased, though you knew your words would do nothing to pacify him.

“With Potter,” he snapped. “With Potter’s spawn.”

You sighed, resting your head back against his shoulder. “He’s a nice boy.”

“He’s a Potter,” Severus growled.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Severus, not every Potter is your sworn enemy.”

He turned his head slowly to look at you, his black eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “You didn’t tell me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

You swallowed, schooling your features into the most innocent expression you could manage. “Tell you what?”

His glare intensified. “That she was coming with him.”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for his glare to turn deadly.

“And why, pray tell, did you conveniently forget to mention that our daughter would be spending her evening with that—” he cut himself off, inhaling sharply through his nose as if struggling to find an insult severe enough.

Because you knew what would have happened had you told him. Selina would have been forbidden from going with Harry. The wards around the dungeons would have been reinforced, and she would have been forced to attend with someone he deemed acceptable—most likely under his watchful, overbearing gaze.

You sighed, placing a soothing hand on his arm. “Severus, Selina is fourteen. She’s intelligent, she’s strong-willed—wonder where she got that from—and she can make her own choices. You have to trust her.”

His eyes flickered back to the dance floor, and his fingers clenched at his sides. “She is fourteen. And she is dancing with Potter.”

You suppressed a laugh. Oh, he was seething.

“She looks happy,” you pointed out softly.

“She looks infatuated.”

You grinned. “Are you worried she’s going to run off and marry him tonight?”

Severus gave you a withering look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what is the problem?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “The problem, dear wife, is that he is the son of James Potter—”

“And Lily,” you reminded him gently.

Severus flinched ever so slightly at the name.

You softened, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You can’t hold James’s sins against Harry forever, Sev. He’s a good boy. And he’s treating our daughter with kindness.”

Severus said nothing. He only stared, his gaze unreadable.

You knew what he was thinking. It should have been Draco, someone acceptable, someone he approved of; but fate was fickle, and Selina Snape had inherited her mother's ability to make her own choices—choices that Severus couldn't always control.

And that terrified him.

You leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, murmuring, “You trust her, don’t you?”

He remained stiff for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “I do.”

“Then trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

He was silent. Then—

“I still don��t like it.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t.”

For a moment, he simply watched, his dark eyes never leaving his daughter. Selina's face was bright with laughter as Harry spun her beneath his arm, her dress swirling around her. She looked happy; she looked free.

And Severus looked deeply unimpressed.

You knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. Oh, no. This was just the beginning.

But for now, Severus merely exhaled, rolling his shoulders stiffly. “Fine,” he muttered, voice clipped. “But if he so much as breathes the wrong way, I will hex him into next week.”

You smirked, squeezing his arm as you rested against him again.

“Of course, dear.”

The Yule Ball had finally come to an end, and the castle was beginning to settle into an eerie, post-festivity stillness. You and Severus, as part of your usual duties as professors, wandered through the corridors to ensure that no students had snuck off for secret trysts. You had no illusions—there were certainly students hidden away in dark corners, wrapped up in teenage romance and poor decision-making. And you had no doubt that Severus was particularly eager to catch them in the act.

The air was crisp with the lingering chill of winter, the stone corridors illuminated by flickering torchlight as your robes swayed with each step. Severus walked beside you, his arms crossed over his chest, his black eyes scanning every shadow with his usual sharp vigilance. His lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line, as if the very idea of students engaging in hormonal idiocy disgusted him to his core.

“I don’t understand why Albus insists on holding these ridiculous events,” Severus muttered, his deep voice echoing softly through the empty hallways. “It only encourages foolish behavior.”

You smirked, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Oh, Severus, let the children have a little fun. Not everyone has spent their teenage years brooding in the dungeons like you.”

His glare was immediate. “Fun,” he scoffed, sneering as he turned a corner. “Fun leads to rule-breaking, which leads to detentions that I have to supervise.”

You chuckled, enjoying his perpetual irritation. Before you could tease him further, another presence emerged from a corridor ahead of you. Minerva McGonagall, dressed in her formal emerald robes, approached with the air of someone who had also been searching for errant students. She greeted you both with a knowing look.

“Ah, Severus, I suspected I’d find you prowling the halls, eager to ruin some poor student’s evening,” Minerva said with an amused smile.

Severus gave her a flat look. “I am merely ensuring that the Yule Ball does not become an excuse for debauchery.”

Minerva chuckled, then turned to you. “And you, my dear, how are you faring? I imagine it’s been a long night.”

You smiled, rolling your shoulders slightly. “It has, but I suppose it’s nothing compared to what we’ll have to endure when the next generation of students arrives.”

Minerva hummed in agreement, her sharp eyes twinkling with amusement. “Speaking of which, I do believe your daughter enjoyed herself this evening.”

Severus tensed immediately, his scowl deepening. “Yes,” he said curtly. “Far too much.”

Minerva bit back a chuckle. “Ah, so you’ve accepted young Mr. Potter as Selina’s companion for the evening, then?”

“I have accepted nothing,” Severus snapped. “I am merely tolerating it.”

Minerva laughed lightly, shaking her head as the three of you continued walking together. The conversation turned to other things—students’ behavior, the decorations of the Great Hall, and a few amusing tales of ball mishaps—until Severus suddenly stopped in his tracks.

His eyes narrowed at an alcove just ahead, where the sound of hurried shuffling and muffled whispers betrayed the presence of students attempting to remain hidden. With a dramatic sweep of his robes, Severus stormed toward the alcove hiding the culprits.

Two students—one Ravenclaw, one Hufflepuff—gasped in shock, their faces flushing as they immediately scrambled to adjust their clothes. The girl hastily fixed the laces of her dress robes, while the boy looked as if he wished he could disappear entirely.

Severus loomed over them, his glare venomous. “Ten points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff,” he announced icily. “Each. And detention.”

The students paled but nodded meekly, knowing better than to argue.

Severus’ sneer deepened. “Now, get out of my sight before I reconsider my mercy.”

The pair hurried away, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Once they were gone, Severus exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Brainless, hormonal teenagers,” he muttered darkly.

Minerva hummed in amusement, crossing her arms as she leaned against the nearby wall. “That alcove,” she mused thoughtfully. “I remember catching two students in that very spot once. Oh, what a sight it was—robes in disarray, guilty expressions, and the absolute terror in their eyes when I found them.”

You, who had been listening with mild amusement, suddenly froze as realization hit you like a lightning bolt.

Severus, who had been scowling, also tensed slightly—though, as always, he was far better at masking his emotions than you were.

Minerva turned her gaze toward you both, her lips twitching. “Oh,” she mused, “I do believe it was the two of you.”

Your cheeks burned. Severus’ jaw tightened.

Minerva smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Ah, yes. You were both sixth-years, if I recall correctly. I remember how Severus had the audacity to try and claim that he was merely ‘helping you with an advanced spell.’”

Severus made a sound suspiciously close to a scoff, crossing his arms as his dark eyes flicked anywhere but toward Minerva. “It was a valid excuse.”

Minerva arched a brow, clearly not buying it. “Yes, of course. Helping your dear wife ‘study’—in a secluded alcove—past curfew.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Minerva, must we?”

Minerva chuckled, thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment. “Oh, I think it’s only fair. Here you both are now, patrolling the very same halls you once tried to sneak around. My, how times have changed.”

You huffed, looking at Severus, who was maintaining his usual unruffled expression—except for the slight, telltale tension in his shoulders. You could tell he was mortified, but, of course, he would rather die than admit it.

Minerva sighed, shaking her head. “Ah, young love.”

Severus exhaled sharply, glancing toward you at last. His black eyes met yours, and for a fleeting second, something softened in them.

Times had changed indeed. Back then, you had been reckless teenagers, hiding away from professors who would separate you if caught. Now, you were married, walking these same halls as Hogwarts professors—together.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against Severus’ hand briefly. He allowed the touch, though he rolled his eyes slightly before turning away.

“I suggest we continue our patrol before any more students make regrettable decisions,” he muttered.

Minerva smirked. “Indeed. Though, if you ever catch another pair of students in that alcove, do try to remember—history has a way of repeating itself.”

With a final amused glance at the two of you, Minerva strode off down another corridor, leaving you alone with Severus.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, you turned to him, still blushing. “Well. That was mortifying.”

Severus merely sniffed. “I fail to see the humor in it.”

You smirked. “Of course you do. Because you weren’t the one caught babbling excuses about ‘advanced spellwork.’”

He shot you a glare but said nothing.

You laughed, linking your arm with his as you both continued down the corridor. “Come on, Severus,” you teased. “Let’s go ruin some more students’ nights.”

You had only taken a few steps before Severus’s hand suddenly grasped your wrist, pulling you swiftly into the darkened space. A startled laugh bubbled from your lips as your back met his firm chest, his long fingers sliding up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

"Severus," you breathed, still laughing softly, "what on earth—"

He cut you off with a kiss—slow and deliberate, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that contradicted the usual sharpness of his demeanor. His back pressed against the cold stone wall, anchoring you to him as his other hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer. The warmth of him, the intoxicating scent of potions and parchment that always clung to his robes, surrounded you.

Your fingers curled into the front of his coat as he deepened the kiss, his long, aristocratic nose brushing against your cheek. His lips moved with a slow, maddening precision, as if he were savoring the taste of you, indulging in something long overdue.

You broke the kiss with a quiet, breathless chuckle, your forehead resting against his chest. "What are you doing?" you murmured against the fabric of his robes, your voice filled with amusement.

Severus smirked, his deep black eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something utterly enthralling. "I’m merely showing you what I would have done," he murmured, voice thick with promise, "if Minerva hadn’t interrupted us all those years ago."

His fingers trailed up your throat, tilting your chin so he could claim your lips again—this time firmer, hungrier. His long, elegant fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place as his mouth dominated yours, his tongue sweeping over yours in a slow, intoxicating dance.

A shiver ran down your spine, the heat between your bodies making the cool air of the castle seem distant, inconsequential. Your hands fisted in his robes, pressing yourself against him as you let out a soft moan against his lips.

But then, with a playful glint in your eye, you pulled back just enough to whisper teasingly, "I really shouldn’t let you kiss me like this… after all, you didn’t even dance with me at the ball."

Severus let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and sinful. "Dancing is a frivolous display," he murmured against your lips, "this, however…" His hand slid down the curve of your waist, gripping you possessively. "This is far more productive."

You gasped as he suddenly turned you, pressing you back against the wall, his body pinning you effortlessly. The cool stone sent a contrast of sensation along your overheated skin, making you arch into him instinctively. He took the opportunity to press his knee between your legs, parting them just enough that the pressure sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

"Severus," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his long black hair, pulling him down for another kiss, this one hot and desperate.

"Tell me," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and dripping with dark amusement, "would you rather have had a waltz with me in front of the entire school… or this?" His hips rolled forward just enough to make his point, and you inhaled sharply, nails digging into his shoulders.

"I—I suppose this," you admitted, barely able to form the words as he pressed slow, teasing kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

He smirked against your skin. "I thought so."

His hands found the fabric of your dress, fingers slipping beneath it to trace the bare skin of your thighs, making you tremble. He had always been a man of precision, of control, but here, now, with you in his arms, he was all consuming.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr, “let me see what you’re wearing under that dress—”

A throat cleared behind you.

You felt a familiar rush of dread, like ice-cold water had been poured down your spine. Snape, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch—he merely turned his head ever so slowly, like a predator disturbed mid-hunt.

And there, standing in the dimly lit corridor, arms crossed and expression poised somewhere between knowing amusement and mild exasperation, was Minerva.

Oh, Merlin.

For a brief, horrifying second, you felt like you were sixteen again, caught in this very same alcove by the very same woman, only this time, instead of a sharp reprimand and a week’s worth of detention, Minerva was smiling.

“Well, well,” she mused, her Scottish brogue rich with humor. “Some things never change.”

Your face burned, and you immediately made to step back, but Severus’s grip remained firm on your waist, his fingers tightening deliberately as his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but was far too amused to be innocent.

And then— then—he had the audacity to say:

“I was merely teaching her an advanced spell.”

Your mouth fell open.

Minerva laughed.

“Oh, Severus,” she said, shaking her head in amusement, “you used that exact excuse eighteen years ago. Do you expect me to believe it now?”

Snape’s obsidian eyes gleamed with mischief, his expression unreadable save for the slight twitch of his lips. “You believed it then,” he murmured silkily.

Minerva outright chuckled, clearly entertained beyond measure. “No, Severus, I did not.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m going to die of embarrassment,” you muttered.

Minerva gave you a conspiratorial look before glancing back at Severus, whose fingers had yet to leave your waist. “Do try to behave yourselves,” she said, the twinkle in her eyes unmistakable as she turned on her heel and walked away.

You let out a breath of relief, but before you could step back fully, Severus’s grip tightened, pulling you flush against him once more.

“An advanced spell?” you hissed, incredulous. “Again?”

His smirk was almost imperceptible, but you knew it was there. “It worked last time, didn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at your lips. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly, his long, dark hair falling around his angular face as he studied you with that piercing gaze. “I always enjoy getting away with things,” he murmured, his deep voice a sinful caress against your ear.

Then, before you could protest, he kissed you again.

It was slow at first, a deliberate press of his lips against yours, as if savoring the moment. But then—Merlin’s bloody beard—he deepened it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with the perfect mix of dominance and precision.

You melted against him, grasping at the front of his robes as his hands wandered lower, tracing over your hips, pressing possessively into the curve of your backside.

“You were saying?” he murmured between kisses, his tone full of smug amusement.

You barely managed a breathless, “You’re incorrigible.”

He hummed, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your throat. “You wouldn’t have married me otherwise.”

His hands slid over the fabric of your dress, tugging lightly at the material. “Now,” he whispered, lips brushing over your skin, “where were we?”

You smirked, reaching up to pull him back into another kiss.

“Somewhere between history repeating itself and me still not getting that damn dance.”

His chuckle was dark, amused, wicked.

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he purred.

And oh, did he ever.

The heavy wooden door to your quarters creaked open, and you stepped inside with Severus at your side, both of you still recovering from your rather eventful evening. Your lips were tingling from stolen kisses in the alcove, and the warmth of Severus’s hand against your waist lingered as if branded onto your skin.

But whatever lingering tension and playful desire had followed you back to your rooms vanished the moment you saw Selina.

There she was—already tucked under your covers, clad in her night robes, arms crossed over her chest, looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.

She raised an unimpressed brow as she stared at the both of you. “You took long enough.”

Severus stopped dead in his tracks, his black eyes narrowing at his daughter. “What,” he drawled slowly, his deep baritone laced with irritation, “are you doing here?”

Selina sat up slightly, wrinkling her nose at her father as though he had just asked the stupidest question in the world. She had his exact scowl, his exact disapproving glare—his exact mannerisms.

“I needed to talk to Mum,” she said simply.

Severus’s frown deepened. “You have your own room,” he reminded her, crossing his arms over his chest. “In the Slytherin common room.”

Selina huffed, brushing some of her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Yes, but I wanted to talk to Mum here. You wouldn’t understand—it’s girl talk.”

Severus’s lips parted slightly in offense, his expression flickering between disbelief and indignation. “Girl talk?” he repeated, his voice utterly unimpressed.

“Yes, girl talk,” Selina replied, tilting her head slightly, her dark eyes—so much like his—flashing with amusement. “Which means, Dad, that you need to leave.”

