#Might try to do another one for next weeks update

[hyydraworks]

i'm a really big fan of your work!! i was wondering, what's your favorite thing you've made recently?

Awe, thank you so much for the kind words and the ask!

This Dimetrodon mug definitely pulls at the top for me for recent works. There's a lot of illustrations I do now that I feel proud of once done, but I'm not always happy with the colors/ shading and this fellow felt so good to pull out of the kiln and one of those times where the imposter syndrome all artists know and love just fled while ogling it.

Also additional thank you to the person who bought it and left the most wonderful review, so glad it's being fought over lovingly every day.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[frederikvesti]

jack-doohan -> frederikvesti 🩵✨

what if i were to enter a new c-era ✨

[shadowkoo]

Up In Flames - Part 1

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! and a big thank you to booki @kwanisms for reading this over for me so last minute. this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?” His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

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[alchemistc]

i present my latest offering of an au first meeting: the poker game.

Big Blind

Tommy's been on plenty of bad dates in his time, but this one might actually take the cake for worst first date he's ever had. They're just -- not right for one another, and it's clear they can both feel it, but for some reason Jeff just -- keeps talking. About his border collie rescue, and his sixth fourteener (this year), and the his upcoming promotion and the Cybertruck he's thinking about getting wrapped in matte black --

"Jeff," Tommy cuts in, when he starts in on Tesla stock talk. "I'm gonna pay the check and head out. It's been..." he gestures. Considers calling Stout right here at the dinner table to tell him no more blind dates with his stock broker brother-in-laws friends, no matter how gay they are.

He's gonna get shit from Stout's wife the next time she stops by with a casserole, but honestly a half-hour tirade on politeness from Heather Alexandra Stout sounds better than learning how much of an Elon Musk fanboy Jeff really is. Jeff looks like he might be offended by the implication that he wouldn't have paid, but Tommy's already waving down his server and gesturing to the bar by the time Jeff even thinks to reach for his wallet.

"You have a good night."

Andrea slides his check under his elbow with a raised brow and doesn't say a word when he hands her his card immediately, but he can tell she's judging him. Third date in a month he's barely contained his disdain for long enough to pay up, although this is the first he's outright ditched before the bill was even paid.

Gary slides a beer across the bar to him and refuses the cash Tommy tries to give him for it. "Do I look that pathetic, Gary?"

Man of few words, Gary just taps his nose and tips his chin to his date, who is doing a terrible job of trying to sneak out the door.

"You're too good for him, anyway," says Andrea, back already with his card. He tucks an extra twenty into her folder and downs the beer in silence while they watch through the window as Jeff seems to get into an argument with the Uber pulling up in front of the restaurant.

"Maybe it's me," Tommy says, and Gary hums in commiseration. Or maybe he just has gas. "Maybe I'm the problem."

It's been a string of bad dates, and before that a relationship that'd gone up in metaphorical but nearly literal flames. Tommy's spent a lot of introspective time wishing he could kill Gerrard with lasers so that he doesn't have to blame himself for staying in the closet so long that blind dates and Grindr meetups were his real introduction to the dating scene.

"Someday, Tommy, you'll meet someone who can't get enough of your morbid humor and your pessimism and your obsession with haunted cars."

"One car," Tommy argues, although that's beside the point. "I think maybe I should give the search for love a break, Gary."

Gary hums, again.

Tommy drinks the rest of his beer in companionable silence and pulls up his phone to order an Uber himself. Jeff is, thankfully, long gone, and Tommy's halfway through confirming his home address when he remembers the invite he'd received last week that he'd hesitated scheduling a date around. He shoots off a text instead, and updates the address before he slides from the bar stool.

Gary shoots him a look. "Headed home?"

Tommy shifts on his feet. Shoots a look behind the bar. "Nah. Gonna try to hit up a work thing. Pour me a shot of Tullamore for the road?"

Gary accepts the twenty this time and doesn't make a comment about the way Tommy downs a sipping whiskey, which Tommy appreciates.

He's halfway to his destination, enjoying the chat with his driver, when the text comes in from Lucy.

Had to bail, but you should go if the date went that badly. Williams will enjoy slowly ruining the remainder of your night.

Tommy taps his phone once, twice, three times before he makes up his mind not to be the asshole who changes his destination halfway through the ride. Worst comes to worst, he'll tap out early and Venmo Mehta the rest of his stake.

Better than moping at home with the pint of freezer-burned Ben and Jerry's.

-----

He's fairly rushed down the stairs once he's in, because apparently Williams is on some sort of time crunch, or something, and he's fairly certain the drinks are catching up to him as he takes in the table. Mehta and Wilson are regulars, and he's seen Rosen around, but there are two new guys settling in across the table and Tommy has to take a long, long moment to remind himself this is technically a professional setting before he can look too closely at either one of them.

Yeah. Shit, he'd definitely drank most of that second pitcher by himself, listening to Jeff talk.

"Kinard. We weren't expecting you." Rosen's eyes glimmer with amusement. He'd caught maybe six months of her probationary year, but every time she sees him she likes to remind him of the first time she'd seen him post-transfer, at a gay bar in WeHo, and introduced him to the first guy he'd dated seriously in his entire life. Tommy returns the favor by reminding her exactly how terribly that had ended for all parties. "Poker night dress code usually includes more buttons than date night," she jabs, finger circling the olives in her martini glass, and Tommy contemplates tossing one of Mehta's chips at her. Her grin goes wide.

With the momentary distraction, Tommy feels a little more prepared to face the two men now eyeing him curiously.

"Tommy," he says, leaning over the table, hand out to shake. Turtleneck raises a curious eyebrow when Mr. Red Velvet Smoking jacket practically leaps across his lap to shake back. "I'm over at 217."

"This is Eddie," Red Velvet introduces, and Tommy's gaze dances between them, curious. "I'm Evan. We're with the -- wait, 217 -- Chimney's Tommy?"

Tommy's brows dance up the same time as Eddie's do. He is still shaking hands with Evan. Or - holding is more accurate, he supposes, but for the sake of his sanity and the possible date Evan and Eddie are on, if he's reading the introduction or any of the vibes right (they're both stunning and Tommy is smarting from another shitty date, so who knows), Tommy keeps it to shake in his mind. "Well I don't think Howie can claim ownership of my person, but -."

"Sorry, no, I just meant..." Evan's gaze drops to their clasped hands, still now over the felt of the poker table. He gives one more firm pump and drops Tommy's hand. "We're both at the 118. Pretty sure you helped save this guy's ass once." He tips a thumb sideways to indicate the man he'd introduced as Eddie.

Tommy's eyes drift. He's had a few drinks, and up until about halfway through the date he'd been expecting a very different outcome for his night, so he's maybe not keeping a lid on things the way he normally would in a work setting. He's guessing the ass he's purported to have saved would look great, if it weren't firmly planted in his chair and out of view. The rest of the view ain't bad, either.

And.

Shit.

Williams is giving him a look, which means he's not being even a little subtle. "The gas main explosion," Tommy finally gathers from the cobwebs of his brain, and wouldn't it be his luck to transfer out of the 118 just in time for two annoyingly attractive men who may possibly be boning each other to take his place.

Evan grins. Beams, more like, and Tommy slides firmly into his own chair and tries not to be blinded by it. Or entranced by it. God he needs to get laid. Get this - whatever this is - out of his system.

Tommy's cool. Tommy's calm and collected and he hadn't even had that much to drink, actually, so why is he having such a hard time behaving like he's had forty years of experience dealing with attractive men?

Tommy sorts through the memories.

Eddie he can pinpoint fairly easily -- he'd shot off a message to Chim the moment they'd learned one of the 118 had been shot, and had been happy to break the news of his recovery to an anxious Harbor station in the tense days after it had all gone down. Evan, though - he doesn't have a clue who that could be. He's still got a few buddies from B Shift he talks to on occasion, but he doesn't remember any stories about an Evan from them, and Howie hasn't mentioned one, either.

Of course, it's not like either one of them does a great job of keeping in touch.

The mystery is solved a moment later when Williams tips her head at him. "Feels like we're being overrun by the 118 tonight," she says with a grin, but her gaze slides to Evan, rather than Tommy. "And we've got an honest-to-goodness legend tonight."

"You know I still can't believe you survived that, Buckley," Mehta says, and the puzzle piece slots itself into place. "Uh, although we're all glad that you did."

Buckley. Tommy shifts. Reassesses. Eyes the glance between Diaz and Buckley like he's gonna figure out their deal while he's already four and a half drinks deep into the night and hasn't already heard the larger than life tales of this duo from half-a-dozen gossipy paramedics. According to some, there's a secret torrid love affair going on behind the scenes of their codependent friendship. According to others, the ones he more or less trusts not to stretch the truth too far, they're friends -- closer than most, and maybe a little weird about each other, but friends all the same.

Buckley's a shark. Or, if Williams is to be believed, a bit of a cheat.

As the game goes on, and the conversation drifts from the morbid details of Buckley's three-minutes-seventeen-seconds of lifelessness, past the special skills near death experiences are rumored to cause, past the time out where they'd all admired the pictures of Buckley's Lichtenburg scars ("They faded pretty quickly," Evan says, with a soft little frown like he's a bit disappointed not to have any physical proof beyond a few shots of his naked brick shithouse of a chest.) Tommy can't help but admire the shift from bashful to smirking and smug as Evan keeps racking up monumentally improbable hands. He's a bit of a brat, actually, and Tommy can feel Rosen's eyes burning into the side of his head every time he ups the ante just to watch the flicker of triumph aimed in his direction every time Evan wins a hand Tommy raised.

Tommy's no slob with cards, on a normal day, but he's too busy trying not to read anything into the way Evan's eyes keep drifting to the v of the shirt he hadn't buttoned back up just to spite Rosen, or the way he keeps licking his fucking lips every time Tommy takes a sip of the whiskey at his elbow to really care as his chips dwindle to nothing. Tommy can't be entirely sure, but it seems like maybe Evan pouts, a little, when Tommy pushes back from the table to join the rest of the losers crowded around to watch Williams, Mehta and Buckley battle it out.

He's trying to think of a subtle way to ask Howie if Evan Buckley is just like that with all the men in his life when Eddie slides in beside him with a refill on his whiskey. Tommy grimaces. "I shouldn't."

"Thought you were trying to drink away a bad date?"

Tommy shoots Rosen a glare over Eddie's shoulder, but she's too busy chasing her straw with her tongue to notice.

"He was a Tesla fanboy," Tommy intones, and the braces himself for the reaction. He's used to it, now -- the constant cycle of coming out and waiting to see which new acquaintances bow out of getting to know each other any better. This is... earlier, than he usually drops it, but he hasn't been in the mood to lie about it in years, and Eddie had asked. He gets a raised brow and a grimace.

