#we remember you . we do too. you remember us. we remember you. ah...

[heliosunny]

if it's not too much to ask can I req our general jingyuan for your lucky egg prompt?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

You weren’t expecting much when you used the Lucky Egg Dispenser—maybe a cute pet, maybe something rare if luck was on your side.

But when the machine whirred and spat out a large golden egg, heavier than the others, you knew something was different.

A small note was attached to it, written in elegant, unfamiliar script:

"Handle with the utmost care. Do not leave its side."

Was this a warning? A request? Either way, you didn't dare ignore it.

For three days, you kept the egg close—hugging it, sleeping with it nestled against your chest, carrying it everywhere. It was warm to the touch, almost alive, pulsing faintly like a slow heartbeat. Sometimes, you swore you heard a low, amused chuckle echo in your mind.

Then, on the third night, the egg cracked.

A golden glow flooded the room, and the warmth in your arms disappeared—replaced by something far larger.

Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A smooth, rich voice purred into your ear, dangerously close.

“Ah… You took such good care of me.”

Your heart pounded as you tilted your head up—

And met golden eyes, half-lidded with lazy amusement, yet darkened with something far more possessive.

He smiled, his grip on you unyielding.

“Now… allow me to return the favor.”

The warmth of the egg had always been comforting, but this—the sheer heat of the man now holding you—was something else entirely.

His grip on your waist remained firm, almost too secure, as if he had no intention of letting go. Slowly, he leaned back, allowing you just enough space to look up at him. Long silver-white hair, golden eyes glinting like molten metal.

A dream? No.

A nightmare? You weren’t sure yet.

“Jing Yuan” he introduced himself “That is my name. And you, little one, have taken care of me most diligently these past three days.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your lower back, a gesture so casual yet so intimate that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You held me close… never once leaving my side.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, pleased—deeply satisfied. “I must say, such devotion is quite rare.”

Your body had been exhausted from three days straight of holding the egg, and now, wrapped in unexpected warmth, your exhaustion finally took over.

The last thing you remembered was the steady rhythm of Jing Yuan’s heartbeat and the way his arms felt so secure around you.

Morning came too fast.

Your eyes blinked open. You shifted slightly—only to realize you couldn’t move.

Jing Yuan was still there.

And he was clinging to you.

One arm curled around your waist, the other resting under your head, effectively caging you in. His breath was slow and steady, and even in sleep, he refused to let you go.

Then it hit you. Your relatives were visiting today.

Your heart lurched as you turned to the clock—late.

Panic surged through you. You tried to slip away, but the instant you moved, Jing Yuan tightened his hold.

“Mmm” he murmured groggily, burying his face into your neck. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” You struggled again, but he was far too strong.

Golden eyes cracked open, lazily watching you as if completely unbothered by your distress.

“Why rush?” he mused. “They can wait.”

You nearly screamed. “No, they can’t!”

Summoning all your strength, you dragged him to the door—his arms still wrapped around you. It was the only way you could even move properly.

Then you threw the door open.

And there they were.

Your relatives, standing outside, their expressions frozen. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open.

They took in the scene—you, struggling against the embrace of an incredibly attractive white-haired man, his arms looped around your waist, his robe slightly loose, his expression filled with sleep-dazed affection.

A long, awkward silence.

Your cousin coughed. “Uh… should we come back later?”

Jing Yuan hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That would be ideal.”

You wanted to die on the spot.

Your uncle, Garreth, a renowned master of weapons, took one long look at Jing Yuan’s build—his broad shoulders, his refined yet powerful stance and nodded in approval.

“You. You’re built well.”

You groaned. “Uncle, don’t—”

But it was too late. Your uncle had already summoned a sigil in midair, golden energy swirling as it took form.

A guandao materialized.

Its long, ornate pole gleamed with intricate gold etchings, and the curved blade reflected the sunlight like liquid fire.

Jing Yuan finally released his iron grip on you, just slightly, as he reached for the weapon.

The moment his fingers closed around the guandao, the air shifted. A deep pulse of energy resonated through the ground. The weapon hummed in his grasp, almost as if recognizing him.

Jing Yuan spun it once, the heavy weapon moving effortlessly in his hands, before letting out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Oh? This suits me quite well.”

Your uncle grinned. “Perfect. Let’s test it out in a dungeon.”

“Wait, what?”

Jing Yuan turned to you, golden eyes gleaming with undeniable amusement, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” His voice was smooth, coaxing.

There was no real room for refusal.

The portal shimmered as you and your relatives stepped into the testing dungeon—a vast expanse of ruins lit by glowing glyphs, the air thick with the presence of lurking monsters.

Jing Yuan walked beside you, his weapon resting lazily over his shoulder, his golden eyes scanning the area with a casual sharpness. Your uncle, already eager to see how the weapon performed, led the way, while your cousin, Lina, trailed behind—already looking way too reckless for your liking.

“Lina, dodge!” you shouted as a spectral beast lunged at her.

But instead of dodging, she charged headfirst, barely blocking the attack in time.

Your sigh was deep and exhausted.

You cast a quick buff on her, increasing her defense, and then immediately followed it up with a healing skill when she took a direct hit from another enemy.

Jing Yuan chuckled beside you, watching the scene unfold. “Is she always like this?”

You groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Lina, undeterred by her near-death experience, grinned. “Come on! We’ve got a strong guy with us now. What’s there to worry about?”

Jing Yuan hummed in amusement. “Confidence is good. But recklessness?” He flicked his wrist, effortlessly slicing through a beast that had tried to sneak up on you. “That’s a bit more… troublesome.”

Lina stuck her tongue out but didn’t argue.

Your uncle, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in watching Jing Yuan fight.

Jing Yuan moved like a storm, sweeping through enemies with fluid, devastating arcs. He never seemed rushed, never seemed flustered—just calm, methodical, and effortlessly powerful.

Every swing of his weapon sent sparks flying, and each finishing move left behind the faint echo of a roaring lion.

Your uncle grinned like a madman. “Now that’s technique. Clean. Precise. Efficient.”

Lina, inspired, tried to copy his movements—only to trip and nearly eat dirt.

You sighed again, casting yet another heal. “Lina, please.”

Jing Yuan turned to you, tilting his head. “You’re quite good at supporting others.”

You shrugged. “Someone has to keep these people alive.”

His lips curled into a slow smile, his golden eyes glinting. “Indeed. But tell me—who takes care of you?”

You ignored the question and focused on healing Lina (again).

Jing Yuan simply watched, amused before gracefully slicing through another wave of enemies, his attacks suspiciously always keeping you within reach.

With the dungeon cleared, the atmosphere lightened as your group returned home.

Garreth was beyond satisfied with Jing Yuan’s performance. He had spent the entire walk back singing praises about the way the guandao handled in his hands, already talking about designing another custom weapon for him.

As soon as you stepped inside, Garreth clapped a hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“A warrior like you deserves a proper meal and a drink—or ten!”

You tried to object since it had been a long day, you just wanted to sleep, but between your uncle’s insistence and Jing Yuan’s easygoing agreement, there was no getting out of it.

One hour later.

The table was filled with empty bottles.

Your uncle? Completely drunk. His booming laughter had slowly turned into slurred mumbling, and eventually, he collapsed onto the table.

Lina sighed, shaking her head. “Every time.” She cracked her knuckles, then grabbed him by the arm, hoisting him up. “I’ll put him to bed before he starts snoring so loud the neighbors complain.”

That left you and Jing Yuan.

The air was quiet now, aside from the distant sounds of the night. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes watching you a little too intently.

“You prioritize others too much.”

You were caught off guard. “What?”

He swirled the drink in his glass lazily. “You heal your cousin, you support your uncle’s projects, you take care of everyone else—but when do you let someone take care of you?”

You frowned. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You say that, but I watched you today. You don’t hesitate to step in when someone else is in danger, but when it comes to yourself? You ignore it. You dismiss it.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because you didn’t know what to say.

He set his glass down, then leaned forward slightly, closer to you.

“If you won’t take care of yourself…” his voice was softer now, almost coaxing, “…then I will.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You’ve only been here for a day.”

Jing Yuan smiled, slow and amused. “Three, actually. You did hold onto me for quite a while.”

Your face heated, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

The words lingered between you, heavy in their meaning.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you moved around, preparing a simple breakfast. The morning was peaceful—until you overheard the conversation between your uncle and Jing Yuan.

They were sitting at the small table by the window, playing chess.

Your uncle had a focused expression, tapping his fingers against the table as he studied the board. Jing Yuan, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, golden eyes lazily watching his opponent’s movements.

“You’re good at this” Garreth finally muttered, moving a piece.

Jing Yuan smiled. “I try.”

There was a moment of silence as the game continued. Then, your uncle leaned back slightly, shooting you a glance before turning back to Jing Yuan.

“You know, I’d love to have you as their partner.”

You almost spilled your coffee.

Jing Yuan’s interest visibly piqued. His eyes flickered to you, then back to your uncle. “Oh? That’s quite the endorsement.”

Your uncle nodded. “Well, they need someone who can keep up with them. Someone strong, capable… dependable. I’d say you fit the bill.”

Jing Yuan made his next move on the chessboard, but his focus was clearly elsewhere now. “I see. And do they already have someone?”

Garreth waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, they already got themself—”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly as if he just realized what he was saying.

Jing Yuan’s expression remained calm, but there was a subtle shift in his aura, his posture more attentive.

Your uncle coughed, attempting to correct himself. “I mean—uh—”

You sighed, setting your cup down. “They’re my ex, Uncle. Ex. Past tense.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, interest deepening. “Oh?”

Your uncle scratched the back of his head. “Ah… my bad.”

Jing Yuan, however, seemed entirely unbothered. If anything—he looked pleased.

He moved his chess piece, “Check.”

Your uncle squinted at the chessboard, muttering curses under his breath as he realized his mistake. Meanwhile, you sat at the table, sipping your coffee, pretending that Jing Yuan wasn’t still watching you.

That small “Oh?” he had uttered earlier still lingered in your mind.

Your uncle, blissfully unaware of the subtle tension in the air, finally made his move—only for Jing Yuan to immediately checkmate him.

Garreth let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, I get it. You’re good. No need to rub it in.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “It was an interesting match.”

His words were polite, but his focus remained on you.

“You didn’t mention an ex before” he mused, resting his chin against his hand.

“Because it’s not important.”

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly, a slow, thoughtful smile forming on his lips. “Not important to you, perhaps. But I find it rather interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He leaned forward just slightly. “Because it means you’re single.”

You almost choked on your coffee.

Your uncle laughed, completely missing the implications. “Hah! Well, that just means the spot’s open, doesn’t it?”

Jing Yuan didn’t even need to say anything—the way his golden eyes gleamed with amusement said enough.

You set your coffee down harder than necessary. “It’s not a competition, Uncle.”

Garreth shrugged. “Could be. If the right person comes along.”

Jing Yuan hummed, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “That depends on how persistent the contender is, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, then sighed, standing up from the table. “I’m going to finish breakfast.”

As you walked back toward the kitchen, you heard your uncle chuckle.

“I like this guy.”

And then, from Jing Yuan, came a smooth, almost teasing response “I think I do, too.”

After spending the whole day in the dungeon and dealing with your uncle and cousin’s antics, you were completely drained. You bid farewell to your relatives, watching as your uncle patted Jing Yuan’s shoulder one last time before they finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, rolling your shoulders. Why were you getting exhausted so quickly these days?

Shaking off the thought, you plopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, flipping to the news. You barely heard it. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, exhaustion creeping into your bones. Within moments, your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted into deep sleep.

Jing Yuan, who had remained inside, quietly approached the sofa.

His golden eyes flickered toward the TV screen, just as he was about to turn it off, the broadcast displayed maps of dungeon activity, strange energy fluctuations… and then a list of affected individuals.

Your name was on it.

Jing Yuan’s relaxed demeanor didn’t change, but his fingers tightened slightly on the remote.

How curious.

His gaze shifted back to you—asleep, unaware, vulnerable.

For a brief moment, he simply watched you, his mind piecing things together. Then, he finally switched off the TV, plunging the room into silence.

He stepped closer, crouching beside you.

“So fragile…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Yet, something unusual lingers around you.”

The room was silent except for the faint sound of your breathing.

Jing Yuan remained seated beside the sofa, studying you with the same careful patience he used when strategizing on the battlefield. He had spent his life mastering the art of waiting, of letting his prey lower their guard before making his move.

You, however, had already lowered yours without realizing it.

You trusted too easily. Even after everything—you still let him stay, still let him close. How fortunate for him. He had noticed it before—the exhaustion, the unusual way you drained energy.

And now, the news confirmed it.

Something was interfering with you.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly. Could it be an external force? Or perhaps—something inside you?

His fingers barely grazed your palm before you shifted in your sleep, your body instinctively pulling away. Even unconscious, you resisted—just a little.

How endearing.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he stood. Carefully, he slid one arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and lifted you effortlessly.

You barely stirred as he carried you to your room.

When morning arrived, you awoke feeling oddly well-rested.

For the first time in days, your limbs didn’t feel like lead. You blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

Then, you noticed it.

A chair had been pulled close to your bed. And there, sitting comfortably as if he belonged, was Jing Yuan—waiting.

His golden eyes met yours immediately, as if he had known the exact moment you would wake up.

“Morning” he greeted lazily, a teasing edge in his tone. “You slept quite well, didn’t you?”

You stared at him, still processing. "…Why are you here?"

Jing Yuan stretched, completely unbothered. “Watching over you, of course.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Isn’t it?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I feel fine now. So you can stop acting like my personal bodyguard.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer right away. He simply smiled.

Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“If you say so” he mused.

----

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV. You lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, completely unaware of the faint traces of blood and burnt fabric on Jing Yuan’s coat as he silently stepped inside. His golden eyes flickered over you, scanning your peaceful expression before shifting to the TV screen.

The news had moved on to another topic—political disputes, interstellar trade negotiations—nothing of interest to him. But earlier? He had seen it.

The dungeon anomaly.

He had felt it through the bond you shared.

Your exhaustion, the unnatural way your energy drained—he had known it wasn’t normal. So while you rested, unaware, he had gone to the source.

And he had handled it.

His fingers twitched slightly, recalling the creatures he had encountered—their movements erratic, their existence unnatural. Something had been leeching off you, siphoning your strength without you even realizing it.

Not anymore.

Jing Yuan exhaled softly, shaking off the remnants of the battle before stepping closer. He crouched beside the sofa, watching you.

His hand brushed against your wrist, his thumb grazing the pulse point beneath your skin. It was steadier now.

For a moment, he simply observed. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he murmured, “You never even noticed, did you?”

His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything touch you again.”

Just as Jing Yuan reached to turn off the TV, a soft mechanical chime echoed through the room.

[BOND STATUS: ACTIVE]

His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to the notice board, which had flickered on with a soft blue glow. The system—an extension of the egg bond—displayed a list of missions, each one tied to your well-being.

[Current Bond Status: 72%]

[Mission List Updated]

• Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

• Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

• Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

• Reinforce emotional reliance (+10%)

Jing Yuan’s gaze lingered on that last one.

Reinforce emotional reliance.

The system was clear. Completing these tasks wouldn’t just strengthen the bond—it would tilt it further in his favor.

It would make you depend on him more.

He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “How convenient.”

He had already eliminated the threat in the dungeon. Now, all that was left was to secure his place by your side.

He tapped the notice board lightly with a gloved finger. “I suppose I’ll be keeping busy.”

Jing Yuan wasted no time.

The missions were simple, really. If he was careful, strategic—he could complete them without you ever suspecting a thing. And the results were already beginning to show.

—Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

At first, you had been too exhausted to care about proper meals. You would grab whatever was quick, or forget to eat entirely. Jing Yuan, of course, noticed.

So he started cooking for you.

It worked. The food was good—far better than you had expected—and soon, you stopped questioning it. You ate every bite. And just like that, another point was secured.

—Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

You rarely exercised, and your body had been sluggish ever since the exhaustion set in. Jing Yuan fixed that too. It started subtly. A casual walk together after meals. A stretch before you sat too long at your desk. And eventually—sparring.

“It’s just practice” he said, handing you a wooden staff, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “I’ll go easy on you.”

