#it's just going to last some... months... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheftsunoda · 3 days ago

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heal your heart—cl16

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

—

deuxmoi posted an update!

liked by 2,593,583 people.

deuxmoi : sources report that this blind item is about catalina sainz..yikes..let us know what you think!

—

username : NOOOO MY SHAYLAAAAAA....my poor baby

username1 : she has been so happy since becoming a mother...you can tell that baby is her whole world. he NEEDS to return that baby NEOWWW. i do not play about miss catalina.

username4 : he took the kid too? that is not just a breakup, that’s a custody crisis. hope she has a good lawyer.

username7 : Y’all love gossip until it’s your fave going through it. This is heartbreaking if true.

username14 : This is why you don’t rush into engagements with people who love the spotlight more than you do. He was just using her.

username20 : hey could you like not be a dick rn...this is her family and real life

username20 : hope and pray this isn’t true. she always seemed like such a devoted mom. taking the child? next level cruel.

username15 : okkkk but who is this fiancé? if u r bold enough to cross the Sainz family and take a child, you better lawyer up and hide...

username : the funny thing is... he is not even famous so he would be using her money to hire a lawyer

username15 : mans is TOAST

username24 : carlos' jet just left for japan...and the drivers are not even supposed to be at the track for another 4 days or so..

liked by author

username10 : ohhh shittt

username17 : i know lando is somewhere fuming... that man do not play about the sainz'

—

twitter thread!

f1gossipgirls : THREAD: The Catalina Sainz Situation – What We Know, What We Think We Know, and What Might Happen Next.

Buckle up. This one’s messy. (1/10)

So here’s the deal...rumors broke this week that Catalina Sainz—is dealing with a secret breakup and a custody issue involving her fiancé. Allegedly, he left her and took their son without warning. (2/10)

Who is the fiancé? Not confirmed, but fan detectives say he’s a lowkey entrepreneur Catalina’s been quietly seeing for a couple of years. Private IG. Almost no photos together. Suspiciously absent since March. (3/10)

Sources close to the situation say Catalina came home from a trip to LA for work and found them gone. Just a piece of paper that said he was done...Just—gone. (4/10)

Here’s where it gets interesting... Carlos has reportedly stopped following the fiancé on social media (they used to interact), and fans noticed he looked especially tense during a recent press moment and a fan interaction at the airport. (5/10)

Speaking of the aiport...Fan detectives found that Carlos' jet took off for Japan this morning when the drivers are not due at Suzuka for another 4 days...Catalina is rumored to be hiding out in Japan.

(6/10)

Some speculate Carlos has already hired lawyers to get Catalina’s son back. One tweet claims he’s “mobilizing legal resources across two countries.” If that’s true… this isn’t just messy, it’s international. (7/10)

Another theory? This was brewing for months. Catalina’s last public event appearance was in April—she looked off. No ring. No family. No fiancé. Just a carefully curated smile. Fans clocked it then. (8/10)

And let’s not forget... Carlos and Catalina are both famously private. If this went public, it’s not by his or her choice. Which might mean Catalina needs help—and someone close leaked it to apply pressure. (9/10)

Catalina Sainz may have been blindsided by her fiancé, who allegedly took their son and vanished. Carlos is probably involved behind the scenes. And this story? Just getting started. (10/10)

Stay tuned. We’re watching.

view comments

username : if a man took my kid and disappeared...i would def call my big brother too...esp if it was carlos. imagine trying to hide the kid from the whole f1 community #goodluckbro

username2 :the way Carlos is probably trying to keep this under wraps but has already called every lawyer in Spain, Italy, and the UAE...

username5 : netflix pls scrap dts and make a docuseries on finding baby sainz...

netflix : not a bad idea

username7 : IF Carlos shows up to Japan GP with a baby on his hip and no explanation, I’m gonna lose it. FULL TELENOVELA ENERGY.

username14 : me drafting an international missing persons report and i don’t even know them. i am rather emotionally involved now...CAT IS SO MOTHER SHE NEEDS HER BABY

username20 : need cat to come back with a breakup anthem that shames tf outta this man like...'you took my son i took the house'

usernameee : i cannot with you - bye

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : F1 announced this morning via Twitter that Carlos Sainz will not be present for Media Day at Suzuka. Williams states that it is due to 'personal issues'.

view comments

usernamee : this man’s sister is in hiding and his nephew is missing and y’all thought he was gonna sit down and chit chat w press??

username1 : 'personal reasons' in this particular situation from carlos means 'i am currently in my liam neeson taken arc...srry yall'

username3 : its giving 'media day is canceled because i am currently tracking someone across international borders.'

username4 : williams better be ready to lie, deflect, and deny all weekend because if a single journalist asks about this, it’s over.

username14 : williams : “It’s personal reasons.” us: kk but does “personal” mean international child recovery operation or revenge-fueled manhunt? just so we’re clear...

username17 : media day being cancelled is fine but if he shows up to FP1 wearing all black and dead silent I will SCREAM.

username21 : cat is hiding in the mountains. carlos is skipping press. williams abs giving us nothing...no longer a paddock—it’s a crime scene

usernameee : IF Carlos speaks at all this weekend, i hope it’s just “he’s been found.” then pure silence.

—

transcript of james vowles speaking to the press.

press : “James, can you comment on Carlos Sainz’s withdrawal from media duties today? There’s been a lot of speculation.”

jv : “Carlos is an incredibly dedicated driver. When he misses something, there’s always a good reason. Out of respect for him, I think it’s best we let him speak on it directly.”

press :

"Will he be completely pulling out of the race this weekend?"

jv :

"I am not sure the answer to that at this time. I will communicate who will be driving as soon as Carlos reaches out again."

press : “Is it true he's left the circuit entirely?”

jv : “Well, I can’t confirm anyone’s location—I’m not in charge of tracking my drivers,” “but I can tell you that williams supports him, whatever the circumstances may be.”

press : “So… is he okay?”

jv : “I think he’s doing what needs to be done. And I’ll leave it at that.”

—

flashback - catalina's home - madrid spain - 7:18 am

I slid gently out of the back seat of the blacked out SUV. I had just returned home to Madrid after being in LA for some work related issues. I gripped at my suitcases as I began to walk towards the front door. I was so excited to be at home. I was beyond tired and just wanted to crawl into bed and hold my son—my pride and joy.

The front door creaked open slower than usual. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe it was just the jet lag getting to me. My suitcase thunked softly against the tile as I dragged it inside. The house was still. Much too still.

No tiny socks by the couch. No squeals of welcome. No welcome home kisses pressed to my cheeks. No low hum of the TV playing in the background.

I tell myself over and over again that this silence is normal. Maybe they are napping- its early. Maybe he took him for a walk- maybe the park. I held onto that maybe with a death grip.

The air felt off...almost stiff...as if the house was even holding its breath.

"Hello?" I called out softly, hoping and praying for response. No answer not even an echo to be heard.

I stepped into the kitchen. The windows were open- he would never leave with the windows open. There was a folded piece of paper left under a mug...the mug he would always pour my tea in. I swallowed- hard.

My chest knew before my brain caught up. I reached for it slowly, my fingers like ice.

One line. Scrawled in that slanted, indifferent handwriting I used to trace on love notes.

“I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.”

No signature. No “I’m sorry.” No mention of the child we made together.

The edges of the paper blur. Not from tears. I haven't cried yet. I can’t. I am much too cold all of a sudden.

I fall back allowing the counter to help catch my footing. I suddenly feel my whole body go numb. I reach out and push myself up, not allowing those nine words to make me fall to my feet.

I walk the hallway in a trance and crack open the nursery door. The crib is gone. The rocking chair is gone. Even his little bear nightlight—gone. Like I had never once rocked my baby to sleep in there. Like he never existed.

I don't scream. I don't break. I just stand there, arms limp at my sides, until the silence becomes deafening.

I checked the drawers. Half empty. The wardrobe. Empty. The toy chest absolutely bare. A cold, calculated theft of love. Quiet, surgical.

I drop the note to the floor and wrap my arms around myself as I if I could protect myself from what I just experienced...protect myself from this deafening silence. I knew right then...I had to run. I couldn't live here without my baby— my joy, my reason to keep going. I didn't know where I would go but it didn't matter.

—

I booked the flight under my middle name. No return date, no checked baggage. Just my tote bag with a sweater, a passport and prescription for pills I haven't touched since I got pregnant with my son.

No one stopped me, no one even notices me. Not in the airport, not in the first class lounge, not even the flight attendant who handed me my tea and mistook my silence for sleep. If anyone looks twice, they look away just as fast. That’s the trick—move like you belong, and people won’t ask why your eyes are swollen or your hands won’t stop shaking.

Tokyo is loud, crowded, too alive. I took the first train out of the city.

A stranger on the platform told me about a village outside of Nikko- he called it peaceful and quiet. Said it was the kind of place where 'time forgets about you'. Sounds like that is exactly what I want- to be forgotten.

The train winds through mountains so green they almost look fake. Trees blur past like static. I had earbuds shoved in my ears, a hood covering my head and sunglasses so strangers won't ask why I am crying.

When I finally step off, the station is barely more than a bench and a vending machine. I breathe in silence like medicine.

The lodge is old, wood-framed, smells like steam and pine. The owner is a woman named Yui who speaks no English but offers tea and the softest futon I have ever touched. She doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t press.

I pay for everything in cash. Leave my phone on airplane mode. No Instagram or twitter. For all I know the public still believes I am in LA living my best life.

Out here, there are no mirrors. No headlines. Just mist and mountains.

Some nights I dream of my son’s laugh—those bubbling giggles when he tried to grab my hair. Other nights, I dream of nothing at all, which hurts more.

It sits in my chest like ice.

—

present time- catalina's lodge - nikko, tochigi - 8:56 am

Did I want to tell Carlos? No. Did I realize he would come looking for me sooner or later anyways? Yes. I needed him more than I realized. The more I cry, the louder the silence gets, the more that knife in my stomach twists even more. I knew that it wasn't long before the press took note of my absence and I wanted to get ahold of Carlos before those rumors did. That's what happens when you have shitty friends who will sell you out for a single dime.

I wasted seven years of my life for a man who just wanted to see me fail, wanted to see me suffer so badly. I made him. I gave him his career. I gave him our child. Any request was instantly granted. And this is what I get? Taking my only piece of joy away from me. I bet you are wondering...Cat...did you see this coming? And the simple answer is no...he never gave any clues to being miserable in this relationship...if anything I was the one who was miserable. However, that is a story for another time.

I haven't done much since arriving here. I sit outside, I cry, I occasionally scroll through my camera roll and listen to my son's laugh. Admire the way he smiles or how his eyes would light up when he looked at me. Every repeat of the video I feel myself become more pained. I haven't eaten, I vomit if I try. Yui brings me tea and snacks every morning attempting to get me to eat. She doesn't understand but she does at the same time.

I snap out of my thoughts as I hear a car pull up. A low rumble, uneven on the gravel road. It cuts through the silence like a thread being pulled taut. I feel my breath catch in my throat. It’s early. Still dark enough for the fog to cling to the edges of the pine trees outside her window. The room creaks around me, old and wooden, smelling of cedar and steam. I stand, but slowly—like my bones don’t trust it’s real. I move to the door barefoot, heart pounding loud enough to shake my core. Almost like I forget the amount of tears I have cried. That my mouth still tastes like tea I didn’t drink. That I have not slept in nearly 36 hours.

The door cracks open and my older brother is stood in front of me- eyes locked on me like I am the only thing left tethering him to the world. I expect him to say something—ask where the baby is, what happened, why I ran—but he just looks at me. And for the first time since it all broke open, I let someone see the full ruin of me.

"You came." I choked out, my voice barely audible.

Carlos doesn't speak. He steps inside and closes the door gently. He pulls me into him with no hesitation, holding me so tight and placing a kiss on the top of my head. I let myself be held. I gripped onto him like I never wanted to let go. I buried my face in his chest and began to sob.

"My baby...my boy." I yelped mid sob as I feel my feet begin to give out. Carlos catches me and helps me over to the futon- still holding me. Never letting me go.

“I know, Cat.” He murmured as he placed a kiss on the top of my head, holding me tighter.

—

I don’t know how long we sat like this— him holding me tight against his chest as if his life depended on it and me silently sobbing into his chest. I feel myself breaking more and more slowly by the minute — the kind of break that is silent and doesn’t make a sound.

When I finally pull away and sit up, my body aches. Like letting go of my safety raft in a body of deep, deep water. I don’t look at him right away— just wrap my arms around myself staring down at the floor.

He doesn’t say anything— he just waits. Then I hear him take a deep exhale.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” I say, and the words come out like an apology. I don’t know why—I didn’t do anything wrong. Except maybe I did.

“You should’ve called me sooner.” He states, not angry, just more of a disappointed tone.

I flinch. “I was ashamed, Carlos.”

There’s a pause.

“Why?”

I let out this stupid, dry laugh. “Because I let him do it. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even know we were in a fight.”

I glance up at him, then down again, voice thinner now. “I was in LA for four days, Carlos. Just four. Meetings. A shoot. When I got back… everything was gone. The toys. The crib. His clothes. Mine. The drawers were empty. The house was clean. Too clean. Like he planned it.”

Carlos stays silent, but his jaw is tight. I see a muscle twitch in his cheek.

“He left a note,” I whisper. “Just one line. ‘I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.’ No word about my son. No ‘I am sorry.’ Nothing. Just left.”

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop the sting that creeps up again. “I didn’t know someone could hate you that quietly.”

Carlos’s voice is low and dangerous. “Where is he?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve called. Messaged. Emailed. Nothing. I even tried his parents. They won’t answer. They’re pretending I don’t exist. Like I lost custody or something, except—we were never married. There was never custody to lose.”

He mumbles various swear words in Spanish under his breath. Quiet and sharp.

Then, with a frightening amount of calm, “Alright, then I’ll find him.”

I blink up at him. “Carlos, you can’t.”

“I will.” His tone leaves no room for debate.

“You have a race in literally 3 days.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do care, Carlos.” I stated and rubbed my temples. “Your whole career—“

“This is more important.”

“You sound like Papá.” I muttered with half a smile.

He doesn’t smile back. His eyes are too full of something heavier. He looks…lethal.

“Good.”

And then, softer and almost gentle.

“You’re not alone, Cat. You never were. You didn’t lose him. We’re going to get him back. I swear to you.”

Something in my chest splinters. Not in a painful way—just in that awful, aching way that comes when someone offers you hope after you’ve already convinced yourself you don’t deserve it.

“I don’t know where to start,” I whisper. “I’ve looked everywhere. Checked his bank. Nothing. No charges. No flight. It’s like he vanished.”

Carlos leans forward, takes my hand. His grip is solid. Warm. “He didn’t vanish. People don’t vanish. They hide. And hiding leaves a trail.”

He says it like someone who’s spent a lifetime studying the details no one else sees. Racing lines. Different curves in every single track he’d ever raced. Tire degradation. Now— my ex.

I close my eyes. Let the silence settle around us again. The wind brushes the paper screens, and somewhere outside, a crow calls once, sharply.

“I was afraid if I told you, it would make it real,” I admit.

He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Mi Cariño, It’s already real. But now it’s not yours to carry alone.”

For the first time in days, I believe that might be true.

I let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, we just sit there. Two siblings in a borrowed room, far from everything we know, quietly starting to piece together a way back.

—

this will be a little mini series - probably 3 or 4 parts. i genuinely cried while writing this... i feel like it is some of my strongest writing. let me know what you all think so far!

tag : @klauslovemepls @omgsuperstarg @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4 @lina505 , @hc-dutch , @lost4lyrics , @angelluv16 @dilflover44

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dawngyu · 1 day ago

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‎₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾-𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

He stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. His shaking hands hold your wrists. Droplets slide from his hair, tracing the sharp angles of his face, mixing with the storm clinging to his skin as he stares at your face. You feel it before you hear it. You see it before he speaks. "Marry me." It's his last attempt to keep you from walking away.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: chaebol au, strangers to lovers, angst, family issues, toxic societal norms, yearning, longing.

𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: MDNI, multiple-smut scene, heavy make-out, body-worship, nipple-play, fingering, oral!fem receiving.

𝗐𝖼: 17.5k — playlist.

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: hi hello!! to clear things up, this is a spin-off of the main story but each txt male lead gets their own reader! (aka you, heh). other female leads might show up for the plot, but they’ll stay nameless.

(definitely read the first part if you haven’t — but you can read this as a standalone!) see the event 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

If there is one truth that time cannot taint in your life, it is your love for flowers. They bloom unburdened, much like the love you cradle for things that ask for nothing in return.

Perhaps you were a flower in your previous life — maybe that’s why people have always likened you to one. A flower is something delicate, something beautiful, something that marks in memory with its scent and colour. Yet if you were to tell the real reason why they call you that, it wouldn’t be for any of those things. It wouldn’t be because you were particularly graceful or charming.

It would be because you see the world through the eyes of a dreamer, a romantic, someone who clings to the smallest joys as if they were... lifelines.

You cherish the minuscule things, not out of whimsy but out of habit, because you grew up knowing that gratitude was not just a virtue but a necessity. You learned to say thank you for everything placed into your hands, whether it was something you longed for or simply something to fill the space on your plate. Even at nine years old, a meal was never just a meal... it was a gift.

You don’t blame your parents for leaving. People say you should be grateful — they gave you life, after all. And they did. But not even a year into your existence, they chose their own paths, carving out futures that no longer had room for you. And you never resented them for it, not really.

It doesn’t mean it wasn’t lonely.

No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, it’s hard so, so hard to grow up in a house that never truly felt like home. Hard to wake up each morning knowing there’s no mother to greet you, no father’s voice to remind you you’re safe. Hard to fall asleep at night, knowing that if a nightmare came, there would be no one there to hold you.

No one at all.

They're happy, somewhere out there. Twin sisters from your father’s side, three brothers from your mother’s. And you were happy for them, truly. They had their lives, their homes, their own worlds to tend to. They checked in when they could — once, maybe twice a month, just enough to remind you they were still out there. Just enough to keep you from forgetting... while you stayed with your grandmother.

And that was enough. Or at least, it had to be.

“Nana,” you sigh, “You just watched that yesterday. Are you sure you want to go again?”

“Yes. Mom.”

You continued to scrub the plate she ate from, forcing a smile. She’s called you Mom again. It happens often now. Some days, you’re her daughter. Other days, her niece, a friend. But most days, you’re her mother.

And that’s fine. It has to be fine. As long as there are still days when she calls you anything at all. Because the worst days, the ones that keep you up at night, are the ones when she just looks at you with empty eyes, searching your face like you’re a stranger.

You swallow hard and turn back to her. “Did you take your meds, Nana?”

"Yes."

You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel, glancing toward the small pillbox on the counter. Walking over, you flip open the lid, scanning the compartments. She took them. A quiet breath of relief escapes you.

“Thank you,” you murmur, closing the box. “After this, we’ll head to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

You sink onto the couch beside her, adjusting the hem of your floral home dress—the one you tailored yourself, stitching distractions into the fabric on nights when the weight of it all felt unbearable.

Mama Mia plays on the screen, the familiar melodies filling the small space between you. It’s always been her favourite movie. Even after the diagnosis, even as the world around her blurred at the edges, she kept coming back to it.

As if, somehow, it was something she could still hold onto.

You glance at her, watching the way her lips move with the lyrics, her hands tapping against the armrest in time with the music. She remembers this.

“Can I hold your hand while we watch?” you ask softly.

Your grandmother turns to you with a soft smile, her eyes whispering at the corners. She’s seventy-five now, her hair thinner, her hands frail, but to you, she’s still the same. Still beautiful. Still her.

People told you to put her in a nursing home. Said it would be easier, that it was the practical choice. But how could you? How could you leave the one person who never left you? The person who held your hand through every scraped knee, every heartbreak. The only real family you have.

Her frail fingers squeeze yours gently. Then, just as you turn back to the movie, you hear it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your breath halts. You tear your gaze from the screen, eyes wide, heart pounding. It’s been months — months of her calling you by the wrong names, or worse, not calling you anything at all. But now, she’s looking right at you, remembering you. A lump sits in your throat as tears sting your eyes. You grip her hand tighter.

“I love you too, Nana,” you whisper, voice shaking.

And you do. More than anything. Even if one day, she forgets. Even if, someday, she doesn’t remember you at all.

You slide the key into the lock, your right shoulder weighed down by the new pots you picked up earlier. As the door swings open, the soft chime of the bell echoes through the quiet shop. Stepping inside, you nudge the door shut behind you and flip the sign to OPEN with a satisfied smile.

It’s 10 a.m., and the morning light spills in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the flowers on display. Running your fingers gently over delicate petals, you inhale their fresh scent, the fragrance mixing with the faint traces of paint lingering on the walls — your own handiwork, soft strokes of color bringing the shop to life.

You set your bag down behind the counter and power on the computer, scrolling through the day’s orders. Five minutes pass in a comfortable rhythm before the familiar chime rings again. The door swings open.

Someone’s here.

"Good morning!" You greet with a warm smile, but your voice falters just slightly as you take him in. He’s not the usual type to wander into a flower shop. Dressed in a sharp, black tailored suit, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose add to his composed demeanor, but it’s his presence — towering in the doorway, making the shop feel smaller somehow, catches you off guard.

Still, you keep your smile, smoothing the surprise on your chest. "Are you looking for any particular flowers?"

He glances at you and gives a small nod — a quick acknowledgment that he’s heard you. It’s familiar. You’ve dealt with customers like this before, the ones who prefer to browse in silence before saying what they need.

You nod back slightly, a polite gesture, then shift your gaze back to your computer, trying to shake off the strange unease prickling at you. He hasn’t even spoken yet, and still, something about him makes your pulse tick faster.

Why?

“I'm looking to have a funeral arrangement made.” he says suddenly, making you blink and look up.

His eyes meet yours.

You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry for your loss." You try to follow the routine speech that you have. "Let me get my book and I'll assist you. Please, take a seat."

You point towards the table, a round wooden structure with three matching chairs, a small white vase holding a fresh boquet decorated the center. He quickly followed your instructions, pulling the chair as it scraped on along the wooden floorboards before they sit with a sigh.

You took a quick glance at him again, watching as he fishes out his phone, one of the brands that is you think the latest release, and you see a unique looking rolex in his wrists. You avert your eyes as soon as you did, and your eyes catch the black car parked in front of your store.

Your store.

Your small humble store that is stark comparison compared to everything this man have.

You cleared your thoughts as to why he chose this place to buy flowers. You turned around to gather your book filled with arrangements.

"Do you run this place by yourself?" As you reach for the leather spine of the book, you glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes already on yours.

He didn’t respond, even as you took a seat across from him. Still, you could feel his gaze following you. You pushed the roses aside, their petals bruised from restless handling, and replaced them with the open book. Its pages, worn thin, exhaled the faint, bitter-sweet scent of aged paper — a comfort you almost resented tonight.

He stayed silent, his arms draped over the table, eyes steady. His presence bled into the air, heavy and warm, as though the room itself bent around him. You swore you could see it — something low and smoldering radiating off of him, a slow burn that clawed past the polished edges he wore so well.

You tore your gaze away before it could swallow you whole.

You tighten your grip on the pen. “May I have the full name of the deceased?” Your hand drifts across the top of the page, hovering over the empty space waiting to be filled, just as you wait for his answer.

When it comes, it lands harder than you expect.

“It… doesn’t have a full name,” he says quietly. Your eyes lift to meet his. “But we call him Moon.”

Your breath catches. There’s only one meaning behind words like that. A child. Your mind pulls back into dim memories; the parents who’d come to your shop before, searching for flowers with little else to offer but love for someone whose life never had the chance to unfold. Your lips part, but no sound comes. You drop your gaze, forcing it back down to the blank page. You’ve done this before — too many times — but it still finds a way to shake you.

Pushing through the heaviness in your chest, you press the pen to paper and write the name.

Moon.

“And what are you looking for in this arrangement?” The words burn as they leave you, bitter and dry, clinging to the back of your throat. You wait, feeling the seconds stretch thin between you.

“What do you think?”

You should know. This is what you do — what you’ve poured years into. Flowers have been your language longer than words ever have. But it’s always this question that unravels you. It pulls at the seams of whatever certainty you pretend to hold. Of course you have ideas. They come in flashes,but what are they worth?

What if it’s wrong? What if it’s not enough?

The thoughts spiral fast, like they always do. Familiar and merciless, burrowing deep where you can’t shake them loose. They weigh heavy in your chest, anchoring themselves into the cracks of a confidence too fragile to stand against them. You sit there, hollowed out and grasping for something to offer this man, something that won’t disappoint him, or worse, dishonor what he’s lost.

A baby. A mother greiving. And now this man, carrying his own mourning, offering no guidance to make the task easier. Your fingers twitch, restless and unsure. You have to give him something. Anything.

“Well, for funerals, people usually gravitate toward chrysanthemums,” you say, lifting your free hand toward the cluster of blooms sitting in their vases to the right. His gaze follows where you gesture. “Lilies are another favorite,” you add, motioning to the soft petals hanging to the left. “And people often ask for—”

“But what do you think?” His voice cuts through yours, making your words falter. Slowly, your eyes meet his, and he holds your gaze across the table. “What do you gravitate toward?”

“White roses,” you murmur, your gaze flicking away from him and toward the blooms resting quietly in the front window of the shop. “They symbolize… eternal love, and remembrance.” Your voice softens. “If it were me… someday… I think it would make me happiest to be remembered that way. To be loved like that, even after.”

When you finish, your eyes drift back to his, uncertain, before you quickly lower them to the blank page in front of you. “Sorry,” you whisper, flinching at your own rambling.

“No.” His voice is firmer this time, “Don’t be sorry. Tell me more.”

You swallow hard. Your heartbeat stirs faster in your chest, a throb blooming from the tender cut on your fingertip. You breathe through it.

“Forget-me-nots,” you say. “I suppose… I’d start with a base of hyacinths, then layer in forget-me-nots and foliage as filler. And maybe top it off with white roses.”

“Think you can have it ready in two days?” he asks, his gaze shifting toward the rosebuds waiting to be trimmed on the table. “That’s when the memorial service will be.”

You nod before the words even catch up to you. “Yes, yes. That’s no problem.” You lower your head and start to write, sketching out the arrangement you’d described, even as your hand strains to keep steady against the shake running deep in your chest.

“Here.” He sets a small black bag on the table. You don’t have to open it to know — from the weight, the way it sits — it’s easily a week’s worth of your shop’s earnings.

“That’s too much. It’ll only be —”

“It’s the least I can do,”His voice is gentle but leaves no room to argue.“I doubt many would have come up with something as thoughtful as yours.”

“Please… I can’t let you overpay.” Your hand rests on the bag, fingers curling around the edge as you begin to slide it back toward him but his hand meets yours, halting you. His fingertips graze against your skin.

His eyes catch yours, and the words die between your parted lips, caught somewhere too deep to reach. Slowly, he stands from his chair, his hand slipping away from the pouch. You watch him smooth out the front of his coat, before stepping toward the center of the table. His fingers reach for the rose in front of you. The stem just one thorn away from being trimmed. The same thorn that had cut you earlier. “I’ll take this too, then,” he says. “Is that alright with you?”

The nervousness clawing at your chest tightens, cinching your breath and locking the words in your throat. It burns — sharp and hot, like a brand searing them shut. You can only nod, managing the smallest smile before your eyes drop, trailing back down to the thorn that had drawn your blood.

You reach for your shears and rise from your chair, stepping toward him.

“I’d just started working on this one when you came in,” you murmur, lifting the sharp edge to the base of the stem. His fingers shift aside, careful and slow, as you steady the blades around the thorn. His eyes stay on you, not on the flower, not on your hands, but on the furrow of your brow as you focus.

You sense the moment he holds his breath.

With one clean motion, you clip the thorn away. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft and thinner than you meant it to be.

“Thank you,” he echoes. His tone mirrors yours, but heavier somehow. “I look forward to seeing what you create.” He turns toward the door, tall frame gliding in that unhurried way of his, but he doesn’t touch the handle yet. His body shifts just enough to glance back. “By the way… I should get your name.”

“Y/N,” you answer. The name comes easy, but your breath feels uneven behind it. “And yours?”

You’ve never been like this before. Never so openly invested in someone you’d barely exchanged a few scattered words with. Never so quick to give away your curiosity. But here you stand; unmoving, staring, studying him more openly than you’d dare with anyone else.

He smiles. Barely. So faint you might have missed it entirely… if you weren’t so completely, foolishly locked on him. Enough of a curve to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there, a small hollow moves in his cheek. Does it get deeper when he really smiles? Does his smile reach his eyes?

Your throat tightens at the thought, inexplicable.

“Soobin,”

He came back two days later. Right when he said he would. When you handed him the arrangement, his eyes lingered on it longer than you expected. His face didn’t shift much, but you caught it, a flicker of surprise, as though he hadn’t entirely expected it to look the way it did. As though he hadn’t expected you to remember it so well.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low, steady. And before you could step back or fold the moment away, he spoke again. Another request. The same one. For next week.

And that’s how it started.

It became a pattern before you realized you’d memorized it. Every week, almost the same day, he returned. Always asking for the same thing. And it took so little, for you to start waiting for him. You didn’t need to admit you were. It was clear enough in the way your hands moved faster on the mornings you thought he might show up. The way you found yourself glancing at the clock more often. The way your breath shifted, when the bell over the door chimed and you hoped it would be him.

The weeks folded into months before you realized how quickly the time had passed.

“Your wife must be having a hard time,” you say quietly, watching him from behind the counter as his fingers brush along the edges of the newest arrangement vases you’d set out last week. Your voice tries to sound casual, light enough not to pry. “But she’s lucky to have you.”

It’s the only explanation that ever made sense. The one you’d quietly settled on back when he first asked for those mourning flowers. That was how you’d made sense of it. How you’d made peace with why the arrangements always felt so heavy.

He stops. “Wife?” His brow lifts, faint confusion softening the lines around his eyes.

Your throat pulls tight. “Uh… yeah,” you fumble, heat creeping up the back of your neck. “… How is she recovering?”

There’s a pause. His stare doesn’t waver. His jaw sets, just enough that you can tell he’s measuring something inside before letting the words go.

“It’s for my sister.”

Sister. All this time, you thought you understood. The flowers, the endless varieties he carefully chose week after week — they were for his sister. That’s what you told yourself. It made sense. She must be the one who lost a child. A grief so cavernous that even the brightest blooms could barely soften its edges. You could understand it. the tenderness of a brother trying to tether her to something gentle. The quiet, steady ritual of bringing beauty to someone drowning.

But one year have passed. One year, and still, he comes.

You watch Soobin now, and something inside you twists sharp and deep. Your throat pulls tight, a burn clawing up the back of your eyes, your heart thrashing in your chest like it’s frantic to be let loose. His fingers move across the petals with reverence, the kind of touch meant for something breakable, sacred. As though each flower is an apology too heavy to speak aloud. A brother so devoted, so relentless in his quiet offerings — and surely he has a life beyond this. A job. Responsibilities. People waiting for him. And yet here he is. Always here. Always returning, as though caught in some private penance only he can feel, rooted in your little shop like he doesn’t know where else to go. Every week, standing in the hush of your little shop like a man trying to repent for a sin he never committed.

The flowers… you’ve always loved them. They’re stitched with meanings you’ve memorized like scripture; hope, solace, rebirth. They ask for nothing in return, and still, they give so much. The burn behind your eyes sharpens as you watch him, your mind comparing him to one, your chest aching in places you thought you’d long since sealed shut.

You wrap the arrangement slowly, careful with each fold and knot. Your heart thuds against your ribs like it’s trying to outrun the thoughts crowding your chest. The ones you don’t say out loud. The thought unsettles you more than it should. It coils tight in your gut, sharp and sickening. Because part of you already knows — one day, the door won’t open. One day, he won’t come anymore. You hear his footsteps before you see him. He’s seen that you’re nearly done ,the bouquet he asked for, the one you’ve handled like it’s something sacred. You feel his presence before you meet his eyes.

You don’t know why. You can’t name it, not exactly. Maybe it’s the dread that coils in your stomach that there will be a day you wake on a day he’s supposed to come, only to find the hours slipping by, the bell above the door never ringing. And before you can stop yourself, before your good sense can catch up to your mouth, the words tumble out. “Would you want to go out sometime?”

You instantly regret it, the way your voice cracked, the way you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, fumbling. “That was, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. If it’s invasive or —”

“Yes.” You blink. His expression is steady, unshaken. “Yes,” he says again, softer this time. “I was going to ask you, too.”

Your breath stumbles in your chest. You nod, unsure of what to say, heart hammering loud enough to drown out everything else, but he goes on, “Next week. Same day, same time. Let’s do that.”

You nod again, this time slower. Something settles in your chest, light but anchoring. “And,” he adds, as he picks up the bouquet, “make another arrangement.” You glance at him, brows lifting in question. “Anything you want,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it costs. Just… make something for me.”

You swallow the rush in your throat, the spark behind your ribs. You can already feel the stems in your hands, the petals under your fingers. You don’t know what you’ll make yet but you know it will say everything you can’t.

