#the most difficult thing was making sure things lined up with whats been said about des's dsmpsona

[amuseintime]

A Stage of Healing

The Play is Over but the Script Remains/Scriptfrin Saga

For anyone who doesn't know, "Scriptfrin" is a Siffrin who sometimes goes semi-verbal after the loops, (mostly) only able to repeat the "script" from his time in there. I have a bit of it up here, but most of it is in this series on AO3 (though for the general concept, you can just read "Line, Please.")

Months after the loops, Siffrin and their family are walking around a town and Bonnie happens to notice samosas in the window… the thing that they had basically every blinding night in the loops. Siffrin is clearly bothered, but not in the way you'd expect. All this leads to a long talk, a one man performance, and a lot of laughs. Humor and Hurt/Comfort (heavier on the comfort).

Crossposted here on AO3.

(And always, if you like what I do, reblog, leave a comment, or maybe buy me a Kofi?)

“Oh oh oh! Guys! Look, this place has samosas!” Bonnie said, tugging them through the streets of Bagon. Even amongst Vaugaurde, the area was known for its cooking. The smells of food filled the streets, enough to make even the pickiest child consider trying something new, and the outdoor market was in full swing now that it was warming up again!

It was that perfect time of year where spring made it warm enough to travel, but still cold enough to enjoy some nice, hot food (and oh Change, being medicated again made her hungry!), or at least Mirabelle thought so! It was still too cold for Bonnie and Odile, and Siffrin kept pretty warm with his cloak, but she and Isabeau seemed to like it! 

And speaking of Siffrin, he was staring at where Bonnie had seen samosas on the menu. While they were all getting better at reading Siffrin, sometimes it was still a little difficult. This was one of those times. His head was tilted, an odd look in his eye. Not necessarily upset, but not exactly happy either. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but only a breath came out.

It wasn’t just her that noticed. Isabeau put a gentle hand on their shoulder, not minding that Siffrin jumped before settling into the contact. “You alright, Sif?” 

“Huh?” Siffrin blinked owlishly. “Ah, sorry. Was just remembering something.”

Odile’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Remembering what?”

“Remembering loop stuff…

Loop stuff? From samosas?

Bonnie jolted. “OH RIGHT!!! Crab, sorry Frin! I forgot that’s why I stopped making Samosas! ‘Cause you had ‘em every day in forever school.” 

Oh that’s right! Mirabelle had forgotten that Bonnie made samosas that day, but makes sense Siffrin wouldn’t have…

Bonnie took Siffrin’s hand to start tugging him away. “We can go somewhere else-“

“No.” He said it a bit too seriously, which he must’ve noticed as he smiled and mussed up Bonnie’s hair. “I can’t deny my Bonbon TWO of their three favorite foods!” He looked back to the shop. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they sell more than JUST Samosas. Though they might not be as… as…” They scrunched up their eye, glaring at the sign for a moment. Then their eye widened and they puffed themselves up as they said, “DE~LI~CIOUS as yours would be.”

“Why’d you say it weird?” Bonnie asked.

“I was trying to sound like Isa? It’s, uh… been a while. Since I heard that.” He trailed off again, staring into space…

Odile went over to the door and said, “Would you like to have this talk on a chair with some hot food, or would you rather keep staring through the window like an incompetent stalker?”

“Madame!” Mirabelle squealed. You can’t just?! Say that?!

But say it she did, and everyone else was laughing, even as Siffrin also tried to sink into his cloak like a turtle. 

“Yeah yeah, we should go in. But, um… I need time. To get thoughts together first? And not do this in public?”

“Reasonable enough. Now get in, I’m cold.”

They all filed inside. Only Bonnie ended up ordering the samosas, but none of them entirely missed the way that Siffrin eyed them.

————

They were all back at the nearest inn… which was fairly packed, given that spring was here. Mirabelle wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all, Spring was quite important in the Change religion! A time for new growth, a fresh start, and a reminder that while Change was destruction, it was creation too! A lot of people celebrated by picking up new hobbies, clearing out some space for those hobbies and just tidying in general (Spring Cleaning!), travel, and bonding ceremonies. 

All of this to say, there was only one room available… but Madame Odile was pretty insistent on NOT having only one bed, and somehow they ended up with three. Mirabelle made sure to slip extra tips to the poor staff, that was mortifying! Though the space was nice…

“I call Mira!” Bonnie said, grabbing her hand. She could only yelp in shock as they were both catapulted to the nearest bed, making it thunk against the wall. 

“Can I call Sif?” Isabeau said, chuckling at the not-actually-a-question. Even in the days before they saved Vaugaurde, it was rarer that they didn’t sleep together. 

Siffrin stuck his tongue out and, “Nah. Isa…” they trailed, took a quick breath in, and smirked, “Isa has to sleep on the floor.” They looked over to Odile for a moment, then jumped a few inches when Bonnie laughed instead.

“FINALLY! No more being gross!” Bonnie cheered.

“I was just joking,” Siffrin said.

“BOOOOOO!”

“Yaaaaaay!” Isabeau said, even clapping his hands and looking all sparkle-eyed at Siffrin (how had she missed that they liked each other?!) 

“Heh! Heh…” Siffrin trailed off again.

Oh Change. “Hey, Siffrin? Are you okay?” Mirabelle walked over and… wait, crab, what does she do with her hands now? Um… “Pat Pat!” Head pats, sure! Wait… Oh Change, he actually leaned in that’s??? So??? Cute?!?!

Siffrin smiled, eye shutting, and let out a sigh. “I’m alright, just…” He shuffled his feet, looking down, then up again, staring at the ceiling.

“Is this related to earlier in any way?” Odile asked.

Siffrin looked aside. “… maaaaaybe…” 

“We aren’t doing anything too close to the loops, are we?” Isabeau said. “I’m willing to actually sleep on the floor if-“

“NO! I mean, kinda, but also no? You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Isa. And it’s, um… weird.”

“Yeah, well, you’re weird! And we like you that way,” Bonnie huffed. “So out with it!” They scampered over to the door and held their arms out. “No escape!”

Siffrin blinked dumbly. Once. Twice. “Snrk-“ He plopped down on bed and started laughing. “Oh come on! I’m not that bad at talking…” he looked around the room and added, “…anymore!” 

Odile nodded, “I will concede, you’ve gotten better. But Boniface, stay there.”

“Sorry ‘Za! I’m the Defender now! Ehehe.”

“Oh nooooo!” Isabeau said, dramatically swooning onto the ground in exaggerated defeat. Everyone laughed. Some a little, some a lot, but they all laughed, even Isabeau!

Change, she loved these people.

“So then… Siffrin…” Mirabelle stepped closer with the utmost seriousness. Siffrin trembled before her! “You will…” Pause for dramatic effect, hand on her currently missing sword (she was in pajamas after all)… “Talk about your feelings!!!”

“NOOOOOOO!” Siffrin moaned, collapsing onto the bed and snickering. Though he sighed and rolled to look at all of them. “… but okay. Just… promise you won’t find it weird or wrong?”

“Of course, young one.”

“Sif, we aren’t going to judge you!”

“Never! Never ever!”

“I mean, you are weird, Stupidfrin, but tell! Us!” 

Siffrin squeaked and rolled into a ball like a little hedgehog.

Mirabelle couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh no! We came on too strong!” She sat down in bed next to him.

“Scared like the stray animal he is,” Odile tutted.

Maybe it was a little mean to poke this much fun when he was having problems… but it seemed to relax him, actually? She could say from experience that treating it too seriously was anxiety inducing itself!!! A cornered animal bites! 

Siffrin pushed himself up, shuffling close enough that their knees and elbows bumped together, but not much else. “Thanks guys.” In… out. “I dunno how you guys are so sweet when I’m so weird…”

“Like Boniface said, we already know that. It’s going to take more than a few new quirks to scare us off.” 

Blushing, Siffrin tried to bury into their collar, but he was in night clothes. No cloak! So cute! Everyone was nice enough not to mention it.

They continued, “It’s just…” He looked around as though looking for a distraction, but no one was interrupting. “With the samosas, it, uh… Took me a moment. To remember. What you guys said.”

Odile raised an eyebrow. “And that’s… bad?”

“It shouldn’t be…?” Siffrin squirmed. One of his hands found one of Mirabelle’s. She gave it a little squeeze, and he gave one back. “I mean. I… Let’s talking about something. Stars-!” 

Mirabelle squeezed his hand again. “There’s no rush.”

In… out. In. And out. “Thank you.” One more time. Big breath in… big breath out. “I guess it surprised me more than anything. Which is? Kinda dumb???”

Isabeau tried to cut in, “It’s not-“

But Siffrin kept talking, “I was careful! No wishes! No ‘Hi Isa, I need to do the Favor Tree thing!’ Even though I thought I wis- though I wanted to forget. But I didn’t mean those parts!” He held tighter to her hand, breath quickening. “I wanted to forget the King and the Sadnesses and the Head Housemaiden! Not you guys!”

Everyone tried to act at once, tried to protest, but Mirabelle was closest. She took his face in her hands—ignore the way he jumped, the moment of panic, the memory of a slap—and made him look her in the eyes. “Siffrin. You are NOT forgetting us! We’re right here, okay?” 

Bonnie barreled into him, Isabeau showed a little more restraint and just opened his arms for the group hug, and Odile messed up his hair a bit from the side. 

“Yeah! No way you can forget me!!!” Bonnie shouted.

“I would hug the memory back into you,” Isabeau said. 

Siffrin snorted, relaxing into the group hug. “Thanks guys, heh. Sorry, like I said. It’s a little bit weird, but I guess…” he had to stop to breathe again. “I guess a lot of things. I don’t want to forget more. Some part of me’s scared I’ll somehow forget my scripts and just go entirely mute. And it’s- it’s the only proof I have that it happened, because it didn’t! It didn’t happen to anyone else. Not on the loop that stuck!” His grasp on them tightened. Not painfully so, not when spread out across three people, but it was noticeable. “And it’s kind of not blinding fair! I- I… ‘I’d rather you ask everyone else if they need help, first.’ And I did! And- and THANK YOU SNACK LEADER FOR THIS DELICIOUS MEAL! and Fromage and… and it… How can I help you on this wonderful new loop…”

He let out a bitter laugh. “… it didn’t happen.” 

No one knew what to say. What even could they say? There was a heaviness in the air, an oppressive silence. It felt like if something broke it, everything might shatter…

But Change is destruction, and Mirabelle was a Housemaiden. “It happened to you.”

“But-“

“No, Mirabelle is right,” Odile said. “Even if it didn’t technically happen to anyone else, it happened to you for the equivalent of months. And if I recall correctly, you’ve mentioned before that that was your rock bottom, as it were.”

“I don’t think anyone blames you for feeling cheated, Sif,” Isabeau said. ��Or for missing good memories, or, uh… wishing things went better.”

Siffrin sighed, resting his head on Isabeau’s shoulder. “I just, I just wish- wait! No. I want you guys to remember too. But I know that can’t happen without, um, actually wishing it. And no thank you. I think sharpening my dagger is the most wishcraft I want anymore.”

“Fair and valid,” Isabeau said. 

“Yeah… though I feel like it’d get confusing, having two memories of the same day,” Mirabelle said.

Siffrin gave her the most deadpan look and-

“Oh Change, I guess you technically do have a lot of the same day huh,” Mirabelle said one quiet breath. 

Siffrin chuckled, “Understatement. Though for better or worse, the fact that I, uh, didn’t change much made parts of it less confusing? Like…” He looked around and his eye widened. “Y’know, if you push that bed off the far wall to be more in the middle, it looks like the clock tower…” He trailed into mumbles as he just… apparently decided to do that! Without much issue! Sometimes Mirabelle forgot how strong they were now.

Isabeau, regardless, decided to pick up the other end and help. “Uh. I am going with this because you started it, but why are we doing a thing that seems kinda tailor made to trigger you, Sif?”

“I have, like, half an idea. Working on it,” Siffrin said as he set the bed down.

“Curious as I am, I’m with Isabeau on this one. This seems ill-advised,” Odile said. 

“That took, like, five seconds. We can move it back!” Siffrin huffed, sitting on the newly moved bed. “Besides. They’re way closer.” The room was quite a bit smaller than the clock tower after all, not really meant to shove all five of them in there.

“Oh! Are we making one BIG bed?” Mirabelle said. “Ultimate bed!!!”

“Gross, Frin! I don’t wanna be next to you and Za KISSING!”

“I agree with the preteen,” Odile said. “Veto’d.”

“That’s not-!” Siffrin huffed and pulled his legs in to sulk.

Oh no! “C’mon, we should probably let Siffrin think! And then tell us, um, what he’s thinking,” Mirabelle said.

“Thank you!” Siffrin said, flopping onto his back with an overdramatic huff. There were a few chuckles, but then they let the poor guy think. 

Siffrin took a deep breath. “So… I know I’ve been, uh, a little skittish. With play stuff.” They’d tried to see one once or twice, but he couldn’t step foot into a theatre without looking like he was just… empty. “But maybe I could act it out…?” His voice hoy quieter until it was a near whisper, eye averted…

And she couldn’t blame him. Isabeau and Odile both looked like he’d suggested going to swim with Sadnesses, and Bonnie looked to Odile and tried to mimic it.

“Sif, I don’t think-“

“Don’t be stupid, Frin-“

“Young one, this might not-“

“I THINK IT’S A GREAT IDEA!” Mirabelle shouted… and jumped, surprised at just how loud that came out. And oh Change, all eyes were on her now! But… oh, just pretend they’re in their underwear… hmm, that doesn’t work as well when you’ve had to wash clothes and bathe in rivers and have actually seen that. 

Deep breath, like Siffrin! They’re her friends, and it’s her turn to help. She walks over to Siffrin, sitting beside him and pulling them up enough to take their hands in hers. “I know it might sound a little counter-intuitive, to do something relating to what scares you, or, um, trauma in your case, but sometimes it’s good to? In little ways where you have control!”

She rubbed the backs of his palms with her thumbs. “It’s kind of like reading horror books? Getting to be a little scared, but safely? Or, hmm… no. Not reading… writing fanfiction! All the control is in my hands! I can make it horrible if I want, or can make them live happily ever after, or can have them face my greatest fears in front of an audience and make out over the gorey remains! And yeah, maybe it’s scary, but it’s safe scary? My, um… some of the other Housemaidens who are good at medicine and therapy and stuff recommended it, actually.”

She smiled at Siffrin, putting a hand on his cheek. The rest are probably staring at her, but this is no grand stage. It’s… “It’s us, our family! Not a whole theatre, not Dormont, or a House or anything like that. You’re safe here with us, and you can stop or break the script whenever you want, okay?“

He was looking at her like she was the one who made the seasons change and sun move across the sky. “Okay.”

She stood up and clapped. “Good!” And then dared look around. Everyone was staring!

“So, did you take a class on psychology, then?” Odile asked. 

“Three. One of which was actually theatre related!”

“Crab yeah Mira!” Isabeau pumped his fist for her. 

“You guys are nerds,” Bonnie said.

They couldn’t refute that! 

“Snrk- yeah, we can’t all be as cool as you, Bonbon,” Siffrin said. “So… if we’re good, do I just, like, do it…? I mean, the scene setting is already here.”

“What, by yourself?” Odile said.

“I’m not writing you a script and having you do it. If I see you guys say and do those things again, it might actually give me a panic attack,” Siffrin said. He stood up on the bed. “Sorry guys! One man show!”

“One! Man! Show!!!” Bonnie cheered. “Should I make popcorn?”

“I mean, yes, always,” Isabeau said. “But how long should this take?”

“Not long. Two minutes or so? Provided you don’t combust, Isa~”

“Wait, why would I combust???” Isabeau was already blushing some, holding his hands up defensively.

“EW! I don’t wanna hear you pretend to be Za being mushy! We get enough of that!” 

Siffrin smirked. “Okay, but, then you can laugh at me being Isa being mushy. And you’re in this scene too!”

Bonnie’s eyes went wide, mouth open in childish awe. “Am I yelling at you?”

“Mmmmmmaybe~” Pause. “Yes.”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Oh I’m going to have to give the neighbors something to make up for this,” Mirabelle whispered to herself. It wasn’t too late though, so hopefully they weren’t in, or at least weren’t trying to sleep.

“Dile! Get the tea heater!” They pulled out a small pan and lid from their bag. “I’m making POPCORN!” 

“Guess we’ve got a few minutes before the show. Everyone take your seats~”

“There is only one chair, and I claim it,” Odile said. 

“Overbooked! A tragedy!” Isabeau said with an exaggerated gasp and hand over his heart. 

Mirabelle, meanwhile, felt some of her theatre classes coming back. Just the rehearsals though! There was a play, but she panicked so hard that poor Junette had to just throw on the bonnet she was supposed to wear and, well, improving that that mother requesting help was the secretly the villain in disguise was sheer genius, actually! 

Wait… “Oh!” She pulled an extra bow from her bag and gave it to Siffrin. “Here! To play me! Um, assuming I’m here?” 

“You were!”

“Hmm, probably better than you attempting to do accents. Because, young one, if I didn’t know you, I’d think your attempt at mimicking me was offensive on purpose,” Odile said, smirking at Siffrin.

“Sorry Madame.”

“Here,” she passed him those weird, opaque glasses that they’d… wait… when did she get those??? 

“What about you, Bonbon. Should I steal your hat~?” Siffrin teased, inching to where it was piled atop their things.

“No. Borrow a spatula.” 

“Bon yes bon!” They pulled a spatula. Brilliant!

“Wait! What can I give you…?” Isabeau said, making a sad puppy dog face. And that was fair! Siffrin’s ears weren’t pierced, and putting earrings on and off would be a chore anyways. And Isabeau’s gloves were just too big for Siffrin’s hands!

It apparently stumped everyone as they just stared… 

Until Bonnie said, “Make your hair stand up like a bird’s.”

That alone got a chuckle out of some of them, and it turned to outright laughs when Isabeau fake cried, “So MEAN! I’m not a bird. I’m buff!”

“The buffest of birds,” Siffrin said, pressing again Isa and standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

Bonnie threw some corn at them. 

“Worth it!” Isabeau chirped.

The popcorn was ready shortly afterwards, salted and put in a little bowl in front of everyone. Siffrin was on the bed, stage right. He spit in his hand to spike up his hair, like a bird!

“Sif…” Siffrin deepened his voice, prompting snorts from all of them at his attempt to sound like Isabeau. “Hey… hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni.” 

Siffrin then scooted over and tamped his hair down just to look behind him then quickly scoot back and fluff his hair again. If the ridiculousness of such an act weren’t silly enough, it was clear he was aware of this, trying not to laugh. 

He took a deep breath and got back “in character,” looking at the empty space in front of him with the biggest, puppiest eye he could muster. “Um… Sorry? To wake you? I just have to tell you something. If that’s okay?”

“Oh crab, I didn’t!!!” Isabeau groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes. 

“In front of my Belle?!” Bonnie said, gesturing to Mirabelle like she was an art piece.

Siffrin once more played “himself” and nodded before doing his silly little scoot back to being Isabeau. “Okay, okay, okay. Then I shall tell you the thing! The thing I woke you up to tell you!”

“Siiiiiif I take it back let’s end this!” Isabeau groaned. 

“Quiet, I’m watching the show,” Pdile said, taking a handful of popcorn.

Bonnie seemed considerably more interested in laughing at Isabeau, but Siffrin didn’t seem to mind.

Siffrin continued, unmoved by the begging. “Haha! Um. So.”

“The thing I have to tell you. Is. That…” Siffrin looked off to the side, a snort escaping as he caught Isabeau’s clearly shaded face. Still, he delivered his line. “I don’t have anything to tell you right now. But I will, when, uh, we beat the King, okay?”

“Oh Change and I said this every night, didn’t I? Aaaaargh that must’ve gotten so crabbing annoying!” Isabeau moaned. 

“Now you know how I feel!” Bonnie said.

Siffrin was back in his place, but… “Uh… hmm. Breaking character of, uh… myself? A sec? Eventually I just got quiet but that’s more sad than funny, so we’re doing the funny one. Okay back to it!” He cleared his throat. “That is still SO ominous, Isa.”

Back to Isa and oh Change he actually did a really good impression of Isabeau’s flustered face! “I, uh, just don’t wanna tell you right now when it might distract you! Wouldn’t want that! So, uh, I’ll tell you when we beat the, um, King, okay?”

Siffrin looked at them, opened his mouth to say something, then it split into a head manic grin as an idea hit. Oh Change here we go. 

Siffrin bolted up, snapped, grabbed the spatula and a pillow, threw it, dropped the spatula, and lunged for the bed so it hit him in the face. 

“SIF?!”

“Pfffft, hahaha!”

“PILLOW! THROW!”

“Hahahaha! Oh noooooo!” 

They had to take a short intermission from everyone laughing too hard. Once, even twice it almost ended, but someone snickered and started it again! But third time’s the charm.

Siffrin picked the dropped spatula back up, “I’ll wash this after,” and then got on the middle bed and pointed accusingly at the empty bed, “SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!” 

“HEY I DON’T SOUND LIKE THAT!” Bonnie huffed.

“Oh he’s trying,” Mira said. Though truthfully, the squeaky voice Siffrin had chosen was awful.

“You hit me with a pillow?!” Isabeau said.

“I would’ve used a book,” Odile said.

Siffrin hit the bed and set the bow on his hair. “YEAH ISABEAU! SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP! CLOSE YOUR MOUTH AND SLEEP!”

“PFFFT, Belle sounds like a mouse!” Bonnie said. “Belle’s on my side Belle’s on my side!”

Then Siffrin rushed over to stage right once more, slicking hair in the midst of a fit of giggles. “CLOSE YOUR MOUTH HOUSEMAIDEN! YOU’RE GONNA WAKE UP M’DAME ODILE!”

“How could I have slept through this?” Odile said. 

Siffrin went to the far bed, stifling giggles behind his hand before putting on the dark glasses and somehow managing to be utterly serious as he said, “I’m already up.” He didn’t bother with a voice, but got the tone scarily serious. 

“Oh, so I didn’t,” Odile remarked.

“And if the noise continues, I will stand up. You do not want to know what will happen if I stand up.”

Aaaand right back to the energy. He looked exaggeratedly spooked as he picked up the spatula and dove under the covers. “Sorry.” Then tried to roll over, presumably to be Mirabelle, and-

THUMP! “NYA!”

“Did you-?”

“Did he-?”

“Did Sif-?”

“Did they-?”

“Stars- YES I JUST SAID NYA!” Tangled in the sheets, Siffrin had hit the floor, and now was hiding in the covers, wiggling futilely for a few seconds before giving up. “… for the record. That did not happen. Uh… crew? A little help? Rather not cut these.”

Mirabelle giggled as she got up, helping get the sheets off without having to resort the scissors craft. 

Siffrin brushed the dust off of him, held the bow up, and gave a quick little, “Sorry.”

Then went back to be Isabeau. “Sorry m’dame…” He looked appropriately abashed, but the look turned into one of a familiar, adoring smile. “Good night, Sif!” 

“Aaaaaand scene!” Siffrin said, standing back up and giving a little bow.

They all clapped for him, even if Bonnie was breathless from laughing and Isabeau was still dark-cheeked. 

“Good job, Siffrin!” Mirabelle said, going over and playfully spinning him… and forgetting their current lack of space, squawking as they both tumbled onto a bed, laughing and breathless.

Isabeau must’ve gotten jealous as he scooped Siffrin into his arms and started kissing his cheek! “Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!”

“GROOOOOOSSSS!” Bonnie whined.

Siffrin was laughing so much that both he and Isa had to sit down a minute, but eventually Siffrin got back up to put the bed back, then munch on some popcorn. “Mmmmm, good as always, Bonbon~” They mussed up Bonnie’s hair with a smile as more salty snacks disappeared into their mouth. 

“I AM the best chef cooker after all!” Bonnie said, little chest puffed out.

“You are!” Siffrin said. He went a bit quiet for a moment before saying, “Speaking of that, we’re near a market anyways… wanna try making those fritters again? Maybe with a few spicy peppers?”

“YEAH!!!”

“We might wanna grab something for the neighbors too, if only to apologize…” Mirabelle said. 

“And we haven’t been kicked out yet, so to bribe the inkeepers as well,” Odile said.

“MADAME!”

They went into another bout of giggles and finished up the popcorn before going to brush teeth and settle in…

And in the dark and quiet, as she was starting to drift off to sleep, she could hear Isabeau say, “And hey Sif, just gonna tell it this time… I love you!”

“I love you too!”

Mwah!

And that night, everyone slept well.

-----

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[badboydevotee]

With You, I Am Found

Summary: Broken by his past and wary of new connections, he struggles to find his place in a world that sees him as a monster. But one person’s unwavering presence begins to unravel his defenses, showing him that healing, trust, and even love are possible—even in the darkest of times.

Lyca stood at the edge of the Darkwick Academy’s courtyard, his golden eyes tracing the outlines of the trees, his breath misting in the cool night air. The moon was high, its light pale and distant, casting shadows that seemed to stretch just a little too long. He had always felt an unnatural pull toward the moon, an ache deep within his bones that gnawed at him the moment the first sliver of moonlight touched his skin. Tonight, it felt like it was calling him home.

Home. A strange word for someone like Lyca, where he once found solace in the presence of Neros, the human who had saved him as a child, the one person who had ever made him feel like he belonged. Home. Where he had been torn from everything familiar, locked away in the cold, unfeeling walls of Ultio for so long.

His hand instinctively reached up to touch the golden helix piercing in his ear, the one reminder he had of Neros, the only part of his past that had not been lost to the darkness.

It had been months since his release from Ultio. Months since he had been forced to integrate into human society, to fit in, to change. And yet, the more he tried to adapt, the more difficult it became. Humans were a mystery to him; their social norms and expectations were foreign and confusing. And while Lyca had always been determined to prove he could live among them, there was one thing he hadn't expected: the loneliness. The gnawing emptiness that came with being around others but never truly fitting in.

He hated it.

Lyca looked down at the soft glow of the streetlights lining the courtyard, his wolf ears flicking back as if trying to block out the noise of his thoughts. He was just a monster in their eyes, a creature to be feared. That’s what they said when they thought he wasn’t listening. That’s what they whispered behind his back.

“You’re a freak, Lyca.”

“Did you hear? He’s a murderer.”

“The prison didn’t change him, did it? He’s still dangerous.”

"Ha! Does that mutt really think he can be human?"

Lyca clenched his fists, the claws in his palms biting into his skin. It was harder to ignore the whispers now, harder to block out the judgments. And what hurt most was that they were right. In their eyes, he was a monster. He couldn’t change that, no matter how hard he tried.

But there was one person who didn’t look at him that way. One person who, despite everything, still saw something in him worth caring for. You.

The first time Lyca met you, he was wary. He was always wary, never one to trust easily. But you, you were different. There was a softness about you, a kindness in your eyes that drew him in like a moth to a flame. You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t make him explain things he wasn’t ready to say, and you didn’t treat him like the monster everyone else did.

Lyca didn’t know exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the first time you spoke to him—calm, gentle, but with an unwavering determination that made his chest ache. Or maybe it was the way you never recoiled at the sight of his wolf ears or the subtle way his tail twitched when he was frustrated. No matter the reason, something inside him had shifted. Slowly, you began to peel away the layers of distrust he had wrapped himself in for years, and in doing so, you brought out the side of him he thought had long died: the part that believed in the possibility of connection, in the warmth of shared moments.

You just... were there. For him.

In moments like this, when the weight of the world threatened to crush him under its pressure, he found himself looking for you, even when he wasn’t sure how to put his feelings into words. Even when the fear of rejection still tugged at him.

Lyca’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, and he let out a long breath, his voice barely a whisper in the night. “I’m not scared anymore…”

The words were meant for him, meant to remind himself that he wasn’t the broken creature he once thought he was. That he could still find light, even in the darkest corners of his mind.

That was the thing you did to him—you made him believe again.

It was late when you found Lyca standing in the courtyard, his back to the wall, gazing up at the sky. You had been worried when you hadn't seen him in class all day, knowing how easily he could slip into his isolation when he felt overwhelmed.

“Lyca?” You called softly, your voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.

He turned toward you slowly, and for a brief moment, there was something in his gaze that made your heart tighten—a flicker of vulnerability that he usually kept hidden behind his sharp edges.

“You’re out here again,” you said, taking a step closer. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes drifting away from you to the horizon as if searching for something that wasn’t there. You could see it in his face—the exhaustion, the struggle, the weight of all the things he had been through. He had come so far since arriving at Darkwick, but there were still days when the past clung to him like a shadow, suffocating him.

“I don’t belong here,” he muttered, his voice thick with something unspoken. “No matter how much I try to fit in, I’m always going to be different.”

You stopped in front of him, not bothering with small talk, not needing to say anything elaborate. Instead, you simply reached out and placed your hand on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“You’re not a monster, Lyca," you said softly, looking up at him with a tenderness that made his chest tighten. “You’ve been through things no one should have to go through, and you’ve survived. That’s not something a monster does.”

He flinched, but you didn’t pull away. You waited, patient as always.

Lyca finally looked down at you, his golden eyes searching your face as though looking for any sign that you were lying. But all he found was sincerity. The kind of sincerity he hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you seemed to fade away, and for the first time in a long time, Lyca didn’t feel the weight of the moon on his shoulders; he didn’t feel the burn of the darkness in his chest.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the words like a promise.

You smiled softly, your hand gently squeezing his arm. “I know. You don’t have to be.”

Lyca’s heart raced, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of something else—something softer, something warmer. He felt it settle in his chest, a spark of hope flickering in the darkness. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself believe it.

With you by his side, maybe he could find a way to heal. To trust again. To love again.

Even when the world around him seemed full of shadows, even when the moon shone cold and distant, he knew one thing for certain.

With you, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Thank you @iris564 for proofreading as always :3 <3

Ao3 vers.

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[hanibalistic]

THE HAPPIEST | HAN JISUNG.

genre | fluff, angst, romance / soulmate au, strangers to lovers au

synopsis | when you found out jisung was your soulmate, you made the difficult decision to lie to him about it.   

word count | 19.2k+

warning | none

note | i've been really into sprite lately!

It took you a moment to register Jisung's face and another moment to process what he had just uttered out of his mouth.

"Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

The line that the universe had etched under your forearm, the words that your soulmate would say to you for the very first time, the very words you had carved so deep into your head because you wanted to make sure you would recognize them whenever and wherever they were spoken.

The night your soul mark appeared was the day you promised yourself that you would vengefully kick your soulmate's ass. Except you didn’t end up kicking anyone in their behind. 

For one, you were in the school cafeteria, and you were not beyond following the rules and regulations enforced by the system. If a revolution was to happen, you should be the last person anybody calls for aid. 

For two, you weren't actually very strong, so you doubted your vengeance could be adequately expressed. Unfortunately, issues regarding grudges should always be dealt with a 'go big or go home' mindset, and you should go home.

For three, the boy who said it to you, your supposed soulmate, was Han Jisung.

You had gone as far as to turn around to make sure no one else was sitting anywhere within a five-centimeter radius of you. It was a plausible mistake. Putting one soul mark on two people? It shouldn't be a mistake. Not many people start their conversation with, "Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

"This can't be," you muttered grimly when you realized your thoughts were illogical. You were alone in the cafeteria. 

You always sat alone in the corner with a homemade sandwich, a carton of apple juice, and a store-bought pudding on the food tray. It wasn't pitiful.

You enjoy eating alone; you do it at home, and you do it at restaurants. The only reason it felt awkward at school was the lack of entertainment from a small screen, forcing you to focus only on chewing and looking thoughtful.

Perhaps that was the reason why Jisung thought you were approachable. You weren’t occupied enough. Some students were reading books, others were cramming their next tests, and most of them were in a circle chatting with their friends. You were the only person who was just eating.

That wasn't the current issue, though. You sat alone, which meant he was talking to you, given that direct eye contact wasn't proof enough that he was. 

Han Jisung, who is multi-talented, not too academically excellent, not really athletic but light enough to be fast, has a wide smile, a voice so soulful, and a heart so pure, is undoubtedly your soulmate.

You weren't sure how you felt about that. You weren't sure how you felt about him.

A mixture of emotions and thoughts flashed before your eyes the moment you turned your head to face him. It was almost like a defense mechanism; you didn't want to see him, so your brain conjured thoughts to cover your eyes.

The way he smirked at you made your cheeks heat up more than you wanted them to. What was there not to like about him? He was handsome, hilarious, and, from what you've heard, had a very tender heart. 

For a moment, you felt a congratulatory spark, a sense of pride that your soulmate was someone so brilliant.

Immediately after, you thought about yourself. Dull, indecisive, and lost. 

You wanted to do so many things at once that you ended up never doing anything, let alone anything groundbreaking.

You were the type of people stuck in a cubicle box when you grew up or stuck riding the same train home every day. You were the type of person who would definitely be able to go somewhere in the future, just nowhere exciting.

Soulmates were supposed to be compatible and similar. Brilliant people stick with brilliant people; intelligent people talk to other smart people; attractive people group with attractive people. They look good with each other, and they elevate each other to be better than before. 

You weren't necessarily self-deprecating, but you were realistic about the situation. You simply weren't the type to pretend to be someone you weren't, and a person like Jisung was someone you could never be.

You sighed. You did know how you felt about him and his identity as your soulmate: you didn't appreciate it. You were happy to know that he was your soulmate, but you decided to keep that to yourself for both of your sake. Jisung doesn't have to know about that.

The story of the swan and the hermit, except you were the knowing frog, and he was the unsuspecting swan. This time, the frog wasn't greedy. This time, the frog lets the swan flourish elsewhere.

It would be unfair to Jisung that he has to grow old without ever finding out who his soulmate was. But at least he knew he had one and could keep the benefit of the doubt that his soulmate was doing amazing things elsewhere in the world.

Not the gloomy and doomy [Name] who sits alone in the cafeteria daily and decides other people's fate for them.

Jisung tilted his head to the side upon your lack of reaction. He saw you mouth something but couldn't hear you over the cafeteria noise. He leaned in a little closer, his eyes squinted. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

You inwardly breathed out a sigh of relief. That made it easier to keep your status a secret. Maintaining a flat expression, you spoke a little bit louder this time and made sure you put some grit into your words to scare him off. “I said why the fuck did you ask me that?”

His expression did not dim one bit upon your harsh words. Instead, his smile widened, and he sat on the seat across you. He raised his brows when he noticed you flinching at the chair squeak. Pulling himself closer to the table, he lifted the chair and placed it down lightly. 

Folding his arms over the table, he finally replied, "Jiae dared me to say something funny to you. She said you would curse at me, and guess what? She was right!"

You stared at him pitifully. The pity was genuine and not an act to push him away. “You are playing truth or dare? In a school cafeteria?”

"Hey! You're never too old to play those games!" he said defensively, his mouth forming a slight pout as he waved his arm lightly by his side.

He looked adorable. You knew that. He had always been charming, but you never took the time to look at his face and appreciate his wonderfully cohesive features.

His chubby cheeks and sun-kissed smile were attractive individually, and they didn't ruin each other together. You wished you were less influenced by them.

"You can be too old to learn to read the room and notice that some people just don't want to talk to you," you laughed, making sure the noise from the back of your throat sounded sarcastic enough. "But don't worry, you're still young! You can learn now, starting with me!"

Jisung's eyes dimmed, and his grin fell flat. You could visibly see his gears turning and his demeanor changing when he realized you were being hostile on purpose. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in mild dismay as he leaned back. 

He has met people like you before. If anything, he has encountered people far worse than you. It wasn't that you acted so distantly that you made him click his tongue and drop his bubbly personality, but that you were a close friend of Jiae. The chirpy and sweet Jiae who sat with his circle of friends every day. 

He was never one to judge. He believes in the phrase: everyone is going through something you don't know about, and he had always chosen to keep the negative thoughts to himself. However, when Jiae mentioned you used to be her best friend back in middle school, he thought you would be brighter.

His expectation of you was so much higher than bitter and mean.

“That’s not nice,” he said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

You were pleasantly surprised that he bit back but also not too weirded out that he did. After all, people like him were the most likely to defend themselves. 

Tilting your head, you shrugged. 

"A lot of people in this school didn't do anything to anyone, yet people like you–“ You closed your mouth and exhaled quietly, staring at his clueless expression without the willpower to make accusations. You couldn't possibly blame all cases of bullying on him; he's probably never hurt anyone in this school. Neither should you fight fire with fire.

“Never mind,” you said. “You need to learn how to let people be a little mean to you. You can’t expect everyone to defend themselves without ever getting hurt yourself.”

Jisung rubbed his lips together and sulked. You were right. Besides, he was the one who initiated an unwanted conversation. Discreetly, he looked behind his shoulder at his table of friends before turning back to you, ignoring the expression of complete boredom you were showing him.

“Actually,” he started, his voice soft and his shoulders shrunk. “I have a favor to ask."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"You know prom is coming up, right?”

"No, Jisung. Thank you so much for telling me," you mumbled, sipping your apple juice. "I never see all the informational flyers they put up over the school to let us know what theme this year's prom will be."

Jisung sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to smile through your sardonic remark. "Anyway, I wanted to ask Jiae to prom, but I…" His voice trailed off when you held up your hand to stop him.

He waited curiously as you turned your head to the side to finish your drink, crushing the carton in your hand and throwing it back onto the trade. Your pursed lips brushed against each other as you held back a burp. Well, you'll be damned! The universe was helping you ensure Jisung never ended up with you!

"Let me guess," you said, looking away solemnly as if staring off into the ocean, and then you turned back to him.

"You want me to help you ask her to prom because you don't know what to do and what she likes. However, since she claims I am her best friend, you think I would be a good candidate for your prom proposal project."

“Yes!”  Jisung replied after a moment. “Was that predictable?"

"Yes. When ten out of ten people who approach you ask for a favor, you learn many people don't have any real issues to deal with because they'd have to take it up with a professional if it is serious, so don't blame yourself too much." You shrugged." Also, the answer is no. I can't help you.”

"You can't help me or you won't help me?" Jisung asked.

“I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Why?” 

"Oh my god, it's like you lack any thought process." You chuckled in disbelief, but some of you found humor in this situation, where his logic had flown out the window. 

"Jiae is not the same person she was in middle school. I don't know what she likes now. You have better chances asking people in your friend group for help than asking me," you said.

"I don't know which screw got lost in your head, but it is fascinating that you'd rather turn to a stranger for help before asking your friends."

His lips quirked downward. “How would you know I haven’t already asked my friends?”

“Because you wouldn’t be asking me if you did,” you said, the lightheartedness in your voice made into a tone of mockery. “People like you love those things. Embarrassing public proposals, taking pictures of regular food, talking so loud people can hear your business from five yards away. Whatever.”

Jisung gulped down a grumble in his throat. More than being defensive about the stereotypes you seemed so fixated on, he was disturbed that you tossed him and his friends into the group of people like that. 

There was nothing wrong with being that way, of course. Some people enjoy attention, and some people love to gossip, but he wasn't so illiterate as to not understand what group of people you were referencing and how you felt about them. He didn't think he was part of that group. 

Popular? Yes. Superficial? A little! Horrible? No.

The drop in his optimism was hard to miss. However, even though you felt terrible, you thought it was necessary if you wanted him to keep a distance from you permanently. The soul mark under your arm can never be revealed, and you didn’t feel like deliberately hiding it for the rest of your life. 

Having him be as far removed from your life as possible, to not even have any mutual acquaintances, was the way to go.

"For what's worth, Jisung, I think you'll be fine." You stood up, one hand holding onto the food tray as you left your seat. As you brushed past him, you lightly bumped the tray against the top of his head. This was your farewell. "Good luck to you."

His eyes followed your back. He watched you empty your tray and return it by the kitchen window. You jogged towards the stairway and disappeared upstairs.

It has bothered him since the conversation started, but he felt an unexplainable attraction toward you. It wasn't necessarily romantic attraction; you weren't his type, or at least he didn't think so.

He merely felt a desire to get to know you more, even though you spent most of your first encounter talking down to him. 

Turning around, he stared at the vacant seat across him. His hand subconsciously reached for his hair and he pressed on the spot where you hit him with the tray. 

You were certain Jisung had no knowledge of your soul bound with him. Yet, somehow, he has been bugging you any chance he got.

He was there during lunch when you ate alone and recess when you sat in your classroom with your head buried deep in your arms. He was also there during joint PE classes when you sat on the sideline watching other students play a foul basketball game. 

You have underestimated his stubbornness in befriending you, which source was muddy and confusing. At this point, you were convinced that no number of one-word answers and defeated sighs would deter him from trying to talk to you.

He has singlehandedly developed your instinct to examine a room as you walk into it, forcing you to follow a new routine to avoid him. 

You started eating lunch at the rooftop, where you met Felix, a transfer student who hadn't yet found his way around the school. After hearing your endeavor to avoid Jisung, which he thought was hilarious, he also agreed to hide with you by the stairway during each fifteen-minute recess. 

With Felix’s help, you have successfully avoided Jisung most of the time. 

Flipping a page of the textbook you borrowed from the library, you calmly scribbled down some important notes you jotted in class as you tried to cultivate a concept sensible enough to understand the topic. 

“I swear these books say something different from what my teacher taught,” Felix complained as he dropped his forehead to the page. He swung his head from left to right as if copying the material into his brain. “I don’t get it! I don’t get it!”

You grimaced and dropped your pencil. Lifting your head from your palm, you reached over and carefully pulled the textbook from his head. His face fell against the table with a thud loud enough to embarrass himself. You let him stay in that position, swallowing the attention of those who looked up from the noise.

"Your class is moving ahead fast," you said, running a finger down the lines in your notebook to check for accuracy. "Did you write any notes from class?"

“No.” He turned slowly with a tearful frown. “The teacher talks too fast. I couldn’t really understand him.”

"That's," you licked your lower lip, "I can't help you now, but I made some notes while preparing for the chapter. You can use them to see if they help."

He shot up, forcing his chair into a squeak. Your sharp gaze peered over at his face, and he pursed his lips bashfully, trying to hide his presence by shrinking his body. Discarding the second noise commotion, you went into your folder in search of what Felix needed. Once you found it, you put it on the table to check for anything illegible.

A black-colored schoolbag suddenly dumped itself next to you, startling you and Felix. Your pencil scrapped a big line across the paper as you leaned away with a breath hitched in your throat. 

Felix eyed the newcomer with an awkward smile, his body already turning away to his belongings so he could pack up. He has heard enough of Jisung from you to know he didn't want to sit around your bickering. Confused by his reaction, you turned to look briefly and then immediately turned away, closing your eyes and sucking down a lump of frustration upon the familiar sight of a squirrel keychain.

"You again," you mumbled as you grabbed your eraser from your pencil case to clean up the mess you made on your notes.

“Yes, indeed.” Jisung plopped down on the chair next to you. “It is I.”

A triumphant smile was evident on his face, both from finding you amongst all the other places near the school and from being able to annoy the living daylight out of you. It was never his intention to do the latter, but he took any reaction he could get out of you as an achievement worthy of celebrating. 

“I see you’ve got a friend,” he said.

“I’m actually leaving,” Felix announced with a wave. When you snapped your head to glare at him for being disloyal, he only gently waved his hands before your face, leaning in but never quite touching you. Soft nothings flew out of his lips, but they were definitely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, I promise.”

He left in the blink of an eye, almost quicker than when he realized curry buns were in the cafeteria. Picking up your jaw, your lips pursed together into a dissatisfied grimace as you faced the table again. Despite the rush, he didn't forget to take your notes with him, that coward! 

“Who was that?”

“Lee Felix,” you replied. “He just transferred here.”

“Oh, no wonder! I’ve never seen him before!”

That was partly your fault. You asked him to hide away with you during all the social hours.

"Are you two friends?" Jisung asked. "Or did your homeroom teacher make you his guide?"

“He’s not in my class,” you said. 

“So…” he fiddled with his thumbs, “you two are friends.”

“Sure.”

You deliberately turned away from him so you wouldn't catch his pitiful gaze. Something about the way his eyes were wide and round was different. His was like a deer, but not a deer in headlights. His eyes were pouty, pathetic, and sad. A foul-proof weapon to get whatever he wants. You have some resolve against that because you were on a mission to stay away from him, but you were not entirely immune to it. 

You understood why he could feel unfairly treated knowing Felix became your friend while you never let your guard down around him, but that wasn’t for him to analyze. 

"Jisung, why are you doing this?" you asked without looking at him. "I already told you I can't help you with the prom proposal."

"I'm not here for the prom proposal," he clarified. "I just wanted to be friends with you."

You pursed your lips together and nodded. That would make your plan backfire. With someone as playful and touchy as him, who knew when he'd want to play around with your sleeves, and then bam! One careless mistake could send the secret flying out to the public, and people would whisper about you, the incompatible and underserving soulmate.

“I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“Why?” he asked. 

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

He shrugged. “I just want to.”

“Apply that to your question,” you said. “I just don’t want to be your friend.”

“That’s different!” he exclaimed quietly. “I don’t understand. You became friends with Felix!”

"What do you want me to do, Jisung?" You dropped your pencil and glared at him. "You find me at the most inconvenient time. You ramble on and on about your problems. I don't have the energy for someone like you! You're–" You clamped your mouth shut as Jisung leaned back against his chair. He tore his eyes away from you for the first time. "I'm just–I'm sorry. I'm drained."

Jisung didn't speak, and your heart dropped in the rare silence. Assuming that he had finally given up, you exhaled and began to collect your belongings. You stuffed your stationaries inside your pencil case and closed up the books, shoving them inside your school bag.

"Wait, where are you going?" Jisung asked after noticing your hasty movement.

"Home," you replied, zipping up your schoolbag and flinging it across your shoulder.

"Wait. Hold on, wait for me," he hissed as he grabbed his schoolbag quickly and followed you into the aisles, his eyes never leaving your figure.

Standing between the narrow space, Jisung trailed closely behind, trying to find an opportunity to speak up. At the same time, your legs moved quickly from one aisle to another, finding the borrowed textbook's original place. When you finally slipped the book in between the perfect gap with other identical textbooks, you turned and bolted out of the library. He watched you, exhaled, and picked up his pace.

“Look, I get it, you're tired. You really don't have to apologize for it,” he said once you were outside. 

"I don't have time to satisfy your savior complex, Jisung," you said. "There are plenty of students like me. Go find someone else."

“You’re literally just saying things now,” he said. “I just want to chat with you.”

“We don’t have anything in common,” you muttered.

“You don’t know that!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

"I'm not a masochist like you, that's for sure," you said as you gripped the strap of your bag. Briefly looking at him, you pulled a face almost condescendingly. "I would never chase after someone who treats me like I treat you."

Jisung stopped following you then. You stalked away, moving further and further away from him. His fingers dangled, barely brushing past each other, and then he rubbed them together until his hand turned into a fist. The corner of his lips twitched, but instead of wallowing in helplessness, he felt wronged and frustrated. 

You were clearly capable of socializing; you could chat with others and go to places with your friends. What was so wrong about him that made you so hostile? Did you truly believe in your words that day at the cafeteria, where you indirectly called him superficial and embarrassing? Was the only difference between him and Felix the bridge of popularity? 

If so, then you were undoubtedly worse than him.

 “You’re the superficial one!” 

You froze with your shoulders hunched up, and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you turned around and found him stomping toward you, his hair bouncing with every animated step. Leaning back to avoid him crashing into you, you frowned at his accusing finger and even more aggressive ramble. 

"You know nothing about me, and I have done nothing to you! You generalized a group of people you hate and applied that judgment to my friends and me based on less than five commonalities," he snapped. 

"I admit I also did that to you. I thought you were mean and crass, but I changed my mind when I found out you had been hanging out with Felix while avoiding me every chance. You never tried to see where I am coming from or who I am as a person, removed from your assumptions! That makes you worse than me! That makes you a horrible person!"

He didn't know he had it in him to string together so many sentences verbally without stuttering once, especially when speaking from his mind without letting the words load. Before he knew it, his hand flew to cover his mouth, suppressing the urge to throw up apologies. 

You didn't think he had it to tell the hard truth, so his rant was a pleasant surprise. You weren't the least bit offended. If you didn't want to be accused, then you wouldn't have acted the way you did, and your willingness to own up to your horrible personality always made you feel superior to others. However, turning a new leaf was a whole different step to take.

“You knew I was avoiding you?” you asked calmly.

His hand slowly dropped from his mouth, and he nodded. He looked almost grief-stricken, and you supposed he would be. He has probably never been treated this way.

“Do you really think we can be good friends?” 

Jisung looked up curiously. "Why won’t we be?"

“I don’t fit in with your group of friends,” you said. 

He ruffled his hair, his eyes squinted in disbelief. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters to me. People like you don’t have to worry about that because everyone likes you,” you grumbled, a sense of unfairness sparking deep within you. "You've never been the kid who gets pushed over in the cafeteria or the girl who got bet on, so you can shove that."

It was your turn to call him out. You were right. He was never the public plaything, the cafeteria humiliation, nor did he ever attempt to stop those weekly events from happening. Asking you to ignore everything when he was sitting comfortably on top of the social hierarchy was inconsiderate.

"Who did those to you?" he asked instead, choosing to carefully approach you, to take baby steps towards the gate of your heart.

"That's funny. I swear you were in the cafeteria when it happened, too." Your shoulders slacked visibly as you spun on your heels, an eye roll tailing after. "Pretentious."

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to anyone.” He followed you. “I care. I really do!”

“Gee! How noble of you!” you mocked. "You care now because you need my help with the prom proposal. I don’t need that kind of pity.”

Jisung let out a groan of frustration, one that was loud enough to make you halt to a stop again. It felt more aggressive than the rant just a moment ago. 

"I'm only going to say this one last time. I am not talking to you because I need your help," he exclaimed. His hands were deep in his hair, borderline pulling them from his scalp, and he was sure it would be less painful than this conversation. 

Letting his hair go, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply enough to calm himself. "You intrigued me. I don't know how or why, but you did, so now I want to be your friend. That's it."

It was the truth. You never once doubted that he genuinely wanted to start a friendship with you. The problem was you. You were so afraid of being found that you would rather stab him over and over again than accept him, even though you didn't hate him at all.

You gulped hard, giving yourself some time to think. "There is no point in us being friends when you have closer friends to hang out with."

He shook his head with a disagreeing frown. “I have friends outside of the group I always hang with. Just because we are not as close doesn't mean I don’t still value their friendship.”

A fleeting friendship. He would still hang out with you, but most of the time, he would be around his existing friends, which would eat away the time he could spend with you. You would never ask him to choose you over his friend group, and you didn't feel like wasting your time maintaining a distant friendship if you could just pretend he was never in your life. 

That way, you never have to worry about each other. That way, things would be the way they were supposed to be. You were used to that. 

“Agree to disagree,” you said. “I’d rather commit to a few people full than have to spare minor commitments to several others. I’m not willing to spend that kind of effort for someone who is just a friend.”

You waited for his response. He heard you, loud and clear. Through the silence, he could finally look at you for the first time. He took everything you said into consideration, his eyes boring holes into your features and sending shivers down your spine with their intensity. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He poked at it impatiently, his nail clanking against the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked in defeat.

“Here," Jisung replied as he showed you his phone. The screen showed his calendar, where he marked all the upcoming events and important dates. Birthdays, hangouts, tests, and extracurricular activities. “I am really good at managing my time. I promise I will make time for you. I will make space for our friendship to flourish.”

Your eyes moved between his phone and his face. A noticeable heat brewed under your uniform, and it tried its mightiest to stretch the nerve around your lips into a smirk. You didn't want to feel optimistic about this, so you focused on the fingerprints on his screen and slowly smacked your tongue against your top front teeth. 

It just occurred to you that he has continuously made accommodations for you. You wouldn’t initiate conversations, so he did. You wouldn’t find him during free time, so he did. You didn’t like to talk too much, so he filled the space. You didn’t like fleeting friendships, so he made space. 

All of that for what? To be friends with someone like you?

"I'm sorry," you muttered after a sigh, touching your forearm and avoiding eye contact with him. “You’re going to regret being my friend.”

"That's not up to you to decide," Jisung said. 

You couldn't deal with the risk of letting him know, and you didn't have the energy to hide your mark constantly. But even more than that, your weak heart couldn't handle seeing Jisung look as defeated and sulky as he did whenever you treated him less than decent.

Jisung was your soulmate, after all. As pessimistic of a person as you were, you care about and like him. Enough to try turning over a new leaf.

"I'm heading to the Taiwanese shop," you informed as you started to walk away again.

"Huh? I thought you were going home?"

"I lied. My mom isn't home to make dinner today, so I'm eating outside," you replied, stopping in your tracks and looking behind your shoulder at Jisung, who was still grounded on his spot. You beckoned him over. "Are you tagging along or not?"

Jisung grabbed hold of the straps of his schoolbag as a smile lit up on his face. He rushed over to you quickly, not wanting to waste another minute.

After ordering food, you two went to find a small table in the middle of the restaurant and settled down.

Jisung gave his parents a call about not being able to make it back home for dinner despite your consistent protest that immediately melted away when Jisung let out a playful growl your way to display his sense of dismay. You told him not to act like a dog in public and let it go.

Jisung rubbed his hands together as he placed his food on the table. He snapped the wooden chopsticks open and dug in, quietly praising the food with each slurp of his wonton noodle soup. You focused on your food, not bothering to start a conversation until both of you finished dinner.

Crossing your legs under the table, you leaned against the chair and wiped your mouth with a napkin. “Regardless, you want my help with the prom proposal, right?”

Jisung’s chewing slowed as he smiled up at you sheepishly. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, so it’s okay. I’ll find someone else for help.”

“No, it’s fine.” You shrugged. “It’s better for you to talk to me about a problem. I might actually have something to contribute than me struggling to relate to what you did during the day.” 

He squinted his eyes a little at you. It was probably because you have never spoken to him much about what really goes on inside your head that you appeared entirely unpredictable for him.

Jisung wasn’t saying he was ever good at observing people’s behavior and understanding their feelings. He was always more of a sympathizing and comforting person than analyzing and accessing.

But with you, he couldn’t tell anything at all. Your expression betrays your thoughts, and your tone betrays your words. You mix sharp wit with a mellow voice and joy with exhaustion.

At the last second, you were all up his face about him only caring about his problems, but now you offered to help him with them.

As confusing and rude as you had been to him, he couldn’t feel an ounce of hatred towards you, nor did he ever feel lost in this relationship. Logically, he should have been, but deep inside his chest, something kept tugging him back to you.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “People usually find me to ask for something, so it’s more comfortable if you need me to do something for you.”

"That doesn't sound very nice," Jisung frowned, sitting up straighter as he looked at you with saddening eyes.

"It doesn't, but you get used to it," you said.

He pouted. ”Still, everyone deserves someone who wants to be with them simply because they want to."

You chuckled harshly. The idea was foreign to you—mostly a fault of your own. You weren’t attractive enough for people to be interested in you from the get-go.

You weren’t decent enough for those curious to stay for a long time. You also weren’t too socially endurable, so besides other people getting tired of you, you couldn’t stand being around anyone for too long.

“You wouldn’t understand, and I hope you never do.” You smiled bitterly. A rare, genuine smile, accompanied by your shoulders slacking from tension and your alerted eyes softening. 

It’s a sight that indicated to Jisung the tearing down of your mental walls. A second later, you built it back up again. Your back arched, and your lips pursed. The heartfelt expression changed too fast for Jisung; he didn’t even have the time to store the image in his brain.

“I’ll start by saying I can’t guarantee your success rate because, as I have told you, Jiae and I aren’t friends anymore,” you said.

"We’re also not that close back then. I have no idea why she still goes around announcing that we’re good friends. The last time we hung out was during middle school, and that was it.”

Jisung's confused expression gave you an idea that he didn't really believe you, so you placed your palm on the table and leaned in to assert more confidence. “We are not friends. Have you ever seen me hang out with her before?"

"Uh..." Jisung opened his mouth.

“No, Jisung! You’re thinking, and this question shouldn’t involve any thinking!” You snapped your fingers at his face. “The fact is right in front of you. The answer is no, you have never seen us hang out before.”

Jisung pursed his lips together, taken back by your fast movements. 

"Okay, fine," he said. “Then help me out as my friend. Tell me what she might want. Give me your standard."

You bumped against the back of the chair and snorted with your arms crossed. “Does it look like I have a standard to base upon?"

“Oh, you know!” Jisung whined, "Any celebrities? Fictional characters? Songs?"

You let out another snort as you shook your head comically, "Of course, because fictional characters are so achievable.”

“They can be if you try!” Jisung declared.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You raised a brow. “You know why fictional characters are so desirable because they are not obtainable. It is impossible to become them or be with them. The most enticing part about them is the process of desire, which will promptly be eliminated once you obtain it.”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re mouthing off about,” he said between chews of his food. “I just know that if my partner has a list of boyfriend goals, then you bet I am giving them everything on the list. That includes fictional character standard.” 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips. The way Jisung furiously wanted to give his love everything they wanted sent shivers down your spine and made you feel a sense of excitement in conjunction with a yearning for a potential future. 

Whoever ends up with him in the future will receive such an immense amount of love that you could feel your envy creeping up, which was in conjunction with bitterness. 

That person could have been you if you weren't so much like yourself.

“I don't think your partner would ask you to do that. I think you're already great,” you said. “If that’s worth anything.”

Jisung's eyes widened at the unpredicted compliment. “You think so?” 

You nodded in confirmation, and he laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks,” he said. “No one's ever told me that before."

"No way,” you denied in disbelief. “Someone must have told you that you are good enough before. Or anything along the lines of that.”

“I have been complimented before, of course! But telling me I’m a nice guy doesn’t reassure me,” he mumbled.

“I mean–“ You snorted air out of your nose as you looked away. “What else do you want? I’d give anything to be told I’m a nice person.” 

He unknowingly snorted, too. “That requires you to be a nice person.”

“Oh?” You leaned up from the back of the chair and uncrossed your arms. “Suddenly, you’re a comedian! You know how to joke!”

“I’m just saying!” he exclaimed. “I don’t think you are horrible, but you can be mean and unapproachable sometimes. ”

“Yet you approached me.”

“Now who’s the comedian?” He pointed at you with his chopsticks and dropped them on the napkin. 

You waited for him to finish chewing the last of his food. His words irked you, but not in the way one would assume. You still didn’t really care for the consequences of your attitude. You cared to know how you turned out that way or when you changed because you didn’t used to be this way. 

You had a social circle back then, and you were involved in different hobbies, and then your father left the picture, and you were gone.

Looking up at Jisung, who sipped his drink as he casually checked his phone for any messages from his parents, you cast your eyes down when you realized perhaps you did care a little about how others thought of you.

Specifically, you cared about how he thinks of you. You didn’t have to worry about it when you were gatekeeping yourself from him. It was a mistake to let loose.

“Do you really think I’m mean?” 

Jisung slowly looked up at you from his phone. He stopped sucking on the straw when he saw your determined expression, and he dropped his phone and pushed away his drink with a prepared expression as if he had been waiting for this his whole life.

But he wasn’t prepared. He was gently panicking; he thought he hurt your feelings, and that stung his skin terribly.

“No. No, no, no,” he sped out. “Whatever you are thinking of, I probably didn’t mean it that way.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I don’t know? It’s just–“ He sighed. “You were rude to me when I first talked to you.” 

“I guess I was,” you muttered. You avoided his eyes. “I wasn’t always like this.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “What were you like?”

Happier was the most straightforward word you knew to describe it. You had no worries for the future, you had friends, and your parents were still together.

Although, you couldn’t blame your parents’ separation for the bitter change in your personality, at least not entirely. Some part of it was your own doing. You wanted to be cynical and unapproachable to avoid socializing and being known. 

You sniffed and rubbed the tip of your nose, a grimace obvious on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He stared at you in dissatisfaction as you gathered the trash from the table onto your tray. You moved fast and without any words, which he couldn’t find any reason to. Besides that, you were even more upset at his imposing question. 

You wore your schoolbag and stood up. He followed dramatically, bumping into table corners and kicking chairs on his way.

“I like you, [Name],” he clarified, his legs matching your pace. “I really do. I’m sorry!”

“I know,” you said as you slowed down. You peered at him with a smirk. “I’m messing with you.” 

He paused on the spot, the worried frown slowly quirked into a smile.

You could consider him humored.

You spent a week of (debatably) quality time with Jisung. It happened more frequently than you liked, occurring every day after school. 

