#making him slowly spin in front of you as you “check” to make sure he's safely covered

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀wild roses | chapter 2 ; the stem

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

← to chapter 1 | ♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 3 →

genre ; soulmate au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, humour, smut            wordcount ; 16.5k

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

smut warnings ; dom + soft sadist yeonjun x sub + soft masochist reader. mentions of wet dreams; making out but not really.

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

when you woke up a few hours later, you felt much better—your head was significantly clearer and your body didn't feel so weak. you weren't sure if you  had dreamed about yeonjun in your fever or not, because he had felt pretty much real, and you had allowed him to check on you. but now, he was nowhere to be seen or heard—your apartment completely quiet. of course, he could have left, but when you noticed the skimpy top you were wearing, half of the mark out in the open, you prayed you had only imagined him and undressed on your own.

but no—yeonjun was peacefully sleeping on the couch in the living room, and the uncomfortable feeling in your gut intensified. it meant he had seen you—that. was he going to start pitying you now? was that the reason why he hadn’t left, choosing to stay here, sleeping on a couch a bit too short for his height instead of returning to his own apartment? was he—your head started spinning, vision blurring at the edges, as you tried to lean against the bookshelf to keep yourself from falling, slowly sliding on the floor and accidentally knocking a few books down.

the soft thud stirred yeonjun awake and he rushed to you the moment he saw you sitting on the floor with your head in your hands. “hey, why did you get up?” he asked softly and crouched down, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead—it wasn’t too hot, so your body had probably just reacted badly to moving while still weak. “let’s go, i’ll carry you back to bed.”

you shook your head, “can you please just help me walk?” you asked, and he nodded, letting you lean on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist, helping you up slowly.

yeonjun wanted to fight you on it at first—almost out of habit—insisting he could easily carry you, but quickly realized he was still too weak, and it would be just dangerous for you, so he bit back his pride. surprisingly, it wasn't that hard—maybe because your well-being depended on it. or maybe because he was comfortable around you and didn't feel the need to show off. 

once you were back in bed, safe and sound, resting against the headboard with your legs wrapped in the blanket, yeonjun crouched down beside you. “are you hungry?” he asked, looking up at you with a warm smile. 

you wondered for how long he was going to ignore the elephant in the room, when the elephant—the mark on your upper chest—was right in front of his eyes. “a bit, to be honest,” you replied, too afraid to ask about his thoughts on the mark yourself. 

yeonjun nodded and left for the kitchen, returning not so long after with a tray of soup and rice. “here, it's fresh, i cooked it just a few hours ago,” he said, putting the tray on the bed next to you. “i hope it's to your liking.” 

you replied with a quiet ‘thank you’, grabbing the spoon and carefully—just in case it turned out to be too hot—tasting the soup. it was tasty, and under any other circumstances, you'd immediately tell yeonjun that it was awesome, but right now that would sound out of place and too awkward, so you kept quiet. 

he watched you from the corner of his eye, noticing how you didn’t look at him even once after he gave you the tray. he wondered if he had ruined everything. only now did yeonjun realize that he hadn’t even tried to wake you up first—he had been so scared because of how hot you were that he didn’t even think about it. he had wanted so badly to protect you, yet he had ended up being the one you needed to be protected from.

yeonjun stood up, immediately catching your attention . “i should go…” saying that broke his heart almost as much as the expression you got on your face—the one he always jokingly called ‘a left behind puppy’ look. why were you looking at him that way, though? had he misunderstood?.. “i… i’m sorry for undressing you. i never meant to make you feel that way, and i know it doesn’t excuse—”

“it’s not about undressing,” you mumbled, stirring what was left of the soup and still refusing to look at him properly. you noticed the way he frowned, though—probably confused. “at all,” you added even quieter. the air between you two had never been that tense, and you absolutely hated it. you had to get rid of it, despite being afraid of hearing the answer. “do you…” you cleared your throat that suddenly got dry. “do you know what this is?” 

yeonjun needed no clarification—the topic hovered over you both like a dark thundercloud. he swallowed thickly. “i do,” he admitted, watching the way you fidgeted with the spoon. you were so tense, almost scared, but no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t say what a mark like that meant to him. he knew he was too much of a coward. “it's a soulmate mark,” he had to force the next words out of himself. “of a wild rose.”

hearing it out loud felt completely different, the uncomfortable feeling in your gut growing stronger, and you could barely find the courage to continue. “people usually… pity the likes of me,” you said quietly, trying not to look at yeonjun directly. “or they…” you didn’t finish, but he knew what you were going to say. ‘avoid’. they either pitied or avoided. “nevermind,” you whispered, before continuing just a bit louder. “are you pitying me?” 

yeonjun couldn’t answer immediately—he simply didn’t know how. was he pitying you? no. but had it changed the way he saw you? yes. how could he explain it, though, when he was so afraid to open up? “i… i’m not pitying you, but i feel more protective over you now,” he admitted, running fingers through hair. “i know firsthand how shitty the bond can be,” the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

you leaned in slightly, eyes wide in surprise as you looked at yeonjun directly now. “you know a wild rose?” you weren’t sure you had heard right—wild roses were rare. of course, it wasn't rocket science to find one in that century with social media connecting the entire world, but you’d never tried. so finding someone, even through two handshakes, was shocking. maybe he knew something about the bond because of that? 

yeonjun only swallowed thickly and nodded. “i do. in some way,” he said slowly, studying your expression. you looked away for a second—he assumed you were thinking of the words ‘in some way’, unsure how close he was to that person. people. he knew many, actually—over a dozen for sure—but that wasn’t what he meant, and he knew he had to tell you. “it’s me,” he finally said—his voice quiet, yet the words somehow loud.

you froze—he was… you couldn’t get your head around it. your neighbour, one of your closest friends—the closest, probably. yeonjun was a wild rose. suddenly, the bud in his wallet, lack of soulmate, and his overall closed-off nature when it came to the topic all made sense. suddenly, the way you clicked so fast made more sense too—you were similar. 

yeonjun was sure you were shocked, but he couldn't understand what was going through your head. were you thinking he had lied? “i can show you the mark if you don't believe me,” he offered hesitantly. he didn't want to—truly didn't. in the moment, it felt like he'd rather be seen completely naked than show the mark to anyone, even you. but if it meant you wouldn’t leave his life because you thought he was lying about something like that, he was ready to do it—it was the least he could do.

“no,” you said almost firmly. “i believe you, you don't have to show me anything to prove it,” you watched his shoulders relax as if a few tons of weight had been just taken off them. “i know how intimate the mark is,” you continued, setting the bowls on the bedside table and placing the tray somewhere on the bed. you shifted your position, sitting on your knees, almost touching yeonjun's thigh with them. “but i want to ask you for something.”

yeonjun froze, not knowing what to expect. of course, he didn't think you'd make him do something you knew he'd hate, but his trust issues, that were caused by another wild rose… no, no. he'd never allow himself to see her in you. you were so different, he could be sure you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. “go on,” he almost choked out despite his bravado.

“please, don't shut down,” your voice was almost pleading. he seemed so wrong already, completely tense, like he wasn't sure about every breath he took, like he was already shutting you out. you were afraid he'd never open up if he closed off now. and that would only mean the end. “i promise i won't pry or push, i’ll give you all the space you need—”

“i promise i won't,” yeonjun finally looked at you properly—you were so close, he hadn’t noticed when you moved closer, but he felt warm inside from your words despite his increasing weakness. he knew you'd keep your promise, and he wanted to do the same for you. “thank you. really,” he tried to smile but it came out tired, and he closed his eyes for a second as if trying to rest at least a little. 

you noticed his state and, if you were honest, you weren't feeling too great either—new discoveries had exhausted you more than anything, and it lashed terribly with your cold. “you should lie down. we should,” you whispered, already feeling your body giving in, craving sleep.

yeonjun nodded, running fingers through his hair once again, weakness seeping almost into his bones. he had woken up too early, slept too little, and your couch wasn't exactly the best place to sleep so his body was sore, and he was mentally drained too. “okay,” he said quietly, standing up, palms rubbing his face. “you really should sleep more… i’ll be in the living room. call for me if you need anything, okay?”

you didn't let him leave, though, your fingers clenching the sleeve of his hoodie as you looked up at him. “you can sleep here,” you whispered, leaving yeonjun surprised. “if you are okay with it,” you added quickly, mentally slapping yourself—you had just said you wouldn't be pushy, and yet here you were. “i'm… fine with it. the bed is big enough. but if you don't want to—”

actually, it was too inviting. your bed was so soft, your laundry smelled so nice too—yeonjun made a mental note to ask you about the conditioner—and most importantly, it was bigger than your couch. and while his bed was even bigger, he didn't want to leave you alone. and he was too tired to fight you. “thank you,” he mumbled, getting onto the bed and moving the tray you had left there out of the way.  

you lied down, curling into a ball facing him. you weren't sure if it'd be better to face away, but you decided that you were so sleepy, that it wouldn't matter in a few minutes. it was probably the same for him, judging by the way he lay on his back and closed his eyes immediately, his body visibly relaxing. so you just tightened your hold around the big fox plushie, pressing it closer to your chest, and closed your eyes. you hoped being wild roses wouldn't draw a line between you two that you'd never be able to cross.

when you woke up later, the first thing you saw was the side of yeonjun's face, still sleeping peacefully, one of his hand resting behind his head, and he also had taken off his hoodie at some point, leaving him in just a black tank top. you moved a bit closer to each other in sleep—not too close, of course, but close enough that his other hand rested on your knee over the thin blanket. the feeling was strange—not just the warmth of his hand, heavy in a comforting way even through the fabric, but everything about you two felt strange, because somehow, it was too comfortable. as if this was how everything was supposed to be. and that thought alone made you feel uneasy.

you tried to get up as quietly and unnoticeably as possible, wanting to get some water, but yeonjun stirred awake anyway. 

“lay back down,” he said, firm but somehow still gentle, his voice a bit hoarse. you looked over your shoulder cautiously, but he hadn’t moved even an inch, eyes still closed. yeonjun waited for a few seconds, and when he didn’t feel any movement from your side, he opened his eyes and looked at you without changing position, only slightly turning his head.

he didn’t even say anything—his gaze was more than enough, as you laid back down with a small pout. “wanted to get some water,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket back over yourself the way it was before you sat up. “was i supposed to wake you up for that?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though not a biting one.

yeonjun ignored it. “yes,” he said firmly and sat up, ruffling his hair. he felt much sleepier than sounded, but his body wasn't as weak anymore—he probably just needed a few more hours of sleep, and a bit of certainty that everything was going to be fine. he was thankful that you let him sleep in your bed and that you didn’t act like for whatever reason you both being wild roses meant the end of the world, because he still couldn’t understand the way he felt about it. “i told you i’ll take care of you,” he stated, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

and yeonjun didn’t lie—he took great care of you, so you were back to life in a few days. he barely let you get up unless you needed to go to the bathroom or wanted to stretch your legs, cooked for you or ordered something tasty when you had to eat but didn’t want anything, checked your temperature every few hours even at night, and basically did anything you wanted or needed—even if it meant treat you like a bratty child, when you wanted something you didn’t actually need in your state. but you obeyed him so cutely, with a pout or death stare sent his way as if you were saying ‘i’ll do it but i’ll make sure you know i don’t want to’.

but no matter how much yeonjun enjoyed spending time with you, how comfortable he felt sleeping in your bed and how much he loved your bratty obedience, he could barely feel any of it, pushing all of his thoughts and feelings away until he was back in the safety of his home, where he could just sit and do his best to organize everything that was happening in his head. he barely noticed how he shut down from you, almost forgetting to say goodbye when he was leaving your apartment once you were back to health.

you gave all the space yeonjun needed, just like you promised, but by the end of the first week you started assuming he hadn’t kept his promise, because while before it took him mere minutes to reply to your messages unless he was working, now it took at least hours. and the text you sent on saturday morning was left unread, still sitting there even on sunday. so you gave up completely, no matter how painful it felt even to think about it.

you had to force yourself not to text yeonjun out of habit for the whole monday, unlocking and immediately locking your phone back every ten minutes—you’d never noticed how much you messaged each other before, and now you felt lonely without it. but if he thought that’s what was the best for him, you had no right to hold him back. 

soobin noticed something was wrong, and he wanted so badly to keep you company so you wouldn’t be left alone, but he had plans that had been set for weeks already. he told you he could reschedule them anytime, but you swore you were fine and that it wasn’t a big deal. still, soobin texted yeonjun, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep you company on your way home tonight, and yeonjun replied with a simple ‘np, i’ll do that’ a few hours later, less than twenty minutes before your workday was over. 

yeonjun didn't even notice how badly he had neglected you over the weekend—two days and a monday flew by in a blur of sleep and endless overthinking any second he wasn't sleeping. he hadn’t even looked at the clock, his phone lying somewhere uncharged since friday evening until he finally plugged it in on monday afternoon and immediately got soobin’s message. but the moment he saw notification, he rushed to check his chat with you—one unread ‘good morning, mint choco ice cream prince’ from saturday morning—and realized he bad he had fucked up. but at least he had an opportunity to try to make it up to you. throwing on the first clothes he could find, he almost ran out of the house—it was a twenty-minute walk to your work. 

these past few days hadn’t been easy for yeonjun, and he still wasn’t sure he was anywhere close to understanding what exactly he felt. in fact, it felt like he was unbelievably far from it, but when he realized it might be too late at all, none of it mattered anymore. he didn’t care about his trust issues, his past lying lover, or finding out why opening up was so terrifying—he had to do everything right and deal with the rest later.

yeonjun’s fear wasn’t irrational, but you had nothing to do with it, nothing to do with the scars he had carried for years. so many years ago, in his highschool years, while he was studying half the world away from home, he had met his soulmate—it was a dream come true. he was still young, and he couldn’t believe his luck. she was a wild rose too, and her confession felt like destiny. 

for nearly a year, he had lived in blissful ignorance, believing the universe had gifted him a perfect bond. it was impossible to check it properly—they were too close to feel each other’s pain intensely, but she had always known when he fell in the p.e. class or burned himself on something while sitting in a café with his friends, and to him, that was proof enough. he thought it was impossible to love someone more, and would have done anything for her, loving her fiercely and giving himself completely, as though nothing in the world could shatter their connection. 

but then it had shattered. she had been particularly insatiable that evening, leaving red lines all over his back with her nails—she had always enjoyed doing it. while it went against  everything he had heard about the bond—he was the one leaning toward causing pain—he brushed it off, because too many things about that bond were myths, and this was probably another one. but that time she had gone further than usual, and it hurt—still nothing he couldn’t endure, though. 

but just a bit later, when she was sound asleep on yeonjun’s chest, his hand was gently playing with her hair, he thought that he was probably the happiest person in the world. but then he felt it—the distinct, burning heartbreak of his soulmate—his true soulmate. it wasn’t his. of course it wasn't, he had felt like he was blessed, but that pain didn’t belong to the one sleeping on his chest either. it was like an arrow piercing through him, the kind of pain that was impossible to fake, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure it wasn’t his, because the realization that the girl he loved had lied about being his soulmate hit harder than any betrayal he could have imagined. she hadn’t just broken his trust, she’d made a mockery of something sacred. 

the break up was ugly, and yeonjun wished he could erase it from his memory. at first, she tried to gaslight him, but then she played on all of his painful buttons—the ones she had discovered over the course of a year—like a silly melody on a piano. the last words he heard from her were about how he would never find his soulmate, and even if he did, they’d never want to deal with someone as pathetic as him, and how he’d wish he’d never pushed her away. he lost one of his best friends back then too—it turned out he had been the source of all her knowledge about all yeonjun’s injuries, and that was the reason he had stuck to yeonjun’s side so constantly. 

yeonjun finished highschool there—the bond with his real soulmate shut itself down in those months, but he barely noticed it—and returned home, despite having once dreamed of continuing his education abroad. being there felt unbearable, and he had an almost maddening need to breathe the air of his homeland. it helped, but only a little—he had to busy himself with something, and so it became endless dancing until he could barely get up from the floor of the practice room, studying from dusk to dawn, depriving himself of sleep some nights, and trying to find any information on the wild rose bond to define what was true and what was merely myth.

but despite searching for every wild rose yeonjun could find online, talking to them and even meeting a few of them—especially the ones who had found their soulmate—he never got closer to any of them than his research required. he had vowed to never open up to wild roses who hadn’t yet met their soulmates—he couldn’t risk that pain again. it made sense—he didn’t want anyone to exploit the bond for their own benefit, especially someone desperate enough to lie about it, like she had. it was hard to confirm being soulmates back then, but now it was almost impossible with the way he hadn’t felt his soulmate for years. 

there were other reasons too—the ones yeonjun didn’t want to admit even to himself, but had to while thinking about why the fact that you were a wild rose scared him so much. he feared his own judgment—if he had been completely blind once, what was stopping it from happening again? what if his feelings clouded his ability to see the truth? again. he feared the weight of the bond that connected all wild roses, soulmates or not, because two lonely wild roses, especially at his age, would inevitably step into a world of sharing vulnerabilities, emotions, and feelings, and it had started with you already. it’d mean opening himself up for your pain, and you doing the same for him, and he wasn’t sure he could go through more pain—both giving and taking—after the same thing happening before his connection with his soulmate had gotten shut. 

but most of all, yeonjun feared repeating what was probably the greatest mistake of his life—giving his heart to the wrong person, only to realize the truth when it was too late, when they had already dug their fingers into it hard enough to hurt him. knowing that you were a wild rose, made all of these fears he had never really worked through crashing back in full force. it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you—it was that he couldn’t trust himself.

all of that could be dealt with later, though. yeonjun knew you weren't a problem, he was one—he always was one, just like when he had almost ruined everything in the beginning. he would accept it if you decided to end your friendship, but he at least had to try to do everything right, and he definitely owed you an explanation.

you were so lost in thoughts on your way home, that you barely saw anything or anyone around you. was yeonjun at least okay? he had spent half a week with you when you had a cold, maybe he had caught it from you and was now lying feverish in his bed, while you were too preoccupied with self-pity to even check on him? the thought was making you walk faster—you had to check on him, goddammit. there were basically two steps between your doors, and yet you didn't try to at least ring the doorbell, afraid he wouldn’t want to see you. 

your shoulder collided with someone else's, and you threw out a quick but sincere apology, not having the time to stop and check on them. the person was tall, and their shoulder barely moved at the impact, so you assumed they'd be fine. your steps became even quicker, but then a voice from behind made you stop in your tracks.

“i don't take you to work just one day, and you're already—a: not wearing a scarf after having a cold not so long ago, and b: completely careless on the streets?” yeonjun teased you, smile—he just couldn't keep it inside—perfectly audible in his voice. he missed you so much—just seeing you already made him a bit happier.

you turned around and had to basically force yourself not to run to him after just one glance at him. but yeonjun still spread his arms a bit, trying not to make it look like he was forcing you into it, нуе still showing that he wasn’t just ‘not against it', but that he wanted it too. of course, you ran into his hold—how could you not? maybe it looked questionable, maybe friends didn't do that—though you were sure they did—but he was healthy, well and smiling right in front of you. and you missed him.

yeonjun was warm in your arms, and his hold was firm but gentle, as he palmed the back of your head, his thumb caressing your hair. “i'm so sorry, mouse,” he murmured, tightening his hold on you and involuntarily making you do the same. “i was an asshole. the biggest one,” and i feel blessed because you're not pushing me away, he continued in his head.

“it's fine,” you mumbled into his shoulder, fingers clenching his hoodie under the coat. you both knew it actually wasn't, you had both done things that made no sense, but it didn't matter now, because it was something that could be worked with now. “if you were one, it only means i have no self-respect right now, hugging an asshole.”

yeonjun laughed warmly at your words, letting you go. he untied the scarf from his neck, hooking it over yours and carefully tightening it despite your protests. “is it comfortable?” he asked, but instead of an answer, you tried to give it back to him, and he took your hands in his to stop you, his palms warm and comfortable against the back of your hands. “behave. i asked you if it was comfortable.” 

you pouted—you missed his ordering around, but you were worried about him too. you knew he wouldn't let you take the scarf off, though, so you pulled your hands away from his hold, reached out stubbornly, and wrapped the hood of his hoodie around his bare neck carefully, trying to not touch his skin with your cold fingers. “now more comfortable,” you stated, looking at him with a stubborn expression and realizing he'd been watching you with a soft smile all the time while you were doing it. 

“okay,” yeonjun said, his smile widening. he enjoyed watching you find ways to do your thing while, well, still behaving. and of course your care made him feel warm inside—not that no one cared about him; of course, his friends did and would do it, but you noticed the smallest things about him and his comfort. “home or café?” he asked as you two started walking towards your apartments, shoulders occasionally brushing against each other. “i owe you an explanation, i think.”

“hm?” you looked at him in question. well, if he wanted to… not that you felt like it was necessary. “i’d prefer the café, but if you really want to explain it and having extra ears around might make you uncomfortable, i’d definitely prefer home,” you admitted, and added after a few seconds. “but maybe takeout then?”

yeonjun looked at you almost weirdly. you were definitely one of a kind—who would even care about ‘extra ears’ around? the way you cared for his comfort was making him almost giddy. “it’s fine, don’t worry. our café?” he asked, and you nodded, both of you thinking of the word ‘our’ and how natural it sounded.

the café was rather crowded, but most people were choosing takeout, so at least you wouldn’t have to stay in the queue for a table. was yeonjun still sure it was fine, though?.. had he expected so many people? maybe—little nudge to your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts, and yeonjun pointed at the empty table in the corner. you got a hint immediately, already turning away when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and tugged your hand to get your attention.

“sweet or hearty?” yeonjun asked, not letting your wrist go, as if you’d run away without answering his question the moment he did. 

you thought for a second, considering what you wanted more. “hearty,” you said finally, and he let your wrist go with a warm smile and little ‘okay’. “but i’m paying next time,” you said before turning around to go to the table, to which yeonjun only shook his head—you were adorable in your determination. 

when you finally sat down, the atmosphere became tense again—yet another heavy topic hovering over the two of you. you realized that you hated that feeling of discomfort around yeonjun and decided that you’d do your best to avoid it in the future by trying to talk everything out as early as possible. you simply hoped he felt the same and would be open to communication too. 

yeonjun didn’t go into details—they weren’t needed, and he told you that it wasn’t an easy topic and he still needed time—but what he said was enough for you. he said that he was in almost a year-long relationship with another wild rose who claimed she was his soulmate, but he found out she was lying when he felt the deep pain of his real soulmate, and it couldn’t be her. he said he was afraid of opening up again, especially when it came to wild roses—not only because he was afraid of being lied to again, but because any close relationship with a wild rose would end up in opening up. it wasn’t everything, yeonjun knew it perfectly, but he prayed it’d be enough as a first step. 

you asked him if he would avoid you if he knew from the very beginning, and after gathering all the bravery he could find, ру admitted that he most probably would. but he was quick to add that he didn’t regret befriending you and would lose so much if he let his prejudices cloud his judgement—thanks to you, he realized that his past behaviour was stupid and maybe even harmful to people around him. but he knew you focused on the first part of his answer to your question, despite many words after, and was anxious to hear what you had to say.

but you only surprised him with a small smile and said that you were fond of how real and true to himself he was, not trying to tell you that you were “different” and that he’d “never let his trust issues come between you two, even in the very beginning”. you weren’t asking it to test him or anything; the question left your mouth before you could think it through, but his answer was exactly what you wanted to hear, even if you didn’t know it—especially the many words he added after it.

yeonjun had known for a long enough time that you were surprising, but now he realized he couldn’t wait to find out more. but he also wanted to be just as caring and accepting for you, which it meant he had to continue opening up. it was a good thing that you didn’t look or sound judgemental when he talked about his past—you only nodded and said it was understandable, because soulmate bonds were sacred and it was especially so for wild roses; getting betrayed like that would affect anyone. 

the conversation didn’t fix everything on the spot, of course. you both knew that no matter how much you tried to ignore it, being wild roses would affect the way you communicated, especially when there were many things about it that you shared. when you confessed to yeonjun that you had no idea how to act around him now to not hurt him more, he promised—adding that he knew his promises seemed to mean nothing, but he still wanted you to believe him—that he would take the lead in your friendship if you weren’t against giving him control. you let out a breath and said you’d be happy if he did. surprising him again, of course.

yeonjun kept both the new promise and the previous one of not shutting you out—you slowly but surely started getting closer again, but sometimes on a more sentimental level than before, almost fully led by him. it wasn’t hard for you, because he often knew what you wanted or needed, and even when he didn’t, you had no problem with telling him straight, and he adjusted whatever needed to be adjusted so it was comfortable for both of you. 

you wished, though, the gap would get smaller just a bit faster, because sometimes you still walked on tiptoes around him and had to bite your tongue before joking about something like clicking so well on your shared patheticness regarding your soulmate situations. you knew he’d be fine with it—jokes like that slipped from your lips one or two times accidentally, and he laughed despite your endless apologies—but you were still afraid to say something wrong, knowing you didn’t know everything about his soulmate bond. and while you didn’t want to push him into opening up, keeping yourself back wasn’t too easy either. 

but you found out you had to be much more careful with what you wished for, when one friday you were called from work a bit after lunch break because you were flooding your neighbours from below. you thanked the heavens it was cold water, not hot, while basically running home, where your landlord had already been present with plumbing service and an electrician. turned out it wasn’t you’ it was your neighbours above. the good thing was, the damage done by the flooding wasn’t too huge—it mostly went down the wall. the bad thing? it went down the wall right behind the electricity panel.

the water supply in the apartment above was turned off by the time you arrived, so you sat in the living room waiting for the electrician to check how bad thongs was. it wasn’t too comfortable, as the power supply that was keeping the apartment warm had been turned off immediately, and it was one of the coldest weeks this winter—you didn’t even take your jacket off, not wanting to get cold. 

yeonjun arrived not so long after you—his apartment wasn’t flooded, he just had a day off and went to meet his family for brunch, and he was surprised to find the door to your apartment wide open in the middle of the day, when you were supposed to be working. he rushed to it, afraid something could happen to you, but only found you sitting on the couch of your living room, warming your hands between your thighs. 

you only gave him a brief description of what had happened, when the electrician came up to you and said that it’d be better not to turn on the power supply for a few days until it dried completely, and that you should call electricity services about three or four days later so they could check if it was safe to turn it on. he asked if you had a place to stay, and you threw a quick glance at yeonjun, who only nodded—his place was yours whenever you needed. 

so when everyone left, he helped you pack the stuff you might need at his place these few days and let you in, telling you a list of his apartment rules—you could do anything you wanted, take anything you needed, use anything your heart desired, but you had to tell him if you finished something so he could buy it—you were listening carefully, almost making notes to yourself.

“so… what else…” yeonjun turned to you. there wasn’t much to show you as you’d spent enough time there already and more or less knew everything. “oh, right. the most important thing,” he waited for your nod that showed you were ready to write it down in your head. “pineapple pizza is prohibited unless you persuade me well enough that you need it, and you have to prove your loyalty by eating mint choco ice cream every five hours,” the death stare you gave him only made him more playful. “even in the middle of the night, mouse. no exceptions,” he added as seriously as possible.

you looked at your bags that were still unpacked by the front door and tapped your chin as if you were thinking. “if i kill you by rapidly hitting you with a pillow right now, i might have enough time to grab my stuff and get an alibi…” you said, pretending to think out loud.

yeonjun only laughed, hooking his arm over your shoulder and leading you to the living room to sit on the couch. “i beg you. the only way i’d die if you try to do that, is from laughing at your pathetic attempts to overpower me,” he said through laughter, making you roll your eyes, but your smile betrayed what you really felt. you were happy. 

you ended up staying at yeonjun's place longer—at first until the next weekend instead of the beginning of the next week, because, for whatever reason, the electrician couldn't come earlier, and when he finally checked the electricity panel, it turned out a few really important parts had been flooded and it was impossible to air dry them, so you had to wait until their replacements arrived, and the estimated date of arrival was rather vague. if the first ‘living period extension’ made you feel bad, by the second one, yeonjun completely assured you that it was fine and he was actually happy to have you there.

sharing an apartment and sharing a bed—you agreed that it made no sense for either of you to suffer on the couch as yeonjun’s bed was even bigger than yours, and, well, you had slept together in yours already—had indeed brought you closer. it wasn’t exactly easy to hide melancholy, annoyance or, let alone, anger from someone you lived with, and it was hard to keep the reason to yourself when that someone was ready to give you listening ears, support, encouragement and anything you needed. so yeonjun started to open up to you too, slowly, including his soulmate situation.

it started with tiny glimpses of things he had felt when he was younger, presented in the form of questions—similar to the one he had asked about cross-stitching on the first day. but the biggest one was probably about period cramps. you remembered it well—you had never seen yeonjun that embarrassed and it was… cute. he barely cared when your period started while you were staying at his place, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed, but asking about it was completely different. 

yeonjun had noticed that you functioned more or less fine, only occasionally holding your lower tummy and refusing to take painkillers because it “wasn’t that bad”. it reminded him of how he used to experience really bad cramps every month when he was younger, but then, suddenly, they stopped. he later found out it was caused by his soulmate’s period at those moments, but he had been too embarrassed to ask someone why the pain had suddenly lessened, despite being incredibly curious about it. but he felt a bit more confident with you to ask about it, and the question wasn’t completely out of nowhere too. still, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed when the words left his mouth.

you were taken aback by the question, but assumed that it could happen because of birth-control pills, as many of them had that side-effect, as well as making pms a bit less… annoying. yeonjun barely thought before asking if your weren’t in that much pain because you were on pills too—he immediately wanted to apologize for the question, but you just shrugged and said that he was right. despite having really bad cramps when your period had first started in your early teenage years, you only experienced slight discomfort now, having taken the pills for years. 

but later yeonjun started letting you in more on the topic. it turned out that he hadn’t felt his soulmate for a really long time either, and breaking up with that liar of a wild rose was basically the reason why it happened. but he never called it ‘broken’; he always used ‘shut down’ when talking about it. when you asked him why he called it that way, he found out you had almost no idea how the bond worked, so he sat you on the couch and brought the box he thought he’d never touch again—not because of some bad memories or anything, but because he just didn’t need it anymore. yet it’d be much easier to explain everything he knew using these. 

yeonjun gave you the box and sat next to you on the couch. “you can open it and look through anything you find interesting,” he said, watching the way you hesitantly opened it and turned to him to take all the things out on the couch between you—a few notebooks, a tiny sketchbook, a bunch of different rose-themed tiny things, and a book, not bigger than his palm. looking at all of that was almost nostalgic for yeonjun.

the first thing that caught your attention was a little folded paper. you looked at yeonjun in question if you could read it, and he simply nodded. you opened it carefully, a big logo on the top of it catching your eye. soulmate matchmaking agency. you knew what the letter was—a mere automatic reply to any wild rose. you had a similar one lying somewhere between books you hadn't touched in years. 

they refused to work with wild roses for ethical reasons—it wasn't easy to check if two individuals of that bond were soulmates. you wondered if they still had that type of bond on their site in the drop-down list, only to send a refusal letter with apologies and some pathetic rose-themed souvenir. you got a postcard? you weren't sure. out of all possible things, you got the most stupid one. 

it probably was written all over your face, because yeonjun chuckled. “familiar letter?” he asked and you nodded. “i don't know why i saved it. probably just threw it there to all the other stuff when i got it,” he shrugged. “i sent an application, but found out they don't work with wild roses on some forums even before receiving… that. maybe they printed too many rose postcards and needed to get rid of them?”

you laughed and put the letter away, carefully taking the book next. you smiled, looking at it, your thumb caressing the cover gently—the silver decorations immediately caught your attention, when you saw it so many years ago in a box in the furthest room of your local library. you fell in love with it. the book was simply beautiful, and it looked good despite how old it was—it was maybe from the late 19th century, and you had no idea how a book so old could end up in a small library in some dusty old box where you found it. fleur de destin.

it felt like your fingers moved on its own when you opened page 138, making you realize that it was actually the number of your apartment now—what a coincidence. ‘rose sauvage’ was written at the top of it in a beautiful font, with drawings of thorny roses decorating it. you spent weeks looking at that page; translating old-fashioned french wasn���t too easy for an elementary schooler, especially as you had to use every translating dictionary you could find. and the result still was… questionable, but it was better than nothing. 

“so i can see you’re familiar with the book,” yeonjun said, when he saw how quickly you found the needed page and the way you smiled at it—almost fondly, as if you had only good memories about it. 

you nodded. “i found the same book in a library nearby when i was a child,” your gaze quickly ran over the lines you couldn’t even remember properly now. it was the only information you had on your bond for years, and it only had five ‘rules’—much less than other bonds in the book—and your translation left you with only three that you could understand properly. “i translated it, and it took a really long time to do it. and, still two of them made no sense, no matter how much i tried.” 

yeonjun’s eyes widened. “you translated it yourself? when you were a child? from french?” he was shocked. you were truly impressive—just like them. it wasn’t easy for him, when he was grown up; some words were extremely confusing, and putting them together in a sentence made it sound strange. “what exactly didn’t make sense to you?”

you looked at the lines again, finding the word ‘souffrance’. “the fourth one. i barely remember it, to be honest, but…” you bit your lip trying to recall the way you translated it. “something like… when it comes to pain, where one lacks, the other one has a lot?..” you said uncertainly. “and, um, it’s perfect and it won’t change. my only idea was about one being in pain and another not being in pain, but it sounded weird,” you admitted. 

your words make yeonjun chuckle. “it makes sense why you couldn’t understand it,” he smiled at you and took one of the notebooks lying on the couch. “the translation is a bit off, and you were also too young to understand the meaning,” he said, flipping through the pages. “it was ‘in matters of agony, where one is found wanting, the other is abundant, for such balance is divinely ordained and cannot be undone’,” he read out loud his note and looked up. 

you couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “you kept the old-fashioned style while translating?” it was so him—finding anything ‘yeonjun’ quickly became your favourite thing. “i loved it, though it barely cleared anything up.”

he shrugged. “anything for aesthetics,” he said, full of himself—he enjoyed how open you were about liking something he did, sometimes seeing the simplest things as if he put the stars in the sky. his friends sometimes used feeding his ego—or feeding his authoritative side—when they needed something from him, and yeonjun saw it perfectly, because it was a 180° switch in their behaviour, but he knew they actually thought that way, just kept it to themselves, so he gave in. and with you, it was almost the same, except you showed it—both admiration and obedience, actually—without exaggeration, it was exactly the way you felt. 

you smiled at yeonjun's proud face—confidence looked good on him, it was making him more attractive—you hadn’t even noticed the way the world slipped into your mind. you looked back at the book you were holding. “for aesthetics, but not for understandings?” you joked, before reaching out for the notebook he was holding to look at the proper translation, and he gave it to you without any problems. “so… instead of ‘lacks’, it’s ‘wants’,” you looked up and he nodded. “while one wants pain the other one… feels it?” it still made no sense. 

yeonjun shook his head. “not exactly. i'm sure you have read about it if you googled the bond,” he paused looking at the way you tried to recall anything that would be similar. “it's not that the other one feels it, they have it,” he explained. 

“is it…” you bit your lip, nails scratching finger pads in nervousness. you'd make a complete fool of yourself if you phrased it the way everyone said it, and it turned out to be not what he meant. you cleared your throat, deciding to use different words. “they have it for giving. is it about that…?” you threw a glance at yeonjun, and he obviously understood what you meant, but it seemed like he wanted you to say it straight. “about sadism—”

“and masochism, yes,” he finished for you with a foxy smile, ending the torture. “basically, it means one wants to receive pain and another one wants to give it, and they never switch roles,” yeonjun explained, watching your expressions. somehow, your reaction was important to him, as if deep inside, he wanted to know if his dreams were… realistic.

you bit your lip as your heart started beating faster—the conversation felt exposing, as if yeonjun knew the dirty things happening in your head. but it was one of the most commonly mentioned things about the bond, so it was nothing like that. “so… is any wild rose either a sadist or masochist?” you asked uncertainly, trying to fill the silence. “it's impossible for it to be different?”

yeonjun tilted head. the way you asked it… you weren't either of two and was thinking you were… broken in some way? “i don't think so,” he said, wanting to assure you that you weren't broken in any way. but the thought of his dreams lying to him about how much you enjoyed pain still hovered over him, and he tried to shoosh them away. “um, it also mentions ‘balance’, and while it's hard to find the truth, i think it's about the amount of pain.”

“you think… the balance is not in wanting to give or to receive pain, but in the amount they want to give or receive?” you asked, not completely sure you got him right. it made perfect sense—it was about soulmates after all. they were supposed to be perfect for each other in every way.