You had scoffed at first, but the training worked. Slowly, you felt better, stronger. You even started to rely on his guidance.

Jing Yuan thrived on that.

—Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

This was where things became more delicate.

Your days had been filled with stress—work, responsibilities, people. Jing Yuan made sure those were no longer a problem.

Suddenly, the overbearing requests, the bothersome messages—they all seemed to disappear.

And you, unknowingly, started leaning closer to him.

It was subtle at first. The way your body gravitated toward his warmth when you were tired. How your fingers lingered just a second longer when handing him something.

But the true confirmation came one night.

You were exhausted, drained. Without thinking, you collapsed onto the couch, only to feel a firm warmth beside you.

Jing Yuan didn’t move as you curled against his side.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Tired again?”

You mumbled something incoherent, already halfway asleep.

Jing Yuan took his chance. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss against the top of your head.

You didn’t pull away.

And that was everything.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

----

The day was peaceful. You sat beside Jing Yuan on the couch, absentmindedly sipping your drink as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

Everything was calm—until the notification popped up.

[BOND STATUS: 86%] [New Mission Available]

The glowing system board flickered in front of him, its message clear as day. Jing Yuan tensed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

He turned to you, searching your face for any sign of recognition, but you were completely unbothered.

“…Did you see that?” he asked carefully.

You blinked at him. “See what?”

You couldn’t see it.

The realization sent a slow, satisfied warmth through his chest. This system, this bond—it was for him alone.

“Nothing. Must’ve been my imagination.”

You shrugged and went back to what you were doing, while Jing Yuan turned his attention back to the screen.

The mission list was still there.

[New Mission: Deepen the bond through physical intimacy (+10%)]

How interesting.

Jing Yuan had always been patient. He knew when to pull, when to wait, when to let you come to him on your own.

But now?

The system had given him permission.

The bond was already tightening, wrapping around you like an invisible thread—unseen, unfelt, yet inescapable. You clung to him more and more, sought his presence without even realizing it.

And tonight, he would make sure you would never want to be anywhere else.

The night was quiet, the only sound in your home being the faint hum of the air as you shifted in your seat. You had been tired again. Jing Yuan had noticed it immediately—how your body seemed heavier, your posture looser, your defenses down. You didn't question it when he pulled you toward him, settling you onto his lap with practiced ease.

You never questioned him anymore.

“Relax” he murmured, his voice smooth as he pressed his lips to your temple. His hands traced slow, lazy circles against your back, warm through the fabric of your clothes. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much again.”

You sighed, melting against him.

It was so easy. So easy to let him hold you, to sink into his warmth, to let him touch you as if he had always belonged to you.

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your hips, tracing the shape of you with unhurried confidence. He felt the way your breath hitched, the way your hands gripped his shoulders just a little tighter.

His voice was laced with amusement as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck. “You’ve been clinging to me so much lately… have you noticed?”

You stiffened slightly.

You hadn’t.

Jing Yuan chuckled at your silence, one hand tilting your chin up to meet his golden gaze.

“Don’t worry.” His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm, teasing. “I don’t mind.”

And then he kissed you.

He swallowed the tiny gasp you made, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, closer, as if he could merge you into himself.

“… Just let me take care of you”

You didn’t resist.

You never did.

And that?

That was exactly how he wanted you.

[akimoroll]

bluff

nagumo yoichi x afab!reader — 3k wc — ao3

c/w: smut. porn with some plot. semi-public sex. rivals w/ benefits. jcc nagumo (if you’re uncomfy with that pls step away from the vehicle) mdni.

a/n: was having second thoughts about posting this because im super insecure with writing porn but here we are. happy hearts day to the 4 ppl who like my shit. and to @angstigone, it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you 🌷

Sakamoto Taro and Akao Rion. These two were the ones you wanted to be as strong as. But Nagumo came into the picture and out of the three, he seemed the most approachable and you’re not the nicest with asking favors either.

“Me? Train…you?” asked Nagumo, head tilted to the side.

“Yes. I need it to happen as soon as possible.” You answered way too quickly and way too plainly.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?”

That was the question that started it all. A bet made between just the two of you. Whoever scores higher in class activities for the week would get the upper hand and have their way with the loser. Nagumo lets you win without fail while he decides on what he wants out of it. He plays along because it’s fun while he gives you the satisfaction that you’re winning against him.

You took advantage of this because it meant you could improve yet there are times you wished he’d take you seriously. He seemed too carefree all the time and it bothered you. It bothered you so much that your competitiveness grew into you wanting to rival him instead of his other two friends.

These games went on and on, far longer than you both remember. You were getting better at it. However, it was becoming repetitive.

Until it wasn’t.

Lately, when he pins you down—on the floor, against the wall, or wherever, and his taunts hidden beneath layers of:

“Ah, that was close! Getting stronger now, aren't you?”

“You’re making it harder for me these days.”

“Relaaax… You left yourself wide open with that temper of yours.”

—begin rolling out of his mouth, it sends tingles all over your body, making it harder to ignore the way he affects you. And when you do the same and put your whole body weight on him, you’d notice the slight flush on his cheeks, ignoring and thinking they’re just from exertion.

Until he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. So you asked, “What’s that fucking face all about?”

And he cluelessly countered, “Huh? What face?”

“That face you keep doing! You’re blushing like some…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words before you hesitantly continued, “…virgin.”

And you swore you saw something shift with his smile yet it was gone before you could catch it. He shrugged, “Well, yeah, it’s because I am.”

“Pfft, yeah right. No shit.” you said after an eye roll. But when he wasn’t biting back, you had to do a double take, asking, “Wait, really?”

And sometimes being driven and nosy is not the best combo. Because just like always, Nagumo went along when you had suggested another idea. You were curious to see how he reacts to you. How pathetic he can become under your touch. Wipe the smugness off his face. Watch him break character as he succumbs at the mercy of using just your hands, just your mouth, or simply the sweet nothings you’d whisper into his ear.

It was initially intended as a silly joke when you asked if he wanted to try something yet here you are, in too deep, flown too close. You had some sort of control for once and the thrill had you addicted.

Him lying about his chastity crossed your mind but who cares at this point. After all, he’s such a pretty face. Prettier when he smiles. Prettiest when he cries.

Neither of you showed any hint of disapproval towards it so it became one of your routine interactions. Every single time you leave him behind in that dark and cramped utility room, you act as if nothing happened. He does the same, if anything, he does it better. Another unspoken contest added on top of an existing one.

It’s better that way, you think.

All of this is nothing more than just a bet anyway.

With Valentine’s day around the corner, Nagumo thinks about the piles and piles of chocolate boxes he’s once again going to receive. Enough for him to walk around the JCC like he’s some kind of celebrity. He’s aware that you never cared for such things. Still… He wanted to know. What’s the harm in asking?

“W-What are you up to on Valentines?” Nagumo stammers around his question, a dazed smile lingers on his lips as you take him throat deep.

Wiping your mouth with your hand and stroking his dick with the other, you ponder before speaking, “And you’re asking me because…?”

“I heard—” he gasps with a shaky exhale as you begin pressing circles over his tip with your thumb. Struggling to maintain control in the face of your touch, he continues, “you’re finally making chocolates for me this year.”

Looking up at him, you chuckle softly, “Must be your other bitch.”

“Shh, quiet down, someone might hear you’re jealous.” He attempts a coy grin before gasping once more, eyes rolling at the back of his head as you drag the length of his dick on your tongue before slowly pushing into your mouth once again.

Just for you to stop and coo at him, pouting, “Aw~ He thinks he’s so funny.”

“I am funny. You look like you’re having lots of fun right now.”

“So much fun that I’m your secret… And you can’t tell a fucking soul. Keep it up.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I think it’s quite romantic.”

He snorted, “You’re sick and you’re mean. I have feelings you know…”

“For me?” You giggle before continuing, “Or you want me to give you something to cry about?”

Nagumo suppresses a chuckle as he closes his mouth like an imaginary zipper, tilting his head back as he tries to stop himself from blowing his load right then and there (yet fails miserably) with the image of your face at the forefront of his mind.

Nagumo’s done playing with his food.

Days before Valentines, you found yourself in a pinch. He didn’t let you win the bet this time. He scored higher than you in everything with ease and precision. An overkill to say the least. You’re well aware how he easily lets you win each time. It has always been one-sided. But the sudden change threw you off and had you feeling a mix of dread and anticipation for what’s about to come.

You’re pissed, flustered, with trembling fingers hidden inside clenched fists. Thinking, he’s going to have his way with you for the first time since this stupid bet started.

He smirks as he towers behind you while your mind races on all the possibilities on how he’s gonna strip you, bend you over, throw you around like a rag doll, have fistfuls of your hair as he fucks the living shit out of you. Maybe get his payback for all the teasing and edging you subjected him to, how you had him wrapped around your fingers behind closed doors.

Or so you thought.

In the confined space that you and him usually share secret meetings with, Nagumo has his chest pressed against your back as he fucks you softly. He covers you with his warmth. The room grows humid with him repeatedly sighing against your skin, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. There’s fondness in his touch with the way he has his hands all over you, like they had always belonged there.

There’s no rushing. He treats you with gentleness, like you’re the most precious little thing he’s ever laid his hands on. His voice slurs at the mentions of your name, breath feverishly hot against your neck. With his dick all wet and snug inside you, he makes you forget everything. The bet. The thoughts you had when you first walked in. Or whatever the fuck this one-sided rivalry was all about.

He’s got you thinking of him and him only.

As he parts your trembling legs wider, Nagumo reaches for a hand in between, whispering how wet you are, how good you make him feel. His long slender fingers pressing circles over your clit, making you whimper with his dick thrusting in and out of you. His movements ever so slow as you shudder under him.

He notices your hand slowly anchoring onto something. And one thing about Nagumo is he doesn’t like it when you cling onto something that isn’t him. He’d rather you claw at him, have fistfuls of his locks in your grasp, dig your fingers into his skin and have it painted blue and black, maybe draw a bit of blood like you always do.

So he lays you gently on a flat surface, that way he can have all your attention. He teases your folds before thrusting all the way in and then all the way out, again and again, coating his entire length with your wetness. He cradles the back of your head with his hands like a pillow to make it less uncomfortable for you, but more so to keep your eyes straying away from him. Your bodies mold into each other, keeping himself close to you as much as he possibly can, as if you’d escape if he clings a little less.

Finding yourselves face to face—just how he likes it—he inhales every soft sigh that escapes your lips, his voice breaking like stained glass every time he bottoms out with your pussy creaming around the base of his dick. He’s truly blushing now that he’s so completely lost in you, mesmerized by the fluttering of your lashes and the hazy look in your eyes as he thrusts deep inside you.

Nagumo could cum just by looking at you.

As a distraction, he thinks of something else to make the moment last longer, make it worthwhile. But then he remembers he’s never kissed you before. He thought about it maybe once or twice, doesn’t really matter since you never asked. You never initiated. Hell, you don’t even let him touch you. Not like this. Not when you see it as him one upping you. It had been enough for him that you’d let him watch you please yourself sometimes, telling him you’re being nice.

This is much more intimate than the acts you’ve shared thus far. And right now, you’re simply holding your end of the deal. Nothing more.

Yet you just had to shift it all one-eighty and go diving into his mind, whispering, “Yoichi, how come you never kiss me?”

He murmurs, “Thought you’d never ask.” and wastes no time, pressing his moist lips onto yours, deepening it as he feels you do the same. With all lips and tongue, your moans melt into his mouth. It’s all he could think about, your softness, the way you move your head to kiss him more, your sweaty palms cradling his face. He’s been denying himself of it this entire time and now it’s all he wants to do.

With his mind completely consumed by you and your pussy full of him, Nagumo finds himself hurtling so incredibly close to the edge. He picks up his pace, the pleasure slowly becoming unbearable for him with your moans turning into sweet sobs. Your pussy feels mind-numbingly good to him, clamping, squeezing around his dick like you’re milking him.

He leaves you wanting more as he pulls out. With brows knitted and mouth slightly parted, he pants softly as he strokes his dick so fucking wet from your dripping cunt. His chest heaves deeply, skin glistening with his sweat mixed with yours. You watch him cum all over your belly as he makes a face that you grew familiar with, yet now it feels all too different, and a part of you wishes he should’ve cum inside you.

Nagumo wonders why he waited so long to do this. It feels better than anything he’s done. So much better now that he’s doing it with you. The urge to kiss you once more overcomes him. And so he lets it. He makes his way down your neck, tracing your collarbone, circling in on your tits, taking his sweet time, staying there for a good while. He laps your nipples with his tongue, his thumbs drawing circles as he squeezes both in his palms.

He then finds his way to your arms. A kiss for every bruise and scar you had developed from training with him, he thinks they’re beautiful, clouding over the line between an apology and confession. He goes lower, his tongue sloppily swirls around your fingers and palms calloused from being so hard on yourself. Nagumo smirks as he meets your gaze, sealing it with wet kisses on the back of your hands like the gentleman he believes he is.

He goes lower and lower onto your belly, licking, tasting his own self off your skin. He leaves moist prints from your hips onto your thighs, kissing the back of your legs, sucking, biting gently down to your heels and toes. He kisses all over your body, leaving evidence of himself—digging in on every fucking inch of you. What a sight…he thinks, as you writhed under him.

Lifting your hips with your thighs over his shoulders, Nagumo swallows thick before dragging his tongue over your pussy. You’re dripping… making a mess, creaming all over his mouth. He draws faint circles as he toys with your clit, and when you buck your hips for more as your body shivers, he can’t help but meet your gaze and grin a little.

He squeezes the flesh of your thighs when you reach for his hair partially hiding his eyes, gripping them tight, pushing his face more desperately into your soaked cunt. Tingles run down his spine as you cry out his name in pleasure. You have him worked up once more, taking all his strength to fight the urge to fuck you again.

Nagumo holds you by the curve of your waist, keeping you in place as you arch your back once again. He’s drinking you, your juices trickling from the side of his mouth. You taste sweeter now when you say you’re close as you keep grinding your hips.

Having you fall apart for him is all he wants to see, all he wants to hear, all he wants to feel.

And he’s going to take you there.

So good, he murmurs an octave lower, encouraging you to fuck yourself into his mouth. A couple more rolls of your hips, a few more flicks of his tongue, you finally snap. And it feels so so good for Nagumo to make you cum, putting his mouth to good use and having you worked up in an entirely different way. You’re so pretty like this—breathlessly gasping curses alongside his name with your pussy melting onto his tongue.

He could do this for hours. Eat you out just to kill time. But he needs to be patient again, for now.

Replacing his mouth with a hand, he thumbs your clit while he continues to fuck knuckles deep inside you, curving and thrusting in slow paces. A wordless whine is all you could do as a protest, but he doesn’t stop. He leans closer to you, his kisses demanding and sloppy, showing how good you taste. Hazy brown eyes staring you down, he murmurs against your lips, “You alright? Enjoying yourself?”

A breathy “Shut up.” is all you could manage. Not sure if you’re simply fucked out, dazed, awkward, angry… or all of the above. His touch leaves you and you want it back more than you care to admit. He comes back and wipes you down, and then helps you with your clothes. He doesn’t say a word other than making sure if you’re okay. Everything feels normal and abnormal at the same time, making you momentarily forget how icky and unromantic the place was.

Nagumo may have done things to you that only lovers do.

And like a flip on a switch, he’s back to his usual self. His carefree innocent smile appears like nothing happened. So you try to play it cool as well, chuckling, “You’re still… D’you wanna go for round two?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He slips into his shirt and pants, dusting it with his palms before meeting your gaze, smiling, “It’s almost lights out. Come on.”

“Oh, right.” You nod, he opens the door and you both go your separate ways like usual.

First time you lost the bet.

First time Nagumo shows you what a true win feels like.

February 14 is here and after strolling around the bustling academy, pushing a cart full of sweets he received from his admirers in different departments, Nagumo and Sakamoto settle in the cafeteria, still drawing a steady stream of girls eager to give what they had prepared for them.

Across the room, you’re sauntering towards where Nagumo is, empty handed. And as you reach his pile of gifts, you grab one and plop down on his lap sideways before looking at him with a coy grin.