Each of your hangouts consisted of you denying his offer to eat dinner with you since your mother works late at night, and him arguing that teenagers should always eat with someone to decrease loneliness.  

It felt both relieving and uncomfortable for you to be in such a quiet environment during Saturday lunch.

Jisung was always there to yell in your face about his day after you finished dinner at a random restaurant that you had to force him to pick. The never-ending process of deciding where to eat usually ends with a game of rock-paper-scissors, which the loser has to choose, and Jisung miraculously always lost. 

Now that you had finished lunch at home alone, the quiet process of cleaning up after yourself was deafening. You never had a problem with it, but you supposed it made sense to have a gaping hole in your chest now that Jisung's terrific company has been etched in your brain.

Being without him made any atmosphere duller, even with the television on as background noise.

After covering the unfinished dish with a plastic wrap, you picked the plate up just in time to hear the doorbell ring. Putting the plate back down curiously, you slowly glided to the door, thinking it was just the delivery guy.

"Hello–" You eyes widened and your voice came to a sharp end after you shamelessly swung the front door open. 

"Hi, you!" Jisung greeted, grinning at you with his chubby cheeks and bright teeth. 

You panicked. Your arm was propped up, your hand around the edge of the wooden frame, and you wore short sleeves. It had been too hot inside the kitchen when you cooked lunch, so you had to change it, and you knew very well that your soul mark was entirely on display.

All Jisung needed to do was turn his head a little, and he would catch sight of it.

Quickly, you brought your arm behind your back and smiled up at him. Jisung, who had caught on to the faint ink on your arm and the nervous smile that followed closely behind, tilted his head to the side as his cheerful grin dimmed to a curious smirk.

“I saw your soul-mark there,” he said, pointing at where your arm was propped up. “Why are you hiding it?” 

When you shrugged and shakily told him it was nothing, it only spiked his interest, so he pressed on. He squinted his eyes and carefully removed his shoes by stepping on the outer sole.

You laughed when he began walking inside your home uninvited, but you weren’t sure if you got nervous from his unrelenting gaze or humored that he was visibly shorter after taking off his shoes.

“Oh, come on, what does it say?” he asked.

“Nothing! I wasn’t even trying to hide it,” you replied, forcing the nonchalance into your tone. 

“Then show me,” he said, holding a hand out politely. “If you weren’t hiding it.”

You looked around the living room for any saving grace, but there was none. It was an open space without anything interesting to redirect his attention to. Unfortunately, you were the most interesting thing to him.

You scoffed, feeling your heart pump all its blood onto your neck and cheeks. 

You have been hiding this secret for a week already. 

Given that you have relatively let your guard down around him and knew that he wasn’t the type of person to judge you based on your social status. Given that you two have hit it off very well and were surprisingly compatible. Given that you thought, for a moment, that there was a chance your relationship could work out, you couldn’t tell him. 

You’ve lied for long enough. It would be too awkward to tell the truth. 

Besides, it could have been a honeymoon phase. If you spend more time with him, he could show his real face and change your mind.

"It can't be that embarrassing, can it?” 

He reached for your arm, his fingers curling around it. If he really wanted to yank your arm out of your back, he could, and he would. With a speeding heart, you let out a strangled noise from the back of your throat and decided to turn in a circle quickly, startling him. Your hand flew up to slap against his eyes, which caught him off guard. You backed him up to the nearest wall and held him still. 

"Woah, woah! Okay, I won't look!" Jisung exclaimed defensively, holding his hand up in surrender. 

He could feel you pressed up to his torso as you asked him for confirmation. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of your sudden exert of dominance or more attracted by the proximity you unknowingly bestowed upon him.

"I promise," he confirmed. Seconds later, he felt your hand slip away.

You rubbed your arm shyly, pressing it close to your side. “What are you doing here?"

Jisung's shoulders hunched as he looked around your house. “Nothing much. I just wanted to spend some time with you."

“Why? Were you bored being home alone?” you asked as you returned to the dining table and started to take the plates back into the kitchen, dropping them in the sink so you could deal with them later.

“Uh, yes.” Jisung raised a finger. “But I’m not just here for me! I also really want to hang out with you."

Your eyes squinted at the emphasis of his tone, eyeing him with contemplation as you walked out of the kitchen slowly. It wasn’t out of his character to need constant stimulation from the outside world, either music, public transport, food, or people.

However, how he rubbed his hands and pulled on his fingers spoke an ulterior motive that only he and his savior complex would have. 

“Is this about what I said before? About people asking me for a favor whenever they look for me?”

Jisung blinked at you. You were correct. That thought had been bugging him day and night. He genuinely thought that people should never have to think with such a cynical mindset that was antagonistic towards oneself. His friends should never feel that way, and you especially should not. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied nonchalantly, a pout evident on his face.

You let out a faint laugh as you shook your head, beckoning him to follow you before leading him to your room. Jisung was hesitant as he took the first step inside, but soon, he was drowned in the cozy fragrance of your room and basked in the sight of what was the embodiment of you.

Folded laundry, comic books, posters on your walls, and bed sheet patterns. Everything meant something when it belonged to you; someday, he thought he would be part of the atmosphere. However that would unfold.  

“I knew there would be a pile of clothes in your room. I knew it!” Jisung pointed at the laundry basket in the corner next to your closet. 

“Everyone owns a laundry pile, Jisung.” 

"I knew there would be a lot of books in your room, ha!" He turned and pointed at the bookshelf of textbooks and fiction books stacked on two columns of your shelf. 

“Students tend to have books in their room, Jisung.”

“I knew you like music! Look at all the albums!” He spun and gestured at the albums of your favorite band displayed in a small rectangular space.

“A lot of people like music, Jisung.”

“Okay, what is your problem? I’m trying to get riled up here.” Jisung frowned, and you laughed at his defeated state. 

He slumped down on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of your bed. At the same time, you sat on your rolling chair after turning on the air conditioner so you could put on a sweater. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

Jisung pulled a face at your mocking tone. ”To steal a glance at your soul-mark, duh."

You pursed your lips together and threw your eraser at him. He giggled as he held up his arm to block his face, your reaction once again kick-starting his interest. 

Why are you so defensive?

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, as if reading his mind.

“Why? Did something happen?"

You hopelessly glared at Jisung, unsure if he was simply dumb at catching onto hints or if his curiosity was really getting the best of his noisiness. You looked away, annoyed but also overwhelmed. Jisung offered you a chance to talk about your feelings; it would be weird if you didn't take it, considering how many emotions you bottle up, even if the topic was you and him.

You just have to be careful.

You sighed, giving in to his semi-pleading eyes. “He wouldn't love me. We're too different."

Jisung raised an eyebrow. "You are so sure he's a he–"he suddenly shot forward–"Oh my god, you already found him."

You had one job.

He sat up on his knees, looking at you with wide and excited eyes before he let out a disappointed groan, snapping his fingers aggressively. “Who is he? Do I know him? Is he from our school? I will go talk to him!"

“It’s nothing exciting,” you replied timidly. “You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

"What are you talking about? He’s your soulmate!” He slumped down onto his legs again and stared at you in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, pouting as he took secret glances at you, hoping for an agreement. When you didn’t give him any, he groaned and smacked his legs. “He’s supposed to love you forever!”

When you threw him a face, he rolled his eyes and shook his hand at you to indicate that he understood your pessimistic sentiment. “Okay, fine. Maybe not forever, but still! He’s supposed to love you.”

"First of all, you said it yourself, he's my soulmate. I don't know why you're being more excited about this than I am," you pointed out. "Second, you have a very fantasized perception of soulmates."

Piping down, Jisung looked at you with squinted eyes, challenging and determined.  His voice was low as he spoke briefly. "How? Elaborate."

You shrugged. You thought it was evident from the get-go. "It's just a link. It's not a predetermined bond. You don't have to love your soulmate if you don't want to. The universe can't force you to do what you don't want to.

“But soulmates!” he exclaimed in a whine. 

He inched forward slowly, moving over to you by the rolling chair and placing his hand on your knee to stop you from spinning. 

"Soulmates have a unique link together. They are supposed to guarantee that someone out there is willing to accept you no matter what, so you don't have to worry about your current problems," he said. "They're a promise that lasts forever!"

You pressed your hand on his, landing on soft initially before suddenly shoving him off your knee. “No one is supposed to do anything. No one is supposed to love anyone.”

“Parents are supposed to love their children,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

You exhaled as you stared ahead. Once upon a time, you thought that too. You still believed in it, somewhat. Your father’s sudden departure left you in disarray; you weren’t sure if you passionately advocated for the idea or had abandoned that hope. 

“They are supposed to,” you muttered. “Alas, some of them don’t.” 

Jisung sat on his heels quietly when you turned around to be by your desk. You leaned your head on your arms and closed your eyes, relishing the peace and quiet you hadn't gotten since he arrived at your home. It felt awkward, almost like you knew he figured something was wrong, and he did. 

You were always so frustrated and hurried. You think and speak fast, yet you rarely say the wrong thing. It was very unlike himself, who had to ensure the words went through his brain if he didn't want to mess up. He figured that was why it was evident whenever you're upset, because the frustration turns into sadness, and you stop arguing.

Rubbing his hands on his pants, he looked around your room again and carefully moved closer to sit by your desk. He looked up, his lips pursing with uncertainty as he poked the side of your leg. 

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

You sighed and turned your head to look down at him. He was small, all curled up to occupy as little space as possible, so you would let him stay around because he knew you hated noise, long rambles, animated gestures, and everything that encompasses himself as a person.

It was guilt-inducing. Looking at him, your soulmate, was painful, from knowing what could have been to how you have treated him so far. But he remained kind and welcoming. For the most part, he did. And he was loud. You knew he tried not to be. You didn't care for it.

You would have forgotten what you were arguing about if he hadn't left such a lasting impression on you for you to care so much. 

How could you ever doubt him in regard to his willingness to embrace his soulmate despite any kind of circumstances? How could you ever even think about Jisung purposefully pushing you away if he ever knew about the truth between you and him? That was unlike him. You knew it wasn't.

“You believe in all of that,” you whispered. “About your soulmate.”

He blinked, the gears behind his round eyes turning. He left his hand near you in the tiny space on your seat.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine not loving my soulmate,” Jisung confessed, staring into your soul. “I really want to meet them.”

You pursed your lips together, desperately wanting to tell him the truth, but your paranoia told you to lie. You were too deep into it. Telling him now would only cause him anger, and you were scared of the consequences despite him admitting that he would, no matter what, be in love with his soulmate.

“You’re so nice, Jisung,” you complimented, your eyes softening with a smile. “I wish everyone was like you.”

His lashes fluttered, but only he felt it. Looking away to compose himself, nervously pulling his fingers and settling his wiggly toes, he bit back a bashful grin by blowing air into his cheeks. You watched his ear gradually turn red, its cause a mystery to you, and you reached a hand down to rub it between your fingers. 

He jumped, his head snapping to look at you as his hand flew up to block the sensation. You retreated immediately, equally as startled by his reaction. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, almost as if he could piece together what happened. 

You frantically tried to find something else to cover up the fact that you subconsciously attempted to soothe the redness on his ear, releasing yourself from your sullen position.

“I–uhm, hey! Do you want to know about my college application process?" you asked.

Jisung furrowed his brows, his jaw agape to say words that refused to come out.

He was sure you touched him—his ears were a weird body part to touch, but he was willing to take whatever you gave him. But he wanted to know what it meant or if you had something to tell him but was deterred by his reaction. Could it have meant something? He should consult the internet about that!

The subject change was ridiculous, too! Have college applications started already? He knew his teachers were reminding the class about it daily. However, the urgency among the student body hadn't started yet, so he assumed there was still time. 

"I–I mean–"Seeing your nervous expression, he decided to let the matter go. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Should we start applying already?"

"I applied a little earlier for a specific college I wanted to attend just to boost my chances. Otherwise, I am applying at the same time as everyone else. You should start preparing for it, though," you said, glancing at him. "I got into the interview round. If I do well during the interview, I'll be accepted."

Jisung widened his eyes. He fist-bumped your arm. “Look at you, being one step ahead of the rest of us.”

"I'm not the only student in our grade who did an early application," you said. 

“But did they all get invited to an interview?”

"I don't know. I'm not really friends with any of them," you muttered as you put together a few pieces of paper. "I started practicing with my mom, and she wrote down some sample questions for me. Here, take a look."

Jisung moved away from leaning on your desk to sitting across from you. You turned your chair and handed him the stack of paper with multiple correction marks. You pursed your lips nervously as you waited for him to finish reading, watching as his mouth moved across each word and his head nodded in understanding.

He has never looked so serious before. You were too used to seeing the animated side of him, and you realized you'd never watched him pay attention to something boring before. He actually looked very decent when he was concentrated. It wasn't a surprise.

"Most of them are good answers." He pointed at the question and flipped the paper around for you to see. "Except for this one." 

You knew all the mock questions and answers like the back of your hand, so you barely had to read what he pointed at. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's asking about what you want to do in the future. I'm guessing if a school is asking that question, they are trying to gauge the student's career path and how it can align with the school's personal interest," Jisung said, looking at you through his fallen bangs. "You can't tell the interviewer you don't have a dream."

“I don’t,” you said. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have anything I want to do.”

“No one is ever honest in an interview," Jisung pointed the tip of the pen at you. “You can lie.”

You shrugged. “I suppose? I’ll just take any job that is offered to me.” 

With the current market, a college graduate would be lucky to be offered a job, so there wasn't the option to choose unless you were extraordinary. But a lot of people are not. Even if many people are extraordinary, it will be oversaturated, and a new standard will emerge. Nobody will ever be good. 

Everyone will only be good for a little bit until they're not enough anymore.

“What? No!” Jisung waved his hand dismissively. “Come on, [Name], you must have a dream job!”

"I really don't. I just want to earn money.” Your lips arched downward. When Jisung frowned at you, you could only roll your eyes. You asked, almost accusingly, ”Don’t look at me like that. Do you have a dream job?” 

Jisung nodded without hesitation. "I want to be a producer.”

“Like a filmmaker?” you asked, tilting your head. “You don’t strike me as a movie watcher.”

“That’s a director,” he pointed at you, “and you are wrong. I love movies. I watch dating shows all the time.”

"Directors are by default also producers because they produce films," you returned the point, "and you are wrong. Dating shows are not movies. They are variety shows."

“You know what I mean!”

“Do I, though?”

Jisung rolled his tongue over his front teeth, a chuckle sneaking onto his shoulders. “Do you have to argue with me about everything?” 

"You think I like to start fights? Is that how it is?" you gritted out playfully, tilting your head to stare at him dead in the eyes. When he breathed out the chuckle, you relaxed and shook your head. "If you're not planning to write stories, are you planning to produce music?"

“You are correct!” he exclaimed with a congratulatory clap. “I sing my own songs during every school talent show.”

“Those are nap sessions to me,” you said. 

The school forces everyone to attend the talent shows, but since the assembly hall would remain dark for most of it, you always used the time to doze off in your seat.

It was a miracle that you've never fallen off the chair, and it's a shame that you've missed every performance Jisung has performed over the past three years. He has never won them, but he must be excellent. 

He pressed his hands to his heart and made a cartoonish gunshot noise. He leaned back, whining in pain. “Oh, you sure are hurtful, [Name]!”

"Don't be dramatic. It's not like I singled you out. I slept through everyone's performance," you said as you leaned forward to kick him. "Are you going to also work part-time as an idol, or do you want to only work behind the scenes?"

"Either one is fine. I don't necessarily have to be in a company. I can get big on doing covers, too," Jisung said.

You nodded in acknowledgment. You couldn’t provide any insight because you knew nothing about the industry besides the songs and a few outrageously famous individuals it produces. 

"Don't forget me when you get famous," you said. "But if you need anything, like an insightful critique on your latest album, do find me. If a hater like me likes it, everyone else will like it too."

“But I will also be hanging out with you,” he said, giving you finger guns. "I'm not going to find you just because I need you to do something for me."

"Uh, have you met me before?"

"Yes, and I hereby announce that I, Han Jisung, adore your presence," he said, dipping his head into a slight bow.

You defeatedly scoffed at him as you pressed your hand to his head, pushing him away from you. “You're so dumb."

"You love me for it!” He grinned.

You sighed inwardly. You do, you really do.

You two shared a moment of silence. You hadn't even realized you two were comfortable enough with each other that a long silence wouldn't result in you wanting to bury your head in your arms and never see the light of day again.

"You're really not going to show me your soul mark?” he said suddenly. “Could you at least tell me who he is? I’ll kick his ass for you."

"Hey, here's an idea. Your debut album should be called 'Jisung really can't mind his goddamn business,'" you said. 

Jisung frowned, turning away from you childishly, and you hoped he always forgets to mind his goddamn business. 

The admission interview landed on a school day and took place at the college of choice. They picked a time after lunch hours so students could ask their teachers for the day’s school work before leaving early. Some students choose not to attend school the day to prepare, but you weren’t one of them.

Your palms were sweaty as you stood before the cafeteria door, debating whether or not you should walk in and look for Jisung. You told him you wouldn’t be having lunch today since you wanted to practice and prepare for the interview on your own, and you urged him to spend lunchtime with his friends instead. 

In retrospect, you should have taken Jisung up on his offer to help you rehearse your answers. It would be better practice to have someone play the role of the interviewer than having you spend most of the time trying not to feel awkward talking to yourself. Besides, his presence would have provided emotional support or a decent distraction. 

You started to panic the more you looked at your notes. The more you panic, the more you stuttered and messed up your practice. By then, thousands of worst-case scenarios had already been through your head, bringing your self-esteem to a negative. 

The only person you thought would be able to calm you down was Han Jisung. Not just because he was your soulmate but also because he was the only friend you’ve got.

Unconsciously, your legs had already brought you to Jisung's table in the cafeteria. When you made your way there, your eyes focused only on his silhouette. His friends ceased to chat with each other when you stood by the table with an unreadable look on your face. It took a brief glance for Jisung to see the worried gleams behind your eyes, and his brows furrowed.

As he opened his mouth, another voice spoke, beating him to talking first. 

Jiae waved excitedly at you, a smile on her face. “[Name]! You are here at the right time. We were just talking about something interesting!"

You removed your eyes from Jisung and turned to look at the unfamiliar girl. You tilted your head to the side, unsure how to respond to her, trying to pull you into the middle of a supposed interesting conversation. “What–what were you talking–”

“Can you get some pudding for my friends and me? We forgot to get them when we were in line to get our food,” she cut you off, reaching a hand out to you on the table. “Gossip sounds better with good food, you know?”

You blinked and turned to look at the line of students waiting with their trays in hand, moving like ants one by one to speak to the lunch lady. She has a terrible tone and was never pleasant, but at least she was willing to talk to you about things other than lunch preferences. Either way, you didn’t come here for this. 

“You can get it yourself,” you said.

“But we are in the middle of an interesting conversation!” She pouted. “I didn’t want to pause it. That’s why I’m asking you for a favor.”

Jisung brushed his hand on his pants and turned to Jiae. He didn’t know they were missing the dessert or that it was essential to the conversation. But since you were already here to speak to him anyway, he thought he could do that and deal with the pudding problem on his way back. “Actually, I got it–“

“You’re in high school. How interesting can your conversations really get? What else do you talk about besides celebrities who accomplished something in their life and some other dumb things?” you retorted with a faux dismissive frown. “The shop is literally right there. It won’t take you five minutes.”

Jisung snapped his head around to grimace at you. His eyes widened in panic because he never thought you would take a jab at his friends. You caught his glance and shrunk. 

“My god, if you’re gonna be annoying about it!” One of the girls got up from her chair with a scoff. She faintly checked your shoulder as she walked past you. “I’ll get the damn pudding since it’s so fucking hard to.” 

“Thank you,” Jiae sounded after her friend before returning to the table.

It was awkward and quiet after the unnecessary scene. Everyone at the table pretended to peer at you discreetly and mutter under their breath.

They made sure it appeared as your fault and wanted you to see that they were being the bigger person and not directly accusing you of it. Except they were. They were stealing glances at you and talking amongst themselves. 

“That wasn’t nice, [Name],” Jiae said. “I didn’t know why you said those.”

You flicked your nails with increasing velocity. There was an urge to apologize. You told yourself to hold it back. When you spoke, it wasn’t defensive or demanding. You sounded confused. “I didn’t say anything wrong.” 

Waiting in line to buy the pudding for a bunch of people or being ostracized in real-time by them shouldn’t even begin to top your list of worries now. You’ve got more important things to deal with! You’ve got college, your future!

“You provoked me first!” you pointed out desperately. “I came here with a valid reason, not to get bossed around by you people.”

“'You people' is some way to describe your fellow classmates.”

“Asking for a small favor is apparently provocative now.”

“What? I didn’t mean it like that.” Your pleading eyes turned to Jisung. 

He was the only one who would most likely get you out of this situation compared to anyone else sitting around the table. He tensed up as if all his friends’ eyes were on him and they were all judging his next move. 

You’ve put him in a terrible position. Between his friends and you, who were also his friends, he understood that Jiae should not have continued to push you to do something you refused. Her friend also should not have made a scene out of something trivial. But you also said something you shouldn’t have.

You knew you were wrong because you two talked about a variety of things when you two were together. Why couldn’t you apply that to him and his friends?

Jisung licked his lower lip, watching your fingers fumble with each other and your teary eyes gleaming with hurt. He curled his fists tightly as he turned to Jiae, who stared at him expectantly, and he looked down at the table.

“I…” he bit his tongue. “I don’t know.” 

You gave him a few seconds to say anything else before you breathed out a hopeless scoff, realizing he had chosen all his friends over you. You supposed that was normal. He has known them for years, and they probably never forced him to work for their friendship.

It was easier being their friends than it was being yours. You were sure of that. It just hurt to have it backfire. 

He felt a harsh tug at his chest, a sharp pain that beat along with his slow heart when he saw the disappointment on your face. Not the playful kind of disappointment he has always seen from you. This was genuine, paired with a few tears quickly wiped away. 

You let your guard down to ask for him, and he ignored you. This was a true heartbreak. A faint moment of hatred that you held for him flashed before your eyes before you turned around and walked away.

“Wait, [Name]!” He shot up from his seat, leaving his group of friends to follow you out of the cafeteria. 

You sped through the hall with him high on your tail, apologies flying out of his mouth until there was barely any meaning attached to them anymore. Once you arrived at your locker, you stopped and turned to him, a veil dark over your eyes.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He exhaled with difficulty. Your eyes freaked him out. It was the same from when he first tried to befriend you, back when you hated his guts and wanted nothing to do with him. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t revert to the beginning. He cared about you too much for you to not want to know him anymore. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” you said and opened your locker. “Leave me alone. I have to go soon.”

“Oh, come on,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I really am. I froze and just… I don’t know what happened either.���

“That’s convenient.” You randomly messed with the things in your locker. “The next time I do something horrible, I’ll tell them I don’t know what came over me.” 

Jisung groaned, but he was left speechless. He wasn’t sure what else to say or do if an apology wasn’t good enough for you, and rewinding time wasn’t possible.

“You came looking for me,” he said. “You don’t have to forgive me, but at least let me help you with whatever it was.”

“Yeah, right,” you stuttered out a fake chuckle. “I’m gonna let you help me after the phenomenal help you just provided.”

This might be the rare occasion where he let time deal with the mistake instead of going out of his way and making an embarrassment of himself by sticking his head into the mud by your feet.

You would be furious if he did that. It would be more embarrassing for you to receive that kind of apologetic attention than for him to be treated less than human. He wouldn’t complain. He did it first. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands uncomfortable by his side. “Please try to forgive me.”

His lovely eyes drew you into him, an uncontrollable habit of the mind. You tried to let yourself give in. You wanted to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that only a tiny table of students were there to experience the invisible bullying, that it could have been much worse! 

But it hurt looking at him. It reminded you that you weren’t the only person in his life and that he had other friends he’d been around for much longer than he’d known you.

It gave you a reality check that just because you two were soulmates, it didn’t mean you had an advantage. It told you that even though Jisung swore to love his soulmate, he didn’t love you when he didn’t know you were the one.

If you two hadn’t been soulmates, perhaps he would have never cared at all. Did that not defeat the defining feature of love? The choice was there. He didn’t choose you.

“I have something to do,” you muttered. “I’m gonna go.”

You raised the arm opposite to the locker door, and he subconsciously leaned his head toward it. But you only reached over to close your locker, slowly revealing that your other hand was occupied with books. 

“Oh hey. I didn’t think you’d be up here today,” Felix greeted when he saw you emerge from the rooftop door. 

He sat up from trying to nap on the floor, his eyes squinted to avoid the sun. You approached him sluggishly and sat down, dropping your books by your hip. He raised a brow curiously as you leaned back onto your arms and sighed like you’d walked a mile. 

“Did the interview happen early?” he asked. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. I’m confident I will do well,” you replied. “I’m feeling the jitters.” 

He raised a brow for a moment before he mirrored your action and put his face under the sun, feeling its warmth. “Those statements contradict each other.”

“I’m sure this is the speaking condition I want to have going into an interview,” you said. 

He laughed, and you relaxed your shoulders. You sometimes forgot Jisung wasn’t the only person who could alleviate your stress. He was merely the first person you thought to go to. Over these past few weeks, you have become good friends with Felix, and he shares your burdens and even knows of the past you never told Jisung. 

Things would have been different if you had come to the roof first. His sunny disposition could also be what you needed.

“Do you think I’ll do well?” 

Felix opened an eye to peer at you. He hummed thoughtfully for show before he replied, “I don’t know. These things are unpredictable, but I really hope you will.”

“See, Jisung would have told me I would do so well, but they would be stupid not to accept me.”

“But I’m not him. That’s why you came up here to find me,” Felix said. “My response was different than his, wasn’t it?” 

You opened your eyes and hunched forward, leaving the sun in your shadow. From how he sounded, he wasn’t upset that you’ve considered him a second option. You felt guilty, nonetheless, because you cared about him a lot. You never wanted him to feel less as a friend in any capacity.

“I swear nothing gets past those detective skills,” you said, looking at him as he enjoyed the sun. You stayed silent momentarily before suddenly speaking, “I’m glad you’re here to help me, Felix.”

He grinned, finally opening his eyes and raising his brows at you. “It’s no problem.”

“I see you’ve cut your hair,” you said, gesturing to your head. “I thought your blonde hair was natural when you first told me you moved here from Australia.”

“It is,” he said. “They wouldn’t believe me and forced me to dye it black.”

“I don’t believe in you,” you hummed. “You look horrible, too.” 

You patted your school uniform as you left the entrance of the universe after politely bidding the receptionist goodbye. 

There was no way for you to tell whether you’ve done a great job. The professors’ expressions were reserved as you were speaking to them. Only a smile could be seen when the grueling process was finally over. Now it’s just the gut-wrenching process of waiting for the letter.

You strolled across the campus. When you first arrived, you were in awe of how big it was, and now you just disliked the distance it would take to get out of here. 

Gently sighing, you ran the interview over in your head a few times more, finding the conversation different each time as you falsified your memories to shine a negative light on yourself, all so you could force down the hope of acceptance in yourself.

You believed in your opinion of how you did, which was downright horrible. It wasn’t a good feeling to distrust your ability, but you figured it would be worse when the rejection letter came in, and you thought you had a chance, so you didn’t stop yourself.

After texting your mother and Felix about how things went, you left the chat box and were disappointed that Jisung hadn’t sent you anything since lunch. He shouldn’t have to, but you thought he would. 

After several hours of not thinking about him and what happened, you were much less angry than you were. Besides, you wanted to talk to him about the interview. You convinced yourself to feel bad about how you did and wanted him here for support. 

Pausing your feet, you clicked his name and stared at the chat box. You typed something, deleted it, retyped something else, and deleted it again. What should you say? That you forgave him? That you were sorry for making something out of nothing? That you were done wrestling with your conscience and you were actually his soulmate?

Tears dropped onto the screen, and you wiped them away. You turned the phone off and wiped your eyes with your arm, walking amongst sounds of sniffing and whimpers as you prayed that no college students walk by. 

Brushing your uneasy hands together, you blinked away the tears and stopped momentarily again when you saw a familiar figure standing at the entrance arch of the campus. He caught sight of you, too, and reluctantly raised his arm to wave at you. 

You hiccuped in question but began to walk toward him. Jisung’s face slowly came into view the closer you approached. Eventually, you were close enough for him to see that you had been crying.

He pursed his lips, his hands curling and uncurling. “It went that bad?”

His soft voice hit your heart and squeezed your tear ducts. You cried, giving frantic nods in between. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“It went that bad,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but–“you hiccupped–“I don’t–I don’t believe you.”

His heart dropped. You weren’t talking about school or the interview anymore. You were talking about him. 

He didn’t know what to do. You have a comeback for everything he said and one for everything he planned to say. It didn’t occur to him that maybe not saying anything was the best thing to do, but there were many wordless ways to reconcile besides—he exhaled nervously. 

There was one way. He doubted you’d like it.

He gently pulled at your wrist and brought you toward him. He hugged you loosely. His skin was warm, and so was yours, but you felt hotter than anything because of the sobbing. The shape of his body was not extraordinary; he was like every teenage boy, and most of them were not athletic. His hands were careful, as they should be, in an attempt to comfort.

There wasn’t anything to him, but this was your first hug with someone your age, someone you liked. 

It was impressive, to say the least, how easy it was for you to drop yourself at his hands entirely. 

“I’m…” he closed his mouth and hugged you tighter. “I was a coward.”

You pressed your mouth to his shoulder and hugged him back, tears sticking his shirt to his skin. Your cries were muffled, but even without that, they were quieter and contained within the peripheral of his hearing. 

“You hurt me.” Your nails dug into his back. Your soul mark pressed across his spine. “You hurt me.”

“Yes.” He bit the inside of his lower lip to avoid apologizing and to stop the sound of tears cleanly falling down his cheeks. “I will never do that again.”

You could hear him cry. He couldn’t hide his sadness if his life depended on it. You wished you stood your ground longer, but torturing him was never your intention, and it was for the first time you believed he meant everything he said. He’s sorry, and he’ll never do it again.

“Do you want to have dinner somewhere?” you asked after you pulled away. “I’m starving.”

“Actually,” his voice was strained as he threw himself off his train of thought, “all of us are heading over to Jiae’s home for dinner and a sleepover. “

You furrowed your brows. “That's sudden.”