“yep,” yeonjun nodded. “i can’t be completely sure, because people usually keep that side of their lives to themselves… but i knew a couple who were rather open about it,” he chuckled, when he saw your widened eyes. “not in detail, i’m not that kind of a perv,” he laughed before continuing. “so one of them was a sadist and another one was a masochist, and they were… hardcore with it. the sadist one said that despite having a safe word, it was never used, simply because the masochist one always wanted to receive the exact amount of pain the sadist one wanted to give. and vice versa, of course.”

that’s how it was?.. once again, it made sense, and now it was obvious you wouldn’t have understood it back then, even with the right translation. “so, a soft sadist can’t be a hardcore masochist’s soulmate?” you asked, though you already knew what yeonjun would say. “they’re just incompatible.”

he nodded. “they are. it’s one of the way to check if you’re soulmates, but of course, a rather vague one,” yeonjun said and looked away in thought—should he tell more about his ex?.. he threw a glance at you. you seemed so soft, one of his sweaters on you—you’d gotten cold a few hours ago, and he just gave you the one he was wearing, as he was going to change into something thinner anyway. you weren't fidgeting with the book anymore, just hugging your knees to your chest and listening to him, softly slipping into melancholy. he didn't want to talk to you about his ex for whatever reason, it felt like mentioning her would shake the peaceful atmosphere. “so… yeah,” he said, trying to finish the thought.

you tilted your head, assuming yeonjun hadn’t said something he wanted to say, but shook it off—it was his right. you had something you were interested in anyway. “how does it feel for a sadist, though?” you asked, and he looked at you in question. “i mean, they enjoy giving pain, but when they do it to their soulmate, they should be feeling it too,” you explained. 

yeonjun shook his head. he was surprised how little you knew about the bond, but didn’t blame you—he spent years trying to find out the truth about how it worked in the midst of myths. “the bond has a bunch of… fuses? to protect soulmates,” he hoped you’d understand what he meant. “one wild rose can barely feel the pain they cause their soulmate, and self-inflicted pain isn’t exactly shared too, unless it’s the fifty-fifty rule—” he suddenly stopped. “you know the fifty-fifty rule, right?” 

you nodded. “any strong pain is shared equally, no matter the distance. they’d feel it even next to each other,” you said before biting your lip. “these… ‘fuses’ make it almost impossible to check if someone is your soulmate,” you sighed—its ‘protection’ felt more like a cage for one. was it protecting? yes, in some way. was it helping with finding your soulmate? not at all. “you can't pinch yourself to see if the person would feel it, because you're already near each other, and that fuse lessens it even more. the same goes for pinching the person to see if you'd feel it. how are you supposed to find your soulmate like that?”

these thoughts weren’t unfamiliar to yeonjun—he used to think that way for a long time, but eventually just accepted it, not wanting to make thoughts he already had worse. “you’re destined to meet with them, it’d bring you together no matter what,” he wasn’t sure he believed it himself—if it was true, he’d meet his soulmate by now, and you’d meet yours too. “even a shut down bond shouldn’t affect it. at least that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

you hugged your knees closer to your chest, laying your cheek on the couch’s backrest. “you keep on saying your bond is ‘shut down’, not ‘broken’ like mine,” you mumbled, caressing the rose keychain you took from the box, thorns tickling your thumb—the one similar to the one you had on the key you gave yeonjun the day you started talking.

yeonjun ran his fingers through his hair—it was easy to explain the concept, but it was much harder to explain that he believed it because he just wanted to. “it’s believed to be one of the fuses. when pain goes in cycles between soulmates, the bond shuts itself down to break the cycle until they stop hurting,” he explained, realizing how stupid it actually sounded, considering it had been shut down for him for almost a decade, even when the pain wasn’t so bad anymore.

you didn’t say anything—conversations about soulmates weren’t easy, especially when it felt like with each day the possibility of finding your soulmate was slipping through your fingers faster and faster. but it wasn’t the worst thing, because feeling the way you started slowly growing indifferent to it was much worse. you never realized how much of you was built on that bond and the trauma that went with it, until you started losing it, as well as losing yourself. you knew you wanted to let go of it, but you had no idea who you would be without it anymore. 

and then there was a thing you feared more than anything—if you open your heart to someone who wasn’t your soulmate, if you dared to fall in love with them, it meant that person still had their soulmate somewhere out there, and when they finally met them… you swallowed the lump in your throat—you hadn’t thought about it beforehand. you thought that opening yourself up to falling for someone who wasn’t your soulmate would protect you from the heartbreak caused by not meeting your soulmate, but in the end, it seemed like it’d only bring more pain. and now, it felt like dying alone was the lesser evil.

“do you really believe it’s unbreakable?..” you asked quietly, not sure if you were asking yeonjun it or thinking out loud. 

he didn’t reply immediately—he didn’t know, never thought of it. never wanted to think of it. and he decided to continue running away from it. “as far as i know, fleur de destin is right about—”

you interrupted him. “not fleur de destin. you,” you looked up. “do you believe it’s unbreakable?”

“i don’t know,” yeonjun admitted, looking away. “maybe i’d love to believe that i still have that connection with my soulmate despite not feeling them anymore,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “that there's still the possibility of meeting them one day and knowing for sure they are mine,” he swallowed thickly—opening up to anyone feeling too strange. he barely let these thoughts out in the open in his own head, but now he was saying it aloud to someone else. but it was you... “and i'm not sure which one is more painful—hope or lack of it,” he finished in almost whisper.

you didn't know either. you thought you’d experienced both, but could you be completely certain you had truly lost hope at some point?.. now, when you thought you were almost ready to give up and open your heart to someone else, you felt like your own thoughts and feelings were pushing you back in that cage—it was safe there, it was familiar there. was it the way losing hope felt? trying to dig your nails into it as deep as possible just to not let it go?

“i think mine is broken,” you mumbled, apathy slowly rising to the surface in an attempt to protect you from your own feelings. “not shut down. just broken. if it's impossible, i'm an exception. an error or a system failure. something broken,” you finished quietly. 

yeonjun felt his heart breaking at the way your voice sounded so empty and quiet; at how small you looked, hugging your knees to your chest, side of your head resting lifelessly on the backrest; at the empty look in your eyes as you looked through him. you looked like a shell right now, feelings and emotions turned off just so it didn't hurt so much. 

he quickly put everything back in the box and moved a bit closer to you, making space to lie down as he held his hand out to you. “come here,” yeonjun whispered softly, and you put your hand in his without thinking, not hesitating for a second. he tugged you closer, his other hand resting on your back, guiding you down until you were lying on his chest. “yes, just like that,” he praised you gently, one of his hands finding its place on the back of your head, playing with your hair to relax you. 

and you relaxed—obviously relaxed—in yeonjun's hold, and it felt so good for him. almost as good as when you lifted your hand to rest it on his chest, and he felt that you weren't just accepting his hug anymore, but were returning it—in the way you could in your current state. the way you shifted slightly up his body to be a little closer made his heart skip a beat—it felt like your coping indifference was slowly disappearing, making you seek comfort instead of accepting just anything, and you were seeking it from him.

yeonjun wanted to tell you that recently he started thinking more and more often that soulmates were overrated, and that maybe he wanted to just give up on waiting for that ‘one and only’ and open himself to someone else; that you weren't broken at all, and if you were, it’d make two of you. but he only whispered the sweetest praises he could come up with, hoping to pull you out of that dark place completely. 

it was nice—the nicest you'd ever felt, probably. yeonjun’s hold was warm and comfortable; it felt firm but still gentle, his arms safe, protecting you from anything—even from yourself. you could barely understand what he was saying, but it sounded like something so nice, and his breathy, soft voice lulled you to sleep better than any lullaby you'd ever heard. it felt like all of your senses were overwhelmed with him—his scent, his touches, his voice—and it felt like home.

the same thought appeared in your heads almost at the same time. but while yours was more like a phantom of a thought in a tired, half-asleep brain that you probably wouldn’t even remember the next morning, yeonjun's one was bright and clear as a day. since he discovered that you were a wild rose and told you he was one too, the line of friendship—that already seemed blurry for some people who saw you together—seemed to be fading slowly, and he was the one doing it almost on purpose. he’d promised you to lead your friendship, and you’d trusted him to do so. would you hate him for leading it in that direction?..

yeonjun fell asleep a bit later—he tried to think about what to do next, when you would wake up on his chest and probably freak out, trying to pretend it never happened, and what to do later to bring you back closer, when you tried to keep the distance after falling asleep on him. he was a selfish man, and you seemed just perfect for him—as a friend for sure, as something more… he didn't know yet. but he didn't want to let you go. he would—of course, he would—if you told him to, but he saw the way you needed him, knew that he was the first person you came to when you needed comfort and warmth.

the thoughts were tiring yeonjun out too much, though, and he decided to just go with the flow and watch you—after all, you kept surprising him, maybe you'd surprise him here too. so he closed his eyes and focused on the sound of your breathing and the way it felt so nice under his collarbone. your scent was enveloping him too, but he couldn't get rid of the thin, barely noticeable notes of his scent—perfume, hand soap, laundry conditioner—woven into yours, and he tried to push the thoughts of possession and belonging away, filling his head with you and falling into soft, gentle hands of sleep.

yeonjun woke up just a few hours later, in the middle of the night, from you fidgeting on top of him. at first, he thought you were having another wet dream—it wasn't that you got them too often, but he had woken up to your soft, barely heard whimpers only a few times, and it was enough for him to grasp what exactly you dreamed about. and, maybe, who you dreamed about too.

the first time it happened, on the second night of you staying at his place, yeonjun was almost scared, when he returned after jerking off in the bathroom—he had a wet dream that night too—and found you curled into a ball and whimpering. he thought you were having a nightmare. he crouched down next to the bed and tried to stir you awake, but you seemed a bit… strange for someone who was just awakened from a nightmare. you sat down to pull yourself together a bit, and he smelled it, it felt like he could almost taste your arousal, and it tasted so sweet, he nearly popped a boner again. 

you avoided yeonjun the next morning, but he knew well when to play oblivious. he asked you if the nightmare was too bad, telling you he went to get some water and woke you up immediately after returning and was so sleepy, so you let your guard down, believing he just didn’t notice any signs—if there were any. so when it happened next time, he just pretended he was asleep—he wanted to leave at all, but decided it wouldn’t look good if you woke up and saw his absence—you most probably would think you woke him up and he left. and when you hesitantly asked him the next morning how he slept, he shrugged and said he had dreamed of something weird like a few thousands of bees fighting godzilla, but nothing else.

yeonjun didn’t want to make you feel embarrassed, had no desire to even tease you about something you couldn’t control, but the way your were mewling his name so softly and quietly into your pillow or the fox plushie you took from your apartment first, was stroking his ego and made him hard sometimes just from the thought of it. so of course he started having more wet dreams too—but at least you weren’t a light sleeper like him. or maybe you were, and were doing the same thing he was doing… 

but that time yeonjun was sure you weren’t having one—your breathing was calm and you barely made any sounds, so you were probably just trying to find a more comfortable position. cute, he thought, caressing your back. but you were right—kind of, at least the way he saw your fidgeting—you both should move to the bed, as it was much more comfortable. and even though he perfectly knew that you’d be sleeping on different sides of the bed and he didn’t want to let you go, because your weight on top of him was comforting, he still shook your shoulder gently—your comfort was much more important.

“wake up, mouse,” yeonjun whispered, ruffling your hair a bit and making you nuzzle closer to him, refusing to wake up. “no-ope,” he chuckled, ticking your side, his heart warm at your clinginess, “wake up and let’s go to bed.”

you grumped into his skin. “comfy,” you murmured, completely refusing to cooperate. 

usually yeonjun would make you do what he wanted you to do, but his heart melted at your sleepy admission of being comfortable—something he doubted he’d get if you weren’t so sleepy—so he decided to do everything himself and carry you to the bed without making you move yourself. you still woke up a bit, but not enough to start seriously protesting and assuring him you could walk on your own. 

of course, yeonjun put you on your side and laid down himself the way you two always slept—with a gap between you. he didn’t expect you to crawl and cling to him, and you didn’t. but you still surprised him by hesitantly reaching out and laying one of your fingers on his, as if even hooking it around would be too much for you, too close. he was happy nevertheless to see that you wanted to touch him too, and he fell asleep content, his finger moving almost on its own to caress yours.  

since then, the line between you two started fading faster—even when you were finally able to return to your own apartment, some nights you spent at yeonjun’s place. it made sense to just stay there after another conversation in his living room that went past midnight—you had a lot of your stuff in his apartment anyway. and he stayed at yours too from time to time, so even when you were alone in your apartment—quiet and empty without him there—you still had signs of him wherever you looked. 

it was scaring you. the way your view on many things started changing scared you too. but you were afraid to ask yeonjun about where the two of you stood, and more than that, you were afraid of hearing his answer. ‘being something more’ scared you even worse than staying just friends—whenever you thought about it, your brain immediately pictured him with his soulmate when he found them, not caring about you or whatever you had anymore. 

it was hard to keep inside, and you couldn't go to yeonjun about it, so when these thoughts filled your mind to the brim, they spilled over to the only person you trusted almost as much as you trusted yeonjun—soobin.

“what would you do if you met your soulmate while dating someone else?” you blurted out one morning, standing next to the coffee machine in the tiny office kitchen, staring at it.

at first, soobin wanted to tease you, but the way you'd been occupying the coffee machine for a few minutes already without turning it on, just standing next to it with your cup inside, he decided it wasn't the time. “i don't know how exactly I'd reject my soulmate, but i would,” he shrugged. 

you pressed your lips together. “but they’re your soulmate. someone perfect for you.”

soobin shrugged again and chose coffee for you on the little screen before turning the coffee machine on. “and another one is my partner, someone i chose for me,” he said simply—he knew you weren’t judging him for choosing partner over soulmate, especially since you probably had the same view, but it seemed like you weren’t asking for yourself. “yeonjun?”

“huh?” you looked at soobin a bit lost at the sudden mention of his name, but, realizing what he was implying, you mumbled. “i don’t know…”

he didn’t want to bother you anymore about it, given how confused you were—he doubted he could help anyway except by giving you a little chocolate bar and a few kind words as a sign of support when you were back at your tables. you didn’t expect him, though, because the only one who could clear that confusion was yeonjun, and soobin already did enough—showed you that there were people who had that view on dating someone other than their soulmate.

you didn’t ask yeonjun about it that day. or the next day. or the day after. you were scared he’d get the reason behind the question wrongly—except deep inside, you knew the reason he might think about would be right, but you refused to admit it to yourself even, let alone to him. 

but yeonjun asked you that himself one day, in yet another one of your long conversation about soulmates, and before you could say anything, he answered the question himself—he did it often when the question was serious and he wanted to show you that he was ready to answer the question he asked, while you didn’t even have to. his answer was almost the same as soobin’s, and you hesitantly said you thought the same. 

unlike what you expected, the conversation went just as it had before, as if the question wasn’t asked at all. but you didn’t know yeonjun had made a note about that—he’d been making lots of mental notes like that recently. he noted the way you shied away when he tried to push, so he stopped, letting you control the pace with which your relationship was developing into… something. he was leading the way it developed, though, staying on high alert about whatever he did or said whenever the atmosphere shifted after conversations about soulmates or dating. it was tiring, so he loved it when you let yourself be free without thinking twice.

“you know,” yeonjun started one friday-almost-night, pausing the movie you were watching—it was horror and it seemed like he tried to avoid watching it at all, because he paused it three minutes in. “fleur de destin also has ‘colours of soulmates’ on the last page. have you translated it too?” he asked.

you nodded. “it was easy compared to the wild roses part,” you answered after swallowing a handful of popcorn—it was meant to be finished before the movie started properly, with the way yeonjun paused it every half a minute. “just a few epithets for each colour. look, we don’t have to watch it—”

“it’s fine,” yeonjun said firmly—you said you wanted to watch it despite being a scaredy-cat, and he was determined to ‘protect’ you from scary pictures and sounds. “just got a question out of nowhere,” he said and you nodded with a small teasing smile—of course. “so. as we both obviously say ‘fuck you, both of our soulmates’— why are you laughing?” he tried to sound serious, but his smile was even heard in his voice.

you shook your head, trying to contain your giggles. “i’m not sure when i said it, but i do feel that i agree with the take. sorry, continue.” 

yeonjun cleared his throat, and you tried your best not to laugh at how badly he tried to act serious. “so. what colour of relationship would you prefer to have?”

you didn't remember when you thought about it last time. colours of soulmates weren't exactly something you could check—mostly, it had just made sense to connect flowers to colours and use it for describing the main nature and vibe of the relationship between soulmates. you didn't choose it, you just naturally gravitated toward ‘one of the colours’ just like your soulmate did, and in the end, you made a perfect couple with the same wants and needs.

“i don't know… maybe i'm closer to pink?” you answered uncertainly—pink was… safe, but not boring. it was soft, loving, caring, silly at times, but still gentle and sweet. not too innocent, but not too emotional and passionate on the verge of fights either. perfect balance. “or maybe blue…” that one was new for you, heavily influenced by yeonjun and how deep your conversation with him went sometimes, how in tune you seemed to be with each other’s emotions. “i'm not sure…” you didn't want to continue thinking about it—you had already chosen the colours you'd describe your friendship with him. you didn't like the way your thoughts were going.

yeonjun chuckled—you were predictable in the most beautiful way. “nothing intense? no red and black?” he teased, already knowing the answer. you seemed like the epitome of pink, who needed blue sometimes. but he wasn’t exactly blue. he knew people who were, and he certainly wasn’t one—they weren’t as emotionally closed off as he was, and their bonds were built on deep, mutual connection. it didn’t come naturally to him. usually, he only revealed the surface, keeping his deepest fears locked away. he would love it, though—a faint blue gloss to his relationship. he would love to be able to open up, and he felt like pink friendship with you had exactly the right shade of blue shining on the surface. “boring baby,” he sing-songed.

you huffed, rolling your eyes and pushing his shoulder. “safe one. i want my relationship to be my safe haven,” you explained. “somewhere where i won’t be judged for anything, where i can truly relax and not wear any masks,” you got so wrapped up in protecting your ‘boring pink dream’, that you were far from noticing the way yeonjun was looking at you with the softest smile he just couldn’t keep inside. “i want to do silly things and not be afraid of getting laughed at and—” you stopped and looked at him. “what are you laughing at?!” you grabbed the nearby pillow aiming it at him.

yeonjun’s smile turned into laughter and he covered his head with his forearms as you swung the pillow at him. “i was smiling, dummy,” he tried to say through his laughter, as you kept on hitting him with the pillow wherever you could reach, making him back down until he was pressed between the backrest and armrest of the couch and you towered over him on your knees, cheeks and abs already sore from laughing. “okay-okay, give me it before you hurt yourself,” he laughed, trying to take the pillow away from your hands.

you only shook your head and stretched your hand up, holding the pillow as high as possible—yeonjun had no chance of taking it from you, height difference or not, since you were on your knees while he, as a sore loser, was sitting on his butt. he tried to lift himself up, but you placed your free hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him down, the leverage giving you an opportunity to hold the pillow even higher. 

your determination was admirable, but yeonjun knew just the way to make you lose composure for a second—and that would be more than enough. “enjoying being on top, darling?” he asked with a smirk, looking up at you, his face even foxier than usual, making your eyes widen and your knees back off for a split second—just enough time for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and pull you down on his lap carelessly, quickly snatching the pillow from your hands. “just like that,” he sing-songed, tossing the pillow somewhere else. 

yeonjun's hand still was on your waist, his thumb caressing your skin through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, making your breath hitch as you froze, heart thumping wildly in your chest—the two of you’d never been that close, and it was making you dizzy. you could feel his warm breath on your lips, carrying the scent of sweet mint and caramel popcorn long forgotten on the coffee table; only now did you notice your pinky kept accidentally brushing against skin of his shoulder, right next to the wide stripe of his tank top—you caressed it on purpose, barely aware of what you were doing. he was so warm…

you forced yourself to move your gaze away from his shoulder—you weren’t sure how a mere joint of bones could be so beautiful and captivating—and finally looked him in the eyes, swallowing thickly. of course, you knew they were dark—you didn’t need to have a phd in biology to know that—but you weren't sure they had always been that dark, like a fathomless pit in the ground that would swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. but you knew it only promised softness, warmth and endless sweetness—you’d gladly fall into it on your own.

yeonjun was captivated by the way you studied him, as if you were seeing him for the first time. it felt like he was witnessing the gears in your head turning, slowly piecing together a realization he had reached long ago. and the sight was truly breathtaking. he would let you study him all you wanted, however you wanted—with your eyes, hands, lips—if it meant you wouldn’t shy away from him when it was his turn to study you however he wanted. 

the realization finally settled in—you both could see it. you opened your mouth to say something, but your words were stuck in your throat and your brain was absolutely empty. yeonjun knew well enough that whenever your mind went blank, it often was quick to be filled with anxiety, so he did the only thing his brain—affected by your proximity too—came up with. he put his hand on the side of your neck gently, thumb on your cheek, as he pressed his lips softly to the corner of your lips—barely a touch, but it already made your brain short-circuit, heart going absolutely crazy in your chest. 

yeonjun felt his mind getting clouded too—he realized it, bright as a day when he felt your rapid pulse under his lips. he hadn't noticed when he moved his kisses to your neck—your sweet scent, the sounds you were making, the softness of your skin under his lips, everything was too intoxicating, exactly the way it was in his dreams and even better because it was real you—he had to force himself to stop. he had to clear your mind too. at least a bit—enough to give him a clear answer. 

“mouse,” yeonjun whispered, putting all of his strength into pulling away from your neck and laying his forehead on your shoulder. “[ yn ], darling. squeeze my right shoulder if you want me to stop or left one if you want me to continue,” he whispered, careful not to make unnecessary moves, not wanting to affect your choice or make you act on instinct like squeezing the shoulder he moved. he needed you to think, even if the only thing he wanted to do was to wrap his arms around you and press you into himself so hard that you could feel each other's heartbeats and barely breath, and to torture your neck with his mouth until it was sore and you begged him to stop. 

the words were a blur in your dazed mind—right, stop, shoulder, continue. stop… no, no stop… right shoulder—no, left shoulder, it was left. fingers of your left hand almost twitched and you forced them to freeze—wrong, it had to be your right hand. you squeezed fingers of your right hand hesitantly, before repeating the gesture a bit more certainly. 

you were embarrassed to ask for more, but it felt so, so good. yeonjun was always rough in your dreams, bringing you the sweetest pain you could imagine, and despite perfectly knowing it was just dreams, they still were affecting the way you saw him—you simply never expected him to be so gentle, and it was making you lose your mind even more, probably. the way he held your waist as if you were fragile, the way his kisses were feather-light, barely leaving any sign of his presence there—and you wished these marks were permanent—everything was making you dizzy again. 

yeonjun was scared of hurting you, afraid you might break if he wasn’t careful enough. he didn’t want to scare you off with how much he wanted to hurt you too—it sounded wrong even in his own head, no matter how much he tried to assure himself he meant it in a beautiful way full of pleasure. and he was ready to push each one of his dark and ugly desires deep inside and never let it come back if it meant he could keep holding you like that. he knew he was going absolutely insane, but at that moment he didn’t care—your sweetness was coating each one of his senses and he couldn't wish for anything else. 

you clenched the fabric of his tank top on his shoulders in your fingers, nails softly scratching his skin, and you moved your fingers away instinctively, leaving only the heels of your palms there—you were on the other side of that pain specter, it almost came naturally to you, but yeonjun moved his kisses up your neck slowly, whispering that it was fine, that you didn’t have to control yourself that bad with him. you nodded shakily and pressed your nails into your palms.

yeonjun moved you a bit closer up his thighs, chuckling breathily into the skin between your neck and shoulder. “don't hurt yourself, mouse,” he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive skin as he reached out for your hand on his shoulder and took it in his, unclenching your fingers with his thumb. i want to be the one to do it, he continued in his head—he was sure he’d never let you know it and would never act on it, as he was gently holding your hand in his on your thigh. you were his little flower. his pink, gentle wild rose, and he couldn’t care less about your soulmate wandering around somewhere—they lost their chance the moment you hesitantly squeezed his left shoulder. 

the sounds you were making were becoming more and more shaky with every inch yeonjun’s lips moved down, your hand squeezing his. he tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, opening the top of the stem on your chest, almost groaning at the sight. yes, it was intimate—you came a long way to feel comfortable enough around him to wear something that showed even half an inch of it, and he felt blessed by your trust, but at the same time it was a mark. a mark of belonging, just like he had on his back, and he hated both. 

yeonjun pressed his lips to the lonely stem—oh, how he wanted to paint it with his bites and marks, to turn it into a mark of you belonging to him, not to some random who hurt you so much and made you feel like you had lost your soulmate, as if you were completely alone in that cruel world. but he couldn’t; not right now at least. maybe one day you would be kind enough to bless him by letting him do it, by allowing him to make the rose stem on your chest bloom with beautiful red flowers made by his lips and teeth. 

you froze when yeonjun’s lips touched the mark, though—all the pictures of everything that could go wrong because of falling for someone who wasn’t your soulmate flashing before your eyes like a slideshow with no happy ending. you could love someone—your brain refused to put his name there—as hard as your heart could and choose them even after meeting your soulmate, but it didn’t guarantee anything if they had a change of mind or heart when they met their one. the dizzying sweetness that was filling your heart just a moment ago was replaced with a sickening fear that was clawing on it, trying to leave the deepest marks it could.

“jun,” you choked out, weakly pushing him away by the shoulder where your hand still rested. you couldn’t do it—it was too painful, too terrifying.

your tiny, quiet call felt for yeonjun like a bucket of cold water had been poured all over him—the first second, it felt like you could read his mind and see all of his ugly thoughts, but the way your other hand was still holding his hand grounded him, chasing those thoughts away. he moved his head away from you and placed the hand that had been holding you waist on the couch next to your knee, fingers itching to caress it, but he held himself back. you didn’t look at him, your eyes glued to the hand you were still holding—you refused to let it go and he barely tried, if he was honest. 

“i’m scared,” you whispered before yeonjun could ask you anything or, worse, apologize. “of…” you opened your mouth to explain, but couldn't find words—of what? of him finally meeting someone destined for him, someone he'd been waiting for his whole life, who he’d gone through a terrible heartbreak and betrayal for? in no universe was it the right thing to think, let alone say out loud. you only shook your head in shame—for your behaviour, for your thoughts, for your feelings.

yeonjun was confused—what were you scared of?... him? his behaviour? getting so close to him? physically? emotionally?... he tried to find the answer in your eyes, but you still didn't look at him, and he wasn't sure what to do. he so often dealt with stuff by ‘manhandling’ everyone, that he had no idea what to do with you now, when he didn't know if it was right to touch you. he squeezed your hand that still was in his, though. “you don't have to be scared,” he whispered, trying not to make any unnecessary moves—you still were on his lap after all. “and thank you for stopping me.”

you looked at yeonjun puzzled. for… stopping him? he wasn't upset or angry or annoyed—he was thankful? this confusion pushed all the other thoughts away, as if it cleared the fog inside your head, making your brain start working to understand what he meant. you tried to find a hint of mockery in his eyes, tried to recall if you’d heard sarcasm in his voice, but there was nothing—he was sincere, absolutely sincere, looking at you with a soft smile. it felt like it was impossible to predict how else he'd surprise you next time, how he'd give you a glimpse of what a beautiful human being he actually was. 

when yeonjun asked you if you wanted to continue watching the movie or go home, you hesitantly admitted that you'd prefer the first option, but were anxious that the thing that had just happened between the two of you might ruin the night—and everything else, you added in your head—but he promised to keep the atmosphere light, and about ten minutes into the movie, the air around you became significantly less charged when he yelped and you whimpered at the way the demon appeared behind the character’s shoulder in the mirror, covering your faces with hands.

by the end of the movie you were hiding in yeonjun’s shoulder most of the time, not even lifting your head when nothing scary was happening, just turning it slightly to the screen—both in case of another jumpscare and because one of the main characters was on the verge of death. he never pushed your head away but teased you endlessly—while he wasn’t busy covering his face—for being so dramatic about a death that you knew perfectly well wouldn't happen, and later—for the way you basically fangirled over the character being saved by his wife. 

yeonjun couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you were, passionately trying to convince him that the couple of the main characters were completely pink and perfect with how much they cared for each other and how all-consuming yet sweet yet grown-up their love was. he wondered if that was what you wanted, what you dreamed of, trying to push the doubts away—would he be able to give you that? the one who felt red for his whole life, but dreamed of pink deep inside? could it be that your sweetness and gentleness of white would soften his red into the pink you both wanted? or would he only stain it? 

you stayed at yeonjun’s place that night, too scared to be in your empty apartment completely alone, even with a nightlight or just  a light turned on everywhere. and you realized you were right when you woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall asleep anymore, because whenever you closed your eyes, you saw all the ugly ghosts and demons you had seen for your whole life in games or movies, so you just sat on his bed leaning on the headboard and hugging your knees in the pitch-dark room. 

yeonjun stirred awake not so long after, slightly jolting at the shadowy shape sitting on the bed, before realizing it was just you, and leaned up on his elbows. “why are you not sleeping?” 

you sheepishly traced random patterns on your knee with your nail. “whenever i close my eyes i see the face of that ugly demon in nun clothes,” you mumbled, bringing your knees closer to your chest—you didn’t want to wake yeonjun up.

he hummed and sat up properly, reaching out for the remote control and turning the tv on. “why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, trying to find something more or less neutral and stopping at some old episode of the ‘culinary class wars’. “wake me up next time, okay?” he lowered the volume to almost nothing and put the remote back, lying down. “want me to hold you?”

you hesitated before nodding and crawling to him, laying your head down on his chest. “you have to wake up early for classes,” you mumbled to answer one of his questions, subconsciously moving a bit closer to him—he felt like the epitome of safety, and you couldn’t care less about anything else when you needed it so badly. 

yeonjun hummed again, wrapping his arm around you and closing his eyes. it was only the second time you slept like that, and he was getting used to it a bit too fast—a few more times and his chest would feel too light and cold without you there, so he wanted to write it into his memory to never forget the way it felt. he was almost sure that in the morning you’d have to address the way he lost his mind the moment you were on his lap, and he didn’t know if it would end well. 

but you decided to address it earlier—you looked up at yeonjun and noticed the way his closed eyes still twitched a bit, the blue tv light making the room just bright enough to see it, and he opened them almost immediately anyway, feeling your movements on his chest. “about what happened before the movie…” you whispered, nails scratching the pads of your fingers, trying to lessen the nervousness. 

yeonjun interrupted you, though—he wasn’t sure he’d find enough bravery to say it so raw or say it at all if he had time to think about it. “i’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. “i don’t think it was a mistake, but if you want to pretend it never happened—” he couldn’t find the words to continue—he simply didn’t know what was right. 

was he going to pretend it never happened too and just continue being friends like before? when it was obviously too late and would only bring him another heartbreak eventually, after he’d opened his heart for the first time in almost a decade? was he going to pretend your friendship never happened? pretend that you were no one to each other after everything you’d been through together? it was even worse, because it was basically impossible to do that—the bond you two had built with your own hands was too strong now. he couldn’t even dare to call letting you in a mistake in his own head, even if it was meant to bring him only heartbreak, no matter what he did next.

“i’m scared,” you whispered, your voice barely heard behind yeonjun’s thoughts, but it still caught his attention, and you felt him tense, waiting for you to continue. “scared of what it meant, of how it’d change things between us,” you paused, trying to find the courage to say the next words. “i’m afraid of getting hurt in the end,” you confessed quietly. 

wild roses had always been well-acquainted with pain—the steady presence woven into their existence. it had never been a stranger, never something to flinch from. half of them found pleasure in the rawness of it, while another half preferred to be the hand that delivered it—pain and wild roses walked side by side. but just as physical pain was a familiar companion, emotional pain was a relentless adversary, it lurked in the shadows, frightening even the ones who craved getting hurt. 

so yeonjun wasn’t surprised to hear it—he perfectly knew the way it felt, and it was probably even worse for you with how gentle and soft you were. he tightened his arm around you subconsciously, wanting to protect you. “i’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he whispered into your hair, “to protect you from any pain too. do you want to try?” 

did you want to? you were scared to answer it—one answer was a lie and the other one was… dangerous. so you decided to answer with the one that felt the safest. “i don’t know,” you whispered. 

yeonjun knew you did, and he knew you weren’t trying to deceive him with your words—you were just scared of getting your heart broken. he was too; it was always a risk when you dated someone who wasn’t your soulmate, but for him it was worth the risk—you were worth it. he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “it’s okay. we could just try.” 

you couldn’t push these thoughts away, though—what if he met his soulmate… but you knew yeonjun was waiting for your answer instead of getting the rest he so desperately needed between two tiring workdays. you clenched the fabric of his tank top and took a deep breath. “would you…” you swallowed—it sounded shaky and pathetic even to you, but you still continued. “if you meet your soulmate when we—” you didn’t dare to say the word yet, but he understood—he always did.

“no. no, i wouldn’t,” yeonjun said firmly. he knew it was ‘would you leave me for them’—you always chose pessimistic phrasings in questions like that. “i’ve spent years waiting for someone i don’t know, someone who doesn't know me,” he pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. “i’m tired of that. i wouldn’t throw away something real for a stranger,” he hoped you’d look at him so you could see how sincere he was, but your gaze was glued to your fingers clenching his tank top. “i know you. and i want you. that’s my choice,” he finished, his voice soft. 

you felt your eyes tingle, a lump forming in your throat—you wanted to believe him so, so badly, was it fair to him to be such a coward? was it fair to yourself? didn’t you deserve happiness? even if it was short-lived, it was at least something. and if everything ended with him meeting his soulmate, it could mean that it was possible for you to meet yours too, one day. you bit your lip and took a deep breath. “okay…” you whispered. “okay, we could… try.”

yeonjun felt happiness bubble in his chest, as if flowers were blooming inside—tiny, pretty pink roses, gentle and delicate, with thorns too young and soft to truly hurt anyone. a stark contrast to the way huge, bloody red roses had pierced through his heart when a drunken seven minutes in heaven at some high school party brought him and his now-ex together. it wasn’t passion that was all-consuming that time, but quiet happiness that he didn’t want to share with the world yet because it was still too young—only with you. so he held you closer, murmuring that he felt so happy, as you finally relaxed, your body no longer tense, and closed his eyes, anticipating the next days. 

you fell asleep just a bit earlier—your head felt too light after such a weight was lifted off your shoulders, and you snuggled closer in an attempt to fill your mind with yeonjun so you wouldn’t overthink, and he once again knew what you needed, helping you with it—caressing your arm, murmuring something you couldn’t understand anymore, and bringing your head just a bit closer to his neck so you could feel his scent better. he was so good at overwhelming your senses, and you both knew it.

← to chapter 1 | ♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 3 →

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[buttdumplin]

im starting to see a lot of nanami art where he's scarred up on his left side and with an eyepatch and im eating the fuck UP

[thinkinonsense]

Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

[wcnderlnds]

home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly. 

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

[marblehazel]

Sitter

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

You’re spending spring break alone at home while your father is five thousand miles away when all of sudden, you fall sick. Enter Joel Miller: your father’s buddy, sent by him to check on you.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, no mother in the picture but your father has a named girlfriend (sorry), no bra household, dry humping, footjob while watching SpongeBob, oral (m and f receiving)

Word count: 6.8k

“Dad,” your voice is hoarse like it has just come out from a dying goose, and you spend the next five seconds trying to clear your throat.

“So like, I’m… sick, kinda, but it’s not really bad, so—” A train of coughs that feels like they are going to tear your lungs apart. “—sorry about that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry too much, don’t even think about it. I just wanted to let you know.” Another coughing fit. “Okay. Have fun, I love you.”

You click your phone screen and let the voicemail find its way to your father’s ancient block of telecommunication. It’s 11 p.m. for you, 5 a.m. in Tuscany, you calculate with your fingers. You might be wrong. Either way, your father is probably asleep. He had been away for a couple of days with his girlfriend Amy for her nephew's wedding. And they plan to spend another week there, because it’s their anniversary, and Amy had always wanted to go to Italy.

“Will you be okay?” your father asked, apologetic. He leaned onto your bedroom door’s frame while you were unpacking your backpack.

“Yeah, Dad, what am I, eight? Go.” you laughed lightheartedly.

“It’s just you came down here from school and then I go, you know. I wish you’d said yes and come with us.”