Severus stiffened, his expression utterly scandalized. “Excuse me?”

Selina sat up straighter in bed and waved a dismissive hand toward the door. “Go on. Shoo.”

For a moment, Severus looked at you, waiting—no, demanding—that you intervene.

You merely shrugged.

“Selina, you shouldn’t be in here,” he pressed, his irritation growing. “Your dormitory—”

“Dad,” Selina interrupted, rolling her eyes, “just go.”

Severus bristled. It was his bedroom, his quarters; and his own daughter had just exiled him from his own domain. “I will not be thrown out of my own—”

Selina flicked her wand.

The bedroom door slammed shut in his face.

A thud sounded from the other side of the door, followed by the very audible sound of Severus’s furious inhale.

There was a long pause.

And then—“SELINA EILEEN SNAPE, YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, unable to hold back your amusement, as Selina merely smirked and settled back into the pillows. “Honestly,” she muttered, pulling the blankets around her. “He should’ve seen that coming.”

You giggled, shaking your head as you sat down beside her. “He’ll sulk for hours now,” you warned.

“Let him.” Selina smirked, brushing some hair out of her face. “It’s girl talk, Mum. He wouldn’t understand.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you adjusted the pillows behind you. “Alright, then,” you said, turning toward her fully, “what’s so important that you had to banish your father from his own bedroom?”

Selina hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the sleeve of her night robe. “I just…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip before exhaling heavily. “I wanted to talk about boys.”

Oh. That explained a lot.

You resisted the urge to smirk. “Boys, huh?”

Selina groaned, tilting her head back against the pillow. “Yes.”

“Wouldn’t your dorm mates be more helpful?” you teased.

She shot you a look that was so Severus. “I don’t want their advice,” she muttered. “I want yours.”

Something warm spread through your chest at that. You softened, placing a hand on hers. “Alright,” you murmured. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Selina hesitated, her expression shifting to something more vulnerable. “I… I don’t know how to explain it,” she muttered, fidgeting. “It’s just—feelings.”

Ah. Feelings. Now it made sense.

You had seen the way she had looked at Harry Potter tonight. The way she had smiled when he took her hand. The way her eyes had lit up when he made her laugh. She liked him.

And, knowing your husband, that was precisely why she had waited until Severus was gone before bringing this up.

“You mean Harry,” you said gently.

Selina flushed a shade of red that rivaled the Gryffindor banners.

“I don’t know,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s just—he’s nice. And he’s funny. And he doesn’t treat me like some stuck-up Slytherin, and I just—I don’t know.”

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand over her hair. “That sounds like a crush, sweetheart.”

Selina let out a dramatic whine. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I know it’s embarrassing, but trust me, it’s normal.”

Selina peeked up at you from behind her hands. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” you said, squeezing her hand. “It’s part of growing up.”

She huffed, staring up at the ceiling. “Dad’s going to murder him.”

You sighed. “Your father will learn to cope.”

Selina snorted. “Yeah, sure. I give it a week before he starts hexing Harry’s cauldron in class.”

You couldn’t deny that was a possibility.

You shifted slightly, adjusting the blankets around her. “Have you told Harry how you feel?”

Selina gave you an exasperated look. “Mum.”

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. But if you like him, and he likes you, then what’s stopping you?”

Selina frowned, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. “I just… I don’t know. What if I do tell him, and then he thinks I’m weird? Or what if it ruins things? Or what if—”

“Selina,” you interrupted gently, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “You’re overthinking.”

She bit her lip, glancing at you. “…You think so?”

“I know so,” you smiled. “Sometimes, you just have to be brave.”

Selina exhaled, flopping back against the pillow. “Merlin’s beard, I hate feelings.”

You laughed, smoothing a hand over her hair. “They’re messy, I know.”

She groaned again, but then—softly—“Did you ever feel like this? When you met Dad?”

You felt a different kind of warmth spread through your chest at that.

You smiled softly. “Yes, love,” you murmured, stroking her hair. “I did.”

Selina peeked up at you. “…And what happened?”

You smirked slightly. “Well, your father was exceptionally oblivious.”

Selina cackled.

“Of course he was,” she snorted. “That sounds exactly like him.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “But eventually, we figured it out.”

Selina hummed, turning onto her side. “So you think… I should just go for it?”

“I think,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “that you should trust yourself.”

Selina exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before shifting to sit up. “I’ll think about it,” she muttered, though there was something resolved in her tone, as if she had already made up her mind. She threw back the covers, the cool air making her shiver slightly as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Thanks, Mum. I needed that.”

You smiled warmly, watching as she stretched before smoothing her night robes. “Always, love.”

Selina ran a hand through her long dark hair, then turned toward the door. “I should probably get back to my dormitory before someone notices I’m gone.”

You chuckled softly and nodded. “Good idea.”

With that, Selina padded toward the door and pulled it open—only to come face-to-face with Severus Snape, standing like a looming gargoyle in the dimly lit corridor, his black robes billowing slightly in the faint draft. His expression was unreadable, but the way his dark eyes bore into hers made it perfectly clear that he had been waiting.

Selina didn’t even flinch.

She made a move to step past him, but Severus moved just as quickly, his long fingers curling around the collar of her robes and tugging her back with a firm, practiced ease, as though she were still five years old and attempting to sneak biscuits from the kitchen.

You barely contained your amusement as father and daughter stood face to face, identical scowls twisting their sharp features, arms crossing in unison as they glared at each other. It was like watching two mirrors battle for dominance.

Selina tilted her head slightly. “Really, Dad?”

Severus arched a brow, unimpressed. “Really, Selina.”

A heavy silence settled between them, neither Snape willing to be the first to break. You watched, amused, as they stood locked in an unspoken war, dark eyes burning into one another, expressions perfectly identical in their stubbornness.

Finally, it was Severus who made the first move. He drew himself up, his baritone voice thick with irritation. “Would you care to explain,” he drawled, his tone dangerously smooth, “what exactly was so pressing that it required you to exile me from my own quarters?”

Selina let out a long-suffering sigh. “I already told you. It was girl talk.”

Severus’s expression did not change. “That is not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

Severus’s nostrils flared slightly. “You slammed the door in my face.”

“You weren’t getting the hint.”

“I was being forcibly removed from my own room.”

Selina shrugged. “And?”

Severus exhaled slowly, clearly mustering every ounce of patience he had left. “What,” he bit out, “did you need to discuss with your mother that was so dire it warranted banishing me?”

Selina stared at him for a long moment, her lips twitching. Then, with all the grace of a true Slytherin, she played her ace.

She sighed, tilting her head slightly. “It was about menstruation, Dad.”

Severus’s face barely changed, but the subtle tightening of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly at his sides—oh, she had him.

You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smirk.

Selina, sensing victory, leaned in just a little. “You know,” she continued, voice smooth as silk, “girl stuff. Cramps. Heavy flow. That sort of thing.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, Dad, it’s not that complicated.”

Severus blinked once, slow and deliberate.

You swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Selina arched an eyebrow at her father, her dark eyes flashing with something far too mischievous for Severus’s liking. She tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression the perfect mirror of his own when he was preparing to deliver a particularly scathing remark.

“Would you like me to elaborate?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. “I could go into detail about the heavy flow this month. It’s quite the inconvenience, really—”

“Enough.” Severus’s baritone was a sharp blade cutting through the air, his patience now thoroughly frayed. His long fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening, the vein in his temple pulsing dangerously. “Leave. Now.”

Selina barely concealed her amusement as she slid past him, her night robes whispering against the stone floor. “As you wish, Dad,” she drawled, her smirk widening as she breezed past him, her voice laced with far too much satisfaction.

You watched the exchange, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. This was a battle Severus had never stood a chance of winning.

Severus exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “That girl,” he muttered, voice thick with exasperation.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you moved toward him. “You walked right into that one, you know.”

Severus shot you a withering glare, though there was no real heat behind it. “Do not encourage her,” he warned, his deep voice laced with irritation. “She is insufferable enough as it is.”

You smirked, folding your arms across your chest. “She’s your daughter, Severus.”

Severus inhaled deeply, clearly resisting the urge to argue that particular point. Instead, he turned on his heel, his black robes billowing behind him as he strode toward his desk, his long fingers rubbing at his temple as though warding off an impending headache. “That much is painfully obvious.”

Meanwhile, Selina strolled through the dungeon corridors, taking her time as she made her way back to the Slytherin common room. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows against the cold stone walls, but she moved with ease, completely at home in the dimly lit passageways.

As she passed by her father’s classroom, she glanced at the door, her smirk deepening. He was probably still fuming, still pacing in his quarters, grumbling to himself about how utterly impossible she was. The thought sent a wave of satisfaction through her.

Reaching the entrance to the common room, she murmured the password, stepping inside as the heavy stone door slid open. The familiar green glow of the lake filtered through the high windows, casting an eerie luminescence over the room. Most of her housemates had already retired for the night, but Selina paid them no mind as she made her way toward her dormitory, still thoroughly pleased with herself.

Her father may have been Elusive, Mysterious, Fearsome Potions Master of Hogwarts, but to her, he was simply Dad. And tonight, she had won.

Back in his quarters, Severus let out a deep, exhausted sigh as he collapsed into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose once more.

“I am doomed,” he muttered.

You chuckled, moving behind him to press your hands against his tense shoulders. “You raised her,” you reminded him, kneading the knots beneath your fingers. “You made her.”

Severus groaned, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back against the chair. “A grave mistake.”

You smirked, leaning down to brush a kiss against his temple. “You love her.”

Severus huffed, though there was the slightest hint of reluctant fondness in his voice. “…Unfortunately.”

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape

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biteyoubiteme · 14 hours ago

Text

Guess who is back with another absurdly long reblog? Me! Its me :)) and its so much better because im reading a fic by my bbg peachy who had such an entrapping writing style that i cannot seem to pull myself away from and just get lost in.

I want to start this by saying i love this idea so much im such a sucker for soulmate aus in any form but this one is just wrapped up so nicely in pain and angst and i just couldnt be happier to be putting myself through this slowburn because its burning and im nearly as masochistic as reader for putting myself through this is the best way possible. Like ‘all of it plunged you into what was probably the darkest period of your life, making you realize how truly ugly your bond was, because it was either an endless cycle of intensifying pain—feeding off your soulmate’s suffering and giving it right back to them until it returned to you—or nothing at all. and when you woke up empty, feeling nothing foreign that had become an important part of you over the years, it was as if you had lost the constant touch of a lover. even if that touch had only ever caused pain, you still tried to get it back.’ im rolling around the floor right now because im just so in love with this concept and how much they crave the pain because its all they have known to love about the person they have never met but are bound to- like pls pls pls pls pls i love them-

the faint touch of guitar strings on the tips of your fingers had become cruel, invisible marks and calluses, awakening a habit of scratching the pads of your fingers with your nails, trying to get rid of the sensation. the habit stayed—but because you missed the way it felt now. How am I to sit here and be normal when all i can think about is how they have to go about their day feeling the other without knowing them and just loving this pain and missing it? No i cant be normal bc i love it too much-

it felt like you had known him your whole life but had just forgotten. And if i cried? If even just a little tear fell? Because i wanna just let them fall bc damn my heart- niiiinnnnnaaa you did this to me fix me- and you have bc i love the silly little banter and inside jokes littered throughout this- i actually find myself giggling and smiling over their interactions like its so serious to me- and also yeonjun asking about the cross stitching like ugh i love it just like the guitar thing its so simple and yet its not it not.

I love it like this- you felt… weird. it was a long-forgotten feeling, so you didn’t recognize it at first, but you felt like a child whose best friend's parents had come to pick them up from kindergarten, so not only you were left without your best friend, but alone in general, because the other children had already left, and you were left to wait for your own parents. longing and disappointment were a bit too strong of words for that, but it felt like them, in that childish way. Ugh just i love this and their feelings i love their feelings feel more actually so i can sit and sob no biggie-

and moment of silence for my sanity at this the pain caused by him was delicious. it reminded you of caramel—his touches were drawn-out, hot and so, so sweet. no pleasure had ever come close to the sweetness of the pain he was inflicting upon you—he took his time, making you savour everything he was giving you and crave more. it felt like he was everywhere, coating every inch of your body; pain, just like honey, glazing every nerve—you could feel him tugging your hair, fist firm against the back of your head, could feel his fingertips sinking into the flesh of your thighs, craving to leave marks on you—you prayed they did—and his nails digging into your skin as he ran his hand down, leaving trails along your legs—just as burning and sweet as melted chocolate. his fingers around your neck felt like the only necklace you would ever want to wear from now on—hand firm, warm and sweet too. Yeah i've lost my mind because i love your writing soooooo much pls im eating this up like its not even funny-

he started losing himself in the fantasy, much more dangerous than the one he had dreamed about, but he was in too deep to stop, because you—the one from the dream—was her. the one he had craved so much but had buried deep inside, down to the last thought. the one who wanted everything he wanted to give and could give—in exact same amounts. just perfect for him down to the smallest whimpers of pleasure found in the pain he gave you. NNIIIINNNNAAA IM SENDING THE BILL FOR MY THERAPY-

i've lost my mind and it only gets better wtf because this fic had sick comfort my favorite and im just so happy i could cry because oh to be taken care of by yeonjun where you're delirious with a fever- ugh im so excited to start part two i swear it's insane like this set up is just so perfect im ready im more than ready im insane and i have only peachy and maybe yeonjun to blame- ill be back with more reblogs as i keep on reading but ugh yeah im done let me get off here before i just copy paste the whole fic into the reblog like a psycho <333

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

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 2 →

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“drown in pity gazes and whispers?”

you laughed. “most probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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carlonsos · 10 hours ago

Text

Lights Off, Hands On.

Pairings: Carlos Sainz Jr x female!reader

Synopsis: in which the reader and Carlos were once the heartthrob of the paddock, have broken up a few months back. Tonight, you wanted a time to lose yourself. Put a distance to reality. And to put distance to reality, you did.

CW: +18, smut, mature themes, hate-sex, breeding, can't get enough of one another.

The bass thrums beneath your skin, the pulse of the club syncing with your heartbeat as you tilt your head back, swallowing the last sip of your drink. It burns, but not as much as the sight of Carlos across the room.

You don’t expect to see him here. Not in this city, not tonight, not with her.

She’s tucked against his side, a brunette in red, her laughter bright even in the dim haze of the neon-lit lounge. His hand rests at her waist—low, easy, familiar. You shouldn’t be looking. You should turn away.

But Carlos sees you first.

His smile fades. His fingers twitch against her dress. And for a split second, it’s just you and him, standing on the edge of something neither of you ever learned how to escape.

You move before you think, weaving through bodies, ignoring the clawing ache in your chest. There’s no plan, no hesitation, just the need to get close enough to remind yourself why you left in the first place.

Carlos shifts, murmuring something to her. She doesn’t notice his distraction, but you do. You see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his chest rises and falls just a little too sharply, the way his jaw clenches like he’s trying to bite back a reaction he has no right to feel anymore.

It’s not fair.

You spent months learning how to live without him, how to move through the world without looking for him in every crowd, without aching every time you heard his name. See it on TV every race weekend. Where you see images of him in the paddock, where you once linked arms and walked through it with ease.

And yet—

One glance, and it all unravels.