“It’s actually not.” He scratched the back of his head. “Seungmin shit-talked us into apologizing to you, and we thought this would be a good opportunity.” 

“He should have spoken up when it was happening,” you said.

"I know. He must have his reasons not to.” Jisung said. "But can you come along anyway? I'd love it if you will. You can get to know my friends. They’re not all bad, I promise.”

You sighed. If he opened his mouth to ask, how would you refuse? He could be right. It may require some getting used to before they let you blend into their friend group. You also had a bad first impression of Jisung, and you gave him a chance. You could do that for his friends.

"Can we get something to drink first?”

"Of course," he said. “It’s my treat. Tell me everything about the interview.”

“Ugh, don’t even remind me,” you groaned, taking impatient steps forward.

He laughed at your eagerness, his hand slowly gliding down until it met yours. Your fingers were loosely interlaced. It was timid and tender, like hugging a ticking bomb. You went on about the interview, what they asked, how the professors were, and how you replied to their questions. 

Slowly and carefully, your fingers were wholly locked together. Neither of you minded.

Spin the Bottle is a better game than Truth or Dare.

Truth or dare engages people in dense, involuntary acts and unconvincing lies that people have to spring up on the spur of the moment. Spin the bottle serves a chance that it might never land on you. Even if it did, so what? A kiss on the cheek will always suffice.

You kept repeating it in your head as you sat in a circle of unfamiliar people. Jiae insisted that you sit beside her despite her friends sending you uncomfortable glances. 

Jisung, who sat across from you, shared a pointed look with you before the game started that asked if you wanted him to step in and pull you out of your position.

You had shook your head. The tension was awkward enough when you showed up, and his desperate vouch for you made it worse when his friends verbally questioned your presence. You didn’t want to make it worse by refusing to sit where you were wanted. 

In retrospect, you should have thought this through. All you did all night was rub your arms and feel out of place. Jisung could try to include you, but he also has to engage with his friends and could never be at two places at once.

You had gobbled your dinner so you could hide in the kitchen, where you had a decent conversation with Seungmin, who admitted that he should have spoken up at the cafeteria this afternoon but also did not feel bad that he didn’t. You appreciated he stood by his decision. You thought you two could become friends because of it. 

Annoyed groans ensued after a round of Jisung frantically smooching Hyunjin’s cheek. People who enjoyed the game were always the most boring to observe, but even you couldn't help but breathe out a giggle or two at their over-exaggerated action. 

After the two lovebirds were finished, Hyunjin reached out to turn the water bottle. It landed on Seungmin, who rolled his eyes when his friends whistled and hollered. 

He got down from the couch and reached over to turn the water bottle. You focused on it intently, watching as it slowed to a halt and realizing that the tip of the bottle was pointed directly at you.

You opened your mouth and attempted to scoot off to the side. "Oh, I think it is pointing at you, Jiae."

“What? No, it’s not.” Hyunjin leaned down to the level of the bottle. He opened one eye for accuracy as it shifted between the bottle and you. “Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s on you, [Name].”

You blew air out of your mouth, your eyes widening awkwardly. Talk about speed-running a friendship. You just introduced yourselves to each other in the kitchen, and you openly accused him of keeping silent when you were being picked on while he explained it by telling you he didn’t really care when it was happening. 

Looking over at Jisung, you saw that he was suppressing a giggle, gesturing to his friend and whispering inside jokes you would never understand. You shuddered when you caught his eyes while he shrugged, hardening his gaze at you mischievously.

Upon the silence, Jiae gigged as she waved at Seungmin. 

“I know you’re not being shy,” she said. “Or do you just not want to kiss them?”

“You’re right,” Seungmin replied monotonously. “I don’t want to kiss them.”

Your jaw dropped with a disdainful scoff. His expression was valid, but you didn’t like that he said it first. 

“I don’t want to kiss you either. I barely know you,” you retorted. “You’re not all that, Kim Seungmin.”

“Where did that even come from?” he questioned with a raised brow. “This can’t be about what I said in the kitchen, can it?”

“What did you say in the kitchen?”

“What if it is?” You both ignored Hyunjin’s question. You leaned forward with a glare, but your lips quirked gradually into a patronizing smirk. “Why does it matter to you? I thought you didn’t care.”

“I didn’t.”

“The conversation would have ended way earlier if that’s true.”

Hyunjin nudged Jisung’s side with his elbow as his eyes darted between you and Seungmin, who were sparking up a lightning line across your glares. Jisung turned to him, equally as confused but intrigued by the conversation differently.

Hyunjin was here for gossip. Jisung wanted to know when you even had a conversation with Seungmin and what you guys talked about that was enough to allow you two to argue like this—

“Dude,” Hyunjin giggled under his breath, “this is the beginning of every rival to lovers story.”

—like you two had chemistry together. 

Seungmin pursed his lips in silence as he accessed your furrowed brows. Next to you was Jiae, whose fingers uncontrollably tapped against her crossed legs impatiently. 

If there was anything he knew, he was in better standing with you than with her because of all the accusations he threw at the friend group this afternoon after Jisung left the table. 

She was making an attempt to single you out and humiliate you. You were trying to put him down out of a personal grudge. He disliked you less than he couldn’t care about her.

Most importantly, he wanted to spite you both.

“I’ll kiss you,” he said. “Actually, I’ll kiss you on the mouth because I don’t care.”

You widened your eyes and stuck your tongue to your inner cheek, a chuckle of disbelief vanishing when you watched him get up from the couch to walk toward you. He never struck you as someone who would care about his first kiss, or a kiss. You couldn’t imagine someone like him having a first kiss already.

You wanted to move out of the way or to verbally protest, but the competitive spirit in your heart told you to go through with it so you wouldn’t be some big loser. 

You glared at him when he crouched in front of you, leaning away from his hand when he tried to hold your face. “Are you serious?”

Seungmin smirked triumphantly, his nose scrunching. “Scared?”

“Who’s scared?” 

“You are.”

“I’m–“ you pursed your lips and exhaled. “I’m not. I just–“

Before you finished your sentence, he leaned in to plant a peck on your cheek, causing you to gasp. Your hand automatically flew up to grip his wrist, a flushing heat spread over your face when he leaned away and met eyes with you. The hair on your neck rose at the unexpected occasion, and if you weren’t so appalled, you would have noticed the tint of red on his ears.

Jisung's initial playfulness was partially gone when you and Seungmin were bantering. It has completely vanished now that the deed was done. At his angle, he wasn’t sure if his friend really kissed you on the mouth, and your reactions gave him no benefit of the doubt.

He rolled the inside of his bottom lip over his front teeth; grind, pull, grind, pull. There was a knot in his stomach he couldn’t loosen and frustration in his fists he couldn’t uncurl. When the stare you and Seungmin shared prolonged for over a few seconds, he forced himself to look down at his lap.

He hadn’t realized it, but all that crossed his mind was that he was being close. Seungmin was being too close to you. It was out of his comfort zone. He wanted to get between you and laugh him away. 

“Jisung! Spin the bottle!"

He snapped out of his thoughts. Seungmin returned to his seat on the couch, and you looked at him curiously. Everyone was looking at him, but you were the only face he cared to decipher. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and turned the bottle. His heart beats with every turn, flickering with prayers that it lands on you. Not just because he wanted to kiss you but also because he couldn’t fathom kissing anyone else. 

Miraculously, the tip of the bottle landed on you again. There was a gentle uproar in the circle as Jisung’s visibly perked up. In his head, he had already crawled over to you and pressed his lips against yours. In his dreams, you accepted it. 

In his dreams, you were together, love clear, and hearts inter-winded. He always woke up blushing, recalling every moment as he stared at the ceiling until his mother came knocking. 

It also plagued him sometimes. He wasn’t sure how he could explain to his future soulmate that he had already fallen in love with someone else.

Your alarmed gaze met his when he searched for you. There was a burn where your soul mark was, and you palmed over it uneasily. When Seungmin spun the bottle, you didn’t particularly cared if he kissed you outside of the conditioned value that a kiss was meant between lovers. But with Jisung—he’s too important. 

This would be the closest you have ever been with each other. His lips on your skin. It could not happen because of some stupid game. It could not be dictated by a sleepover activity you didn’t want to participate in.

“[Name]! Can you change out the water bottle? It’s been squeezed so much it doesn’t even turn that well anymore,” Jiae requested quickly when she noticed Jisung getting up. She moved to the center, grabbed the plastic bottle, and handed it to you. “Here. You’re such a love!”

“Huh? It’s a plastic bottle. You can just blow it back up–" Hyunjin clamped his mouth shut when the girl threw him a threatening smile.

You received the bottle reluctantly but nodded anyway. This was a good reason to escape the game. Without arguing, you stood up and walked out of the living room. Jisung watched your departure with disappointment, his feet pausing into a dejected position. Hyunjin yelped when he dropped his weight on the floor and sulked. 

“Why would you do that?”

Jiae, who had sat down with a satisfied expression, tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Why did you do that?” Jisung looked up, frustrated but not rude enough to show his anger. He rubbed his face and dropped his head between his knees, a bored and monotonous hum fleeing his mouth. “I almost had it. You ruined my chance. Seungmin did it and you ruined mine.”

“Jisung?" Hyunjin called gently with a poke to his friend’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not!” Jisung exclaimed. He let go of his face and sighed. “You’re being rude. You have been rude to [Name] this whole time. Getting puddings, switching out a water bottle. They’re my friend, too!”

Jiae looked startled, as did everyone else. Jisung had never been one to scold. He was always the mediator while the others stepped up to make everything worse. This headstrong side of him has only been brought out by you, back at the library when he accused you and this moment. 

Ever since what happened at the cafeteria, there was no chance that Jisung would let that kind of disappointment flash before your eyes again.

“That’s one way to make sure she’ll go to prom with you, Jisung,” someone said.

“I haven’t even asked,” Jisung said. “I don’t think I plan to anymore.”

There was a moment of painful silence. Hyunjin and Seungmin shared a knowing glance with each other, acknowledging that your presence alone might have just ruined the overall atmosphere of their friend group, but their eyes were accepting when they turned to look at Jisung.

If Jisung cared about you this much to break out of his comfort zone, they would do the same.

“Um, I’m not sure if it’s okay, but I got a different type of water bottle.” You entered the living room again to be welcomed by a dreadful quietness. Glancing at Jisung questioningly, you decided to stand by the door and wait it out.

Jiae rolled her eyes and scoffed. Scrambling onto her feet, she brushed past you to leave the living room. “Whatever, I'm heading to bed. You guys can have the guest room."

You made space as her friends scooted past you, leaving you bewildered. Last time you checked, it only took you a minute to get a new water bottle, not half an hour. Hyunjin and Seungmin got up, too, the taller boy dragging his friend along and bidding you a cheerful farewell before disappearing into the hallway. 

"Nothing happened," Jisung replied without your need to ask.

“Okay.” You eyed him suspiciously as he approached you. “I'm gonna head back home then."

"What? No, stay,” he said, gesturing upstairs. “We're all sleeping in the guest room.”

“Your friends–“

“Would love to get to know you too.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. There must be a limited number of beds in the guest room, if there wasn’t just one. You would not be comfortable sleeping with strangers and weren’t sure if you were ready to be so close to Jisung. Your odd presence would mess up the sleeping arrangement, so you’d rather leave peacefully. 

“I’ll sleep in the living room. You go hang out with your friends,” you said. “This is a sleepover. Go and have fun. Besides, it’s the best chance for you to ask Jiae to prom right now.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him by pushing him back and getting him out of the living room.”  Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be. I’ll stay here, I promise. You will see me in the morning.”

He pouted, looking at you as he took a few steps back. He stopped by the staircase, his hand holding onto the railing in hopes that you would change your mind at the last minute, but you only shooed him away with your arms. 

"I'll be fine. I have the couch all to myself," you said. "Go have a nice girl talk."

You shut the door between the hallway and the living room and turned around to face the empty area. With a tired sigh, you moved over to your bag and got out your essentials, preparing to start your nighttime routine alone.

Jisung had woken up in the middle of the night. His groggy eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light outside the window before he stood up and carefully stepped over his friends who slept on the floor. He put his arms out to feel for the walls and any obstacles as he headed for the kitchen to get a well-deserved glass of water.

Opening the door to the living room, his eyes trailed from the dining table to the couch, and it hit him that you had chosen to sleep on the couch. He tilted his head to the side, his thirst for water disappearing as he approached your sleeping figure instead. The floor beneath him was cold, but the edge of the couch where you lay wasn’t. 

He knelt at the side, his arms flat against the soft surface with his chin on top.

Your peaceful face was one of the things he loved about you. You were utterly unguarded and unaware. Sometimes, he thought the only time you weren’t angry was when you were asleep, and he wished things were different. He wished nothing bad ever happened to you. 

Reaching out to gently trace the back of his finger against your cheek, his eyes admired your features every step before they landed on your arm.

The sleeve of your sweater was scooted up loosely around your wrist, threatening to reveal the soul mark you had once desperately hidden from his sight. You hid it from him for a reason, and he would have otherwise respected your wishes if curiosity didn’t get the best of him. 

Observing your stillness, his hand timidly moved to grab hold of the fabric and pulled it up your forearm. The long sentence began to reveal itself. He angled his head to look at the words better.

tell me baby you're the happiest when you're with me right

Jisung inhaled, and his breathing stilled. He told you that. That was the first thing he has ever said to you. It was the exact line. 

He’s the one. He is your soulmate.

He is yours.

Your eyes were opened when Jisung turned to look at your face. You had been awake ever since you felt the gentle touch on your cheek, but you were too late to have stopped him from reading your mark.

You trembled, expecting Jisung to show you anger or at least something akin to frustration. But he only held your gaze under the soft light. 

"I'm your soulmate,” he whispered.

You nodded, and your voice was equally quiet. “Yeah.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I didn’t think you’d love me.”

Jisung sighed heartbrokenly. How could you still think after all the conversations you’ve had? 

Wordlessly, he got onto his knees and leaned over so his face could get close to yours. Your eyes were getting hazy at the proximity, and you couldn’t do anything but wait for him. He took the initiative, mostly because he felt like if he didn’t take the chance to kiss you right now, he would regret it later.

You closed your eyes as soon as you felt the soft surface of his lips touch yours. The next few seconds as Jisung pressed himself up against you were pure ecstasy, the blossomed longing in his chest withering into fallen petals before the breeze blew them toward you.

Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him down as you sunk against the pillow. The background had dissolved into a shade of white. It was only the two of you, sharing an intimate moment on the couch with the dim moonlight shining at the end of your legs as if it was shyly glancing away from Jisung’s wandering hands and your delighted expression.

Jisung was short of breath when his hands went from your hips to your hair. He hadn’t even recognized it until he found himself laying his entire weight down on your body in exhaustion, feeling your heart beat in line with his.

He wouldn’t have known. Your lips were like oxygen, and he couldn’t tell if he was breathing when he kissed you. He gently angled his face to take your bottom lip, pressing tight for a long moment before pulling away, resisting the temptation to dive in again when he saw your eyes.

You two didn’t speak. There wasn’t a need to say any words. Your actions had conveyed pretty much everything you needed to know about him and him about you.

Refusing to leave, Jisung laid his head on your shoulder, the warmth of your body giving him complete solace. He found himself never wanting to leave this position.

He had known all along the feeling he held for you. He wouldn’t have debated his feelings for you and how they conflicted with his future soulmate if he didn’t know. It took a slight push for him to finally bring it to light. 

Jisung smiled a little at the thought of having a sacred bond between you and him, and he would be eternally amazed at how miraculous it was. 

Despite not knowing the truth, the link had brought you two together anyway. It pulled him towards you and made him feel things he had never felt. He didn’t need to know his soulmate to love them; he had been right before. He couldn’t imagine never being in love with you.

You woke up earlier than everyone else and slowly slipped out of the couch, leaving Jisung sound asleep. You moved quick, getting ready in the bathroom and sneaking back to the living room to pack your things and leave with a small note stuck to the tea table.

But Jisung was a step ahead of you, his eyes big and round as he greeted you from the couch, his lips pursing into an excited grin. 

You melted, offering him a faint smile. “Hey, Jisung. I’m going to head back home, so I’ll see you in school, okay?”

Jisung sat up with a pout. “Why? Did your mom call?”

“Uh, sure,” you replied.

“Oh,” he nodded as he exited the couch, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said. 

“It’s Saturday. We can hang out!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head. “And, you know, I can meet your mom.” 

“What? That’s so–“ you laughed as you aggressively zipped your bag. “You’re funny!”

He squinted his eyes. He thought he was hallucinating because he was groggy, but there was something off about you. When you threw your bag over your shoulder, he reached out to hold your hand and pulled you back.

“Hold on, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re off.”

“Off to go home! Yes, I am!” 

“[Name].”

“Okay, fine.” You sighed. “It’s nothing. I’ve always been like this. You’re you, and I’m me.”

You wouldn’t look at him in the eyes. Judging by your impulsive actions and the lack of bashfulness, he knew this was about what happened yesterday night. 

“You’re pushing me away,” he said, his voice sounding like alarm bells. “You’re freaked out.”

“Jisung, I'm not pushing you away," you muttered. “We're still friends.”

“You kissed me back,” he pointed out in disbelief. “Your arms were around my neck. I was on top of you. We made out.”

You gulped at the thought of that. It had been going on rewind in your head the whole morning. Even now, as you looked at Jisung, you felt your gaze gravitating towards his lips.

“I’m not ready, Jisung,” you whispered. “I can’t do it now.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his voice much softer. “But it meant something. It meant something to you?”

"Yeah, I guess," you muttered. "But you–"

“You are very worried about me.”

"You don't love me, Jisung," you whispered. “You love me because we're soulmates.”

That wasn’t true, but telling you that wouldn’t suddenly change your point of view. Otherwise, Jisung wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to convince you that he was wholeheartedly in love with you.

You licked your lip and pulled away from him. “I'll see you at school,”

The softness of your voice pierced a hole in his heart, but he told himself to be patient. The time will come when he knows what to say, which will surely make you change your mind and believe that someone could love you.

When he finally crossed through your barrier, and you finally let him all the way in, he could never let you go again.

Things have changed. You two continued to hang out after school, having dinner in a different restaurant every day and chatting away as you would. But occasionally, a moment of dreadful silence would send the back of your hair raising.

You hated it as much as you hated the prom proposal you were witnessing.

Standing at the corner of the cafeteria where the entrance doors were, your deadpan eyes watched as everyone stopped to watch the public proposal unfold. No one questioned when Jisung stepped up on the table with empty hands as if they had expected this to happen at some point.

There were no banners, flowers, speakers, or microphones. It was him and his voice alone. You were certain half of your annoyance came from seeing his bare minimum. 

Jiae playfully shoved her friends as they pushed her forward, making her stand close to the table. She looked up at Jisung expectantly, and Jisung looked unfocused and nervous. It took a harsh shove from his Seungmin and a sharp glare thrown toward you for him to snap out of his trance.

Jisung crouched suddenly, facing Seungmin, who rolled his eyes in return.

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, a grimace on his face. ”Is it necessary? They probably hate public proposals like this.”

“Listen, they are standing all the way over by the doors. Either way, you're going to have to yell for them to hear you," Seungmin pointed out, nudging his head toward the direction you were in.

“So none of us care that Jiae stepped up alone?” Hyunjin asked shakily as he pushed himself closer to Seungmin, occasionally peeking behind Jisung’s shoulder.

Seungmin raised a fist and put it down when Jisung habitually leaned away. He stepped up, leaning over to speak in Jisung's ear. 

“If you want things to return to the way they were, you have to try,” he said, then shrugged. “Either you ask them to prom, or I will.”

"Or I will!” Felix chimed in, “We’ve become pretty good friends. They will go to a friendly prom with me!”

Jisung exhaled deeply. Seungmin was right. He has to properly announce his feelings for both of your sake. You needed to hear from him that he loves you, all business and no jokes.

“Yeah.” He looked off to the side and nodded. “You guys are insufferable. I love you both.”

Seungmin flinched and shook the words off his chest while Hyunjin grinned and sent Jisung flying kisses as he stood up to be in the spotlight. 

“[Name],” Jisung started, his voice echoing throughout the room. He looked over to the side, to where you were standing. When you flashed him a reluctant smile of encouragement, his heart clenched. He didn’t look away as he spoke. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You gasped along with the rest of the students, your eyes widening in shock. His proposal prompted everyone else to stare at you. It was embarrassing. You could only curse, duck your head, and spin to leave the cafeteria.

The crowd hollered in disappointment and hilarity at your reaction. Jisung panicked and jumped off the table, tipping over and barely catching himself when he landed on the ground. He shifted past a sea of people laughing at his face and welcomed the fresh air outside the cafeteria. He ran, turning corners and racing down hallways before he caught up to you.

You could hear the door to your empty classroom burst open harshly and rapid footsteps following behind. You spun around, glaring at him with a heavy frown. It was still baffling that he would do something outrageous, knowing how much you hated the attention. Still, you were more mad at him for the indirect confession than the crowd.

“What was that? We had a plan!"

“No, you had a plan, and I had a plan of my own,” Jisung said, marching up to you. He halted to a stop when he was of considerable distance, and he took a dramatic breath. 

This was the moment for him to change everything. This has to work.

“I love you. I really do. I don’t know how else I can express that besides being straightforward. Just because you don’t believe me or don’t want to believe me does not make my feelings any less true. I can’t read your mind, I don’t know how you feel, but I know that you’re denying my feelings because you don’t think you’re good enough for me, which isn’t a call for you to make. I choose what is best for me

“And fine, maybe I wouldn't have loved you if we weren't soulmates. But you are my soulmate, and I do love you now. Actually, if anything, your lack of trust in me is invalidating and demeaning. It upsets me! You upset me!”

His voice sounded as if he had bottled up many emotions inside. He wasn’t sticking to the script his friends made for him anymore. He was going to pour his heart out to you, and his heart told him he was pretty angry.

You blinked at the increasing grit in his voice. It felt familiar. He called you out once like this; that was the beginning of your friendship. You let your guard down back then because you liked him, and no matter how much you tried to cover your eyes, you could see it was the best decision you’ve made. 

“This is your master plan?” you muttered. “To yell at me?”

“What, no. I’m not yelling at you. I don’t want to yell at you.” His eyes rounded as he waved his hands in disagreement. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

His pleading eyes made you scoff, but there was laughter in them like you couldn’t stand him in the most endearing way possible. 

His shoulders shuddered when you reached for his hands and carefully closed the gap between your feet. 

“This is a chance,” you said. “I’m still not entirely ready for this.”

It took him a moment. When he realized you mailed him an acceptance letter, he squeezed your hands and nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, relief flushing over your chest upon his familiarity, like closing the last page of a long book. You’ve missed his stillness and his presence overall. You’re glad you got to have him back so quickly.

"I'm not going to prom," you said.

"It's okay,” he said. “We can stay home. We can turn on fairy lights and be cliché together."

“As if falling in love with your soulmate isn’t cliché enough,” you snorted with a slight eye roll while Jisung scrunched his nose at how casually you talked about you both.

“Speaking of soulmates,” he said. “You haven't given me an answer yet.”

You tilted your head. “To what?”

Jisung pulled at your sleeve to reveal your soul mark before he turned to look at you, a smirk on his face. "Tell me, baby. You’re the happiest when you're with me, right?”

“Goodbye.” You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove before spinning on your heels and walking away.

Jisung giggled, catching up to you again and again. Judging by how you smiled as he interlocked your hands, the answer was crystal clear without needing words.

You were both very sure that you were happiest when you were with Han Jisung.

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 | PART 3

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

PART 3

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[asunflowerana]

will you go to prom with me?

summary: prom is near, and your sweet, popular friend will do anything to have you as his date.

with: Gojo Satoru.

warnings: yandere behavior, blackmailing (not from satoru), slight blood mentions.

words: 1448.

a/n: i'm just gonna sit back and pretend this didn't give me chills. thinking of turning this into a series, but i'll hold myself from now haha

"Go to prom with me." It's not what you'd expect to hear on a Tuesday morning, right after a wearing History class. Even more so coming from the mouth of no other than Gojo Satoru, the coolest, most desired boy in school.

Yes, you've been friends with him for almost a year. And yes, you get on very well together, crack some side-jokes at classes, sometimes go out to grab some food, do homework at the library, and even stay up at night until sunrise on the phone, freaking out while studying for a math exam that none of you knew about it — or not paying attention, to be more honest. 

So yeah, you're friends. But it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about. And Gojo Satoru is just way out of anyone's league.

You're simply dumbfounded.

"I—" You swallow hard, feeling like you just lost your memory and no longer know how to complete sentences. You're feeling a lot of things, honestly, the guy you've had so many daydreams with saying he wants to have you as his partner, and there you are, a pile of nerves trying to hide the hard, loud way your heart beats inside.

And it's not that you don't want to accept it. Heck, you want to say yes so badly, how many times did you catch yourself watching those sappy rom coms and wondering if you and the white-haired boy would make a fine couple like that. He's the whole package, and if those gorgeous blue eyes and jaw-dropping looks weren't enough, he's also so kind to you, that you can't help but develop a crush.

But as expected, he didn't catch only your attention, but the whole school as well. Kaya Nami, one of the troublemaker cheerleaders, is in the line and does everything she can to make sure nothing gets in her way.

"If I were you, I'd stay away from Satoru Gojo. You won't like having me as an enemy, believe me." She threatened you last Friday, right during PE class. Confused wasn't enough to describe how you felt, but you didn't say anything back to not cause drama, only nodding and watching her head off like nothing happened.

"...I'm sorry, Satoru, but I can't." And unfortunately, that warning was enough to hinder you from making the choice you wanted.

It goes without saying how astounded Gojo was by your answer, that probably being his first time ever being rejected. "What do you mean 'you can't'?" And then his tone dropped an octave, changing to something more seething. "Did someone ask you? You said yesterday to me that you didn't get invited."

"And you're right, I didn't get it." You try to reason, not liking the way he's bothered by your rejection. " it's just... I didn't think you wanted to go with me!" And you didn't lie, even though you said it more as an excuse.

"Well, now you know." He gets closer, almost making you hit your back at the locker behind you. His eyes say he didn't buy any of your excuses. "So, why can't you go? I mean, I know how overwhelming my beauty can be, but you're just as pretty, sweetheart."

His mood suddenly changes to the usual Gojo Satoru, the cheeky guy who enjoys flustering you for fun. Grazing your chin between his index and thumb, he looks deep at you. "I'll give you the best time you ever had. Just be my date."

It takes everything on you to not jump in his arms and let yourself get swept off your feet. Why does he have to make this so difficult? Taking a deep breath, you remember the headache you're gonna get if you don't make the right choice. "Satoru, I'd love to be your date, really. It's just, I think there's someone else that would make a better date than me."

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. You don't know if he got angrier or had enough of your pitiful answers, but you wish you could be able to read only a fraction of Satoru's mind, cause he's staring for too long at you, and you don't know what else to say other than stare back at him.

Finally, he steps back, diverting his gaze to a random spot for a moment before moving to look at you again. Sliding his hands inside his pants pockets, he seems to accept the situation, but you're still not sure of what you see. "I guess you're not changing your mind, huh? Then tell me, who's this 'perfect match'  that you think would be better for me?" He questions with a hint of disdain, but he tries to hide it with a small side smile.

The girl appears in the scene before you can mention her name as if she was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and make her move on him. By the way your shoulders slump and your eyes lower to the ground, he quickly assumes that she's the person you were talking about earlier and that for some reason, she's making you very uncomfortable. Not you nor Nami noticed the way Gojo glares at a blank spot. Thinking, he mindlessly accepts the blond girl's invitation to lunch, giving you a brief hug before going away. "If that's what you want." He whispers unexpectedly in your ear, offering you a final smile before letting himself be guided to the cafeteria.

You spend the rest of the day wanting to beat yourself for wasting the chance you had to go out with Satoru. You don't talk to him as much during the week, since Nami was making sure to grab every second of his free time at break. It didn't take too long to figure out that both of them would go to prom together, and even though you were the one who made that happen, it still stings to imagine them having a good time.

Prom day arrives, and in the end, no one invites you. It wasn't something completely unexpected, but to be honest, you were hoping that at least one of your friends would be kind enough to want you as a company just so you could all enjoy the "night to remember". Honestly, you didn't want to miss such an important event, and even though there was a chance that you'd make a fool of yourself, it's still your prom, and you have the right to make the most of it, with or without someone.

Kicking away the self-pity, you dressed up and got ready for the special night, wearing that beautiful gown that you remember once showing on Pinterest to Satoru, months before the event. Checking your purse one more time, you catch your phone to ask for a cab, when you hear three familiar knocks on your front door.

Opening your house, you come face to face with someone you never would've imagined seeing at that moment. There stood Gojo Satoru, with a black tuxedo that perfectly accentuates his body, a bouquet of pink camellias in his left hand, glasses off, and a beautiful lopsided smile.

"...Wow." The combo of his honest compliment, his lingering, fond gaze in your direction, and the fact that you made him momentarily speechless, makes your whole self overwhelmed with endearing sensations, especially your warm cheeks.

But that passes too quickly since you don't understand the sudden visit.

"S-Satoru? What are you doing here?" You didn't want this to be the first thing to say to him, but you're so confused, that you don't know what else to say. "I thought you were going out with Nami. Where is she?"

Awakening from the brief trance you provoked in him, the white-haired boy only increases his smile in a rather strange way. " Didn't you know? Mina got in an accident yesterday, she fell from the stairs and ended up breaking her leg."

One more time, you were taken by surprise. As for your friend, he doesn't sound as worried as you imagined he would be after giving this message, but he still makes a respectful pause after saying it.

Satoru also notices your reaction, observing the way you empathetic self got sad for that girl's situation. Little did you know that she got exactly what deserved. And if you looked more closely at your gift, instead of worrying yourself, you'd notice the blood stains around the wrapping paper, the remains of what your future partner did to prove his love.

To his luck, you're just too pure to realize what you don't need to. And for that, Satoru smiles, gazing at you with sparks again.

"So now, will you go to prom with me?"