“And third-wheeling you and Amy for ten days?” you giggled. “Dad, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll still have the weekend together when you come back.”

You heard Amy call for your father from downstairs, followed by a question about his dress shirt. You grinned, gesturing for him to go.

“Me and Amy will make sure the fridge is full, okay?” he says, voice fading as he steps down the stairs. You shook your head. You’ve survived on dry ramens and day-old coffees in college. You would be okay. Right?

Loud buzzer sound. The game show on the TV you put on to distract yourself from the fever is not doing a good job. You try to focus, but the noises coming out of it sound muffled, and the colors are just so bright and saturated that they make your head spin. You click on mute before slamming the remote on the coffee table, and it lands safely on some crumpled Kleenex. A thermometer is sitting next to the box, the tiny display screen blank. It’s broken, and you make a mental note to scold your father for always keeping faulty things around the house as if he’s going to fix them. A few bottles of pills you fished out of your father’s medicine cabinet to at least ease your aching muscles are toppled next to a half-empty Nyquil Nighttime Relief bottle with its cap screwed but crooked.

You second-guess your decision to let your father know that you’re unwell. But again, he hates surprises, so letting him know that he might find your rotting corpse in front of his TV when he gets back is, perhaps, doing him a favor.

It’s dark in the living room, and the leather couch is sticking to your sweaty leg. You should probably put sweatpants and a hoodie on instead of biker shorts and a stretched out shirt that looks more like a rag than a proper clothing item. But climbing the stairs now? No, thank you.

You shift your body, trying to find the best position to fall asleep in since the wrong angle seems to block your nasal passage. A groan leaves your throat when you can’t pull the fleece blanket to cover your body. You find out you are sitting on both ends of it. To hell with it.

You blink slowly. The Nyquil seems to start working. Can’t sneeze or cough if you’re knocked out, you think. You close your eyes, the colors from the TV somehow find their way in and flash washed-out red, white, yellow behind your eyelids. You’re too tired to reach for the remote.

Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.

You jolt when something cold makes contact with your forehead. Within microseconds, you yeet the thing away hysterically, hitting yourself in the process. The thing flies and lands on the wooden floor with a wet, thwap sound.

“Easy, easy,”

If it was just a little bit not so sudden and confusing and designed to constrict your blood vessels until your organs fail, you would have yelped. You nearly snap your neck trying to find the source of the voice, and your tense shoulders fall as quickly as they were raised when you notice the familiar face belonging to a broad frame standing next to the couch.

It’s Joel Miller.

Of course it’s him. Your father likely has him on speed dial.

He and your father go way back. Went to the same school, crushed on the same girls, hit the same bong, and so on. They were even in a band together. Your father has pictures of them from years ago, with greasy hair, earrings, bass and drumsticks in their hands. Cringe.

Well, just your father. Not Joel though.

You haven’t seen him in like, what, a year? And yet he looks good as ever. Well, Joel has always looked good his whole life. When you saw the pictures of him from high school you thought, Oh Fuck, I Would Totally Have A Crush On This Guy. And then you had to sit in silence and ponder, because, well, you are having a crush on this guy. Sort of. Maybe.

He bends over to pick up the thing you just yeeted on the floor, which is apparently a washcloth, and dunk it in a basin on the side table, which is now clean from all the stuff that was previously there.

“Joel,” you chirp. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he smiles as he squeezes the washcloth. Beads of water come trickling down his knuckles back to the basin, gleaming in front of the still-turned-on TV.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. What time is this?” you straighten up, rummaging around the blanket to find your phone to no avail.

“One-thirty. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Your old man asked me to check on you." He folds the cloth in two and dab it before stepping closer and pressing it against your forehead, nice and cold. His other hand supports your head from the back, basically cradling your skull.

“Your front door was unlocked when I came in.” says Joel, as if you are capable of digesting any kind of information at the moment. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “And sorry my Dad made you come here. You didn’t have to, it’s not so bad.”

“Come on, it’s only a ten minute drive. ‘S okay. I checked your forehead. Not too bad, but still a fever, y’know. You took the Nyquil?”

The thought of Joel Miller touching your forehead with his palm in the dark while you were asleep somehow makes the neurons in your brain stop interlinking for a second. Were you sleeping with your mouth open the whole time? You knew you did fall asleep that way since you couldn’t breathe through your nose. Man.

“I did.” you nod, shaking the thought away. You feel your lungs tighten, though. Another coughing fit incoming.

“Good,” Joel presses his hand to your forehead again as if trying to make sure the wet washcloth is properly glued onto your face. The soft pressure disrupts your composure and you cough like a machine gun submerged in a container full of Elmer’s glue, hacking up thick mucus up your throat. Joel leaves your side with hurried steps and, within seconds, somehow has a paper cup under your chin for you to spit into.

You try to grab the cup, flustered, but he doesn’t let go and instead helps you sit up straight, patting your back.

“Spit.” he says as you wheeze with phlegm in your mouth like an imbecile. You awkwardly grab his wrist for support and spit the mucus out into the cup. Soon you’ll realize how foolish it is to grab someone’s wrist using the same hand you used to cover your mouth while coughing. The string of saliva takes a ridiculously long time to break free from your lips, but Joel is unfazed. He takes a glance at the mucus, likely checking the color and consistency.

“Thanks,” you blink rapidly, still processing.

“You wanna go to urgent care?” Joel asks.

“Nu-uh,” you shake your head. “I’m okay, I promise. I feel a lot better already.”

“It’s probably just a bug,” he pats your back again before walking to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. “How long has it been going on?”

You wait until he comes back because you don’t think you can speak loud enough for him to be able to hear you from the kitchen without tearing your throat apart. Joel thinks you didn’t hear him the first time and is about to repeat his question when you say, “Uh, it got progressively worse last night.” you realize how serious that sounds and quickly add, “But not like, worse worse. I mean, compared to,”

“And before that?”

“Just a scratchy throat.”

He looks like he’s mentally taking notes with arms folded in front of his stomach. It’s the first time that night you take a full look at him under the glow of the muted TV. You can’t really make the colors out, but he’s wearing a dark t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt and jeans. He’s keeping his beard kind of thin compared to the last time you saw him, but still the same, well-tended mustache that makes a strong presence over his lips. You can’t help but notice the graying strands of hair that stick out among his dark, messy hair, complimenting him so well. You are pretty sure the ratio between light to dark hair has been shooting up this year. You like it.

And his eyes. They’re rich, and dark, and the fact that he furrows half of the time that it creates permanent dents between his eyebrows just makes him ridiculously hotter.

The mucus factory must be working overtime tonight because you can feel the slight slippery feeling of lubrication where you’re sitting. Fucking stupid, you think, read the room.

All of sudden, a lightning flashes, lighting up your surroundings before the grumbling roar of thunder follows through. For a second, you can make out the shapes and silhouettes of everything in the room like a photograph. Joel fits rightly in the left third of this main piece in your mind exhibition. You wish you could take screenshots with your eyes and keep it to admire later.

Joel glances out the window. Heat lightning reveals the blobs of clouds outside, and the strong wind is starting to blow debris to rattle the windows. He shifts his focus on you again. “Did you eat?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug. Storm is coming, Joel better go home before it gets worse.

He chuckles. “Yes or no?”

That chuckle tickles something deep inside of you. You smile shyly. “Yes, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, and you are pretty sure he senses that you did not, in fact, eat dinner. “I’m starvin’, actually,” he gets up and takes his flannel shirt off, and then tosses it on the couch before making his way towards the kitchen. You scream internally at the sight of his biceps like a deranged fangirl.

“Mind if I take a look in the fridge?” he yells while opening the fridge door. Just being polite. He knows your father will let him dismantle the house and take the pieces home if he wants to.

You free the tangled blanket from around your legs, only noticing now how under your old, sweat-dampened, Marlin Club shirt, your nipples are as erect as fireman’s poles. Was it the temperature, Joel, or both, you can’t conclude.

Joel whistles when he finds that the fridge is full. He grabs a can of beer and pops it open, studying the contents of the fridge and thinking of what he can cook for you as he gulps the beer down.

You follow him to the kitchen, jump to sit on the kitchen island as Joel grabs some produce off the fridge and sets them next to you. He looks at you, blinks a couple of times, then occupies himself with the food cabinet over the counter. You try to be helpful by unwrapping the basil and cherry tomatoes.

“So, how’s school?” Joel breaks the silence as he washes his hands. “And don’t just say okay, please.”

“You got me there,” you laugh. “Nothing really amusing, really.”

Then a few more superficial, classic-catching-up questions while you both prepare the pesto. Joel asks about the trip to Italy, how your father mentioned proposing to Amy soon, what do you think about that. You ask about his brother Tommy, work, and the average cost to renovate a room, to which Joel answers in detail really nicely. Then come the usual do-you-remember-when stories, melting down the strange and awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Laughters fill up the room. It’s fun and familiar.

“Did you remember when you used to call me Uncle Joel?” Joel sneers as he tosses a pan to the sink. “You used to be so nice and polite.”

“I was like six!” You snorted. “And you can’t even pay me to call you that again, Joel.”

Then, the once-your-pops-and-I anecdotes. You’ve heard some of them from your own father’s mouth, but you still listen to Joel’s versions eagerly anyway.

At one point, you start to cough again so Joel instructs you to just sit down on the counter. You don’t complain—it means you can just sit back and watch him from the back and imagine how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair.

When Joel stirs the pasta with the pesto sauce, the weather has gone full-blown insane out there.

“You should stay the night,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. His presence is sending arrays of erroneous signals to your reproductive organs, which will most likely result badly if he stays, but how can you let him drive home in this kind of weather?

Joel hands you a fork and pushes a plate of fusilli for you to eat. “Eh, we’ll see,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind drivin’ through a storm, but I can’t just leave you alone if you don’t feel well.”

“Dad told me you got a folded chair smashed through your windshield last summer.” You take a bite, the thick sauce coats your tastebuds and you groan in satisfaction, even though you can’t really taste it to the fullest because of your stuffy nose.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Joel chuckles. “I was lucky it aimed for the shotgun.”

He eats standing up across you, one elbow on the counter. When you both finish the meal, he takes your plate and starts washing the dishes. You tell him to do it later, and then offer your help, and he says no to both. You insist on drying the dishes anyway, standing side by side with him.

After the very late dinner, the two of you retreat to the living room. Joel asks you to take some medication again and you decline, stating that you feel better already.

“Headstrong, ain’t ya?” Joel sighs. “Okay, sleep then. Wanna sleep in your bed?”

“Not really sleepy,” you shake your head. “Feel free to take Dad’s bed, by the way. You have work in the morning, right?”

“Nah, I’m alright by the couch.” Joel scoots to make room for his legs and lies on his back, groaning like every other old person when they finally get to be horizontal. His feet are dangling on one side, his head on the opposite armrest. You take the old recliner that doesn’t even recline anymore near Joel’s feet, facing both the TV and Joel at an angle.

The TV is still on, showing the same game show but already on a later season. You unmute it and watch it together with Joel for five minutes before you realize that none of you has laughed yet, and you ask Joel if he wants to watch a movie instead. He says why not.

You open a streaming service and browse for movies on the home page. Joel probably likes action and other classic old man genre types. You pretend to read some of the summaries and see if Joel perks up at one of them, but he doesn’t seem to really care about the TV.

“I don’t know what to watch,” you admit. “Do you wanna pick the movie?”

Truth is, Joel can’t give a single shit about no goddamn movie. He’s been distracted by so many thoughts in his mind. But he gestures for you to scroll back up anyway.  “Let’s see the trending ones.”

You stop at a tally of newly released and currently popular films at the top of the page, giving Joel a chance to read about them before moving to the next one.

“This one looks excitin’.” Joel points at the screen. The poster shows a man in classic Viking attire, staring intently at the viewer with striking blue eyes. Some kind of pelt is draped over his shoulders. His hands are on top of each other, resting on a sword handle, the blade facing the earth. Dried mud and blood are splattered over his face and armor. The Conquest, it says. You don’t recognize the actors listed. The summary says something about revenge, passion, blood, power, blah blah. You click play.

The movie opens with a battle scene. The movie looks like it runs out of lighting budget, and you need to squint to be able to tell what they are actually doing. Nothing can be heard except grunts and blades clashing. You look over at Joel to see his expression, but he’s looking at you. He quickly averts his gaze back to the screen.

Twenty minutes pass, and none of you are really paying attention to the plot. Not until the main guy enters a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water with his asscheeks out, and then a woman enters the scene with nothing but a thin white veil covering her body. She drops the cloth and joins him. The warm light from the torches is highlighting her breasts.

“Woah,” you look at Joel again, but he says nothing, but you can see his Adam’s apple moving awkwardly.

They kiss, and he grabs her bosom with his humongous palms and knead them. Then he buries his face between them, with the woman kissing the top of his head. After what feels like a millenia, he lifts her lower half from the water, and then puts her down to sit on the edge of the tub before performing cunnilingus. She moans.

You start to feel a pool of heat brewing inside of you. This feels invasive of their privacy, somehow, with no soundtrack added, just fire crackling and water splashing and erotic moaning.

Joel clears his throat. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t watch this,”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” you say, eyes fixated on the screen.

“Well, it didn’t say nothin’ about eatin’ a lady out in the summary.”

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving only the sound of rain hitting your window in your eardrums.

“Hey,” you whine. “That’s not nice. I didn’t say yes.”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” Joel folds his arms over his chest, partly staying warm, partly because he’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He then closes his eyes, knowing damn well he’s far from feeling tired let alone fall asleep.

“We’re both adults anyways,” you mutter, but Joel doesn’t move. He’s probably actually tired.

Your gaze is affixed on him. He surely doesn’t look like he’s sleeping in peace right now but he’s still handsome nonetheless. His old shirt is a tad bit too tight around his biceps. You can see the protruding veins beautifully decorating his arms and hands. His legs are slightly crossing with one ankle on top of another, and his breath is steady. He’s gorgeous.

In your wildest dreams, you would jump to straddle Joel, and he would grab your hips and fuck you to death. Is it bad that your immune system is fighting one of the worst battles in your life, and yet your number one priority is somehow to get laid, by this man specifically? It’s both excruciating and foolish. 

The movie you just saw doesn’t help, either. In fact, it makes everything worse. Your mind keeps wandering back to it, the way the man eats the woman out, and then back to Joel, imagining the top of his head would look like when he eats you out. Fuck. You know that if you don’t get to touch this man in the next 30 minutes, you are either going to combust or burn everything in the vicinity.

You close your eyes, try to do the mindfulness practice you once saw in a magazine. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You repeat “Release me from this earthly desire” in your head like a rookie buddhist wizard trying to cast a spell with a broken wand. You ball your fists in your lap so hard the joints start to hurt.

It’s not working.

Your mind keeps wandering back to different scenarios, different positions, different spots around the house. Low grunts, fingertips pressing your sides, tongue between your lips…

You can’t do it anymore. You need release. You need to at least be able to feel something, a little reward for your throbbing clit. Trying your best to be as casual as possible, you pull your folded legs closer to your body, your left heel even closer to your biker-short-covered cunt, and shift your body weight on it.

The pleasure that has been building up there bursts like a balloon. You sigh.

There are two things that Joel is not: young, and oblivious.

Oh, he is totally aware of what’s happening. You are not doing a good job trying to be subtle. From the non-stop staring, to the constant fidgeting, to the borderline sexual sighs, to the hard nipples, Joel knows you are going through something that is completely different from just being ill.

And he totally understands. He’s been there, done that. There was a time when his back wasn’t hurting and his face hadn’t been ‘graced’ with crow’s feet and age spots yet, when his hormones were at all-time high and his blood liked nothing more than flowing to his cock recklessly at the slightest inducement. He understands what you are going through.

So when you start grinding yourself onto your left heel followed by soft moans, he is not exactly surprised, just mostly in awe of your debauched audacity.

That is too much, even for him. He clears his throat, hoping you’d catch the hint and stop for good. But you don’t, and your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and your hips are moving slowly, sensually, chasing something, the sight of it stirs something up in his guts.

It is vulgar, and most importantly indecent in every way, but Joel can feel his own arousal creeping up no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it is not happening.

He calls your name. Your body responds faster than the critically thinking part of your brain and you stop like you just got cursed by Medusa. 

You can physically feel your heart drop to your ass. Your neck moves stiffly to find his eyes like a broken animatronic. “Yeah?” you croak.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”

You blink. Deny? Act stupid? Admit? Deny, deny. Wait, deny? No, act stupid.

“What… Do you mean?” you say, and you realize that you chose the dialogue option that actually sounds the dumbest.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Might as well hump me if you want it that much.”

Wait, what? Your eyes light up. “Really?”

Joel stares at you in genuine perplexity before lifting one hand up to massage his temples. He takes a deep breath, and in the softest way possible—like telling a puppy she can’t eat electronic parts—sighs, “No.”

“Oh,” you cover your mouth. “I thought you meant—“

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” he sighs again, sounding significantly more frustrated. He then uses his hands to support himself to a sitting position, composing himself.

Silence. You don’t dare to look at Joel, but your cunt keeps pulsing like a metal detector. You understand that the beeping—desire—will not die down unless you get the valuable artefact from the bronze age—Joel—in your hand. Is this time to be bold and brash?

“Joel,” you call, and you can swear that was not a sober decision, but the stage curtains have been pulled back, and you are pushed to the stage to play your part.

“Hm?”

“What if… I hump you anyway?” you stand up, and your knees are slightly buckling but you act tough and bold regardless.

Joel’s jaws opens and stays slightly agape for a while before he says, “That fever is really messin’ with your brain, huh? Sit down.”

“You’re bricked up, Joel.” you accuse. You don’t actually know for sure since Joel keeps a hand on his lap to cover his crotch, but Joel gulps. Gotcha.

“Unrelated to you.” he hisses in defense.

You scoff.

“Joel, please,” you grouse, voice cracking and desperate. “I want this so bad.” you whisper as you take slow, threatening steps towards Joel until your crotch is not even an inch away from his knee. “I want you so bad.”

“This ain’t right, kid.” Joel puts a hand on the outer side of your arm, and it’s worth pointing out that he’s shaking. “You know that.”

Joel doesn’t tell you that he’s battling demons in his head, and he’s currently losing. A million impulses are catapulting burning boulders onto the gate of his conscience, and all he got is one bleeding, sickly troop with a chipped wooden sword. But he puts his best stern expression despite the fact that his body is betraying him.

He could leave now. Push you away. Clear his head. Come back later. Or not come back at all.

But he knows he doesn’t want to. He can hear his blood rushing and his heart singing battle cry. Not to mention his cock, hard and nearly burns a hole through his jeans.

A long pause. You want to push him further, but you know you don’t need to. The black marlin printed on your shirt does a worthless attempt at distracting Joel from your hard nipples, putting him into a trance.

Joel takes a deep breath. He knows he has lost. “You can help yourself, that’s all,” he nods, more trying to convince himself rather than talking to you. “Just to make you shut up and get rest. That’s it.”

That’s an unenthusiastic barf-colored green light, but it is a green light nonetheless.

You put your hands on Joel’s shoulder before putting your left knee next to his right leg and lower yourself down onto his thigh, while your other knee rests in front of his crotch and presses onto his raging hard-on. Your cunt pulsates in pleasure upon contact, and you let out a gasp. Joel anxiously places his hands on your sides to keep you steady, one thumb ‘accidentally’ brushing your nipple, earning a whine. You lock gaze with him, and start moving.

The friction sends buzzes up your head. You make each grind count, and every single one feels like heaven despite the layers of fabric between your cunt and his beefy thigh. Moans and Joel’s name spill from your lips indeliberately, and he tightens his grip on your body until his fingertips turn white as if you would fly away with a gust of wind if he doesn’t. If you weren’t so absorbed in your own pleasure, you would’ve noticed how shallow and rapid Joel’s breath has become. It turns him on watching you getting off because of him, using him, how your eyelids flutter and your pupils are having a hard time staying in place.

Joel wants to break free from his denim, badly. While he consciously thought, planned, and stated that he’s doing what he’s doing only for your satisfaction and be done with it, it isn’t exactly nice having your kneecap pushing button-flies shaped caves on his crotch repeatedly. Especially not when his cock, which probably has its own brain, has been begging to be taken care of, too.

You, on the other side, are having the best time of your life. As your climax is building up in your south region, you smile at Joel, who smiles back. His hand leaves your ribs briefly to brush the hair that is sticking to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “So good, Joel, so good,”

For a moment there you consider kissing him. His face is merely two inches away from you, and he looks ravishing, all sweaty and blushing. And how you just want to have your tongue inside his mouth, his lips all over yours sloppily. But that feels like overstepping boundaries, like a whole uncharted area you can’t cross, spreading the flu aside. You opt to put your chin on his shoulder instead, trying to focus on your orgasm.

“I want to see your face,” Joel says in your ear, his beard grazing your cheek. Takes you three whole seconds to process that, and when you do, it tingles your core. Before you can answer, he continues, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze with flushing cheeks. You don’t know what to say, and maybe you don’t have to. You continue to be dumbfounded when Joel stops your motion and helps you to stand up.

“Hold on,” he says as he undoes the buttons of his jeans. “I need to take these off.”

He quickly kicks the jeans off his legs, revealing a dark gray boxer briefs under. A wet patch adorns the bulge right in the center. He then manspreads and gestures for you to come back onto him, to which you comply. “C’mere,” he says, “I need to feel you on me.”

You straddle him, positioning your cunt right on his cock, and on everybody and their mother, it feels good. No, it feels right. Joel lets out a groan that cuts into a gasp when you start to grind. “Fuck, yeah,” he grabs your ass, helping you settle on a rhythm.

The contour of Joel’s cock, albeit still covered by the fabric of his boxer briefs, touches every last nerve ending of your cunt in such a different way that his thigh did. You pick your pace up, getting the pleasure to build up again. 

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, voice quivering. You rake your fingers through his hair, your noses almost touching.

“Keep going, baby,” he says through a smile. “Don’t hold back. You sound so pretty.”

The encouragement is shooting up fireworks in your lower belly, and you start making more sounds. You’re close. So close.

“Makin’ me so hard all night, you,”

You whimper as you come, hips convulsing. Time slows down, and it feels like your cunt is pulled towards a strong gravitational force within your own body as you are sinking down a quicksand, all while pleasure forces your brain to reboot itself.

“That’s it, that’s it. There you go. You’re so good.”

Joel holds the back of your head while you’re laying on his chest, limp. When you pull yourself away from him, he presses a palm to your cheek, smiling. “Attagirl.”

When you finally gather yourself, you pull away from Joel, leaving a huge wet spot on where you just had your cunt on, and scoot to the spot next to him on the couch. You are about to lean onto his shoulder when he stands up and picks his jeans up from the floor. He sees the wet trail of arousal you left on the fabric in the thigh area and snickers.

“Damn, kid, you’re practically a snail,” he points to it. “Poor thing.”

You wince. “What are you doing?”

“Puttin’ my pants on?” he answers in the exact same tone, fixing the position of his boxer briefs.

“But you haven’t even come yet!” you protest. “What the fuck? Take them off!”

“That’s not what I agreed to, remember? I help you come so you’ll shut up and sleep. You’ve come, now shut up, and go to sleep.” he lays it out like basic math while you press the base of your palms onto your eyelids, confounded.

“You’re a sick person,” you shake your head, and then point to his crotch. “You’re literally still hard.”

“That has nothin’ to do with anythin’.”

You stare at the open space, like you’re trying to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. Can you believe this guy?

“Joel, your line is ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard.’ Now let’s start again from the top.”

Joel, who’s struggling trying to fit his bulge back in the jeans without hurting it, stops fussing with his button-fly shortly to push your head back—softly—to the couch. “Sleep,” he drags his palm over your face to close your eyelids.

“Joooooel,”

“Your line is ‘Yes, Joel, good night.’”

“Yes, Uncle Joel, good night, Uncle Joel,” you mock as you swiftly jump from the couch and pull his jeans down to his ankle and force him to step out of it. You hear Joel yelling hey, hey, hey as he tries to simultaneously fight you and not hurt you. You throw the pair of pants across the room with all your might and it lands with a loud thud.

“What are your pants made of, steel?”

“What is wrong with you?” he takes a step to fetch it, but you stand up and push him back to the couch. Joel is for sure going easy on you, because if he wanted to, he could definitely launch you through the walls. Instead, he just accepts his fate and stares at the ceiling, defeated.

“Nobody sleeps with jeans on, Joel,” you reach for the TV remote again. “Now let’s watch something again and then sleep.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again,” you repeat. “We’re watching SpongeBob.”

Joel groans.

“What, you don’t like SpongeBob?”

“Not my era,” Joel says. “I watched Gumby. Tom and Jerry. The Muppet Show.”

“No wonder you act like the heckling old guys.”

“I don’t, but, sure,”

“Oh, you’re more like the eagle. So serious all the time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You play the first episode of the first season of SpongeBob Squarepants, and the familiar intro begins. You take a look at Joel in the corner of your eyes, how he has one of his forearm on the top of his head, bicep almost as thick as his head. The other hand is resting on his thigh, and you can tell that he’s at least still half-hard. You wonder how he looks under those boxer briefs.

On the screen, Squidward and Mr. Krabs are climbing a post with a sea of raging anchovies under them. Joel’s lips slightly turn upward. Ha, eat that, Mr. Old Cartoon Head.

You shift so that you’re on your back, legs resting on Joel’s lap. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Minutes later, totally absorbed with SpongeBob pestering his neighbor with a reef blower, he has a hand on your ankle, caressing it without much thought.

They would have written about you in a Greek tragedy the way you’re consumed by greed and lust. When your toes stroke Joel’s bulge, totally by accident and not precalculated at all, you pretend like you’re captivated by the TV. It’s hard and you can definitely discern the ridge of possible veins and the head of his cock.

Joel exhales, sounding so done and tired.  “I know you were going to do this,”

But he doesn’t push you away. And that excites you.

You don’t say anything or look away from the screen, but you keep rubbing the outline of his cock, which is now more visible and grows slightly larger, with the space between your big and index toe. Your brain automatically puts the ice clinking in a vase while SpongeBob is getting dry under Sandy’s treedome as background noise to amplify Joel’s restrained grunts.

You like this. You like having Joel wrapped around your finger. Soon after, you withdraw your legs and sit up, causing him to open his eyes over the sudden halt.

You stare at him, bold. “Would you like my mouth?”

Joel nods.

You don’t even wait for a second. Joel helps you take off his boxer briefs, the length of his hard-on springs out like jack-in-the-box. You admire how it looks, how the tip is totally sticky and glistening, before lowering your tongue. Joal lets out a sound akin to a whimper as you let your saliva ooze down the underside of his cock and quickly retrieve it into your mouth using your tongue. He tastes slightly salty, like sweat. And if you could smell better you’d see how hypnotizing his scent is, like calling you to stick his cock down your throat until the world collapses.

“That’s it,” Joel says, out of breath. His cock is now grazing the soft wall of your cheek, and he wonders how experienced you actually are because you definitely don’t act like an amateur. You use one elbow to support yourself, the other one taking turns massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

The only downside of this is that Joel can’t really look at your face. He craves the sight of you, how your lips are wrapped around his cock, and how your cheek is bulging like a squirrel full of him. One of his hands crawls up your back under your shirt, rubbing it before it finds a new target: your breasts. He kneads on one, thumb flicking the bud. You can’t help but moan and take him deeper, sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

Joel knows he won’t last much longer, and he would very much like to keep this thing going as long as possible. So he asks you to stop, averting your disappointment by lifting up your shirt and sucking on one nipple. He’s surprisingly tender with it, taking his time. You reach a hand to his cock again, trying to at least get him off with your hand, but he pulls your wrists back and locks them on your sides.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck me. Please.”

“No can do,” Joel answers as his lips are trailing down to your stomach, where he peppers kisses all over. You scoot backwards and like reading your mind, he tugs the hem of your shorts down to your ankle before yanking it away, revealing your throbbing, desperate cunt. He then dives down, nose pressing against your mound as his tongue explores the new treasure island.

Just like in the movie.

You try to grab on something, anything, but the leather couch does nothing but squeaks, and Joel instinctively laces his fingers with yours. The view of the top of your head is exactly how you imagined it would be. The moans released from your lips are rather loud, especially when Joel creates a suction cup with his lips right on your clit.

“Joel, Joel,” you grasp his hands with all your might. “This is fucking unfair, I’m so— I’m gonna—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, your body already decides that it’s time for another release. Your heels are planted firmly against the couch as your hips lift to the air, and Joel lets go. He kneels before your cunt, pumps himself to oblivion and comes all over you before you get to collect yourself, staining your stomach and breasts. Later you’ll realize that the first spurt went a little bit rogue and landed on your hair.

“Fuck you, man,” you complain, sticking out a middle finger at him. “I was supposed to make you come.”

Joel rests his head on the couch armrest, eyes closed. “You did.”

“I meant technically,” you attempt to nudge him with your leg, but he dodges and stands up to grab the washcloth he used to compress you with earlier. He then wipes your stomach and breasts with it, the cold water making you squirm.

“What now?” you ask when he hands you your clothes.

“Sleep. It’s four in the mornin’.” he says as he puts his stained, sticky, wet boxer briefs on and sits on the recliner. So you can’t drive me mad anymore, he says.

You whine, but you realize that your eyelids are actually very heavy. “Blowjob first time in the morning?” you offer before letting yourself drift off.

“Thought you were s’pposed to be sick.” Joel shakes his head. But he grins.

[seospicybin]

THE BABYSITTER.

PART I

Felix x reader x Hyunjin. (s,f)

Chapters: Part II / Final part.

Synopsis: Working as the family's babysitter, you learn a lot from Hyunjin and Felix's happy marriage, including their sex life. (13,3k words)

Author's note: Sorry for the late delivery. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Unlike any other toddlers, little Aster has a liking for vacuum cleaners. Instead of going to the toy store, he prefers going to the electronic store to look at vacuums, he doesn't play with them but likes hearing their sounds. You believe it's because it offers a similar sound to the white noise machine he has in his room.

"Vacuum!" He adorably shouts, jumping on his little feet while pointing at the vacuum on the display.

"Yes, vacuum!" You nod.

"Wanna play!" He cutely mumbles while tugging his index finger between his two front teeth.

Seeing that it is displayed on the top shelf, there's no way you can put it down yourself and risk knocking the other things on the display, you squat down to be on the same eye level with him.

"It's too heavy," you tell him, gently patting his small head.

You point at the one on the bottom shelf and offer it to him to play, "How about this one?"

He eagerly nods, watching you take the vacuum cleaner for a spin even though it's not turned on. You carefully hand it to him, letting him hold the handle with his small hand, and push it through the aisle of the electronic store.

"Do you like it, Aster?"

He's laughing as he keeps pushing and making vacuuming sounds through his little mouth. His laughter is so infectious that you can't help but laugh as well.

The journey in the electronic store continues to the lawnmowers. You let Aster walk on his own and observe the lawnmowers parked throughout the whole section.

"Car!" He says as he taps at the tire of the red lawnmower.

"It's not a car," you inform, lifting him by the waist and putting him on the lawnmower.

He turns his head at you with a questioning look on his face.

"It's a lawnmower," you tell him.

"Lamoomoowee," he incorrectly pronounces it, riding the lawnmower like a hobbyhorse.

"Lawnmower," you slowly enunciate it for him while steadily holding his back to prevent him from falling.

"Lammowah," he gets it even wrong this time and as if he knows he says it wrong, he breaks into a wide grin.

Oh, this is why you like children, they're pure and innocent, as opposed to adults who are oftentimes complicated and messy. With children, you get to be honest and open, you don't have to be afraid of being judged, and they see you for what you truly are.

"You're blessed with a beautiful boy," a lady says as she gently gives Aster a quick ruffle on his hair.

You feel flattered whenever someone thinks that Aster is your child but if his real parents caught anyone saying that to you, you're sure they'd be offended.

"Oh, thank you!" You mutter with a smile, "But I'm just the babysitter."

"Oh?" The lady gasps in surprise, then gives Aster another ruffle and a gentle pinch on his cheek before leaving you be.

Your phone dings in your jacket pocket and you pull it out to check if it's coming from Aster's dad. Indeed it is and he's almost finished getting his hair done.

"Aster baby, we have to go," You say to him, taking him by the hand and putting him back into the stroller, "Dada is waiting!"

You're told to meet him by the entrance of the supermarket so as you're pushing the stroller, you're craning your neck to find him.

"There's dada!" You exclaim once you spot him.

Aster is giggling as he is strapped into his seat as you push the stroller at full speed and start wriggling his body when he notices his father waving his hand at him.

"Hi, sweet boy," Felix says to his son, unbuckling the straps around his chest and lifting him.

"Are you having fun?" He asks the little one with a boop on his nose.

"Yes," Aster answers with a nod and presses his mouth onto Felix's cheek.

"We just got back from looking at vacuums," you share while holding onto the stroller.

"Must be fun. Dada is jealous," he jokingly says while hoisting Aster higher in his arms.

He then turns to look at you and shows his new hairstyle, it's still blonde but it looks like he trimmed it a little.

"What do you think?" He asks for your opinion while giving his hair a subtle flip.

You lowly chuckle, "You look stunning!"

"Thank you," he says, then turns at Aster to ask for his approval next, "Do you like it, Aster?"

"Yes," he shortly says, it's unsure whether he understands the question or not but it's enough to make Felix smile in response.

This is when you find the resemblance between Aster and his dad, they share the same warm genuine smile with their nose slightly scrunched.

The trip continues with a grocery shopping and Aster gets distracted by the plush toys on the shelf, pointing at the one that looks like the pet dog at home.

"Mandu!" He shouts in excitement.

You grab one and hand it to him, letting him play with it as he sits inside the trolley.

"It indeed looks like Mandu," Felix says as he puts a loaf of bread into the trolley.

"What a lovely couple!" An elderly says as she walks past the three of you.

Felix and you automatically exchange a look and then burst into laughter at the same time.

This is not the first time both of you have heard such a thing. Whenever the two of you are together, especially with Aster around, it seems to them that the two of you are married and Aster is your love child.

First of all, you wouldn't mind having Felix as a husband, he's beautiful and kind, he's a successful food blogger who has written dozens of cookbooks, and ultimately, a good dad to Aster.

Unfortunately, Felix is very well taken and is happily married to his husband, Hwang Hyunjin.

-

"Bubba!"

That's a nickname Aster likes to call you, you pick up his toy from under the sofa in case it's what he tries to say to you.

"Yes, sweet Aster?"

"Water, please?" He sweetly asks while rubbing his chest with his hand, a sign language that means 'please'.

"I'll get it for you," Felix says from the kitchen even though he's busy preparing dinner.

You stay with Aster, keeping him company as he's playing with his toys in front of the TV.

Felix comes with Aster's water bottle and offers it to his son himself, he watches as he sucks water through the straw.

"My sweet boy is thirsty, huh?"

Aster swallows his drinks and gasps in exaggeration, "Thank you, dada!!" He cutely mutters.

"You're very welcome, angel," he says back and kisses the top of his head.

Felix may seem tough with his lean, toned body and his deep voice but that's just what he appears to be. As opposed to tough exteriors, he has a very tender soul and is not afraid to show it.

"Do you mind turning on the news?" He politely asks.

"Yep, sure," you say, flicking the TV channels to the one you know he wanted to see.

Felix's husband, Hyunjin, works as a news anchor in a TV station and he usually works either the noon or the night news but at times, he does one in between those times.

"I texted him, telling him to wink if he wants Martinis served when he comes home," Felix says as he's chuckling while his hand constantly playing with Aster's hair.

"Oh? What?" You gasp and you must admit that an interesting way to flirt with one another, "You think he'll do it?"

Felix shrugs but he knows what he's doing because who doesn't like having drinks served when you come home after a long day of work? Not you, obviously and it's sad that no one does that for you.

A few minutes later, the breaking news intro flashes through the screen and you guess this must be it. Hyunjin's long and angular face fills the screen, his dark hair slicked back and he wears a tie in a color that compliments his skin tone well.

"Look, Aster! That's Daddy!" You say as you shake his hand in excitement.

Aster looks up from his toy and sees his dad's face on the screen, his face lights up like a Christmas tree once he sees him.

"Daddy!" He shouts.

"That's Daddy," Felix says, planting another kiss on Aster's head.

Mandu barks noticing the familiar face on TV and starts standing on his hind legs as if he's trying to reach Hyunjin through the screen.