Nagumo watched the whole thing, his awe hidden behind a clueless smile as you slam the box less forcefully than you wanted to on the table. After prying it open, you select a piece, holding it between your fingers an inch closer to his lips. You pause to speak, “You know, I heard we’re a thing now.”

Nagumo blinks. “Ohhh? Says who?” He rests his cheek on his hand while he holds your waist with the other, his deep brown eyes now filled with amusement gazing up at you.

You feed him a piece, and then another, not giving him a chance to chew. And another one, until he has a mouthful of chocolate made by some girl who doesn’t matter right now. After looking around, you let your bloodlust seep out a little as you wipe the corners of his lips, just to spread it more messily. Leaning closer, softly, you finally answer, “Says me.”

Good fold, he thinks.

You see, the thing about Nagumo is he wants. He may not know exactly what it is all the time, but what he wants is what he gets. And right now, you’re exactly where it’s at.

[from-izzy]

be fair | nct park jisung

"You're not bringing us down. You're not bringing anybody down," Jisung shakes his head hurriedly. "I promise. We'll take this step by step remember?"

pairing » nct park jisung x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au, implied friends to lovers

genre » fluffy fluff with a little hint of angst, hurt/comfort for the reader, supportive and patient boyfriend jisung, jisung who just wants to treat you right, also shy but sometimes confident (?) jisung

word count; estimated reading time » 1650; ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » mentions of a toxic past relationship (reader), jisung implied to be taller, rapid proofread once

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

based on this request! thank you for sending it in anon and i'm sorry it took a while for me to write 😭 i hope you (and everyone else!) enjoys this one!!

The romantic season has finally started, and that also means that sweet treat of early leave that you applied for at the start of the year. You're keen on using the leave to spend more quality time with your loved ones, especially your boyfriend Park Jisung.

From the introduction from mutual friends, you've known Jisung for a long time. Long enough for him to know your favourite drink and your comfort food. Long enough for him to send you cute hamster videos, and comfortable enough for you to reply with a "That's you!" to which Jisung reacts to the message with a blushing emoji; his face perfectly depicted that emoji too.

The exchanges became pretty limited when you got into a relationship. Yes, Jisung is glad you were able to fall in love, but the dried tears on your face whenever he catches a glimpse of you make him feel otherwise. The one-year toxic relationship would continue for a few more months. Some of your friends were understandably frustrated with how you wouldn’t leave, and despite explaining that words aren't easily acted out, the stress only made your room swallow your sobs even more. In the end, when things were better, you confronted all and cut off some.

The reality is that, we could always be prepared for something, and give others advice but when it happens to us, the world stops. Rational thinking may follow after. At that time, you need to surround yourself with healthy and supportive people. That’s who how Park Jisung is to you.

Jisung really did take care of you, every step of the way. Whether it was sending groceries to our house, sending daily affirmations, and despite his lack of experience and nervousness, helping you draft an email to your boss for a short break to take care of yourself. He's open to telling you that he's not sure what to do, but through simple communication, Jisung was the key for you to escape your toxic ex-boyfriend, and the dreadful aftermath of the relationship. That relationship was ages ago, and now you're happily in a relationship with Jisung for a month.

"Ah," Jisung pouts at the reminder. "You're bringing that up again?"

"I can't help it!" You chuckle at your date who takes another spoonful of his soup, adjusting his scarf after to hide his blushing cheeks. "You said I was hot like soup and then confessed right after!"

If the table could come alive and swallow Jisung up, he would appreciate that very much. "But I really did mean it! You've always been hot but that day you were just, you know...amazing and beautiful...I couldn’t help but say my thoughts…"

Every time you bought this up, Jisung would always become flustered. Just like every other time, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flare, his eyes smile but look away from yours, and sometimes his speech stutters due to his racing heart. But this time, maybe it's the heart-shaped decoration by the entrance of the sore, the roses in the middle of the table, or the way that Jisung called this a date. The environment is bustling but not in the sharp clanging of cutlery on porcelain, but the laughter that wraps the both of you in a loving embrace. 

Last month, as Jisung delivered his feelings for you smoothly like the ice cream in your hands, your gaze on him softened. You doubt it was the ice cream that spread warmth through your chest and your cheeks. You’ve realised your growing feelings for him throughout the past year, but never dared to speak up; not after your relationship even though you know Jisung is nothing like your ex. Your love for Jisung grows after each date, after each brush against his skin and the kisses he places all over your features. Everything that Jisung did in your presence, reminds you that your feelings for him are reciprocated.

"I thought we agreed that I would pay next," sulking at the fact that you lost the credit card battle once more.

"There will always be a next time," pressing a quick peck on your lips.

Jisung's words have always seemed so confident, but just like the soup from dinner earlier, you're sure that the redness across his cheeks isn't from the cool weather. Even with thick winter gloves, you can feel Jisung's hold like you both were skin-to-skin as you walk along the illuminated footpath from open stores. You talk about everything that came up in your mind, taking turns to nod when Jisung does with yours. Your words are always safe with him, the same way his words are safe with you. Your stories continue to be shared, but it wasn't overbearing; not like how you were treated in your past relationship.

Similarly, Jisung loves to tell you about his day, and coo about the two birds leaning against each other not too far away. Jisung loves to go into detail on the things you talked about on text, all the while observing the windows of the shops for things you liked. You fall in love with his voice which pulls you back into the present whenever your mind drifts somewhere else. Whenever those times hit, Jisung has picked up on some things: the glimmers in your eyes fade, your fingers grow weaker or stronger around his, and your hums would be monotonic and randomise between the middle of his sentences instead of the end.

You're habituated to the shoes shuffling on the gravel, so when you stop, you immediately turn your head to Jisung who's a step behind you. Your eyes widen and your lips tremble at the realisation that you missed parts of his stories.

Your heart drops at your actions. I'm sor-"

"Are you alright?" He interjected. Your hands untangle from his as Jisung fixes your scarf. "Don't want you getting cold," lifting the material to cover your lips and chin better. His eyes resemble a smile when he's satisfied with the adjustment and he rests his palms on your shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking again," eyes downcasted to your shoes that pointed to his.

"No, it's okay," your boyfriend reassures. "I love listening to your voice. I can never get enough of it."

"Really? I just don't want you to feel like you have to listen to all these things because you really don’t have to-"

"But I love it," he cuts you off once more. Jisung slips a glove off, his palm cupping your chilly cheek. Your head tilts, meeting the reflecting Christmas lights behind you, and how clear your reflection from his orbs. "I love hearing all this because that means you trust me and are comfortable with me telling me all these things."

"Of course, I am, Ji," placing emphasis on the affirmative words. "I just hate how you've always treated me right from the start but I keep on doing this thing where my mind goes to the past and I just bring us down and-"

"You're not bringing us down. You're not bringing anybody down," Jisung shakes his head hurriedly. "I promise. We'll take this step by step remember?"

You focus on the soothing glides that his thumb did on your cheekbones, closing your eyes to savour the gentleness. Jisung steps closer to you, wrapping your body with his arms. His deep tone soothes your mind, and you place an ear to where his steady heart is. All the negative thoughts subside slowly, but surely.

"What you went through was scary, bubs," he whispers, "and I don't expect you to just get over it. You're allowed to be scared."

"But it's not fair on you, Sung..."

"What's not fair is you thinking that it's not fair.” A tear or two escapes your eyes, and your lips shudder at the sincerity of his voice. Your hand lifts, only to clasp onto the hem of his jacket. Jisung guides your breathing, messaging his fingers onto your scalp reassuringly. “You’re not being fair to anyone if you act like nothing happened. I want you to always be open with me, okay? I want to support you. Always.”

“Okay,” your answer comes out hushed, and you’re worried that Jisung didn’t hear it. 

You lift your head from his chest, intending to repeat your answer to make sure it gets across. But all words halted when Jisung’s lips fell upon your forehead dearly. The pink deepens into red across his cheekbones, and Jisung hides his eyes behind his overgrown bangs as he stares down at his shuffling feet. For yourself, the heat rises to your cheeks, and you’re sure that Jisung could feel them even through his gloves. And just if that wasn’t enough to make you melt in this winter, Jisung confesses his feelings for you once more as wills himself determinedly to look into your eyes.

“I love you. So, please be fair to yourself.”

There was no way that you could say anything to that, not with how he hits you the words filled with honesty. You see the way his eyes slowly morph into uncertainty at your silence, worried that he made you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry-” His words are cut off with a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t be,” you beam at him with the cutest smile, brighter than the sunset behind you. “I love you too, Sungie.”

Delighted with the positive response, Jisung lowers his back to be at eye level with the person that he loves. His thumb traces along the bottom of your lip, index following the shape of your jawline as he gulps at where he puts his finger. You’re met with Jisung’s eyes, and no words are needed when you understand what he is asking for. Your sure nod left Jisung almost sweeping you off the ground, joining his lips with yours sweetly under the warmth of the sunset. 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet

@haneul-and-clouds

[choerrysjubiles]

Baby Fever: Valentine's Day Special

Pairing: Eunseok x fem!reader

Warning: smut! Unprotected sex, cunnilingus, teasing, breeding-talk? this is the breeding series of course that’s here

wc: 2.4k

a/n: who could ask for a better valentine? Also not proofread :]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt yourself slowly stir awake, carefully grabbing at your blankets to warm yourself. You feel Eunseok’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling against you. You basked in his warmth, grabbing his arm to lean closer to him.

“Good morning.” He kisses the back of your neck.

“Good morning.” You respond, more groggy than him.

“Do you know what today is.” Eunseok can’t hide the smile on his face.

You turn to face him, laying an arm across his, “Can’t remember.” Your eyes are still closed, still too sleepy.

Eunseok pulls you closer, “It’s Valentine’s Day.” He kisses the crown on your head.

“It is?”

“Uh huh.”

You manage to open your eyes, leaning up to kiss him, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

He laughs, “I have something planned for us.”

“After work?”

“And before.”

This woke you up more.

“Before work?” You slowly woke.

“Would you like to be my Valentine?” Eunseok asks, a soft smile on his face.

“We’re married, of course.”

Eunseok repeated the question.

“I’d love to be your Valentine.” You answer, a little better this time.

Eunseok leaned forward, kissing you while leaning you onto your back. He moves on top, pressing kisses along your sensitive skin. You feel your hips grind against him, hands attempting to remove your clothing.

“Not yet.” He whispers into your ear.

His hands slowly shed your clothing, leaving you bare under him. His mouth never leaving your skin as he kisses and licks across your torso and stomach.

“You’re so sexy.” He presses a kiss against your breast.

You groan, pelvis bucking upwards, hoping Eunseok will go further south.

“I think that everyday.” He places a kiss on your ribcage, “Every single day.” He kisses along your stomach.

“You do?”

“And I should be more vocal about it.” He kisses your hip bone.

Spreading your thighs wider, Eunseok stares at your core.

“You’re always so sexy, always so good to me.” He kisses above your pubic bone.

Eunseok moves further down, eye level with your core, he looks up at you as he places a kiss on your clitoris. You gasp, your hands gripping the bedsheets as he continues.

“You’re so wet and you always take everything I give you.”

Eunseok licks a stripe upwards.

“Even when you’re at your limit, you can always push through for me.”

He continues licking, flat tongue dragging up your core, tongue flicking against your clit as you fall apart. He moves closer, mouth flushed against your core as he continued bumping his nose against your clit, tongue flicking at your entrance.

“Eunseok.” You gasp.

“Yes?” He teases.

“Keep going.” You beg.

“Of course.”

Eunseok dives in further, fingers rubbing your clit while he moves up and down your pussy. Drinking up your arousal as he drags his tongue all over you. He began kissing up your thigh, watching the way your breathing grows heavy as he continued rubbing your clit.

“You like it?”

“I’m gonna cum, Eunseok.”

“I wanna taste you when you cum.”

He lean back down, move attaching to your clit as he continues rubbing the nub. Your hands move to his hair, holding onto him even though you know he’s not going anywhere. Your hips buck upwards, your pussy begging him to let you cum.

“Are you close?”

“So fucking close.”

“Cum for me.”

You pant, feeling your orgasm approach.

“Please, baby, I want you to cum.”

You gasp, feeling your orgasm erupt out of you. Eunseok attaches back to your core, sucking up your cum as his hands rub your thighs. You look down at him, feeling yourself come back down.

“You did so good, baby.” Eunseok praises.

He attempts to move up, you hold onto him, making him halt his actions.

“Can we have sex?”

“Of course, baby.”

Eunseok removes his bottoms, moving between your thighs to push in before you lift the hem of his shirt.

“Ah.” He says, taking his shirt off.

Leaning down, he gives you a sweet kiss before pushing in.

“Eunseok.” You moan.

“Do you feel good?”

“You always make me feel good.”

“Always?”

“All the time.” You gasp when he begins moving, “Always, you always feel so good.”

You pull him down to kiss.

“You always feel amazing around me.” He says, lips never far from your own.

You feel your hips rock back against his thrusts, sighing in relief as he continues thrusting into you.

“You’re so hot.” You say, “You’re toned body feels so good against me.”

He leans in, pressing more kisses against your lips.

“You always make sure I feel good,” You gasp when he begins rubbing your clit, “yes!”

Eunseok continues slowly thrusting into you, slow and gentle as he feels you approach your orgasm.

You feel Eunseok press more kisses to your skin, along your neck and shoulder as you orgasm. Fingers gripping him, your head thrown back, a loud “Oh,” echoing around the room. You don’t know where Eunseok went, only noticing him when his lips press into yours while he groans, hips flush against yours as he cums inside.

“You always feel so fucking good, y/n.”

His hips carefully buck more before settling still. Eunseok pulls out before settling next to you in the bed. You catch your breath before rolling on your side.

“Good morning.” You say to Eunseok.

“Good morning.” He smiles at you.

You both erupt in a laughing fir before he gets up to dress for work.

“I’m sorry I have to leave.” He says, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

You hug his from behind, your arms settling along his waist, “It’s fine, you have to work.” You lay a kiss along his clothed shoulder.

“I do have plans for us after work.”

“You do?” You peak over his side, showing your shocked expression.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were amazed at the restaurant Eunseok took you to. A smaller place with romantically dim lighting. You sat at your table before dining on amazing food.

“Where’d you hear about this place?”

“Some coworker mentioned it.” He responded, “It it good?”

“Very.” You smiled.

After dining, you and Eunseok decided on somewhere else for dessert. You sat beside him as he drove somewhere.

“I know a place.”

He was so sure you had to follow where he wanted to go.

You pull towards a cafe, putting the car in park, you both get out to enter the cafe.

“Oh, my god.” You laugh, remembering the building.

“You only went here, like, everyday for a year.” Eunseok laughed.

“I don’t know how I forgot about this place.”

You look at the menu, trying to remember your old order.

Eunseok leans into your ear, “I remember it.”

You both get your drinks and desserts before moving to a more secluded table.

“I know it may not be as romantic as somewhere else.”

“No!” You laugh, “It’s far more personal than some dinner and movie.”

He smiles at you, eyes soft with a light blush glowing along his cheeks.

“I remember going here a lot just to see you.”

“You pined?!” You almost yelled.

Eunseok burst into laughter.

“Strangers to lovers?” You laughed, “Slowburn?”

He went to this cafe just for you?

“I remember, oh this is embarassing.” Eunseok began laughing.

“Tell me.” You lean closer.

“It took me, like, a week to even stand near you.”

“Huh?” You stared in shock at him.

“The amount of times Seunghan had to push me in your direction,” Eunseok sighed, feeling his face warm as he tried to not remember how timid he was around you.

You finished your drinks and desserts. Walking around the area before going to his car.

“This was really nice.” You smile.

“It was?” He throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a half hug.

“Absolutely.”

Arriving home you both go upstairs, shedding your attire. You were removing your jewelry as you felt Eunseok stand behind you, helping you out of your clothing. He dropped kisses along your skin as he shed more of your clothing.

“I got something for you.” You smile.

“I can see, baby.” Eunseok smirks at the new lingerie set you were wearing.

His mouth trails towards your front, you lean against your vanity to hold yourself up as your fingers lace through his hair. His mouth leaves wet kisses along your breasts before moving upwards to your neck and ends at your lips. His warm hands, rubbing and massaging your body, still themselves along your waist.