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 🦋

© asunflowerana 2024

[thewordswewrite]

Be My Guest

Pairing | Kate Carter x Tyler Owens

Summary | One time Tyler stays in Kate’s guest room and one time she stays in his

Warnings | discussions of trauma/injury associated with storm chasing, SMUT 18+

W/C | 6.6k

A/N | We wanted to hop into the Twisters fandom before it took ao3 by storm and this is *so far* what we've come up with. So...if you feel it... -smoe <33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

Hers

She came home for safety, familiarity, to find her way forward but instead, she found herself more lost than when she’d arrived. 

It was only supposed to be a week. Sure, Kate thought it would be difficult to be back in the field but she hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t anticipated him. It shouldn’t matter. She had a job in New York, a life, a stable, safe job, her own apartment–everything she needed. But was it everything she wanted? 

What Tyler had said crossed a line but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. It was just something she probably already knew, deep down, and hadn’t wanted to accept. She was running away from the storm but she should know better than most that it would always catch up.

With an aggravated sweep of her arm, all of her past research was on the floor, pages floating around her before finding a place to land. She almost immediately regretted the mess but it had felt good. For the last five years, she’s avoided risk but now it almost feels hypocritical to say that she misses it.

Kate bent to gather the papers but only grabbed a few before stopping at her Cloud Physics notebook which had fallen open to a familiar page. She sat down in front of it and traced the impressions of her writing on the pages. It was too much to retrace her steps, to consider what had gone wrong. She needed to get out of her head and she couldn’t do that without getting out of this damn barn.

She knocked lightly on the kitchen door so as not to startle her mom. Being an adult, Kate felt an aversion to putting these things on her mom. Her mother had always been supportive, even when knowing her daughter’s passion was actively putting her in danger. Maybe she just didn’t want her mom to repeat the same sentiments as Tyler but she also knew she wasn’t about to come to any decision without some guidance. Just like seeing her middle school science project again, she felt like a child standing in the kitchen.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.” She sighed and pulled out the chair at the dining table that had always belonged to her. The smell of whatever her mother was stirring made her stomach grumble. “Where’s Tyler?”

“Oh, he drove pretty far so he’s getting cleaned up.” Kate could tell her mom was trying to sound uninterested, maybe for her sake but still she asked, “What’s his story anyway?”

“He’s just some internet star from Arkansas,” She explained, picking at a stain on the table. For a moment she thought about leaving it at that but the fire he had lit in the barn was still burning inside her. Sardonically, she added, “He’s made a living as a so-called ‘Tornado Wrangler’ but so far he’s only shot some fireworks into a cyclone and nearly killed the reporter signed on to cover him and his team.”

Her mom chuckled and replied, “Sounds like a man looking for a thrill to me.”

Again, she felt like a child relaying the latest gossip from the schoolyard but she couldn’t help but continue.

“And his whole team is this ragtag group of people who’ve never been to school for this either!”

“I see.”

“I mean sure he’s studied meteorology but they could get seriously hurt.” Kate had busied herself by fiddling with a napkin she’d pulled from the homemade holder. The shreds of it were getting smaller and smaller.  “They’re no professionals.”

Her mom hummed, acknowledging her annoyance but countered with, “Well he doesn’t seem too bad to me, he did drive all the way here.” Although her mother graciously spared her the ‘for you’ that they both knew completed that thought, she felt its weight. It was easier to make him seem unlikeable than tell her mom that it was her that was in the wrong.

“You’d believe me if you saw the shirts he sells, his face all sprawled across them.” Kate laughed, thinking of the cheesy slogans. It wasn’t lost on her that she had assumed the worst of him. She thought back to what Lily had said and felt ashamed. “Though,” She conceded, “the money does pay for food for the aftermath survivors. They were handing it  out at the last town we were in after the tornado hit.”

“Not all bad then?” Her mother turned fully to face her and Kate knew her teasing expression said all she needed to know.

“I guess not.”

_ _ _

Dinner had been passable, if not enjoyable. Kate had figured it would be awkward, that the dynamic between her and her mom would be offset by Tyler’s presence but it had flowed easily. The only gripe she had was that her mother had gone over her head to invite him to stay the night. In her ideal world, she would’ve ushered him out right after dinner saying a quick thanks for his concern but sending him on his way knowing that she’d never have an obligation to speak to him again. 

Tyler had, of course, helped her mom with the dishes, leaving her to watch awkwardly so as not to take up unnecessary space in the small kitchen. She’d shot him a tight smile as he’d excused himself to his room for the night. 

“Well,” Her mom said from the doorway, “I’m off to bed. Shut the lights, will you?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she made her way past the living room to her bedroom. 

Kate tapped her fingers sporadically against the table, the sound echoing in the quiet house. She hadn’t been fully present for dinner. Every time she looked at Tyler she could only think about what she was doing wrong, what she was missing. As much as she resented the fact, there was no way she could make peace with the past couple of days if she didn’t get in another word with him.

She flipped the last of the switches off and made her way up the stairs, avoiding the ones she knew were extra creaky. At the landing, Kate considered just going to her bedroom but her feet kept their integrity and trudged her towards the guest room.

Her hand was poised to knock when the door opened.

“Kate?” The sound of his voice combined with the unexpected image made her jump. Whatever she had been prepared to say had left with her surprise but Tyler was already speaking again.  “Listen, what I said in the barn was out of line I shouldn’t have–”

“No you shouldn’t have…but you weren’t wrong either.”

Stepping back, he opened the door a bit more and though it wasn’t quite an invitation. It was a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross with his apology and her admittance the gist of what she’d hoped for. She promised herself that if he didn’t try to say anything else, she’d just turn around and walk away. He bit his lip, seeming to wrestle with something the same way she was.

“What’s the story behind you and Javi?” The question surprised her and she felt a vague excitement about his interest or rather the fact that he was interested at all. But the story itself was not something she was sure she could share.

“We met in college, he was friends with my…my boyfriend at the time.”

Tyler’s eyebrow raised in a silent question before he said, “And your boyfriend he was…”

She couldn’t stand in the hallway any longer where she was fully open to his scrutiny whether the story inspired pity or something else. Kate stepped past him into the room and started to explain,

“He was in the accident, along with two of my best friends.” She folded her arms across her chest, in a way trying to shield herself from the memories. “We were testing the polymer on what we thought was an EF1 but–”

“It was an EF5.” She nodded and his lips shifted into a sympathetic frown. Kate sat on the edge of the bed so that she didn’t have to face him head on.

She continued with, “So, I quit school and packed up to New York. Javi went back to Miami but because of the outbreak he thought he could use a second pair of eyes and invited me on.” From her peripheral, she could see the way he nodded along as she spoke, the genuine compassion still written in his features. She shrugged, unwilling to allow herself to feel the extent of the situation and the memories in front of him, “None of it matters though, I’ll be back in the city by the end of the week anyway.”

“You mean you’re giving up?” Tyler asked like it was somehow a personal affront to him or some greater injustice. Kate wasn’t sure what he cared. They’d only just met and he didn’t know her, not really. 

“I’m not giving up. I can’t live like this again, risking my life every day.”

“Because of the accident?” The way he said it, like it was only a passing moment and not something that monumentally changed not only her life but her, made her response sharp. 

“Yes, because of the accident.” 

He was unshaken by her hostility and placed a hand lightly on top of hers where it sat between them on the bed.

“Kate, I’ve seen people get hurt too, I’ve–” She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t have him reduce her experience by comparison. If he thought this was the way to change her mind, he was sorely mistaken.

“Yeah, Tyler, well I got hurt. I watched people die, and I’ll bear those scars for the rest of my life.” Her body filled with tension of the memory as her breath began to quicken. She let the anger take over, the simplicity of it easier than the complicated truth. “I don't know why I even–”

 “Hold on–Kate!”

Kate could feel the air his failed reach created as he tried to grab her wrist to stop her. She was fast though, spurred on by the singular goal of getting the hell away from him. When she made it to the threshold of her room, she moved to shut the door. It almost slammed fully closed but groaned as the wood crashed into the foot he’d managed to snake in.

“Go to bed,” She demanded.

“So what, you’re going to help Javi line the pockets of Riggs for the rest of the week? The real estate shark that's directly profiting off the suffering of these people?” It seemed he couldn’t help, was adept at, pushing her buttons. If she were any bolder, she’d have already struck the self-righteous expression off his face.

“I didn’t know about that, I would have never–these are my people but this isn’t the way, the polymer didn’t work and people died because of it.”

“More will too, but only if you don’t do anything.” He tried to reach for her again but she shrugged away, “It could work. Together we could do this.” Tyler’s expression was pleading, his eyes urging her to make the right decision.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

His

The flight was thankfully uneventful and much easier than her last flight to Oklahoma when she’d been dreading the very idea of her return. There were still memories that haunted the place she called home but now she could rest assured that they weren’t losses for nothing and that she may very well be able to save someone, hopefully many someones, from the same suffering she had endured for years.

Kate dragged her suitcases through the airport and the bustle of people coming and going made her feel oddly comforted. New York was easy to get lost in and for the time, it was exactly what she needed. But it had only ever been a place she ran away to and after a while she was running too fast to ever see it for what it was. Here, in Oklahoma, she was home.

She made her way out to the pickup lanes and was met with a calm blue sky, one that she knew–or maybe even hoped–wouldn’t last. At the five-minute mark, Kate was unbothered. By ten, she considered concern. By twenty, she was on the phone. It took three calls getting sent to voicemail before her mother picked up on the fourth.

“Hey, are you alright?” She tried not to sound too concerned but it wasn’t like her mother to forget an obligation or to not pick up the phone. 

“Oh, sunshine, I’m fine. It’s my truck that’s acting up,” Her mom replied. “I was on the road already when it decided to quit on me. I’m not sure how long repairs are going to take. You want me to call someone for you?” Kate sighed, more relieved by her mother’s well-being than bothered by the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” She answered, “As much as you don’t like it, I am a big girl. I can take care of it.”

“I know you can, baby. Don’t worry about making it here tonight, just take care of yourself.”

They exchanged ‘I love you’s before it sunk in that actually did have to take care of it. She found herself a spot on a nearby bench and tucked her luggage in beside her. Scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovered over Javi before something urged her to keep going. Kate wasn’t sure if this was a bad idea but lately, she could handle a little risk.

“Hello?” She bit her lip, knowing this was her last chance to turn back. Still, he might not even be around or available to get her.

“Hey, Tyler?”

“Uh, yeah?” His voice was in performance mode, his uncertainty no match to his inherent charisma. Kate found herself filled with an urgent hope.

“It's Kate, Kate Carter.”

“Kate!” She could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first time she’d called him since he gave her his number and she was just beginning to regret not using it sooner. “What uh…what's going on?”

Her stomach flipped at the realization that she had to explain herself, that she wasn’t just calling him. Oh god, was this a mistake? Kate had thought there was something there when they were saying goodbye but maybe this was pushing it.  

“Are you in Oklahoma by any chance?”

“I am actually,” Tyler replied before he, with a hopeful tone, asked, “Are you here?”

“Do you think you could pick me up from the airport?” She fought the urge to cross her fingers like a little girl. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she had to call Javi but she couldn’t help but want to see where this path led.

“Of course!” Her chest tightened, a mix between excitement and worry. “Is everything alright with your mom?” Kate’s cheeks flushed, touched by his concern. 

“Yeah–truck just wasn’t starting, don’t worry,” She said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Alright then, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” In the background, Kate could hear his keys jingling already and she smiled to herself.

“Thanks so much. Bye.”

_ _ _

Kate had been inside, sitting at a cafe when her phone buzzed in her pocket, Tyler letting her know that he’d made it. She tossed out her empty coffee cup before regathering her things and taking a deep breath. If she was being honest with herself, she was excited to see him but she didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing she’d be subject to should she seem too eager to be in his presence.

The sliding doors opened and it took her a minute to spot the familiar red truck. Her eyes followed the path to where Tyler was busy basking in the attention of an adoring fan. What more could she expect?

“And did you want this signed cause I could definitely sign this for you.”

He didn’t notice as she siddled up, even with the rumble of her suitcases on the concrete. She shook her head at the display of his ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona and thought better than to let him off the hook.

With the exaggerated voice of a dedicated fan, she implored, “Oh my goodness! Is that Tyler Owens? I am your biggest fan!”

“That’s me darlin’, what can I do for–Kate.” He cleared his throat and straightened out his posture, putting on the real Tyler at the sight of her. Kate bit her lip, sparing him the laugh that threatened to escape her.

“Tyler,” She said, “You look good.”

“Well, I feel good.” Tyler stood with his hands on his hips, the two of them alone now and it seemed neither of them knew just what to say. She laughed at his remark and began to heave her luggage into the bed. Before she could lift the larger of the two bags, Tyler was stopping her with a hand on her wrist. Kate looked up at him, confused. 

“Don’t make me make you get in the truck.” She glared at him, gauging whether or not he was serious. He only matched her expression. “Get in the truck,” Tyler repeated.

Kate rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. She couldn’t help but lean over toward the shift, running her fingers across the buttons. Her pointer finger landed on the tape labeled, ‘Kate’s Barrels’ and traced over his writing. When the driver's door opened, she jumped at the movement and tore her hand away. 

“Headed to your mom’s?” Tyler asked, fingers tapping a rhythm onto the wheel.

“Uh, no actually just any motel close would be good. Home’s a bit far and the flight was long. I just want to go to bed.” She reminded herself that that was the only reason.

“I’m close,” He told her. Since when was he close? “I mean you could stay in my guest room and I could take you back to Sapulpa in the morning?” The idea sounded as equally dangerous as it was appealing. With a motel, she was in control of the situation but his place? There was no knowing.

Clearing her throat she answered, “That…sounds fine.”

Tyler tipped his hat toward her and then he was making his way out of the parking spot. For a little while, they sat in comfortable silence, the radio filling the empty space between them. Once they were outside the city, it was comforting to watch as farmland made up her view. The word rattled in her head again. Home.

“So, how did it end up going with the investors?” He asked. “Good, I assume since you’re back in Oklahoma.” Kate couldn’t help but smile knowing well enough already how happy he’d be to hear. Not to mention how happy she was to achieve something she’d been chasing since the possibility entered her mind.

“Yeah, it went very well actually. We uh–we got a lot of people interested and the offers were so good…I quit my job and sold the apartment. I’m back, back.”

Tyler’s smile grew to a million watts as he exclaimed, “Kate! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you, we’re really excited.” She thought she saw his grin falter a bit but she couldn’t pin down why. Still, after a moment he let out a whoop, honking the horn at the expense of the car in front of them. Kate laughed, placing her hand over his to keep him from doing it again.

“So, where you planning on living? With Javi?”

“Actually I’m not sure yet. Javi has this new girlfriend from back in Miami and they’re pretty wrapped up in each other.” His eyebrows raised and she continued, “My mom's kind of out of the way too. Plus, she’s thinking of selling since seed prices just keep going up. Says she’s sick of the weather.”

Tyler’s jaw went slack, exaggerating his shock. “Sick of the–Sick of the weather?”

“What can I say, she doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the storm.” Kate sighed theatrically. Her hand went to her forehead in a ‘woe is me’ gesture. He chuckled, punching her playfully in the arm.

“On the topic of prices though, she is right.” Tyler sighed as he turned onto a new street.  “That’s why I bought land and started from the ground up.”

“Land?” She repeated. It hadn’t been that long that she’d been gone. When and more so why had he decided to put down roots and outside of Arkansas for that matter.

“Yes, ma’am.” His mouth quirked up in a prideful smirk.

“And here I thought I’d be sharing some shitty motel room.”

They pulled into a long dirt driveway, the grass surrounding it still young. While the house was clearly new, the style had a nostalgic feel to it. It was painted a fresh shade of cream and the white wrap-around porch just screamed summer nights. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was going to visit some sweet old lady.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

Tyler opened her door for her like a proper gentleman and she stepped out into pleasant fresh air. The whole thing was picturesque. Kate supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised considering she didn’t really know his tastes but the whole thing surprised her nonetheless. 

She followed Tyler through the front door as he carried her bags inside. The interior was just as sweet as the exterior had been but Kate could see the signs that were uniquely him. There were various piles and pieces of gear strewn about that she recognized from having filled her mother’s house with. Even with the classic style, the appliances and layout were tastefully modern. She was impressed.

Kate stepped into the kitchen which seemed to be the most lived-in room. There were pictures of the Wranglers and what she assumed was his family stuck to the fridge. Her eyes drifted to a bulletin board hung up next to it and tacked up in the center of it was a page ripped out of their article from Ben, one with a picture of her. She could feel her cheeks flush even with him still in the other room. Though she wanted to, Kate knew she wouldn’t mention it.

“You hungry?” She jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice.

“No, I couldn’t–” The same look that urged her to ‘get in the truck’ painted his face and she reconsidered her answer. “Starved.”

Tyler seemed satisfied. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen island where she could have a clear view of him whipping something together. The whole thing felt unnervingly domestic but she enjoyed it all the same.

“This place is really nice, Tyler,” Kate said. Gesturing toward his tricked-out home office–that was maybe a little too nice for a YouTube star–she pointed out, “Got a nice setup too.”

“Yeah, the team has pretty much paired off and they live here and there but we come back for a warm meal more often than not.”

“Not you though?” It had crossed her mind that maybe the sudden home ownership had been a response to some sort of serious relationship. She tried to sound casual since it wasn’t really any of her business.

Tyler smiled and shrugged. “Nah, a fearless leader has to hold down the fort.” Kate rolled her eyes and laughed at his cockiness. It was better knowing that it didn’t run deep. She thought better than to push it but still, she wanted to know what this whole thing was for.

“No, but seriously, why a house?”

“Oklahoma is the past, present and future of tornadoes. That’s no secret,” He replied like it was some well-known slogan. Yeah, the outbreak they experienced had put Oklahoma back on the map but Tornado Alley spanned a wide area, including Arkansas. 

“How do you figure?”

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” Her stomach sank, trying to decipher the meaning behind what he said. His focus was trained on the pot in front of him like what he’d said was no big deal. What was she supposed to say to that?

Without an answer, Tyler clarified, “You’ve got better instinct than anyone I’ve ever met, better than any Doppler too.”

He’d turned to her and winked in her continued silence. Kate nodded with a smile like it was casual to her too. She shifted under his intense gaze and thought it was an apt time to break the tension with something she’d been tossing around in her mind. He laid a plate of spaghetti in front of her before sitting down himself. She cleared her throat.

“I was going to wait to bring this up but…I was wondering if you would consider being partners.”

“Really?” The excitement on his face was genuine and Kate could see the surprise too. It made her feel secure in her decision. 

“Javi and I both have stakes in it but he’s avoiding the field as much as he can right now. He’s got the business side under control but, like I said, he’s got someone at home who’d prefer he didn’t get blown away.”

Tyler stayed practically frozen in place. Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds after all. She could tell herself all she wanted that she wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t want to partner with her but that didn’t make it the truth. 

“What do you say, me and you?” Kate asked, bracing for his answer.

“You and me,” Tyler replied genuinely and with what she hoped was a hint of awe.

They ate silently, half from hunger and half in consideration of their future. As much as Kate didn’t want to admit it, there were other questions lingering between them. When her plate was cleared, he insisted on taking care of the simple cleanup himself leaving Kate to sit idly at the kitchen table, unable to get anywhere else without his direction anyway.

With the dishes washed, Tyler turned his attention back to her but it seemed he had just as much of an idea of how to proceed as she did.

“So, uh…” She began, uncertain where she was going.

“I bet you probably want to get cleaned up. There’s an en suite in the guest room.”

“Yeah, great.” As much as she wanted to bolt, Kate got up from the table slowly as if she were as calm as could be. Still, she didn’t wait for any instructions as to where to go. She didn’t turn back to look at him as she climbed the stairs, internally cursing herself for adding to the awkward atmosphere.

“First door on the right!” Tyler called after her because, of course, she hadn’t asked.

_ _ _

The warm water had been just what she needed, especially paired with the time away from Tyler to think. As much as there had been a sense of tension between them, her feelings had settled on contentment and maybe even excitement. They were partners now and they had plenty of time to figure everything and anything else out. They’d been through hell already and he would help her through it again.

She stepped out of the shower, her feet hitting the plush bath mat, and reached for a towel. Her hand grabbed only air. Upon further inspection, the towel rack was completely unoccupied. Shit.

“Um, Tyler?” Kate called. She waited a few minutes for his response and when it didn’t come she yelled louder. “Tyler!” She let out a breath when she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Yeah?” 

“There are no towels in here!”

“Shit. My bad, no one has used that bedroom yet,” Tyler explained. His feet were already causing the wood floor to creak when he assured, “I’ll grab you one, be right back.”

Kate couldn’t believe this was happening. There was a good chance that she’d expose herself in the exchange. She’d even left her clothes on the bed, choosing to strip before going to the bathroom.

A few minutes later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Here, I brought you a few. I don’t know what you prefer,” Tyler said.

She had to assume that he was smart enough not to look. He’d been nothing but polite after all. When she opened the door, his eyes were covered by the palm of his hand, and his other arm was extended out to her. Kate tried not to laugh at the look of him.

“Thanks.” 

Kate wrapped the largest towel around herself and used another to dry the excess moisture from her hair. She pulled the door back open, assuming he was gone but she was met with his figure, eyes still shielded. Nearly bumping right into him, she let out an involuntary sound something between a squeak and a groan. Tyler echoed the sound and quickly flipped his hand so he could see her. She had to assume that his subsequent turning around was motivated by her state of undress.

She didn’t know what else to do besides starting to dress. It seemed he wasn’t done talking to her just yet. After a moment, he spoke.

“Uh, Kate…I, uh, realized I didn’t say thank you just then for considering me.”

“Who else could I possibly consider?” She winced at her own words. By no means did Kate want to sound like she was unhappy, she just didn’t want to make it a big deal between them.

“Well, right, I guess there’s not many storm chasers to begin with and especially not ones who’ve studied meteorology.” Kate could hear the slight hurt in his voice even as he tried to tease and she couldn’t blame him. She’d said the wrong thing. She quickly finished pulling on her pajama pants so she could focus on the conversation before she said something else she regretted.

“Tyler,” She said softly. He still had his back considerately turned to her. Like a kid trying to pass notes in class, Kate tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Tyler smiled as he faced her and it gave her the boost she needed to say what she wanted.  “You’re the reason I’m doing this in the first place. You believed in me even when I didn’t. We’re going to be helping people and that’s because of you.”

He was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“You can’t believe that, it's your polymer, your idea–”

She took a confident step forward, the action effectively shutting him up. The closer Kate got the more she angled up at him, his height towering over her. Her hand found its way to his jaw, cupping it gently, her thumb brushing over the stubble of his skin. Before she had the chance to close the distance, Tyler took his chance to capture her lips with his own.

It started slow, hesitant to the possibility of too much too fast but quickly gained momentum as they threw caution to the wind. It had been years since Kate had done this, never quite feeling able to move on from Jeb and the accident but now with a sense of closure and Tyler’s guiding hand she felt ready.

His mouth was eager as their kiss deepened, Tyler’s tongue painting the inside of her mouth, almost as if he was committing it to memory. Their heavy breaths filled the air and neither of them seemed willing to break the kiss as the minutes went on. It wasn’t until her fingers played at the hem of his shirt that he broke off, looking down at her through hooded eyes, his mouth swollen and flushed.

“Kate…”

The sight was too much and she couldn’t help but bring her lips back to his skin. They found purchase at his pulse point, kisses littering his neck as she made her intentions known to him with every touch.

Taking a step back, Tyler’s hands cradled her face and he searched her eyes, looking for what she wasn’t sure but when he seemed to find it a smile broke across his face. It was the same smile he sported every time the wind picked up and the radar lit up red: a man ready to face a challenge.

“You still wanna stay in my guest room?” He asked, though his joking town was limited by his heavy breathing. Kate knew he was teasing but he was just as eager as she was.

“If you keep up with that attitude I just might,” She replied, smiling ruefully.

“Honey,” Tyler beamed, “all I’ve got is attitude.”

A chuckle escaped her lips and his face turned from cocky to sincere before he leaned in to steal a kiss once more. His hands moved from her face to grasping her own as he led her to what she assumed was his room.

Kate struggled to keep up as he held his hands behind him for her to grasp. She held them awkwardly as the unusual position did not grant her a good grip. The playful air gave her butterflies but also made her feel a sense of safety, knowing that things didn’t have to be heavy between them.

Tyler turned, pulling their hands over his head so that Kate twirled around with him. He used the momentum to guide her backward into his room with his hands on her hips, attempting a cheesily seductive smolder. She used her heel to kick the door shut behind them.

Kate walked ahead of him to go sit on the edge of his bed. She could tell he was watching her closely to consider his next move but she enjoyed the idea of playing coy with him. Ignoring him, she took in the space which was surprisingly sparse especially compared to the ground floor.

“Wow, real homey in here,” Kate joked, feigning awe at the blank walls

“Oh, hush,” Tyler chided, “It hasn’t been that long since we finished construction.”

She put up her hands in surrender and replied, “Sure, sure.” He rolled his eyes at her and then his expression became soft again. Tyler walked forward, kneeing her legs open and standing between them. With just a tilt of her head they were kissing again and this time when she grabbed his shirt, he let her take it off of him. Kate paused a moment to take him in, the image one she intended to commit to memory before pulling her own shirt over her head.

The rest of their clothes came quickly but when it was time for her to remove her jeans she hesitated.

“We don’t have to do this.” Tyler reassured her, misreading her reluctance. Kate shook her head.

“It's not that it’s–” She huffed in frustration and rather than continue to overthink, pulled her pants down in one swift motion, hoping he’d move past the interruption rather than linger on the issue.

Instead, his eyes moved immediately to her lower half and zeroed in on her leg…her scar. Kate’s stomach began to churn. She knew that he knew the story but she hated that it had to be part of this moment between them. He had been part of making it possible for her to redeem herself, to make sure the losses were not worth nothing. Still, the memories and the physical signs would never leave her. It made her insecure but if he had a problem with it, this wasn’t worth continuing.

“Is this from…”

“Yes,” Kate replied flatly. She didn’t have anything to prove and she wanted more than anything to move on from this as soon as possible. Tyler looked up from the marred skin on her leg and cupped her face with one of his hands. His eyes were filled with pure admiration.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Tyler’s lips were on hers again as he leaned her back into the bed, his body sculpting to hers. She felt a hand trail down her body, over her ass, before he hoisted her leg over his shoulder, his face turning towards her thigh and kissing over her scar as he lined himself up with her entrance. He looked at her until she realized he was waiting for her cue. She grabbed onto his upper arms and nodded, making it clear she was ready.

He was slow with her, caressing in all the right spots and making sure she was comfortable until he was finally fully inside her and they moaned in unison at the feeling. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time and when he took a moment to brush the hair from her face it made it all that much sweeter so much so that she laughed. Tyler looked at her, concerned but when she kissed him, he smiled into it catching her drift.

As he began to grind into her, he coaxed mewls from her lips, her hips meeting his instinctually at the pleasure. The way he watched her carefully for her reactions made her heart soar. He made it evident that they were in this together, that he cared about making her feel good. One of Tyler's hands still held her leg while the other found her clit, circling it while keeping pace and she couldn’t help the words spilling from her mouth.

“Tyler,” Kate pleaded, “Don’t stop.” He listened to her demand but she could see how it made him falter. His expression was that of awe as if he couldn’t believe that he was here with her, that she was enjoying what he was doing for them. She curled an arm around his neck and played with the hair there in a way that caused him to flush.

“I gotcha,” Tyler promised, somehow pressing them closer together, “I gotcha.”

She could’ve been embarrassed at how fast she came but Tyler didn’t give her a chance, instead riding her out through her climax and continuing to thrust even after. It was almost too much as tears of pleasure pricked her eyes and her moans filled the room. Her hands gripped the sheets, his arms, his hair, anything that she could reach to keep hold of her senses as they were overwhelmed. All she could think or comprehend was Tyler.

“I–I’m close,” He stammered, the tremble in his voice radiating throughout his body, “Kate, I–”

Her vision went white when she came again, though she could hear Tyler moan her name like a mantra, his head buried in her neck. One hand reached into his hair while the other traced absent circles on his back. It took him a minute but eventually, he came back to her.

“Hey,” He said, letting out a breathy laugh. 

“Hi.”

Tyler pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, clearly savoring the moment. Kate didn’t want it to end either but she was confident that it was only beginning. They both let out their own versions of a disappointed noise as he pulled out.

When he disappeared into the ensuite, she pulled his comforter up around her, the scent of him enveloping her as well. He came back with a damp towel and once helped her clean up, he flopped into bed beside her, pulling her into his side.

Kate placed a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She wanted to bask in the moment a bit longer but before she knew it she was beginning to yawn. 

The last thing she remembered before she fell into a peaceful sleep was the sweet kiss they shared and the soft rumble of his voice.

“Goodnight, Kate.”

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[insidekatmind]

Deal-Cho Sang-Woo

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

Cho Sang-Woo didn't feel guilty about ending the lives of most of his teammates. While Gi-Hun, his childhood friend, had shown a sense of compassion and had given up the money he had won to donate it to the families of the dead players., Sang-woo wasn't happy that he gave up the money, causing him to lose too.. The next months were filled with attempts to regain his financial stability, but he failed, as usual. That was until he received a card, the same one that had invited him to the ‘Squid Game’ a year ago.

This card was different. It was black, with golden figures unlike anything he had ever seen. Sang-Woo studied it, wondering whether it was worth reaching out to them again. His desperation pushed him to make the call. What they offered him left him in disbelief: they didn’t want him as a player, but as a guard. The message explained that he had been under secret surveillance by the organizers and that they believed he was suited to participate in the game from the other side, in the highest rank.

Sang-Woo returned to the island, now in a new role:his mask bearing the symbol of a square. Everything had changed. He had access to things he never had before. As the games began, he couldn’t help but notice Player 424:you. Sang-Woo was sure that you were destined to win these games.

It was a night like any other, and you, like everyone else, were condemned to live in constant fear and hope. The games of Squid Game had turned each day into a fight for survival. Yet, that evening something strange was happening. When they were escorting you to the bathroom, one of the guards stopped you and ordered the others to leave you alone.

You had never seen this particular guard before, but his appearance left no doubt: he was one of the highest-ranking, with the square mask indicating his position. His face was emotionless, but you knew he wasn’t there for a simple check-up.

"424," he said, his voice filtered through the mask, as the bathroom door closed behind you. "We need to talk."

His words hit you like a sudden blow. The tone was authoritative, but also curious. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. You felt vulnerable, but also trapped in the situation. You had no choice but to listen.

