#before my face. DIRECTED at my conversation

[usedtobecooler]

the sinclairs' new neighbour arrives out of the blue on a random friday night in may and subsequently becomes the object of eddie munson's desires.

tw: explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni. virgin!eddie, oral male receiving, eddie's pov. pathetic amounts of pining. no use of y/n.

you've been around after every hellfire meeting for a month now, waiting with legs crossed and swinging from a fold-out table as you sit patiently for them to wrap it up, and fuck if you're not the most distracting thing eddie munson has ever laid eyes on.

you join in on the end-of-game conversations every week, a genuine little interest in the lilt of your voice as you ask questions and join in with the banter, which usually consisted of ribbing mike wheeler for being a little shit.

and, eddie's not dumb, okay? he knows you're only here because you're picking up the sinclair siblings every week, taking a bit of the load off steve harrington, who's been designated chauffeur for a year now, much to his own dismay.

but, sometimes, he thinks you maybe like being here and spending late friday evenings in their presence. and it's a nice little delusion for eddie to live in until he's home and safely tucked under his sheets, thinking of your cute laugh and your flirty smile when he slides a hand under his sleep shorts.

he's only a man. a pervert of a man, absolutely. but he'll feed into his delusions and feed into his daydreams, because it's not hurting anybody but himself in the confines of his room.

things are shadowy and hazy this particular friday, and eddie sure as shit is not on his game. he's stuttering and fumbling over his words, which wheeler is using to his advantage like the dickhead he is, mocking eddie with every fuck up with that stupid fucking face he makes.

eddie calls it a day earlier than usual because his head just isn't in the game damnit, and henderson claps him on the back on his way out, giving him this sincere smile which eddie kind of hates because dustin usually takes every opportunity to add himself into their shithead-ery.

oh god, he was worse than he thought. he needs to hang his hat up and give his job over to zombie boy byers immediately.

eddie doesn't get out of his head quick enough to realise that harrington arrived and left with all of the kids in tow, the sinclairs included.

so when you arrive at the door a half hour later, a confused look on your face, eddie's face fucking falls.

"damn, did harrington want his old job back that badly he kidnapped my kids?" you laugh quietly, all sincerity and jokes as you look around the empty room, eyes landing on eddie with a sparkle.

"it's my fault, i let everybody go early and i-" eddie groans, putting his hands on his hips then dropping them to his sides, "i didn't think. sorry, sweetheart."

sweetheart. why'd he fucking say that? someone needs to get the shotgun and put him down like old yeller.

eddie makes himself busy by packing away all his stuff, pointedly not looking in your direction because he's an idiot piece of shit, and who knows what other mess will come out of his mouth if he keeps letting himself look at you.

"you seem stressed, eddie," you observe quietly, a statement. you cross your arms behind your back, fingertips linking together, "is there anything i can do to help?"

eddie lets out this little self-deprecating laugh, a mirthless smile on his features, "unless you stop showing up here, no, there's nothing you can do."

a hurt look flashes across your face momentarily before it disappears again, masked over with a confused furrow of your brows, "oh. i'm sorry, have i done something wrong?"

eddie's fucking this up. he's a fucking idiot, who apparently can't talk to any girl who isn't ronnie or little erica sinclair.

"just, y'know, consuming my brain so much that i can't focus on anything else lately, so." eddie admits, deflated as he slumps into his chair and rolls his neck until he's looking up at the ceiling. his throat clicks audibly, dry and scratchy.

"oh." you say again, a relieved sigh escaping you as you kick a leg out to bash his shin lightly with the toe of your boot, "why didn't you say something? that's- that's okay. lucas kind of figured, he told me your moon eyes were annoying him."

eddie's kicking them all out. hellfire will be no more. he's sick of these damn kids.

he covers his face with his hands, rubbing against his two day stubble with calloused fingertips. a useless groan escaping him, "sorry, i wasn't trying to be obvious. girls don't. hmm."

eddie stops himself with a grunt, trying to narrowly escape the word vomit that threatens to spill out. he's nervously jiggling his leg, the chains on his jeans clattering together obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet room.

he feels your presence enter his orbit, the soft press of your hand on his knee stopping the motion of his jerky leg.

