#sorry for the delay I'm just really sick

[messenger-of-babel]

Bruce Wayne Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Bruce Wayne.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So Sorry for the longgg absence. I won't explain it too much but I've had serious health complications that require me to go to the doctor weekly and I've been struggling with that a lot. Half of the Christmas event unpublished stories are done- but I don't want to upload them half baked. I will be uploading them around my original schedule of normal fics, so I'm so sorry this all happened while I was doing that Christmas Countdown. So if you see unseasonal content- that is why. I will ask to refer to the notes section of some of the fics before this. I will be trying to deliver more- please be patient and thank you for reading! (I'm working on my requests next so you'll seen them soon <333)

Love RiRi <3

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Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

had sworn off dating. Being a vigilante was enough work on his plate, and he had already involved too many innocent people. He had already made too many people join him in on his night life, like he was a black hole that sucked in anything around it and slowly suffocated its prey. The playboy image also helped him keep his cover up. After all, who could dare point a finger at Bruce Wayne and claim him to be the Bat, when he was spending the night at the Iceberg Lounge? How could he be the one tracking down criminals from Arkham when he had a supermodel on his arm at the mayor’s winter gala?

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Has to throw that all out of the window the moment that he catches sight of you. When he meets your eyes for only a moment across the sea of people at the Gotham Museums grand reopening, to which he had donated personal items of his family's. His heart lurches in his chest and adrenaline courses through his veins like he's in a fight. You look away after a moment, but he stays fixed on your form as you disappear to talk to some of the curators. Bruce takes a deep sip of his champagne; mind muddled suddenly and distracted the rest of the evening as Alfred drives him home.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Still doesn't think that it's love that has him. He's a stoic man deep down, with the facade of a charming smile and a friendly arm around the shoulders. He doesn't consider it love when he goes out as Bruce Wayne more often, taking impromptu visits to the museum once he discovered that you were an employee there. He doesn't even call it infatuation when Alfred points it out to him. It was merely him making sure that the billionaire image remained intact, and that he was in the public eye.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Eventually caves and admits his feelings to himself, head in his hands one night. His skin is a storyboard of scars that criss cross lines across his chest and arms. He had tried to brush it off originally as just his playboy persona finding a good alibi for future reference, but late-night thoughts on rooftops had cleared his head. This was the true him that liked you, the scarred black hole that was undoubtedly going to try to drag you in and suck you of what light you had. He spends the night with an anguished heart, trying so hard to contain the ache that had begun to settle there every time he thought about not approaching you.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Practically fawns when he catches you at work, stumbling over his words as he catches you at the end of your shift. He regains his composure and manages to ask you out quietly, giving you an out if you said no. He felt like some teenager, red faced and anxious. He had fought the Joker countless times, stared down Bane and left with his ribs beaten blue. Yet this somehow made his hands shake, hiding in his pockets. The anxiety all but evaporates when you give him a chance, letting him know your address and to pick you up at six that evening. His head felt light, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His breath heaves out in a sigh, and he nods, agreeing and promising to send a car around at six. He left the museum that day grinning ear to ear, and this time it wasn't his persona doing the smiling for him.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Spoils you as much as he can when you give him the green light. After you've tested the waters and have been dating for a few months, he's enamoured. He bought your apartment for you outright and changed the deed to be in your name, so you never had to worry about rent. Bruce doesn’t want anything in return, he just wants you to be safe and happy. Not that he's really been a man of words, the written mess of symbols and letters clog up his throat when he tries to speak. No, he'd rather explain his affection for you in deep stares and gentle hands on your shoulder of back. He loves that you aren’t deceived by the callouses or the rough texture of his palm. He loves that despite the nicks and scars and occasional bruises on his knuckles that you don’t shy away from the coarseness that emanates from him, your body leans in and relaxes instead. He loves that you make him feel softer than he is.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Can't bring himself to tell you that he's Batman but wishes to do so desperately when he sees you lying next to him in bed. You're still fast asleep wrapped in the sheets, arm tucked under the pillow as he gazes down at you. He wonders what you'd do if he shook you awake gently, if your nose would scrunch up as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. If you would be more irritated or concerned at being roused from sleep. He wants to show you all of him. After all, you're the person that's come closest to seeing the real Bruce he thought he lost years ago. Yet when he thinks too hard on it, he feels sick, like he's leading you on. He can't tell you who he is on nights you aren't tucked in next to him, when he's out on the street. He can't tell you that everyone in this family is in on one big secret, and that there are shared glances and knowing looks traded behind your back. He feels like a liar.

He is one.

He wants to not lie anymore, to involve you into his fold. He had come close once, before Dick pulled him aside and told him it was probably for the best that he didn't. But Dick wasn't here now, was he? He could just reach out and-

His hand hovers as he reaches for you. No, Dick was right. This was for the best.

So, he lies down next to you again and drapes an arm over your middle, convincing himself to sleep it off.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Considers keeping you in his life forever once the tabloids start running marriage speculations about you both. You've been dating for a while and recently have been out of the public eye. Of course, you were just sick, but a few weeks off were enough to substantiate rumours of eloping and a honeymoon. He can’t deny that he thought of it when he made public appearances, or when he was out in the shopping district and his eyes lingered on the engagement rings just a tad too long. Yet he is the same Bruce who shoves that feeling down deep inside him so it can't surface again or bother him at the board meeting he has in thirty minutes.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Leaves said meeting early to find you at work, taking your lunch break. Who pulls you outside and tells you he has something incredibly important to tell you with a slightly wild look in his eye. You can't help but be taken aback, wondering what's gotten the ineffable billionaire agitated. You think of a million scenarios. He needs to go into witness protection? He got involved with gangs? threats on his life again? he's being blackmailed? Blood money? He leaves as soon as he came, driving himself back once telling you to meet him at the manor that night after work. Immediately after work. He drives back to the manor with his pulse thrumming against the skin of his neck and fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. he was going to tell you. He was going to risk everything on a gamble, and he couldn’t help but feel the pit beneath his feet trying to swallow him whole at the implications of it.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Jumps up from the sitting room the moment you step in the door, hands jittery despite the glass of scotch he had been sipping. Whose nerves get the better of him in that one moment despite spending years training away that fear. He was fear now, he was the Batman. But in this moment, he felt more man that he had felt in a long, long time.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Feels like he could collapse as you listen to his admission. He's placed all the cards in your hands, enough to extort him forever, expose him and his identity. Make the world crumble around his ears in such a dramatic fashion that the Justice Leage wouldn't even be able to save him from it. He wasn't just gambling with his identity, he played with the lives and identities of everyone he was connected to, every Robin he had raised and trained. So, when you hold those cards he gave you and fold them to your chest, swearing to never tell a soul, the breath leaving his lungs makes him feel boneless.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Thinks for the first time, that there was a way to unite the Bat with Bruce Wayne. That when he goes to hug you, he knows that he risked it all on that gamble, but it paid off in ways that he couldn’t have imagined.

and that was enough for him.

[englandsgirl18181234]

Hi again, it’s that anon that wondered about Annabeth (or just Athena Kids in general) finding out about everything in Astraphobia. I had another thought and really wanted to share :}

Bit of a smaller idea, silly perhaps, but I was curious and found out that Butterflies were often associated with Thanatos/death in general! And mixed with the idea of Athena slowly dying, it got me wondering about maybe at some point, a butterfly can occasionally be seen hovering around or landing on her, a subtle hint at her dying state.

I mix this in with the Demigod! Athena + Apollo AU you shared, since I think it’d be interesting to sometimes see Athena going about her day with a butterfly chilling on her shoulder as a sign of her death, but really you imagine that how you will!

with that, you have a good day op ! signing off until next time !! 📺

Hi Anon!

And oh my gods I love that So Much!!! It's not silly at all, it's beautiful!! I never would have thought of that, but it's absolutely incredible and with your permission I would very much love to include it in future fics/asks! Not sure how I'll go about it in Astraphobia since I wasn't planning on having Thanatos show up, but I might have to now. Or maybe in flashbacks? That could be fun, I don't write those very often.

Something from Apollo's POV maybe? Or maybe an outsider's POV looking back and seeing the signs? Something with Ares or Hephaestus would be really interesting, I haven't written them yet! The next chapter I'm writing also has a new POV I haven't written yet, as a tiny spoiler for those that read Astraphobia.

Back to your idea though, I love it! Especially in the Benefits of Mortality AU!* Just a human Athena walking around Camp Half-Blood with butterflies following her.

*Is that what I called it? I can't remember

Oh, what if there's a big battle and the butterflies spread out to the people that are closest to dying from their wounds? I don't know who the battle would be with, maybe monsters? I think the majority of the butterflies would stay with Athena, just because she's been dying for so long, but there would definitely be some that land on others. I think Apollo would direct the medics to follow them when he realizes what they mean. And then, once the aftermath of the battle is over and he can take a second, he'd go into the woods and cry about Athena's death all over again.

Maybe that could be what triggers the Athena cabin into asking about the butterflies? And Athena can't bring herself to talk about it, because she hates the idea of leaving Apollo all alone on Olympus, and leaving her children without her watching over them, so she sends them to Apollo? And it leads to Apollo finally telling everyone that Athena is dying?

It'd definitely be an accident, like he mutters under his breath or something about how he should have seen it, should have realized what it meant since it had been happening for so long, and everyone just keeps asking about it until he snaps that it's because she was dying*.

*I don't know if I ever mentioned it on here, but Apollo refuses to call what's happening to Athena fading the way other gods would. She's not fading, fading is what happens to a god when they're forgotten, or lose their primary domains, or just get too tired to continue existing (which I headcanon happened to Helios). She's not fading, she's dying. Zeus killed her, no matter how long it takes for her to die. And Apollo will make damn sure he never forgets that.

I'm So Sorry for the delay on the next chapter of Astraphobia by the way everyone. I'm participating in an event for another fandom so that's sucking up most of my writing time, and this next chapter is just not cooperating with me during the time I do spend on it.

Also Anon, I need you to know that you and a couple of others are the only ones keeping me from closing Anon asks. I swear to the gods I'm getting like two or three of those donation bots a day and it's driving me insane. I have like 2 dollars in my bank account, so even if they were real I couldn't help, but they're not. They usually lead back to GoFundMes based in America.

Sorry for the mini rant, as you can probably tell, it's driving me nuts.

Thank you so much for this ask, I love it So Much!!! Sorry it took so long to answer, I've been writing a lot for my event fic the last few weeks and it's kinda overshadowing everything else. But I should be getting chapters of my other fics out relatively soon!*

*Soon for me, cause I write slow as hell, so probably a month or two**

**except maybe My Sanctuary, that fucking fic is fighting me tooth and nail and I have no idea why! It's driving me nuts!

[filmsbyun]

Daffodils || Choi Soobin

To you, the bond of soulmates was as sacred and divine as a delicate flower. Growing up, you had watched your parents bask in a love so grand, drawn together by the cruel yet beautiful trial of flowers and ink. You dreamed of your own bond one day awakening, of finding the one destined for you.

Until you didn’t.

One vicious prank was all it took to crush the seedlings of your young heart. The idea of soulmates began to sicken you—no longer a dream, but a wound.

Soobin had always gathered your broken pieces, helping you reassemble what was torn apart. The time you spent closing your heart to love, he spent his trying to cup the love that only grew for you with both hands—trying to keep it from spilling over. And one day, that love blossomed into soft, bright daffodils, nestling deep within his chest.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 35k

pairing: best friend! Choi Soobin x afab! reader

warnings: soulmate au, hanahaki au, best friends to lovers au, mention of past bullying, physical violence, reader suffers from past trauma, coughing out petals, feelings denial, character growth and development, lots of crying, mental breakdown, angst with comfort, [soobin with glasses], almost self-sacrifice, they're bad at feelings but they work it out (aka idiots in love), hasty decisions, one scene has blood, longing and yearning, oc used

Sorry guys for the delay, I got hit by a car. ALSO, sorry how the 22k became... 35k. Whoops? Well, anyyyways, this is a rewritten version of Daffodils. This story is part of the Fleur de Destin event. To my old readers of Daffodils, a lot has been changed and polished in the new version so I'm gonna suggest re-reading teehee >.< alright see you all next month I got hit by a car again- Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!

© filmsbyun ── please do not copy,translate, or repost my work without permission.

Back in one late spring of middle school, when the season took its dying breath, and summer inhaled it to bring itself to life, Soobin learned what it meant to be ruined—really, truly ruined.

It wasn’t his ruin, not then. It was yours. And perhaps that was what made it worse—the hushed way your world cracked, the trust in your eyes shattering like glass beneath careless hands.

A joke—a cruel performance staged for the sick satisfaction of a restless classroom. A boy, one named Kim Doyun, with a heart far less tender than yours—claimed you as his soulmate. He wove his words carefully, painfully cunningly, each one a thread tightening around you—a noose disguised as fate.

At first, you hesitated. The bond was sacred, wasn’t it? A tether between souls, something that cannot be broken or erased. And yet, he convinced you otherwise. He told you the flowers had not taken root in him because you had both acknowledged the bond early. He said the universe had granted you mercy, sparing you—and him—from suffering. And when you questioned the absence of the soulmate mark on your skin, he smiled, easy and assured, and told you it would bloom in time—petal by petal, slow and gentle, just like your love.

And you—young, hopeful, desperate to believe—fell into the lie. You had seen love, real love, in the way your parents looked at each other. A love grand enough to house a family, to turn walls and windows into a home filled with warmth, laughter, and unwavering devotion. You had grown up in its glow, in the certainty that love could be both gentle and fierce, a force that built rather than destroyed. So how could you not yearn for the same? Was it wrong to long for something so beautiful? To want a love that could stand against the world and remain unshaken? 

For a week, you lived in a dream spun of hollow promises. You thought you were chosen. Loved. But reality came crashing down in the form of laughter, cruel and cutting, echoing through the classroom when he revealed the truth.

It had been a joke all along.

You could only stand there, frozen, as they jeered. And Doyun grinned like he had done something clever. It was everywhere, filling the space, pressing against your skin, echoing in your skull. Your heart clenched tight in your chest, something inside you withering like petals left too long in the cold. The air tasted different, heavy with humiliation, with betrayal.

It wasn’t just him—it was all of them. Their satisfaction at your expense, their voices blending into the shadowy monsters that one sees during nightmares. You wanted to move, to run, to disappear, but your body refused. Instead, you stood there, crumbling in real time, splintering under the force of their laughter.

Till this day, Soobin regretted it—because the day the cruel joke came to light, he hadn’t been at school. And so you, his best friend, were left to stand alone in the wreckage.

He only came to know of it when you showed up at his doorstep, eyes puffy, sobs so raw they shook through your whole frame. You clutched onto him as if he were the last solid thing in a world that had betrayed you. And Soobin—helpless, furious, burning with something too vast to contain—held you back just as tightly.

The very next day, to everyone’s shock—including yours—Soobin, the soft-spoken, kindhearted boy who never even raised his voice, left Doyun with a broken arm.

You weren’t there to see it happen, only heard the shocked whispers afterward—how Soobin had slammed his knuckles into the boy’s face until he could barely feel them anymore. How the sickening crack of bone cut through the air, screams raw and sharp. How he didn’t stop until the teachers had to drag him away. They sent Soobin home with a week’s suspension, but Doyun—the one who had turned the concept of sacred bond into mockery—was expelled. A fitting punishment, they all said.

You couldn’t bear the burden of knowing that your pain had become Soobin’s. When you visited him at his home, battered and still recovering from the injuries, you asked him, your voice trembling, why he had done it. His response was quiet. “I still think a broken arm is far less of a punishment for what he did to you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and the sting behind your eyes burned hotter. You moved closer carefully, as if afraid that even the slightest touch might hurt him. But as you hugged him, you held him as though trying to pour all your feelings into that one moment—an overwhelming mix of gratitude, guilt, and sorrow.

From that day on, you swore to never speak of soulmates again. You refused to search for the tattoo you were meant to bear. You convinced yourself that love, in all its destined cruelty, was nothing more than a well-dressed illusion. Gone was the soft-spoken warmth, the quiet trust, the belief that the universe would never be so cruel. In its place, something sharper took root.

And just like always Soobin saw it before anyone else. Saw it in the way your smiles never quite reached your eyes anymore, in the way you deflected kindness like it was something dangerous. He watched as you built walls where there had once been open doors. He watched as your heart, guarded by time and pain, resisted the touch of love, while his struggled to contain the overwhelming flood of it, spilling over for you. And though it broke something in him, he understood, because the universe chose you to be the punchline of its cruel joke. 

If someone asked him when he started loving you, Soobin wouldn’t have a clear and proper answer. It was quite simple, and at the same time, it was not. His love for you formed gradually over the years; it was a paradox: a source of profound joy and deep anguish. 

His heart swelled with happiness at your every smile, yet ached with the fear of unrequited affection. Loving you was both his greatest blessing and his most harrowing curse, intertwining elation with despair in a dance as old as time. Harrowing curse, because if you were to become soulbounded to him, Soobin would grapple with the knowledge that you’d have to carry the burden of loving him when your past wounds were still tender. Yet at the same time—he selfishly wished you were his. 

But wishes had no place in reality.

Soobin swallowed another sip of his drink, the bitter aftertaste coating his throat. The golden glow of overhead lights of the restaurant reflected off half-empty glasses. A long dinner table sat in the center, plates pushed aside as the night stretched on, the warmth of alcohol loosening tongues and drawing out old stories. Across the table, bathed in the same golden light, you leaned back in your chair, smiling at the right moments, laughing when the time called for it.

One moment, the conversation revolved around careers and future plans. The next, it veered into something suffocating, dragging with it the unwelcome choke of soulmate stories.

“Man, I thought I was gonna gag to death the first time it bloomed,” someone said, shaking their head. “Daisies right in my throat. I swear, I almost never confessed because of it.”

Another laughed. “At least you had a happy ending. I had to watch mine wither.”

More stories followed—tales of aching chests and blooming petals, of whispered confessions and love that came too late. Some spoke with fond smiles, recounting the moment their floral marks appeared, the way their hearts had raced with hope. Others shared quieter stories, voices dipped in accepted melancholy, remembering the pain of unrequited love, the suffocating grip of petals that would never fall away. Every word carried the weight of a fate decided long before they had any say in it, a thread spun by the universe without their permission.

Soobin glanced at you the moment the topic changed. You didn’t react right away, swirling your drink as if the discussion barely registered. But he knew you. He saw the way your fingers curled just a little tighter around your glass, the way your gaze flickered away before you took a quick small sip—like the liquor might wash down the bitterness rising in your throat.

The warmth of alcohol no longer felt as comforting, its haze unable to soften the sharp edge of the conversation. Words had touched a wound too deep. Then, someone turned to you.

"What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

You blinked, then let out an airy, dismissive laugh, setting your glass down a little too roughly. "Eh. I don’t really care about all that." A shrug. "Doesn’t matter to me."

The words came easily, well-rehearsed over the years. A script you had perfected.

Around you, protest and teasing erupted, lighthearted jeers from friends who didn’t know better. They nudged at you, pushing for a confession, insisting you were just too shy to share. And you, you only shook your head, lips curling into a carefully constructed smile, the kind that concealed rather than revealed. 

The conversation continued, the voices blending together again like an orchestra that had shifted tempo, but it felt distant, distant enough that you were now barely part of it. You could hear the chatter, but you were no longer really listening. Your mind wandered, the words still echoing in the back of your head, while the bitter aftertaste of that one question lingered in your mouth.

You found yourself drinking more than you intended. One glass became two, then three, until the burn of alcohol dulled the edges of everything, the world blurring around you. But even as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, it couldn’t wash away the suffocation, the discomfort of that moment—the reminder that you were still, after all these years, broken in ways others could never see.

The moment your fifth glass met the table, Soobin was already reaching for it, his grip was firm as he slid it away. “That’s enough,” he murmured, a quiet finality in his tone.

You blinked at him, sluggish from the alcohol. “Soobin, I’m fine—”

“I know,” he said softly. “But let’s go.”

He was already easing you to your feet. The room swayed, lights blurring into a hazy glow, and Soobin steadied you with a hand at your back. He draped your coat over your shoulders, his warmth seeping through the fabric.

“I’m taking her home,” he told everyone. The others threw out goodbyes as he walked you out, brushing off questions with a polite smile.

Outside, the night air curled around you, crisp and biting against your flushed skin, yet it did little to clear the fog in your mind. Your steps faltered, the pavement uneven beneath you, and Soobin sighed before guiding you toward a nearby bench by the bus stop.

“Sit,” he said, his voice softer now.

You obeyed, letting your body sink into the worn wooden slats as he knelt before you. The glow of the streetlamp cast long shadows over his face, the muscles of his face soft as his fingers moved to undo the straps of your shoe. A sigh of relief left your lips as he slid them off, the dull ache in your feet subduing. You watched him, gaze heavy with the weight of intoxication and fatigue that seeped deep into your bones.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmured, your words thrown casually. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His fingers stilled against your ankle, breath catching for half a second before he masked it with a quiet exhale. He looked up at you then, his heart lurching at the sight—your face tilted toward the sky, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks, utterly unaware of the storm unraveling in his chest.

Soobin only smiled, a wave of melancholy flickering in his expression. Then he scoffed lightly, trying to lift the mood. “Crash and burn, probably.”

You pouted, nudging his shoulder with your socked foot. “Mean.”

He grinned, then shrugged. "I don’t really have a choice, do I? You’ve been shoved in my face since birth."

Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, then, in your drunken indignation, you lifted your foot to kick at him. He dodged easily, laughing, hands raised in mock surrender.

"You—" you began, but the bus arrived before you could retaliate.

It pulled up with a hiss, and Soobin helped you up, guiding you inside. The moment you sat down, exhaustion finally won. You leaned against him, head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, breath evening out as the sway of the ride lulled you into sleep.

Soobin stayed still, adjusting slightly to make sure you were comfortable. The world outside blurred past in streaks of neon, but he didn’t look at any of it.

He looked at you.

The gnawing fear returned, creeping into his chest like an old, familiar ghost. It settled deep in his ribs, twisting tight, whispering the questions that had haunted him for so long. What if you really were his soulmate? And, What if you were meant for someone else? What if the universe had already decided, and he was simply a spectator, standing at the edge of something he could never have?

Soobin swallowed hard. He didn’t have answers. He didn’t have solutions for any of the scenarios playing in his mind. But one thing was certain—he was a coward. Because his love for you couldn't be conveyed in phrasal combinations; it either screamed out loud or stayed painfully silent, trapped in the spaces between words. It beat louder than anything he could ever say.

His fingers found yours, hesitating only for a second before curling around them. His eyes softened when your hand fit perfectly in his large one. The softness of your skin against his sent another wave of longing crashing through him.

“I don't ever want to hold you back from where you’re trying to get to,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the quiet hum of the bus. His thumb traced a light, barely-there stroke over your knuckles. “I’m sorry I never tell you what I really mean.”

And when he was sure you wouldn’t stir, he allowed himself one selfish moment. He risked a small kiss on your head, a quiet surrender to the wave of affection that threatened to overwhelm him. His small, only liberty.

You woke up feeling like absolute shit.

Your skull pounded as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, your mouth dry and bitter, and your entire body ached like it had been trampled by a herd of elephants. As you shifted, a groan escaped your lips, muffled by the pillow you tried to suffocate yourself with. The light coming through the blinds felt like daggers against your eyelids.

God, never again.

The sound of your apartment door unlocking barely registered in your haze. However, the obnoxious thudding of footsteps on the wood floor knocked the rest of your brain into place.

“You look awful.”

You pried one eye open just enough to shoot Soobin a glare, but it was hard to look intimidating when your head felt like it might split in half at any moment. He stood at the foot of your bed, arms crossed and way too amused for this time of the morning.

“You look awful,” you grumbled, your voice a hoarse rasp that you barely recognized as your own.

Soobin snorted. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one drinking like I went through my third divorce last night.”

You grunted, pushing your face further into the pillow. “Shut up.”

He was still talking—probably about how you needed water or food or some kind of life-saving intervention—but it was not until your gaze drifted lazily to the clock on your bedside table that your entire soul nearly left your body.

You were late. Shit.

You bolted upright so fast that your brain rattled against your skull. “Oh my god—” You clutched your head, vision swimming. “I’m late. I’m fucking late.”

You flung the covers off, nearly tripping over your own feet as you scrambled toward the bathroom.

“Late for what?” Soobin called after you.

“My TA duties, Soobin, what else?!” you shouted, shoving toothpaste into your mouth in a blind panic.

Five minutes later, you were half-dressed, hopping on one foot while desperately shoving your shoe on while simultaneously stuffing papers into your bag. Your cardigan was barely on, your hair was still a mess, and Soobin—incredibly unhelpful Soobin—was leaning against your doorway, watching the disaster unfold with a mouthful of cookies he stole from your kitchen.

“I can still make it,” you panted, grabbing your phone and whipping around to face him. “Please drive me there.”

He lifted a brow, pointing a finger at you with a scrutinizing look. “I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but usually TAs are dressed very professionally and—”

“Soobin.”

“Alright, alright,” he squeaked, hands raised in surrender. “Get in the car.”

You practically threw yourself into the passenger seat. The moment he pulled out onto the road, you glanced at your reflection in the side mirror, quickly rifling through your makeup bag, attempting to force some semblance of order onto your chaotic appearance and tried to mentally will yourself into looking more put-together by the time you arrived.

As you busied yourself with your mascara, Soobin reached back into the backseat, the faint sound of fabric rustled before he dropped a tiffin bag onto your lap with a soft thud. You blinked at it, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden arrival of... breakfast? Inside was a tupperware box with sliced bananas and oatmeals, a spoon neatly wrapped in tissue, a bottle of water, and a small strip of pills inside. It took you a second to register it. Of course, Soobin had packed this. Before even coming to check on you. Because he knew you’d be useless this morning.

“Eat up,” Soobin said simply, keeping his eyes on the road, though his lips curved slightly as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “And take the pills. It’ll help with the headache.”

You stared at the food for a beat. Soobin’s thoughtfulness was so Soobin. Though you were sure he got his sister to help him arrange this because he, for the life of him, couldn’t cook. 

"Soobin!" You cried out dramatically, holding up the box and bottle like they were some kind of sacred offering. Your voice dripped with mock reverence. “I am forever indebted to you!”

His eyes flicked to you for a second, and you could feel the eye-roll before he even did it. A deep sigh escaped him, but his lips were still twitching as he turned his attention back to the road. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice unusually soft. “Just eat.”

The gentleness in his tone made your heart squeeze a little, a pang of affection you were too tired to process fully. Instead, you grabbed the tupperware, carefully peeling back the lid. The warmth of the oatmeal was a small comfort in your otherwise frazzled state. You shot Soobin a sideways glance, noticing the subtle way his fingers tapped on the wheel. His presence brought you the comfort you never once had to search for in this vast universe. And as you basked in the combined warmth of his presence and the oatmeal, the campus loomed ahead.

The car pulled to a stop at the edge of campus. You gulped down the last of the water, fumbling with the lid before reaching for your bag.

“Alright, alright, get out.” Soobin’s voice was laced with playful annoyance, nudging his finger on the side of your shoulder. 

You swatted his hand away with a huff. With a quick goodbye, you reached over and gave his perfectly styled hair a ruffle. The reaction was instantaneous.

A strangled gasp tore from his throat, his whole body jerking back as if you had just mortally wounded him. “No—!!”

You were already halfway out of the car when he grabbed his sun visor, flipping it down in a frantic panic to check the damage. “Oh my God. You did not just—” His fingers flew to his hair, patting it down like it had just been violently attacked. A choked-off groan left him when he saw the carnage in the mirror. “Do you know how long it took me to style this?! You—you absolute menace—!! I swear, you just live to ruin me.”

You, of course, were cackling. “See you later!” you called, already grabbing your things and practically launching yourself out of the car before he could say anything else. You dashed through the halls, skipping a few steps on the stairs as your heart pounded from the adrenaline coursing through you. Somehow, you’d made it. You’d actually made it.

You knocked gently before pushing the door open. Sunlight poured through the large window behind Professor Park Minhye’s desk, giving the office a vibrant look. She barely looked up at first, glasses perched on her nose as she scanned a stack of papers. Then, noticing you, a warm smile broke the stern lines of her face.

"Ah, there you are. Morning. How are you feeling today?"

You managed a small, sheepish smile. The oatmeal and painkillers had helped, but exhaustion still sat at the edges of your body like a lingering weight.

"Morning, Professor. I'm alright, just a little under the weather."

She raised an eyebrow, the kind that saw right through excuses but chose not to call them out directly. "Hmm. You didn’t have to come in if you weren’t feeling well, you know."

You shook your head as you set your bag down, already reaching for the lecture notes. "It’s my duty. I didn’t want to skip."

Professor Park studied you for a moment, her sharp gaze softening just slightly. "You remind me of myself at your age," she mused, before leaning back in her chair. "Too stubborn for your own good."

A flicker of warmth curled in your chest. It wasn’t disapproval in her voice—if anything, there was something like quiet pride laced within it.

"I’ll be more careful," you promised, meaning it.

She nodded, satisfied, before turning her attention back to the papers. "Good. Now, let’s focus on today’s lecture. I was thinking we should add more interactive elements—wake these students up before they start drooling on their desks."

A small chuckle escaped you. "You mean like last week?"

"Exactly," she said, exasperated but amused. "We’re not letting that happen again."

You settled in, organizing the materials by the sunlit desk. You found yourself being quietly grateful—not just for the sunlight, but for the presence of someone who cared enough to notice when you weren’t quite at your best.

Professor Park handed you a file, her wrist briefly turning as she reached forward. It wasn’t the first time you had seen it—the delicate purple ink of an iris flower tattooed just above the bone. The file stayed in your hands, unopened, as you stared. An iris soulmate tattoo. Proof of a bond that ran deeper than flesh, deeper than choice. There was a bittersweet melancholy in your chest, creeping up like an old memory, like something you weren’t sure you wanted to feel right now.

"You think it's pretty, right?"

Her voice was gentle, pulling you sharply out of your thoughts. You startled, fingers gripping the file tighter as you met her eyes.

"Pardon?"

She smiled knowingly and turned her wrist, letting the ink catch the light. "My tattoo," she clarified, the corner of her lips tugging up just slightly. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Heat crawled up your neck. You hadn’t meant to be so rude and obvious, and now you probably looked and sounded nosy. "I—I didn’t mean to—" But before you could offer a rushed apology, she hummed, tilting her head as if recalling something distant yet cherished.

"I was about your age when I met him," she mused. "It was spring, and I was stubborn—too focused on school, too determined to ignore all that soulmate nonsense." A quiet chuckle escaped her. "And then one day, all he did was hand me a book."

You listened, words caught somewhere in your throat. You knew the look of love. 

"He was so full of life," Professor Park continued, her eyes soft with memory. "He made everything feel lighter, even when things were hard. I used to think soulmates were a cage, something that defined you before you even had a choice." Her fingers traced absent patterns over the tattoo. "But with him, it was never about being destined. It was about choosing each other. Over and over again." A small pause. Then, she added, "He’s my husband now, that silly man."

The past tense you thought you’d heard in her voice had tricked you—her partner wasn’t a memory, wasn’t someone lost to time. They had chosen each other and continued choosing each other, even now. There was something so steady about the way she spoke, something warm enough to reach beneath the guarded parts of you. You should have looked away, should have ignored the way her words made something unfamiliar settle in your chest. Instead, you found yourself holding onto them.

Choosing each other.

A faint warmth stirred in your chest. But just as quickly, a familiar chill crept in to smother it. You remembered the laughter that wasn’t kind. The way their voices lilted with amusement as they told you it had all been a joke. That you had been foolish to believe—even for a moment—that someone had been meant for you.

The past never truly faded.

Yet as you watched the way she spoke of it, gazed at it so lovingly, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a little hopeful too. Not a revelation, not a surrender, but the faintest crack in the walls you had built.

Acceptance was a distant shore, but for the first time in years, the tide of possibility brushed against your feet.

After a long day of juggling work and classes, you finally stepped out in the courtyard. The cool night air kissed your skin as you walked into the parking lot, the scattered glow of lamplight pooling in uneven patches on the asphalt. A handful of cars dotted the space, but your eyes instinctively landed on Soobin, his tall frame leaning slightly against his car, bathed in the dim luminescence of his phone screen.

His brows were drawn together in concentration, the faint glow casting sharp angles on his face, making the usually soft contours appear more rigid. His lips were pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, he looked unapproachable—which made you chuckle quietly because he was anything but that.

You jogged up to him, waving. His expression softened the moment his gaze met yours. The crease between his brows smoothed out, and the corners of his mouth tugged up. You smiled back at the sight instantly. 

“Guess who didn’t die today from working like a dog?” you chirped, pushing the fatigue from your voice as you reached him.

His lips parted, a quiet exhale escaping—part sigh, part laugh. But before he could respond, you did what you always do: you looped your arm through his, the movement ingrained in muscle memory.

Soobin simply adjusted, shifting his weight, before opening the door for you.

“You saved yourself from having your TA position revoked, all thanks to me,” he quipped, casting a sideways glance.

“So kind! Won’t even let me have a moment for myself!” 

“A moment of embarrassment?”

“Fuck you.”

His only response was a low huff as he shut the door behind you both with a soft, muted thud, sealing you in the quiet cocoon of the vehicle. The scent of his cologne lingered inside—one that you've gifted him on his birthday last year. It wasn't a woody or a spicy scent, something more mellow but crisp, like he had spent a moment too long beneath the night sky. You thought it suited him. The dashboard lights flickered on as he turned the key, the engine purring to life.

You leaned back, exhaling as you checked your phone. “Tomorrow’s gonna be awful.”

Soobin raised a brow, adjusting the rearview mirror. “How so?”

“The weather. Says it’s gonna rain.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thoughtful. “You like the rain.”

“I do. Just not when I have to be outside.”

Your love-hate relationship with the rain leaned more toward love—because who doesn’t love the rain? But only when you weren’t working your ass off or getting stranded outside without an umbrella.

At a red light, Soobin flicked his phone open, scanning the map for a quicker route home. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with the glove box—not for any real reason, just feeding a faint curiosity. Your fingers brushed against something small and wooden, its texture rough beneath your touch. You frowned, lifting it into the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“Jesus, Soobin—” you muttered, cradling the tiny figure in your palm. A handcrafted wooden bunny, worn at the edges, slightly uneven, the imperfections unmistakable. You had given this to him when you were kids.

“Why do you still have this?”

Soobin flicked his gaze toward the object, then back to the road, his lips curling upwards. You knew he was getting ready to throw some mocking words at you even before he said anything.

“Ah, that one.” His voice held the air of someone recalling an inside joke. “It’s so ugly I couldn’t bear to throw it away. Some unfortunate trash bin would have to take it in.”

The incredulous look on your face was enough to send him into a cackling frenzy, shoulders shaking in what you called his ‘dry ass humour’. You wanted to reach out, smack the back of his head for that one—but he was driving, and you cared about your expensive life. So instead, you resorted to cursing under your breath, grumbling.

Your fingers clipped against the wooden surface, a ghost of a smile playing at your lips as you reminisced about the moment you gave him that. The memory drifted back like a slow breeze, warm and golden, carrying with it the scent of sun-heated grass and the distant hum of cicadas.

It was summer. The sweltering heat hung around your bodies like a thick embrace, and the glaring sunlight streamed through the leafy canopy, casting dappled patterns onto the wooden floor of your living room. Both of you lay sprawled across it, limbs aching from the aftermath of your previous game of catch. The effort of moving even an inch felt unbearable, so you remained there, pathetic starfishes sinking into the cool embrace of the polished floorboards.

Then the front door creaked open. Footsteps echoed through the house before your father’s voice cut through the haze of exhaustion.

“Kids, come with me. Let me show you something.”

Curiosity flickered between you and Soobin, the kind that burned bright in young minds. With newfound energy, you both scrambled to your feet and followed him outside to the lawn. The grass prickled against your legs as you knelt beside him, watching intently as he pulled out a collection of small wooden figurines from his bag. Tiny animals, each one meticulously carved and smoothed down, painted with gentle strokes of color that brought them to life.

“These are so adorable!” you gushed, grabbing two figures in your hands before shoving them toward Soobin. “Aren’t they?”

Soobin, equally awestruck, turned them over in his palms, his eyes wide with wonder. Your father looked pleased at your reactions before emptying the rest of his bag onto the grass, revealing a set of carving tools and unfinished pieces of wood.

“All right, who wants to learn how to make them?”

The two of you practically shouted ‘Me!’ in unison.

What followed was an afternoon of sawdust and determination, of fingers slipping over tools too big for your small hands, of giggles bubbling up every time a carving went wrong. You were awful at it, absolutely horrendous. But you didn’t give up. Soobin, on the other hand, sighed in exasperation halfway through, pouting as he set his unfinished piece aside. “I can’t do it,” he muttered, defeated.

That was all it took for you to push forward even harder. If he couldn’t do it, then you would. And when you finally managed to carve out something resembling a bunny—albeit lopsided and rough around the edges—you knew exactly who you wanted to give it to. Because, somehow, you’d always thought bunnies suited him.

That was years ago. Yet, here he was, holding onto something so worn out as if it still felt relevant.

“Hey, don’t even think about taking it away,” he warned, his large hand swiftly snatching the figure back before you could get another look. “I still have unfinished business with it.”

You gave him a nasty look. “That sounds so weird. You should’ve thrown it away ages ago. It’s not even that good,” you sighed, sinking back into your seat. “I can make you a better one now. Something polished. You could actually use it as decoration.”

“I appreciate it,” he said, slipping the figure into his pocket. “But like I said, I’ve got unfinished business with this little guy.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You made a mental note to yourself that you will make a new, better figure for him.  The silence dawned upon you lulled you into comfort, the kind that only came with years of knowing someone inside out. You watched the soft glow of the dashboard reflect against his skin, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the steady rise and fall of his breaths. 

You couldn't shake away the thought that had already taken root in your mind. A slow, nagging pull that refused to leave. Your mind went back to the iris tattoo of your professor. You have always wondered, but never dared to word it for some reason, why didn't Soobin search for his soulmate?

You turned toward him again, more specifically looking at his hands—the same hands that had held onto a worn-out wooden bunny for years. You imagined a small, floral tattoo on it. But the imagination couldn’t develop any further, breaking and shattering by your will when your heart lurched at the thought. He was sentimental, in ways he didn’t often admit. Maybe that was why the question itched at the back of your mind.