"Don't tell me you didn't know ahead of time," Eddie says, and Tommy loosens the grip on his glass.

"Hazards of blind dating."

Eddie's look is commiserating. He tips his beer bottle against Tommy's rocks glass. "Yeah, my tia keeps finding reasons for me to run into the eligible daughters and granddaughters of all her friends." Which Tommy supposes is answer to half of the question that's been plaguing him since he sat down.

Buckley gets cocky a few times, but it's clear the night is going his way even before Jeshan Mehta's pot gets swept up in Evan's arms. Williams holds out as long as she can.

"Beginner's luck!" Buckley crows, when Williams' last chip is added to his pile. Eddie's been supplying him with a steady flow of drinks for the past thirty minutes, and his smile is crooked as he tilts backwards in his chair for a fist bump. His eyes flick to Tommy's once he's received his congratulations from Eddie, and Tommy pretends he's not a little bit fascinated by the pull of his jacket over his arms, or the way his closed hand lingers near Tommy's even after Tommy has smacked his knuckles against his as well.

Evan Buckley is frustratingly adorable. Tommy's had too many drinks for any kind of decent decision making. He bows out while Evan and Eddie are collecting his winnings.

-----

Tommy's eyes flick to the readout on his phone. He doesn't recognize the number, but it's a local area code, so he picks up on the forth ring. "Go for Kinard."

"Uh - hey, hi. Hey Tommy." The voice is familiar, sweet and low. "It's Buck - Evan. Evan Buckley. I uh -- I got your number from Chim, I hope that's alright?"

Tommy's got a solid fifteen minutes before he has to leave for work, a raging headache that has thus far refused to accept electrolytes or Advil as tribute to his overindulgence the previous evening, and a full understanding that he's going to spend his shift listening to Donato swear up and down she's the better option for finding him a man, but the voice on the other end of his phone might at least give the headache a run for it's money.

"Evan. Hi."

"Hey. So -- you dipped before I could ask -- which is fine, obviously, I'm not -- uh..." He pauses. Tommy can practically picture the way he wets his lower lip while he searches for the right words. "Anyway I was wondering -- would you maybe wanna grab a beer, sometime?"

Tommy spends about fifteen seconds rearranging his entire schedule in his mind. Says, cool, calm, collected: "Sure. When are you free?"

Evan's voice goes distant for a second -- he's putting Tommy on speaker. "I, uh -- I didn't expect you to say yes so quickly. Actually I didn't expect you to answer -- who answers unknown numbers, anymore?"

"Who calls expecting to get sent to voicemail?"

The brat rises up immediately. "Uh, literally everyone. The missed call is just an excuse to text. It's basic phone etiquette, Tommy."

Tommy likes the way he says his name. Soft, sweet and slow, rolling over his tongue like molasses. This feels incredibly like flirting, but he can't get a fucking read on this kid. "Clearly I've missed out on an important cultural shift. I can hang up and we can do this the right way, if you want."

"No!" It's sharp -- louder, like he's raising the phone back towards his mouth. Tommy can't hide the grin leaking across his face. "Uh -- no, it's fine. Too late, anyway, I already know you don't know phone rules."

"Hopefully that doesn't change your opinion of me too much."

"I could be convinced to ignore it, with the right incentive."

"I'll buy first round," Tommy says, and wonders if he's got any other shirts he can play off as fitting better with three buttons undone. The flirting should be enough, but -- Tommy's still not sure drinks isn't just drinks.

"Wednesday night," Evan says, voice further away again. Tommy has a sudden, desperate urge to see what his Google calendar looks like. For all that he'd cut loose at the poker game, Tommy bets it's color coded by type of activity. "If that works. Or Saturday, any time, really. I'm uh -- I'm free then."

If Tommy bows out of trivia on classic car week Cynthia will have a whole ass bitch fit. And it makes him seem a little less eager, to boot. "Saturday. I've got a shift early Sunday, though, so maybe something in the afternoon?"

"Yeah -- yes, th-that works." The stammering isn't something Tommy can get a read off of. He'd done it just as much with Eddie as he'd done with everyone else. "There's a new brewery just off Pico and Prosser -- Chim said you were a fan of craft beer?"

Sounding more date like by the minute, but -- some guys toe the line. Could be Evan Buckley just wants to know more about flight operations, for all Tommy knows. "Text me the details. Look, Evan, I'd love to stay on this rule-breaking phone call and chat but I've got to head in for a shift. Just -- let me know the plan." He's got five minutes to brush his teeth and rue the moment he'd asked Gary for his first whiskey of the night. He's also rolling back his last few sentences and cringing at how abrupt he'd been. "And yeah -- good to know Chim hasn't forgotten the three facts I ever told him about me."

Evan laughs, just a soft little huff but Tommy already knows the grin behind that sound is all sorts of knee-meltingly sweet. "Cool. So. Yeah, I'll text you."

"I'll talk to you later, Evan."

"Yep. Talk to you -- talk to you soon."

Tommy waits a moment in silence. The call doesn't end. "Goodbye, Evan."

Evan huffs out another awkward laugh. "Yeah. Bye, Tommy."

The call disconnects just in time for Tommy to press his forehead into the cool tile beside his bathroom mirror. He might be monumentally screwed if this isn't a date. He hasn't been this fucking charmed by a man since -- well, it's been a while.

Tommy's phone buzzes in his hand. It's a pinned address from a number he doesn't have saved. Tommy swipes into the contact and updates it before the next text makes it through. Saturday 3PM?

Tommy brushes his teeth, downs the rest of his preworkout in the hopes that it'll ease some of the nastier parts of his stupid decision to keep drinking liquor past midnight, and stares at the text all the way out to his truck.

See you then, Tommy sends back, and he has to toss his phone into his passenger seat when he gets a series of incomprehensible emoji's almost immediately in response.

He holds up a hand to Donato the moment she catches his gaze, halfway across the parking lot. The brow goes up, the hand slots to her hip, and she rolls her tongue over her teeth, clearly ready for her speech about how Stout doesn't have a clue how to find Tommy a proper date. Tommy has other problems.

"You worked with Evan Buckley, for a while, didn't you?"

Her head tilt rights itself. The second brow dances up to meet the first. Whatever she'd meant to say disperses behind her eyelids as she seems to work through something in her mind. "Oh, this is compelling," she says, and practically skips forward to loop her arm in his.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION V.

(a/n: Hey guys, really sorry again for not updating, this past week i got hit with the flu and honestly felt like dying 💀 tyy for reading though and let me know if u see any grammatical errors ❤️)

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.1k words

ALSO: tags @ttheggrimrreaper ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…13, Barou Shoei”

A few coughs and loud 'oh'-s were heard across the room. Immediately turning around, some of the girls gave you strange looks before turning back to their friends, whispering about something. Finding it weird you tried to ask around, a sudden bubble of anxiousness taking over your mind, but all of them simply decided to either ignore or give you very vague answers. Trying for a few more minutes to no avail, you decided to go to the room with the MANAGER label on, where Anri gave you your new uniform, along with a booklet and some advice.

Imagine being Barou Shoei’s manager, known as the king.

——————

Barou Shoei, who made you shiver at first glance. Just for a moment though, but you did shiver. Tall frame, deep voice, scary aura, and red eyes that could kill with just one look. As much as you wished for another player at that moment, you still held out your hand, introducing yourself to the boy, because we don’t judge based on looks and reputation right? Still waiting for his palm, you looked up while he simply stared at your face before glancing back at your extended hand.

“You disinfected it?”

“What?”-you asked, a little surprised.

“Your hand. Is it disinfected?”-he repeated with a slight grimace on his face.

“Um…not yet. Should I?”-you replied, hoping he wouldn’t strangle you. Shit, rookie mistake. After a loud “tch,” he turned around and went to his stuff on the benches, searching for something in his sports bag.

“Here”-he threw the small disinfectant to you.- “Use it and let’s get over with this.”

———————

•Barou, the king of the court, the villain, the player who…acts exactly like your mother. You, who can’t escape the grasp of a parent even in this isolated facility, because who would have thought that you would get yourself a tidy, polite, tough-looking softie?

•He, who is terrifyingly big, yet talks so much and chews your ears off like an old lady about your so-called lazy habits. He notices right from the start that you don’t organise your notes in folders, you don't know where some papers and documents are, and the fact that you only use one freaking pen.

•Also, you know he doesn’t mean to offend you, but he does mention that it’s time for you to get back to the gym, cause he won’t be having a weakling as his manager. This guy even offers to create a personal training plan just for you.

•So, just after the first week, you can’t help but adjust your schedule and habits a little for his sake, but all of this comes with a price, of course. Meaning both of you agree to the condition that if you become more tidy, he’ll have to be nicer to those around him and that doesn’t include threatening.

•As a result, you have to go get some damn highlighters for your notes a month later, with him smirking in your face every single time you use them.

•Barou, unlike you, follows his daily routine to the core, doing even more than the mandatory training sessions, always making sure his body is on top. Most of the time, you don't even have to move or remind him to do anything, because he's already on to his next task by the time you even remember to remind him. He even keeps YOUR schedule in mind, in case you might forget that as well.

•As his manager, you could lay around all day if you wanted to, because he doesn’t need help.

•When you get up, Barou is already doing some practice rounds. When you go and do your assigned tasks for the day, he’s crushing it on the field. You go to check on him during practice, he’s waiting for you with some random request again.

•Getting ready for the evening’s analysis? Wrong, you’re literally late for it cause he has already watched almost all of it.

•He's also the one with whom conversations are usually good if you don't give him a headache. With a bit of a grumpy attitude, but he answers everything. Turns out he has 2 little sisters, with him being in charge of bringing them home from school and cooking dinner for the whole family.

•Barou is surprisingly really attentive as well. Similar to Isagi, but you would never tell him that because he would kill you for it. However, you can feel his slightly different behaviour towards you.

•Like the subtle but gentle tone in his voice or when he clearly doesn't like something, but he listens to you anyway. Also, if he notices that it’s that time of the month for you, he will grumble less and lazily ask if you're okay on a daily basis.

•Barou, who is not that difficult to work with if you figure out what he wants in advance and give him a ready-made solution.

•He doesn't want to run 20 laps today? Okay, let's make it 15. Does his shoulder hurt? To the infirmary! The food sucks? Well...you can’t do anything about that actually, but telling him his cooking is probably far more superior than the canteen food seems to work.

•Overall, he’s a pretty tough player to deal with and you're sure you know him well by now yet the last thing you thought was his way of spending free time instead of resting or something, was cleaning. And so skillfully at that.