“Okay.”

You stare at the bouquet as it slumps at the edge of the table. The one you arranged so carefully, over and over again for days.

Dawn had already cracked the sky.

Now, the gloss on your lips is gone, long since faded like the sun. The coat you pressed at sunrise feels stiff, resentful, like it's been waiting just as long. Your spine aches from sitting too straight for too many hours, and your breath trembles in your throat, thin and cold.

He said he’d be here before lunch. He said he’d take you out.

He never came.

Maybe he got held up. Maybe it slipped his mind. Maybe something urgent came up. You tell yourself these things because it’s easier than the alternative. Still, the silence wraps around you too tightly. It hums in your ears, thick and heavy, until the only thing left is the dull thud of your heartbeat, knocking against your ribs like it’s looking for a way out.

Your eyes sting. Are you even allowed to cry over this?

“Well,” you murmur, voice thinner than you’d like, “let’s get you to a vase.” Carefully, you gather the arrangement, fingertips grazing the petals. You breathe in — soft, floral, faintly sweet — and hold it there.

Your movements felt slow. Deliberate, almost. Strange, when these steps had always come easy to you, and yet, you lingered. As if dragging out every motion might somehow buy him time to show. Your gaze settles on the bouquet now resting in the vase. You exhale, slow and shallow, but no words rise to meet the breath. There’s nothing left to say. Nothing worth breaking the quiet for. Turning to the door, your steps this time are steady, unhesitant. No more stalling. You did what you could. You waited. You hoped.

And now, it’s clear; he’s not coming.

You were just about to lower the blinds when a familiar car slid to a stop out front. Your breath caught, frozen tight in your chest. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, as the driver’s door flung open before the engine had even settled into idle. There he was, the tall figure who’d haunted your thoughts for months, carved into every restless night. Disheveled, frantic, a deep frown cutting across his face.

When his eyes found yours, he ran.

The air slammed back into your lungs so fast it almost hurt. The fog, the static that had smothered you for hours, gone. Blown clean away in one look on his face.

He's here.

“Why did you wait for me?” The words tumbled out the moment he pushed the door open, his gaze locking onto yours. His face, guilt etched into every line. “You waited for me,” he said again, quieter this time. The guilt cracked, crumbled at the edges, and in its place came something softer. His eyes didn’t waver. It was awe, unmistakable and unguarded.

It was as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

The car ride was quiet. His coat rested over your shoulders, warm and grounding, as the streetlights blurred past. Since it was already late, Soobin had offered his place. You didn’t argue.

“We’re here,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt. You’d somehow already undone yours without realizing it, stepping out into the cool air just as he rounded the front of the car to meet you. His hand hovered near the door, but you’d beaten him to it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, offering a small smile. Your eyes drifted past him, brows pinching slightly as you took in the skyline ahead —towering buildings stretching into the night. Your confusion flickered across your face before you could hide it. “You said your apartment, right?”

He hummed, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He nodded toward the buildings ahead. “Come on.”

You walked, still puzzled, trailing a step behind him. Your eyes wandered, curious and cautious, as you neared the towering building. Inside, staff seemed to scatter and straighten the moment they caught sight of Soobin. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Postures snapped upright. The door swung open before either of you reached it.

“Late evening, Mr. Choi,” the security guard greeted, bowing deeply. The others followed suit, dipping their heads in swift, practiced motions. It felt surreal. Like you’d stumbled into the middle of a K-drama you used to watch. Like you were seeing something you weren’t meant to. Soobin didn’t slow. He didn’t pause at the front desk like everyone else did. He just kept walking, glancing back once to make sure you were still with him. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button without hesitation. The panel lit up, and you caught the word just above it; Penthouse.

Your breath caught, but you masked it quickly, dropping your gaze. That’s when you noticed his hands, resting at his sides, relaxed. The silence wrapped around you again. You shifted your hand, hesitant, pinky inching toward his. You just wanted to hold it — just once. Who knew if you’d get another chance like this? Maybe tomorrow he’d decide you weren’t someone he wanted to see anymore. Maybe you’d bore him. Maybe he’d drift away like people sometimes do.

So just once. Just to know what it felt like.

Your fingers moved closer, careful, unhurried. Barely an inch away — Ding. The elevator chimed, breaking your focus. Your hand froze mid-reach. Soobin turned, catching you dead-on. His gaze flicked down, just fast enough to see the way you yanked your hand back, swatting it away like you’d touched something too hot. “Uh—” you blurted.

His brows lifted slightly, softening — not in mockery, but in surprise. “Stop acting so cute, will you?” he murmured, and his words only deepened the flush on your cheeks. “You’re making it harder for me.”

Before you could even piece together what he meant, his hand reached out. His fingers found yours, threading between them with an ease that made your breath catch. The touch was warm, grounding, and when he gently tugged, you startled just a little. He didn’t say anything about it. He only pulled you softly toward him and guided you into the elevator. The elevator closes, but everything feels distant.

And all the while, his fingers stay laced with yours, anchoring you gently as the world rose around.

“Do you drink?” he asks, his voice low as he approaches the couch where you sit. The bottle in his hands glints under the warm lights, dark glass wrapped in crinkled gold foil, the wine inside a deep, velvet red that swirls languidly as he moves. One glance, and you already know: it’s expensive.

His penthouse is sprawling, though you suppose all penthouses are. “On special occasions,” you admit, watching as he reaches for two crystal glasses.

“Would you call this a special occasion?” He sinks into the couch beside you, his back meeting the cushions.

“I’d say so.” Your answer draws a small smile from him as he leans closer. Carefully, he cradles a glass in each hand and offers one to you. You accept it, fingertips brushing the cool surface as you balance the bowl of the glass in your palm, the slender stem threading between your knuckles. You lift it gently, only needing the faintest tilt toward your nose to catch the aroma. Your intuition was right, this would be the finest drink you’ve ever touched.

You take a sip. The wine blooms sharp on your tongue, threading warmth down your throat.

“Tell me,” he says, lifting the glass to his lips. His bangs fall loose over his eyes, soft and unbothered, and you fight the quiet urge to reach over and sweep them aside. “How did you start your business?”

“Like most things in this world,” you reply, taking another small sip, the pungent taste stinging your palate. “A bit of luck and a bit of misfortune.”

Soobin shifts, turning more fully toward you. One arm drapes along the back of the couch, as though he’s subconsciously reaching closer. His glass rests loosely against his thigh, “What was your luck?”

“I received money. Enough to build the business.”

“And the misfortune?”

Your throat tightens slightly. You swallow. “It was because my grandmother… wouldn’t be able to take care of it anymore.” Your voice softens. “Or herself anymore.”

The quiet smile at the corner of his lips falters, folding into something more solemn. A flat line. His eyes don’t leave you, they track every flicker of your expression: the slight furrow of your brow, the quick blinks you can’t quite suppress, the faint, compulsive bite to the inside of your cheek. But he doesn’t press.

“Why flowers?”

You know the answer. It unfurls easily in your mind, sprawling and layered. But a flicker of doubt tugs at you. If I ramble, will he grow tired of me?

“I liked their meanings,” you say instead, choosing your words slowly. “How each plant holds its own importance, just by existing. It’s fulfilling. And it’s a beautiful thing… seeing the way even simple arrangements can affect people.” You glance down, your thumb brushing the base of your glass. The words settle in the air between you.

He doesn’t fill the silence or shift in his seat. His eyes stay fixed on you. The glass in his hand remains perfectly still. His gaze lingers like he’s reading something delicate between your lines, like you’re a puzzle he’s in no rush to solve. He watches without pressing, without judgment. You feel the heat creep into your cheeks despite yourself, and you lower your gaze, hoping it hides the way your pulse trips over itself.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a pause, his voice lower, gentler. “I feel like I’m bombarding you with all these questions. Would you like to ask me something instead?”

A dozen questions flicker through your mind, each vying for space. Yet one floats to the surface, steady and clear, eclipsing the rest. “Why did you ask me to make you that bouquet?” The words leave you smoother than you expected.

For a breath longer, he says nothing. And then — a soft, breathy laugh escapes him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, something warm spilling over his features, and you swear you feel your heart tighten in your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh. It’s the first time you’ve seen the hollows of his cheeks deepen, the dimples ghost into view.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat gently, He leans forward slightly, setting his glass on the table with a clink. “I do have an answer. But it’s a long one… if you’ll bear with me.” You nod, something soft and weightless settling in your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice steady, unflinching. “Every time I come to see you… you’re even more beautiful. And you take my breath away.” That ache—the one you’d fought to swallow down minutes ago—surges back with a quiet ferocity. Your bottom lip parts, breath hitching in surprise.

Soobin’s voice dips, even softer now, like he’s confessing something he’s carried for far too long. “I asked you to make me that bouquet because I knew you’d pour yourself into it. You’d try your best to make it perfect for me. And when I saw it… I knew you’d done exactly that.” He pauses, gaze never wavering from you. “I never planned to take it with me. That bouquet—it was always meant for you.”

He shifts closer, just a few inches, slow and unintrusive. You don’t look at him; your eyes drop away, blurred with the tears threatening to spill over. You hold them back with every ounce of restraint, blinking fast against the shimmer at your waterline.

“I could’ve gone to any florist,” he continues, his voice barely above a murmur, “bought flowers and handed them to you. But I didn’t want that. I wanted you to make them… for yourself.”

Your chest pulls tight, your breath shallow and quick.

“I wanted you to create something as beautiful as you are. That’s why I asked for the bouquet.” His words land soft, final. “Because you’re beautiful.”

You try to fight it. Your head lifts slightly, your gaze tipping upward as if looking higher might will the tears back in. But the moment you blink, they slip free, tracing a slow, unbidden path down the curve of your cheek. There’s no hiding it. Not from him. Soobin’s eyes track the tear’s descent, his expression open and unreadable.

“I…” You falter, biting down gently on your tongue as your throat burns, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, “Tell me.”

Your breath shudders out, thin and shaky. “It’s just… earlier, I thought you wouldn’t come back.” The fracture in your voice is clear, woven into every syllable. Soobin hears it as easily as if you’d shouted it. His focus sharpens, tender and intent, even as another tear slips down your cheek.

Without a word, he lifts his hand. His touch is featherlight, the side of his index finger brushes just beneath your eye, catching the tear before it can fall farther. The contact startles you; your breath catches, your eyes widening at the gentle weight of his skin on yours. Though he’d caught your tear, his hand lingers on your cheek. His skin is cooler than yours, a contrast that sends a ripple down your spine. Then his finger glides down the curve of your face, tracing a path to your chin. His touch is careful, as if he’s afraid you might shatter under anything less. His fingers cradle your chin gently, coaxing, as he tilts your face toward him. Your breath catches as your gaze is guided back to his.

He’s looking at you.

Your nerves spark like a live wire under your skin, a delicate ache blooming in your chest. You swear you’ll come apart if you move too quickly, if you breathe too hard. Your heartbeat drums mercilessly in your ears loud enough, to fill the silence between you.

He leans closer. Slowly, gingerly, he edges forward like he’s stepping through every invisible barrier you’d built, slipping past every wall you thought you’d carefully kept intact. You watch as his eyes trace the line of your lips. Is he feeling the same tremor, the same breathless ache threatening to consume you whole?

Your eyes mirror his, drifting down until they rest on his lips. You feel his breath first, warm and shallow against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation blooming low in your belly — an ache, a flutter, a trembling promise. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine.

His lips meet yours. It's soft.

You don’t dare move. His fingers remain at your chinr. And for the first time, you let yourself surrender completely, allowing someone else full, irrevocable control. You let him lead. You let yourself fall. Then, subtly, Soobin shifts. His lips part just slightly against yours, enough to press a second kiss, lighter than air, softer than thought. The faintest sound of it rings in your ears, delicate and clear, as if it’s the only sound left in the world. There is no one else. Nothing else. Only you and him.

When he pulls away, it’s slow. He creates space between you, his gaze dropping—gentle, searching. “I apologize,” he says softly, his voice drawing your eyes open again. His pupils are dark, downcast, uncertainty clouding their depths as his fingers slip away from your skin. “If I made you uncomfortable… if I overstepped — I’m sorry.”

Without a word, with your tears now stilled, you reach for him. Your fingers wrap gently around his wrist, the same hand that had so carefully traced your skin. You hold him. With a pull, you guide his hand back to your face. When his fingertips meet your skin again, a wordless relief unfurls in your chest.

He’s watching you. His eyes are locked to yours, dark and unwavering, tracking every small shift in your expression as if deciphering the meaning behind your touch. Your hand stays clasped at his wrist as you draw your lips inward, wetting them with a soft sweep of your tongue, a silent permission offered without a single breath of speech.

You see it instantly, the way his brow knits downward, a soft furrow of longing. His lips part slightly, a breath escaping that he doesn’t bother to rein in. The expression across his face is raw, unguarded, needy in a way that makes your stomach swoop, a sweet ache pulling low in your core. His gaze flickers downward, fixated on the subtle shift of your mouth.

Before you even can take your next breath, his lips are on yours again. His mouth meets yours with more urgency, yet still achingly soft. His free hand ghosts up your jaw, fingers threading into the hinge of your neck, You’re taken aback, quite literally as his mouth parts against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your breath falter. Your head tips backward instinctively, but before you can drift too far, his hand is there to catch. His fingers tangle into the soft strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you.

You clutch tighter to his wrist, as if that alone could tether you. The moment dissolves into something weightless, and the sensation of Soobin’s kiss begins to eclipse everything else — until the world narrows to nothing but his lips, his breath, his touch.

Your lungs tighten. Your head spins just as you feel the graze of his tongue against your lower lip. With a soft gasp, you break away.

Cool air rushes between your lips as you pull back, your breath coming quick and shallow. Your fingers, once gripping tight at his wrist loosen, falling limp against his skin. His hand slides gently from the back of your head, fingertips gliding down the column of your neck before settling against the delicate curve of your throat. His thumb traces there idly, barely a whisper of contact.

His voice, when it comes, is hushed. “Are you alright?”

All your life, you had been pursued. Suitors with bright eyes and polished words circled like moths, eager to capture your hand, to fasten their futures to yours. They came with promises that echoed hollow against your ribs. They smiled too easily, spoke too sweetly and though you tried, how you tried to meet them halfway, something inside you always stayed untouched.

You had forced smiles you didn’t mean. Laughed at jokes that never reached your eyes. You wrapped yourself in false emotions like gossamer, hoping the weight of them would feel like belonging. But after every encounter, you only felt emptier. You never understood why.

Until now.

With Soobin’s kiss still lingering on your lips, with his hand resting against the tender line of your throat as though you were something precious, and easily breakable. The truth settles in you, your heart had never been wandering.

It had been waiting. Waiting for him.

It wasn’t that no one wanted you. It was that your soul had already made its choice long before your body could catch up. And after all the quiet, lonely years of not knowing what you were longing for, he had finally found you.

You are home.

"I…" Your voice is thin, threadbare with wonder. You search for words, but none seem big enough to hold what you’re feeling. "I’ve never… been kissed like that before."

He smile slowly, a laugh tumbles from him and the thumb resting against your neck drifts upward, grazing the curve of your cheek with such careful reverence it makes your breath catch. You don’t have time to react. He leans in before you can even think, brushing a kiss against your lips, so brief it’s almost weightless. Too fleeting, too quick, and when he pulls away, you instinctively lean forward, chasing the fading warmth.

"Is that better?" he murmurs, mischief softening the edges of his gaze.

You swallow thickly, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch. "I didn’t…" Your voice falters, a smile tugging unbidden at the corner of your lips. "…say that I didn’t like it."

It was as if your words had unspooled something inside him, like you'd spoken a secret incantation only he could hear. The moment your words left your lips, he was on you — his mouth capturing yours with a hunger. His hands slid down at your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, warm palms pressing against your skin as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His lips broke from yours only to travel lower, grazing the delicate line of your jaw before finding the curve of your neck. The first brush of his mouth there drew a sound from you, a soft moan. You felt him smile against your skin, a low, pleased hum from his throat as if your every sigh was a gift.

Without thinking, your arms wrapped tighter around him. You shifted, lifting your legs to curl around his waist, pulling him flush against you. The soft, unrestrained groan that escaped him at the motion sent a spark racing straight through you.

You had never felt so wanted as hands slid down, tracing the shape of your thigh before they dipped to the bend of your knee. You had never felt so treasured as he slowly, began to gather the fabric of your skirt, dragging it higher along your leg with unhurried care, revealing skin he touched as though memorizing you with each pass.

"You taste divine," he breathed against your neck, the words threaded with awe and desire. His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, grazing you with teeth soft enough to make you shiver, as if he wanted to consume you completely yet worship every part of you. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you guided him back to your lips. He met you eagerly, melting into the kiss as though he’d waited lifetimes for it.

“If you want me to stop… tell me,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and tender all at once.

You nodded unafraid, and in that quiet, unspoken agreement, you watched something flicker in his eyes. As if he was vowing to worship you fully but never without your permission. His hands moved, deft and gentle, helping you ease out of the thin barrier of fabric that separated you, his gaze never leaving yours as if even in this unraveling, your comfort was his compass.

His smile curves against the delicate line of your neck, breath fanning across your skin as his words slip through, velvet-soft and low, “You’re already so wet for me.” His tone is laced with adoration. “I didn’t know you’d be such a good girl for me.”

The world dissolves.

It shrinks and softens until all that’s left is him — Soobin and the press of his body against yours, Soobin and the way his voice drips honey and reverence into your ear, Soobin and the hands that worship every part of you like he’s learning a language spoken only through touch.

Every piece of clothing that falls away is marked by his mouth, kisses dragged slow across your lips, your jaw, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your collarbones. His lips move like he’s tracing constellations on your skin, as though, somehow, you hold the entire night sky within you.

His hands, large and steady, move over you with a duality that makes you ache. Greedy and gentle. Certain but tender. He touches you as though he’s starved for you, but terrified you might slip away if he’s too careless. His fingers map your curves, glide down your sides, ghost along the backs of your thighs, curling possessively.

The room is thick with something heavier than air. It’s breath; yours and his, tangled in rhythm. It’s the soft rustle of fabric sliding over skin, the quiet catch of a moan swallowed between kisses, the faint sighs that spill when his hands find somewhere new to caress. Everything slows because he slows it. He takes his time, like he refuses to let any detail slip by unnoticed.

It doesn’t feel like he’s simply undressing you.

It feels like he’s unveiling something sacred. Like every inch of you laid bare is a gift he’s longed for, and now that he has it, he won’t squander a second. His gaze drinks you in between every kiss, full of a softness that cradles the sharp edge of desire. His pupils blown wide, his lips pink and kiss-bitten, his breath shaky though he tries to steady it.

You’re cherished.

“Soobin,” you gasp, breath hitching as he pulls you effortlessly into his lap. His lips find the swell of your breast, as his hands caress you with tender precision — teasing. The soft drag of his tongue against your nipples pulls a shiver from deep within you.

“I’ll take you to bed, sweetheart,” — “Yes, please,”

His mouth meets yours again, slow and consuming, while his arms curl around you. Without breaking the kiss, he rises, lifting you as though you weigh nothing, as though carrying you is the most natural thing in the world. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t need to. Your hands stay laced behind his neck, your fingers threading through the soft hair at his nape. You surrender wholly, letting yourself be cradled in his care. His footsteps echo and then you feel it, the plush give of the mattress beneath you as he lowers you gently into the center of the bed. The sheets are cool against your back, but his gaze is molten, grounding you in a warmth no fabric could match.

“Soobin…” Your voice trembles, “I haven’t done this before.”

For a moment, his expression stills. Something softens even further in his eyes. His lips tilt into the faintest, sweetest smile before he leans down, planting a slow kiss on your lips.

“I’ll be gentle with you then,” he promises, voice so gentle it nearly breaks you apart. His forehead rests against yours as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his touch light as silk. “You don’t have to fear anything with me. We’ll go slow. You just tell me everything you want… everything you don’t.”

You gave him a smile, you reached up and kissed him. A simple peck. His eyes is open mid-kiss, like he couldn’t bear to miss a second of it. As though the feeling of your lips wasn’t enough, he wanted to see it too. “I trust you,” you whispered against his lips, “I do.”

You had never been blinded because of a smile before.

His lips press against your sternum, inching his way with slow pecks towards the plump skin of your breasts. And the second he finds your nipple, a sharp gasp leaves your throat as you feel his warm tongue caress the sensitive flesh. His hand moves to your navel, his palm lying flush to your abdomen as he holds you down to the mattress; continuing to glide his tongue over you. As Soobin lifts his lips from you momentarily, the chill of his saliva lingers on your breast, makes you softly squirm in his grasp.

He move to the other side of your body, slowly slowly repeating the process as he suckle at your hardened bud ever so gently. But this time, he use his teeth to bite the softest mark onto your nipple; the careful sting pulls your back into an arch. You whimper at the roughness, though it only lasts for a second, and as you process their actions, Soobin begins to trail down from your breasts, moving to the other one. His hands work, reaching down to caress your core which pulse between your thighs.

You try to control yourself as he went lower, to control your body, control the moans begging for release but the moment he place a kiss to your clit, the little control you have begins to slip. He starts gently, a kiss, a soft lick up your entrance, and gets back to give the most careful suckle at your clit. His gentle licks turn into passionate laps as he palce his tongue flat to your clit and allow the pressure of his muscle alone to spark up your spine.

You gasp at the feeling, your hands grip desperately onto the sheets by your sides.

With his hand still placed on your lower belly, Soobin outstretches his fingers towards his mouth latched onto your cunt. His thumb finds its place just above the hood of your clit, as he begin to add to the simulation causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. He swirl the wet skin, sucking, intervals of tender kisses in between as he feel you between his lips; as the squelching of his tongue against your soaked entracne takes over the silence of the night.

"You're being such a good girl for me," Soobin kisses the words onto you, "So fucking good." He use his freehand to pull your leg up and over his shoulder, your body willingly at his control. He lift his mouth from you only to place his lips inside of your thight, his fingers still simulating you even with the pause.

You can feel it brewing. The band threathening to snap at any moment. Your pleasure pleading for release as he return to lap at your cunt.

"S-Soobin," you gasp, "Wait, I-" your please turn into tight cries of desperation as they retrieve a smile from Soobin, who listens intently to you moaning his name.

"I know baby," he kisses your clit, his thumb giving you an experimental amount of pressure, "I know baby, you can cum on my tongue. I don't mind."

If it weren't for your orgasm now unleashing inside of you, you possibly would have laughed, but the only thing that comes out of you, among the essence leaking into Soobin's mouth, is the lewd noises breaching the shores of your pleasure. Your hips instinctively push into his mouth as it explodes.

Your legs twitch, faint tremors echoing long after the euphoria crests and slowly ebbs away. Your breath is uneven, your chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as your mind tries to fix itself again. The world feels distant, softened at the edges, but you feel him. You feel Soobin everywhere. You hardly register the trail of his lips scaling their way back up your body, delicate kisses pressed along your stomach, the hollow between your ribs, the curve of your collarbone; until his face hovers just above yours. His breath fans against your lips, warm and even, as though he’s been composed the entire time, despite the flush that paints the high of his cheekbones. And when you meet his eyes —

Adoration. That’s all there is. As though you hung the stars in his sky.

Your fingers, still faintly trembling, reach down to the waistband of his pants, a silent plea building in your chest to return the worship he’s lavished on you. But before you can so much as graze the fabric, his hand wraps gently around your wrist, and moves it away.

“Tonight is about you,” Soobin murmurs, voice low, coaxing you back into ease. A smile, soft and disarming, tugs at the corners of his lips as he dips forward to nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. “Just think of it as my way to say sorry… for making the prettiest girl wait so long.” His fingers, those long, graceful ones you’ve become so attuned to, sweep gently through your hair, combing it back from your damp forehead as though you were something priceless. His thumb brushes the line of your temple before trailing down the curve of your jaw, feather-light.

You stare back at him, your gaze tender and unwavering, the reflection of your own adoration open across your features. Whatever he sees in your eyes makes something in his expression soften even further.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice dropping as he nestles closer to your side. Instinctively, you open your arms for him, and he slides into the space as though it were carved just for him, his head resting gently against your chest.

“Nothing,” you whisper truthfully, your fingers threading into his soft hair as you tilt your head to study him. Wonder flickers within you like the soft flicker of candlelight, igniting gently as you take in the way the dim glow plays in his irises — deep brown kissed with honey, shadows and softness blending as if the universe itself tried to paint the richest portrait inside his gaze. “You’re beautiful,”

The smile that spreads across his face is breathtaking. His lips curve in that boyish, gentle way that squeezes your heart painfully tight, and then he laughs. Your own smile spills out in response, and soon both your laughs mingle, weaving together in the space between you like spun gold, before your lips find each other’s once more.

You woke with the sunlight brushing gently across your skin, the warmth pooling on the sheets.

His breath is steady against the back of your neck, his chest rising and falling. His arm is still draped over your waist, fingers laced together just under your ribs as if even in sleep, he’s afraid to let go. Every time you shift, even slightly, his hold tightens; subconscious, instinctive. As though his body has decided on its own that you belong nowhere but here. You feel the ghost of his lips at the back of your head again, a soft, unthinking kiss pressed into your hair. And then that murmur that drifted from him throughout the night, something wordless and sweet, as though he was dreaming of you and couldn’t help but let it slip into the waking world.

You are exactly where you’re meant to be.

You blink slowly, everything is softened by the white sheets. Warmth surrounds you, not just from the sun filtering through the windows, but from the comforting weight draped over your back. You shift slowly, turning in his embrace until you’re met with the sight that makes your heart swell.

Choi Soobin.

Your fingertips ghost along the curve of his cheek, feather-light, afraid you might wake him if you touched him too boldly. His skin is soft beneath your hand, still asleep. His lashes rest delicately against his cheekbones, his lips parted slightly, breath deep and even.

“Sleepy Soobin,” you whisper, your thumb brushes along the slope of his cheekbone and, instinctively, he leans into your palm, nuzzling against your touch. The simple action sends a tender ache spiraling through your chest. Your mind drifts back, to the way his hands gripped you with both hunger and patience. To the way his lips worshiped every inch of you. To the way he had cradled you afterward, not letting a single shiver escape him unnoticed, whispering soft words against your skin.

Your eyes drink him in, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the tousled strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. You linger there, breathing him in, letting your lips stay against him like a silent thank-you whispered straight from your heart.

“I don’t think,” you murmur softly against his skin, your lips curving in a smile, “I’ve ever been this happy before.” And as if he heard you even in sleep, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

Your phone buzzes. You move quickly, fingers curling around the device as you move yourself out of Soobin’s arms. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool air brushing against your skin. His shirt hangs loosely off your frame, the fabric soft and saturated with the faint scent of him. You tuck a hand into the hem absentmindedly as you answer. “Hello?” Your voice is hushed.

“Oh, hi. I just wanted to check in about your grandmother. She took her meds.” Hana’s voice comes softly from the other end, the caregiver you’d called last minute yesterday when you weren’t sure you’d make it home in time.

Relief unfurls gently in your chest. “Thank you, Hana,” you murmur, a small smile touching your lips. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

There’s a few more exchanged words, small reassurances and thank-yous, before you end the call. The screen dims in your hand, but you don’t move just yet. You glance over your shoulder. He hasn’t stirred, not really, but his brows are slightly furrowed now, as if he noticed the loss of you in his sleep. The sheets dip where you’d been moments ago, and one hand rests, palm open, where your body had once been.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You want to crawl back to him already. But you know you can't.

Setting the phone down, your gaze drifted toward the bedside table. You remembered Soobin opening the drawer last night, tucking away both of your things. You needed your ponytail. You pulled the drawer open.

Your fingers falter for the the first thing you see. You hadn’t meant to intrude. Two large bottles, their labels slightly worn, tucked neatly in the corner of the drawer as if he’d kept them close, yet out of sight.

Sleeping pills.

Your lips press into a thin line as thoughts flicker behind your eyes — how gentle he’d been with you, how steady and warm his gaze had felt, how easily sleep had taken him last night in your arms. And yet… these. Did he take them every day? Your hand brushes over the edge, and finally, you spot your ponytail nestled beside his wristwatch.

You swallow gently, pushing the drawer close.

You hummed softly as you slid the fried eggs onto a white plate, the gentle sizzle fading as you set them down. This place is a wide, unfamiliar kitchen, but somehow your hands had found their routine effortlessly. Turning, you arranged the plate beside the crisp bacon and the golden slices of toasted, buttered bread.

Out of the corner of your eye, the bedroom door creaked open. "Good morning," you called, your voice laced with a smile that turned fully when you saw Soobin, no confusion in his sleepy gaze, no hesitation in his steps. He made a beeline straight to you.

Before you could even set down the last plate, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a soft exhale of relief. His lips found your hairline in a series of slow, affectionate kisses, "You didn’t have to make breakfast, baby. I could’ve called someone."

"I didn’t mind it," you replied, breathless with laughter as you tried halfheartedly to nudge him away. But he only shook his head, clutching you tighter, "Come on," you coaxed gently, tilting your head to meet his soft gaze. "Let’s eat."

At just those simple words, he loosened his hold, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours.

“What is it?” Soobin asks softly, voice in curiosity as he chews his food. His eyes catching the question behind your gaze. “I did tell you… you can ask me anything, remember?”

You nod, your fork slowly tracing circles on the edge of your plate. “Yes…” You swallow, “I don’t mean to pry, I really don’t. I just… I just wanted to ask if you take those pills every day?”

He nods slowly. “I do,” he admits. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping.” Your lips part to speak, but before you can, he sets his fork down and leans in, elbows resting on the table as his hand slides gently over yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “But last night…” A faint smile curls the corner of his lips,“Last night, I didn’t even think about them. I didn’t need them.” His voice drops, “You were here.”

Sitting at that table, sharing breakfast, you felt like you were learning him in layers, like pages of a book gently unfolding for you. You already had your suspicions the moment you first met Soobin. The cut of his clothes, the sleek car he drove; they all whispered of a life far from ordinary. But hearing it from his lips, hearing him confess that he was set to inherit and run an entire empire, sent a quiet shiver up your spine. A chaebol. How had someone like you managed to cross paths, let alone hearts, with someone like him?

He spoke openly, though gently, about the burden he had carried since he was just a teenager. How sleep had long been a stranger to him. How those pills had been his quiet crutch in the endless swirl of expectations, decisions, and responsibilities that clouded his nights. You tried your best to absorb every word. Soobin told you how he had found you captivating from the very first moment he saw you — how, despite that, he never had the courage to approach you.

“All my life,” he murmured, gaze dropping to the untouched food on his plate, “I watched my sister become trapped in a marriage. Watching her lose herself made me believe I shouldn’t chase anyone… or anything. But then, I saw you.”

It was unclear why he trusted you so deeply, why he felt safe enough to share such memories about his sister’s pain and the misplaced guilt he carried on his shoulders. But he did. He let you in. The shadows in his expression melted the moment you leaned in, your lips pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his and your arms curling gently around him. Maybe that was why. Maybe you were his perfect match. You were the one brave enough to ask him out first; unknowing then, but somehow sensing what held him back.

You learned more little things about him that morning too. How he often misplaced his watch because he’d take it off absentmindedly and forget where he’d set it. How he liked his coffee with an extra spoon of sugar and a generous pour of creamer, because despite everything, Soobin had a sweet tooth.

And somehow, every one of these small pieces only made you fall for him more.

“I can’t wait to get back and see you,” his voice comes gently through the phone, smooth and warm like a whisper against your ear. “Just three more days, and I’ll be back. Okay?”.

“Okay,” you breathe, your voice softer than you intend. “Just make sure you’re eating well, alright?” You swallow gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

His laugh drifts back to you, honey-sweet and effortless. You miss him already. “Okay, baby.”

And just like that, the line clicks silent.

You move quietly around your shop, fingers trailing along the shelves, straightening small displays here and there. You smile to yourself, a small, private thing, as memories of the past few days float to the surface. His touch. His laugh. Everything lately had felt… right. Almost effortlessly so.

The soft chime of the doorbell rings out, pulling you back to the present.

“Welcome,” you call, your gaze lifts and locks instantly with a pair of sharp, assessing eyes. A woman stands there, immaculately dressed, her age maybe in her fifties, though the confidence she wears makes her seem ageless somehow.

Her eyes sweep over you unblinking, as though weighing you against some invisible scale. “Are you the woman seeing my son?” A chill skips down your spine.

“Pack your things up,” she says crisply, her gaze drifting coolly over the small, carefully curated space of your shop. Her lips twitch, close enough to make your stomach twist. “Come have lunch with me.”

You blink, thrown off balance, your heartbeat picking up beneath your ribs. This… wasn’t what you’d expected today. “Uh—yes, ma’am,” you say, trying to gather yourself.

Her head tilts, something sharp glinting behind her expression. “Why did you stutter?” The question is too sharp for someone who doesn't know you. Before you can even try to answer, she lifts her hand in a small, dismissive gesture. “Go on. Change your clothes. Make it fast. I don’t like waiting.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap as you lower your gaze, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks. The seat beneath you feels too plush, too stiff all at once, as if you don’t quite belong in it. You’re somewhere deep inside this towering glass building — a restaurant so vast and pristine it feels like even your breath is too loud for the space. You try to inhale quietly, chest tight, as Soobin’s mother sits across from you, commanding the room with a presence that doesn’t falter.