"The meeting of the 49th Asia Audit Committee was held on 11 March at the Asia Hall to discuss matters related to audit, risk, and governance of the secretariat," Hyunjin eloquently reads the news then there it is, the wink. It's so subtle that it may seem like he was trying to blink but it's a wink.

Felix cracks a laugh, probably not expecting that he would actually do it on national broadcast and in the middle of him reading the news.

"Well, guess we'll be having Martini tonight," he says as he gets up from the carpeted floor, "You should stay for dinner because you don't want to miss it."

You feel bad for always turning down his offer and you reckon it's time to accept the invitation for dinner. Also because Martini sounds like a nice treat.

"Well, since I'm driving, I'll only have one Martini," you remind him.

"Wise choice!" He comments.

To be honest, it's always a treat to have dinner at this household. Despite his specialty in baking, Felix is a great cook and you'd love to have dinner here every day if you could but you don't want to be greedy and exploit their kindness. Boundaries exist for a reason and you respect those boundaries because at the end of the day, they're your employers and you are the employee.

Hearing the familiar sound of his dad's car pulling up the driveway, Aster runs to the door with Mandu trailing behind him, he's squealing with saliva dribbling down one corner of his mouth.

You abruptly stop setting the table to follow him and are ready to help if he accidentally trips or falls, you stop him from going further and make him wait in the foyer.

"Daddy will be here soon," you assure him, containing his excitement with one arm around his waist.

A moment later, the door opens and Hyunjin steps inside, he's still dressed in his work attire sans the suit jacket, he has his white shirt loosened around the neck and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Aster jumps as he squeals and you can't contain him anymore, you let him run at his dad. Hyunjin is quick enough to get on his knees and catches him in his arms.

"Is this Aster or monster Aster?" He likes to baby talk to the little one while pressing ticklish kisses onto his neck.

"This is monster Aster!" He playfully tickles Aster's stomach, making him squirm and giggle, more drool dribbling down his mouth.

"Give Daddy a kiss!" He demands, offering his cheek at him.

Aster opens his mouth wide and instead of kissing, it looks like he's going to take a bite out of Hyunjin's cheek.

"Ouch! That hurts!" He exclaims, rubbing his cheek which is wet with Aster's drool.

You gasp when you see the faint teeth mark on Hyunjin's cheek, "Oh, my God! You have the—" you point at his cheek.

"This is not the first time," Hyunjin calmly says to you while walking further into the house, he drops his briefcase on the sofa and comes up to his husband who's busy making sure the spaghetti sauce is flavorful.

Hyunjin places a hand on the small of Felix's back and leans in for a long, lingering kiss on the lips. Felix drops everything he's doing to properly welcome him home with a hu and not enough with one kiss, Felix pecks his lips and smiles when he pulls away.

"Aster bit me," Hyunjin immediately tells on his own son like a child, pointing at the teeth mark on his cheek.

Felix hurriedly checks it and gently rubs it with his thumb, "Aster, you bit daddy?"

"Monster Aster!" He mumbles in response to Felix.

"Oh? Monster Aster who bit daddy?"

"Uh-huh," he repeatedly nods.

"Monster Dada is coming to bite you then," Felix jokingly says.

Aster breaks into laughter and then hides in Hyunjin's neck as Felix attacks him with kisses on his stomach. It's just the three of them in their loving bubble.

"What are we having for dinner?" Hyunjin asks with his hand placing gentle rubs on Felix's back.

"Spaghetti with meatballs, Aster's favorite," He answers while stirring sauce in the pan.

"Smell good," Hyunjin comments, and then they exchange a look that is filled with so much love.

The whole interaction makes you feel like you're watching a movie scene that describes what a happy, loving family looks like. Your heart bursts thinking if the future holds something like this for you too.

"Can you stay with Bubba, darling?" Hyunjin says to his son, coming up to you to hand him over.

"Daddy will get back soon, okay?" He convinces him with a kiss on the cheek before leaving to go upstairs.

"And you, young gentleman, time to wash those dirty hands," you tell him.

Dinner is served on the table and just from the look of it, you can tell Felix's cooking is going to taste so good like always. Once in a while, you check Aster if he's eating his dinner well and from the way his mouth is slobbering with spaghetti sauce, you can tell he is.

"Isn't it like spring break for you?" Hyunjin suddenly asks.

You swallow your food before answering, "Yes."

"And you don't have any plans for spring break?"

"I do. The plan is playing with your 18-month-old son," you playfully answer while twirling pasta with your fork.

Hyunjin doesn't ask more about it, you guess he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with those kinds of questions.

"She doesn't like going out much," Felix says then flashes a knowing smile at you, "Just like you."

Hyunjin pouts at him in response but Felix finds it cute that he grabs his hand on the table and squeezes it.

"Is that true?" Hyunjin asks for confirmation from you.

"Yeah. I just want to finish college as soon as possible and I can do all those things later," you explain.

You understand that this way of thinking is unlike most people but you like to keep your focus on one thing and that is finishing your education.

You didn't even plan to keep working as their babysitter, you needed the extra money to replace your crappy car but as time goes on, you learned that they're a nice family and Aster is such a sweetheart so you decide to continue working for them until you graduate.

"Look at me, baby!" You say as you wipe Aster's mouth with a wet wipe.

He keeps wanting to nestle his head in your neck but you can't let him do that with all the spaghetti sauce all over his mouth and cheeks.

"You're getting sleepy, mmh?" you sweetly mutter as you reach to clean his cheek but he keeps dodging away.

It's not even his bedtime yet and Aster usually plays for a bit after dinner, but it seems like he can barely keep his eyes open anymore.

Hyunjin checks on you and notices that Aster is getting drowsy, "I'll get him to bed," he softly mutters to you.

You carefully hand Aster to him and he immediately nuzzles his head into the crook of his neck, then rest his eyes closed.

Since Hyunjin is taking your task away, you decide to help Felix clean up in the kitchen, scraping the leftovers off the plate to load them into the dishwasher next.

"You don't have to do that," Felix says as he's busy gathering the ingredients for the Martini.

"But I already did," you say with a grin and close the dishwasher, "Can I help you with anything?"

He looks over his shoulder at you, "Yeah, can you take the cocktail glasses out of the fridge?"

"Got you," you open the fridge and have no problem finding the three chilled dainty cocktail glasses perched on the the middle shelf of the fridge.

Felix meticulously measures the liquor, one part dry vermouth, and 6 parts gin before pouring them into the mixing glass, then gives it a good shake.

Once he deems it's mixed well, he carefully pours them into the glasses and instead of olives, he uses the lemon peel as garnish.

You're impressed with his drink-mixing skill but more impressed with how elegant he looks doing all that stuff.

"I want to be you when I grow up," you say in awe.

That earns a nice chuckle out of him as he wipes the kitchen island with a napkin, "You will," he playfully says.

"Now, where's my hard-earned Martini?" Hyunjin says as he returns from putting Aster to sleep and comes back carrying Mandu in one arm.

Felix lifts the drink and shows it to him, "It's ready!"

After having a toast, you can't bring yourself to drink it because it looks so pretty but not drinking it would be rude to the one who made it. You take a small sip and try to reserve it as long as possible.

It's so refreshing and nice, you can taste a hint of citrus from the lemon. You believe it's the first time you have a drink that is skillfully made by some.

"This is so good," you genuinely compliment and can't stop yourself from getting another sip at it.

"Compliment to the chef!" Hyunjin says with a seductive smile and pulls Felix closer to his side, resting his arm around his waist.

There's the look of love again and you can tell what's coming after that, yep, Hyunjin kisses Felix on the lips with his smile lingers on his face.

Flustered, Felix hides his face in his neck exactly like Aster did earlier.

"You always smell good, babe," Felix whispers and he probably thinks that you don't see him planting kisses onto Hyunjin's neck.

Hyunjin tilts Felix's head to land a sweet kiss on his lips and they smile at each other after, "I like it whenever you do that," he mutters, pulling him even closer to his side.

All of a sudden, you feel like third wheeling, you abort your plan to savor every sip of your Martini and gulp it at once.

"It's getting late. I'd better go," you say, putting the glass down on the kitchen island.

Not waiting for their response, you gather your things and shove them into your bag. You're walking back to them to say bye.

"Be careful on the way home," Felix says as he gives you a quick hug.

You hoist the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, "I will. Goodnight!"

"I'll send you off," Hyunjin offers, walking you out of the door, and as you take the car keys out of your bag, he snatches it.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" He asks.

"It's only one drink," you assure him.

"Sobriety test. Go!" He says, refusing to make a compromise.

You subtly roll your eyes at him and walk in a straight line to prove that you're not under the influence and sober enough to drive.

"See?" You tell him as you turn around to face him.

"Now, do a cartwheel!" He orders, leaning his side against the doorway.

"Seriously?" You groan.

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, "No. I'm joking."

He approaches you to hand your car keys back and puts them right in your hand, "Here. Drive safely."

"I will."

"Thank you for today," he says as he stands in the doorway.

You flash him a smile before getting into your car, "Goodnight, Mr. Hwang!" You poke fun, knowing how much he hates being called by his surname.

"It's Hyunjin," he insists while gritting his teeth.

You have the fun now and chuckle, "Goodnight, it's Hyunjin!" You shout as you pull the car out of the driveway.

That's pretty much how your day went in the Hwang-Lee household. You've been working for them for eight months and there's not a day where you don't feel jealous of their romantic and harmonious marriage life.

-

They don't make you babysit on the weekends but there's always an exception.

Tonight is a date night for Felix and Hyunjin, and you come a little after seven even though they'll leave at 8. You knock on the door and let yourself in, they probably know you'll be coming anyway.

"Bubba is here!" Felix says, knowing that it's you who came through the door.

Aster appears from behind the wall and grins when he looks at you, he's trudging his way to you and almost stumbles on his own little feet.

"It's Astalalala," you exclaim, calling him by the nickname you give him. You squat down to hug him and catch a whiff of that nice baby scent that clings to him.

"How are you, sweet Aster?" You ask.

"Good," he shortly answers.

"And where's my kiss?" You ask, tapping your cheek to show him where to kiss.

He rushes to kiss you on the cheek and instead of his lips, his nose bumps your cheek first.

"Thank you, Astalala," you sweetly say with a smile.

You carry him up as you walk inside and find Felix in the kitchen as you expected, he is already dressed in a dark silk shirt with a tie-neck collar and is making sandwiches.

"Hey, I made you a cold-cut sandwich," He says, shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"Oh, no. I had dinner," you meekly say, feeling bad for refusing.

"Well, you can have it later," he simply resolves.

"With pleasure," you respond because it looks so good and you'll definitely eat it as soon as you get hungry.

"Aster had his dinner already," He informs you as he puts back everything into the fridge.

He suddenly lands a slap on his forehead as if he's just remembered something, "Oh, I forgot to change his pillow covers."

"Don't worry, I'll do it," you assure him.

He awkwardly stands in front of you and asks, "Is it too much?"

"Not at all. You look stunning," you convince him, turning your head at Aster to seek his approval, "Right, Aster?"

"Yesss," he hisses through his bunny teeth.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Felix says and presses a kiss on his round cheek.

As you take Aster to the living room to watch his favorite cartoon, Hyunjin appears from the top of the stairs and is dressed in a suit, he skips the tie tonight and keeps the top two buttons open.

"Are you ready to leave?" He asks his husband who's still busy in the kitchen.

Felix glances up to see Hyunjin descending the stairs, "Yeah. I just need to—"

"Oh, my God. Stop cleaning up," you scold him since he can't seem to relax without making sure his kitchen is clean and tidy.

Felix drops the cloth and washes his hands under the sink, "Yes, I'm ready," he replies to his husband.

Hyunjin and Felix take turns kissing Aster before leaving the house, you send them on their way out while carrying their son in your arms.

"Bye, baby," Felix throws an air kiss at Aster.

"Bye, bye, dada!" You make him say them to his dad and he follows suit, waving his small hand at him as he says it.

"Have a great night!" You shout at them before they get into the car.

There's not much left to do but play with Aster in the living room and at the first sign of him getting drowsy, you hurriedly run him a bath and prepare him for bed.

As he picks the storybook he wants you to read, you change his pillow covers per Felix's instruction, then you sit on the small sofa and have Aster sit on your lap to read the storybook together, he mostly looks at the pictures as you read it to him.

It doesn't take long until he drifts into sleep with his head resting on your chest, you cuddle him until he's deep in his slumber before putting him in his crib.

"Night, sweet Aster," you whisper and leave the door to his bedroom slightly ajar.

As a reward, you eat the sandwich Felix made and it's worth every bite of it, having it with a can of soda from the fridge. Finished with your second dinner, you take a tour around the house, looking at the photos hung on the walls.

One is of Aster when he was a baby along with his tiny footprints and then there's a picture of the three of them together on Aster's first birthday. On the biggest frame is Hyunjin and Felix's wedding photo, they're both wearing white suits but Hyunjin's is embroidered with a flower pattern while Felix has this lace tail on the back of his suit jacket. You've never seen a more beautiful couple than them and you believe they're what people call a match made in heaven.

Having nothing else to do, you curl up on the sofa and read a book you brought with you. The next thing you know, you wake up startled hearing someone entering the passcode to the house.

You scramble to get up and pick up the book falling off your lap, you check the time on your phone, it's a little after eleven so it must be them coming back from their date.

It's true, you can hear their laughs as they enter the house and their low chatter, you also catch them smooching through the reflection on the TV screen. You act like you're not seeing it and cover your face with the book, pretending to read.

When you hear their footsteps coming into the room, you slowly put down your book and smile, "Oh, you guys are back!"

"Oh, hey," Felix says, foolishly grinning with his cheeks flushed, looking like he's slightly drunk.

Hyunjin looks not that different, his cheeks red and he's all smiles when he places his hand on Felix's waist.

"I'll go check on Aster," he says with a soft smile.

You wait until Hyunjin leaves to ask something, "Hey, do you mind if I'm staying over? I'm so sleepy, I don't think I'll able to drive home—"

"Of course!" Felix hastily answers, then sits on the sofa next to you, "You know I don't feel good letting you drive at night."

"Oh, thank you," you sincerely say.

"Hey, since you're staying, why don't we have a glass of wine?"

It's a nice offer and you would love to accept it but you don't want to disturb their date night, it's better if you get yourself out of the scene as to not ruin it for them.

"I'd love to but I'm... I'm tired," you gently refuse with an apologetic smile.

He places his hand on your hand and squeezes it, "That's okay. You'd better rest then."

You smile at him and bring your book with you, "Goodnight."

"Night!" He says back.

Right before you enter the guest room, you see Hyunjin surprises Felix with a back hug and then he whispers something into his ear that makes him laugh, filling the space with his deep laughter.

Now you know that they're not drunk, they're just in love.

-

Sunday morning at the Hwang-Lee household consists of a hungry toddler and a cook who doubts his pancake souffle is fluffy enough. Then you enter the scene as a girl in search of her first intake of caffeine.

"Morning," you cheerily greet everyone, softly poking Aster's cheek as he chews on his mini pancakes.

"Morning!" Felix says back without looking up from the pan, "Coffee?"

"I'll get it myself," you say, getting yourself a cup from the cabinet and carefully pouring some hot coffee from the pot.

"How's your sleep?" He asks, serving you a delicious-looking pancake souffle, it jiggles as he pushes the plate across the kitchen island.

"I slept so well, thank you," you answer with a sleepy smile and start with a small sip of coffee, you can feel it rejuvenate you from the inside.

Felix anxiously watches as you eat the pancake, "Do you think it's fluffy enough?"

You take a moment to chew and swallow before answering, "I think it's perfect," you honestly answer, it tastes even better than the ones made in the pastry shop.

"More apple, please!" Aster cutely asks.

Felix rushes to slice the peeled apple for him and places them on his plate, "More apple for Aster," he cutely says, then kisses his head.

"Thank you, dada," Aster mumbles with his mouth full of food.

He then pulls the drawer open and takes something out, "Since you're here..."

He slides an envelope toward you and you reckon it's your pay, he insists on paying weekly because he knows you may need it for gas. One look at it and you know they put extra bills in there. They have always been so generous with the pay.

"Thank you," you say, accepting it with gratitude.

"Do you mind running some errands for me tomorrow?"

"No. I don't mind at all," you answer.

Felix comes up with a list of things to buy along with his credit card, handing it to you, "You can come late tomorrow."

"Consider it done," you assure him, putting the list and the credit card into the envelope.

"The last one is for you," he says, putting a gift card in front of you, "So you don't have any excuses to not spoil yourself."

As expected, he knows you so well. You're reluctant to spend money on such things when it can be used for more important things but Felix oftentimes reminds you that it's okay to spoil yourself once in a while.

You crack a laugh and put the gift card into the envelope, "I will. Thank you," you say.

Not only generous, they always come with extra something like this. Just last week, he bought you a new laptop bag and scented candles.

The sound of Mandu's barks only means that Hyunjin is back from walking him. He comes in panting and brushing his dark hair to the back, exposing a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

"Mandu almost fought someone's dog," Hyunjin shares as he's getting himself a glass of water to quench his thirst. You find it cute that he likes to rant to his husband like a little kid.

"It's a Rottweiler and it's like this big," Hyunjin continues, describing how big the dog Mandu almost picked a fight with. He then goes to sit on the stool next to his son and watches his ear.

"What do you have here, baby?" Hyunjin asks the little one with a gentle ruffle on his hair.

"Apple," he shortly answers, offering a slice to him.

Hyunjin takes it into his mouth even though it's slobbering with yogurt, "yum..." he hums in delight.

Felix joins in with them, sitting next to him, and intently watches as Hyunjin digs into the pancake souffle.

"I don't think it's fluffy enough," Felix sighs, taking his baking very seriously.

Hyunjin takes a second to thoroughly taste it and says, "No, it's perfect," he disagrees with him.

He then looks at you to convince him more, "It's perfect. Right?"

"I told him the exact same thing earlier," you respond, shoving a spoonful of it into your mouth.

"It is?" Felix doubtfully asks as he also digs into the pancake and takes a bite.

"It's perfect," Hyunjin reassures him with a peck on his lips.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he softly mutters, "You're perfect."

This is too early for this but you have accepted the fact that there'll be not a day where it doesn't feel like you're third wheeling when you're around them. You look away and quietly sip your cup of coffee.

"Hey, we're going to the aquarium today. Are you coming?" Hyunjin asks.

You look around to check if Hyunjin is really asking you, "oh that sounds fun but I have to drive my mom to her book club meeting," you explain.

They had a date night and now they're having a family day, and it's endearing that they invite you along but you can only say yes once in a while.

You gently pinch Aster's round cheek and say, "Maybe next time.

-

The next day, you come to their house with both hands carrying bags of groceries. Notices that you're struggling to carry them yourself, Felix comes to your aid, taking a few bags out of your hands.

"Sorry I made you do all this," Felix says as he puts the bags on the kitchen counter with loud thudding sounds.

"No, it's okay. It's not a big deal," you assure him, putting the last few bags onto the counter.

Since everything is all accounted for, you take out all the receipts along with his credit card and give them back to him.

"I hope I didn't miss anything," you say.

Felix doesn't even glance at the receipts, he puts them inside the drawer and slips the credit card back into his wallet.

"I guess Aster is napping?" You ask, sitting on the stool with a glass of water.

"Yes, he just went to nap," he answers, "Lunch?"

"I had lunch."

"I just baked some Madeleine. Do you want some?" He offers.

"With tea?" You ask with your eyebrow raised.

He brightly grins as if you read his mind, "Of course!"

After putting away a box of party supplies in the pantry, you join Felix on the back porch for some tea and Madeleine he baked. The sunny weather makes a perfect ambiance for tea time.

You find Felix scribbling something in his notebook, the one he uses to write down recipes or ideas for his next cooking videos. You grab a Madeleine once you sit on the chair next to him.

"So, I assume you'll film a cooking video soon?"

After having Aster, Felix decides to be a stay-at-home dad and film cooking videos for his food blog, he's still has a great following and plans on writing a cookbook.

"Yes, and it's not going to be an easy one," He says, hinting at something with his scrunched nose.

"Does it involve your 19-month-old son?" You guess, raising your eyebrow at him.

One of Felix's most popular cooking videos is one with Aster in it, you guess people like seeing them together even though it could get messy at some point.

"It wouldn't be the first time," you say since you had the experience of helping them film the previous one and it was messy.

"Will you help me?" Felix asks with hopeful eyes.

"Absolutely!"

It's not even about the money anymore. Helping them comes as a second nature to you. In fact, they feel like a family to you that there's nothing that you wouldn't do for them.

-

Aster can indeed be a handful but not the kind that you can't manage. He was only 13 months old when the previous video was filmed and he's older now, hopefully, he's better at understanding what and how things work.

Once he wakes up from his nap, you give him snacks, some fruits, and cheese slices while Felix is preparing ingredients in the kitchen and setting up the cameras.

Now that he's refreshed from the nap and full from the snacks, Aster gets in the right mood to film with Felix. He makes him stand on the chair next to him to start filming.

Your job is simple, make sure that the cameras are recording well and filming at the right angles, the rest will be edited by Felix.

"Today, Aster and I are making banana bread," Felix says to the camera.

It never ceases to amaze you how that deep voice belongs to him.

"What are we making, Aster?" He asks his little one.

"Banana bread!" He eloquently answers.

"That's right," Felix cheerful responds and briefly kisses his head.

Felix starts peeling the banana and handing it to Aster, telling him to break them into pieces. Aster follows the instructions well but instead of dumping them into the mixing bowl, he eats it.

"You just had your snack a while ago," Felix says while laughing and letting him have a piece for now.

He then hands him the next banana and watches him breaking it off again. As he's about to put it in his mouth, he looks at him and says, "Aster, into the bowl!"

Aster gives in and dumps the banana into the bowl. However, on the third banana, he caves in and thinks of eating it again. Felix quietly watches him, letting him decide whether he would follow the urge or be able to resist it.

Aster looks at Felix and grins, catching him off guard, he shoves the banana into his small mouth. You hold the urge to laugh out loud watching the whole thing behind the camera.

"Bubba, I think we need more bananas," Felix mutters at you.

You hurriedly pick a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl and hand it to him, no need to worry about getting filmed, Felix will edit you out later.

After smashing the bananas in the bowl, Felix shows Aster how to crack an egg and dumps it into the bowl. He fails on the first try, completely shatters the egg and it drops onto the table.

"We'll do it together, okay?" Felix patiently teaches him to properly crack the egg on the edge of the bowl and successfully puts it into the bowl this time.

"You know what it is, Aster?" He lifts a bowl of flour at him.

Aster looks at you to find the answer, you inaudibly mutter the answer to him.

"Foufou," he hesitantly mumbles his answer.

"Yes, flour," Felix exclaims, letting him dump the whole thing into the mixing bowl.

Aster accidentally pours it off the bowl and some of it spills onto the table, "Oh, no..." he sadly mutters.

"That's okay," Felix assures him, adding extra flour from the bag.

"Now, sugar," he says, making Aster do it again.

He shakes his head, probably afraid would spill it again, "No. Dada do it," he says.

"Dada knows Aster can do it," he encourages but you can tell that he tries not to intervene as Aster lifts the bowl of sugar.

Aster manages to put it in perfectly and Felix gasps in pride, "See? Dada knows you can do it!"

Aster grins in response to his dad's praise and watches as Felix mixes the whole thing with a whisk. He stops to switch turns with his son, letting him mix it as he pleases.

"There you go," Felix sweetly mutters.

It indeed gets very messy at the end of the filming but it's nothing compares to how heartwarming it is watching them baking together. Felix is so patient and gentle the whole time and Aster is smart for his age, precocious even.

As everyone waits for the banana bread out of the oven, you take Aster to the back porch and let Mandu out to play in the backyard. Together, you're watching the sunset and a flock of birds flying in between the burst of gold and orange in the sky.

"Do you see that, Aster?"

"Birdies!" Aster exclaims, tilting his head and looking mesmerized by what he's seeing.

"Yes. Birdies flying," you say.

Aster raises his hand in the air and waves it at the birds, "Bye, bye birdies!"

"Bye, bye birdies," you follow suit, also waving your hand high.

When you come back inside, you are greeted by the delicious smell of freshly baked banana bread. Despite the messy process, it turns out really well.

Felix takes a few pictures for the blog and slices it to have a taste at it, he hands you a slice on a plate. As for Aster, he breaks a piece, blowing on it before feeding it to him.

"Does it taste good?"

"Good," he answers even though he's still chewing.

Considering that it was made by a toddler, it tastes alright and probably tastes better than the one baked by an amateur at baking like you.

"Good job, Aster," you raise your hand at him for a high-five.

In the middle of dinner, Aster gets sleepy and you immediately take him upstairs. You don't even need to read him a storybook or rocking him in your arms, he must be tired that he's falling asleep while having his bottle of milk.

You come back downstairs and find Felix has done cleaning up in the kitchen.

"Hey, will you stay for a round of video games?" Felix asks, turning around from the counter as you arrive at the base of the stairs.

Since Hyunjin will be coming home late to do late-night news, you decide to stay a little longer with Felix even though you have zero ideas on how to play video games. He patiently guides you through it while also controlling his console in his hands.

In the third round, you finally get the hang of it but not good enough to beat Felix at it. You eventually give up and decide to watch him play on the side.

Felix takes a break from playing and grabs two cans of beer from the fridge, drinking it on the sofa together.

"Hey, can I ask you some personal questions?" He asks out of the blue.

Yes, you're working for him but you are comfortable enough with him to talk about personal things. You nod in answer, "Yes, sure."

Felix sips his beer first before coming up with the personal question he wanted to ask, "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No," you answer with a light head shake.

"May I know why?"

"I'm not looking for relationships at the moment," you shortly answer.

Finishing your college is your top priority now and as for everything else, you can always do it later once you graduate.

"Is it because you don't want to or...?"

"I think I've said it before that I'm focusing on graduating college first," you answer.

"But are you open to it?"

"I'm always open to it but not for now," you firmly answer.

"How about casual ones?"

"You mean... casual dating?"

"Why? You've done it, right? Sex?"

You shyly chuckle because you don't talk about such things with anyone, not even with your mom.

"Don't get shy with me. We're both grown up and Aster is asleep," he says with a soft laugh.

"Well, I've done it but... I don't know," you decide to leave it at that, deciding not to tell him in detail.

"Was it good? Bad? Average?"

"I don't have that many experiences to know for certain if it was good or bad," you honestly share and it surprises you that you don't find it awkward to tell him that. Maybe it's because you know he won't be judgmental about it.

Felix nods at your answer and he seems to need a moment to process it, "Are you open to experiment?"

"You make it sound like it's a chem class," you playfully respond to his question.

"Experimenting is what led me to meet Aster's dad," Felix remarks with a quick eyebrow raise.

You crack a laugh and finish your can of beer, "I don't know. I'm not that confident with myself."

"Nonsense!" He strongly disagrees.

"You're undeniably gorgeous," he genuinely compliments as he brushes your hair to the side, "and that says something coming from me."

You laugh again and put down your empty can on the table, "well, thank you!"

Felix shifts on his seat and turns his body to face you, "do you trust me?"

"I do," you answer without a beat and that tells him how much you trust him.

"Do you trust me enough to experiment with me?"

"With you?" You ask in confirmation.

"Yes."

"I don't know..." you doubtfully answer, "I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"It won't. Trust me," he convinces you.

There's nothing to lose here and it's just an experiment, not a real thing. It's more relieving to know that he initiates the idea and you can trust him on that.

"Who knows you have a thing for a dad of one?" He jokingly says.

"Okay," you say with a nervous laugh.

"Okay," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently massaging it, "Now, relax."

Felix glides his hand up to the nape of your neck and continues massaging you there, his fingers softly scratching the back of your hair. It works to help you relax, your shoulders are no longer tense and your heart beats steadily.

"Now close your eyes," he speaks so low it's almost like a whisper.

You obey him without question and close your eyes, nothing happens until a moment later, you feel his lips against yours, soft meets soft, and together locked in a slow, sensuous kiss.

Felix skillfully pries your mouth open with his tongue and you willingly open it for him, letting him taste you more.

With the hand that stays on the nape of your neck, he can angle your head as he pleases, and that way he can deepen the kiss.

The quiet in the room only adds to the tension and you hold your breath, not wanting to change a thing about this moment, you want to keep it as long as you can and only let go when you start to feel faint from lack of oxygen in your lungs.

"And that's what a good kiss should be," he mutters.

Instead of feeling awkward, you feel funny and break into laughter, "Maybe I do have a thing for a dad of one," you joke back.

Hyunjin walks in on the two of you laughing on the sofa together and both of you immediately quiet down which gives the impression that he interrupted something.

"What's going on?" He asks, taking his suit jacket off and folding it neatly in his arm.

"Nothing," you shortly answer.

"I taught her how to kiss," Felix blurts out.

"Oh," Hyunjin says, but he doesn't seem as surprised as you think he would be, "Are you sure you taught her well?"

Hyunjin's unexpected reaction to it makes you wonder if he knows that it's true and he doesn't mind any of it. Or maybe you should feel relieved that he doesn't mind that his husband kissed the babysitter.

"Hey, why don't you stay over?" Felix suggests out of the blue.

The plan is to leave once Hyunjin is already home, you grab your phone and get up from the sofa, "Oh, no, I'll just—"

"You're staying over and I'm getting us drinks," Felix insists, pushing you to sit back down on the sofa.

"I'll help," you offer, getting the glasses from the cabinet while Felix is getting the liquor.

You return to the living room while clutching the glasses close to your chest, finding Hyunjin grabbing the knot of his tie and loosening it around the collar before pulling it hard, seamlessly taking it off at once.

"You don't know how to kiss, huh?" He says with a smirk, undoing the cuffs of his shirt before rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

"I know how to kiss," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

Felix places a sealed bottle of liquor and a bowl of ice on the table along with a sealed bottle of liquor, "I showed her how a good kiss should be," he says.

Hyunjin sits on the sofa and grabs the bottle of liquor to uncap it, "Show it to me then."

You snort thinking that he's joking and Felix shifts the attention to the drinks, "Let's have some drinks first!"

Felix drops an ice cube into each glass while Hyunjin carefully pours the liquor to fill all three glasses without spilling a drop.

However, on the third round of drinks, Felix holds his hand out at you, "Come on!"

You glance up and look at him in confusion, "Huh?"

"Time to put it to practice," he says, holding his hand farther at you.

You awkwardly place your hand in his and let him help you get up from the sofa, he pulls you so hard that you bump into him.

Felix is quick enough to catch you with his arm around your waist, "do you trust me?"

"To do what?"

He dramatically rolls his eyes at you and asks you again, "Do you trust me?"

In a way that he has no intention to harm you mentally or physically and you feel safe enough to do almost anything then the answer is yes.

"Yes," you reply.

Felix nods as he takes your answer, he holds you close and puts his hand on your jaw, "Just follow my lead, okay?"

You don't know what he's going to do but you nod anyway, "Okay."

He leans in and kisses you, a little harder than the previous one. With the hand steadily holding your jaw, he can easily part your mouth open by pulling your chin down and that way, he can deepen the kiss.

One thing that you have to admit is that Felix is a good kisser, his kiss contains all sorts of things, it's hot and wet, gentle yet intense at times.

He has thing thing that he does with his tongue, he likes to twirl it around yours before tugging it between his teeth. The moment he lets go, you're running out of breath.

"Good, right?" Felix asks.

You innocently nod, "Yeah."

"Now, you do it to me," he says, asking you to practice it on him.

You take another moment to take a breath before leaning in and kissing him, doing exactly what he did to you earlier. It might not be perfect but you're trying your best to impress him.

As you're busy kissing him, Felix takes your hands and places them on him, one on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. He then puts his arms around you and pulls you closer until there's no inches of space left between your bodies.

Feeling left out, Hyunjin gets up from his seat and stands behind you. You're not aware of his presence until you feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Guys, let me in on the fun," he mutters, planting his mouth on your neck.

What in the world is this? This should only exist in your wild fantasies. You have to actively tell your brain that it's real and it's happening right now.

Felix breaks the kiss only for Hyunjin to take his turn, turning you the other way and pressing a ķiss on you. His lips are softer than you imagined, kissing him feels like you're kissing the clouds.

Felix's hands are making their way to the front of your blouse, undoing the buttons, and then taking it off you, exposing your upper half body to the cool night air.

As if Hyunjin kissing you isn't enough, Felix puts your hair to the side so he can place searing kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. He swiftly snaps your bra open with one hand then pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

Aware that your breasts are freed from their confines, Hyunjin glides his mouth down to your neck while Felix is cupping them in his hands, fingers lightly rubbing on the blossoming buds.

"Oh, they're perfect..." Hyunjin sighs in awe, licking his already wet lips.

He slightly bends down to be able to put his mouth on your breast with Felix holding it up for him, you gulp air as you watch him using his tongue to play with your nipple.

A moan escapes your mouth as Felix pushes your breasts to the middle which allows Hyunjin to take them both in his greedy mouth at once.

After a while, Hyunjin helps himself by holding them up himself. Felix lets go of you to take off his sweater, he then takes your arm to drape it around his neck.

"You're so soft, bub," he whispers into your ear.

You can feel his warm skin against your back and the outline of his abs as your hand aimlessly groping around his body.

Hyunjin detaches his mouth off your breast and he reaches past your shoulder to kiss Felix, making you caught in between them.

This is the first time you don't mind third-wheeling them, you look at how their lips are locked in a passionate kiss and feel jealous of it.

"Come here, babe," Hyunjin says, pulling you in and making you a part of that kiss.

You get to the point that you can't tell whose lips are you kissing, it's one, endless kiss, soft on soft on soft.

Felix manages to take Hyunjin's shirt off and gets it out of the way, it's at a time like this that you feel the need to step out to understand the situation you're in.

They're different but beautiful at the same time, one offers different charms than the other but they're as attractive in your eyes. Your eyes are having a feast as you look at their sculpted bodies like looking at two Greek gods and it indeed feels a little unreal.

"Let's spice things up," Felix comes up with a wild idea and it involves pushing Hyunjin onto the sofa.

Unsure of what to do, you follow Felix's lead, sitting on the carpeted floor as he parts his legs open and Felix starts to unzip his fly open. He doesn't waste time pulling his erection of out its confine and lets it spring free.

They're maintaining eye contact as Felix pumps his length in his hand and then he turns to you, taking your hand and wrapping it around Hyunjin's cock.

Hyunjin's cock is all about the length but that doesn't mean the girth isn't impressive, the pink tip is as luscious as his full lips, making you want to have a lick at it.

As if he reads through your head, Felix asks, "Want to try and take it in your mouth?"

Not really wanting the whole thing in your mouth, mostly because you doubt you can take it well but since he offered, you nod in answer.

"Want me to show it how?" He offers again.

And you nod again.

Felix licks his lips before starting, slightly tilting his head down and then licking the tip until it's wet. He takes a couple of inches into his mouth, adjusting himself to the size to finally take more of Hyunjin's length, and the next thing you know, he takes all of him in his mouth.

You don't know how he does that with his small mouth and without gagging, you keep gulping your air as you're watching him.

On the other hand, Hyunjin softly scratches Felix's head and lowly mutters, "Just like that, baby."

Felix gasps when he pulls away, a string of saliva connected his lips with the tip of Hyunjin's cock.

"Want to go for it?" he asks, scooting to the back to make room for you.

You like how they do not pressure you to do anything you don't want to and it creates a safe space, making you feel comfortable enough to continue.

To begin, you take a deep breath and let it out. Then you follow what Felix has shown you, licking the tip just like you wanted to and then slowly, taking him into your mouth.

Felix observes from the back, he gathers your hair in his hands and makes a makeshift ponytail on the back of your head.

"Oh, you're taking me so well," Hyunjin coos, can't stop looking at how his cock slides in and out of your mouth.

When you deem you have adjusted yourself to his size, you dare yourself to take more only to have it hit on your uvula and you immediately pull back.

"Slowly, bub, slowly," Felix softly mutters to your ear.

You reorganize your breath and try again, taking it slow as Felix instructed, only taking it as far as you can.

"You can use your hand," Felix suggests, putting your hand on the base of Hyunjin's cock to compensate for the rest you can't take in your mouth.

You sync the movement of your mouth and you can hear Hyunjin lowly moaning in response to the stimulations.

"Like that, yes," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his head in back, completely overwhelmed by what you're doing to him.

Seeing that encourages you to keep going without forgetting to breathe and relax.

"Good girl," Felix praises with a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

He lets you have it for another moment before stopping you, he holds your shoulder and says, "Want to do it together?"

Unable to give a verbal answer, you nod in answer.