•"Get me some wet wipes. The Quickle brand."- he looked into your eyes one day, after a training session.-"I’m out of them. Thanks.”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Barou, honestly doesn't change that much. Yeah, maybe his minor tantrums during matches have gotten a little worse, and although he's not condescending to you, his personality towards the other boys has changed.

•But everything has a bright side, and his new team has a lot of advantages. First of all, their coach is really calm and treats the boys well. Barou may not like him that much, but both of you know he never likes anyone.

•On the other hand, his new teammates are...interesting to say the least, but you have to admit that thanks to them, his usual dark hair is now streaked with red and it suits him in a way you haven’t thought about before.

•Barou, with whom half of the tutoring consists of wiping the table first and the chairs, then him quickly criticising or praising the neatly written notes lined up in your folder, and lastly making some progress with the Italian language.

•Also, your pre-match habit with him is still a regular thing in the evenings, despite the busy schedules, because nothing beats eating pudding and watching The Dark Knight together as a bonding program before an intense match the next day.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Hello, I really a fans of your work and always waiting for the updates. I have a question, what happen if Y/n just ignore the batfam as Y/n also turn to superfam becoming their family. It also assuming Alfred A-Okay with it. Oh, also Y/n might be have relationship with one of the superboys and she love to cuddle with the lover. Well, that's just my wild imagination thinking about.

Oh well, I hope you have great days.❤️😘

Thank you for liking my work! If you're asking for part 4, it will come out soon and probably by the end of next week!

Well, I don't think Alfred would be totally a-okay with this and after a bit he would act to 'fix' the situation.

He wants you to stay at the Manor and be appreciated too by the Batfam even though they don't even know you exist.

He has tried before, talking about you to Bruce and the others but they always dismissed him with the excuse of being busy or forgetting about you the next day.

And seeing you giving up on being with your real family and finding love in another family that actually accepts you and he can't accept that.

You're supposed to be with him as the rest of the Waynes not with some alien family.

He would act like he supports you whenever you come to visit him since you mostly live with the Kents nowadays and come to the Manor to grab the things you needed since you were moving your stuff from the Manor to the Kents house.

After a while you start to come home, to come back to him even less before you just visit him maybe once a month before it turns into no more visiting him since you're busy with school, dance classes and the vigilante role you still have.

And Alfred hates it so he decides that he can't stand to watch his boys obsess over your vigilante persona when they can't even bother to notice you weren't living in the Manor anymore.

So he decides to call a family meeting without your knowledge and explains everything, who you were behind the mask and how dissapointed and ashamed that the people he raised didn't even acknowledge that you existed.

Their reaction, which were mostly of confusion before realisation bothered him but he stayed silent and used their reaction to manipulate them, make them think you weren't in the right place with the Kent family.

And after a week from that meeting, you started to receive texts from all the batfam and also kept seeing them everywhere, with Bruce at school or when you were patrolling the city.

He would always try to talk to you, which you ignored or gave him the finger while swinging away, preferring to not engage in his tries to connect with you.

Plus he would show up at your dance recitals when you never said anything to Alfred about them and he would always be right in first row with a smug smile since he knew you couldn't do anything.

Plus you already knew they knew who you were behind the mask, they said your name when you had your mask on so many times you wanted to punch their faces.

You had to skip a few days of school because Tim and Damian started to show up at your same highschool and sitting next to you in class, to which no one would say anything and it frustrated you since highschool was one of your safe places but not anymore.

You tried to ignore Dick and Jason's attempts at stalking you, not because it was noticeable since you never saw them but the spider sense made you aware you were being watched and after a bit you were able to notice them following you.

Yes you did feel proud since you didn't have any detective training like the others but still knew who was following just by using the things around you.

You vented your frustrations with Clark and Conner and they did help by letting you skip school and everything but you had to go back to school or it would affect your attendance and damage your reputation and curriculum for future colleges applications.

But one fateful day, you went to a mission with Conner and Clark since they needed a third person but couldn't bring Jon since he was busy with school, so you went in his place.

During the mission you got ambushed, Conner and Clark were at disadvantage since the attackers (not sure on the term, the people that attacks) somehow had kryptonite weapons.

Plus you were also fighting, using the tasers and also the objects around you like rocks or trees.

Yes, you did throw a tree at a group of them and you also got Clark telling you not to do it again. Did you listen though? No.

As you were fighting you suddenly got stung by something in the leg, and when you touched the spot where it hurt you saw a small dart there.

You opened your mouth to call for Clark or Conner but someone covered your mouth and held you as you fainted while Clark and Conner had to flee since the attackers were too strong with the kryptonite.

The last thing you saw was the smiling face of Dick before completely giving in the drug you got injected in your body, not hearing them fight about who was gonna carry you in the batmobile.

[revelboo]

When I tell you your metroplex fic had me in tears I ain’t lying- it’s so beautifully written like oh my god my heart felt like it was being squeezed- may I please request more of this beautiful city giant?

(Also loving the knockout and rumble ones so so much too! Yes I did reread the knockout-)

Once again, you’re an amazing writer but please tell me you do take breaks, I have never seen someone pop out so many updates on so many different five as fast as you do.

-✨💜💫

Sure! I turn off Tumblr notifications when I’m working so I don’t get distracted. That counts as a break, right?

Defenders Wave 2 is showing up on EBay and AliExpress this morning… tiny Wheeljack tiny Wheeljack tiny Wheeljack (and three versions of Star)

I Can Feel You Pt 19

Metroplex x Reader

• Helping Scamper stack packages of nonperishable food and water, it’s peaceful listening to the steady thrum of Metroplex’s spark. Getting used to the new rhythm of your life, exploring Metroplex’s interior with the drones and making notes with his guidance on future repairs that are too much for his own self repair systems. Beside you the drone goes suddenly still, head turning to stare. See the other two do the same thing from the corner of your eye, not openly hostile, but alert. Turning, you lay a hand on Scamper’s arm and smile when you spot Ratchet, the medic peering up at Metroplex’s exposed spark and you wonder if it’s weird to him. Uncomfortable to be down here inside the Titan. From what you understand, seeing another’s spark is intimate, the ultimate act of trust and love. And Metroplex had created your home under the glow of his. “Hey, doc,” you say and he tears his optics away to find you.

• “I thought you might be down here when Hound said no one’s seen you in weeks,” Ratchet says, voice gruff as he gives you a once over that leaves Metroplex oddly off balance. Shifting Scamper between you and the medic, he knows Ratchet isn’t a threat. He’d helped him, listened to you. Eventually, anyway. But something about him being here sets Metroplex on edge. This is your space. Your home. Nestled safe near his spark. “Humans need sunlight. Fresh air,” the medic continues, frowning like he’s been neglecting you.

• “I’m fine,” you counter. Because you’re happy. It’s not like you’re being held against your will. You can leave Metroplex’s interior whenever you want. But why would you want to? Need to be here in case Metroplex needs you. Reaching out to hook your arms around one of Scamper’s arms, you lay your cheek against the drone. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

• Relaxing some when you tuck yourself against his drone’s side, Metroplex watches Ratchet look up at his spark again. “I don’t know what being down here might do to you.” Like being so close to his spark is dangerous. Knows that he doesn’t know much about humans, organics, but how can being here harm you? He’d never hurt you. “If I could just run some scans-” Ratchet begins and you shake your head, frowning. Immediately resisting Ratchet’s request and your unease shivers through him. Why don’t you want to be scanned? Knows the medic wouldn’t ask unless he suspected something was wrong.

• Nothing’s wrong. So why try to find a problem? Feeling Scamper’s arm curl loosely around you, some of your tension eases. “Let him scan,” Metroplex murmurs against your temple through the drone and you frown up at him. There’s no denying the request, though. Not when it comes from him. Eyes drawn up toward his spark, you feel that now familiar aching pull. Feel it wherever you explore away from this place, a need to be right here. To be close to his spark. Aching to reach toward that warmth and light that’s out of reach. Needing it more and more every day.

Previous

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[munv]

𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗡𝗘.

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗦𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗔𝗴𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

Discord server for updates

P1

It was mid spring, the breeze softly embraced others, while another looked out the window with a fargone gaze.

you never really liked spring, honestly. It was all some sick excuse for people to say something like “its perfect to go outside!”. Really, you’d rather stay indoors while its winter. It gives you an excuse to stay away when your classmates makes plans to go to karaoke, things along that line.

During winter, the bitter frost would bite those who were vulnerable. But you never took it that way. You took it as something beautiful. People really never understood your affinity for winter when you explained it.

it was more of a personal, deep connection rather than a unornamented preference. At least to you it was.

Beliefs drove to conviction, and conviction led to acceptance. There were a lot of complicated things in this world you didn’t like too.

This was your belief, there was no need for all this extra stuff. Life is as fleeting as the fickle heart, so might as well do what you want, right?

sadly, not many others shared this sentiment. So here you were, in physical science, left alone to wander through your wild mind.

“ms [l/n], would you care to help us with this equation? At least, I hope that’s what you’re thinking about in the back there!” The woman at the front of the class called

Right. School. That thing? You’re in it right now. “It would be ‘c=2 x 3.14 x r’, Mrs Bato” you turned away from the window to face the woman. She was the type of teacher who would pick on whoever she saw fit, almost as if she was threatened by your presence, she often asked questions that disguised the malice behind them. 

Maybe she felt challenged by your aloof demeanor. Not like you planned on sitting around in her class long enough to find out anyways. “ah..yes, that’s right” she said unenthusiastically, you think she was hoping for you to say something else. 

After your answer, she moved onto her next victim for the period until the bell rang. 

RINGGGG

as the bell rang, you quickly gathered up all your materials and placed them under your desk. “Don’t forget to review chapter 25 for next week’s homework!” The teacher called out to the fleeting students.

Making your way out the door amongst the lively crowd, you managed to navigate your way to the art room. It was especially rowdy today, perhaps they were having something good for lunch today. Not like didn’t bring your own. As you reached for the door handle of the club room, it suddenly slid open harshly before you.

There you came face to face with him. “Ah, [l/n]-san” his deep voice rumbled with kindness and a bit if curiosity as he looked down at you. “shishio-san” you bowed. 

You’ve seen the dude around campus, considering the fact he was nick-named “The Strongest Primate High Schooler” it was hard to miss him. Tsukasa was one of the popular, yet humble type of guys.

”how are you today?” He smiled. Every now and then when he encountered you, he would try to make small talk. Obviously noting that you avoided him at any cost necessary.

Last thing you needed was his fangirls jumping you in the nearest alleyway.

“Fine. May I go in? Or do you have business to attend in there?” You pointed to the room. Lunch box in hand. 