"You’re not like the others," he continued, his voice now harder. "I’ve been watching your behavior. Your determination. I... I can help you."

He paused for a moment, as though weighing every word he was about to say. You, unsure of what to expect, waited in silence, trying not to show your fear.

"These games aren’t just a test of survival," he finally said. "They’re a test of corruption. And I’m willing to make you win, if you accept my conditions. You just need to follow the rules. Because this time, those inside the game can also control it."

His gaze, hidden behind the mask, seemed even more threatening. You knew this proposal wasn’t free; something was about to change drastically. You had heard stories of alliances, betrayals, and deceptions, but never of someone willing to put everything on the line like this. Your life, as always, depended on a decision.

"Do you accept?" he asked, his voice low and relentless.

It was a difficult choice, but you knew this could be your only way to win. The question hung in the air, and you, aware that time was not on your side, answered in your own way, ready to find out just how far you'd go in the heart of the game.

You look at the guard in surprise. "What do you want in return?" you whisper. The guard's gaze was fixed on your face. Even though you couldn't see his expression through the mask, you could feel his satisfaction with your immediate question.

He moves closer to you, touching your lip with his thumb.“Nothing but your total loyalty.” He replied in a firm but calm voice. "Total obedience." he continues to say as he continues to play with your lip “and you give me pleasure ” he whispers possessively.

Before you has the opportunity to respond, he grabs you by the hips and pushes you against the sink. He was now standing in front and between your legs, bringing his body even closer to yours. You could feel his heat through his clothes, as his gaze remained glued onto your face.Sang-woo leans down and whispers in your ear. "You'll do what I say and I will get you out of this game. Simple enough to understand."

You nod at his words. "To be clear, what do you mean by 'that I have to give you pleasure'?" you whisper. He chuckles at your question, still having your body pinned down against the sink. "I like how your mind works right away." He starts to play with the hem of your shirt, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your abdomen.

His voice was barely a whisper, but you could feel the heat of his breath against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine."When I say that you have to give me pleasure, I mean every type of pleasure I decide." He runs his nose across your neck, breathing you in.

He lifts his mask.Sang-woo slowly starts placing soft kisses along your jawline, moving his lips to your ear, his touch leaving a trail of hot, tingles on your skin. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, licking and biting lightly before continuing to whisper."You'll give me anything I want. Any type of pleasure I need." He says against your ear, his words both a statement and a demand.He moves backwards, giving you a little space. You could see his eyes staring at you from behind the mask. He reaches up and slowly starts to lift the mask from his face.

You're left speechless for a moment, as you see his face for the first time. He's beautiful, there is no denying it. His features are sharp, yet oddly delicate. He has soft brown eyes that are staring at you with such intensity that you feel frozen in place, his gaze pinning you down more than his body ever had.

Sang woo reaches for your chin, making you look up at him. He slowly presses his thumb against your lip, almost like he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin. "Do we have a deal then?"

He asks slowly, his voice now clearer without the mask.Sang-woo leans his face down even closer, his eyes fixed on yours. He looks almost predatory, but you can also feel a hint of excitement within his gaze.His hand was still holding your chin and he gently caresses your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender.

“Yes,” you whisper, looking at him, taking in his face. He nods, still looking at you intently. A small sly smirk appears on his lips as he hears your agreement.

"Good," he says, his voice still a low, husky whisper.He runs his hand down your neck, his fingers trailing over your collarbone and down your chest. His touch is light but possessive, as if he was marking you as his property.Sang-woo moves even closer to you, his body pressing against yours.His hand is on your side now, slipping under your shirt and against your skin. You can feel the heat of his touch as he starts to move further up."I'm going to enjoy having you." he whispers, his voice a mix of excitement and satisfaction.His lips brush against your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

You moan softly and cling to him. He hums against your neck in response, feeling your hands holding onto him. He seems pleased with your reaction and becomes even more bold, his kisses turning into soft, gentle bites along your skin. His hand that was on your torso moves even higher, sliding over your stomach and then back down, his touch leaving a trail of tingles on your skin he explores your body.

His fingers dig into your waist, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you even closer. His body is flush against yours, the heat of his skin mixing with yours.He continues to kiss and bite along your neck and jawline, each touch leaving you even more breathless. He starts moving lower, his mouth tracing a path down from your neck to your collarbone, and then down to your chest.

He pushes your shirt up a bit as his lips find the exposed skin. He pauses to look at you, his eyes now dark with desire. He then moves back to your neck, his teeth gently biting your earlobe before he speaks."My pretty thing..." he whispers, the possessive tone clear in his voice. He pushes a leg between yours, his thigh pressing against you.

You moan again looking at him. He can see the lust in your eyes as he looks back at you, his own gaze equally intense. His leg is still pressed between yours, and he leans in to whisper in your ear again."You like this, don't you? The way I touch you, the way I claim you as mine?" He says, his voice a low, gruff purr against your skin.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat as he presses closer, his body fully against yours. His thigh presses against you even more, and he chuckles softly at your reaction."Good," he whispers, his hand sliding up to your jaw, turning your face towards his. "Because I'm going to take you completely. Every inch of you."

You moan, clinging to him even tighter. He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His hand grips your chin tightly as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth. His body presses against you even tighter, his thigh still rubbing against you.

You moan into the kiss, moving your hips for more friction. He feels your movement, and he growls against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. Sang-woo moves his hand down towards your hip, gripping you possessively and guiding your movements. He wants you desperate and needy against him.

His kiss becomes rougher, his tongue teasing yours, as he pushes you more firmly against the sink. With every movement of your hips, he increases the pressure between your legs, his own arousal growing. He breaks the kiss, panting against your mouth."You're mine," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

"Yours, all yours" you murmur near his lips and then kiss him again. He kisses you back hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand moves up your thigh. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively, as he presses you even harder against the sink.

"That's right," he growls against your lips. "You're mine, and I'm going to take you every way I want." He starts to push your shirt up, wanting to feel more of your skin against his. His hand skims over your hip and then moves to your stomach, his touch light but confident. He continues to kiss you, his mouth moving down to your neck, and then your shoulders as he starts to undress you even more.

He finally pulls away, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every inch as if he was claiming it as his own. His breathing is heavy, his eyes still filled with desire."You're beautiful," he whispers, his hands tracing over your body, his touch possessive and firm. "So soft, so mine."

He pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks."I'm going to own every part of you," he growls, his voice low and rough. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He pulls down your sweatpants and panties and then pulls down his sweatpants and boxers and then enters you and grunts seeing how tight you were. He pauses for a moment, feeling how tight you were. He gently grabbed your ribs with his strong waist and strong touch. He pressed hard against your body and his breathing became heavier. His lips left your ears and moved to your neck and shoulders. He moved away from your neck and rested his head on your cheek. you can feel it.

Sang-woo whispers "Mine" and his hand squeezes tighter around your ribs. "All mine" he mumbles again and he starts kissing your neck while continuing to move with you. You moan, scratching his back from the pleasure you were feeling. "So good".

“Mmm,” he hums softly at the feeling of your nails scratching his back. He lifts his head from your neck, wanting to look at your face.His eyes dark and lustful as he stares at you, taking in the expression on your face as he continues to move rough with you."You're so good to me," he whispers. "So perfect."

You moan softly and look up at him before capturing your lips with his. He deepens the kiss, his hand sliding up to your face as he kisses you back hungrily. He pushes closer to you, pinning you against the wall as he continues to move with you. His body feels hot and strong against yours, and his grip is tight and possessive.

Sang-woo pulls away slightly, his lips hovering near your ear. His breathing is heavy, and he can't help but let out a soft moan, his enjoyment obvious."You're so good," he whispers. "So sweet."His hand slides from your face down to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he continues to move.

“I’m coming” you whisper looking at him. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, and his grip on you tightens.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice a low, rough growl against your ear. "Let me feel how good you are." He starts to move a more faster, his body pressing against yours."That's it," he whispers. "You're doing so well for me."

You moan and he comes, clinging to him more. Sango woo pushed himself two more times and came inside you. He let out a low moan as he finally let go, his body trembling against yours.Sang-woo held you close, his face burying in your neck. His breathing was ragged, and he leaned into you, his grip on you still tight.“You’re amazing,” he murmured against your skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

You give a lazy smile resting your head on his chest. "May I know your name?" You murmur softly. He hums softly, his hand slowly moving up and down your back.

"It's Cho Sang-woo," he says softly, a slight smile on his lips. "But you can call me Sangwoo." He gently lifts your head up so that you're looking at him.

"And what's your name, darling?" he asks, his voice now softer and a bit more tender. “Y/N” you reply softly.

"Y/N," he repeats softly, as if testing it on his lips. "That's a pretty name."

He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear."I want to hear you say my name, Y/N," he whispers, his eyes dark and intense as they locked with yours. "Can you do that for me, darling?" he continues, his voice low and seductive. "Say my name, just like I'm yours."

You nod softly looking at him. “Sang-woo,” you whisper. He hums, a satisfied smile playing on his lips."That's it." he murmurs, his fingers tracing lightly along your jawline. "Good girl. I like the way my name sounds on your lips."

[mrspiastri]

mehendi lagake rakhna 🪷

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

cw: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol

wc: 1.8k words

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

“Oscar, don’t tell me you haven’t practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!” Y/N’s cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.

“I didn’t think it’d be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,” he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip

“Baby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?” he huffed as he sat next to her.

“I told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.”

The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/N’s palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.

“How does it look? Nice, na?” she asked while admiring her own hands.

Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a game for you! Your name’s written on my palm—it’s designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!” She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.

“Really? Well, it should be rather easy. My name’s not very long.”

She winked at him. “That’s what you think. Just you wait!”

“He has another thing to worry about, Y/N!” her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscar’s back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a “Amma, don’t tease him!”

“Why do I need to worry about that?” he asked as the women laughed.

“Well, there’s this old saying: the darker a woman’s mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope it’s dark, or else…” Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.

“But we aren’t married, darling. How’s that fair?”

Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. “You two are basically married. The specifics don’t matter.”

He let out a groan of faux annoyance. “You find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.

“You can only find it after it’s dried. Now go and practice your steps—you’re in the first line with me during Kajra Re.”

“What’s that now?”

“Just go and practice, you idiot.” She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.

🪷🪷🪷

“There we go, nice and easy. Now let’s get the next one.”

Y/N’s brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.

After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, “Mate, you need to help me lift this. It won’t budge.”

But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/N’s voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.

“You better go. She doesn’t like to wait,” her brother said, chuckling.

“Don’t I know it? Coming, babe!”

“There you are. Look, I need your help. The bride’s uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if they’re on their way.”

“Okay, so do it,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

She rolled her eyes. “Osc, I’ve got to let the mehendi dry—I can’t really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.”

She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didn’t smudge her henna.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.

It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.

He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/N’s eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadn’t really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.

It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.

“Oscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.”

Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.

Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.

He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“Thanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.”

🪷🪷🪷

It’s the evening of the sangeet, and Oscar’s long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.

The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.

He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final one—and the most important—Kajra Re.

The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.

The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, “You’re going to kill it, hon. Trust me.”

“What if I don’t?” he whispered back.

“Well, then I’ll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.”

“That’s difficult to believe—you’re a good dancer,” he quipped.

“Leave it to me. I’ll fumble so bad we’ll have to hide out in our hotel room.”

They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.

It turned out Y/N’s relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didn’t seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.

The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.

She mouthed, “Told you!” a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.

🪷🪷🪷

“That was some performance, you two!” Y/N’s dad complimented the couple as they ate—or rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.

It turns out being a bridesmaid doesn’t just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the bride’s life easier. She’d been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.

“You’ve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,” he said firmly.

“I’m too busy to eat, Osc. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrow’s haldi ceremony,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

And that’s how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.

“Well, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,” Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.

“Y/N, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?” her father asked, using the affectionate tone he always used for his daughter.

“I’m too tired to eat, Appa. He’s forcing me to,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.

“Well, at least we know you’re in good hands. Isn’t she?” her father said, nudging his wife.

“Oh yes, the very best. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kanna,” her mother added, making the entire table laugh.

Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, “What did she call me now?”

Y/N smiled and replied, “She called you kanna. It’s like a term of endearment. She doesn’t even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.”

Oscar’s face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.

🪷🪷🪷

“By the way, I found my name,” Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.

“Did you now? Where is it, then?” she challenged, her brow raised playfully.

He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger, where a small but clearly visible “Oscar” was designed into her mehendi.

“You’re good at this,” she said, impressed. “I asked her to make it super hard to find.”

They both laughed, and then he added, “I’ve got something for you to see, although mine isn’t as difficult to spot.”

He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/N’s name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.

She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.

“You’re so adorable. I can’t believe you got this done—I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.”

“Is that so?” she teased, grinning.

“Why yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? I’ve been craving it since last night.”

She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.

🪷🪷🪷

this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if you’d like me to continue with this. xoxo 🩷 (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Birthday wishes [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it.

second part here!

contents: childhood best friends, idiots who-don't-know-they're-in-love, surprise parties, pure fluff honestly

If you like my work leave a comment or reblog, that would make me very happy!

The first thing Spencer did when he got home was get rid of his converse and even though it had been a relatively calm day he was exhausted, so he went straight to the bedroom to throw himself on the bed. He lay back for a while, just enjoying the calm, and then he fumbled for the cell phone in his briefcase. He hit the call button on the contact he'd wanted to talk to all day and then he waited patiently.

“L/N family residence, who do you want me to contact you with?”

"Hello, is Miss Y/N by any chance?"

"Who's looking for her?" you continued and a smile escaped from his lips. It was usual for you to respond in a silly way when he called you, so he was used to it by now.

"Her best friend, Dr. Spencer Reid"

“Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, I don't think that sounds familiar…” you teased, hearing him snort from the other end of the line “Ah! Wait, I remember you."

“After knowing each other for like 20 years, I hope so” he laughed, and then you too.

Sure enough, the man and you were friends from a very early age. You were his neighbor when he lived in Las Vegas and your parents had always been quite nice to the family, knowing the delicate situation they faced, so it wasn’t difficult for you to become friends. You were the first friend he ever had, a real one, so there was a special fondness between you, even when he had gone off to college at such a young age and distance had subsequently separated the two of you.

You always called each other and every time he visited his mother it was a law that you also received a visit, even if the time was only enough for you to greet each other with a hug. You also traveled to DC a few times because of your work and you even had your own key to his apartment, so if he was busy with a case, you could stay there instead of paying for a hotel. Your relationship was like that of a brother and sister, although as this familiarity grew, it was slightly intervened by loving feelings that you didn’t want to face yet but were definitely there.

You knew a lot about his life from those long-distance calls that happened at least once a week, and right now he was excited about something in particular. He was exactly one week away from his thirty-year birthday, and he hoped that, like every year, you would fly from Las Vegas to see him. It was a tradition, whether it was thunder or lightning, you two hadn't missed a single birthday from the other since he had to move out of state. So Spencer was hoping that this call was for you guys to plan what you were going to do; regularly your birthdays were in restaurants or nice places and his were at home, with food delivery and classic movies, or when you felt very adventurous you could go to a museum or just walk through the streets.

"How are you, Reid? How is everything?"

"Not so good, but not so bad either" he laughed "And you?"

"Everything has been terrible, it's like a curse is on my head, I swear" you complained. Spencer got up from his comfortable position to sit on the bed and although he knew that most of the time you said things like that you were just exaggerating, this time he had a bad feeling.

"Why?”

You started to tell him about the financial problems you were going through and he, with his mind still focused on your visit, thought about offering to pay for your flight to DC, but his spirits fell completely when you told him that you were being put under too much pressure at work.

“We're going to have a meeting next Friday with HR to discuss responsibilities and so on, but honestly I don't think things will get better. Right now I'm working from home because there are pending issues that have to be resolved as soon as possible and I barely have time to think during the day, you seriously can't imagine how busy I've been.”

When you finished the story, he remained silent, feeling his chest squeezed by the direction that things were now taking. With that scenario, your visit was too complicated and he was debating internally about whether he should tell you something about it or not. As he had thought before, the money to have you with him wasn’t a problem, but dealing with the issue of your shortened times was totally different. He didn't want to make you feel guilty for not being able to go, let alone disrupt activities that he knew were important to you, like that meeting you just mentioned. So what should he do? He wanted you to be there, but he wasn't going to make you.

“Crash? You still there?" you asked. Only you and his mother called him that, since his nickname had arisen when he was just a child due to his clumsiness, a trait that, in your opinion, he still retained. It wasn't offensive coming from you, even he was glad to know that this was something that belonged to the two women he loved the most.

"Yes, I'm here. I just was thinking"

"You always do, I don't think there's a single second when that mind of yours rests," you said amused "Anyway, what's new?"

Spencer hoped that you would at least apologize to him for your future absence or ask him what he intended to do today. But you seemed not even aware of it.

“Nothing, really. Today we're done with a case and if I'm lucky I'll be able to rest this weekend” he murmured. Sometimes he would tell you things about the cases, omitting bloody and dangerous details, so he leaned back and started recounting all the events into the speaker of his phone.

You two continued to talk for almost an hour, but the topic of the birthday didn't come up once and Spencer didn't try to bring it up. After all, there were still a few days to go and in the worst case, you could at least call him that day to congratulate him, right?

But as the days went by, the anxiety ate him more and he even called you a few days after that, but he only received a response from your mailbox and after a few minutes a short text message where you explained that you were a little busy with work, but that you would call him as soon as you could. The fact that during those days he found out that the entire team already had something to do on Friday didn’t help his mood too much.

Hotch and JJ discussed a sleepover for Henry and Jack after work, he overheard Garcia and Morgan agreeing to visit a new bar for the night, Rossi said he was going to visit one of his ex-wives and when he thought he could still invite Emily to hang out, she went over to talk to him about the therapist appointment that she clearly didn't want to go to, but had to. There was no remedy, everyone had plans for his birthday and he didn’t want to interfere with them. Resignation was the only thing the doctor had left during the remaining days, and when he least expected it, the entire week had already passed.

He used to wake up to your off-key version of the birthday song and a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, then you'd make breakfast and you'd eat it together; so not having any of that when he got out of bed, he felt his heart break a little. This year he thought he would get your call first thing in the morning, but when he checked his phone he didn't even find a message announcing that there was a case. He didn't want to go to the office to do paperwork on his birthday, but the thought of at least getting a hug from his coworkers cheered him up slightly.

He put on his favorite shirt, a new pair of pants, and the converse that you had given him and he only wore on special occasions, before leaving the apartment. For some reason Spencer enjoyed taking the subway, perhaps more than anyone he knew, and this time he stopped at a coffee shop that was just before arriving to buy something to drink, since he didn't feel like eating anything.

He undertook the entire trip lost in his thoughts and when he least expected it, he was already at the headquarters. He checked his phone, again, but he still didn't get any notifications or missed calls. Many times you had insisted that he get a more modern model and he had refused, but now he was wondering if the advances in technology would have allowed him to communicate with you through a video call. It would be embarrassing to ask Garcia for a favor, so he concluded that he would just wait, after all if he hadn't communicated it must have been for something important.

Upon entering, he greeted everyone with a huge smile and he felt somewhat disconcerted when the others greeted him normally, without hugs or cake on the table. He sat down at his desk to start going through the documents he already had and the others continued on their own business. It was common for Emily or Morgan to come up to him for a chat, but on this particular day it was as if they were avoiding him. Even Penelope, who he swore would congratulate him, seemed to have completely forgotten when he came to her place with the excuse of needing a piece of information from the previous case. When Hotch called him to his office, the man's eyes lit up, believing that his boss had remembered the celebration of the date.

"Can you do me a favor?" he had asked, without taking his eyes off whatever he was writing "Donovan needs to sort some files and honestly he has no idea how to do it and I'm too busy to explain, could you do it?"

Donovan was in charge of the physical file inside the building and it was not usual for him to request this kind of support, but Reid still said yes, and the rest of the day passed with him locked in a cellar full of filing cabinets. He had made sure to take his phone with him and every time he turned it on to check it and he realized that there was no sign of you his disappointment increased. He came to wonder if his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him and, for some incredible reason, he had gotten the day wrong and it wasn't really October 12; but when he saw the calendar, he verified that this wasn’t possible.

“Are you out of punishment yet?” Emily taunted, when after many hours she saw him again by the bullpen. At another time Spencer would have laughed, but right now his mood wasn't quite right for it and he just looked at her, more hostile than he intended. “Hotch left you some documents on your desk, he asked if you could review them before you go. It's urgent,” she informed him.

It was obvious that this would take time and he felt like crying at the thought of having to stay longer than the regular time. It was almost an hour after everyone else had gone home that he finished, feeling somewhat annoyed to find out that even Aaron had already left.

He doubted whether to go home or go to dinner somewhere, because he knew that if he returned to the apartment he would sink into sadness. His birthdays didn't mean anything special on their own, what he liked was to feel loved, to enjoy the company, but above all to see you.

While he was leaving the building, and as if you were reading his mind, a call vibrated on his cell phone. Seeing that it was you, Spencer didn't take more than two seconds to answer, thinking that maybe after the whole day he could improve.

"You won't believe what happened to me!" you said, without even greeting him. It wasn't the kind of sentence he was expecting, but he still decided to listen.

"What happened?"

“There is a boy, at my work, his name is Brandon. Well, Brandon and I have talked a few times now and he seems like a nice person, plus he's pretty handsome and he finally asked me out on a date with him, can you believe it?" you murmured excitedly, and a lump formed in Spencer's throat "We're going out today, the meeting was canceled and we decided to take advantage of the time, but I can't decide whether to wear the red dress or the black and gold outfit that my mom gave me and I need the help of an expert. You have seen both, which one do you think suits me better?

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing the situation she was going through, and it wasn't until you said his name that he reacted.

"I like your red dress," he murmured, with a sad smile that you clearly couldn't see. He couldn't believe you were going out with a man you'd never mentioned and it affected him more than he expected you to be asking for advice because a pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

You were telling him that you were going to have a date on his birthday.

“I thought the same! I guess that will be the best option."

"I guess…"

"Where are you now? At home?" you kindly asked. Your tone almost made him angry.

“I just got off work. I'm on my way to take the subway"

"Oh, excellent. Today there were no cases?"

"Not fortunately. I'm glad to know that the criminals at least respected my birthday."

With that said, there was a deathly silence between you, to the point where he wondered if you were still on the other end of the line or if you understood what he was implying.

“Spencer, my God, I…”

"It's okay if you forgot," he said, trying to play the matter down, but the tears that were beginning to accumulate in his eyes indicated otherwise. The guilty tone with which you had spoken was more than enough to know that, probably, if he hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have done it either "Nobody remembered it"

"I'm so sorry" you practically sobbed "Between all the work and stuff I... I don't even know why I forgot, forgive me”

"It’s okay" he replied. But it wasn't okay. 

“Can I do something to fix it? Whatever, you just… ask me what you want and I'll do it. I swear," you mumbled, sounding desperate.

He tried to convince you that there was no problem with it and you continued to pour out apologies, which Spencer knew were worthless now but he wasn't selfish enough to ignore them. He wanted to scream, cry, or do anything to get that weight off his chest and even though he loved the sound of your voice right now it was the last thing he needed.

“Anyway, I'm about to enter the subway and uh, I have almost no signal there. I'll call you later, okay?" the question didn’t wait for an answer, because he immediately added: "Good luck on your date, bye"

If he had considered going out to celebrate, he knew that now what he urgently needed was to go home or he would break down in tears in the middle of the street. The ride on the subway lasted longer than he would have liked, as he longed to go to sleep and find out if it would allow him to forget a bit about the shitty day he had just had. When he was finally in front of the door with the number 23 in gold letters, he struggled enormously to put the key into the lock, because the tears in his eyes were already clouding his vision, and he believed that the heaviness on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to advance.

The key turned one turn, then another, and then Spencer was allowed inside the house.

One week before…

The team was meeting in the conference room at the request of Penelope, who had asked everyone to stay after the scheduled time, waiting to receive the news of what they thought would surely be a new case.

"And Reid?" Morgan asked, noticing the empty chair next to him, because they had seen him leave and that was reason enough to have questions about his absence.

"I'm glad you asked because this meeting is related to him," Garcia replied. With the push of a button, a face appeared on the main screen and almost everyone present was surprised to see who it was "She is Y/N Y/L/N, do you remember her?"

"You were at Prentiss's funeral, right?"

"That's right" you replied with a smile, looking directly at the aforementioned "I still have a little trouble understanding, uh... that whole thing, to be honest" you joked.

"Y/N asked us for this space to discuss something related to Spencer's birthday, which will be next Friday" explained Hotch, who was the other member who was already aware of the matter "The microphone is all yours"

"Okay, so where do I start? It's great to see all of you and I hope you're doing well. Every year I visit Spencer on his birthday and we spend the day together, but since this year is his 30th birthday I wanted to do something special and I want to know if you would be willing to help me”

"Tell us your plan, precious"

“I don't intend to take up a lot of your time, it's simple. I will call him today to insinuate that this year I can’t go and all I want you to do is pretend that day that you don’t remember that it’s his birthday”

"Wait, why do you want us to ignore it?" JJ muttered with a frown.

"I want to throw him a surprise party in his apartment" you explained with a smile and then the request you were making to them didn't sound so farfetched "You can tell him you have plans that day and if he mentions something you just say you can't go. I bought my flight for that day and I will be in the city starting in the morning, so I can prepare everything”

"And how will we do if he invites us somewhere?"

Morgan suggested using a decoy for him and pretending they were taking him somewhere else, but you balked at the idea.

“I have all my hopes that he doesn’t mention anything. If so, we'll manage somehow. And I know that asking for that is difficult because we are all his friends, but if necessary, avoid him completely that day. We need him to know under no circumstances that we have a surprise for him."

“He is very smart and he will figure it out. If we make him believe that we forgot he will concentrate on that” you argued. Although the others didn't want to admit it, they knew that you had a point there "I just hope you don't have some unforeseen case or something like that, because I would hate for that lie to be for nothing"

You discussed some more until you concluded that your plan was the most viable. The girls would help you with ideas for decorations and David even offered to buy all the drinks. Although the others weren’t surprised by his generosity, you were slightly upset, but this didn’t prevent you from accepting the offer and thanking him in advance.

“It really means a lot to me that you guys help me, thanks” you murmured happily, once everything was settled, and then your phone started ringing in the background “It's Spencer! I have to answer him. If something happens, you guys will tell me, right?"

"Take it for granted" smiled Garcia, who was the one who had lived with you the most, but everyone supported her from the bottom.

"Fine, thanks everyone, thanks Agent Hotch, I'll see you later!" you said goodbye, hanging up the video call and simultaneously answering the phone.

Everyone got up from the conference room and Rossi was the first to speak, a smile on his face.

"Call me crazy..." he started to say "but something tells me that girl and Spencer are going to end up together"

"The pretty boy loves her, but he still doesn't notice it," Morgan laughed, as they all walked out. "Whenever we go to Vegas, his eyes shine when he sees her."

“And she's setting this up for him! It's so sweet" Penelope sighed, who had already taken Derek's arm "But the part about being mean to Spencer doesn't convince me much… he's going to be so sad"

"Look at it this way, babygirl: if he's sad he'll be happier than usual with the surprise."

"Nobody's going to screw it up," Emily threatened them, pointing her index finger at them, and the rest of the team promised they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, your first part of the plan was in the works, with the late-night call he had made to you. You had to admit that lying to your best friend was something you hated, but with any luck it would all be worth it when you could hug him and give him that gift that you had carefully kept on one of the shelves, that you hoped could be enough for such an important event like the first thirty years of life.

What happened during the week is history, which was consolidated at the moment he turned the handle without even imagining what awaited him.

When Spencer walked through the door the first thing he did was turn on the light and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he heard the screams coming from inside. There were purple balloons scattered all over the floor, a congratulations banner, a table full of presents, and everyone was there.

The shock was such that he couldn't even manage to say a word and some of the tears that he had been holding back were finally able to come out, but this time for different reasons.

They hadn’t forgotten.

"How…? What are you doing here?"

“We came to celebrate your birthday, genius,” Morgan laughed, as he reached over to hug his friend and ruffled his hair brotherly.

A wave of hugs preceded that and even he received a couple of kisses on each cheek from Rossi, which finally made him laugh. He seemed like a child, completely fascinated with everything around him and still processing the situation.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help wondering how his friends had been able to enter the apartment, since none of them had a copy of the key and the landlady was too suspicious to have let them in just like that, but he felt happy for the direction the day had taken.

“First of all, we have another surprise for you,” said JJ, obviously excited. The rest shared complicit glances and García began to record with his cell phone, which made him a little nervous "But you have to close your eyes."

Spencer looked at everyone else as if waiting for a confirmation of that, and seeing a couple of nods he did what his friend was asking. Just to make sure Jennifer covered his eyelids with her hands and in this way she turned him around, while he wondered what this surprise could be about.

"Are you ready?" she asked and the man answered yes with a hum. There was silence for a second, as if they were checking something, and then she withdrew her hand. "Open them."

Many possibilities went through the man's mind for whatever he would see at that moment, but when he did, he felt his heart stop for a moment. There you were, looking at him with a sweet smile and wearing that red dress. 

The rest of those present were waiting for who would make the first move, because the two of you had froze looking at each other, and García was only pointing the camera carefully as you had requested.

"Surprise?" you said shyly, noticing that Spencer hadn't said anything.

You were afraid that after the call you had he was upset with you in some way, but a second after he recovered from the shock he was already on top of you, holding you by the waist to spin you through the air while you laughed heartily.

"You came," he said, his voice cracking, but completely brimming with happiness.

"Of course I would, Spencer, do you think I'd miss your birthday?"

"But you... your work"

"All a vile lie"

"And that boy?"

“There was never such a thing,” you laughed, freeing yourself from the weight of guilt “You're my only boy,” you added affectionately, palms planted squarely on your friend's cheeks. He still had you in his arms and was grinning from ear to ear at your answers "I'm so sorry I told you all that, I just didn't want you to suspect anything, can you forgive me?"

"No!" he practically squealed and you widened your eyes in amazement “Today was the most terrible day because I thought you didn't care about me anymore, you made me suffer! All of you!" your friend complained, looking away from you briefly to look at those present.

"In our defense, she asked us to," Emily laughed, holding up both hands in surrender.