You and Felix, each take a side and then stick your tongue out to run it up and down Hyunjin's cock. At times, you both go in the same direction, your tongues twirled around his cock and alternating between sucking and licking.

Oh, to be Hyunjin and blessed with the view of you and Felix, both of your mouths lathering around his cock. He's truly enjoying it, he tangles his hands in your heads and gently tugging at it.

"Oh, so good, so fucking good..." Hyunjin breathlessly murmurs.

Eventually, both of your lips meet on the tip and Felix pulls you for a kiss, he holds you by the neck, smiling as he kisses you.

"You're a fast learner," he praises you.

You shyly smile and mutter, "Thank you!"

He brushes your hair to the side, also removing the hair stuck to your lips then tucks it behind your ear. He leans in to place kisses along your jaw and continues the trail to your lips.

Felix gets up from the floor to sit on the sofa, he looks at you and says, "Come sit on my lap!"

You do what he asked, sitting on his lap and slowly resting your back against his chest. Felix smiles as he wraps his arms around you, his hands caress your skin with so much gentleness. You take the initiative, tilting his head so you can kiss him as he touches you all over.

Another pair of hands join in, Hyunjin's long fingers tugging at the waistband of your jeans as he plans to take your jeans off. Once he pops the button open, he slowly pulls them down and you're shivering as his fingertips graze your skin.

You feel exposed as you're only wearing your plain white underwear and Hyunjin's head is between your legs, hanging not far from your heating core.

"Relax, bub," Felix coos as he glides his hand down until it lands on your clothed sex, his dainty finger skillfully finds your bundle of nerves through the fabric and circles on it.

You're squirming against him and can't hold yourself back from moaning as he applies just the right pressure on it, making you drenched down there.

Felix puts his hand to cup your sex and rubs his fingers in between your folds, "Let's take this off, mmh?"

Hyunjin volunteers to do it for you, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear and Felix makes you hold your legs up so he can easily take it off of you.

Even after the underwear is off, Felix steadily holds your legs by the back of your knees and then parts your legs open, making you feel more exposed than before.

Felix presses a haste kiss on your jaw and says, "Hyunjin will take good care of you now."

Your attention is shifted to the man kissing down your inner thigh, you're squirming as his mouth inches closer to your wetness and when it finally makes contact, you sharply gasp.

If it weren't for Felix's hands steadily keeping your legs open, you would have clamped Hyunjin's head in between. The sight of his red, plush lips on your cunt is enough to arouse you, but now he's using his tongue, running it up and down your slit. He teases your hole with his finger before replacing it with his tongue.

"Oh, fu—" You press your lips together to stop yourself from finishing your curse.

Felix lets go of your leg so he can put his hand in Hyunjin's hair and pushes his head deeper into your wetness while Hyunjin is intensely staring back at him.

"You're doing good, darling," he says to him.

Hyunjin smiles in response to his words, he draws back to take a breath and opens his mouth wider to take more of you.

"Touch yourself," Felix says, taking your hands in his and he makes you cup your own breasts in your hands, kneading them together with him.

"Feel so good, right?" He murmurs, his breath tickling your ear.

You're overwhelmed, your legs are spasming at how intense it gets and the knot inside you tightening, you feel like imploding. You've never experienced these feelings before until now and you don't know how to handle it.

Hyunjin retracts his mouth, showing his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. He lands a lick between your folds and slowly, inserts his finger into you.

"Oh..." you moan, gripping Felix's forearm so hard your nails dug into the flesh.

Hyunjin smirks as he stares up at you while pumping his finger in and out of you. A while later, he pulls it out only to add another digit and now two of his long, slim fingers are inside you.

"The way you're sucking my fingers in..." he sighs, planting his mouth on your clit to tease it with his tongue and suck on it.

As if that isn't enough for him, he curls his fingers and he touches you right on the spot that makes you loudly moan. You can tell that Felix is looking at the baby monitor to check on Aster which reminds you to keep yourself quiet. But it's so hard as Hyunjin incessantly sucking on your clit with his fingers repeatedly hitting on your spot.

When Hyunjin pulls away, you can finally breathe out and relax, far too relaxed that you feel weak on the legs. Felix has to move you like you were a rag doll, he's laying you down on the sofa and then he lays next to you.

"Are you okay, bub?" He asks you with a gentle caress on your cheek.

Other than can't feel your legs? You nod, "I'm okay."

Felix softly smiles and plants his lips on yours again, making you a little less conscious and less insecure with yourself. You allow yourself to do as you please, touching his body and boldly putting your hand in his pants. You pull his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free and put your hand around it, slowly stroking it.

"Fast learner," he murmurs against your lips.

You triumphantly smile in response, opening your mouth for him so he can deepen the kiss.

The sofa isn't big enough to fit three people and Hyunjin ends up hovering above you, placing kisses on your neck and chest.

Felix's hand parts your legs open and he doesn't waste time touching you there again, rubbing on your clit as he kisses you.

The second Felix breaks the kiss, Hyunjin takes his turn. He lowers his mouth on you, hastily kissing you on the lips and then on the skin under your ear.

"Want to be inside you," he whispers.

He cups your jaw and looks at you with a piercing gaze, "Can I?"

The first thing you do is look at Felix to seek his permission first. Instead of doing that, he asks the same thing to you.

"Will you let Hyunjin do it, bub?"

It's too late to back out now, isn't it? Honestly, you've been wondering what it feels like to have something beautiful like what they have and now, you get the chance to experience that.

You swallow air and nod, but you know they need the consent to be uttered verbally, "Yes."

Rather than going right into it, Hyunjin and Felix work together to place kisses all over you, you believe they're trying to make you relax and it works, you feel less nervous with every searing kiss they plant on your skin.

Felix puts your leg over his body, exposing your gushing hole to Hyunjin and he stares at it while stroking his cock in his hand, so hard and veiny, pulsating with so much desire.

"You're so wet, bub," Felix hums as he lightly caresses your inner thighs with his fingertips.

Getting impatient, Hyunjin rubs his length in between your folds, lubricating it with your arousal. Felix helps to smear it all over his length and gives it a few pumps.

"And you're so hard, my love," he says to Hyunjin which he immediately responds with a haste kiss on his lips.

"You have to wait for your turn," Hyunjin says, leaving another peck on his lips before shifting his attention back to you.

Hyunjin tenderly kisses your lips and holds your chin as he says, "I'm going in, yeah?"

With one hand resting on your abdomen, he aims his cock toward your entrance and slowly pushes it in. Felix props his elbow against the sofa to be able to see how Hyunjin's cock disappeared into you little by little.

Oh, he stretches you out and fills you in immediately, you look down and he's not fully in yet.

"Just a little bit more, bub," Felix mutters to you, placing soothing rubs on your inner thigh.

"So tight," Hyunjin says through his gritted teeth, also overwhelmed by being inside you.

Hyunjin pulls back to slowly push it back inside you deeper than before. The slightest of movement and you can feel his whole length inside you.

"Oh! Oh, my—" you muffle yourself by pressing your lips together.

"You take him so well, bub," Felix coos, removing the hair covering your face then kisses you.

Hyunjin gives it a moment to adjust to each other, he rubs your abdomen and places a tender kiss on your sternum, "You feel so good around me," He murmurs, his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

Felix gives Hyunjin's hair a ruffle and pulls him for a kiss, then together they place kisses on each side of your face. He turns your head to the side and captures your lips in a kiss as Hyunjin starts moving.

He starts slow and keeps a steady pace, he maintains eye contact with you if he isn't looking down at the way his cock slips in and out of you.

"Do I feel good?" Hyunjin asks in a soft tone and a soft gaze.

"Uh-huh," you answer between your moans.

Hyunjin smiles and he remains steadily thrusting into you, but adding more intensity to it, the skin slapping sound grows louder and echoes in the living room.

Felix buries his mouth in your neck while his hand goes down south, giving you extra stimulation by playing with your clit.

"Please, please..." you beg.

"Please, what?" Hyunjin asks with a faint smirk on his face.

You don't know why you plead in the first place but it's getting so overwhelming, you don't know how you can take this much and your brain is still able to function.

"Please..." you pathetically plead again.

Hyunjin pauses for a second, he props his hands on each side of your waist to give him more leverage, and that way, he can add more depth and intensity to his thrust.

"You want to cum, mmh?"

You eagerly nod even though you're not sure if that's what you want but you know it's what you need.

"You hear the girl," Felix says, putting his hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "Give it to her, babe."

Hyunjin feels encouraged, he doesn't even need it at all, he's been thrusting into you non-stop, taking you closer and closer to your release. He brushes his hair to the back and adds speed to his thrusting.

You don't know that you've been crying until you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your moaning and crying, sometimes it's a mix of the two, feeling so overwhelmed that your brain is short-circuit.

"My goodness, oh," your voice is shaking from how hard Hyunjin thrusts into you.

"Don't hold your breath," Felix speaks right into your ear, his teeth faintly nibbling on your ear.

But you keep holding your breath because if you don't, you feel like you're about to completely lose it and combust.

"Please, please," you plead again because it's the only word your brain can compute.

Hyunjin thrusts even faster and harder, your body quakes along to his movements. Felix holds your hand as if he knows you need something to hold on to.

"Oh, oh..." your moans turn into broken cries.

"You're close, mmh?" Hyunjin manages to say as he puts all of him to get you to your release.

Your eyes are screwed shut and more tears rolling down your cheeks, you feel hot all over even though your body is covered with a thin layer of sweat.

"I can't– can't take it anymore," you stutter your words as you choke on air from constantly moaning and crying.

"Just let go, bub, let go," Felix murmurs.

You let out a choked sob and follow his words, letting yourself go even if it means you're going to explode into a million little pieces.

Two, three thrusts later, you hit your climax and everything suddenly turns white. You feel faint but at the same time, you feel this wave of electricity surging through you.

You're completely out of it until a moment later, you open your eyes to find Hyunjin rushing to pull out of you. He then holds his cock in his hand, pumping it as fast as he could until the white of his seed spurts out of him.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he sighs while keeps pumping his cock.

Felix gasps in awe watching Hyunjin make white streaks all over your chest and stomach with his seed, glistening and feeling hot on your skin.

"Oh, look at that!" He looks at Hyunjin and says, "You cum a lot, honey."

Hyunjin stops pumping his cock once he deems he's done releasing his load. He tilts his head to the back and lets out a broken yet satisfied moan.

"Gosh! That was so fucking good," he says, placing a haste kiss on your parted mouth.

Felix uses his finger to take a swab of Hyunjin's cum and have a taste of it, he smiles as if he's just tasted something as sweet as honey. Guessing that you're curious about it too, he takes another swab at it and shoves it into your mouth.

"Isn't Hyunjin taste so sweet?" He asks.

You're too fucked out to respond and Felix notices it too, he lands a sweet kiss on your lips and jaw, then says, "It's okay, we'll take care of you."

You want to stay awake but you can barely keep your eyes open anymore, you're in and out of it for quite some time. You open your eyes and see Felix licking Hyunjin's cum off of you. You close your eyes and when you open them later, you find Hyunjin and Felix, both naked and kissing each other. The next time you open your eyes, you find Felix hovering above you while Hyunjin is thrusting into him from the back.

The last thing you remember is someone putting clothes on you and after that, it's all black.

-

This is embarrassing. You wake up in the guest room wearing Felix's sweater and short pants which means someone must have put those clothes on you and then carried you to the guest room so you can comfortably sleep on the bed.

What's more embarrassing is you'll meet them whether you like it or not because it's their house.

You get off the bed and find your pile of clothes on the chair, even more embarrassing that you have to meet them wearing their clothes.

This why they called it a walk of shame and you're stupid to ever think that it would never happen to you.

Out of the guest room, you head straight to the kitchen because it's easier to face one of them first and Felix is always in the kitchen.

Felix is mysteriously looking glowing and radiant like usual, it's like he didn't drink the same amount of alcohol to you or got in a threesome last night.

He turns around and immediately notices you coming, "Good morning, bub!"

Unlike him, you're aware that you must have looked swollen and terrifying so you cup your face with both hands.

"Morning," you croak.

He turns around again to grab a glass and fills it with orange juice, then serves it to you, "How are you feeling?"

You shyly chuckle and say, "Tired."

"Reasonable," Felix comments. He gasps as if he gets reminded of something, he pulls open the kitchen drawer and takes out something.

"You might want to take this," he says, putting a Morning After pill for you.

It's endearing that he pays more attention to such things than yourself. You rip it open with your fingers and waste no time to take it.

"Thank you," you mutter as you wash it down with orange juice.

"It's not time for Aster to have a sibling yet," Felix jokingly says.

It's actually nice that he treats you like any other normal day, you were really afraid that what happened last night would make things awkward between you and him but turns out, it was all in your head.

But you don't know for sure since you've only met Felix and—

"I heard Aster is getting a sibling?" Hyunjin says from the top of the stairs, all dressed for work and carrying Aster on his shoulders.

"Haha you guys are so funny," you say with dry laughs.

How is it fair that you're the only one looking like shit this morning?

"Airplane!" Aster shouts while patting Hyunjin's head with his tiny hands.

Hyunjin grabs his hands and stretches them out, swaying them left to right like an airplane. Aster is giggling as Hyunjin jumps onto the base of the stairs.

"Time for breakfast, sweet boy," Felix says, ordering Aster to sit in his baby chair.

Hyunjin tilts his head to look at his little one, "Time's up, little buddy."

Aster giggles and plants his mouth on Hyunjin's head to place a kiss, "Oh, thank you, sweetheart."

He then carefully takes him down from his shoulders and sits him in his baby chair.

"Aster's favorites for breakfast," Felix says as he serves his plate in front of him.

"Blueberries," Aster mumbles with drooĺ dribbling down the corner of his mouth.

"And yogurt," Felix adds, putting the small spoon on his plate.

"Thank you, dada," he mumbles with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed.

"For you, scrambled egg and toast and bacon," Felix says, putting your plate of breakfast.

"Thank you," you mutter.

"And for my breakfast?" Hyunjin asks as he walks over to him and pulls him into a hug.

Felix smiles as he puts his arms around him and affectionately kisses him on the lips. He pulls away but Hyunjin presses another kiss on him, longer and lingering.

Them making you feel like you're third-wheeling again means things are alright and it's a relief to know that what happened last night doesn't change anything about them or worse, ruin what they have. You know you can't forgive yourself if what you did would ruin this very beautiful, precious thing of theirs.

"I can't stay for breakfast," Hyunjin says.

Felix stops him from turning away, he tugs at the collar of his shirt and fixes his tie for him, "Are we still on for a date night?"

"I should take a raincheck on that," Hyunjin answers, tilting his head upward as Felix tightens the knot of his tie.

"That's okay. We can do it next week," Felix says, now flattening the lapels of Hyunjin's suit jacket.

"Invite Bubba on our next date night," Hyunjin suggests a wild idea, flashing his sly smirk at you.

"And we'd get a sibling for Aster," he jokingly adds.

You roll your eyes at him and fill your mouth with food.

Once he's done, Felix lets him go and hands him his cup of coffee, "well, I want a baby girl," he also piles in on the joke.

"We can arrange that," Hyunjin says, smirking as he sips his coffee.

Can't say you agree to get Aster a sibling but you feel good knowing that your presence doesn't feel like a threat to them, if anything, they make you feel like you're a part of them.

"I have to go," Hyunjin says, taking another sip of his coffee before putting it down on the kitchen counter. He runs to get his briefcase and walks back to the kitchen to kiss his husband.

"Have a great day at work," Felix says after placing a peck on Hyunjin's lips.

Hyunjin sweetly kisses him on the cheek and whispers, "Love you."

Felix hugs him with such love and says back, "I love you."

Oh, they're disgustingly in love with each other, you can't decide if you get the urge to vomit from watching them or you're merely filled with so much jealousy.

Hyunjin walks up to Aster and plants a long kiss on the top of his head, "Daddy has to go to work, okay?"

Aster reaches for him and adorably places a kiss on Hyunjin's cheek, "Buhbye," he says while waving his hand at him.

"Be good, my sweet angel," he says for the last time with an endearing pat on the head.

As for you, he places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it, "Have a great day, bub," he says.

"You too, Mr. Hwang," you shorty respond while chewing your food.

"It's Hyunjin," he says with a fed-up tone.

"You too, it's Hyunjin," you say with a sly grin.

Hyunjin ignores you and takes another look at Felix, staring at him with wistful eyes as if he's reluctant to go to work, and then waves bye at him.

A moment after Hyunjin leaves, Felix notices that Hyunjin left his car keys on the kitchen island.

"Honey, you're forgetting something," Felix shouts as Hyunjin hasn't gone out of the house.

You can hear his rushed footsteps and he returns to the kitchen, unexpectedly kissing Felix on the cheek.

"I'm going now," he says with a smile, thinking that the thing he forgot is kissing him bye.

"Honey!" Felix groans while laughing and you also burst out laughing from witnessing it.

"What?" Hyunjin asks in utter confusion.

Felix lifts the car keys and shows it to him, "You forgot your car keys."

"Oh?" He gasps with his mouth forming a perfect O shape, he innocently takes the keys out of Felix's hand and uses it as an excuse to kiss him again.

It's hard to not get jealous of them because you see, if there's one thing that makes you believe in love, it's them.

-

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[otakubimbo]

Sick Days

Sylus x MC!Reader

Sylus couldn't get in contact with you and he knew that being a hunter was a dangerous job but what you had wasn't an injury to your body per say. It was an injury to your immune system. AKA Sylus taking care of you when you're very very sick

OB: Hi I started writing this while i had covid back in august and I'm working on clearing out all of my old fic drafts so bear with me on any other updates

masterlist

A groan escapes your lips as you forcefully peel your eyes open. Your throat hurts, your head hurts, your body hurts, everything hurts. It took you a bit to register that the banging wasn’t in your head, but it was at your front door. Every cell in your body screaming at you to stay in your bed, but the knocking just wouldn’t stop.

As you sit up out of bed, your head immediately spins from the sudden motion.

“Fuck,” you attempt to steady yourself before fully getting out of bed, but it was hard. You tried to take a deep breath but that just caused you to have a coughing fit. The burn in your throat and chest is almost unbearable. The toll of whatever sickness you had had a harsher effect on your body than you thought. Initially, you assumed you could have just slept off whatever it was but now you were so sure.

Slowly, you struggle your way to the front door, blanket securely wrapped around you since you were freezing. Eventually, you get your door open as you glare at a well-dressed chest, your eyes racking up to see the owner of said chest. It was, of course, Sylus.

“Well, hello there, kitten. Nice to finally see you.” He smirks down at you for just a moment before noticing the state you were in, gently pushing you back to enter your space, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here Sylus?” You ask, your voice is scratchy and hoarse.  Sylus brow creases as he gives you a once over.

“Mephesto claims you haven’t left your house in two days, and you haven’t been answering my messages or phone calls.” He says as he raises a hand to your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swat his hand away as you realize what he was saying. Two days? You haven’t left for two days??? You were just at work yesterday when you got sent home, right? Holding your hand out, you request him to hand you his phone which he does with no complaint. Ignoring the picture of the two of you as his lock screen and notice that in fact it had been two entire days since you had been home. You shove his phone back into his hand and shuffle back to your room to look for your phone. There it sat on your nightstand, still on the charger, opening it up to see several messages and missed calls from Sylus of course but some from Luke and Kieran, a few from Jenna and Tara telling you to get well soon, along with a few from Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne.

“I-“ you stutter as you sit down on your bed, “ I guess I’ve been in and out of sleep this whole time.” You say with a frown, attempting to rub the pain out of your head. As you go through the numerous texts, a coughing fit erupts making Sylus run over to rub your back. He tries to soothe you as your fit dies, rubbing your back gently as you calm down, taking the blanket from around you, pushing you to lay down and tucking you in. You hadn’t even realized that you were truly TUCKED in until Sylus is running a hand over your cheek and you can’t move.

“Let me out Sylus” You struggle from how tightly he tucked you in, but you didn’t have any real strength in you to get out.

“No can do, kitten. You’re sick and I’ll just have to take care of you.” He puts his hand on your forehead to truly check your temperature. You were burning up and it took everything in Sylus to keep a neutral face, he was worried about you. He had originally thought, you had just buried yourself in work again but seeing you in this state does something to his heart that he doesn’t like. You were such a strong woman and now where you were, weak and frail and not from any wanderer just from what was probably the common cold.  

“I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself.” You refute, struggling yet again but not putting up much of a fight. Theres a slight twitch in Sylus expression as he watches you.

“Please” Sylus voice comes out just above a whisper and you stop moving. It caught you off guard and you stopped fighting. “Thank you, so stubborn” he kisses the top of your head as you scoff.

You hadn’t even realized that you were falling asleep until you were being woken up by Sylus gently.

“What’s going on” you look around confused as you attempt to sit up, Sylus grabs your arm helping you as a rag falls off the top of your head.

“You have to eat something Kitten.” Sylus states as he grabs a bowl of some type of soup putting the spoon up to your mouth. You take a sip of it without complaint, it soothes but hurts your throat at the same time causing a groan to come out of your mouth. Sylus inhales a deep breath, gripping the spoon harder. You weren’t getting better, if anything it seemed like you were getting worse. Your skin was getting pale, your temperature wasn’t going down, and all you were doing was sleeping and while you were sleeping you were shaking. You were in cold sweat; he had to change the rag on your head almost every thirty minutes.

“It hurts, Sy” You grimace after you try to swallow another spoon full of soap. Your voice was so weak, you looked so frail, it was literally breaking his heart to see you like this.

Sylus puts down the bowl, “Just lay down sweetie.” He helps you get back under the covers and before he can even get back with another towel for your head, you’re asleep.

Now Sylus was a prideful man for sure, but for you, for you he would do anything, for you he would put aside his pride. He knew he couldn’t just call any sort of doctor because of the aether core in your heart, so he knew he had to call your doctor, Doctor Zayne. But oh, did he hate Dr.Zayne, YOUR Dr.Zayne. Sylus just knew that man was in love with you, your childhood friend who spent his life becoming a heart surgeon and then being your personal doctor. Tsk, he’s heard of the whole childhood friends to lover’s trope, he wasn’t a dumb man. He wasn’t dumb, but he was desperate, and he needed you to get better. It had already been a full day since he had been in your place, and you just kept getting worse. Begrudgingly he picked up your phone and did what he had to do.  

You don’t remember much in your sick haze. It was hard to even distinguish what was really going on or what was part of your fever dreams. You lucidly remember Sylus waking you up to give you soup and take medicine. You think you remember Zayne coming in which would make sense, he is your doctor, but you also remember Xavier? Maybe you weren’t particularly sure, it wouldn’t really make sense for him to be there, but you were sure you remembered seeing him.

Eventually, you gain a full sense of consciousness. Surprisingly, your body doesn’t ache like it has been and there isn’t an immense pressure in your head. You attempt to sit up when you notice a hand holding onto your arm, and attached to the hand was Sylus. A soft smile spreads on your face as you see him sitting most likely uncomfortably in a chair next to your bed. His head was laid beside you and his hand grasping onto your arm. You had no clue had long he had been there or how long he had been taking care of you. The pill bottles, half eaten soup and cups of water you don’t remember drinking or taking had to have come from somewhere and it wasn’t you.

“Ah, I see the kitten has finally stirred from her hibernation.” Sylus exhausted face meets your curious eyes.

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better.”  You say with a yawn and a stretch. The gaze he is giving you makes you feel small, causing you to turn away from him, “thank you”

His hand reaches out to grab your chin gently, “You had me worried, sweetie. You had a respiratory infection and pneumonia. What would have happened to you if I wouldn’t have come?” His jaw is set tight and you don’t think you would ever see the feared Onychinus leader looking scared. He was scared, scared he was going to lose you…...again.

“…… I’m sorry but you took care of me and I’m fine now. Yeah?” You say turning your head out of his hands in more embarrassment as you busy yourself with straightening out your night stand. As you pick up the bottle of pills, you notice you see that Zayne prescribed these. You glance between the bottle and then at Sylus.

He scoffs before taking the bottle from your hand, putting it back down “Well of course I had to reach out to your doctor. Your fever wouldn’t go down.”

“But you hate Zayne?”  You questioned as you tilt your head in a way that was way too cute for Sylus.

“I do not hate the doctor. I just don’t like how friendly he is with you on the occasion.” He scoffs at the giggle you let out, “And I’m aware that you are childhood friends, but the man should have some boundaries”

That makes you laugh even harder, not THE Sylus Quin talking about boundaries. He wouldn’t know a boundary if it shot him in the heart. It was sweet, he was being so sweet.

“Yeah, I thought seeing him was just a fever dream I was having actually. Funny enough, I thought I also saw my friend Xavier here.”

The noise that leaves Sylus had you holding back the biggest laugh that you could possibly muster. So in fact you had not imagine Xavier, he had actually been there and surprisingly Sylus let him in.

“Another one of your ‘friends’ who needs to work on their boundaries. He came over in the middle of the night questioning about your whereabouts after sending you NUMEROUS texts and phone calls. He was insistent on seeing you or he would have gotten your little hunter association involved and I didn’t think you would want that.” He groans with this cute pout on his face. “It seems you have a lot of these type of ‘friends’ who lack any type of boundaries. You should work on that sweetie.”

You reach out to grab his face making him look at you, his gaze softened when he saw your face “Thank you for taking care of me, Sy.”

He grabs your hand a places a small kiss upon the back of it, “Of course Kitten”

[charlesslut16]

-fainting hearts-

summary : you have syncope(fainting) and oscar is always there to help you...

PAIRINGS : oscar piastri x fem!reader

WARNINGS : involves fainting and health-related issues

note : I just want to say, that I myself do not have syncope. I was asked to write it in an ask and i tried my best. I hope that you are not offended if I wrote something wrong, i do not have it or know much about it but i still hope that you will enjoy it!

masterlist 

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One time you were at the paddock, a rush of people moving around you as the teams set up for the weekend. The sun was bright, and the air was thick with anticipation. 

Oscar had just finished an interview, and you were waiting by the wall near the garage, trying to stay out of the way. It was meant to be a simple moment, just a brief break before the day took off in full swing.

You’d been feeling a little off all morning, but you brushed it off. The heat, the excitement of the race weekend, the crowd, it all mixed together and made your head spin. 

You gripped the railing, trying to focus on the surrounding noise, the buzz of activity, but it felt like everything was closing in. Your breath became shallow, and your vision began to blur. Before you could take another step, your legs gave out, and you crumpled.

Oscar was there in an instant. One moment, you were falling, and the next, his arms were around you, holding you up effortlessly. He whispered your name softly as you tried to blink away the blackness threatening to take over.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he said, his voice firm but full of concern. His hand was already on your wrist, checking your pulse as you regained consciousness. “Just breathe for me. Slowly.”

You could feel his presence beside you, steady, reassuring. The world around you felt far away, but his hands on your arms, his steady voice, brought you back.

"I’m fine, I just…" you whispered, trying to sit up.

Oscar didn’t let go of you. He stayed close, eyes scanning you for any sign of further distress. He helped you sit against the wall, never leaving your side. “Don’t push yourself. Take it slow,” he said, gently rubbing your back.

You could see the worry in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed with concern, but he didn’t show it too much. He was always so calm, as if he was more focused on keeping you safe than the surrounding chaos.

That day, he didn’t leave your side. Even as practice sessions began, and the team’s hustle picked up, he stayed close, keeping an eye on you. You couldn’t help but smile at how he took care of you, even when everything around him demanded his attention.

The next time it happened, you were in the gym, stretching between sets. Oscar had been working hard, his focus intense as usual, but he always found time to check on you, to make sure you were doing okay. 

That day, though, the dizziness came on faster. You tried to ignore it, trying to finish your last set, but before you could even finish a rep, everything started to tilt. Your vision narrowed, and your legs felt like jelly beneath you.

Oscar was faster than you anticipated. One second, you were standing, and the next, his arms were around your waist, guiding you to a nearby bench before you could fall.

“Not again,” he said quietly, his hand steady on your back as he gently helped you sit.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, still a little dazed, but the dizziness was strong. You could feel the familiar wave of panic rising, the cold sweat on your skin, but Oscar was there, right beside you, a steady presence amidst the chaos of your body betraying you.

"Just breathe," he said, his voice calm, soft. He crouched in front of you, holding your hands as you closed your eyes to steady your breathing. “We’ve been through this, haven’t we? Just focus on me.”

And somehow, with him there, his quiet voice, his hands on yours, it helped. The dizziness ebbed away, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing. Oscar didn’t rush you. He didn’t expect you to snap back to normal in an instant. He just stayed with you, letting you breathe, letting the moment pass.

“Better?” he asked after a while, his voice still low and soft.

You opened your eyes, and there he was, right in front of you, always there. “Yeah, much better.”

Oscar didn’t stand up. Instead, he kept his hand on yours, never leaving your side as you caught your breath. His patience was infinite, his concern always unspoken but deeply felt. 

It was the kind of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed until you had it, until he was there with you through every moment, no matter how small or how big.

It happened again, this time on race weekend. The crowd was thick, the noise overwhelming as everyone rushed around the paddock. You were standing near one of the pit walls, watching the teams set up, your hand resting on the edge as you tried to steady yourself. 

But then, just like the other times, you could feel it coming on. That tightness in your chest. The spinning. The nausea creeping in from the corners of your vision.

Your legs wavered, and you didn’t even have time to react before you were stumbling. Oscar was right there, his hand catching you, pulling you into him before you could collapse completely.

“Not now,” you whispered, trying to fight it, but the dizziness was too strong.

“I’ve got you,” Oscar said, his voice so steady, so sure. He was already helping you sit down, guiding you to the cool shade of a nearby wall. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress as he gently cupped your face with his hands.

“Just breathe with me, okay?” he murmured, his thumbs gently tracing your cheek.

You nodded, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady rhythm of his voice, the comforting pressure of his hands. Everything else faded—the noise, the heat, the buzzing of the paddock—until it was just him.

When your breathing slowed, and the dizziness passed, you opened your eyes to find him still there, watching you with quiet care. His hand never left yours, never wavered.

“You always know what to do,” you whispered, your voice a little shaky.

“Of course I do,” he said softly, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You didn’t know how you could have ever gotten through these moments without him. Through every fainting spell, through every dizzying episode, Oscar was there,quiet, steady, and always, always with you.

It wasn’t just his presence that made it easier; it was the way he never hesitated, never let you feel like a burden. He was your constant, your rock, even when you couldn’t keep your balance.

As the rest of the race weekend unfolded, the world around you swirled with excitement and anticipation. But in those moments when it all became too much, you knew you had him by your side, holding on, always ready to help you back on your feet.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 - 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

boxer!jake x nurse fem!reader

୨୧ genre: exes to ??, mostly angst, a little fluff | words: 5.3k | cw: mentions of bruises, blood, heavy injuries and surgery, probably poor medical references (pls bear with me) ୨୧

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"can we get a nurse to the ER immediately, please?" you heard the charge nurse's firm demand through your communication device. you exchanged a quick glance with your colleague, and with a slight nod, she indicated she could handle the task alone. without hesitation, you used your pager to notify the ER that you were on your way, then dashed through the hallway and down the stairs to reach the emergency department.

"sorry, we're completely short-staffed," the charge nurse murmured in apology, ushering you toward a room. "male patient, twenties, just some bad bruises – likely needs stitches. we just got a family from a car crash, and we can’t tend to him right now."

with that, she left you at the door and hurried down the hall toward another room.

you pushed open the door, heading straight to the sanitizer dispenser. you rubbed it into your hands, then pulled on a pair of gloves from the box beside it, and added another layer of sanitizer.

"hello, my name is–"

the words caught in your throat as you turned around. the sharp scent of sanitizer seemed to sting your nose, burning your airways and stealing the breath from your lungs.

you froze, staring straight into a pair of familiar brown eyes – eyes you had learned to both love and hate. once filled with warmth, they now held an icy coldness, mixed with a flicker of surprise at the sight of you. just like you, he was sure you'd never meet again.

"y/n," he finished your sentence.

your throat tightened as your name rolled off his lips. you gulped down the lump in your throat as if you could swallow the whirlwind of feelings right down with it. you shook your head slightly, trying your best to focus on the situation at hand and staying professional.

"yes. i'll be your nurse today," you finished the rehearsed introduction you'd used at least a thousand of times during your two years at the hospital.

with another shaky breath, you slowly stepped closer to where he was sitting, waiting for any type of response from him but there was none.

"can you take off your hood, please?" you asked in the most professional tone you could muster. you nodded slightly when he pulled down his hood and leaned a little closer to examine his face. a pang of hurt rushed through you seeing him in the exact state you'd found him in many times before.

you were sitting on the sofa in the tiny apartment you shared with jake, your knees bent and pulled to your body as if that state could hold together the feelings that dared to overflow. you checked your phone again and again. nothing. as your head started to spin, wondering if tonight would be the night that he wouldn't come home, the sudden creak of the front door finally pulled you out of your daze, and you immediately shot to your feet, rushing toward the door. jake stumbled inside, his gaze on the floor and his hood hiding what you expected to be another field of bruises. "jake..." you whispered, your voice trailing off in a lack of things to say. you carefully took his shaking hand in yours and guided him to the bathroom, where you gently pressed down on his shoulders to make him sit on the edge of the bathtub. "i'm fine," he tried to reassure you the way he always did when he looked anything but fine. you stayed silent as you started cleaning up his bruises. the only sound breaking the silence was jake's occassional hiss when he clenched his fists as the antiseptical burned on his wounded skin. "you don't have to–", the words stuck in his throat with another sharp intake of breath as you cleaned up his bleeding lips with a cotton swap. "i can take care of it," he mumbled, and although he avoided your eyes, you could see a hint of regret flashing through his. "if you took care of yourself, you wouldn't keep coming home like this in the first place," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and frustration. you threw away the tissues and cotton swabs he'd bled through and faced him again to apply ointment to his bruises and patch them up if necessary. "what if one day you come home and i can't fix it, jake?" you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper. for a second, you stopped your movements, just standing in between his legs and looking at his battered face. "what if one day you don't even come ho–" "shh," his whisper interrupted you, "that won't happen, baby." jake raised his hands and brought them to your hips, pulling you a little closer to him. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just held him close until your thoughts quieted down. for tonight, he was safe, you thought. you let go of him and took a step back, gently running your hand through his silky hair and examining his face one last time. then, you reached for the chapstick that you kept on the sink, gently applied it to the ripped skin on his lips, and softly brushed your lips against his. after you pulled away from his lips, you cupped his chin between your thumb and index finger and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on each of his bruises. "you need to stop this, jake," you whispered later when the two of you had gone to bed and he was holding you tightly although every muscle in his body hurt. he couldn't not have you close to him.

"you won't ask what happened?" he suddenly spoke up, breaking your thoughts and pulling you back to reality.

for a second, you tensed again. then, you sighed almost inaudibly, lingering by his face for another second before taking a sudden step backwards and turned around to gather all the things you'd need to treat him. you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze, although you had your back to him.

you turned back around, your face as nonchalant as you could manage as you shook your head.

"i don't care what happened," you replied shortly.

his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk, though it was faint and visibly pained him. “still bossy,” he said under his breath.

you clenched your jaw at his remark, but sat down in front of him and ran your hand through his hair in the gentlest way possible to get his bangs out of his face.

"and you're still reckless. now, hold still," you ordered.

for a while, the room was silent except for the occasional sharp intake of breath as you cleaned his cuts. you tried to focus on the task, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of his heavy gaze on you.

"this one needs stitches," you said, tapping carefully on the skin next to one particularly deep bruise on his cheek, "it might hurt a litte."

as you began stitching the bruise, his hand moved slowly, almost tentatively, to brush against your wrist. the touch was light, but it still sent a shiver through you. you glanced up sharply, but before you could say anything, he caught your hand.