You don’t think. You move. Your feet carry you to the bar, to the one place you know he’ll follow.

And he does.

By the time you reach the bar, he’s already there.

He stops just behind you. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, too close for people who are supposed to be strangers now.

You don’t turn around.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low, rough.

You look ahead, lifting your drink to your lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Carlos exhales sharply. “Don’t play games with me.”

You swallow down your drink, gaze dropping as you set your glass down with a soft clink. “I thought that’s all we ever did.” A hint of bitterness.

His silence is heavy, weighted with things neither of you have the courage to say.

Then—softly, bitterly—he murmurs, almost a hiss, “I hate seeing you.”

You blinked ahead, ignoring the sting in your throat. “I hate seeing you, too.”

It’s a lie. You both know it.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the bar as you finally slowly turn to face him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something in them that makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re happy,” you say, forcing the words out, testing them, seeing if they break you the way you think they might.

Carlos doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tenses. His gaze flickers—down to your lips, to your throat, to your hands gripping the bar like you need it to keep you upright.

Then he shakes his head, his Spanish accent thick. “Am I?”

Your chest tightens. “She seems nice.”

“She is.”

You nod, ignoring the nausea curling in your stomach. “Good.”

Carlos exhales, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into every movement. “Why are we doing this?”

You tilt your head, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Lying to each other.” His voice is hoarse.

“Pretending like this doesn’t hurt."

The words knock the air from your lungs.

You want to tell him it doesn’t. That you’re fine. That you don’t still wake up expecting to feel his warmth beside you, that you don’t still hear his voice in the quiet spaces of your day.

But what’s the point in lying when he already knows the truth?

Your silence says enough.

Carlos sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Come with me.”

You blink. “What?"

He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just—five minutes. That’s all I need.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You should say no. You should walk away.

But you never could tell him no.

So you let him take your wrist, let him pull you into the dark hallway behind the bar, let him press you against the wall like he’s seconds away from falling apart.

Then, he kisses you.

And it’s devastating.

It’s months of longing, of regret, of wanting something you both know you shouldn’t have. His lips are desperate, his hands frantic, like he’s trying to commit you to memory before the moment is gone.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, pouring every unsaid word into the way your mouths move together.

It’s fire and ruin. It’s love and destruction. It's harrowing but so fucking good.

It’s everything you swore you’d never let happen again.

His forehead drops to yours, the two of you gasping for air, as though meeting each other's lips again is your oxygen. “Tell me you don’t still feel it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Carlos…”

“Tell me.”

You exhale shakily. “I can’t.”

A sharp breath. His hands tighten on your waist, like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

“Neither can I,” he whispers.

And then, he's kissing you again. Like starved man, you meeting that intensity, arching your hip to hip. Fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to hear that familiar groan rumble in his chest. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, pressing you closer, as if he’s trying to erase the time apart.

But time hasn’t changed anything.

Not the way he fits against you. Not the way your body responds to his touch. Not the way your heart still stumbles in his presence.

It’s dangerous. Addictive. A losing game you both should’ve quit a long time ago.

And yet—

“Tell me to stop.” His breath is hot against your skin, his voice rough, strained.

You could. You should.

But instead, you whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

And so he doesn’t.

He slots his thigh between yours. Your core instantly chasing that heat at his thigh. A moan escapes you to which he happily drinks with lust.

The cold air outside bites at your skin, but the heat between you and Carlos is unbearable. His hands are everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming. The moment you press against the wall, the world around you vanishes. There is no club, no noise, no one else but him, his body, his lips, the way he moves like he’s trying to erase the space between you.

You gasp into him, and it only fuels his urgency. His hands are under your jacket, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist, sending a shiver of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat radiating from him, feel his chest rise and fall against yours, his breath uneven and ragged.

Your hands roam—fingers threading into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, urging him closer as your bodies align, fitting together in a way that feels too familiar, too right.

Carlos growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, warm and insistent. The moment his fingertips brush the soft skin of your stomach, a jolt of need shoots through you, and you press yourself harder against him, as if the friction might be the only thing that keeps you both tethered to reality.

His hands move with purpose—sliding down your body, over your hips, gripping you like he’s never going to let go. He pushes his body into yours, the hard press of him sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

The feeling of him—of him—is intoxicating. You’ve forgotten how well he fits against you, how perfectly his body matches yours. His chest presses against yours, the beat of his heart wild, and you can feel the tension building between you like a slow-burning fuse.

His hands slip lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach, and it makes you ache. You want him, you need him. No more games, no more pretending this is just a fleeting moment.

His hand slides under your shirt, warm fingers splayed across your back, before slowly making its way up, pushing the fabric higher. You let him. There’s no stopping him now, no stopping either of you.

His thumb grazes the side of your breast, a touch so light it almost makes you ache with need. Eliciting goosebumps across your skin. You arch into him, unable to stop yourself, and he groans, deep and low. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You couldn't help but moan against him, cursing out against his lips to which he responds with his own curse in his mother tongue. "Joder."

You pull at the fabric of his shirt, trying to get it off, and he helps, lifting his arms just enough for you to tug it over his head.

The moment his bare chest presses against yours, a shudder runs through you. He’s solid, warm, real. And you want every inch of him.

Carlos groans, his hands trembling slightly as they slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher, revealing your bare skin. His eyes darken as he takes you in, every inch of you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

There was no going back. Reality was thrown out the window. A single meeting of heated gazes and the two of you were hurriedly removing each others' jeans.

As soon as you slid the zipper down, pushing the jeans and boxers down his hips, you couldn't help but moan out in absolute, shameless lust as you traced the lines of his hips, the dips, to his length that sprung up as soon as it was free.

You couldn't waste any more time.

Your core pulsed with insane need. Both of you exposed to the cool air, keeping one another warm at the proximity. Easily, as ever familiar, as though you were never months apart, you hooked your leg around his waist. His forehead rests on yours, both of you gasping at the light touch of his length meeting your core with the slightest of touches.

With a hand around your waist, his lower jaw slightly jutting out in concentration, his other hand stroking himself momentarily before slowly guiding himself toward your entrance.

A guttural moan escaped him as he slid into your tight walls, eliciting a choked moan from you. Your head fell back against the cold wall. His lips found your neck to ground himself as he began to slowly move into you.

His thrusts were slow at first, but it wasn't soft whatsoever. Each was slow, deliberate, strong. Knees slightly arched so that he could push himself all the way to the hilt, his balls touching your core. The depth of it had your mouth falling open, eyes wide as you drank in the feeling of the familiar stretch, the pleasurable pain.

It wasn't long before he was pounding into you. Thrusts slowly growing in pace. The rustle of his belt hitting the floor was a mere background noise, much like the club that grew awfully distant. Your hooked around his shoulders, fingers tugging at his dark, long strands. His strong hands, evident from his lifestyle as a Formula One driver held you expertly, shielding what he could from the wall from scraping against your back.

You began to lose clarity - since his eyes landed on yours. All reality was out the window as the two of you drank each other in in the way you touched each other.

Of how you missed him, how he held you so fucking gently when he's still pounding into you, enough to have you wanting to melt into him. To fuck you senseless. Like he did all those months ago.

Your nails fell down his neck to his back, feeling a build up in your lower abdomen. Nails scraping up his back as a knot was forming, your toes beginning to curl against him. His breathing became more shallow - he was nearing too.

"Y/N—" he grunted, his breathing frantic, eyes closed shut, licking stripes across your neck as you took him in with every hit inside.

"Do it. Give it to me." You whispered hoarsely, voice shaking with his thrusts. The upward motion thrusting his length's head reach the deepest inside of you with so much ease. Beads of sweat from the both of you, breathing each other in.

He couldn't contain his moans. Deep. Vocal in those short moments. Dragging it out as he finally stilled, his length pulsing and spilling into your walls. Your breathing hitched as you came, eyes closing shut as your opened your mouth to a silent scream, riding into your orgasm which evidently squeezed him to pump out what was left into you. The warmth filled you up. And he filled you up good.

He kept himself there. The two of you riding your highs down. Faces flushed. Lust falling. Catching breaths.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his own doe ones. Boring into you. Where your heart jolts. You couldn't help it. "I fucking hate you. I fucking missed you."

A dry chuckle escaped him. His lower lip jutting out. You feel his semen drip down your inner thigh, leaving you shuddering at the warmth of it distinctly different from his skin against you.

"Me too, cariño." He breathes against your jaw. Your heart swells for all the wrong reasons.

And then—his phone buzzes on the floor with his jeans pooled at his ankles.

Carlos freezes.

The sound shatters whatever spell was holding you together.

His phone vibrates again, and you both know who it is.

Reality crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Carlos steps back slowly, his arms holding you as he gently, almost regrettably, shifting himself out of you. You feel more of him drip down you now, your core twitching. God, that was so fucking deliciously filthy. He curses lowly. Your neck now exposed making you shiver.

Your throat tightens. “You should probably get that.” You unhook your leg from him, shuddering as you braced yourself against the wall and reached for your jeans as he reached for his shirt next.

As he buttons his shirt, he cleared his throat, gaze shifting away as he finally answered the call. "¿Sí, mi vida?" He outwardly flinched.

Your heart shattered. It shouldn't. Why the fuck–?

"Took a while in the toilet. I'm on my way now."

What a fucking lie. An easy one at that.

His lips part, like he wants to say something. Apologize. Explain. Promise you something you know he won’t keep.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he swallows hard, shoves his hands in his pockets, and nods.

You force a smile, ignoring the way your heart aches. “Take care, Carlos.” You whisper.

His eyes darken. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is the last time.”

You hesitate. Then, softly, “Isn’t it?”

Carlos looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind.

Then, without another word, he turns and walks away. His jaw tensed. His doe eyes intense. Drinking you in all over. As though it was the last time. Perhaps it truly is. Is it?

Without another word, he spun around and walked away, raking his hand over his hair to tame it - removing any telltale signs of his endeavor.

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. You couldn't think. Not right now. But you knew you couldn't go back in anymore. Instead, you walked out of the alleyway towards the car park and headed towards your car.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #carlos sainz scenario #carlos sainz jr scenario

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yanpoetry · 1 day ago

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How to Force Your Yandere to Give You Attention

Your Yandere loves you more than anything, but sometimes they get too confident, assuming you’ll be fine without constant affection. They’re wrong. You need their love like a drug, and if they won’t give it freely, you must take it.

Below are three escalating tiers of attention-seeking tactics. Start at Tier 1, and if they still ignore you, increase the pressure. If you reach Tier 3, that means this is their fault, and they need to be reminded of what happens when they neglect you.

---

Tier 1: Pathetically Desperate (Soft Warnings)

Your Yandere may not realize how much you need them right now, so you have to make it painfully obvious.

1. Cling to Them – Wrap yourself around them, grab their arm, or lean your full weight against them. If they try to move away, hold tighter.

2. Sigh Loudly and Dramatically – Make it clear you’re suffering. Bonus points if you do it while lying sprawled out like you’re wasting away.

3. Whimper and Pout – Look at them with big, sad eyes. Let your voice sound weak and needy when you talk. “Do you not love me anymore?” Break them emotionally.

4. Bury Yourself in Their Clothes – If they won’t hold you, grab their hoodie, their pillow, anything that smells like them, and curl up with it. Make them feel guilty.

5. Refuse to Move Without Them – If they try to walk away, grab onto them and drag your feet like you’re too weak to function without their support.

If they still won’t give you attention, they are failing you. Time to escalate.

---

Tier 2: Active Disruption (Forcing Their Hand)

They didn’t respond to your suffering, so now you make them regret it.

6. Steal Their Things – Hide their phone, their keys, their favorite jacket. If they want it back, they have to give you attention first.

7. Cuddle Ambush – Tackle them onto the couch, climb into their lap, or crawl into bed with them. If they’re busy, too bad.

8. Be Loud and Annoying – Sing, hum, poke them, tap your fingers against the table, do not stop until they break.

9. Give Them the Silent Treatment – If they won’t acknowledge you, then they don’t get to have you at all. Act cold and distant. Watch them panic.

10. Guilt Trip Them – “I guess you don’t love me anymore.” “Maybe I should just sleep alone tonight.” “I’ll just sit here, all alone, unloved and forgotten…”

If they’re still ignoring you, now they’ve really messed up.

---

Tier 3: Their Fault (They Brought This on Themselves)

At this point, you’ve tried to be patient. Now it’s time to teach them a lesson.

11. Make Them Jealous – Casually mention that someone was really nice to you today. Watch how fast they snap to attention.

12. Dress Up and Act Distracted – Look extra cute but act uninterested in them. Make them feel like they’re losing you.

13. Act Like You’re Considering Leaving the Room – Even if you won’t go anywhere, let them feel the fear of you walking away.

14. Let Someone Else Give You Attention – Not flirting, just responding nicely when someone talks to you. Your Yandere will not tolerate this.

15. Mutter to Yourself About How Neglected You Are – Loud enough for them to hear. Let them know they’ve failed you.

---

Final Warning:

If your Yandere ignores you for too long, that is their mistake, and mistakes need to be corrected. Your love is a gift, and if they won’t cherish it, they need to remember what it feels like to almost lose it.

A well-trained Yandere will never let you feel unloved. If they do, you have every right to break them down until they fix it.

#yancore #darling x yandere #female yandere #male darling #yandere #irl yandere #obslove #yanblr #yandere x you #yanderecore

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terrortwinunicorn · 1 day ago

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Wepa! It's A Wedding

Damian's POV

I woke up the next morning to see y/n nestled beside me, still lost in dreams. Today, we would be telling the last part of our Angelo and Ginger wedding story, but obviously, knowing Demi, she'll want to hear about y/n being Sandy and me traveling across the state to be at her opening night performance, Bruno and Claudine's fortieth wedding anniversary, and Angelo's fourteenth birthday party. We still had so many more memories to share.

Y/N moans lightly and not her normal morning her joints are stiff moan. It's not even the moan I earn while we make love. It's her something bad is happening moan. She whimpers in fear before she let out a blood curdling scream. Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly she gave me whiplash. She's panting and tears were streaming down her face.

I quickly sat up and wrapped her in a hug. She hugged me so tight that I felt the breath temporarily leave my body as her body slammed into mine. She is crying uncontrollably and shaking, and I rub her back.

"Baby, what's wrong? What was the dream about?" I asked.

"It was him again. He was chasing me but it was different. He hurt you and Luis; I had to watch him do it," she cried. "He then grabbed me, throwing me to the ground and he, he, he, he," she starts to hyperventilate.

"Shh. You're safe," I soothe "He is in jail remember?" I remind her gently. She nodded but didn't say anything "And besides I would kill him with my bare hands. He would never get near you," I kissed the side of her head laying back down and holding her "I promise you. He will never be able to get near you."

"I, I, I, I, I'm so sorry Luis," she cries as she holds me close.

"It's okay, amor," I kiss the top of her head. "How about you and I take a relaxing bath? It's only seven. Maybe a warm bath will help calm you down."

She shook her head. "No. Just hold me," she sniffles.

"Okay. I will just hold you," I said. She snuggled into me. She sighed and it sounded like she allowed the weight of the world off her shoulders.

"Gracias amor de mi vida," she whispers, her fear slowly seeping into the air. I continue to hold her and rub her back. I kiss her forehead as she holds onto me.

"Eres bienvenido, amor de mi vida," I said as there's a knock on the bedroom door. "Enter," I said.