You feel your breathing become ragged the more you kiss, your hands gripping onto him for support. He pulled your close, walking you towards the bed. You feel him hold onto you, slowly dropping you onto the bed as he continued kissing you.

Your hands move down to unbutton Eunseok’s shirt, pulling it down his arms, and throwing it to the side. You feel his pelvis move in, grinding against your clothed core as he moves down to kiss along your breasts, hands massaging the flesh.

You attempt to move down to undo his hands, instead you feel his hands grip your hips. His fingers quickly undoing your bottoms to see the rest of your lingerie set. His tongue pushes out to lick against the sheer lace. Your hips grind forward, feeling nothing to rub against.

Eunseok moves down, holding your legs in place to admire the lingerie you wore.

“You’re always doing more and more.” He looks up at you, smirking at the desperate expression you displayed.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He says, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

He folds your legs upwards, slotting himself between your legs. He stays there, letting his trousers get slowly soaked by the arousal dripping out of you. You squirm, trying to feel any satisfaction before Eunseok’s hands grip you tighter. He holds you in place before undoing his belt.

The anticipation makes you even more aroused. Your breathing grows heavier, hungry eyes watching Eunseok’s every move as he, every so slowly, removes his pants. Your hands move down to hold onto his waist, thumbs rubbing his skin as he grinds his underwear against you.

“Eunseok.” You whine.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, leaning forward.

“Can we have sex, yet?” You sounded more desperate than you wanted.

Eunseok leaned down, kissing your cheek, “Let’s have a little more fun.”

His hand moved down to dip into your panties, feeling his fingers soak in your arousal.

You feel yourself whine against his movements. Eunseok leaves a chaste kiss against your lips before slipping out of his underwear. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against his hand that returned to your core. His fingers rubbed and tapped along your folds as your hips desperately bucked into him.

“Aw, look at that.”

You crane your head down, seeing Eunseok slide your panties down your thighs.

“So soaked.”

His voice was a touch lower, a second slower, every syllable shot right to your core. Feeling yourself grow to a new level of neediness.

“Did you want my cock?” He asks, almost cheek to cheek with you.

“I need it.”

“Need it?”

“So badly, I need your cock in me.”

“Who am I to deny my wife.”

Eunseok aligns his dick to your core and slowly pushes in. You gasp as you hear Eunseok sigh in relief, slowly pushing in and stretching you out. You feel every inch drag along your walls as he pushes in further and further.

“You okay?” He asks.

“You’re so fucking big.”

Eunseok chuckles, kissing your forehead as he waits for you to be comfortable.

You feel your hips buck forward, “You can move.”

Eunseok slowly pulls out before thrusting back in.

“Ah.” You moan, gripping onto his biceps.

Eunseok watches you as he continues, steady thrusts while your eyes grow heavy. Your hand drifting from his arm to your clit, rubbing circles into the muscle as Eunseok goes faster.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” Eunseok looks up at the ceiling, afraid the sight of you will make him cum.

“Faster.” You whine.

Eunseok speeds up, his hands moving to fold your legs forward.

“Ah, Eunseok.” You groan, eyes closing from the pleasure.

“Look at me.”

You struggle to open your eyes, brows furrowed as you look at Eunseok staring into you as he continues thrusting.

“Do you feel good?”

“So good.” You reply with a raspy voice, your throat growing dry.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Eunseok says, eyes shutting tightly.

You rub your clit faster, feeling his hips speed up even more.

“Wait.” Eunseok pulls out.

Your thighs close, attempting to feel some kind of friction again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He says.

“Take your time.” You pant.

“Here.” Eunseok repositions himself, back to your missionary position.

He pushes back in, feeling his hips piston back into a fast pace.

“Fuck, right there.” You groan, fingers going back to rubbing your clit.

Your head digs into the pillow as Eunseok can’t help himself but continue this painfully fast pace.

“There, fuck, there.” You moan.

Eunseok leans forward, kissing your neck as you continue moaning his name.

“I’m not gonna last.” He whines.

“I wanna feel you cum in me.” You feel lightheaded, so close to your orgasm.

“You want me to fill you up?”

“So badly.” You feel your abdominal muscles tighten, so close to cumming.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” Eunseok babbles, chasing his orgasm.

“You’re gonna fill me up so good.”

“So fucking good.” He groans, feeling your walls close around him.

“Ah.” You moan, feeling your core clench around him.

A few more thrusts and Eunseok cums inside you, his hands gripping your hips to bury his dick deep into your core. His moan is loud, almost echoing off the walls. His hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks to kiss you.

He breathes as deeply as he can between kisses, still deep inside you as he calms down from his orgasm. You rub his cheek, thumb tracing his jaw as Eunseok catches his breath.

“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?” You smile up at him.

He laughs, relaxing against your body, “The best. Was yours good.”

“Definitely the best I’ve had.” You smile at him.

[hiramaris]

I can’t read you but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.

SPECIAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary:

You have a plan. Check the farm. Leave. Simple. You make it about three steps before stopping again. Your gaze drifts back toward her. She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again. Cute. And the plan? Crumpled. Burnt. Gone. With a sigh, you trudge toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None. Just a useless lesbian.

Notes:

Ever wonder what the farmer's perspective is about all these? And how you seemed to be there whenever Haley needed you to be. That's just a plain ol' coincidence, right? Right? Well, worry no more, 'cause you're about to find out.

Spring 1

You arrived in Pelican Town with nothing but your suitcase and the stiff suit clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The tie at your throat feels like a noose, and the weight of city life still lingers on your shoulders.

You're far too overdressed for this place. If a crowd existed, you'd stick out like a sore thumb.

The bus sputters off behind you, kicking up a cloud of dust that lingers in the crisp morning air. You watch it disappear down the road, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. No honking cars, no distant chatter, no hum of neon lights. Just birdsong, the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the faint scent of damp earth.

The quiet is unsettling.

Before you can fully process the sheer stillness of the valley, a voice had cut through the air.

"Ah, there you are, Y/N! Welcome to Pelican Town."

An older man—short, with a thick mustache—approached you with an easygoing grin.

"It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Mayor Lewis," he said as he adjust his hat. "I used to be good friends with your grandfather. You probably don’t remember me, but we met once when you were little."

You don’t remember, but you nodded anyway.

Beside him, a woman with fiery red hair pulled into a loose ponytail grinned at you. She held a clipboard under one arm, boots tapping against the dirt road as she sized you up.

"And I’m Robin, the local carpenter," she greeted. "I’ve been fixing up your grandpa’s old place for you. It needed… well, let’s just say a lot of work."

She smirked, and you get the feeling she's holding back from saying something worse.

You shifted your grip on your suitcase. "I appreciate it, but—"

Robin gestured down the road before you can finish. "Come on, let’s head to the mayor’s manor first. Your farm’s just down that path"—she nodded toward a dirt trail on your right—"but the Mayor wanted to talk to you first."

Lewis nodded. "I need to go over a few things with you before I send you off. Won’t take long, promise."

You hesitated but fall into step beside them, your dress shoes crunching against the gravel road. The manor is just down the road, tucked neatly near the town square. Luckily, it's still early. The streets are empty, the town barely waking up. The houses lining the path are quaint, with colorful wooden signs swinging gently in the breeze.

You aren’t sure if it’s the morning chill or something else entirely, but the weight in your chest feels heavier with every step.

Lewis lead you up the short stone steps of the manor and gestures for you to step inside. The air inside is warm, filled with the scent of wood polish and something faintly herbal—tea, maybe. The walls are lined with old photographs, shelves packed with neatly organized town records. It's a lived-in space, one that feels much too welcoming for someone like you.

"Have a seat," Lewis said, motioning toward a wooden chair in front of his desk. He lowered himself into his own chair with a sigh, then rummaged through a drawer before producing a rusty key.

"Here’s the key to your farmhouse," he slid it toward you. "It’s a little run-down, but with some work, you’ll have it back in shape in no time."

You picked up the key, turning it over in your palm. It's cold, the metal worn with age.

Robin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I already stopped by to check the place out—patched up a few things, cleared some of the worst debris." She tilted her head with a teasing smile. "Figured you'd appreciate not falling through the floor on your first night."

You're not sure what to say to that.

Instead, you nodded, offering a polite, "Thanks."

Lewis pulled out a large map and flattened it on the desk in front of you. "Now, Pelican Town isn’t a big place, but you’ll want to familiarize yourself with it. We have a small, tight-knit community here. It’d be good for you to meet the townsfolk." He tapped a few locations on the map. "The general store, the saloon, the blacksmith—these are the places you’ll be visiting the most."

You glanced at the map, taking in the layout of the town. Everything looks so… open. Unlike the structured, rigid grids of the city.

Lewis leaned back in his chair. "I know this is probably a big change for you," he said, his tone softer now. "But we’re glad to have you here. Your grandfather was well-loved in this town."

Your throat tightens at that. You don’t answer.

Instead, you slide the map toward yourself and fold it neatly. "Right," you said, standing. "I should get going. Thank you."

Lewis nodded, rising to his feet as well. "Of course. I won’t keep you."

Robin pushed herself off the doorframe, stretching her arms. "I’ll check in later to see how you’re settling in. Try not to break anything before then."

You’re not sure if she’s joking.

Lewis walked you to the door, and as you step outside, the morning air feels cooler against your skin. The manor may have been warm, but this place still isn’t home.

You glanced at the map in your hand, then at the road ahead.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

And yet, instead of heading straight there, you decide to take a detour.

The town feels too small, the air too clean, the people too… friendly.

You aren't in the mood for conversation, so instead of taking the main road, you cut through the graveyard. The map shows a southwest path leading directly to the farm—perfect. Less people, less awkward small talk.

Or so you thought.

As you stepped past the last row of tombstones, a door creaked open.

A young woman stepped out from the house ahead (2 Willow Lane, according to the map). Sunlight caught in her golden hair, turning it almost white at the edges. A camera dangled loosely from a strap around her neck, swaying gently as she moves. She lifted it, adjusting the lens, before taking a step forward.

Your breath catches.

You’ve only looked at her for a second—two at most—but it's enough. Your grip tightened on the map. The delicate curve of her nose, the way the breeze tugged a stray strand of hair across her cheek, the soft squint in her eyes as she scanned the sky—somehow, you've already memorized it all.

What the hell?

Panic surges through you, and you do the first thing your brain deems logical.

You snap the map up in front of your face.

Like an idiot.

You peek over the top just in time to see her lift the camera again. The quiet click of the shutter follows, and you realize she’s taking a photo—not of you, thankfully, but of a small potted cactus sitting on her porch.

You exhale sharply, willing your heart to settle.

What was that?

Shaking your head, you lower the map and start walking again, forcing yourself to focus.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

You make it about three steps before stopping again.

Your gaze drifted back toward her.

She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again.

Cute.

You forced yourself to keep walking, chastising yourself for acting like a creep.

All that gawking, and you didn’t even have the guts to ask for her name.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because the moment you saw her—blond, shiny hair, brilliant blue eyes, and that damn camera swinging from her neck—you knew you were fucked.

The plan?

Crumpled. Burnt. Gone.

With a sigh, you trudged toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

****

Spring 2

The forest was quiet except for the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the branches.

You had only been here for one day and you were already starting to like it here—the air was cleaner, untouched by the thick smog of the city, and the silence was more comforting than suffocating.

You crouched by the riverbank, palm open as the tiny squirrel sniffed at the wild walnuts resting in your hand.

It had taken patience to earn the little guy’s trust. Just yesterday, wildlife scattered the moment you approached, unfamiliar with you, an outsider. But now, after some consistence of offering food and waiting, they hesitated a little less, inched a little closer.

This one, in particular, had grown bold. His tiny paws brushed against your fingers as he picked up a walnut, nibbling it with twitching whiskers.

A small smile pulled at your lips.

Then—click.

The sound was sharp, foreign. Unmistakable.

Your body reacted before your brain caught up, head snapping toward the source.

Someone was standing just beyond the clearing, partially hidden by the trees.

A girl.

Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, camera raised.

Recognition hit you a second later.

The girl with the camera.

The one you saw yesterday, standing on her porch, light catching in her hair as she focused on something behind the lens.

Despite the many faces introduced to you yesterday, her face stood out in clarity on most of them.

It's funny how you can remember her despite not knowing her name.

But now she was here. And she had just taken a picture of you.

You blinked at her. She blinked back.

Neither of you moved.

The squirrel let out a startled squeak and bolted into the underbrush. You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of three remaining walnuts still sitting in your open palm.

Then, finally—

"Uhm," you started, voice breaking the tension. You straightened, dusting dirt from your hands. Now that you were standing, you realized just how much shorter she was up close.

And prettier.

Still, she didn't say a word. Just stared.

A nervous chuckle left your lips. “You’re the girl with the camera yesterday, right?”

She nodded, slow, like her brain was still buffering.

You tilted your head slightly, studying her.

“Oh… You’re that new farmer girl or whatever, aren’t you?” she said, almost absently.

She stood there, staring at you like you had grown a second head, blue eyes flickering over every detail of your face, your clothes—lingering too long, like she was trying to piece something together.

You didn’t understand why she was looking at you like that, but for some reason, you kept talking anyway.

You told her about your grandfather. About how this farm wasn’t planned, how Zuzu City had drained you dry, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion and a letter promising a different life.

You weren’t even sure why you were explaining yourself. Maybe because her presence—so out of place in the middle of the woods—reminded you of who you used to be. Or rather who you are yesterday. The city life, the carefully curated image, the feeling of being misplaced in your own skin.

But Haley wasn’t listening, at least, that’s what you thought.

She was nodding absently, her eyes locked onto your face, mouth slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Then you smiled.

A small, amused smile—not at her, not at anything in particular, just at the absurdity of the moment. Of being here, talking to some blonde girl in the woods who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover rather than in Cindersap Forest.

And just like that, something shifted in her expression.

It was so fast, you almost missed it.

Something too bright flashed behind her eyes—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Shock? Embarrassment? Frustration?

Whatever it was, she reacted to it the way a cornered animal might—by striking first.

"If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty."

The words hit you like she slapped you. Hard.

Your smile faltered, dropping so fast you almost felt the sting of it.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Excuse me?"

You didn’t raise your voice, but there was an edge to it now—something sharp and unforgiving.

Haley shifted slightly, like she suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. "Actually, never mind," she muttered quickly, brushing it off.

You watched her for a moment longer before exhaling slowly, fingers tightening around the strap of your rucksack.

Maybe this was just how she was. Maybe she hadn’t meant anything by it.

Or maybe she had.

Either way, you weren’t going to waste your energy on it.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and pulled out a daffodil—bright yellow, delicate in your palm, freshly picked from the clearing earlier.

You held it out to her.

"For me?" she asked, voice quieter than before.

You nodded. “Hmm. It kinda looks like you.”

Something in her shifted again.

This time, when she looked at you, it wasn’t annoyance or scrutiny. It was something else. Something softer.

And you find yourself staring a little longer than you should have. Studying her.

She said thank you. You hummed in acknowledgment. But you didn’t smile this time. It felt wrong to fake it.

The silence stretched between you, heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Then, finally, you broke it. "It's my grandpa's."

She frowned slightly. "What?"

You gestured vaguely to your clothes. "These. They were his."

You saw the realization settle in her eyes.

Understanding. Then, maybe, guilt.

"I moved here with nothing but myself after I decided spontaneously that I can't live a life as I had in Zuzu's." You admitted, exhaling a quiet chuckle. "Didn’t plan on it. Just… happened."

"I—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so grim." This time, when you smiled, it was small. Distant. But it was real. "Uhm, sorry to cut this short but" you stared at your watch. "I still have to tidy the farm up; you know it's not exactly the cleanest place right now. I just took a break to feed the little guy. I'll catch you later, Haley."

She didn’t respond. You didn’t expect her to.

As you turned and walked away, you felt her eyes on your back the entire time.

You let out a small smile despite it all. She has a pretty foul mouth.

But pretty, nonetheless.

****

Spring 7

The walk from the farm cabin to Leah's cabin was peaceful, the kind of quiet you had come to appreciate since moving here.

You decided to stop by to drop off some fresh salad. Leah had been kind enough to show you the best places to forage when you first arrived, and you figured it was a decent way to return the favor. She had smiled warmly, thanked you, and invited you to stay for a while, but you had politely declined.