“jaeyun,” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but he didn’t let go. instead, he brushed his thumb across your knuckles. then, in a gesture so achingly familiar it nearly shattered the walls you’d built around yourself, he pressed a gentle kiss there.

your breath hitched. “what do you think you're doing?” you asked, your voice so barely audible that you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

his eyes met yours, and for the first time since you'd stepped into the room, they softened just a little. “trying to remember what it felt like,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, “to have someone who cares.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you pulled your hand back, your heart racing, but despite everything, you mustered the courage to reply. “i don't care. this is my job, not…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

you wordlessly finished stitching up his wound, grabbed his chin in between your thumb and index finger like you'd done countless of times before and turned his head to both sides so you could examine his face.

your eyes trailed to the bruise marring his lips. they were as plump as you remembered, but the familiar softness was gone. they looked slightly rougher now – chapped and marked with faint remnants of past bruises.

you reached for a clean cotton swab, dipping it gently into the antiseptic. his gaze stayed fixed on you, the weight of it almost making your hands falter. carefully, you dabbed at the bruise on his lips, the antiseptic gliding over it. his lips parted slightly at the touch.

the bruises on his lips were always the hardest to see. he was already struggling with sores from time to time, and every other day, a new bruise was added to what had become a painful collection. but jake loved to kiss you. your lips, your cheeks, your knuckles, your forehead, the tip of your nose – he'd kiss you everywhere, again and again, no matter how much it pained him. only once had he not been able to kiss you. and, of course, it had to be your anniversary. he had promised you to not go that day – had promised you to be home for dinner that you'd prepared so lovingly, cooking all his favorite dishes and even bringing out the nice plates his parents had gifted you when you'd first moved in together. the ones you usually only used for guests. but as time passed, and the blue sky outside your kitchen window slowly turned to black, you knew he wouldn't be home before midnight. you tried to be angry, really, but you couldn't stop the waves of worries from washing over you again and again. with shaking hands, you grabbed your phone to call him, certain he wouldn't answer. but after only two rings, you heard his voice. "babe? i'm on my way, i–" "are you okay?" you interrupted, your voice trembling slightly. just hearing him eased the twist in your stomach, but not fully. jake swallowed hard on the other end, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "i'm sorry," he replied after a while. "i know i promised." he sounded guilty. "you did," you replied quietly. "please... just come home." the line went silent except for the sound of jake's breathing, and you knew he was searching for the right things to say, but you still hung up. the dinner you'd put so much effort into had long gone cold, yet you couldn't get yourself to empty the table. you waited silently, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, until the door clicked and jake's footsteps echoed through the hall. "princess?" jake's familiar voice called, a little unsure but loud enough to hear. he kicked off his shoes and rushed to the kitchen where you were sitting in your chair. you looked at him, your heart aching at how tired his eyes looked – at how his face was covered in fresh bruises; one on his jaw, one right below his temple, and a fresh one on his bottom lip. your eyes filled with tears that you quickly blinked away. he didn't say anything as he stepped closer, pulled you to your feet and embraced you in a tight hug, although it made him flinch. you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent as you tightened your arms around him. “i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, “i should’ve been here. i shouldn’t have–” you pulled away and looked up at him. jake hesitated, his eyes scanning your face. then, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. it hurt him – you could see in the way his jaw tightened and feel it in the way he pulled back immediately. "i'm sorry."

jake's sudden hiss broke the silence another time. "ah– y/n–"

you quickly pulled back the cotton swab from his lips, only realizing then that you had kept it on his wound while deep in thoughts yet again.

"sorry," you mumbled, blinking quickly as if that could erase the image your mind had just replayed, "did it sting?" your eyes flicked up to his.

"a little," he admitted, his voice low.

you pressed your lips together, focusing on your task as you cleaned away the faint streaks of dried blood and dirt clinging to the cracks. for a moment, your thumb brushed the edge of his jaw, steadying his face as you worked.

your hands were itching to pull out the chapstick you kept in the pocket of your coat and soothe his lips with it like you always used to do after cleaning up yet another bruise.

"you used to just kiss them better," he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but his words still made you freeze for a second.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you asked, avoiding his eyes as you took one of his hands in yours and silently cleaned his bleeding knuckles.

his eyes traced down from your face to his hand in yours, slightly bigger, probably a lot rougher. it reminded him of how you'd often cleaned the blood off of his knuckles before, but also of how you'd loved to play with his hands when you were cuddled up against each other on the sofa or in bed. or how you'd always let him take the leftover lotion from your hands whenever you'd applied too much again. he was sure your hands were just as soft as he remembered them underneath the thin plastic gloves.

"jake?", you asked again, reminding him of the previous question he'd left unanswered.

he hesitated for a second, before slowly pulling his hand out of your hold, internally forwning at the loss of your touch, and reaching for the hem of the shirt he wore underneath the zip hoodie.

he slowly pulled it up until you could see a dark red bruise blooming on his ribcage. you winced slightly at the sight but still leaned in a little closer to get a better look, bringing two fingers up to the bruise and carefully letting them ghost over his skin.

"there's not much you can do for a hematoma. ice packs and... rest," you said, your eyes flicking up to his at your last word. jake lowered his shirt again and just nodded wordlessly.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just stood in front of him, not close enough for your legs to brush against his knees but not far enough to feel entirely out of his reach. his eyes met yours and for the first time since you'd seen him sitting in the ER, you didn't look away.

secretly, you hoped he'd see the hurt somewhere in your eyes. that he'd somehow understand how badly he fucked you up, even now that you supposedly didn't care about him anymore.

jake's hand was itching to reach for yours, to graze his fingertips over your knuckles again. hell, maybe to take your hand and pull you into a tight hug – knowing damn well every muscle in his body would hurt too much – but still, holding you so close you'd never leave him again.

but just as his hand moved forward the tiniest bit, you broke eye contact and took another step back, bringing more distance between the two of you.

"you're all patched up," you said sternly, "you'll get your papers and instructions in a few." with these words, you walked toward the door, yet you hesitated to leave.

you turned around to look at him one last time. "take care, jake. seriously, i don't want to see you here again."

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the flourescent lights softly buzzed above you as you rushed from patient to patient. your feet were hurting at this point, but you knew you'd only have two more hours left until your shift was over.

you had picked up extra shifts, not entirely voluntarily due to the staff shortage, but you honestly didn't mind. keeping yourself busy kept any thoughts about your encounter with jake almost three weeks ago in the very back of your mind.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't worried deep down, but he hadn't made another appearance in the hospital since the last time, so at least, he was dealing with less severe wounds now.

you were finishing a report on the patient you'd just treated when the charge nurses firm voice made you flinch.

"incoming male patient in his twenties with suspected head trauma and possible internal bleeding. ETA three minutes. notify surgery – likely immediate intervention."

you looked up from the paper, focusing your attention on her and waiting for further instructions.

"y/n, you're prepping," she said, giving you a short look. you nodded, put down your clipboard and followed along as the team moved toward the ambulance bay.

"paramedics said he got injured in a fight," the charge nurse informed. you nodded again, mentally going through the steps you'd have to take now, until you really registered what she'd said.

suspected head trauma. possible internal bleeding. injured in a fight.

the combination of the facts she'd thrown at you and your colleagues so professionally started to ring in your ears like a deafening alarm.

jake.

you felt your heart starting to pound violently in your chest and your airways seemed to swell with every step you took toward where you'd await the ambulance. every worst-case scenario ran through your mind, each more terrifying than the last.

only when you tripped over your own foot, stumbling forward just slightly before catching yourself, you snapped out of it and managed to gather your thoughts again. countless of people got into fights every day. it's not him.

when the double doors of the ambulance burst open, you caught sight of the stretcher, slightly shuddering at the sight of the motionless figure laying on it. it wasn't your first time seeing a patient like this, but that didn't make it more pleasant.

"he's stable for now," one of the paramedics announced, "caller said he hit his head on the floor after a punch. unconscious when we found him. nose bleed, slight swelling of the head, pupils unequal," he rattled off the patient's symptoms.

"we managed to stabilize him, but his vitals dipped twice."

your heart was already in your throat, but when you stepped closer and got a clear view of the patient's face the world seemed to stop.

he looked battered, but you'd always recognize him – in every state, in every lifetime. his skin was pale, sickly so, and blood stuck his bangs to his forehead. a deep gash stretched over his temple, still leaking blood. dried red stains under his nostrils, on his cheeks – everywhere. so. much. blood.

you tried to stay calm but the walls were closing around you, squeezing you tighter until you couldn't breathe anymore. your vision started to blur as you reached for the handle of the stretcher with termbling hands.

"y/n," someone called, but the sound was muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

"jake," his name slipped past your lips in a whisper. you felt your head spinning, every late night thought that had plagued you for so long before you'd walked away from him crashing down on you – revealing reality in its ugliest form.

you didn't realize how much you were shaking until one of the other nurses grabbed your arm to gently guide you away. "i don't think you should–"

"no!" you exclaimed, pulling your arm free and stepping closer again, "i n-need to–"

“y/n,” the charge nurse’s voice cut through, snapping you out of the haze. “step back. now.”

the tone in her voice left no room for argument, but your feet still felt rooted in place. it wasn’t until the stretcher began to roll toward the operating room that you finally stepped back.

the outline of jake's body, all blurry from the tears in your eyes, was the last thing you saw before the doors swung shut behind him.

the charge nurse started to say something, but every noise around you shut down except for the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and your breath coming ragged.

jake.

you hated him. you loved him. and now, it felt like he was slipping through your fingers for good.

your legs felt numb as you paced up and down the hall, not able to stay still. your body felt exhausted after pushing through your intense 10 hour shift, but you felt restless. time seemed to extend forever as you kept waiting for an update. you didn't know how long the surgery had been going on when the doors finally swung open and revealed the surgeon.

you quickly approached him, although you didn't know if you were ready to be confronted with whatever news he had. his expression seemed calm, but he might as well have looked horrified – you wouldn't breathe until you'd heard the confirming words.

"he's stable," he said finally, and as you hesitated to reply, he added, "he'll be fine. he'll take some time but–"

"can i see him?" you interrupted.

the surgeon furrowed his brows slightly. "he's not awake yet. he needs rest now, y/n."

you should have felt relieved but your terror wouldn't ease until you've seen him with your own eyes.

"please," you pressed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

he hesitated for a while. your stomach started to drop another time until he gave in and sighed. "i guess you can help out in the recovery room," he mumbled, clearly not fully happy with the idea. you paced off before he could change his mind, only stopping to hesitate for a second once you reached the room. you took a deep breath before opening the door.

your eyes fell on jake immediately, he was lying in bed and although the sight of him wired to all types of machines and with a bandage around his head was worrying, you let yourself breathe for the first time since his arrival. he looked almost peaceful.

your vision blurred as you stepped closer and pulled a chair to his bed to sit down for the first time in hours. you reached out, your hand hovering slightly over his before you pulled it back again.

"i swear to god, jake, i–" a soft sob escaping your throat cut you off.

minutes passed, maybe an hour. you were just sitting next to his bed, blankly staring at him while the tears rolled down your face until you didn't have any left to cry.

when jake's eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright lights above forced him to squeeze them shut again immediately. his head was pounding, the almost unbearable pain forcing a quiet groan out of him.

he took a deep breath and forced his eyes open again, slowly taking in the environment in an attempt to make sense of his whereabouts. as he slowly came to his senses, he started feeling the even rushes of air against his arm.

jake forced himself to move his head to the side, although that only reinforced the pain he now felt in his entire body.

but all the pain melted away when he saw you – your head placed next to him on the matress, your soft breath brushing against his skin. your eyes were closed, your lashes wet and your cheeks slightly flushed. you had been crying for him. and you were here. even after everything he'd put you through.

it was only a few weeks after the ruined anniversary dinner when jake couldn't hold it in anymore. "there's something i haven't told you," he stated when you were cuddled up against him on the sofa. his heart was pounding violently in his chest when you sat up and swallowed so hard that he could hear it. "what is it?" you asked and jake swore the anxiety in your voice nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. because it wasn't the first time you'd sounded like this, not the first time he'd made you sound like this. and the worst part? he couldn't blame you. when had all of this gone so wrong – when had he stopped being a safe place for you? jake took a deep, shaky breath before he continued, his voice careful as if it could break you. "you remember how i... worked hard, right?" your expression stayed blank, except for the crease that formed between your eyebrows. jake took your wordless nod as a sign to go on. "last week, after one of my boxing sessions," jake began, pausing to gather his courage, "there was this scout. he said he’d been watching me for a while... and that he liked what he saw." your lips parting slightly as you processed his words. "he offered me a chance to go pro." there it was. the sparkle in your eyes. the one thing he wanted to see the most, and the one thing he'd extinguish yet another time. "that's amazing, jake," you said, the relief in your tone only pressing down harder on him. "that means... proper guidelines, more safety?" he nodded slowly, avoiding your eyes as his gaze stayed fixated on the cushions of the sofa. "so...?" you continued carefully. "i turned it down," jake said quickly, as if saying it slower would take away the courage to say it at all. he didn't look at you. couldn't get himself to see the announcement crashing down on you in another wave of disappointment and worry. "you what?" you asked. your voice sounded so unsure – as if you'd only misheard – and jake's heart cracked when he repeated his words. "i turned it down," this time slower. "jake, you said–" "i know what i said, y/n. that i'd take the chance immediately if i got it. but this is not who i am, this–... i don't want to play by other people's rules and–" "do you even hear yourself?" you interrupted. your voice was filled with both anger and frustration and even though jake hated it, you were right. "play by other people's rules? you turned down the chance to do what you want to do, but safely. you've been coming home looking like hell for months. i don't care if you win or not, a body can only take that much," you continued, growing a bit louder with each word. jake knew you were right, and he knew it was wrong when he raised his voice back at you. when he shoved your feelings aside for his pride. "i don't get why you care so much. it's not like you're getting hurt," he replied, his tone agitated. "you're my everything, jake, don't you get that?" you almost screamed, tears of frustration daring to fall from your eyes. the sight of you like this deepened the crack, finally breaking his heart. but he just gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly tensing. you blinked a few times before standing up. "but you're right," you said in a stable voice although jake could see your hands slightly shaking, "i can't keep caring about you when you don't give two shits about yourself." and with that, you left the room – and a few minutes later the apartment.

another low groan stirred you awake. you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep, and then straightened your back almost immediately when you realized you'd fallen asleep.

your eyes immediately fell on jake and you felt like the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders when you saw him looking back at you. he was awake.

you immediately shot to your feet. "are you hurting?" you asked in an almost alarmed tone, turning around to provide him with painkillers, but the weak grasp on your wrist stopped you.

you slowly turned back around to face jake as he raised your hand to his lips and weakly brushed an attempt of a kiss against your knuckles, just like he'd always done.

"why are you here? i thought you hated me" he said, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.

you looked at him blankly, "i... do hate you."

jake didn't reply. the silence between you stretched. you wanted to say it, to admit it. to tell him that you didn't hate him. that you were still so fucking in love with him. that you'd always been, even when his reckless behavior made you lose your mind. that you'd never stopped caring about him.

but you just stared at him, your throat tightening with the words you didn’t know how to say. jake’s eyes, even though they were filled with exhaustion, never left yours.

he broke the silence first, although with only a whsiper, “i’m sorry.”

your breath hitched, and you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“for everything,” jake continued. “for all the times i didn’t listen. for making you hate me.” his lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “and for breaking every promise i made to you.”

your heart ached at his words. you searched his face for a hint of insincerity, but there was none.

“you’ve got a lot to be sorry for,” you said softly, sitting back down in the chair.

“i know.” he shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the pain but refusing to break eye contact. “at some point, i didn’t care what happened to me because…” he trailed off, his gaze leaving yours for the first time.

“because...?”

his eyes returned to yours. “because i knew i was losing you, y/n. i know it sounds stupid," he hesitated, "but losing you already felt like i was dead. so i didn’t care what happened.”

the words hit you like a wave, knocking the breath out of your lungs. your fingers twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand. his skin was rough, but the way his fingers curled around yours was heartbreakingly gentle.

"every time you came home like this, i thought i’d lose you, " you said, your voice shaking, "and then i guess i finally did.”

jake shook his head, despite the new jolt of pain that rushed through him. “you never lost me,” he whispered.

the walls you’d spent so long building crumbled, piece by piece. you wanted to hate him, yes. but you also loved him – so much it felt like your heart had never been ready to let go, even when your mind had told you to.

“i don’t hate you,” you murmured. “i never did.”

your eyes met his again, and for the first time in months, it didn't feel like drowning – it felt like coming home.

just as jake was about to bring your hand up to his lips again, the door swung open to reveal the surgeon. you quickly pulled your hand away and straightened your back.

"mr sim?" he asked, to which jake looked at him expectantly.

"i'm sure you've heard this before," the surgeon continued, his eyes flicking to you, before focusing back on jake, "but you need rest. that means no boxing for now. you got severely injured and it will take a long while to heal fully."

your eyes went from the doctor to jake, and as you saw him swallowing, you absentmindedly took his hand in yours again, his fingers gently curling around yours.

jake nodded as best as he could and the surgeon left without another word. as you looked back at jake, you opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

"no boxing at all anymore," he said softly, causing your eyes to widen just slightly, "i'll stop if it means i'll get another chance to be with you."

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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[stellar-haikyuu]

dependable ace ☆ ushijima wakatoshi x reader

synopsis: when reader develops a fever after training camp ends, she quickly realizes why ushijima is a dependable ace—just in a different way. details: fluff, sickfic, ~1.3k words, f! reader, relationship leaning toward romantic. warnings: none, other than this isn't proofread lol. also what's with me putting my readers through sickness in my shiratorizawa fics...

It was rather unfortunate that you developed a fever on the last day of the team’s training camp. 

With the inter-high tournament approaching rather quickly, you wondered if the stress and exhaustion from keeping up with the team had finally caught up to you. Then again, you didn’t exactly have the best immune system to begin with.

That morning, you were still fast asleep in your assigned room as everyone prepared to leave. Goshiki had knocked on your door, asking if you were alright. All you could do was hum weakly in response.

At some point, more voices started to appear from different directions. You assumed the coaches and the other members had come to check in on you, but their words just blurred together.

However, one voice cuts through the fog with startling clarity.

“She is not feeling well. What should we do?”

You force yourself to open your eyes. Multiple blinks later, Ushijima’s face finally comes into focus. For a moment, you wonder if it’s a fever dream—there’s something different about his usually stoic expression. It’s much…softer.

The chatter of the team fades into background noise as you focus on the team’s ace. Something about him just keeps you grounded in all the haze.

Your breath hitches when he suddenly makes eye contact with you and calls your name.

“Can you understand what I am saying? Would it be alright for me to carry you to the bus?”

Carry me?

You blink at him, nodding slowly. There’s not much you can do about it anyway—it feels like a hundred bricks are weighing your body down.

Someone gently peels your blanket away and Ushijima squats down in front of you.

“How should I carry her?” He looks at the rest of the team for help. Suggestions are thrown around, but in the end, everyone agrees that the best way is to ask you.

The thing is, you don’t know the answer to his question. 

You take a few deep breaths to think. As your eyes wander, you notice the sunlight slowly creeping across the room, nearly reaching your futon. Some of it shines on Ushijima, bathing him in an ethereal glow.

In your feverish delirium, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Doesn’t matter…I trust you.”

The world seems to stop as the words leave your mouth. His eyes widen a fraction before he nods once, resolute. “Alright.”

He slowly moves forward to pick you up, his movements careful. You try your best to be helpful, adjusting yourself when he slides one arm under your knees and the other under your back.

“Ah, bridal style.” You hear a snicker from somewhere. “Not bad, Wakatoshi-kun.”

As Ushijima pulls you securely to his chest, you feel the rumble of his voice. “Bridal style? Then…is this inappropriate?”

“No, no, that’s just what it’s called. Don’t worry, lots of people do it, not just married couples.”

“Ah. I see.”

You glance up at his face, taking in the solid line of his jaw and his calm, focused expression. For a fleeting moment, the thought of being Ushijima’s bride runs through your mind. How lucky his future wife would be…

The thought lingers longer than it should, but your imagination is cut short when Ushijima lifts you effortlessly. The sudden motion and slight shift in your orientation make your head spin, drawing a soft groan from your lips. Instinctively, your hands reach out to steady yourself.

Ushijima stiffens for a brief second, and you realize that your arms are wrapped around his neck.

Although you’re pretty sure your entire body is a furnace, you feel more heat rise to your face. Thankfully, no one comments on what you did.

“Her body temperature is very high. We should move fast so she can recover as soon as possible.” 

He directs the rest of the team, following a clear, continuous train of thought. You hear something about retrieving your belongings, checking for forgotten items, tidying up the room, things to buy at the convenience store, and lots more you can no longer process.

At some point, you nod off. It’s the absence of his deep voice that jolts you awake, just as he starts walking out of the room. 

You shift in his hold, braving another glance at his face. He notices and returns your gaze, but none of you say anything for a while.

(And well, it might be better not to, since he’s about to descend the staircase.)

It’s rare for someone to be carried by the Ushijima Wakatoshi, so you try to etch this memory in your mind forever. You focus on his strong arms and how they have not wavered once since he lifted you. 

When he reaches the parking lot, the cold morning breeze hits you. You involuntarily shiver, wishing you had worn your team jacket. 

“You are cold,” Ushijima comments. “Even though your body temperature is rather high.”

“Y-Yeah. That’s how a f-fever works,” you chuckle at his observation. You can’t help but pull yourself closer to him, arms tightening around his neck. “S-Sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize.” He continues walking and the bus quickly comes into view. A pang of disappointment hits when you realize that this moment with him will soon end.

As he brings you onto the bus, you tense at the temperature. A chill runs up your spine as you realize the air conditioning is at full blast. A shaky breath is all you can manage when Ushijima looks at you with…great concern.

“Tendou told me that cuddling increases body heat. Would that help you?”

You freeze, rendered absolutely speechless at his offer. “W-what?”

“He said that it makes a cold person feel better. Do you agree?”

You cannot bear another second dealing with your body’s baffling thermoregulation. At the same time, you want to fulfill a selfish wish to keep him closer to you for as long as possible.

“Yes,” you respond with no hesitation, sucking in a breath.

Ushijima nods at your consent. As he takes the paired seat in front, he gently lays you down next to him. To your surprise, he takes off his team jacket and silently offers it to you.

The generous action nearly makes you swoon. You thank him softly with a promise to return it later.

Ushjima waits patiently until you finish putting his jacket on. As expected, it’s quite big, but you’re just grateful for the extra layer over your pajamas.

“How would you like to...” There’s a tinge of uncertainty in his voice that you’ve never heard before. You can’t help but grin at how endearing he is.

“Um…” You turn towards him, shifting a little closer. Initiating the contact is a lot more daunting than you thought. Slowly, you lift your legs to rest them over his thighs. Then, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Is this okay?” Your voice comes out a little breathless. “If it’s uncomfortable, I can-”

“I am fine with this.” Ushijima responds, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Would you like me to do anything else?”

His earnest desire to make you feel better tugs at your heart. “You can wrap your arms around me too.”

Ushijima hesitates for a moment, unsure of where to place his arms. You guide him gently, adjusting until the two of you settle into a comfortable embrace.

You close your eyes, sighing in content as his warmth finally envelops you. Throwing caution to the wind, you rest your head on Ushijima’s broad chest. The steady rhythm of its rise and fall is relaxing. 

“I feel better,” you mutter.

“I am thankful that is so.”

Would Washijo-sensei kill you if he sees this? Whatever, you can always blame it on the fever.

As the seconds pass by, you start to hear the thumps of his heartbeat. The rate is a little rapid, but you suppose it’s because he just spent the past few minutes carrying you. It doesn’t matter though, it’s soothing either way.

Before falling into slumber, you hear him speak in a low voice. “Thank you for your trust in me.”

“Of course, Ushijima-san,” You whisper in response. “You really are the dependable ace.”

masterlist

[moonstruckme]

hi i have an unhealthy attachment to your doctor!remus content…could i request a fic where reader is hiding some type of health problem from him or maybe ignoring it, and when something bad happens he finds out and is all stern with her and his usual worried self? i <3 this man, thank you truly for sharing your writing and doing it so well!!

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: description of vertigo, mention of nausea

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re sick of being miserable. You had a cold, which had turned out to be the flu, which had turned into a sinus infection, and your poor, sweet boyfriend had weathered it all with you. Remus had made you soup. He’d warmed damp towels for your sinuses. He’d stayed home from work a couple of days, and rubbed your back, and your chest, and your temples when they ached, and supplied you with name-brand medicines. He’d been so, so patient when you were whiny and awful to be around. So now, when your sinus infection has turned into this heinous ear pain, you’ve decided you’re done with it. 

You won’t entertain your body with its miseries any more. You certainly won’t be making it Remus’ problem. 

It’s easy not to feel miserable when you wake up before him on a slow Saturday morning. There’s a line of sunlight reaching across the room from the crack in your curtains, Remus’ face lovely even in shadow. He could use a haircut, you think fondly. It’s starting to cover the tops of his ears, which you think is a rather endearing look on him even if you have to agree when he says it’s not very professional. 

Eventually his eyes blink open. He smiles when he finds you watching him, the stretch of his lips sleepy and content. You draw a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose. 

“I think,” you say, “that we should stay here all day long.” 

Remus’ smile widens, and it takes half a second after his mouth begins moving for you to realize you can’t hear him properly. You pick your good ear up off the pillow as subtly as you can, propping your chin on your hand. You ignore the wave of dizziness that follows. 

“...what you really want? You’ve been home nearly all week,” says Remus. “What if we went on a walk today? We could go to that park you like, the one with the lake.” 

You shove down the dread that rises in your chest. This is what you want. You want to get over being poorly and get back to your life. 

“You’re right,” you say brightly. “That sounds great.” 

Remus peers over you to check the time. “Oh. God, we slept in, didn’t we? We may have to go soon if we want it to still be nice out.” 

“That’s alright,” you say easily. “I’ll be right after you, I just have to pick out what I’m going to wear.” 

Remus leans forward to peck you on the forehead, getting out of bed with a sleepy groan. He stretches his neck this way and that, movements sluggish as he goes toward the bathroom. 

Your movements are sluggish for different reasons. You sit up slowly, fighting through the vertigo that sloshes the room about you in protest. It wasn’t this bad yesterday. 

You discover a series of new miseries as you get dressed with cautious, snail-like movements. Your ear hurts something awful. More than that, the pain has spread to most of your head. The constant dizziness quickly results in a low nausea. You’re genuinely uncertain whether the ringing in your ears is a symptom of your ear infection or a warning bell of your impending insanity. 

Putting on your trousers is an ordeal. By the time you sit down on the bed to pull on socks, your resolve has spiderweb cracks spreading and threatening to unleash a meltdown. 

But you’re stubborn. You can do this, you think. If you’re only walking on even ground in the park, and Remus’ hand is in yours, you’re sure you can manage. The internet said your symptoms wouldn’t last long anyway—maybe they’ll clear up as the day goes on. 

“...ove? Dove?” 

You look up as Remus comes to stand in front of you, swallowing when the world spins. In the center of the swirl, you think he’s smiling. His hand cups your face. 

“You seemed off in your own world there,” he says fondly. 

You smile and hum, keeping your head perfectly still so that the spinning slows. Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm, yeah.” You cup your hand over his, holding onto it as you stand. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re ready?” he asks while you pull him towards the door. You sway a bit in your effort to walk at a normal pace, reaching for the doorframe. 

The hallway in front of you looks like a funhouse horror. You put one foot in front of the other as surely as you can. “Yeah,” you say. “Aren’t you?”

Remus’ hand tightens on yours. You don’t understand why for a moment, but then you’re falling sideways, his hands catching you around the waist. 

“Dove.” His stern voice is slightly alarmed and largely disembodied, your eyes unable to find his face in the whirling mass in front of you. “What’s going on?” 

Like an overinflated balloon popping, you burst into tears. 

Remus collects you to his chest, holding your head securely against him as he half carries you back to the bed. It doesn’t prevent your dizziness entirely, but it helps. 

“What’s happening?” he asks more gently as you sniff and whimper. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.” 

“I think it’s an ear infection,” you say in a small voice. “It hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m so—” You take in a short breath. “—so dizzy I feel sick.” 

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright.” Remus pets the back of your head, shushing you until you calm some. 

“Sorry,” you whimper. 

“What are you sorry for, love? For crying?” 

Your sniffly silence is answer enough. 

Remus sighs. “Why did you try to act like nothing was wrong?” 

“Because,” you say thinly, “I’m tired of things being wrong. I just want—” You pause, pressing your lips together to avoid crying again. “I want to feel normal.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your boyfriend’s mix of disappointment and sympathy only brings you closer to tears. “You can’t will it, my love. And you can’t pretend this away. These are the sorts of things I need to know about.” 

You blink away the blur of tears, grateful that your world has finally straightened out. You press your head closer to Remus’ chest. “I wanted to give you a break, too,” you admit. “The internet said it would go away in a couple of days, so I figured I’d just ride it out.” 

“Mm, a middle ear infection would.” 

You stiffen. “What does that mean?” 

The kiss Remus drops to your head is heavy with compassion. “Vertigo like this comes with an inner ear infection, dove. They take longer to go away, sometimes weeks, but the process can be sped up with antibiotics.” 

He pauses while you process this. 

“You know, the sort prescribed by a doctor.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckles fondly, kissing your head again. “This is why you tell me things. Understand?” 

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around his middle, clinging pathetically. “I’m sorry. Help me.” 

“I will, sweetheart. Think you can lay down and be still while I nip to work and the pharmacy?” 

You don’t think you’ll have any problems there.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader talk about the future

based on this ask, feel free to drop some more too <3 warning: mention of pregnancy / pregnancy scare + vomit

They’d been back from Venice for nearly a month, yet y/n was still feeling the effects of travel. Drew had gotten over his “travel bug” in a week, the worst of it being a bit of a stuffy nose, yet y/n still woke up every morning like she’d been hit by a truck, her back stiff and head spinning with nausea.

“I’m gonna go pick up some breakfast from Claire’s. Usual, hm?” Drew said groggily, swinging his feet out of bed. Y/n turned over to face him as he shrugged on a pair of sweatpants before tossing on a hat over his messy, grown out hair. Y/n grinned and nodded, watching how Drew moved in the early morning sun that peaked through the curtains.

“Alright, I’ll be right back. Love you.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before heading out the bedroom door. Nearly as soon as she heard the front door close, y/n jumped to her feet and rushed into the bathroom, just barely making it in time before she threw up, her head pounding. She ran a hand through her bed head, smoothing it out of her face as she leaned against the wall of the bathroom.

Having enough, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through her calendar to see when she’d be free to go to the doctor this week. However, she could feel her already nauseous stomach drop even further once she noticed the red dot on her calendar from nearly two weeks ago…

“Shit.” She said aloud. She was supposed to have her period two weeks ago. That fact along with how awful she had been feeling the past month, with Drew feeling just fine, caused her mind to race…

“Shit!” Y/n shouted even louder as she started to clamor through the cabinet under the bathroom sink. She had bought a package of pregnancy tests months ago, always paranoid despite the fact that the couple was always very careful… right?

The two of them had talked before, and after getting married, they knew they wanted to have kids. It was something they were both excited about, in fact. But now? When Drew’s career was just taking off, she had just gotten a call-back from a project she was really excited about, a new season of Outer Banks was coming out, and countless other things plaguing their very busy lives at the moment? Now, she wasn’t sure.

She finally found the package, reading over it quickly, before using it. Y/n sat it on the counter, her hands trembling and heart pounding, before starting a timer for fifteen minutes. She stood there, chewing at her nails anxiously until she heard Charleston barking along with Drew’s voice. She had been hoping to be finished before he got back, to ready herself whatever the result may be before she had to face him.

“Breakfast is served!” Drew shouted from the kitchen. Y/n steadied herself for a moment, checking the timer again. She still had about ten minutes, too much time for her to stay in there without Drew coming to check on her. As much as she appreciated his attentive nature, right now she was cursing him and his kind spirit. With a deep breath, she went out into the kitchen. Drew sat at the bar, sipping his coffee and petting Charleston’s head.

“You alright, baby?” Drew said, his eyes scanning over y/n’s tension-riddled body. She shook her head, waving him off as she sat down next to him.

“Just still not feeling well. Headache.” Y/n said, taking a bite of the bagel Drew had picked up. She chewed it slowly, her nausea combined with anxiety diminishing her appetite. She took a sip of her coffee, the caffeine helping some of the pounding in her head subside but not helping in any sort to ease her nerves. Charleston sat his head on her lap, his eyes looking up at her widely. She rubbed his ears, smiling softly as the dog’s tail wagged.

“Did you take anything?” Drew asked, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“No, not yet.” Y/n said, looking back up at him. Drew wiped his mouth with a napkin before getting out of his chair.

“I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” He said, heading towards their bathroom. Y/n stayed there for a second, slowly eating before things clicked in her mind. She scrambled out of her seat, running into the bathroom.

“Drew wait—” Y/n turned into the doorway, but she was too late. Drew stood in front of the sink, his eyes trained on the small piece of pink plastic in his hand.

“You… you don’t think?” Drew said quietly, turning to face her, his eyes wide.

“I– I didn’t— I don’t know.” Y/n whispered, feeling her eyes begin to well up with tears. Drew placed the test back on the counter, wrapping his arms around her as she began to cry.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” Drew said into her hair, his hands soothing her back. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's embrace, the only sound y/n’s soft cries until her phone timer went off. They stepped back from each other, y/n’s entire body shaking with anxiety. She was scared, terrified, of what was going to happen next. For them, their future… their family.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Drew said softly, placing his hands gently on y/n’s cheeks. She looked back at him, her eyes still filled with tears. Despite his stoic demeanor, y/n could tell Drew was probably as scared as she was at that moment.

“No matter what that says, I love you and we’re going to be ok, alright?” Drew whispered, his thumb soothing her tear streaked cheeks. Y/n nodded before looking towards the counter where the test sat.

We’re going to be alright.

Her heart pounded as she looked at the test: negative.

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding, her body nearly falling to the ground as relief washed over her. Drew hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, thank god. I wasn’t— I didn’t—” Y/n stammered, but was interrupted when Drew pressed his lips to hers.

“I know, baby. Not yet.” He said as he pulled away, still holding her closely. He turned back towards the cabinet, digging for a second before handing her an ibuprofen. She took it from him with a slight laugh.

“Almost forgot the reason I came in here.” Drew joked, shaking y/n’s shoulders gently as they walked back towards the kitchen.

“Thank you, Drew.” Y/n said as they sat back down, taking Drew’s hand gently. He ran his thumb along the back of her hand, smiling back at her softly.

“Don’t thank me for anything. It was almost my fault you were in the situation in the first place.” Drew said, a smirk cracking onto his face. Y/n elbowed him, returning back to her breakfast with a grin.

“Well, hopefully the next time that happens we’re much more prepared.” Y/n said, chewing on her bagel.

“We will. Don’t you worry,” Drew said, kissing her hand softly. “Next time we will be much, much more prepared… and hoping for a bit of a different result.”

[whoopssteddiefeels]

If you think the CC boys aren't looking for Eddie, you're wrong

----

Steve opened his trunk and placed the groceries inside, Eddie’s special requests next to his usual staples and the excessive number of snacks he had grabbed for this week’s check in at Hopper’s cabin. Eddie was probably just being cute, requesting the same thing they had brought him in the boathouse, but Steve figured it would be just as cute to refill the request anyway. Anything to make Eddie smile and call him a sap in that overly sweet way he had.

He closed the trunk, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Already excited to get home to that amused smile and twinkling eyes.

“Where the fuck is Eddie?”

Steve jumped about a foot in the air, spinning on the spot, fumbling his keys in an embarrassing 3-part scramble that still ended with them clanking to the ground. He’s effectively trapped against his car, three boys glaring at him from a few feet away. How the hell did they sneak up on him in tandem like that?

They stood in a V-formation, arms crossed and eyes angry. The one in front, a black boy with braces and close-cropped hair who was doing his best to stare down at Steve despite their roughly even height, spoke again. “We don’t know what is going on, what happened, but you and Henderson are definitely involved.”

“I… I don’t…” Steve looked around quickly, hoping something would appear and save him from this conversation. Nothing did, the parking lot was empty except for them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, man!” the smallest of the three exclaimed, pointing angrily in Steve’s face. “Whatever the fuck happened involved your stupid basketball team and our freshman members and god KNOWS what else but there’s no way Eddie would ever-”

“He didn’t do anything to that girl,” the first boy interrupted, Jeff, Steve’s brain slowly supplied, based on stories he’d heard from both Dustin and Eddie. This must be the rest of Corroded Coffin. Jeff, Gareth, and… shit what was the third kids name? Doesn’t matter, he needed to come up with an exit strategy fast.

Steve raised his hands, painfully aware that his keys were still on the ground. “Look, guys, I don’t- I don’t know what you want from me. Yeah, I don’t believe Eddie did anything to Chrissy. Henderson is at home, I haven’t even seen him in days. I don’t know where Eddie would’ve gone after the earthquake, you’d know better than-”

“You’ve got his battle jacket in your back seat.” Unnamed member cut in, voice hard.

“You just bought honeycombs, yoo-hoos, and camel cigarettes.” Gareth, the little one, chimed in.