You watched, silent, as she spoke crisply to the waiter. Her tone left no room for correction, no cracks for uncertainty to slip through. She didn’t ask what you’d like. She didn’t ask if salad was to your taste. She simply ordered it for you without sparing you a glance — as though she already knew what you should eat, or perhaps decided it didn’t matter.

The clink of glassware is sharp, and you jump slightly when she clears her throat. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your eyes to meet hers. Her gaze is steady, dark and searching, the sort that makes you feel like you’re being turned inside out with just a look.

“What do you want—”

"Mother," a new voice drifts into the space; light, melodic. You turn instinctively, and there she stands: a woman so strikingly beautiful it’s impossible to mistake the relation. The soft curve of her jaw, the familiar gentle slope of her nose, she carries pieces of Soobin effortlessly in her features.

She moves toward the table with a grace that makes the heavy atmosphere ease, as though her very presence carries warmth where there was only frost before. Soobin’s mother’s stern face softens, her posture loosening subtly for the first time since you sat down and it’s clear this new woman holds sway over her in ways no one else has managed thus far.

The young woman settles beside her mother, her gaze drifting to you with a kindness that wraps around you like a soft blanket. No scrutiny, no sharp edges, it's curiosity. “I’m Soobin’s sister,” she says her name gently, her lips pulling into a smile that reaches her eyes. “You look even more beautiful than what he says.”

The sincerity in her voice disarms you. It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finding a familiar light in a room full of shadows. Warm. Genuine.

“Th-thank you,” you murmur, voice small as your gaze drops shyly to your lap. The elegance she carries so effortlessly makes you acutely aware of every inch of yourself; of your softness, your simplicity. You steal a glance upward as she turns away, leaning toward her mother, her voice soft and fluid as she starts to recount her day.

Their hair, not a strand out of place, styled with a polish that speaks of salons you’ve never stepped foot in. The fine lines of their blouses, their tailored cuts, fabrics that drape as if stitched to their skin. Even their nails is perfectly shaped, coated in shades that gleam soft and subtle, unchipped. Their handbags resting beside them glint of understated luxury, the kind of leather that never creases, the kind of detail you notice only when you’ve never had it.

Your gaze falls to your skirt — the one you had sewn with patient hands from fabric you bargained for at the market’s edge. You’d chosen the material carefully, pieced it together with love, made it yours. But here… it feels smaller somehow. Less. You smooth your palms over your knees.

How long will you have to sit in moments like this? How long will you have to feel the weight of difference settle like a stone in your chest? The gap between their world and yours feels so wide it burns.

You don’t belong here.

You hadn’t even managed to lift your fork, “How old are you?” Soobin’s mother asked.

“Twenty-three,” you murmured, your tongue thick in your mouth. The number sounded too small as soon as it left you.

Her lips tugged downward. “Five years younger than him. Too young.” A pause, heavy. “Education status? What of your family?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m living with my grandmother.”

Her brow arched, unimpressed. “Since when?” — “Since I was a child.”

The air felt thinner now. You could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the trembling tips of your fingers that curled tighter under the table. “Then how would you run a family if you don’t even have one?”

The sting behind your eyes burned fast. You blinked hard, but it did nothing to wash it away. You felt small, smaller than you ever thought you could shrink.

“Mother,” Soobin’s sister snapped, her voice tight with disbelief. You lifted your gaze to her, grateful and ashamed all at once. Her expression was shocked that her mother had gone that far.

But then the next blow landed. “Do you even know there’s a girl who’s supposed to marry him?” Her tone dropped, dripping with disdain as if she wanted to watch you crumble beneath it.

“Mom, stop it. Now.” Soobin’s sister, again. Firmer this time.

Your lips parted to answer — to say something, anything — but all that came out was fragile and thin. “We… we haven’t talked about it.” It was all you could manage. Your voice cracked just enough to make the shame crawl higher up your throat. Your chair scraped against the floor softly as you rose, every inch of your body stiff and burning. You forced a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. “Excuse me… I’ll just take the bathroom.”

Your legs carried you away before the first tear slipped free.

You gripped the sink’s edge so hard your knuckles ached, head bowed as silent sobs racked through your chest. You couldn’t catch your breath. Couldn’t hold it together long enough to even pretend you belonged here. Your reflection in the mirror blurred behind the sheen of tears; eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips trembling. Small. Out of place. A girl trying to fit in.

Of course she was right. You’d always known it, hadn’t you? You were someone born from absence. A child left behind by two people who couldn’t even stay for you, much less for each other. You’d spent so long tucking that truth away, convincing yourself. His mother didn’t have to scream to shatter you.

You wiped at your face uselessly, but the tears kept slipping, warm and bitter down your jaw. You didn’t want to ruin what Soobin had left with his mother, thin and cracked as it might be. You’d seen the strain in his eyes before when he spoke of her. You’d heard the weight when he talked about duty, legacy, responsibility; but you wouldn’t be the reason he chose sides. Maybe everything really had just been a dream. And maybe now…maybe it was time to wake up.

The door creaks open, and you flinch too late to hide the tears streaking your cheeks.

Soobin’s sister.

Her expression crumbles the second she sees you. “Oh, honey.” Her voice is soft, almost breaking, and before you can turn away or gather yourself, she’s already crossing the room. You shake your head, a weak protest caught in your throat, but it falls apart the second her arms wrap around you. You don’t mean to collapse, but you do. Your body folds into hers, trembling, your fingers clutching at the fabric of her coat.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes against your temple, her voice rawer now, as if she can feel even a fraction of what’s tearing through you.

Your chest hurts. You can’t speak. You don’t trust your own voice not to shatter the second you try. So you just stand there, breathing uneven, tears soaking the front of her blouse.

“Don’t cry,” she whispers finally, pulling back, her palms warm against your damp cheeks. Her eyes search yours. Slowly, she slides a handkerchief from her pocket and presses it into your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she lets go. “My mother… she’s always been like this. I won’t tell you not to feel hurt, you should feel hurt. She doesn’t know how to soften her words, even when she should.”

“I came here because I heard she’d come after you the moment Soobin flew out for his trip,” she continues, “And about that woman… or whatever arrangement that was, Soobin never met her. Not even once. That was all our mother’s doing. If you want the truth, it’s best you hear it straight from him, hm?” Your fingers curl tighter around the handkerchief.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice frayed at the edges, the apology slipping out even though you aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for— being here, being too small for this world, for falling for someone you were never supposed to have?

“Don’t be,” she says softly, her lips tugging into a smile. "You’ve done nothing wrong."

She reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “You can go home. I’ll handle her,” she promises. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t come near you again, not until Soobin gets back and sorts all of this out himself.”

Your throat tightens again, “Why?” The word falls out of you in a whisper. “Why are you doing all of this?”

“Soobin deserves to be happy,” she says, there's a glisten in her eyes. “And you… you make him happy.”

You sit still, hands folded tightly in your lap, nails pressing crescents into your skin as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. Through the window’s glass, blurred by your uneven breaths, you see them, Soobin’s sister and her husband.

Choi Beomgyu.

Even from here, even without sound, it’s clear. The way his eyes search hers, soft and intent. The way his hand brushes her cheek, tender and unhurried. And then, his palm drifts lower, resting on the curve of her stomach.

Your breath catches, an involuntary gasp escaping from your lips. You hadn’t noticed it before, maybe because you’d been too wrapped in your own thoughts, but there it is now; the small, rounded swell of her belly beneath her dress.

She’s pregnant.

Your eyes dart away. It sinks in heavier than you expect—the contrast of it. The weight of what you felt in that restaurant still gnawing at your ribs. You swallow hard, blinking fast. You shouldn’t be jealous. Not of them, not of their certainty, not of the way they fit together. You curl your fingers tighter.

Beomgyu slides into the driver’s seat, his eyes flicker to you in the rearview mirror, not invasive. “You okay?” His voice is gentle, low.

You swallow past the knot tightening in your throat. “Yes.”

He doesn’t press. He just nods once, slow, and leans back in his seat. His hands rest on the wheel but he doesn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes shift toward the building. You follow his line of sight and see her— his wife, walking toward the entrance.

Beomgyu stays still, waiting. His jaw flexes slightly, not out of impatience, but out of habit, you can tell. He doesn’t move, not until she disappears inside the building safely, not until the glass doors close behind her and she’s no longer in sight.

Only then does he release a small breath and turn the key in the ignition. The car starts.

You've never seen a love so whole.

You’d finally made peace with it all, to speak to Soobin when he returned. His sister’s promise had held true; his mother hadn’t darkened your doorstep again. For once, the silence felt like safety.

Only one more day. Just one, and he’d be back.

The sharp chime of the door snapped through the quiet. You turned instinctively, forcing a smile onto your lips out of habit.

Standing there was a woman. “Good morning,” you greeted softly, stepping behind the counter, trying to keep your hands steady.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Your stomach flipped, hands instantly cold. What is it this time?

“Yes,” you answered carefully, guarded. “How can I help you?”

She took a step closer, “I’m Aera,” she said smoothly, not a trace of hesitation. “Soon to be Soobin’s fiancée.”

Your breath stuttered. The smile fell clean from your lips. “I’m sorry… what—”

“His mother told me about you.” The words barely registered before the woman dropped to her knees in front of you. The motion was so sudden, so desperate, your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide.

“Please…” her voice cracked as she folded her hands together, her head bowed low in a way that looked almost unnatural for someone like her; pristine, polished, composed. But here she was. Crumbling. “Please tell him to accept the proposal.”

Your chest constricted painfully. “No, no, stand up, you don’t have to,”

But she shook her head sharply, her shoulders trembling. Tears clung to her lashes, heavy and raw. “I’ll let you have everything you want. You can still be with him .I don’t care. I’ll just marry him in name. I’ll stay in a different room. A different house, even. I won’t touch him. Our family… we need his. Please, I’m begging you.” Her voice broke entirely on that last word.

Even she knew. Even she understood what his mother refused to admit; his heart was already in your hands.

You walk to the building, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell of his home. You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.

You run over the speeches you carved into your heart all day, I’m sorry, but we need to break up. I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. But the moment the door opens, it all disintegrates.

He stands there, and for a split second, it’s as if everything stills. His eyes meet yours, rimmed with exhaustion so deep it settles into the lines of his face. “I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. Almost fragile.

And before you can think, before you can remember the careful goodbye you rehearsed a thousand times, he reaches for you.His fingers curl around your arms, and he pulls you into him. Into the chest that has always felt like home.

The door clicks shut behind you.

“Soobin, I—” Your voice barely breaks through the air before it’s swallowed by the heat of him; his lips finding the curve of your neck, hot and hurried, like a man starved. His body crowds yours effortlessly, the breadth of him making you feel small. His hands, large, trembling with restraint digs firmly on your waist.

“I fucking missed your voice,” he breathes against your skin, “I fucking missed you… I couldn’t even sleep.”

Your throat tightens, a lump clawing higher and higher as your heart caves in on itself. Coward. That’s what it feels like. Your heart, shrinking, curling away from what you came here to say. Because how could you speak of endings when he’s here, clinging to you like this? When he holds you like you were his last hope?

“I need you, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers slide to your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one, slower than his breath, slower than the pounding of your pulse against your ribs. His knuckles brush against your skin, “Did you miss me?”

You open your mouth. The truth swells painfully, desperate to tear out. I did. I missed you more than you’ll ever know. But all you manage is a breathless, broken, “I—”

His hot mouth sucks your nipple. “…Yes.”

It’s all a blur — his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name. You don’t remember how the clothes came off, how the sheets tangled beneath your bodies. You only remember the weight of him, the heat of his skin, and the soft drag of his lips along your body that made your breath catch.

The sharp stretch, the slow push of him sinking into you. Tears spill before you even realize they’re falling. It isn’t the pain that makes you cry. It’s the ache in your chest, the way your heart splits in two at the sight of him — Soobin, tired and unraveling, still so gentle. You were too scared to say no. Not because you didn’t want him, but because you did. Too much. You craved to erase the exhaustion from his eyes, even if it was only for one night.

Maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking you were giving something to him, when really, you were trying to steal one last piece of him for yourself.

His brow furrows as he stills inside you, the concern written all over his face. His thumbs swipe at your damp cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, frantic kisses. “Did that hurt? What’s wrong?”

You force a breath through the tightness in your throat, eyes locking on his, “No,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve of his under-eye, tracing the shadows you wish you could take away. You swallow the sob clawing at your chest, and say it. You have to say it. Even if it’s the last time.

“I— I just love you.” His lips part slightly at your confession. His breath stutters, and something raw flickers behind his gaze; wonder, disbelief. His whole body goes still as if those words rooted him to the earth. “I love you, Soobin.”

"I love you. I fucking love you."

Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then warm, featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, “You’ve been asleep so long, I’m starting to miss you.”

You exhale a soft huff, but there’s no real protest in it. Just the lazy stretch of your arm as you roll toward him, pressing your face into the curve of his neck where he smells like him. Your voice comes out muffled. “Let’s stay like this for five more minutes.”

A smile ghosts against your temple. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Okay,”

You finally peeled yourself from the bed, soft sheets still warm with sleep and the weight of him. He trailed after you, tall and shadowing your every move around the kitchen as the morning light spilled in. You couldn’t help it, your fingers found his constantly. On his wrist as he buttered toast, laced with his as you poured coffee, curled around his as you sat across from him at the table. And for the first time, you saw it clearly: the way Soobin’s cheeks flushed pink under the weight of your affection, his gaze flickering down, shy and boyish, every time you touched him like you couldn’t stop.

Now, he stands by the mirror, freshly showered, crisp shirt hugging broad shoulders, hair damp and curling just a little at the edges. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. He wanted you to stay here, in his penthouse. Wanted you here waiting when he came home.

You rise when you see him fumble with his tie, long fingers struggling with the knot. “Let me,” you say softly. Your fingertips brush against his as you take over, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. He watches you, head tilted down, eyes steady and soft, drinking in every precise movement as you fold and tug the silk into place.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He leans in, scattering kisses across your face — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips — each one light and full of that unshakable, boyish smile of his.

You walk him to the elevator, bare feet padding softly on the cool floor. He steps inside, glances back at you, and lifts his hand in a wave; a grin stretching wide, something childlike and unguarded lighting up his whole face.

All while everything was breaking your heart.

You moved quietly through his home. The morning hush wrapped around you like something delicate and suffocating all at once. You folded his clothes with shaking hands, smoothing out every crease, tucking each piece into its rightful place as if order could somehow soften what you were about to break.

His watch. You found it lying carelessly on the counter where he always forgot it. You fixed it gently onto the shelf beside his cufflinks and rings, aligning everything just so, because you knew he liked it neat, even if he never said it out loud. It was small, but you wanted to leave it perfect for him.

The kitchen was next. Your movements felt numb now, mechanical. You prepared everything the way he loved it: coffee beans ground just right, the sugar jar filled, the creamer where it belonged. You wrote it all down on a small scrap of paper; the exact way you made it for him, step by step and pressed the note beside the kettle. Your handwriting blurred through your tears, but you forced yourself to keep writing.

By the time you found a clean sheet of paper and sat at the dining table, your whole body trembled with the weight of it. The pen felt too heavy in your hand. Your tears hit the page before your words did.

You slowly, wrote your goodbye.

"Nana, this is your new room, okay?" Your voice is soft, careful not to crack as you push the door open, guiding her slowly inside. "It’s a little different, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll make sure we’re alright."

You smile, or something close to it, when she nods faintly, her eyes drifting over the unfamiliar space. The pale walls, the narrow window, the worn bed frame. None of it felt like home yet, but it had to be. You’d make it be.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the dresser as she turned to you. "Why did we move so suddenly?"

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "Oh," you answered lightly, "because we had to."

Your chest tightened when her gaze lingered on you a beat longer, as if peeling back layers you didn’t want exposed. And then, almost absently, she asked, "How about your man?"

You froze. The air seemed thinner, sharper. You weren’t even sure she remembered him clearly — just a distant echo of the day Soobin had shown up with that gentle smile, introducing himself with careful politeness.

"I… I broke up with him," you whispered. She didn’t react at first. Just nodded quietly, turning to sit on the edge of her bed. Her small frame curved gently as she smoothed the blanket beneath her hands, her movements slow and methodical.

You took a step back toward the doorway, trying to breathe steady. Trying not to crumble in front of her. But then, just as she rose again to cross the room, her voice drifted back to you. "Love will not fail," she murmured. "If it fails… it’s not love."

It was as if you’d just torn your own heart out with your bare hands.

Love will not fail. If it fails, it’s not love.

It had been days since you moved.

And still, no matter how many boxes you unpacked, no matter how carefully you folded your grandmother’s cardigans into drawers or wiped down every surface, this place didn’t breathe like the home you left behind.

The sky hadn't lightened once since you arrived. It hung heavy and bruised from dawn to dusk, a slate-colored weight pressing down on everything. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw sunlight crack through.

And then, the rain came.

You noticed it first in the shift of the wind. A few drops scattered across the concrete, and then it broke open all at once. Panic seized you as your mind jumped to the laundry. The sheets you’d washed them early this morning and hung them in the front of your lawn, hoping they'd dry before nightfall.

You bolted outside, breath shallow, feet slipping slightly against the wet pavement. Cold droplets clung to your hair, running down the line of your neck, soaking through your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled over the clothesline as you yanked the white sheets down frantically, heart racing as you tried to save what little you had.

And then — Your body stilled. Your hands slackened on the fabric as your gaze caught on a figure standing just past the fence.

For a moment, the rain softened around you, every sound falling away except the ragged beat of your own heart breaking all over again.

Choi Soobin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale under the dim wash of the dashboard lights. His eyes flicked from one worn street sign to the next, cataloguing every turn, every corner, like a man tracing the edges of an old wound. Every so often, he let the car slow to a crawl. Stared a little too long at places that meant nothing to him, but might have meant everything to you.

It’s the town, the one his investigator pointed him to. The small, quiet town where the woman who tore through his world had disappeared into without a trace but with every piece of him still in her hands.

He’d already gone over everything twice. No. Three times. He couldn’t remember anymore. His chest felt tight, like something was sitting on it and daring him to breathe around the weight. He wondered if he should start all over tomorrow. Sweep the streets again. Retrace the steps he didn’t even know you'd taken.

Without meaning to, Soobin’s hands turned the wheel, guiding him down a road he’d circled too many times to count. Muscle memory, maybe. He didn’t know why he kept coming back.

The first drops of rain tapped against the windshield, soft and uncertain, like the sky hadn’t made up its mind yet. He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. He glanced right, thinking to turn back, to call it for the night. But then he saw it.

A figure cutting through the field, darting between rows of white laundry sheets billowing in the wind like ghosts.

He didn’t think. His door was open before he could catch the impulse, the car engine still on behind him as he bolted forward. He didn’t even shut the door. His feet hit the wet grass hard, slipping a little, but he kept running. Fast. Desperate. Like if he blinked, even for a heartbeat, you might vanish.

The way you vanished from his life when he turned his back.

If he’d stayed that day. If he’d ignored the meeting, called in sick, shut the world out, would you still be here now?

He saw you stumble back. Your shoulders tensed, then you turned to escape. And just like that, the breath punched out of his lungs. His heart cracked against his ribs, like thunder rolling too close to the ground. Panic clawed at his throat. His feet wouldn’t move fast enough. So he did the only thing left.

He called your name. Louder than he meant to. He shouted it. Frantic. You didn’t move at first. Just stared at him across the field, rain threading through your hair, clinging to your skin. When you spoke, your voice was sharp.

“Why are you here?” You asked, each word flung like stones across the space between you. Your jaw clenched. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you anymore?”

Your voice cut clean but your hands betrayed you. They shook at your sides, fingers twitching like they weren’t sure whether to reach for him or push him away. The ache in your throat frayed the edge of every word. And Soobin saw it. He saw all of it.

Choi Soobin stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. He's now infront of you, eyes sweeping your face.

The storm isn’t just around him; it’s inside him, bleeding into the tremble of his hands as he reach and clutch your wrists, desperate. Rain seeps through his clothes, slides down his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He just looks at you.

Because you're the only thing keeping him standing.

"Marry me." It’s his last attempt to keep you from walking away. “Marry me, and I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just don’t—” His throat closed up, and for a second, it sounded like he forgot how to breathe. “Don’t walk away again.”

“I said—”

“Don’t lie to me!” The words snapped harder than he wanted, frustration cracking wide open in his chest. His hands curled into fists at his sides, not in anger but in helplessness. “Don’t make me feel crazy. Don’t make me feel stupid. My sister told me everything, Y/N. I know. I know everything.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your shoulders caved, the last of your defenses buckling under the weight of it all.

“I’m not fit for your world,” you choked, voice splintering as tears blurred your vision. Your hands fell limp at your sides, fingers tangled in the thin fabric of the laundry you’d long forgotten.

“I don’t have anything. I hardly even have myself,” you whispered, your face crumpling like it hurt to say the truth out loud. “And you — you deserve the world. You deserve more than someone who can’t even keep her life straight.”

Soobin’s chest hollowed at the sight of you crumbling in front of him. He didn’t care about the rain, or the mud soaking through his shoes, or the ache in his lungs. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. Fall to his knees if he had to. Beg, if that’s what it took. Beg for you. Beg for everything.

“I don’t want the world.” His eyes locked on yours, fierce and aching. “I never wanted any of that. Not once. I just… I just want you.”

His breath shuddered out, shaky, as if saying it hurt and healed him all at once. “I want to live with you. To grow old with you. To have your children. To wake up next to you for the rest of my life.” His words stumbled, his throat thick with the burn of unshed tears, but he didn’t stop.

Before you could slip farther away, Soobin reached for you, his arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you into his chest. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading into your damp hair with a gentleness that almost broke you on the spot. His heartbeat thundered against your cheek.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, voice cracking on the plea. “Please, baby. Not when I finally found you. Not when all I want… is to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He felt you shift in his hold, felt your hands press against his chest like you were about to push him away. His stomach dropped but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

“I love you.” The words came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. Honest in a way that stripped him bare. He felt you still. The tension in your shoulders faltered. Slowly, slowly, you softened against him, all the walls you’d been gripping so tightly started to crumble in his arms.

You stopped pulling away this time.

“I love you,” he breathed again. His lips brushed against your temple, “I’ll fix everything for us. I swear it. You just have to trust me, baby. Please. Just trust me.”

He felt your arms loosen, the fight in them dissolving. Softening, giving your surrender — just as the rain itself began to ease, falling gentler, as though the sky had finally tired too. A breath punched out of his chest, relief so fierce it almost dropped him to his knees. His arms closed tighter around you, cradling you against him like he could tuck you safely inside his ribs, where nothing could ever reach you again.

When would he ever get a moment like this again?

A chance like this? To meet his soulmate. To meet the one person who could read the shadows behind his smile before he even noticed they were there. Who knew him better than he had ever dared to know himself.

What were the odds? If he hadn’t driven down that street that day. If he hadn’t wandered into your little flower shop with its peeling paint and sunlight pooling across wooden counters. If he hadn’t looked up and seen you and not known, right then, that he’d nearly lived his life without finding his missing half. And what were the chances you would’ve seen him?

He shuddered, blinking hard against the burn behind his eyes. His throat tightened as he breathed you in, the faint trace of wildflowers still clinging to your skin like memory. His heart clenched.

The odds of this… of you… out of all the people, all the cities, all the winding chances and missed timings, was one in a million.

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fireinmoonshot · 19 hours ago

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unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all.

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes.

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together.

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower.

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact.

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?”

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?”

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now.

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.”

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ”

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him.

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real.

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #bob reynolds x you #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader

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mydearzero · 2 days ago

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The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter.

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: A multipart series?? From me?? who would've thought. We'll have to see where this goes and whether I'll keep it up lmao. Let me know what you think!

Read it on AO3 Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - Sitters NYC

1.9K words

“You said babysitter, I get a babysitter, problem solved!” Alexei exclaimed. The girl pinched the skin between her eyebrows, taking a few breaths before turning back to Alexei.

“I didn’t mean an actual babysitter! I meant a trained professional! Or at least someone with a background check.”

This had been going on for about 5 minutes, ever since you’d arrived at the penthouse of the rebranded Avenger’s Tower.

“Look, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding here. I can just, you know, leave,” you shrugged to the elevator, slowly picking your bag back up to leave.

“No, no! You don’t leave. Just wait here,” Alexei insisted. You put your bag back on the floor, unsure of what to do next.

You should’ve known as soon as the man contacted you through the Sitters NYC app that it was a bust. Who even has kids that need sitting in a place like this? You could still go back to Mrs. Lowinski, go back to cat-sitting the woman’s 17 Sphynx cats. But the lingering cat smell… Not to mention the fact that naked cats get their skin oils everywhere... No— this was a safe bet.

The duo argued some more before the girl, Lena?, turned to you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’re very nice and that my father offered you good money, but we had a bit of miscommunication about how to solve a problem. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for the generous offer, anyway, Alexei,” you thanked the man with a thin smile, once again picking up your damn bag and heading for the elevator.

Alexei yelled after you again to wait, but it was clear the man wouldn’t get his way, unfortunately for you. You gave him a sad wave and pressed the button for the elevator. As the doors opened, someone was about to step out when you were about to step inside. You did the awkward side-shuffle to get out of each other's way before he laughed and let you go first. You turned to stand facing the doors and caught a last glimpse of the man’s unruly brown hair before they closed.

✶

“Who was that?” Bob asked as the doors closed.

“Your babysitter, if it was up to Alexei. We’re trying to find a reliable person who can stay here with you when we go out on missions, but Alexei took it upon himself to get an actual babysitter. For kids. Or cats. Or birds, apparently,” Yelena sighed.

“You ask for trained professional with background check. We don’t even pass background check!” Alexei shouted. He did have a point, there.

Bob was about to argue he didn’t need a babysitter, but he probably actually did. He couldn’t be left alone with his thoughts for too long, or he’d spiral real fast. Not good.

“I mean, besides the company I really don’t think I need someone with much experience or training,” he shrugged.

“See! Bob agrees. Sitter is sitter,” Alexei grumbled.

“We’ll talk about this over dinner with the rest of the team,” Yelena spoke, and it was the final word.

✶

You walked out of the grocery store enlightened. That’s where you’d seen the father-daughter duo before. The Wheaties box. They were part of the so-called ‘New Avengers’. It had been a few months since The Blackout, but you remembered it well. One second you’d been filling the 17 food bowls in Mrs. Lowinski’s kitchen, the next you were back in your childhood home.

You unlocked the front door and loaded your groceries in the cabinets and fridge. You sighed as you sat down on the couch, ready to call Mrs. Lowinski for your job back and to get back on Sitters NYC for more part-time work you could combine with your online classes.

Manhattan - Full-time 3 Children, aged 4, 6 & 9

Brooklyn - Part-time 4 Dogs

Queens - Au Pair 2 Children, aged 5 & 7 1 Cat

Manhattan - Part-time 3 Birds 1 Dog

Manhattan - Part-time 1 Child, age UNDISCLOSED

Ah, Alexei hadn’t taken the ad down yet. He’d been so nice, too. From what he’d described, you figured it was an older child, possibly a teenager, even, who needed someone to spend some time with every now and then. Not allowed to go out by themselves too much, irregular schedule, possible overnight stays. Nothing you couldn’t handle. Too bad it had been a misunderstanding.

You walked into the kitchen and got ready to prepare dinner for one, again. One day you might put yourself out there. ‘Find someone real nice to take care of you,’ as Mrs. Lowinski had insisted. God, you had really spent too much time with the elderly woman.

✶

“It really doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Ava spoke as she munched on some broccoli.

“It’s not a bad idea, per se, it’s more that there’s factors we need to account for that Alexei overlooked. Like the fact that Bob is essentially a weapon that could be taken advantage of by the wrong person if we let them get too close,” Yelena had a point.

“I’m not that naive…” Bob chimed in, but everybody knew he was easily influenced. Not to mention he couldn’t control The Void, and where The Sentry was, The Void followed. They couldn’t risk it.

“I ran a background check, she’s just a college student. We can try it out with the next mission and see if Bob likes her. That’s the most important part, after all,” John argued. He grabbed the pot of potatoes and loaded a pile onto his plate, never satiated.

“Bob, be like John, eat loads of potatoes. Good for strength,” Alexei’s mouth was full as he spoke. Bob gave him a small smile in acknowledgement, raising his fork which had a potato on it.

“What does Bucky think?” Ava asked. The man rarely joined them for dinner, usually ‘too busy.’

“Haven’t spoken with him about it yet. I’ll call him after dinner to discuss. We need something if we’re gonna be as busy as Valentina is implying we’ll be,” Yelena sighed, stuffing her mouth with chicken.

“Bob, can you pass me the salt?” She asked, mouth full. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

They finished dinner and Bob went to clean up as usual while Yelena called Bucky on speakerphone, still at the dining table.

“I mean if she passed a background check I see no issue with at least trying it out. It’s not like we have many other options. He doesn’t need an actual caretaker. At least she’s somewhat his age, right? Maybe a little younger?” Bucky’s voice boomed from the phone and filled the room. The man was so up to date with technology, yet was still convinced he needed to talk louder if he was on speaker.

“I guess. I’ll have Alexei call her back. But it’s NOT my fault if this all goes wrong!” Yelena made it very clear. She was not about to be blamed if this ended in disaster. Best possible outcome; the girl did fine, blended in and spent time with Bob. Worst possible outcome? Who knows.

✶

”Are you really sure this time?” You asked Alexei over the phone. You’d been down this road with him before.

“Yes, Yelena asked me to call you herself. You come by tonight to meet the team and meet Bob. Will be fun!”

“Alright, I’ll be there by 9,” you confirmed. Who named their child Bob in this day and age?

“See you at 9!” Alexei boasted. The man hung up and you stared at your phone bewildered. He better be right. You better not be going back there for nothing again.

If you wanted to be on time, you’d have to leave soon. You put your shoes back on, grabbed your headphones and bag and ran back out the door. You locked it behind you and sped down the stairs of your building.

You walked to the subway station and put your earbuds in. Luckily the tower was only a few stops away, or this whole ordeal might’ve been more of a nuisance. The lights flickered irregularly as the metrocar shook through the underground. It seemed as though it was having more trouble than usual, but your trip was short, it didn’t matter as long as you got to your destination.

The car shook some more as you got off, but it was no longer of any worry. You ran up the stairs of the station and were once again met directly with the entrance to the tower, the second time today.

You walked back in and pressed the button for the elevator to come down. You sighed and got on, pressing the button for the penthouse and waited for the doors to close. The last thing you saw before they closed was the glass entrance of the tower being shattered. You flinched on instinct, but the elevator was already taking you up and away from the danger. Your heart thrummed in your chest. Was it just an accident, or was something bigger going on?

Your question was soon answered by an announcement over the intercom. Everybody below the top twenty floors had to evacuate the building. Not you, then. Still, you were worried.

The elevator came to a halt at the penthouse, doors sliding open agonizingly slow. You were met with a ruckus of people walking around yelling at each other.

“Babysitter is here!” Alexei yelled as he tugged a red mask over his face.

“Well that’s great timing, I guess,” Yelena spoke as she sheathed a few knives. She turned to look at you.

“Bob is in the kitchen. You just need to keep him company for now while we go deal with whatever is going on on the street. We’ll explain everything when we get back. Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger. If anything happens to him, your funeral.” The instructions (and threat) were clear.

Several people with an assortment of weapons bustled around you as you found your way to the kitchen. You looked around for a child, but there didn’t seem to be one in here. The only person you found was the guy you saw getting off the elevator earlier today, with the comfy outfit and tousled hair. He was seated at the breakfast island, watching as the others got ready for what you assumed would be quite the fight.

“Uh, hi?” It came out as a question unintentionally. He turned to you, your first time catching a good look at his face.

“Oh! Hi, uhm, you must be the, uh, sitter?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You nodded, putting your bag on the counter and looking him over. You looked around again, no child or teen in sight.

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, getting ready for battle?” You mimicked a fighting pose. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s usually best to keep me as far away from those kinds of situations as possible…” He looked away, obviously not proud of the fact.

You sought out eye contact and reached out your hand. He looked at it before looking back to your eyes, tentatively reaching out. You introduced yourself and stretched your hand out further, encouraging him to take it. He was like a skittish kitten.

“I’m Bob,” was all you heard before your vision was delved in black and you returned to a memory from a past life left behind.

CHAPTER 2

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mushyposts · 3 days ago

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OKAY I HAVE A STORY TO TELL.

MY BEST FRIEND FUCKING HATES THIS HANSTER. Or more specifically, she hates ME and this hamster happens to be in the crossfire.

I sent this to her for the first time at LEAST three years ago. I don’t even remember the original context, I was having a phase of sending unrelated images as reaction photos and that last one in the thread got me so bad. I spammed her saying it was important, and then sent the hamster. She got so mad at it that I made it a point to send it whenever I could just because I couldn’t understand WHY she had such a deep hatred for this lil guy who’s just cheeked up!!