Too much work still needed to be done back home.

With the sun hanging high in the sky, you adjusted the strap of your rucksack and started toward the river, figuring you’d take a little break.

The river had always been a place of quiet for you.

After spending the past few days buried in work—clearing debris, tilling soil, hauling supplies back and forth—the stillness of Cindersap Forest was a welcome break.

And that’s when you spotted her.

Haley.

She was crouched near the water, camera in hand, completely absorbed in whatever she was trying to capture. The focused expression on her face was one you hadn’t seen before—her lips slightly parted, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was… different.

Before you could even think about calling out to her, she suddenly stiffened.

She had seen you.

And then—she ignored you.

Then again, you hadn’t expected much of anything when it came to Haley.

You had assumed, after your last encounter, that she’d brush the whole thing off. That you’d become another passing thought, a minor inconvenience in her otherwise polished life. But the way she looked at you in the forest that day… the way she hesitated, the way her lips had parted slightly in something close to regret—it stuck with you longer than it should have.

You haven’t seen her for days. Not that you were counting. 

Not that you’d been avoiding her.

No, you were just busy.

Busy enough that you hadn’t gone out of your way to see her, or anyone in particular for that matter.

You watched as she very purposefully looked anywhere but in your direction, her hands tightening slightly around her camera, adjusting the lens like she was just so busy she couldn’t possibly be bothered to acknowledge your presence.

You almost laughed.

Seriously?

The past few days, you had gotten the feeling that she had been looking for you—whether it was in passing comments from the townsfolk or the way you caught glimpses of her lingering near places you know she normally wouldn’t be. But now, when you were literally a few feet away? She suddenly had nothing to say?

Fine.

If she wanted to pretend she didn’t see you, you weren’t going to stop her.

You smirked slightly and kept walking, letting her think she had the upper hand.

Except then—

Her foot slipped.

The wet ground beneath her gave way, and you barely had time to register what was happening before she was stumbling forward, arms flailing, panic flashing across her face.

Her camera—her expensive, very breakable camera—was still strapped around her neck, and if she fell, it wouldn’t just be her hitting the water.

Without thinking, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist in a firm grip as you yanked her toward you.

The force of it sent her stumbling forward, right into your chest.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You could feel her breath—sharp, uneven—as she processed what had just happened. Her hands were pressed against your chest, her camera strap tangled between you, and for some reason, she wasn’t pulling away immediately.

"That was a close one," you said, your own heartbeat a little faster than normal.

She jerked back like she had been burned, separating from you so quickly that it was almost comical. "I—I..."

"You okay?"

"I am!" she answered too quickly, laughing nervously.

You tilted your head, watching her fidget. Haley was always composed, always sure of herself—but right now? Right now, she looked like she had no idea what to do.

"Thank you, um..." she trailed off, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

You raised an eyebrow. "It's Y/n, remember?"

Something flickered across her face—annoyance? Embarrassment? Both?

"Of course, I remember," she scoffed, tilting her chin slightly. "I was just… I haven't seen you since whatever and—" she huffed, crossing her arms before realizing her camera was in the way and dropping them again. "I was still shocked, okay?"

You fought back a smirk. "Wait, so you were looking for me?"

The way she reacted was immediate. "No!"

You smirked. Right.

"Well," you said casually, throwing her a sideways glance, "if you were wondering, I was actually busy tidying up the farm. Brought over some things I left in the city."

"Okay." She shrugged, still pretending to be indifferent. "As I said, I wasn’t looking for you or anything."

Your chuckle was genuine this time. "Right, right."

She looked like she wanted to smack the smirk off your face.

"You should be careful next time, though." 

"I know." She huffed, brushing her hands off on her skirt. "I was just taking a picture of..."

She turned to point at her subject—only to realize it was gone.

"Great," she grumbled. "It’s gone."

You followed her gaze. "What is?"

"The squirrel!" she flailed, frustration seeping into her tone. "I've been trying to get the perfect shot for hours!"

You hummed in acknowledgment before reaching into your pocket. "Here."

She blinked at the handful of walnuts in your palm, then at you.

"You want me to eat these?"

You chuckled. "No, princess. Hold them out."

She frowned but did as you asked. Without warning, you reached out, wrapping your fingers over hers, positioning her hand so the walnuts rested properly in her palm.

Haley froze.

She didn’t pull away.

You ignored the way your own skin felt too warm from the contact and crouched down beside her, clicking your tongue a few times.

"Just wait a second," you murmured. "They’ll come back."

And sure enough, a moment later, another squirrel peeked out from behind a tree, its tiny nose twitching.

Haley inhaled softly, watching with wide eyes as the small creature scampered closer.

She was entranced.

You found yourself watching her instead.

"It's so cute," she murmured, and for the first time since you met her, the smile on her lips wasn’t forced, wasn’t teasing or sarcastic.

It was real.

Your own smile tugged at the corners of your mouth before you could stop it. "Aren’t they?"

She raised her camera, snapping a quick shot, and you watched as she checked the viewfinder, her brows furrowing in concentration.

"Wow, this looks good." You murmured, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder. "I'm glad you made good use of the natural lighting. Squirrels get frightened a lot with flash."

You didn’t realize how close you had gotten until she suddenly stiffened.

"Kiss ass much?" she muttered, but her voice was quieter than before.

You cleared your throat, pulling back slightly, ears burning. "I'm not—I..." you trailed off, shaking your head. "It's a good photo, okay?"

Haley let out a laugh—loud, unrestrained, warm.

You pretended to be offended. "Haha," you deadpanned, stepping back like you were going to leave.

Immediately, her hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist for just a second.

"I was kidding!" she said quickly, still laughing. "Yoba, you're so serious."

You looked down at her hand, then back up at her face, before shaking your head with a grin.

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

The back-and-forth continued, and you weren’t sure why it felt so easy.

When had that happened?

Eventually, you sighed dramatically. "You win, woman."

She grinned in triumph. "Ha, I’m always right anyway."

You rolled your eyes but found yourself watching her again, really watching her, and noticing something different.

You couldn't help but think if she had always been like this and you just never noticed.

Or you had been quick to judge her.

Because the Haley you had come to know the past days wasn’t supposed to be this.

Not this close, not this real, not this... beautiful.

You had seen her before—the perfectly put-together version, always polished, always poised. The kind of person who moved like the world bent to her whims, the kind who scoffed at things that didn’t fit into her carefully curated life.

But this Haley?

This was different.

Windblown hair, dirt smudged against the sleeve of a designer outfit that probably wasn’t meant for trekking through the forest. The usual sharpness in her eyes was softened, replaced with something brighter—something curious.

And damn it, you found yourself staring.

You caught yourself just in time, turning away—only to realize she was staring, too.

Your brows furrowed slightly. Was she…?

"Is there something on my face?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, genuine confusion lacing your tone.

She blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever daze she had fallen into. "You're fine," she said quickly, her voice a little too forced, a little too rushed.

You frowned slightly, touching your jaw as if doubting her response.

She huffed, rolling her eyes before reaching into her purse. "Oh, for Yoba’s sake," she muttered, stepping forward.

Before you could react, she was dabbing at your jawline with a small handkerchief.

Your body froze.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, the touch featherlight but warm. She was standing too close now—close enough that you could see the way her lashes fluttered slightly, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek in concentration.

You should step back.

You should.

But you didn’t.

Instead, before you could think better of it, your fingers moved on instinct, pulling a daffodil from your pocket.

And then, just as easily, you tucked it behind her ear.

She froze.

For a split second, you almost regretted it.

Almost.

"As a thank you," you said quietly.

It sounded stupid the moment it left your lips.

You immediately sputtered out something else—some excuse, some way to make this moment not feel as heavy as it did—but your brain was too busy cursing itself into oblivion to form anything coherent.

She startled you again by responding just as frantically, as if she was the one who had overstepped. Something about how she touched you first, how she was just wiping your face, as if that evened things out.

Neither of you made any damn sense.

Then she reached into her bag, pulling out something small.

A photograph.

You hesitated before taking it, eyes widening a little when you realize who’s in it.

It was you.

From the other day.

You stared.

Seeing yourself through someone else’s lens was… strange. You looked at your own expression, the way the light framed your face, the rawness of it all. It didn’t feel posed, didn’t feel artificial.

You wanted to ask her—is this how you see me?

Instead, you swallowed down the words and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Keep it," she said, voice steadier than before. "Please, it's the least I could do after taking that shot without your consent."

Consent.

Funny. That wasn’t something people in the city had cared much about. But she said it so easily, so naturally, like it was just given.

Your lips tugged into a small, genuine smile. You met her eyes, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

"Thank you," you murmured.

And in response, she didn’t roll her eyes.

For the first time, you saw something else—a brief flicker of relief, like she had been waiting for you to say it.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you glanced back down at the photo, running your thumb over the edge of it. That’s when you noticed something.

There was writing on the back.

You barely had time to tilt it before she panicked.

"No problem! Uhm, I still need to cook for lunch, yeah," she blurted out.

It was still morning.

You weren’t going to correct her.

She was already stepping back, clutching the daffodil in her hair like she had only just remembered it was there. "Thank you again for helping me and for the… saving thing. I’ll… I’ll see you around, yeah?"

She bowed slightly—actually bowed—before turning on her heel and walking away.

You blinked.

Did she just…?

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head as you watched her retreat.

You weren’t even sure if she heard your response.

Maybe you should have teased her about how she had absolutely been looking for you.

But then again…

You had been looking for her, too.

And you liked looking at her.

****

Spring 8

You weren’t exactly expecting much when you walked into town that afternoon.

The note Haley left on the back of the photo had been unexpected enough—an apology, a breakfast invitation. It wasn’t something you thought she’d do, let alone so soon after that flustered mess of an interaction yesterday. You had read it more than once, half-wondering if she regretted writing it the second she left it in your hands.

Still, you had considered showing up, maybe knocking on her door just to see her reaction.

But something about the way she wrote if you’re free told you she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

So, you didn’t go.

Not today, anyway.

Instead, you had been running errands—picking up some supplies, stopping by the community board—when you spotted something familiar near the playground. A stray hair tie, tangled around the corner of the bench.

And there, sitting on the swings, was Haley.

She looked… relaxed. Not posing for anything, not trying to capture the perfect shot. Just there, with the spring breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair, her blue tank top bright against the muted colors of the playground. It wasn’t a place you expected to see her, but somehow, it suited her.

And for some reason, you found yourself staring longer than necessary.

You shook the thought away and approached, holding up the hair tie and the daffodils you had picked up earlier.

"Uh, Haley?"

She stiffened immediately like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Slowly, she turned to face you. "Oh… hi there," she said, her voice cautious, as if she weren’t entirely sure how to react to you being here.

You barely noticed her initial reaction, already launching into a casual question about whether the hair tie was hers.

She didn’t respond right away, but that was fine. You figured she just needed a second to realize she’d lost it in the first place.

So, you kept talking, mentioning where you found it, all while loosely holding the daffodils at your side.

You noticed her watching you, gaze flickering over you in a way that almost felt calculating, but you assumed she was just listening.

For a second, you could’ve sworn she lingered on your mouth—but that was ridiculous.

Right?

Her expression shifted slightly, something unreadable passing over her features. But instead of answering, she glanced past you, eyes locking onto something in the distance.

You were about to turn, to see what had caught her attention, when—

"Uhm, how do I say this…"

You blinked at her sudden change in tone.

"I appreciate your gifts and such," she continued, shifting uncomfortably. "But please don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like a little flower will make us besties or anything, you know."

You blinked.

What?

The words hung awkwardly between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure whether to be confused or amused.

Your gaze flicked down to the daffodils in your hand, then back at her.

"Uhm," you started, trying not to grin, "I was just asking if this is your hair tie."

Haley visibly froze.

"Oh!" she squeaked—actually squeaked—before yanking the hair tie from your fingers like it had personally insulted her. "I didn’t even notice it was missing…"

Her cheeks were turning pink.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her fidget. She was embarrassed—deeply embarrassed—but instead of backing down, you decided to push just a little.

"You were saying…?"

The look she gave you was caught somewhere between a glare and complete mortification.

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions,"she muttered quickly, barely meeting your eyes. "I was just… well, never mind."

You chuckled, still not entirely sure what just happened but deciding to let it go.

"Hey, you weren’t wrong." Before she could overthink it, you held out the daffodils. "These are actually for you."

Her fingers twitched slightly but hesitated before taking them.

"And I’m not expecting you to be friends with me just because I give you flowers, you know?"

"Then what else were you expecting?"

The question should’ve sounded snappy, but her voice came muffled this time as she buried her nose in the petals.

You grinned, shifting your weight slightly. "Ever heard of giving a pretty flower to a pretty lady?"

From somewhere behind you, there was a distinct sound.

Something like—

A snort?

Only then did you notice movement from the corner of your eye.

Demetrius.

He was walking past, definitely within earshot, and judging by the way he was fighting back a laugh, he had heard everything.

Haley let out a long, suffering sigh, pressing the flowers closer to her face like they could somehow erase the last two minutes of her life.

But she wasn’t throwing them back at you.

She wasn’t storming off, either.

Instead, she stood there, half-hidden behind the petals, golden hair catching the sunlight in a way that made the moment feel surreal.

Weird.

How can someone be prettier next to a pretty flower?

****

Spring 9

You finally decided to accept Haley’s invitation.

It had been sitting in the back of your mind since she gave you the photo—her apology, neat but uncertain, scrawled onto the back like she had debated every word before leaving it in your hands.

You didn’t take her for the type to apologize easily.

Or at all, really.

But she had.

And if she had gone through the trouble of inviting you to breakfast, the least you could do was show up.

So, on Spring 9, you knocked on the door of 2 Willow Lane.

Emily answered, bright and welcoming as always. “Hey, Y/n! Come in, come in,” she chirped, already moving toward the kitchen. “Tea?”

You hesitated, glancing past her toward the small dining area. The house wasn’t big, only a few rooms. If Haley was here, she’d be just past the kitchen, maybe in her bedroom or the bathroom, but nowhere far enough to not have heard the knock.

“She’ll be out in a sec,” Emily assured you.

So, you waited.

And waited.

And by the time you reached the bottom of your mug, Emily was giving you an apologetic smile, one that silently said, Yeah… she’s not coming out.

You left soon after.

The next morning, you tried again.

This time, Emily didn’t even pretend. She cracked the door open, sighed, and leaned against the frame.

“She’s… busy.”

Which was just code for hiding.

You didn’t have to peek inside to know Haley was there. The way Emily shifted like she was blocking the view, the faintest rustle of movement from the other side of the house—it was obvious.

Emily gave you a knowing look, half amused, half exasperated.

You just smiled, adjusted your satchel, and said, “No worries. Tell her I stopped by.”

And that was that.

You didn’t try again after that.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice her.

You saw the way she turned away when she spotted you from across the bridge.

The way she peeked through her window, only to snap the curtain shut when she realized you were looking back.

The way she hesitated—for just a second—whenever you passed by, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how.

You weren’t sure whether to be amused or frustrated.

She was avoiding you.

That much was obvious.

What wasn’t obvious was why.

So instead of focusing on it, you spent the rest of the day helping Penny.

If Haley was going to keep her distance, you weren’t going to waste time chasing her.

Penny was one of the first people to welcome you to Pelican Town, long before anyone else had warmed up to you. She was quiet, kind, and had an easy presence—one that made it effortless to spend time with her.

On most afternoons, you could be found helping her with Vincent and Jas’s lessons under the big tree outside her trailer. Not because she asked you to, but because you liked it.

She always seemed so grateful, even though you barely did anything.

Which was why you were more than a little surprised when she wasn’t entirely thrilled to see you today.

"You look tired," she observed as you sat down beside her, a book resting in her lap.

You raised a brow. "Do I?"

Penny hummed, giving you a once-over. "You’ve been… distracted lately."

You blinked.

You hadn't expected her to notice.

"I’ve been busy," you said, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Penny gave you a look. A soft, knowing look that made you feel like she could read right through you.

She didn’t push. She never did.

Instead, she simply turned her attention back to the book and said, “the kids are late again. Want to read until they gets here?”

And that was that.

You didn’t bring up Haley.

And Penny didn’t ask.