"don't be so nervous," you scold playfully, voice light like you're trying to hide a smile, "i'm not anybody to be nervous around. i like that you noticed me, that i'm somebody you're interested in."

eddie's hands fall away from his face at that, and he blinks blearily, head lolling until he catches sight of you crouched down in front of him, staring up with these gorgeous eyes that eddie just wants to get lost in.

"really?" he asks dumbly, brain short-circuiting at the sight of you knelt down like this in front of him, his stupid mind wandering into filthy territory.

"really." you nod, smiling up at him with this thousand-watt thing that he's sure could power the whole of hawkins, "i'm interested, too. in case i wasn't being obvious enough by hanging around here willingly every week."

you weren't obvious at all. not at all. or maybe you were and eddie's just a fucking moron.

"can i help relieve some of that stress now?" you ask, head tilted to the side in question, "i'm only down here anyway."

eddie's brain melts out of his ears, he's pretty sure. his tombstone is sure to say here lies eddie munson, killed by the insinuation of a blowjob.

"oh, you don't have to- you really don't have to, ha, your hands are on me, fuck-"

the conversation kind of fades out after that, and you're all action dropping from your deep squat to thud your knees against the floor softly.

and you're so pretty on your knees for him, eyelashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks that are flushed and warm. eddie practically melts into his chair as you paw at his jeans, fluid motions and featherlight touches like you've done this before, and god he doesn't want to think about that right now, that you've done this for other guys before him. not when you're laid out below him and nudging in between his spread legs with pursed lips, spitting over the flushed head of his dick to dampen it further.

"you should- you should know i've never done this bef- fuck, fuck," eddie stutters over his words, fingers clawing into the arms of the chair when you begin mouthing hot and wet over the leaking slit that continues weeping pathetically with every lave of your tongue.

he tried, okay? he tried to tell you, but he's a weak man and - and you're fucking looking at him with these pretty, knowing eyes like you had a clue from the beginning, and fuck was it really that obvious?

he clenches his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of a neon sign over his head that scream eddie munson, adult virgin.

you start off slow and savouring, lapping at him with these kitten licks and mouthing down the bulging vein on the underside. eddie thinks he's delirious, because he's surely imagining the way you're inhaling the musky scent of him, moaning prettily as you do.

"mm, fuck," eddie groans quietly, hips shakily punching up when you finally sink down over the head of his cock properly with your lips wrapped tightly around your teeth, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes him feel fucking insane.

he didn't know it would feel like this. his brain is gonna explode, scanners style.

your hand reaches blindly for his, guiding his fingers to slide into your hair, and his eyes fly open to meet yours, a pretty haze covering your orbs as you nod slightly to give him the go-ahead to curl his fingers.

"ha, you're gonna fucking kill me," eddie murmurs, but he's gently pulling ever so slightly from the root at the base of your skull, because he may be a virgin but he's not fucking clueless, right? he's read enough skin mags to know how to pull hair properly.

you whimper high pitched and your eyes finally flutter closed, letting eddie move you up and down with his firm hand as you alternate between sucking and drooling all over his length.

he's aware that he's looking at you like he's in love, okay? he can't help it. you're literally sucking the soul out of him, moaning around his girth and running your tongue over him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted. like he said before, he's weak.