Jeff took a step forward, making sure Steve was looking at him before he slowly reached forward and carefully pulled on the chain around Steve’s neck, drawing the guitar pick out from where it had rested under his shirt. The younger boy just raised his eyebrows, emphasizing the implication.

Steve sagged against his car, and Jeff let the necklace slip from his fingers as it was pulled back with his movement. It fell against the outside of his shirt, the red and black guitar pick stark and damning against the light blue of today’s polo.

Steve rubbed at his face, refusing to meet the trio of accusing glares. These were Eddie’s friends. His brothers according to the metalhead in question. There was no reason for Steve to be wearing that necklace other than what it was: a claim. They would know that, better than anyone. There was no getting out of this.

“Jesus H. Christ, okay. Okay. He’s… at my place. Just, follow me, I guess.”

[hidden-poet]

The Nurse

1/1

summary: Coriolanus never forgets about the nurse who treated his snakebite, and he is determined to not let her forget him.

Warnings: unrequited love, graphic wounds, stalking, coryo being de lu lu, non-con, pretty tame for me to be honest.

Word Count: 12, 250

Thank you all for you patience and kind words!

Coriolanus was sure he was going to die. He could feel the poison traveling up his arm, and through the rest of his body. 

He never should have trusted Lucy-gray. Love made him stupid. 

Now just as he was getting his life back, it was being slowly sucked from his body. 

Betrayed by someone that owed him her life. She would have died in the Hunger games if not for him. He sacrificed everything for her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted his final breath. 

She couldn’t have it. Not now that everything he had fought his whole life for was within his reach. His fathers compass agrees. It points him in the direction of help. 

Through blurry eyes, he could see the gates of the compound. There they could fix him and send him onward to officer training. There he could live up to his name.

Coriolanus struggles to put one foot in front of the other. His body felt like it was on fire. Sweat poured from him, the snake's poison, and his long journey back in the sun teamed up to exhaust him. 

The ringing ears indicated that Coriolanus was done. He could no longer place where he was. Was the gate in front of him, or has he spun in a completely different direction?

The weight of the compass falls from his hands, unable to help him. The world felt as if it was spinning him around. His vision was blurry and limited to two feet in front of him.

“Sir, are you alright?”, a low yell was heard over his ringing ears.

He swiped his hand to see if he could touch them, but it shoosh’s through the air. It used all the energy he had left. No longer with the energy to stand, he crumbles to his knees.He feels the hard rocks dig into him, so he knew he was on the path to the compound. 

After everything, this is how he dies. He regrets trying to make it back. It would have been better if his body was lost in the woods. Less humiliating than being found trying to crawl back like a coward. 

“You’re okay”, the sweet voice spoke, closer.

He looks to see eyes staring at him. In a panic, he pushes away from them, certain it was Lucy-Gray coming to finish the job. The action pushes the side of his body into the road's gravel, scraping his skin, and leaving smaller rocks wedged in his side. 

“I want to help. I just want to help. It’s okay”, the voice spoke. Not Lucy-Gray. Not a threat. 

He could feel his body being hoisted up. You tucked your small shoulders under his arm, and wrapped your arm around his waist. 

“You’re going to be okay”, you spoke again. 

He tried to assist you in walking him forward. All his weight was lent on you, but you  were determined not to drop him. 

You yell for the guarding peacekeepers to come help, as they shuffle forward. 

He stumbles, nearly taking you to the ground with him, but you are quick to steady the weight again. You move forward again, slower this time to allow for Coriolanus to balance himself without his senses. 

You scream a name that he recognised from training, but couldn’t place a face to.

It was lucky that you was friendlier than he was. The gate swung wide at the name. No formal checks of identity that should have been done according to protocol were made. 

Your name was called back, but Coriolanus screamed in pain over it. His arm began to pound in agony. He tried to move it up to his chest, but his arm had lost all movement. 

You ordered the men to abandon their post to take him to the medical camp. He was surprised when they did it without a fight. 

The weight of him is lifted off you as he is lifted off the ground by two officers. With one carrying his legs, and one lifting him under his arms, Coriolaus is jogged to the medical tent. 

It didn’t matter. It was too late. Coriolanus Snow would die in district 12 like his father. Rebels would end the great Snow line. 

He could hear you as you led the men. All sight was lost, his consciousness slipping in and out as he heard curtains being drawn, and a hasty search for something. 

Coriolanus is placed on a hard bed, and something tight is wrapped around his arm.  

The last thing he felt was a soothing hand sweeping over his head. A kind last touch, he thought. 

He woke from heat. His whole body felt as if he was in a furnace. 

A cool rag was wiped over his head, and he opened his eyes enough to see you staring back. His eyesight had returned but he had to fight to keep his eyes open. 

He was laying on his uninjured arm. He raises it slightly to catch your small wrist in his hand as you go to dab his sweat again. You remain calm, waiting for him to fall back asleep. 

His hand drops to the bed with your wrist.His cheek presses up against your fingers, the wet rage soaks the bedding beneath. Still you leave it there until he is back asleep before you continue your work. 

The next time he woke up, he was alone with a pounding headache. 

His sight was back, but his arm still ached, and he could feel the sweat on his head from his temperature. 

The medical facility was large, rows and rows of beds stretched out. Most were filled with men of various ailments. 

Across the large space was a wall that separated the patients from the rest of the medical facility. A large glass window showed the nurses den. 

Two nurses sat behind it talking. Their uniform was light blue like the peacekeepers uniform. Only the uniform was fashioned into half length sleeves which were cuffed at their elbows and a form fitting skirt. Despite efforts of the design, it was manly. 

The collars seemed too large for womens neck, the pockets on each side were too big across their chests. Coriolanus realized that they were old peacekeeper uniforms repurposed for the nurses. 

Coriolaus looked up to see the railings of the curtain that could be pulled for privacy but he was too weak to rise. 

He layed in disbelief that he had survived. A second chance was given to him. Nothing would stand in his way now. No longer will he be swayed by his emotions. His only focus would be rising to the top. How he got there no longer mattered. He had tried hard work, and moral reasoning, and it left him dead in the forest. 

Coriolanus looked down at his bite, it was covered in a white wrap, but he could see the discolouration of his skin, and feel the liquid as it oozed out of the bite. 

He hoped it would leave a scar. A reminder of a hard lesson learnt. 

A doctor interrupted his thoughts to check his vitals. He was an older doctor, with gray, thin hair, and wrinkled skin. But he wore no glasses, and walked tall, and  straight. 

“You were lucky, Mr Snow. You were found just in time. Even two minutes later, and you would have been dead”, he said, writing down on his clipboard. 

Coriolanus huffs. After everything he was owed a bit of luck. 

He remembers the girl who found him. Her soft touch, and beautiful eyes. The same women who had attended to him with the cool rag.

“Who found me?”, he asks the doctor. 

“One of the nurses here. Very lucky indeed, Mr Snow. One of my favorite nurses, Nurse Y/n. She took good care of you. You owe her your life”. 

It felt as if he had been bitten again.  He didn’t want to owe anybody anything. 

“I would like to thank her”. 

He remembers how you struggled to keep his weight up right. You could have left him. Had him be someone else's problem, but you didn’t. You were still learning that goodness would not come back to you. 

“You’ll get your chance. She’s on night shift tonight”. 

He felt eager to see you. Someone in this world yet to learn it was dog eat dog. 

The doctor said you were his favorite. That could only mean that you were kind, and beautiful. Coriolanus expected nothing less from you. 

Coriolanus waits while the others sleep. The shifts had still not been switched yet. He grew inpatient. He wanted to thank you, and go to sleep. 

But the same nurse who delivered his dinner sat there flipping through a magazine behind the glass.

Hours passed, he thought about abandoning the idea, and going to sleep. The hospital was small, and inadequately staffed. He was sure to run into you at a later date. Yet he made no move to sleep. Part of him wanted to see you tonight. 

Finally, he did. The shifts were changed, and the nurse he had grown to detest was putting down her magazine to greet you. 

He recognized you instantly as you entered the nurses den.You put down your coat and bag, as you talk to the nurse on duty. For a late night shift you seemed in good spirits. 

You look out from the window, and for some reason Coriolanus pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want you to think he was a stalker, waiting up for you. 

Only one nurse was on duty overnight due to staff shortage, and Coriolanus felt relieved when the other nurse returned back to the nurses quarters. He wanted to be alone with you. 

He waits patiently until you come out to check on the men. 

You pulled blankets over them like they were children, put their limbs back onto their small beds. You made sure every man's vitals were where they were supposed to be. More work than the other nurse did her entire shift. 

You are slow getting to him, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoyed watching you as you worked. 

It was dark, and you were so focused on your task, you didn’t see him staring at you until you reached his bed. 

“Hello” he greets. 

“Mr Snow”, you address, “You should be asleep”. 

“I was waiting for you. I hear it is you that I have to thank for saving my life”.

“Hardly. I just assisted”. 

You were bashful about saving a man's life. 

“Well thank you for assisting to save my life, and for carrying me to the gates. I wouldn’t have got there if you hadn’t arrived”. 

The blush on your cheeks was heavenly. A small smile teased your lips, and you looked shyly down. It wasn’t often you got praised, he guessed, he would try to do it as often as possible. 

“It was no problem”, you mutter. 

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to him, and your posture straightens. 

“Is your arm giving you pain?”, you ask him. 

It was, but he didn’t want anymore drugs making him hazy so he denies the throbbing sensation. 

“No. I feel fine”. 

“Can I get you an extra blanket or pillow?”. 

His heart twists at your words. He very rarely hears ‘what can i do for you’, instead of ‘what can i take from you’. It was a nice change. 

“No, thank you”. 

“If you change your mind, let me know. I have rounds to do. Any problem, push your call button” you point to a yellow light clicker next to him, “try to get some sleep. Rest is important in your recovery”. 

He almost begged you to stay, but it was a childish need. 

“Thank you, nurse Y/n”, he returns. 

You leave him with a smile, “of course”. 

Over the next couple of days of bed rest Coriolanus grew restless to see you. It felt like torture, waiting hours to sometimes only catch a glimpse of you as you pottered in the staffs den, or made your rounds on the other side of the hospital. 

He mostly hated Tuesdays, and Fridays, as they were your days off. 

He felt jealous when he saw you attend to other patients. He knew it was silly, it was your job, but he didn’t like being attended to by anyone else, and he didn’t like you attending to anyone else. He didn’t like that you had a job at all. Let alone one this taxing. 

But it did mean that he got to see you. 

He liked to think that he was your favorite, but you gave no indication that it was true. 

You were kind to everyone. Had repours with nearly all of the men in your wards. Some even called you by your first name only. Coriolanus felt it was disrespectful and too familiar for his likening. 

The man next to him had a leg blown off in an explosive test gone wrong. Sometimes it felt as if he was your favorite.  You would spend more time at his bed, than Coriolanus’s. And you always called him by his name, Francies, but always called Coriolanus, Mr snow. 

Still you found his compass for him, polished and delivered it straight to him, that was a sign that you favorited him. You only performed within your job requirements for Francies, you went beyond for him.

 He began to worry that love had made him stupid again. Like Lucy-Gray, you consumed his thoughts. 

Except here, you held the power. He could only see you when you decided to visit him, where he could visit Lucy-Gray in her enclosure anytime he wished. You fed him, he fed Lucy-Gray. He hated being on the other side of the power imbalance. He promised himself that he would only be on top from now on. 

It was stupid after everything to fall so quickly back into his obsessive nature. He thought he would never love again. Never give someone that much power over him again. He would marry for power, and to someone who had no sway over him at all.  

Yet when he saw you eating soup for the millionth time in the nurses den, he wished for nothing more than to give you every luxury life had to offer. You saved his life. You were kind to him, when all he had ever known was being of use to someone. 

He would get back to the Capitol, Hoff had promised him that district 2 was still on the cards. All he had to do was get better, and he could complete officer training, get back to the Capitol, and send for you there. 

Without school in the way, he could get a good job. Plinth had managed to get Coriolanus’ academy diploma.  That still had use, even with his time as a peacekeeper. 

He would get the Snow apartment back. It might be crowded, and run down, but he would slowly fix that. He figured you wouldn’t mind so long as he was working towards a better future. 

He would daydream of a better future for you both, while he waited to see you. Not only was he given another chance, he was given motivation to take it. 

Why would you want a low Peacekeeper for a husband? You were surrounded by them all day. What good were they to you? How would they take care of you, and provide all that you need. 

Even on an officer's wage, it would be a struggle. He still had to send home money. Even as an officer he would be no good to you. He had to get home, and rise to the top. 

But, he was going to miss you in doing so. He faked being hurt just a little bit longer than necessary. He would have to go soon, but two extra weeks of your attention wouldn’t derail his plans too much. 

You worked mostly night shifts which distributed Coriolanus sleep. But it worked in his favor too. Rarely was anyone else awake. It could just be the two of you

He thought you liked it too. You would smile when you saw him awake. 

He found himself smiling back on reflex. 

“Do you sleep, Mr Snow?” you tease him. 

“Not when you’re around”, he admits.

His words still you. It’s clear you feel uncomfortable that he said it. Coriolanus wished he could disappear. 

“Is your arm giving you pain again?” you ask. He takes the opportunity for the dismissal. 

“Ah-Yes”, he deflects. 

You turn up his pain relief, and unwrap his bandage to take a look. 

Coriolanus set his record for two wrong things said in a row. He was always cool, and calculated. You had to be to survive in the Capitol. Honey-tongued he was called, but now he was acting like a fool. 

He didn’t want the extra pain relief that would make him tired, and he definitely didn’t want you to look at his wound that was yellow and pusy. 

It didn’t irk you like he suspected that it would have, but still he tried to yank his arm away and hide it under the blanket. 

You catch his hand with yours to keep his arm still as you inspect it. He suddenly felt very hot as you held his hand on the bed, while you looked put together and focused like always. 

“Yellow bellies have the most painful bite of any snake in the district. I am surprised you complain so little”. 

You jerk your hand from his, causing his fingers to curl. He keeps his fingers tight against his palm which aggravates the sore muscles on his bitten arm. 

Taking a bottle from his nightstand, and dapping it into a medical cloth, you turn your focus back on him. 

“I am just going to clean it. It might hurt a little”. 

The first dap felt like acid on his arm. He grits his teeth from the pain. 

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself. How long have you been a peacekeeper for?”. 

You were trying to distract him. He picked up on it easily. He should have felt like a child, but he felt thrilled at the opportunity to talk to you about something other than his arm. 

“Not long. I am going to Officer training in two, and then I’ll make my way back to the Capitol”. 

“Oh the Capitol? You aren’t a transfer from another district”, you observe as you tap his yellow, and flaky skin with your rag.

“Do you know the Campbells?”, you ask. 

He did. He was surprised that you did. 

“We were neighbors, before the war” you explain.

“You’re from the Capitol?” he asks. 

“I was. The war took both my parents. After that there was nothing left for me there”. 

There was no emotion as you said it. No hidden anguish at all you had lost.

“I am sorry that happened to you”, he offered. 

“Don’t be. Plenty of orphans due to the war. I am grateful that the medic school took me.  But the Campbells had this little white dog that I used to love. I always wondered if it survived”. 

Coriolanus knew that the dog was long gone. The Campbells had eaten it when supplies were cut off to the Capitol. They tried to sell its fur to Grandma’am.

He didn’t want to disappoint you with the news, so a lie fell off his tongue. 

“Yes, it did. Mrs Campbell carries it everywhere with her”. 

You smile and he is glad he chose to lie. 

“My parents died in the war too. I have my grandmother, and cousin waiting for me to get back to the Capitol’’. 

“I hope you get there, Mr Snow”, you say as you wrap his arm back up. 

“Would you come with me?”, he asks.

Your pause made him worry that you were going to laugh at him, but instead you looked shyly up and smiled. 

“This is my home. I am happy here’, you state. 

“The Capitol would be better than here. I could give you the life you deserve”. 

“The Capitol is not for me”, you deflect. 

He felt angry at your resistance. Did you not think he could look after you? Did you not trust that he would not remain a peacekeeper all his days. 

“So that’s a no. You wouldn’t come with me”, he determines. 

It should have been disheartening. He should have left the idea alone there, but if anything it was a challenge. A call for action. Motivation to leave the hospital and become the man you would leave the district for. 

“That’s a no,” you agree, “But when you get to the Capitol, I want you to give Mrs Campbell's dog a pat for me.”

The dog is dead, he wanted to say. You had hurt him, so he wanted to hurt you, but cool, and calculated is how he survived, and it’s how he would get everything he is after. 

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he barters. 

You look surprised he said it. Unsure at first, before your lips turned into a sly smile. 

Bending down, he thinks you are about to accept his offer. He parts his lips slightly for you, bringing his head towards yours slowly. 

His heart pounds in his chest. If his arm wasn’t so sore he would reach out for your face. 

He remembers the anticipation of Lucy-grays first kiss. It was a dizzing feeling that he hated. 

He swears he feels your lips graze his but you duck your head away and kiss both his cheeks quickly. 

“You can tell Mrs Campbell I said hi too”, you giggle. 

“Was that amusing for you?”, he asks. 

You nod your head with a grin across your face. 

“Goodnight, Mr Snow. I’ll see you for breakfast”. 

Wasting no more time with him, you continue your work with other patients. 

“Goodnight, nurse y/n.” 

Coriolanus rests his head on the pillow as you disappear into the other side of the hospital. 

He must have been a child the last time he couldn’t help but smile. All that had happened seemed like a lifetime ago, and not only a couple of weeks. He was a new person. Lucy-Gray had killed the boy, and raised the man. 

Wouldn’t come to the Capitol with him? He would be the final decider of that. He smiled thinking about the future ahead of him. 

The news of his discharge did not bring him the pleasure he was expecting. 

Who knew how long officer training would take. It could be years before he got back to the Capitol and that was only when his journey began. He was sure he would not forget you, but would time cause you to forget him.  

His fellow Peacekeepers wished him well as he packed his truck up. Commander Hoff had signed him out this morning, but you weren’t there to say goodbye. 

He couldn’t let you forget him.

He owed you his life, he had a debt to pay.

Everyone told him how happy he should be. To get out of 12, but you were in 12. Surrounded by young men with little brains but big muscles. 

How lonely could he expect you to get before you found warmth in the arms of a soldier. 

He tosses in his uncomfortable bed. In the morning he would be sent

miles away. Could he trust you to assume his love? No. He had to tell you. Had to assure you that he was coming back. 

Tonight you did night shift. He had to tell you to wait for him. 

He leaps out of his bunk, pulling on his cardigan before sneaking out of the bunks. 

If a commanding officer caught him outside after lights out, the punishment was a night in the compound jail. He wouldn’t be released until late morning and would miss his train. 

He is quick as he moves through the darkness. Only stopping to hide when night staff were approaching. He made it safely to the nurses door.

It was late. Night guard focused on the boundaries so Coriolanus felt safe to approach the door to the nurses den despite the light illuminating the door. 

He knocks on the entry, and you open it shortly after. Unsuspecting, and untroubled. 

“Mr Snow,” you smile at him, causing him to unknowingly smile back. 

“Is something wrong?”, you step aside to allow him in out of the cold. He closes the door behind him, and feels secure being trapped in the room with you. 

“Yes-No”, he wasn’t sure where to begin. 

“Your arm?” you guessed. 

“I am going to officer training tomorrow”, he states. 

You smile wide at him again, but this time no smile on his lips curled back. He could tell you had not realized your stake in this.

“Congratulations.’’ you move past him to place a clip bored back on the shelf behind him, “I am happy for you.”

“Are you?” he asks. 

“Of course. I remember you telling me your plans to reach the Capitol. Officer training is a good stepping stone”. 

He grabs your arm to turn you towards him. 

“I don’t want you to forget me”. 

You looked unsettled, but made no attempt to break away. 

“Of course not”, you answer. 

“I don’t want you to think I’ll forget you either. I’ll send for you as soon as I can”. 

Your face twists, and you slightly attempt to raise your arm out of his hold. 

“Mr Snow, I am afraid you are confused. Maybe you should go back to your bunk”. 

He uses his grip on your arm to shake you slightly.

“Don’t speak to me like that”, he requests. He wasn’t one of your patients. 

“I told you, I have no interest in returning to the Capitol”. Your voice had changed from your usual sweet tone. It carried a hint of irritation, and strong determination. 

You try to tug your arm back from him but it was too tight,

“I have an interest in you returning to the Capitol”.

You look past him to the door. It causes great irritation for Coriolanus. Who wanted all of your focus. 

With his hold on your arm he pushes you back into the wall and kisses you. His lips are hard against yours. His eyes are closed but yours remain open from the shock. 

You struggle against his kiss, but his grip was tight on your jaw and his lips pressed unmercifully against yours. 

He was the one to break the kiss, leaving you breathless and shrunk against the wall. 

“I need you to tell me you’ll wait for me”, he demands. 

“Mr Snow, I-”.

He brings you forward to slam you back into the wall as punishment for your hesitation. 

“Say it”. 

Your hands come up in defense between you. 

“I am sorry if I misled you”. 

“Misled me? You saved my life”

“It’s normal for patients to feel this way after a traumatic experience. Your body has been through a lot of shock, wait for it to heal”.

“Say it. Say the words, Coriolanus Snow, I am yours, and I’ll wait for you”. 

You look out the window to the sleeping patients. Even if one woke and saw you, most of them were too sick to even get out of bed. 

“Don’t look at them. Look at me”, he demands. The hands that held you in place moved up to your neck

“Okay” you agreed quickly before he started to apply pressure. 

“Say it”, he declared. 

“I’ll wait for you”. You say but it doesn’t satisfy him. 

“The whole thing”, he directs. 

“Coriolanus, I am yours and I’ll wait, okay?”.

With his hands still on your neck he kisses you once more. You make no attempt to stop him as you place your hands on arms. 

He pulls back with a boyish smile on his lips. 

“I love you”, he states. 

You pull his hands away from your throat and keep them still between your hands. 

“You must go back to bed now. You have a big day ahead of you. You need your rest for it”,  you push him away slightly as you spoke, hoping it would be enough to redirect him. 

He removes his hands from you completely with a smile. 

He knew you were right. He needed to arrive his best tomorrow. Show district 2 that he wouldn’t be there for very long.

“I’ll send for you as soon as I can”, he promised. 

You nod your head enthusiastically, pushing firmly on his arm to the exit. 

His feet shuffle on the floor as he slowly walks to the door. 

He stops just as his foot hits the cold air from the open door. It felt like you had run into a brick wall as you knocked against him. 

“I promise y/n, I’ll take care of you”, he vows.

He comes in for a kiss again. His hand found its way to the side of your face to pull you in, and his lips pressed hard against yours. 

You yank yourself away and push on him to retreat back to his bunk. 

“Go” you whisper and he does.

You watch as he runs back into the buildings and under cover of the darkness.  

Your shaky hands turn the lock of the door as he disappears from sight. 

The next morning,as soon as he wakes he heads to the medical facility to say goodbye to you. He skips breakfast to do so. 

You weren’t there, and he had no clue where the nurse quarters were kept. He had no time to find out, his train would leave soon. 

He arrived at the train station disheartened that he couldn’t see you one last time. You must have been greatly upset at his departure. A goodbye must have been too much. 

He pictured you crying in your bed, and his heart pulled to think of you in such a state because of him. He would write as soon as he landed in district 2, never mind the cost. 

It was a delight when Commander Hoff spoke of a change of plans. Dr Gaul had requested your presence, Hoff said. 

His luck had finally turned. He was back in the Capitol. Back where he was supposed to be in a high position of power and money to burn. 

It was too soon to bring you back. The ground beneath him could still turn to quick sand under his feet. He thought of you often, every second that he had spare. He worried that you were angry with him. It had been too long since he had talked to you. He has been so busy settling in, and flaunting his new success that he didn’t have time to sit down to write. The few times he tried to squeeze in on the car ride, or while waiting for a meeting, his hands would shake too much. 

He felt stupid. A simple letter should not make his hands shake. On the way back from the lake, he had promised himself that he would never allow love to make him weak again. Now he is worried about your feelings towards him. 

Finally he decided that enough was enough. He rises from his bed after tossing nearly the whole night through, and enters his study. 

The pen felt heavy in his hand as he sat. He wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start. 

He shakes the pen in his hand. Enough was enough. He would be careful how much you swayed his emotions. 

‘Dear Nurse Y/n, 

I hope this letter finds you in good health. ‘

He strikes his pen through the words, before crumpling up the paper and throwing it away. So formal. 

‘Dear Y/n, 

My plans to reach the Capitol have been expedited. I am now working under Dr Gaul in the war department. We have plans to run for senate. 

I have not forgotten my promise that I would send for you. ‘

His pen stills. With everything going on, he wasn’t sure that now was the best time to bring you. Tigres had limited contact. He was working until late at night. Nearly all his money went to the run for senate.

Once he wins things would be different. He would send for you then. Until then, he wanted you to have a piece of him. A token of his promise. 

He picks up his old peacekeeper dog tags from his desk drawer. It felt like a collar in his hands. 

He tosses them into the envelope and continues writing his letter to you. 

‘I have enclosed my dog days. I wish for you to wear them while I am away. A symbol of my love. We will not be parted for too long. Take care of yourself. 

Yours, 

C.Snow’

Coriolanus writes to you every evening before bed, but no letter is ever returned. He didn’t mind, he was sure that it was because you missed him too much. Writing would cause you pain, and that’s the last thing he wanted to cause, even if a reply was all he wanted. 

He would write mundane things. What he did that day, how much he missed you, how his election for senator was going. 

It was going well. He won voters easily. But the run kept him busy, with little time and energy left to write to you. He worried that you would be upset with him. Sometimes all he could manage to write was, ‘I love you. I am tired.’

The gifts he would send were returned. Every letter he would assure you that he was working towards bringing you here. Begged you not to be mad at him. 

But you would not accept his telephone calls and your presents piled at his feet. 

It had been nearly six months since he left district 12. Six months of not seeing you. Not hearing from you. It drove him mad. 

He called you a spiteful woman in one of his late night letters after a fundraising gala. 

The next letter that arrived the same day apologized. You were not a spiteful woman. He was a stupid man. You had every right to be angry with him. He is taking too long. He begged for your forgiveness and reminded you of his love. 

You threw the letters in the bin and clocked on for your shift. The days were longer now that you don’t talk to the patients. 

Coriolanus sits in his office after a long day. He wanted nothing more than to go home and have you there. Ready to care for him like you did at the hospital. 

He twirls the pen between his fingers. The other hand played with the coins he planned to give you. 

He wished you would reply to him. A single sentence would be enough to quench his thirst. 

Begging for a letter would seem desperate. With a beginning in mind he set his pen to paper. 

‘Dear Y/n, 

I hope to hear from you that you have been well. ‘

Yes, good. Set the expectation of a reply. 

‘Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to ease any discomfort. I have been well.  Apologies for the delay in writing to you. I have been busy preparing to run for senator. With the support I have managed to gather I believe victory is set. You’ll be a senator's wife upon returning to the Capitol. As soon as I win, and it is safe, I will send for you. I haven’t forgotten you. 

I have missed you terribly, and think of you often. 

I hope to be reunited soon. 

Yours, 

C.Snow.’

Nothing but the money he sent was returned. 

It sent him into a fit of rage. Papers were thrown off his desk. Decorative ornaments were thrown across the room and into walls. 

He decided that no more letters were going to be sent unless he could tell you the news you have been waiting for. 

He worked harder than ever. No longer playing fair. He cut corners where he could. Relied on money, rather than charm. He used to be opposed to the use of poison. Told Dr Gaul that he would win the senate seat through his wit, but time was passing too quickly. Coriolanus grew impatient. A nasty rumor about what he was doing spread around the Capitol, but he quickly shut it down.  

It paid off with a landslide victory. He hadn’t just won his entry to the presidency. He had won you. 

Surely, you could no longer be mad at him with such an impressive victory. He had his assistant organize a train out of district 12 for you. 

With it in his hand he sat in his office chair and penned you a letter still dressed in his uncomfortable formal attire. 

‘Dearest, 

You may of heard the news of my win last night. 

I have attached a train ticket out of 12. It leaves next monday at noon. Don’t miss it. 

Forever yours, 

C.Snow. ‘

With no reply back, Coriolanus was hopeful that he would see you on the train. He arrived too early to collect you, and spent the hour waiting by pacing the platform with the dying rose. 

When it finally pulled up, he could hardly hide his excitement. It had felt like years without seeing you. He sent you beautiful green luggage set to back what you wanted, and a new dress to arrive in. 

He waits for you to arrive out of the first class carriage but it emptied without sight of you. He continued down, weaving through the people down to the luggage carriage. Maybe you had gotten off the train while he was distracted.

The green set of luggage he had sent you was being carried off the train. He rushed to the carriage to greet you, but only a working man was there. 

“Where’s the girl who owns this luggage?”, he demanded. 

“No girl, sir. Only the luggage and the ticket”, replied the man. 

The rose dropped from his hand. It felt as if the venom from the snake had begun to pulse through his body again. 

He rushes back to his office where he hastily grabs a piece of paper, and pen.

His pen digs a hole into the paper from where he pressed down, but through his anger no words could be formed. 

After everything you would not come. You were stubborn like Lucy-gray. Didn’t know when to quit. He would have to change that about you when you became a senate's wife. 

He crumples up the letter and throws it in the bin. There would be no warning for you. 

The next week he arrived back in district 12. It was a surprise to the district which meant it was a surprise to you. 

A trip as a new senate leader to ensure the medical facilities were up to standard, he had told the Commander. 

The new Commander of district 12 was chuffed with a visit from the Capitol. It proved difficult to be left alone at the hospital. Coriolanus’s eyes the small hospital he managed to push his way too. 

The Commander was too loud. He would take the element of surprise away. It would give you a chance to escape, and Coriolanus would spend hours searching the compound for you. 

He wanted to wrap his hands around the new Commander's throat. Coriolanus despised Hoff during his peacekeeper days. But at least Hoff knew the importance of composure. This man nearly leaped into Coriolanus' arms. 

A lie of a headache landed Coriolanus in the doctor's den. It was a bigger, self-contained room than the nurses' den. It was situated at the very back of the hospital, away from the noise and eyes of others. It made it a perfect place to bring you. 

“There was a nurse”, Coriolanus spoke as he took a seat at the table, “back in my old peacekeeping days. Nurse Y/N, I think? Could you send for her? I’d like to see a familiar face”. 

“Of course, Senator Snow. I’ll send her, and a doctor right along”. The Commander turns to leave. Panic and annoyance rises through Coriolanus. 

“Just her”, Coriolanus said, a little too sharply. He takes a breath to regain himself before directing the Commander once more. 

“And Commander, take two of my peacekeepers to escort her back. You’re a busy man, and they will want to do their security measures anyway”.

The Commander nods back before leaving the room.

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair to smooth the curls back. After all this time he was going to see you again. He would be able to hold you, he was sure. 

How would you greet him? Should he wait for you to set the tone? See your reaction and base his off that. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from touching you if you were within arms distance. 

He sat back down behind the table. It would give him an excuse so you would be forced to make first contact. 

His finger locks with his curls. He should have got his hair professionally done, but he was in such a hurry to get here to you. Instead he focuses on straightening his suit. It was expensive and well made. It should impress you, but not if it was crumpled. 

His pocket bore a hole with the present he had brought for you. A lovely pair of diamond dangle earrings. 

He twisted the box around in his fingers, and took another deep breath. He hoped that upon seeing him your anger would disappear. 

Maybe it was all a test. You wanted him to come back. To put on a show for your friends here. The prince took the princess away to live happily ever after. 

The prince brought a nice pair of earrings with him. Surely, you could forgive him for his delay. He couldn’t bear your anger. 

His anxiety was matched with the ticking of his wrist watch. What could be taking so long? He wonders. Were you also readying yourself for him? Didn’t you know that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on? It didn’t matter to him if your face was dirty, or your eyes carried sleep. Your heart blinded him to mere appearances. It was your soul he loved, and your soul he would have. 

“Hello, dearest” he greets with a soft smile.  

You slam the door closed behind you, shutting the Peacekeepers out. 

“What are you doing here?” you seeth. 

Coriolanus pockets the box once more. He would give it to you when you would appreciate them more. 

“Would you like a cup of tea?”, he pours the pot that was given to him into the single teacup provided. 

“I have work to do. What do you want?”, you state. 

“I just want to talk. Sit please”. He gets up to show his full height. Sometimes he swore you forgot the noticeable size difference when you talked. 

He gestures to the chair across the small table. He places the cup in front of you as you sit, before returning to his seat across from you. 

“How have you been?”, he asks casually.

“You want to talk about my health?”, you spat back at him. 

“You never responded to my letters”. 

“I told you to stop sending them to me”. 

“No”, Coriolanus rejects, “I never heard anything from you”. 

It was a sore point for him that swelled a lot of the emotions he had pushed down. 

“If I didn’t have tabs on you, I would have thought you were dead”, he let slip. 

His eyes closed in frustration as he said it. Just your presence made him lose his composure. At least with you, he knew his secrets were safe. 

“You were keeping tabs on me?”, you muttered in disbelief. 

“As I said, I thought you could be dead. I was just making sure you were safe. I wasn’t sure my letters or presents were even reaching you”, he reasons. He leans his hand across the table, wanting so badly to touch you. 

“What are you doing here?”, you ask again. 

“I’ve come to take you home. Back to the Capitol”. 

You did not look joyed at the news like you should have. 

“District 12 is my home”, you accounce. 

He pulls himself back from across the table. A harsher approach would be needed, so he squares his shoulders, and sits up as tall as he can. His face hardenings, and he feels a scowl edge across his face.

“You are happy here?”. 

Flashes of the forest cross his mind. The endless wandering. The dull ache of thinking that he had failed his father. The betrayal. 

“Yes”, you answer. 

Coriolaus trains his eyes on the teapot, no longer able to look at you with such hate. 

“That’s a shame”, he states. 

“Shame?” You question. 

“I didn’t come here to leave without you”. 

“Mr snow-“

He sighs deeply, leaning on the table 

“Coriolaus, please”, he begs. 

You suddenly stand up, your chair falling back at movement. 

“Coriolanus, get out. Keep your letters to yourself, and never bother me again”. 

Coriolaus doesn’t move, just stares at you from his chair as if you were the crazy one. 

“Get out!” you scream at him.

His puzzled expression turns back to a neutral stare as he rises from his chair.  

“Forgive me, nurse Y/N. I wasn’t aware of your indifference”. 

His shoulders brush yours as he passes you to the door. 

He had a plan B. He always had a plan B. 

The next morning you were assigned to blood donation. A overhanging tent was placed near the front of the gates where districts, and fellow peacekeepers could donate for a few dollars. 

You assisted a doctor in drawing, categorizing and storing the blood for use. You knew Coriolanus was still in the Compound. The Commander drove him around, showing him new additions since he was a peacekeeper. Coriolanus could care less, but he caught two glimpses of you as the car passed. 

You were always busy working like he remembered. The tent quieted as it reached late afternoon. By 4 o’clock, it was just you and one other doctor attending the tent. 

You still had three districts in chairs as the blood was pumped out of them. Coriolanus waited behind a building until he could see only one district left. 

The doctor looks to be packing up while you talk to the man in the chair. Coriolanus hated that you were speaking to him. He was nothing. Less than nothing; he was district. He didn’t deserve to be talking to you. 

Coriolanus made his way over with a calm demeanor, despite how he was feeling. 

The doctor noticed him before you did. 

“Mr Snow. Can we help you, sir?”, the doctor asked. 

“I’d like to donate blood for the cause”, he answered. He made a point not to look at you. 

“Mr Snow, that’s quite generous, but unnecessary”, the man replied. 

“Please, I insist”. Coriolanus rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to prepare himself for the chair.

The Doctor looks to you, before accepting Coriolanus’s request. 

“Very well. If you follow me I’ll just check your levels, and then I’ll send you to my nurse”. 

Coriolanus could hear your protest leaving your lips, so he spoke loud and clear over them. 

“Excellent”, he exclaimed. 

He follows the Doctor to a small metal table with two fold out chairs opposite each other. He could partially see you from where he sat. You were still attending to the man in the chair but the talking had stopped. 

Coriolanus engages the doctor in idle small talk so you couldn’t ask to be excused. He could see that the district had grown uncomfortable in Coriolanus’s presence, and kept asking how long he had left. 

By the time Coriolanus had his blood pressure taken, and a sample of his blood taken, the district was being sent away from the tent with a coin, and a loaf of bread you had given him. Just in time for Coriolanus' time in the chair. 