But later, as you helped Jas with her spelling, you caught Penny watching you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips.

You had a feeling she knew exactly what was on your mind.

Maybe even better than you did.

****

Haley was still avoiding you.

By now, you were starting to wonder if she thought you were some kind of curse she needed to outrun.

You still weren’t sure what you did to make her act like this.

She had been fine at the playground. She had been flustered, sure, but she had laughed with you, teased you, even handed you a photo like it actually meant something.

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

It wasn’t like you had time to dwell on it, though.

Between the farm, errands, and helping Penny with her lessons, your days were full. You spent the morning delivering leeks to Evelyn, knowing she liked to cook them for George. You spent the afternoon tending to the crops and making sure you didn’t completely ruin the fencing you had hastily built last week.

And now?

Now you were standing in front of the community board, scanning over Pierre’s latest overpriced sale, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"You’re doing it again."

You turned to find Penny standing beside you, arms crossed, her expression patient but pointed.

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out," she said simply.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "You should stop paying so much attention to me."

Penny just smiled. "I can’t help it when you’re so obvious."

You gave her a look.

She returned it, unbothered.

After a moment, you sighed and leaned against the board.

"You ever get the feeling that someone’s avoiding you?" you asked.

Penny tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

You weren’t sure why you asked.

Maybe because you knew Penny wouldn’t tease you for it. Maybe because you knew she’d actually give you an answer worth listening to.

Or maybe because she had already figured it out, and you didn’t feel like pretending otherwise.

Instead of answering immediately, Penny tapped her chin in thought.

"If someone is avoiding you," she said slowly, "there are usually two reasons."

You raised a brow, waiting.

"Either they don’t like you," she said, glancing at you, "or they like you too much."

Your breath caught—just for a second.

Penny noticed.

And she smirked. You know it’s bad when Penny smirks out you. She never does that after all.

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "Penny. Come on."

"What?" she laughed, shrugging. "I’m just saying."

You shook your head, not entirely sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

And yet, as Penny walked off, you found yourself staring at the daffodils blooming just a few feet away.

The same ones you had given Haley.

The same ones she had buried her nose in, pretending she wasn’t flustered.

The same ones that, for some reason, made your stomach twist.

Either they don’t like you…

Or they like you too much.

You weren’t sure which one was worse.

But you were pretty sure you were about to find out.

****

Spring 12

You hadn’t planned on stopping by 2 Willow Lane today.

But after running errands near the town square, you figured—why not? It wasn’t like you were doing anything urgent back on the farm, and besides… you still owed Haley a proper conversation after she practically disappeared for the last few days.

The last time you saw her, she was stuffing her face into a bunch of daffodils and acting like she wasn’t flustered. Now? You weren’t entirely sure what to expect.

Maybe today would be different.

So, you knocked.

“Hello?”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by two very different expressions—Emily’s, which was polite but amused, and Haley’s, which looked… well, looked like she was about to strangle someone—possibly you, but more likely Emily.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

You blinked at Haley’s blunt answer.

Emily let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “Sorry about that, Y/n/n. Haley’s just complaining because I asked her to clean the cushions—”

“—which you should be doing because it’s your schedule, not mine.” Haley cut in sharply, sending her sister a glare. She then turned to you, her blue eyes sharp and expectant. “It’s important to mention that I already cleaned them last week.”

“Haley…”

“Shut it, Em. I want to hear what she has to say.”

You blinked.

Oh.

This was a thing.

Emily looked exasperated, while Haley looked… weirdly eager?

Did she actually want your opinion on this?

For a second, you hesitated, glancing between them. The last thing you wanted was to somehow make things worse, but at the same time, Haley was looking at you like she really wanted to be validated right now.

"Well," you started carefully, trying to find a middle ground, "why not have this be your one weekly job?"

Haley’s face immediately dropped.

Oh.

Not the answer she wanted, then.

Before you could backtrack, she turned on her heel, clearly done with the conversation.

And for some reason, that didn’t sit right with you.

Without really thinking, you reached out and grabbed her hand.

She froze.

"W-wait," you stammered, suddenly realizing what you’d just done. “I’m not siding with anyone."

Haley stared down at your hands, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she looked back up at you, skeptical. "Sure."

You swallowed. "I just thought it’d be the best course of action, so you two don’t have to argue over it again. If you took this job, Emily wouldn’t bother you again with cleaning the bathroom every two days. Right, Em?"

“Yeah!” Emily agreed immediately, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

You turned back to Haley, watching as her lips twitched—like she was this close to smiling, but was too stubborn to let it show.

“Doesn’t that sound more appealing?” you prompted.

For a second, Haley didn’t say anything. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she shrugged.

“Alright, you win.”

Emily squinted at her, as if trying to figure out how you had gotten her to agree so quickly. Then, to your surprise, she turned to you with an almost appreciative look. “Thanks, Y/n/n. That was a great solution.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s no problem, really.”

Emily clapped her hands together. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”

You opened your mouth to decline, but before you could, Haley spoke.

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

You blinked.

“…Huh?”

Haley’s eyes widened slightly, and then, for the first time, you actually saw her panic.

“I mean—what I meant to say was—” She sputtered, tripping in every sense of the word before taking a deep breath to let out a composed response. “Yeah, you can join us for breakfast.”

You saw Emily smirked and gave Haley a look. “Good! Then I’ll get on with it. Haley, keep our guest occupied.”

“You sure?” you asked when you saw the hesitation in her eyes.

If she's still uncomfortable around your presence then you would politely dip out. You got all the time in the world after all.

“Of course.”

“…Okay,” you said slowly, though something about the way her face was slightly pink made you really want to tease her about it. Instead, you nudged her lightly. “How about we clean these cushions now? So, you won’t have to later?”

Haley scoffed. “Eh. It’s fine. I can do that later.”

“I insist. Two pairs of hands are better than one, y’know?”

“Ugh. Of course you’d say some dorky crap like that,” she grumbled, but you could hear the slightest waver in her voice, like she was fighting back a smile.

You only laughed, moving to lift the couch.

****

Spring 13

You hadn’t really thought about birthdays before moving to Pelican Town.

Back in the city, they had been just another day—sometimes an excuse for coworkers to bring in cake, but mostly just something you marked on a calendar and then forgot.

But here? Here, birthdays mattered.

You had been scanning the community board at Pierre’s when you first saw it—"Haley’s Birthday – Spring 14."

It was written in neat, careful script, decorated with little doodles of flowers in the corners.

For a second, you just stared at it.

You could have ignored it. You weren’t really friends. Acquaintances, sure—closer than before, but still hovering in that weird in-between where it wasn’t clear if she actually liked you or just tolerated you.

But then you thought about the coconut-themed bandage she forced you to wear a few days ago.

Your forehead still had a faint scab from when you accidentally ran headfirst into a low-hanging branch while foraging. Haley had been the only person around when it happened, and instead of laughing at you like she definitely wanted to, she had sighed dramatically, muttered something about “idiots getting themselves killed,” and yanked you inside her house to clean it up.

You still remembered her standing over you, scrutinizing her first-aid kit before pulling out a very unnecessary selection of bandages.

"Sunflowers or coconuts?" she had asked, dead serious.

"That’s… the only choice?"

"Obviously. Pick one."

You had sighed, pointed at the coconut-themed one, and watched as she carefully placed it over your cut like it was some sort of delicate surgical procedure.

"You’re officially less ugly now," she had declared, patting your cheek before walking off.

It had been ridiculous.

But for some reason, you had thought about it again when you saw her name on the birthday list.

So, naturally, you did the most insane thing possible and spent majority of the day trying to find a coconut for her.

Spring 14 - Early Morning

Your quest to find her a perfect gift yesterday had been nothing short of a failure.

Coconuts weren’t local here, after all.

You had checked everywhere (except Joja’s, of course)—Pierre’s, even asking Pam in case she’d somehow stumbled across one.

"Calico Desert," she had said. "That’s where you’ll find ‘em. But unless you got wings, kid, you ain’t getting there anytime soon."

Right. The bus was still out of service.

You made a mental note to prioritize that when working on the community center. Maybe the Junimos could help.

But for now?

You needed another plan.

The traveling merchant.

Marlon had once mentioned her in passing—"If you’re looking for something rare, something out of season, she’s your girl. But she doesn’t sell cheap."

You had barely waited for sunrise before setting out to find her, boots crunching against the damp forest floor as you took the back route toward Cindersap.

By the time you arrived, she was already setting up shop, humming a tune under her breath.

She barely looked up as she greeted you. "Back so soon?"

No time for pleasantries.

"Please tell me you have a coconut in stock," you said, then hastily added, "or a sunflower."

She let out a low hum, tapping her chin, drawing out the moment just to toy with you.

"Mmm… you’re in luck. Got a few coconuts left. But they aren’t cheap."

Of course, they weren’t.

Didn’t matter.

You pulled out the pouch from your pocket, untying the string with practiced ease. The weight of it was familiar, comfortable.

More than enough.

The merchant raised an amused brow as you handed over the payment without hesitation.

"Didn’t even ask the price, huh?"

You just smiled, rolling the coconut in your palm, satisfied.

"Didn’t need to."

It was plump, perfectly shaped—exactly the kind of thing you imagined Haley would appreciate. You even took the time to wrap it (poorly) with a ribbon you found lying around in your house.

It looked ridiculous.

But handing it to her unwrapped felt even weirder.

And now?

All that was left was to find her.

Late Morning

You checked the beach first.

Then the town square.

Then the entire stretch of road leading to Marnie’s ranch.

Nothing.

You were starting to wonder if she had just locked herself in her house all day when, finally, you spotted a familiar blonde figure sitting on a bench in the playground.

Huh, this scene feels familiar.

For some reason, the sight made you pause.

She wasn’t posing. She wasn’t talking to anyone.

She was just there, her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, her gaze distant.

For a moment, you considered turning around.

But instead, you stepped forward.

"Thought I’d find you here."

She looked up, startled, before quickly masking it with an indifferent shrug. “Done with your chores?”

You plopped down beside her. "Woke up extra early to finish them all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? You have plans?"

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

"Had to run some errands," you said, reaching into your rucksack, "and I wanted to give you this."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Give me your hands."

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

That sounded way too serious. Way too something.

And then, to make things even worse, you followed up with:

"Just trust me, Hay."

Oh, Yoba. No. Abort. Abort.

Why did you say that? You never called her that before.

She was definitely going to call you out for it. Or roll her eyes. Or—

…Or she’d just listen.

Because, to your absolute shock, she sighed and held out her hands.

You barely had time to process your overwhelming relief before you carefully placed the coconut in her palms.

She blinked.

Stared down at it.

And then, for the first time since you met her, she seemed completely, utterly speechless.

"I… I love coconuts."

You exhaled a quiet laugh, suddenly feeling like maybe—maybe—this was worth all the trouble. "I know."

She clutched it a little tighter. "How did you know?"

You rubbed the back of your neck, feeling weirdly shy. "Remember when you patched up my cut? You made me pick between a sunflower band-aid or a coconut one. So, I kinda assumed they were your favorite."

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “B-but how? You can’t just summon a coconut tree, and there’s no way you had time to go to the desert—"

"It was pure luck," you admitted. "The traveling merchant had a few in stock. But she warned me they’d sell out before noon, so I got there early."

Her fingers traced the edges of the ribbon, her expression soft.

Then, almost too quietly, she murmured, “Thank you. It’s really sweet of you to do all this.”

"No problem. I like it when you smile." You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Happiness looks good in you."

Something flickered in her eyes.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

The park was quiet, the sun warm against your skin.

And in that stillness, you realized something—

You weren’t just acquaintances anymore.

You weren’t quite friends, either.

But whatever this was?

It was something.

****

It had started as a casual thing.

You never really planned on showing up at 2 Willow Lane every morning.

But after that first breakfast—where Emily practically shoved a plate in your hands and Haley begrudgingly tolerated your presence—you just… kept coming back.

At first, it had been an excuse to escape the overwhelming solitude of the farm. Waking up at dawn, toiling in the fields, eating alone—it was fine. But it wasn’t exactly fun.

The mornings here were different.

Emily would hum while cooking, always somehow awake and cheerful despite her late-night shifts at the saloon. Haley, on the other hand, would sit at the table looking half-asleep, hair an absolute mess, grumbling about how “humans shouldn’t be awake before 9.”

It was domestic. Easy. Nice.

And you liked it.

So, you kept coming back.

And for some reason, Haley never told you to stop.

Which was weird, because Haley Carter absolutely would have told you to stop if she actually wanted to.

Emily must’ve noticed something too, because one morning, after you had helped clean up the dishes, she pulled you aside with a conspiratorial grin.

"Haley's a little calmer when you're around, Y/n/n."

You had laughed, shaking your head. "I think she just doesn’t want me to see her throwing a spoon at you."

Emily only winked.

And maybe—just maybe—Haley had heard, because the next day, when you showed up at their door like usual, she muttered something under her breath before letting you in.

Something suspiciously close to "You’re late."

****

The thing about Pelican Town was that it had a rhythm.

People followed routines here. Maru always took the same route to work. Jodi always went grocery shopping on Mondays. Penny always had her class under the big tree at the same time each day.

And Haley?

Haley had patterns too.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

That every time you turned a corner and saw her, it was just luck.

But after a while, you started to realize that maybe—maybe—you had started to learn her habits without meaning to.

Like how she always went to the riverbank after lunch if it was sunny.

Or how she stopped by Pierre’s around noon but only ever bought fruit.

Or how she took the long way home through the park when she thought nobody was looking.

You weren’t following her or anything. That would be weird.

But sometimes, your paths just… lined up.

And, more and more, it started feeling less like an accident.

Because instead of rolling her eyes and storming off like she used to, Haley had started doing something else entirely.

She started stopping.

Not always. Not every time.

But sometimes—when you greeted her in passing or made some dumb joke—she’d actually pause, sigh dramatically, and talk to you.

Complain about the weather. Ask if you had seen Alex. Casually mention that she had "accidentally" taken a picture of you feeding the squirrels and no, you definitely couldn’t see it.

And if she really wasn’t in the mood?

Well.

She still didn’t walk away.

****

You stood outside 2 Willow Lane, balancing a small crate in your arms as you knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

Haley was already at the table, sipping what looked like a strawberry smoothie. She glanced up as you entered, giving you a once-over before looking back at her drink.

“You’re late.”

You blinked.

"...It’s 8:07."

"Exactly."

You huffed out a laugh, kicking the door shut behind you as you set the crate down on the counter.

Emily peeked over from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh! More eggs and milk?”

“Figured it’s only fair,” you shrugged. “Can’t keep letting you guys feed me for free.”

Emily waved you off. “Oh, please. You’re basically family at this point.”

Haley made a noise suspiciously close to a choke.

You didn’t comment on it.

Instead, you slid into your usual seat as Emily set a plate of pancakes in front of you with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it.

This was a routine now.

And neither of you seemed to mind.

****

Mornings at 2 Willow Lane had become second nature by now.

You didn't even hesitate before knocking, pushing the door open with a familiar ease, half-expecting Emily’s usual cheery greeting.

But instead of Emily, the first thing you heard was Haley grunting.

A frustrated, muffled noise, followed by a sharp “Come on, just open already!”

You stopped mid-step, blinking.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had walked into, but based on the sheer determination in her voice, it was either a battle for her life… or a particularly stubborn jar.

Considering this was Haley, the latter seemed more likely.

Peering into the kitchen, your suspicions were confirmed.

Haley stood at the counter, face scrunched up in frustration, gripping a jar like it had personally wronged her. She twisted the lid with all the strength she could muster, letting out another huff when it refused to budge.

You bit back a laugh, watching for a moment as she scowled at the object like sheer hatred alone might force it to open.

Yeah, this was too good to pass up.

"You need some help?" you finally spoke up, amusement thick in your voice.

Haley jumped.

She turned quickly, blue eyes wide with surprise before she covered it up with an exaggerated scowl.

"Ugh. How does it feel seeing me in pain?"

You grinned. There it is.

"Aw, does the baby need help?" you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

That was a mistake.

The look she shot you could have incinerated you on the spot.

"Hmp," she scoffed, holding the jar closer to her chest like a challenge. "I was about to cook breakfast for us, but now I don't feel like doing it."