Her hatred for this image has led to her having to go on actual, honest to god walks because I’d just send it for NO reason. It’s a sticker on my iPhone, it’s saved to my phone and my laptop in a special folder for easy access, I have it open on a tab at all times. I am always ready, and the rage this mad her feel was unmatched.

Now. Important thing about me. I am VERY good at the long-con. Sort of ridiculously good, actually. I have “hamstered” her three times since the time I got temporarily blocked for it. It’s important to also note that aside from me sending it nonsensically, she has 0 reason to be so knee-jerk aggressive around the hamster. Anyway. Onto the three times I’ve hamstered her in the most BRILLIANT ways.

1- I did not use the hamster for over a year. I had moments I could have, but I didn’t. She even pointed this out!! Saying “I expected hamster ass.” But I did not rise to the bait, for I knew if I waited, the result would be oh so sweet.

I travelled HOURS to meet her, I took a plane, I used a train for the first time, I LABOURED!! And finally the moment was upon us. We met for the first time in person, we hugged, we exchanged thoughtful gifts, we went back to her house so I could force her to watch the hunger games, and then my time to strike came. I said “oh I have an edit to show you!” And I brought up an edit I had made using a capcut template, the “say yes to heaven, say yes to me. I’ve got my eye on you.” And then at the “you”, hamster ass flew across the screen.

The betrayal. The rage. The horror. It was cinematic. It was BEAUTIFUL. It was beyond anything I had ever seen before in my life. I played the long con, and it paid off. “In my own house?? Under my roof??” Yes, Soap. In your home. Under your roof. My hubris is unmatched and you consistently let it go unchecked. This is a saw trap you designed, enjoy the hamster.

2- I had just gotten back into contact with a mutual friend of ours who I hadn’t spoken to in years! It had been around eight months since the amazing first-meet-hamster-ass, and I once again hadn’t used it since then. I saw my opportunity, and I took it.

I sent a photo of the hamster ass to our friend and asked him to use it when he felt the time was right, and I wish I could have seen it when the time was right. Out on the beach, I think, and he goes “hey, look at this!” And shows her the hamster ass. The confusion, the betrayal, the shock. I would give my afterlife to be a fly on a rock observing that interaction. The rage in the message she sent me was beautiful.

At some point it becomes something she brings unto herself. I don’t gain anything from the hamster but her reaction, and yet even though she fully understands this, her rage for the hamster out matches her understanding that if she stopped reacting, I’d stop hamstering.

3- now. This one took prep, and I can’t take all the credit. I got my friends sibling in on this one and we planned it for MANY weeks before. I sent a document with ten hamster asses on it, and they cut each one out, numbering them 1-10, with little witty remarks on the back of them to keep things interesting.

I distracted my friend with our homestuck re-read, such perfect planning, and her sibling hid the hamster asses around their home. Coming to the end of the call while we discussed how wild everything was, and how we always forget the crazy little details, sibling walks in.

“I got some chocolate!” “Oh! Thank you-“ the pause. The silence. THE ERUPTION OF CHAOS AND RAGE. “THERE IS SOMETHING SICK AND WRONG WITH YOU!!” The HORROR!! Shakespeare could only ever HOPE to get to the level of drama and chaos exhibited in that discord call.

Nothing, however, could match when I went, “enjoy the hamsters!” And she goes “… hamsters? Plural?” And realises that yes, indeed, the hamsters are numbered. One to ten. She had number one handed to her, and yet nine more await her, hidden in her own home.

Has she found them all, you ask?? No. No she has not. How do I know for a fact that she hasn’t? Because if she had found number 10, I would know within on second of her realising, because the shock and horror when she finds it will be completely unmatched to any horror film identity reveal. No plot twist will ever compare to how she will react to number ten.

Anyway, that’s the very brief story of cheeked up hamster. I could add some screenshots of her reactions to being hamstered but it’s also late at night and I can’t be bothered. Just wanted to share with the world that sometimes the most fun pranks are the completely harmless ones.

Breaking your friends shit is out, sending them a cheeked up hamster is in.

#mushy rambles #hamsters #I swear she’s like my best friend I love her sm she’s my favourite person ever #but it also means I love torturing her #soap my beloved

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writingwisterias · 2 days ago

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Trust fall

RE4R!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Friends- Lovers, Best friend!Leon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Yearning, Awkward moments, Longing, Soft Sex, Comfort, Nightmares, mating press, unprotected sex, tit sucking, hand jobs, fluff

Summary: Falling in love was inevitable when you avoid it for too long...

Words: 11.1k (I said it was long)

Read on Ao3

Poured my blood,sweat n tears into this LMAO....after a shit week at work here it is thank you @kuntprodukt for listening to my ramblings as finished it off. Dedicated to @shymoob ... also ignore the technology inaccuracy for the time period...

Taglist: @senawashere @danigirls-missions @lxzy-bxby @074calicocat @gut1ess

Day 1

Maybe he was going to be nervous as well? Surely, your anxiety was valid after not seeing him for months. The date on the calendar was circled in red pen. You had only been told it only a few days before now; his text was rather unexpected after a long period of silence. The date was to mark the start of Leon’s vacation, though it was granted as a “recovery” period from whatever mission he had just returned from. He was advised by the higher ups to stay with someone that was trusted. The mental welfare of their pawn suddenly became a concern after reading the reports he presented them with.

However, you were no longer privy to these details, as his reputation grew the less you knew. Whenever it was because he wasn’t allowed to say or he chose to withhold the information from you himself – you didn't know. You could see the more secrets he gained, in the form of the new eyebags he had gained from the sleepless nights. Those once bright blue eyes you had grown to love in your teens now had a mixture of grey, like the storm clouds of his haunted past.

Instead he asked you for a distraction, a few days of normality. That you could grant him, providing him with a detailed plan of fun filled days. At least you hoped he would feel the same about it.

The sound of his car outside alerted you of his presence, the gravel of your drive crunching underneath the wheels of his jeep. It was cute how he stuck to one brand of car, coming up with some excuse of its practical use when deep down it was to replace the one he lost. The same one he saved up all summer to get so he could drive back and forth from Raccoon City to you. The brand now holds a sentimental value to him, you suppose, something that reminded him of what could have been.

You gave one last glance around the room, trying to spy any spec of dust or crumbs that he might see as he entered. It’s not like he hasn’t seen your space a mess before, after all your teenage bedroom was a regular hang out spot instead of his dorm at the orphanage and that was never particularly the cleanest.

His features were sharper than last time you noticed as you opened the door, his eyes widening as the smile reached them despite their narrow, hollow look. Your open arms were a beacon to him, his safe place awaiting for him with a large smile and a warm heart. His arms were strong as they encircled you, biceps squeezing your form slightly as he pulled you closer. From the outside you were sure the hug looked like it was more intimate than it was but with the history you both had, it was just right and the perfect medicine he needed.

“I’m glad you’re back” You whispered to him, pulling away slightly to gaze up at his features. The blond hair is still unkempt and draping over your favorite shade of blue, his eyes gazing down at you. You didn’t miss the shine that they lacked however, now they possessed a matt finish instead portraying someone different from that hopeful 21 year old. He was never going to be like that, that wasn’t him anymore. Maybe that's why loving the new version was just as important to you, to cradle him the same way you did when he failed an exam or when his girlfriend dumped him. He still needed you to be the same. To be something in his life that was a wall he could lean on or a bed he could rest with. A home.

“Me too” Was all he responded, the smile slowly fading into the tight lipped one he sported more often. His hands never left your arms, instead tightening their grip around your bicep. Not enough to hurt or for you to flinch back on – almost like he was testing you were real.

Leon instantly felt the warmth of your space, a comforting hug he had surely missed since being away. The pictures of your childhood shared with him scattered around the apartment in golden frames like he was some angel and important figure in your life to deserve such luxury. “The spare room is all set up for you. You do remember where it was right?” You asked him, now leaning against the kitchen counter as you observed his unsteady steps into your home. His heavy duffel bag was clearly heavy with his baggage as it caused him to lean more on one side, its contents weighing him down in a shade of army green. “Yeah, If I get lost I’ll just scream for you” He teased. “If you do then make sure it’s like the one you did in the haunted maze that one time. I need a good laugh”

“You and me both”

His form retreated down the hall and you got set on making drinks, the coffee machine whirring loudly in a fight to brew the pot. A noise you had grown used to, having to choose between luxuries to upgrade in this economy. You watched the coffee slowly drip out as your mind wandered elsewhere, now finding yourself contemplating if your plans for the week were too much for him. You hadn’t really considered what Leon would have wanted this week to be, whenever it was for him to relax and lounge around or create memories he could think about whilst he was away.

You chose the second option, the fridge decorated in a pretty list with the itinerary of the next few days which was pinned by the gimmick travel magnets Leon gifted you of all the places he’s travelled to. You hoped that by creating a list of activities to do with him you would gain opportunities to refresh the pictures on your walls. To swap out a few of the younger ones of you both with an older more recent version. After all, you didn’t have anyone else to fill them with; Leon still managed to be one of the only people that were a constant in your life despite the past 6 years being the busiest for him. Whenever he knew or not, he had set a pretty high standard for the quality of friendship you were looking for.

Of course the plans could be subjected to change if he really didn’t want to do them. The last thing you wanted to do was add more stress in his life. Which is where the silent deal you had made came in, the one that you created after making sure that giddy teenager that was still inside you knew why it was important this week to handle your feelings. Spending the last few years in silence on your feelings even though the news of his break up 6 years ago was exciting for you. The event then caused you to create plans to ask him out once he settled in his new job.

Maybe in another life it would have worked out that way and you could have both ended up being childhood sweethearts, the cutest couple in the precinct he would work at. Small children running around in a home filled with nothing but love. You would be adorned with a golden ring upon your finger showing off the stable relationship you both created.

Relationships don't work in his world anymore, there were too many risk factors not only with the security he needed up hold but the target that now forever remained on his back with crazed scientists. You knew this after he ranted to you during a drunken confession a few years after Raccoon City; where he was spilling the beans about the kiss with Ada and the complicated emotions he felt after losing her. His job no longer allowed him to have attachments like that, he knew the risks and saw the outcomes of where work mixed with family. He needed to keep you safe, he wouldn't know what would happen to him if he lost you. The thought scares him more than any bio weapon he had faced recently and with his last mission there were a few nightmarish ones.

“That thing sure sounds like it needs a replacement” Leon joked from the doorway. He had shredded his previous clothes, now dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie instead of the jeans and leather jacket. His frame had now visibly relaxed more since he dropped off the duffle bag, it was now hidden away in the spare room he would be staying in. “Maybe Santa will get me one for Christmas,” You replied, smiling at him. His laugh was loud, nodding his head in agreement, “Guess I know what costume to buy next along with a coffee machine. Oh and this is for you”

He threw a small striped bag at you, small tears in the paper where it had clearly been through travel. Stuffed somewhere amongst his luggage. You knew it was a magnet by its familiar weight, pulling the item out to be met with the reds and yellows of the spanish flag. “Another one for your collection” He said whilst he moved from the doorway to the kitchen, leaning up against the counter in a casual manner. “You were in Spain?”

“Only a few days, this was a particularly rough mission…” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look at the thing like even looking at the spelling of the place was a trigger. Ah so this trip was purely business and not pleasure. Instead of proudly displaying it on the front of the fridge, you placed it on the side out of sight. Unless you wanted to get up in the dying coffee machines business. You watched as his features soften when you turned around, the small action solidifying his reasoning for being here. You didn’t pry or question him on what happened, instead you offered silent support. Showing it in smaller actions, like moving a fridge magnet out of his sight.

“You can sit in the living room and choose something to watch, you don’t have to wait with me” You said before hopping up on the counter, sitting with your legs swinging in the air. Consistent soft thuds echoing in the space as your feet softly thudded against the cabinet doors. “I’m good, besides I’m sure watching this coffee machine struggle to make a full pot is more entertaining than the shit that's on TV nowadays” He joked, his biceps contracting as he lifted his frame on the counter. The two of you were close enough that if you swung your legs out you were sure to clash with him.

“You have a funny idea of entertaining” You laughed, poking him with your foot in a poor attempt to irritate him. You could feel his toned muscles in his thighs, despite them squishing slightly as you put pressure on them whilst they were relaxed. He let out a soft grunt as you accidentally pressed against a particularly tender spot, his hand soon rubbing the spot to ease the ache. It was your only sign that there were still a few stubborn bruises lingering on his body.

Now you knew the location he had come from, the news covering the return of the president's daughter whilst praising the lone agent that helped her return home from spain; it didn’t take a genius to figure out where he had just returned from. Plus if you were right on your assumption it made sense that he was still healing not only mentally but physically. Yet since he had arrived you haven't spotted any signs that he was affected by it.

You could tell he had been through hell though from the amount of scrapes that littered his face. Though they were now faded to a light pink but it didn’t help your nerves. It never did. “What’s this then?” He asked, a thud sounding through the kitchen as he hopped off the counter walking towards the fridge. Your cheeks flushed with heat as he removed the numerous magnets that pinned the sticker covered week plan. You watched as he read it over, the piece of paper looking silly in his hands. “I made a plan for the week, things we can do but we don’t have to if you want to just watch movies or play games…” You stumbled, your words spewing out fast creating a blabbled mess.

He turned to you with the paper crinkling in his hands before displaying a large, genuine smile at you. “Thank you, this is thoughtful and I can’t wait. Though I’m not carrying you ass up the hiking trail you have planned in 2 days”

“I can handle it, I picked a beginners route. Just don’t leave me behind now you are all macho man”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t worry”

Once the coffee had finally brewed the two of you moved to the living room, sipping on the beverage over gossip that you had collected since he was away. Stalking facebook together looking at all the people you had once known and how their lives panned out, joking about them in subtle jealousy at their presumed success in their lives.

You both did it for hours in fits of giggles until it led you up to now. Where pizza now sat in your laps, warming up the large blanket you both shared. The grease catching on your shirts as you both attempted to get the slices in your mouths before the toppings fell off. Being with Leon left no room for judgment; not when you had been in every stage of each other's life since high school. Witnessing every crash out, job promotions and of course the nightmares you knew still plagued him. An unspoken rule in your home that he would forget about everything in his life. The rule was created by himself to avoid talking about it.

One of the good things about the night is that Leon’s phone remained in the bedroom, left abandoned on the bedside table for once. It's not like he had anyone to contact anyway, his most frequent texter was besides him laughing at the stupid movies with tomato sauce in the corner of her lips. As the night went on he found himself watching the way your eyes seemed to sparkle in the TV light as well as at the feeling of your toes tucking themselves under his thighs with the pizza boxes now discarded on the coffee table in front of you. Leon craved for you to be closer. To have your weight on his lap like those weight blankets everyone suggested he got. To smell the perfume that lingered in your hair as you over sprayed yourself with the scent in the day.

He craved a normal life with you, a relationship filled with trust, love and honesty. Something he couldn’t give you; instead he settled for the knowledge that you were in the room next to his, smiling at him softly as you both retreated to bed. The promise of good dreams leaving each other's lips in a warm goodnight.

Day 2

It wasn’t a surprise to you that you would find him awake before you, his body clock had never fully fixed itself since the training days he had to endure. Whilst they crafted the most glorious figure you had the pleasure of seeing, it must be annoying to suffer with the linger effects of the early rising. At least it would be for you. However, he didn’t seem to mind not when you heard the poor overworked coffee machine doing its thing as you padded down the corridor. The noise accompanied by the smell of bacon and eggs.

“What if breakfast in bed was one of the treats I wanted to do for you?” You spoke, watching as his frame jolted slightly at the unexpected intrusion. You felt bad watching as he tensed, the spatula he was using to flip the bacon swaying slightly with his movements. “I didn’t mean to scare you sorry”

Leon smiled softly acknowledging your apology as he turned around, watching your form slither into one of the stools that lined the breakfast bar. “It’s fine, I’m not normally this jumpy” He muttered, sleep still lingering in his speech, signifying to you that he wasn’t long up before you. His voice is an octave lower than normal, with a tinge of raspiness to it, the sound caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach as you tried to will the daydreams of waking up next to him away. “Bad sleep?” You asked, resting your head on your palms as you watched him. He shrugged, pouring the coffee into a mug for you, serving it with yet another tight lipped smile. “Don’t think I’ve had a good one in a few years” He muttered.

It hurt that you knew he wasn’t lying, that he was truly plagued by all the wrong doings in his life. Things that you couldn’t even picture coming to life and hunting him down just because he wanted to do right by the world when he was a rookie. You nodded, your words silenced by a sip of the coffee. Sympathy was all you could offer him, there wasn’t much else that you could do for him that didn’t involve breaking the clear wall he had built around himself which you respected. He wanted you to be close but at arms length, your role in comfort more of a distraction for him instead of a therapist. It worked before, after raccoon city he ranted to you about everything that happened but as he grew older he knew that was a mistake now. One he wouldn’t do again, he needed you safe, he couldn’t– wouldn’t lose you.

Watching his body language carefully was a skill that had become critical in recent years. His mood showed through the way he presented himself instead of words now.

“So the aquarium today?” He asked, sliding a plate in front of you eggs and bacon displayed in a smiley face. You chuckled at the silliness of it despite everything he still manages to make you smile so in return your smile beamed at him as you looked up. “Objecting on the first day? You wound me” You joked a gasp following your words for dramatic effect. Your knife slicing through the perfectly cooked breakfast with ease; if there was one thing that leon could make, it was a really good breakfast. “No no! It's just an interesting one, I don’t think I’ve been to one in years” He defended, his body moving around the space of your home comfortably as he cleaned up after himself. “Hey, I thought one cooks and the other clean–” You objected to his activity, quickly eating the meal without choking to help him out. Only to be laughed at, his finger pointing to the clock on the wall “That rule applies to someone that didn’t sleep in and will take a while to get ready”

“I do not!” You called back at him walking out of the room to get ready for the day.

It didn’t take long to get ready even with Leons complaints. Leon insisted that he drove despite your protests and proclaims of his terrible driving. His jeep was comfortable at least, having his hands behind the wheel felt like he was in control for once. Your safety was his current priority whilst you sang your heart out next to him. The tickets were slightly overpriced in his opinion but then it had been a while since he had done an outing like this. “Could have bought my own seahorse with money” he mumbled under his breath as he swiped the card to pay, of course he had to treat you to this. “Maybe we can steal you one instead” You laughed.

Leon struggled to think of a time he had been able to spend with anyone that wasn’t in a life or death situation; either on the field or by a mountain of paperwork in his opinion. He wasn’t arguing though, his pet seahorse could wait if you were going to look at him like that. He followed you like a lost puppy, your face practically glowing with excitement the closer you got.

“Where do you want to start?” You asked him, looking at the information center attempting to memorize all the zones you could explore trying to figure out the route of the day. “Aren’t the rooms filled with the same thing?” He asked you, laughing slightly at your frown as you turned to face him. “Well yeah, but maybe there’s a certain way to view them all better?” You muttered, referring to the many other forms of information, piles of brochures in your hands as you flicked through them. Your head starts to cloud in the thoughts to ensure the day is perfect for him to look back on.

The effort you were giving with just the route was enough to slowly melt his heart. His hand reached out for yours to tug you away from the crowd of families that were walking one way. “Let’s go away from the crowd then we can enjoy the silence together” He prompted, smiling at you softly as he tugged on your arm once again. You looked at the numerous people and then looked back at him. Your frown slowly turned into a grin again, nodding as you began to lead him. Your hand still sat snugly in his.

There were only so many fish that Leon could honestly look at before he got bored and they all started to look the same. Maybe it was the fact he was outside trying to fit in with normal life again after so many years of living in a repeated bubble of work and you. He was trying to think of the right things to say, normal conversation topics despite having a plethora of conversation topics with you. He dissociated even though he attempted to read what you were looking at, his face offering you a fake toothy grin as you pointed at your favourite fish in the tank.

You were so excited, buzzing with this energy that made you feel easy to be around. Yet, he could feel the lingering effect of the nightmare he faced, his eyes scanning for every exit in the room you would enter. Trying to think of the perfect path to get you out safely.

“Hey, are you good?” You asked him finally after noticing his distracted state. Your hand landing on his bicep with a comforting squeeze and an attempt not to gawk at the firmness of it. Leon looked down at you, seeing how your face was adorned with the pity smile he's been accustomed to for years now. A frequent one that you displayed. “I’m good” He muttered, nodding his head in a bobbing motion as if that helped his case. You could see it, the truth, the hidden sadness he attempted to hide behind words displayed clear as day in the blues of his eyes. Rather than ask him to bring up what’s distracting him in such a public place you offered to change the topic. Your hand once again in his as you began to lead him away towards the next room. “I think you’ll like the next room. It’s always my favorite”

Manta rays swirled around the room in calming laps, small fish weaving in between them. The blue of the water fills the room with a calming tone. You both stood next to each other in silence, watching the fish swirl around in patterns, your hands close to touching. Close enough that if you twitched a finger it would brush against his. You admired his features in the blue light. The one harsher features now softened as the silence calmed the two of you, his eyes bright with wonder and amazement as he watched the soft swirls of the bubbles as the fish danced. For a second he looked like the hopeful kid again, dreaming of the future as he still had hope and wonder for it. “Do you like it?” You asked him. Leon smiled, a softer one than he normally adorned “I can see why it’s your favourite, it’s so pretty in here”

The silence that surrounded the two of you was comfortable, enough for you to lean against his arm. Leon’s fingers twitched finding yours before they wrapped around your hands in a silent confirmation that you were there.

It wasn’t until he saw the crowd filtering in through the reflection of the glass that he began to grow nervous again. The exits are no longer visible or easily accessible should things go wrong. You felt as his body jolted, his hand tightening around yours as the excited screams of children filled the room. Their hands pounding and swiping against the glass as they looked at the fish. His eyes screwed shut, his breathing slowly becoming uneven as he tried to focus on anything but the noise. The thudding sounded too familiar to the undead banging throughout the station.

It only seemed to grow louder the longer you stayed. With his eyes screwed shut he didn’t notice your face appearing in front of him, couldn’t acknowledge concern that littered all over it. Leon’s thoughts spiraled, self pity filling him quickly as he grew aware that he was fucking up again; ruining the day for you just because he could handle the noise of a few children. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t handle the crowd of people that began to surround you both. Leon’s hand was tightly holding onto yours, the grip almost crushing as you tried to calm him down.

You called his name, he heard it in the distance, mellowed out like you were in some dystopian world. Your heart broke as you felt him flinch, his eyes shooting open in a mad panic as you placed your earphones in his ears. The music instantly filters out the other sounds allowing him to focus on slowing his breathing again. You guided his hand to your chest, breathing deeply and then holding an exhale smiling slightly as you watched his chest begin to expand in the same manner. Your smile was comforting to him as he finally looked at you.

Leon didn’t argue when you walked him out the door, his hand gripping yours tightly like a lifeline. You could feel him squeeze it harder as his palms grew sweaty causing his grip to slip as you walked faster. The sun beamed on his skin as you both finally made it outside, bypassing the numerous knick knacks in the gift shop you had requested to view earlier. You didn’t care not when he wasn’t okay, experiencing a panic attack despite his claims that he doesn’t have them.

You watched as he took out the headphones, passing them back to you with guilt lacing his eyes. “I’m sorry” He whispered, his eyebrows pinched displaying his emotions for once to you. He hated how his shadow loomed over you, keeping you hidden from the sunlight – preventing you from growing into the perfect person he knew you would be without him. “Don’t be”

You said it like a fact, like it was easy to say. There wasn’t anger in your features, there wasn’t any negativity crashing against him in an angry wave like he’s faced recently. You held no expectation from him. You didn’t want him to be anything other than himself. Even if that meant he came with the burdens he carried with him. “You were enjoying your time but the kids– they sounded like–” he stuttered whilst his hands clenched at his sides, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down in shame. “Leon, you don’t have to explain with me. It’s fine. There will be plenty of other times to steal your seahorse” You joked, smiling at the chuckle he gave off. His shoulders no longer shake because of his fears but instead waves of laughter.

“Come on, you can drive the death trap. I need the rest anyway for our hike tomorrow” You laughed, chucking the keys from your back at him. “It’s not a death trap” He sighed as he opened the door for you, smiling at the sound of laughter. “It is when you are driving”

Day 3

Leon watched in amusement as your face slowly formed into horror as you looked at the size of the mountain you had planned to scale. The peak was barely visible even as you craned your neck at an awkward angle to see it from under the windshield. It was hard for him to not look over you as you wore the most basic yet cutest outfit to climb in, though to ignore his request at changing your footwear. Offering him a complaint about how he doesn’t trust the strength of your ankles. “Why did I pick this one?” You sighed as you both got out of the car. Despite the ending of yesterday Leon was filled with hope that today would be better.

His sleep was still plagued with nightmares. The echoed sound of footsteps woke him up in a fright, the duvet half spilling off the side of the bed as he scrambled out of it to scan for danger. He was however met with a sleepy version of you stumbling to the bathroom clumsily and half asleep. He didn’t fall asleep after that, instead laying in bed listening for the soft close of your door and the traffic outside.

“You picked it not me, I had no say. Not even in the shoe choice apparently” He laughed, pulling gently on your ponytail as he walked past you. Stepping onto the threshold of the nature reserve. “Yeah well these shoes have never failed me before” You sighed looking down at the trainers you decided to wear. This was definitely the better choice of activity for him, you watched him stroll next to you relaxed. It was cute that he made sure to match your pace, clearly having enough stamina to be able to run up the hill whilst you took it easy. There was no urgency to rush this, no one was chasing him up this hill. No one was screaming his name in fear as he turned his back. It was just you and him.

He made sure you both took regular breaks, his chest heaving slightly as the heat of the sun bore down on the both of you. His hoodie was stripped a while ago now, displaying his biceps whilst the clothing item is now hanging from the side of his bag. “I think we are just over half way” He spoke, glancing at the distance you travelled and how far you had left to go. It was an attempt to comfort you, a poor one at that. “Great. Are you still stuck on the promise of not carrying me up the hill?” You asked laying back against the rock you were perched on. His laugh caused you to smile and look at him from where he was leant against the tree. “Maybe on the way down”

You slid off your backpack, letting it land next to you on the ground with a thud. “What are you doing?” Leon asked as you stood up, stretching out your legs briefly before turning to him. “It’s a great spot for some few photos” You admitted. Your hands already tugged the backpack off his shoulders and dumped it next to yours. Leon watched as you propped the phone up against a tree, a timer set and beeping as you ran back towards him. “Quick come here and pose” You instructed, wrapping an arm around his waist holding him close with a large smile plastered on your face.

Leon attempted one of his own, the action not really feeling natural to him at first. Until you started to take more, running back and forth with less complaints than you had previously been doing up the trail. The infamous rabbit ears came out to play, the laughter you both shared was sure to be heard from anywhere. However, at this moment it was just the two of you.

“Here hop on” Leon said as you set up the camera for one last photo. You turned to him hunched over, bracing himself for the impact of you on his back. You smiled widely at him, eyes full of excitement as you ran and jumped on. He gasped as he stumbled, his own belly laugh spilling out as caught himself. The photo was his favourite, you tell as he instantly begged you to send it to him despite leaving his phone at home still. It had never left its spot on the bedside table. “Come on, the next photoshoot location is at the top” He teased, sliding the backpack on his shoulders one more. He chuckled at your unenthusiastic groan, your feet scraping along the ground as you walked back to your bag.

You smiled to yourself as Leon helped situated the pack properly on your back. Ensuring it was the right height and tightness to avoid any aches later on. His hands brushed against your sides causing you to shiver, your face flushed as you looked forward to being met with his chest previously unaware of how close you actually were to each other. “Uh– all good?” You croaked out, chuckling nervously as you watched his eyes roam your figure once more to ensure you were all good. He didn't do this back at the start, in fact he had sighed and complained as you spent a while adjusting the pack. Even going as far as to make a comment about you being a nagging mother when you pestered him about his. “Looks good to me yeah” he spoke quietly, smiling softly with a small pink tinge on his cheeks. Leon coughed once, stepping back on his heels before spinning dramatically to continue forward.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I should have been more considerate of the crowds” you spoke after a while, the top was closer now, your words breaking the comfortable silence you were both in. Leon didn't respond at first, his gaze landing on the scenery over the edge of the trail, following the vast shades of green as they plagued the valley. He was unsure on how to answer. It was touching that you were of such a pure heart to feel the need to apologize over something that wasn't your fault. He had every chance to change the activity, to offer something else as his first day diving into the real world again. “You don't have to be sorry,” he said, turning to look at you. He watched your feature twist into uncertainty, your mind clearly in a battle with yourself and guilt over the panic attack he experienced.

“You've been through a lot with no real break, I should have thought about that. You just got back from that mission – warned by the government to take it easy. I ignored it in favor of a few memories”

“Thinking about the manta rays and the silence yesterday comforted me last night” Leon stated bluntly. He wasn't lying, when laying awake in an attempt to fall back asleep he found himself thinking about the blue that surrounded them, the small moment of calmness he experienced as he watched the swirls of everything– as he watched you. He can still picture the cute smile you wore as you stared in wonder at all of it as you looked at the beauty in everything. The same way you looked at him in the carpark and when you said goodnight later on in the evening. You still had hope and wonder in the world, you weren't plagued by the horrors he has seen, by the corruption he's witnessed destroy an entire city. It was a reminder why he endured everything, why he kept going for you– it was always for you.

“What do you mean?” You asked him, your shoes scuffing on the dirt beneath them as you paused watching his frame walk away until he noticed you stopped. “The nightmares are worse than before– because of my last mission but I thought of yesterday last night– it helped”

“Nightmares? You can wake me Leon, I don't mind…I can sit with you or something”

“I know but even I know you need your beauty sleep” he laughed. You rolled your eyes scoffing slightly at his comment. “Whatever” you whispered, shoving him slightly as you walked past. Not that it did anything but move his arm slightly, the mountain of muscle he had sculpted around his heart was a hard wall to defeat. “I’ll race you to the top” he teases, rushing past you in a light job. His blond hair bouncing with his movement, the smile that graced his features growing wider by the second. “Oh yeah because that's a fair challenge” you sighed as you chased after him. Not a care in the world as you both passed the public who began their descent. Your later start to the hike meant that as you reached the top you would be blessed with the setting sun, the hues of oranges and reds decorating the sky like a painting.

It was a beautiful sight to behold as you finally breached the last climb. The clouds surround you in small wisps of white, not quite thick enough to prevent you from seeing the woodlands and valley. Leon smiled at you, a large toothy grin that he would have presented you with years ago. He finally felt free, like he was on top of everything by his own choice. Not told to scale a mountain to save a girl, there was no Bio weapon for him to fight at the top. It was just you and him. “No need to look so smug” you groaned when you finally reached the top, your lungs burning as you forced air into them. Leon snickered at your comment, his arms outstretched on top of his head as he caught his breath. You watched as his chest expanded with the movement, practically waving it in your face again causing your cheeks to flush and look away.

You slumped on a rock next to him, leaning your head against his knee as you stared out over the clouds. His hand landed on your head, playing with the soft strands of your hair slightly. “That can’t be comfy,” Leon teased as he moved your head away slightly to sit down. Once you were both shoulder to shoulder – the awkwardness you once shared about his proximity now faded, he allowed your head to rest against his shoulder. Silence enveloped you once more but the lingering thoughts and unspoken words suffocated the two of you. Unable to navigate the landmines of your feelings that were beginning to pop up.

You never really spent much time together anymore, his schedule always too busy for you. Your feelings were taken with him whenever he left you, yet everytime without fail he brought them back. It always felt like they grew when he did come home. That seeing his hardened features change every time he stood behind your door reminded you for how long you wanted it – waited for the chance to speak about it. Maybe in another universe he would never have slurred those drunken ideals about his relationship, never spilled the secrets of his brain that left you broken. You hope for a future with him briefly snuffed out.

“What do you think life has in store for us?” You asked him, looking up at his face from where you were still resting on his shoulder. Leon again couldn’t answer you at first, his own desires in life either forgotten or abandoned over his choices no longer feeling like his own. This week was the first in 6 years that he was actually able to decide who to go to, where to hang out. Even if it was just as simple as this. Staring at the setting sun with his favourite person. “I’m not sure. Something good I hope” He replied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders tugged you closer to him. Shielding you from the cold that crept in the shadows as the sun disappeared over the horizon.