"you- you're so good at this, oh my god," eddie's eyes roll back into his head when your free hand runs from where it's gripping the meat of his thigh to slide between his obscenely wide legs and cup his balls, rolling and squeezing them between your fingers.

the room is filled with the whining, high-pitched noises that eddie's really trying his best to hold in at risk of sounding like an absolutely pitiful virgin, and the wet noises of your mouth working over his cock, the slick slide of your fist jerking off what you can't quite reach.

eddie's stomach clenches, and holy fuck this is over too quick, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed because, because-

"i'm coming, you're making me come, holy fuck-" eddie's words die with a groan that sounds breathy and pathetic even in his own ears, his fingers burying so tight in your hair and pulling as he arches in on himself and jerks his hips in aborted little thrusts. he feels the plush of your lips brush against the wild, untamed curls at the base of his cock and he lets out a weak grunt, feels his length throb and spurt out another weak dribble of come at the sensation.

he's so delirious when he finally comes to that he's all but dragging you up from where your knees have to be aching on the floor, dragging you into his lap, and fuck sake his soft cock is still out and covered in spit and come and-

your mouth is on his in a hot press of lips and teeth and tongue, eddie's so out of his element here but the taste of his own spend on your tongue is as addictive as it is mildly disgusting.

"you got a mattress in the back of that van of yours?" you mumble between kisses, smiling into it.

"mhm, yup, a-ha," eddie nods wildly as he chases your mouth with his own, "i think i need some more stress relief. i hear burying your face between a pretty things legs helps."

eddie definitely does feel like he's dying when your thighs wrap around his ears and lock him in face-first.

and what a way to go that is.

[cheers-to-you-th]

Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuic @duckieo

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release. 

—

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk.  It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

—

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace. 

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.” 

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

—

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you. 

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.” 

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice. 

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head. 

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys. 

Keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable. 

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?” 

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day. 

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying. 

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that. 

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt. 

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.” 

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

—

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

—

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you. 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

—

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was. 

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

—

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire? 

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural. 

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier. 

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him. 

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see. 

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car. 

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

—

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ‘planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting. 

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

—

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.” 

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.” 

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips,  “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. 

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly. 

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water. 

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue. 

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair. 

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more. 

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force.  “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer. 

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—” 

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

—

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

—

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.” you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?” 

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.” 

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

—

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

—

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

—

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

—

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

—

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough. 

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you. 

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-” 

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.” 

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence. 

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol. 

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.” 

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

 “There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.” 

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting. 

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.” 

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact. 

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

—

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

—

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls. 

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

—

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

—

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared. 

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest. 

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together. 

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces. 

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

—

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

[bumblesimagines]

Familiar Faces

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When his afternoon takes an unusual shift, (Y/N) reacquaints himself with his neighbor and an old classmate.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Twilight warnings, mentions of emotionally and physically absent parents, not much tbh