The door opened and Demi poked her head around it. "Everything okay? We heard the most terrifying scream."

"Everything is fine. I just had a bête noire," y/n said quietly as we still laid in bed.

"A what?!" asked Demi entering the room.

"Bête noire," y/n laughs lightly, "It's French for black beast. Black beast is basically a being invading your dreama causing a nightmare," she explains as Demi sat on the end of y/n's and my bed.

Demi put a hand on my foot, probably thinking it was y/n's, and squeezed it. "My God y/n, your foot is HUGE!" she said.

"Sis that's my foot," I said.

"Sorry," Demi said making the oops face as she removed her hand.

"My foot is here," giggles y/n as she wiggles her foot under the covers.

Demi put her hand on the correct foot and squeezed it. "You okay?" she asked, y/n.

"I'm fine. I am very lucky to have Luis here this time," y/n pats my chest.

"Do you have those *bête noires* often?!" Demi asked.

"Not as often as I used to," Y/N admits. "But they do reoccur, especially around the same time every year. Luckily, Luis isn't as busy with house shows anymore."

"We all aren't. House shows are few and far between now," said Demi "Which is nice because we actually have some down time."

Y/N nods "I like it because I get more snuggles," y/n grins as she snuggled into me.

"That's one of my favorite things too. Plus, I get to spend each night practically with you in my arms," I said, kissing y/n's forehead, making y/n sigh softly.

"I will give you two some time," said Demi "You want me to make breakfast?"

"How about we go out for breakfast for a change?!" I asked.

"Can we go to Delicioso Desayuno?" asked y/n, sitting up and looking down at me with a huge smile.

"What is Delicioso Desayuno?" asked Demi.

"Only the best Puerto Rican breakfast outside of Luis's or Mamá's," said y/n looking at Demi.

Demi laughed lightly "I'll take your word for it," she said.

"They have the most amazing tortilla de plátano, quesito, and they have the second best mofongo after Mamá's," said y/n licking her lips, and I can tell whatever fear she had was now gone.

I chuckled "Let's go before you start to drool," I said sitting up.

Y/N subconsciously wipes her mouth "I'm not drooling," she said.

"I know that, but you're about to. Let's go there, get you your amazing tortilla de plátano, and quesito," I said, kissing her cheek.

"I'm going to let Matt know we're going to breakfast," Demi said, standing. "I'll give you two time to get ready."

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

Delicioso Desayuno

I parked the car and we all exited y/n's SUV. I took y/n's hand as we walked to the entrance of one of y/n's and my favorite restaurants. We actually stumbled upon it years ago when we first moved to Orlando.

"I think you two are really going to enjoy it," y/n said as I opened the door, ushering y/n through before allowing Demi in, and I followed Matt in before rejoining y/n.

"I do too," I said, lacing my fingers with y/n's as we walked up to the counter.

"Cuántos?" asked the greeter behind the counter. (How many?)

"Cuatro," I said. (Four)

The greeter grabbed four menus and silverware and led us to a table. He set down the menus and silverware.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly," the greeter informed us.

I held y/n's chair. "Gracias, amor," she said as she sat.

"De nada, mi hermosa esposa," I said as I sat beside y/n while Matt held the chair for Demi.

"Thank you, Babe," said Demi as she sat across from me. Matt sat beside Demi, and across from y/n.

"You're welcome," said Matt as the waiter walked over to the table.

"Hello. My name is Shawn. I'll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with something to drink?" he asked.

"Coffee," said Demi and Matt together.

"Orange Juice," said y/n.

"I'll have the same as the beautiful lady to my right," I said smiling at y/n as Shawn wrote down our drink orders before hurrying off.

"So," said Demi as she began studying the menu, as "Before Your Love" by Kelly Clarkson plays over the restaurant's speakers. "When are we going to hear about the wedding?"

"We can start after breakfast," I said. "Or," my attention is drawn to y/n, who was singing quietly but loud enough for our table to hear.

Demi smiles softly as y/n begins The Power of Love by Céline Dion. She is absolutely absorbed in the menu, she doesn't realize she's singing.

"Does she?" Demi asked quietly as Matt looked over the top of his menu. His eyebrows raised but he smiled nonetheless.

"Nope," I said as y/n sings along with the song, "She's doing better. Otherwise, she wouldn't be singing."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Y/N said as the waiter placed her juice down.

"Just drink your juice, Shelby," I laughed.

Y/N glanced over at me, a small smirk on her face. "Clever M'Lynn," she teased.

I let out a hearty laugh before kissing her forehead. "Doing better, Babe?" I asked.

She nods as 'I Swear' by All-4-One began. Y/N and I both started laughing. Demi and Matt were looking at us like we had gone bonkers.

"This was supposed to be the song that played while," y/n began, "You'll see. It's part of the wedding."

"Then can we start?" begs Demi.

"After breakfast. On the car ride back home. For now, let's talk about something else, like how you two will be leaving after today's story, allowing y/n and me to have newlywed time," I interject with a raised eyebrow.

"I think that's fair," said Matt. "They literally had their wedding night alone. We have been at their place for nearly two weeks."

"Okay. But I still want story times," said Demi.

"As long as you limit the interruptions," y/n smirks.

Demi opened and closed her mouth. "Fine," she grumbles.

"Then we can make Tuesdays story times. Since you work Mondays, Demi, Matt goes to work on Wednesdays, and Luis works Fridays. And weekends are date nights for Luis and me," says y/n.

"Sounds fair," I said "Especially since I have to travel on Thursdays for the following day."

"Sounds fair to me too. You come home early on Tuesday. We have dinner together, whether it be at the Martinez's or our place," said Matt, and y/n giggles lightly beside me.

"What?" I asked.

"The Martínez's," she grinned. "I still can't believe that."

I smiled. "Me either," I admitted.

"Te amo, esposo," she said, cupping my cheek as I rest my forehead against hers.

"Te amo, esposa," I said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"You know you two make me have to see a dentist on the daily with all the sugar you two dish out," Demi teases playfully.

Y/N giggles as she looked at Demi. "Sorry Sis," she said. "But what can I say," she looked at me before placing her hand on top of mine. "I can't help myself."

"Sugarpie Honey Bunch," I chuckled and Matt and Demi exchanged glances before they shrugged.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

We ate breakfast and had small talk about how odd it was that Demi and I were no longer travel buddies. How working on Fridays made it hard for Y/N and me to have little weekend getaways unless she came with me. The conversation was light and easy.

As we approached y/n's SUV, Demi ran ahead to the car, with Matt hanging back with us as y/n and I walked hand in hand, after y/n had gotten sick by the entrance and puked in a bush by the corner of the building where she had run to.

"You okay?" Matt asked y/n as he carried the leftovers. Demi was busily unlocking the SUV and getting it started so we could just get in and leave.

She nods, but I could tell she was not doing too well. The nausea was brought on quickly, as was the tossing of her cookies all over the bush.

"That poor bush," mutters y/n.

I chuckled, "Babe, I think it's been through a lot worse than you upchucking on it. After all, this is Florida." Y/N gave me a weak smile as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Let's go home."

She nodded as I helped her into the SUV. She buckles as I got into the driver's seat.

"You okay y/n?" asked Demi.

I pulled out of the parking spot and headed down the road.

Y/N nodded, "Fine. I don't know what happened. I normally can eat tortilla de plátano without any problems. But today," y/n paled, "Luis, stop the car!"

I slammed on the brakes and quickly pulled over as y/n unbuckles before she opened the door and spilled her guts onto the pavement below.

"Babe," I said placing a hand on her back. She shook her head.

I glanced into the rear view mirror and saw the comcern etched across the faces of Demi and Matt.

"Y/N?" said Demi.

"I'm fine," she said as she sat back up and buckled "Can we just go home? I wanna change into comfy clothes and walk down memory lane well this portion of memory lane."

"Of course," I said, taking her hand and lacing our fingers before kissing the back of her hand. "Thank God we got ginger ale at home."

Y/N sleepily looks over at me and nods; when she was ill, it took everything out of her.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

We arrived back at our place, y/n's and my place. She went upstairs and took a shower before changing into something more comfortable.

"Feeling a bit better, amor?" I asked as I opened my arms. She sat beside me and snuggled into me.

"A bit. But I would feel better listening to you tell the story of Angie and Ginger's wedding," she said, laying her head on my chest before draping her arm across my torso.

"Okay," I said, kissing the top of her head as she snuggled even further into me, a content sigh leaving her lips.

Demi brought in some ginger ale and saltines for y/n. "Here you go, sis," she said before sitting beside Matt. "Alright, time to finish the story."

"Thank you, sis," said y/n taking a sip of ginger ale.

"You're welcome," said Demi, as she settled back into the sofa.

"Okay. Fourth of July fell on a Monday in two thousand and five," I began.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

Monday, July 4th,2005

Y/N and I woke up the same way we fell asleep. Tangled in each other's arms and stark naked.

"Mm,Morning," I said as y/n's eyes fluttered open.

Y/N settled into me "Morning," she murmured as I kissed her cheek.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

"Well after we fucked?" she blushes "Like a baby. Your dick is definitely a good pacifier."

I chuckled but blushed "Thanks," I said kissing her cheek again "But we have to get up, dressed and over to the Ottomanos in hour."

"Mm. What if I want to spend time here with you?" she murmured as she grabbed my hand, kissing the palm.

"As much as that sounds like heaven on Earth, we are part of the wedding," I said as she snuggled into me more.

Y/N grumbled lightly, "Fine," she said as we untangled ourselves.

We reluctantly got separate showers and dressed before heading downstairs, where Pops has made homemade sausage and egg sandwiches.

"Those are so you can eat and run," said Pops.

"Thanks," we said.

"I will see you two later at the wedding," said Pops "Your garment bags are hanging up by the door."

"Thank you Señor Martínez," said y/n.

"You're welcome y/n," Pops said.

"Luis, I will meet you later. I have to go over to Bruno and Claudine's because Ginger and her bridal party need to be at the venue to get our hair and makeup done." She kissed my cheek before grabbing a breakfast sandwich and left.

"Luis, before you go, I need to talk to you," Pops said, gesturing to the chairs.

"What's up, Pops?" I asked as I sat down.

"I don't know how to start," he said.

I gulped "Is everything okay? Are you sick?" I asked.

"No. I'm fine. Perfectly healthy," he said but paused as he massaged his temples. I know he was trying to figure out how to tell me what he needed to say. "It's about last night."

"Last night?" I asked, suddenly feeling as if the air had been ripped from my lungs.

"Yes. I, well I heard you and y/n," he said.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. "You heard us?" I asked.

"I did. Were you two at least safe?" he asked.

"If you mean did we use a condom? Then yes we were safe," I said slowly "Pops don't let y/n know you heard us. I will let her know."

"Fine by me," said Pops "But you better head to the Ottomans now."

"Okay. I will see you at the wedding then," I said.

"See you at the wedding," he said.

I walked from the kitchen to the front door, grabbing my garment bag before leaving the house.

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I arrived at the Ottomano residence just as y/n and Bianca were leaving to get on the limo bus.

"Hey there," I grinned, "Got a sec?" I asked while taking Y/N's hand.

"Uh, now?" asked y/n. "Luís, I kinda gotta get on the bus," she gestures to the bus as Bianca climbed onto it.

"It's kinda important," I said.

"Okay. What's wrong?" she asked, her demeanor changing. "I know I heard your pops stop you from leaving."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, that's why we need to talk. I'm just going to lay it out there. Pops heard us being intimate last night."

"He what?" asked y/n all color instantly draining from her face.

"Pops heard us having sex," I said.

Y/N let out a breath of air that sounded like she was deflating a balloon. She swallowed hard before looking at me. "So he heard us. Was he? Is he upset?"

"No. He just wanted to make sure we were safe," I said, "I reassured him we used protection."

"Good," said y/n as Bianca calls y/n's name from the bus. "Luis, I gotta go. I will see you at the end of the aisle."

"You will," I smiled before she pressed a kiss to my cheek and ran down the stairs to the bus.

I jumped when a hand was slapped on my shoulder. I spun to see Salvatore. He was already in his tuxedo. He was the best man..

"Hey, everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Good, then get in here. You have to get dressed. We have to be at the venue shortly," said Salvatore.

"Oh okay," I said.

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Arriving at Serenity Springs where the wedding and reception were being held, the place was abuzz with activity.

Angelo and those standing up for him, myself included, were led to the groom's quarters. The wedding was taking place outside at the gazebo in the center of the gardens.

I am lost in my own thoughts when I get a poke to the ribs. I looked around; it's Angelo.

"Bro where did you go?" he asked.

"Nowhere and everywhere at the same time," I said, buttoning my shirt cuff. "How are you?"

"Nervous but thankful this is almost over especially I can finally tune out Karen," he said.

I snorted back a laugh. "But you still have to put up with her. She's, after all, your mother-in-law after you say I do and Layla's grandmother."

"Don't let her hear you say the g word. She'll eliminate you where you stand," said Angelo, as Salvatore helps him with his tie.

"Heaven forbid she's recognized as a grandmother. Is that why Layla refers to her as Karen?" I asked.

"Yup. Layla calls Ma and Pops Gammy and PawPaw, but Karen and George?! They're Karen and George; neither one wants to be referred to as grandma and grandpa or anything else that makes them sound old," explained Angelo.

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"They sound great," Demi said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Karen and George nearly had a stroke when Layla had her daughter, Tegan, last year. They said they're too young to be great grandparents," y/n murmured as she snuggled into me. I rubbed her arm and she sighed contently.

"Does Ginger allow grandma?" asked Demi.

"She does. And Claudine is Nonna," y/n explained.

Demi's eyes teared up at Nonna. "How sweet," she said with a smile.

"You okay?" asked y/n.

"Yeah. I just love that Tegan has a Nonna too," said Demi.

"Teagan is lucky to have Claudine," y/n said.

"She is," I agreed.

"Back to the story!" said Demi.

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The guys and I were watching the guests arrive and being seated by the wedding planner's assistants.

"How many people are coming?" I asked Angelo.

"On my side one hundred. On Ginger's side? Only two hundred and fifty," said Angelo.

"Three hundred and fifty people? Holy fuck," I said.

"Yeah. Hence why Ma and Pops said, if you want that many people, you should pay for the wedding," said Angelo.

"And they actually agreed to that?" I asked.

"You have never seen Ma angry, have you?" said Angelo.

"No," I said.

"Let's say it's not pretty," said Angelo as we are led outside to get ready to head down the aisle.

The wedding planner's assistant lined us up: Angelo at the beginning with the officiant, Salvatore behind them, and I was behind Salvatore, with six other men behind me.

The wedding planner's assistant taps Ginger's brother on his shoulder, signaling for him to start down the aisle, as Four Seasons began playing.

After Ginger's brother, Harrison, there were two friends of Angelo's from his work: Daniel Hartman and Jack Lauren. Then, his cousins on his mom's side: Ezra Grant, Keegan Grant, and Jeremy Dugan, and then me.

As I walked down the aisle I spot Pops and he gives me a smile and quick wink. I give him a smile and a quick nod. At the top of the aisle I stood in front of Jeremy who is 5'9" so the height difference was noticeable and I caught Karen out of the corner of my eye looking like she sucked on a lemon.

I shook my head, trying to hide a smirk as I saw Karen lean over to George, gesturing to me, and he nods as he mumbled something to her.