Would he still hold onto you that way, too? Ah, what a selfish thought. 

You didn’t mean to ask it. But the silence coaxed the words from your lips before you could stop them.

“Soobin… don’t you want to find your soulmate?”

For a moment, nothing changed. Then his grip on the wheel tightened, just slightly, but you caught it. His mind went blank, your words rattling around in his head without quite sinking in. The car hummed softly beneath you, but his foot eased off the gas, the vehicle slowing as though mirroring the sudden change in the air. Without a word, he pulled over near the sidewalk, shifted into park, and exhaled—slowly.

Your brows furrowed. “Whoa—what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He turned to you, and you were struck by the sheer intensity in his gaze. His eyes searched yours like they were looking for something. Like they were desperate to understand.

“Did someone say something to you?” you were taken aback by the tone of his voice. “Did anyone try to mess with you again? About—about soulmates?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? No! No, I swear, nothing happened.” You waved your hands for emphasis, but his shoulders remained taut, tension rolling off him in waves. You noticed how he exhaled through his nose, a little too controlled. How he ran a hand through his hair—an old habit, a telltale sign of unease.

“Then… where did that come from?” he asked, still watching you closely.

You hesitated, albeit only for a second. Then you shrugged. “I mean… it’s been so long, and you haven’t found yours yet.” You glanced at him, lips twitching. “Granted, you aren’t the most talkative or extroverted person I know, so your chances are slim, but—”

“Hey.”

“Did I lie, though?”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curled upward into that charming boyish grin of his. Your best friend was handsome, undeniably so. Which is also why you wondered how come he still hadn't found his soulmate yet.

You exhaled, letting your head fall back against the seat, gaze tracing the blurred city lights streaking past the window. “I just mean… don’t you wanna find your soulmate?”

Soobin’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly, knuckles no longer as taut. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the gear shift, started the car again, and pulled back onto the road. The silence stretched between you, thick with thoughts you weren’t sure you wanted to voice.

Because the truth was—you had thought about it. Many times. More than you cared to admit.

You had imagined the day Soobin would finally meet his soulmate. How it would happen, where he’d be. Maybe it would be something mundane, like Professor Park—his hand brushing against theirs as he reached for a book, or eyes meeting across a crowded sidewalk. Maybe it would be grand, something cinematic, fate conspiring to bring them together in a moment so perfect it would seem almost scripted.

And when that day came, you would smile for him. You would support him, cheer him on, celebrate the happiness he had always deserved. Because that’s what you were supposed to do. That’s what any best friend would do.

But deep down, beneath the surface of rationality and selflessness, there was a part of you that recoiled at the thought. A part that curled in on itself, heavy and aching. Because when Soobin found his soulmate, it would mean the inevitable—something you had always tried to ignore. It would mean that he would no longer belong here, in this in-between space with you. That the quiet moments, the inside jokes, the way he always understood you without you needing to say a word—all of it would fade, replaced by a force greater, something predestined.

And you? You would be left standing at the threshold of his happiness, unable to step through with him.

You blinked, shaking yourself free from the thought. It wasn’t fair to feel this way. But even so, you couldn’t shake the heaviness that lingered in your chest, an ache so profoundly baffling that refused to be silenced. Which only seemed to tenfold by his next words.

“You know that I refuse to find happiness without you.”

He had seen the way you guarded yourself over the years, the way you locked your heart away from the possibility of love. He had been there through all of it—the worst of it. And because of that, because he refused to leave you behind, he let himself be held back, too. The realization, albeit knowing already, still left you unsettled and deeply guilty.

Your fingers curled slightly in your lap. “Soobin…”

He glanced at you, just briefly, before turning his gaze back to the road. You sometimes wished you could see what was going on in that head of his.

You swallowed. “Just because my world stopped in its tracks doesn’t mean everyone else’s has, too. That includes yours, Soobin. You should allow yourself to move forward.”

His grip tightened again. But who was going to tell you? Who was going to tell you that you were his world?

And if you stopped, he’d stop for you. Every single time.

Just then, your phone vibrated in your lap. A message lit up the screen, and when you read it, you almost cried out in happiness.

[University Announcement: Due to the incoming storm, all classes are cancelled tomorrow.]

“Oh my god,” you breathed, a grin spreading across your face. “Soobin, you have to come over tomorrow. If I’m stuck inside all day by myself, I’ll go insane.”

The sudden shift of the mood and conversation made him let out a subtle shaky breath, one that you failed to notice. But he was glad for the turn, that you were busy with an entirely new topic now. Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “You act like you don’t have a million things to do at home.”

“I don’t,” you insisted. “I’ll die of boredom, Soobin. I mean it.”

He sighed, feigning reluctance. “Fine. I’ll come over.”

By then, he was nearing your apartment complex, pulling into the familiar underground garage. As he eased into the parking spot, your question from earlier still haunted his mind, refusing to fade. But you didn’t move to get out. Instead, you stayed where you were, staring ahead at the dashboard, as if trying to gather your thoughts.

“You should really focus on finding your own happiness, Soobin,” you murmured at last. Your voice was soft, despite the hollowness pressing against your ribs. “I’m not dying. It won’t be the end of the world if I never find my soulmate. I’ll be okay.”

You turned to him then, flashing him a small, reassuring smile. It was the same one you always gave him when you wanted to convince him you were fine. The same one that never reached your eyes. Soobin clenched his jaw, knowing full well you were lying. And if you were a liar, he was a coward. So he had no right to call you out.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, then leaned in toward you. It wasn’t a dramatic movement, nothing inherently alarming. But it was enough for your thoughts to screech to a halt, for something in your chest to lurch violently. You froze, pulse skipping in confusion, in something dangerously close to unease.

Soobin reached past you, fingers grazing the handle of your door. Then, with a quiet click, he unlocked it. It was a simple act, one he had done before. One that, in any other moment, would have meant nothing. And yet, the proximity, his presence, the insistence of his movement—it unsettled you. It felt… intimate. Too intimate.

He had always been close to you. You had always been in each other’s space. But this—this somehow felt different. And you hated that you didn’t know why. You felt sick to your stomach suddenly for even thinking of such a thing. 

His voice was quiet, steady. “Go home. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust yourself to. You hastily muttered a goodbye, shoving the door open and slipping out before you could think better of it.

Soobin watched you go. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned back against the headrest, eyes falling shut. He hadn’t meant to make things weird. But somehow, he felt like he just did.

And he thought—if he were braver, if he were more honest, he would say it. He would say it, so he would know it, and you would know it, and he could never take it back. But he wasn’t that brave or that honest.

So instead, he stole one last glance at you, letting you slip away from the reach of his hands.

The clock struck 11 a.m., and Soobin was already at your doorstep, looking far too disgruntled for someone who had just been invited over. Dressed in a white polo and faded jeans, he looked casual, soft even—but the scowl of disdain slowly creeping onto his face ruined the effect as he took in the sight before him.

Stacks of papers. Attendance files. Your laptop was open to what he assumed was a grade sheet. Your living room had been turned into a mini office space, the big coffee table at its center, surrounded by neatly arranged papers. You held out a stack toward him, your expression far too innocent to be trusted.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked flatly.

“You’re helping me grade them. You do half, I’ll do the other half.”

Soobin blinked at you, then at the papers, then back at you. “Are you serious?”

You merely grinned, shaking the stack at him until he had no choice but to take it. He flipped through the pages, his scowl deepening. “Oh my god. What the hell is this handwriting?” He squinted. “Are these written by university students or kindergarten children?”

You let out a laugh as you walked into the kitchen, retrieving two mugs and filling the electric kettle with water. “Does coffee sound good as payment for your patronage?”

“Barely,” he muttered, still staring at the indecipherable scribbles in front of him. He plopped onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh, resting his back against the couch as he picked up a pen. “I can’t believe I came all the way here just to be scammed.”

“Oh, please.” You shot him a look from over your shoulder. “You would’ve just stayed in bed all day otherwise.”

“And that would’ve been preferable to this.”

“Lazy asshole.”

“Bitchass scammer.” 

You rolled your eyes, setting down the two mugs before settling across from him. Soobin had already started grading, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he focused. The weather outside remained gloomy, the soft gray clouds blanketing the sky, promising rain.

For a while, the two of you worked in a comfortable silence, save for the occasional sigh of frustration or the scratching of pens against paper. Then, Soobin suddenly let out a strangled noise.

You looked up. “What?”

He slowly turned the paper toward you. “‘The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the solar system.’” He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Are you seeing this? Are you actually seeing this?”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried—and failed—to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god—please give that person a zero.”

“Oh, hell yeah, I will.” He clicked his pen with finality and scribbled a huge zero on the page, a menacing laughter escaping his lips that could make children cry.

You slid his coffee toward him as a peace offering. “You’re doing great, TA Soobin.”

He took a slow sip, eyes narrowing at you over the rim of the mug. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You were right, he didn't. 

The rain started gradually, a soft patter against the window. You barely noticed at first, too focused on the papers in front of you, until the rhythm grew steadier, filling the quiet space. Your attention shifted, eyes flickering toward the glass where droplets slid down in thin, winding trails.

Without a second thought, you set your pen down and stood up. Your steps were quiet against the floor as you walked toward the balcony door, sliding it open. The cool air rushed in immediately, carrying the crisp scent of rain. It brushed against your skin, the damp breeze slipping through the fabric of your sleeves. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, relishing in the sensation, in the way the world outside blurred behind the silver curtain of falling water.

From where he sat, Soobin could only watch the way you stood at the threshold, your silhouette framed by the spring rain. The glow of the sun peeking behind the grey clouds cast a soft halo around you, turning the raindrops into tiny shimmering stars clinging to your skin. He couldn’t see your expression, but he didn’t need to. He knew how the rain looked through your eyes, how it danced in your eyes like a silver meteor shower.

Behind you, his voice was soft. “It’s raining. You’ll get soaked.”

You turned to him, mischief tugging at your lips. “So?” 

Your voice, light and carefree, drifted back to him. He felt a tug in his chest—a twisted pull, one he had never been able to escape. He tried to warn you, tell you that it’s too much, that you’ll ruin your clothes, that you had papers to grade with him, but the words felt empty. You had dragged him into the downpour with a breathless laugh, twirling under the weight of the storm, arms outstretched as if you could catch the sky itself. The rain greeted you like an old friend, cool and insistent, clinging to your skin and threading through your hair. It slicked the world in a watercolor blur, every sharp edge softened to nothingness.

Soobin stood there for a moment, watching. His breath hitched as his glasses fogged up, blurring everything but you—your figure bathed in the dim glow, your rain-drenched lashes, the ghost of a smile on your lips. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached up and slid them off, as if removing them might somehow let him see you more clearly. And maybe it did. Because in that moment, you were all he could see.

“Dance with me,” you called, your voice bright against the muted sky.

His chest ached. If you asked him to stay in this moment forever, he would. If you asked him to drown in you, he would sink without hesitation.

Soobin had spent years concealing, building walls that matched yours, forcing his love for you into something unobtrusive, something that wouldn’t show and hurt you. But right now, in the rain, with you looking at him like that—his love felt too vast to contain. It cracked at the edges, spilling into every breath, every heartbeat. And he let it.

Because if love was ruin, then he would gladly be destroyed by you.

Slowly, he let you pull him into motion. Your fingers curled around his, tugging at him as you guided his steps. There was no music, just a symphony of the rain and your laughter, a soft tune that winded between you. Your smile was infectious, your laughter intoxicating as Soobin hardly managed to conceal his. He felt like a child again with you, dancing under the weeping sky, free from the shackles of reality and the hidden truth.

You were his doom, he always knew that. 

So when it happened, Soobin was all but shocked.

It started small, a bloom unfurling deep within his chest. A warmth, soft and almost timid, spreading like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Soon the warmth sharpened, edges curling inward, soft petals pressing against his lungs. The world seemed to still, the rain fading into background noise as his pulse pounded in his ears. He’d known it was coming, but knowing didn't soften the ache.

His worst nightmare. His deepest, most forbidden dream. The fear of a lifetime, wrapped in something that should have been beautiful. The bond had awakened, and it was you—of course it’s you.

Dread clawed its way up his throat, but beneath it, beneath the fear of losing you, was something just as terrifying. If not, then more. Relief.

Because at least now, he knew. At least now, there was no more pretending. No more wishing. As much as the truth was excruciatingly painful, Soobin’s senses were clouded by the strong waves of solace. You were destined to him.

You turned to him mid-spin, your eyes sparkling with joy. Soobin’s gaze softened as the petals took root within him. He watched you, his smile warm, yet his eyes wavered with a sadness rooted in love too profound to express.

You didn’t see the way his chest rose and fell, uneven, as the flowers inside him stole his breath. He let you laugh, let you hold his hands, let you live in the moment, even as it broke him.

Because how could he tell you? How could he burden you with something you’ve spent so long running from?

That night, long after you had fallen asleep, long after you had waved him goodbye with that sweet smile of yours, Soobin stood in front of his bathroom mirror. The storm had passed, but its remnants lingered—the air was cold, seeping through the cracks of his window, rattling the glass with each gust of wind.

Hands gripping on the edge of the basin, his eyes bore into his reflection. His hair was still wet, slick strands stuck against his forehead, though he wasn't sure if it was the rain or the sweat that now clad his body in a thin sheen. The discomfort bloomed like a sledgehammer to his chest. A pressure so insidious and cloying—crept up his throat. It coiled tight, as if unseen roots had wound themselves around his windpipe, burrowing deeper, deeper, deeper. His breath came unevenly, a shuddering inhale that barely made it past his lips before something inside him cinched tight, forcing his body into rebellion.

The first cough punched through him like a force of nature. Then another. His chest burned with every heave, his throat raw as he gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white. His body lurched forward, stomach twisting painfully until—

—A lone yellow petal slipped from his lips.

It drifted down, fragile and weightless, landing against the porcelain with a silence that felt deafening.

A daffodil.

You made daffodils bloom in him. The flower that symbolizes new beginnings and rebirth. 

But as Soobin stared at the petal, trembling in the aftermath of what it meant—he thought, perhaps, destiny was not so cruel after all. Perhaps, just as flowers withered only to bloom again in the warmth of spring, your heart, too, was meant to be reborn. And if fate allowed it, if you let him, he would wait for that day—when love no longer felt like a wound, but something you could finally hold without fear.

When you had woken up the next morning, you felt sore—there was a massive clog of pain biting down on your entire shoulders and nape, eerily similar to the dull, stubborn pain of a post-vaccine shot. You moved out of bed, wobbly, needing to use your wall as a crutch as you staggered toward the bathroom. Your head was throbbing and turning on the bathroom light only made it worse.

You wanted to mumble something to yourself, a quiet reassurance maybe, but your body wouldn’t let you. The piercing headache drowned out every coherent thought, leaving you grasping at your temples, willing the pain to stop. Fever? Your skin burned with heat, yet a violent shiver ran down your spine.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. With trembling hands, you turned the faucet, cupping cold water and pressing it against your face. The biting chill stung your skin, washing away the sweat, the nausea—but not the unease clawing at your chest.

What the hell was happening? Was this the result of yesterday’s antics? You had never gotten sick from the rain this badly before. So why did it feel like your body was crashing all at once? And then, a different thought hit you.

Soobin.

How was he? Was he sick too? The idea left a sour taste in your mouth, gnawing at you worse than the fever. You needed to check on him, but even looking for your phone felt like an impossible task. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the sink, trying to collect yourself. You had responsibilities—your TA duties, the students relying on you, the work piling up—but none of it seemed to matter at this moment. None of it could override the singular thought threading through the haze of your fevered mind.

You needed to know if Soobin was okay.

Your legs moved on instinct, carrying you back to your room as you fumbled beneath your pillows.

"Where’s my phone…?" you muttered under your breath, voice scratchy. You twisted around, spotting it on the bedside table just as your elbow knocked over a ceramic cup. It hit the floor with a hollow thud, but you barely noticed. With slightly unsteady fingers, you dialed his number.

One ring. Two. Three.

Then the line clicked.

"Hello?"

His voice was low, frayed at the edges; exhaustion, clinging to each syllable, weighing them down until they barely reached you. Your stomach twisted. 

"Did you catch a cold? Shit, Soobin—I'm so sorry." You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain pulsed behind your skull. "It was a bad idea."

A soft chuckle echoed on the other end. "This is nothing. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine."

But something in his tone made you frown. It wasn’t just hoarseness—it was hesitation. Like even he wasn’t convinced by his own words. There was a pause, before you heard him speak, sounding a little too cautious. 

"Are you alright?" he asked.

You parted your lips, but nothing came out. How were you supposed to explain this? The way your body felt like it had been wrung dry, like every muscle ached with an exhaustion that ran deeper than any fever. But you took note of how your pounding headache had faded to a faint throb by now, and your joints no longer felt rusted. You didn't know what was going on.

You swallowed. "I’m okay."

A long pause stretched between you, filled only by the sound of your breaths. You thought he might call you out, might say something to shake the dishonesty from your voice—but he didn’t. Instead, there was a sigh, barely audible, as if he had already known what you would say before you said it.

"Take the day off today. I’ll stop by your place later, alright?"

As soon as the call ended, you quickly typed out a message to Professor Park, apologizing for missing morning TA duties due to your sudden sickness and promising to stop by in the afternoon. The guilt nagged at you—leaving work unfinished, leaving tasks hanging—but even if you forced yourself through the motions, you wouldn’t be of much help to anyone like this.

You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face before forcing yourself into the shower, letting the warmth ease the last remnants of tension from your body.

By the time you stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped loosely around your head, the hunger hadn’t quite returned. But you still made breakfast—because at the very least, you needed energy. Because no matter what was happening to you, life would go on, and you had no choice but to keep up.

Next, you checked your pantry, scanning for ingredients to make soup. You weren’t particularly fond of cooking, but ever since living on your own, it had become a skill you’d polished. Gathering everything you needed, you wasted no time getting to work.

When you finished prepping and packing, the lingering soreness in your shoulders had faded. Only a dull ache remained at the nape of your neck—a sharp, stinging sensation that you ignored. It was bearable. A couple of painkillers would take care of it, you reasoned.

You changed quickly, grabbed the packed meal, and stepped outside, the cool air pressing against your skin. It was only a ten-minute walk to Soobin’s apartment, yet every step felt heavier than it should have. The fresh spring air did little to soothe the worry settling in your chest. You could only hope he had actually listened to you and stayed home to rest.

You exhaled, willing the tension in your chest to loosen. You had no reason to feel this unsettled. And yet, when you finally reached his door, standing in front of it with your knuckles poised to knock, you hesitated. What were you doing? You rang the bell before you could overthink it any further. The door swung open and your doubts subsided.

Soobin stood before you—disheveled, a little pale, dark circles shadowing his eyes, lips cracked and dry. He was hunched slightly, as if just standing upright took more effort than it should. But despite the fatigue etched into his face, despite the way he barely had the energy to greet you, the moment your eyes met his, something in you soothed. Unbeknown to you, for Soobin, having you close to him again finally made the roots loosen their grip on his lungs, allowing him to breathe in the much needed oxygen he was forbidden from these past hours. 

You opened your mouth to say something but faltered, lips pressing together instead. Seeing you struggle with words almost made Soobin cage you in his arms, run a soothing hand through your hair and whisper reassurances to you. But he restrained himself by stepping away from the door.

The guilt climbed up your throat as you stepped inside. You really should've thought before you acted yesterday, pulling him into the rain with you seemed like an innocent and fun act until it wasn't anymore. The comforting and familiar ambience of his apartment did not help you as the sight of him slumped over made everything feel just a little off.

You set the bag of food on the table. “Eat it while it’s hot. You’ll feel better.”

Soobin didn’t respond. Instead, he flopped onto the couch, burying his face into the cushions. A muffled groan was the only indication he had heard you.

You lingered for a moment, watching his unmoving form. Then, glancing at the time, you exhaled quietly. You should’ve left by now.

"I’m heading to campus. If you need anything, let me know, alright?"

A lazy thumbs-up peeked from the couch. Another muffled groan.

You should’ve left. Should’ve turned on your heel and walked out the door without another thought. But something inside you hesitated.An odd, intrusive urge crept up your spine—the sudden, dizzying need to close the distance, to reach out and thread your fingers through his  hair, to feel the warmth of him against your skin. It struck you so unexpectedly, so viscerally, that you jolted back, as if burned.

What the hell?

Clicking your tongue, you pressed your fingers against your temple as another dull wave of pain thrummed inside your skull. "Bye," you muttered, a little too briskly, before slipping out the door.

The moment the apartment door clicked shut, Soobin let out the coughing fit he had been holding back. His body lurched forward, shoulders shaking as he clutched his chest. The bond reacted whenever you were near—he felt it too, the same overwhelming pull, the same aching urge to close the distance and pull you into his arms.

The soulmate bond had its own cruel mechanics. Proximity dulled the pain, soothed the discomfort, but never erased it. It was like a fire burning low instead of blazing—it still smoldered beneath his ribs, simmering just enough to remind him of its presence. Worse still, the bond had a will of its own. It nudged, coaxed, demanded. It made him crave touch, made him reckless, made him want to close the gap between you and ease the ache in both of you, even if just for a moment. And yet, no matter how deeply he longed, no matter how much his hands itched to reach for you, it did not count as acceptance. It was just an impulse, one of the many effects. 

He groaned as he sat up. Dragging a hand over his face, he exhaled slowly, his breath heavy in the silence of the apartment. "This is going to be harder than I expected," he muttered to himself.

His gaze landed on the bag sitting on the table. His chest tightened again—but this time, not from pain. You had gone out of your way to make him soup. Warmth bloomed in his heart, momentarily overthrowing the ache. It was such a simple thing, yet the love he felt in that moment was staggering. He wasted no time, pulling the container out and prying off the lid. 

The aroma curled into the air, rich and homely, and the first spoonful melted on his tongue, warmth spreading through his body in a way that made his eyes flutter shut. It was good—really good. The kind of homemade warmth that settled deep inside, easing everything in its wake.

Reaching back into the bag, he found the toast you had packed alongside the soup. Lightly golden, crisp at the edges, soft in the center. He huffed out a small laugh. You really had thought through it. Tearing off a piece, he dipped it into the broth, watching as it soaked up the warmth before bringing it to his lips. He sighed, pressing his palm to his chest as if that would do anything to calm the lingering discomfort.

Then, an odd thought crossed his mind. Are the daffodils getting drenched in soup too, or does it go through a completely different canal?

The mental image of flower petals swimming in broth was ridiculous enough that a breath of laughter escaped him. Whatever the case, the soup was working—soothing his throat, the tightness in his chest, momentarily distracting him from the reality of what was happening to him.

You stopped by the cafe near your campus for a quick coffee. The late morning crowd had the typical scenario—students hunched over laptops, business professionals sipping their drinks with absentminded focus, a couple near the window speaking in hushed voices over half-eaten pastries—soulmates, you deduced. 

You waited for your order, feeling the exhaustion settling into your limbs. Though the worst of the morning’s sickness had passed, a vague tiredness clung to you, like a heavy mist that refused to lift. Just as you let your eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, a familiar voice cut through the ambient noise.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the most beautiful person in this café.”

You huffed out a laugh before even turning around. “Yeonjun.”

Leaning casually against the counter, Yeonjun flashed you his foxy grin. His presence was impossible to miss, exuding that cocky charm he carried wherever he went. Dressed in a dark sweater layered under his club jacket, he looked both put-together and relaxed, like he had just come from practice but somehow still managed to look better than half the people in the café.

His gaze flickered around the café before settling back on you. “Weird not seeing Soobin with you. You two are usually attached at the hip.”

You shook your head with a small smile. “Not today. He’s sick.”

“Sick?” he inquired with a raised brow.

“It’s my fault actually. We were out in the rain yesterday for some fun,” you said, sighing. 

That caught Yeonjun’s attention. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned forward resting his chin on his propped hand over the counter. “You two were out in the rain?” he drawled. “That is so romantic.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Yeonjun, you should be worried about him instead."

He chuckled, standing to his full height. "Oh, I am. Just saying, though.” He gave you a small smile before adding, “Guess I’ll have to check in on him.”

You let out a quiet huff of amusement, shaking your head as the barista set your drink down with a quiet call of your name. You picked up your cup as you turned to face him again. “I left him with some food. If you stop by his place, check if he ate, alright?”

Yeonjun straightened. “Aye, aye, captain.”

You snorted, waving him off dismissively as your gaze flickered outside the café. The rain had picked up again, albeit light, dotting the pavement with dark speckles. The extra jacket you had brought would come in handy now.

Digging into your bag, you fished it out and turned to Yeonjun. “Hold this.” You shoved your cup into his hand before pulling your hair into a loose ponytail, fingers working quickly. The jacket slipped over your shoulders. “Thanks,” you chirped once he handed your drink back.

Yeonjun’s expression shifted, brows pinching ever so slightly, lips parting like he was about to say something but stopped himself. His eyes lingered—on your neck, your hair, something. It was subtle, but you caught it.

You raised a brow. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he quickly masked it with an easy grin. “Nah. Just… did you get a haircut?”

“You creep.” You blinked. “That’s what you were staring at?”

Yeonjun barely dodged the playful kick you sent to his shin, letting out an exaggerated gasp of offense. “Excuse you. I was appreciating art, my darling.”

You nearly gagged, holding a hand up to stop him from saying anything else. He only laughed, though there was something off about it—too light, too quick to cover up whatever had momentarily distracted him.

Pushing open the café door, he held it for you as you stepped out into the cool drizzle. You pulled the jacket tighter around you. “I’m gonna go now. Already running late for my TA duties.” Then, shooting him a pointed look, you added, “Please, if you’re done early today, check on Soobin.”

He gave a lazy salute. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Yeonjun watched until your figure couldn't be deciphered among the crowd ahead, his playful demeanor fading as his lips pressed together. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. Was that… a soulmate tattoo?

He wasn’t entirely sure. It had only been a glimpse—a faint outline, a floral shape against your skin when you tied your hair back. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light, a shadow cast in passing. But it gnawed at him.

Yeonjun’s classes had ended earlier than expected. After wrapping up his club duties and delegating tasks, he decided to call it a day. As he slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out of the building, your words from earlier echoed in his mind. He knew how busy you were with your TA responsibilities, meaning you wouldn’t be able to check in on Soobin until much later. And if there was one thing Yeonjun understood about Soobin, it was his frustrating tendency to downplay when he was sick.

With a resigned sigh, he changed course, making a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up food and drinks before heading toward Soobin’s apartment. When he arrived, he knocked on the door, expecting to hear the telltale shuffle of Soobin dragging himself out of bed to answer. But there was nothing. He knocked again, harder this time, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Still no response.

Frowning, he pressed the doorbell, foot tapping impatiently as he listened for any signs of movement inside. “Come on, dude…” Silence stretched out, gnawing uncomfortably in his chest. Something wasn’t right. Soobin wasn’t the type to ignore people, especially not when he was sick—if anything, he should be dramatically lamenting his misery by now, groaning about his sore throat or asking for sympathy points.

Unease curled in Yeonjun’s stomach as he reached for the doorknob. It twisted open with no resistance. His breath hitched, heart stuttering as his brain lurched toward the worst possibilities. Unlocked door? An intruder? Has Soobin passed out somewhere? His grip tightened around the plastic bag as his gaze darted around the dimly lit apartment. Nothing looked out of place, but the silence felt too terrifying. The hum of the fridge was the only sound filling the still air.

Then, a sound reached Yeonjun's ears, causing the hair on his arms to stand. A deep, heaving cough, followed by the unmistakable retching noise of someone struggling against their own body. His pulse pounded, a mixture of alarm and determination flooding his system as he scanned the room for anything he could use as a weapon. His eyes landed on a lamp perched on a nearby shelf. Without thinking, he grabbed it, wielding it like some absurd, makeshift club. Every instinct screamed at him to be ready for the worst as he crept forward, following the source of the noise with careful steps. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow gap, he could hear another hoarse gag.

Shit. Is someone choking him?

Every muscle in his body tensed. If there was someone else in there, they weren’t walking out unscathed. With a surge of adrenaline, he pushed the door open with a sharp burst of energy, yelling out a battle cry, lamp raised high in a ridiculous but entirely committed fight stance.

What he saw instead made him freeze.

Soobin was hunched over the sink, a trembling hand clamped over his mouth. His complexion was ghastly—pale, exhausted, his shoulders rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. But what made Yeonjun’s mouth fall wasn’t the sight of Soobin sick and miserable—it was the delicate yellow petals stuck to his fingers, some drifting in slow motion as they slipped from his grasp and fluttered to the tiled floor.

For a long moment, Yeonjun simply stared, brain struggling to catch up with what he was seeing. The gears in his head turned sluggishly, thoughts colliding in slow-motion confusion. Then, finally, with all the brilliance of someone facing an unimaginable scenario, he blurted out, "Have you been eating someone’s flowers? What the fuck?"

Soobin made a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a cough, before another violent heave wracked his body. He barely had time to turn back toward the sink before he was coughing again, his breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

Yeonjun dropped the lamp onto the bed and was at his side in an instant, gripping his shoulders. “Hey, hey—breathe, dude. Easy there.” He started rubbing firm circles over Soobin’s back, his own pulse thundering. “Oh my god,” Yeonjun breathed, the realization seeping into his bones like ice water. “No way. No fucking way—”

Soobin, still gasping for air, groaned weakly. “Shut up, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun ignored him, his own face paling as his gaze dropped to the basin. Yellow daffodil petals clung to the porcelain, some floating in the water, their edges curling inward. That means—earlier that day, did he really see a soulmate tattoo on your nape? His stomach twisted as the dots started connecting, a pattern emerging before his eyes, clearer than day.

Was that a lie you told him about Soobin catching a cold? Or worse—did you not even know?

The mechanical clogs in his mind started turning. He didn’t know which possibility was worse: that you had lied to protect Soobin, or that you had been completely unaware of the suffering he had been enduring in silence. But if you were lying, then you wouldn't really ask him to check up on Soobin knowing the possibilities of him discovering the truth. And, how could someone not know about the awakening of their own soulmate bond? Fuck, the more Yeonjun tried to seek answers, the more questions he was facing.

With careful hands, Yeonjun guided Soobin down onto the closed toilet seat. The younger boy slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, his entire body trembling from the aftermath of the coughing fit. His skin was damp with a sheen of sweat, lips cracked, his usually neat hair sticking to his forehead in damp strands. He looked utterly spent—like he had been carrying this burden far longer than anyone had realized.

And then, Soobin looked up. His eyes, exhaustion glazed, pinned Yeonjun with desperation. His voice, hoarse but firm, cut through the thick silence between them. “Not a single word about this, you hear me?”

“What?” Yeonjun scoffed, frustration bubbling up. “Are you fucking serious? You were just coughing up petals, Soobin. That’s not something you can just keep under wraps like some minor inconvenience.”

Soobin flinched, his fingers clenching into his sweatpants. He looked like he wanted to argue, but no words came. His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath unsteady.

Yeonjun exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before his rational side finally took over. With a calmer voice, he asked, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Soobin’s lips parted as if to speak, but still, silence stretched between them. His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his sweatpants—gripping onto something, anything, as if to ground himself. And that was all the confirmation Yeonjun needed.

His confusion only deepened. If you were Soobin’s soulmate, why was he going through this hell instead of just accepting the bond with you? You guys were best friends. Did you really not know the bond had awakened? As if sensing Yeonjun’s endless spiral of questions, Soobin finally spoke.

“She has trauma regarding soulmates,” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “Back in middle school… a boy lied to her about being her soulmate. He made her believe it—lied to her about the bond being accepted between them, played along for a week, only to reveal in front of the whole class that it was a prank.”

Yeonjun’s mouth fell slightly ajar at the story. So, that’s what was going on. Yeonjun’s stomach twisted, feeling sick. There was no way someone could be this cruel to play with something so, so sacred. He felt terrible about it, about you.

“She still has fresh wounds from it,” Soobin continued, his voice trembling. “She’s terrified of opening her heart, of trusting in fate. That’s why… that’s why I can’t tell her.”

Yeonjun stared at him. “You do realize she’s gonna find out sooner or later, right?” he said after a beat, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Soobin let out a shaky breath. “I’ll hold on till then.”

There was something bone-deep in his tone—something that sounded like both a promise and a plea. Yeonjun could only sigh, tilting his head back against the cabinets.

“Listen, man. This isn’t my place to say anything, but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Do you really think she’ll feel less hurt knowing you never told her until she finds out herself? That you kept her in the dark? You, of all people—who’s supposed to be her everything?”

At that, Soobin’s ears flushed pink, and Yeonjun almost rolled his eyes.

Anyone with eyes could see how deeply this idiot was in love with you. It was only a matter of time before the soulmate bond manifested, as if the universe itself had merely been waiting for you both to catch up. But your connection had never been dictated by fate alone—your bond was stronger than fate itself. As if, in another life, in every life, you would have found each other anyway. As if you had reached for one another, bending destiny’s rules before destiny had the chance to decide.

“I’m not her everything,” Soobin mumbled.

Yeonjun scoffed again, shooting him a deadpan look. “Right. I’m the one soulbounded to you.”

That earned him a weak glare. He inhaled shakily, his voice trembling when he spoke again. “You don’t understand, Yeonjun.” He dug his fingers into his hair, his frustration laced with something far more fragile. “I can’t do this to her. Not when she’s still hurting. Not when the past still haunts her. I don’t want to be the reason for her relapse.”

Yeonjun stayed quiet, letting him vent.

“I don’t think anyone will ever understand what I really feel for her,” Soobin choked out. He swallowed, blinking rapidly as if that would push back the tears that threatened to spill. “How I feel knowing fate tangled our souls together.”

Yeonjun’s chest ached at the rawness in his voice. “And how do you really feel?”

Silence stretched between them. Soobin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Then, with a voice that sounded like it had been clawed from the depths of his soul, he answered, “Like I’ll never recover. Like I’ll never draw another breath without half of it being a wish for her to be mine.”

Yeonjun’s lips parted slightly, as if something inside him had been struck. He let the words settle in the quiet, allowing them to soak into the bones of the moment. “You know,” he murmured, slowly leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. “the way I see it… love is cruel sometimes.”

Water dripping from the faucet filled the silence, the petals swirling gently in the basin as if they, too, understood the depth of Soobin’s suffering. Yeonjun continued, “It gives you something beautiful, something so overwhelming, but it makes you fight for it. Makes you bleed for it.” He sighed. “And it’s terrifying, I get it. But you’re bleeding either way, Soobin.”

“I just want to protect her,” Soobin’s voice broke.

“You think you’re protecting her by staying silent,” Yeonjun said, meeting his gaze firmly. “but you’re not. You’re just delaying the inevitable. And in the end… isn’t it crueler to let her figure it out on her own?” His gaze flickered to the basin of wilted daffodil petals before meeting Soobin’s eyes again. “How much of yourself are you willing to lose in the process?”

Soobin swallowed thickly but didn’t answer. His grip tightened on his own arms, as if bracing himself against the thoughts threatening to consume him whole.

Yeonjun sighed, pushing himself up from the floor. He dusted off his jeans, then glanced down at Soobin. “You think she doesn’t deserve to carry this burden, but Soobin, you’re carrying it alone. And trust me when I say, it will break you before you even realize it.” He frowned. “You love her, don’t you?”

Soobin squeezed his eyes shut as if that would stop the emotions from rising to the surface, but his silence spoke louder than any confession could.

Yeonjun’s gaze softened. “Then don’t let that love turn into a curse. Don’t let it be something that eats away at you from the inside out.” He let the words settle for a moment, watching as Soobin’s fingers slowly loosened from their death grip on his arms. He reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “And I can’t tell you what the right thing to do is. But I do know this—you can’t keep tearing yourself apart like this. One day, you’ll have to stop running. And she’ll need to as well.”

Despite the fear curling inside him, despite the uncertainty that still gnawed at his ribs, Yeonjun’s words felt like a lifeline. He didn’t know if he had the strength to make the right choice, but the pressure felt a little less unbearable knowing he had someone for support.

Yeonjun clapped a hand on his back, then pulled him fully to his feet. “Come on. Get up. Go wash your face.” He was pushing the younger male towards the sink. "And tomorrow morning, I’m taking you to the doctor."

"What?" Soobin's eyes widened. "Why? There's no need for tha—"

Yeonjun arched his brow. “Because I know you. You’re gonna choose to keep suffering alone despite everything I just said. So if you're gonna keep quiet about it anyway, better know the risks of avoiding the bond. What to do when the pain gets too much and all that.” He pressed his lips in a thin line as he watched Soobin struggle to form words. "Besides, after all, you won't be the only one affected from avoiding the bond, right?"

Soobin could only stare at him, throat tight. Right, how could he forget about that? You'd feel the pain as much as he would. In fact, you were probably feeling it right now. His chest hurt at the thought, eyes stinging with tears.

For your sake, and his too, in the end, Soobin agreed to visit the doctor.

Darkness loomed over you like a vulture waiting for its prey to take its dying breath.

It was the kind that bled into your lungs, pressing into every crevice of your being. It did not matter whether your eyes were open or closed—sight had no meaning in a world where only the weight of phantom hands dictated your reality. You gasped, but no air came. Your body thrashed, heels scraping against nothing, fingers clawing at revenant wrists that would not yield, their grip only tightening against the fragile column of your neck. Panic seized your limbs, tears blurred your vision, desperation blooming in your chest like a withering flower.

A chorus of cruel, ringing laughter echoed, bouncing from unseen walls around you, filling the void with the taunt of memory. You blinked, and a cheshire grin emerged from the darkness, wide and gleaming, the only feature granted to the faceless specter above you.

"It was all a prank."

Your body lurched upright, lungs heaving as if they'd been starved of breath for hours. The room was silent, bathed in the pale silver glow of a moon that seemed distant, too far away to anchor you back to the present. Cold sweat clung to your skin, a sheen of ice trailing down the nape of your neck, settling deep into the marrow of your bones.

Your fingers trembled against the sheets, curling, uncurling—seeking something to hold onto, to remind you that the hands around your throat had never been real. But real and unreal blurred at times like this, when nightmares did not fade upon waking but instead latched onto your ribs, tightening with every shallow breath.

The nightmares never stopped haunting you. The past was a corpse long buried, but its roots never loosened their hold. They twisted around your lungs, curling tighter with every restless night. For you, it had never been the roots of flowers constricting your lungs. It was the fear from the past, one that only grew, refusing to let go.