“Do you think we will always be a part of each other's future?” You mumbled. “Always”

You had half a brain to not ask in what way. To not admit the feelings you have been craving to admit. You didn’t want to ruin the day with the inevitable rejection he would give. Instead you stood up holding your hand out to him to offer what strength you have to pull him up – like you always did. “Did you bring a hoodie?” Leon asked as he took off his pack to put his own on. “No I didn’t think it would be this cold” You admitted, jumping on the spot slightly to warm up your joints. “Here”

His hoodie laid outstretched to you in his grip with a reassuring smile on his features. “Won’t you get a cold?” You asked him, sliding the fabric over your frame. It was an effort to not inhale the lingering scent of him. “The cold doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not after the last mission. I lost my favorite leather jacket right at the start” He mourned playfully. The two of you walked next to each other once more, your hands occasionally brushing against his. “The brown leather one? With the fur”

“That’s the one”

You sighed dramatically, pretending you weep over its loss with a smile. “That was the best one you owned,” You said. Leon nodded, chuckling at your reaction. “Well then I guess I gotta go shopping again. Good job I have my stylist here” He joked, nudging your shoulder. “It's a good job that we have a shopping day tomorrow”

The car ride back was silent, the two of you too worn out to create any kind of conversation. His rock Cd’s filtered through the car lulling you to sleep briefly. Leon occasionally glanced at your form from where it was pressed against the window, your nose buried in the collar of his hoodie. You looked so soft – so tempting to claim and take for himself. His one good thing in this world.

Day 4

He was surprised to find that you were awake before him, the muffled yells of frustration catching his attention. Instead as the daylight cracked through the curtains he found no real rush to go and see what was happening, trusting that you were okay. Assuming that if something was really wrong you would have come and woken him up. Leon chose to take a brief moment to just lay there, listening to you fight with what he presumed was the Coffee machine and the low hum of the music you were playing. For the first time in four days he reached for his phone, ignoring the emails he had gotten from the reports he presented them with. Ignoring the texts from the few– one– coworker that cared about him.

Leon was going to shop for a coffee machine, have it delivered by the end of the week for you so you wouldn’t have to fight with this one anymore. He knew you would argue if he asked you about it so he was going to do it on his own accord, getting ready to open the browser. He didn’t get that far though, not when your spam of messages caught his attention. It was all the photos you had taken yesterday. Leon smiled at the sight of the joy on your faces, smiling like you were both teenagers again. His favourite by far was the impromptu one with you on his back, your hair whipping around in a blur looking up at him with a smile whilst his beamed back. Neither of you were looking at the camera, you were only looking at each other. The coffee machine shopping was long forgotten about as he set the picture as his home and lockscreen before throwing the covers off to find you.

“Morning” You chimed to him, a smile plastered on your face already as he walked through the door. The warmth that radiated off you was always amazing to him. “Morning” He grumbled back, sliding into the breakfast bar like you did with him a few days ago. Unlike you though Leon didn’t wear the cute pink apron or have flour on every surface. “What on earth–” he questioned as he looked at the white footprints that started to blend together as you continued to move around the kitchen. “I tried to make pancake batter but the flour bag was stubborn, so it went everywhere” You snickered looking down at the mess you had made everywhere. “Seems I’m not as good at making breakfast as you are”

Leon laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his head tilted back slightly. His own actions shocked him, it had been years since he laughed like this. “Well at least we both agree on something” He teased, looking down at the plate you slid across to him. Heart shaped pancakes topped with some chocolate chips and strawberry sauce. It was just so effortless for you. “Cute”

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from him at the sight of the pancakes, hoping for anything but a negative one but his one word answer still made you giggle. The heat doing an olympic sprint to your face again as you watched him groan at the flavour, devouring them like you had starved him for the past few days. “I feel like the heart made me feel all the extra love” He admitted, looking up at you with his goofy smile. It was refreshing to see him relaxed now; even if it took you 4 days to reach this point. “If you count the mess I made and the screaming at the coffee machine for it to do its job then sure” You laughed, your body relaxing now he seemed to enjoy the food and the company.

The idle chatter that filled the rest of the morning was perfect, making you both feel like there wasn’t anything wrong. No hidden feelings, no hidden secrets about the world's corruption – no it was just you and him. In the small apartment that felt like home.

Leon sat on the bed once more, looking down at the small device in his hands going over the emails he had ignored. Replying to Hunnigan’s text chain of concern with a thumbs up emoji to at least let her know he was still alive. He knew there would be questions of where he ended up and how he chose to spend his time off. Your safety was too important for them to know you exist, their curiosity would put you in danger, even more so that the heartbroken and scared 21 year old self told you the events of that night.

A knock at his door drew his attention away from his phone, he looked up to find you in the cutest dress, one of his older jackets draped over your frame. You were his perfect girl, proudly standing in front of him like a cute angel– a sweet for him to take. Yet, he didn't; instead he smiled and nodded at your pleas for him to hurry up, a light blush coating his cheeks as you checked him over in an attempt to be subtle, forgetting how perspective he was now.

All Leon needed to do was reach out and grab your hand for you both to look like the perfect couple. Your arm brushed against his often, your proximity only growing closer as you both entered the busy mall. “You good?” You asked him quietly, your eyes shining with concern as you glanced at him. At first he was confused as to why you were even asking him until he looked up and remembered the crowds. The chatter of salesmen trying to get them to come over, the families running around trying to get every toy store was almost too much for him. Then you held his hand, gripped it with a gentle squeeze like it was natural for you to do so. Leon didn’t let go– not when you dragged him gently to follow you, guiding him through the crowds to the stores you wanted. Just like he would guide you through them if it turned bad.

But it wouldn’t go bad, this was just a normal day and you were just being kind. He let you guide him into a small jewellery store, watching as you looked over the glass cages pointing at a few of the smaller pieces to try on. You presented him with your wrist, a simple silver bracelet decorated in small vines balanced around it. He helped you put it on, his rough fingertips from all the fighting brushing against your soft skin. If he pressed slightly harder he would feel your pulse, part of him wanted to know if it was going as quickly as his. If you were as nervous as he was as he fumbled with the tiny clasp. He was hyper aware of your attention, your soft delicate smile as you looked at him.

He found his thoughts drifting to wonder what the rest of your skin would feel like under his touch. If your breath would falter when his lips grazed it in soft kisses. He yearned to see you, all of you – laid bare for him to admire and take. To be selfish to the world and keep you as the treasure you are.

Leon’s eyes softened as you admired the silver bangle, watching it as it glinted in the bright lights of the store. Something so simple pleased you, just like every magnet he gave you or the small amount of time you both got to spend together.

“You guys are such a cute couple”

The comment made him freeze, his hands nervously clenching at his sides as his eyes displayed his panic. Was he being that obvious? Could you see his feelings? Instead you ignored her comment, offering the salesman a smile and an awkward chuckle. He felt himself dissociate as he watched you buy the bracelet, the item still wrapped around your wrist. He couldn’t help the yearning pull he felt towards you, the way his hand itched to hold yours again, to feel the weight and warmth of it like it belonged there.

You grinned at him, holding your hand out for him to take once more as you left as if you knew his nerves disappeared when you were close.

“Do you have a store you want to go to?” You asked him as you both sat down a few hours later. Pools of shopping bags littered the area underneath your feet as you both waited for the burger you just ordered to arrive. Leon’s head was turned, looking out the window at all the people passing by before it turned again to look at all the people in the restaurant. Your soft smile made his heart falter again when he finally looked at you. “No– I’m all good,” He stuttered nervously. Leon could feel your knee against his, confused as to why he was suddenly hyper aware of your touch.

“Are you sure? I feel like we have only looked at the stuff I wanted to” You spoke again, nudging his knee again as his attention drifted away. Leon smiled softly, nodding with his hair falling over his eyes briefly. “I’m sure, I have everything I need”

Your eyes scanned over him, peering into the cracks that were slowly revealing themselves whenever he knew it or not. “Okay well once we have eaten we can leave, I know you wanted to watch that movie” You said. Leon hummed in agreement, already eyeing up the food that was now being placed in front of you both, trying to desperately think about anything else that wasn’t you.

Day 5

It seems to be a pattern now that he has one day free from nightmares and one that will plague him. Leave him defensive against the visions and blur of all the things that have happened to him. Ada, The station, Ashley, Krasuer, Luis…all plaguing the concerns of his dreams as a shout of his name – a taunting reminder that despite all the effort he put to make sure people are safe he failed. Time and time again. Except with you.

Tonight, he watched them get you; take you away from him as punishment for spilling his secrets. The ones he swore to never tell. He watched them hurt you and Sherry, the only two people he still had a promise to keep safe, one that surpassed his own duties. He heard your screams, your yells for him to come and help you. The corridor he ran down was familiar, the marble flooring splashing with blood as the thunder crackled around you both. He had been here before you hadn’t. It felt like the corridor kept getting longer, his feet not fast enough to help you. Your name was a war cry from his lips, his throat hoarse and dry the more he screamed it. He pleaded with whatever curel god had bestowed this upon him to stop. Your cries were devastating, pleading and begging for him to get there faster – not saying anything else except his name.

You had heard his yell, the harshness and fear of it causing you to jolt out of sleep. You didn’t even bother to wait to see if it stopped, not with how raw and painful it was. Instead you sprinted, the door crashing against the wall loudly probably not helping whatever nightmare he was stuck in. You found him sitting up shaking with his head in his hands. Leon flinched at the sound of your footsteps, flinched again as the thunder crashed throughout the room. “Leon?” You spoke firmly once you hit the edge of the bed.

It broke you to see his curled form, the shoulders that heaved with every sob. Your hand landed on his arm, soothing a path to his shoulder as you began to bring him into a hug. It didn’t matter you could feel his shirt damp with sweat or his tears falling onto your own as he crushed you. “Are you okay?” he whimpered, his red rimmed eyes looking you over scanning you for the blood he saw in his dreams. For the bites that littered your skin, the slashes from numerous other horrid creatures he experienced. “I’m okay”

You smiled softly at him, holding him gently against you as his breathing evened out. He was meant to protect you, meant to keep you safe – even in his dreams he failed.

“Leon look, I’m fine” You said, cupping his face gently to lift his head. Your smile was cute and touching, a breath of fresh air for him. He nodded, unable to find the words to say as his grip remained tight. In perhaps a poor lapse of judgment you leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you in years. It felt right and natural the way his lips crashed against yours – whilst they remained unmoving at first you felt his grip tighten on you. Holding you impossibly closer to him. Leon didn’t let you pull away once he was out of his trance, his brain working quickly to make up for the lack of reaction in a hungry and messy kiss.

His actions spoke louder than words as he softened, whimpered at the taste of you as he gained access inside. His trust was being placed in you as you crawled into his lap; your fingers entwining in the soft strands of hair that fell on the nap of his neck. It was hard not to notice the growing bulge that was between the two of you as it began to throb and twitch beneath you. Leon’s hands fell to your hips gripping them tightly as you subconsciously began to rock against him. He damn near purred at the petting, at the long strokes you gave him lovingly like he was a feral cat.

Perhaps he was this untamable creature that lived through his own desire to live during missions – was now purring in the lap of his long lost owner. The one that has always had his heart. The woman in red that seemed to be a recurring character in his life now forgotten about as his tongue swirled with yours in a desperate fight of dominance. To feel this, to feel you grinding against him like no tomorrow he would happily submit as long as you never stopped. The pleasure causing his dream to fade away, forgotten about as you made your presence known to him.

He didn't think that all this was a distraction for him to get lulled back to sleep. Maybe you weren’t as hungry for him as he was for you, maybe you were crossing a line that you didn’t know about. His attachment and claim only grew stronger as he kissed down your neck, biting the flesh softly then licking the marks to soothe the pain he caused. “Leon–” You whimpered, your head thrown back allowing him more skin to taste– to explore.

He laid you down beneath him, his erections pointed prominently at you as he kissed your lips again. The mixed saliva becomes an irresistible gloss coating your lips. Your eyes were wild as they looked up at him holding a different story to the smile your lips presented him with. “What are we doing here?” He whispered, his leg now inbetween yours. He could feel the heat of your cunt against the thin fabric of his sweats. “Whatever you want” You responded, leaving the balls in his court. After all you would have caved years ago all to feel the burn of his love as he thrusts inside you. “I want you–”

Fuck – your grin was tempting, he could feel all his restraint leave as your hips ground on his thigh. Breathless whimpers turning into deep moans as pleasure coursed through you, as you used him for your own pleasure. The sight was beautiful, in some weird poetic way it made him feel useful in a way that wasn’t for destruction or to fix other people's mistakes. His will for control slipping if you were going to use him like this, beg for a release only he could give you. So he clenched his thigh, the hard muscle adding pressure to the movements, your face however contorting in something that looked like frustration despite the pressure that was slowly building with the coil inside you tightening.

“What's wrong Angel?” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The warmth of it causes goosebumps to rise along your skin. “Let me help you”

“Too many clothes– Leon I can’t– I want”

He silenced you with a kiss, biting the lip softly whilst his hands fiddled with the hemline of your top; only breaking the kiss as he removed the fabric. He was thankful for the nightmare at this point, he didn’t have to fiddle with the clasp of a bra since you don’t sleep with one. Your tits now laid bare for him to play and worship. His tongue circled the bud tightly, flicking it every so often whilst he smiled at the hitch of your breath. The low stimulation was driving you insane, your fingers lacing in the blonde strands tugging him close to you, practically feeding your breast to his eager and awaiting mouth.

Leon greedily sucked and licked against your tits, playing with the other one in soft gentle squeezes whilst smirking at the way you heaved them further into him. Your hips continued their grind, your cunt begging for attention as you dry humped his leg like a horny dog. His cock now painfully hard as he thought about your waiting warmth, thoughts running over the idea of finally sinking himself in you. You whined as he pulled away, the stimulation fading fast as he retreated on his haunches. “How did I deserve you?” He praised, his eyes racking over your form, his hands once again hesitant to touch your skin as the fear and guilt of his past crept in. Unable to let him go for just a second to allow him to take a good thing, to have something he sorely needed. To have you in the way he needed. A partner. A home.

As his person.

“Because you are good and you do good” You spoke softly, holding his hand gently as you looked up at him. “I don’t-”

“You do”

In his hesitation you took over, your fingers dancing along the blond happy trail that disappeared underneath the hem of his sweats. His cock already leaking large amounts of pre cum eagerly for you to play with. You watched his cock spring out of his boxers and sweats as you exposed it in one go, the tip already blushing under your gaze. Your fingers traced his balls, following the puffy vein that ran along the underside of him before curving to the mushroomed tip. Even his cock was pretty.

Leon’s gaze fell on the bracelet you bought yesterday as it bounced along your wrist. The slow pump of his cock growing faster as his fluids loosened your movements. His body swayed with the coursing pleasure, his hands falling to your shoulders to steady himself against your fast pumps. His whines were the perfect tune, breathless and deep against the shell of your ear as he leaned over, struggling against your on-slaught of pleasure. You watched as he began to spill more pre-cum over your hands, the translucent substance looking pretty against your skin. He deserved this, all the pleasure you were willingly giving him. “Fuck- angel I’m too close…stop – please” He begged, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Leon pushed you back, making quick work to display your cunt to him in all its glistening glory. It was tempting to taste, to devour like his last meal but perhaps another time. He groaned as he felt your arousal. The slick coating his fingers as he explored your folds, briefly swirling his thumb against your puffy clit that was begging for attention. He worked his way around your body, made sure to learn every sound that left your lips and how to make them again. Leon sunk himself inside you, the stretch of his girth painful for a second before you got distracted by him latching on your tits again.

His finger tweaked the other nipple as he began to thrust, sucking against your breast greedily once more. The thunder was forgotten about as it continued to crash throughout the night, as was the rest of the nightmare as he lost himself in you. Holding onto the task of giving you pleasure in a desperate attempt to ground himself. You moaned at every drag of his cock, feeling him pull out to the tip before slamming back inside. The raw feeling of your bodies connecting caused you to pull him close.

Leons hand lifted your leg above his hip, allowing him to grind deeper inside you. His balls tightened as his speed increased, mind filled with nothing but cumming inside you. To let you feel his love as deep as he could get it. You tried to tug his head back to your breast as he moved away but he rejected the offer and he now placed his hands on the back of your thighs as he pressed them down into you. You gasped at his depth, as the brush of his cock head against your cervix. His heavy balls slapped against your ass as he worked harder for your orgasm.

He watched your silent cry, he felt your walls clench around him, the gush of your orgasm as it leaked out. With a fiery desire he finally drove himself to a finish, his cock filling your gushing cunt with him, his love in the most physical form he could.

Your legs ached as he released them, lowering them to sit around his waist as his cock still sat snuggly inside you. There wasn’t a need for words, for admissions of love and feelings as you both crossed the barriers of friends. Instead Leon kissed you, a simple but firm press. No longer fueled by the hungry desire of the connection with you. You felt him move to lay next to you, his head resting against your shoulder as you held onto him. He needed this, needed the safety of you underneath him as he protected you in sleep. The monsters in his haunted dreams would have to get him before they got you.

The idea didn’t seem so scary anymore, not when your fingers lightly scraped against his scalp, nails scratching just enough it eased the tension in his brows. Leon’s cock was still nestled inside you softening as you laid together, not wanting to lose the connection you were both currently holding together. It wasn’t long until you felt his soft snores against your chest, his muscles losing their tension as he slipped into a deep sleep. A good one for once.

He wasn’t there when morning came, his cum now dried against the skin of your thighs. You couldn’t hear the broken coffee machine willing itself to life anymore, you couldn’t smell the breakfast he would have treated you to. No, the house was silent, empty without him. The only sign of him being there was his phone on the table and the wrinkles in the sheets besides you. As you entered the bathroom you saw the lingering sign of him being here, a swipe against the condensation of the mirror, toothpaste dried on the sink.

Why did everything feel empty all of a sudden? His disappearance reminds you that this was the last full day with him, your rule now broken as you dumped a decision of feelings on him. Guilt ate away at you, the sounds of his panicked screams from his nightmare still haunting you whilst you chose to jump at the opportunity to distract him in a physical form of admitting your feelings. You just didn’t want him to feel like you were using him in his vulnerable state. The shower stream was hot as it pelted your back, you watched the water run down your body washing away everything, washing away him. Maybe he was just running an errand for you, ran out of eggs or something. He will come back, he left things here, he won't leave you. Not yet.

You felt numb as you waited, your mind filled with the feeling of him, of his mouth exploring your body. Of his silent demands of devotion he was making to you with every thrust he made. You ached for him more than before, it was cruel to wake up empty when he made you feel so full.

It was hours until he returned, his car pulling back in the drive with the crunch of the gravel. Leon could get used to the feeling of you colliding with him everytime he returned, your body fitting against his perfectly as you hugged him. “Where did you go?” You asked, pulling away to look up at him. The coffee machine was heavy as he moved it out of the way, awkwardly stretching to place it on the table next to you both. “To get some presents and plan the last day…I lost the itinerary” He chuckled. You followed his gaze to the new machine, the box in perfect condition. “You didn’t have to–”

“Trust me, I did. I was going to cry if I had to hear the other attempt to make coffee again. You deserve it for being so good to me. Even when–”

“It’s okay, thank you leon” You cut him off, placing a peck on his lips – only for him to pull you closer, deepening the simple peck into something more. “What’s my surprise?” You asked, laying your head against his chest to hear his fluttering heart. Leon never replied, only instructed you to find some shoes and pulled you out to the car.

The car ride was silent, his hand switching from the gear stick to your thigh, no longer shy with his touches as he thought about last night. Hoping to verbally claim you like he had done physically last night. It was by luck you didn’t glance back into the boot of the car. Blankets and pillows laid on it for when you both arrived at the view point. The orange hues now pale as they started to creep in with dawn approaching quickly. Part of him felt guilty for leaving you alone like that, the bed cold and empty beside you after you had spent a night helping him not feel alone anymore. He laughed at the confusion on your face as he reversed into the space. “Come on”

You followed him out of the car and to the boot, he opened it to display the set up he had been working on. Perfect for sunset watching. “Who knew you were the romantic kind?” You teased, holding his hand as you turned to him. “Do you like it? I’m sorry I left you today, I wanted it to be a surprise…I wanted to make up for everything” He admitted. You both climbed in the boot, your back resting against his chest as he held onto you tightly. These were the moments you dreamed of with the first jeep. Wishing he would drive you to places like this when he would return from the city.

“I used to dream of this, us together” You said, glancing up at him. The sun brightened his features, his eyes gaining the shine they once lost with newfound hope for his own future. The fears he once had still lingered yet they weren’t worth losing this. The connection and warmth he gained with you in his arms. For years he found himself yearning for you, for this. Wondering what the picket fence dream would look like if he finally gained it with you. It was his time to gain something, someone. Someone to love and hold, protect from everything he did.

“Me too, I was just too stupid to jump for it”

“I wouldn’t say stupid, maybe you just needed to fall a little and trust I could catch you”

“You did”

Somehow the worry of him leaving tomorrow didn’t matter anymore. Not when he was tied to your soul and heath, with promising touches and lingering kisses he had left behind to keep you longing for more. To keep you excited for more.

“I think I’ve always loved you like this, Leon” You admitted. Leon smiled against the crown of your head, holding you close to him as he admitted back, “I think I always will love you like this angel”

#~mads rambles #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x you

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starry-bi-sky · 1 day ago

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im being hit with The Visions again

the Vision this time is a "homeless danny in gotham" au except its pre-robin Batman again because im on a batdad kick. --------------------

Danny finds a car.

Which-- isn't, like, anything super interesting or impressive. It's Gotham, it's a big city. There's cars on every corner, can't throw a stick without hitting one somewhere. And then setting off the alarm.

But-! It's a car, and it's past midnight-- or he thinks it might be past midnight, it's late enough to be. He doesn't have a watch and he left his phone at Vlad's; asshole put a tracker on it after the last time Danny ran off.

It's been over a month since, it's a new record -- last time it took just over two weeks for Vlad to find him and drag him back to the mansion. This time, Danny ran further. Left the state and everything. See how long it takes Vlad to find him now, hah.

People go missing all the time in Gotham.

Anyways-- there's a car, and it's midnight, and it's parked in an alleyway. Danny would've called it invisible with the way he pretty much trips over it, phasing through the wall of the building beside it and not watching where he's going, but it's not. So he doesn't.

Danny runs into the hood and nearly faceplants right into the darn thing with an 'oomph', hands catching himself on the metal as a flash of irritation flashes hot through his gut. It doesn't hurt or anything, but getting the wind knocked out of you sucks always, and he's tired and hungry, and as a result not in the best state of mind.

He's just about to sink his foot into the side of the wheel -- it wouldn't do anything, he's not that big of an asshole, but it's the principle -- when he stops.

Danny pauses.

He takes a step back, holding his hands out 'n' everything, and examines the car. He squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, considering the closest streetlight is twenty feet that way and positioned in a way that none of the light is hitting it.

Danny would not call himself a car guy. He doesn't think he counts, considering his size and lack of everything. But, but, he knows his way around a few cars, and he had an old obsession with older models when he was little that kinda petered out of existence after his accident. Had a bunch of little car models sitting on one of his shelves back in Amity, and Dad offered to get his hands on an old car for the two of them to fix up together so it'd be ready for Danny when he got his license.

...Anyways.

Point is: Danny can appreciate an old car, and this car has an older -- albeit obviously modified, if the matte paneling and plated wheels meant anything -- look to it. That kind of flat top went out of style years ago, and it's got this kinda rectangular look Danny doesn't see often these days on modern cars.

Other than the electrical cars, but he doesn't think those count. That's boxy, not rectangular.

Danny frowns, tilts his hands down, and leans back further as if that will let him get a better look at this thing. "...What model is this?" He mutters, it's hard to tell in this lighting.

Wait, he should see if there's anyone in the car. It's not running or anything, and nobody's come out to yell at him -- or shoot him -- but, still. People are crazy in Gotham, crazier than they've ever been in Amity. The last thing he needs to do is piss off some guy from the mob.

Danny peers into the window and-- there's no window, okay. Well, no window, and no driver. Some idiot left their car unprotected and without windows, in Gotham?

He pulls on the door handle just to be annoying -- it doesn't budge. Okay, maybe not that stupid. Especially since Danny didn't even see it until he was quite literally running into it.

So. Not that stupid.

Danny looks around warily, pulling his hoodie around him tighter, and then starts circling the car slowly. Like a vulture. No license plate; shocker. Hear how shocked he is? Clutching his pearls right now.

"Reinforced bumper. Cool." he says, er- whispers, really, quiet enough that it doesn't even echo. Danny squats in front of the car and runs his hands over the -- what, should he even call this a bumper? It's bigger than his head, and it's covering the grille. He picks at these... things on the side that remind him of leather straps. Probably to keep this bumper up? Like a ratchet strap?

Danny leans back until his butt hits the ground and he can sit back properly, propping himself up on his hands -- maybe not a good idea. There's probably broken glass somewhere here and he doesn't wanna pick shards out of his palms, again. It's like popping the world's most annoying zit depending on if it gets under the skin.

(He could always just phase them out, but the picking gives him something to do. It doesn't hurt that much.)

Eh. It'll be fine.

With one knee propped up, Danny looks the front up and down, and furrows his brows. The style kinda reminds him of a dodger, especially with the placement and style of the headlights. He plants his hands on the concrete -- hissing when he feels something cut into his palms, ow, there's that glass he was talking about -- and leans down to look under the car.

Hm, nothing jutting out that much. Looks pretty normal. Good space between the bottom and the ground.

He gets up and circles the side again, brushing whatever pebbles or glass that could've stuck into his skin off. He's really curious about where the owner got matte plating for it, or if it's just a wrap. The silhouette's definitely sixties or seventies; too angular for the eighties and fifties.

...There's no one here, Danny looks around again just to make sure, cranes his ears to catch anything. Nope, just the typical quiet rumbling of Gotham's underbelly. It kinda reminds him of Amity, or-- no. No, it reminds him of the quiet groan of the Zone.

That's far more comforting, he thinks. Danny's never really liked Amity all that much.

Back to the car: there's no one around, so Danny folds his arms against the side of the door and sticks his head inside the window. No keys in the ignition, should've figured.

Not like Danny was planning on stealing the car anyways -- anyone capable of modifying a car into this kinda beast -- or paying someone to modify -- was not someone he wanted to piss off. Danny's an orphan, not stupid.

Ignore the fact that he's got his head stuck through the window. The interior isn't anything interesting, but the seats are made of leather, which is nice. Must be a pain in the summer or winter, but leather is cool, and gets stains out better than cloth.

No stick shift though, he's a little disappointed.

Danny presses his mouth into a line and then slants it, humming in the back of his throat. Honestly, he's kinda tempted to crawl in and go to sleep. The leather seats look really inviting, and he's been sleeping on the ground or on park benches for weeks, and the car is really well hidden. No need to worry about being kidnapped.

But, it still belongs to someone. And they're probably using it for something shady. They'll come back for it eventually, so he should get this gawking over with anyways.

And, and-- and. He wants to get a look at that fucking engine. 'Cause holy shit!

Danny pulls his head out of the window and half-dances over to the back, his hand curling around one of the bars as a grin spreads across his face. Now, Danny hates Christmas, but this, this is like it came early and good for once.

"You could smuggle moonshine with this thing," Danny says to himself, grinning ear to ear and running his hands over the edge of the metal. The car is too conspicuous for backroads driving, but the engine, wow. What a thing of beauty.

One of Auntie's friends would probably know what engine it is -- or what type of engine it's based off of, it could very well be a bunch of different engines frankenstein'd together. Danny doesn't recognize it.

Which means it could be illegal. Again, what a shocker. In Gotham? He's clutching his pearls.

Fully satisfied with himself, Danny dances around to the front again and holds his hands out. He makes an 'L' with both hands and shuts one eye, getting the car within the frame of his fingers like he's about to take a picture.

"I rate you," Danny makes a camera shutter sound and mimics taking a photo, "one cool fuckin' car."

"Thank you."

Danny doesn't scream. He does not. He's taught himself better since ghosts started popping up in Amity, and honestly he deserves some credit for that considering they only started popping up over half a year ago.

He does, however, gasp. And he gasps hard, the type that has a high chance of giving you the hiccups afterwards; the painful, chest-thumping kind. Danny slams both hands over his mouth and stumbles backwards, eyes wide and his heart kicking into the fifth gear in his ears.

Bleeding out from the shadows is a man entirely drenched in black, Danny can hardly make out his silhouette and barely catches the white glints of his eyes. Fear like a prey animal burns in his lungs, wild and rabid, Danny has half a mind to bolt.

His ghost sense didn't go off, which might just be the most terrifying thing.

The man doesn't move any more than a step, just enough that Danny can barely see him, but he can feel him watching him. Shit. Shit. He should've never stuck around.

His hands are still over his mouth, Danny, shaking, flutters them open, "How-- h-- how--" he wheezes, "how long have you been standing there?"

#danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc au #dpxdc fic #dpxdc prompt #homeless danny au #batdad batdad batdad #danny is not immune to fear. nor is he immune to being startled or thrown off #my idea for this is that it takes place in the og TUE timeline so danny has no idea about his evil future. but things went differently #regardless. he keeps running away from Vlad because he hates him and he doesn't want to stay with him. he wants to stay with alicia but #he doesnt want to get her in trouble if he runs to her. so he's just been pulling houdini acts on vlad and getting increasingly desperate #about them. Vlad gets angrier every time he finds him and more possessive. this is Danny's first time hiding somewhere that isnt illinois o #wisconsin. he doesnt really have a plan other than 'survive?'#bruce: who is this sassy lost child | danny: what the FUCK that is NOT A GHOST?? WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?#anyways danny being a car guy ends up getting him adopted (eventually)#danny is the weird (kinda friendly but distant?) homeless kid bruce keeps running into on patrol #bruce is going 'pspspsps' at the homeless kid and it is slowly working. somehow. this shouldnt be working but they're both freaks #so it IS in fact working.#danny evolves slowly from 'flighty homeless kid' to 'cat who keeps bringing bruce dead animals' to 'sonboy'#the dead animals are insider info about organized crime going on in gotham. bruce keeps going '??? where and how did you find this???'#danny just goes 'heh >:}' and bruce goes '??? STOP??? pls stop you're gonna get hurt' 'no its helping you'#danny has no interest in being a vigilante or anything btw BUT he brings info he think might be useful to Batman because otherwise the #bystander guilt will crush him. like a bug. 'i might not be able to do anything but YOU can' also he's hiding from Vlad he doesnt want word #of ghosts or anything matching his description getting out.#catwoman: you two know each other? | danny: im the weird homeless kid he keeps running into on patrol

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candymkgee · 2 days ago

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i’m bored so ima answer these

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

i think it depends on the person. for me personally, kinda yeah. i’d like to be attracted physically at least, but i don’t need to be extremely attracted physically in order to be in a relationship. usually my attraction is more focused on things outside of the physical. but usually someone’s style/fashion/piercings or tattoos are the things i find the most attractive (physically at least)

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

it depends on the relationship

3. Are you a virgin?

4. Are you in a relationship?

5. Are you in love?

with life, with friends, yes. romantically, no. i’d like to be

6. Are you single this year?

yeah and i don’t think that’s changing

7. Can you commit to one person?

yep

8. Describe your crush

hm… idk if they’re a crush perse. but there’s this one person that i find really beautiful and cool. their piercings are nice, i like their style. i like the art they find interesting. i like their beliefs and takes on things.

9. Describe your perfect mate

i would but it would be so much to type. but a lot of it would mainly just be someone that has similar traits & views as me, as well as similar ones as my close support system

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

11. Do you ever want to get married?

its not something i personally desire but i’m not inherently against it

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

mm honestly no :/ its the hardest thing for me to get over. actually i’ll forgive it but it’ll take me some time

13. Do you get jealous easily?

not really

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

15. Do you have any piercings?

yes! septum, eyebrow, maybe ears but i haven’t worn earrings in a minute so who knows

16. Do you have any tattoos?

yes, 6 and hopefully more

17. Do you like kissing in public?

i haven’t done it often but i wouldn’t mind

20. Do you shower every day?

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

yes. i need to text so many people back :/

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

wtf… yes

24. Do you think you'll be married in 5 years?

i’ll be surprised if i am but honestly i be kinda doing shit so idk but i don’t think so

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

i wouldn’t mind but idk. the way people be acting in relationships be scaring me like. just seems very backwards, loveless, and cisheteronormative

26. Has anyone told you they don't want to ever lose you?

yeah. just to continue to make decisions to lose me LOL

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

yesss. very sweet, i love them a lot whenever anyone does them for me

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

i definitely have. sometimes i still do. mainly i think to make my face more symmetrical but at the same time idrgaf and try my best to not obsess over being beautiful. like i’m an animal.. i don’t need to be visually perfect

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

yes

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

no. they weren’t a woman or a man l

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than YOu?

yes

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

yep #friendstolovers am i right

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

maybe in middle school? idk hated is a strong word, i don’t think so

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn't expect to?

yes. almost every person i ended up really liking, i wasn’t expecting to

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn't have?

hm… i usually don’t want people if i’m aware i can’t have them. i may find them beautiful or attractive or be attracted and be like Damn… but that’s as far as it’ll go

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

yeahhhhh. if i really like you, 9/10 a poem will be written. i’ve only ever written a song about my ex and it was after we broke up

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

no 🫩 #NEEDTHAT #EXPEDITIOUSLY

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

idk i could do so for hours my hands don’t gotta wander anywhere

43. How long was your longest relationship?

9 months but if we being real, 1 year

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

1 girlfriend. i don’t be dating like that fr. i don’t easily like many people, i’m demisexual, and people be fumbling me. or they want me to engage in dysfunction and struggle love and i don’t desire that

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

probably like 2 people

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

twice

47. How old are you?

twenty free

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

i’d say aww that’s cute and ask them why they like them, how’s their dynamic like, and what do they desire to do with them moving forward

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

🫩

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

i don’t think so. i’d be open to being friends but nothing more. simply because they could apologize and offer gifts, but doesn’t change the fact that we have differing traits and beliefs that make us incompatible. and they don’t plan on changing them anytime soon, nor do i want to force anyone to change for me

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

my friends

52. Is there anyone you've given up on? Why?

i don’t think i’ve given up on anyone

53. Is there someone mad because you're dating/ talking to the person you are?

i don’t think i would be around anyone that would be mad about whoever i’m theoretically dating or talking to. unless the person was like a piece of shit or something

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

yes. a couple people for sure yes. but honestly anyone that was close to me in any capacity i would never forget

55. Share a relationship story.

56. State 8 facts about your body

57. Things you want to say to an ex

what are you really afraid of or scared of? and do you know or are you still avoiding confronting things about yourself?