The first to come down the aisle were friends of Ginger's: Laney Hilton, Mallory Madison, Jayne Carrington, Michelle Graham, Ashlee Prescott, and Catherine St. James. They wore dresses of aquamarine. That's when my eyes fell on y/n at the top of the aisle. She looks gorgeous in the spaghetti strap, tea-length (so I'm told) A-line dress.

"Wepa," I said under my breath as Salvatore leaned back.

"She is gorgeous, isn't she?" he asked. I just nodded as my eyes were on y/n and y/n only.

Salvatore chuckled lightly as he moved back, and I caught y/n's eye as she winked at me. I felt my cheeks grow warm, so I knew I was blushing. I quickly winked and mouthed, 'You look gorgeous.' She blushed lightly and mouthed back, 'You look caliente.'

Once Ginger's best friend Tiffani Chance walked down the aisle, the song swelled into the wedding march. Ginger appeared at the top of the aisle. George had refused to walk Ginger down the aisle, so she stood there alone. I saw Angelo let out a slow breath as Layla waved at Ginger.

"Hi Mommy!" Layla called out, making everyone chuckle.

Ginger waves and blows Layla a kiss. Angelo quickly wipes away a tear. I caught y/n out of the corner of my eye. She smiles brightly as she dapes her eyes with a tissue.

Once Ginger made it to the top of the aisle. Ginger stopped.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" asked the officiant.

George grumbled as he stood "Unfortunately her mother and I do," he said before sitting.

The officiant looks at Ginger and Angelo who both signal to continue.

"If anyone can show just cause as to why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace," the officiant started.

We all looked at Karen and George. They kept silent so Angelo took Ginger's hand and helped her up the stairs of the gazebo.

"We are gathered here today to join Angelo Michael Ottomano and Ginger Alison Fitzpatrick in holy matrimony," the officiant continues, "Angelo, do you take Ginger to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," said Angelo.

"Ginger, do you take Angelo to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" asked the officiant.

"I do," said Ginger with a smile as tears began to fall.

"Angelo and Ginger have chosen to write their own vows," said the officiant, and Karen scoffed in her seat. Y/N turns her head, and I see the fire light in her eyes.

"Stuff it, Karen," y/n defiantly spats. "Let them do this. It's their wedding, not yours!" Karen looks at y/n, and y/n stands her ground. "Try me!"

Karen huffs and settles back in the chair. I smirk and cover my chuckle with a cough, as does Salvatore.

"Angelo and Ginger face each other and join hands," said the officiant. They did as they were told, "And begin when you want."

Angelo nods to Ginger telling her to go first.

"Angelo, when we met on the first day of kindergarten, I never imagined I had met my future husband and the father of my beautiful daughter. But today, as we stand before family and friends exchanging vows. I am the happiest I have ever been. Not only do you provide me with endless love, but also endless laughs and blessings. You make me happy and I honestly can't wait to walk into this new chapter in our lives. I love you more today than I did yesterday and I will love you more tomorrow than I do today."

Ginger smiles and I catch y/n dabbing her eyes. She looks at me and I wink at her. She blushes lightly as she looked at Ginger and Angelo as he took a deep breath.

"Ginger, you're the love of my life. When we met in kindergarten, I will admit I had the worst case of puppy love. As we went through the years and our bond grew closer, so did our love. I knew you were my forever. Now today, as we pledge our love to one another, I'm looking forward to the next chapter with you beside me. I love you, Ging," said Angelo.

"The rings please," said the officiant as Tiffany and Salvatore hand him their respective rings. He placed them on his book before holding one up, "The ring is a symbol of undying love. It has no beginning and no end. Angelo, please place this ring on Ginger's left hand and repeat after me..."

"Ginger, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness," said Angelo, sliding the ring onto Ginger's finger.

"Ginger, place this on Angelo's finger and repeat after me..."

"Angelo. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness," said Ginger sliding the ring onto Angelo's finger.

After that, Angelo and Ginger turned to the officiant. "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. By the power invested in me by the great state of New Jersey, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Angelo, you may now kiss your wife," said the officiant as Angelo gave Ginger a sweet kiss before the officiant pressed on. "It's my pleasure to present to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Angelo, and Ginger Ottomano."

Angelo and Ginger turned to the guests, who rose to their feet, applauding, while Karen and George didn't. Angelo and Ginger had their hands interlaced as the processional music began. They walked down the steps before getting Layla from Mrs. Ottomano's lap. The small family walked up the aisle.

Salvatore offers his arm to Tiffany, and she laced her arm through his. I was up next, offering your name my arm, and she smiles at me as she laced her arm through mine.

"By the way, Squish, you look breathtakingly gorgeous," I whispered, as we walked up the aisle followed by the rest of the wedding party.

"Pookie, you're looking pretty caliente," she whispered as the wedding planner and his two assistants directed us to a small garden.

I chuckled as we got ready to take more photos while the guests had a cocktail hour. After about an hour or so of taking photos, we headed into the venue and to a small room to await introductions.

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The Reception....

Y/N and I are waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The DJ was hyping up the guests before introducing us. "Gettin' Jiggy With It" by Will Smith began.

"Introducing the wedding party," began the DJ, "Harrison Fitzpatrick and Laney Hilton," as they enter the ballroom. This continues until "Luis Martinez and y/n y/l/n." Y/n and I enter, dancing and laughing.

After Salvatore and Tiffani are introduced, we lined up to create a gauntlet: guys on the left, girls on the right. We raised our hands, creating an arch as the DJ began 'Celebration' by Kool and the Gang.

"Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Angelo and Ginger Ottomano!!!!!!" the DJ announced as Angelo and Ginger ran down the gauntlet and onto the dance floor, with the wedding party joining them as we all danced.

After the burst of energy we head to the wedding party table set up just behind the Sweetheart table for Angelo and Ginger. Y/N sat between Salvatore and me. To my left was another bridesmaid, Catherine St. James.

"Today has been fun," said y/n as she took a drink of water.

"Well, you certainly made it entertaining by putting Karen in her place," I smirk, as does y/n.

"That's why it's been fun," she laughs as she gives a sarcastic wave to Karen, who was staring at us.

"Y/N, stop," I playfully scold.

"What? I was waving to our dear Karen," she giggles as she brings the glass of water to her lips again, taking another drink.

I smirk and chuckled, "You are having way too much fun with this," I said.

"Moi?" y/n said, feigning innocence.

"Yes you," I said nudging her playfully.

"The bar is open," announced the DJ.

"You want your jack and coke?" I asked y/n.

"Actually, can you turn that into a piña colada? Because why not?" she quipped.

"You want two? One for each hand?" I chuckled, and Y/N's smile was like sunshine.

"Nice Garth Brooks nod, Luis," she chuckled, "but let's not go overboard, one is plenty!"

"One piña colada on the way," I said, kissing her temple before standing up.

I walked to the bar.

"What can I get you?" asked the bartender.

"A piña colada and Jack on the rocks," I said.

"You got it," he said, and went to work making the piña colada.

I felt a tap on my shoulder before a hand went down my back grazing my ass. I smirk thinking it's y/n.

"Cou-" I turned to see Lucia. "Oh, it's you. Never heard the term 'keep your hands to yourself'?" I asked.

"Oh you love it and you know it," coos Lucia as she took a drink through a stirring straw.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe if it was y/n, I would, but you?" I raised an eyebrow. "Not so much. So what do you want, Lucia, besides wanting to grope me?"

"Oh Luis. Weddings are romantic," she coos as she runs a hand down my chest while I grab her wrist gently.

"For people who are together, which we are not."

"Oh, you're still on that? But silly, we are," she reaches up to touch my cheek, but I quickly step back.

"Don't touch me!" I said, looking at Lucia.

"But Luis," she pouts, "you used to like when I touched you." She steps forward as she reaches up to touch me again, but her hand is knocked away as y/n stepped in front of me.

"Lucia why don't you take a looooooong walk off a very short pier," sneers y/n.

Lucia scoffs as she placed her drink onto the bar "And if I don't?" she said stepping into y/n's space.

Y/N smirks as she expertly grabbed the nearly full drink Lucia sat down "I don't know you still might get a little wet," said y/n as she raised her hand and dumped the liquor onto Lucia's head. Lucia screams "next time Lucia leave Luis alone or you will be shoving a toothbrush up your ass to brush your teeth."

Lucia huffs as she walks away from us. Y/N turned to look at me. I chuckled, "You're a spitfire, do you know that?" I asked as the bartender set down our drinks.

"I've been told that," she remarked, as she sipped her piña colada, clearly enjoying the gossip.

I grabbed my jack on ice before kissing her forehead. "Let's get back to the table," I said, putting an arm around her waist, ushering through the stream of people that are waiting to get their drinks.

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After dinner, it was time for the dances. First up was the first dance. Karen nearly hit the roof since Angelo and Ginger chose 'I Swear' by All-4-One as the song for their first dance.

Y/N gives me a nudge and points at Karen, laughing, "She's gonna lose it; she's not thrilled about them picking 'I Swear' for the song."

"She's turning a nice shade of red," I chuckled.

Layla wonders onto the dance floor watching her parents sway to the song. Angelo and Ginger stopped and Angelo picked her up. They began dancing again. Y/N raised her camera taking a picture of the moment. I see the tears rising in her eyes.

"Crap," she murmured, using her cloth napkin to dab her eyes.

"You okay?" I whispered to her.

"Yeah. The moment just got to me. Lo siento," she said.

I smiled and said, "You've got nothing to feel bad about. I think it's sweet too," giving y/n's temple a kiss.

Y/N smiles at me before the DJ begins calling the wedding party. "Luis Martinez and Y/N Y/L/N," he called as I stood buttoning my suit jacket. I offered Y/N my hand, who smiled as she placed her hand in mine, standing. I led Y/N to the dance floor.

The DJ began 'You Had Me From Hello' by Kenny Chesney. I took y/n into my arms and we began dancing to the romantic ballad.

"Y/N?" I said as I glanced down at her.

She looked up at me, her gorgeous green eyes meeting mine. "Yes?" she said.

"Thanks for helping me out earlier," I said.

"You mean with Lucia?" she said. "No worries. I saw she wasn't getting the hint. No one comes after my bestie," she touched my cheek before caressing it with the side of her thumb, "I will always have your back, Luis."

"And I, yours y/n," I said.

"Siempre," she said with a smile, holding up her pinkie.

"Y para siempre," I said, hooking my pinkie with hers.

I bent down and kissed her forehead as we continued to dance. The song eventually ended and we walked back to the wedding party table as we watched Angelo and Mrs. Ottomano have the mother-son dance.

"Claude looks so happy and sad at the same time," y/n said.

"I know," I said draping my arm across the back of y/n's chair.

"I hope one day she can dance with you at your wedding, Sally," y/n said looking to Salvatore.

"One day, y/n. One day," Salvatore smiles.

"And I can't wait to dance the night away," y/n smiles "Especially with you," she looks at me "because obviously you're gonna be my plus one."

I felt my cheeks warm and knew I was blushing "That sounds like an amazing time," I said.

Salvatore chuckled "Y/N you're gonna be my best woman," he said as y/n turns to look at him a smile painting her lips.

"Really? Honestly thought you would ask Angelo to be your best man," she said.

"And have him plan my bachelor party? You have met him, right? God only knows what debauchery he would plan," he said. "You would at least take my wishes into consideration."

"Then it would be my honor," she said as Salvatore kissed her forehead.

"Luis, promise me you will be my plus one?" she begs as she turns to me.

"He will be a groomsman y/n," said Salvatore "He will be at your side," he nudges her.

She grins before looking at me. I raised an eyebrow, "Are you serious?" I asked.

"Deadly," said Salvatore. "We have known each other since you were thirteen," he said. smiles "I consider you one of my friends."

"Well then yes. I would be honored when you do get married to stand up for you," I smile.

"Fantastic," smiled Salvatore as did y/n.

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"And when Salvatore married Giovanni a few years ago we kept our promise," I said.

"And what was awesome about it is that Claude was just as happy dancing with Sally as she was dancing with Angie at his wedding. But Sally's wedding is another story for another day, mi amor. We got sidetracked," y/n laughs lightly.

"You're right. How about we skip to the garter toss and bouquet toss?" I chuckled. Y/N tilted her head up and smiled at me.

"I don't think they wanna hear that," giggles Y/N.

"Hi Demi Bennett-Adams. Pleasure to meet you," said Demi, extending her hand.

"Hi Demi. I'm Y/N Martínez, pleasure to meet you," Y/N giggles.

"I would very much love to hear about the garter and bouquet tosses," Demi said with a giant grin.

"You would?!" y/n teases. "I couldn't have guessed."

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"Single gentlemen come to the dance floor for the garter toss," said the DJ.

I stood up along with a couple of the other groomsmen, Ezra Grant and Jeremy Dugan, as did some of the guests. We headed to the dance floor as one of the wedding planner's assistants set a chair on the dance floor, just as Angelo led Ginger onto the dance floor.

Y/N and some of the other girls from the wedding party stood off the side of the dance floor as the DJ began Dancing In The Streets by Martha Reeves & The Vandellas. Angelo knelt in front of Ginger. Y/N covered her eyes as she knew Angelo would do something stupid. Y/N peeked through her fingers causing me to chuckle beside Ezra.

Angelo smiles at Ginger, gently lifting some of the material of her tulle skirt and placing it underneath. Y/N smirks lightly as she glances sideways at Karen, biting back a laugh as I turn to see Karen turning beet red. I quickly move from my spot over to Y/N.

"She is about to blow," I chuckle as y/n snaps a picture of Karen with her digital camera.

"I know, and I love it!" y/n giggles as I put an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

"I can see," I smirk as she glances up at me.

"Luis, you can't tell me you don't," she says, elbowing me lightly as she snaps a picture of Angelo underneath Ginger's skirt. Claudine was cradling a thankfully sleeping Layla. "Thank God Layla is asleep."

I nodded, "Yeah," I said as I tilted my head. "What the fuck is he doing?" before looking at y/n.

"With Ange? I’m not ready for that rollercoaster," she chuckles, her smile making my heart do a quick tango.

I smile with a nod "That's true," I said as Angelo finally emerged from underneath the skirt with the garter in his mouth.

"Get your game face on for that garter! If I snag the bouquet, you’re on garter duty," she joked, giving me a playful nudge.

“Okay. Okay,” I said, putting my hands up as I chuckled, heading back to the group of guys getting ready to catch the garter. I stood behind them once Angelo turned his back to us.

"One. Two. Three!" said Angelo before throwing the garter over his right shoulder. I caught it. I see you cheer as it landed in my hand. Angelo laughed as I held up the garter.

“Now all the single ladies!” calls the DJ. The run for the bouquet became like a herd of elephants. I caught y/n as she was knocked off kilter.

“Thanks, Pookie,” she said with a smile as I set her back on her feet.

“De nada, Squish. Now catch that bouquet,” I kissed her forehead as she joined the group of single ladies.

I stood aside, watching Ginger shine on the dance floor to 'The Bitch Is Back' by Elton John, while Karen looked like she was ready to throw a tantrum!

Ginger faked throwing the bouquet a few times. A few of the girls knocked Y/N forward lightly, but she caught herself. I let out a breath of relief as I knew she wasn't hurt. When Ginger finally threw the bouquet over her head, it sailed right into Y/N's hand. Her mouth dropped.