You dragged a hand over your face, fingers trembling, the dampness on your forehead matching the dampness behind your eyes. You tried to breathe through it, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Not when the shadows clung to the corners of your room like remnants of that nightmare.

What you needed wasn’t silence. It was light. And the only light that had ever pierced through your worst nights had always been him.

With hands that shook, you reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered above his name, that familiar form of letters more sacred than any prayer. You pressed, blinking at the time glowing back at you. 2:57 a.m. You hesitated for the briefest second, wondering if he’d be asleep. If this was selfish. The line clicked on the first ring.

"Soobin," you breathed. His name fell from your lips like a cry swallowed by the wind, fragile and cracked. But that single syllable was all he needed.

Fifteen minutes later, he was at your doorstep.

He was breathless, evidently so, as he ran all the way to you. But before a word could leave your lips, you were in his arms—swept into a haven carved from comfort and homeliness. His hold was strong, a harbor you had always known. Your cheek pressed against his chest, making your senses focus in the wild rhythm of his heart instead of the lingering hollowness of your nightmare.

The moment his body met yours, the ache that had been floating inside you dissipated. A sense of calm, inexplicable and consuming, bloomed through your veins. Above you, Soobin let out a shuddering exhale, his shoulders falling the slightest bit. Though you didn’t see it, he, too, felt the reprieve—the choking roots retreating from his lungs. It was like your souls, stretched too thin by distance and silence, had finally returned to their rightful place.

One hand rose to your hair, fingers combing through the strands in a motion so gentle it unraveled the remaining tight knots in your chest, and your mind. “Another nightmare?” he whispered.

You gave a faint nod against him, not trusting your voice just yet.

He pulled back slightly, enough to cradle your face in his hands and coax your gaze up to meet his. The touch was so familiar, done a thousand times before—a gesture stitched into the fabric of your friendship—but tonight, it made your breath catch. Tonight, you looked at him like you were seeing him again for the first time.

In the hush between heartbeats, you stared, wide eyes tracing his features like an artist committing them to memory. The slope of his nose, the soft furrow in his brows, the tremble of concern behind his dark eyes. Instead of snapping out of your thoughts, you indulged in them.

Why does this feel so…

Soobin blinked down at you, unaware of the mess blooming in your chest. “Do you want to eat something? Or just talk?”

You stared at him for a beat, then deadpanned, “Dumbass, you can’t cook. I’d have to do all the work.”

He spluttered, eyes momentarily shutting, the tips of his ears reddening. Trying to feign a cough to save his reputation, he said, “I—I meant like instant ramen or something!”

You shook your head with a faint laugh, one hand brushing your hair back. “Let’s just talk.”

So you both padded over to the living room. The cushions dipped beneath your weight as you curled up on opposite ends of the couch. You watched him move in the quiet as though afraid to disturb the fragile stillness that clung to the room. He reached for his phone, tapping a few times, and soon enough, the soft chords of your favorite CAS song spilled into the air like a lullaby. Your gaze lowered to your hands in your lap. A warmth bloomed in your chest, but it was quickly eclipsed by a sharp sting.

How long could this go on?

You chewed the inside of your cheek, guilt curling like smoke in your lungs. Nights like this—when the nightmares were persistent and your thoughts frayed at the seams—had begun to blend into a pattern. And Soobin was always there, arriving like your one and only light in the suffocating dark.

But that wasn’t fair to him, was it?

One day, he would find someone—someone stitched to him by floral vines and the ink of fate, leading him somewhere you couldn’t follow. Someone else would be his sanctuary. Someone who wasn’t you. And when that day came, when the ache in your chest couldn’t be soothed by the sound of his voice anymore, you’d have no one but silence.

The thought slashed through your ribs, leaving a hollowness behind. You couldn't keep leaning on him like this, asking him to piece you back together each time the ghosts clawed their way back into your sleep. He had a life beyond your hurt, beyond your late-night calls. 

Your voice cracked through the lull of music and night, barely audible. "I’m sorry."

Soobin turned slowly, concern etching itself into the slope of his brows as he made his way beside you, his presence a balm even before he spoke. He sat close, not touching, but near enough to feel the tremble in your breath.

You kept your eyes fixed on the floor, nails digging into your palms. “I’m sorry for being like this,” you whispered. “For needing you this much. For calling you at 3 a.m. For making you run every time I fall apart.”

You finally looked at him, and the sorrow in your gaze made his chest cave in. “I’m being selfish, aren’t I?” you said, voice cracking. "I just—I know you can’t stay forever. And I have to learn how to survive without you.” Your fingers trembled in your lap. “This has to stop. You have your own life to live. You don’t owe me anything, Soobin. You’re not supposed to be the one picking up my broken pieces all the time.”

Soobin’s eyes softened, a small smile drew its way on his lips. If only you could see what he saw every time your eyes met his—how the flowers in his lungs bloomed and withered all at once when you were near.  And even if the stars decided to pull you both in opposite directions, Soobin would have defied every last one of them. Because where you ended, he began. Because you had long ago taken root in his soul, and nothing—not time, not fate, not the arrival of another—could ever change that. The overwhelming urge to tell you that you were already his, and he was yours almost consumed him whole. 

“You’re not selfish,” he said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You searched his face as if it would offer a reason, a rationale, a loophole to all the guilt clawing its way through your chest. But all you saw was him—Soobin, sitting beside you like he always did. Like he always would.

“I don’t know how long I’ll take to get better, Soobin. It’s been years, and I still can’t sleep through the night without reliving it. Still can’t breathe without choking on air that doesn’t want to stay in my lungs.” Your words spilled between stifled sobs. “And the worst part is—I don’t even know if I want to heal. Because sometimes…” you swallowed hard, “sometimes the pain is the last thing I have. The last link to what I lost. If I let that go, what do I even have left?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to word it out. The love you’d once held onto so tightly it had cut your hands. The hope that someone, somewhere, was out there for you—probably still is, waiting. But your fear held you back from reaching your hand out.

Soobin laced his fingers through that hand of yours, giving a gentle squeeze. And then, he let out a small, breathless laugh. Not from amusement, but from the ache of irony. Here you were, mourning the love you thought you'd never receive, and he—your soulmate—was sitting right in front of you, heart and soul offered without condition.

“You think you lost yourself when you lost your hope,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “But you didn’t. You’re still here. Maybe a little bruised, but you are healing. You’re here, and I see you.”

His thumb moved across your knuckles, slow and gentle. His words embraced you so gently, you felt your eyes moisten again, needing to pull your bottom lip between your lips. Soobin smiled faintly at that. “You didn’t lose your heart the day it shattered. It’s still yours. Still beating. Still capable of love. And just because it broke doesn’t mean you’re lost. I promise you, you’re not.”

The words had tangled somewhere deep in your chest, caught between the weight in your heart and the rawness in his gaze. Soobin didn’t know how he’d managed to stay afloat until now—until this moment, where the dam of his own emotions had threatened to burst, wave after wave rising beneath his ribs. But he meant every word. He had spoken them before, during your darkest hours, and he would speak them again for as long as you needed him.

Soobin stood and quietly extended his hand toward you. “I’ll stay the night with you,” he said.

You looked at his outstretched hand, calloused fingers you’d clung to before. Fingers that had gathered your broken pieces time and again—and a thought, selfish and startling in its intensity, bloomed inside you like a flare in the dark when you slipped your hand into his.

You didn’t want to let him go. Not now, not ever.

That night, you fell asleep in the circle of his warmth. He held you close—close enough that the daffodils rooted in his lungs could feel the nearness of you, and it brought him a calm he hadn’t known in the past nights. If you thought yourself selfish for leaning on him, then Soobin was just as selfish for wanting you near.

His hand moved in slow circles on your back, a quiet lullaby echoing the rhythm of your heartbeat. He pressed his lips to your temple, breath warm against your skin, and whispered promises to guard your dreams. Promises he had every intention of keeping.

You dreamt of yellow.

Of sunlight painting the horizon in gold. Of yellow daffodils swaying in a field that stretched beyond the edges of your pain. You dreamt of laughter that didn’t echo with grief. And in the middle of that bright, blooming world stood Soobin—arms open wide, eyes crinkled with the kind of joy that made your soul ache. The kind of joy you didn’t think you’d ever feel again.

He looked like something you knew by heart—your home.

When your eyes fluttered open the next morning, the sheets beside you were cold.

Soobin was gone.

“Are you nervous?” Yeonjun nudged the taller male sitting beside him in the quiet waiting room. It was barely 8 a.m. He hadn’t woken you when he left. Instead, he’d pulled the blanket over your shoulder, let his fingers hover for a moment above your brow, then retreated like the coward he felt he was. Now, he sat beside Yeonjun, phone screen dimming in his hand as he stared at the last message he sent.

[Had to run some errands. See you at campus.]

You hadn’t read it. The tiny gray checkmark was a silent reassurance—you were still asleep.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed quietly. What if today changed everything? What if it didn’t change anything at all? The questions spiraled, each one heavier than the last. Would confronting the truth bring relief, or only more hesitations? Forcing the bond on you, forcing love from you—he couldn’t do it. 

Soobin’s thumb brushed against the edge of his phone, then curled around the device, grip tightening. His head fell back against the wall with a muted thud. He closed his eyes, throat bobbing with the force of his swallow. “I’m scared, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun eyed the younger, lips pressing in a thin line. At that moment all he could provide was a comforting hand on his shoulder. They sat in silence until Soobin's name was called.

Inside the chamber, flowers filled the space—not just real ones in vases, but inked into canvas frames, stitched into cushions, even printed along the soft border of the curtains. A comforting illusion, as though beauty could soften the sting of truth.

The doctor was an older man with kind eyes and a voice like worn velvet. “Have a seat, son.”

Soobin nodded and did as told. They exchanged a few words, standard questions and details spoken like ritual. Finally, the doctor asked what brought him in. Soobin, however, deflected it with his own, straightforward question.

“How long can you go without accepting the bond?”

There was silence. The clock ticked on, every second scraping along his nerves. The doctor didn’t answer right away, and Soobin couldn’t meet his gaze. His fists curled on his knees, nails pressing against the flesh of his palms. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here.

"Rejecting the bond doesn’t kill you, son," he began, words practiced, yet not unkind. "It never has. That’s a myth people like to romanticize. Drama makes for good stories, not truths."

Soobin nodded slowly.

"The rejection of a soulmate bond isn’t new. People have been doing it for centuries. Some out of grief, some out of love that wasn’t returned. Others simply fall for someone who isn't their destined match. The reasons don’t change the outcome." The doctor leaned back in his chair, fingers lacing over his stomach. "When the bond awakens, one carries the flower and the other, the mark. A perfect mirror of souls meant to align. It only settles when both recognize the love for what it is. When they accept it—mutually, honestly—the flowers begin to wither, and the mark, once faint, blooms in full colour for both, even the one who bore the blooms. That’s when the bond settles."

Soobin knew that much. He was aware of the mechanics. If you accepted the bond with him, he too, would get a matching tattoo of a daffodil—one that is currently residing somewhere on your body.

"Until then, it’s the most difficult part," the doctor said. "Touch helps. So does presence. It soothes the ache, but it doesn’t cure it. The bond starts to pull you toward each other, urges your bodies and minds to close the gap. Fighting that… well, it creates friction. Pain. For both, but especially the one bearing the bloom." The older man removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a handkerchief, tone turning solemn. "You might feel fatigue, spells of dizziness, even blackouts. The more you resist—especially if your counterpart is unaware or distant—the harder it gets. The bond feeds on proximity, on shared moments. Prolonged avoidance can cause the flowers to decay."

Soobin’s throat tightened. He could feel the burn behind his ribs. "And when that happens?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"It depends," he let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a chuckle. "Some people slip into comas. Others just… lose the feeling. Walk away with scars you can’t see. No one reacts the same way, but there is one constant." He met Soobin’s gaze directly now. "You don’t get a second bond. Once it breaks, it doesn’t come back. It’s one soul, one tether."

If Soobin made the decision to break the bond... will you be finally free, then?

He paused, then added with a dry chuckle, "Some call it a kind of freedom. Earning the right to defy destiny. But whether that’s a blessing or a curse—that’s not for me to say."

Soobin sat motionless. But his head was loud, too loud.

The doctor scribbled something on a notepad and tore the page out, sliding it toward him. "These will help manage the pain if it gets unbearable," he said. "It might help you sleep. Might keep the coughing at bay."

Soobin reached for it with a quiet thank you, his hands a little shaky. As he stood, the doctor offered him a nod, eyes soft once again.

"Whatever you choose, do it with your whole heart, son. That’s all I can tell you."

Soobin managed a small bow before turning to the door, prescription clutched in his hand. The flowers in the doctor’s chamber swayed faintly in the morning light, as if encouraging him to quickly make the hardest decision.

“You’re not planning to break the bond, are you?”

Yeonjun’s voice broke through the silence as he chewed on his bottom lip, brows furrowed in concern. He watched Soobin slump onto the bench near the Arts building, the morning sun casting long, dappled shadows through the trees.

It was strange—Yeonjun used to think he knew Soobin like the back of his hand. Now, that certainty felt like a lie.

“Relax, Yeonjun. I can’t and won’t make the decision for her,” Soobin muttered, exhaling a long breath as he rubbed his temple. His entire being felt frayed, like he was barely stitched together. His chest ached, his mind was loud and cluttered, and a pounding headache throbbed behind his eyes. He glanced down at his phone, checking the time. You should be on campus by now.

Yeonjun took the spot beside him. "Hiding it from her is already bad enough," he said, voice low as he fixed Soobin with a look that said more than his words. "You do remember everything I said, right?"

Soobin gave a tired hum. It felt like his soul was dragging. Maybe this was the bond’s way of punishing him. The roots shifted again—sharp, stabbing pain erupting through his chest. He winced, folding forward with a hand clutched tightly over his heart. A rasping cough followed, one he barely managed to muffle with his other hand as his eyes squeezed shut, bracing against the wave of discomfort.

Yeonjun’s hand was on his back instantly, drawing firm circles, but it wasn’t enough. Soobin needed you. Your touch, your presence—his body screamed for it, every nerve ending crying out your name.

Destiny decided to be a little gentle with Soobin, as if it had grown soft with pity. Because the next moment, a familiar voice reached his ears, breaching past the fog of his mind.

“There you are, asshole.”

His eyes flew open, head tilting up, and there you were—standing in front of him, arms crossed, looking down at him with a frown. But to him, it felt like sunlight finally breaching through stormclouds.

“Damn, why do you look like that?” You crouched, concern drawing lines on your forehead. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Panic flared in Soobin’s chest. He scrambled for something to say, anything that would mask the truth—that wouldn't make you suspicious. But Yeonjun beat him to it.

“He swallowed a bug!” Yeonjun blurted.

The two of you turned to face Yeonjun with varying expressions of ‘what the fuck did you just say’. The awkward silence that followed caused Yeonjun to give a nervous laugh, patting Soobin’s back a little too enthusiastically. “Silly guy, right?”

You blinked, facing Soobin. “You eat bugs now?”

“Do you believe this idiot?” Soobin deadpanned.

“No.” You shook your head. “Forgot he’s an idiot.”

“I’m glad we both agree on that.”

“I’m literally right here,” Yeonjun muttered, offended. “Can you not talk shit about me in front of me?”

But neither of you spared him a glance. You studied Soobin’s face more closely now. Something tugged at your attention—a smudge on his glasses. Without a word, you reached out and gently slid them off his face.

He froze but every fiber of his being begged him to lean into your touch, to collapse into the comfort you offered so freely. But he held still as you wiped the lenses clean with the hem of your sleeve and perched them back on his nose. You tilted your head, smiling fondly. “Much better.”

Soobin’s heart stuttered. A blush crawled up his neck, painting his ears red. “Thanks,” he mumbled, fingers fumbling to adjust his glasses. Gosh, you'd be the death of him.

You stood, reaching into your bag. “You look dehydrated, Soob. Did you not drink enough water this morning?” You handed him the bottle of lemonade you’d packed for yourself. “Keep this with you for the day.”

“Oh!” Soobin straightened quickly, accepting it with both hands. He inspected the drink with a scrunched nose. “Did you put enough sugar in it? Is it edible?”

“Try it for yourself.” You rolled your eyes.

There were these mundane moments between you two that made Soobin forget the storm churning beneath the surface, forget the bond entirely, forget that you two were on the risky edge of a cliff. And he wasn’t the only one to feel this way, Yeonjun did too.

He watched in silence, watching the way your gazes held, how the space around you seemed to draw inward, cutting off the world beyond the two of you. He’d spent enough time around Soobin to understand the depth of his feelings. But watching you now, Yeonjun saw it too. You cared for Soobin in a way that ran deeper than friendship, deeper than even you realized. But because you hadn’t acknowledged it—hadn’t given yourself permission to see it for what it truly was—the bond remained waiting.

“I gotta run. Professor Park’s other TA ditched me today,” you said with an exasperated sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I need to collect reports from three sections and drop them off at her office.”

“I’ll help,” Soobin said, almost instantly. “Let’s go.”

You blinked, pleasantly surprised. “Really? Woah, so my training that day worked!” Soobin knew exactly what day you meant—the rainy morning when you danced with him under the weeping sky, the day the flowers took root in his chest, chanting your name. You grinned, your eyes crinkling with light, and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Pleased to be working with you, TA Soobin!”

He narrowed his eyes fondly, a small chuckle escaping him. How could he say aloud that soon, you might come to hate him for the truth he’d kept hidden? Every second you stood beside him, every laugh you shared, made that thought feel more unbearable.

Yeonjun cleared his throat from behind, reminding you both of his existence. “I’ll see you guys later then. Have fun doing TA stuff, nerds.”

You flipped him off without turning around. “Love you too, Jun.”

He laughed as he walked away, only to glance back a few seconds later. You and Soobin had already fallen into step beside each other, your voices rising and falling in half-bantered words, like always. Yeonjun’s smile lingered, soft and wistful. If there was anyone who deserved happiness, it was the two of you. Soulmates or not—he knew, with a certainty that didn’t need flowers or fate to prove it—you were meant for each other. And nothing, no one, could ever take that away.

Soobin and you had successfully collected all the reports, now divided into two teetering stacks between your arms as you made your way toward Professor Park’s office. When the elevator arrived with a soft chime, you both stepped in. You leaned against the cool metal wall, breathing out a sigh. The weight of the stack was beginning to bite into your fingers with dull ache, but you could care less about it. What plagued your mind instead was last night’s conversation, Soobin selflessly offering to stay the night, and the lingering ache on your shoulders.

"Thank you for last night," you mumbled, voice barely rising above the hum of the elevator. You didn’t meet his eyes, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

"Weirdo." Soobin huffed out a short laugh. "You don’t need to thank me for that. I’ve always done that for you."

The elevator chimed again, doors gliding open onto the quiet hallway of faculty offices. You stepped out first, boots soft against the floor. You glanced at him, brows gently pulling together. "Soobin—"

"Shh." He shifted the reports to one arm, lifting his free hand and pressing a finger lightly against your lips. The touch seared through your body, startling your mind and settling against your nape, and you swore you could've imagined it—but the ache that was gripping on your shoulders almost immediately lifted. “We’ve already talked about this, haven’t we? I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt yourself going numb, eyes widening, mind slipping out of your grasp. Your lips parted slightly, and the pad of his finger nearly touched the warm, tender pink of tongue and teeth. You saw the flicker in his eyes too—that blink of surprise, as if even he hadn’t meant to reach that far. But he didn't pull away, both of you standing motionless in front of the office room.

No. You shouldn't be feeling this. Not for your best friend—he wasn't your soulmate. You couldn't do this to him.

Your thoughts couldn't spiral further. The door to the office opened, a soft creak that made both of you jolt and spring apart like children caught sneaking out. Professor Park stood in the doorway with a kind smile. Her eyes went first to you, then to Soobin, pausing there just a little too long. His smile looked a little forced before he bowed down. You caught the faint red on the tip of his ears which soon got covered by the strands of his hair.

"I’ll put them on your desk!" you said quickly, brushing past her with your stack, needing the space more than ever. The room gave you a reprieve, however temporary. You placed the reports down, but your hands were trembling, and you had to hold the desk to keep your balance. You must've been out of your mind.

Soobin lingered by the door, awkward now. His glasses had slipped down slightly, and he pushed them up as he tried to reassemble himself under Professor Park’s gaze. "You’re the boy who’s always with her. Choi Soobin, I suppose?"

He nodded, unsure what to do with his hands, still clutching his half of the papers. But her words filled him with an odd sense of pride.

She studied him a moment before stepping forward. "Let me take those."

He handed them over with careful precision, retreating a half-step. The moment he did, he felt the cough building in his throat again—the pulling ache of distance. He turned away and buried it in his sleeve, barely suppressing the noise. When he looked back, Professor Park was still watching him. Not harshly, but rather with sharpness. Soobin managed a small smile, but deep down, he had a feeling she was already figuring things out.

“I’ll be needing her for the rest of the day. Is that okay with you, Mr. Choi?” she raised a brow, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

Soobin blinked at her words, caught slightly off guard by how pointed they sounded. The question was innocent on the surface—but layered beneath was an insinuation. It made him afraid. He couldn’t make anything obvious.

Professor Park was a cunning and smart woman. She always had a motherly instinct when it came to you—more watchful than most, always attentive, protective in a way that reminded Soobin of someone guarding a fragile but sharp blade. She might’ve smiled kindly, but he knew better than to take it lightly. He straightened and lowered his gaze in a modest bow. “Of course, Professor. I have no right to interfere in your TA’s duties.”

There was a pause—a beat of stillness where he could feel her eyes analyzing him again. Then she nodded once, turning into the office. He risked a glance into the room. You were already seated at your desk, focused on the reports.

Soobin turned away from the door, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked down the hall. His chest tightened, the bond pulling taut again, almost resentful of the growing distance. He coughed quietly into his fist, already missing you. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this—lying to you, to himself. Every day he delayed, the roots grew deeper, tighter. Things were unraveling slowly, and he feared the day it would all come crashing down.

The nightmares didn’t return the next few nights, but neither did sleep.

Insomnia had always lingered at the edge of your life—an occasional visitor that made itself at home during finals week or after caffeine-fueled late-night study sessions. But this felt different. It wasn’t the sharp exhaustion of an all-nighter or the foggy disorientation from too much screen time. This was deeper, as if something inside you was quietly being siphoned away. A depletion not of sleep, but of something more vital.

You had brushed it off at first. Everyone was tired. Everyone had aches. But by midday, the way your body moved felt foreign, like a clockwork machine beginning to wind down.

The desk creaked faintly as you leaned back, typing in the final number on the marksheet. You stretched your arms high above your head, a groan slipping out as your muscles protested. Across from you, Yujin was still hunched over her stack of reports, scribbling comments with concentrated diligence. Her water bottle sat empty beside her elbow.

"I’ll fill this up for you," you offered, your voice rougher than usual.

Yujin looked up and smiled, grateful. You managed one back, grabbing the bottle and pushing to your feet. The ache in your shoulders pulsed with a dull insistence, like someone had lodged a weight between your blades and left it to fester. You rolled your shoulders once, then again, trying to loosen whatever tension had locked itself into your bones as you crossed the room toward the water dispenser.

You placed the bottle under it, pressed the lever. Your gaze followed the line of rising bubbles, but your thoughts began to drift, fogging over like breath on glass. A strange lightness stirred in your chest. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the room tilted.

You kept blinking. The edges of your vision smeared, like ink bleeding through wet paper. You reached out instinctively, hand bracing against the cabinet near the dispenser. The cold metal felt far away. Your fingers twitched, but your grip faltered. The bottle slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the floor with a muted thud.

A sudden rush of sound came from behind—shoes against linoleum, someone calling your name. The voices stretched and warped, muffled as if underwater. You tried to turn, to say something, but your mouth didn’t respond. Your knees buckled and before your body could hit the floor, hands caught you—Yujin’s voice rising, sharp with panic.

"Hey—! Hey, are you okay? Stay with me!"

She helped lower you gently to the floor, guiding you to sit back against the cabinet. Her hand hovered near your forehead before she began fanning you with the stack of papers she'd been grading just moments before. You blinked, disoriented, her face a blur of movement and worry, your surroundings tilting with every breath you took. A door opened somewhere, footsteps quick against linoleum.

“Move,” came a voice, worried but laced with command—Professor Park.

Cool fingers touched your wrist, then your cheek. The air conditioning hummed louder; someone must’ve lowered the temperature. Another hand placed a cup of water to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You tried, but your throat was too tight.

“You’re overheated,” Professor Park murmured. “Yujin, the sofa.”

They got you up with careful hands, guiding you to the couch that had always sat in the corner of her office. You collapsed into it with little resistance. The cushions welcomed you, but the pain on your nape didn’t ebb—it flared, the ache radiating outward like ripples on still water. It made your head spin. Your eyes fluttered, catching glimpses—the fluorescent lights overhead, Yujin pacing nearby, Professor Park pressing something cool against your temple.

“Bring Choi Soobin.” Her voice echoed faintly in your ears, as though it traveled through water. Your eyes slipped shut, the dimness behind your lids somehow more bearable than the stark light of the room. You stayed like that for a while—adrift in the hum of voices, the rustle of paper, the whisper of shoes against tile. Feeling the older woman's hand slip into yours, you held on. You didn’t know how long it lasted. Time felt both distant and immediate. But slowly, the world began to piece itself back together. The blurriness began to lift.

“Professor Park,” you rasped.

She leaned in without hesitation, tissue in hand, gently wiping your damp forehead. The lines around her eyes were tight with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you whispered. “I thought it would pass.”

You sat up, not quickly, but with effort, like pushing through water. The ache at the base of your skull pulsed in time with your heartbeat. “I think it’s just the semester catching up to me. Sleep’s been… hard. It’s not just the work. I don’t know. There’s this pain in my shoulder. It keeps spreading. Sometimes it grips my neck like it’s caught something.” Then, almost reflexively, you added, “I’m sorry if I sounded like I was complaining. I know I have my TA duties—”

She stopped you with a shake of her head. “You don’t have to apologize. My student’s health is my top priority. Always.” She handed you the water again. This time, you drank it. Not all of it, but enough for it to wet your tongue, cool your throat.

You didn’t catch the shift in Professor Park’s eyes—the way they narrowed slightly before scanning over your skin almost imperceptibly, sweeping over the curve of your collarbone, your wrists, your posture. She opened her mouth, hesitated, as if pondering. Then, almost cautiously, she asked, “Dear, have you by any chance—”

The door burst open, rattling the stillness of the room. Soobin stumbled inside, breath ragged, shirt half-tucked, his hair windswept like he’d raced through the hallways without a thought for anything but the destination. Yujin trailed just behind, breathless herself, but he was already scanning the room with a wild urgency. His eyes landed on you, and the panic cracked wide across his face.

You startled upright, your heart stumbling over itself. Heat surged into your cheeks before you could stop it. Professor Park was still beside you, your gaze darted to her, guilt prickling at your skin. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice small, breath hitching. “He must’ve been worried. I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”

But she didn’t scold. She didn’t even frown. Her eyes remained calm, voice even softer than before. “Don’t apologize. I was the one who sent for him.”

He was across the room in moments, knees hitting the floor in front of you with a dull thud. He didn’t touch you. His hands hovered, uncertain, before one of them dropped to the cushion beside your thigh, fingers splayed against the worn fabric.

“Are you okay?” His voice cracked around the edges. “They said you collapsed. I didn’t know what—”

You nodded quickly, leaning forward, voice a soft rush. “I’m okay now. Really. I just got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just bowed his head, breath shaking through his chest. His fingers curled against the couch, shoulders taut like he hadn’t let himself breathe until now.

You reached out and touched his shoulder, your palm light against the fabric of his shirt. “You look like you aged ten years,” you said, trying for a smile that was only half-formed. “You can’t keep worrying like this, you’ll go bald.”

It came out shaky, but it earned a faint huff of air from him, the sound catching somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. You didn’t know how he did it—but with him here, you felt as if you’d already recovered, like the worst had passed the moment he arrived.

Neither of you caught the shift in the older woman’s eyes, too engrossed in your own little world. Her lips slowly curved, and for a moment, she seemed to be somewhere else entirely, tracing a line of thought she had no intention of saying aloud. A faint shake of her head followed, barely there, almost to herself. Just a thought—perhaps it has happened.

“Soobin,” she said, her voice warm, “take her home.” Then she looked at you. “And you’re taking a few days off from your TA work. Come back when you’re well.”

You couldn't bring yourself to politely turn her order down. At that moment, a break truly sounded like the escape you needed to clear your mind, rest and give yourself some time. You even made a mental note to visit the orthopedics next weekend as you two walked to Soobin’s car. 

He held your hand the entire way, going as far as to make sure you were seated comfortably in the passenger seat before getting in himself. Inside the car, he reached into the console and pulled out a half-full bottle of water. He placed it in the cup holder without a word, eyes flicking to your face as if to check for protest.

You raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving faintly. “I’m not dying, you know. You’re worrying too much!”

Soobin shook his head. The keys turned on the ignition, letting the low hum of the engine fill the silence. “I know,” he said eventually. “You’ll be fine now. Get some sleep. I’ll take you home safely.”

You liked the idea of sleeping. The seat was warm, and the sunlight spilling through the windshield turned the world outside into blurred strokes of gold and shadow. But just as you were about to let your eyes slip shut, your gaze caught something bright by the gear stick, lodged in between the corners. Two or three yellow petals had gathered there, you could've almost missed it had they not been yellow, bright against the dark trim. Curious, you reached forward and picked one up, holding it between your fingers. It caught the afternoon light like glass, the veins translucent, glowing.

Your brows drew together slightly as you turned the petal in your hand. “Is this… a daffodil?”

Soobin’s blood ran cold. A ghastly and crippling fear travelled through his limbs, eating away his entire being until it settled heavily at the pit of his stomach.  You didn’t need to look directly at him to notice the stillness that overtook him. 

“Why do you have daffodils in your car?” you asked, glancing at him now, a teasing edge in your voice, though your eyes narrowed with the faintest suspicion. “Did you get yourself some flowers? Or, rather for someone else?” 

In the driver’s seat, Soobin’s thoughts spiraled. He hadn’t meant to leave them there. He was sure he’d brushed the petals off before you arrived—had even checked the console twice. He remembered how careful he’d been. Too careful. But somehow his anxiousness won over his diligentness, and now that mistake sat blooming quietly in your hand. He scrambled for an answer, anything to redirect the truth.

“Oh—uh,” he stammered, trying to sound breezy, “they’re Yeonjun’s. He got flowers for someone. Must’ve fallen out of the bouquet.”

The lie tasted wrong the moment it left his mouth.

You hummed, still turning the petal between your fingers, watching how it caught the light. There was something wistful in your expression—your lips parting slightly, eyes far away. “Yeonjun must’ve spent a fortune,” you said softly. “Getting daffodils this time of the year…”

It was Spring, almost reaching Summer. Daffodils are best grown in Autumn. But you seemed to have bought the lie, so Soobin nodded, his breath shallow. “Yeah,” he muttered, and followed it with a brittle laugh that faded too fast.

He glanced sideways when you didn’t respond. You were staring out the window now, and though the petal still rested gently in your hand, your focus had drifted.

“I saw them in a dream once.”

His heart gave a quiet lurch. Was it another one of the bond’s effects? 

“There was a whole field of daffodils,” you continued, lashes lowered. “And you were standing in the middle of it.”

“Oh really?” he raised a brow, a crooked smile finding its way to his lips, his dimples charmingly full on display that barely masked the swell in his chest. You’d seen him in your dream? With those very flowers—the ones that were slowly consuming but at the same time held proof of his raw love for you? “You’re seeing me in your dreams now?” he asked, almost teasing. But he could barely hear himself over the thrum in his ears.

You scoffed, turning to him with a playful look. “Being best friends since diapers isn’t enough for you, is it? Now you’re haunting my dreams too.”

The corners of his mouth tugged higher, but he didn’t say anything. One of his hands reached up to fix his glasses. 

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and your hand fell back into your lap, the yellow petal still caught between your fingers. “We might as well be soulmates at this point.”

The smile slipped from his face like dusk settling over a sunlit room. The silence that followed was too still—it pulled at you before you even registered why. Your gaze darted to him, apology already tumbling from your lips. “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t thinking—”

“What if you are?” he said, cutting in before he could stop himself. “What if you end up being mine?”

He didn’t know where the question came from. Maybe it was the petal still resting in your palm, the way you were holding it as if you were accepting everything it had to offer. Maybe it was the way you’d sounded when you mentioned that dream, like it hadn’t hurt to imagine him there with you. But the moment the words left his mouth, dread sank in low and hard.

What had he just done?

His heart beat a little too loudly. He wished he could snatch the question back, laugh it off, pretend it hadn’t slipped through the cracks in his restraint. But you were already looking at him, not startled, not confused—just unreadable. He wasn’t ready for any of the possible answers you could give him.

Your fingers played with the petal’s edges, the yellow catching light like a fragile flame. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, taking in a shaky breath. “It wouldn’t be so bad,” you said after a long pause. Your voice was soft. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long, I think destiny’s probably just gonna throw you at me for the rest of eternity anyway.”

You tried to joke, punctuating your sentence with a humorous laugh. The words were for yourself more than for him, as if you were trying to convince yourself only. But they didn’t feel wrong, and didn't taste bitter on your tongue. If anything, they felt only right.

Your answer blurred at the edges in his mind, static roaring in his ears. He couldn’t look at you. He couldn’t find a single sentence to say in return. All of them felt like they’d come out wrong.

“I said it before, didn’t I?” you continued. “You’re everywhere. Tangled into my days, tucked into the corners of my life. You touch me, and I suddenly feel a little less war-torn.” You gave a quiet laugh, barely a sound. “I don’t really know what peace is supposed to feel like after everything. But if I had to guess… I think it might feel a lot like you.”

Still, you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Because if you looked at him, you didn’t know what would happen. Because in your heart, a truth coiled quietly where he couldn’t see. If he really was your soulmate, it would’ve happened by now. That mark, that flowery grip, that cosmic moment—none of it had come. And because of that, you refused to let yourself reach too far for what you couldn’t hold. You convinced yourself it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be—not if the universe had stayed silent for so long. Were you strong enough to defy fate?

Here you were, ironically untouched by fate’s confirmation, sitting in his passenger seat like you always had. Always his best friend. Always almost. But this is what you had wanted, no? Closing your heart to love and soulmates? Your heart shouldn't be beating and longing for him now, right?

Sometimes you could find peace with the thought of Soobin leaving with his soulmate, accepting that it wasn't meant for you. Other nights you would be bargaining with God asking what you had to do or give up for Him to make Soobin stay forever.

Soobin was trying to squash that terrible feeling in his chest. What awfully felt like hope. 

He wanted to say it then—tell you how the petals weren’t Yeonjun’s, that he'd picked them out with trembling hands days ago, thinking only of you. But he didn’t. You’d had a long day. He wouldn’t lay such an important truth on your shoulders when you needed rest instead. So he breathed in, pushing down the swell rising in his chest, and leaned into the curve of a smile that barely held its shape. He reached out to pat your head with a soft, teasing coo, “Don’t get emotional on me now.”

You groaned at the gesture and caught his wrist mid-air, fingers curling around his hand to stop him—but you didn’t let go. And neither did he. His fingers shifted slowly until they slipped between yours, your palms pressing together like two puzzle pieces that had always known how to fit. A surge of warmth passed between you both, Soobin exhaling in relief as the bond’s effect took action.

“By the way,” Soobin said then, nudging the silence aside, “are you still going to that thing on Saturday? The gathering hosted by Beomgyu?”

“Right… I almost forgot about that.” You tutted, shaking your head.

“You still up for it?”

“Might be good,” you said, letting his hand go at last. “Break starts soon and that should be a good way to unwind, don’t you think?”

“Great. I’ll pick you up.”

The rest of the drive passed in a haze of shared jokes and soft complaints about crowds and snack quality. You both agreed to find a corner and hide there together like you always did—on the outskirts, but never alone.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, you lingered a moment before opening the door, hand brushing his over the gear stick. “Now that I’m laid off from my job—” 

“You weren’t laid off—”

“Bitch, let me finish.” You flicked his forehead, earning a startled yelp from the boy. “You better watch your back on campus, Choi. I put in a very good word for you with Professor Park while you were helping me out.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed instantly, the color draining from his face. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you said with a self-satisfied grin. “Told her you were the most promising assistant she could ever have. You might even replace me.”

With that, you were gone—climbing the steps, fading into the night with that same soft laugh still dancing from your lips. And Soobin could only watch, a dumb smile on his face like the lovestruck idiot he is. Then he leaned back against the seat, chest rising and falling with swelling giddiness. His hand reached for his phone, fingers shaking with the building adrenaline coursing through his body, he tapped Yeonjun’s name.

Were things finally going to be okay? Would he be able to reach for you without fearing breaking you? It almost felt too good to be true. Your words felt way too good to be true. A grin broke across his face, too wide to hide when the line clicked. 

“I think I’m going to tell her.”

You pushed through the final stretch of hell week with the kind of tunnel vision that only caffeine, stress, and pure willpower could summon. Somehow, you made it out the other side. Semester break welcomed you like the first breath after surfacing from deep water. Surprisingly, you were feeling better, more refreshed. The heaviness in your chest no longer clawed to get out. Even your exams had passed without draining every last bit of life from you.

With your TA duties suspended for the time being, you managed to focus on your own coursework for once. Professor Park had let you know beforehand she’d be taking a short vacation once her lectures wrapped up for the semester. She asked if you’d be alright coming in on the weekends during the second week of break to help grade finals. You’d agreed without hesitation. By then, you figured, you’d be rested enough to feel human again.

Saturday came faster than expected. You stood before the vanity as the evening light spilled in, fading gold stretching across the floor. A dark navy dress clung to your frame, snug at the waist and flaring slightly just below the hips. It was the one Soobin's mother gifted you for your birthday last year. You remembered her warm smile and the teasing glint in her eyes when she told you who had chosen it. Soobin had flushed red, muttering denials that didn’t fool anyone, while his mother waved him off and told you that he’d sent her screenshots of dresses two months in advance.

The memory coaxed a smile from you.

Your phone buzzed on the table.

[Arriving in five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting, brat.]

You gave yourself one last look-over, brushing a hand down the dress and checking the subtle sheen of gloss on your lips. The necklace lay on the vanity, waiting.