"You're so mean," he murmured, turning his attention back to you. "But I love you so much.”

A group sigh filled the room as he engulfed you in a hug and from your position you could see the teasing or tender smiles they all had. It wasn't very common to see the youngest of the team in that position, much less saying those things, plus we had to add the collective opinion that you were madly in love.

"Seriously, forgive me"

"It’s okay…" he whispered close to your ear "You're here, that's what matters"

His body felt so soft and safe that you didn't want to stop hugging him, but you knew that if you took too long it would create an uncomfortable environment for the rest, so you had no choice but to gently pull him away from you. The woman asked your friend, just to annoy him, if he liked his surprise and although he didn't say anything, the giant smile and flushed cheeks were enough of an answer.

"Come, you won't escape my melodious voice" you murmured after a few seconds, when the commotion calmed down a bit.

Taking him by the hand, you led him to the table where you had the chocolate cake with a couple of candles that formed the number 30. Everyone sang the song while the wick burned down and the boy looked anywhere, with that certain shyness characteristic of him. When he blew out the candle to make his wish, you all applauded and that started the celebration.

There were some appetizers on the table and Rossi had stocked all the drinks quite well, as he had promised. As the minutes passed you hovered here and there to check that things were in order, arranging everything as if it were your own apartment, and Spencer could only smile at how well you seemed to get along with everyone. The last time you'd seen the team was, sure enough, during Emily's funeral, but that didn't mean there wasn't some history between you.

He still remembered the feeling of shame when in the early years he had asked Gideon for permission to summon someone to the hotel during a case in Las Vegas. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you, but that he was ashamed of having to reveal something so important in his life to his FBI colleagues. The agent didn't object at all, but that didn't spare the man from being grilled by Derek and Elle about which mysterious lady their younger coworker was talking to. Over the years, people left the unit, and others joined, but the constant was always you. Even now, if a replacement happened, Spencer knew that the rest of the team would take it upon themselves to introduce you to said person. 

At some point he felt a tremendous nostalgia for that time and in a chain of thoughts he came to ask himself if working where he did was the right thing to do. Turning thirty was cause for celebration, but for him it was also tantamount to thinking how well he had lived up to the expectations of what he expected to have achieved at this age: How much progress should he have made in the world by now? Was it any use having that brilliant mind that everyone raved about if he was working in a government office? And what about his personal life? He wanted to get married at some point and wondered if he should be looking for love instead of criminals. Even while he was through all this, he wished he could focus on how happy his friends had made him instead of worrying about other things. 

"Up to here I can see the gears of your brain" laughed someone next to him. It was Emily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he murmured, shaking his head softly "I was thinking about some things, it's just that"

"You should drink some more, that wine that Dave brought tastes delicious" she smiled, inviting him to come closer to the others to chat.

It was a bit ironic, but completely understandable, that even at his own birthday party he would remain a bit oblivious to the situation. Following Emily's advice, he poured himself another drink and joined the other attendees to enjoy the moment. For hours you laughed and chatted, until the drinks were running out and your drunkenness rising.

The parents of the group were the first to leave and the last was a drunk Penelope who threatened to stay there to sleep, but Derek took it upon himself to guide her to his car to take her home. It was late at night when only you and Spencer were left, amidst all the decorations in the room.

"Peace and tranquility"

"It was too much?" you laughed, knowing that your friend could become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.

"No, no. Just kidding"

“And was it okay for you? You had fun?" you asked, referring to the party, as the two of you sat down on the leather couch. The dress you were wearing rose to the top of your thighs and his attention strayed there for a second, so he looked up guiltily; He didn't help the blush on his cheeks that there was your cleavage. 

"Everything was wonderful"

"Are you seriously not mad at me?" you insisted

"No, honey, I'm not," he laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that he had said that to you, since it wasn't something he was used to, and just smiled sheepishly, "I mean, at first I was a little, but now that I understand why you did it, I'm not anymore."

“You are already thirty… you are so old!”

"You are older than me!" he squealed, completely offended, and you responded with a laugh. Although that was true, you looked more jovial than the man, something that a variety of people had taken it upon themselves to verify.

"Now that I remember, do you want to see your gift?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my gift?" The confusion was evident in his voice and you refrained from answering, as you bolted into the room. You came back from there with a box in your hands, which you later placed on your lap with evident emotion.

“I wrapped it myself” you confessed, rather proud of yourself. You had found a piece of paper to cover with drawings of equations and small microscopes that you thought captured the essence of your friend and, of course, now that he had seen it, he had liked it a lot.

The man's fingers drummed the surface under your expectant gaze, and then he winced slightly.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, I think maybe I should open it later…"

"Spencer Reid!" you yelled. It was obvious that he was only joking with you and you knew that by the laugh that escaped his lips. 

Your friend opened the box almost ceremonially and then removed the tissue paper that covered the contents: above all there were two hardcover books, one about the world of fungi and the other about poetry, next to it an hourglass, then three boxes with jigsaw puzzles, a pocket chess game, packets of Reid's favorite sweets, and last but not least, a picture of the two of you in a pretty chocolate-colored frame and a little paper envelope to go with it. One by one he was taking out the gifts and his smile only grew with each object, while he felt his heart grow with love.

"I remember this day" he murmured, referring to the photograph you had chosen. The sky was blue behind you and you were kissing Spencer's cheek, who was smiling at how spontaneous it had been “We were in a park after going to an art exhibition."

“And we bought the most delicious ice cream in the world”

"I differ, I've had better," he murmured, shrugging. The truth is that you thought that the ice cream had been delicious because of the whole panorama of that day, not so much because of the taste itself.

Spencer knew that photo would have to go on his desk in the bullpen, although the taunts he was sure the others would throw at him. Perhaps having you there would serve as a reminder that there was good in the world, despite everything he could see on the job every day. 

“Oh, and I read somewhere that hourglasses help people with anxiety because it's relaxing to watch the sand fall so they can focus on it. I thought you might like it, I bought it at an antique store."

"It's very nice" he agreed, turning the object over and checking that it actually worked "I'll open the note, okay?"

Spencer always preferred that you read his letters in private because if he saw your face and knew you were reading those words he would just cringe, but you didn't seem to share that trait so you agreed to his request. As with the box, he carefully opened the envelope and then pulled out a handwritten note.

I hope you like these little gifts that try to express a huge love.

Never doubt that you are making a change in the world and that you are surrounded by people who love you, including your old neighbor who now ironically lives too far from you. 

Happy 30th birthday to my favorite person in the entire world. I am confident that many more years will come for both of us.

Always yours, Y/N.

"Don't cry, Reid" you asked gently, feeling your own tears at the edge of your eyes. Spencer smiled and leaned in your direction to wrap you in a hug so hopefully you wouldn't notice if he got emotional.

"Thank you" was the only thing he managed to say. 

He wanted to thank you not only for that day but for years of friendship, years of feeling like he wasn't so alone in the world if he had you by his side and even thank you for treating him like a normal kid when no one else did. And as always, you perfectly understood what he was referring to.

You stayed like that for a few minutes; Spencer tucked into the crook of your neck and cooing at the throbbing on your pulse line, and you basking in the warmth of the contact.

“Did you like the puzzles?” 

"Yeah! They are great” he replied, as he moved away from you so that he could observe you “Do you want us to put one together?”

“Sure” you smiled “Just let me put on my pajamas and I'll be right back, okay?”

"Good. You look very beautiful in that dress, by the way. I don't know if I forgot to tell you” he flattered you, making you smile sincerely. 

"You chose it, remember?"

Before getting up you kindly squeezed his cheek and after changing your clothes you returned to where you were. He had chosen the puzzle with the design of a Monet painting and spread it out on the floor, where the two of you settled comfortably.

Your friend took a bunch of pieces and you took another and you guys worked in silence until little by little things started to come together. He was very good at the task and very soon he already had a considerable part assembled; although you were going a little slower you followed a constant rhythm. 

"Hey, Spencer"

"Yeah?" he asked, too intent on finding a place for the piece in his fingers to watch you.

“What was your birthday wish? When blowing out the candles”

"Oh, I didn't wish for anything"

"Why?" you asked confused.

Spencer looked up from the puzzle and smiled at you.

"Because my birthday wish was already right here"

It seemed obvious to him, but it took you a second to understand exactly what he meant and when you finally did, your eyes gave him the sweetest look of all.

You and your friend stayed up all night until the play was over and after that you both stumbled to bed, where you fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

At some point Spencer half-opened his eyes, prisoner of a bad dream, and when he was aware of the situation he felt the peace he needed. After that it didn't take him long to get back to sleep, with a smile on his face and his whole world held in his arms.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

[keeplcving]

ultraviolence.

(politician!coriolanus x innocent!f!reader)

summary: he may keep hurting you, but something keeps you from leaving .

tw: coryo is NOT a good person at all here. no delusion about it. was listening to lana and couldn’t help but write this. cw: 18+! name calling, slapping, fingering, semi-public sex, creampie, pet names (love, dove, darling, etc.), fingering, breeding kink, manipulation, threats. lmk if i missed something!

You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong, not truly. Just a little teasing never hurt your man, right? Sure, it was a very publicized gala, but Coryo was your man. It’s what wives do for husbands.

It started out like most nights. You got ready for a public outing, doing your hair and makeup to the nines, dressing to impress your husband. You couldn’t find yourself giving a damn about what Panem had to say about how you looked, only your husband. You even put on the dress he requested, sans the panties he had asked you to wear. It would be a nice surprise, right?

“Darling,” Coryo starts, rubbing his hand slowly up under the edge of your dress as you sat on his lap, smiling politely to all the guests around you. You looked so overwhelmed, and he would do the good husbandly thing, help you take the edge off.

“Yes, Coryo?” You gently responded, body already responding to his ministrations, and you couldn’t wait for him to find out the secret you had planned for him. He drew in a short breath as he reached further, expecting the barrier of your panties, instead, finding nothing blocking him from your wet cunt.

“What’s this, my little dove?” He asks you, more gently than you had assumed he would. You had intended to rile him up, get him to act a little rough with you. He had been having a long, difficult week, and you had wanted him to take his frustrations out on you. It was what a good wife did for her husband.

“Your surprise, my love.” You told him, wriggling a bit in his lap at the feeling of his long fingertips brushing up against your core.

“You know I don’t prefer it when you leave our home without panties on, my love.” He harshly gripped your thigh, seizing his movement near where you wanted it most.

“I know, but I wanted to upset you. I want you to take your anger out on me. I know my darling husband has had an awful week, and I wanted to be your outlet.” You told him, smirking when he looked flustered at your words.

“Oh, so you wanted to be a little whore.” He released his harsh grip on your thigh, instead choosing to grasp your small arm with his large hand. So large in fact, that his hand fit all the way around your arm.

He left no room for argument, forcing you to stand up, then he followed suit, practically dragging you to a private bathroom. Locking the door, his eyes met yours for the first time since discovering your secret.

He stalked up to you, towering over your small frame. He was nearly a foot taller than you, and you knew he could do just about anything to you, and you would have no power to stop it. But why would you? You’re his lovely little wife, sometimes he needs to punish you to keep you in line.

He reached his hand up, and slapped you. You recoiled at first, the pain of the blow almost too much for you to handle. But you deserved it. You upset your husband, and he was just keeping you in line. You almost wanted to moan, the pain you received from your husband was almost equal to the pleasure you received from him. He made sure of that early on in the relationship.

“I’m sorry, Coryo.” You apologized, reaching up to where he had slapped, feeling the heat of the impact.

“It’s alright, my dove. I just expected more from you, you know.” That was what you hated most about his punishing, knowing that he had excepted better of you, and you had failed to meet his expectations.

You said nothing, waiting for him to make the next move. You didn’t want to disappoint him further, because you know if you did, you would begin to cry. All you wanted was to please him, and earn his approval.

He harshly spun you around, unbuttoning the dress he had chosen for the evening, the buttons reaching all the way down to the top of your ass, which is how he preferred the dresses be styled.

“I know you were just trying to be so, so good for me, my love.” He said, petting your hair lightly, before yanking to dress off, down your legs, before throwing it away somewhere you couldn’t see.

“This won’t fully be a punishment, as I know my good girl is in there. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” He said with a sigh, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling them down with his boxers just enough that his cock sprung out, already painfully hard for you.

You had thought he was going to start fucking you right away, but you had been wrong. He gently slipped his fingers in between your legs, circling your clit with a few harsh movements. You let out a breathy, high pitched moan in delight, not expecting him to give you any pleasure whatsoever. After all, you hadn’t respected his wishes.

“My dove, moaning so beautifully for me. I’m so very lucky that you haven’t left me. I know you’ve written your parents, wondering about leaving, and going home. I’m so glad you haven’t, otherwise I would have to find you, and punish you worse than I ever have.” He surprise you with his statement. You didn’t know he knew about the letters you had written, as you had asked one of the avoxes to discreetly send them. You should’ve known better, not to trust the avoxes when it came to Coriolanus.

You just moaned in response, writhing around in a pitiful attempt in gaining more friction. Coriolanus tsk’d you, grasping your thigh with his free hand. “No, my love. You only get what I give you. You belong to me.”

You gasped at his comment, stilling immediately. You wanted nothing more to please him tonight, and if he told you that he didn’t want you to move, you wouldn’t move a muscle.

“Good girl.” He harshly whispered into your head, slipping two of his fingers into your tight heat. “I’m prepping you for my cock, little one. I know you wouldn’t be ready for it yet, as much as I want you to.”

He roughly thrusted his fingers directly into that spongy spot inside of you, the spot only he could reach. You had tried yourself, never being able to reach it. You almost felt ill, knowing that only he could provide you the pleasure you so desperately needed.

Your moans grew louder, and more needier, the more he thrusted his long fingers into your g-spot. “Please, Coryo. I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll never betray you again. I’ll never leave you, I love you. I’ll listen to you. Please, let me come.” You begged, waiting for his permission. You never allowed yourself to let go without his permission, otherwise he wouldn’t touch you for a week. You learned this early in the relationship, when you had come on his fingers without him allowing you, and then had scheduled two business trips to the districts back to back, not allowing you to see him for nearly a month.

“Please, please, please!” Your begging was almost a high pitched screech, as he plowed his fingers into you at a rapid pace.

“You may let go, little one.” He told you, almost sounding upset with how quickly you needed to come. He usually liked to edge you, make you wait until you damn near squirted into his palm, but today, he just wanted to fuck you.

You let go instantly, coming so hard you had begun to see stars in your vision, slumping back against his strong chest. “Good girl, waiting for my permission.” Coriolanus said, pressing a firm kiss against the top of your head. You blushed, loving when he gave you small bits of affection like that post orgasm.

He gave you a moment, letting your breathing return to normal, before slotting his cock between your legs, and inside of you. You let out a small moan in surprise, quickly standing back up to your full height as he maneuvered you to lean against the sink, hands gripping the marble.

“My girl.” He said matter of factly, thrusting roughly into you, hips bouncing off of your ass. He reached his hand around to grip your throat as he thrusted, squeezing just enough that your airflow had just begun to become restricted. He knew you liked this, whether you admitted it, or not.

He wasn’t much of a talker during sex, only grunts about you being his, and animalistic groans as you squeezed your tight cunt around his thick cock. You were much more vocal, letting out high pitched moans and noises of pleasure, encouraging him to go harder and faster.

“Fuck, yes! Harder, my love. I know you want to.” You moaned out, purposefully squeezing yourself tighter around him, knowing it drove him crazy. “Only you can make me feel like this. Only my Coryo can do this to me.”

He groaned at your words, doubling down on his thrusts, gripping your throat harder, almost choking you. “Yes, little dove. Only I can do this to you, that’s right.” He responded. You could feel him quickly reaching his peak, so you tightened more. You wanted his come, leaking out of you, staining your skin. He had been begging you for an heir, and you thought about letting him. Even though you knew if you allowed him to get you pregnant, you would never be able to leave. The thought scared you, but your love for him overpowered any doubts.

“Fuck a baby into me, Coryo.” You told him, testing the waters, trying to see what his reaction would be. You had never told him that before.

“Fuck!” He responded, thrusting harder and more rapidly than you had thought possible. “I will put my heir in you. Mine. My girl, big and round with my baby. My baby.” He grunted, before spurting deep inside your womb. At the feeling of his spend inside of you, you came too, moaning.

He pulled out, grinning at you as he tucked himself back into his slacks. He scooped his come back into your cunt with his fingers, making sure that it was deep inside of you. He truly wanted that heir, and he would use any means of getting that heir from you.

“You’re my good little dove, you know that.” He started, petting your head gently as you still were coming down from your orgasm. He found your dress, carefully putting your legs into it, one at a time, and gently pulling it back on.

“But if you disrespect me again, I won’t be as nice as I was tonight.”

©keeplcving 2024

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟑𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘: 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚���𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖.𝟐𝐤

⤥ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭; 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡), 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

“No, I don’t like it so stop pointing it out, snowflake!”

Sunghoon’s young voice echoes in your skull as your eyes remain focused on the little mole on the right side of his nose bridge, a detail to his prince-like features you’ve always noticed yet never acknowledged.

As you watch your archenemy have a good night with his closest friends and cousin, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander all the way back in memory lane to a conversation you’ve never forgotten.

“But it’s so cute, Hoonie”, you had told him, never once looking away from his eyes, the ones you used to find so much comfort in, especially during one of the most difficult times in your life, “don’t you know what the legend about moles marking the spots where your past lover kissed you the most?”

“Hm, they were obsessed with my face then”, he huffed and rolled his eyes, completing the knot on his skates before getting up on his feet and shooting you one of his big, cheeky smiles; the one where a tiny dimply makes an appearance.

“Why would you say it like that? Stop belittling yourself like that”, you pouted back at him and looked at him with big eyes, your skates still not completely tied up, which – just as usual – resulted in Sunghoon getting down on his knees to finish it for you. Something the two of you have always done for some reason, but never in a million years would you have changed it for anything else.

It used to be in those moments right before and after practice which made you feel the closest to your skate partner of six years, the one guy in your life who had always been there for you and your brother, the one who had never, ever disappointed you.

“You know I don’t like my face much because of how much I look like my father”, Sunghoon had casually explained to you before looking up at you with longing, innocent eyes, “you wouldn’t know what that feels like after all.”

For some reason, this particular part of said conversation had never quite left your memories, your heart feeling at ease as you remember how you had tilted your head to the back in confusion, not quite understanding what he was referring to.

“You know in some cultures they say you look like the parent who loves you the most”, he had started to explain, not struggling to read your facial expressions at all, even back then, “you’re a carbon copy of your mother, in every way possible. However, in some other cultures it’s said that if your mother is so in love with your father, it’ll turn you into his twin so I guess we’re yet again on the same line but different ends.”

Sunghoon had always had a way with words, no matter his age and you still remember just how much you had loved listening to everything he had to say. He’d never been one to talk much, but the things he said had always carried meaning.

“But I’m not really sure if I actually read this or heard some random ladies talk about this once so, I’m not a reliable source at all.”

As your brain replays that last statement, you can’t help but smile to yourself and it’s only when Sunghoon suddenly turns his head to meet your gaze that you’re pulled back into reality by brutal force.

You’re quick to avert your eyes, not ready to accept whatever the fuck has been going on with you and to your luck Sunghoon doesn’t seem to care enough (as usual) to acknowledge your staring.

No matter how many times he cums inside of you, your precious archenemy probably won’t ever treat you like an actual part of society before and after your shared orgasms and when in the beginning you actually preferred it that way, you’ve now found yourself doubting and questioning his behavior.

It’s not like Sunghoon’s actually nice to you when the two of you get intimate but besides the first time, he’s never once has he made you feel unwanted or disgusting. In any other situation his behavior and the way he treats and touches you would have provoked and irritated you, but whenever the burning tension between the two of you becomes too much and you have no choice but to give in over and over again, your body longs for those exact things and you actually don’t hate it as much as you used to.

Back when you had first started sleeping with Sunghoon, you’d try your best to just not think about it anymore until the next booty call but now you actually caught yourself going out of your way to get physical with him.

It’s not something that just dawned on you but rather a realization which hit you since you’ve been spending quite a bit of time in close proximity with him for the past three days.

Every time the boys want to head out after your daily activities, you find yourself hoping that Sunghoon decides to stay back in the airbnb too, just because you don’t actually want to rush things with him anymore when it comes to sex. You’ve come to the point where he makes you feel so good, you actually want it to go on for as long as possible.

You still can’t believe that you’re actually admitting this to yourself but after all this time you’ve grown exhausted, tired and mentally drained, which is probably why it doesn’t really matter to you anyway.

To Park Sunghoon you’re nothing but a quick, easy and convenient fuck. That’s it. And it’s good this way. That’s why there’s no point in worrying about why the fuck would your brain start coming up with things and thoughts which don’t even make sense, right?

“She’s ignoring us again”, Jaeyun chuckles and nudges your side with his elbow before he throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer to his body, quickly reminding you of your current situation.

Your eyes almost instinctively shift to Sunghoon’s face, only for instant regret to hit your system when you notice the look of disgust and annoyance gracing his features.

“Sorry, boys”, you sigh and pat Jaeyun’s chest, “this week’s been so exhausting, I think the lack of sleep is finally getting to me.”

“So, you’re not gonna join our night time adventure either?” Sunoo shoots you a pout of disappointment and with a soft sigh you imitate his facial expression and shake your head.

“I really need to get some sleep for our day trip to Koto tomorrow”, you respond and look at each of the boys individually but intentionally skip a certain someone, “we’ve been up and on the road for twelve hours straight, fourth day in a row and as much as I want to, I know my body’s not gonna cooperate much longer if I don’t rest.”

The thought of a warm shower, a few cigarettes on your airbnb’s balcony, a nice glass of wine and absolute silence remains the only thing on your mind despite the slight pengs of guilt hitting your chest for not joining your boys yet again.

“It’s okay, mother”, Jungwon quickly responds and puts on his coat with a big, dimply smile, “you probably didn’t hear it but I’ve always been against forcing old people out of their comfort zone.”

With a soft scoff you roll your eyes and thank Riki as he hands you your jacket, all of the boys taking the last sips of their soft beverages before saying your goodbyes and leaving the sweet little restaurant you had decided to have dinner at.

You quietly listen to the boys and their plans, Jaeyun quickly offering you a cigarette as he lights his own and with a tight lipped smile you thank him, way too tense and absentminded for your own liking but too exhausted to question it.

“Alright, I’ve ordered you two an uber too”, Riki says casually and runs one of his ring clad hands through his bleached hair, his statement leaving you nothing but confused.

“Huh? I’m the only one going back to the airbnb”, you say and furrow your brows with your eyes focused on your younger brother’s face.

“No, Hoon’s also not tagging along”, Jaeyun replies casually and blows the smoke out of his nose as he looks at you just as confused.

“What the fuck? Why?”

“That’s none of your fucking business”, Sunghoon almost instinctively spits back at you, his thick brows pushed together as he stares at you with annoyance gleaming in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up”, you hiss and roll your eyes, too exhausted to even bother with his weird attitude. It’s not like you haven’t noticed his change in behavior and attitude these past few days but with everything that’s been going on in your own brain you simply can’t find the energy to read more into it than absolutely necessary.

“Please, don’t chop each other’s head off on your way to the rooms”, Jaeyun chuckles but as soon as his gaze flickers between the two of you, you realise just how much seriousness there actually is behind his words.

Without saying anything else, you say your farewells to the boys as the cars you had ordered come to a stand in front of you and just as expected (and hoped for), SUnghoon gets comfortable on the passenger seat while you slide into the back and pray the taxi driver isn’t as chatty as the other ones.

To your luck, Sunghoon uses hsi limited Japanese to give the man your address and the rest of the drive passes by quietly, almost peacefully. There’s never been a place like Tokyo to you; not a single spot on this earth has ever managed to make you feel at such ease and comfort the way your mother’s birthplace has.

You’re so caught up watching the streets of your favorite place, you don’t even notice the way Sunghoon has been watching you from his peripheral vision the past ten minutes, something he can’t help but beat himself up for because why the fuck does the urge to look at you just doesn’t seem to disappear?

Never in a million years would he admit this to you but there’s definitely a reason why he’s been making sure to always push you into a position where he can look at your face. He’s not quite sure why or where the sudden urge has come from but for some reason he just can’t keep his eyes off of you.

Sunghoon still hates your guts.

He really does.

But the more he gets to touch and kiss you, the deeper this weird hunger and lust seem to run and at this point he has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s actually thinking. Or feeling.

You still annoy and irritate the living hell out of every pore in his body, yet these past few days he’s found himself upset and even disappointed about the fact he can’t spend more time with you after fucking your brains out. He doesn’t necessarily want to hold you, nor does he really want to cuddle or be close to you but there’s definitely been a few times where he caught himself wishing the boys weren’t on their way back so he could just spend a few more minutes just watching you.

Maybe it’s the way you seem so relaxed and at ease after he’s pushed you over the edge over and over again, or maybe it’s because the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and a cigarette dangling from your pouty, bit swollen lips in combination with your messed up hair and the fresh memory of your sweet noises echoing in his head, which make things so much more difficult for him but at the end of the day the reason doesn’t matter.

Sunghoon hates you.

You’re the only person who’s disappointed and betrayed him in such a cruel, such a raw way and every time he finds himself caught up in thoughts about you, he can’t help but remind himself of all the nights he spent on the ice rink, crying, sobbing and silently praying you’d just come back and make your shared dreams become reality, only for his heart and soul to break all over again when he remembered your betrayal.

With his hands balled into fists and a soft huff, Sunghoon angrily averts his gaze from you and as his eyes start to scan the area you had just entered, a wave of relief hits him.

“That’s the one, Sir”, he casually says and almost immediately bites his tongue when he realizes the falling of his mask.

Nobody on this earth knows how all those years ago, Sunghoon had decided to learn Japanese, simply because he wanted to feel even closer to two of the most important people in his life, only for your betrayal to take away the joy and excitement of it.

But despite his broken heart, he knew he had to finish what he had started, initially for you, not because he necessarily needed it but because he didn’t want you to take this away from him too.

Never once has he mentioned his fluency in his best friend’s mother tongue to anybody, not even his other close friends and at times he definitely forgot about it only for his chest to tighten whenever he listened to your little conversations with your brother, the both of you so much more relaxed and outspoken in your mother tongue than the one you both had grown up with.

When at first Sunghoon had intended to talk to Riki about it, he never really knew how to explain the actual reasoning behind his decision to study and become fluent in Japanese, so after a few years, he just decided to keep it to himself for as long as possible.

There’s no point in letting you know when you don't even care anyway.

Fortunately you seem way too immersed in your thoughts to pay any attention to his slip up and by the time Hoon gets out of the uber, you’ve already lit yet another cigarette.

“What are you waiting for?” You suddenly ask when you notice his lack of motion.

“Just finish that god damn cig and get your ass inside”, Sunghoon sighs, “I promised not to leave you alone so stop making this even more difficult for me than it already is.”

“What a gentleman you are”, you roll your eyes in response to his annoying comment, the little fire in the depth of your chest burning up just enough to irritate you, “I’m not in the mood to fuck, just piss off already.” For a quick moment you catch yourself in a lie and you hate how your hormonal self almost instantly regrets your little come back.

Because no matter how hard you try to deny it, your body craves Sunghoon’s touch which has now resulted in a libido you have never experienced before. So, no, you actually are very much in the mood but for some reason you can’t help but feel stressed and anxious just thinking about all the feelings, doubts and thoughts which come hand in hand with the pleasure he’s providing you with.

“Can you not be so fucking difficult for once? I’m not waiting for you to come inside to fuck, I promised Riki to keep an eye on you, that’s it.”

While your first instinct is to shoot something back at him, a tiny, almost inaudible yet strong voice in the back of your head somehow manages to stop you from giving into the urges and with an annoyed sigh you kill your half-smoked cigarette and through it into the next trashcan before wordlessly heading towards the entrance of the apartment building.

You both continue walking up the stairs without saying another word and you hate how much the lack of verbal communication bothers you. If it wasn’t for your best friend pointing it out, you would have never noticed just how little you and Sunghoon actually talk to each other and ever since your conversation about it, you haven’t stopped thinking about it.

“What the fuck?”

The suddenness of his exclamation as well as the unusual volume of his voice are quick to pull you out of the mess in your head and with your brows furrowed in confusion you follow Sunghoon’s cold gaze.

For a moment, you don’t actually know what or who you’re looking at.

Maybe it’s one of you body’s defense mechanisms or maybe it’s the fog clouding your brain but in no universe should it take this long for someone to recognize their younger brother – and father.

“Is this a fucking joke?” The switch in language comes almost naturally and the longer your eyes roam the figures of the two men in front of you, the quicker the blood starts pumping through your veins.

It’s one thing to see your younger half-brother again, his impact and affect on your life in no way harmful or very much life altering. But the sight of your father, the first of many men to not only disappoint and break you but also the first of many to make you feel unloveable, disgusting and unworthy of everything good in this life easily leaves you speechless.

You can feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your side, his attention remaining on you as if he was trying to read your body language but miserably failing to do so when all the trauma responses hit you at full force.

“Just listen to us for a few minutes”, Kenta says and looks at you with genuinely pleading eyes but for the first time in your life you feel actual resentment towards the brother you had tried so hard to protect and keep safe. You’ve always reminded yourself of his age, of his lacking experience in life, his brain still developing but as your eyes anxiously roam his features, all those excuses seem to disappear when you realize just how much he’s grown.

He’s now three years older than Riki when he had decided to ask his parents to sign off their parental rights to you, his older sister, because he knew exactly what type of people they were.

“Please, Y/N”, he suddenly pleas and takes a step forward, only for you to back off and Sunghoon quickly comes to stand between you and your brother.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Kenta”, he says nonchalantly, not giving a single fuck about the current chaos in his own head at the sight of your father, a man he’s never, ever associated anything good or positive with. Sunghoon hasn’t seen your father in over a decade, despite the close bond your dads used to share back in the day and as he remembers all the times he had punished you for a minor mistake or a failed move, his blood suddenly starts boiling.

“This isn’t about you, Sunghoon”, your father suddenly says and the sound of his voice sends chills down your back, the urge to burst into tears and yell at him for failing you suddenly overwhelming.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here? You’ve never called, never texted me back. The only times you actually contacted me were because you wanted something from me”, you don’t find the energy and guts to push Sunghoon away and actually face them again, so without giving it much more thought you opt to stay very much hidden behind your archenemy’s impressive height.