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

leftist politics, emotional intelligence, fashionable, creative, devoted to love & community

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

biggest was 3-4 years

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

its either hair, smile, or style

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

be really emotionally understanding, nurturing, and empathetic towards me. ugh. so hard to find

63. What is your definition of "having sex"?

i don’t think i have a definition on that

64. What is your definition of cheating?

doing anything behind my back, whether its lying or hiding, with another person romantically/sexually

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

arcade!! amusement park!! playing wnrs. anything fun and joyful or loving and intimate

68. What is your sexual orientation?

lesbian

69. What turns you off?

a lot. but its justifiable and usually rooted in things like people’s politics, ideologies, or how they treat others

70. What turns you on?

smart people. creative people. loving empathetic people. yum yum

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

i don’t even know fr

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

73. What's something sweet you'd like someone to do for you?

cuddle with meee

74. What's the most superficial characteristic you look for?

good fashion sense. the more queer the better

75. What's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for you?

i can think of many but one of the first i can think of is making and sending me a care package. i wish someone would do that again

76. What's the sweetest thing you've ever done for someone?

hmm. i’m not sure. its hard to determine it through the metrics of myself. also i be doing sweet things all the time so idk

77. What's your opinion on age differences in relationships?

i think it depends on the age gap, the ages, and the stage of life. sometimes people see age gap and they equate that to a hurtful power dynamic immediately, and i don’t always think that’s the case. but regardless, people should try their best to be mindful. and i think that you can be taken advantage of no matter the age gap

78. What's your dirtiest secret?

i don’t have any i don’t think? hm…

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

my friends were hanging without me LMAO that’s like one of the few times i feel jealous. and even then its like meh whatever… but also i wanna be invited too :,(

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

today

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

hm i can’t think of any celebrities but i don’t want to name people that aren’t famous, i feel like that’s invasive

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

my father

83. Who was your first kiss with?

a childhood friend on a bus

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

severe mental health issues, and a lack of an ability to fully sustain a romantic partnership longterm

85. Would you ever date someone off of the internet?

i have. but i definitely prefer in person connections. i’m open to online dating… i just don’t prefer it. but i do think there’s beautiful people to meet online and the gay community be pretty small in person. it would just have to be worth it enough to really date online. cause i’ve grown to love physical contact

vaguely nsfw asks

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

3. Are you a virgin?

4. Are you in a relationship?

5. Are you in love?

6. Are you single this year?

7. Can you commit to one person?

8. Describe your crush

9. Describe your perfect mate

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

11. Do you ever want to get married?

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

13. Do you get jealous easily?

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

15. Do you have any piercings?

16. Do you have any tattoos?

17. Do you like kissing in public?

20. Do you shower every day?

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

43. How long was your longest relationship?

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

47. How old are you?

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

55. Share a relationship story.

56. State 8 facts about your body

57. Things you want to say to an ex

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

63. What is your definition of “having sex”?

64. What is your definition of cheating?

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

68. What is your sexual orientation?

69. What turns you off?

70. What turns you on?

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?

78. What’s your dirtiest secret?

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

83. Who was your first kiss with?

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?

117K notes · View notes

keithyp00 · 2 days ago

Text

'*•.¸♡ Stupid Cupid, Stop Picking On Me ♡¸.•*'

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: slow-burn, romance, humor, fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, romantic tension, morning sweetness, vulnerability

Song Inspiration: Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis

Word Count:2.1K

Author Note: Hi again! This fic has been stuck in my head all day so here I am writing it and pushing some of my other fic ideas back a couple of days. My last one didn't do as well as I was hoping overnight so if you like this one please go check out Timeless. Thank you guys! (And Happy Mother's Day for those who celebrate!)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

You weren't exactly sure when Bucky Barnes became your problem.

Maybe it was when Steve asked you- sweet, pleading Steve- to check in on him after the whole time-travel thing. Maybe it was when you saw Bucky sulking at a farmer's market like a feral cat trying to adapt to a domestic life, poking at ripe peaches like they had personally offended him. Or maybe it was when you found yourself holding two coffee cups and wondering why one of them always seemed to be for him.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered, tripping over a sidewalk crack. "Quit messing with my head."

Because how else could you explain? The flutter in your chest every time Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. The way your stomach flipped when he threw that infuriating little smirk your way- like he knew something that you shouldn't.

You should hate him.

He was moody. He didn't text back. He once told you that your playlist sounded like 'a sock hop and a migraine had a baby.' And yet, when he stood too close in the kitchen of your shared safehouse, or brushed his hand against yours when he passed the remote, you felt like a walking daydream.

______________________________________________________________

It was Tony's lake house, technically. But since he wasn't around anymore- and Sam insisted Bucky get used to 'civilian life'- you'd all rotated through it like some kind of Airbnb. For the last month, it had just been you and him. And your rapidly imploding patience.

"Can you not stare- no, glower- at the mailman like he owes you something?" You asked one sunny morning, squinting through the screen door as Bucky stood on the porch, his arms crossed like some sort of bouncer.

He simply didn't answer, which infuriated you even more.

You groaned, sipping your coffee and reminding yourself to not shove him into the lake. Because despite the grump, despite the sarcasm, despite the fact that he wore gloves in the middle of July sometimes- he was good. He was thoughtful, sometimes in ways that snuck up on you.

Like how he left Post-Its on your laptop that said, 'Eat something.' Or how he'd fixed the wobbly leg on your favorite chair without saying a word. Or how he stood outside your room every night, headphones in, until you fell asleep just to 'make sure it was safe.'

And yeah- maybe you noticed the way his hair curled after a shower. Or how his voice went all gravel and hush when he said your name. Or how he smelled like cedarwood and mystery.

But that didn't mean you liked him. Right?

______________________________________________________________

It was the pie that broke you.

Not your spine in a sparring match. Not the blackout you both endured during a rogue power surge. Not even the time he carried you through mud because you twisted your ankle.

No. It was the goddamn cherry pie.

You were baking. Sort of. Trying to, anyway. The crust was partially uneven, your hands were sticky, and you were muttering something about 'defeating the patriarchy through pastry.'

He leaned in the doorway, arms folded. Watching. Always watching.

"You're talking to the dough," he stated.

You didn't look up. "She's rude. She needs discipline."

Bucky snorted- snorted- and you stared at him like he'd grown another metal arm.

"Did you just laugh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't laugh."

"Tell that to the dough," you snapped, cheeks hot. "What do you want, Barnes?"

"I smelled sugar," he said, shameless. "Was hoping you'd share."

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you didn't like sweets?"

His voice went low. Dangerous. "I like yours."

Your hands froze in the leftover flour.

And suddenly, you weren't thinking about the pie. You were thinking about the way he looked at you sometimes- like he couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss you or run. Like you were both a threat and a safehouse.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered again, flustered. "I swear to God-"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The pie actually came out fairly decent, the edges of the crust a little burnt, but fairly tolerable. And Bucky, he ate the whole thing, or most of it anyway.

______________________________________________________________

It got worse after that.

Every glance lingered too long. Every argument had an edge of flirtation behind it. You kept pretending not to notice the way he always found a reason to sit beside you. How his knees would bump beneath the table. How he started playing your music in the kitchen.

And when you finally snapped one night- pacing on the porch, wine in hand, muttering about how, 'he's ruining everything with those ridiculous blue eyes'- you hadn't realized he was standing in the doorway behind you.

He pushed his body off the doorframe and walked toward the railing of the porch, his expression incredibly too smug for your liking.

"I'm ridiculous now?"

You flinched, whipping around. "Jesus- do you sneak for fun?"

"Occupational hazard." His smirk widened. "What else did you say about my eyes?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Too quickly. "Shut up."

He stepped closer. "Make me."

You blinked. Then laughed. Loud, bright, and disbelieving.

"What are you, twelve?"

"I was," he deadpanned. "Once."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

And then he said it. Quiet. Honest. Barely audible beneath the breeze. "You make it hard."

You blinked again. "What?"

He cleared his throat. Looked away. "To stay... detached."

The wine slipped from your fingers. Luckily, the bottle was already empty.

You stared at him. At the scars on his knuckles. The lashes that framed those godforsaken eyes. The lip he kept biting like he regretted saying anything.

And you realized- he wasn't teasing.

He meant it.

Stupid. Damned. Cupid.

You stepped forward. He didn't flinch.

"I don't want detached," you said softly

He looked at you. Really looked. Like you were sunlight and danger and the last good thing in the world.

His voice cracked. "I'm not easy to love."

"I don't want easy either."

You reached for him. Gloved hand, then metal. He let you, but you heard his breathing stutter. And when you leaned in- testing the waters, testing fate- he met you halfway.

It wasn't fireworks.

It was softer. Stranger. The kind of kiss that steals your balance and leaves you wondering where you end and they begin.

When you finally pulled back, you smiled.

"Still think I talk too much?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Then he kissed you again. Harder.

______________________________________________________________

Later, tangled on the porch swing with his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, you hummed a familiar tune. Under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear.

"Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me..."

He groaned. "If you start singing that in the morning-"

"You'll what?" You teased. "Fall even more in love with me?"

He didn't answer. But the way he pulled you closer said enough.

______________________________________________________________

You woke up with his hoodie under your cheek and a breeze on your knees.

The sun filtered through the curtains inside like a lazy golden hand, dust swirling in the air like dandelions. You blinked, registering three things:

You were curled up on the porch swing.

Bucky Barnes was asleep beside you.

His metal arm was around your waist like it belonged there.

"Stupid Cupid," you murmured again, though it came out softer this time. Less bitter. Almost... giddy.

His chest rose and fell in a rhythm you were already memorizing. Peaceful. Unarmored. Mouth parted slightly, lashes casting shadows, hair falling into his face.

You wanted to touch him.

Not in the hungry, let's-make-out-on-the-porch kind of way. You simply wanted to run your fingers through his hair. Trace the scar near his eyebrow. Press your palm to the pace just under his collarbone where he always kept his tension.

You settled for tucking his hoodie around his side, trying not to shiver from the early morning air.

"You're staring," he said, voice husky with sleep.

You yelped. "I-no, I was just-"

"Keep lying. You're adorable when you panic."

Your face flushed and Bucky grinned as a response. "So. We kissed."

You tucked your knees under your chin. "We did."

He finally looked at you, blinking slowly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On whether you're going to brood about it for three days and avoid me."

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. "I'd never avoid you."

"Really? Because last month you avoided Sam for hating on your music taste."

"That was justified."

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm- flesh, not metal. The little grin that flickered on his lips made your stomach tumble.

"So what does this mean?" You asked quietly. "Us. The... kissing."

He went still. Then sat up, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"It means," he said slowly, "that I want more."

More?

More of you? More kissing? More sleepless nights lying next to each other on a porch swing, tangled up in feelings too big to name?

You swallowed. "Okay."

His eyes searched yours. "Okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah. But you have to stop the staring problem, especially at strangers, I agree with Sam on that one."

"No promises."

______________________________________________________________

You didn't talk about it for a few days. Not directly, anyway.

But everything shifted.

He cooked breakfast before you got up- black coffee, toast, eggs that were slightly overcooked but made with obvious care. You found him waiting on the couch every evening with a blanket folded beside him like an invitation. He started brushing your hand every time you passed him something. Not an accident. Not anymore.

You tried not to let your heart explode about it.

Didn't work.

Especially not when he started calling you 'Doll' without a trace of irony.

Or when he found an old record player in the attic, fixed it, and played your favorite 60s vinyl like it was nothing.

Or when he got jealous over a guy in town who complimented your outfit and sulked for the next hour.

______________________________________________________________

It came to a head one evening during a thunderstorm.

You were barefoot, twirling in the kitchen while "Stupid Cupid" played on the record player- loud and cheeky, your voice warbling off-key along with it.

"Stupid Cupid, you're a real mean guy-"

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered behind you, towel around his shoulders, still damp from fixing the gutters in the rain. "You still know all the words?"

You spun, grinning. "I was born in the wrong decade."

"Clearly."

He crossed the kitchen slowly. Red Henley sticking to his chest. Hair dripping onto his forehead. You didn't realize you stopped breathing until he was right in front of you, blue eyes bright, towel abandoned.

"You like this song because it reminds you of me, huh?"

You swallowed. "Maybe."

His hand brushed your waist. "You like me, doll?"

You nodded, heart pounding. "Maybe."

"Then shut up and dance with me."

You didn't think. You just fell into him.

He swayed with you under the soft crackle of vinyl, your feet slipping against his boots, your laughter dying against the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm getting you soaked," he said into your hair.

"Can confirm," he mumbled.

He choked on a laugh. "It wasn't a question- god, you're a menace."

"Your menace," you whispered.

He froze. Pulled back. Looked at you. And then he kissed you. Slow, deep, reverent.

It didn't feel like the one you shared on the porch. This one felt like a promise.

______________________________________________________________

Later, after changing into dry clothes and curling up beside him on the couch, you whispered the question that had been living under your tongue for days.

"Do I scare you?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean... you never let people in. You barely let Sam in. And now you're-" you gestured between you. "Letting me in. Doesn't that terrify you?"

He exhaled. Then reached for your hand, metal fingers wrapping around yours.

"It does," he said. "But not because of you. Because I don't want to ruin it."

You stared at him. All of him. The scars, the war, the tenderness.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried."

He looked away. "I've ruined things before."

You tilted his face toward you with your fingertips.

"Then don't run," you whispered. "When it gets hard. When I yell because you left dishes in the sink. When I forget to say goodnight. Just... stay."

His jaw flexed. "You'd want me to stay? Even when I'm a mess?"

You smiled. "Especially then."

______________________________________________________________

That night, you fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the storm fade into silence and his heartbeat slow to something steady. Something safe.

"Stupid Cupid," you whispered one last time into the dark.

And Bucky- half asleep, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm- mumbled back, "Yeah... but I'm glad he chose to pick on you."

251 notes · View notes

loversrocktvgirl2 · 2 days ago

Text

my mini multiverse of madness…

New Friend (Bob Reynolds x Reader)

word count: 1.3k+

part 1 of ?

masterlist

“C’mon, Bob, I think you would do well to meet someone,” Yelena says. The two are sitting on the couch as she pets her guinea pig. Bob sits criss cross applesauce besides her, his mulch brown hair getting in his eye. “I like hanging out with you, but sometimes we have to go fight and I think it would be nice for you to make another friend. Meet a girl, maybe.”

Bob nods. “Where do I meet people though?”

Yelena shrugs. “I don’t know. Grocery store. Group therapy.”

“Yes, Bob, you should make friend,” Alexei says, taking a gigantic sip of his coffee. It almost looks more like he’s chugging it.

“That’s…that’s your fourth cup this morning,” Bob says. “I have to make a new one for everyone else.”

“It’s okay, Bob, I’ll get it,” Alexei brushes him off. “Just make double next morning.”

“I…is that even how that works?” Bob asks.

“I don’t know. I’ll buy you another coffee maker,” Yelena says. “Anyway, fair point. You should go out places, make some more friends. I’ll go with you! We can get ice cream after, okay?”

Bob nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Yelena decides to take Bob out to sign up for a book club run at their local bookstore. “They are just starting a new book today, we’ll go and get the book and you read it and go back to talk about it, okay?” Yelena says. Bob nods and follows her. Yelena walks up to the lady at the front desk. “Hello, he would like to join your book talking club.”

“Okay,” the woman at the desk nods. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Bob,” Bob says with a smile.

“Wonderful. Do you have a last name?” the woman asks.

“Reynolds.”

The woman types on her computer. “And where is a good phone number for us to reach you?”

Bob turns to Yelena who says, “we got you a phone, Bob. You have to memorize the number soon.” She gives the woman the number, and she writes it down.

“Fantastic. We’ve got you all set up. Would you like to purchase the book for this month’s first meeting?” The woman asks.

Confused by her wording, Bob turns to Yelena, who is also confused, and turns to the woman.

“We read a book every two weeks,” the woman explains. “So we meet biweekly.”

“Ah. Yes. We would like to buy the book,” Yelena says.

The woman pulls out a copy from under her desk of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and scans the book. “$15.67 is your total,” she smiles.

Bob pulls out his debit card and the woman charges the book to it.

“Would you like a bag?” she asks. “I can either give you a plastic one, or you can become a rewards member and get this reusable one for free.”

“Um…” Bob trails off.

“Rewards member,” Yelena says. “No plastic. Save the turtles.”

Bob nods and he gets himself signed up to become a rewards member. Yelena takes him back home at the next day, while the New Avengers are off working, Bob decides to sit down and start his new book. It’s two weeks before the meeting, so he has plenty of time to finish it. He’s done the dishes and mopped the floors, and he’d like to sit down now. So he begins his book.

Bob LOVES it. He’s completely consumed by it. He finishes the book in two days. Yelena says, “Well, when I said make a friend, I was not expecting it to be the book, but this is… I think a start.”

Bob goes back to the bookstore with Alexei to get some more books. And he starts getting very excited about his book club meet.

Finally, the day comes, and Bucky and Yelena drive him to the bookstore and drop him off. “What time does this end again?” Bucky asks.

“Four, I told you already,” Yelena chastens Bucky.

“Sorry,” Bucky replies.

“You know, I think now, as you are getting older, some things aren’t working quite as they used to, maybe we should take you to the doctor and you get hearing checked…?” Yelena suggests.

“Very funny,” Bucky says. “Alright, Bob, we’ll be back at four, okay?”

Bob gives him a thumbs up and gets out of the car.

“Have a good time! Meet people!” Yelena calls.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Bucky asks. “He’s been kind of hurt a lot.”

“Oh, yes,” Yelena says. “This is good for him. Overcoming fears, y’know?”

Bob heads into the bookstore hopeful and he finds a circle of chairs in the back corner room. He sits down tentatively, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo on his lap. He holds onto it for support. There’s a few people already sitting, most of them holding their own copies of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, waiting for everyone to arrive to discuss the book.

“Oh, hey, Tiffany, I haven’t seen you in a while,” a woman greets as she sits down in a chair.

“Yeah! I’ve really missed these meetings, but I’ve been busier, what with the baby and all,” another woman, who Bob can only assume is Tiffany, replies.

“What’s your name? I don’t believe I’ve met you,” the woman says to Bob.

“Oh, I’m, uh, Bob,” Bob informs.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! I hope you like it here. It’s one of the highlights of the month for me, I can tell you that much,” the woman says with a chuckle.

Then someone else enters the room. You. You’re pretty, the kind of relaxed pretty, not glistening like a diamond under lights like a movie star, but that comforting, wonderful, beautiful normal pretty. And Bob notices you when you come in.

“Heyyy!” Tiffany waves at you happily. You wave back.

“This is Bob, it’s his first meeting,” the woman explains to you.

“Great to meet you, Bob,” you smile. He can’t help but smile back.

You tell him your name and he nods and says, “That suits you, I like it.”

You sit across from him and once everyone arrives, the discussion begins. Then, it’s your turn to talk. Bob finds himself straightening up in his seat a little. “I thought that The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is one of those rare books that blends Hollywood glamour with genuine emotional depth. On the surface, it’s about a dazzling, scandalous life—seven marriages, fame, fortune—but at its core, it’s a story about identity, love, and the cost of ambition. Evelyn is a brilliant character: flawed, cunning, fiercely self-aware, and unapologetically complex. She manipulates the media and people around her to survive in a system built to exploit women, especially queer women and women of color. And yet, she’s not a hero or a villain—just deeply…human,” you say.

Bob is a little too stunned for words. You’ve perfectly worded his thoughts on the book and he’s amazed by it. Okay, you hold his interest even more than you did previously. At the end of the two hour club, Bob walks up to you. “Hi,” he says, a little shyly.

You smile. “Hi,” you reply.

“I really liked what you had to say about the book.”

“Thank you! I thought you contributed a lot, too.”

“Thanks…are you going to come to the next meeting?”

“Yes! You?”

“Definitely,” Bob nods and smiles. “Could I, uh, maybe… have your phone number?”

You grin. “Of course! Do you have your phone? I can put in the contact.”

“Yeah…!”

When Bucky and Yelena see Bob come out of the bookstore at 4:08, Yelena grins at him. “Did you make a friend?”

“I think so, yeah,” Bob answers with a smile as he climbs in the car.

“Did you get their phone number?” Yelena asks.

Bob nods.

“Yayyyy, Bob!” Yelena cheers and claps. Bucky chuckles a little at her excitement, but he gives Bob a smile and a nod of approval, a silent I’m proud of you, kid. Bob smiles and leans back into his seat as the car pulls away from the bookstore.

taglist

@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13

205 notes · View notes

thechthonicherbalist · 10 hours ago

Text

Dwagon! :3

I'm gonna use this reblog for a small status update real quick bc I don't have energy for anything else today.

Today was a heckin long day full of appointments at a hospital 3 hours away from me. Cancer checkups. Blood taken, MRI and ultrasound and ultimately also a gastroscopy with the result that yes, chemo is working well, but I've also been having some flares again since late February/March and ofc I've been also trying to have foods again in accordance with the cancer and IBD therapy plan and well. I grew another stomach ulcer. 😐

No big reason for worries, after all I do have a chronic inflammatory GI disease that commonly results in ulcers during flares and the only thing I can do is to avoid factors that cause them as much as possible. Plus not every ulcer is malignant ofc. So I'm getting treatment with acid neutralizers and then some atm and hopefully all will be good. Back to cold liquids and increase of IV fluids for a while. But it's still progress. I've still made a ton of progress battling this illness since September.

I'm so tired and in a truckload of pain rn (since weeks actually because of the flare). But I'm also at a point of recovery I didn't even hope I'd reach anymore for many months last year. I was genuinely just preparing to die under the worst circumstances, with no more peace, no more happiness and no more safety in my life for many months due to immense intentional violations of my limits and boundaries around my health and capacities that persisted for a year. I had given up all hope to escape these circumstances after many failed attempts and unheard begging. And I'm honestly grateful that things took the turn they did, even if it was painful, but I'm in a much better place since then, with new people in a healthier environment and with all important areas of my life disconnected from anyone and anything that was involved with these things that troubled me so much.

So I'll just go to bed happily after hitting post on this and wish kindness and calmness and peace upon the world and its people.

The Sea Foam Dragon

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katnipp · 3 days ago

Note

Can you do a Sophia x reader, where Sophia has been extremely busy over the past months and has been neglecting the reader. It leads to the reader taking her things from the dorm, she also stops contacting Sophia. It took Sophia a while to even notice, because she was so busy.

you didn’t notice— sophia laforteza

genre: ANGST😣

synopsis: after months of being overlooked, y/n quietly walks away. it takes sophia weeks to realize she’s gone—and even longer to face what that means

warnings: break up, emotional neglect, sophia is bad at communication 🙁

—

two months ago

y/n [7:13 pm]: good luck today!! i know you’re probably too busy to reply, but i’m thinking of you. always.

y/n [7:15 pm]: i left some soup in the fridge btw. please eat even if you’re tired. love you

seen two weeks later

⸻

it didn’t hurt all at once.

no, it was quieter than that. the kind of slow unraveling that happened in silences, in missed calls, in the way sophia’s replies went from paragraphs to one-word answers.

y/n didn’t take it personally.

she couldn’t afford to. because if she did, she’d fall apart.

she made excuses for her girlfriend — told herself, it’s just the comeback, she’s just tired, she loves you, even if she hasn’t said it in a while.

but love, when left alone too long, starts to feel like waiting for a train that’s already left.

and sophia had left.

not physically. but in all the ways that mattered.

⸻

three weeks ago

“you really don’t have to do this,” megan said softly, leaning in the doorway as y/n carefully folded the sweatshirt sophia gave her. the grey one with the soft sleeves and the tiny bleach stain on the cuff that she’d once joked looked like a heart.

“i do,” y/n whispered. “i can’t keep living in a place where she forgets i exist.”

megan’s expression twisted. “she doesn’t—”

“she hasn’t said i love you in over a month, megan.”

megan said nothing.

“i leave food. i text. i wait up. and she doesn’t even ask me if i’ve eaten anymore. not even that.”

y/n’s voice cracked on the last part, quiet and sharp. like something inside her had finally caved in.

“i don’t hate her,” she said. “i just… don’t think she sees me anymore.”

“are you going to tell her you’re leaving?”

y/n blinked down at the folded hoodie. her silence was answer enough.

⸻

one week ago

sophia sat in the van, eyelids heavy, makeup smudged under her eyes. the world was noise and flashbulbs and schedules and movement, always movement.

“where’s y/n?” she asked suddenly, half-asleep.

the other members blinked.

“what do you mean?” megan asked, voice cautious.

“she hasn’t answered my messages. did i do something wrong?”

megan glanced out the window. “you didn’t even notice she was gone?”

sophia sat up straighter. “what do you mean, gone?”

megan didn’t say anything for a moment. then: “she moved out. like, three weeks ago.”

the car filled with silence.

“why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“you didn’t ask.”

⸻

present day

when sophia knocked on the door of y/n’s new apartment, she wasn’t sure what she expected.

she hadn’t rehearsed anything. all she had was a half-finished drink she thought y/n still liked, and her heart sitting somewhere in her throat.

the door opened slowly.

and there she was.

y/n stood there in an old hoodie, hair pulled back, eyes guarded. beautiful. exhausted.

sophia couldn’t breathe.

“hey,” she said, voice barely audible.

y/n stared at her like she was seeing a ghost. “you remembered where i live.”

“megan told me. i… i know i shouldn’t have shown up. i just didn’t know what else to do.”

y/n said nothing. not yet. she didn’t close the door either.

sophia shifted on her feet. “you really left.”

“you really didn’t notice.”

it landed like a slap. not loud. just final.

sophia swallowed hard. “i was so deep in everything. rehearsals. promotions. meetings. i thought… i thought i could make it up to you after.”

y/n’s voice was flat. “there’s always an after with you. after the comeback. after the fanmeet. after the schedule. i kept waiting for us to matter again.”

“we did matter. we do.”

“then why did it take you three weeks to even realize i was gone?”

sophia opened her mouth. closed it. there was no excuse. only regret.

“i kept telling myself i was doing it for us,” she whispered. “all the work. all the sacrifices. but what’s the point if i lose you in the process?”

a flicker of something — pain, or maybe softness — passed through y/n’s expression. but her voice stayed steady. tired. “you didn’t lose me. not all at once. you let me drift.”

“i didn’t mean to.”

“but you did.”

sophia felt her throat tighten. “i still love you.”

y/n’s eyes welled, but she didn’t let them fall. “i loved you in silence. i waited and waited, sophia. i begged you in a hundred ways without saying a word. and you didn’t see me.”

“i see you now.”

“too late.”

those two words broke something in her.

“but if there’s even the smallest part of you,” sophia said quietly, “that wants to try again someday… i’ll wait. i’ll actually wait.”

“don’t wait,” y/n said. “don’t promise something you might forget again.”

sophia nodded slowly. “then just… let me earn the right to try.”

y/n didn’t answer. didn’t smile. but she didn’t close the door.

and before sophia turned to leave, y/n said, softer than anything she’d said all night:

“don’t text me unless you really mean it this time.”

sophia’s heart ached.

“i will,” she whispered. “when i do… you’ll know.”

⸻

later that night

sophia [unsent]: i can’t sleep. not without you.

sophia [unsent]: i wore your hoodie today. it still smells like you.

sophia [unsent]: i’m sorry i didn’t fight for you sooner.

sophia [unsent]: i love you. i miss you. i’ll wait.

she stared at the blinking cursor.

deleted all of it.

waited.

and meant it.

—

a/n: MORE. I NEED MORE REQUEST NEOW.

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myrleius · 2 days ago

Text

a little sweeter every time (snippets!) — tsukishima. k

timeskip tsukishima k. x aspiring baker fem!reader│wc: 6.7k

synopsis: Tsukishima didn’t expect to see his high school crush again—much less help her open a bakery.

cw/tags: slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, food/baking themes, slice of life, comfort

It had started six months ago, on a day as ordinary as any other.

Caught in a sudden downpour, Tsukishima ducked into the nearest cafe, rain dripping from his coat and his hair matted to his forehead. He was halfway through shaking it off when he froze.

There, at the end of the line, stood yn.

She looked older, obviously. Her hair was shorter now, her expression a little more tired. But the moment she noticed him, her face lit up, the same way it always had. And just like that, it was as if no time had passed at all.

“Tsukishima?”

Her voice was warm, surprised, still so easy to recognize.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses to buy a second. “Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you,” she laughed, digging into her pocket before handing him a handkerchief. “Here. You look like a drowned cat.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, blinking at the tiny cartoon bunnies printed across the fabric, finding the childish pattern to be so typically her.

He hadn’t expected that chance encounter to lead to anything, but somehow, over shared desserts and a slow afternoon, the conversation kept going.

She stirred her coffee absently, a small frown tugging at her lips. “I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

She nodded, propping her chin on her hand. “Endless work, overtime with no extra pay, coworkers who act like ‘teamwork’ means dumping their tasks on me… I don’t even remember the last time I slept properly.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Sounds like hell.”

“Exactly.” She paused, hesitating a little, then leaned in. “I was thinking of opening up a bakery.”

He looked up. “A bakery?”

“I know. It’s crazy.” Her voice softened, almost shy. “But I’ve always loved baking. It never feels like work. When I’m up at 3AM frosting cupcakes, I actually don’t hate my life.”

He watched her—the way she fiddled with her cup, the hopeful look she tried to hide—before shrugging, casual as ever. “Then do it.”

“Just like that?” She laughed nervously. “What if I’m terrible at it?”

He reached for the last forkful of his cake, chewing thoughtfully before responding. “Then practice. I’ll tell you if it tastes like garbage.”

It was meant to be a throwaway comment, but she had perked up at that, eyes bright and earnest.

“Wait, really? You’d do that for me?”

He fought the urge to look away, instead smirking slightly. “If it means free food, sure.”

She grinned, nudging his arm. “You’re terrible. But… thanks.”

And maybe it was the contact. Or her smile. But for that second, he felt a faint heat creeping up his neck.

Maybe some of those high school butterflies had survived after all these years.

After that, they exchanged numbers. And that’s how Tsukishima became her regular taste-tester.

The next week, they met at the same cafe.

Yn slid a small box of chocolate chip cookies across the table, fingers tapping nervously against the lid before she let go.

“Here,” she said with a sheepish smile. “They’re a little flat and the edges got too crispy… but they should still taste okay?”

Tsukishima eyed the uneven rows, each one slightly different in shape. He picked one up, inspecting it briefly before taking a bite.

“So?” she asked, leaning in, practically holding your breath. “How is it?”

She looks way too serious than she needed to.

He chewed slowly on purpose, dragging out the moment just to mess with her, before swallowing. “They’re tough. A little greasy. And too many chocolate chips. It throws off the balance.”

She nodded, pulling out her phone to type his comment. “Mm. Got it.”

Before she could finish, he grabbed another cookie and popped it into his mouth.

“Wait—!” she yelped, lunging to close the lid.

“Mmf?” Tsukishima blinked, still mid-chew.

“You just said they weren’t good,” she accused, holding the box away.

He swallowed, lazily reaching for it again. “I said they’re not that good. Big difference.”

She squinted at him. “And you still want more?”

“It’s edible,” he said with a shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, gimme more.”

“You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” yn mused, placing a box of black sesame muffins in the space between them.

Tsukishima took one without hesitation, peeling back the wrapper before biting into it. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Just unexpected. You seem more like a… vegetable kind of guy.”

“Brilliant deduction.” He brushed a few crumbs off his jeans, leaning back against the park bench with an easy slouch. “Next you’ll say I only drink water.”

She laughed, warm and easy, and Tsukishima pretended not to notice how it made him want to say something stupid again, just to keep her laughing.

“I would’ve if I hadn’t seen you downing coffee the other day,” she said with a teasing lilt. Pulling out her phone, she relaxed into the bench. “So? Tell me what you think?”

He turned the muffin in his hand, inspecting it. “The crust’s kind of dark. Bitter, too.”

“It’s toasty,” she corrected, but her fingers were already typing his comment into her phone. “That’s how black sesame’s supposed to taste.”

“Not really my thing then,” he said.

Still, he smirked a little.

“But are you sure you didn’t just burn it?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted.