“WOOOOOO!” yells y/n, holding the bouquet over her head. I chuckled as she ran over to me. “I did it, Pookie!!!”

“I can see that,” I chuckle.

“Now you,” she taps me with the bouquet on my stomach, “get to,” she taps me with the bouquet on the chest, a smile on her lips, “to put the garter on me!” She taps me with the bouquet on the shoulder as I put a hand on her hip.

“Better get ready,” I grin at her before Ginger and Angelo pulled us onto the dance floor.

“Let's go!!!” laughed Angelo as Ginger got y/n to sit onto the chair.

The DJ began playing "Hey Mr. DJ (Keep Playin' This Song)" by Backstreet Boys.

I began chuckling as Y/N blushes, covering her face as I caught her doing her "sexy dance" to it one Summer night in 1998, when I looked into her bedroom window at the Ottomanos from my bedroom as they looked into each other's rooms. I hooted, and she ducked under the window sill.

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“Please tell that story at some point!” said Demi.

“That was the summer of 1998; we will get to it eventually,” y/n giggles lightly as she sat up. “Babe, continue. I have to use the bathroom.”

“You okay?” I asked.

"Fine. I just have to pee,” she said, kissing my cheek. “Excuse me.”

I watched as she left, and I quickly turned to Demi and Matt.

“Where was I?” I asked.

"Getting ready to put the garter on y/n,” said Demi.

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As the bass of the song filled the ballroom of Serenity Springs, I began dancing, making y/n start giggling as she punched my shoulder while I got on my knees in front of her.

“Luis Berrios, you're trouble,” she shouted at me, but no one but me heard her.

“The best kind of trouble, y/n y/m/n,” I smirk.

She rolls her eyes before I kiss her cheek, and then I begin putting on the garter on y/n's leg. I felt my heart skip a beat as she looked me in the eyes while I do so. She winks at me. Once on, I stood helping y/n to her feet, and she began dancing to the song.

The DJ was watching y/n as she moved to the song, as some of the guys in attendance began cat calling and yelling 'Hey Mr. DJ keep playin' this song for me'.

“Dance floor is opened,” says the DJ as he began 'Kiss' by Prince. The wedding planner's assistant removed the chair, and y/n quickly threw the bouquet to Jaymes as he sat at the nearest table. Then, she grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the floor.

“I take it we are dancing?!” I said into her ear. She bit her lip and nodded as she began grinding against me. “Squish, remember our parents are here! Y/N, at least half of the guests on Angelo's side are your family!”

“And?” she asked looking at me as the dance floor was full of couples bumping and grinding “We are over eighteen!”

“Okay, fair,” I said as the DJ began "I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man" by Prince. Y/N squeaks as we began dancing, and Y/N was singing along.

Salvatore and Jaymes joined us on the dance floor and Salvatore and y/n began hopping and bopping along to the song. I continued to move as y/n bounced back to me as Salvatore was to her right and Jaymes was to my left.

“Pookie let's have fun!” she said as we groove to the instrumental interlude of the six minutes and twenty-nine seconds song.

“You’re right!” as the song picks up in tempo before 1999 by Prince began. I chuckled as Angelo played this non-stop from January first nineteen ninety-nine to December thirty first nineteen ninety-nine, as he made sure it played at his New Year’s Eve party that y/n also was at.

“Sally, did you arrange this Prince tribute?” giggles y/n as she leans towards Salvatore.

"Duh! It's Prince!" laughed Salvatore.

“Your reception better be non stop Prince and Michael Jackson songs!” she laughs.

“You know that's right Mio piccolo tesoro!” says Salvatore.

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“That night went on forever. Poor Pops stayed until the very end. After all, he was y/n's and my ride home,” I said, as y/n had rejoined us a while ago but had fallen asleep on my chest.

“Mm. That was one of the most fun weddings we ever attended, at least until Sally and Gio's,” she murmured as she stirred awake.

“But another story for our Tuesday story nights,” I said, kissing her forehead. “But for now, I think it's time we go to sleep.”

“I'm kinda sad to see this story end,” said Demi with a small frown.

“I know but we have Tuesdays to now look forward to. So first Tuesday where will it be our place or yours?” I asked looking at Demi and Matt as y/n sat up and stretched as "The Most Beautiful Girl In The World" by Prince plays softly in the background.

“It only seems right to host you two,” said Matt.

“I agree,” said Demi glancing at him before looking at us. “Next Tuesday we host you two.”

“What do you want us bring?” asked y/n.

“Just yourselves,” said Demi.

“Mm. 'Kay,” y/n yawns.

“Let's get to bed. We will, after all, be saying goodbye to our guests tomorrow,” I said.

“Like we agreed,” said Matt.

And just like that, the story of Angelo and Ginger's wedding week was officially over. But Storytime Tuesdays was only beginning.

Tag List: @eringobragh420 @magicalbuttertarts @madhatterbri @keekee-23 @loki69zowens @caramara3 @bloodlinesbabe93 @miss-kuki-nz @surdelcielo @elaineoneill570 @hotwheels1108 @violetpenguinkris @southerngothicpunk @silassstingy @beccalynns-world @twistedprincess-92 @80sprincess1 @hardcoredisneynerd @brideofinfamy @mzv11 @bangchansmami @mamis-girly

I hope you all enjoyed the Another Storytime series. Stay tuned for more in the Best Friends Series. 💜🖤

#damian priest #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fluff #damian priest smut #damian priest imagine #damian priest x female reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n #damian priest oneshot #wwe #wwe fluff #wwefanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut

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ghouljams · 19 hours ago

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I really appreciate you reblogging that post about how difficult it is to quit an addiction. I myself am currently struggling with a sugar/caffeine addiction, and I drink way too much coke cola (and if I can't get my hands on some, energy drinks). It's nice to be reminded that it's not just me who is constantly thinking about how good it would feel to have juuust a little more, even if I said I would stop. I've tried to quit it multiple times, and each failed attempt disheartens me greatly and makes me feel weak willed, even if I rationally know everyone battling an addiction has those moments.

Sugar addictions often aren't treated as seriously as the "scary" drugs or smoking, but it's just as damaging to your health and difficult to quit, especially when the human brain is hardwired to want sugary, fatty foods. I hope one day to be strong enough to resist those cravings and get my health back on track.

You can become addicted to anything that makes you feel good. People are getting addicted to AI chat bots for god's sake, it doesn't even have to be quality stuff as long as it gives you that rush of dopamine it can reel you in. Now, some things are better designed to addict you, drugs and alcohol, sugar and caffeine, but that doesn't mean you aren't still getting that good feeling. Even if you don't get it every time, even if you only get that hit the first time, humans will chase that first high for the rest of their lives. It's the reason people stay in abusive relationships, things will never be as good as they were at the start but there's this silent promise that they might be.

Anyone can become addicted to anything. And I'm not saying that to scare anyone, but more to make the point that no one is above addiction. Addiction is not a moral failing, or a weakness, it's a human survival tactic. We want the thing that makes us feel good, that keeps the loneliness at bay, that stops us from feeling bad things even if they do that by keeping us from feeling anything at all. Our brains want that dopamine shot, even when reasonably we know whatever is giving us that shot is bad for us.

Getting past an addiction is hard no matter what that addiction is. I try to tell people that they need to find something to redirect that craving towards. For one of my loved ones we're working on finding a painting class and a book club because they've realized that a lot of their relapsing comes from feeling lonely. For you, maybe having a chew fidget would help, or keeping fruit on hand, or (if you're like me) purging your house of all sugary snacks. I can't keep sugar in my house or I'll eat it, so I don't buy it. It sucks, I want it, but I know myself and I know that the best way to keep myself from doing something is to try and remove as much temptation as possible.

It's much harder for me to justify leaving my house to go get candy than it is for me to get up and get a chocolate from the pantry. Or if I really want a sweetie, I have to figure out making it myself. Which means I can try and figure out a healthier option to make. Idk it's a long road, and something like sugar/caffeine/alcohol is so ingrained in our society that it feels impossible to avoid.

I have a friend who used heroin (now clean, I'm so proud of her) and she always said the hardest part of recovery was giving a shit about herself. She said there was always going to be part of her that wanted to use, so she had to make the rest of her louder, had to find reasons to care enough not to go back to her old habits. She got a lot of tattoos during her recovery, reconnected with her mom.

Not to say that addicts don't care about themselves, or that you don't care about yourself, I always thought she meant it more in the way of a parent caring for a child. You know, you don't let kids do something just because they want to because you care about keeping them safe. In the same way you sort of have to parent yourself. Say you've got sugar at home even though you don't, promise you'll make yourself donuts and then quit as soon as you get home because you don't want to boil oil. Learn to make croissants and then never make them again because they're such a fucking hassle. idk

You're not weak because you have trouble telling yourself no, people generally have trouble with that. You're just a person trying to listen to your body. It's just too bad your body isn't always a great judge of what's good for it.

#ghoul speaks #I'm just rambling sorry

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revserrayyu · 3 days ago

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3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 2]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything up until the rematch with the Flame Reaver, so turn away now if you don’t wanna get upset. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Starting off nice and calm with the ladies heading to the hot baths for some fun and sweet lord how did Aglaea become even prettier?? I’m in awe.

This whole splitting of the souls chatter reminds me of Harry Potter horcruxes. Becoming a demigod doesn’t seem like the most fantastical job in the world if it comes with such a big drawback, such as this or having your emotions slowly fade (as seen with Aglaea). I can only wonder what Mydei will have to deal with now.

The teasing just never ends between these two and it’s giving me life. Every interaction they have is such a joy to listen to.

Dang, no wonder our boy couldn’t overcome the trail. He was faced with the most tragic day of his life and all the trauma that came with it.

Okay thank heavens someone said it! Every time Mydei would mention how fear/fleeing/romance or any other word that shows weakness isn’t in the Kremnoan language I wanted to ask him like, okay, so what words are there then??

Mydei speaks so fondly of his fallen comrades. Being immortal really is cruel, and it hurts even more that we walk past all of his buddies again in a memory where they’re so excited to see him return.

At some point, Mydei’s teacher infiltrates the vortex by sorta kinda kidnapping Trinnon to do so and after going through this long spiel about the future of Mydei and the Kremnoans that I truthfully wasn’t paying that close attention to, Aglaea decides enough is enough and doesn’t hesitate to most likely execute him.. until Trinnon speaks up. I can’t lie, I genuinely find it a bit comical how quick this woman is to just end anyone who dares break any rules in this city.

So.. this image. First things first, I love that he uses such language at his father. Secondly, can I trade places with him? I’d love to open my eyes and see this marvelous man looking down on me. Step on me, king~

Poor guy has every one of his people wishing to return home to Kremnos someday with him as their king and yet he’s terrified on letting the miserable traditions continue if he decides to take the crown. It really is a difficult decision. Do you keep everyone safe and unhappy, or allow them to thrive in a world of danger?

Oohhh buddy, why must everyone on this planet be gorgeous?? Her mom is looking like a long lost cousin of Argenti and Himeko.

Not gonna lie but this whole scene with the dolls felt so Sparkle coded that it scared me. I honestly jumped the first time everything glitched out.

Well that’s a bright, red death flag if I ever saw one. Some trailers already gave me bad feelings regarding Tribbie, but this worsens it.

Pfftt, Aglaea has no chill and I’m here for it. Protect your people, queen!

I mean, sure, choosing how you pass on individually on your own terms may be better than losing every part of yourself all at once, but Aglaea has a point too, that seeing the many Tribios clones perish over and over again is a lot harder than having it happen just once and being done with. It’s not an easy situation to be in for either side.

It really is incredible how powerful these century gates are and it kinda reminds me of Finral’s spacial magic (Black Clover) the way it’s able to teleport others and redirect incoming attacks or enemies.

If I wasn’t already panicking then I sure am now! Look how upset and scared these cuties are! They know Trianne’s pushing herself too far for their sake and there’s truly nothing that they could do to stop what happens next, especially after seeing how much weaker she’s been getting recently.

Aaahhh, I knew it.. seeing this scene from the Song of Divine Silence trailer gave me such bad vibes from the moment I saw it! And after learning the whole meaning behind “see you tomorrow” just makes everything hurt twice as much!! Trianne was definitely my favorite out of the trio too.. this is such a bummer!

We interrupt the sudden heartbreak to bring you an adorably surprised Trailblazer.

I do love that Mydei trusts Phainon with his one and only weakness. I dunno how thrilled I’d be if such a literal backstabbing does take place in a future patch though.

Anaxa, the renowned scholar, using his gun as a shield against the Flame Reaver.. he’s doing his best. Forgive me but I do not remember much of this cutscene to know if he ever used the weapon the proper way. I was in a mix of tears and hype at this point.

Bro look at how relieved Phainon is when he noticed that Mydei has arrived to help them with the fight! That’s such a wonderful smile.

Sir, your confidence! It’s extraordinary! And I’m also very pleased with your sudden assistance!

Just two bros, ready to go knock some sense into a common enemy. What could possibly be better than that?

Okay, so I dunno about everyone else, but how did we feel about this fight? I personally had no trouble at all, even when we first fought him at the grove. The way they showcased him during the 3.1 livestream, I figured he was gonna be serious trouble, but I think the Nikador boss offered a tougher challenge. I didn’t even get the chance to see this dude’s big, fancy attack animation.

Look at him, protecting his man. What a good lad. We still dunno anything about what Phainon’s path or element would be, but for some reason he gives Preservation vibes? like I know he wields a giant sword and is quite capable of using for offense, but seeing him defend Mydei like this makes me think he can use it as a sort of counter I guess? Maybe give me a taunt too? Who knows. We definitely need more Preservation units though.

All hail the new king successfully securing another win for all.

I feel like a whole lot just happened in such a short amount of time. Next post should cover the rest of this patch.

#honkai star rail #aglaea #tribbie #hyacine #mydei #phainon #anaxa #gameplay #revs rambles

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notthecutesttrash · 2 days ago

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No Love Lost

Satoru Gojo x sister! reader

This is PLATONIC

Content: Gojo is your big brother that you hate so much. You'd do anything to get him out of your life, but he's overbearing and simply won't allow that.

Warnings: ANGST, Gojo is protective and annoying, but he's Gojo.

Word count: 7.2k

With every fiber of your being, you hate Satoru Gojo. When you wake up, you hate him, in your dreams you hate him, when you eat you despise him, and when you lock eyes with him you want to punch him.

Reading is a nice activity, your brain quiets, and at times the words come to life and vacuum yourself inside its world. Satoru was there, and you hated that he was. He's bored, and you know he is, for he has so few friends that his main time was bothering his kid sister who didn't even like him.

He's talking, and you're ignoring him, or at least trying to. He already went on a tangent about how reading was boring and how you're a nerd, but when it didn't get through he began talking about his missions. His special grade, super fun, and classified missions that he couldn't tell you about, yet you hear about every detail anyway.

"So then I went up, and this dude tried to pick a fight with me almost right away, I mean seriously, it was pathetic. He didn't even last more than a second. I mean, why go on this whole supervillain monologue if you can't even handle a punch? Of course, the punch was by me, if you punched him that'd be different. He probably would've lasted a minute."

You turned the page of your book and swung your legs over the other. Right now the main character, Elaine was brushing up against her crush, you couldn't miss this for a second.