True to his words, he rang your bell five minutes later. You swung open the door, ready with a sarcastic quip—but your voice tangled mid-thought. Soobin stood there, black shirt crisp against his frame, tucked into tailored pants that only emphasized his height. A charcoal coat draped over his shoulders, the collar crisp and clean. His hair was styled in a messy slick back way, a few strands falling across his forehead, and his glasses framed his eyes just right. He looked... too good. Unreasonably good. That made your heart drop somewhere to your stomach and detonate into fluttering fragments.

Your breath snagged for a moment as his gaze roamed. He wasn’t subtle about it either—his chest had tightened the moment you opened the door. The daffodils blooming deep within him stirred restlessly, agreeing with how devastatingly stunning you looked. He had known that dress would suit you when he picked it out last year, even though he’d vehemently denied it back then.

“I had a feeling you’d wear that,” he said as he stepped inside.

You shut the door behind him, shaking your head. “Didn’t really have an occasion to, so I figured why not now? I love this dress.”

“It suits you,” he said. Then, a beat later, “I knew it would.”

You didn’t comment on that. He followed you into your room as you gestured him in, glancing once in the mirror before grabbing the necklace from your dressing table.

“Give me two minutes. Just need to put this on, and we’ll leave.”

“Take your time,” he mumbled, already sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone.

The clasp was being stubborn. You tried once, twice, but the hook refused to cooperate. Huffing, you looked over your shoulder.

“Soobin?”

He looked up, already pushing off the bed. “Yeah?”

“Can you—help?”

You watched him approach through the mirror’s reflection. When your hands brushed as you passed him the necklace, you felt your breath catch again. Holding your hair up with one hand, you stayed still while he worked.

Soobin’s eyes trailed up your back, then his hands stilled—because that’s when he saw it. Just below your hairline, resting against your nape, was the small daffodil tattoo.

His chest pulled taut. Of course you hadn’t figured it out yet. You never wore your hair up. All those days he spent wondering—fearing—when you’d confront him, when you’d say something before he ever got the chance to say anything first—this explained everything. You didn’t know yet because of where the tattoo had taken root. 

A smile curled at his lips, bittersweet and fond. For a fleeting second, he wanted to press a finger against the ink, to feel the warmth of it—or better yet, press his lips against the softness of your skin. Instead, he clasped the necklace curtly and let his hands rest on your shoulders, eyes finding yours through the mirror. You were already watching him.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice soft and air against the shell of your ear. His fingers gave the lightest of squeezes. “Let’s get going.”

And then he stepped back. You stood frozen, knees untrustworthy and cheeks burning. Holy shit. You shouldn’t be thinking about his hands or his voice or the way he looked at you. You stood still for a second longer than necessary, blinking yourself back into motion. You called after him as you grabbed your purse, doing a last check before locking the door and following him out.

The drive was peaceful for the most part—until it wasn’t. Sometime between your shared playlist and petty arguments about music choices, the lingering tension finally fizzled and before long, the back-and-forth banter returned.

When you arrived, Beomgyu didn’t waste a second before throwing his arms around you pulling you into a hug that lifted you briefly off your feet.

“You actually came. You guys made my night,” he said.

“We wouldn't have missed it,” you replied, grinning.

Beomgyu pulled Soobin in for a casual shoulder bump of a hug, laughter low in his throat as you both chimed in with your congratulations. The occasion—his job offer—had given just enough excuse to gather the people closest to him, and the group that filled the small venue reflected that.

It was a modest turnout: a mix of familiar faces from your department and a handful of Beomgyu’s friends from school. He led you through the warm buzz of voices and soft music to a table he’d reserved. There, Yeonjun lounged with a drink in hand, tipping his head up as you approached. He raised an eyebrow, then did a theatrical double take.

“Okay, wow.” He stood, tone laced with exaggerated awe. “Prettiest girl in the room just walked in.”

You scoffed and laughed, brushing off his teasing as he gave a dramatic bow. “Still running your mouth, I see.”

“Only when the truth demands it.”

Then his gaze flicked to Soobin, brows lifting in recognition. The silent look between them said enough—Yeonjun hadn’t forgotten that last phone call.

As all of you settled in your seats, you recognized many, and even those you didn’t were kind, open, easy to be around. You didn’t feel drained or anxious. If anything, this was the most relaxed you’d felt in weeks. And Soobin, as always, stayed by your side.

Between laughter and conversation, you barely realized how fast time was moving. At one point, Soobin leaned toward you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You okay?” he murmured. “If you’re tired, I can take you home.”

Your heart curled at the care threaded into those words. You turned to him with a small frown that softened into a smile. Then, reaching up, you pinched his cheek gently. “I’m fine. Stop being so soft.”

His grin twitched. Yeonjun cut in next, announcing he’d be spending the break with his grandparents, and the conversation spiraled off—travel plans, internship woes, stories from the semester. Plates emptied, drinks refilled. Somewhere between a retelling of a disastrous group project and someone’s impersonation of a professor, your eyes occasionally sweep across the room, catching small moments, little details.

That is until you felt your blood run cold.

You were laughing just moments ago. But that was before—before your eyes caught on a silhouette through the crowd. Before every fiber in your body locked into place as though it recognized a threat before your mind could comprehend it. There was no way you were seeing it right. It must've been an illusion, someone else perhaps, some who just simply looked like him. You felt the noises around you fade, a sick dizziness washing over you.

To your utter horror, there was no mistake. Laughter. His, echoing faintly across the room like a whip across skin. His face tilted up, caught in motion and frozen in time all at once.

It was Kim Doyun.

The name roared through your bloodstream like fire.

The room lost color. Sound dulled into a low drone that no longer made sense. Even the warmth of the bodies around you couldn’t reach the numb frost crawling beneath your skin. He was just across the room, completely unaware of the wreckage he had left behind years ago.

Soobin's voice broke through—muffled, distant. You felt his presence shift, but you couldn’t focus. Your fingers twitched once before going limp in your lap. Your breath snagged in your throat.

Then you blinked, and his eyes were on you.

Doyun saw you.

"Soobin," you choked, his name barely formed.

Your eyes didn’t leave Doyun’s face as if daring it to vanish, to prove itself a hallucination, but he remained.

Soobin followed your stare. You felt his body lock beside you, the sharp draw of breath through his teeth. He didn’t speak. He reached for you with the steadiness of someone trying to stop an avalanche with their bare hands. His palm touched your jaw, tilting your head toward him.

To anyone watching, it would’ve looked tender. But there was no tenderness in the way your lungs refused to inflate, in the way your pulse raced like a deer through brush. No sweetness in the white-hot panic crashing down like floodwaters. Soobin’s hand cupped your cheek like he was trying to keep you afloat.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” he murmured, his voice a thread trying to tether you to the present. But it barely pierced through the noise. “I’m here. It’s alright. Do you hear me? Do you want to leave?”

You shook beneath his touch, barely aware of your surroundings. Yeonjun sat up straight, catching on Soobin’s sudden shift in tone. But Soobin shook his head once, and the older male caught on fast. He turned back to the table, pulling attention toward himself, giving you the illusion of privacy.

Your fingers clutched the fabric of your dress until your knuckles paled. Soobin leaned closer, voice trembling with restraint.

“Tell me what you need,” he urged.

Through the fog, through the tears threatening to spill over, you looked at him. His face—the home you’d found after a storm. And in a voice thin and cracking at the edges, you said,

"Take me away from here."

Soobin held your arm with careful strength as he guided you around the corner of the rooftop cafe—secluded enough for no one to see, dimly lit by the muted golden glow of a wall sconce that flickered under the wind’s touch. Your heels scraped against the concrete tiles, breath coming out with forced efforts, your vision tunneling with every echoing thud of your pulse. Your knees buckled, but Soobin caught you just in time.

You collapsed against him as though your bones had given up the pretense of holding you together. His arms wrapped around you with a desperation that trembled at the seams, rocking you as you curled into his chest, your fists clutching the fabric of his coat as you struggled to steady your breathing.

The sobs tore through you—violent, unrestrained, deep from the gut where grief had festered too long in silence. They didn’t fall like gentle rain but came crashing like a storm, howling out of your body in a rhythm too erratic to follow. Soobin’s breath stuttered against your crown as he held on. You wept like the past had come to drag you back under.

"Why would he be here?" you gasped out between cries, each word ripped raw from your throat. "Soobin—he saw me. He looked right at me."

He didn't speak. Just pulled you closer as your shoulders shook harder.

"I thought I was okay," your voice cracked, high and small. "I thought—I thought I was healing. I was trying. Why now? Why here? Why is fate so cruel to me? Why does it keep throwing me back into him? Answer me, Soobin. Please—please tell me."

Each plea gutted him. The daffodils in his chest clawed like wildfire, each petal curling inwards, burning into his ribs. The pain was vicious now—no longer a dull ache, but a searing collapse. And then he realized. It wasn't just your panic that trembled through you.

It was the bond.

You couldn’t tell the difference in that state—how could you? The way your shoulders clenched, the way your nape throbbed—it must’ve felt like the panic itself, not the sacred thread between you both beginning to reject its place inside you. But Soobin felt the split begin at the roots, the bond fighting to hold on while your trauma pushed it out.

You weren’t ready.

And seeing you like this—shattered and gasping for control of yourself—it shattered him too. All his plans, all the words he thought he’d finally say tonight… they evaporated into the night air. In hope’s place, his past fears began to take root.

He pulled away just enough to see your face, his thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks, though his hands were shaking. "I’m sorry," he whispered, hoarse. His own eyes glossy with unshed tears.

Your eyes searched his through a haze of tears, confusion flickering somewhere beneath the anguish.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, softer this time, like it was all he had left. He couldn’t give you peace, couldn’t give you safety, couldn’t give you freedom—not when his presence was laced with something that caused you more pain than comfort. "You didn’t deserve this. Any of it."

You leaned into his touch again, letting the silence between you breathe for a moment as the sobs dulled to broken exhales. When your body finally allowed air to return in full, when your chest began to rise and fall without catching, you gave him a nod.

“Let’s go home,” you murmured.

He stood first, offering you a hand that you took without looking, and together, you walked across the roof tiles, step after step under the pale light of the moon.

To anyone else, your footsteps might have sounded like you were going home together, when in reality, with each step Soobin was preparing to walk away.

He would give you what you deserved—freedom. Even if it meant breaking a bond that tied every breath of him to you.

The apartment was lit only by the faint amber glow of the lamp on your bedside table. Soobin had been careful—gentle hands wiping the remnants of ruined makeup from your cheeks, brushing the strands of hair from your damp forehead. You’d fallen asleep at last, exhaustion overtaking even the panic that had wrecked your body. He’d stayed until your breathing evened out, until your grip on the blanket loosened.

He stood by the door for a long time, staring at the outline of your resting figure, memorizing the rise and fall of your chest. He should’ve walked away long before the ache in his chest had turned into something unbearable. But how could he, when the thought of leaving you—even for your sake—felt like choosing to suffocate?

It was supposed to be a calm night. A soft end to a long day, a crazy semester. But instead, you had shattered. And he had watched it happen. Watched the exact moment you cracked open, the past dragging its claws through your present.

He didn’t go home. He headed back to the venue. Yeonjun was already waiting when he arrived—called out of worry, out of desperation. He took one look at Soobin and froze, wincing at the way the younger looked as if he had visibly shrunk in the past hour.

“Soobin—what the hell—are you okay? Is she okay?” he asked in a rush, stepping closer. “What happened?”

Soobin’s eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with tears that hadn’t quite dried. His shoulders were rigid, but his expression was hollow. “She’s not ready.” The words fell like stones. “She’s not ready and I was stupid enough to hope.”

Yeonjun’s throat tightened. “What do you mean? What happened back there?”

“She saw him.” Soobin’s voice cracked. “Doyun. He was there. And she... she broke, Yeonjun. Right in front of me. I’ve never—” he blinked rapidly, breath hitching, “—never seen her like that since middle school. Since that day.”

Yeonjun’s heart dropped, hands shooting forward to help Soobin sit down on one of the bar tools near the railing. His gaze darted around quickly, making sure there were no prying eyes around.

“She was sobbing in my arms, asking me why fate keeps doing this to her,” Soobin continued, voice straining against the weight. “And all I could think about was how much worse it would be if she found out about the bond. If she ever knew and hated me for it.”

“Soobin,” Yeonjun tried, “you don’t know that. She might not hate you. This isn’t just about you—this is fate, the bond is not in your hands—”

“No.” Soobin’s voice turned steely. “It’s in my hands. It’s been in my hands since the beginning. I can’t let her go through that again. I won’t. I’m going to break it.”

Yeonjun reeled back, mouth falling open. “Are you insane? You heard what the doctor said. The pain—one of you could fall into a coma. You’ll never get another soulmate. Neither of you will.”

“So what?” Soobin spat, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him. “What does any of that matter if she ends up suffering? If I’m the reason she relives that hell again?”

A sharp stab exploded in his chest, so sudden and vicious it nearly stole the air from his lungs. Soobin’s eyes widened. A choking noise escaped him before a violent, gut-wrenching cough tore from his body. He doubled over, one hand flying to his mouth as his spine arched with the force of it, the yellow petals spilling out with every cough.

Soobin's eyes flew open when he heard Yeonjun take a sharp breath followed by a curse under his breath. To their horror, the petals weren’t just soft and golden—they were stained red this time, ruined by the dark, wet blotches that soaked through like spilled ink.

Yeonjun’s heart nearly stopped. “Shit—Soobin!” he exclaimed, lunging forward. He dropped to his knees beside him, hands hovering helplessly as Soobin doubled over, his fingers trembling and slick with crimson. The petals scattered across the rooftop floor like ruined confessions.

Soobin’s breath came in ragged gasps, blood dribbling down his chin. The metallic tang filled his mouth, the floral aftertaste bitter and overwhelming. Pain flared white-hot behind his eyes. His vision blurred.

Yeonjun felt the sharp pang of panic shoot through his chest. It had never been like this before. Not with blood. Not with this much agony. Not with Soobin looking like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Yeonjun muttered, grabbing Soobin’s shoulders and steadying him, his voice tight with desperation. “You’re killing yourself.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Soobin croaked, tears slipping down his cheeks, mingling with the blood on his chin. He looked up suddenly, eyes raw, swollen with pain and something far worse—resolve. Then, with sudden force, he reached out and gripped Yeonjun’s arm. There was a subtle ferocity in the gesture, a finality that made Yeonjun’s skin crawl.

“I need a place to stay.”

Yeonjun blinked. “What...?”

“I can’t be near her. Not if I’m going to go through with this. Please.”

Yeonjun stared at him, caught in the cruel space between horror and heartbreak. He didn’t want to be a part of this. Didn’t want to watch his friend lose himself thread by thread. He couldn't imagine the look on your face when you’d find the truth. But staring at Soobin, who was like a brother to him—the shattering, the absolute devastation—it told him that Soobin had already made his decision.

After a long silence, Yeonjun sighed harshly, before speaking, “You can come with me to my grandparent's house.”

Soobin’s breath left him in a shaky rush. “Thank you.”

“What if she asks for you?” One last time, Yeonjun asked, as if to make sure this is truly what Soobin wanted. 

Soobin looked up at the stars, tears clinging to his lashes. “Then I hope she lives free. That’s the least I can do for her.”

The memory of your tear-streaked face haunted his mind. The sound of your cries, echoing like a wound that wouldn’t close. It reminded him of the day you ran to him back in middle school, shattered by Doyun’s cruelty, sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe. He had held you then, just like he did tonight.

If he let himself stay—if he gave in to the bond—it would destroy you. At least that’s what he believed. And Yeonjun, no matter how much it hurt, couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore.

You'd been awake for a while. Watching the sun rise, your room was washed in soft morning light. Your eyes were heavy from the night before, the memories returning in slow waves. But they didn’t sweep you under this time. Instead of anguish, you felt anger. And beneath that—pity. For yourself. For giving someone like Doyun that much power over your life.

You exhaled slowly, letting the thought settle. It was time to tear through the veil of the past, wasn't it? To love without fear. To feel without bracing for pain. 

You were strong. You could take your life back, right?

The morning moved at its own pace. You showered, hoping the warm water might ease the aches gnawing at your body. When it didn’t you settled with some painkillers. It somehow got even worse overnight. Maybe it was time to restart your orthopedics plan.

You weren’t surprised when Soobin showed up. The two of you stood in your kitchen, the kettle humming between you. It felt domestic—normalcy woven into your very existence. It always did, with him. You promised yourself not to take this comfort for granted.

“I’m visiting a relative tomorrow,” he said, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’ll be gone for a while.”

You blinked. The words hit without warning, slipping into the room like a chill. “Is it serious?” you asked. “Everything okay with your family?”

He offered a soft smile. "Yeah. My mom hasn’t seen her side of the family in years. Distant folks—I barely know them." A smooth lie. 

You tilted your head, feigning sadness. “I was planning to spend the break with you, you know. But no, go ahead, leave me all alone.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Hope your relative’s more fun than I am.”

A breath of laughter escaped him, but he didn’t respond. The silence hung around you like mist. Then, he stepped away from the counter, his arms parting for you.

Your eyes trembled, shoulders slumped as you stepped into him, letting your forehead rest against his chest with a quiet thud. Soobin’s arms engulfed you, almost hiding your frame into him, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stayed like that for a while. 

Closing your eyes, you drew in his scent—there was a faint floral note. Did he change his cologne? Or his soap? But either way, underneath all that was Soobin that you knew like second nature—like the warmth of a late summer afternoon, like the pages of a well-loved book, like home.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he murmured into your hair. “You’ve been through hell and still chose to get back up. That’s not easy. But you’re doing it. And I know you’ll make it through.”

You sniffled. The knot in your throat was too tight. With him here, it felt possible—like maybe the world wasn’t as cruel as it had felt yesterday.

“Be back soon,” you whispered.

For a moment, he didn’t speak or move. When he finally pulled back, just enough to see your face, his gaze locked onto yours. You couldn't name what you saw there. And that unsettled you more than anything else. Because there was no promise in his silence. No reassurance. Just the numb feeling of something slipping through your fingers before you even realized you were holding onto it.

You felt the hollowness the moment he was gone.

The next few days passed in a daze. Your friends dragged you out—cafés, arcades, walks through the city under cloudy skies—but it all slipped by like smoke through your fingers. Their voices rose and fell like static, laughter bursting like fireworks you couldn’t see. You gave smiles on cue, nodded in all the right places, but there was a gap between your body and your mind. It was as if you stood behind a pane of glass, watching it all unfold without reaching through.

Communication with Soobin was scarce. You told yourself he was somewhere far, where the signal was weak. When you messaged him, he replied right away. Sometimes with words, sometimes with photos—a table set for one with warm, homemade dishes; a wind-blown field under a peach-colored sky; his shadow stretched long along a country road. You stared at those pictures longer than you meant to, your eyes stinging as you tried to make sense of the pressure tightening in your chest.

You weren’t sure what ached more: the flare of your chronic pain, which returned with a vengeance, or the way time had begun to move strangely without him. You finally booked an appointment with your orthopedist, fingers trembling as you keyed in the date. The apartment felt too quiet. You missed the sound of his voice, the way he'd fill your kitchen with his humming, his rambling thoughts. You felt lonely.

By the time the semester break began to wane, you’d returned to your duties like how you promised Professor Park.

"Dear! Come on in!" Professor Park beamed the moment your head peaked in. The lady shuffled around her desk, hand outstretched as she rushed toward you before engulfing you in a hug. It felt good to be back in your space, you missed the affection and comfort the older lady gave you. She reminded you of your own mother. 

“I brought gifts from Singapore! For you and Yujin both!” She bustled back to her desk, retrieving a delicate box wrapped in soft gold tissue. With excitement twinkling in her eyes, she handed it to you. “Go on, open it!”

You peeled the paper with care, revealing a carved hairclip so intricate it stole your breath. Floral vines curled around its base, and tiny gemstones shimmered like dew.

"Professor, you didn’t have to!" you exclaimed, though your fingers curled around the gift instinctively. You held it close, heart fluttering.

She waved you off and moved behind you, already reaching for it. "Let me help you wear it, dear." Her fingers were nimble, parting your hair with delicate care. Your protests meekly faltered as her fingers threaded gently through your strands. Embarrassment bloomed under your skin, but you stayed still, feeling a little self-conscious that someone was putting such close attention on you.

“There,” she said brightly, stepping back to admire her work. "Aha! I knew you'd look lov—"

You heard her voice stop mid-sentence. Slowly, you turned to look at her. Her expression had shifted completely. The smile drained from her face, brows furrowed deeply, mouth parted with a question not yet formed.

“…Professor?” Your voice came small. “Is something wrong?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze remained fixed on you—or rather, behind you. Her eyes dropped to your nape. And then, she spoke, voice low with confusion. "Dear… how come your bond is still colourless?"

“My… what?” You blurted out. Your hand shot up to the back of your neck. “What bond?”

Professor Park’s expression shifted again—paler now, tinged with something akin to disbelief. "What bond—?" she echoed, then cut herself off. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, as if realizing too much at once. She took a sharp breath, stepping closer. "Where’s Soobin?"

You didn’t get to answer. The pain returned and it struck fast—sharp, burning—piercing through the base of your neck as if a needle had sunk through bone. Your breath staggered, eyes widening as your heart plummeted into your gut. And yet, that wasn’t what terrified you. It was the slow, merciless dawn of realization that scraped and tore as it surfaced.

“Professor Park…” you whispered, voice barely holding shape. “I don’t have a soulmate. There shouldn’t be any bond.”

But the words felt hollow in your mouth, like a script you’d read too many times, hoping it might stay that way forever. You weren’t telling her—you were begging yourself.

Professor Park took a moment before speaking again. Her movements gentler now, as she reached for her phone. "Would you like to see it? The tattoo, I mean. I can take a photo and show you, if that’s alright."

You hesitated, a hand still half-covering your nape, but you gave a slow nod. The air felt cooler against your skin this time, every second stretching. You heard the shutter of her phone camera, and then she walked back around, holding the screen out. The photo glowed between you, and in it bloomed the cruelest revelation you’d ever seen.

Your breath didn’t hitch—it collapsed. It wasn’t just any flower. It was the one whose petals you’d picked out of Soobin’s car days ago, believing those were from a bouquet. That’s what he told you, anyway—that they were Yeonjun’s. You hadn’t questioned it. Why would you have? You never questioned anything when it came to him.

But now, the same flower was etched into your skin, waiting to be filled with colour. And it had been blooming for a while, hadn’t it? The aches—the persistent pain at the base of your neck you chalked up to a chronic condition. You had appointments booked, ice packs pressed against it, painkillers tucked into every bag. None of it worked, because it wasn’t chronic. You get it now.

What if you end up being mine?

It was Soobin.

You saw it now—all of it. That night you dreamed of him standing in the middle of a field of daffodils, golden light slanting over his shoulders, petals swaying around him like a living tide. He stood there as if waiting, as if hoping, and you woke up with your heart aching for him, not knowing why.

He’d carried it alone. Carried the pain, the bloom, the bond—let it grow in silence while you lived on, blind and blissfully unaware. He never asked for your love. Never demanded your attention. He stayed beside you as a friend—as your best friend, shielding you all the time. You choked out a disbelieving laugh. Not from shock—no, this was grief. Pure, raw grief, spiraling into guilt that made your stomach lurch. You’d laughed with him, cried beside him, built a home of trust around his silences and never saw it. You’d looked into his eyes and missed the storm behind them.

And you had a terrible feeling you knew why he never told you.

The thought cracked open your chest. Tears clung to your lashes, hot and stinging. You weren’t even sure if you deserved to cry.

“Dear,” when Professor Park reached for you sitting down, it was with that same maternal gentleness she’d always carried—like the embrace of a warm shawl draped over shaking shoulders. “You’ve been hurting. Is there anything you wish to share with me?”

And that was the part you couldn’t say aloud. The words sat like glass in your throat. So instead, you turned away and stared at the carpeted floor, your voice turning inward. But when her cold and soft hands covered your trembling ones, her eyes shone with nothing but gentle encouragement, you broke.

How you’d spent days giddy after a boy claimed to be your soulmate in middle school, kept up the lie for a full week, weaving a story so convincingly. How you—young, naive, desperate to believe—had clung to his words like a lifeline. How, at the end of the week, he had laughed in your face in front of an audience—the humiliation and the heartbreak that followed, hardening in your chest like stone.

“I was so stupid,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I didn’t even know how the bond worked back then. I thought—I thought maybe he was right. Maybe if you accept it early, the symptoms don’t show up as much. I was just a kid. It was so easy for him to trick me.”

When you finally turned your head, Professor Park’s eyes were glossy and red. She reached for you, arms open, and pulled you in without hesitation. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, sniffling. You felt the press of her cheek against your hair. “You weren’t stupid. You were just a child and wanted to believe in something beautiful.”

Over the years you built your peace on denial. You tucked your hope away, convinced yourself it was safer not to believe in fate at all. And maybe it was. Maybe that lie gave you stability. But it also robbed you of the truth.

“After that it was my ignorance controlling me,” you confessed, voice rough. “All these years, I chose not to see. Because if I believed in it, I’d have to admit that I was still afraid, still hurting. I told myself I kept everything measured, nothing could hurt me. And that’s why I never let myself see him.”

You winced, burying your face in your hands as you could only imagine what Soobin had been through all these days. He had daffodils constricting his airways, and yet everytime you met him, he smiled at you and held you close. You've been making a grave mistake.

Professor Park took your hand in hers again, thumb rubbed gently against your knuckles. “You were protecting yourself. That’s not a sin.”

“But I hurt him,” you whispered. “He never said it, but I know I did.”

“He made a choice too,” she said. “To keep it from you. Maybe to give you space, maybe to shield you. It doesn’t make your love less real.”

You looked up slowly, vision blurred, throat thick. “I love him.”

It was the first time you said it out loud. The words didn’t tremble—they were waiting to leave your heart.

“I love Soobin,” you said again, never being so sure of anything before. “Not because of the bond. Not because of fate. Because of everything he is. Because he listens. Because he remembers the little things. Because he always made space for me, even when I didn’t ask.”

“Then go to him,” she said softly, her hand giving your shoulder a squeeze. “There’s still time to make things right.” 

You wiped your face with the back of your hand, breath shuddering as you straightened. A part of you still felt raw, exposed—but another part surged with clarity like the last lock falling open. You promised yourself that you'd take back control of your life, didn’t you?

“I won’t tell you to stop being afraid overnight,” Professor Park said, continuing with a firm nod. “But don’t let one person’s cruelty steal your chance at something real. The bond doesn’t make you lovable or unlovable. You were always worthy of love, with or without it.”

You’d been wrong—blind to what mattered the most. But now that you truly saw it, you were going to make things right. You owed it to him, and to yourself.

“Come on, pick up.”

Your voice was breathless, almost a plea as you stood outside the courtyard. Each ring felt like a heartbeat lost. The line crackled and cut, again and again—busy, disconnected, unreachable. You stared at the screen, frustration curling in your chest as you tried one more time. Your fingers moved on instinct, pressing Soobin’s mother’s number. You let out a breath of relief when she picked up.

“Darling! It’s been so long since you called! How have you been?” Her cheery voice filled your ear like sunlight through fog.

You managed a breath. “I’m okay, just... I wanted to ask if Soobin’s around you?”

“Oh? No, no, he’s not here. He’s staying with a friend, I think? Some kind of trip to their hometown—don’t tell me he didn’t mention it?”

Your heart sank and you felt the dread like a tide you’d been bracing for. You weren’t really surprised. You figured out by now that he was up to something terrible. Distancing himself from you was probably his main goal, and it definitely had something to do with the bond.

“Oh—he did,” you lied with a short laugh. “Sorry, I’ve just been all over the place with exams.”

“Ah, those exams,” she sighed, “you poor thing. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I will. Thank you.” You ended the call, your voice didn’t crack.

She hung up with another gentle laugh, and you were left staring at your phone, your reflection warped across the screen. Your thumb scrolled up on your last conversation with Soobin. A handful of photos—rolling green hills, a horizon stretched golden with sun, a few wind-swept trees—but no town signs, no buildings, nothing that told you where he’d gone. You tapped each photo, zooming in and scanning the edges, eyes darting like a hawk’s.

Desperation clawed through your chest. You opened Google Lens, dropped the images in, prayed for anything useful. The search pulled up tourist blogs, vague suggestions, countryside guesses. You closed the app and exhaled hard through your nose, biting the edge of your thumb. There was one more person who could tell you about his whereabouts. 

You had barely found the name in your contact list when you felt a brush across your shoulder. Your heart leapt into your throat. You turned, almost stumbling back.

“Oh—sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

You blinked hard, heart still galloping. “Ari.”

She looked apologetic, shoulders tensed beneath her canvas tote strap. Her hair was a little windswept, cheeks slightly flushed like she’d hurried over. Ari had been your friend since middle school—one of the only ones who didn’t drift away. You were in the same university now, in different departments, but the history between you had never faded.

She cast a glance over her shoulder before stepping closer. "Do you have a minute?"

Your nerves were already worn thin, but you nodded. "What’s up?"

Her eyes darted once more, then settled on yours. “Doyun reached out to me.”

“What?” you asked, voice barely managing to come out. The name alone still made your stomach turn.

“Through socials,” she continued. “He asked if I could get him in touch with you.”

You stared, mouth falling open and closing like a gaping fish. 

“I told him no,” she said quickly. “Told him to back off. That he had no right. But he kept begging. Said he just wanted to meet you once. He wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, head spinning. A scoff almost tore from your throat. Ari, without another word, pulled out her phone and showed you their conversation. 

“I still hate him for what he did to you,” she said, slipping the device back into her coat. “I never forgave him. I never will. But I figured... I should tell you. Just in case he tries other ways to reach out.”

Your grip on your phone tightened. He had been gone for years and now, when everything inside you already felt like it was collapsing, he came crawling out from the past to apologize? Your gut twisted with indecision, the instinct to run curling in your bones like a deeply ingrained reflex. You had spent years putting this behind you, burying it under layers of apathy. Perhaps that was the problem. Maybe you had spent too long running. Every step you’d taken away from the pain had only kept you shackled to it. 

You were in control now. Not Doyun. He wanted to talk? Fine. He could talk.

You hadn’t slept.

The night stretched on, hollow and endless, devouring every second until the hours blurred into something unrecognizable. Your eyes stung from exhaustion, but sleep had never come. It never even teased you with the possibility.

By dawn, your insides were already roiling. You barely made it to the bathroom before you were retching into the sink, body convulsing from the storm coiled deep in your gut. When it passed, there was no relief. Just the bitter taste in your mouth and the chill that soaked into your bones. The mirror offered no comfort either. Your reflection stared back like a stranger—eyes rimmed with shadows, cheeks hollow, strands of hair clinging to damp skin. You reached up, fingertips brushing the back of your neck. The pain was so bad that it almost became numb to you, forcing yourself to move around like a ragdoll.

You tried to sleep again, tossing and turning in your bed until the light shifted across the ceiling as the sun climbed high and painted everything in tired gold. You took a quick shower, and as you dried your hair, your phone buzzed, cutting through the haze.

You turned toward it with the slow caution of someone expecting bad news. But it wasn’t dread that bloomed when you saw the sender—just a strange hollowness that settled in your chest like ash. It didn’t make your pulse spike. It didn’t twist your stomach into knots. You were rather awfully calm, calm enough to willingly soothe out whatever nerves that tried climbing you. 

You just stared at his name, one that used to have so much power over you just a few days ago. Because it was your conditions that dictated the meeting. You chose the place. You chose the time. He had no say. He was just answering to what you had already set in motion. And he would follow your terms.

This time, he would follow you.

Doyun sat across from you, his hands shaking as he gripped the ceramic cup in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking. He hadn’t taken a single sip. His eyes—ones that once carried nothing but arrogance—were now swollen, red-rimmed, heavy with something you didn’t know if you could call remorse.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he offered, a brittle chuckle escaping like it had been caught in his throat too long.

Your eyes, devoid of any emotion, pinned him on his seat. You were surprised how just a few years ago even hearing his name used to carve open panic in your chest, left you gasping through old nightmares—and how just a few days, seeing him made you fall apart exactly like how you did back then. Now you’re sitting in front of him feeling like an empty shell. You nodded in acknowledgement, bringing your cup of coffee to your lips.

His mouth opened again, as if he had planned to ramble, to fill the space with anything that wasn’t silence. “How have you—”

“That point, Doyun. Make it.”

Your tone cut like a blade. His words trailed off, severed mid-sentence. He stared at the table for a beat too long before sucking in a breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, cracking under the weight of his own guilt.

“I… I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he started, exhaling shakily. “I just—I needed to say it. I needed to tell you I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders stayed still, but inside, your chest had gone taut. For years, you had curated your rage like a collection. Kept it locked away in the attic of your mind, dusted it off whenever the pain clawed back in. You didn’t know who you were without it.

He shifted forward slightly, the movement awkward, uncertain. “I met my soulmate.”

Your eyes widened just a fraction, as if to show your bewilderment. He probably noticed it because he continued. “She—she loved me so much,” he whispered, voice trembling. “She carried the flowers in her. I've watched her suffer so much. But she still loved me through it all.” He let out a bitter laugh, one that carried the weight of years of regret. “And I bore the mark,” he said, holding his hand out. On top of his index finger, there sat a pretty periwinkle tattoo. Its colour vibrant against his pale skin. The colour meant they had accepted the bond.

Your grip on your cup tightened.

“When she was going through it,” his voice grew uneven, dragged down by memory, “I understood—the pain, the longing of your soulmate to accept the bond back. It’s suffocating. I—” his voice cracked, his fingers shaking, “—I couldn’t let her feel the pain any longer.”

The realization hit you slowly, creeping up on you before you could brace yourself for impact. Doyun had never known the weight of a soulmate bond until it was bestowed upon him. And in the end, he had been swallowed by the very thing he mocked.

He looked up to you then, eyes glossy, jaw clenched as if it physically pained him to look at you. “I regretted everything, especially what I did to you. When I found my own happiness, and when I felt how truly beautiful and cruel the bond can be, all I could think about was you. I didn’t think—” he exhaled shakily, shaking his head, “—I was young and stupid and cruel. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. But… I messed up badly, didn't I?"

You didn’t answer. Not because you wanted to give him the comfort of being heard. But because something in you needed this, too. Not closure—maybe acknowledgment. A name for the pain. 

“I know I'm late. I’m really late but I couldn't let myself die in this lifetime without apologizing. I had to at least try to make things right.” His eyes shone with raw guilt. “I am sorry. Truly sorry. From the bottom of my heart.”

You sat there, absorbing his words. You had spent so long thinking he’d never feel an ounce of regret for what he did, that he’d walk through life untouched by the ruin he left behind. But he hadn’t. The bond had come for him too and it tested him, made him kneel. Maybe that was justice at its best form.

You let out a breath, long and quiet. The anger hadn’t disappeared, but it no longer burned as fiercely. This cycle of hurt—the inherited silence, the cruelty born from fear, the grief passed hand to hand like heirlooms—had worn on for too long. And for what? To prove that pain could be recycled endlessly? That if one person bled, everyone else had to as well?

Doyun had done something unforgivable, yes. But he had also been forced to face the truth he once mocked. He had come to understand what he took from you only when it was nearly too late. Through his own suffering, he came to respect the bond he once ridiculed. And in that, perhaps, there was a strange mercy.

If he could find love, if he can do it—then maybe you could too. You must allow yourself too.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said, voice steady but quiet. “Not yet.”

Doyun’s lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected anything but either absolution or rejection, like he wanted to say he understood—but you beat him to it.

“But I appreciate your honesty,” you continued. “It takes courage to own up to what you did, and I won’t pretend it doesn’t mean something. But forgiveness… that’s going to take time.”

His shoulders sagged, but there was a smile. “I understand,” he murmured.

The number you are trying to connect is busy now...

The line cut out again with a hollow beep, and you were left staring at your screen, the call log mocking you with its repeated attempts. Your phone sat loosely in your palm as your gaze drifted beyond it, past the blur of scattered students in the campus courtyard. Some were lounging on the grass, their laughter carried by the evening breeze. Others sat close on benches, fingers interlaced or heads resting on shoulders. You could tell, even without looking too closely, who had found their soulmate. There was something different in how they looked at each other—tethered by something deeper than affection.

The sun had dipped low enough to stain the sky in shades of bruised lavender and dusk rose. You let out a shaky breath, and rested your forehead against your folded arms. The metal bench had grown cool beneath you, the night air slipping under your sleeves and settling against your skin.

You wished—God, you wished Soobin were here.

With one storm passed and behind you, you were now met with another: the question of where to go from here. You had no plan, no trail to follow. You had been sitting on that bench longer than you meant to, your limbs sluggish with exhaustion, your heart weighted with dread. The pain didn’t help either—the dull throb at the base of your neck had sharpened into something more vicious. You winced as it burned again, your hand flying up to touch the back of your neck. The bond flared with a heat that made your stomach twist, nausea rolling in waves. You couldn’t breathe.

Because if you were in this much pain… Soobin—he must be suffocating.

You buried your face in your hands, elbows propped against your knees as the tears pressed hot behind your eyes. Panic clawed its way up your throat, waves of regret beginning to drown you. How long had he been suffering like this? Why hadn’t you seen it sooner? Why did things have to go like this?

A shadow broke across your shoes. You blinked past the blur of tears to see a pair of sneakers come to a stop in front of you. You slowly looked up. It was Beomgyu. His brows were faintly drawn, eyes scanning your face with concern that he didn’t bother to hide.

You forced a small smile, blinking hastily, and straightened up. "Hey," you said hoarsely. "Sorry I left so abruptly that night without saying goodbye."

He shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. "It’s fine. Really." He gestured to the space beside you. "Can I sit?"

You nodded, scooting slightly to make room.

Beomgyu didn’t waste time. He settled in with a deep breath and turned toward you, his voice low. "I won’t dance around it. That night, I overheard Soobin talking to Yeonjun. I, uh—may have heard a little too much."

Your spine went rigid. Soobin went back to the venue after dropping you off? 

He hesitated, watching your expression carefully. "Soobin is planning to break the bond."

The words struck like a slap. Your pulse dropped. The blood in your veins felt like it had frozen solid. "What—"

"He is ready to sacrifice himself," Beomgyu continued. "I don’t think he ever meant for you to be unhappy. He just wanted you to be free. Even if it meant losing himself to make it happen."