I decided to give the book another chance! divider by thecutestgrotto

~~~

"Move your ass or I'm going to dump all your makeup in a pot of boiling water, Abby!"

He waited a moment, then felt a surge of satisfaction when the shuffling upstairs became a hurried thumping of footsteps, quickening their pace in fleeting worry of the threat. (Y/N) waited at the base of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping impatiently against the old wooden floorboard beneath him. It was an empty threat, of course; he'd never let money go to waste.

His precious little sister was no longer the toddler who wept until he bundled her into his arms or the little girl who clung to his pant legs while suckling on her thumb until it turned bright red. She'd reached the tiresome age of thirteen, when she still dove toward him for safety during horror movies but stuck her nose up at his help. This was the age when children became teenagers, and their interests faded from dolls and playdates to makeup and hangouts at the mall with friends and potential future partners.

He missed those days. He'd give anything to return to them instead of working at some low-end diner where he served food to truckers, lumberjacks, and fishermen who'd known him his whole life. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Abby appeared on the landing, no longer wearing her strawberry-print pajamas or fuzzy red socks. A small huff left her before she rapidly descended the stairs and hopped down from the last step. The bottom of her low-top black converses landed on the floorboard with a loud and purposeful thump!

He scanned her powdered pink cheeks and the clumpy mascara sticking to her lashes, his arms dropping to retrieve her backpack from the floor. "You look like a clown."

"As if you'd know anything about makeup, asshat." Another thing about reaching thirteen: learning curse words and sounding like someone trying to speak a language they'd never practiced before. His smirk only made her roll her eyes and snatch the backpack from his hands, quiet huffy muttering filling the air.

Living with a preteen girl was certainly something. 

Once he slipped on his muddy, worn-out boots (and pointedly ignored Abby's mutters about getting new ones or at least cleaning them), he stepped out onto their wet porch and held the door open for Abby. His eyes tracked her as she made her way down the steps, a quiet hum of disappointment vibrating in his throat when the wet stairs failed to make her slip as they so often did. It was the highlight of his day, and he often took it as a good sign. 

Abby glared at him over her shoulder and he quietly snickered, locking up the house and wiggling the doorknob before carefully following her to his car. His head tilted toward their next-door neighbor's house when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He met Chief Swan's eye across the mini swamp of halfway submerged grass and mud combining their small front yards. Chief Swan raised his arm in greeting and then looked toward the figure standing on his porch, speaking words lost in the distance. 

Oh, right. His daughter was back in town. How could he forget when it was the latest buzz?

"Morning, (Y/N), Abigail!" Chief Swan called, and his daughter, Isabella, snapped her head in her father's direction with wide eyes. She looked at him, almost pleadingly, but her father either remained oblivious or purposefully ignored her because he made his way toward them and motioned for her to follow. Her nose crinkled as she trekked through the grass, taking long strides to avoid getting her shoes too muddy and wet. "You remember my daughter, right?"

"Yeah." Vaguely. He recalled 'playdates' when they were younger, the two of them sat side by side with little Jacob Black and his twin sisters on a fishing boat during the summer while their fathers fished and laughed about things their young minds couldn't fully understand. Most of the time, they were forced to 'play' while the adults sat by idly. He offered her a nod and she lifted her fingers off her backpack strap in greeting. "How are you, Isabella?"

"Good." She smiled nervously and visibly swallowed. Definitely not good. "Bella's fine, by the way."

"Bell, remember Abigail?" 

At the sound of her name, Abby looked up from her phone and squinted briefly at Bella before one of those polite I-have-no-idea-who-you-are smiles appeared on her face; the types of smiles you wore when a distinctively familiar elderly woman approached you with claims of having once changed your diaper. It was expected given Abby had been a toddler verging on child when the two of them were finally given the option to hang out with the adults or not. Bella held Abby exactly one time back then, and she'd looked as rigid as a statue the entire time.

"Mhm." Bella nodded weakly. "Hi."

"Hi." Abby turned back to her phone, wholly uninterested in catching up with someone she scarcely remembered. Bella looked relieved.

From the depths of his memories, he dragged out an image of Bella from their childhood and compared it to the young girl standing on the line between teenhood and adulthood. She was skinny and soft-looking, her cheeks still round with youthful fat and naturally flushed from the cold damp air but her limbs were long and almost lanky, unlike the small girl he remembered. She'd never been interesting looking with her pale skin, average chestnut brown hair, and normal brown eyes but she was pretty, in a conventionally attractive kind of way.

Awkwardness and tension forced her into a hunch, her head dipped and hands curled around her backpack straps to give an almost boxy look to her figure. Shy as always but perfectly average-looking like everyone else in town, apart from the Cullens, of course. Nothing made her stand out, and he assumed it was something she was relieved by. It was better that way in small towns. 