"I can't imagine what it's like being you, a grade three? If I couldn't go on these missions, I'd probably be depressed, what's the point of being a sorcerer if you can't have any use of it in the real world?" Satoru shakes his head to himself and brushes his fringe from his eyes.

Your heart is in your throat at the scene, surely they were about to kiss. They're near each other, and she's blushing, tucking a hair behind her ear. You breathe heavily, intently reading until suddenly you're staring at your hands.

Satoru reads a blurb and gags. "I can't believe you read this stuff, god that is sad, don't you think it's time for a boyfriend?" His throw lands the book gently back in your hands, and you slightly furrow.

"There's only so much protecting I can do anyways.

You get up from your chair and begin walking. "Oh come on, don't be so lame, I'm just joking...You really do need a boyfriend though. But I'd feel sorry for whoever the poor sucker is." Satoru is following a little ways behind, his arms stretching behind him with a yawn.

Words fall from your lips, wrapped in a harsh tone. "I don't like annoying people. Go away."

"Speak for yourself, you and Utahime are practically besties." Satoru reaches your pace, walking beside you.

Your eyes roll. "Well, Utahime doesn't piss me off. And she has respect, for that matter."

"Why all the hate, lil sis? I'm just trying to help you." Satoru grins wide, giggling like a jerk. He wasn't, he never was, he just wanted to make you mad.

In fact, as kids, it was even worse. Your mother surely favored him since he was so special, he had one amazing ability, let alone 2. His glowing eyes always reminded you of that when you sat and ate dinner across another.

Then whenever you wanted to play, and he would repeatedly say no and to play with your stupid dolls, you'd have to go crying to mom just to get a little bit of fun. Then when you'd be stuck with Satoru during ball, he'd throw your way so hard, if you didn't dodge it would've wiped your head clean off. When it'd disappear, like always, he'd shrug and go "Looks like we can't play."

When you were readying yourself to go on a stroll one day, he walked out and asked what you were doing. You were tying your shoe laces and you paid him no mind until done. Letting yourself hit the floor, you smiled and said "Going for a walk."

Before you could even make two steps, he flat-out said "No." You turned to him, narrowing your eyes.

"What do you mean, no?" You emphasized, annoyed.

"As in, no, you're not going for a walk, because you can't." Satoru was stoic, and his eyes simply glowed at you.

You crossed your arms. "And why can't I?"

"Because I forbid it." He said matter of factly.

You laughed dryly at that. "Oh pardon me, I didn't know you were dad. Yeah, I don't think so, I'm going for a walk. I know it hurts to see me have fun, but suck it up and deal with it, just like I do every day."

He stayed quiet for a moment, and you met his gaze bravely, both unwavering. The level of anger rising in your chest was surreal, who did he think he was? Then he turned and went back inside and you scoffed and said "Didn't think so."

It was only a few moments that had passed before your mother and father dragged you back, exclaiming in worry that you were unfit to do these things. You saw Satoru on their side, staring at you when you tried to reason with them.

"It's just a walk! Are you serious? You let Satoru go on walks almost every day!" You were gesturing angrily with your words at this point, and your mom sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's because Satoru is strong, (Y/n), he inherited the limitless and six eyes, what if something happened while you were on your own? We'd have no way of knowing, and you wouldn't be able to handle it." She smiled a little as if hoping you'd just understand suddenly, that realization would hit your mind and you'd go "Ah okay." But instead, you were glaring at your brother, a fury gnawing at your clenched jaw.

"I hate you." You said before walking off, and you remember your parents gasping and saying how rude that was, and to come back and apologize at once. Satoru didn't say anything, he didn't follow your steps or track you.

You ignored them. The two people who were supposed to advocate for you, the two people who could really say something and let you do whatever you wanted. But they never did, he always said something about how "dangerous" anything was and swayed them instantaneously.

That was the first time you said it.

As a kid, you would even throw out, "I'm never going to speak to you again!" over and over until it never meant anything. But it does now.

You slammed your door as hard as a child can muster and repeated to yourself until then that you would hate him forever.

The next memory that you thought of so vaguely, was when you were on a date with a man you really liked. Maybe it wouldn't have worked, but you didn't know that then.

You sat across him, having several good conversations after another, and a few times he made you genuinely laugh. Whenever he spoke, you absorbed into his words like you were reading. Whenever he laughed, you laughed, whenever he smiled, you smiled. It was infectious.

Your concentration broke soon enough as you heard a chair screeching against the floor of the restaurant. Others stared in disdain, annoyed at the sudden intrusion to their ears. You didn't even want to look. Somehow, you had a feeling, you didn't know how, but you just did.

When you turned, Satoru was there, pressing his chair uncomfortably close to the table, and turning it towards him, so he could sit and lean his arms against the back of it. His jaw rested against the top and he watched you two with a sudden grin.

The heat of shame enveloped your cheeks and soon made your hands stammer with discomfort. Your date blinked awkwardly at him, and you held your forehead in your hands, scared of what he was going to say.

"Hey lil sis," he grinned, eyeing the man across you. Eyeing was an understatement, he was flat out making him uncomfortable, and your date shifted in his chair as gently as he could without arousing suspicion.

You wanted to argue right then and there if not for that man, you wished so bad you did.

"So tell me, what brings you here?" Satoru flat out asked, his face inching uncomfortably close to your date. The man scooted a little away, clearing his throat. Safe to say, he didn't know how to respond, naturally you wouldn't have either, especially not in front of your crush and their sibling.

Before he could even get a full response, Satoru started weirdly quizzing him. From "Gotta job?" to "Top 3 favorite movies, go!"

Your hand was gripping your fork tight, and the rage had you shaking in your seat as you watched him try to familiarize himself. Your food was becoming chopped liver, and he barely cared that this was breaking your boundaries by a long shot. He couldn't have just done this at any other moment, or simply have had the decency to ask.

"Let's say someone held a gun to your head, just figuratively speaking of course," Satoru leaned in albeit an obvious discomfort in your date "Would you hide? Run? Beg? Or would you fight?" When there was no answer he continued.

"Or you think you'd throw her in the crossfire to get some protection and cower behind her like a little girl?" Satoru's tone was a little less playful, and he lifted his shades. The blue of his eyes shone and sparkled.

"Um.." Again it was silent, and Satoru opened his mouth for another question, maybe even a rude comment for all you knew.

"Satoru." You made eye contact with him, your furrowed brows knitting tight, the flush in your cheeks burning. He returned your expression with a grin.

"What? These are important questions," he leans in close to the man again, narrowing his lids just a little, as if threatening. "I'm just trying to get to know you better." He pushes on the back of the chair, his cheek pressing at the intricate design.

Silence spread at the table, and your brother stared at the man intently, watching every little move and probably determining his entire future in one go. Eventually, it proved to be enough, and your date coughed a little and gently placed his napkin down. He was staring at you like a meek little prey, begging for your help, but you just ignored him, stabbing at your food in an upset, and managing to take a few bites while ignoring the scene completely.

"I think... I should go.." He stood and hesitated, pondering if he should say anything else, perhaps an "I'll call you later," or "It's okay," but instead he just nervously nodded at Satoru and walked off. You knew it was going to happen, and finally, you stopped eating, feeling a sickness in your stomach.

Satoru observed him until the moment he ultimately walked out of that door and was gone completely. "What a letdown, the guy didn't even have a decent movie to pick when I asked, how lame-" he kept talking, and talking, and talking, and you sat there, silent, glaring holes into your meal, your sweaty hands just shaking.

You whispered to yourself, "Unbelievable."

"I know right? Dude is definitely the type to run for his life if anything happened, and worse he can't even see curses, how do you expect him to do anything then? I can't be with you all the time you know, what if a grade 1, or worse a special grade appears, what do you do with a loser like that?"

You politely leave your fork at the side, and with all the fury coursing through your veins, somehow in a split second, your food is thrown at Satoru. It didn't hit him, but that wasn't the point, and he finally stopped.

You rummaged through your bag furiously and threw cash on the table before getting up to leave.

"You're unbelievable."

These thoughts always played in your mind as he walked in front of you, walking backward nonchalantly and smiling like a dork. You stopped and stared at him for a while, annoyed, and he refused to gather a hint. Eventually, through his words, you spoke, forcing him to stop.

"I hate you." Those words left your lips, and Satoru stood still allowing you to walk past him.

The more you walked, the less he followed, and finally you found yourself being completely alone and in a peaceful silence. You entered your dorm, curled yourself into a ball on your bed, and continued reading for the rest of the day.

The next morning you'd have a mission all to yourself, and you'd prove to him that you didn't need his help.

You were forming a veil over an old graveyard. The wilted grass crunched beneath your feet, and you paced quietly past dated tombstones. A gust of wind brushed against your warm skin. Naturally, your weapon tilted in response, and you held it tight with a clammy grip. Grade 4 curse or not, a tightness in your chest prevented you from feeling fearless.

A flicker of blue appeared and vanished at your side, and instinctively you whirled your head to an empty space. It was quiet save for your small breaths, and your fingers trailed against one of the icy tombstones. A groveling noise alerted you. Harsh jarring cries and your head was whipping around to find its location.

"Mom, why'd you have to die.." A sad slurred voice mumbled, and when you turned to your right, you found it. A mass amalgamation sitting at a grave and cradling its oversized puffy legs to its giant irregular head.

"Oh Mom," it trailed again, its voice tuning in and out. You got into a readied stance, and it wasn't even paying attention to you. Blood lurched from its eyes, peeling from its lips as giant fingernails ripped its skin down.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a small knife and pitched the blade towards the curse, hoping it would get its attention.

The creature made a drawled-out long moan when It poked its skin and fell to the ground with a thud. The head rotated to you with a sickening twist, and your eyes met for a long beat.

Suddenly a sharp jab smacked you in the side and sent you flying. Your back fell to the floor and with a grunt, you instinctively touched your ribs that squealed in pain. Weapon still in hand, you forced yourself to stand and ready yourself.

The curse moved like goo, jiggling with every movement it made, and leading a path of slime in its wake. Rushing towards it, you swung your blade and carved a deep cut inside its abdomen. Dodging an attack, you did the same towards its back and jabbed your foot into its spine.

The creature tripped and caught its balance in time to turn around and swing at your cheek. Again you bounced on your back and slammed into the ground. Its heavy steps stomped and slushed against crinkled grass. Exhaling a grunt, you pressed your hand into your ribs and forced yourself to stand. You weren't going to go down that easily.

Its large fist aimed at your chest, and you rushed away just in time to press your shoe hard against the back of its knee, making it moan and falter. Your other hand sliced at its skin just barely before it spun and it attempted to land you square in the jaw.

You moved, and it repeated into a trade of jabs and cuts until eventually it found an opening and swung its knee into yours, making you reactively grab it. You were swept off your feet, this time slamming your side against a tombstone.

Groaning, you tried to get up while the curse strolled to you. Blood seeped and poured down its leg, and it seemed a bit slower. It didn't seem right, all of your hits and deep stabs should've killed it by now.

"Oh, mom.." Its drawn-out words made their way to your ears once more, blood cascading down its mismatched eyes. Exhaling a sigh, you pulled your weapon closer, waiting for it to be near.

Slicing your blade into its eye, it cried out, screeching and flailing like a child. It held its damaged eye like a human and wept, repeating its earlier phrases. Growling, you punched it while it was distracted, and although you knew not to test the unpredictability of its limbs, you got greedy. All it took was for one of its hands to beat into you and your body met with a tree.

With all you've done to it, it was too focused on weeping its tears while walking to you so casually, it was insulting. Your hands pressed against the ground, and your ribs ached at the movement. It was coming closer and closer, and you were doing everything you could to stand up.

Just one last time body, one last time and you'd handle it. Mustering all your strength into your legs, you forced them to stand. You were going to do this.

Your eyes met up with the curse again, and it dripped while walking towards you. You found a plan this time. The liquid poured into the grass, its skin peeling like a fruit. You knew what to do. You got into position and held your breath, waiting.

It got a few steps closer.

Waiting.. waiting... waiting... now!

Your muscles were about to break into a sprint, and before they could do that, it stopped.

White hair. Satoru appeared in front of you like some twisted guardian angel, and before you could respond, the curse was blasted away instantaneously. Just like that, all of your work to nothing.

The silence was loud, and what felt like a minute passed before Satoru muttered an annoyed, "What a stupid mistake."

A rage rushed to your head, and your skin was already beginning to burn. Satoru rotated to you and began checking a small bleeding gash on your forehead. You didn't even know what to say, you were dumbfounded and blinded with emotion.

"Man I'm gonna kill those old geezers," he sighed exasperatedly.

"Are you serious?" You asked quietly, more to yourself than anything.

Satoru pulled back to get a read on you, "huh?" He seemed confused.

"Are... you serious?" You emphasized one more time, this time to him. Your eyes were wide, peering into his own.

"I sure as hell am, what were they thinking? Putting you on a grade 2 mission? I think the age is getting to their head—"

"It was a grade four." You reasoned as calmly as you could muster.

His expression gave you a past image of you as children. The way he'd look at you when you were annoyed and just didn't care.

"Grade 2," He stated.

You grumbled, "What are you talking about?"

"Those idiots thought it was a grade 4 and put you on the mission, they could've gotten you killed." He seemed genuinely irritated, as if saving you was so annoying.

"I was handling it just fine," you reasoned. Grade 2 or not, you were going to get it.

He scoffed at that and fell into a more relaxed position. His demeanor turned half playful, but you knew him well enough that he was hiding his anger. "Like hell you were, look at you. What was your big plan there, run him around just out of touch and wait until he trips on his own slime and finish him off there?"

When you didn't answer, he laughed, his hand pressing against his forehead, pondering the idiocy. "You're not serious are you?" He snickered dryly, shaking his head. His blue spheres were blown out as he thought of what he was going to do to those guys back at Jujustu.

You turned to the side, a mix of shame and anger hitting you admitting that it was close to your plan. "I didn't need your help okay, grade 2 or not, I'm a grade 3, I can handle-"

"No, you can't." This time Satoru was serious, and he was scowling. "You should barely even be a grade three, the only reason you are is because I felt pity and spoke up about it. I know you can't handle it, and I should've never expected you to."

The way your lips spread in a gasp had your comeback quieting. "What..?" You just barely whispered, and when you continued, your words croaked out like it was the hardest thing to say. "But I am a grade three, I worked for that, I practiced.. every day."

You inhaled a deep shaky breath at the thought, but at remembering that this was just Satoru, who never believed your accomplishments anyway. You seethed, "I am, you just don't think I am, you always think I'm weak." Your voice was starting to rise, and you were losing yourself in a fit of anger and nearly stomping like a kid in a tantrum and jabbing your finger at his chest.

"That's because you are lil sis, do you think without my help all these years you'd really be alive right now?"

That sentence made you growl, and he thinking that the conversation was done, started casually walking away like nothing. He was not going to get away, not this easily, not without any repercussions just like every single time.

"What is your fucking problem?!" Your shout made him briefly pause.

"My problem?" He asked like you were crazy. Satoru makes his way back to you, watching how you wince at the throb in your bones, yet still somehow find a way to gesture at him.

"My problem? My problem is that I can't walk away for 10 fucking minutes and leave you alone to get some peace, instead, I'm stuck babysitting for the rest of my life."