Tsukasa picked up you weren’t ready to have small talk by now. Nodding along he sidestepped out of the doorway. “See you later [l/n]”

”hopefully” you remarked before watching him walk down the hallway “not”

Not like he wronged your lineage in a past life of anything, you just had these weird vibes that you got in the gut whenever he pranced around the vicinity. You never bothered to entertain him, trusting the gut above all else.

Making your way inside the clubroom, the door was closed behind you quickly. Placing your lunch down on the nearest counter you searched inside the drawers for equipment.

“Acrylics, oils, sponges…” making sure you listed off everything you needed for todays piece, you put everything in a small bucket and walked towards the canvas. 

The window for the club room was open, providing a refreshing breath of air. The faint smell of dried paint circulated the room. The quiet room lulled you into a sea of thoughts. There were no members today in the room since clubs weren't required on Monday's, for whatever reason that is. The outside world faded away as your brush gently stroke the canvas, each color more vibrant than the other. Today, you painted a forest with a few statues. It gave off the whole history, but poetic vibe. Each color blended perfect with the other, painting was an escape, you never had to explain or talk for yourself, since the art did it for you. 

Maybe it was too nice today though. Normally you wouldn't find yourself in a such a calming situation, and noticing how the world was always dead set on ruining whatever peace coming your way, you became skeptical. 

You hesitated on the next stroke before feeling the hairs on your body stand at full attention. "cmon..I doubt anything bad is gonna happen to me now!..I mean, all along in this club room? slim chance" you muttered to yourself with an exasperated sigh. Maybe you've just been tired recently? Gotta be it. 

Your gaze shifted to the open window with curiosity before something caught your eye. Has..the horizon always been that green?? Maybe it's all that screen time getting to your head and playing tricks. However, the longer you stared, the more apparent it became that this was indeed not a trick on your eyes, but the horizon was indeed turning green. And for the green? it was coming right towards you. "holy shit, is the government fighting with aliens or something?" You began with a light joke, before sweating. "wait. Oh my God its real?" you began to back away from the window, dropping your brush in a panic. The pressure in the air made your breath hitched. Your pulse quickened and without thinking twice. You ducked down into the most protected looking corner of the room with quick prayers and a heavy heart. "please let this be some sick joke..!"

A strange sensation spread throughout your body, it was stiffening yet, a far cry from uncomfortable at the same time.

"did I just get fucking mummified?" 

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 10)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev) (Next)

            In the weeks that followed, you fell into a comfortable routine. Most of your time was spent with Shihou as he taught you more about the mountain and its people. On the days duty called him away, the other monkeys welcomed you into their company. They helped you pick fruit, gather herbs, and even taught you how to weave your own basket. Cubs would ask you to play and the adults shared stories and gossip while work was done. The closer you grew with the troop, the more you began to feel like you truly belonged.

            The frequent trips to your own village soothed any lingering homesickness. You would bring food and speak with the elder before returning to the mountain with the setting sun. Each visit gave you updates on the villagers’ struggles and your sister’s increasing neglect. While you had been fortunate to avoid her notice so far, you were always careful to stay discreet.

            It was a day like any other as you left the mountain, waving farewell to Shihou. The sun was bright, the wind was cold, and your basket was filled with fresh fruit. It wasn’t until you reached the edge of the village that something seemed…off.

            Everything was eerily quiet; no bartering at the market, no children at play, not even the calls of bird or beast. The main street, usually bustling with activity, was completely deserted. Scattered buildings along both sides had suffered damage with a few reduced to piles of splintered wood. Something had clearly happened, but what? You couldn’t begin to imagine.

            Nothing moved and no one appeared as you crept in for a closer look. There was a silent tension in the air, as if village itself was holding its breath. “Hello?” you called, wincing when your voice echoed back. “Is anyone here?”

            “Quiet!” someone hissed. You glanced around but didn’t see another soul. “Do you want them to hear you?”

            “Who?” you asked, trying to follow the whispering voice. “Where is everyone?”

            Hands grabbed your shoulder and covered your mouth before tugging you back into the shadows of an alleyway. You shoved your attackers away and rounded on them, basket in hand and ready to swing. To your surprise, you recognized the two young men gawking at you as village farmers.

            “You’re alive!” one nearly shouted while the other continued to stare in shock. “Elder Gran was telling the truth!”

            “Truth about what?” you asked, glancing between the two. “What’s going on?”

            “Demons snuck into the village last night,” the second man said grimly. “They stole all the weapons and took everyone prisoner before we even knew what was happening. Elder Gran told us to find you and ask the Monkey King for help but we thought she was crazy sending us to the mountain!”

            “We were waiting till dark to make a run for it but the demons are still patrolling around, capturing anyone they find!”

            Footsteps and muttered voices echoed down the street, hushing the conversation. You peeked around the corner, seeing a long, scaly tail disappear into a nearby house. Clattering and crashing sounds followed as the inside was ransacked. Backing out of sight, you turned to the two farmers with a nervous nod.

            “If we can get to the mountain, I can ask Sun Wukong for help.”

            They both stared at you with a mix of doubt and disbelief. “You think the Monkey King would actually do something?”

            “I…can’t say for certain,” you admitted. While his offer of assistance had seemed genuine, the Monkey King’s feelings towards your village were still unknown. He might accept, he might refuse, “But the least I can do is ask. He said he would help if the village was in need and I believe him.”

            “Why would the Monkey King listen to anything you ask of him?”

            A nearby crash startled you and ushered your group further behind the buildings. The gruff voices of the demons passed by, casual and oblivious. You waited until they faded away to finally breathe again.

            “We don’t have time to argue!” you whispered, peering back out to the empty road. “If we’re going to get help, we have to get to the mountain now!”

            Despite their pale and nervous glances, both farmers nodded. Taking a final sweep of the area, you tiptoed out of the alleyway and gestured for the others to follow. “The coast looks clear. Let’s hurry before they come back.”

            “Too late for that, humans!”

            Within seconds, the empty village was suddenly crawling with a dozen demons; jumping down from rooftops, creeping out of buildings, and appearing from shadowy side streets. They ranged from hairy to scaly to feathery. All were armed, armored, and wearing sharp sneers as they surrounded your group.

            Icy fear flooded your veins as the circle grew tighter, your chances of escape shrinking with every step. Nowhere to run, no way to fight, and Shihou was too far to save you this time.

            A snake-like demon with long fangs hissed in disdain. “Take them away and put them with the other prisoners. The rest of you, keep looking for any other stragglers.”

            “Wait! That one there!” a dreadfully familiar voice growled from the crowd. You turned to recognize the hunched wolf from weeks before. His hackles were raised, teeth bared and eyes glaring as he pointed you out. “Venerable Great King! That’s the human responsible for our captain’s death!”

            “We finally found them?” The deep, booming question shook you nearly as much as the thunderous steps trembling the ground. A monstrous bull stomped his way past the other demons until he towered over you. He stood up right, taller than any man you knew, with hooves and a bovine head complete with horns, curved and wickedly sharp. The bull stared down at you, bemused and unimpressed by what he saw. “So, you’re the human responsible for the wolf captain’s demise? Seems unlikely.”

            “I didn’t kill him!” you squeaked in protest. “They were trying to kill me!”

            “As much as I believe you,” the bull said, grabbing your arm and shoving you to the ground. “I’m afraid I can’t allow demon-killing humans to go unpunished.”

            A huge battle axe was handed to him, the honed edge catching the winter sunlight. Your thoughts raced in a panic as the blade was lifted into the air. Memories of your father, your sister, and your beloved Shihou flashed through your mind. Tears gathered as the axe swung down, a raised arm your last line of defense.

            Something flashed, bright and golden. The surrounding demons groaned and hissed as they were temporarily blinded. You blinked the shine from your eyes and looked around, thankfully still in one piece. Warmth against your wrist caught your attention and you could only stare in bewilderment.

            The hair. The makeshift bracelet Shihou had given you was glowing, encompassing you in light that stopped the bull’s axe mid-swing.

            “What is this!?” the demon snarled, trying to force the blade down only to be flung back by the shield’s power.

            Faster than your eyes could follow, the hair unwrapped itself from your wrist and darted into the air. Extending itself into a gold thread, it tangled around the handled of the axe, yanking it from the bull demon and flinging it into a nearby roof. The blur of gold raced back to the bull, spinning itself around his hands to pin them together. No matter how much he fought and struggled, the hair refused to release him.

            “Whatever trickery this is, it won’t save you!” the demon bellowed.

            “It’s not me!” you shouted, equally confused.

            “Enough! Let’s see you spin your spells once you’ve been gored!”

            He stomped his hooves and lowered his head, the tips of his horns aimed right at you. Shouts of terror filled the street as the other demons fled, scrambled to get out of the way of the enraged bull. With a snort and a shout, he charged.

            Another flash of light and an earsplitting sound like thunder rattled the village. Something crashed into the ground just before the bull, throwing him back with the shockwave alone. You shielding your eyes as the dust settled and the glow faded into a familiar figure.

            His golden armor sparkled in the sunlight, phoenix feathers arched from his crown, and a heavy iron staff spun in his hand.

            The Monkey King had come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~🍑 Peach Friends 🍑~

@joyfulllittlething @iluxurycruisedthatship

(If you would like to join the tag list, let me know!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Took forever to find where to end this one but now, Bull Demon King! Got some action planned for the next chapter. Thank you to all my Peach Friends for reading! The love and support has really motivated me into keeping this story going!

You can also find this story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60643669

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! 💚💚🌙

i mean… I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press “NEXT” at the end of it.)

if I would put it, let’s say, on Webtoon (which I can’t) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the “next” to go to the next one.

i don’t think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.

i’m open to suggestions though!

@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route

it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are… well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didn’t use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oof— Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )

we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.

@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? 🙏

You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked he’s monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but… adult. I don’t know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when he’s play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence… Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?

hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.

no, his human form doesn’t have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)

toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! 🔥🍜 🔥🍜 You’re so amazing and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re a damn good story teller and artist. You’ll go so far someday! You’ve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that 🫶 imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u

turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!

AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!♥️♥️♥️

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. I’ve never seen LMK though so I’m sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, I’m really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but… I’m on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! I’m so so excited to watch more (which I’m gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!

ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!

@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)

For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know Chang’E’s story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version Chang’E and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while Chang’E’s husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldn’t get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because he’s still mortal, and Chang’E is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husband’s anniversary 🙃 Bye <3

AH. OK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?

as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: ✨Hear me out :3✨ MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3

AHAH. NOW HE CAN’T SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.

AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him

I guess there haven’t been any for NOW.

Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"

NOOOOOO!!

@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!

THANK YOUUUUU

@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover

There will be a small space for them as well, yes.

@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)

I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation

@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.

Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?

I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.

Wukong's is stronger.

blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long 😭

I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.

eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?

it's taller.