Your breath stuttered out of you. Your head dropped with a resigned sigh, face buried back into your palms. "Choi Soobin, how can you be so—so reckless," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to stay composed. The fury bubbled up fast, raw and cutting. You had suspected, yes, but hearing it aloud? It was unbearable.

Beomgyu placed a hand on your shoulder—not intrusive, just present—and offered a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You know, I believe things happen for a reason. Everything leading you here—what you’ve gone through—it shaped you. You’re not the same person you were before. And maybe you had to lose yourself to find the version of you that’s ready for this."

"Beomgyu," you choked out. Your vision blurred again, and this time, the tears fell. "I don’t know what to do. I can’t find him. I don’t know where he is, and I think—I think I’m losing him. If I’m too late... if I’ve already lost him—"

"Hey." Beomgyu turned to face you fully now, his tone suddenly sharp, resolute. "Don’t talk like that. If two people truly love each other, nothing—not time, not distance, not even fate—can tear them apart. You and Soobin? That’s not the kind of love that breaks easily and believe me, I have been seeing you two. You may have been late, yeah. But you finally found yourself, haven't you?  Now you just have to go get him. You won't lose him." 

Your eyes drifted downward, catching sight of his wrist where the edge of his sleeve had ridden up slightly. There, nestled against the skin was his soulmate tattoo.

Rain lily.

You remembered his story, the one he'd once shared with a heart that had waited too long. How he'd waited and waited, only to find her when he least expected. How he fought, tooth and nail, against all odds—against time and fate and fear—just to be near her. Just to love her.

Your lips parted in a tearful, breathy laugh, trembling as a small smile broke through the ache. Beomgyu noticed your gaze lingering and glanced down at the tattoo. Slowly, his fingers lifted and brushed over the inked bloom, a touch so gentle it was almost reverent. His voice, when it came, sounded almost as if he was talking to himself. "Bonds that are willed by the people themselves are not easy to break."

“But I don’t know where to begin,” you breathed out, feeling the tears threaten to spill again. “I can’t get a hold of him.” 

“And that’s where I come in!” Beomgyu smiled a little too enthusiastically, then finally, he said, "He’s at Yeonjun’s grandparents’ place."

You sat up straight. "What?"

"I heard it that night," he said, nodding. "Yeonjun didn’t want to agree at first but he gave in when..." He didn’t have to finish. You already understood. 

Your mouth opened in shock. So close. So unbearably close, and yet you hadn’t even thought of it. How could you forget about Yeonjun? You were even supposed to try contacting him! He was the one person who would’ve known where Soobin went. You’d been too lost in the chaos to realize.

Beomgyu sighed, dramatically this time, leaning back with an exaggerated groan. "God, I sound like a morally grey character right now. Eavesdropping, betraying my friend’s privacy—but hey, I didn’t want to witness my friends suffer. So you better name your firstborn after me or something."

You laughed—really laughed—for the first time in days. It bubbled up shaky and uneven, but it was genuine. 

He smiled wider. "Texted you the location. Go get him, okay? Save him. Save yourself. And when this is over, I better be getting a front-row seat at your wedding. With extra cake."

You looked at him with so much gratitude you couldn’t speak. Maybe everything did happen for a reason. Beomgyu’s appearance felt like a light at the end of a tunnel. You nodded, whispered a breathless thank-you, and stood up. You were running.

As your figure disappeared around the path, Beomgyu remained seated. He tilted his head back to stare up at the sky, stars blinking into view, one by one. The night had fallen fully now, and there was peace in the hush that followed.

"One of the greatest tragedies in life," he murmured to no one in particular, "is that you’ll always be loved more than you’ll ever know."

He gazed at the spot where you’d stood, the smile soft on his face.

You had wasted enough time.

You nearly stumbled through your front door, fingers trembling as they fought to unlock your phone. The screen flared to life, and with frantic, clumsy taps, you pulled up the booking site. It didn’t matter what it was—bus, train, flight. You didn’t care about the price. Didn’t care how long it would take. You just needed the next available ticket.

Your breath stuttered when you found one. The first available flight left in an hour and a half. You booked it without hesitation.

The next few minutes blurred into a frenzied scramble. You tore open your closet, yanked clothes from hangers, flung them into a bag with the kind of wild urgency usually reserved for disasters. Your hands shook so badly you could barely zip the bag. You tried to focus, tried to remember the essentials—wallet, charger, ID—but your mind kept short-circuiting, short-circuiting with his name. Soobin. Soobin. Soobin.

You hailed a cab and climbed in without registering the driver's face. The second the car moved, you felt time turn traitor, every red light and traffic jam a personal attack. Your legs bounced, your nails dug into your palms, and your eyes wouldn’t stop darting to the rearview mirror like you were being chased. The city rushed past you in fractured pieces—neon signs bleeding into the pavement, taillights pulsing like fevered heartbeats.

When the airport finally came into view, your heart kicked up like it had been shocked back to life. You threw cash at the driver and ran. The terminal lights were too bright, the air too cold, the noise a dull roar in your ears. You shouldered your bag and moved with single-minded desperation, feet pounding against tile, breath ragged as you navigated toward your gate.

The departure board flickered, every new update slicing through you. Every passing minute another stone tied to your ankle.

What if you were too late?

No. No. You couldn’t think like that.

You made it to the gate. The boarding call echoed through the speakers. Your chest twisted as you stepped onto the plane, every motion feeling too big and too small at once. Sitting down, you fumbled with the seatbelt, blinked hard against the burning in your eyes.

This wasn’t just about seeing him again. This wasn’t just about apologies, or closure, or trying to fix what was on the verge of being lost.

This was about everything you had refused to let yourself feel. Everything you had buried beneath fear and anger and grief. Every moment you had wasted pretending it didn’t matter—pretending he didn’t matter. You had spent so long telling yourself you didn’t believe in soulmates, in bonds, in love. But Soobin had always been there. Through every version of you. Quietly and steadily. Loving you in the spaces where you didn’t think you needed to be loved.

The engines hummed, then roared. The plane began to roll forward, faster, faster, until the earth slipped out from beneath you and the sky caught you in its arms. You stared out the window, your reflection faint in the glass, city lights winking below like dying stars.

You pressed your clasped hands to your chest, exhaling and feeling the tremor in your soul.

Please be okay.

Please don’t be scared anymore.

Because I’m coming.

“Just hold on a little longer.”

The lake stretched before them, its surface unnaturally still, a perfect mirror capturing the bruised gold of the sky. The breeze carried no sound, only the oppressive quiet of dusk. Yeonjun sat on the porch steps, arms resting on his knees, eyes drawn to the lone figure near the water.

Soobin was kneeling at the edge, his fingers curled into the damp earth like he was trying to anchor himself to it. His shoulders drooped, head bowed, the slope of his spine carved by exhaustion. There was something about the way he sat that unsettled Yeonjun—a kind of surrender that didn’t belong to someone like Soobin. His skin looked almost translucent under the dying light, lips chapped, breath ragged. The coughing hadn’t stopped since he’d left you behind. It had only grown worse, brutal and bone-deep, each fit wracking his fragile frame. Yeonjun had taken to force-feeding him the prescribed medicine, watching him weaken with every dose that didn’t seem to work fast enough.

“Do you want to eat something?” Yeonjun muttered, toeing a pebble near his boot. He tried to sound nonchalant, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Soobin said, voice brittle, barely audible over the soft lapping of the lake.

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened. He hated all of this—hated the part he’d played in it. Agreeing to Soobin’s plan had felt noble at first. Necessary, even. But watching his friend unravel like this made him question every decision he thought was right.

The distance was supposed to cut the tether cleanly, giving you both room to breathe. But instead of severing the bond, it had only left Soobin hollow. The connection had thinned, yes—but his love hadn’t. It clung to him, stubborn and raw, carving out pieces of him each day like grief given form. And love like that, Yeonjun realized, could destroy just as deeply as it could heal.

He rubbed his temples, a sigh dragging out of him. “I’m heading into town. Grandma needs a few things.”

Soobin didn’t answer. Just stared at the water like it might swallow him whole.

Yeonjun stood, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked away, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. The town greeted him with the same dull familiarity. He moved through it all like a ghost, ticking items off a list, exchanging crumpled bills, nodding at friendly faces without really seeing them. But his mind was elsewhere. Tangled in the mess that had become your story.

Would he have done the same if it had been his soulmate? Would he have left, convinced it was the only way to protect her? He thought of you—your broken past, the way you dimmed at the mention of soulmates, the wall you had built to protect your heart. And maybe, just maybe, he would’ve done the same. If the one he loved had looked at him the way you looked at the world—with fear braided into your ribs, with loss etched into your memory—then maybe he would’ve made the same impossible choice.

The sun had begun to dip behind the hills by the time he turned down the familiar dirt road, grocery bags rustling against his legs. The house stood quiet at the end, warm light glowing faintly from the porch. But he stopped short.

There was someone standing in front of the house.

His breath caught, fingers loosening around the handles. For a second, he couldn’t believe it. But then you turned—and the sight of you knocked the wind from his chest.

You were a mess of movement and emotion, your eyes scanning the trees, the porch, the path beyond. Your clothes were wrinkled from travel, your hair tousled, face flushed and shining with sweat. You looked like you hadn’t slept in days. But it was your eyes that struck him the hardest.

They blazed with a wildness that threatened to tear the sky apart.

Yeonjun barely had time to react before you spotted him. The moment your gaze locked onto his, something inside you snapped. You marched forward, fists clenched, and before he could say a single word, you grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to your level with a force that startled even him.

“Where is he?” you hissed.

Yeonjun didn’t fight it. He didn’t back away. If anything, he deserved your anger. You had every right to be furious. You had come all this way. Which meant—you knew.

Yeonjun swallowed. “You—”

“Please,” your voice cracked this time. “Tell me where he is.”

Yeonjun realized it was time to step back. He had played his part unwillingly, and he regretted the choices he made he thought was right to help his friend. But now, standing in front of you—seeing the ruin of what they’d tried to fix—it was clear that love didn’t survive in isolation. It had to be met halfway.

He looked down, voice rough. “By the lake,” he said. “He’s by the lake.” Then softer, “Go save that idiot.”

The way your face crumpled nearly undid him.

You didn’t wait for another word. You turned and ran, feet slamming against the dirt path, heart pounding louder than your footsteps. The only thing that mattered was that he was close. That Soobin was finally near and still breathing.

You had crossed miles to reach him. Now all that stood between you and him were a few desperate seconds and a truth that refused to be buried any longer.

At first, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

Soobin sat on the bench beneath the towering oak, shoulders slumped forward, as if he could shrink small enough to disappear into the cracks of the earth beneath him. The breeze picked at the hem of his shirt, teased strands of his hair into motion—longer now than you remembered, more unruly. And for a moment, you stood frozen, but in the sliver of stillness that followed, the ache on the back of your neck burst into flame, the soulmate tattoo searing through skin and nerve like it had sensed him first. It pulsed through your spine, a visceral call, a scream beneath the surface of your skin.

"Soobin."

His name tore from your throat like glass shattering inside your chest. It sliced through the wind, through the impossible space that had stretched between you for far too long.

Every muscle in Soobin’s body recoiled as if the sound had struck him like lightning. His head jerked, hesitant, like he feared what he might see. But he turned and when his eyes met yours, the daffodil rooted in his chest clawed upward like it had tasted light for the first time. The stems twisted, coiling tighter around his ribs, merciless and cruel. It should have hurt more. It should have dropped him to his knees, but he couldn’t focus on any of it.

You found him.

Your eyes—puffy, rimmed with exhaustion and raw emotion—held him captive in a way nothing else ever had. He didn’t need to ask. He knew that you knew.

His lips parted, your name escaping in a sound closer to prayer than a word. He forced himself upright, each movement dragged through syrup, each muscle betraying him in its hesitation. His legs trembled beneath his weight, but they carried him forward. He moved as if caught in a current, pulled not by will but by a force that was telling him to close the distance.

You looked as if the world had crumbled beneath you. Like the cracks had spiderwebbed through your composure and you were standing in the ruins.

Soobin took a step. Then another. His knees buckled slightly from the effort. Still, you didn’t move, only stared at him with that same gut-wrenching look, like you didn’t know whether to scream at him or collapse into him.

His hand twitched at his side, fingers aching to touch you, to reach for your face, to wipe away the tears you hadn’t yet shed. But just as the space between you thinned, fear surged in his gut, reminding him why he got away from you in the first place. And so, instead of reaching out, he pivoted—tried to brush past, voice hoarse and broken. "Yeonjun—"

"Don’t walk past me like a stranger." Your voice cracked against the quiet, a whip of sound that brought him to a standstill.

Soobin flinched, eyes widening as your fingers clamped around his arm. Your grip was desperate, nails digging into his skin as if anchoring yourself to reality, to him.

"Don’t you dare." Your voice trembled at the end, searing. "Don’t you dare run from me again."

He tried to speak, mouth opening and closing like he was drowning. But you weren’t finished.

"You tried to stay away. You thought distance would save me from the pain. You thought leaving was the answer." You let out a sharp, breathless laugh, a sound that was anything but amusement. "But you were wrong, Soobin. You were so fucking wrong."

Your grip didn’t ease. Your words came faster, tumbling over the emotion in your chest.

"How am I supposed to live without you when I started living because of you?"

His knees nearly gave out. The breath he dragged into his lungs felt fractured, broken along the edges. Your words curled around him, sank their claws in deep at the sheer desperation laced within them.

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to rip yourself away and expect me to be fine. You don’t get to—" Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily, eyes brimming with everything you had held back. "You showed me what it meant to be seen, to be understood. You made me feel safe. You made me—" Your breath tremored. "And then you took it all away."

Soobin didn’t realize he was crying until the wind kissed the trails on his cheeks. The pain in his chest surged, brutal and consuming, but he swallowed it down. He forced sound into his throat.

"I didn’t want you to accept the bond when you were still hurting from your past," he said, voice splintering with every syllable. "I was scared that you’d turn me away because you weren’t ready. I never wanted to be the reason for your pain... but I guess I became one anyway."

You stared at him, brows drawn together in disbelief and heartbreak.

Soobin swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "You don’t have to accept this bond."

Your world tipped sideways. It staggered and reeled like you’d been struck across the face. Your lips parted in disbelief. "Soobin, don’t—" The word barely made it out.

Soobin continued, blinking against the haze of pain clouding his vision. "I don’t want to ever wonder if you were forced to love me under the pretext of this soulmate bond." He grit his teeth, his body shuddering as the flowers turned razor-sharp inside him. "I want to choose you. And for you to choose me. I need you to know—I would choose you even if we weren’t soulbound."

The breath left your lungs in a violent rush. A choked gasp scraped past your lips as your knees hit the ground, hard and graceless, catching Soobin’s collapsing form just in time. He crumpled into you, a storm of muscle and trembling breath, and you caught him—arms wound tight around his body like he might vanish again if you dared loosen your grip.

He shuddered beneath your hands. His skin burned cold, like frost seeping through flesh. His frame trembled violently, wracked by more than just pain—it was the toll of weeks spent shouldering agony alone. But still, he looked at you. Still, even on his knees, he found the strength to meet your gaze.

"You have no true obligation to anyone but yourself," he whispered. "I don’t ever want you to feel a single regret... I want you to have the freedom of choice."

He had imagined this moment a thousand different ways—each one cruel, each one ending in devastation—but never like this. Never with your hands trembling as they cradled him close, never with your eyes overflowing, tears sliding down your cheeks unchecked, heavy and gleaming in the fading light. The sight cleaved through him sharper than any thorn that had ever embedded itself in his lungs.

"You say you want me to have the freedom of choice," you choked out, full of grief and fury, "yet you pull a shit like this and get away from me." Your hand rose to cup his face, thumb brushed the curve of his cheek, and he flinched at the warmth, at the way your touch thawed the frozen hollows of him. Your whole body quaked, each breath a war against everything you’d buried, everything you’d never allowed yourself to say. "You foolish, foolish man."

You reached down and caught his hand—his cold, trembling hand—and brought it to your neck, placing it over the mark that burned like fire beneath your skin. His fingers hovered, twitching against you like they didn’t believe they were allowed to stay. But you held him there. Then your other hand pressed against his chest, right where the daffodils coiled tight and cruel. As if you could pull them free with your palm alone. As if your touch could will the pain out of him.

“I love you.”

The words crashed into the space between you like lightning splitting the sky. Three words. Small, but colossal. They surged through the air, breaking every last chain he’d wrapped around his heart. A bridge spanning across lifetimes, a key unlocking every door he had once slammed shut to keep himself from hoping. Soobin’s face crumbled, weeping relentlessly. 

“Say it again,” he rasped. “Please—say it again.”

“I love you,” you said again, voice trembling, but loud. “And I have always loved you.” The confession fell from your lips like a flood, fierce and unrelenting, rich with regret and aching with truth. “I was a coward. I never recognized it. I never let myself recognize it. And for that, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry, Soobin.”

He sobbed, eyes pooling with tears. The disbelief in them was stark and fragile—like he was witnessing a dream too precious to survive daylight.

“It has always been you.”

You pulled him closer, your arms a vice around him now. The desperation in your grip was undeniable—you needed him to feel this, needed him to know, needed him to feel what words could never fully encapsulate. “I don’t care about fate or destiny or whether this is some divine intervention. Even if we weren’t soulmates, even if I had never woken up with your name written in my bones, I would still choose you.” Your voice cracked at the edges. “I would choose you in this life, in the next, in every existence beyond that. I would knit the thread of fate myself and spell your name into it.”

A sharp breath tore from Soobin’s lips, his entire frame trembling beneath the weight of your words, beneath the sheer force of your love. His eyes flickered an ounce of relief within, and before either of you could think, before he could drown in hesitation, he closed the distance between you and kissed you.

It was not soft nor was it hesitant. It was years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds of yearning poured into the space where your lips met his. It was an apology, a plea, a declaration all at once. It was his heart, bare and vulnerable, placed into your hands to do with as you pleased. And you—oh, you matched him. With shaking fingers buried in his hair and lips pressed back to his with a kind of desperation that bordered on fury, you answered him. You answered with all the love you had locked away. With every second you had spent convincing yourself you didn’t want him. With every dream that had curled around the shape of his name.

Soobin gasped against your mouth the moment he felt it—the recoil of pain, the slackening of those roots that had burrowed deep within his ribs for far too long. The agony that had once clawed at his lungs, that had stolen the air from his chest and made every breath a battle, began to unravel. He could breathe. He could truly breathe.

And in that moment, as the roots recoiled and faded, a matching daffodil tattoo emerged on his nape. The two daffodils then bloomed with the vibrant shade of yellow, the sign of the bond being accepted between two soulmates.

His hands trembled as they held you, as if grounding himself in the reality that you were here, that this moment wasn’t some cruel dream his mind had conjured in desperation.

When you finally pulled away, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, the first thing he saw was you. Not the blur of your form or the shine of tears, but you—eyes alight with something that hollowed him out and filled him in the same breath.

"You—" His voice caught on the jagged edge of emotion. "The bond—you saved me."

Your throat closed around the sadness that rose, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you turned your palm into his, your thumb brushing along the ridges of his knuckles.

“No,” you murmured. “We saved each other.”

A beat passed between you. His breath came uneven, his fingers flexing slightly against yours. Then he reached up with a hand that trembled like a leaf in the wind, cupping your cheek. His touch was barely there—not because he didn’t want to touch you, but because he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. If he was worthy of this mercy.

"Oh, God," he breathed, the syllables cracked with remorse. "I’m sorry for everything. I love you so much."

You lifted your hand to cover his, turning into the warmth of his palm, grounding him to you. And then he pulled you close, arms folding around your frame, crushing you to him like he meant to hold onto this moment and never let go. His heartbeat thundered against yours, two hearts beating in sync like they were supposed to.

"Let’s try again," you murmured, voice unsteady but whole. "This time, together."

His answer wasn’t immediate. He breathed you in. He memorized the cadence of your voice, the rhythm of your pulse, the surety in your eyes all over again and again and again.

Nodding, his grip tightened. "Together?"

You gave him your answer not just in words but in the way your hand found the back of his neck, the way your forehead leaned into his.

"Together."

He let his forehead drop against yours, eyes slipping shut. Everything was going to be okay. It was like walking into the sun being with you. It was like walking into the sun for the first time after a terribly long winter. 

And somewhere in the distance, spring folded itself into summer. The season no longer took its dying breath; instead, it shared its warmth, its vibrancy, its life. And in that moment, Soobin learned what it meant to be alive—really, truly alive.

THE END.

Taglist; @dawngyu @gyu-tori @pagelets @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @saejinniestar @hoefororeo @caratcakemoa  @notevenheretbh1 @izzyy-stuff @sxmmerberries @younbeanz @softfor-svtptg @lostgirlysstuff @yystarz @ode2soob @beomgyusluver @soobinieswife @wonderstrucktae @hanniehq @chwesuh-imnida @reep04 @okkotsuevie @90steele

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Hugs & Kisses

MDNI!

Synopsis: All of the Jjk men love Valentine’s day, but they all like it for a different reason.

Including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Ryomen Sukuna,Toji Fushiguro,

A/N: sooo ik it’s been 4 days since valentine’s but let’s just close our eyes and pretend im not late. I got sick while on my trip and these past 2 days i’ve been stuck in bed. Sorry for the delay, forgive me 🙏🥲 also am i insane for writing this much on my first ever smut post??? Idk i guess i got way to invested, but i hope you guys like it💕

Word Count: 3.2 k

Contents: Smut!, p in v, oral [m! & f! receiving], doggy, mating press, breeding k!, fingering, cowgirl, Sukunas stomach mouth ;)), light sub & dom, light dom & sub, crying, overstim, teasing, dirty talk, orgasm denying,

Satoru Gojo loves Valentine’s day because he’s able to show you off proudly, drowning you in presents, kisses, and candy. Pda is his specialty, but it really shows when the day winds down and he has you all alone.

He’ll be so sweet, dragging you into every store, buying everything you touch, and not even blinking as he swipes his card. However, the loverboy facade drops the moment you enter your shared apartment. He will slam his lips onto yours, leading you blindly into the bedroom as he continues to explore your mouth. Clothes are discarded on the floor and Satoru is frenzied to get you on top of him.

Mumbling sweet words for only you to hear, he lifts your shirt over your head, noting the lacy blue bra you decided to wear. That only makes him more ravenous and it’s off in an instant. His tongue swirled around your mouth, both of his hands cupping your breast, grunting as your clothed cunt rubbed against his bulge. You had him trapped between your legs, but Satoru wouldn’t want it any other way.

He pulled away from the feverish kiss, staring up at you with a look full of deep affection,”How did I get so lucky to have you?” He whispered, now holding onto your face,”Are you getting sappy while I'm on top of you right now?” You joked, raising a brow. He chuckled, planting small kisses on your cheeks,”Is a man not allowed to express his love?”

Something darker flashes over your eyes and you lean in,”How about you express your love by letting me ride you?” Satoru flashed his pearly teeth and his boxers were off in the blink of an eye. He watched you as you hovered over his cock, smirking to himself, but it quickly dissolves into a thin line as he hisses out.

You must be soaking since you practically slid onto him,”Holy s-shit, you’re, hah-sooo tight.” You guys have fucked multiple times, so it’s not like this was a shocker to Satoru, still he basically felt like a virgin when you swallowed him up. Your walls were squeezing him so good, he could probably bust right here. Though that would ruin his cool-guy persona. Again, that thought died once you started to rock against his hips.

A shaky pant pushed past Satoru’s lips and he threw his head back onto the pillows,”Fuck,ngh-you’re killin’ me.” His words didn’t reach you and you continued to bounce on his cock. With a loud moan, you strained your neck back and put your hands on Satoru’s large thighs. A ring of precum began to surround the base of Satoru’s cock as you lifted up and down, creating lewd noises. You picked up your speed, making the man below you grow louder.

“S-slow, mfg-fuckkk, slow down,” He slurred desperately, though he didn’t mean it. He would probably start crying if you actually did. Satoru became more needy and started to buck up, meeting you halfway to slam his hard cock into your cunt.

Satoru’s cock twitched inside of you and you could hear his stifled whines,”Baby,hngh b-baby m’cumminggg!” He sprayed ropes of his cum into you, pairing your insides, but you weren’t done yet, so even as he squeaked and squirmed under you, you didn’t stop. Satoru’s hands had fallen off your waist, now laying next to his head. You were fully in control, riding him like the night wouldn’t end.

Tears slipped past Satoru’s eyelids, facing you with a pathetic look,”S’too much, mhg-fuckk,” He trembled,”Baby, ngh-ohhh shit. I c-can’t, I can't,” You gave him an evil smile, not pausing your movements whatsoever,”You’re the strongest right?”

Satoru gasped as you slammed down on his cock, but nodded quickly despite his weakened state. You leaned in close, your breath fanning his ear,” Then you are gonna fuckin’ take me like the strongest.”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Suguru Geto loves Valentine’s day because after a full day of gifts and shopping, he sees you in a breathtaking set of lingerie.

He loved them all, each color complimenting you. Dark purple was his favorite, for an obvious reason. Suguru couldn’t wait a second before tacking you to the bed and tearing the thin fabric off. You’ll complain about the ruined outfit, but it’ll be your last thought as Suguru quietly apologizes into your skin, his soft lips gliding down your thighs.

“I’ll get you a new one,My love.” One he most definitely will deface the same way this one was. Geto chuckles at how squeamish and fidgety you are. You were never one for teasing and he knows it, but the desperate need on your face is all the pleasure Geto needs.

It’s a bit crazy how sweet Geto acts, kissing you, saying small praises, only to deny your orgasm. You were so so close, practically riding his face, but just as you were about to come loose, he lifted his tongue from your cunt. A gasp leaves your mouth and Geto just laughs,”I wanna have a bit of fun with you, so just try and hold it a bit longer.”

He says so calmly, as if he’s not rubbing your clit with excruciatingly tiny circles. That’s the least of your worries as he aligns himself with your achy hole,”Just relax.” His reminder doesn’t help and he slides himself into your pussy agonizingly slow. His cock immediately fills you up, forcing a pained moan from you. Geto placed his large hand against your stomach as he grinds into you, making the feeling ten times more pleasant. It was torture.

Geto bends down, placing soft and teasing kisses to your neck. Your panting as he picks up his pace. You try to focus on your other senses: the slapping of skin, Geto’s faint moans next to your ear, his hands gripping on your waist, the smell of sex in the room. Sight was out of the question since you were forcing your eyes closed. Pornographic moans racked from your chest as Geto reached his hand toward your pussy and rubbed your clit.

Your back arched off the bed. Your scream being stifled by your lip in between teeth,”Fuck! Mm’ close-mghh” Groaning loudly, Geto watched your desperate state. Your body jolted and jerked against his hold and it was obvious you were close. He had admired you too long and you stared up at him with water-filled eyes,”Geto-nngh-pleaseee let me c-cum.” The words came out like a cry, your voice scratchy and weak from moaning so viciously.

Geto carried your cheek gently, a hint of mischief in his eye as he debated on seeing just how long you could deny yourself release, but thankfully, he wasn’t a monster,”Go ahead, my love.”

The fire that pooled in your abdomen finally exploded. Chills ran up your skin and you let out a shattering cry. You screamed out Geto’s name as white light flashed over your closed eyes. By the time you opened your eyes, you were breathless. Chest heaving, you saw Geto staring down at the mess you made. The pool of pleasure below you was evident and you could only wince as Geto slid his cock in and out of your flooded cunt. The sounds were obscene, but it only fueled Geto.

You met his gaze with a tired look, body still shaking from the intense orgasm. Though Geto was far from done, it was clear from the spark of sinfulness in his eyes,”How many times do you think I could make you do that again?”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Kento Nanami loves Valentine’s day because he plans the most extravagant date and spoils you rotten. He also fucks you like it’s your last night on earth together.

Since he spoils you the entire day, you return the favor by jerking him off properly. Taking his hefty cock in your hands, you watch as his eyes practically roll to the back of his head,”Fuck-just like that.” His hips buck into your warm palms, craving the friction, but if you are feeling brave, you pull away, leaving him with nothing.

Vulnerable whines sneak their way through his lips, but Kento will cover them with small coughs or grunts, opting to plead ask kindly for you to continue,”Honey, god- would you please keep touching me?” The slight worry in his eyes is enough to make you break, going right back to his cock. His grip on the sheets is iron tight, but he reaches for your head when you begin to take him into your mouth.

Kento uses your mouth to get off, though he adores you, he can’t help to submit to the utter pleasure you're giving him. So much to the point he craves to hear more strained moans and gags as he fucks into your mouth. When he cums, he’s not surprised to see you have swallowed every drop of his sperm. Your hair is a mess, salvia glosses over your lips, your cheeks are flushed, but you have never looked prettier.

Valentine’s day is always the day he thinks he’s ready for a kid. He would have you in a mean mating press, your freshly bought set of nails marking his skin. Between his battered breaths and choked out moans, he’ll babble on about how pretty you’d look with a baby bump. You're too lost in his furious pounding to question it, tears streaming down your face, and you don’t hesitate to agree.

“Gunna fuck a baby into you Sweetheart,” He grunts with each snap of his hips. It makes you gasp, but he silences your shock with another thrust. He abuses your g-spot over and over, the knot in your stomach tightening to its limit.

When you finally cum all over Kento’s cock, he doesn’t want to stop. He continues to bully your overstimulated pussy, rough thumb circling your clit and becoming more wild by your orgasm. By the time your high has calmed down, Kento is using his large fingers to gather any of cum that spilled from your fluttering cunt and sliding it back into you. A soft whine escapes your mouth, but Kento shushes you gently,”I hope our baby has your eyes, Honey.”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Ryomen Sukuna loves Valentine’s day because loves the way your eyes sparkle at the new jewelry set he got you.

The set is priceless. (since he most likely slaughtered a leader back then and stole it from them, but the gesture is still sweet) He isn’t quite sure what the purpose of this holiday is, but he knows that by the end of the night you’ll be under him, so he doesn’t mind.

It was a bit romantic how he forced you to strip but said to keep the beautiful diamonds around your neck. They were covered in jewels, a blood red ruby being the center charm. You couldn’t help but think that was the reason Sukuna gifted it to you. Though, that’s not on your mind as you ride his stomach’s tongue.

Your hands are scrambling to find balance atop his chest,while his hands are firmly placed on your hips. His large tongue delves into your soaked pussy, finding new spots to tease with the hot organ. Sukuna continues to giggle below you, watching closely as your face screws in the utmost pleasure. He barely has to do anything, letting his adorable girlfriend try and take him whole.

You have already came on his tongue twice, but the feeling is far too good to stop. Your moans are like a symphony to Sukunas ears and as you grind yourself onto his stomach, he watches the light glisten over the large ruby hanging from your neck. He can see the saliva gathering in your mouth, but before it can fall out, he lifts your head with one hand, forcing you to look at him. You swallow harshly, still bouncing on his abs, which were wet with your juices and sweat.

“You said you could take it.” Sukuna restates, smirking at your fucked-out look,”Were you lying to me?” The words come out like a purr and Sukuna had to grip your jaw tighter to make you speak,”I-i can. fuckkk,” short hiccups interrupted your babbling as Sukuna’s tongue reached your cervix. A deep laugh rumbled in his chest as you slammed your eyes shut.

His large tongue curled inside of you, forcing a scream from you. Your vision darkened and your mind grew fuzzy. All you could feel was the tightness in your stomach growing so big until it washed over you like electricity. Your orgasm came like a flash, making you quake even as it slipped away. Sukuna swallowed your juices in an instant. Well his stomach did. The anatomy wasn’t important since he reached out a hand, swiping between your folds and admiring the stickers strands on his fingers. He placed his index and middle in his mouth, sucking your cum off his fingers with a satisfied hum,”Just as sweet as ever.”

You were weak and delirious, falling on top of Sukuna’s sticky chest. He mended your flesh, focusing mainly on your ass, but the short massage felt nice. Sadly, the sweet moment faded as his tongue exited your dripping cunt, and you felt him lift you up, rubbing his hard tip against your fluttering lips. Your eyebrows creased in a small plea, but Sukuna only clicked his tongue,”Did I say we were done?”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Toji Fushiguro loves Valentine’s day because he gets to splurge his checks on his favorite girl, though it’s not as expensive, it still makes your heart flutter. Though he doesn’t mind when the decorations of balloons and rose petals are ultimately destroyed after he pounces on you.

It’s the same every year. Toji wants to be romantic, dropping his usual erotic style of sex just for the holiday, but the switch is almost animalistic the way he turns into a beast after just a few thrusts. You will be laying on the bed, letting out soft and delicate moans as Toji ruts into you, but in the blink of an eye, he will have you face down ass up. Your back is so arched it almost hurts, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to end up begging him to fuck you like this.

Toji pounded his cock into you with brutal force, ripping a choked moan from your throat. A beefy arm was wrapped around your hips and you could feel the fact that Toji was bulging in your stomach. He laid against your back, his hot breath fanning on your ear as he spoke,”Happy Valentine’s day, Doll.” He was already so lost in your cunt and Toji was pretty shocked to get out a full sentence.

Your gummy walls swallowed him whole, practically milking him where he kneeled. He groaned as he pulled out half way, a chorus of wet fluids and cum sounding out together,”God, do you hear her? She’s just begging me to fill her up.” A pathetic whine slipped from your lips and you put your face into the pillows as an escape.

A ‘tsk’ noise sounded from Toji and you felt his large hand card through your hair and yank you back up. He pulled you up hard enough to the point you were both kneeling, his arm now keeping you upright,”Aw, don’t get shy now,” He thrusted up into you, making you cry out,”Doll, we’re just gettin’ started.”

His cock rested inside of you, twitching and completely stuffing you. You opened your mouth, but only small moans and whines fell out. Toji hummed teasingly, gripping your hair and making your head fall onto your shoulder,”Gotta use your words. I don’t know what you want, if you don’t speak Baby,” You were so embarrassed, but so turned on.

“Ngh,plea-shit.” You were tearing up, so distressed to make your boyfriend fuck you,”Please, f-fuck me Toji.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Choso Kamo loves Valentine’s day because he gets to spend the whole time cuddling and showering you in affection. The chocolate covered strawberries and candy taste good, but what tastes better is your soaking cunt on his tongue.

Your hand is gripping onto Choso’s dark hair like a life-line, vision going in and out as he devours you. It’s somewhat your fault for making him so needy for you. You both had been out in public, having no time for privacy, and now that you two were home, Choso wasn’t going to let you go. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, dragging you closer and closer to his hot mouth. Choso eats you out all the time, but there was a certain lust that flooded his veins when he was denied of you for too long.

Your first orgasm was like white lighting, cracking down through your core and silencing the world around you. You only gained some grip of reality when Choso slurped your juices quickly, his tongue flicking over your puffy clit occasionally and making you jolt. However, you knew you were in for a ride when his hold on you grew tighter and he rose from his place between your legs,” One more? C’mon, Sweetheart, it is a Holiday.”

His mouth and chin was covered in your slick. There was a small cloud of desire that blocked his vision and before you could give a shaky answer, he was already sucking on your clit. Yelping, you wrapped your thighs around Choso’s head, making him groan. The sound reverberated through your cunt and forced another moan from you.

By the time your second orgasm came, you were already gone. You were shaking, mumbling nonsense, and overstimulated. Each swipe of Choso’s tongue makes you gasp. Choso drank up your fluid like a man lost in the desert, not wasting a single drop. Tears welled in your eyes as he dragged his tongue flat along your lips, making you whine,”c-cho, please-mfg,so good,” Tears slip down your face, your words barely making it too Choso’s ears. (which may or may not because your thighs were covering them)

He looked up again, but slid two of his fingers past your puffy folds,”What was your favorite part about today?” He questioned innocently, as if he wasn’t fingering you. You let out a gasp as his lanky finger grazed over your g-spot, but left just as quick,”mghhh, I-i liked the,” gasping as he kitten licked your clit,”The flowers!” You squeaked

“I liked the f-flowers, ohh fuck, and-hnghh, the dinner!” You yelped the last part as Choso dragged a long stripe on your cunt. He hummed against your heat, making you jolt,”I liked spending time with you today, it was nice seeing you smile so much.” Your teeth grated against each other as you nodded, craving more of Choso. You tried shifting yourself closer to Choso’s tongue as he gave your cunt occasional licks, but either he didn’t get the hint or was ignoring them, he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“I also liked the restaurant we visited, it was super-“

“Choso!” You interrupted him. He perked up, curiosity in his eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut, completely caving to Choso’s will,” Please. Just fuck me.” That time Choso finally understood, clearer than ever.

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 10

Summary: You finally end up spending some time alone with Remus.

CW: Coughing, Fever, Fainting, Description of sickness, Nightmares, Sirius being emotionally stunted.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this one. I've been trying to branch out a bit with my writing over the last little bit to keep the inspiration going.

To be honest, I'm feeling a little lost with this story. I'm going to continue writing it, don't worry! But I really only properly planned up until the Christmas chapter, so if anyone has any ideas of what they'd like to see happen, feel free to send me a request!

--

The door closed behind you with a loud thump. You leaned your head on it for a moment, panting to catch you breath.

It had been a particularly long day at work. Most of the staff were off sick due to a flu outbreak and it meant that all the more responsibility fell on you. On top of that, you'd felt extremely exhausted all day. You weren't sure if it was from being overworked or a lack of sleep or some twisted combination of the two but your limbs felt like lead and your eyes had kept falling shut from where they were fixated on the screen of your computer.

The walk up the stairs had been torture paired with the fatigue that was consuming your bones and you felt your legs ache as you entered the hall of your apartment.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped as a voice emerged from behind you and you swung around to see Remus seated on the couch with a book in hand.

"Jesus!" you shouted, clutching a hand to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You shook your head, sniffling slightly. "No it's fine. I just... didn't expect you to be sitting there."

He chuckled dryly. "Right, well no one is home so I thought I'd make use of the living room for a bit."

"Right..."

James had left two days ago for some sort of 'team building' trip with his workmates and you supposed Sirius had a gig tonight with the band, leaving only you and Remus in the apartment. As happy as you were that you didn't have to interact with Sirius tonight (you were still upset with him and really didn't have the energy right now to put on a happy face), you sort of wished James was there to ease the tension. Things had been more amicable with Remus lately. His Christmas gift had helped to ease some of the animosity between you, but you were still far from friends. You barely talked outside of necessary pleasantries and you definitely never spent time alone together.