"And you think I want you to babysit me? You think I don't want some freedom? You know what... if I die... I die, that's it, end of the story, and better yet, if I die and you had the power to stop it, don't ever feel bad," you laugh sharply, not even thinking before your words at all.

"Because when I'm about to die, I don't want to see you, and even when I'm dead, I don't want you 10 feet near my fucking grave."

It became quiet for a still moment, and the air felt tense. There was a lump in your throat, but you were so filled with resentment you couldn't stop.

"Mom and Dad aren't here right now, it's just you and me, and you think that because of that, I'm grateful to have you here? That because you're a special grade and I'm the weak little sister that you feel like I'm a civilian under your wing? Just.. fuck you, I'm tired of you. I'm tired of you in my goddamn face acting like we'll ever be friends, not with how you treated me as a kid. Not how you treat me now." By the end of your rant, you were practically panting in a fit of rage, your face beet red, and your index still pressing into his chest.

Satoru was quiet, unreadable, and again, just like when you were kids, he had that face that looked as if he didn't care, or as if he knew he was right. You inhaled sharply in an attempt to relax.

"You.." you started again, and already knowing where this was going to end up, tears were forming, and the tightening of your throat made it impossible to speak without a sob leaving.

"You're supposed to love me.." You barely managed to utter, a few cracks in your sentence. His form visibly slumped, and his jaw clenched. You turned your back to him and crossed your arms, a heavy pout turning your lips. You made a move to walk away, and Satoru's hand tugged at your shirt.

He pulled you over his shoulder effortlessly and held you there tightly. It wasn't like you to not flail around and smack him flat in the shoulder, but you stilled. Your rib hurt anyway, and the last thing you wanted to do was break it. That wasn't really the reason why. You gave up, but you couldn't let anyone know that.

He started walking, and because he wasn't able to see, a few tears fell, and you wiped them away before it became a storm.

The walk was silent, and Satoru hardly ever is. But you knew he must've been mad, and admittedly that felt worse. This is just how it was. It's like nothing ever changed in this moment.

In an effort to get yourself comfortable, as much as could be, your body seared with discomfort, and you limped with a sigh. You're tired. You think a nap after all this would do you good.

Your lids gently closed, the swarming headache stinging a little less.

Satoru could feel you sleep, and his hand pressed tighter against your legs in fear you might fall. He knew he wouldn't drop you, he wouldn't drop anyone, not with his strength alone, but he worried and told himself, just in case.

When you woke up the next day, your injuries were all wrapped up. Bandages stretched from your back to your front, and when you tried to get up, it hurt your sides like hell. Laying back down, you sighed, studying your ceiling fan that very lightly circled.

Upon notice, you saw that at your side above the nightstand, there was a stack of books. Not many that you haven't read, and plenty your type. Gently reaching out so as not to strain, you very slowly pulled one into your lap. It was a red hardcover with light pages that had a maximum of a few hundred.

After reading the first few in your boredom, your teeth were already dragging your bottom lip in anticipation. And when you placed it down for a break, you surveyed your room. The blinds were shut tight as if someone was afraid that light might force you from your slumber.

Again, you forced yourself to get up, ignoring how your sides ached. Your legs were shaking once your feet hit the floor, and they were so sore it felt like stone. An incoherent grumble left you once you got off the bed. Pressing your hand into your ribs, you found yourself shouting when you attempted to make a step.

In an instant, your door slammed open, and Satoru stood for a few seconds, watching how you leaned your hand against the nightstand to balance yourself.

"Are you stupid or something?!" He shouted, and before you could even answer he had you sitting down forcefully and his hand held you there when you tried to push your weight to stand again.

Groaning, you smacked his hand away, "Leave me alone Satoru, I can do just fine." Usually with that, he would drop it, but it remained, and you shot him a dirty look.

"You're not moving until they say you can move, so lay back down." Your scowl persisted, and you were mentally jabbing holes into him.

Satoru gave you a look he had never given you before. He glared so darkly that you wavered. His hand pressed your shoulder down and he gently lowered your upper half so you wouldn't feel pain.

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here for 3 months staring at the ceiling?" Huffing, you complied and laid down in a decent position.

"That's why I got you books." Satoru tapped at them. "All the gooey, mushy, trashy romantic books you can want," he went back to joking, but you didn't respond. You surveyed him while he fluffed your pillow, and folded sheets over your body.

His eyes crinkled just a little bit more, the blue of his eyes was unsettled, and his lips pouted just slightly. "Did you sleep?" You asked. He raised a brow as if it was a dumb question.

"Obviously, why?"

You hummed. "Nothing." Then added, "So when can I get up?" You made sure to add some spite to that sentence.

"Until I say so." He responded, and just because of that little authority he always managed to pull out, you scoffed, unable to hide the irritation. You left it at that, and it was quiet for a few minutes as he still kept organizing your sheets.

Neither of you met each other's glance, and it was a swift match on who could advert the fastest when found. Eventually, the tense silence was broken, and he spoke.

"I know you hate me, you're annoyed, but I don't care." You peeked up at him, then glared at your wall.

You grumbled under your breath, "You never did."

Satoru didn't respond this time, and when he was finally done fixing your sheets, he made his way to your door, then as he was about to close it after him, he declared, "I always did," then left.

Rolling your eyes, you spun to your good side and faced the wall, all your thoughts about your past rushing to you.

Your mother politely dragged a knife through her steak and with each portion, she lifted it to her lips so calmly and ate, dabbing her handkerchief to her lips after. Why couldn't you do that? She looked so graceful, and you just wanted to copy her, but when you tried the knife kept bouncing off the meat and dragging loudly against the plate.

Grumbling, you tried again, and your steak nearly flew out. The anger overtook your small little hands that pounded at the table in respite. Again you tried, and when it didn't work you frowned.

Satoru let out a small sigh and removed himself from his seat. His hand grabbed at the knife and he pulled your plate to his angle and began slicing perfectly little thin pieces. The meat was tender, red, and juicy beneath its skin, and when he even offered you a portion, you opened your lips and chewed it with a pout. You were mad, so mad, but the steak was delicious, and you couldn't erase the shame of not being able to just do this one thing for yourself.

"Do you like it?" He asked, and you mumbled a yes as he fed you another slice. If you didn't, he'd have someone instantly prepare it again after all. Eventually, he sat, and you glared at your plate, glancing between him and your parents who so nonchalantly ate. His face was stoic, and you were sure he was annoyed.

After a while of contemplating if you should eat the rest, you did, all with disdain.

You practically finished a book within 3 days. You laid it at your side and studied the ceiling. There wasn't anything interesting about it, nothing new, no curves, grooves, or chips. Your eyes were drooping, falling ever so slightly at every circle the fan revolved in.

On your bookshelf, there was a small activity book, one of those that you write in and play little games like word searches and whatnot. You kept it there for a while, probably had it since you were 12, but you needed to do something besides just laying here and only occupying your mind.

Satoru isn't here, and he won't be for a while doubtfully. It's been 3 days, that's still better than day 1, so surely you can just get up and pluck it from its bond. Or, you could just wait until he was back, and ask for it. But then he might be offended that you didn't care to read the books he brought for you, and besides, you didn't want to harm your pride by even showing you needed the slightest bit of help.

Were you that petty? Yeah.

Lifting your upper half, a throb rang in your side, and despite this, you planted your feet firmly on the ground. You bit back the grunts and mumbles and made your way to the shelf. Once you were there, you heaved a few breaths, already feeling winded. Your heart was stammering, but you just had to grab it.

It was on the tallest shelf, of course, it was, and you stood on your toes. Your calves were hard and tightened to stone, leaving you anchored to the floor. Cussing, you pulled all your weight and attempted to touch just the top before your finger slid off and fell.

Your teeth were gritting, and you again tried, fingers shaking at the attempt. A hand touches your arm, gently guiding yours down before it reaches out and grabs the book for you, just effortlessly. Your feet drop, and the wince that follows is inevitable.

"You're really doing this again?" Satoru asked, his voice holding a familiar irritation.

You swat his hand away and turn to walk back on your own. "I don’t need you to play nurse. I’m fine, okay?"

Satoru raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watches you. “You’re not fine. You’re barely standing.”

"It was just to get a book Satoru, relax. Did you think I was going to go outside and start jogging?" Your sarcasm always rose with the frustration, rooting you in place. He wasn't going to allow you to stand with your injuries for the sake of mindless arguing, so first he shut you up and swept you off your feet like some bride.

Huffing, you flicked at his chest with your index and thumb, rolling your eyes. "Can you stop treating me like I'm a porcelain doll? The bed is right there, I did fine getting up by myself." Satoru laid you down gingerly, even did so much as flipping your pillow so you could feel cool. Still refusing to answer, he checks your bandages and when he confirms they're still fine, he pushes your legs down and forces your body to relax whether you want to or not.

“I’m not treating you like anything. But you're not getting up, and I’m not watching you hurt yourself over some stupid pride,” he retorted.

There's a minute of silence, and you're adverting your gaze out of pure pettiness. Satoru sat beside you, the weight easing the mattress down.

“You can be mad all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck here for a while,” he said, a small lingering softness in his tone. He places the book you wanted by your side, and you open your mouth just partially.

You glance at him from the corner of her eye and a wave of irritation hits you. You aim to voice something sharp but don't. Instead, you lay back against the pillow and cross your arms.

"I don't want your help.." you mumbled. The thought of stupid scenes like him cutting your steak, or intervening on your date rushes back. You want to hate him so much, you really do.

He never stops hovering and making everything about him, pushing his help on you when you never needed it. You hate the idea of him thinking you can’t handle things on your own. You're not helpless.

But no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to shake him off, he’s always there. Always trying to protect you, and always being there before you could even let yourself fall.

"I'm still here though, whether you want it or not," he declared, and a heavy pout formed.

You mumbled, "Yeah.. whatever.." A moment passes, and you flicker your glance more to the side, holding your arms tight against you. "Can you get me a pencil..?" Satoru laughs, genuinely.

"Gonna draw out all your frustrations?" He asks smugly.

"I'm going to draw me stabbing you." You joke, biting back a laugh that makes you grin wide. You still weren't meeting his gaze, but his grin was returning, and he knew it was a joke.

"Show me when you're done, I'll give you a gold star and put it on my fridge." Satoru chuckles, and the laugh you are holding escapes.

"Shut up." You shake your head, rolling your eyes. "Go away, I want to read now."

Satoru nods, and the weight disappears at your side.

By the fourth week, Satoru was giving you your space. It didn’t mean he wasn’t eyeing you carefully whenever you stood or walked around, but he didn’t fuss over every little thing as he did at first.

You sat by the window, your arms draped over your knees. The frown on your face deepened, the weight of it pressing into your forehead as you gazed longingly at the outside world.

"You could at least try reading some of the books I got you," Satoru teased, a playful edge in his voice, though the tension between you two lingered. "I had to stand there for over an hour, hearing women gush about them."

You stared at a pretty blue jay that landed atop a branch, a tiny bit of envy stirring in you.

"I already read two and a half," you huffed, pressing your palm to your cheek. But really, your thoughts were elsewhere, on the world outside. The need to be out there gnawed at you, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Satoru grinned yet he made sure to keep his distance, knowing your patience had a limit. “Well, that’s a good start. Could be three soon enough.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you studied the window, your thoughts swirling like a storm. His words barely registered. Satoru noticed how your gaze followed the blue jay as it flew away, the disappointment turned your features.

After a moment, he stood from the chair, his gaze softening as he studied you, quiet for a second longer than usual. Then, he gestured toward you. “Come on, let’s go.”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. “To where exactly? The wall?”

Satoru just chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “Outside. Smart ass, come on.”

You froze, before rushing to your feet with a gasp, excitement mixing with a usual rush of nerves. His hand found your shoulder just as you moved, his touch warm but firm, and he forced you to sit down. “Relax, not like that. If I see you running, I’m dragging you right back inside.”

You huffed, a sudden irk clenching your jaw, "why are you always like this?" You grumbled, shooting him an exasperated look.

"Because if I wasn't, you'd be so stubborn that you'd end up recovering in 12 weeks instead of 8." A pout befell you. That was true, but you didn't need him to say it.

Satoru flicked you, "Don't be a brat, if you're gonna drill holes at the floor, do it outside and sulk there."

"I'm not sulking," you bit your cheek, "and I'm not being a brat."

Satoru laughed, patting your shoulder. "Right, that's hilarious, now go before I change my mind." Despite his playful tone, his grasp was a little reassuring.

"Well, I still don't need you hovering over me," you pointed out.

He took a step back, tightened his grip only momentarily, and spoke firmly, "Well I'm not asking for permission."

Scoffing, you got up and forced yourself to walk to the door. Your hand stretched out, fingertips touching the knob and lingering at the cold that hit you. It took a while before you could really place your hand over it fully and use force to turn it. Upon opening, you felt happy, a realization hit you, and it was like your feet were anchored in nerves.

Satoru waited patiently, and you glanced back at him, unsure. Was he going to close it or lead you around like you were a scared puppy? When you blinked at him, he smiled warmly, and you bit your lip. It almost felt like a test.

You stepped out quietly, pausing for a few seconds. The breeze hit you once you crossed the threshold, and you hadn’t realized how much you missed the plush green grass and the pretty flowers at Jujutsu. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you wiped them quickly away.

Satoru followed, stopping a few feet away and leaning against the wall as he watched you. You wanted to run, to rush out and scream, to release every frustration you had buried. But instead, you stood there, taking in the moment. It was so peaceful.

You sat at the edge of the porch, your feet hanging off the steps as you watched the grass sway in the wind. The purple flowers pressed together, moving in unison as the breeze swept through. The sun’s gentle rays warmed your skin.

Satoru took a seat beside you, giving you just enough space to not disturb the quiet. You turned to him, smiling, and at that moment, you knew it would be okay. He returned your smile softly as if he understood too.

It was quiet for many minutes, maybe even an hour, as you sat there and stared at the sky. You watched as lazy clouds transitioned slowly, drifting across the blue. Your chest felt warm, and you let your feet dangle freely.

Satoru’s eyes flickered to the sky for a moment, but they didn’t linger. He was tired—too tired. The dull ache behind his eyes told him everything. The weight of the silence pressed against his shoulders, and a noticeable slump in his posture gave away the fatigue that settled in like a heavy blanket.

He could feel your gaze on him, and for once, he didn’t want you to see him like this. He would never admit it, but his breaths grew shallow. He was starting to droop.

You touched his shoulder lightly, and he blinked up at you. "You should sleep. I'll be fine."

His expression softened for just a second, a hint of gratitude breaking through the usual guise. A small sigh escaped him, but he quickly masked it with a forced grin.

"What makes you think I’m falling asleep?" he scoffed, trying to convince both you and himself.

You softly sighed, a frown tugging at your lips. "Just go to sleep. You've earned it."

A wave of guilt washed over you, and you tried to mask it with a quick smile. He caught it, and a warm, unguarded grin spread across his face.

There was a quiet understanding between you both. The calmness of it was new, and you didn’t realize until now just how much it meant.

You turned back to the scene, watching as the sun slowly settled, the warmth leaving your skin in the waning light. You could hear Satoru press back against the wall and release a gentle, tired breath. His eyes closed, and when you turned to look at him again, you saw the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.

You sat close, leaning against the wall beside him and closing your eyes to sleep. For once, you felt an unwavering peace beside him, and you wanted nothing more.

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