“Please, hear us out, Y/N”, Kenta pleads yet again, skillfully ignoring your accusations, “Yuki needs your support. We can’t do this without you.”

At first, your brain struggles to process his words but as soon as you manage to read in between the lines, you feel every last bit of oxygen leaving your lungs and a thin veil of tears blurring your vision.

“What?”

“Kenta, take your failure of a father and fuck off”, Sunghoon is quick to spit back at your brother, anger and wrath lingering in his voice as he threatens your brother.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Kenta? What do you mean Yuki needs my support? For what?”

You know the answer to your question but deep down you know you need to hear it from him or your father to finally close this chapter for good. All these years you’ve believed in ideas and wishful thoughts of your other siblings finding their way back to you, but not anymore. The few bits of information Riki had shared with you were enough to block Kenta’s number but now that you’ve actually got the chance to hear him say all those things, just casually crushing your soul and taking away the tiniest drops of hope you had left, you definitely weren’t gonna let it slip away.

“Y/N, sweetheart”, your father begins calmly, his voice a lot less vengeful and harsh than you’ve remembered; his choice to not only address you by your actual name, something he had refused to since the day of your eighth birthday, but also to use the nickname he had only used for his second wife send jolts of anger through your veins and before Sunghoon can even react, you’ve made your way around him to get into your own father’s face.

“Don’t you fucking dare play innocent now”, you spit and bite back the tiny sob threatening to escape your throat when you notice the lack of emotion in the eyes of the only parent you had left.

“Alright, seems like the nice way still doesn’t work with you”, he suddenly sighs and straightens his back, the faux softness in his features quickly vanishing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down at you the way he’s always done during every conversation the two of you ever had.

“Yuki wants to attend the same boarding school as Kenta and as her older sister it’s your duty to step up financially when we can’t.”

You’ve never expected anything from your father, not a single thing ever since the day your mother passed away. It’s not like he actually ever cared about you anyway, so it’s never made sense for you to put any effort into whatever the fuck kind of bond you two had or didn’t have.

But for some reason you did expect him to have just the tiniest bit of dignity and pride, maybe a little bit of ego or self worth, just enough not to be desperate and shameless enough to ask the daughter he had abandoned, disowned and shamed for money.

“My duty? Are you mentally challenged?”

“Watch your fucking language when you talk to him, he’s still your father”, Kenta suddenly intervenes and as soon as your head shoots into his direction, you notice the shift in his facial expression. All of a sudden you can’t actually unsee the resemblance to your father, something you’ve always preferred to ignore for your own sake.

“He’s nothing to me, you fucking bitch”, you hiss and not once avert your gaze away from his, knowing he’s gonna use the difference in height to his own advantage when he has no idea of the people you’ve gotten in fights with over the years. To his defense, he doesn’t actually know anything about you in the first place.

“it’s the middle of the night, just stop wasting our time and give us the fucking money, you worthless cunt.”

Your father’s heartless words hit you like a punch right in the guts; the feeling something you haven’t felt in a while and probably something online he’s ever been able to make you go through. His choice of words and tone isn’t something new or surprising to you because even after five years of barely any contact with each other, your father has never bothered to hide his resentment for you as an individual. Every person you’re close with has heard your own father talk to you like this at least once and no matter how much time passes, the waves of humiliation and shame just don’t seem to become any less overwhelming.

“I don’t owe you shit, you old fuck”, you defend yourself once you’ve finally found your voice, hating the little shake in your breathing, “you took everything I’ve ever loved, ever card about. Fuck you, fuck your ugly ass wife and fuck your kids.”

“Watch your fucking mou-”, this time Kenta doesn’t get to step even closer to you, nor does he get to finish his threat as Sunghoon comes back into your peripheral vision and before you can physically react, you watch your former cie skating partner reach for your younger brother’s collar and swiftly push him up against the wall.

“I don’t give a fuck about your age, back the fuck off or I’ll rearrange both sets of teeth in that big mouth of yours, got it?”

“What exactly did we take from you, huh? Come on, name me one actual example and I’ll leave”, your father scoffs and rolls his eyes, reminding you of all the times he had manipulated and gaslit you into thinking and genuinely believing every insult and criticism he had thrown into your face.

“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, yeah typical Nishimura Y/N behavior”, he suddenly chuckles and looks at you with mockery gleaming in his exhausted gaze, a sight so surreal and sad it actually has your blood boiling, “screaming, swearing, pointing your fingers at others when it’s usually your own fault – you really haven’t changed, have you? Still the silly little girl who expects the world to revolve around her when she couldn’t even sacrifice anything for her own blood.”

“What?”

Your father tilts his head to the side as soon as he notices the tears blurring your vision, knowing very well what his words have done to you and where one would expect him to finally back off, the pain and agony in your facial features only make him want to take things as far as possible. He’s always pushed you past your breaking point, not because he wanted you to grow, but because he actually enjoys seeing you in such pain. He’s always referred to it as his own way of torture since he’s never been powerful enough to use his hands on you.

“What do you mean ‘what’? First you claim that we’ve taken something away from you and now you’re surprised when I point out your lack of sacrifices for the family?”

“I – My childhood, my youth, my dreams – I sacrificed everything I’ve ever had to please you”, your voice is quite and steady, more confused than angry as you struggle to understand what the fuck is actually going on, “I was never enough. Nothing I’ve ever done or achieved was enough to please you and that bitchass wife of yours.”

“Don’t talk about her like that”, your father suddenly spits and reminds you of his biggest trigger, “she’s never done anything but love you like her own but all you did was badmouth her because you’re an ungrateful, spoiled little bitch who’s bound to fail in life.”

“What the fuck – are you even talking about?” This time you refuse to keep your cool as you raise the volume of your voice and actually push him away, too disgusted by his words to bear with the close proximity any longer.

It’s then that Sunghoon finally lets go of your younger brother to come in between you and your father, knowing he won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary. He knows you can handle this by yourself but at the end of the day he would never, ever let that fucker or anyone lay a hand on you.

“Your step-mother alway tried her best but you never–”, “Shut the fuck up. That fucking bitch took away my biggest dream and all you did was give her the approval she needed to ruin my life”, you don’t care about the time and the current location you’re in, too exhausted and emotionally drained to hold back any of it any longer, “go ahead and keep praising that ugly bitch because that’s the only thing you’re good for anyway. Trying to please one tyrant because the one in your childhood never loved you enough to give a fuck about his fucking loser son.”

You’ve only ever met your paternal grandfather a couple of times in your life but from all the things your maternal aunt had told you, he’s never really been a big fan or supporter of his own son, finally explaining your father’s lack of basic human decency.

“You fucking bitch”, and as those words leave his lips, you actually watch the way your father lifts his arm, only for his hand never reaching its goal.

Yet again, Sunghoon happens to be way faster than your brain can actually follow as the next thing your eyes witness is the sight of your archenemy casually holding onto your father’s wrist before twisting his arm into the other direction and eliciting a painful scream from the old man’s throat.

“Not on my fucking watch, you loser”, Sunghoon presses through gritted teeth and twists your father’s arm a little further, “you’re never, ever going to come close to her again, di you hear me? Now take that scumbag of a son and fuck off or I’m gonna finish what your daddy started.”

“You little–”, “You don’t want to see what happens if I have to repeat myself, you fucking cunt. Now fuck. Off.”

The following few minutes pass by in a blur as you watch Kenta and your father really doing as they’re told and as soon as you step into the somehow comforting space of your airbnb, you feel a wave of exhaustion roll over you.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything, yet refuses to leave you alone.

But why? Why does he care so much about you and why does he genuinely want to run after two two fuckers and beat the living shit out of them for hurting you like this?

He hates you.

But the sight of your tear filled eyes send him into a literal panic mode.

He can’t fucking stand you, your personality, you as an individual, everything you say and stand for.

Yet he quietly follows you into one of the bedrooms knowing he’s gonna argue with you if you dare to send him away.

“Just fuck off”, you spit, as if you could read his thoughts and usually your words would rub him the wrong way, but after all these years, Sunghoon is just too familiar with your coping mechanisms, so without giving it another thought, he shakes his head, yet not responding verbally.

“Sunghoon, just get the fuck to your room and leave me alone. I really can’t deal with your shit right now”, you sigh and rub your temples, throwing your jacket off like it’s the reason for the heavy feeling on your chest.

“Take it out on me.”

What the fuck is he saying?

“What?”

“Stop bottling your anger and frustration up like a fucking child”, he hisses and runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes focusing yours as he watches hsi words finally make their way through your thick skull, “punch me, scream at me, curse me the fuck out but stop pushing it all away like it never happened. You’re ruining yourself for people who are worth shit.”

“Sunghoon, I–”, but to your surprise, his words actually trigger something deep inside of you and before you can actually realise it, tears have started streaming down your cheeks, ruining the make up you had spent so much time on.

“Fucking finally”, he grunts and reaches for your wrist, only to pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around your body, not expecting you to instantly melt into hsi touch as your cries and sobs start growing heavier, louder and more desperate.

You bury your face in the fabric of his hoodie and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about anyone else but yourself.

Sunghoon remains silent as you allow yourself to wail and cry in his arms like a little girl, the one you had refused to let out as the mere thought of someone seeing you like this makes you nauseous but for some reason, you don’t seem to care that it’s him, of all people.

Maybe it’s because you know he actually doesn’t give a fuck, not about you or anything and anyone else. Or maybe it’s because of how tired and exhausted you are, but the more your father’s words ring in your ears, the heavier your cries become.

As you lose yourself in the pain and agony of your fate, SUnghoon can’t help but think of all the times you had cried in his arms when the two of you were just little kids trying to find a home in the arms of someone you had always trusted. The more memories and mental images of your ten year old self rush through his head, the stronger his hold on your body becomes and with a soft sigh, Sunghoon finally allows himself to lift his hand and gently caress the back of your head, your back and even your cheeks.

You have absolutely no idea just how long the two of you stay like this but by the time your cries finally die down, you feel lightheaded and sleepy.

There’s so much you want to say, question and ask, so much to discuss and talk about, so many things left unsaid yet the second you lift your head to look up at him, the only thing you can think about is the comfort and peace of mind his touch comes with.

Neither one of you dares to speak a word as the tension in the empty bedroom grows thicker and thicker, leaving you gasping for air and from the inconsistent movements of his chest, you can tell that Sunghoon’s probably going through the same mental dilemma as you.

“I need you”, you suddenly whisper against his lips, his nose nudging yours as he waits for you to ask for it the way he always does, “please, Sunghoon. I don’t wanna think anymore.”

As soon as you say those words, he’s a goner.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, at the end of the day he simply can’t hide the fact that all it takes is for you to ask for him, his body, his touch. No matter how much he hates it, he knows his body belongs to you and at this point he’s more than willing to look past whatever the fuck has happened between the two of you if it meant he gets another taste of you, the most forbidden of fruits.

The next thing you know is the feeling of his plump lips capturing yours in a needy kiss, a soft whimper bubbling up your throat the second his tongue grazes yours and without giving it much more thought, you push everything else into the farest corner of your brain and make sure he becomes the only thing on your mind,

Sunghoon’s kisses are hungry, they’re sloppy and needy; something you’ve grown obsessed with ever since the first one you two had shared all those weeks ago.

With every motion of his lips, the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your warm skin and his saliva slowly coating the entirety of your tongue you feel yourself ascending into the highest parts of your lust.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to grow impatient, the only thing on his mind being your pleasure and the urge to give you exactly what you need.

With his big, ring clad hands roaming your body, kneading the soft flesh of your waist and your thighs, Sunghoon quickly gets rid of your little black skirt, but also not wasting much time with the rest of your clothes. By the time he’s guided you to the king sized bed on the other side of the room, you’ve lost every piece of fabric separating your soft skin from his needy touch and you don’t even care about the fact that Sunghoon has yet to take off any of his own clothes.

“Lay back, spread those legs for me”, he grunts after letting go of your bottom lip, his own swollen and red, the sight so sinful you feel lightheaded by the time the fog clouding your brain finally clears up.

Usually you’d protest and tease him, too proud to give him what he’s asked of you right away but as you look up at him with glossy eyes, you notice the hunger in his gaze and all you can do is obey his request without hesitation.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, snowflake”, Sunghoon grunts and gently places his hands on your knees right before pulling your legs apart, revealing your drenched cunt to his hungry eyes, “she’s all mine, after all. Isn’t that right?”

His words leave you speechless, something you have yet to grow used to when it comes to Park Sunghoon and yet you don’t actually question him and silently nod in response to his hypothetical question.

For the first time since the two of you had started being intimate with each other, you’re actually feeling much more than just this deep burning wrath and hatred, so much more than hunger and lust. It’s deeper, darker and so, so much scarier.

“Eyes on me”, Hoon suddenly hisses and pinches the soft flesh of your inner thigh to get your attention back on him, mostly because he knows he’s gonna lose you to those dark thoughts and doubts if he doesn’t.

“Just cum when you need to”, he whispers against the wet flesh of your pussy, his tongue lapping up the few drops leaking out of your sensitive hole almost casually, “I’m not gonna stop until you’re crying again. But this time it’s gonna be because of how good I’m making you feel, got it?”

Yet again, all you can do is nod but this time it’s not enough. Sunghoon needs to hear you.

“Use your words or I’m not gonna let you cum at all”, he groans and lifts his head up to look at you, “don’t disappoint me now, snowflake.”

“Yes, Sunghoon”, you quickly reply, your head back to its cloudy state as the anticipation for what’s to come overwhelms your senses, “please, just make me feel good.”

And Park Sunghoon has never needed to be told twice when it came to a request of this kind.

The following minutes are filled with loud slurping, a mixture of your high pitched moans and Sunghoon’s muffled grunts, as he makes sure to lap up every single drop of your sweet juices, genuinely afraid to waste any of it and losing himself in the taste of your perfect pussy. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of your archenemy between your legs, his face flushed, tinted in the sweetest shades of shade, the skin of his chin and his cheeks, even the tip of his nose glisten from your juices and his eyes filled with so much lust and hunger, you actually can’t remember seeing him as fucked out as in this particular moment.

With every single swift motion of his tongue against your sensitive clit, you feel yourself falling deeper into the haze of your pleasure and as he manages to push you over the edge not once, not twice but three times in a row, you have to use every bit of your remaining strength to push his head away from your pussy; the sensitivity and overstimulation too much for your exhausted body to handle.

“E-Enough”, you sob softly, your hand firmly holding onto the thick strands of his hair as Sunghoon casually litters your inner thighs in open mouthed kisses, sucking the skin into his mouth every now and then to leave his marks to make sure they remind you of him the following days.

What the fuck is he thinking?

“Think you can do one more for me? Wanna fuck you to sleep so you’re properly rested for our day trip tomorrow”, Sunghoon teases you with a shit eating grin on his face as he comes to stand on his sore feet, calmly taking off his hoodie as well as his jeans, knowing how much it actually annoys you whenever he takes too much time with it.

“Fuck off”, you huff and pull your swollen bottom lip between your teeth, impatiently waiting for him to finally reveal his hard cock to your hungry eyes.

“Should I?”, he suddenly mumbles and pushes his boxer briefs down his thighs, his big cock slapping against his toned stomach and instantly leaving a tiny stain on his spale skin.

Without even replying to his sneaky comment, you sit yourself up and wrap your fingers around the length of his hard cock, looking up at him with glossy, needy eyes and tear stained cheeks, a sight so sinful and breathtaking, Sunghoon can’t physically stop himself from taking your face into one of his hands as he calmly thrusts his cock into your fist.

His eyes roll into the back of his head the second your tongue darts out to lick over his angry tip but after tongue fucking you for almost an hour straight, he simply has no patience left.

“Head back , stick your tongue out and keep your eyes on me”, he grunts and pushes his hand into your hand to help you follow his instructions, only for his cock to give away just how much he likes just how quick you are to follow his demands as it twitches in your grip and actually makes you smile cheekily.

Sunghoon tugs at the roots of your hair and takes a whole moment to admire how good you look all fucked out and ready for him and him only.

What the fuck is going on? He hates you. Hate.

This time he won’t let those confusing thoughts get the best of him as he puckers his lips and lets a thick drop of his spit fall onto the back of your tongue and carefully watches the way you swallow it without hesitation.

Within just a few minutes he makes his way on top of you, getting comfortable between your legs and casually rubbing his rock hard cock against your needy, yet overly sensitive slit.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, did you hear me? I want you to look at me when I fuck and fill that little pussy up”, Sunghoon breathes against your lips and lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when your little hole starts clenching in response to his touch.

“Just fuck me already”, you hiss when the impatience finally catches up on you, “the boys will be back soon and I really want you to cum inside of me.”

Why the fuck would you say something like that? And why the fuck don’t you regret it as much as you're supposed to?

“Will you look at that?” Sunghoon chuckles and pushes his tip a little deeper inside of your tight cunt, grunting and groaning as soon as your hot walls embrace him again, “got so used to being filled to the brim with my cum, can’t go to sleep without it anymore, hm?”

“F-Fuck off–oh, my God”, your voice breaks into a high pitched moan as soon as Sunghoon thrusts a few more inches of his impressive length inside of you and if it wasn’t for the weird urge to keep your unspoken promise of maintaining eye contact, you would have lost you remind already.

“There we go, just a little bit more.” Did he just praise you? No, encourage you? No teasing? No bickering? Actual encouragement?

“S-So big”, you whisper the second he bottoms out and you actually feel his tip graze the entrance to your womb, “more, Sunghoon. Stop fucking with me.”

“Don’t brat out on me now, snowflake”, he chuckles, not necessarily bc of how amusing you are but mostly because he’s desperately trying to hide how good you’re making him feel, “I’m gonna cum inside of this pussy tonight, I don’t give a fuck if the boys hear or see us or not.”

“Stop fucking playing and fuck me like you mean it already”, you hiss, this time genuine annoyance wavering in your tone and from the way you’ve been clenching around his cock for the past few minutes, Hoon can tell just how close you are. To his luck.

Without wasting anymore time, Sunghoon slowly pulls his cock out of your tight cunt only to thrust himself all the way back inside of you with one swift motion of his hips. It doesn’t take much time for him to find the perfect rhythm, his thrusts deep and hard, yet still fast and coordinated enough to hit the right spots and turn you into a nonsense babbling mess. Every time the tip of his cock hits the sweetest of spots deep inside of you, you feel yourself getting closer, your noises growing higher and louder, yet still not loud enough to overpower Sunghoon’s deep grunts and guttural moans.

The closer he gets, the deeper he loses himself in the sweet feeling of your cunt, the more he buries his face in your neck and as you tug on the strands of his freshly dyed dark hair, Sunghoon can’t help the little whines from escaping his sore throat.

“C-Close”, you finally whisper and push his big hand holding onto your tit down in between your legs hoping he just does what you silently requested instead of making you ask for it.

“Me too”, Hoonie grunts and pulls away from your neck, his cheeks even redder than, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead and his pretty lips parted as not a single breath he lets out is anything but a shaky moan.

“Look at me”, the demand comes out of nowhere but as soon as your eyes flatter open to find his, Sunghoon starts picking up the pace of his thrusts all while his fingers apply just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive clit.

And just when you’re about to stumble over the edge, Sunghoon quickly pushes his lips against yours and finally gives you the last thing you needed for the coil in your lower tummy to snap.

With a loud, dragged out whimper, your nails digging into his back and your vision blacking out, you loser yourself in the overwhelming waves of your orgasm, falling even deeper and harder when Sunghoon quickly follows you into sweet relief as he paints the insides of your tight cunt in several shades of white.

Just as usual, neither one of you can actually say anything as the sound of your heavy breathing remains the only thing to fill the emptiness of your bedroom.

However, this time Sunghoon refuses to just pull out and step away.

For some reason, the urge to take proper care of you becomes overwhelming, so with a soft sigh, he pulls away and starts caressing your heated skin.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what would be appropriate, so after soothing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, Sunghoon slowly pulls his now soft cock out and quickly reaches for his boxer briefs. Usually this is the moment where he hurries ot the bathroom to get you a towel, but this time he actually bends down to grab his hoodie from the floor before he holds his hand out for you to grab, only to help you put on right, and then heading out of the room to grab a towel.

Your brain is too foggy, too chaotic to read much into it and by the time he finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, Sunghoon casually lays on the other side of your bed and quickly pulls you into his arms.

Never in your life have you expected to find yourself in bed with Park Sunghoon’s steady heartbeat pounding underneath your ear. Yet for the first time in your life, you actually feel at total ease. Nothing matters and nothing will matter, not as long as you’re both like this.

And as Sunghoon attentively watches the way your lids grow heavier right before you drift off to sleep, he catches himself playing with a few strands of your hair and it’s then that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to his feelings than pure hatred.

Maybe he doesn’t actually hate you as much as he’s always thought.

But when his boys notify him about their arrival in a few minutes, Sunghoon has no choice but to pull away to save you both from a situation neither one is ready for and before he can overthink it, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and leaves after tucking you into bed properly.

Fuck. This actually just happened.

And he’s not even upset about it.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: HELLO MY BABIES!!!!! i missed you guys and CH so, so much!!!!! i’m so excited about this it’s lit 3:30am but i missed writing sm i just knew i had to finish this tonight! thank you guys so, so much for your patience and support, your understanding and sweetness. i love and appreciate you all so, so so much! i hope you enjoyed this chap and can’t wait to go back to regular updates!!!🥺🩷)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @jongszn @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @ariadores @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @luvkpopp @heeslut4life

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop

Summary: Tav overhears Astarion complaining about their situation and decides to do what she can to make it a little better for him and she ends up surprising him in the process.

Tav isn't referred to by name. There might be a part 2 if this is well-received.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 1.8k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It started when she overheard a passing comment from behind her, grumbled in response to something Lae’zel said.

From the earliest parts of the day, they’d been making their way through difficult terrain; surrounded by thousands of bugs and mud up to their ankles. She’d tried not to complain about it though Astarion never shared her focus on quiet suffering and he had a fair point.

Though they’d managed to set up a fairly comfortable camp outside the grove – not wanting to impose nor deal with the druids for too long – they hadn’t really found any chance to properly bathe since their abduction.

The late afternoon glinted into her eyes as an idea presented itself.

She slipped away from the group almost excitedly to find the abandoned house where she’d spied it not long ago. After making sure it contained no nasty surprises, she’d left. It didn’t really have a roof and the majority of it had been burned down by some form of magical fire but most importantly, it had a tub.

One night together shouldn’t have made her so weak for the elf but despite all his sweetened words and falsities, he captivated her attention. She knew he meant little by it but sometimes those words made her days brighter regardless.

And she wanted to return the favour given how the muddy path came from her badly thought-out route.

The river running close by provided her with clean and cool water, not the easiest to move in large amounts but still able to fill the tub. It didn’t leak (a minor miracle) and she managed to use a little more of her already-exhausted magic to get a few charms warming the water up.

She smiled at her work proudly and left the charms to do her work while she made her way back to the grove to get some soaps.

Her shoulders shook a little as she eyed her small surprise. Proud and excited, she now faced the greatest of tasks.

Encouraging Astarion to actually step away from camp.

“No, thank you,” he said, dismissed her with the casual wave of a hand. “I’ve had quite enough traipsing through the forest for one day. If you want to continue finding every possible swamp insect to attack you, you’re welcome to be my guest.”

She sighed. “But I have something to show you. It’s a surprise.”

He smiled, strained. “My, aren’t you a desperate little thing. Maybe I’ll join you a little later in the night but for now, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the interest.”

“No, it’s not…” she groaned. “It’s just a bath, alright? I overheard you complaining about being dirty earlier so I found one for you.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Come along. Those runes aren’t going to last forever and I know you’re going to fuss about the water temperature.”

Astarion chuckled and she immediately knew he didn’t believe her. “I appreciate the creativity, darling. Really, I do, but you’ll find direct offers are far more effective on me.” He leaned closer and she became suddenly aware of how many eyes watched them from around the camp. “But if you’re really going to such lengths, I’m not going to deny you forever.”

Flushed, she stepped away and ducked her head. “Fine. I’ll use it myself but you better not complain once more about it.”

She ignored the slightly concerned expressions of her friends as she stormed back into the tree line by herself. Why she even thought he’d appreciate it… she shouldn’t have even bothered offering it to him. She really needed to be more selfish if she wanted to not get turned down by the vampire spawn again.

It stung more than she expected it to, even if she wasn’t offering anything more than an actual bath.

She brushed her fingers over the surface of the still-warm water when she got there and sighed. It still felt like a waste, even if she used it. Amazing how homesick she’d grown for her house when stuck out in the wild with nothing more of comfort than a single bedroll.

Maybe she should have stolen one of those beds from the goblin den they cleared.

The floor creaked and her hand flew to her weapon, spun around only to find a very arrogant elf who appeared annoyingly surprised.

“My, so it wasn’t even a ploy alone,” he said. “You genuinely managed to find a bath. I respect your dedication if nothing else. There are certainly easier ways of seeing me undressed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the water. “I was trying to do something nice for you but as you’re not interested, feel free to return back to camp.”

He stepped close enough to brush his fingers against her cheek. “Whoever said I wasn’t interested?”

“You did. In very direct words.”

“Well, things change. I’ve decided you’re quite right. It’s been far too long since I got to wash and you’ve been so sweet, setting it all up for me. I couldn’t be rude and turn you down right now, could I?”

Cursing the elf beneath her breath for his indecisiveness, she moved to walk past him. “Enjoy.”

Once again, she surprised him and Astarion took a second to respond, calling to her as she reached the edge of the charred flooring.

“You’re not joining me?”

She looked back at him. “Am I meant to be?”

“Why, yes. I can hardly be expected to do things like washing my hair all by myself. What if I get lonely or attacked?”

She frowned at him but he kept smiling at her in the same insistent way he did when he wanted something. The corner of his lips pulled up as though he knew a joke and didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t help herself but relent under his burning gaze; he’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to let him drink blood from her throat. Perhaps she should be concerned with where her willpower went when it came to this man.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll help with your hair if you really need.”

“How fun.”

He insisted on being as distracting as possible when he got undressed. His constant glances at her met nothing in return but she couldn’t help glancing at the scars as he lowered himself into the tub.

Their ridges made her uncomfortable. Not knowing what it said frightened her for Astarion’s safety rather than her own.

Nothing good ever came from runes carved into flesh.

“There’s no need to act so shy, beautiful. You’ve seen me in far more compromising situations than this.”

She wouldn’t call their night together compromising but she ignored the comment regardless. His soft sigh of relaxation as he settled into the water worked wonders for clearing up her irritation.

How he managed to be so magnetic astounded her. She found a spot to sit behind him and slowly, gingerly, began to help him with his hair. Despite being ridiculously soft considering how long they adventured in the wilderness, it needed some careful care and attention.

She took care to stay gentle when she found where tangles turned into knots and worked them free without pulling. He gave a small hum when she had to give a soft tug and she took it as an okay to use a little more force.

“We don’t have much to work with but I did manage to get some things from the grove,” she said. “It won’t be up to your standards but I don’t think anything really is.”

Cagey about his past, all she knew surrounded the small snippets he gave her when upset or ranting. She doubted he’d ever had much time to fuss over which hair products he used, too busy watching over his shoulder for a constant threat. He still did so now when he thought nobody could see. His meditation never held him deeply as sleep took her.

“Regardless of whether or not it’s professional, I won’t complain about your skills with this.”

“Skills at detangling your hair?”

“At winning my favour.”

She frowned a little and focused on the white locks where they curled between her fingers. “I’m not only doing this because I want to impress you.”

“I’m sure you have other motivations,” he hummed, teasing. “But you know you’re more than welcome to join me whenever you’re ready. You chose a good-sized tub for both of us.”

She ignored him again, instead focusing on working out a tight knot. Once done, she encouraged him to lean back a little so she could massage the soap gently into his hair, rubbing soft circles against his scalp until his eyes fluttered closed and the smallest hint of relaxation showed in his expression.

Good. He carried far too much tension and she stopped herself from continuing the slight massage down to where she could see the stress in his neck and shoulders. How uncomfortable it must be but she didn’t want to encourage whatever strange idea he had about this situation.

Still, even if she hadn’t planned anything, she couldn’t deny her attraction.

She wanted to press her lips to the pale skin of his neck and trace the path of the water droplets as they pooled against his collar bone. She wanted to trail her hands over his sides and pull him close.

She coughed to stop her thoughts before they ran too far.

If the parasite in her skull didn’t kill her soon, she may just die from the way this elf made her heart pulse unnaturally fast.

“Everything alright?”

He sounded… well, still as flirtatious as ever but more concerned than she thought he would. She snapped her attention back to him and almost lost herself in those stunning eyes.

If she wanted to, she could so easily fall prey to his sweetened words and he really wouldn’t mind. He would encourage it even.

She finished washing the last of the soap from his hair and stood up somewhat uneasily. Pride still shone in her chest as he sat up properly, appearing far cuter than she anticipated with his hair falling flat against his skin.

She saw the invite on his lips before he even said it. Watched him flick whatever switch he had to draw her in and she hurried to leave.

“I’ll see you back in camp, alright?”

His confused expression followed her as she stepped away from the building but he didn’t call her back. She found her way back to camp with a slight heave to her chest and a desperate need for a distraction.

Though she really should have thought it through before she asked Lae-zel to spar with her. The bruise kept her up for the entire night – long enough to realise he didn’t come past for a taste of her blood in the evening.

[adventuringblind]

Possessive

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."

Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.

Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration

Masterlist

Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.

He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.

"Should we help her?"

"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."

"But it would be so satisfying if we did."

"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."

The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"

Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.

The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.

"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.

Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.

"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.

Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."

There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."

The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.

Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.

She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.

The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.

The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.

So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.

Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.

"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.

"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."

"And if I proved you wrong?"

Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.

"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."

Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.

"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."

"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."

"Good. Then let's go find Lando."

Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.

"Lando? You alright love?"

"Doing what you're told is much less fun."

Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.

She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.

Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.

"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"

Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.

"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.

Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.

"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.

Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.

"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"

Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."

"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.

Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.

"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."

To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.

Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.

Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.

It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.

They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.

She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.

The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.

Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.

They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.

"That was eventful."

"No kidding."

"Sorry if I was to rough."

All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."

Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."

"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."

"I still can't believe you punched him."

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."

"Remind me to never challenge you again."