You held up your hands in mock surrender, biting back another chuckle. "Alright, alright, miss sassy pants. Come here."

Before she could protest, you reached over, tugging lightly at the loop of her belt to pull her closer.

You hadn't really thought about it—just something casual, something natural—but the way she froze made your brain catch up real fast.

Oh.

Oh.

Had that been too bold?

But before you could dwell on it, you grabbed the jar from her hands, twisted the lid with ease, and plopped it back into her grasp like it was nothing.

"Piece of cake," you said smugly, flashing her a grin.

For a second, she just stared.

Then—

"Hmp. You're stronger than you look," she muttered, crossing her arms with a faux pout.

You quirked an eyebrow. Stronger than you look?

"Excuse me?" you repeated, placing a hand on your hip. "What do you mean stronger than I look?"

Haley gave you a once-over, not particularly impressed. "I mean, you’re kinda…" She gestured vaguely at you. "Scrawny-looking under all those baggy farm clothes."

You gasped. Scrawny?!

Alright. Fine. Now it was personal.

Rolling up your sleeves, you flexed dramatically, putting on your best Alex-worthy showmanship. "I’ll have you know, Miss Carter, farm work is no joke."

Haley blinked.

Her mouth parted slightly—just for a second—before she quickly turned away, crossing her arms tighter. "Y-yeah, yeah, show-off."

Huh.

Weird reaction.

She had seen Alex flex a thousand times and usually mock-gagged at the sight.

But right now?

You had a very strong suspicion she had definitely just checked you out.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach did something.

You quickly shoved that something into a box and locked it away, because nope, not unpacking that today.

And then—

"I wonder how many other ladies have been lucky enough to see that impressive display."

You nearly choked on air.

WHAT.

You blinked at her, half-expecting her to burst out laughing or tell you she was joking, but—

No.

She was smirking.

Smirking, while still not looking directly at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt like she hadn’t just said that out loud.

Your brain short-circuited.

It took a full three seconds before you recovered enough to bark out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Uh, how many are you?"

It was Haley’s turn to choke on her own spit.

Her face turned pink.

You grinned.

"I’m gonna hit you," she sputtered, clutching the jar like it was a weapon.

You laughed, backing up with your hands raised. "Okay, okay! I’ll help you cook, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered, recovering quickly. "But you’re going to boil the pasta. You suck at making the sauce."

"Yeah, yeah, M'lady. Let’s do it your way."

****

You weren’t entirely sure how the two of you worked so well in the kitchen, but somehow it just… clicked.

Maybe it was because Haley actually knew how to cook.

Like—really knew how to cook.

You had expected her to just throw ingredients into a pan and hope for the best (or, at worst, order you to do all the hard work), but nope.

She worked with practiced ease, moving around the kitchen like she had done this a thousand times before.

Which—maybe she had.

It wasn’t something she boasted about.

Which made it all the more surprising when you found yourself… actually impressed.

"Okay, stir gently," she instructed as you stood next to her at the stove. "You don’t want the sauce to break."

You did as told, though not without a little dramatic flair. "Like this, boss?"

"Less stupid, more stirring."

"Wow. So bossy."

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check."

You grinned but didn’t argue.

Because standing here, in the warmth of 2 Willow Lane, listening to Haley boss you around while the scent of fresh pasta filled the air—

You realized something.

You didn’t mind at all.

****

Spring 20

In hindsight, challenging Shane to a drinking contest was a mistake.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but you also weren’t a regular at the Stardrop Saloon, knocking back beers like they were water. Unlike Shane, who, for all his problems, had a tolerance that could rival Pam’s.

Still, it had been his birthday, and after spending weeks drowning in farm work with barely enough time to breathe, a part of you thought—why not?

Bad. Idea.

The first couple of drinks had been fine. You laughed, listened to Gus grumble about Shane’s tab, even managed to hold a decent conversation with Sam before he had to carry Vincent home.

But by drink number five, the world tilted just a little.

By drink number seven, you were buzzed.

By drink number nine, Shane was on the floor, Pam was laughing at you, and Emily was calling for backup.

And now?

Now you were leaning against the bar, eyes half-lidded, vaguely aware that someone was helping Shane, but—

Oh.

Oh, she’s here.

Even through your drunken haze, you’d recognize that perfume anywhere—clean, soft, expensive.

A sleepy grin pulled at your lips.

"Hay…? Is that you…?"

She sighed, her voice half-exasperated, half-soft. "Yeah, it’s me."

Her arm looped around your waist, pulling you upright as she guided you toward the door.

Warm.

She was warm.

And soft.

And so close.

Haley smelled really good, which wasn’t surprising, but it was distracting because your brain was already a mess and now there were too many thoughts happening at once.

"You smell geurd…" you mumbled.

Haley stiffened against you, and if you were sober, you might’ve enjoyed the way her breath hitched.

"I know," she retorted, voice tight. "And you smell like beer."

Which—fair.

But you could still smell the lemon and mint under all of it, the scent of fresh air and something sweet that made your stomach flip.

She smelled better than anyone had the right to.

You let her drag you outside, vaguely aware of voices around you—Pam yelling something about kids these days, Leah offering help (which Haley firmly declined, for some reason?), and Penny’s gentle concern.

Didn’t matter.

None of them were Haley.

You barely noticed when the town’s quiet streets replaced the saloon’s warm glow, the crisp spring air biting at your flushed skin. The cobblestone path blurred under your feet, and if it weren’t for Haley, you’d probably be face-first in a bush.

"Where… we going?" you slurred, stumbling slightly.

"Home," she grunted, adjusting her hold on you. You chuckled, amused by how done she sounded. "Yoba, just how many beers did you drink? Surely, you're not that much of a lightweight."

You held up three fingers. "I had nine." You thought for a second, then added, "Shane, I think… had seven."

Haley snorted. "I’m pretty sure I’m not dumb enough to count three on your fingers."

"It’s three times three," you explained sagely.

"Yeah, sure."

"Yeah! And I'm completely sober."

You took two confident steps forward—

And immediately tripped.

Haley caught you, her arm tightening around your waist before you could faceplant into Marnie’s fence.

"Oops—" You grinned, looking up at her through hazy eyes. "Thanks, babe."

Haley froze.

Like. Froze.

Her whole body went stiff, and for a second, you thought she might actually drop you.

Her grip on you tightened instead.

You felt her heartbeat pick up, her breath hitch slightly as she stared at you, her face suddenly red.

Weird.

You liked that.

"Wow, you sure are flirty tonight," she muttered, clearing her throat. "You sure you're sober?"

You hummed, contemplating. Were you?

You stopped walking. Haley turned, confused, as you stood still under the streetlights, the dim glow casting shadows across her face.

You wanted to remember this.

Because it felt… important.

Because Haley Carter was looking at you.

Because Haley Carter was holding you.

And because, drunk or not, you had just said something honest.

"The only time I allow myself to be this close to you," you murmured, your words slurring less now, "without my heart pounding in my chest, is in the reality I’ve created in my dreams."

You lifted your head, searching her expression.

Her lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours, uncertainty flickering across her face.

The air between you felt… different. Thicker.

"So, tell me, Haley…" you breathed, voice quieter now.

Your head tilted, gaze tracing over the softness of her features, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her fingers tightened slightly around your wrist.

"Am I sober, or is this just a dream?"

And Yoba—

You really, really hoped she had the answer.

****

Spring 24

You had never run away from anything in your life.

Not when Joja tried to groom you into something you weren’t.

Not when the weight of a legacy you wanted no part in nearly crushed you.

Not when you packed up your bags, left everything behind, and started fresh in a quiet little town where no one knew your name, your past, or how much money you technically had sitting untouched in a city bank.

But Haley Carter?

You ran from her.

For four days.

And Yoba help you, but you had no idea what you were even running from.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at you that night—half-lidded blue eyes too sharp, too soft, too knowing. Maybe it was the warmth of her fingers ghosting over your wrist, your shoulder, your neck. Maybe it was the fact that you had called her babe, and for once in her life, she hadn’t snapped at you for it.

No.

It was worse than that.

It was the way she hadn’t corrected you at all.

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, wearing nothing but shame and your bedsheets, and found Haley in your kitchen, wearing your damn shirt, making breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It had nearly killed you.

And then she had turned around, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you, and teased you about your weak alcohol tolerance like it was all so simple.

So, yeah. You ran.

Straight into the mines, where monsters were easier to fight than whatever the hell was happening to your heart.

Away from breakfast invitations, away from Emily’s knowing glances, away from your own stupid, reckless, painfully obvious feelings.

It wasn’t like you expected her to chase after you. But you also didn’t expect her to notice your absence this much.

You had meant to skip the Flower Dance.

Even if dancing was something you could probably master in five minutes if you really tried.

Even if the festival would have been another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things you were unexpectedly good at.

That list was getting long. Too long.

At first, farming had been just another thing to conquer.

You had picked up a shovel for the first time, read a few books on agriculture, and within weeks, your farm was thriving like a well-oiled machine.

Your crops flourished, your animals followed you like a shepherd, and the once-abandoned land now looked alive in a way that felt almost... personal.

And somewhere along the way, it stopped being about proving you could do it.

Somewhere along the way, you started waking up excited to see what had grown overnight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with it.

Not because it was something you were good at, but because it was something that felt like yours.

And Haley Carter? She was the first thing in your life that didn’t come easy.

And maybe that’s why you had been avoiding her.

Because you didn’t know what to do about something you couldn’t master in a day.

And then, of course, Alex has other plans.

Before you knew it, he grabbed you by the collar before the Flower Dance and forced you back into her orbit.

****

"Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

You nearly choked on your own breath. "What?"

Alex grinned like he was enjoying this way too much. "You got this. There's no need to worry."

"I don't—"

"You got this." He cut you off. You barely had enough time to wrap your head around what was happening before Alex was shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into your hands.

Haley’s eyes were already on you.

You could feel them. Watching. Waiting.

And you?

You were panicking. Internally, of course.

Externally? Blank face. Neutral expression. Playing it cool.

But inside? Complete. Freaking. Chaos.

Penny, bless her, tried to intervene. "Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?"

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea immediately, grinning wider when he saw the panic in your eyes. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

Your entire soul left your body.

Your mouth was dry. Your brain was short-circuiting. You wanted to look at Haley but—NOPE.

Because if you looked at her, you might see hope. Or worse—disappointment.

And Yoba help you, you didn’t know which was scarier.

Then she said it.

"Wait a second—can’t we get a say in this?!"

And your stomach sank.

Oh. Oh.

So she didn’t want to.

You should have expected that. You should have prepared for that.

You should have let yourself believe that was coming. But for some reason, it still stung.

For a split second, your fingers curled around the jacket in your hands, grip tightening, something raw twisting in your gut. You weren’t sure what you had been hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

The rush of disappointment came so suddenly that it nearly threw you off balance.

Of course, she didn’t want to. Why would she?

You had never felt less qualified for anything in your entire life.

The moment was so quick—so fleeting—that you barely had time to process it before Alex shut her down with a cheery, "Nope!"

"Very well, then." Mayor Lewis clapped his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

Haley was warm.

That was your first thought when you wrapped your hands around her waist.

Your second thought was, I should not be thinking about this.

But it was too late. Her perfume—light vanilla and something faintly floral—wrapped around your senses, and the heat of her skin, even through layers of silk, burned. For a second, you forgot how to move.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Her voice was quieter now, breathless.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her eyes.

Haley, in white silk and soft curls, looking up at you with something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart stumbled over itself.

Her hands—small, delicate, trembling ever so slightly—rested on your shoulders.

You should say something. Anything.

But all that came out was, "Huh?"

Not your best moment.

Haley had just said something, something important—and all you could do was stand there like an idiot while your mind scrambled to catch up.

Her voice was quieter now, breathless, uncertain in a way you rarely heard.

"You were avoiding me."

Your grip on her waist tightened.

She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of her hands on your shoulders burning through the fabric of your suit.

Your first instinct was to deflect. To say something easy. Lighthearted. Something that wouldn’t make your chest feel like it was caving in under her stare.

But the way she looked at you, with something too sharp, too knowing, too close to understanding what you weren’t saying, made it impossible to lie.

You scrambled for an excuse, anything to steer away from the truth.

"You don’t want to dance with me."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, sharp and certain, like she had already decided the answer for you.

Something inside you twisted. You felt it—the briefest flicker of disappointment, sharp and bitter, before you could shove it down. It was stupid. Irrational.

But for a single, awful moment, you thought maybe she had been hoping you’d refuse. Your stomach twisted.

"I wasn’t…"

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Could’ve fooled me."

You barely had time to process the sting behind her words before the music started.

Instinct took over. Without thinking, you twirled her.

Haley gasped softly, caught off guard, her hands instinctively tightening against your shoulders to keep herself steady.

And just like that—you were dancing.

The steps came easily. Too easily.

It should have been hard to match the rhythm. It should have taken weeks of practice to master the precise footwork. Alex had only shown it to you once. Like everything else in your life—it only took once.

And Haley? She moved effortlessly, like she was made for this. Like she was made to fit against you like this.

She returned to your arms just as swiftly as she left them, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of your coat.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, didn’t you?"

You faltered—barely, but enough for her to notice.

"I don't." 

The words left your mouth too fast. Too immediate.

Haley’s lips parted slightly, startled by your complete lack of hesitation.

"You don’t?"

You hesitated now. Not because it wasn’t true—because it was.

Because saying it out loud, with her, right there, in your arms, looking at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle—felt like admitting to something much bigger.

Something you weren’t ready to name. And yet—

"I don’t want to dance with anyone but you."

There. There it was.

Your dumb, reckless mouth running away from you again.

The words had left before you could stop them, slipping through your defenses like water through cracked stone. And now—now there was no taking them back.

Haley stilled in your arms. Her grip on your shoulders had eased, but her eyes never left yours—sharp, searching, waiting. A slow inhale.

"Then why?" she pressed, voice steady but insistent. "Where were you? I haven’t seen you in days. You haven’t visited us for breakfast."

You swallowed thickly. Damn it.

Of course, she noticed. Of course, she counted.

Four days.Four days of avoiding her. Four days of working yourself into exhaustion, of diving headfirst into the mines with reckless abandon, hoping—stupidly, naively—that maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, you could outrun whatever this was. Whatever she was doing to you.

But the thing about Haley Carter?

She never let anything slide.

"Tell me."

There was something in her voice that left no room for avoidance. No escape.

And when your eyes met hers again, the music, the crowd, the festival—all of it ceased to exist.

It was just her. Just you.

And the four days of silence stretched between you, fragile as glass.

You inhaled, forcing the words out. "I was out mining."

A flicker of something—doubt? frustration?—crossed her face.

"And?"

You hesitated. Your fingers tensed against her waist.

She was close. So close.

You could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, the faintest scent of coconut and vanilla clinging to her hair.

And Yoba help you, you were so weak for it.

"And maybe I was kind of avoiding you…"

Her glare was instant.

Your stomach plummeted. Oh, shit.

Panic sets in.

You scrambled to backpedal, hands tightening around her waist like that would somehow ground you.

"I was embarrassed that I puked on you!"

A beat of silence. A single blink. And then—

"You what?"

You winced. Oh, fantastic. Perfect.

You had somehow, miraculously, spectacularly, made this even worse.

Desperate to recover, you hurriedly added, "Alex told me it was your self-care day and… I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

The irritation in her eyes softened.

Shifted into something else. Something gentler. Something far more dangerous.

"Idiot."

It should have been biting. It should have been mocking.

But instead, it came out like a sigh of relief.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world—

Her arms relaxed completely, hands slipping from your shoulders to wrap around your neck. Your breath hitched.

She let you hold her. No hesitation. No resistance. Just… trust.

The warmth of her breath tickled your collarbone as she whispered, "You haven’t ruined anything."

"Yet." You chuckled, squeezing her waist just a little—just enough to feel real.

"You know…" Haley’s voice dropped to something softer, something almost dangerous.

She leaned closer—so close that her lips nearly grazed your jaw.

"You smell good today."

You nearly stopped breathing. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You could take on a horde of monsters in the mines. You could rebuild an entire town from the ground up.

But this? This had you completely, utterly defenseless.

And then, like a goddamn idiot, you whispered, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

She smiled. She actually smiled.