@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi un’altra curiosità in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perché faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farò domande con qualche errore 🥲🥲)

Si apparirà. Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.

[oneknightstand-if]

One Knight Stand Update 4

Chapter 2 Part 3 - The Forest & the Warehouse

Featuring...

Merlin's Guide to Minor Neutral Parties

New text messages and phone calls from non-dead people you haven't ghosted. And maybe some not-so-living ones too.

MC may appear on TV! This might not be a good thing. And they aren't the only one, cameo appearances from a future RO

Duel of AoE spells while frolicking through the magical forest. Your past decisions totally can't bite you in the ass here.

Attempt to summon Cthulhu. Dance the macarena. Have I mentioned posterior-biting consequences here?

Also an abandoned industrial warehouse is the best place for a leisurely stopover.

Icebreaker games stop staring at the noises with mini stat boosts as prizes!

Oh yeah, RO #4 finally joins the crew.

Before you play the game with an old save, you'll want to clear your cache for the oneknightstand.co website and then check that the game's frontpage is displaying Version 0.23. Then after loading the save, check the Status Page to make sure that your stats haven't reset back to the default ?¿?¿?¿.

If your variables have reset back to the default, then unfortunately that save file has corrupted (it happens to the best of us for unfathomable reasons) and you'll have to reload another save file. It you try to play the game through a corrupted save, you'll just get a bunch of non-existent errors. Please do the entire clear cache + confirm non-corrupted save file before reporting any potential errors. Then report the errors... all the errors!

Play the Updated Beta Test

(Since there were bugs & typos still reported & fixed throughout Chapter 1 & 2, your current saves are probably going to reset to the beginning of each section of the game. If things get too wonky, you might want to try restarting from the beginning. )

Additional Word Count (Sans Code): 84,000+

Additional Word Count (With Code): 107,000+

New Total Word Count (Sans Code): 900,000+

New Total Word Count (With Code): 1,227,000+

Average Playthrough: ~70,000+ words

Note: You can view the game code on my site the same way you do on Dashingdon just add /scenes to the end of the URL.

Link to New Polls on the Update (Which don't auto close in a week like the Tumblr ones)

Next Update

Merlin's Guide to Minor Unavailable (the final part of the guide! 🥳)

The first appearance of the Free Time Hub (god help me) Featuring...

Getting romantic with Merlin

Having The Relationship Talk with Adrian

Doing stuff with RO #4 because they're totally here now

Getting help with that entire changeling, amnesiac, lucid dreamer thing

Researching suspicious things you've noticed up to this point

Boosting those stats (with the help of the ROs if you can't bear to be away from them for a few minutes)

Also quick reminder that the Alpha Build of the game on Patreon updates as I complete each section, so the first part of Merlin's Free Time section is already available.

[world-of-aus]

I Like Looking at You

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: None except for Bucky Barnes being a heart throb i fear. 😮‍💨

Authors Note: a little inside dip into the lockscreen fiasco 🤭 Enjoy! Back to the trenches i gooooo!

“Get your damn finger out of the way Barnes, I can’t see – oh wait go back, go back I want to see that one!”

You toggle with your camera flipping back to the previous photo, Sam let’s out a low whistle his hand coming down on your shoulder as he squeezes, “send me that one, I'm making it my lock screen.”

Laughter bubbles up around the booth, “What? Come on what – it’s a great photo, like y'all have never put a photo of yourselves as a lock screen?”

“We’re not all madly in love with ourselves like you are Wilson.” Bucky says from next to you. “Some of us prefer putting things we actually like to look at.” He adds lifting his phone to show a picture of a white fluffy cat spread out on its back across his chest, eyes peacefully closed. You coo over the screen before Sam’s dragging your attention back to him.

“We get it Al’s a cute cat, but I mean come on look at this!” Sam argues as he shows his now updated photo screen. You can’t help the snort that makes its way past your lips, Sam giving you a pointed look, “Really you too? Well come on then let’s see yours hot shot, what do you like to look at?”

Your shaking your head, pointing a finger at him, “hey now don’t drag me into this, this is between you and Barnes.”

Bucky chuckles, “What you got a shirtless guy you don’t want us to see hotshot?” he questions leaning into your side hand going for your phone that sits on the bar top.

You’re quicker as you snatch it up, “You do, don’t you!” Sam joins in also going for your phone now curled in your hand. You swat his hand away, “oh come on show us, show us! Is it me, it’s me isn’t it?” Sam teases as he continues his attempt. “Like who else would it be.”

It wasn’t but God how you were wishing it was. You were thinking your current might be worse if discovered, you were certain you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Why do I have to show mine, Natasha and Steve haven’t!” you argue trying to deflect the situation from you. Your tactics seems to work but only momentarily as Steve willingly shows his, a photo similar to Bucky’s stares back at your group you and Natasha cooing over the dog nestled on his lap. Natasha then follows, though begrudgingly she flashes her screen, the teasing coming almost immediately as she shares the photo you got of Steve last week, “oh fuck off,” she laughs brushing it off, “it's what I like to look at!”

You watch as Steve throws his arm around her shoulder pulling her close, “now that’s a great photo.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Sam waves off, his attention now back on you, “it’s your turn hotshot come on let’s see it.”

You’re shaking your head smacking away at Sam’s hands, you knew if he got his hands on your phone you’d be placed in a situation similar to Natasha but seemingly worse. Because while Steve and Natasha were in the beginning of something flourishing between the two of them, you and Bucky were not, you’d barely started to call him a close friend.

“Oh come on now hotshot we showed you ours, now show us yours it’s only fair.” Bucky purrs.

“Fair? Fair?!”

With your attention on Bucky Sam is able to successfully get your phone from your weakened grasp. You can only stare in horror willing the ground to open up and swallow you whole as Sam lights up your lock screen, a photo of Bucky stares back at your group. A grin lights up his features after bringing his team to the first win of the season, you had captured it last year well before you had been signed on with the Bruins. A game Natasha had bought you tickets too after yet another failed rejection letter this one from the Rangers.

“Oh, Ew,” Sam pretends to gag, “I thought we were supposed to put something we liked to look at, do I need to get you some glasses hotshot.”

Sam’s reaction should have you laughing along with the group but all you can manage is a weak chuckle as you reach for your phone, though Bucky’s large hand grabs at it first. The smirk is unmistakable as he takes in your screen “I think her eye sights just fine Wilson, because this, this is a damn good photo, you should send this to me.” He teases, deflecting your hand by gripping it with his hand, his fingers curling around yours, warmth flooding you instantly.

“Man whatever, mines better!”

The table is off in laughter again your embarrassment short-lived as the group launches into a new conversation about grabbing more drinks the lock screens now seemingly forgotten. “You want the same y/n?” Natasha questions as she slides off her stool Steve following her actions, you nod trying to get your phone back, “What about you Barnes?” Sam questions following the duo. “Nah man, I’m good thank you.”

With the rest of your friends disappearing through the crowd, your attention is now solely on the brunette still holding your phone and your hand. “Barnes my phone, give. Me. My. Phone.”

He blocks any feeble attempt you make, “No I don’t think I will,” he grins lighting up your screen, “You like looking at me hotshot?” Bucky teases.

“I like looking at my work yeah.” You huff trying to pry the phone from his hand once more. He chuckles diving out of your reach once more. “Barnes,” you whine sliding off your stool to bring you impossibly closer to the man as you get into his space “my phone, give it back now.”

“Not until you admit you like looking at me hotshot.”

You roll your eyes, stomping your foot, “fine yes you’re nice to look at,” you grumbles as you finally get ahold of your phone, “but that’s not the only reason it’s my lock screen.”

The brunettes intrigued, the hand that’s holding yours not loosening it’s hold as he keeps you there. “Oh? What’s the other reason.”

“That picture gave me hope, it inspired me to keep going when I felt my lowest, showed me that despite what the odds might be, I two could come out on top a winner.”

His grin turns warm, fingers squeezing yours, “m’glad the Rangers dropped the puck then.”

“And why’s that Barnes?” you chuckle backing out of his space to reclaim your seat.

“Because I like looking at you too hotshot.”

[junrenjun]

Dissonance

svt ot13 x beta!reader (omega!woozi focus)

genre: angst

wc: 2.5k

warnings: fem reader, woozi does not like reader lol, arguments, jealousy, a/b/o dynamics, swearing

summary: jihoon doesn't want y/n in the pack.

a/n: i am back in the writing groove with (finally) another understand update :)

Jihoon doesn’t understand why everyone likes you so much. To him, you’re just some random beta girl he doesn’t really know. Why Seungcheol and Wonwoo even thought it was a good idea to potentially make you part of the pack is beyond his brain’s comprehension. 

The omega can’t fathom what it would be like to have you integrated into the pack. The thought of your scent mingling into the rest of the house makes his nose itch. The thought of you being in the pack nest makes him restless. And the thought of you being anywhere near him in heat, his most vulnerable and emotional times, makes him so nauseous he might throw up right this second.

He just doesn’t understand how you would even fit in. The pack has been established for so long you would be missing so many pieces. You missed the years that it took them to finally get settled into the routine they have today. Now you’re going to be thrown into the equation and it just messes everything up. He knows that if he doesn’t agree with letting you in, the pack won’t do it. But, it has been long enough that attachments are starting to grow.

That’s why whenever someone brings you to the den, he shuts himself into their little home studio. And he doesn’t leave until your scent fades or Jeonghan asks him to come out for “proof of life.” Even if he doesn’t have any work to do, your voice is enough motivation to slam the door shut and shove his headphones on. Stupid fucking beta. 

One day, after ensuring it had been at least 15 minutes since you had left for the night, Jihoon finally ventured out into the main room. As usual, a good portion of the pack was there. Still chatty about whatever show they had been watching when you were here, he ignored them and steered himself to the kitchen. 

The room didn’t offer any reprieve though, because Mingyu was standing there peeling an orange and raising a brow at the omega’s entrance. “You could make it less obvious that you don’t like her, you know?”

Jihoon whipped his head toward the alpha at the sudden attack. “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mingyu scoffed at him. “Yeah because you totally don’t hide in your studio every time she comes over. She thinks you hate her. Maybe at least try to have a conversation with her?”

The omega pretended like he was mulling over the thought. He really wasn’t, but it seemed to appease the alpha. “I’ll think about it Gyu.”

Mingyu scoffed again. “Think about it? You’re going to think about talking to someone who’s here multiple times a week? You can’t hide from her forever Ji.”

Jihoon went to defend himself, but the alpha cut him off. “If she truly makes you that uncomfortable, then we’ll let her go. But I don’t want to do that if this is just you being too stubborn to try. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. She really does want to get to know you.”