You cleared your throat awkwardly but it quickly morphed into a loud cough. Remus looked up from his book once more, his brows furrowed as he assessed you from across the room.

"That doesn't sound good. Are you feeling okay?"

You huffed out a breath, throwing your bag down on the kitchen counter and running a hand over your face.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired," you murmured awkwardly. "I think I'll have an early night."

Swiftly, you began moving across the room towards the bathroom.

"Okay but-"

You shut the door with a sigh before Remus was able to continue.

You leaned back against the bathroom door, feeling a drop of sweat trail from your hairline and down the side of your face. If you were being completely honest, you felt like shit. You were just too embarrassed to admit you felt like shit in front of Remus.

You took a deep breath and straightened up, hoping a shower would help you feel a little more like yourself.

You stripped off, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom and turned the shower nob. Then you stepped under the spray, letting the warm water wash over you as the room began to fill with steam.

You didn't know how long you stood under the water, letting it sooth your aching bones but once you stepped out, you noticed that the sky outside the bathroom window had grown dark.

Slowly you trudged from the bathroom to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, pulling on your comfiest pajamas. With the little energy you had left, you shuffled out into the living area in the hopes of finding some leftovers in the fridge to at eat for dinner before you went to bed and inevitably slept for the next 48 hours.

As you emerged from the hallway, you noticed that you had begun to feel substantially worse. You were shivering despite wearing your thickest woolen pajamas, but somehow you were sweating at the same time.

You were glad to see that Remus had retired to his bedroom for the evening, not wanting him to see you in such a pathetic state. Your legs felt like they had cinderblocks tied to them, every step taking an immense amount of your dwindling energy.

As you made your way through the room, you suddenly began to feel... odd. You're head felt heavy, your vision darkening around the edges.

You came to a halt beside the couch, blinking absently and taking a second to catch your breath but it didn't seem to help all that much. Then, without warning, everything went black.

--

"Y/n?..."

"...hey, can you hear me?"

There was a voice coming from somewhere above you but you couldn't quite place who's it was.

You blinked slowly, awareness returning to your foggy mind. As you vision cleared, the first thing you saw were Remus' concerned chocolate eyes boring down on you.

"Hey, are you okay? You with me now?"

It was then his full face came into frame. Looking around, you realised that you were lying on the floor beside the coffee table, your feet resting on a pile of couch cushions. Remus was on his knees beside you, leaning down with a hand resting gently on top of your head.

You mustered a nod, a wave of embarrassment rippling through you.

"Okay, that's good," he murmured kindly. "Did you hit your head?"

"I- um," you took stock of how you were feeling. You were uncomfortable and still vaguely dizzy. Your elbow was throbbing from where you must've hit it on the corner of the coffee table as you fell but other than that, you didn't seem to have injured yourself too badly.

"N-no. I don't think so."

Remus nodded, his brows pinching in thought as he scanned through the next steps in his head.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

He flashed a peace sign in your direction.

"Two."

"Good, that's good. Do you think you feel ready to sit up?"

"Y-yeah... I think so," you mumbled unsurely.

"Okay, I'll help you. Take your time," he responded in a voice more gentle than you'd ever heard him speak in - to you at least.

He shuffled around a little bit so he was rested at your hip and then with steady hands placed under your back, he helped you sit up. The room tilted as you came upright but not nearly as violently as it had before.

Then, Remus guided you so that you were leaning back against the edge of the couch. He sat back on his knees, observing your form and you let out a heavy sigh, shaking with embarrassment - or maybe that was from the fever.

"Sorry about all this," you mumbled, shutting your eyes in the hopes of blocking out Remus' devastatingly concerned facial expression.

"It's not your fault," he was quick to reassure. "Besides, I'm a med student. You've given me an opportunity to test my knowledge on something practical."

You knew he was joking but your cheeks flushed nonetheless.

"It's really fine," he stated sincerely, upon noticing the mortification written across your face. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Your fever is pretty high."

"It is?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Yes. I would recommend that next time you don't take a scorching hot shower when your temperature is already at 39 degrees."

You cringed. "So this whole fainting ordeal could've been avoided then?"

"In theory, yes."

You groaned and covered your face with your hand. "Well on that note, I think I'm just going to go to bed."

You moved to pull yourself up but Remus rushed to grasp your arms on the way.

"Woah, hey, let me help you. You shouldn't be moving around too much yet."

"Right, sorry," you uttered awkwardly.

"It's okay. Here," with gentle precision, Remus got to his feet and lifted your arm around his shoulders. With so little energy remaining, you weren't bothered to be self-conscious as you leaned your weight against him and the two of you hobbled down the hall into your room.

When he deposited you into your bed, you immediately curled up in the sheets, shutting your eyes.

However, they popped open once again when you felt something cool press against your forehead only moments later.

You looked up to see Remus retreating from your room after laying a cool towel across your feverish forehead. As you drifted off into a fitful sleep, your last thought was about how he'd never been in your room before. You wondered if you'd remembered to tidy it.

--

You were running through a dark dense forest. Something was chasing you. You couldn't quite make out what it was but you knew it was angry.

You tried to move faster but as you ran, the forest grew wider and longer and darker. The branches were becoming thicker, they scratched your arms as you waded through the trees. You could hear the creature growling behind you. It was getting closer. You were panting and sweating, pushing yourself as fast as you could go but it felt as though the forest floor was covered in sand, your feet sinking into it every time they hit the ground.

You pushed on, carrying yourself forward, willing yourself to pick up the pace.

Then the ground dropped away completely. A cliff ledge had emerged in front of you and before you could stop yourself, you'd reached it.

Then you were falling.

--

You awoke with a start, gasping and panting for air. You were drenched in sweat, tangled up in your crumpled bed sheets. It was too hot, almost unbearably so. You thrashed around frantically for some semblance of relief.

It was at that moment, your door creaked open and a tentative Remus entered your room. He froze when he noticed you were awake and gaping at him with wide eyes.

"I just came in to check on you. How are you feeling?"

You went to respond but were overtaken with a slew of coughing that wracked through your body. Remus was at your side in an instant, a gentle hand placed on your back as you rode out the fit.

"I think it's time for some medicine," he mumbled under his breath, likely directed more towards himself than you.

It was then that you noticed the tray of items he'd placed on the table beside your bed. There was a bottle of water and an assortment of medicines as well as a thermometer which he picked up and proceeded to press into your ear.

You were so out of it, practically delirious with fever, that it took you a moment to realise how unusual this situation was. Remus - the same roommate who had been consistently cold and abrasive towards you in the months since you moved in - was now sitting at your bedside taking care of you while you were ill. It was completely unexpected, although you had to admit, not unwelcome. Something inside you stirred at the care he was showing you.

The pulled away, humming disapprovingly at the reading. You watched him with wide eyes as he busied himself reading medicine labels.

"Here, take these," he told you and dropped an assortment of pills into your hand. Then he uncapped the water bottle and handed it to you.

After you'd taken the medicine he gave you, he encouraged you to nestle back down under your covers and he pulled your duvet up to your chin.

"Try to get some sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better with a bit of rest," he told you.

He then turned, beginning to walk towards the doorway but you grabbed a hold of his wrist before he was able to leave.

"Remus," you muttered weakly, looking up at him with big, imploring eyes. Maybe it was the medicine or the fever, you weren't really sure, but an unwarranted confidence had begun to possess you.

He turned to look at you, his eyebrow raised in concern.

"Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

He paused for a moment, clearly surprised as he pondered the request. Then he looked back at you, taking in your pathetic form and he sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay. I can do that."

You wriggled over a little, patting the left side of your bed. Remus hesitantly took a seat on top of the covers, looking very out of place in your bedroom.

Subconsciously, you edged towards him, drawn into his body heat as you moved to a comfortable position.

Your eyes grew heavier as the effects of the medicine began to take hold. However, as sleep claimed you, a few last words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them.

"Why don't you like me Remus?"

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow as his gaze cast over your form.

"I mean, I try really hard to be your friend and I want us to be closer but you always treat me like you don't care. I don't know what I've done wrong."

Remus sighed heavily. "That's not true, Y/n. I do care about you. I just... I was worried that when you moved in, the dynamic with my friend group was going to change and I didn't know how to deal with it. But I'm sorry that I took it out on you. It was my issue, not yours and I should've been kinder. The truth is, I-"

He was cut short when you let out a congested snore beside him. He looked down to notice that your breathing had evened out and you'd drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep, your warm head pressed up against his hip.

He couldn't suppress the fond smile that crossed his features at the sight. With a feather-light touch, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

--

It was just past one in the morning when Sirius returned from a gig with his band at a Pub down the road.

It had been a good night. The crowd was energetic and they didn't mess up any of their set-list. It was a great show and he'd hung around afterwards for a couple of drinks and a bit of flirting with a few of the girls who'd been in the front of the crowd. However, despite the success of the evening, something felt like it was... missing somehow.

Even sitting across from an eager and curvaceous ginger, with a free beer in hand, his mind couldn't help but linger on... you. This was something that had happened more times then he cared to admit over the past few weeks.

To his own surprise, he'd turned down her advances in favour of heading home to your company. He hoped you'd still be awake as you sometimes were at this time on a Friday night. He expected to find you binge-watching Modern Family in the living room with a glass of wine in hand.

However, when he arrived back at the house, he was disappointed to find the space devoid of human life.

He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack by the door as his eyes scanned the empty living room. When he walked down the hallway, he was happy to see that there was a faint light coming from under your door.

He carefully pushed it open, not wanting to disturb you if you were writing. To his surprise, the sight he was met with was far from the one he expected.

There was Remus, sitting on your bed, reading a book in the soft glow of your bedside lamp while you were practically curled up in his lap, your breathing ragged as you slept.

Remus looked up to meet his friend's wide eyes as he observed the scene before him.

"Oh, hi. You're back earlier than expected."

Sirius blinked at him for a moment, trying to act nonchalant as he regained his bearings.

"Ah yeah. I guess I just wasn't feeling it tonight," then he gestured towards you. "Is she okay?"

Remus just nodded, sending his friend a soft smile. "Yeah. She's a little under the weather but seems to be a little better now."

He brushed a few fingers over your forehead, stroking some hair away from you eyes in the process as he got a gage of your temperature.

Sirius' heart clenched in a way he couldn't quite make sense of as he watched the moment unfold.

"She had a pretty high fever earlier," Remus explained. "But we managed to get it down."

"Ah, right," Sirius muttered, leaning against the doorframe. "Is... um, is there anything I can do? or..."

Remus gently shook his head. "Thanks for the offer but I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, well... I'll leave you to it then," Sirius stated with a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay, goodnight. Sleep well, Sirius."

"You too, Rem," He responded, closing the door behind him.

He let out a huff of air once he was out of earshot. There were a bunch of unexplainable feelings swirling inside of him. Was he jealous? No that wasn't it. It was something else. An odd sort of ache that lingered inside of him, a yearning for something that he couldn't quite place.

All he knew was that he didn't like it.

--

Taglist:

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[notiddygothgf]

drabble: dante sparda x latina!reader prompt: hey guys! i wanted to write something short to make up for the delay on pretty (i promise, i ain't forget about y'all, i just got sick lol) hot take. i feel like dante would be one of those white boys who will ride for their latina gfs. idk, like he'd be into that crazy feisty toxica shit yfm? (im projecting) cw: cliche hispanic reader bc i fear i am the stereotype, toxica gf, dante is so in love with her lmfaooo, smutty content, reader is hispanic but anyone can/is welcome to read!! muah!

dante is a man of many talents. he can slay devils, he can dance like no one’s watching, and he can eat pussy like a starving dog. in fact, there is nothing that he thinks he can’t handle (with a little practice, of course). he loves a challenge, and you’re certainly no exception.

so, when he (literally) came crashing into your life one day, sent flying in through your living room window after a demon blew up right in his face, it was game over for him. strong women were his fucking weakness, and there you were, only half as tall as him, donning a bonnet and a fuzzy robe with some pink slippers, and... was that a pan in your hand?

before he could even think twice, you were swinging on him, bringing the cookware up into the air and smacking him straight across the face with it -- hard enough to make his head jolt to the side. if he weren't half demon, that probably would have been enough to knock him out. he was, though, so the pan took more damage than he probably did.

still, it hurt like a bitch.

"fucking ow," he hissed, rubbing his head where it had made contact with your pan.

surprised but not the slightest bit unmotivated, you tossed the bent weapon to the side and decided to use your whole body weight (which wasn't much) to shove him towards the door, shouting phrases at him in a language he didn't understand the whole time. he didn't even have a chance to explain himself before he was standing in the hallway outside of your apartment with the door slammed in his face.

confused was an understatement.

dante felt bad, honest. so, when he came back a week later (even though he definitely shouldn't have), he made sure to bring an olive branch (a metaphorical one. it was actually a bouquet of flowers). he made sure to tidy up his appearance before he knocked at your door.

you answered, much to his surprise, though you didn't look too happy to see him. (he couldn't imagine why you would have been).

truthfully, he didn't really know why he felt the need to come back. hell, he didn't even know if you spoke the same language at all, let alone enough for him to convey his apology.

still, he wanted to try.

"I wanted to say that I'm-- uh..." he trailed off, suddenly a whole lot less confident now that you were actually standing here. this time, you were wearing a pretty nightgown, one made of red satin, and it made his brain short circuit. when his eyes fell on your lips, your lashes, he realized something.

he was fucking nervous.

"I'm sorry about the window," He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "I wasn't really sure if you spoke english 'cause you were yelling at me in spanish-- least, I think it was spanish-- god, I'm really screwing this up."

you looked at him expectantly, brow quirked, hand on your hip.

"for you. i'm sorry. i want to make it up to you." he cleared his throat, holding the bouquet out to you. "por... uh... tu."

you turned up your nose. "I speak english, dumbass."

you had the prettiest fucking accent, a twang to the words. he'd never heard someone speak the way you did, and he was entranced. snatching the flowers from his hands, you eyed them up precariously, like they might contain a bomb.

"flowers ain't enough to make up for the window you busted through," you added. "dickhead."

"i know, i know," he sighed. then, feeling bold (for some reason), he decided to push his luck. "maybe i can... make it up to you over dinner sometime?"

"tu 'ta loco," you huffed out a humorless laugh, leaning on the door with your hip. "you think i'm gonna go to dinner with you?"

dante glanced behind you. you'd fixed the window already.

"lucky guess?" he tried.

you bit back, "not a chance."

then, you were moving to shut the door on him -- again, only this time, he came prepared. throwing his arm out, he stopped it just in time, reaching for your arm.

"wait," he sighed.

you glanced back at him, but you didn't turn around. she's mad at me again.

he didn't know why he cared, but that was besides the point. he wanted to make things right (you were smoking hot).

so, he added, "i'll make it worth your while, promise. pretty thing like you deserves a meal."

he didn't know what was more shocking, the fact that he'd actually been ballsy enough to say it, or the fact that you actually thought about it, mulling the idea over in your head while you worried your lower lip.

you looked him up and down -- slowly. then, once you decided you were pleased by what you saw, you jerked your head up at him, "I get off work at six tomorrow. swing by at seven and i'll think about it."

then, you closed the door, and he was punching the air, victorious.

he was there at seven that night, then the night after that, and before he knew it, the two of you were going six months strong. the longest he'd ever been with a girl, honestly, but when you'd threatened to kill him if he cheated on you, he figured he liked it too much to even think about leaving.

he was head over heels -- fucking crazy about you. he loved everything about you. your shows, your music, the way you'd wake up extra early on sunday and blast music while you cleaned the apartment. he even loved your cooking, fuck, american food just didn't compare. half a year in, and he'd already met your entire family (including all of your cousins and your great-abuela, who'd insisted upon him kissing her on the cheek).

he was smitten.

you cared for him. deeply. more deeply than he'd ever thought anyone would. he loved it. even when you'd go so far as to blow his phone up with missed calls when he was late to call you -- even if he was in the middle of a mission, he'd make it a point to answer.

no, he knew better than to leave his princess waiting.

"what's up, babe?" he would ask into the receiver, firing off a few rounds at a demon and hoping they hit their target. "i'm kinda busy right now."

"kinda busy? i been waitin' for that ass to call me for three fuckin' hours and you're kinda busy?" you hissed back, the words rushed and quick, "maldito estúpido. llevo esperando toda la noche-- te voy a matar, entiendes?"

**translation: fucking stupid. i've been waiting all night. i'm going to kill you, do you understand me?

god, you sounded so fucking sexy.

"i'm in the middle--" he fired off another shot, narrowly avoiding an airborne object. this time, it hit its target. "i'm kinda fighting for my life right now."

"espera a que llegas a casa-- vas a tener que pelear conmigo! que loco!"

(loose) translation: just you wait until you get home, you're gonna fight me next. how crazy.

he didn't have a fucking clue what you were saying, but he sure as hell loved it when you spoke spanish to him.

"mmm, sounds great, baby," he hummed back. "you talkin' dirty to me?"

"something like that," you huffed back. "you better be home in ten minutes."

hell, he even loved fighting with you. he fuckin' loved your attitude. it would get him all hot and bothered when you'd raise your pretty voice at him, yelling at him for tracking blood on the floor or coming back late.

in fact, he'd be grinning ear to ear while you tore him to shreds. when you reached for your slipper and raised it at him, he didn't bother ducking. no, he knew you loved him.

again, positively smitten.

"hijo de puta!"

it wasn't until you raised your hand to (lightly) hit his chest that he snapped out of his (blah blah blah, place name proper name, backstory stuff) reverie, and caught you by the wrist.

"I have no idea what that means," he commented, eyes dropping down to yours, tongue licking over his lips. hell -- looking at you like this, flushed and fire-eyed, he couldn’t even remember why you two had been fighting in the first place. "but it sounds hot. i'm in."

"means son of a bitch, asshole," you rolled your eyes. "you fail spanish class or what?"

"must've missed that unit, loca" he grinned back. "now, c'mere."

call him corny, but it got you smiling, and that's what mattered.

you barely had time to gasp before he was lifting you up off the ground, like you weighed nothing.

“put me down, you fucking asshole!” you started, smacking at his shoulders, squirming in his arms, but it didn't do much to stop him from kissing you.

hard.

it shut you up immediately -- your fingers dug into him, your legs tightening around his hips without thinking. you melted into him before you could even fucking stop yourself.

"puñeta," you muttered against his lips.

as dante carried you toward the bedroom, still breathing against your mouth between kisses, he murmured low in your ear:

“I know how we can resolve this.”

and you didn’t argue. no, you let him lay you down on that beautiful queen sized bed of yours and get down on his knees, kissing down your chest, your stomach, and inching down south.

see, that was another thing dante loved about you. your taste.

he could eat you for hours (and he planned on it). licking up and down your core, getting his face all wet with your sweet juices. he would die for the pussy, without a doubt.

"papí" you'd call him. papito, if you wanted something. he fucking loved it. it made him feel like the man.

shit, he was addicted to it. he would eat for his pleasure, fingers digging into your hips, wiggling his head side to side, letting you tangle your hands in his hair and steer his head whichever way you pleased. he was your bitch, after all.

and, who knows, after he'd finish making you cum all over his face and his fingers, he might just try and fuck that attitude out of you -- just the way you liked. the way that would have you clawing at the sheets, at his back, screaming muffled words of praise into the pillow, making a mess on the sheets.

but, then again, he knew it would be back the next day.

that's what he loved most about you, after all.

a/n: yk i had to spoil my girls. #sorrynotsorry lmfao!!! i hope yall liked it! pretty part 2 coming soon (i swear this time!) xxx

I obviously do not own dmc or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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[magicalink]

Hiii! Could you do NSFW alphabet for a few more characters (like Zhongli Cyno and Alhaitham) and a virgin xiao x adeptus reader nsfw where they get walked in on? Thanksss, have a great night!

Official announcement 3 + NSFW Xiao fic

To answer anon:

After years of trying in vain, I came to the conclusion I'm unable to write requests about chars that aren't among my faves. (Ofc Kuni is my favest fave bit I also like Xiao, Kazuha, Childe, Venti, Lumine, Gorou, Tighnari and some other I cant remember rn) and im honestly not interested in Alhaitham, Cyno or Zhongli (Sometimes I write small thingies about Zhongli in my native language just to please a friend of mine who really likes him) but nothing as long and detailed as a NSFW alphabet.)

So Zhongli, Alhaitham and Cyno's NSFW alphabet are officially cancelled (I'm genuinely sorry). But here's a little bullet fic abt virgin Xiao x Y/N getting walked in on. Sorry for the delay. From now on I'm not accepting requests I know I wont be able to write quickly anymore, I swear.

Without any more delay, here it is! The Xiao fic!

Content warning: Sexual content. Xiao x Adeptus!f!reader first time ever. Yeah they get walked in on but dw happy ending just the way I like it :3

2000 years of suffering.

2000 years of pure, unadulterared virginity.

To be fair, it's not really any of you guys' fault.

The life of an Adeptus isn't easy, it's never been easy, especially for a Yaksha.

Liyue's last 2000 years have been full of war, conflict and contamination.

So you never really had time to sit down and think "hey, maybe I wanna have sex".

Pure Adeptus don't even have the need to reproduce, so it didn't really come up either.

But ever since humans took responsibility for Liyue's safety, the responsibilities of Adeptus have notoriously reduced, and that has left most of them with free time to cultivate their passions.

Madam Ping with her music, Cloud Retainer with her inventions, you know, the usual.

They've got so much free time they even adopted a humanoid form and decided to live among humans, trying to hide their identity, with varying results.

You've slowly grown accustomed to these times of peace, and that gave you enough time to realize just how close you had become with a certain Yaksha who fought alongside you for centuries.

He's always been by your side, you were always by his, even in thr toughests of times.

But he's the only one who barely has peace or free time, the one who always has to remain vigilant no matter the state of the country, otherwise who knows what might happen to Liyue...or him.

You always found it so unfair...

After so many centuries of service, everyone abandoned him to pursue passionate, peaceful lives.

Meanwhile, he remains vigilant, abnegated, continuously suffering...

So you remained by Xiao's side, always adamant that he was your companion through thick and thin, through health and sickness.

Until one day a human brought to your attention that, for their species, that tends to be more than what humans call 'best friends', as you sometimes referred to him.

Humans often times refer to that as 'couples', 'partners', 'soulmates'.

And that got you thinking.

The times of peace and the observing of human conduct took you to realize you were in love with him, and to imitate human courtship rituals.

Flowers, gifts, sweet words, all of them as subtle as possible so as not to scare him away. Lots of Almond Tofu too, to gather the courage to confess your feelings.

I'm going to spare you the details of how stubborn and embarrassed Xiao was about it, so long story short you started to recognize that you were indeed a couple.

Xiao felt it when he realized he saw in his bond with you something similar to what he saw between Morax and Guizhong.

He deeply admired that connection and yearned for something like that.

He realized it was you, his partner through the centuries.

He realized he was terrified of losing you, and of wasting the time by yourside, of wasting the opportunity to explore sides of your connection that he secretly desired.

So the long nights watching the moon and stars like usual started including more physical affection.

Touches, hugs. You finally told him you wanted to kiss the way you saw so many humans do.

You wanted to refer to him as your 'boyfriend' as Yanfei talked so much to you about. That word sounded so sweet!

It sounded so sweet to call him love! To call him baby! He would blush like a tomato and you loved that too.

You finally could enjoy all those things those centuries of war denied you.

You observed humans, fascinated. Although you hated some things about them and decided you never wanted to live amongst them like Madam Ping and Cloud Retainer did, you were definitely smitten with some of their courtship rituals, relationships customs and...

Sex.

You suddenly realized that despite both having genitalia due to your origins, neither Xiao nor you had brought up the topic of sex yet.

You got really invested in that aspect of humanity, fascinated, and wanted to learn more. You had to resort to books, the few humans who were willing to talk about it, and finally had to ask Madam Ping for advice.

Those hugs, those kisses Xiao and you had become so accustomed to, the ones you enjoyed so much...could lead so something that could make you feel a different kind of pleasure.

And you wanted that. You needed that. You craved that.

It was a slow process of little touches and insinuations during those sessions of making out under the moonlight, since Xiao was a bit shy about the matter.

But one night you came clean to him about it and he accepted to give it a try, just to experiment, because in all honesty, even if he tried to hide it the curiosity and desire building within him was driving him crazy.

And he accepted to give it a try.

After all, you've both survived through so much, that wouldn't kill you, right?

You both deserved a night of relaxation, tlc, new experiences, hopes and dreams, maybe the yearning of a new beginning...

It was decided.

That night was gonna be the night.

Your first time with Xiao.

You both had looked forward to it for so long...and it was finally here.

It was a hot, humid night in Liyue, as usual.

The sticky air ran freely through the windows of Xiao's room at Wangshuu Inn, barely contained by the fabric of the delicate curtains.

It brought the perfume of the night, of silk flowers and dew.

And it hinted of how beautiful the stars were shining tonight.

Beautiful as usual, you had seen them when you made out on the roof like always.

But tonight was the night, you both could feel it in your throbbing veins, so when the situation got really heated up you decided to go to the room.

A wise decision, considering the humans wouldn't be pleased if they randomly saw two adeptus going at it on top of the roof.

So you entered the room, hands tangled in each other's hairs and clothes, and lowered the lights to the minimum

You went to the bed.

It was comfortable, newly made, barely used, Xiao never rested no matter how much the humans at the Inn insisted he should.

He didk't care, you were his rest.

His rest and haven.

As the passion for you grew inside him and he found the courage to lay you on the bed and climb on top,for the first time in his life Xiao thought things were flowing.

He had been super anxious about the topic, afraid of hurting you, of messing it up, of dissappointing you, of finding out this human ritual simply wasn't mesnt for him. That he was condemned to always suffer and never experience such a sacred bliss.

He thought he would find himself in the room, fiddling with his hands and staring at the floor, contemplating his inadecuacy, but it didn't happen.

That night the love and the lust flowed so freely, so peacefully but so heatedly at the same time that neither of you dared stop the course of nature to speak about concerns, afraid of breaking that sweet spell.

The act of undressing felt like an extension of the usual, familiar, sweet make out session, and it was practiced like it was a measured ceremony.

Or at least that's how you two perceived it.

Maybe to a witness it would look normal, careless, unimportant.

But you both were vibing in unison and communicating with your eyes.

And there shouldn't be amy witnesses, this was between you and him...

You were lost in his eyes. Those beautiful eyes. Those shining golden discs captured your soul like a flame captures a moth, obsessed with its glow.

Those eyes were your moon and stars, what kept you going, what kept you enduring through the centuries.

Carrying on, just to see his eyes.

And now that you were laying on your back, looking up at him and seeing those eyes as if they were your night sky, you suddenly understood a million things that two milennia of war could never show you.

You were tired. Oh so tired. Just like him

You needed to let go of the war, of the pain.

You wanted to be shown peace, love, relief

Sweet relief.

And that's what you felt when Xiao's lips came crashing down on yours and your hands went to the hair on the back of his neck, when the clothes were discared somewhere unimportant.

You knew the important stuff was happening here and now, ok this bed, between you and him.

You had survived for this.

This was your moment.

The moment you'd been waiting for so long.

The moment when all the grief gets transmogrified into liberation.

You held him tightly, a surge of something inside you making you kiss and bite his neck until he moaned.

It went beyond lust. It was raw, unadulterated need, yearn, crave, utter desperation.

Xiao felt it too. Understood it was time to let go. And for the first time in his life, he did.

He let go and yielded to the loving insistence of your touches, leaned down and merged his body with yours.

For the first time in his life he did something he had no idea how to do, and allowed himself to do it anyway. Even if it wasn't perfect, even if it was dangerous, even if it was messy, it didn't matter.

It was perfectly imoerfect and that was life.

For the first time in forever, you were both living your lives.

Living for yourselves instead of being tools in other people's wars.

Using your bodies to live, instead of killing.

Moving in unison to a rythm foreign and new to you. The rythm of life. Of two being that are alive, breathing and throbbing, needing each other to go on.

Even having the possibility of...perpetuating life once more.

You didn't think about that possibility, it wasn't important for any of you right now. It didn't cross your minds. You were Adeptus, after all.

Yet right now, right there on that bed, one on top of the other, making the headboard slam the wall and the springs creak, you looked nothing like.

You looked like many things.

You looked like animals. Like two love birds getting tangled in each other's feathers, finally finding a safe nest to crash.

You looked like humans, two young, innocent humans who could be concerned about their personal lives instead of the future of a nation. Two humans who could have all the time in the world to lay naked and in peace, enjoying the divine bliss of feeling each other skin to skin...

You looked like Xiao and Y/N.

For the first time in so long.

No war, no death, no responsibility.

Just you and him resting your tired bones and engaging in the sweet dance of life.

It was such a nice moment, so magical you thought it was a dream.

Xiao looked so hot naked, his ripped muscles adorned by the shimmer of his tattoos and the sweat that ran down his biceps.

The expression on his face was priceless, those golden orbs that were your stars clouded with lust and need.

And the sound of his moans...yes, if heaven existed, this was it.

Making love with him.

This was your heaven.

Feeling him enter your body once and once again, juast at the right pace not to miss him whenever he pulled out.

Clinging to his beautiful hair, the texture that had kept you grounded for centuries.

The sight of his fangs whenever he moaned.

The way his hands roamed over your body trying to learn, learn, learn how to do this and how to do this again, because this couldn't be the only time you did this in your lives.

There had to be more. So he roamed his hands trying places he thought you might like, searching for your favorites. Whenever you moaned, like you did when he caressed your breasts, he would insist on that spot.

You were trying to do the same for him when se sound of the Inn room opening shattered the magic and peace of the moment into a million illusions.

You jolted against the mattress, horrified, and Xiao was so scared of having hurt you that he didn't notice the intruder. He tried to pull back, cup your chin, but everything happened too fast.

The intruder gasped, but the sound was drowned by the one of a porcelain plate shattering harshly against the wooden floor.

Now Xiao didn't hesitate. His muscular memory did not fail him.

Terrified of someone hurting you in this vulnerable moment, Xiao's body moved on its own. He turned away from you, leapt from the bed, summoned his spear and pressed it against the intruder's neck, reducing him in less than a second.

For a moment, there was silence in the inn room. It was a moment of utmost awkwardness and confusion.

You fumbled with the bedsheets, covering your naked body before turning on the night lamp.

"Mr. Zhongli, please, what are you doing here??" You questioned with your face bright red, looking at the scene before you, perplexed.

Mr. Zhongli was standing by the doorframe looking mortified, and a set of porcelain was shattered on the floor, the almond tofu that was meant to lay on them making a mess on the floorboards.

The worst part of the scene was Xiao, completely naked, hair tousled and sweaty, clutching Mr. Zhongli tightly from behind, pressing his spear to his neck menacingly.

In a matter of seconds, you could see how Xiao's expression morphed from the one of a desperate animal defending his pack to a pitiful mix of shame and confusion.

"I'm...I'm sorry." Mr. Zhongli coughed, doing his best to recover his usual composure. When Xiao released him, even more mortified than him, he fixed his tie and closed his eyes to give you both time to make yourselves a slightly bit more decent.

"I just...heard Wangshu Inn's chef was holding a special almond tofu tonight and thought it would be a mice detail to pay Xiao a visit and bring his favorite food, since we haven't seen each other in a while." Mr. Zhongli explained as neutrally as possible, his eyes still closed firmly as his posture. He wasn't blushing. He was too old and experienced to be phased by sex.

But...it would be a lie to say that it didn't surprise him to see Xiao doing it.

So he did his best to keep his composure and not pry too much into it. For now. Eventually he would get the whole gossip. But now was the worst moment.

"I apologize, Mora...I mean, Mr. Zhongli..." Xiao stammered with his head down as he fumbled with his clothes, trying to get dressed and making a mess "I should've never raised my weapon against you. I don't know what happened to my senses, I didn't detect it was you..." he explained, mortified.

"Oh, no, Xiao, don't apologize. You did what was proper in thia situation. I must apologize, I shouldn't have entered without knocking. I organized an event without asking you and interrupted your night. It wasn't proper of me to assume that you would be free." Zhongli sighed.

You didn't say anything, just observed the dude repressing the need to roll your eyes. You totally agreed. He had 100% abandoned Xiao after milennia of Xiao serving him. He couldn't expect him to not go on with his life too! He was finally movimg on, you were having a really important moment, and this dinosaur blockhead messed it all up. You wanted to punch him

"And I made a mess of your floor." Zhongli sighed, eyes still closed not to pry even more into your privacy. Now you did roñl your eyes. The old man is seriously worrying about the floor? You bit your tongue, knowing the only way to deal with him was to listen to his monologues like for the last two thousand years.

"I would clean it myself, but I don't want to importunate you further. I offer you my most sincere apologies, to the both of you. And promise you this situation will not be repeated."

The mortified 'please' that Xiao whispered between clenched teeth was audible to you and made you bite back a chuckle.

Zhongli exited the room as dignified as possible for a person who was dramatically covering his eyes, and Xiao closed the door behind him, looking utterly frustrated, ashamed and defeated.

"And lock the door this time, dummy." You teased him, trying to get over this awkward moment.

"Yeah, yeah." Xiao grumbled, fumbling with the human artifact until he managed to lock the door "I forget how these human things work. They're so troublesome." He huffed. He was fuming, his face all red from embarrassment. He looked down at the mess of porcelain and food on the floor when he stepped on it while he tried to come back to bed.

"What a waste." He barked

"The almond tofu? Totally, it's a real pit..." your words were cut by Xiao's lips.

"Not the almond tofu, Y/N. The...the...the moment we were having." Xiao sighed in resignation, looking away. You placed your hand on his shoulder, knowing it wasn't easy for him to articulate his feelings, he was making a huge effort lately.

"I feel so bad for losing that moment that I don't even care how shameful it was that Morax saw me like that. It was meant to be just for you. What a load of cra..." you interrupted his laments with another kiss.

"Let's make another moment. Don't mourn that one, let's make another one." You said with conviction.

"It will take another few weeks, all the preparations, all the..." he fumbled with his words, thinking about how he felt like all the planets had to align for something lile that to happen.

"This." You protested, kicling the covers away. You were still naked "We only need this. You and me together. Nothing else. We've been beating around the bush for months trying to figure this out when the answer was so easy." You placed your hands on your hips, raising your chin.

"T-the answer...?" Xiao asked, his hands shaky. You took them in yours and kissed them.

"The answer. It was you, and me, and calming down and letting it flow. It was so hard, because we never calm down or let it flow. But we did it, and it was working, right?" You smiled.

"Well, yes...we...we did it and it was working, but I don't know if I can do it at will..." he said anxiously, his eyes darting around.

"Well, you cant do it right away after that weird moment, can you? Let's just rest for a bit and calm down. Cleaning the floor can wait." You said firmly, bringing him to bed and undressing him to massage his shoulders, trying to make him relax. He was stiff as a rock.

"Chill...come on. The door is closed now. No one will bother us..." you gently kissed his neck and shoulder to relax him

"We're not doing this again." Xiao huffed resentfully. Your hands stilled, suddenly cold with terror "Stupid humans and their places and customs...next time we're doing it my way." He said with a determined frown.

You relaxed and almost laughed

"And what's your way, Xiao? Are you gonna build a nest for me? Shake your impressive plumage and build me the best nest ever?" You joked teasingly. But Xiao was frowning.

"You doubt my capabilities?" He huffed, looking almost offended.

"What?" You were weirded out by his replied, but didk't say anything. You didn't know if he would rally build you a nest or if he was messing with you in return. In any case, the possibility felt strangely...thrilling.

"Can you please chill? Forget about that mummified blockhead and go back to making love to me?" You pouted as you massaged him.

"Why? You really liked it that much?" He turned back to look at you with vulnerable eyes.

"You kidding?" You blushed "It was amazing."

"You mean it?" Xiao asked with his golden discs full of hope.

"Of course I mean it. I loved it, it felt like heaven...didn't you?"

"Of course I loved it too." Xiao sighed.

"Then please let's not treat this as a ritual that can happen once in a blue moon or else it'll be ruined..." you begged.

"But it's important." Xiao protested, and his cheeks turned bright red.

"It is. It totally is. But all it needs is you and me. Not weeks of preparation, or a perfect moment or a perfect location. Just you and me and...our love." You said looking at him with an embarrassed look on your face.

"Our...love, eh?" Xiao whispered, slowly leaning closer, closing his eyes in tension as if he was afraid the kiss would break the spell.

But it didn't. His sweet lips joined yours and nothing bad happened. It wasn't rehearsed or natural, it wasn't perfect or premeditated. But it was genuine. And thus one kiss came after another and soon you were making out as usual.

The kisses got more heated, the hands more adventuruous, and soon the rythm of life caught up with the both of you again

"Wanna do it my way? Do you trust me?" Xiao asked quite embarrassedly still.

"Are you gonna build me a nest?" You snickered teasingly.

"Not yet." Xiao replied with utmost seriousness. He didn't even bother gettong dressed. He just stood up from the bed and extended his hamd for you to take it.

You gave him a weirded uout look but chuckled and took it.

And soon you both were far away from the room, from the Inn, from Zhongli's broken plate of aomond tofu on the floor, from humanity.

After all you two were Adeptus and you couldn't copy the ways of humans forever. You had to invent your own style. Like the old people who came before you, like Madam Ping who defied all conventions.

So you clumg tightly to Xiao as he shone in a green light and teleported over and over, making you feel like you were flying over the vast and elegant beauty of the Liyuean night.

Once you were fsr away from the city, on top of the golden mointains where the Qinxing flowers grew, he stopped and laid you on a patch of grass akd soil that felt soft lile silk. Much netter than the human bed form earlier.

You laid on your back, looking up and observing the sky. Here it was closer, more illuminated, full of stars. But none of them were as pretty as Xiao's eyes.

He hovered over you, his eyes solemn, seeking your approval. He found it in your smiling expression and his heavy heart felt slightly lighter.

"I wanna make love here. Under the stars." He declared solemnly, lowering his head so he could caress it and kiss it.

"No one will bother us here. No humans or nosy archons." You chuckled.

You saw the small smile that formed on his parched lips and you felt the urge to moisten them.

You pulled him closer, urging him to become one.

This time the ceremony went uninterrupted until culmination, as not even the moon witnessed the union of this two individuals who needed each other more than life itself.

Until early morning, they laid entwined, the golden blades of grass enveloping them.