And Yoba help you, you were so, so doomed.

****

A/n: I only wrote this different perspective for fun and yet I found myself giggling as I wrote the scenes. From Haley’s perspective, it’s completely and utterly different. It was messy, chaotic and uncertain. It was a push and pull of some kind. And our farmer, the ever calm and collected between the two of them has been fighting a losing battle all this time. She was better with emotions but she’s quite a runner, and well… denial is her thing also haha. Also if you noticed, some dialogues were different but with the same thought. I thought it’d be a fun detail to add that since it’s from a different perspective, they have a different way of narrating the scenes. Anyway, I have to stop here because it’s getting far too long. I also maxed out the 1k block soooo . 🤷‍♀️ I also didn’t plan to do the farmer’s perspective for every chapter but I found myself writing it nonetheless. I find it quite fun and interesting that while writing, I’m starting to learn the qualities and quirks of the farmer even though she’s my own creation. 

If you want, you can listen to Every Breath You Take by The Police, Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer, and Bags by Clairo while reading because this special chapter is inspired by these songs.

Anyhow, sorry for the long wait. I only have time on Saturdays to write so please forgive me. I hope you’re all doing well. Ciao!

[excusemyobsessions]

Just say so.

Rafayel x MC/You

Scenario: Rafayel likes to talk your ears off but sometimes you just want him to get straight to the point. (600 words)

Warning: use of pet names (babe/baby)

Rafayel was beating around the bush again.

Reclined on his sofa in his studio, one hand draped over the cushion on which he rested his head. He was holding his phone barely high enough for you to see his face and his collarbone peeking through the first few opened buttons of his white shirt. You were video calling.

There was a hint of blue paint smeared across his jaw which he hadn’t bothered cleaning away, dusk purple locks slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his hands through his hair too many times.

He’d been going on for a while now, talking your ears off, as if he’d been keeping that in all day and was finally, finally able to tell you every single thought that went through his head while you were busy at work.

“You remember that flock of seagulls which always passes by, right? Right so, one of them told me about the fight. Mind you! They were two young crabs, very tiny. So, imagine the tiny pincers and they were going at each other which is kinda cute but super unnecessary because there were literally two shells! But they were going at it for a single one.”

You found yourself sinking deeper into the sofa cushions, stretching your legs out, tired after a long day.

You’d resorted to letting Rafayel go on, too tired to be enthusiastic about his ramblings, and yet drowning in how endearing this man was. You responded to him with little hums and ahs, encouraging him to keep going.

And he did.

“And! They told me the rock pool nearby was full of newcoming sea stars. The anemones were not happy about it at all because apparently the sea stars are super flashy. One of them is bright red which, if it is true, is pretty flashy.”

He lifted his hand and lazily ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his pretty stormy ocean eyes.

“But I haven’t gone out to see them myself yet. I do wonder if they’re really that flashy because okay, they’re red but there’s a lot of shades of red. What if the anemones are just being dramatic? Also, it’s really fresh coming from creatures which look like flowers and decorate themselves in all sorts of colors to call another creature flashy.”

You couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped you. Dramatic and fresh, huh?

“Also, the sun will set very soon and they said it’ll be gorgeous today. It’s meant to be pink today, you know, like the color of that dress we bought together. And…”

You sighed.

“Babe,” you called.

“...the weather isn’t even that bad for winter, it was rather nice today. It’ll probably be really pleasant tonight as well.”

“Raf,” you tried again.

“Oh, and there’s a new restaurant nearby and they said it looked rather nice and the food looked tasty as well.”

“Rafayel,” you called firmly, a bit louder now.

The pretty yapper on the other end of the line blinked his slightly widened eyes, halting his rambling.

“Oh… yes?”

You sat up straight.

“Baby, if you want to go out to the beach and have dinner together just say so,” you told him, suppressing the need to laugh.

Especially when even through the phone screen you could see his ears turn a deep red. He stuttered.

“Go get ready, I’ll be there in 30. Wear something nice,” you told him, already standing up. “Not that you don’t always look nice.”

“O-okay!” he answered.

Last thing you saw was him scrambling off the sofa before the call ended.

[oopsarboreal]

Friends in high places :P

Wanted to share a lil writing/lore today :3 I think I’ve explained how Taurice got into the Foundation before but it was brief

This also works as an introduction for Dr. Angie Samosin because it’s in her voice

Below cut ^^

The researcher perched on the edge of the chair like some poached bird unused to the edges of suburbia, lips pursed as she heard the question. “Taurice…” she echoed, gaze blank as she squinted. “Oh, Lemming. Yes, I remember. Of course. An odd case, and a scientist always remembers the exceptions.

“To begin, I must preface that as I was settling into my career here, I noticed that many of the newer anomalies originated in mountainous regions. And, working off the theory that by stationing in these hard-to-reach heights, anomalies could be observed and caught before they messed with civilians. So was born my first research project, ‘Mountains are Wild,’ armed with agents and MTF, you know, the works,” she waved a hand in the air. “It wasn’t a month into our efforts before the man of the hour showed up. Several agents were stationed around what turned out to be a wheelbarrow capable of human speech by squeaking and squealing its wheels. That… isn’t important. What is important is that Lemming, oblivious to the Foundation personnel in the underbrush, stumbled upon, approached, and spoke to the anomaly. Taking notes and everything. I think I received three communications at once asking what I wanted them to do. I was miffed. Already a civilian had been allowed to wander right in under their noses? They eventually executed the usual protocol, detaining Lemming and leading him away. Under questioning he was incredibly uncooperative and entirely too questioning of our front story of being an environmental conservation agency. An exact quote sticks out in my mind… he looked me in the eye and said ‘You ain’t no hippie group, there’s been zero evidence of you. No flyers, no annoying signature-seekers, and certainly no actual impact. I know this mountain like I know your mother. Intimately.’”

Samosin let that hang in the air a moment. “That’s when I decided to simply amnesticize him. His memory was wiped and he was plopped back on the bottom of the trail with false memories of an uneventful excursion.”

She shifted, perhaps uneasily, before she continued. “That… would have the end of it if he was a normal man. But I don’t advocate personally for the hiring of normal men. No, Lemming stumbled upon us not three days later. This time the beast was some sort of.. winged lizard. He wandered right up to it like a naive kitten to a bird of prey. Again, spoke to it, took notes. These notes we’d been confiscating proved useful information. Lemming contributed to classifications articles before he even knew what the Foundation was.

“Anyway. The same song and dance occurred. Detainment, questioning, amnestics. This time we put a tracker in him to avoid the same thing happening. How odd that the same civilian kept wandering into the wilderness and tripping over us. I was prepared to leave that at a cafeteria story but three days later, guess who showed up on our radar. Walking directly toward the shadow giant that was so unfortunately requiring all hands on deck at the time. Lemming had to be tackled to the ground before he could get vaporized into nothing.”

She leaned forward, wringing her hands as she gathered her words. “And… well. Considering the amnestics and that he’d been made a blank slate twice and still repeated the behavior, it was clear his compunction to run into the unknown was something innate. That, that right there, is very useful raw material. My colleague would tell you that we don’t want people with the survival instincts and senses of self you find in-… most people. A good employee is a devotee. You cannot simply-“ she blinked, falling silent, her jaw working the air. “…I don’t mean to rabbit-trail. The point is I saw potential to put Lemming’s lack of-… ah, self-consideration to good use. Had to argue a bit with my companions at the time, but it was my project and I got the paperwork in front of him soon enough. But, well, there’s a reason we don’t employ zombies. The human will is too tied up with other essential bits of the mind to remove. I gave him to decision to sign his name or take an amnestic to forget everything I just told him.”

“Of course, our project had come to a conclusion, and we all grew a tad impatient waiting for his decision as he paced and paced and pestered us with questions. But eventually, he declined and took the pill. It was a slow-acting drug. I told him it was a gesture of trust to get on his good side but in reality we were simply out of the injections. Because of him.”

“…I sent an agent to tail him to make sure he didn’t call anyone or write anything down before it hit his system, and the rest of us loaded up and left. Now… I don’t know exactly what happened next but the man changed his mind. Almost hysterically so. He ran back, stole the four-wheeler of the agent who was trailing him, and nearly hit our squad car with it, waving his arms and shouting that he changed his mind and wanted to come along. My companions finally believed me, then, that I’d made the right decision. Because only a fool would have done that.”

[crguang]

happy belated valentine’s day from kafka to nobody because we all hate her and want her in pain. imo kafka’s yearning is in the subtle things, so have a moment that meant nothing to everyone but her <3

//

It’s lodged in her throat, between her vocal chords like inhaled smoke snuffing out her voice, and she swallows the intrusive sensation to no avail. You ask to explore this unknown city tomorrow morning, and she says yes. You talk to whoever has open ears about the latest minute changes in your routine, and she is some feet away scrolling through her phone, listening. She is there when the sky is dark and your eyes glimmer with starlight, noticing things like your untied shoelaces and the swell of your stomach with every intake of breath. She remembers your disdain for celery and your admiration for uniquely crafted chess pieces. You read; she’s borrowed a few volumes from you once, and in between the pages she familiarized herself with your train of thought. Her eyes swept over the words as the letters formed your name, a gloved fingertip traced the loopy handwriting on annotated corners before the book shut harshly and she looked away. It’s something she finds herself doing often on days she misses her violin, simply looking away. Despite herself, she can’t seem to stop noticing.

Something is wrong when she pats her shorts’ front pockets for the pack of cigarettes she never parts from and you wordlessly offer her a lighter. Kafka leans against the register counter, cigarette caught between her lips, hands in her coat searching for a missing light, and you join her side a second later with a generic, sleek black butane lighter you have no use for. Her gaze flits to you, to the small object lying unassumingly in the heart of your open palm facing the low ceilings of this abandoned bowling alley you’re both temporarily resting in until you receive Silver Wolf’s signal to continue your mission. The gesture means nothing, only that you keep a light on you in case she needs one, only that you notice things too, about her and her habits, and unease briefly seizes her hands. You take in the wide alleys along with the colorful pins and nine-pin balls ahead you, your eyes squinted in what she knows means that the gears of your mind have started turning. You don’t spare her a glance while you think. She takes the lighter.

“Thanks.”

“You think it still works?” You ask absently as she flicks the lid open and brings the flame to the cigarette in her mouth.

Kafka shrugs a shoulder you don’t see and exhales softly. “Don’t know, this place’s been abandoned for a while.”

“The electricity still works. People have evacuated this part of town because of the Stellaron threat but nothing seems to be broken… There’s no harm in having a little fun while we wait, right?”

She watches you saunter on the lanes to check the pinsetter machine at the far end. You crouch to the floor and inspect the pinspotter, run your fingers over the rusting metal, then turn back to her with a perplexed crease between your brows. You investigate almost every corner of your surroundings, disappearing behind counters and closed doors, flicking every switch you find in search of a clue that will allow you to activate the machine, and Kafka watches you walk past her eight times as she relishes the soothing effect of nicotine. Your excitement fades into confusion, growing annoyance, and finally settles into thinly veiled frustration. Your bottom lip is pulled downward. Your next exhalation is audible and strained. The tension in your shoulders is imperceptible to anyone less interested than she is in your physical tells.

“Restless?” She asks into the air, lowering her cigarette-holding hand and tilting her head backwards to where you rummage around behind the counter.

“I just wanna do something fun. What’s the point of being stranded in a place like this if we can’t pass the time with games? Ah–ha!” You grin triumphantly and quickly stand to full height, shoving a plastic bag filled with darts in her face. “Look what I found!”

“What about bowling?”

“I gave up. I have no idea how to work a pinsetter machine. Let’s play darts.”

You’re already making your way towards the left side of the room, a pep in your step, and Kafka simply glances at your retreating back before pushing herself off the counter to follow.

Turns out, you suck at darts. She lets you have more turns than what’s stated in the rules and you readily accept her generosity just to lose three times in a row. Your form is wrong, you’re squinting too much; she can’t help an amused smile at your futile focus on the board. Still, there’s a lightness on your face and in your body that hers seems to find contagious. She put out her cigarettes some moments ago, the reprieve no longer needed. Her turn comes, she hits the center without trying, and her eyes crinkle at your long suffering sigh.

“No one likes show offs, by the way,” you pluck the darts from the board and pick the rest off the floor, then place half in her palm.

“Really?” She replies, gaze lowering to your fingers as they brush hers. “Confidence isn’t a turn on for you?”

“Not the way you do it.”

“How do I do it?”

“Like you expect a pat on the back.”

Kafka fakes a displeased pout. “You mean you won’t pat me on the back? I beat you five times.”

“What, you want a kiss for a job well done too? Want me to call you a good girl? Ridiculous.”

She suppresses a smile. A witty comeback lies on her lips, but you’ve already turned back to face the dart board. You raise your hand and squint your eyes, a dart held loosely between two fingers. She takes a step toward you, close enough to witness the hair on your nape rise from her breath on your earlobe, and carefully fixes your stance with a gloved hand on your elbow.

“Widen your stance a little more,” she moves your arm to a better position and gently kicks your foot so it’ll scootch further apart from the other. “Your fingers should hold it like this...” Her fingertips travel along your forearm and adjust your hold on the dart.

You dutifully follow her soft spoken instructions. Kafka spares you a cursory glance. From this close, she could count each colored fleck in your eyes if she was dedicated enough; from this close, the skin of your cheek could warm hers if she erased the mere inches of distance between you. There’s a tiny, almost entirely faded mark on the bridge of your nose that she hasn’t noticed before, a scratch from the previous night’s sleep or a meaningless childhood memory perhaps. You smell like the perfume she gifted you on your last birthday and she can taste its herbal undertone on the back of her throat. She shifts her gaze to the board.

“Deep breath…” her free hand snakes around your waist and lightly rests on your stomach, feeling each inhalation as they come, “and throw.”

The dart’s swift journey ends half an inch off center of the target. A sound not too far off from a delighted squeal escapes you, and in an instant, you’re out of her arms and marching towards the board in disbelief to observe the results of her hands-on teaching technique. Kafka lowers her arms to her side.

“Did you see that?! I’m coming for your crown.”

“Mmh,” her fingers flex once, twice, then she stuffs both hands in her coat pockets. “Want another try?”

Your phone pings with a notification and you take it out of your pants to look at the screen. “Nope, that’s Wolfie. It’s go time.”

You don’t bother cleaning up. Kafka walks a few steps behind you as you leave the bowling alley, looking away from the self-assured sway of your hips and tuning out your quiet humming— she recognizes the song, a melody she’s played two months ago, and she hates the sound. It’s more sustainable this way, she knows. She has no need for workplace entanglements nor any desire to be known, to be picked apart without the guarantee of being glued together afterwards. Her feelings have no name and her body rejects their existence within her like unknown bacteria. Despite it all, once in a while, a repressed corner of her mind bears its ugly head and demands that you look at her.

[mothmandibles]

🇵🇸 May We Be Free, Together. One genocided peoples to another. We stand with Palestine, now and forever. 🇦🇲

Care for Gaza (Direct Paypal)

E-Sims for Gaza (Showing Where/How to give them)

Palestine Children Relief Fund

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Daily Click For Palestine (Help by at least clicking this daily, it may not be much but it counts for something at least.)

BDS's website, remember to follow the boycott.

[ratatatastic]

man who cooks and also would rather die than call them swedish meatballs. hes a finn dammit! when hes making them they!! are!! finnish!! meatballs!! (they are functionally the same)

BMW Teammate of the Month | 1.31.25 (x)

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[salsflore]

everyday i wake up and have to start a new boss challenge called dealing with my mother

[the-acid-pear]

One of the most beautiful things Deltarune story has is the fact that you cannot remove its tragedy, because it's thru that very same that hope and love is born. You cannot change the past but you can take what you learnt and thru it build a brighter future.

[starfleetwitch]

AM I HAVING A FUCKING STROKE?!

or did Rishi Sunak really basically just admit IN FRONT OF THE WORLD that taking the UK out of the EU was a terrible decision? Also what I heard: "This country we took but dont acknowledge until it benefits us is in the best position in the world in terms of access to the market"

[keeps-ache]

my computer wants to update so bad. which is a real shame,

[blackvahana]

never ask a woman her age or [redacted] where he got sacred cow milk from