You ignore him, talking only to the doctor. 

“Sir-I”, you begin but Coriolanus started his sentence in the middle of yours. 

“I admit I have other motives aside from my patriotism. Nurse, would you mind answering a few questions I have? I want to hear every voice before I implement new changes”.

After hearing the Doctors complaints about the resources and pay, Coriolanus knew that the promise of change was his way in. 

“Yes! yes, of course. You must hear all sides” the Doctor boasts. 

“Doctor, would you mind leaving us? I find people speak easier truths without an audience”. 

“Of course. She’ll tell you. It’s like working in a shooting range with limited bullets”, the Doctor turns to walk away, causing you to call out for him, taking his coat in your hands to tug him back. 

He yanks it away from your grip. “Tell him”, he demands, “You won’t be in trouble he wants to know”. 

Coriolanus gently touches your elbow, taking it in his hand, but releasing it as the Doctor becomes more focused on you. 

“I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Don’t take anymore patients, I want to be packed up before it gets dark”. 

The Doctor walks away from the tent, and the half-an-hour time frame begins to tick. 

You looked sour, and slightly worried. He hated to see it, especially by cause of him. 

You don’t move as he shuffles past you. He wanted to ease you so you could speak like you did when you visited his bedside. It was easy conversation, and for maybe the first time in his life, he felt seen by somebody. He wanted it back, but first he had to regain his familiar status with you. 

“We’re in broad daylight, surrounded by Peacekeepers who like you more than me. What could I do?”, Coriolanus states as he takes his seat in the chair. 

“You are unbelievable”, you scold, but move to swap his pressure point with disinfectant. 

“I am sorry. Truely”. It had been so long since you were so close. Mere inches between you and him. It felt so right, could you feel it too? He thought. 

“I never meant to offend you. My actions never held any ill intent”, he consoles.

The needle dug harshly into his arm, but he showed no effect of it. 

“Sending me gifts, keeping tabs on me. You think I have forgotten that night in the nurses den?”. You pull back away from him once the needle begins drawing blood. He hated to let you, but plan B involved good terms. 

“I am sorry for all of it. I misinterpreted, and fed delusion from my own fantasies. I never meant you harm”, he shouted his words across the tent hoping no other person was listening. 

“I hope you can forgive me, Y/N. You saved my life”.

He could see your common sense fighting with your mercy. Your hands fidgeted, and your eyes kept bouncing from what you were doing to Coriolanus. 

“Let’s just forget it”, you mutter. 

“What?” he calls, despite hearing fine. 

His plan works and you move back over to him to speak again. 

“I forgive you. Bridge over water” you offer. 

The saying was ‘water over the bridge’, but he didn’t want to correct you. If you said it was bridge over water, he would accept it. 

“Thank you”, he gushed. “Why don’t you sit beside me like old times? I really do want to hear your opinions on reform”. 

To his delight you do take a seat and discuss the issues with the Compound hospital. The Doctor focused on the long hours, disproportionate pay to Capitol doctors, and few resources. 

You were more patient focused. You talked about rehabilitative care outside of the hospital. The food offered to recovering patients was poor which he could attest to. Beds were too hard, you wanted patients to be able to reach home and talk to their families more, resources were an issue for you too but in a patient care angle rather than a hindrance to your innate ability to save the injured. 

You spoke passionately. It was wonderful to listen to you, Coriolanus almost felt bad that he had pushed the call button to his head peacekeeper nearly five minutes ago. He would have let you talk for as long as you liked. Sat happily without a word so long as you were speaking to him, but the Doctor would be back soon, plan B had to be set into action. 

Coriolanus could see the Commander, and a string of Peacekeepers with guns as they came from across the field. It was impressive timing given that the file would have been put in the Commanders hands only a few minutes ago.

He tried to focus on you as you talked. Revell in your attention, and joy before it was ripped away. 

You turn as you hear the marching

“What is going on?” Coriolanus questioned with fake outrage.

“Senator Snow, it is with great displeasure that I must announce that we have been harboring a traitor to Panem”.

“Traitor?” you gasp.

The Commander throws the fabricated file on the desk for all to see. 

You take a look at a picture that had been manipulated to look as if you were talking to a man in the forest. Others show you talking to the same man in the middle of town, and rooms you had never seen before. Copies of notes in your handwriting passed Compound information along, and spoke of recruiting injured patients. 

“Victorn layman. A known rebel who has been successful in many of his attacks, no doubt thanks to you”, the Commander accuses. 

“I have never seen that man before, I swear”, you turn to Coriolanus with pleading eyes

“The evidence doesn’t lie”, the Commander screeched, “Cuff her, and throw her in the gaol”.

“Wait” you implore as the heavy cuffs are secured around your wrists, “I am not a traitor”. 

“Commander, please. There must be a mistake”, Coriolanus felt compelled to speak on your behalf. 

“If there is, Mr Snow, the committee of justice will reach the bottom of it”, the Commander promises. If Coriolanus didn’t hold control over the situation, it would have worried him. The committee of justice was very rarely, if ever, interested in justice. 

Two Peacekeepers take each of your arms to push you forward. Coriolanus has to clench his fist to stop himself from tearing you free from them. 

You call for him to do something as they lead you to the jail, but he watches with the needle still in his arm. The Doctor returns to see you being taken away by the Peacekeepers. 

Coriolanus rips the needle from his arm, leaving it dangling as he walks away from the Doctor full of questions. 

Plan B would drive you into his arms, or the grave. 

He lets your brew in the compound jail for a week as the committee of justice overlooks your case. 

The day they declare you guilty and sentence you to death by hanging. He knew you were ready for the picking. 

That night he visits you, sure that you would now see the light. 

He enters the compound jail, and saw you on the floor in the furthest corner.  

The jail cell was bare, apart from a toilet. 

A long stretch of bars that enclosed a dirty, concrete floor. You were alone, per his request, but not even a blanket was given to you. 

You look up at him as he enters. His hands were in the pocket of his coat. His shoulders were square, and his hair was neatly pushed back into small curls. 

“Nurse Y/n. I hate to see you like this”. 

You scramble up from the floor towards him as you speak. 

“Senator Snow, I didn’t do it. I am not a traitor”, you explain. 

“The evidence would suggest otherwise”

“It’s not true” you shake your head, the tears fall off your cheek, “I swear. I swear I have no idea what is going on.”

Seeing you like this felt right. He was back in the position of power. Like Lucy-Gray you were trapped where he could always find you. You depended on him for food and water. 

He holds tightly onto the iron bars, and presses his face as close as he could, 

“I could get you out’’. 

Your face seemed hopeful. He hated to crush it moments later. 

“If you reconsider my offer of the Capital”. 

You rub your face with your hands. Your tears were yet to stop spilling. 

“Why are you doing this?”, you sob. 

“I don’t want to”. He pushes his whole body as close as he could to the bars, but you remain five feet away. 

“I owe you my life. I just want to help.”

“I didn’t do it!”, you exclaim.

“Y/n, they are going to hang you for treason If you don’t accept my offer. Please. I just want to help”.

“I don’t-’ a sharp breath interrupts your sentence, “I have never- I don’t know that man.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come noon tomorrow, you’ll hang”.

“Please, don’t let them.”

You move to the other side of the bars from him. Your hand curled under the same bars, just under his hand.

“I won’t. You just have to say it”, he speaks softly and slowly, peering down at you, “Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”.

“You said I saved your life. It would make us even”. 

Coriolanus shakes his head

‘’I can protect you only if you are mine. Say it’’, he demands. 

You’re silent for a moment causing Coriolanus to worry that you would not accept his offer. Was he so bad that you would choose the noose over him? 

“I don’t want to die”, you admit finally. 

He reaches through the bars to your waist, pulling you as far as he could to him.  You keep your hands tight around the metal.

“You saved my life, let me save yours. I just need to hear those five little words”.

“I’ll go back to the Capitol?”, you asked. 

“Yes, with me. Far from the noose”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands tighten around the bars, but you nod your head.

“Coriolanus Snow”, he begins for you. 

You take a big breath but finally say the words he had been longing to hear. 

“Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”. You repeat. 

He smiles, moving his hands from your waist up to your face so he could wipe away the tears.

He brings your face as close as he could to the bars and kisses you. The bars hindered his passion. His lips would only barely press against yours. 

When he pulls away he keeps your face in his hands as he speaks. 

“You’ll be okay. Peacekeepers will come get you early tomorrow morning, and take you to the train. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll leave, okay? We’ll go back to the Capitol to live the life we were supposed to live”, he promises. 

“Tomorrow?”, you question, “no, you said you could get me out”. 

You pull back out of his hold and he returns his hands to the bars. 

“I can. But if I whisk you away under the cover of night, how will that look? Like a guilty person laying down for the right man? Tomorrow it will look like they are taking you back to the Capitol for further investigation. In the Capitol I can clear your name.’’ 

You go further away from him, centering yourself in your cell. He wanted to reach out and pull you back but you were too far out of his grasp. 

“This is my home. These people are my family” you say softly. 

“And look how quickly they have turned on you. If it wasn’t for me, they would watch you hang tomorrow.”

Your eyes fill up with tears again. He had hit a sore spot. 

“Hey, I am sorry. Come here”. 

His hands stretch through the bars for you but you don’t move from your spot. 

The tears turn into a scolding look causing him to retract himself from the bars, feeling foolish once more. 

He turns to leave, but being alone in the dark cell panicked you. 

“Wait”, you call out. He turns to see you reaching through the bars for him, “Don’t leave me here. Please.”

Coriolanus returns back to the cage, taking your hands in his, and kissing them. 

“You stayed by my bed. I’ll stay by your cell”.

“Coriolanus. Get me out please”, you beg. You couldn’t stand one more night in the cold cell. 

“Tomorrow, my love”, he comforts. 

Your hands felt like ice in his hold. He should have come the first night to make sure that you at least had a blanket and pillow. He hadn’t meant for such poor conditions. What if you got sick from the damp, cold cell. 

He reaches out to your shoulders. They were cold to touch. His poor sweet girl was cold and hungry. Tomorrow neither of you would be ever again. 

He takes off his jacket and passes it through the bars, over your shoulders. 

“Lay down”, he requests “When you wake all of this will just be a bad dream”. 

You do lie down on the ground, and Coriolanus follows.

He lays down outside of the cell, but puts his hand through to hold yours through the bar. 

With his spare hand he rubs your back to provide warmth and comfort until you fall asleep. 

He shivers on the floor without his jacket. But it mattered little to him. 

You would go back to the Capitol with him tomorrow. From there he would rise from senator to President. 

You slept easy next to him. The bars separating your body from his touch. He wanted to hold you. Not only for his own gratification, but to keep you warm through the night. You had become the object of his worry. He had thought that his school-boy anxiety left as he hardened into a man, but he had instead just focused it entirely on you. 

He worried that you would get hypothermia from your week in jail. Then his worry took him to your teeth. When was the last time you had got them checked? It was doubtful that there was an adequate dentist at base. He had never heard of one. What about your iron, and calcium levels? Being part of the Capitol charge surely they would ensure you were fed properly. He remembered being amazed at the food given to the Peacekeepers but that was a low bar.

He would get you checked over by his doctor once you got home. Then he would take you out for something nice to eat. Maybe, you would want to watch a show,  even if you wanted to go home and lay in bed with him that would be fine too. 

He was so close to it all. After this feat, there was nothing stopping his way to the top. He would be president after a term as a senator. You would be first lady. Spend your days shopping, and organizing dinners. 

He would pay you back for your kindness at his deathbed. He laughs quietly thinking that it was Lucy-Gray who showed him the path to you. 

When you woke the next morning, Coriolanus and his jacket were gone. Instead, a Peacekeeper greeted you by yanking you up from the floor by your arm. 

You stumbled as he cuffed you and pushed you forward out of the cell. 

It was early morning, but most people were already up to see you being manhandled into a Peacekeeper van. 

You had no way of blocking your face to hide your shame. The van had a thin fabric roof, and doors that shut waist height.

People stared as you passed them in the van. People who had known you since you were a little girl stood as you were whisked away as a traitor. 

The Peacekeeper took you to the train station as promised where you were taken out of the van by a Capitol Peacekeeper who led you to the right carriage. 

Coriolanus stood by the door waiting for you. His shoulders sagged upon seeing your tears. The Peacekeeper hands Coriolanus the keys to your cuffs, stating it was his decision to release you or not. 

As soon as the Peacekeeper leaves, he rushes over to you to undo the cuffs. 

“Just for appearances” he comments. 

“They all looked at me like I was a traitor”, you sobbed. 

“When we reach the Capitol we will clear your name”, He promises, coming back to stand in front of you. 

“But i’ll never see them again to tell them the truth”. 

He brings you into his shoulder to cease the sound of your wailing. He couldn’t see why it mattered so much if they thought you were a traitor. You were right, you would never see them again. 

“It’s alright”, he comforts. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his shoulders as you cry. After a minute or two Coriolanus could no longer take it. He hated the sound of you crying. He thought he could be a fierce husband, but now he was sure to fold every time you wanted something. 

You had slowed enough that he could pull away slightly to look at you. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks and nose were red. The way you sounded, your nose was blocked from your tears. 

“They will know the truth. I’ll ensure it”, he vows. “But until then you’ll just have to settle for me knowing the truth”. 

He takes another step away from you, reaching for the bedroom door. 

“Me, and him”, he teases. 

As the door opens a small, white puppy with a large pink bow around its neck bounces out. 

You gasp as you bend down to pat the dog. It jumped up at you, running in circles and then jumping up to place its paws on your knees. 

“He’s yours”, Coriolanus says, “You’ll have to name him”.

You wipe away your tears, but your smile is still sad. He would have to work harder to please you. 

“He’s beautiful. Thank you”, your voice is small, and hoarse from the crying. 

“And there’s a whole wardrobe, and jewelry for you if you want to take a shower”, he offers.  

Another misstep from a man so calculated. You rise from the floor with an angry expression. 

“I am lucky you were expecting me”, you mocked. 

“If I hadn’t been you would be looking at the noose”, Coriolanus spat back. 

It was too late to turn back now. 

His comment silenced you, and Coriolanus took the opportunity to take your hand and lead you through the bedroom to the bathroom door. 

“Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower. Take your time. I’ll wait out in the common area”, he said. 

You don’t answer him as you enter the bathroom. 

You take a long time to join him in the common room. He had ordered morning tea, and coffee. He felt too uneasy to eat the biscuits, and small sandwiches offered so they were still available for you, but the coffee had long gone cold before you re-entered his presence. 

Your hair was dripping down the dress you had put on. There were no shoes on your feet, or jewelry hanging off you. He was glad you were comfortable, but you looked uncared for. Which was not the case. 

Your little dog barked upon seeing you which made you smile and say hello. Coriolanus was glad that he decided against passing the dog to the attendants. At least the dog offered an ice breaker. 

“Feel better?”, he asks. He stands as you move to sit in the booth. 

“Yes, thank you”.

 As you sit Coriolanus moves with you. Wedging you between him and the wall. 

“Your hair is still wet”, he comments.

A thick napkin is used by him to press the water out the ends of your hair. 

“I had no energy to dry it”, you admit. 

“Yes, I am sure this has been a lot for you”, he agrees, “but it’s almost over. As soon as we reach the Capitol that’s the end of it”. 

He moves the napkin to rub it against the top to absorb moisture. It leaves your hair messy, and frizzy. He tries to fix it, gently clawing his fingernails through to soothe the uncooperative hairs. 

“There” he says, “good as new”. 

The dog barks as he runs around the room, exploring. Coriolanus wanted to kick it out but he knew it would upset you. 

 “Are you hungry?”, he asks. 

You shake your head ‘no’, and turn from him to look out the window. 

He allows you your peace. The dog is too loud. He would have to get it trained, but for now it filled the awkward silence. 

Looking for something to do, he straightens the table fixtures. Making sure everything was perfectly in its place. 

You lean against the glass instead of on him, which annoyed Coriolanus. 

The only time you broke stature was when Coriolanus picked up the dog and placed him in between the seat. He didn’t like it there after he got bored with you and whined to be put down. 

Besides that you sat and stared out the window until it became night. He couldn’t get you to eat anything. You had drunk some water which made him worry less, but you wouldn’t speak to him, and he didn’t want to come across needy by constantly talking to you with no response. 

He had a speech to write for an upcoming bill proposal which engaged him throughout the day, but night fell and he was ready to connect with you. 

He didn’t ask as he tugged you from your seat, and back to the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he led. Coriolanus kicks the door shut on the yapping dog, hoping it would go to sleep. 

You turn to open the door to the dog, but he catches your arms to continue the way into the bedroom closest. 

“Given that there are not too many leisurely trips to the districts there is only one suitable bed, so we’ll have to share”, he encourages. 

He passes you a nice pair of pajamas to change into which you accept. 

‘And when we reach the Capitol. What will be your excuse then?”. 

He couldn’t tell if you meant it in a criticizing way. Your voice was light as if it was a joke, but even toned enough to make him consider it as a genuine question. 

He tried to appease both possible situations with a humorous answer. 

“Bed bugs”. 

It earns a scoff in a light hearted manner. His school-boy smile returned to his face like it did when you used to sit by his bed and talk during the night. 

You hum before you disappear into the bathroom to change. The smile is still on Coriolanus’s face as he dresses for bed. 

He had his joy back after it being ripped from his hands since the dark days. 

When you come back out you are silent once more. Your expression had changed to one of deep and unpleasant contemplation. 

“Are you okay?”, he asks.

You brush past him without an answer to the door. You find it’s locked but you try and force it open. The force of the door causes the dog to begin his nonsense again. 

“What are you doing?” he questions.

You looked dazed as he neared you. He gently takes your elbow and leads you back to the bed. 

He lets go of you to toss the pillows around but speaks to keep you focused. 

“You nearly died today. You must be feeling all sorts of emotions”.

He remembered how it felt to knock on death's door. He almost feels his scar burn under your watchful gaze.  

“It was you, wasn’t it?”, you whisper. 

“Pardon?”. He almost coaks upon hearing it. He knew you would figure it out with some distance, but he had planned for you to already be in love. Maybe with a child or two. 

“It was you. Who planted that evidence to get me to come with you”, you state it this time round as a fact instead of a question. It made Coriolanus sweat. 

“How dare you” he acts astonished, “ After everything I have done for you. How could you suggest that?”.

Something in you registers. You take a look around at the train that raced you to the Capitol. A place you became a stranger to long ago, and a place where he held all the power. There was no getting off this train. Your fate had been sealed.

You smile at him lightly, “I don’t know. I am sorry. Forget it”, you brush off, “Bridge over water”.

He pulls back the covers as he repeats your sentiment “Bridge over water”. 

[soy-soi-si]

Imagine y/n having to join the team as a stand in for another person that was supposed to be there. And everything goes wrong.

Tw. angst, brief torture, injuries, death, past abuse, helplessness, reader almost dying. Foul language! Really crappy writing and not proof read prolly missing a few Tw's as well.

Y/n doesn't like the group at first. They seem patronizing, constantly talking about the person who was going to join. Constantly asking if you could actually do what he was supposed to. Hell even when she was completing the mission they kept checking on her more than each other even if two of them were under fire. She got so annoyed with Price after the genuine thirtieth time he told her the step by step of what she already did.

“If you keep fucking patronizing me I'll bust your balls Mr. Price is right. Now fuck off I'm already done.” She sighs at the deactivated bomb having completely gutted it and made sure it's not going to explode. Not to mention rescuing the hostages and securing the building and her section.

The laughter over comes echo's in her ear as she turns to the man it was strapped to as he cries out his thanks. She already checked him for weapons along with the other hostages; she untied them all and now has them in a corner taking cover just in case. Mostly women and a couple kids like three men including the one she saved.

She also deactivated the other bombs in her building and surrounding. “Christ sake your feisty lass!” she scoffs in response to soap, no longer looking at the civilians “You cunts have done nothing but baby and patronize me the entire time I've been around you. Sit and spin you big bitch.” The others chuckle at the end of the sentence.

“What am I sitting on again lassie?” she smirks “My fuckin 31cm dildo I'm gonna fuck you with later.” The cackles echo from gaz and roach. She hums before turning back to the civilians. “She's right about you patronizing her.” Ghost's voice echoes from the coms as a gunshot does as well. “my sector is clear.” She blinks as she hears movement outside.

“I think some strays came to my sector. I'm hearing stuff outside.” She raises her gun slowly moving to a window. She catches a peak of a huge group of the enemy surrounding her building. “I'm surrounded, there's easily a hundred if not over. Shit!” she notices one of them aiming up at the windows and she drops down. “these guy were not fucking anywhere near here until now…” she pauses as she hears one of the radios from the enemy in the hall and she crawls over to the door and she spots it sitting out front by the dead body and she grabs it closing the door again.

She listens to them moving to defend the hostages. “shit, they're telling everyone to come to my building!” She puts the other Radio against her mic. “Find the hostages, and the woman…” that's all she can make out before the window shatters along with an explosion. “take her alive and kill everyone else.” her ears are ringing as she sees someone coming out of the smoker and she shoots at them.

Searing agony sweeps through her after a second. She couldn't even tell she screamed as someone tackled her. “Get the fuck off of me!” Shooting them straight in the face then she shoots once at any movement she can make out the gun quickly clicking in response so she drops it pulling her handgun.

Then it's knocked from her hand as soldiers shoot at her from the doorway and it doesn't take long for her to realize she's on the floor surrounded by enemies. Each hostage she just saved gathered in front of her an executive guilt filling her body as each of them are made to look at her. She can't lift her hands or legs anymore in pure agony as the adrenaline is gone and so is each person she just met.

The seemingly leader steps in front of her holding a knife flipping it in his hand smiling as he crouches down to her eye level. She saw his picture and couldn't help but recognize him. “Hello there doll, you mind telling me where the pretty boy who was supposed to be on this mission is?” she glares at him. As he taps it against her neck, lightly cutting her skin each time. “So you've got Intel from our base. Sorry but he's fuckin dead. Died off base via a psycho girlfriend who thought he was cheating on him.” he takes a second before smiling. “Amazing news, pity I didn't get the honor though.” he cuts her wire. “But I'll make up for that with you pretty girl.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

She never wanted to die, at least not like this, not after lying her ass off about everything they wanted to know as they tortured her. She wanted to gloat in their face after what she said gets them caught and killed. But she could be proud at least at the wide eye angel personality and face she's pulling the cries and blubbering all fake.

“Puhluse I've told you everything!” She sniffles crying in agony, her eyes wide as she's pushed into a freezer, one you would have in a garage for wild game or fish except it's more like a transport cooler in size. The lid slammed shut over her and it's pushed into a hole of sorts crashing into the side then onto the small box beneath her.

“No, no no!” She tries pushing the lid up but it's heavier and heavier as dirt covers it. “FUCKIN BASTARD!” She kicks the lid, not even budging. She lays as she notices how cold it is here, probably freshly turned off.

She takes a few deep breaths as she knows she'll die in here sooner or later. She searches for her phone in her bra quickly finding it. Looking at the battery it's almost dead. “Shit” 10% she quickly shoots a text to her brothers group chat. A simple I love you. Before she calls the number one of the idiots gave her before they actually went on field. She desperately listens to the ringing before it's picked up. “Are you the Sargent!” She can hear the vehicle running. “Yes it's fuckin me! I lied to them about the information. They're headed for West Point and go get them! I want them to die for this!” She tears up knowing damn well she's setting herself up to die sending them away from her she bites her lip sniffling at the bright screen in agony.

“I’m sorry I fucked up big time. Just tell my brothers I'm sorry and that I love them.” “Y/n where are you.” Price's voice now echoes from the phone. “Dunno, but I'll be, I'll be.” she chokes back a sob at the words memories coming back as she looks at the lid above her. “I’ll be fine, just go get 'em for me. West point I sent them towards the dummy container and warehouse they're looking for weaponry.” her hands are shaking as the cold gets to her.

“Y/n breathe for me what are your surroundings like right now.” Gaz practically chokes out his question. “They buried me. You won't find me in time even if you look. Just go get them! Stop worrying about me and go get them! I didn't just go through torture for you to fucking fail on me!” She is starting to get sleepy as she switches her phone to the most battery saving settings she can. Sniffling, she looks at the phone. “Please tell him I love him and that I'm sorry. He's the, he's the one that was supposed to be on the mission he's my little brother,” laughing once she sighs, “Thank you for everything even if it was annoying for you to patronize me.” She smiles at the screen as Ghost goes to speak “we’re not going to-” it dies in the middle of his sentence, leaving her alone in the pitch black. She begins sobbing uncontrollably holding her phone in front of her wishing it was still on.

“N-no, ple-euase, I don-n't wa-auhnnt to digh-ie,” she can't breathe with how much she's choked up. “N, Noaut liku- ke, th-This-ss,” she's just getting more distraught by the second as all the composure she's been keeping until now is gone. She just sits there remembering her life, her recent life, then her childhood remembering how her dad would lock her in their freezer when he got angry.

“Da-Daddy please I don't want to die like this.” she can practically hear him scream from the other side as white spots appear in her vision. “Shut the fuck up you little whore!”

She reaches up barely able to feel her body as she knocks on the freezer like how she used to since it was against her and her siblings room. She can't even speak as she can't move anymore and she turns looking at her phone again in her limp hand.

I'm so sorry, I said I'd be fine on my own.

She didn't even realize she passed out not until her eyes opened again as sudden warmth hit her, let alone how it grabbed her neck. “She's alive!” Roaches' voice screams from above her as she's ripped from the freezing cold and put on the burning hot dirt of the outback. Someone pushed her onto her back doing chest compression then grabbing her nose before blowing into her mouth her head tilted back. Once then twice. Then three times as suddenly she gains control of her breathing, her head no longer as fuzzy as she chokes breathing looking around dazed.

She's rolled onto her side. “She's lost a huge amount of blood, the freezer floors full of it!” She hears roach climbing out as she lays her head on the dirt, unable to move besides shaking, noticing the early signs of hypothermia in her hands as they're almost blue.

“I got her phone to come on!” Roach and the second person here get in the back of the buggy and she notices finally it's a blonde man with a balaclava pulled down showing his scarred face then she sees the familiar mask on the top of his head and the tactical gear and she hears soap cursing in the front. “Patch her up already you fuckin bastards!” she looks at Ghost, feeling her tear stained face clearly along with her snot caked onto her. Seeing some on him from mouth to mouth.

He leans over her trying to wrap her head but she reaches up using what's left of her sleeve to wipe off her snot and tears off of him. He looks at her surprised but more so worried. “Aren’t you handsome, sorry about the snot.” her voice is barely there as her arm falls as she passes out again.

She didn't know scared older military men were her type.

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you write something with Oscar based on this post

https://www.tumblr.com/girlonabreak/744982039484366848/may-i-offer-you-something-water-food-my

i’ll try my best anon! thank you very much for your request, i hope you like it!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want anything added.

w/c: 2.3k

oscar was a little nervous to have you over. the relationship was fairly fresh and this would be the first time you would be at his place. he’d spent the week prior cleaning every single nook and cranny he could find, then going on tiktok and finding out how to clean the ones he didn’t even know existed. not that you would be inspecting the space behind his fridge for it’s cleanliness.

three days before, when he’d gone shopping, he texted you asking if you liked this specific brand of chocolate and if you would like some for when you stayed over at the weekend.

oscar had gotten more blankets, pillows and even got you a new teddy bear, scared that you would forget the one you couldn’t sleep without. he was determined that you were having a good nights sleep with him. you had slept together before, but not properly. those had only been you falling asleep during a film after a date or oscar coming over to yours the day after the race weekend and feeling so jet lagged he fell asleep on your couch two minutes after you started carding your fingers through his hair.

you had always made him feel so welcome at yours so he was desperate to make you feel the same. even though this was a bit different than those times he was at yours.

oscar pottered around fixing things that didn’t really need fixing at all. he triple checked the fridge incase all the food inside had gone missing. then he checked his bank account to make sure he still had his money and he hadn’t been hacked, just incase you wanted to order in or even go to the shops.

a soft knock at his door shoves oscar out of his thoughts, he runs to the door to answer. you were on the other side, weekend bag in hand. you had little to no makeup on and your hair was thrown up not too messily. oscar then thought about if you would want to shower and how he only had manly products. how could he forget to buy you shower stuff?

“osc?” you ask as you stand in the doorway. oscar blinks once, twice, then is scrambling to take your bag off you.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry. i don’t know where i was there. you look gorgeous. come in.” he says as he spins around and stands to the side to let you walk inside first.

you slowly walk inside and the first thing you notice is the amount of candles he has lit. it give the living room the most homely feel.

“your place is lovely, osc. it’s so cozy.” you tell him turning around from looking at the kitchen to face him. oscar grins at your words.

“thank you, pretty. you want me to put your bag in the room?” oscar asks, feeling a lot less high strung now that you were actually here in front of him. that usually did help calm him down.

you nod. oscar tries his best not to leave you standing all by yourself in the living room for too long. he basically sprints to his room and back. a blink and you didn’t even know he was gone, type of situation.

you’re not standing in the living room when he comes back thought. you’re sitting on the couch. you look like you belong there. it sends a wave of affection to oscar’s heart.

“you want to watch a film?” you ask him from the couch. you already had the remote in your hands.

“‘course, what kind are you feeling?” oscar asks, heading to the cupboard in the hallway to get the massive blanket he’d bought at the shops a few days earlier.

“dunno.” is your reply. oscar can tell you have a film in mind but you may be a little embarrassed to ask to watch it. as he comes to sit down beside you, he throws the blanket over the top of you and it almost suffocates you. instead of commenting on it you just get comfy. oscar rakes his brain for previous conversations about films to find the one you could watch everyday and not get tired of. as he remembers he snatches the remote off of you to bring it up. you don’t say anything but you watch on skeptically.

“this one seem okay? i’ve never seen it before but i heard you like it.” oscar says, a cocky smirk on his face as he sees the look on yours after you realise the film. you grin.

“yeah i supposed we could stick this one on and give it a go.” you pretend like you couldn’t quote the dialogue in your sleep. oscar pressed play on the film and instantly feels the need to be touching you. you had chosen to sit in the corner of oscar’s L shaped couch, an incredibly you thing to do, oscar thought. but because of where you decided to sit oscar was unsure how to go about touching you. he gives up trying to think of ways to get you in his lap.

“come sit in my lap.”

you turn your head from the tv, the opening credits rolling in the screen. “okay.” you reply, shuffling to follow his request.

it ended up that oscar was laying in the corner of the couch and faced the tv. you were sitting to his side with your legs slung over his, shoulders brushing against each other with every breathe. oscar holds one of your hands underneath the massive blanket, the other traces his name on your ankle - just above your socks.

a quarter of the way through, you shuffled around to get comfortable again, your head ended up resting on his bicep as you had moved down a little more. oscar had to hold back the coo that threatened to escape him as he felt your check squash up against his skin. oscar throws his focus back on the tv, as hard as it is he wants to know the film you love so much.

at the end of the first act, oscar moves his attention back to you, he wonders if you’re hungry but are just too scared to ask. or if you were waiting on him to offer you something. were you tired and just wanted to move to bed right now? it wasn’t that late surely. what if you actually did want to go for that shower right now? would he have enough time to go buy some flowery shampoo and body wash so you wouldn’t end up smelling like him?

“can i get you anything to eat?” oscar asks, thumb rubbing over your ankle bone. he wonders if this is the ankle you broke when you were five, or if it was the other one.

“are you hungry?” you ask oscar, head turning to look up at him. the aussie almost melts at your expression. “i am if you are.” you say to him.

this confuses oscar but he decides that eating wouldn’t hurt. he doesn’t care if you don’t eat it all.

“you want to order in or just make something here?” he asks again. it makes him feel bad making you choose but he wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable with him tonight. the time when he can just know what you want and do it for you was right around the corner and he couldn’t wait for it.

“order in.” you say after a few moments of silence. “don’t want to move from here until bed.” you explain. although oscar didn’t think you needed to explain, he thought it was cute. he thought the same thing anyway, not having felt this content in months.

“fine by me. i’ll order it and it should be here soon.”

your film finishes and you and oscar finish the food. you talk a little at the end of the film, asking him about how lando and zak were doing and how strong the car was. don’t get oscar wrong, as much as he loved his job and the fact that you took so much interest in what he did, he just wanted a day where he could sit with you and hypothesise whether or not spider-man was too young to be spidering across the city. instead of telling you this he changed the topic, comfortably so you don’t notice.

“it’s getting late. are you getting tired, pretty?” he asks. he can see the way your shoulders are a little more slumped as you sit in front of him, the film behind you having ended and instead playing a trailer for some unrelated tv series. you nod to answer his question. “a little, yeah.”

“c’mon then. bedtime for us.” oscar says picking you up by your waist and flinging you over his shoulder. he carries you to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. you are laughing all the way there. oscar’s already thinking about which ring would suit you more. he goes in the cabinet underneath the sink and grabs a pack of two toothbrushes. one pink, one blue. it’s so domestic, oscar nearly burst when he seen them in the shops and thought of giving the pink one to you.

“i know you brought a bag full of stuff and you probably have a toothbrush with you but i thought you could keep this one here and i could maybe clear out a drawer for you in my bedroom for you to keep things here so you don’t have to go back and forth for clothes.” oscar rambles as he puts toothpaste on both brushes and hands yours to you. it’s like oscar keeps forgetting that this is the first time you’re sleeping over, mind already thinking about the next time, and the next and the next.

oscar shoves his brush in his mouth to stop his mouth. you laugh at him. “i would like that. thank you osc.” you say before copying him and brushing your teeth. oscar watches like you were doing something really interesting, his eyes darting over your face. tonight he learns another new thing about you, you’re a really messy brusher. toothpaste slipping down your chin as you brush. he has to hold back the laugh that longs to escape him, not wanting to cover you in more toothpaste than you already have all over you.

oscar spits into the sink then quickly rinses his mouth with mouthwash, then spitting that out too. you follow his actions, hopping down from the counter to spit into the sink, standing in front of oscar. before you can rinse your mouth out with mouthwash though, oscar turns your face to his with a gentle hand.

“you got a little something..” you smile at his words. oscar belonged in a romcom for sure. the boy’s thumb coming out to brush away the leftover toothpaste on your chin. you smile at him in thanks but your smile falls as he wipes it on the shoulder of your t-shirt.

“oscar! why would you do that! what’s wrong with you!?” you squeal. oscar laughs hard, his head thrown back in joy. you’re not really mad, the smile on your face hard to miss. it’s hard to be angry at the boy in front of you who literally looks like the human version of the sun.

once you’ve finished in the bathroom - oscar yapping away as you take your makeup off and done your skincare at the sink - he pulls you to his bed.

“you want to change in here or do you want me to go to the bathroom?” oscar asks, throwing you the t-shirt he’s just washed (and maybe sprayed with his cologne before you came over). you catch it before hesitating with your answer. oscar answers for you.

“why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and i can get a big reveal, seeing you with my t-shirt on?” oscar asks, giddy at his own idea. you nod, if only just to please him, although you do like his idea, thinking it’s cute he wants that.

you’re quick to get changed, your hair taken out of the ponytail to hand down, it will probably get in your face tonight. you hurry out the bathroom to find oscar sitting on top of the bed in his own pyjamas. oscar’s eyes light up at the sight of you.

“jesus christ, pretty girl. you’re going to kill me.” he says standing up, arms outstretched like he would die if he didn’t touch you in the next ten seconds. you happily fall into his embrace. face against his chest. oscar’s nose in your hair.

“you smell like you and me.” oscar smiles as he pull away from the hug and pulls you into bed instead. you laugh at his discovery. “as long as i smell good.” you tell him.

after a quick okay fight over who was getting what side of the bed, you are both cuddled up to each other. it most definitely won’t stay like this all night because what oscar doesn’t know yet is you move a lot in your sleep. he’ll find that out in the morning, but for now he’s happy to have you right where he wants you. oscar is big spoon as his arms are wrapped around you, big hands under your top and on your warm, soft skin. leg over your hip, keeping you trapped under him, not that you would ever complain about that.

the teddy bear oscar had gotten you incase you forgot yours was laying at the bottom of the bed, while you clutch yours to your chest. one of your hands ghosting over oscar’s on your stomach.

the tv is on, playing some sitcom you’d asked for. oscar never usually sleeps with the tv on but for you? he would sleep on a bed of nails if it made you comfortable.

“g’night, pretty baby.” oscar mumbles into your hair, not bothering that it was in his face. you mumble something of the sort back, he knew you were basically asleep. ‘this is my future.’ oscar thought to himself before he fell asleep.