When the sound of the birds wolke you up, you just felt calm, peace and bliss

So you perked up your head and kissed Xiao's jaw. Sweetly, tenderly, wondering if he was already awake.

He was. But he wasn't ready to wake up and go back to the job. To the grind. To the pain

He knew things would be different from now on now that he had this beautiful shard of hope inside his heart.

But he didn't wanna wake up.

For now, he just wanted to lay in your arms.

I'm so sorry it took me two years to finally do this 😅 From now on requests will be written or rejected right away, promise!

See you soon, got a lot of wips pretty much wrapped up!

[lamnwar]

Hey me again, lmao

Could you do Kiyoshi + Gom as husbands, If so thank youuu xxxx

Hi there, love! 💕 love love love this request!! I spend all my time daydreaming abt being married to these boys LMAO it's embarassing 😭 alsooo ik I took long before getting to your request but I wanted to finish all the big os requests first before working on hcs bc it's more heafty so sorry for my shitty habit of taking too long for simple stuff :((

HAPPILY EVER AFTER // KNB Headcanons

Context: what I imagine married life to be with these characters. 🥰

Pairing: GOM + Kiyoshi x gn! Reader (gender not specified)

Warnings: mainly fluff and crack, can get a bit suggestive in Aomine's (of course it's always him 😭) so mdni!

AKASHI

Rich, handsome and a gentleman!!! Literally the Holy Grail of husbands

The kind to spoil his pretty spouse out of love

Takes you out on a date at some fancy restaurant at least once a week

He's also very independent!! Now, I think he's the kind to hire people to help around the house but that doesn't stop him from doing chores

He'll always help you doing stuff for the house if you need

He has amazing taste!! Take him furniture shopping and you'll end up with on of those houses you see in AD

Brings up the subject of you dropping your work so you can stay home while he's the breadwinner

He's a bit traditional in that sense because he really doesn't want you to work if it's unecessary, you know?

I mean he's crazy rich so does that even make sense to make you work?? (Unless you absolutely want to)

Wakes you up every morning with a kiss!

He always had the proudest smile when he introduces you to people as his spouse <3

MIDORIMA

TREATS YOU LIKE A ROYAL OMG

This man takes marriage very seriously, listen

He most likely did a deep analysis of your birthchart before deciding that you are the right one for him

Naturally, as your husband, he gotta get you your lucky item of the day everyday

You don't even believe in that stuff but it's his love language, I guess

Not much one to go on dates unless you want to, then he'll be up for it

He's more one to enjoy time with you at home

Something like having a nice diner and cuddling while you read

The kind to love going grocery shopping with you

Every once in a while, he'll buy a fancy bottle of wine just to share it with you

A very supportive husband!! Every project you have in mind, he's already done the research to find the most efficient way for you to accomplish your plans

Not a PDA guy but he'll happily hold your hand when you're at gatherings together

May not be very vocal about his love for you but you better believe that he talks proudly of his spouse to every one he knows

KISE

He is OBSESSED with you

Man never left the honeymoon phase, he's so crazy about you

Takes you to his fancy modelling events and shows you off to every one he meets

He also buys you lots of clothes and acessories

Dare you say something is cute, he's already inside the shop buying it for you

Tries his best as chores but it's not really his thing

Will help as much as he can, though!

Breakfast in bed kind of guy hihi

And it happens a lot because let's be real, that man isn't the kind to let you sleep at night

Like I said earlier, he's never left the honeymoon phase so... yeah

Wants to be the kind of husband that gives you his credit card and tell you to do what you want with it but you have to decline

It's ok though, he'll fine plenty of other ways to spoil you

You have that cute habit every week of taking baths together

The kind to miss a day of work to take care of you when you're sick!

AOMINE

Daiki never thought he'd ever get married, but then he met you

Not the best at being a husband but he really tries!

Like he makes an effort of not being too lazy and messy

Leaves the chores to you mainly, but will give a hand

Like if you're cleaning around and need to put stuff on the top shelf, he'll do it for you

Not the best cook so he lets you make food while he does the dishes

I'm trying to delay the obvious but that man never stops being horny for you

Literally sits and daydream of fucking you on every surface of your home

Gets so riled up at the sight of that ring on your finger, he can't believe your all his

The kind to follow you everywhere you go, even if it's for some stupid errand

Takes you out to the beach or for a picnic as soon as the sun is shining outside

Buys you clothes he thinks you'd look good in and surprisingly, he's got amazing taste

Loves when you refer to him as "husband" in conversation!!

MURASAKIBARA

So casual about being married, most likely because to him that doesn't change a thing about the way he feels about you

Likes that now he gets to have you with him all the time

Cooks for you! Buys you snacks! Takes you out on restaurant dates!

Sharing is caring so he only ever shares his snack with you

I can see him being into matching outfits (if you can find any that fits both him and you)

A bit lazy so he doesn't help around that much unless you tell him to

And even that, he'd do some chores before getting distracted

But listen, it's ok though because he makes up for it in over ways

He's very caring, only because you're his spouse

Cuddles in bed, at all time! He just feels clingy sometimes

He smiles softly when he plays with your hand and sees the ring on your finger

He likes to sit you on his lap often

Basically being a husband doesn't differ much from how he was as a boyfriend

Very casual about calling you his spouse all the time, even in front of others

KIYOSHI

Kiyoshi Teppei was born to be a husband!!

Because he grew up with his grandparents, he's got the habit of taking care of a household and the people living in it

So he naturally took in most of the chores and he's good at it!

Doesn't want you to get tired either so he'll do most things

Pays attention to all the little things so you're always comfortable

He also likes going for a run/the gym with you and he's so encouraging!

Has the stupidiest smile on his face everytime he looks at you

He holds his grandparents as a reference so he really hopes you'll both grow old together, still madly in love

Don't get that man started on building a family, he just gets too excited at the idea of being a parent!

He'd be a great one too, but the final decision is up to you. Either way, he's just happy being with you.

I don't know what else to say because he's just made to be a husband, yk?

Yeah, probably the best person to marry <3 (I'm very biased)

[ilovechuuy4]

Hey! Idrk if ur active but I would like to request sub!Kunikida x m!reader smut :)

I have not been able to find smut BSD writers that will do m!reader and I'm desperate lol-

And when I'm taking your innocence I'll be corrupting your mind.

Sub!Kunikida x m!reader

warnings; sub!kuni, m!reader, !AMAB, s3xual intercourse, intense descriptions of the male sex, mlm intercourse, rimjob, n1ppleplay, pure smut small hints of angst, possibly OOC, aftercare wasn't wrote but was indeed given, unprotected intercourse, Cumming inside, etc etc.

A/N: Im so so so so sorry this was so delayed, nothing haz been going my way man Ive been feeling so sick lately and no motivation but I hope you enjoy😣(I'LL REQUEST SOME MLM BSD WRITERS AT THE END!! ) p.s e/c = eyecolor

"Can I top you?" The question ran through Kunikida's mind ever since his boyfriend asked. You had been talking with some friend recently about how uptight Kunikida was and maybe if he wasn't so focused on his ideals he'd be less tense. So of course, that's what led you to asking the question. But that's also what led him to be under you right now in the bed y'all shared together. Your hands slidding up and under the other man's shirt cause him to let out a soft gasp.

This was all so new to him he didn't really know how to react this wasn't "apart of his ideals" he wasn't supposed to be with another of the same gender. He'd always imagine himself with a beautiful woman and yet, here he stares up at a handsome man. One that he'd knew he'd marry one day. "Are you sure.? You know, about this?" Kunikida asked in a hushed tone which made you pause everything you were doing before looking at him, your deep e/c eyes looking lovingly into his moss green ones.

"Of course I am, Kuni. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't sure. Just relax and I'll do all the work, okay?" You reassured, hand gently cupping the blonde man's face your thumb rubbing his cheek. "Alright, I believe you." Kunikida hummed before he leaned in, kissing the man that sit on top of him. The kiss was slow and gentle, you smiled into it kissing him back. Your hands trailed down, fingers unbuttoning the tight pants that cover the other's pale legs. This was the first time that the ideal striken man ever went against those ideals that literally dictatated his life so you could completely understand why he was so nervous.

You slowly slip off his pants, pushing them down all the way until they were throw into a small pile on the hardwood flooring of the bedroom. You then allow a finger to hook under the waistband of Kunikida's boxers slowly pulling them down before his smooth cock springs to life leaving the man to gasp softly as the cold air touching his now exposed lower half. He looks at you from were he lay on the bed, his face painted with lust. "Are you alright?" You ask, you yourself wanted to continue but you wanted to make sure the other party wanted to as well.

"I'm sure, I'm just you know. Nervous." He said under his breath. You nod softly, grabbing the hem of your shirt before slipping it over your head. It was regarded before going down, taking one of the blonde's nipples into your mouth nipping at it slightly with your teeth before sucking on it. Soft whimpers were coming from deep within Kunikida's throat. Noises he wasn't sure how he made but here he was, squirming under your pleasurable acts of love.

"Be.. mhm~ be careful." Whined Kunikida, his breath coming in soft labored pants as you pull away. You swiftly pull off your shorts leaving you in only your boxers now. "Would if be fine if I were to..give you a rim job? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with anything I do." You asked, you wanted to make sure he wanted to do this. It was about his pleasure and comfort too. The room had fallen silent for a moment as you looked at your love, his face riddled with embarrassment yet he nodded. His entire trust in you was now as he slowly turned over and lay on his stomach.

A sly smirk played on your face, you lived how much trust he put into your though you've only did this once or twice in past relationships. You reach over, grabbing a pillow before slipping it right under his hips before diving down. Your hand gently squeezing one of the others asscheeks before spreading it. Dipping in your tongue pressed softly against his entrance, tasting him. You watch as he squirmed, back dipping into the mattress. You reach up, allowing your hand to trail along his pale skin that his spin pokes out of. Fingers slowly rubbing along his spine.

You allow yourself to lap at his hole, feeling as your lover slowly relaxed and let the pleasure take control. Moans from the opposing side filled the room as ever so slowly, you slipped your tongue inside him causing him to gasp, his back arching. "Wait, hold on a minute.." He gasped out, his legs trembling he wasn't sure how to react to this it was an odd feeling of tightness in him. You allowed yourself to wait for a moment before slowly pumping your tongue in and out of him before you slowly press a finger in as well, stretching him slowly.

"Relax for me, kuni. It feels weird but relax, your really tight." You said, pulling your tongue away allowing your finger to pump in and out of him slowly before adding another digit. "Fuck.." Kunikida cursed before speaking once more. "My mind is like a blur. Like you just scrambled my very last thought." He groaned, the two digits inside him still thrusting, stretching him open for you. "We don't have any condoms." You abruptly say which caused the blonde to choke on his spit before swallowing it down. "It's.. That's fine." He hummed with a nod soft whimpers escaping his mouth.

You couldn't help but worry for him, what if when yoy do penetrate he hurts. Well of course it will hurt, it's his first time but, you're just scared. You shake your head, swallowing down the uneasiness before withdrawing your fingers. You help kunikida turn over and you couldn't help but smile at his beet red face. You plaster feather light kisses all up his neck and to his jaw line before kissing him slowly. You felt the heaviness over the others arms wrapped around your shoulders as your tongue slips inside his mouth, exploring his sweetness.

You take this time to lube your member up and apply some to Kunikida's hole. You slowly position your cock to his entrance before rolling your hips slowly. Your tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle cause the other to moan into your mouth. Your free hand, which wasn't gripping the blonde's hips was softly wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly so he didn't pay much mind to the slight pain of you entering him. Finally, you were have way in before the pain was gone as Kunikida was moaning, his back arched like a cat.

You can't handle it anymore, soft grunts escaping your throat before you swiftly push all the way in with a deep groan. You could feel how he tightly he squeezed around your cock which made you want to take him roughly. But you knew you shouldn't. You keep your pace steady, slowly thrusting in and out. Kunikida's moans were surprisingly loud as they filled the room. His short nails digging into your shoulders as your pace picked up. Your eyes widen a bit as you heard the other gasp, you thought you hurt him which made you stop.

"Are you okay?" You said, gently cupping your lover's face. He was panting heavily, his cock leaking pre before he spoke, his voice trembling. "It was just that spot you hit..it felt like no other." Kunikida mutters to him, his face red with embarrassment. You laugh softly before you press a kiss to his forehead, slowly rolling your hips back into motion as you pump your cock in and out of him. "Your prostate. That's what it was." You said reassuringly, letting him know it was totally normal.

You increase the pace, the tip of your member constantly hitting his prostate, causing his eyes to roll back in ecstasy. His loud moans echo off the wall, they were truely music to your ears. Kunikida's thoughts were jumbled and clouded he could only souly focus on how amazing this felt and how he'd never thought of reversing the rules like this with you. "Ahh~ fuck.. Wait!~ honey, keep hitting right there..~" He groaned, his eyes closing shut as he felt his orgasm build inside of him and bubble up.

"You're close, aren't you?" You asked, thrusting deeply inside him, hitting all the right places. You watch as he moans, his being trembling under yours. Pre was oozing from the tip of his cock as he whined and whimperer uncontrollably. He felt it all building up at once before he came,his eyes shut tightly as he rode out his orgasm. The way he tightened around you made you spill. Your seed shooting deep within his core.

You collapse onto him, panting heavily. "God, I love you. So so much." You say to him, pulling him on top of you when you turn on your back. You held him close, not wanting to leave him for a while. "I love you too. I adore you actually." He said, head rested on your chest. "Though, I could say you took more than my will to think. You took my ideals." He said softly, he was spent. His sentence made your heart swell up. You knew how much his ideals were to him and it was amazing how he'd give it up just for you.

A/N; Recommended BSD MLM writers; @melonn-soda @prettyrainsstuff @zzprompto @sleep-0-deprived @queer-n-here @kissatoru @kisakis-boyfriend @hunn1e-bunn1e @nishikiace

[kyokutsu-sama]

Beyond Appearances

Haganezuka x f!reader| fluff

A/n: A scenario where our most handsome swordsmith shows his insecurities when he feels in love with a very kind hashira who managed to soften his heart❤️

Sorry for the delay, I thought I had already written the ending but it turns out I didn't have one yet🥲

□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆□☆

In all his years as a short-tempered swordsmith, Haganezuka had never found himself in such trouble after he met a young woman hashira who had been visiting the swordsmith village recently. He thought that loving someone was harder than forging a sword.

Kanamori had already teased him about the subject, but he just deny it, saying it was a lie and that he just was confusing things, but the friend knew he was lying. And Hotaru also knew he was deceiving himself.

"Come on, admit it, you like her!" Kanamori said, and his friend hit the blade of the hot sword harder, almost breaking it

"Can you shut up for a moment? I'm sick of this talk! Damn!" He replied, already upset

"You know I'm right, don't you? She's pretty, isn't she?" The friend teased him further to see if he would reveal anything, and he just showed more and more signs

"Listen up, you asshole! Don't you dare make any comments about her, do you hear me?" Haganezuka threatened, with one of his knives pointed at his friend

"If you don't like her, why do you act like that ? Come on, tell me."

"Like what?" Haganezuka put the blade he had on the table and looked at his friend

"I just said she was beautiful and you already look like you're about to grab a knife to kill me. What do you want me to think?"

Haganezuka gave a long snort and put his hands to his covered face for a moment. He was fed up with that conversation even though he knew his friend was telling the truth. He might seem all explosive and hot-headed but when he remembered how kind you were and the sparkle in your eyes, he calmed down. It was like the calming sound of bells moving when the wind blew them.

"Kanamori, I have work to do. Don't bother me with this anymore, or I'll test the blade on you to see if it's sharp enough." Haganezuka said, before returning to work and his friend just shook his head with a giggle

"You really are shy to admit how things are, aren't you?" His friend teased him for the last time, and it was then that Haganezuka prepared to throw one of his knives at him, but stopped when the forje door opened

Your presence made him hide the knife behind his back. He didn't want to scare you in any way.

"Good morning!" You greeted them. "Is my sword ready yet?" You asked, pointing to the blade that was on the workbench

"No, not yet. Maybe tomorrow." Haganezuka said, lowering his gaze and gently placing the knife on the table behind him so that you wouldn't suspect anything

"Well, then, I'll come by tomorrow morning. I'm going on a mission in two days and I'll need it." You warned

"I know, I'm already taking care of it."

"I see. Have a good day then!" You smiled and left

When you closed the door, Kanamori looked at his friend and saw him narrowing his eyes at him.

"Don't you dare to open that mouth, got it?" Haganezuka warned even before his friend say something

"Fine, I won't, but I'll tell you that you should face the truth. I see how you look at her, how you've been following her for months to find out how she is and what she's doing. Why don't you just say it?"

"Say what? What would a woman like her see in a man like me? A dirty, rough man, full of calluses on his hands and wounds. Don't you think she deserves better?" The blacksmith looked at his friend and Kanamori couldn't help but laugh at his words

"Oh, so that was your problem, wasn't it? Insecurities about yourself. You know, I honestly don't think Y/n is a person who judges by appearances. If she were, she probably would have made countless comments about you since she met you and besides, she never treated you badly or offended you." The friend pointed out

"I don't care, I won't talk about it. I'm done with that conversation, I'm going back to work now." Haganezuka turned his back on his friend and focused on what he was doing before

"It's up to you, but look, if you don't say it, someone else 'better' will. Think about it." Kanamori said before leaving

The first rays of sunlight slowly entered through the window and illuminated Haganezuka's sleeping figure who was sitting on the floor leaning against the counter where he forged swords.

He was exhausted after spending the whole night preparing your sword, knowing that you would come to get it that morning.

He was breathing slowly and inaudibly, not even sounding like the heavy breathing and long, tired sighs from the busy night he had spent.

"I need to finish it, Y/n needs it. I need to hurry." He said as he sharpened the blade

Many could say he was short-tempered, but he was without a doubt one of the most dedicated blacksmiths to his role. Many blacksmiths took at least one to two weeks to finish a sword, he did it in a matter of days.

You approached the forge door and knocked. Normally, what you expected was to hear Hotaru's screams from the other side asking you to leave, but today you didn't hear it and found it strange.

"Isn't he here? Did he go somewhere?" You thought, with a doubtful expression

"Haganezuka-san?!" You called. "Are you there?"

No answer came from the other side, he was sound asleep.

"I'm coming in, okay?" You warned, opening the door slowly and peeking inside

Your eyes immediately fell on Haganezuka sitting on the floor, sleeping. You smiled a little when you saw him and then you went in, closing the door behind you.

You walked slowly towards him, kneeling beside his figure. He wasn't wearing his mask and you thought he was very handsome even with some dirt stains on his skin and sweat. He looked so young even though he was almost forty.

You held one of his hands and saw the hardness of the calluses and some still open cuts.

"He's an incredibly dedicated swordsmith." You thought, seeing his condition

You had him in high regard even when he yelled at you when you broke his sword. You knew he was hot-blooded, but you also knew he wasn't all he seemed.

You looked at his other hand and there was a sword, you immediately assumed it was yours and that he had been working on it all night.

"No wonder he's so sweaty and dirty...working after hours." You looked at his sleeping face and gave a little smile

You moved your hand from his face to the hand where the sword was and grabbed the hilt slowly and pulled it out slowly but his grip tightened as if he was trying to stop you from taking it from him.

"Don't touch it." He whispered with his eyes still closed

You pulled away and looked at him seeing his eyelids flutter a little, he had already realized that someone was there but he didn't know it was you.

"Haganezuka? Are you awake?" You ask and he shifts a little."It's me, Y/n. I came in because you didn't answer me before and--"

"Your sword is ready." He muttered and you looked at him, seeing his eyes slowly open, revealing a bright orange color

"Yeah, I see it..." You said as he stretched and straightened his posture. "I can also see that you took the night off to make it for me. I'm sorry for giving you so work." You looked down and he looked at you, blinking slowly before looking away

"I love forging swords, I put all my dedication into them."

"I know, I see that your hands are full of calluses and your sweat is wetting your clothes." You said, holding his hand and he quickly removed it from yours, turning his face away from yours, feeling a certain blush grow on his cheeks."Come on, let's get up, okay?" You said, holding him and trying to lift him up

He didn't push you away or say anything, he just gave in to your arms around him as he stood up.

He staggered back a little but you held him steady again. He was tired all over and needed some proper rest, something he hadn't had.

"You should get some sleep, you're getting dark circles under your eyes. And it looks like they've been going on for a few days. Do you have that much work?"

"I stayed awake for three days to make it for you. Here it is." He said, holding out the sword to you and you took it carefully as if it were glass. "You need to go on that mission, right? Your sword is ready, now go." He said and you looked from the sword to him, seeing him a little downcast and sleepy

You put the sword back in its sheath and brought a hand to his face and looked at him. That was the first time you saw his face, he had gone to take a nap that ended up lasting until morning.

"You're going to get your hands dirty." He said, watching you touch his face to clean the dirt

"They're already dirty from all the missions I've been on, so I don't think it matters to me anymore." You smiled and he blushed even more

He looked into your eyes for a moment without saying anything. All those insecurities of his seemed to be leaving his mind and that made him more confident.

"You've been forging the swords for all the missions I go on, so I can't leave here today without thanking you."

"Thank me for making something for you to break it later, is that it?" He bite back and you smiled

"That's more or less it."

You looked at each other for a moment while you were still cleaning his skin. His eyes couldn't leave yours and the fact that your face was so close that it almost touched his was only making him even more nervous.

You, on the other hand, were also feeling a little embarrassed even though you tried to look normal. You had a bit of a crush on him since the first day, always wondering what his face would be like under the mask and wondering if he had a soft side and not just a rough side. At that moment, you discovered both things.

You stared at him for a moment, holding his face with both hands. You thought about pulling back but you couldn't, you had to show your feelings for him and without hesitating any longer, you kissed him, taking the man completely by surprise.

It was at that moment that he could have sworn he was going to faint, because not even the heat from the forge's fire made him sweat as much as that sudden act.

He didn't know what was going on and you just wanted it to be reciprocated. You felt good with him and even with that rough and tough way, you could find a soft and shy side of him. A side where he wasn't stubborn or shouty. One where he just let himself be carried away by you and the love you had to give him.

He put an arm around your waist, hugging your body and pulling you closer while you held on to his strong arms to keep yourself standing since your knees were weak.

After a moment like that, he pulled away and you noticed that his cheeks were so red it looked like they were burning.

"You're blushing, you look so cute!" You joked and he immediately turned his face to hide it from you

"Shut up, I'm not blushing!"He said, moving away from you and putting the mask back on to hide his blushing face

"Oh come on, it's normal. You probably never fall in love before."You giggled

"I'm sorry if this was a little sudden, but I really like you, you know? You're not all that people say you are, and I think you're a very talented swordsmith. Your work is incredible and you always do your best. Thank you, Haganezuka-san." You smiled at him and he looked at you, removing his mask to kiss you again, taking you by surprise this time

He was also never seen as a good person in the swordsmith village, but deep down he was misunderstood, and seeing someone with a good heart like you, praising him and the work he loved so much only made his heart melt.

"I really like you too, but I won't mix things up. If you break it, I'll break you later." He warned and you giggled, hugging him

"No, you love me. You wouldn't do that, would you?" You whispered next to his ear, making Haganezuka narrowing his eyes and taking a long sigh. You were really getting on his nerves.

[ddejavvu]

Hii, I hope you’re having great day/night. I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your Aaron writing, especially Aaron Hotchner x single mom!reader. I read your requesting rules and I hope that this qualifies (I’m really sorry if it doesn’t), but I’ve been thinking about this concept for a while so I thought I’d give it a try. I absolutely adored how reader’s child always adored Hotchner but this time I was thinking what about reader’s daughter (around 4 or 5) who actually feels intimidated by Hotch (because you know this ‘scary bossman persona’) or maybe reader’s daughter that is not the biggest fan of Hotch and is possibly very sassy with him and is protective of her mum but reader and Hotch have this slightly flirty or like the very beginning of their relationship with a possibly fluffy/happy ending if that’s possible.

You really do feel bad knocking on Hotch's office door at 7:30 in the morning, for both your sleepy daughter and your formidable boss. He's a kind man, you know that with all of your heart, but to your tiny four-year old, he's tall, mean, and scary.

"Come in," Hotch calls, his voice muffled through the door. At the sound, your daughter curls tighter into your embrace, whining pitifully through the blanket that she's wrapped around her head.

"I know, Olivia," You hum, trying to soothe her nerves, "Just for a minute. You can sit on the couch, that's all."

She squirms in your hold while you open the door, smiling hesitantly when Hotch looks up from his paperwork to find you cradling your groggy daughter.

"She's got a cold, and the sitter cancelled," You lament, "And- uh, I need to use the bathroom."

You're constantly surprised at how strongly Aaron cares for children, because someone with his scowl doesn't seem the type. But his eyes flash with worry, and he leans back from his desk in his chair, "Do you think she'll let me hold her?"

Olivia writhes in your hold, a firm no.

"It's okay," You hum, kissing her head though it helps little, "It's okay, baby, I'm gonna put you on the couch, okay? Get cozy with your blanket," You hum, laying her on the cushions before she has the chance to curl her fingers into your blouse and never let go, "And just try to sleep, I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay?"

She moans something that sounds an awful lot like 'not okay!' but you can't afford to listen, not when your bladder is making its contents uncomfortably known.

"Okay, I'll- I'll be right back," You promise Hotch, straightening your clothes that were wrinkled by your clingy daughter, "I'm sorry about this, I'll make sure she's at home tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," Hotch urges, "Go, I'll make sure she's okay."

"Thanks," You grin, exhaustion seeping over your features after the long, nearly sleepless night you'd had. You duck out of Hotch's office with no further delay, rushing over to the elevator bay and the bathrooms on the other side of it.

"Olivia," Hotch hums after a moment of silence where the little girl tries burrowing between his couch cushions to escape his presence, "Did your mommy give you medicine already?"

She's scared, but she's still polite.

"Yes," She calls, from inside of her blanket cocoon, but there's no further response.

"Alright," Aaron hums quietly, fingers fiddling awkwardly with his pen, "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No."

'Okay. Just... let me know if you need anything, okay?" He calls, any foolish hope he'd had of connecting with the little girl seeping out of his chest when she doesn't answer.

--

Thirteen minutes. It takes you thirteen minutes to get through the line outside of the restroom, who knew this place would be so packed early in the morning? It takes you longer still to actually use the bathroom, and you're teetering on twenty minutes when you jog back up the stairs of Hotch's office to collect your sullen kid.

You don't bother knocking, too rushed to get inside and apologize for sticking Hotch with your sick, terrified toddler for almost half an hour, and to apologize to Olivia for abandoning her with the big scary man who tells you what to do all day.

But Hotch isn't displeased with your rather impolite and abrupt entrance, staying silent as he peers over the blanket hood that Olivia has fashioned for herself. She's held against his chest, her clammy face tucked against his tie. His arms hold her tight and close, and he bounces her ever-so-slightly up and down as he soothes her whiny cries.

"Your mommy's here," He hums, craning his neck down to peer at her, and you're still partially frozen in shock at seeing Olivia cradled up in the arms of the man she runs from at dinner parties, "Would you like to see her?"

Olivia's responsive whine is less-than-clear, neither a yes nor a no. But you advance anyways, eyes surely showcasing your surprise at Hotch's sudden success with your daughter. Upon closer inspection, her tiny hand is gripping his tie tightly, the way that she holds the collar of your shirt when she doesn't want you to let her go. She's all bundled up and sniffling against his chest, surely feeling the symptoms of her cold that the medicine didn't cover.

"My poor baby," You lament, leaning down to kiss her forehead. It puts your face tantalizingly close to Hotch's own, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling some butterflies through your stomach at the sight of him bouncing your baby girl in his arms, "Will you come with me? We can go sit at mommy's desk, and you can go to sleep."

This time, you understand her response.

"No!" She whines, desperately burrowing further into Hotch's warm embrace, "I'm- tired!" She sobs, voice raw from crying, "I want to stay!"

Before you can figure out how to bargain her out of Aaron's arms and into your own he shushes her, leaning down to kiss her feverish temple like she's his own. The sight flips your stomach even further, and you're very glad Aaron can't read your mind at the moment.

"It's okay. You can stay here if you really want to. Are you sure?" He squeezes her to prompt a response, but the only one she gives is nodding her head and pressing her face into his tie.

"Hotch, I'm sorry-" You start, but he smiles kindly, warmly up at you.

"It's alright. I can keep her in here for a bit, if you want to get started for the day."

"But you've got work to do. And you might get sick," Your shoulders slump, because even though you're thrilled that Olivia has finally seemed to get over her Hotchnerphobia, you don't want to push your luck after being fifteen minutes late to retrieve your daughter that isn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"Easy paperwork," Hotch waves it off, smiling as Olivia readjusts her grip on his tie, "Just signatures, really. I've got time. Plus, if I'm gonna get sick, it'll probably be from Jack. He brings home germs from school all the time."

"That's their special talent," You muse, stroking a hand over Olivia's wispy hair, "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure, Y/N," Aaron nods, continuing to bounce her lightly in his arms with a fond grin while her eyes remain loosely shut, "I finally got her to like me - I'm not sure I'd be able to put her down if she did want to go with you."

[cxffecoupx]

here for you - hjs

hong jisoo × gn reader angst (?), requested warnings: slightly sensitive topic (reader is touched wo consent); reader calls shua a shithead wc: 1.4k author's notes: first time writing a long fic, so idk how this will turn out. to the anon who requested this, i'm so sorry this got delayed so much. i felt like this was a sensitive topic so i was careful in writing this. but i really hope you enjoy! do lmk what you think summary: your neighbor gets uncomfortable touchy with you. joshua helps you deal with him.

joshua had come to your house expecting a cuddle session and sleepover. what he wasn’t expecting was you bawling your eyes out five minutes into the movie you were watching.

“hey, hey… what's wrong? what happened?”

joshua had never seen you like this. so shattered and distraught. So… disgusted by something? whatever the reason was, it had him worried bad. what happened? what was wrong? did he do something?

“yn, i need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

he wanted to know what was wrong.

so you decided to tell him all about it.

it all started when you had moved into your new apartment. it was your dream, to own a place of your own. so after years of working your ass off, and with joshua’s constant support, you bought your new home. while meeting your floormates, you encounter mr. and mrs. kang, a lovely couple that welcomed you like their own child. you felt safe in their arms, until one day during tea time, for which mrs. kang had lovingly invited you, she went to the kitchen to get some more cookies she had made.

mr. kang turned towards you with a smile. “i hope you're adjusting well here.”

when you nod, he suddenly places a hand on your knee, slightly rubbing it.

“well, if you have any problems, do let me know." his smile made you sick to your stomach. he immediately pulls back his arm when his wife returns, and you just sit there, grossed out and wanting to return home.

and then another day, when you were sick, he appeared at your door, holding a tupperware container. “mrs. kang sent this for you, her special chicken soup for fever.”

when you reach out to take it, he places his hand on yours, a touch that lingers for a bit too long for your comfort. you pull your hand away quick, go back in and slam the door shut. Your eyes get filled with angry tears, but you just wipe them away before going back to bed.

your boyfriend interrupts you at this point. “why didn’t you tell me about all this?”

“because i didn't want to worry you. i was sure i’ll be able to tell him off someday, so i wanted to kind of deal with it myself.”

with all the tears in your eyes, you don't see joshua roll his eyes hearing this.

“yn, you not telling me worries me more, alright? we could have dealt with this together, rather than have you deal with it all alone,” he says and pulls you into a hug.

after a moment, you pull back and continue with the events.

last week, mrs kang had called you in to meet her son who had come for the holidays. despite repeated tries to decline, she had basically pleaded with you to come and meet him and you ended up being reluctant to go over. while at the house, everything was going fine unlike your worries. but all that soon ended when mr. kang placed his hand on your shoulder and slowly started sliding it down. you guess you were visibly distressed because the son seemed to notice and offered an unsuspecting excuse to help you leave. you had cried yourself to sleep that night because your mind was filled with this event that you wanted to rip off so badly.

so when joshua placed his hand on your shoulder while watching the movie today, all the memories came flooding up and you ended up reaching this state.

shua spoke nothing, hugging you once again, but tighter this time, as if offering all the comfort he couldnt provide throughout this whole ordeal. he closes his eyes and takes a moment to truly register all that you’d just unloaded. how much you had endured alone, carrying all this pain and hurt without letting a single soul know, because you didnt want to worry anyone. and although he is sad that you didn't trust him in this situation, he understands where that's coming from. he understands it must have been difficult for you to open up right now too.

he doesnt realise the hurt within him until a tear rolls down his eye.

“lets go to sleep now, love,” he speaks softly, brushing your hair. “we can talk about it tomorrow.”

the next day, joshua is waiting for you at the dining table with a cup of coffee in hand. the first thing he does when he sees you is hug you, and pat your back as he mutters a soft ‘good morning’. the two of you engage in all household chores and the morning passes away so. in the evening, shua sits you down on the couch with him.

“what do you plan on doing now? about this mr. kang?”

“to be honest, i… don't know. i think at times I can confront him, but then all these incidents come up into my mind and I just end up… crying.”

shua mulls over for a moment, and you swear you can see the gears turning over in his head if you concentrate hard enough. and then, surprising you, he jumps to his feet.

"i have an idea. let's go over there now."

"r-right now?"

"mhmm. we go over there, you tell him i'm your boyfriend, and see his face scrunch over, and we delightfully tell him to fuck off."

he grabs your hand and pulls you over to their house. the confidence in joshua's voice seems to spread over to you, but it doesnt last when you reach their door.

"shua, i dont think i can do this."

joshua holds your face in his hands and looks right into your eyes. "then, i'll do it for the both of us," he says and presses a gentle kiss to your lips before knocking on the door. mrs. kang opens the door.

"hey, mrs. kang. how are you?"

"i'm alright, dear. how are you? and who's this handsome man over here?"

joshua steps forward and extends him hand. "i'm joshua. i'm yn's fiancé."

your eyes widen. what is he even saying? you nudge him and this little shithead has the audacity to look back and wink at you?!

"oh dear, what a surprise! you never told us about this, yn. sit, both of you. i'll make you some tea."

mr. kang waddles over a few minutes later. his lips widen into a sly smile when he sees you, which quickly drops when he notices joshua. mrs. kang returns with tea and mugs and ushes her husband to sit.

"did you hear, honey? this is yn's fiance!"

mr. kang's lips curl into a sneer. what was even more delightful was the way he eyed you both when joshua placed a hand on your back and pulled you in during the conversation. he tries to go back into his room, but his dearest loveliest wife pulls him back down and it only adds to joshua's and your amusement.

time passes by quickly and you get up to leave. as you accompany mrs. kang to the kitchen to put away the cups, joshua sidles over to mr. kang.

"i've heard all about everything you did to them. if i ever see it happen again, i'll see to it that everybody comes to know of your dirty doings. i dont mean it as a threat, but it will become one if you ever attempt anything like that again- oh! it was lovely to meet you, mr. kang. hopefully we'll get to see each other again."

you're confused by the extra spring in his voice when you return, but judging by the look on the elder man's face, you realise that joshua's probably said something to him. you smile and head over to give a little kiss to joshua, part as an act to show mr. kang, part as a thanks for standing up for you.

the moment you reach your apartment, you cling onto joshua, who only chuckles before hugging you back. he ruffles your hair as you look up to him.

"thank you so much for doing this to me. you really have no idea now much it means to me."

he only kisses you back.

"by the way, what did you say to him? he looked stunned."

he kisses you once more before replying.

"i think only he needs to be concerned about it."

[yusume-the-writer]

If you wouldn’t mind, can we get a bf!Orter Mádl x F reader.

Where Orter is being jealous and over protective bf, that whenever men come near or talk with reader that he just scares them off in a way. And when confronted about his jealousy he denies (as expected).

Sweet and happy ending! (take your time!)

It's not jealousy if it's just to protect your loved one

Orter Máld x Fem Reader

Request made by Anon, thank you very much for this idea

I'm sorry for the delay. I was kind of having a problem creating a scenario, but I hope you like it

We have to agree that Orter seems to be really overprotective, as he is a Divine Visionary who follows the rules to an extreme and has probably made a lot of enemies.

Gender: Fluff

Summary: During a meeting between Orter and his girlfriend, someone appears to interrupt the couple's moment

Today was a great morning

 Orter had missed a day off to spend with his lovely boyfriend (Name) as he was away because of work

So they spent half the morning in bed because of (Name)'s neediness (and also because Orter was hungry for her affection), and then they had breakfast and got ready to go out in the afternoon.

Now it was nighttime, and (Name) had mentioned a restaurant she wanted to try because of a friend's opinion.

And here they are both, in the restaurant while waiting for their orders to arrive

"A friend of mine said the sweets here are amazing! I can't wait to try them~" (Name) says in a childish tone similar to a child entering a candy store

"Okay, but be careful not to eat too much and get sick later" Orter says

"Okay dad, I'll be careful" She says while looking at him with a pout

"(Name) and you?!?" Suddenly an unknown male voice says

Then a guy appears that Orter has never seen in his entire life.

But it seems like (Name) does...

"Oh and you Kevin..." (Name) says while facing the stranger

 However... she didn't seem happy about this sudden encounter

"Yes! It seems like yesterday that we met" The man known as Kevin says, seeming ignorant about the presence of the Divine Visionary

 "Yes... because we work in the same office" (Name) says while looking at him as if he had asked a question that didn't even need to be asked because the answer was too obvious

Which was true, but Kevin thought he was a comedian

'There's the annoying colleague' Orter thinks as he remembers (Name) venting about how annoying and insufferable a colleague was and that he thought he was the guy for making uncle jokes

He wouldn't say it out loud, but he wants Kevin out of their sight now.

He just wouldn't say it out loud because (Name) would tease him about being jealous.

 "Yeah... anyway -" (Name) tries to tell Kevin to go away

"Me and the guys from work are gathered here, don't you want to come? It'll be fun." Kevin cuts (Name), and it seems like he doesn't want her to deny the invitation

"She's on a date at the moment," Suddenly Orter says, catching the attention of Kevin and (Name)

"... And who would you be, man?" Kevin says it in a confused and disgusted tone of voice.

And, of course, he would be disgusted. There is a man who seems to be a thousand times better than him in front of him

"Her boyfriend, now that you're on leave, could you get out of our sight" Orter says while facing Kevin

 Orter didn't look like it, but he was very angry

Kevin looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't say anything

He wouldn't admit how threatening Orter looked or how he stared at Kevin like he was nothing more than prey, not an insect.