“These are good,” Tsukishima murmured, taking another bite of the melonpan. He licked the custard from his lips with barely a pause.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “I’ve kind of mastered them. My dad’s picky. He won’t touch the convenience store ones. So my mom and I used to bake them on the weekends.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Fresh ones hit differently.” A pause. “But the chocolate chip ones from Sakanoshita’s? Those are really good.”

Yn’s eyes lit up. “You know those? My dad gives me the stink eye everytime I bring one home, like I’ve betrayed the family or something.”

He huffed a laugh. “You haven’t had one in a while?”

“In forever,” she groaned. “My place is too far. None of the nearby shops carry it.”

He didn’t look at her when he said, “I’ll bring you some.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

He shrugged, casual. “I stop by sometimes. I’ll grab a few.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

He took another bite, eyes fixed on the table. “It’s nothing.”

But he was already planning which day he'd make the detour.

Tsukishima popped the last bite of castella into his mouth, folded the parchment, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You really figured this one out.”

“It took forever,” yn said, grinning down at the remaining slices. “The trick was cooling the flour mixture. If it’s too warm, it sinks.”

He nodded, grabbing another piece without comment.

Across the park, two boys were practicing volleyball. They were clumsy, missing more than they landed. Tsukishima watched them, chewing slowly.

Yn must’ve noticed him watching. “Yachi told me you still play,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he replied, eyes narrowing when one of the kids flubbed a receive. “When I’ve got time.”

“Yeah, because playing pro on the Sendai Frogs is just a casual hobby,” she said, too lightly to be anything but teasing.

He turned to her, caught off guard. “Yachi told you that too?”

“Nope,” she said, leaning back with a small smile. “I looked it up.”

He scoffed, looking away, mostly to hide the way his ears were heating. “So you stalked me.”

“I searched Hinata and the others too, idiot,” she huffed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.

He laughed, short and quiet. Still, something about her taking the time to look him up made his chest feel annoyingly… nice.

“She was happy for you,” she added, voice softer now. “Yachi, I mean. Said you guys really loved it. That it’s kind of amazing you still get to do it.”

Her gaze drifted to the boys in the distance. She didn’t say much else, but he could see it in the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bench. That distant look when they first met again. Something tired and wistful beneath it.

Regret.

The ball rolled toward them—another failed receive. It bumped his foot.

He bent down and picked it up.

“You didn’t quit either, you know,” he said without looking at her.

And before she could answer, he jogged off, sleeves rolled up, calling out to the kids—ready to demonstrate, and to distract himself from the way his own heartbeat wouldn’t settle.

They bumped into each other in the produce section.

“Woah,” she said, grinning. “Are you stalking me this time?”

Tsukishima didn’t miss a beat. “I wish. Then I could’ve avoided this.”

She laughed. “Harsh, as always.”

They ended up walking through the aisles together, trading off commentary on ridiculous prices and silently judging people who blocked the middle of the lane. It wasn’t planned, but neither of them minded. It was fun, even.

He peeked into her basket. “Cheesecake?”

“Cheese tarts,” she corrected, plucking a carton of eggs off the shelf. “I’ll make them this Friday. I’ll text you.”

He nodded, already storing the date without thinking.

She glanced into his basket next. “Oyakodon?”

“For the weekend.”

She lit up, already on the move. “Add butter when you sauté the garlic. And—hold on—this.” She grabbed a tiny jar of sansho pepper and dropped it in his basket without waiting for permission.

Tsukishima frowned at it, eyeing the addition skeptically. “... That’s not in the recipe.”

“That’s because your recipe’s boring,” she said with a grin. “Trust me. Once you try it, you’ll never go back. I’ll even pay for it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

It wasn’t. Tsukishima made it again three days later, then again after that.

But he didn’t tell her knowing she’d gloat.

“Ah, come in. Watch the corner.”

“I am,” Tsukishima grunted, shifting the heavy box in his arms as he stepped inside. “Where do I put this?”

“By the door’s fine,” yn said, already slipping off her soaked shoes. She propped the umbrella in the corner, droplets pattering against the tile, then glanced back at him. “Wait here. I’ll get towels.”

She turned left down the hallway, disappearing from view.

Left standing in the genkan, Tsukishima glanced around—first to the row of shoes neatly lined up, then to the absurd pair of shark slippers tucked beside them. The left one was slightly crooked, as if kicked off in a hurry.

His lips twitched. Of course.

She returned a moment later, arms full with towels and… were those papers?

He raised an eyebrow, taking one of the towels. “You planning to quiz me or dry me off?”

She snorted and crouched down. “It’s for the shoes, genius,” she said, stuffing the paper gently into her own. “It helps soak the water out. Now yours.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

Wordlessly, he toed his shoes off and handed them over. She took them without hesitation, still crouched like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He watched her, towel hanging forgotten in one hand. The way she tucked her damp hair behind her ear, the quiet focus in her hands. It was weirdly... attractive.

Then, there was a movement out of the corner of his eye.

A cat—small, mostly white with a patch of grey on its head—peeked out from behind the hallway wall.

“Ah, Chobi!” Yn’s voice brightened instantly. “C’mere, girl.”

The cat stared at her, then gave Tsukishima a wary glance before skittering out of sight.

“She’s not good with strangers,” she chuckled, rising to her feet. “Especially tall ones with bad posture.”

Tsukishima scoffed, rubbing the towel over his hair. “She’s got a type then—people who rope their friends into free labor.”

“Right. Thank you, by the way,” she said, sheepishly brushing her fingers through her own wet bangs. “I completely forgot my relatives were delivering that today.”

“What even is in it?”

“Fruits and veggies. They have a farm. I think it’s a lot of citrus this time.”

He hummed, casting a brief glance at the box. “You were gonna haul that up by yourself?”

“Well…” She looked off to the side. “I was gonna try.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She only smiled innocently and turned toward the kitchen, voice floating over her shoulder. “Anyway, since you’re here already, we might as well do the tasting. To repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

He sighed, trailing after her. “What is it this time?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a small smile. “Still warm, too.”

“She’s really taken a liking to you,” yn said, stirring brownie batter, the spoon clinking softly against the glass bowl.

Across the room, Tsukishima sat cross-legged on the floor, dangling a feather wand loosely from his fingers.

Chobi pounced on the toy, paws wrapped around it like a trophy. She let out a triumphant meow before plopping down to gnaw at it.

“She only likes me because you make me feed her every time I’m here,” he muttered, scratching the top of her head. Chobi didn’t flinch. That was new.

“She associates you with her survival now,” she called over her shoulder, amused. “That’s a powerful bond.”

He cracked a smile, rising to his feet. That was new too—him being here after work, tasting whatever pastry she decided to whip up.

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside her.

“You should be careful,” he teased. “At this rate, your cat might start following me home.”

“She’d never,” she snorted. “She’s clingy. I can’t even wake up without her climbing onto my face.”

He actually laughed at that, picturing the image in his head.

She set the bowl aside and stepped toward the cabinets. One hand steadied her against the counter as she rose onto her tiptoes, the other reaching for a box on the top shelf, fingers just barely brushing.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, moving in behind her and grabbed it in one easy motion. “Here.”

Her hand dropped as she turned—eyes wide as she realized how close he was.

“Oh… thanks,” she said, taking a step back, only to bump lightly into the counter. She blinked up at him.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

For a second, the kitchen felt way too small.

She ducked her head, a faint pink rising to her cheeks.

And his mind became quiet. Then unbearably loud.

Without thinking, he raised the box and gently tapped it against the top of her head.

“Next time,” he said, voice a little lower, “maybe ask someone taller first.”

A breathy laugh escaped her, soft with a hint of nervousness. “S-Sorry,” she said, taking the box from his hand, fingers brushing against his for just a second too long.

Chobi meowed loudly from the living room, breaking the moment. Barely.

Things hadn’t changed, exactly. But Tsukishima started noticing the little things now.

Like how yn stared a second too long when he talked, then quickly looked away like she hadn’t been caught. How she’d fuss with her hair when he walked up to her, tucking strands that weren’t even out of place. How she’d suddenly ask him about historical facts or volleyball games—topics she’d never cared about before.

And the calls.

Always with some excuse: “My hands are covered in flour” or “I’m chopping onions,” like she couldn’t just pause for two seconds to type.

But the most obvious thing?

She’d started dressing nicer. Still her, still casual, but… cuter. Stud earrings when they went out. Soft knits instead of shapeless hoodies. And today, a fitted t-shirt instead of the usual graphic tees she used to lounge in.

And then there was this—her fingers, tugging his jacket sleeve to get his attention instead of just saying his name.

“Earth to the nerd,” she said, giving it a light pull. “You good?”

He blinked. “Just wondering how much longer I have to stand here before you actually feed me.”

She rolled her eyes. “ I heard patience is a virtue.”

“So is basic competence.”

She elbowed him, laughing, and for a second, it felt normal again.

But when she turned back to the stove—and there it was. The way she smiled to herself. The slight flush on her neck. How she stirred the saucepan a little too fast.

Tsukishima exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d dated before. He knew the signs.

And yet.

Maybe she’s just like this with everyone.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe—

Maybe he just needed to be sure.

“That what you’re dipping it in?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.” Still not looking at him.

“Smells sweet,” he said, leaning in a little.

Her hand faltered.

“Can you hand me the cream puffs?” she asked.

He nodded, pulling back. He grabbed the tray and brought it over.

She turned off the stove, grabbed one, and dipped it in the caramel. Then—almost absently—she held it up to him.

He paused, caught off guard.

She seemed to realize it a second later. Her eyes widened, and the puff wobbled slightly in her fingers.

Tsukishima’s gaze softened before he leaned down and took a bite, careful not to touch her fingers.

Just to avoid embarrassing her, he told himself.

“Not bad,” he said, licking a bit of caramel off the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t burn it this time.”

She made a strangled sound. “It was one time—and it was like, months ago—”

“Sure,” he said, watching the way she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just—it’s hot.”

“The caramel?”

She nodded fast. “Yeah. That.”

Sure it was.

He turned away to hide a smile.

Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.

“Ah, this is so cute!”

“Right! It suits your idea for the interior!”

“Oi.” Tsukishima lightly karate-chopped yn’s head before setting a tray down on the table. “Volume, please. We’re in public.”

Behind him, Yamaguchi offered an apologetic smile to the nearby patrons while Yachi ducked her head sheepishly. Yn rubbed the spot he'd tapped, shooting him a mock glare.

They were supposed to be helping her prep for her bakery launch. So far, it had mostly devolved into their usual chaos.

“What’s got you two so worked up anyway?” Yamaguchi asked as he sat beside Yachi, helping pass out plates.

“Yachi drafted a logo for me!” yn said proudly, sliding the paper to the center of the table.

"Whoa, this is amazing," Yamaguchi said, leaning in for a closer look.

Tsukishima set yn's plate in front of her. "You sure you don't wanna slap her face on it? I've got some truly cursed ones if you need material."

“You said you deleted those!” she hissed.

“And you actually believed me?” he said, adjusting his glasses with zero remorse.

Yachi blinked. “Wait... you have pictures of yn?”

Yamaguchi coughed into his hand, poorly hiding his grin.

"It's not a big deal," Tsukishima said flatly. "I have photos of all of you."

"Oh, but he has a special collection of Chobi," yn cut in, eyes glinting. "Did you know he bought her a sparkly collar for her birthday last month? And a tiny tiara—"

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging her ankle under the table.

Laughter erupted from the other side of the booth.

“That’s… kind of unexpected,” Yamaguchi mused, eyeing them.

“Right?” yn said through giggles. “He spoils her more than I do.”

“Oh, I meant you two,” Yamaguchi added, a little smug now.

Tsukishima shot him a glare. Yamaguchi merely smiled back, unfazed.

“I agree,” Yachi chimed in, her tone gentle but her smile teasing. “You’ve gotten really close. It’s… nice. You barely talked in high school.”

“Blame Mr. Antisocial over here,” yn muttered, cheeks pink as he gestured at Tsukishima. “He’d only say two words to me back then.”

Tsukishima gently pushed her hand away, his voice dry but not unkind. “And yet you never shut up. Funny how that works.”

She hid her smile behind her drink.

Then he turned to the other two, the picture of innocence—except for the ruthless gleam in his eyes.

“Speaking of close,” he said casually, “cute matching watches. Ginza, right? During that... What was it? ‘Coincidental’ business trip?”

Yachi choked on her tea. Yamaguchi stared hard at the ceiling.

Tsukishima sipped from his drink, perfectly smug.

Tsukishima tapped his foot, checking his phone for the third time in a minute.

Yn was quitting her job today—finally. She’d saved enough for renovations and a few months’ expenses, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. She’d been texting him about it all morning.

So he’d decided to wait for her outside her office.

When she finally stepped out, she looked pale but composed, a file folder in one hand and her bag slung over her shoulder. No signs of crying. That seemed good.

“… Bad?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

“Terrible,” she murmured, letting out a shaky breath. But she offered him a wobbly smile. “But at least it’s over.”

He nodded. Silence settled between them, not awkward, just… weighty. He wasn’t great at this kind of thing. The whole comforting-people deal. But he could try.

After a brief hesitation, his hand came up and landed on her shoulder.

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“How do you know?” she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, thinking.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “No one does. Only time will tell.”

Her shoulders dipped slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m not done,” he said, chuckling faintly. “The one thing I do know is that you left something behind that was never going to get better, no matter how much time you gave it.”

Her eyes widened a little, the tension in her face softening. Slowly, she stepped closer. Her hands hovered at his sides, like she was asking permission.

A faint blush crept up Tsukishima’s neck. He looked away, but his hand tugged her just a little closer.

She stared at him for another moment, then let her arms fall back. Instead, she leaned in carefully, resting her head against his chest, leaving the smallest sliver of space between them.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He swallowed. His instinct was to pull her fully in—but they were still in public. And he didn’t want to crowd her.

So instead, he brought a hand up and gently ruffled her hair.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll treat you to yakiniku and beer.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned back. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he lied terribly. “I’m in the mood to drink. Plus, I want gossip. And I fully intend to talk shit about your co-workers now that you’re free.”

Tsukishima jolted when he felt a sudden pinch at his side.

“What the hell—?”

“You never gain weight no matter how much I feed you,” yn grumbled, eyeing his waist like it had personally offended her. “You eat half a cake and still look exactly the same. How is that possible?”

He scowled, swatting her hand away. “Don’t just go around poking people like that.”

She just laughed, clearly unrepentant.

“I play volleyball,” he added, brushing his shirt back down. “And I don’t sit around all day.”

“Still,” she huffed, fingers twitching like she was tempted again, “you can’t burn it off that fast.”

This time, he caught her wrist before she could make another move. His hand closed gently around hers.

“I walk to work. I’m on my feet during exhibit tours. I walk to your place, and then back to mine,” he said. “Probably genetics too. Everyone in my family’s like this.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” she muttered, pulling her hands back with a pout. “Some of us bloat just from inhaling sugar.”

He gave a smug shrug and pushed his hair back. “What can I say? I’m blessed. And you’re… you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah. So that’s where all that weight went—your ego.”

Tsukishima’s lips twitched. Without warning, he reached out and pinched both her cheeks between his fingers.

“Ah—Tsukki! Stop!” she squawked, smacking at his hands. “Let go! I’m sorry! I surrender!”

“You started it,” he said, satisfied as he finally let go.

She rubbed at her face, glaring half-heartedly, but there was warmth behind it.

A beat passed. Then they went back to sorting through labels and notes for her bakery.

Then, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Hey.”

He glanced over.

“You really walk all the way back after visiting?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “Just didn’t think you’d go that far out of your way. For cake.”

He gave her a long look, before his gaze returned to the papers, moving one to the side.

“It’s not just the cake,” he said quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

He didn’t need to look up to know that she was blushing. And yeah, his face was a little warm too.

“This area gets decent foot traffic,” Tsukishima said, nodding toward the street. “Close to the station too.”

Yn leaned closer to the window of the vacant space, hands cupped around her face. “It’s just the right size—around 45 square meters. Enough for the kitchen, counter, and display case.”

He nodded, watching her instead of the storefront.

“You think this is the one?” he asked after a moment. “Or want to keep looking?”

She took one last look inside before straightening with a small sigh. “I really like it. But we should check a few more, just in case. Also… can we sit somewhere for a bit? My feet are killing me.”

“Weakling” he muttered, smirking as he reached out and steered her forward by the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the competition and get something sweet while we’re at it.”

She pulled out her phone, thumbing through her map app. “There was a pastry place a few blocks back, remember? We passed it earlier.”

Tsukishima nodded, eyes scanning ahead. “Yeah. That one looked decent.”

“Think you can make it without whining?” she teased, tilting her head up at him.

“I was about to ask you that,” he shot back. Then, slipping his hand from her shoulder, he added dryly, “Want me to carry you?”

She scoffed. “As if you could.”

His eyes glinted. “You’re right. You probably weigh a ton.”

She gasped and swung at him—he easily sidestepped, a low laugh slipping out.

They fell into step again, their bickering fading into comfortable silence. When she veers slightly toward the sunlit side of the street, he subtly moves to block the harsher glare from hitting her eyes.

“I forgot my couch is buried under all this chaos,” yn muttered, eyeing the explosion of color swatches, menu sketches, pastry boxes, and scattered notes across the living room.

Tsukishima barely glanced at the mess before dropping onto the floor. “This works.”

They ended up sitting cross-legged on a mess of pillows and throw blankets, backs leaned against the couch. The low table in front of them held a few leftover pastries and mismatched mugs of steaming tea. On the TV, a documentary he’d picked played softly, its narration a dry murmur under the quiet.

It wasn’t a date. Not really.

But it felt like one.

“Is this the one where they find teeth in that sediment thingy?” she asked, squinting at the screen.

Tsukishima side-eyed her. “‘Sediment thingy’? Real eloquent.”

“My bad,” she said, grinning.

Still, she kept watching.

Onscreen, grainy footage of rock beds and excavation sites rolled past, narrated by a monotone voice that only excited people like him.

“That layer there,” Tsukishima pointed at the screen with his mug, “Cretaceous. Most of the stuff they find there is marine life. Ammonites, mostly. Sometimes mosasaurs if they get lucky.”

“Ammonites,” she repeated, brow furrowed. “Those swirly guys?”

“Very technical description,” he deadpanned. “But yes.”

He expected her to zone out—most people did when he started—but she didn’t. She tilted her head toward the screen, eyes narrowed like she was actually trying to see it the way he did.

“They’re kinda pretty,” she murmured. “In a prehistoric, probably-deadly sort of way.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’d hate the real thing. They’re massive.”

“Really? I thought they were just ancient snails or something.”

That made him laugh again, shaking his head at her ridiculous descriptions.

Somewhere between fossils and snails, his arm had found its way up, draped lazily along the couch behind them. Not touching her. Just close. She shifted slightly, leaning into the pillows. The back of her head brushed the inside of his forearm.

He didn’t move it.

Neither did she.

She laughed again at something he said and her knee nudged his. Her hand rested between them, fingers twitching like they might drift closer.

He turned his head toward her then, about to make some remark—but stopped.

She was already looking at him.

And she didn’t look away.

The light from the TV reflected in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

But it didn’t matter.

They were close enough for their noses to touch. Her fingers came up, curling into the side seam of his shirt. His arm tensed behind her, ready to close the gap. Their heads tilted ever so slightly, and her eyes fluttered shut.

If he moved just a little more—

Thump.

A blur of fur launched into his lap with a mrow that sounded far too proud.

Tsukishima blinked.

Yn drew back just enough to breathe in surprise.

Chobi, in perfect loaf formation, nestled across his thighs like she’d claimed them on purpose.

The moment shattered instantly.

“Are you serious…” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.

Chobi blinked up at him and purred.

Yn reached for the cat, but she rolled onto her back, paws batting playfully. “Chobi. You are the worst.”

“She’s evolving,” Tsukishima sighed, already giving in. He scratched Chobi’s head without thinking. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Chobi flopped dramatically, clearly agreeing.

Yn settled back with a soft laugh, picking up her mug. They stayed close, and the air was still warm, but the balance tipped off. Her knee bumped his again, but this time it felt like a reset.

“Well,” she said after a moment, gaze flicking to the screen. “Your ancient snail documentary’s actually kind of decent.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t yet. “Told you it wouldn’t be boring.”

That earned him a soft smile, but the charged air was gone now, tucked into the silence that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Chobi purred louder.

And Tsukishima tried not to think about what would’ve happened if that damn cat had waited just ten more seconds.

The bell above the door chimed softly and Tsukishima stepped inside.

Yn looked up from where she was stacking menus at the counter, surprise flickering across her face. “Hey. What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

He held up a potted orchid—white with a blush of pink at the center. “I figured you’d get plenty of gifts tomorrow. Thought I’d beat the crowd.”

She smiled, walking over to take the plant from his hands, admiring it. “Wow. You actually got these? For me?”

“I can be thoughtful, you know,” he muttered.

“Must be exhausting.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually… there’s another reason I dropped by.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay...”

“I’m not gonna make it to the opening.” His tone dropped a bit. “My co-worker bailed on the Fukui trip last minute, so I’m getting sent instead. I leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She took that in slowly, her smile dimming. “That’s… okay. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

He nodded, though the silence that followed sat heavier than he liked.

“Wait here,” she said after a moment, pivoting back toward the kitchen. “I made something for you. Figured you’d drop by for breakfast before going to work.”

She returned with a small plate—strawberry shortcake, pristine layers of sponge and cream, with a single slice of berry on top.

Tsukishima looked at it longer than necessary. “You made it.”

“You wouldn’t shut up about it,” she teased.

He chuckled and took the fork from her. “Guess I’m spoiled.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder behind the counter as he took a bite. And she watched him, like always.

He licked a bit of cream from his thumb. “This is delicious.”

Yn beamed. “That good?”

He nodded. “Good enough that I’m mad I won’t be here tomorrow to have more.”

“I’ll make it again when you come back then.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. He kept eating in comfortable silence, the hum between them growing thicker.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Very.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone’s coming. Even those two morons.”

“Hinata and Kageyama?”

“Yeah. The tall one asked if he needed to dress formal.”

“Oh god,” she groaned, laughing.

The tension broke into warmth, then softened again.

“Want anything from Fukui?” he asked.

“Habutae Kurumi, please,” she said, perking up.

“Of course you’d want the one thing with walnuts.”

“Hey! You asked.”

She leaned in a little then, arms crossed on the counter. Her face tilted slightly, amused but fond.

“Thanks, Tsukishima. For everything,” she said. “If I hadn’t met you again, if you didn’t give me the push I needed, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words sank in slowly and his heart warmed.

He leaned close too, putting the fork down. “I barely did anything. You did all the work. I just got free food.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her hand slid over his—light, hesitant. “You did more than you think.”

He stared at their hands for a moment, then gripped hers. “And I can do more if you want.”

Neither of them moved, not at first.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and when they flicked back up again, the answer was already there.

He leaned in, just a little. Her breath hitched.

Their noses brushed. Breaths mingling. The softest graze of lips—

Then his phone rang.

Loud and jarring.

“Shit.” He pulled back an inch, jaw tight. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

She stepped back just as quickly. “Right. Go ahead.”

The moment slipped through the cracks. Gone again.

Moments passed, and he was by the door.

“Thanks for the cake,” he said, quieter now.

“Thanks for the orchids,” she replied with a small smile.

“Sorry I can’t stay.” He reached up, pausing near her cheek before moving up to ruffle her hair instead.

“It’s fine. Really.” She leaned into his touch. A beat passed before she grabbed his shoulders, turning him around the door. “Now go. It’s late and you have to pack.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He gave a nod, then left.

It should’ve ended there.

But as Tsukishima walked a few paces down the quiet street, something gnawed at him.

He’d be back. In a week, everything would slide back into place. They’d share dessert. Bicker. Sit too close in her apartment and pretend the silence between them wasn’t filled with everything they didn’t want to say.

Nothing would change.

And that’s what got to him.

Because maybe that was the problem.

This itch in his chest—it wasn’t panic. Nothing bad was going to happen. She wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t moving across the world. There would be a thousand other moments to say something.

But even knowing that, he couldn’t shake the thought.

He just really, really wanted this to be the one.

He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look she gave him when she said thank you. Maybe it was how warm the place felt when it was just the two of them. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending he didn’t know what this was.

It didn’t make sense. But the feeling wouldn’t let go.

So he stopped walking.

Then he turned around.

The bell chimed again.

Yn blinked, “Tsukki? Did you forget something?”

He stood in the doorway, breath caught between resolve and hesitation. “Yeah. I did.”

She glanced around. “What? Your phone?”

“No.”

In a few strides, he was in front of her.

He used to think his high school crush on her was just a phase. One of those dumb, passing things you look back on and laugh about when you’re older and know better. He never said anything then. Just stayed in the background, convinced she’d never see someone like him.

And for a while, he believed he’d outgrown it. Got older. Dated other people. Learned how to care, let go, to move on and try again.

But then they met again and she had rearranged the way his life moved. Morning texts became habit. Stopping by after work turned into instinct. Even the smallest things—a song he heard her hum before, a cat on the street—automatically led back to her. She’d become his first thought, then his favorite one.

What he felt now wasn’t the same as back then, but it wasn’t lesser either.

He never believed in fate. Never bought into the idea of “the one.”

But standing here now, with his palms sweating like he was seventeen again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just this once—the cliché was right.

Maybe she was it.

So, he didn’t hesitate this time. He reached for her hand, steady despite his pulse hammering in his ears.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, voice a little too low, like he hoped saying it quietly would make it feel less embarrassing. “That I… I want to be there. For you. Not just with the bakery. But… everything.”

He cleared his throat, gaze flicking down to where their hands were joined. “I mean—I don’t know. Life stuff. Whatever that means.”

God.

He shut his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose, like maybe this would reset his brain. It didn’t.

“From now on. For a long time. If you’ll let me. Or tolerate me. Either works.”

There. He said it.

And it sounded exactly as awkward as he’d feared. Not charming. Not smooth like earlier or all the other times it almost spilled from his lips. Just him, rambling and way too warm in the face.

Yn didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at him, lips parted slightly—then let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Soft and fond.

“The way you—I mean,” she said, cheeks tinting pink as her gaze dropped to their hands, “that was… barely coherent.”

He opened his mouth, about to defend himself, but she squeezed his hand before he could.

“But I liked it,” she added, glancing up again. “Life stuff with you sounds great.”

That made him smile—relieved, crooked, a little breathless.

His hands found her cheeks, thumbs grazing the soft curves under her eyes. And when she leaned into the touch, something in his chest went loose.

“I love you,” he murmured.

She blinked up at him, eyes shining. Slowly, her hands came up, pressing to his chest, sliding up until they curled around his neck. Her fingers brushed the back of his nape, gentle and a little unsure, like she was mapping him for the first time.

“I love you too.”

He shivered under her touch, from the weight of her words, from everything.

God, he was so far gone for her.

Then she tilted her head, lips quirking up. “So… is this the part where we kiss? Because I’m kind of dying over here.”

He laughed, half-choked, and tugged her in. “Yeah.”

But right before their lips could meet, he pulled back slightly and fumbled into his pocket.

Her brows lifted. “You’re kidding.”

He held up his phone, switched it to silent, and shot her a look. “I’m not getting interrupted twice in one night.”

She laughed, her forehead brushing his.

Tucking the phone away, he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other still cradling her cheek. “I’m not going to hold back, okay?” he whispered.

“Tsukishima! Just go for it already.”

He grinned and, finally, leaned in.

It tasted like strawberries.

But more than that, it tasted like something he’d been quietly craving for a long, long time.

224 notes · View notes

desi2go · 2 days ago

Text

What if it changed everything?

pt.1 | pt. 2

pairing: idol!Seungmin x reader

warnings: smut, angst, pregnancy, talking about abortion

summary: After a one night of pleasure with a member of the famous kpop group Stray Kids, you find out that you are pregnant. What will you do?

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

You didn't know what you were doing outside at this ungodly hour. After finishing up your rather unsuccessful study session at your university's library, you couldn't just calm your mind down. It had made it so difficult to learn, to even think properly.

Exams were coming up and your anxieties weren't really helping. No, they made it even worse.

You had hoped that the cold air on a spring night would clear your mind, shit the intrusive, loud thoughts out.

You didn't even know about what you were wrecking your brain over. It was just too much. Everything. The sudden divorce of your parents and the secret relationship of your father with another woman had turned your world upside down within seconds. And your best friend Sanha was currently going through a breakup herself, crying over her boyfriend who dumped her for another woman.

Now, you had the two of them swimming in their own problems, complaining to you about their unfair treatments.

You felt as if you needed to find solutions to their situations, like the whole weight was burdening your shoulders when you had your own troubles. With your parents not talking to each other, you had become their voice, negotiating between them.

And you? You didn't know how the hell you were going to survive the next few months. Your work place, a little book shop where you got enough money to pay for your rent, had closed suddenly, leaving you with no job and no money.

You could barely afford the college fees even with a job and your parents now had other problems to solve. And applicating at another place was difficult in a city with hundreds of poor students desperate for a little bit of money.

You hoped that the biting cold would soothe your nerves and cool your trailing thoughts just like it cooled your skin. A shiver wrecked your body as you circled your thin jacket tighter around yourself, cursing that you hadn't chosen the thicker one.

It was already way past ten pm. Most people were already at home, leaving the streets quiet and lonely. Just like you felt.

And the fresh air didn't seem to stop your mind, in fact, it made it much more worse. The quietness only fueling the nerves. To relieve some of that, you picked at your nails and chewed at your lip. Bad habits you had picked up long ago.

As you followed the path home to your small apartment, you observed the turbulence inside of the bar. It was the only thing lightening the street apart from the few traffic lights.

The clinking of glass against eachother and the loud laughter lured you inside. It was a Friday evening. So, no classes tomorrow. That meant that you could actually stay up way past your bedtime and sleep in. Very tempting.

If the quietness couldn't stop your mind, maybe the loudness would. A drink or two couldn't hurt, right?

Before actually stepping inside, you stopped yourself as you saw your reflection in the glass door. Knitting your eyebrows, you pulled at your dark grey jacket and the boring jeans.

You looked like a grandma who had been stuck at a library too long. Well, you indeed where at the library for nearly ten hours.

With a final glance, you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Immediately, the smell of beer and sweat flooded your nose.

You couldn't even remember the last time you had attended a party. That must have been ages ago. Only the mere thought of a cool glass of Lillet in your hand made your mouth water.

Yes, that was exactly what you needed. Alcohol and some good music. And maybe even a small little hook up for your nerves that could spice up your (currently nonexistent) sex life.

The muscular bartender immediately took your order and placed the pinkish fluid on the countertop with a smirk. "Here ya go, sweetheart. Looks like you really need it"

You laughed and nodded. "Oh, you can't imagine how much I need that." You nearly moaned as the sweet liquid pooled into your mouth, a faint touch of alcohol burned your throat just the way you liked.

After downing the first glass of your Longdrink, you felt the alcohol spreading in your whole body, warmth gathering in your stomach.

With a pleasant hum, you opened your hair and combed through it with your fingers, moving your foot along the beat if the music. Your body heated up and you shrugged your jacket off to cool your overheating skin.

The bartender placed another filled glass infront of you.

"Whiskey please" You flinched at the voice that seemed only centimeters away. Turning your head, you glanced at the young man sitting down on the chair beside you.

While the bartender worked, you had the opportunity to observe the black haired man more. His short hairstyle revealed a beautiful face with big boba eyes and a cute smile.

His black leather jacket only enhanced his appeal. And before you could actually stare at the mysterious stranger even more, his order was placed down and his hand wrapped around the glass while he turned to you.

"Hey" he mouthed, flashing you with his smile. With his face completely turned to you, you saw how tired he looked. Dark circles permanent under his eyes but never minimizing his beauty.

"Hi" you answered breathy, feeling gummy and red from the alcohol and maybe his attention.

"What is a gorgeous woman like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?" He asked, swirling the content of his glass before placing it on his lips and drinking. Your eyes followed the brownish liquid to his small, perfect lips.

"Drowning my thoughts and you? Rough day?" He chuckled at your assumption. His eyes sparkled sheepishly.

"You aren't wrong. I really had a hard day. And now, I'm just trying to distract my mind from the upcoming stress" he replied, ordering another round.

"I'm Seungmin by the way"

You chuckled and took his hand that he had stretched out towards you. "Nice to meet Seungmin. I'm Y/n"

"Y/n" he mouthed loudly as if he liked the way it rolled of his tongue. "I love the sound of your name" he flirted with a smirk.

Without thinking, you giggled, feeling the redness pooling into your cheeks like a stupid teenager.

"Well, thank you. Yours is really fine too." The black haired man nodded with a hum, his hand brushing yours briefly that sat on the cool wooden countertop as if it was nothing.

You liked the way he looked at you. With longing and desire, something you hadn't felt for so long since you were always busy keeping up with classes and your job. But Seungmin seemed to push the right buttons and you were convinced that he wasn't just good in flirting.

"Do you have any plans tonight, Y/n?" He questioned after drowning the second glass of whiskey. His whole body was still turned towards you on the bar stool as his hand graced yours again. But now, he actually rested his hand over yours, caressing your tender skin.