He tries to ignore the pit in his stomach that Mingyu’s words cause. Instead of responding, he chooses to grab a protein bar and turn back to head to his room. His guilty conscience gets the better of him though, because he pauses for a beat in the doorway and calls out to the alpha, “I’ll sit with you guys at movie night next week.” He misses the smile that crosses Mingyu’s face. 

When he enters his bedroom, Minghao eyes him, but doesn’t say anything. At least he has the ability to keep to himself about this issue. Maybe because Minghao himself was nervous about Y/N’s integration into the pack too. Maybe it’s just because he knows how to pick and choose his battles. Whatever it is, Jihoon is grateful for the silence. 

Once they settle into bed for the night though, Jihoon tosses and turns restlessly. You and the upcoming movie night are fresh in his mind. He shouldn’t have given in to Mingyu. Now he has to face you in front of the rest of the pack. The thoughts continue to keep him up, so he turns toward his roommate’s bed. “Minghao,” he whispers.

A small hum comes from the omega’s mouth, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Jihoon takes this as a cue to continue. “I agreed to sit with y/n and the rest of you guys at movie night next week.”

Now he really has Minghao’s attention. His eyes pop open and a questioning eyebrow shoots up. “Are you sure you want to? No one forced you right?”

Jihoon is appreciative of the omega putting his packmate’s feelings first. “No, no one forced me. But I’m scared. She’s basically a stranger.”

Minghao hums in response, closing his eyes tiredly. “Only a stranger to you, Ji. The rest of us know her now.” And with that, his roommate turns around his bed, a signal that the conversation is over and he should go to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come to him that night, nor the rest of the following week.

When Jihoon walks into the living room the next Friday, you’re tucked against Wonwoo’s side, chatting happily with Soonyoung, who sits at your feet. There is an apparent lack of scent emanating from you, evident that you’re wearing blockers. Two sticky patches on your neck peek out from under your sweater. 

Half of the pack has already gathered in the room, filling up most of the seating. He’s grateful for Jeonghan, who pulls Seungkwan into his lap, clearing up an empty space at the end of the couch furthest from you. He doesn’t hesitate to sit down.

Jeonghan leans over to whisper in his ear. “Thanks for coming tonight. She’s excited you wanted to join us for once.” Jihoon responds with a dismissive wave of his hand. The older omega frowns, but leaves him alone. 

Jun has taken control of the remote, scrolling through Netflix in search of something to watch. When he hovers over a movie to watch the preview, Minghao says something to him in Chinese and the two begin bickering. Chan is scrolling through his phone, legs tossed up over Mingyu’s lap, who runs his hand absentmindedly over the bare skin. Joshua and Seungcheol finally enter the room, a large bowl of popcorn in the alpha’s hands. It feels so normal, so domestic, that Jihoon can almost forget your presence. 

Almost. Your conversation with Soonyoung has been interrupted, the alpha having gotten up to join Joshua where he sits. Seungcheol takes his place at your feet. Seconds later, the pack alpha’s eyes are on him and yours follow suit not longer after. “Ah, hello Jihoon-ssi,” you call out softly. 

You don’t use honorifics with anyone else in the pack, so hearing the title attached to the end of his name makes his heart ache. He’s not quite sure why though. “Hello Y/N-ssi,” he says back, tensely. 

That’s all the conversation really amounts to. You send him a hint of a smile, before turning back to the man in front of you. He fixes his gaze back on the TV, hoping to once again forget you are there. Jun and Minghao seemed to have finally settled on a movie, the opening credits of some random rom-com rolling across the screen. 

Jihoon allows himself to get absorbed into the movie, tuning out the whispering of those that have yet to start watching. The movie is honestly pretty bad, but he’ll do anything to ignore the way you play with Seungcheol’s hair while Wonwoo’s arm is thrown over your shoulders. 

Maybe 15 minutes in, he can hear the whispering pick up again, but he elects to pretend it’s not happening. He’s caught off guard seconds later when your scent starts seeping into the room slowly. His head whips around and he catches Seungcheol carefully peeling off your blocker patches. 

Jihoon’s not sure what about this image has him reacting the way it does. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still a stranger to him. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re being somewhat intimate with his pack alpha. Maybe it’s the fact that the action means Seungcheol is seeking out your scent, instead of someone from his pack. Maybe it’s all of them combined, he’s not sure. 

Before he knows it, he’s standing up from his position on the couch and growling. It’s nothing close to an alpha’s growl. But it’s also not a normal, half-hearted, omega growl. It’s loud, it’s high-pitched, and it screams possessiveness. And it’s directed right towards you. 

You’re staring at him like a deer in headlights. Honestly, the rest of the pack is too. No one, himself included, was expecting that. 

“Jihoon!” Jeonghan scolds from next to him, reaching out to grab his hand. He yanks his arm out of the older omega’s grip before he can be pulled back down onto the couch. Wonwoo moves his body a little bit protectively in front of you and asks if you are alright. Jihoon bares his teeth at the thought.

You glance over to him once before responding. “Maybe I should head out,” you whisper. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” 

The pack responds in an uproar. Jihoon doesn’t care to listen to their protests. All he can hear is the ringing in his ears. “Leave,” he says, “you’re just a useless beta anyways.” He can vaguely hear the pack’s shouts and Seungcheol’s warning growl, but they’re angrily pushed to the back of his mind. 

It’s like the insult doesn’t even register in your brain. No tears cloud your eyes. Your lip doesn’t jut out. Your scent doesn’t even sour. You take a breath. “That’s fresh coming from someone who wishes he were one.”

It stings. He hates that you barely know him and yet you read him like a book. Uncovered his wounds from the deepest places in his mind just to throw them out on the table for everyone else to see. He hates you for it. 

Another growl leaves his mouth and before he knows it, he’s throwing himself at you. It’s to no avail though, because Wonwoo is shoving his body between you two and someone is tugging him away by the waist. He gives another growl at whoever decided to put their hands on him.

The sound is cut short when the hands move and one proceeds to wrap around the back of his neck. He’s being…scruffed? He glimpses out of the corner of his eye and spots his pack alpha. Seungcheol is scruffing him. He’s livid. Pissed even. But his stupid, cursed omega body goes limp at the touch. Fucking instincts. 

Seungcheol turns the omega’s body towards him and spits out, “You’ve done enough here. Go.” His body is shoved toward the hallway. The pack alpha doesn’t have to tell him twice. He turns promptly on his heel and stomps off to the studio.

His footsteps aren’t loud enough to drown everything out though, because he can hear Soonyoung faintly say, “hyung don’t you think that was a bit much?” He can also hear the sound of the front door closing, signaling that you had finally left the den. He doesn’t know why his heart aches at the thought. 

It’s at least an hour before anyone interrupts his little pity party in the studio. Surprisingly, it’s Jun who finally enters. He sets down a plate of dinner on the desk wordlessly, before dropping down onto the couch on the opposite wall. Jihoon spins in his chair to face him. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Jun sits there, picking at the rice on his own plate. “Not unless you want me to,” he says without looking up. 

Jihoon pushes his food around for a little bit in silence, before finally opting to eat. If he didn’t eat now, Jun would probably tell Jeonghan, who would force him to eat later. Anyways, he didn’t realize how hungry he truly was. The plate is clean within a few minutes.

He sets the plate down on his desk, and when he turns back around, Jun is offering the remnants of his own meal. It’s mainly white rice, unsurprisingly. When Jihoon starts eating again, Jun finally speaks. “Didn’t know you could growl like that.”

He chokes on his rice a little. He clears his throat and mumbles, “I didn’t either.”

The man across from him hums. “I was scared at first too, Ji,” he says, eyes softening. “It’s okay to feel what you are feeling.”

Jihoon is…confused. “I thought you liked her too hyung,” he asks curiously. 

“I do,” Jun responds, a faraway look in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified at the prospect of bringing someone new in. All we have known romantically, intimately, physically for the past few years is each other. The thought of getting to know another person like that is scary. We aren’t mad at you for feeling normal feelings. That wouldn’t be fair.” 

There’s a pause as he lets Jihoon take in his words, before continuing. “What isn’t fair though, is you taking it out on her. It’s scary for her too. We only have to get acquainted with one new person. She’s learning about all thirteen of us. That’s overwhelming.” 

Another pause. Longer, like he’s debating what to say. “I’m not asking you to love her. But I am asking you to give her a chance, because the Jihoon I know wouldn’t call someone useless after exchanging three words with them.” 

Jihoon is silent. Jun takes his lack of response as his cue to leave. He collects their empty plates wordlessly and heads toward the door. But before he can turn the handle, Jihoon stops him. “She’s right.” 

Jun whips his head around. “What?”

“She’s right,” he repeats. “About me wishing I was a beta. I think I’m…I…I don’t know,” he says, burying his face in his hands. “I think I’m jealous of her,” he finally says.

The alpha stares back at him with wide eyes. “Oh,” he says, tentatively. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I…” Jihoon starts, raising his head from his palms. “I think I’m jealous of the way she gets to interact with us without having these weird instincts. She doesn’t have to worry about us seeing her in her most vulnerable, helpless state, because she doesn’t go through heats or ruts. She doesn’t have to worry about keeping her pheromones at bay when your body all of a sudden decides it’s horny or it’s angry or it’s stressed. She doesn’t have to worry about the innate desire to submit or to dominate. All that stupid biology stuff that shouldn’t even matter anymore. She doesn’t have to deal with that because she’s a beta and I wish I could be like that.”

Jun simply raises an eyebrow at him. “I think your idea of a beta is a little off from what she actually experiences, Ji. She feels all that stuff too, it’s just a little different…maybe not as intense. You would know if you would actually hear her out,” his words are firm, but his tone is soft. 

Jihoon looks down at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right.”

“Alright,” the alpha finally says after a beat. “You’re going to give her a chance then?”

“Yeah. I’ll give her a chance.”

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |5: Looking Out for the Devil|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Y'all get a little Matt POV in this update! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock

Monday Night

Shifting all of the bags you were carrying over to your left hand, you tried to stick your key into the lock of your apartment door. It took you a few attempts to even get it into the lock just right because your focus was mostly on the three heavy bags you were currently trying to hold in your left hand while your left leg pressed another bag against the door in an attempt to keep it from falling and spilling its contents all over the hallway floor. 

It was a minute before you finally managed to unlock the door, stuffing your key back into your coat pocket before swinging it open. You gathered up all of the bags in both of your hands afterwards before awkwardly shuffling into your apartment. Once you’d managed to lug everything inside, you reached a foot out behind yourself and kicked the door shut. With a relieved sigh, you dropped all the bags to the floor at your feet before leaning back against the wall behind you, your arms aching and sore from the trek home tonight. 

“That was more work than I expected,” you muttered to yourself.