No, it didn't even seem like that Orter considered him, but rather just unbearable dirt on a clean floor

And like any dirt, it could disappear and no one would care

... An awkward silence filled the room around Kevin

Then he left without saying anything and went towards a table with people who saw the situation.

As soon as they saw that Orter was also looking at them, they quickly turned around.

 "Heh~" A laugh echoes in front of Orter

As he faced the source of the sound, he found (Name) staring at him with a knowing smile.

"It looks like someone is jealous~"(Name) says while still staring at Orter

"...The food has arrived" Orter says as he changes the subject and faces the waiter who brought the orders

"Hey!!! Don't change the subject!"

"If you don't mention that, I'll buy all the desserts you want"

 ".....Closed"

𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔

 Orter was in bed reading a book while waiting for (Name) to finish her skin treatment.

"Don't you think it's better not to read so much?" (Name) says while lying down next to Orter

Confused, Orter stares and raises an eyebrow for her to continue

"If you keep reading so much, your vision will get worse" (Name) begins. "And if you continue, every time you take off your glasses, instead of your eyes looking like 3 they will turn into 4" (Name) ends

Suddenly a pillow is thrown in her face

[bubbly-parker]

 Vanilla Scott, Vanilla.

I have been sitting on this for about a year, and I’m really sorry for the delay. I loved the idea, but I wasn’t happy with what I originally wrote. I hope you still like Stiles!

This year, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and post it anyway, even though I think it’s not great. I'm genuinely nervous about it.

Anyways we kinda just jump straight into it. Only thing you need to know its Melissas Bday party, Scott is out getting some stuff and Stiles x Reader are trying to have a quicky before setting up the rest of the Party , actually i just wanted to write Stiles eating her out but whoopsie.

This is terrible actually , I wont take criticism because I already have depressions

Warnings : smut, reader is on the phone w her brother, kinda red flag ngl he didnt consent, unclassified if they wrapped it (wrap it before you tap it) , mentions of feeling sick(throwing up) , oral fem recieving, afab reader, buff Stiles ? is that a crime ?, really bad. Masterlist

Stiles's hands were already running up your sides under your shirt as you were trying to walk to your room, which was quite the challenge given Stiles was already all over you and you could hardly concentrate on walking. Mouths clashing together in your second makeout session, Stiles's tongue found its way into your mouth making you moan.

Stiles one second

You entered your room and turned away from Stiles, who whined from the loss of contact, he turned around and locked the door.

You slowly took your hoodie off and threw it somewhere toward your closet before falling back on your bed. Looking up at Stiles who was walking toward the bed

God baby don't give me those eyes.

Your eyes were basically undressing him.

We can't babe only a little taste yeah? Stiles crawled over your body to kiss you again, your hips grinding up to meet with his crotch you whined in his mouth Stiles knew you wanted more, but Scott should be back any moment.

He started kissing down your neck slowly dragging your bra straps down and unlocking it behind your back as he moved his mouth further down.

His lips closed around your nipple biting it slightly then immediately licking it to soothe it, enticing a loud moan from you, thankfully you were alone.

Your hands pulled at Stiles's shirt making him sit up and pull it over his head you still couldn't wrap your brain around how your brother's nerdy bestie was a ripped beast under his clothes but you didn't mind as you took him the sight.

Stiles's ears turned red he never felt truly comfortable with himself but it made him happy to see you drool over him nonetheless.

Stiles shuffled back on his knees and started pulling down your leggings and panties in one go.

Spread your legs your whole body flushed as he said that somewhat shy you slightly let your legs fall apart, Stiles, super needy, messy, horny Stiles was doing things to you when he spoke in voice of authority.

Unhappy with your little exposure he laid down flat in front of you, hooked your legs over his shoulder to get a proper view.

You look so good like this baby

but you knew you did not have much time you bucked your hips up toward his face

Stiles, please

Seeing your puppy dog eyes Stiles knew he couldn't tease you today, maybe later tonight if you got rid of Scott but not right now.

Running his finger between your lips to gather up some wetness he used it to rub circles on your clit before diving in with his tongue.

He ate you out like a man starved his only goal was to get you to cum as fast as possible, because right now his pants were so tight he might have to squeeze in some time to properly fuck you, but first he needed to get you off.

Your thighs tried to close around his head immediately as he alternated between sucking on your clit and rubbing it. You were grinding your hips against his face breathless moans escaping your lips like a chant, when suddenly you felt your phone vibrating next to you.

You chose to ignore it like the many times you did before, trying to chase your high on Stiles's face, he held your legs open his hands almost gripping your thighs painfully.

Stiles moans were drowned out between your folds sending vibrations up your core, goosebumps, and shivers running down your back. You were so close almost there when your phone started vibrating again, and again and again, until it started ringing, Scott had switched from spam messaging to calling.

You pulled Stiles back by the hair, his glossy eyes staring back at you waiting for you to pick up the phone,

What Scott?

You almost yelled at your brother.

Chill, Why aren't you answering your phone, is stiles already with you?

Just as you were about to answer your brother about his best friend's whereabouts Stiles had the glorious idea to move his face back between your legs

You gave him a look that read don't you dare

With a Cheshire cat grin, Stiles licked up a long strip from your hole to your clit which had you gasping.

Hellooo?

Scott was still on the Line, your eyes pleading with Stiles you answered.

Yes, Stiles is downstairs we already set everything U-up ..

You answered Scott, your voice going up embarrassingly high as Stiles started to suck on your clit again working two fingers into your hole at the same time.

Are you alright?

Yes just cramps your voice came out in a hushed whisper.

Are you bitching at Stiles again? Anyways what flavour cake did Mom like?

Scott! I sent you a list where is it?

Suddenly you didn't hear a word of the excuses Scott tried to tell you as your Climax washed over you with no warning. You pulled your phone away from your ear and bit down on your Lip to muffle any sounds the best you could, your core twitched and your stomach heaved up and down, knowing Scott wasn't even on his way back yet Stiles quickly sat up to pull his sweatpants down.

You came back to Scott still rambling on the phone. Stiles pulled your body back to his, this time moving to lay on top of you (we love missionary in this house) Your legs felt like jelly around his waist but you did not care.

Stiles moved his head between your neck and kissed you under your ear making you flinch from the sensitivity baby you're still on the phone

back to your senses

Scott? Just get Vanilla okay NO Frosting Mom hates Frosting.

Okay but what about the candles they have these white ones and these blue ones, and green ones, they also have...

You could hardly concentrate on anything or any color as Stiles started to push into you, biting his lips while looking down at you it costs everything in him to not immediately snap his hips towards you and moan like a virgin.

You moaned, out loud, on the phone.

A moment of Silence, Stiles not moving an inch.

Are you good? Scott sounded more than uncomfortable, you internally panicked, as Stiles riskily started to move again.

Y/N?!

Yes, No! I m not

trying to come up with a lie as your boyfriend's cock slid so perfectly against your g spot I think Im gonna throw up!

Smooth, Y/N , smooth you thought, Stiles put his head down on your shoulder giggling as quietly as possible.

Your free hand found its way to Stiles's upper body pushing, trying to slow him down but failing miserably, Stiles moved faster with every shaking breath you took moving his hand down to start rubbing circles on your clit again. Your second Orgasmn of the day is approaching way too fast, way too dangerously.

Scott, I reeeaLY have to go I don't feel so good

you heaved out between breaths Can you- can you bring me Advil please I think I'm out?

You heard somewhat of a groan and agreement, complaints about having a sister, and a quick bye before he hung up, you flung your phone to the other side of the bed.

Hands finding their way around Stiles back pulling him down in a needy kiss, you whined against him as his hips and thumb both sped up. Stiles gonna cum again, Stiles pleease -please You didn't know what you pleaded for but having to hold back while on the phone pushed you so close to the edge.

Just wait for me baby just a bit more Stiles gritted out between thrusts, he quickly manhandled you up and turned you around, ass up he pushed back in with one thrust, the new angle hitting your G spot every time, your arms and legs gave out, your body only supported by Stiles arms holding you up at the right angle for him.

You were so close you could feel your whole body tense up when Scott called again.

Nooo uh you whined voice muffled by your face being squished in the mattress.

Stiles reached over to grab your still-ringing phone

Stiles what? You tried to turn and grab your phone, but Stiles had other plans, he grabbed you by the hair lifting your face up, his thrust grew less strong but just as fast as before, reducing the sound of skin clapping together.

Can't leave your brother waiting baby, he's gonna make a mistake if we do. Be good I m going to make you cum on the phone, yeah?

Stiles might have worded it as a question but you knew it wasn't, it was a goal. You whined in protest as Stiles called back Scott who had gone to voice mail.

Dropping the phone next to you as Scott picked up, Stiles went back to soft fast thrust sneaking his hand underneath you to rub your clit

YE-es! You squeaked at Stiles forgetting about Scott, who just picked up.

Um So did you want blue or red?

Blue just get blue Scott.

Your body started shaking as you felt incredibly close Stiles's finger sped up slightly with his thrust and you felt the knot in your stomach ready to burst, with shaking legs you drew in a breath ready to hold it all in,

Ok ok got it, chocolate cake was it right?

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you came with a muffled groan  Stiles followed right behind you, pulling your ass flush against him.

Sorry, what? Scott responded from the other line,

You pulled your phone towards you

 Vanilla Scott, Vanilla.

 You repeated and finally hung up.

IF YOU READ THIS FAR PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT OR REBLOG FOR VALIDATION OR ELSE I WONT KNOW IF YOU LIKED IT OR EVEN READ IT IN RESULT I WILL FEEL LIKE A FAILUUUURE

Masterlist

[saichisugimoto99]

You Protected Me

Pairing/s: Ethan Landry x ProtectiveF!Reader

Summary: It all started because Ethan refused to comply with the demands of an idiot with an ego bigger than his brain, and he has no regrets. Because thanks to that I was able to meet an incredible girl... you.

Warnings: English is not my first language, so I apologize for my spelling errors. Language, blood, wounds (the descriptions are not very graphic), fluff, if I missed mentioning something, don't hesitate to tell me.

W/C (Word Count): 6k+ (sorry)

A/N (Author's Note): What is promised is a debt. This One-Shot is based on my meme, I'm sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy reading this (I will also publish it on my wattpad, there I will be publishing most of my stories translated into Spanish).

Ethan's daily routine was always the same: he woke up, ate breakfast, talked to Chad, went to school, did his homework, and had horror movie Fridays with his friends. However, his routine began to change when the captain of the lacrosse team, Alan, asked him for a "favor." The guy wanted Ethan to do his homework for him to avoid having his captain position revoked and him being kicked off the team.

The problem was that the curly-haired boy refused to do it, which caused Alan to get angry and start bullying him. Ethan didn't want to tell his friends, and he doesn't even know if it was out of fear, shame, or both. Hits, words and "jokes" began to become part of the boy's daily routine, as if they were something normal, although in reality they were not. Until one day, a certain girl, known for how troublesome she was, stepped in to defend Ethan.

He was leaving his economics class when Alan and his group grabbed him from behind and dragged him to the farthest part of the campus, while laughing. “It's your turn to take a beating today, Landry.” The captain said, pushing Ethan against a wall. Ethan groaned in pain from the impact.

“P-Please, Alan, are you doing this to me just because I refused to do your homework?” The boy questioned, as he straightened up a little. Even though Ethan was taller, he didn't know how to fight at all.

"I'll explain it to you so you understand, idiot. Lacrosse is my life, and I'm not going to let my chance at the big leagues be ruined because of you. You're the best at economics, right? Give me my homework and we’ll leave you alone. It’s your last chance, Landry.”

Ethan looked at him with fear. I was about to respond, but then you intervened. "Are you seriously threatening him over something you could do yourself? Are you so stupid that you don't even know how to do it yourself?" you asked as you leaned against the wall, holding a cigarette between your fingers.

Hearing your voice, everyone turned to look at you.

"What did you say?" Alan asked, glaring at you.

"Let go."

Alan and his friends started laughing out loud. "And what are you going to do if I don't?"

"I'll put out my damn cigarette with your tongue." You said with a challenging look. You were sick of idiots like him.

Alan looked at you for a few seconds before letting go of Ethan. "You're saved this time, nerd." He whispered to Ethan. Then, he gave you one last look before leaving with his friends.

You pushed away from the wall and walked over to Ethan's backpack to pick up his things, which one of that guy's friends had thrown on the floor. As you did so, Ethan also came over to finish gathering his things.

"I... um, thank you very much for the help, really." Ethan said as he looked at you. Damn, you were beautiful. "You're welcome, I hate idiots like them."

When they finished gathering their things, you stood up with the intention of leaving, but before you could, Ethan spoke to you. "W-Wait a minute..." You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "I... I-I just wanted to know your name. I'm Ethan." You didn't say anything for a few seconds, you just nodded and responded, "Y/n, that's my name." A shy smile appeared on Ethan's face. "It's a very nice name. Thanks again..."

You nodded again while keeping your expression neutral, although there was a hint of a smile and continued on your way. Meanwhile, Ethan couldn't wait to see you again.

A few days passed since that incident where he met you for the first time. I didn't know when I would see you again, until today. He was one of the first to arrive at the economics class. The minutes passed and the seats gradually filled up. Then he saw you come through the door. Damn, you were in his class! How did you not notice before?

He began to get more nervous when he realized that you were coming to sit next to him, although you didn't notice it, since you were distracted. You sat next to him and began to take out your things for class, still not paying attention to him.

Throughout the class, every 5 seconds Ethan would direct his gaze towards you, which you noticed, and in the end you just sighed and looked back at him. That's when you realized it was the same boy you had helped a few days ago.

Ethan blushed as he realized you had caught him. A nervous smile appeared on his lips. "H-Hello again." You just nodded with a slight smile. "Hello, Ethan." She remembers my name, SHE REMEMBERS IT.

The class continued without much interaction between the two of you, although Ethan continued to glance at you every few seconds.

For the next half hour, class progressed normally, but the tension between them was palpable. Ethan couldn't quite concentrate on what the professor was saying, every time his eyes landed on you, and he met your gaze. When class ended and the bell rang, the students began to get up, gathering their things. You also stood up from your seat, but before you could leave the classroom, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with Ethan, who seemed to be quite nervous.

"Hey, do you mind if we talk for a moment?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

"Hey, do you mind if we talk for a moment?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

"No, of course not." You responded.

Ethan bit his bottom lip, a clear sign that he was struggling with his words. "I want to thank you again... for what happened a few days ago." He began, unable to articulate much more. "I... You helped me, and I know I thanked you at the time, but I still want to do it again."

You just nodded. "No problem. I don't like people being treated that way when they don't deserve it. If you need help or anything, look for me."

Ethan nodded, more confident. "Thank you...really. See you later, I guess."

"See you, Ethan." You responded, as you both left the classroom in opposite directions.

As you walked down the hallway, you couldn't help but think that maybe this wouldn't be the last conversation you'd have with him.

And so it was. You saw him shortly after since you only had economics class together and you hadn't attended class that week. It seemed like this time he was with his friends. The only one you recognized was Tara, you both share algebra class. You didn't want to interrupt him, so you decided to walk past him, but he looked up and when he saw you, he immediately smiled. How can someone his size be so... adorable?

You watched as he seemed to say something to his friends, and immediately trotted over to where you were. “H-Hello, Y/n.” The hint of a smile appeared on your lips as you waved back.

“Hello, Ethan. Do you need anything?”

“No, it's not that. It’s just… I didn’t see you in economics class and I got worried.”

“I just had some problems, nothing serious.”

“I…I’m glad.”

You waited a few seconds for him to continue, but he stayed silent. He realized he hadn't said anything and mentally slapped himself on the forehead.

“Shit, I-I'm sorry. “Uh… I also wanted to give you this, wait.” Ethan turned slightly to open his backpack and take out his notebook.

“I wanted to give this to you. “They are the economics notes, what we saw this week.”

You looked at him in surprise as you opened the notebook. “You didn't have to.” Ethan just shrugged with a smile. “It's okay, it doesn't bother me. It’s the least I can do to return the favor.” You gave him an almost imperceptible smile and looked over his shoulder; his friends seemed worried seeing him talking to you. “You better go back to your friends, they seem to be… worried.” Ethan turned to look at his friends while you put the notes in your backpack, the boy just raised an eyebrow, but he didn't give it much importance and looked at you again.

“Go to them, they probably think I want to kick your ass. And thanks again for the notes, I'll get them back to you tomorrow.” Ethan wondered what you meant by that, but chose not to say anything as he said goodbye, smiling like a fool in love.

As you walked past her friends, Mindy shot you a look, and you returned it, but in a more threatening manner.

Ethan returned to his friends, who looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “What's wrong with them? “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Duh, isn't it obvious? “You were talking to Y/n, did she threaten you or something?” Mindy asked, looking at him with a mix of pity and irritation. She has always had a love-hate relationship with Ethan. She has been passive-aggressive towards him, but she doesn't hate him; You could say that he has a certain affection for him, although not enough to treat him well. Did you understand? Me neither, Mindy, make up your mind.

“She didn't threaten me, she just... helped me with something and I wanted to return the favor. Why would he threaten me anyway? “He is not a bad person.”

At that moment, Chad, his best friend and roommate, sighed and placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder. “Man, I don't know if that girl brainwashed you or something, but you should stay away from her. According to rumors, Y/n is known for being very problematic, she is aggressive both physically and verbally, and those she doesn't like end up very badly. Even in high school, he sent a girl to the hospital, or something like that I'd heard."

Ethan snorted and rolled his eyes. "Oh really? You said it yourself, they are just rumors; “She hasn’t done anything wrong to me.”

“Leave him alone, if he wants to get beaten up that's his problem.” Mindy said as she crossed her arms. Anika nudged him.

“Mindy, don't say that. You should not judge a person based only on rumors. If Ethan says she’s not bad, then she’s not.”

Mindy just sighed, exasperated. “And if our shy, dumb, naive Ethan says the world will end soon, would we have to believe him too?”

Anika just sighed and Tara joined the conversation. “Everyone has a point, but if I remember correctly, Y/n and I shared algebra class. He looks unfriendly, but that's all. She didn't look like someone who was going to rip your head off just for looking at her wrong.” With that, Chad walked over to his girlfriend and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Alright, I think that's enough. If our boy says it's okay, there's nothing we can do. Let's leave this discussion for later and better hurry up to get to our horror Friday before Sam gives us a lecture for not being on time.”

Ethan sighed irritably. “I would rather never have this conversation again if you are going to question my every action.” Chad and the rest looked at each other as Ethan took the lead.

Now, why don't we find out the reason you skipped economics class? Let's go back two days earlier.

"Shit!" You kicked the nearest trash can with all your might. You were in an area somewhat away from the main campus. The same place where Alan and his bastard friends brought Ethan to bully him. You usually visit this place when you want to smoke or need to vent your anger. In this case, it was the latter. You placed your forearm on the wall and rested your head on it. You were trying with all your might not to scream any more than you already had. You always had anger problems, and even though you tried to control them, you couldn't always. At least you never hurt someone who didn't deserve it, and that was already an achievement. Between homework, your mother, and the idiots at the university, you couldn't have a single moment to breathe. You decided it would be best to take a few minutes to calm down, before heading to economics class. You hated that class. But seeing Ethan's cute face somehow always calmed your- Wait. “What the hell was I thinking?” You wanted to hit yourself right now. You clicked your tongue and bent down to pick up your backpack when you felt like you had calmed down enough. “Wow, beautiful. “You may be a nuisance, but you have a nice ass.” You let out an exasperated sigh and turned around to see Alan smiling evilly. Your calm went to shit, again. “Thug, stupid, pathetic and perverted. Your adjectives are getting better.” Alan's arrogant and malicious smile disappeared. He approached you with an angry expression until he was inches from your face. “Do you think this is a joke? Last time I stopped because it wasn't worth it and I was already bored. Don’t think it will be different now.” “I'm not afraid of you. I've dealt with worse guys than you, don't think you're a fucking gangster. You're just a college student with a brain as developed as that of a fish. The only reason you haven't been fired is because others do the work for you, and for the love of god, buy a damn breath mint or something.” You scrunch your face in disgust as you walk away from Alan. Alan lost his cool and started yelling at you. “Listen to me carefully, you damn whore! I won't let them take my captain's position or kick me off the lacrosse team! I'll make that pathetic fucking nerd's life miserable until he does what I tell him, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop me-” You didn't even let him finish before you threw a punch at his nose, breaking it instantly. Alan fell to the ground, groaning in pain as he held his nose. You knelt down next to him and pulled him by his jacket. “Dare to touch Ethan one more time and I'll make sure to stick the stick so deep in you that you'll feel the splinters in your throat for the rest of your miserable life. This is my last warning, Alan.” You said in a way that would make even a grown man tremble in fear. You got up and left without looking at him again. You definitely wouldn't make it in time for economy.

“Ethan, wait for us!” Chad shouted, reaching for his best friend, followed by the others. Ethan was going to answer him, but stopped when he saw Alan and his friends pass by. He…had his nose broken?!

“Ouch, isn’t that Alan? Who did he piss off to end up with his nose like that?” Chad asked, his expression pained. “Whoever it was, deserves an award. It’s about time someone put that overbearing, testosterone-fueled idiot in his place.” Mindy spoke up, stopping along with Anika and Tara.

The 5 of them looked at Alan, but Ethan was more surprised. It couldn’t have been you… right?

“We better get going, Sam and my sister should be waiting for us.” Ethan said before continuing to walk, with the others following him. It was a good idea that he did so, since Alan was watching him; he would definitely get his revenge.

The next day, Ethan decided to look for you to ask you directly what had happened with Alan. Maybe he was overthinking it and the idiot had simply gotten into trouble with another guy; but, still, he couldn’t help but worry, not for that idiot, but for you.

After walking around campus twice, he started to get upset when he didn’t see you anywhere. He was about to panic when he remembered the place he met you. He quickly ran in the direction of that corner of campus in hopes of finding you.

He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding when he saw you sitting there, legs crossed, a book on them and a cigarette in your hand.

You looked up from your book when you heard someone approaching. Your gaze softened and a small smile appeared on your face when you saw it was Ethan. You didn’t expect to see him there again, considering it was the place he was dragged to get beaten up.

“Ethan? What are you doing here? Did that idiot bother you again or something?” You asked, your expression changing to one of concern and anger. If he said yes, you would stand up to break that muscle brain’s legs.

“N-No, he didn’t bother me… I was just looking for you.” Ethan blushed. You looked worried and quite…protective? Or was I imagining it?

You stared at him for a few seconds, a little surprised. No one ever approached you willingly, hadn’t he heard the rumors about you? Yes, you saved him, but you still couldn’t help but feel a little…nervous? It had been so long that people avoided you like the plague that you got used to it and you never cared. After a few years, someone finally talked to you and looked at you without a hint of disgust, mockery or… fear. You preferred that to being betrayed and hurt again. After Ethan started talking to you, you realized that you felt really alone.

You blinked a few times when you realized that you hadn’t responded. “Uhh well… come sit if you want.” You patted the spot next to you. Ethan blushed, but still smiled from ear to ear. He took his backpack off his shoulders and shyly walked over to your side to sit on the floor.

Ethan put the backpack down beside him and you put out your cigarette. You didn’t want the smell to bother him or make him inhale the smoke.

“Is there a reason you were looking for me? It doesn’t bother me, but I’m curious.” You turned to look at him, waiting for his answer.

“I… yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”

“I saw Alan yesterday and… his nose was broken. By any chance was it you? I don’t care what happens to him and I-I don’t blame you either, I was just wondering…” Ethan scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Yeah, well… he was the reason I didn’t go to Economics a few days ago. He came here with threats and comments about my ass, so I broke his nose and gave him one last warning.” You laughed and looked at Ethan. He seemed to be angry, his expression was really… dark.

“I-I’m really sorry. “I didn’t want to cause you trouble. Now, because of me, that idiot will target you.” At that moment, Ethan’s mind was beginning to form disturbing thoughts, because how dare that guy threaten you? A girl as beautiful and amazing as you shouldn’t experience that.

Your heart fluttered at his words. Ethan really is a great guy. It’s the first time someone got mad at you. You thought he was really sweet, and you would definitely protect him from anyone. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, verbally or physically.

“Ethan, look at me.”

He turned around and you looked him straight in the eyes, you were very close to each other and only a few inches apart. “Trust me when I tell you that I’m capable of defending myself from a jerk like him. It… makes me happy that you care about me, but don’t think about it too much, okay?” Ethan just nodded and you smiled. You looked down at his lips.

The silence between you two was filled with the tension of the moment. Your heartbeats could be felt in the air, fast, synchronized. Your eyes met, and suddenly, the world around you faded away.

Ethan moved a little closer, unsure, as you looked up, caught in the magnetism of the moment. Your breaths intertwined, warm and soft.

Your faces slowly moved closer, almost as if time stood still. Barely a whisper separated your lips when they finally met. The touch was soft, a first touch full of doubt and emotion. But in a second, everything changed: the kiss deepened, more confident, firmer. The whole world disappeared as your lips spoke in a silent language, sealing a connection that had been there all along. After a while, although you didn’t want to separate, you pulled away to take a breath.

“This… was unexpected.”

After that kiss, you and Ethan started getting closer and closer, until just a month later, you both started a relationship. You told Ethan that it would be better to keep it a secret, as you didn't want other people to treat him badly for being with you, including his friends, who started to suspect that something was up with the curly-haired boy, as he spent less time with them. They started following him more often to find out what he was hiding…

"Seriously, I don't understand why they want to follow Ethan. Even if he's hiding something, he must have valid reasons for doing so." Anika felt somewhat uncomfortable following her friend; they looked like stalkers, and that was really creepy.

"You have to admit that he's been weird lately. Well, he's always weird, but he's been more so than usual." Mindy turned to look at her girlfriend in a mocking manner.

"Well, maybe he doesn't want to tell us what's wrong with him for this reason." Sam said, while pointing at everyone, including her. Tara, Sam, Anika, Mindy, Chad, and even Quinn were hiding in a corner of the local diner near the college, where Ethan had wandered in. The guy was sitting by the window, and seemed to be waiting for someone.

"And besides, why am I here? I came because I was told we were going to get something to eat, not spy on Ethan like we were CIA agents," Sam said, sipping her milkshake irritably. At least the drinks were good.

"Maybe you don't want to be here, but I do. I hope my brother's secret is embarrassing enough for me to make fun of him for the rest of the year." Quinn said, laughing before eating a French fry.

"I'm starting to get bored. Maybe he's not even hiding anything from us, and Ethan is just being… more Ethan than usual." Tara looked boredly between her salad and the aforementioned guy. "No, he's definitely hiding something. He's been coming in late, and he doesn't do that. He's too much of a perfectionist, even with his schedule. He doesn't spend as much time at the apartment anymore, sometimes he walks past me and I get the smell of cigarettes, and Ethan doesn't smoke. He smells like women's perfume most of the time, and I'm a hundred percent sure I've seen some hickeys on his neck." Chad said, quietly. Before he could say anything else, Mindy patted his hand for her brother, and pointed at a girl approaching the table where Ethan was. It was… Y/n?!

Everyone watched you from afar. They saw how Ethan stood up when he saw you. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulled him close to give him a small kiss on the lips, which he obviously reciprocated. You then walked away and sat next to him at the table.

Ethan’s friends were VERY shocked by what they just witnessed, not only because he was dating a girl, but also because he was specifically dating you out of all girls.

“This doesn’t make sense…” Quinn muttered, still with a French fry halfway between her plate and her mouth. She dropped it on the table, completely forgetting about the food. “Ethan has a girlfriend. And she’s…” she looked directly at Anika, who looked just as shocked.

“That explains why he’s been acting so weird.” Tara finally broke the silence, crossing her arms as she watched the scene from the corner. “The perfume, the hickey… it all fits. But…” she frowned. “Why Y/n?”

Sam, who had remained silent until now, set his milkshake down on the table and leaned forward. “There’s something I don’t like about all this. Why would he keep it a secret?” His tone was cold and analytical, always looking for the logical angle of the situation.

Mindy nodded, her eyes still fixed on Ethan. “Exactly. What could he be hiding? And why wouldn’t he trust us?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking we should talk to him.” Chad finally spoke, his tone more serious than usual. “If Ethan is hiding something from us, I think we deserve to know. He’s our friend.”

Quinn laughed nervously. “Or maybe he’s just afraid we’ll make fun of him for secretly dating someone.”

Sam shook his head, looking at Ethan. “No. There’s something else. It’s not just for fear of being made fun of… it seems there’s something else.”

The conversation fell silent as everyone looked back at Ethan, who seemed to be deeply immersed in his conversation with Y/n. Whatever was going on, they knew they couldn’t just let it go. Finally, Chad stood up, a mix of determination and curiosity in his expression. “I think it’s time to get some answers.”

The others exchanged uncertain glances, but knew confrontation was inevitable. One by one, they stood up.

The group moved towards the table where you and Ethan were sitting, their steps firm but cautious. Chad was the first to arrive, stopping right next to the table, while the others spread out around it, forming a semi-circle that enclosed the couple.

Ethan, sensing the sudden presences, looked up in surprise. His eyes widened as he saw all of his friends staring at him. “What… what are you doing here?”

Your calm expression faded and you simply sighed.

“Ethan.” Mindy’s voice was firm. “We need to talk. Now.”

Ethan gulped nervously as you watched the situation without saying a word.

“Talk? About what?” Ethan asked, trying to keep his composure, but clearly out of it.

Chad crossed his arms before speaking. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks, disappearing, coming home late, smelling like things that don’t make sense… and now we find out that all this time you’ve been dating Y/n, and you didn’t even mention it.”

Mindy spoke up, leaning slightly towards Ethan. “Can you explain to us why you’ve been hiding this? Because, trust me, we’re all pretty confused right now.”

“First, relax. You’re not interrogating a criminal. Second, I asked Ethan to keep the relationship a secret, happy?” You finally spoke, looking Mindy straight in the eyes with an irritated expression.

Everyone turned to look at you, a little surprised by the direct and aggressive response you gave them.

The silence grew heavier. Ethan clenched his fists on the table and finally spoke, his tone resigned. “Y/n didn’t want you guys to judge me… She thought it would be easier to keep it a secret for a while. We didn’t want to complicate things.”

“And anyway, what we do is none of your business, it only concerns me and Ethan. If you have any more questions, I invite you to sit with us then.” Your voice had a sincere, but also sarcastic tone as you gave them a forced smile.

“Hey, you don’t have to be so abrupt, you know?” Quinn was starting to get annoyed by your attitude, even though it was justified. You just let out a dry laugh, grimacing without looking at her a second time.

Anika sensed the tension in the air and immediately tried to intervene, knowing it would be best not to make things worse and cause an unnecessary fight.

“Guys, I think it would be best if we sat down. Let’s avoid any trouble, okay?” The others exchanged glances and simply nodded, taking seats so they could talk properly.

For a while, no one said anything, making the silence rather awkward. Tara decided to be the first to speak so the awkwardness would dissipate, even if just a little. “It’s… nice to meet you, Y/n. We have a class together, but we’ve never really talked.”

Your expression relaxed and you responded politely. “I know, it’s nice to meet you too.” The smile Tara received from you was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Everyone was surprised, they thought you would be ruder or just ignore Tara.

“And you don’t need to introduce yourselves or whatever, Ethan has already told me about you.”

Chad saw how willing you were to strike up a conversation with them, so he simply decided to take the risk. “Still, I think we should properly introduce ourselves. It’s a pleasure, I’m Chad, Tara’s boyfriend, and Ethan’s best friend and roommate. She’s my twin, Mindy, that’s Anika, his girlfriend. There’s also Sam, Tara’s older sister, and Quinn, who you obviously had to meet since she’s Eth’s sister.”

Mindy rolled her eyes as she sighed and rested her forearms on the table. "Yeah, yeah, enough introduction. Now, I'm really curious about three things. The first is, why did you ask our dumb, shy Ethan to keep it a secret about your… relationship? The second is, how the hell did you two meet? And the third is, how did a girl of your reputation end up with someone like Ethan? I mean, no offense, but you're like the cliché couple from a romantic comedy."

Your expression remained stoic as you looked Mindy straight in the eyes, making her feel a little uncomfortable. You looked away and crossed your arms over your chest before speaking. "I imagine you guys know my reputation, which is why I asked Ethan to keep it a secret because I didn't want you guys or the rest of campus to judge him for being with me. Our thing just happened, there's no mystery to it, and we met because… I'd rather Ethan speak for himself if he wants to."

They stared at you for a while, processing your words before looking back at Ethan for more context.

Ethan ended up telling them everything. How Alan and his friends teased him because he refused to do his homework, and how you ended up defending him, which was when he met you.

“That… is the stupidest reason to hit someone,” Mindy said, shocked at the level of human stupidity Alan was capable of.

“Why didn’t you tell us anything, man? That’s what we’re here for, we could have put that idiot in his place.” Chad looked a bit indignant that Ethan hadn’t talked to him about what was happening to him. “Why would I? Why would my sister or Mindy call me pathetic for not standing up for myself against those idiots?”

Everyone was silent, you just grimaced at what Ethan said. If they were able to tell you that, you’d really start to get mad.

Mindy and Quinn just hung their heads, staring at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Yeah, it seemed like they were thinking Ethan was pathetic.

Everyone spent the last half hour talking to Ethan, you only keeping the conversation to a few words as you intertwined your hand with Ethan’s and rubbed small circles with your thumb on the boy’s skin.

When the talk ended, Ethan’s friends felt more comfortable, even with you, despite the fact that you barely participated in the conversation. So much so that they even invited you to participate in their ‘horror Fridays’ as they called it. You said you would think about it and said goodbye with Ethan, since the boy preferred to spend the night with you, in your apartment. The two of you talked all the way back, quite relaxed by how this unexpected meeting ended. Who would have thought that this tranquility would only last that night, right?

The next morning, the sun was beginning to filter gently through the curtains, filling the room with a soft, warm light. You slowly opened your eyes, still half asleep, and noticed the familiar weight of Ethan's arms around your waist. You could feel his calm, deep breathing against your neck, and the warmth of his chest pressed against your back.

You didn't want to move. There was something about that quiet, that bubble of intimacy and protection, that made you feel complete. Ethan was sleeping soundly, his grip was gentle but firm, as if in his sleep he knew he didn't want to let go.

With a small smile on your lips, you closed your eyes again, enjoying those minutes when everything was calm, just the two of you, sharing a silent moment that seemed eternal. In that embrace, everything seemed fine, as if the outside world didn't matter. You knew that when he woke up, he would find that same warm, loving gaze that you dedicate to him and only him.

You carefully turned around, still in Ethan’s embrace, your bodies so close you could feel his heartbeat. You watched his peaceful face as he slept, his breathing slow and soft. With a sweet smile, you reached up and gently caressed Ethan’s cheek, brushing his skin with your fingertips, as if you were afraid to wake him up.

A while later, you both got up to get ready for college. You headed ahead to the bathroom while Ethan got dressed, and soon you were ready to go downstairs for breakfast. Between laughs and chats, you enjoyed a light meal, until Ethan set his cup down on the table and casually mentioned,

“I have to stop by Chad’s apartment to pick up some books I forgot. I don’t have them here and I need them for today’s classes.”

You frowned slightly, something inside you giving you a bad feeling.

“Shall I come with you?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer. Ethan shook his head with a calm smile, like he always did when he thought you shouldn't be worried.

“I won't be long, love. Go ahead to college, I'll catch you there.”

Despite the feeling growing in your chest, you sighed and nodded. You didn't want to tell him that something didn't add up. Maybe it was just your imagination. Ethan leaned in to give you a quick kiss and left the apartment.

But that feeling didn't leave you.

Ethan arrived at the apartment he shared with Chad, who had already left for college. He quickly gathered the books he needed and walked out the door, ready to meet you. However, as he crossed the street, he found himself face to face with Alan, the campus bully, accompanied by three of his friends. Alan smiled mischievously at the sight.

“Where do you think you're going, Landry?” Alan said, blocking his way.

Ethan gulped, he knew this wasn't going to end well. Before he could react, the four of them surrounded him and took him to an alley near the university.

Meanwhile, Mindy and Anika, who were on their way to class, saw from a distance how the guys took Ethan away. Without wasting any time, they ran to find the others.

On your way to college, you were walking alongside Tara, Chad, Sam, and Quinn. You were exchanging a few words when Mindy and Anika came running towards you, worried faces.

“Ethan!” Mindy shouted, almost out of breath. “Alan and the three idiots with him have taken him.”

Your face completely contorted with anger upon hearing this. Chad backed away slightly, scared by the sudden, dangerous energy you radiated.

“Where?” You asked with a tense voice, looking at Mindy.

“To an alley, near the college.” Anika answered quickly.

Before anyone could say anything else, you ran off, your legs moving on pure adrenaline, while the others tried to keep up with you. With each passing second, your fury grew.

When you reached the alley, your heart stopped for an instant. Ethan was being beaten by Alan and his friends. His lip was split, he was bleeding from his nose, and he had a dark bruise on his cheek. That was the trigger. Fury blinded you completely.

“Leave him alone you fucking morons!” You screamed in a voice that echoed off the walls of the alley.

Alan didn’t even have time to react before you lunged at his friends. Within seconds, all three of them were on the ground, bleeding and moaning in pain, while you barely showed any signs of exertion except for your bruised knuckles.

Finally, you lunged at Alan, knocking him to the ground, and punched him repeatedly, his voice shaking with anger as he said, “I warned you… not to dare… touch him.”

“Come on Y/n, tear him apart!!” Chad exclaimed, excited. It’s like he was watching a fight of his favorite WWE wrestler.

Mindy also seemed to be cheering you on and Tara started recording. The rest looked at you with shocked expressions, you really are like a beast when you fight.

Alan could barely moan in pain as he screamed for you to stop, but you didn’t until you felt Ethan’s arms around your waist. Your anger instantly evaporated, and you returned your focus to him alone.

“How much pain are you in?! Is something broken, Eth?!” You asked, your voice filled with concern as you caressed his wounded face.

Ethan nodded, despite the pain.

“It hurts a lot, but nothing’s broken, I promise.”

You sighed in relief, completely forgetting about Alan and the others. You took Ethan by the hand, quickly leading him out of the alley, heading to Sam’s apartment to tend to his wounds.

Those guys would definitely never touch your cute boy again.

Who wouldn't become a WWE wrestler to protect baby Ethan?