Immediately, you shook your head no. You had nothing to do other than ravishing and spend the night with him.

"I have no plans yet" you shrugged, chugging the last bit of your Lillet and letting your tongue run over your lips to wet them. You liked the way his eyes couldn't concentrate on your own and travelled down to your mouth in unvoiced desire.

"I think we both have earned a distraction from our churning thoughts, haven't we?" He whispered into your ear as his hand travelled up over your exposed arm which sent shivers along your spine in pure bliss.

Like in a trance, you nodded firmly, earning a happy smile from him.

"How about you accompany me to my apartment which is only a few houses away and we spent some time together? How does that sound?"

You gulped. You knew that there were some crazy people who lure women like you with sentences like that into misery. People who would force and rape you only to leave you behind on a dark alley like trash afterwards.

But was Seungmin really that type of guy? Well, the victims hadn't thought about their rapist as a threat first either.

While your mind reminded you about the traumatising article about a woman who had just been raped, you said fuck it. You were sick of your ever working brain with the stupids thoughts that never leave you alone.

Now, they could all quiet down. You weren't listening. Not this once.

"Sounds wonderful. Let me just pay for my drinks and we are good to go" you answered with a smile, calling the bartender over. As you searched through your purse for your credit card, Seungmin placed a hand on your shoulder, getting your attention.

You lifted your gaze. "No need. I'll pay for us" he winked at you and you immediately bowed your head, thankful for his kindness while blush crept up your cheeks.

"Thank you so much" you mumbled shyly. Seungmin brushed it off and helped you up after paying. "I can't let such a gorgeous woman pay for herself. Then, I wouldn't be a gentleman" he smirked and winked at you playfully.

You laughed amused, finding your jacket on the rack and quickly slipping it on.

"well, you are indeed a gentleman" you mused as he held the door open for you and immediately returned to your side to show you the way.

The way back to his apartment was filled with some small talk and a comfortable silence. Despite his obvious confidence in all his actions, you found out that he was actually the type of guy who rather listens than talks much.

And you definitely didn't mind that. You were quite the yapper and loved to talk. Sadly, your words often hit deaf ears since most people shut off after a while. But Seungmin?

Whenever you stopped yourself from sharing too much, he asked the right questions in the right moments. You knew this would be just a normal fling, a one night stand, absolutely nothing serious, but this little gesture warmed your heart, making him even more attractive to you. And you couldn't stop it. Maybe it was the alcohol that ran through your system or your nonexistent love life but it was sad that you were only a little fuck for him. From your observations, he was totally boyfriend coded.

Five minutes later, you found yourself in a luxurious apartment, too luxurious for a man in his early twenties. You gulped as you saw his clean living room, held in black and white.

He chuckled at your big eyes. "I'm often travelling around. That's why it looks so untouched" he brushed his hand over your exposed arm, letting goosebumps spread over your skin.

You finally let your eyes wander to him, his attractive smile and those brown eyes that sparkled sheepishly. Playfully, you winked at him, bringing your arms confidently around his neck and leaned in.

Tenderly, you brushed your lips against his neck, feeling him suck air in. "We can make it feel homely"

Almost immediately, his lips crashed against yours, pushing you against the grey wall behind you. "Absolutely love that idea" he mused before caressing your red lips with his tongue, pleading to get into your mouth.

With a moan, you opened up for him, clawing at his t-shirt to pull him closer. One of his long legs, pushed between yours and you could feel the warmth pooling into your belly.

This was exactly what you needed right now.

Him. At this moment.

You didn't need to think. You just followed your intuition, letting him take the reins so that you could just enjoy.

And you did exactly that. Enjoying.

You enjoyed how his lips felt against yours. How his hands travelled to your thighs and pushed you upwards in a sudden, practised movement that left you gasping. You enjoyed how he lifted you up like you weight nothing while your tongues collided inside of your mouth.

Loudly, you moaned into his mouth as you felt his bulge through his jeans, your heels digging into his ass to rub yourself against him in a teasing manner. The reaction was immediate. The shudder and the little rut against your body spoke words. He really needed that as much as you did.

With quick and powerful strides, he carried you deeper into the apartment, into the bedroom and let you fall onto the huge bed. The soft mattress cushioned your fall as you bounced slightly. You spread yourself out over the big, soft blanket, watching the black haired man in front of you like a hawk its prey.

Seungmin quickly got rid of his t-shirt.

And oh boy, he looked fine as hell.

His chest was slightly toned, muscles showing underneath his smooth skin as he struggled slightly to strip off his jeans. You felt how the heat gathered in your abdomen, longing for that hot man right in front of you.

Finally, he had won the war against his trousers and stood in all his glory, only dressed in his black boxers, right there. The fire in his eyes matched your own as he slowly got onto the bed like a predator sneaking up to its prey, ready to eat you.

"Let's get that off of you" he murmured, voice thick with desire. You only nodded and kissed him back while he opened the button to your jeans and helped you out of it. Soon, your top followed.

"So hot" he growled, burying his fingers in your hair and slightly pulling at it while he pushed your back down to the bed. His hands roamed your body like he owned it.

You moaned as he pushed his body over yours and made quick work of your bra that landed on the ground right next to your other clothes. His hands found your breast and kneaded them, making you mewl in pleasure.

His lips captured your own again. You clinged to him, nails in his back to keep him close, and undulate under him, body hot and desperate. He dropped his boxers, letting his hard cock swing free, and it’s impressive. You felt yourself lick your lips like a predator at the sight.

With one hand, he digged through his bedside table in search for a condom. His erection was plump and stood straight up as he slid the condom over his length, your eyes never leaving his moves. While he prepared himself, you slipped out of your panties, waiting for him.

He was back on top of you, his sheer presence pushing you down, making you flatten out against the mattress. His lips were on you, and it’s like he had reached deep up into some secret, hidden spot inside of you and flicked a switch.

With every fibre of his being, you burned. Melting into a puddle of pure want under his kiss. He shifted on top of you, and then you felt it.

His cock pressed deep inside of you, and you felt like you might come right then and there. He used his palms to prop himself up above you, and he found his steady rhythm that lit fire in your veins.

You could tell that he was trying to go slow at first, trying to let you settle, but he was just as desperate as you were. Confidently, you pressed your hips back against his, making him hiss in pleasure as he felt how tight you were, massaging his length delicately.

You taking the initiative was all the encouragement he needed. It was like he had turned a switch off and started pounding you like there is no tomorrow.

And god, you loved it.

The bedroom was filled with the sound of hips slapping against eachother, mixing with the moans and pants from both of you. His harsh movements unlocked something inside of you.

You were panting, sweating, aching your body up against his and all you could think of was getting more. More, more, more, even when you already felt filled to the brim, even when you felt completely overwhelmed by the pleasure.

His breath became ragged and uneven, his skins was heated up against yours and you could feel yourself quickly approaching that taut, sharp peak.

"I'm close" you moaned, stretching your chest against his at the dragging of his cock against your walls. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, digging into the soft skin.

"Me too" you heard him whisper in your ear as his lips kissed that sweet spot on your neck that made you see stars.

Right when you were vibrating on the edge, your whole body quaking, your thighs locked around his hips, he slammed his cock into you.

And that's all it took. You screamed, a scream that ripped out of your chest and through your whole body as you came. You were still feeling, spinning out when you felt him shudder and doing some final rocks against you as he came too. He groaned against your shoulder in pure bliss.

When you started to catch your breath, the weight of his body was warm and comfortable on top of you. You slipped your fingers into his hair and felt his heartbeat slowing down against yours. You two stayed like that for a long while, just breathing, before you sighed.

"I probably should head back to my place" you murmured, slipping from his bed and collecting your clothes from the ground you had dropped so carelessly.

Seungmin turned to his side, holding his haed up with his hand, not caring that his whole body was on display. With judging eyes, he stared at you for a moment and then to the clock on his bedside table.

"It's already two am in the morning. I'm not gonna let you walk home." He countered with finality, pushing his chin up in confidence.

Knitting your eyebrows, you replied. "And what should I do then?"

"Stay here for the night." He shrugged, giving you a playful smirk.

"Really? You're sure? I'm a total stranger" you retorted, pulling your shirt over your head.

A snort left his mouth. "I'm a total stranger too. And yet, you're here and just had sex with me"

You opened your mouth to reply but you couldn't deny that he was right. You indeed had trusted him even though you only knew his name.

Well, it looked like you didn't have any other option and if you were honest, you didn't have it within you right now to walk all the way back to your apartment in the darkness alone.

"Alright. I stay" you sighed, rolling your eyes at his teasing smirk.

❤☯❤

The next morning you woke up in warm arms that circled around your waist and kept you close. His mouth was resting on your exposed shoulder, making you shudder comfortable with every exhale. With your back pressed against his front, you must say that this position was extremely comfortable.

Seungmin was still deep asleep behind you but you just couldn't go back to sleep, being sad that this one night stand ended here.

Last night was fun. So much fun like you hadn't experienced in the last year. Finally, your mind had shot off and let your rest for the night. And now, you felt even more relaxed and recharged than ever. Maybe Sanha, your best friend, was right when she nudged you to have more fun, to make more out of your life than just studying.

After some time, you decided to check your phone. It was 10:39 am and you had 18 missed calls from your best friend. Shit, you had totally forgotten to tell her and usually, you and Sanha had breakfast together at her apartment every single Saturday.

She was definitely going to kill you. At first for not texting her where you were and then for not coming. You were so fucked.

Sannie: Y/n L/n! Answer your goddamn phone! Where the heck are you? Are you still sleeping?

Sannie: You are so late for our breakfast! Answer!

Sannie: Is everything alright? Hello? Did you turn your phone off?

Sannie: Y/n?

You felt so bad for forgetting her and your shared breakfast. And you knew with how dramatic she was that she would still complain about it years ago.

Y/n: I'm so sorry, Sannie! I totally forgot!

Immediately, she responded.

Sannie: How the heck can you forget your best friend?

Y/n: Well, I followed your advice and had some fun last night.

Sannie: WAIT! REALLY? Oh my god! Yes!

Sannie: How was it? Tell me everything! Right now!!! Come over, quickly!

Y/n: I'm still at his apartment so I can't come over right now. But it was great! I had so much fun and you were right, it really helped me destressing.

Sannie: You are still there? Oh my god! There will definitely a part two!

Y/n: I'm gonna tell as soon as I walk out of his apartment!

Sannie: You better be

Seungmin shifted behind you, causing you to drop your phone.

"Good morning" he said in his deep, raspy morning voice.

"Well, good morning to you too"

He gave you a sleepy smile before rolling off the bed and slipping into his boxers. You sighed contently and dressed yourself in your old clothes from yesterday while the black haired man walked into the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee?" He questions as soon as you entered the room after making you look presentable in the bathroom.

You nodded your head quietly and sat down on a stool, thanking him when he placed the steaming mug in front of you.

The quiet was comfortable. But it seemed like Seungmin wanted to say something.

"You have absolutely no idea who I am, right?" He asked, brushing his hands through his tousled hair.

Confused, you shook your head no. "No? Should I?"

He grinned. "Well, I am Seungmin of Stray Kids." Your whole face was drained out of colour and you were sure that you were whiter than the wall in the kitchen. Sanha loved that group and sometimes you even listened to their songs. But you never had made the effort to memorise the member's faces.

"Oh my god" you mumbled. Sanha won't believe you.

"And that's why I need you to sign this NDA." He placed some pieces of paper down with a pen, nudging you to read and sign it.

❤☯❤

"You will never know who I saw today!" Sanha, your best friend called out as soon as she pushed the door to your apartment open.

It was a normal Tuesday late afternoon for both of you. While you had classes up until four pm, Sanha worked at a small bakery and always came to your apartment afterwards.

Nearly five weeks ago, you had that wonderful one night stand with the black haired man and everything was normal. You went to college, studied, searched for a job. Nothing had changed.

"Who?" You answered, nibbling on the backside of your pen while your best friend for years let herself fall onto your bed behind you.

"My dear Ex! He was in the bakery with his new girlfriend!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air in agitation. "As if the breakup wasn't hard for me. And now he decided to show his new lover off at my workplace. I bet he just wanted to piss me off" she growled angrily.

Well, since you couldn't concentrate on studying anymore, you pushed yourself off your desk chair and jumped onto the bed next to her.

She huffed loudly. "Such an asshole. First he dumped you unceremoniously and now he does shit like that" you shook your head and comforted her with a welcoming hug.

Those situations weren't new since Sanha's relationship had ended so fast. Often, you found yourself comforting her for hours without end while she cried in your arms from the humiliation she had faced. So, this wasn't something new.

But today, something is different. And it hadn't to do with your best friend.

For a week you had felt a little off, almost as if you had catched a cold. Your muscles ached and sometimes, your head hurt like it was beaten with hammers.

"You know, Sannie. There are tons of other guys out there that would love to be your boyfriend. You just need to wait and find the right one" you emphasized, sitting up to brush some strands of hair behind her ear.

But the sudden movement made you feel light headed and sick. Before your best friend could answer, you lunged off the bed.

"One sec!" You exclaimed and booked it across the apartment to your bathroom, your friend trailing close behind in worry.

"What's wrong? Y/n!" She called out in terror, not having expected you to sprint.

You didn't even care to close the door behind your form. Right now, that wasn't your problem.

There was no time.

You hunched over the toilet and immediately retched and puked. Sanha had trailed in too, holding your hair out of your way while she rubbed your back soothingly.

Sighing, you braced yourself over the bowl once it was over.

What the hell?

You felt completely fine just minutes ago. So what was this?

"Is everything fine?" Your friend asked concerned. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know why I felt so nauseous from one time to the other. Maybe it was the sushi from yesterday"

She knitted her eyebrows. "Then, I would feel sick right now too." She thought, bringing you a damp wash cloth to wipe your mouth with.

What the hell was this? It couldn't be food poisoning since you ate nothing but eggs on toast this morning and nothing else that could have become bad.

Sanha sat down next to you. "Haven't you told me that you felt achy all week long?" You nodded, not knowing what she was up to.

"You and that guy five weeks ago - what was his name again?"

"Seungmin"

"Ah, right. Seungmin - did you use protection?"

You stopped in your tracks, not even breathing as you recalled what happened five weeks ago. Yes, he definitely used a condom and had taken your pill. Wait- you had forgotten it that night since you weren't home at 10 pm which was the usual time you took your pill. Fuck. Your eyes grew big.

"Did you?" Sanha added impatiently, staring at you in horror.

"Yes - I mean. We used a condom. But I remember that I didn't take my pill since I came home the next morning. Do you think the condom had a hole or was ripped? Do you think I'm pregnant?" Your whole body shook and your voice was hoarse.

No, you couldn't let your brain go there. But there was an unrelenting, nagging thought. Or... The thought alone was enough to draw up another batch of puke, and you threw yourself forward, emptying the last remains of your breakfast into the toilet.

You're seriously.... seriously...fucked.

❤☯❤

Tick, tack.

You swore if you would sit here for another hour, you were going to throw that damn clock out of the window. And the time didn't even seem to pass. It was like the time had slowed down only to mock you.

Sitting in the waiting room of the tiny hospital near your apartment wasn't the best thing you could do on a Monday morning. Technically, you were even skipping your classes but you didn't spend any mind to that. This was important. Life changing important.

You couldn't believe you were actually here. You shouldn't be here at all. And yet, here you sat, annoyed by that damn clock.

But the ongoing nausea since last week's Tuesday didn't leave any room for arguments. With every day that passed and you were still puking your guts out, especially in the morning, the chance of food poisoning grew slimmer and slimmer.

Maybe you just caught a strange cold? A new disease? Anything. You would take anything as an answer but not the one you dreaded the most at the moment.

And the way the nurse at the front desk looked at you. So pitiful and soothing was so annoying and didn't actually help. You bet that she thought how sad it was for a 22 year old to turn out pregnant when the father wasn't even here. His absence clearly told her everything she needed to know.

Your left arm hurt a bit where the nurse had drawn blood from you for the pregnancy test, a cute little plaster now covering the skin.

Nervously, you were picking at your nails, not actually focusing on the people that entered the waiting room.

As the shuffling came to an halt and the person sat down right in front of you, you cared to look up from your stress hobby.

You stilled in your actions when you realised who stared back at you just like you did. The black hair, the brown eyes and that gorgeous mouth.

It was Seungmin.

Fuck, you were truly fucked.

He recognised you as well, giving you a charming smile as he sat up with a grimace. From what you could observe, his hand was hurt judging by how he carefully held his hand up with the other

Your big eyes and your open mouth made him chuckle. "Hello again, Y/n" he greeted.

Calm down, you thought. He didn't know why you're here. You have nothing to fear. He won't find out. "It's nice to see you too, Seungmin" you replied after taking a deep breath which was difficult with how much your heart hammered against your ribcage.

"Why are you-" he started again but couldn't finish his sentence as another nurse entered the waiting room.

"Mrs. Y/n L/n, the gynecologist is ready to see you now" she waved you over with a smile. Quickly, you shot up, feeling Seungmin's hot stare on your back. Well, now, he most definitely knew or at least suspected. He was too smart not to.

You pushed the growing anxiety forcefully away when you sat down on the chair, taking deep breaths again to stop your racing heart. Come on, stay calm, you mumbled. Everything's going to turn out fine. Now focus on the right now.

Like a mantra, you repeated those words until your gynecologist entered with your case tucked carefully underneath his arm. His friendly smile brought warmth and soothing.

“I see you’re here to get a pregnancy test. Is that correct?” he said, sitting down behind the table and typed something into his computer.

You gulped and looked at your feet in shame. “Yes.”, you mumbled.

“And when was the last time you had sex?” He tapped his fingers once against the keyboard, but his eyes locked onto yours.

"six weeks ago" you answered truthfully. He hummed and wrote that piece of information down.

"Alright. I got your blood samples back and you have a high percentage of oestrogens which indicates a pregnancy. Congratulations" he stated, giving you a kind smile.

In that moment it was as if your whole world came crashing down on you. Now, that nightmare was confirmed, there was no sense of convincing yourself that you're not pregnant. To say that you were shocked was an understatement.

"I would like to do a quick ultrasound to check how the fetus is developing" with a grand gesture, he guided you to the examination table.

You gulped as you laid down, belly exposed. Your hands were clutched together over your chest and the cold gel on your belly made you shiver slightly.

He started the machine and brushed over your belly with practised movements. The screen showed the inside of your belly, well, you hoped that it was your belly since you couldn't recognise anything.

"From what I can see, the fetus looks good and is developing right"

"Is- is there already a heartbeat?" You fidgeted with your fingers, turning your head.

He hummed and pressed a few buttons. "You are six weeks pregnant and actually, we should be able to hear it" Only seconds later, the room was filled with fast and steady heartbeats. Your own heart jumped at the sound and you needed to stop yourself from cooing. This was your baby.

"Do you want a photo?" He asked and without even thinking, you nodded eagerly.

"As I assume, this pregnancy wasn't planned, right?"

Still in shock, you just nodded your head, combing through your hair in a soothing manner, at least that was what it was suppose to do.

"I'm not saying that you need to decide now. You still have time whether or not to keep the baby. I just want to give you the opportunity to choose." He explained, grabbing a bunch of brochures from his desk and placed them in front of you.

"Thank you" you mumbled, putting them in your bag after cleaning yourself with some paper towels.

Before exiting the examination room, he gave you the ultrasound photo of your little bean which you safely tucked inside of your bag, away from prying eyes. You stopped in your movements shortly as you grabbed the handle.

What if Seungmin was still sitting outside? What if he waited to confront you? But you couldn't stay here all day. Sooner or later, you needed to get out of the room.

Nervously, you poked your head out and sighed when you didn't see him right away in the waiting room which meant he had been called to the doctor already. That might leave you with enough time to get the hell out of there.

But still, you peeled into every corner or turn, just to be sure that he wasn't waiting for you in one of the hallways. On top of that, you felt like a little paranoid since every single time a person walked behind you and you heard their footsteps echoing through the long room, you quickly whipped your head around to check.

Another sigh left your lips as you exited the hospital, enjoying the warming sun. In only six weeks, the starting, early spring had developed into a much more friendlier version. For a minute you enjoyed the warmth on your skin and the smell of the prospering flowers. Then, you decided to better get going and rummaged through your bag in order to find the keys for your bike.

After another minute, you triumphantly smiled and lifted the key into the air. In your clumsiness, you let it fall to the ground. Sighing, you reached down to the ground to pick it up again but stilled as a voice called out your name from afar.

"Y/n!" You jumped slightly and quickly perked up to see who was calling out for you. In confusion, you looked around, only to find Seungmin walking, towards you from the hospital entrance. His hand was wrapped in bandages but still, he came towards you.

His face contorted in pain and you actually contemplated to jump on your bike and get the hell out of here. But you couldn't do that. You weren't an asshole.

As Seungmin came to an halt in front of you, his curious eyes observed your form. Nervously, his gaze shooting from your face to your covered belly.

Shit, he definitely knew something was up.

"Why were you in the hospital?" He asked, voice tight.

You played with the key in your hands, affectively avoiding his judging gaze.

"Yeah, I- I just had a check up" you explained evasively.

He wetted his lips with his tongue, stepping slightly closer.

"Y/n, why were you in the hospital?" His voice grew softer with each word, almost pleadingly, and his eyes searching your gaze.

You took a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest. Panic flooded your veins since you knew you couldn't postpone that conversation. He was clearly suspecting what you hided. Due to the lack answers he got from you, he sighed, his hand land on top of his big hat that concealed most of his head.

"Are you pregnant?" He whispered as if he was afraid to voice those words out loud. You gulped and finally looked him in the eyes while you gave him a sad, broken smile. Your hands were shaking from the panic in your veins.

This was the moment you had dreaded the most. How would he react? Would he want to be in the baby's life? Would he turn around as if it wasn't his business too?

You weren't even sure what you wanted to do with the new information about the growing life inside of you! Should you keep it? Yes? No? You didn't know. You mind was running on high speed with the amount of thinking you did.

"Seungmin-I" before you could dodge his question, he asked again.

"You are pregnant, right? That's why you're here" he stated, looking for the answer in your eyes. His pleading look was heartbreaking and you could see how much this affected him.

You knew there was no escape. You had to voice it out loud or he wouldn't let you get home.

"Yes. I am" you mumbled, looking down shamefully. That was the first time you were saying those words out loud and now, this whole situation became suddenly much more realistic and true.

The black haired boy ran his uninjured hand over his face while taking a deep breath. "Is it mine?" His voice broke.

"Yes" you replied quietly, too afraid to be the victim of his anger. "I wasn't sexually active before and after. Plus, the doctor said that I was six weeks along"

He nodded understandingly, taking another deep breath to stop the anxiety that flooded his veins. He was just 22 years old - how could he be fitting to be a father? But something didn't sit right in his mind.

"Wait - we used a condom. I never have intercourse without one" he stated, judging your shaking form to analyse if you were lying or not.

"Yes, but it must have ripped or had a hole." You explained truthfully since their wasn't any other possibility for you to get pregnant.

"Shit" he mumbled, gulping and massaging his neck to relieve the stress.

Despite the circumstances, you were calming down. Now, you didn't need to hide that big secret from anyone anymore. Which lifted a huge rock from your heart. Now, you had someone who could help you along the way, wether you kept the baby or not.

"I-I can't do that. I'm an idol and only 22! I-I can't be a father right now." Seungmin mumbled like a mantra. His eyes not focused on you anymore.

"I know. I'm afraid too" you soothed. You couldn't believe that you were soothing him right now, when you were the one pregnant.

"No, I-I can't deal with that right now. I-I need to go" he exclaimed, panicking and quickly stepping backwards.

"Seungmin, wait!" You answered in shock. Never you had thought that he would react that way. But you couldn't force him to stay.

You weren't his girlfriend, only some strangers who had hocked up. He had no responsibilities. A one night stand that had created new life.

You let him go. Despite your own panic, you tried to stay calm, try to think for the little bean inside you. Sure, you were frustrated about his reaction but you understood it.

With a sigh, you turned around again and tried to unlock your bike's lock with your shaking fingers. Silently you cursed yourself for thinking that he would understand and help you, at least to find a solution together. But you were wrong. He just seemed to think about himself, about his life that will change. But what about you? You were the one pregnant! You didn't even know if you could continue college!

❤☯❤

"So, what's your plan now?" Sanha asked, walking into your small living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands. You shrugged your shoulders, sighing and spreading the prospects over the coffee table.

"I don't know. I don't know if I should keep it or get rid of it!" You exclaimed, diving into the bowl and immediately popped it into your mouth. Stress eating always helped you. Wether it was stress from exams, your parent's divorce or now the sudden pregnancy. Eating always helps.

Sanha rubbed your tense shoulders, giving you a comforting hug. " I know it's a huge decision. But you don't need to choose today. And no matter how you decide - I will help you, okay?"

You smiled at her thankfully. "I love you" you whispered, tears in your eyes.

"I love you too" It was such a good feeling to know that someone will be there for you, even though it's not the father.

"We need to do pros and cons!" Sanha exclaimed in a loud voice, jumping up from the couch and rummaging through a drawer until she found paper and a pen.

You sighed. That was going to be a long night.

❤☯❤

"Okay, stop guys!" Chan exclaimed angrily, stopping their dance practise once again. With a sigh, he shut off the music of their newest title track and turned to his members.

"What's going on Seungmin? You keep making so much mistakes today. What's on your mind that you can't even get the easiest parts right?" He wanted to know from the black haired, his voice turning softer with concern.

They all had flopped to the floor, panting and sweating since they were practicing for a few hours now.

"I fucked up, hyung, I fucked up big time" Seungmin covered his face with his hands.

"It's okay, Minnie. Tell us" Minho nudged, brushing his hair out of his face.

"I hooked up with a girl a few weeks ago"

"That's great, isn't it? You sure had a lot of fun" Hyunjin cheered, wiggling his eyebrows. Felix snorted, grinning widely, while Chan groaned, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "Oh please tell me you let her sign a NDA" he murmured, his voice threatening.

"No, of course I had her sign!" Seungmin exclaimed.

"Then what is the problem, Minnie?" Jisung wanted to know. "Was she that bad?" Hyunjin added. Vehemently, the black haired shook his head.

"Did you fell in love with your one night stand?" Jeongin teased. Well, Seungmin didn't expect that. Blinking, he felt warmth spreading over his cheeks. "That-That's not the point!"

Changbin giggled. "Don't say you have a crush on her from only seeing her once!"

"Seungmin is in love! Seungmin is in love!" Minho sing-sang playfully. The black haired sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

"She's pregnant, okay!?" He yelled over his friend's chattering, voice cracking in defeat.

For a moment, everything went silent. Everyone stared at him in disbelief, too stunned to speak as if they tried to figure out if he was joking or not.

"Is that a joke, Seungmin? Because it better is" Chan cleared his throat, trying to stay calm. Seungmin just shook his head, eyes trailing down to the floor.

"How did that happen? Why didn't you use protection?" Felix asked, brushing through Seungmin's hair to soothe him.

"My condom ripped or had a hole" he murmured, earning a deep sigh from Chan.

"Shit" Changbin whispered, hugging him from behind. "What have you two decided to do?"

The younger one just shrugged his shoulders, lip trembling from the emotions he felt. "I don't know"

Minho knitted his eyebrows. "You don't know? But you have spoken to her about that, right?"

In shame, Seungmin looked away. "I panicked after she told me and I said I couldn't do this and ran away" he admitted.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. "Well, you're an asshole"

"Honestly, I would have slapped you" Jeongin stated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know! I was an ass. But this whole situation overwhelmed me! I can't be a parent at 22"

"And you aren't the one who is pregnant, Seungmin. She didn't want to be in that situation either and is probably scared too." Chan replied, patting Seungmin's shoulder.

"You need to speak to her. It isn't just her fault and you both need to find a solution together" Felix exclaimed, joining into the hug.

"Thank you all" Seungmin mumbled as all the members enveloped him and now, he just needed to find you.

❤☯❤

The days blurred together after your confrontation with Seungmin. You knew that he wouldn't seek you out again but still, something deep inside you didn't loose the hope that he would suddenly stand in front of you with an apology and maybe a jar of pickles you craved at the moment.

Officially, you were now a little bit over eight weeks pregnant and the ongoing nausea tortured you more and more.

Together with Sanha, you had weighed the pros and cons of keeping the baby. If it weren't for your education and money problems, you would have chosen otherwise but now, you couldn't give the baby a good life. That's why you had decided to terminate the pregnancy.

It was a big decision and it had costed you several tissue boxes and tons of ice cream but it was better that way, especially when you didn't have anyone to help you.

Despite your inner turmoil, you had booked an appointment a week ago at a specialised clinic for the small operation. They had informed you that it wouldn't take long, only two hours and the little life within you would be gone, gone forever.

The walk to the clinic was cruel, like you would walk to a funeral. The funeral of your small little bean, like you had named the fetus. Shame washed over you when you saw the small clinic from afar. Every step made you more anxious and scared.

While your brain, the rational part of you, knew that this was the only good decision, your heart screamed at you to just turn around and walk away. Walk away from loosing your baby that couldn't even meet yet. And the worst part?

You loved kids and you always wanted some of your own. And honestly? You could imagine keeping the baby, no, you would if you could.

The uneasiness spread when you greeted the receptionist and told you to sit down.

Tick, tack.

Just like in the hospital, there was this horrible clock but this time, it didn't agitate you. No, this time, it felt like a countdown and with each second that passed, you couldn't turn around and go. It was only a few hours until the fate of your little bean would be sealed.

Anxiously, you tapped your foot against the white tiles, desperately wanting to get this over with so you couldn't back down. Inside, you felt like a coward. There were so many couples around the world who had troubles conceiving or having miscarriage. And here you were, with a healthy fetus, waiting to get rid of it.

You flinched when your name was called and quickly hurried into the small examination room.

"So, Miss Y/n. How are we feeling today?" The nice elderly woman greeted you.

"Okay, I guess" you shrugged your shoulders, sitting down for the prep talk.

"Alright. You already know that this is a minimal invasive operation and afterwards, you can go as soon as the narcosis wears off but it's safer to have someone to get you."

Distantly, you nodded since you had already asked for Sanha to get you afterwards. Without noticing, your hands glided to your abdomen as if you wanted to protect the little bean.

"So, with that being clarified, you just need to sign this allowance that you have agreed to the operation and then, a nurse will fetch you and give you a remedy that will open your cervix in approximately an hour." The elderly woman explained, sliding the allowance over the table for you to read along with a pen.

Friendly, she smiled. "Alright, you can give that to the nurse when it's signed" with that, she lead you out of the room for you to sit in the waiting area again.

Your stomach churned as you read sentence after sentence. The described procedure sounded brutal but through the narcosis, you wouldn't feel a thing and the baby, well, it wouldn't be there afterwards. That's how your shared time will end.

You felt ashamed that you chose the easiest way and you wouldn't fight for the little bean. After finishing reading, you opened the pen and were about to leave your signature underneath but as you positioned the pen on the paper, you stilled again as if an invisible force held your hand firmly.

Honestly, even if the circumstance were bad and you hadn't planned to get pregnant, you had grown quite attached to the little bean. Maybe this were your hormones talking but suddenly, the feeling of shame and guilt crashed over you more than ever before.

Tears sprang into your eyes, blurring your vision. Why couldn't you just sign that damn allowance and continue your life how it was used to be? Would that make you a bad person? No, but an extremely guilty one.

You let the pen sink. No, you couldn't do it. You just couldn't. Maybe your parents could help you with your financials and some girls in college had already a kid or were pregnant. You could do it, with a little help, it was possible.

Quickly, you grabbed your purse and placed the allowance on the receptionist's table who gave you a surprised look.

"I'm sorry but I can't" with that, you quickly turned and exited the clinic, already phone in hand to call Sanha.

Immediately, she picked up.

"Y/n? Already finished?" She asked surprised and you heard her scrambling to get going.

"No, No. I couldn't" you answered, one hand rubbing over your belly absently.

"What?"

"I couldn't. I'm keeping the baby" you whispered, reality hitting you full force and brought tears into your eyes.

"Wait. Really?" Her scrambling stopped, impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Yes" you murmured, a small smile creating on your lips.

Her reaction was immediate. "Oh my fucking god! I'm gonna be an aunt! Hell ya!" She yelled through the phone, causing you to quickly bring some distance between you and the phone.

You chuckled. "I don't know if that's a good idea" you teased, internally loving the way she reacted.

"Stop that! You know what a good auntie I'll be!" She exclaimed outraged and you could visualise her how she put her hands at her sides.

"Little bean is going to be extremely lucky" you mused.

"We need to celebrate! I'm coming over with alcohol and ice-cream!" She exclaimed happily. "Wait - no alcohol for the mama! I'll get you some ice tea instead" she corrected herself immediately.

You giggled. Mama. That's a name you need to grow used to. But actually, you couldn't wait for your baby to say it for the first time.

author's note: just wanting to say that there is nothing wrong with abortions! I can understand everyone who chooses to do one and this is just how I would probably decide for myself if I ever got pregnant unplanned!

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