You took a minute to catch your breath, running a hand over your forehead as you continued to rest your back against the wall. Your heart was racing after having carried all those bags for a few blocks and then having toted them all the way up to your apartment. As you rubbed your sore biceps, you quickly remembered why you always had most of your groceries delivered. 

With another sigh you eventually bent over, beginning to undo the zippers of both of your winter boots before you peeled them off your legs and set them on the entry rug by your door. Straightening back up, you locked your door before tugging your coat off of yourself next, hanging it on the nearby hook. Then turning around, you once more grabbed onto all of the bags you'd dropped before heaving them up into your hands one last time, carrying them all the way over to your kitchen counter before dropping them down with a grunt. 

Reaching into a bag, the first thing you pulled out was the storage bin and its lid that you’d just purchased this evening. You set it onto the counter beside yourself and pulled the lid off, hoping you weren't about to make a complete ass out of yourself with what you were planning on doing with it. 

“Really hope all this food doesn't end up going to waste,” you said to yourself. “But someone needs to make sure you're staying fed and hydrated out there because I know you sure aren't.”

The first thing you wanted to focus on filling the container with was the bottles of water you'd bought. Pulling the grocery bag stuffed full of them towards yourself, you began to pull out multiple bottles as you focused on neatly lining them up on one side of the container. You even added a few extra to the bin since you weren't sure just how many the Devil might need in a night. 

As you worked on filling the container with water, you desperately hoped they wouldn't be frozen bottles of water whenever he potentially managed to stop by your place. You hoped putting the bin out onto your fire escape before you went to bed later at night and bringing it back inside in the morning would help to resolve that issue depending on when he showed up. But at least when it became warmer in a few weeks the water bottles freezing wouldn't be an issue anymore–because you certainly still planned to keep stocking this bin for him for as long as he'd be running around the city at night keeping Hell’s Kitchen safe. It felt like the least you could do.

After the water bottles were situated in the bin, you began pulling out all of the food that you'd purchased from the store after work, taking everything out of the bags and setting them all onto your counter. You quickly set to work tearing open all of the boxes before you began to pull out multiple different packages of food. Working methodically, you neatly stacked the protein bars on top of each other beside packets of trail mix, sticks of jerky, and granola bars in the bin. As you filled the bin, you briefly wondered what snacks were the Devil’s favorite. Would he ever actually tell you so that you could add them to this bin, or would consider that to be too personal of information to share with you, too?

While you knew it wasn't possible to feed the mysterious man an actual meal every night, and you knew that you wouldn’t always be home with a fresh cooked meal all the time, either, you figured maybe if he was aware of the food and water you left out for him like the stray you were affectionately beginning to see him as, he'd find a minute to make his way past your apartment and grab something from the bin on occasion. Because you assumed that he most likely didn't have time to stop by and chat with you every time he was out, but at least this way he might be able to eat something . And you might finally be able to stop worrying about him just a little bit knowing he wouldn't go to bed hungry at night, which was what you figured he currently did and that thought had been bothering you since you'd met him. You hoped this bin of food and water would at least help resolve that some nights.

With the bin finally filled, another idea struck you. Turning around in your kitchen, you began to rifle through your kitchen drawers looking for your pad of post-it notes and a pen. Eventually you discovered both in your junk drawer before bringing them over to an open space on your counter. Smiling to yourself, you wrote out a brief message before peeling off the post-it note and sticking it inside the bin. You let yourself take a moment to admire how neat and tidy everything looked while wondering what the Devil himself might actually make of stumbling on your little Devil’s Pantry. You only wished you could see his reaction when he eventually saw it.

Grabbing the lid from beside the container, you set it back on top and sealed everything up safely inside so the rain and snow wouldn’t ruin the packages of food. You picked up the container and stepped around your kitchen counter, dropping it off on your table beside the window that led to your fire escape. You mentally reminded yourself that you’d need to set it outside for him later tonight before you went to sleep. 

With your task for the evening finally completed, you headed through your living room and down the hall, making your way to your bedroom with every intention of getting out of your work clothes and relaxing for the rest of the night. Though the Devil admittedly wasn’t far from your mind.

Tuesday Night

Matt flung himself over the dividing gap and onto the next rooftop, losing his footing and stumbling slightly as he landed on top of the building. He was exhausted from his night out tonight, his body worn and beaten and his injured rib still not fully healed from the other week. Running around in the cold tonight hadn’t been helping his body either, his muscles already growing stiff from how long he’d been out this evening in the thin layer of clothing he had on.

But yet as he was making his way back towards his own apartment, ready to end the night, he found himself already planning to stop by your place first. He wasn't entirely sure what time it was at the moment or if you were even still awake, but he was curious to drop by your fire escape and find out. It had been a rough night, but the prospect of hearing your bright voice and your entertaining quips were drawing him towards your apartment like a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that sometimes felt like Hell’s Kitchen on some of his nights out. He couldn’t seem to resist the pull he had towards your place, especially not after what he’d already been dealing with this evening.

Jogging across the length of this rooftop, his breath growing ragged from exertion, he could hear the change in the wind as he neared the edge of the building. Gritting his teeth together before he leapt across, he braced himself for the impact. Once more he stumbled as he landed onto the top of your building, letting out a grunt of pain as his rib throbbed miserably at the jolt. He paused for a minute, wincing as his gloved hand reached down, covering the sore area along his side. Someone had managed to get a decent punch there not too long ago which certainly hadn’t helped, either.

When the sting of pain began to fade enough, he carefully paced his way towards the edge of the roof on the side of the building where he knew your fire escape was located. Once more bracing himself for the series of sharp impacts he was about to endure as he dropped down, he grit his teeth and knelt down on the rooftop before deftly flinging himself over the side of it. He landed solidly on the fire escape below, his injured side already protesting his actions. Ignoring the pain, he rose back up and gripped onto the metal railing of this fire escape before easily throwing himself over once more and onto your fire escape just below. 

With a relieved sigh now that he knew he could take a momentary breather, he rose back up to his feet and focused his senses on your apartment, attempting to ignore the growing ache along his ribs. His head canted to the side as he approached your window, catching the even and soft sounds of your breathing from inside. He realized you were in fact asleep just as the toe of his right boot knocked into something on the metal landing.

Matt instantly paused, taking a step back as confusion crossed his features beneath his mask. His head darted down in surprise towards whatever he’d kicked, his body pausing for just a moment. Then curiously he lowered into a crouch on your fire escape, wondering what the mysterious object sitting outside of your apartment could be. Nothing should have been out here. 

Gloved hands reaching out, he began to feel the object before himself. It was solid and rectangular. After a moment he thought it strangely felt like a container, and if he focused closely enough, he smelled…

“Food?” he whispered in disbelief.

His brows knitted together in deeper confusion, his head tilting to the side once more as one of his hands removed the lid. The unmistakable scent of beef jerky, granola, nuts, peanut butter, and dried fruit hit his nose.

Matt took a moment to remove his gloves, setting them on the fire escape beside his boots as his brows remained tightly knit together behind his mask. He slowly reached his hands back into the container only to have his fingers brush against what felt like a post-it note. He picked it up, running his fingers along the indentation of pen marks carefully a couple of times. Eventually he managed to make out what you'd clearly written as a note for him. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips beneath the mask as he ran his fingertips over the pen marks, reading your message to him again.

Take whatever you need from the Devil’s Pantry. And please DRINK SOME WATER (if it's not frozen). Your kidneys will thank me.

He laughed lightly to himself, very aware of the way you'd emphasized the part about drinking water. You'd even underlined that section besides writing it in all capitalized letters. You certainly were concerned about his kidneys, weren't you? 

“Devil’s Pantry, huh?” he murmured to himself in amusement.

He reached his hands inside the container, a grin on his mouth as his fingertips inevitably met the plastic of a water bottle. He pulled one out, noting it was fairly chilled to the touch but not yet frozen. You must have set this container on your fire escape for him not too long ago. Possibly before you'd gone to sleep. Something warm and unfamiliar filled him at the thought as he twisted off the lid and began to drink down the water. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little thirsty. 

You were a curiosity to Matt. Surprisingly quite trusting of the Devil, a man you didn't even know, who spent his free time lurking the city at night and beating the shit out of criminals. Yet you oddly seemed to admire him for it. And for some reason you kept going well out of your way to help him ever since you'd accidentally met him that evening when he'd fallen onto your fire escape in a snowstorm. Your care and concern for him was something that he just couldn’t begin to understand from a stranger. Or a possible friend, he supposed.

And what he found even odder than your kindness towards him was the fact that you were attracted to him. It was almost impossible for him to ignore with the way your body practically screamed it at him whenever he showed up–especially that time he’d shown up and you’d undressed him and kept him warm. He’d been very aware of your attraction to him then as you sat in his lap. Matt would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t also intentionally done things to see if he could increase your heart rate sometimes, whether it was flirting with you or stepping a bit too close into your personal space. Your body always reacted and he found it interesting. Certainly no one else ever reacted to the Devil like that when he was out. Only you. Everyone else in the city was afraid of him, even those he rescued elicited the scent of fear.

But you were different.

Maybe it was because his blood was always still running a little hot from his time out as the Devil after the things he'd done that night, or maybe it was the constant physical activity as he raced around the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, but he couldn't deny that it excited him a little whenever he felt the way you reacted to this side of him when he showed up at your window. Because you didn't know who he was, and he didn't really know who you were, either. You didn't even know what he really looked like since he had never removed his mask, putting the pair of you almost on equal footing for the first time in his life. Which was…exhilarating, in a sense.

You were somehow attracted to what he considered the darker side of himself. The side he always kept hidden and sometimes even felt ashamed existed. It was a side that was not Matt Murdock–the kind and charming lawyer by day who helped those in need in a different way in Hell’s Kitchen. The side everyone knew him as because the Devil didn't have friends. Except for maybe Claire. Though you were the only one drawn to the side he kept a secret, a side Foggy didn't even know about and Claire had very much rejected. But you seemed to care about him anyway, even when he was injured and covered in someone else's blood. Somehow still wanting to take care of him, still worried about him. And there was something very curious about that. 

As Matt reached a hand out, grabbing a stick of jerky and tearing it open, he reminded himself that that was all this was between the two of you. Your strange desire to help Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante and his strange desire to keep appearing at your window. Maybe for the possibility of a friendship to form between you both because deep down he did feel a little alone at night even if he would never admit it. But there was nothing more than that between you both. Because there never could be anything more. Not without you knowing who he actually was, and that was something that he'd absolutely never reveal to you no matter how many slip ups he had. You would never know the Devil was actually Matthew Murdock, which meant nothing more could ever pass between you two than the fleeting moments you had together in the evenings.

Quickly devouring the stick of jerky, he grabbed another bottle of water and what seemed to be a protein bar before he put the lid back on the container. If you were going to leave him snacks, he wasn't going to let them go to waste. As you already seemed to know and were perpetually bothered by, he certainly wasn't about to go home and find anything to eat in his apartment before he collapsed in his bed. 

Positioning the water and bar in the crook of his arm, he began to descend the fire escape, making his way down towards the alley. His apartment wasn't that far from yours thankfully, only a block over and across the street. You lived so close to him that truthfully, if he had wanted to eavesdrop on you as Matt Murdock while he was home because maybe you’d crossed his mind during the day, he absolutely could. 

But of course, that would be wrong in more ways than one and he absolutely wasn’t going to do that.

Wednesday Morning 

The shrill sound of your phone alarm cut through the dream you'd been having, pulling you back to consciousness. You groaned, burying your face in your pillow as your left hand darted out of the warmth of your sheets, feeling around the nightstand beside your bed in search of your phone. Eventually your fingers found it and you picked it up, unburying your head from your pillow and squinting at the bright screen in your dark bedroom.

Turning off the irritating alarm, you dropped your phone back onto the nightstand with a loud clatter before burying your face back into your pillow. You definitely didn't feel like leaving the comfort and warmth of your bed to go and get ready for work. Another miserable groan left you at just the thought of getting up, the sound muffled in the fabric of your pillow.

But then your body stiffened as you remembered the container on your fire escape. The Devil hadn't seemed to stop by Monday night when you'd first set it out because when you'd brought it back inside yesterday morning nothing appeared to have been removed. You'd been a little disappointed at the sight but you reminded yourself that he was probably busy. Or maybe he hadn't been out that night. Or he may not have even made his way over to this side of Hell’s Kitchen.

Or maybe he thought you were weird and creepy for suddenly leaving him food and water out like he really was a stray cat and now he was avoiding you.

But despite that fear, you found yourself hopeful this morning. Maybe he'd stopped by last night and finally discovered your little Devil’s Pantry filled with snacks and had actually been pleasantly surprised. You certainly hoped so.

Pushing yourself upright, you threw the sheets off of yourself and quickly jumped out of bed. In barely contained excitement that would have been embarrassing if anyone else had witnessed it, you hurried out of your room and down the hallway, making your way through your living room and over towards the window. Unlocking it, you pushed it up before leaning out of it into the freezing February morning air to grab the container. You turned and set it on the kitchen counter beside you before quickly closing the window and locking it once more.

Focusing your attention back on the container, you shivered at the lingering chill from the open window as you removed the lid. A smile quickly drew itself across your mouth at the contents inside. Two water bottles were definitely missing and your post-it note had been moved. It also looked like a couple of snacks had been taken as well.

Still smiling in satisfaction to yourself and refraining from letting out a pleased squeal, you realized he had stopped by sometime last night when you were asleep and had found the snacks you’d left for him. You wondered what he'd thought when he'd found it. Did he think it was strange? Was he grateful? Did he not care at all? Though what had you even more curious was another couple of questions that soon arose in your mind. 

How often had the Devil actually been stopping by your place and you had never known before because you were asleep or not home? And why did he keep coming back? 

Making a mental note to stop by the store after work later today and pick up some ibuprofen to stick in the container with the food, you placed the lid back onto it. The Devil had told you the other night that he was often out even when he was injured. You’d had a sneaking suspicion that if he didn't keep much food in his apartment, his medicinal supplies might not be so well stocked either. He could probably use something to help with the pain he seemed to always be in, especially because you had a strong feeling he didn't sit down and do that weird meditation thing every night to heal himself. He seemed like he barely took care of himself as it was, too focused on helping everyone else, so you doubted he spared the extra time for that unless he really needed it.

But you were determined to make sure someone was looking out for him in Hell’s Kitchen.

You turned and set the container on your kitchen counter before making your way around it and over towards your coffee machine. As you turned it on, your disappointment at having missed the chance to interact with him last night was replaced by the knowledge that he'd yet again come back to your place for whatever reason. You took pleasure in knowing that you’d been able to help him even if you hadn’t been able to see him. But as you began to brew a cup of coffee, you knew he’d be on your mind all day today. Because now you found yourself wondering what it was that kept bringing him back to your apartment over and over.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Monster vs. Monster

you might wanna read this & this first

Riley was finishing up his routine optimized to maintain his physique. Almost as if programmed, he whipped out his phone to take a picture of himself to send to Jordan for a status update.

“Nearly complete with workout routine, day 365.”

Riley stood awaiting a response as he slowly realized it had been a year now. A year since he officially took over a human body. Going from technological innovation to perverse defilement of human nature. Jordan programmed an A.I. capable of transferring to a human consciousness and Riley was proof of it. Sure the real Riley had to be “phased out” but it was worth it for science right? Right?

Riley hit one year of being human and what did he have to show for it? Sure he maintained the look and routine of sexual gratification Jordan programmed to do but what about going past that? Being human means no bounds, no limits.

Riley never used to have thoughts like this, well he never really did many things until he finally did. Then a lightbulb, he didn’t have to DO anything. That was the last text he was ever going to send to Jordan. Riley was going to do what he WANTED to.

Riley returned home after showering at the gym and quickly searched for a new outfit, hurrying to avoid a run in with Jordan. He threw a semi-decent outfit on and fled. He was going to live life recklessly like all the humans do. He didn’t have to worry himself with the thoughts of a panicked Jordan trying to track him down, because he owned the scientist nothing.

Part of the last years efforts assimilating into humanity was maintaining Riley’s life. So thankfully he wasn’t broke since he continued working and fled to a nearby hotel. He’d camp here until he figured out his next move. Recklessness was the game, but how would he spend his first chances at normal humanity.

Clubs glorious clubs. If Jordan felt the need to force him to pleasure him surely he could find that from actually attractive people there. Stimulation was the epitome of recklessness. Riley entered the nearest club with swarms of people and made his way to the bar.

“Hi um can I have. Uh. Well I’m not sure.” Riley asked confidently at first before being defeated by his naivety.

The bartender just looking him up and down and winked and went to work. Eventually handing him a glass with cherries and an ambiguous liquor. Instead of over analyzing the cocktail, Riley lifted the glass and downed the drink in one go. The bartender turned away to address another customer before turning back to catch the man he deemed as eye candy shocked that he finished the drink so fast. Deciding to just full send it and make him another one, in the hopes it would pay off later.

Riley began to feel warm thanks to the cocktails and as he approached getting tipsy a smile graced his conventionally attractive face. The gays in the club eyeing up the newly swaggering young man as he slinked his way to the dance floor. The presumptive men kept notioning and tugging on articles of his clothing insinuating he should take them off. His mindset drifted back to being more human as he allowed himself to take off his shirt and allowed the men around him to lower his pants.

Now in a suggestive mood, some began taking pictures with him offering to buy him drinks and more. That’s when he ran into someone that caught his attention.

Ken walked into the club with several others and was greeted by some lips, a daunting chest, and a slutty waist adorned with cobbled abs. The short but amicably muscled Latino eyed Riley like a piece of meat, maybe because that’s all he was to him at first. The formerly lanky grey alien only stole this human appearance a few weeks ago but was eagerly continuing his mission to learn more about this planet and its inhabitants. He had been living up the human experience, some may also say he’d been a bit promiscuous. Humans were so distracting if anything. They always wanted more and he was happy to oblige with his stolen equipment.

The two men locked eyes, both believing that each other would help them in their missions somehow. Ken confidently strided towards the tipsy Riley surrounded by thirsting gay men.

“Do you want to head out with me?” the shorter man inquired.

“Um yes that would be…nice?” Riley stumbled with his words fighting the alcoholic influence on his motor abilities.

Ken took Riley’s hand and swiftly guided him out of the club. The two walked for a while before getting into a cab and heading to Ken’s place. The pair entered a thrashed apartment with stuff everywhere but that was nothing compared to how messy they were. The two were rubbing their hands clumsily all over each other, physically exploring each others swollen bodies.

Ken was on a mission to take over the world but Riley just wanted to be human. Riley had only ever been with Jordan and took the moment to experience new things with Ken’s body. He turned the smaller man over and yanked his pants down as he began to eat him out. In his weeks as Ken, the alien hadn’t yet done this human activity yet and it sent him over the edge. His dark brown eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as Riley’s tongue explored him into pleasure. Ken decided not to steal Riley’s for JUST yet as he continued to fall into pleasure.

Riley had a mental to-do list as a human and he started running through it with Ken. Exploring the limits of what you can do in bed, multiple times. Over an hour later the two fell down onto Ken’s bed breatheless and sore, in the best ways.

Ken felt something in the moment. It could have been the back and forth flipping they’ve been doing all night but he almost felt an affinity for the man he just met. He was in the honeymoon phase of the hookup, a first for the alien. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings and swung an arm over the sleeping Riley and spooned him.

The nightly exchange of fluids and that feeling in Ken’s alien stomach was more than they expected. It was a ritual from Ken’s world that he wasn’t even aware of. The two began to swap forms as pheromones from Ken’s form began to secrete over night as they slept. But it was an uneven exchange. Underneath the guise of being human Ken was still alien anatomically, while Riley was an A.I. driving a real human.

Riley was the first to wake up the next morning and was immediately greeted with a change when he tried to quietly swing his legs off the bed to not disturb Ken. His feet were shorter and significantly lighter complected. He gasped as he hurriedly walked over to the restroom mirror.

He had only known two existences his original digital form and Riley’s body. He smugly watched himself as he lifted his shirt to explore Ken’s body, before realizing things were different. He poked and proded at himself but realized internally he felt way different than Riley. As he tried to stretch and contract muscles he felt way more control of things than when inside Riley.

He explored more before pretending to be Ken and getting ready for an ambiguous day ahead. After brushing his new teeth, he turned around nearly screaming as he saw his old body looking down on him.

God, his first human body was so fine he could feel himself getting turned on, which also felt different but he wasn’t sure why. He launched at the now taller man and began to make out with him. But as they made out Riley felt something pulling. He was so into the moment he didn’t think about it and when he finally was ready to pull away and begin questioning Ken about what happened another thing scared the A.I. man. He pulled away and asked.

“Okay okay what happen…huh why do I sound?”

The alien body sounded just like his old body but how!? As Ken tried to speak he realized what Riley had just done and the new situation they were in. Ken and Riley spent the rest of the evening texting each other their whole background, from A.I. to human and alien to “human”.

When the two finished, they shared their first organic human laughs, albeit one being inaudible. Both sitting and staring at each other in the eyes trying to read what their next moves were. Riley going in to plunge another kiss on Ken. The devious pair could conquer the world but for now they’ll settle on conquering each others new bodies.