"We should get going." (Y/N) said, tearing his eyes away from Bella who'd also been flickering her eyes between him and his sister, likely updating the images in her head of them like he'd done. He jerked his head in Abby's direction. "I gotta get this one to school."

"Forks Juinor High is on the way to Forks High, isn't it?" Chief Swan questioned as if he didn't have the whole town and each individual street memorized, his blunt nails lightly scraping against the growing stubble along his jaw and cheeks in thought. (Y/N) was fairly certain he could drive around blindfolded and never miss a single turn. 

"Dad-"

"Why don't you drop Bella off? The truck's still got a dent from that accident." Chief's Swan voice went up a pitch, containing a certain tone (Y/N) was more than familiar with. It was a scheming type of tone, the type your aunts would have when they were subtly trying to set you up with someone while pretending otherwise.

In a far, distant memory of his childhood, he vaguely recalled Bella's mother once cooing over how 'perfect' and 'meant to be' he and Bella were when they were children. He was fairly certain the only thing they were perfect for was pretending and occasionally helping decorate each other's trees for Christmas.

"Dad." Bella looked positively mortified, so much so the tips of her ears turned a bright red. (Y/N) would've felt bad if it weren't a little amusing. "It's fine, I swear. It's a small dent, it's nothing-"

"Safety first, Bell." Chief Swan lifted his bushy brows at her and placed his hands over his hips in a typical dad pose before he turned back to him. "You don't mind, do you, (Y/N)? It'll give you time to catch up."

"Fine by me." (Y/N) chuckled and Bella's shoulders slumped with defeat. "Hop in, Bella." 

The ride to Forks Junior High was mostly silent, apart from the soft sound of the warm air pumping inside and the tapping of Abby's nails against her phone screen. Bella fiddled with the zipper of her backpack and glanced at him occasionally, lips parting as if to say something but chickening out last minute each time. He tried to keep his focus on the road, and then the carpool line, gazing at the school containing an ocean of memories. 

"Did you do your Civics homework?" He glanced at Abby in the rearview mirror, catching the way her lips pursed and a second of panic flashed over her face. He shook his head as the car slowed to a stop, listening to the soft click of the doors unlocking. "Finish it before class, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Abby slung her backpack over her shoulder and pushed the door open, hopping out of the car and slamming it behind her. A second later, she opened it again to call out a quick 'love you!' before she shut it and hurried off to group up with her circle of friends.

They greeted each other enthusiastically, hugs going all around before they huddled together, likely to gossip or gush over some dumb boy they'd forget about by the time the winter formal strolled around. He assumed half her friends would take up cheerleading in high school, not that Forks had much to cheer on with their mediocre school teams. (Y/N) already predicted Abby would follow suit and take on being a cheerleader just to have something in common with them. 

Bella chewed on her bottom lip and watched the middle school pass on by, the view replaced by a long expanse of towering trees. "She's taller than I expected. What is she, fourteen?" She turned to look at him, her toothless smile telling him she was simply trying to break the silence before it could grow unbearably uncomfortable. 

"Thirteen." He corrected with a heavy sigh. The word weighed heavy on his tongue. Thirteen would become fourteen and fourteen would become sixteen and soon he'd have a high school senior searching for colleges on his hands threatening to take his little firecracker away from him. "She's doing better than I was in middle school."

Bella laughed softly at that and the gripping tension in her shoulders disappeared. Her body slouched more comfortably against the car seat and her fidgeting fingers smoothed out along her backpack, the smile on her face turning into a more genuine one. "Charlie says you graduated last year. What are you still doing here?" Her head lolled back against the headrest, dark eyes watching him with soft interest.

"Mom works long hours at the hospital and Dad's always on the road. Someone has to keep an eye on Abby." (Y/N) shrugged casually despite the pinch of bitterness in his gut.

It'd been an option, his mother had insisted a few weeks before he was supposed to walk across the stage and grab his diploma, to teach Abby some of the basics so she could cook herself some meals. He hardly found it fair for her to be forced to basically live alone in a two-story house with no one else to tend to her apart from the rare times their mother had days off, but she usually spent those downing whatever liquor they had and sleeping the day away to actually count as time off work. 

"Do.. do you wish it was different?" Bella asked tentatively and she pushed herself to sit up straighter when the tall brick buildings of Forks High peeked over the treeline. She zipped up her crinkling coat and adjusted her backpack so one strap was snug over her shoulder and halfway resting on her thigh. 

"Sometimes." He nodded and felt a wave of deja vu wash over him when he pulled into the parking lot of the school. Four years of familiarizing himself with the route, three years of actually driving it and obtaining a parking spot most of his former classmates associated with him.

(Y/N) carefully drove through the parking lot, occasionally coming to a full stop to allow groups of students to hurry on by, and he almost immediately found his eye drawn to the shiny volvo just a parking spot ahead. The Cullens were gathered around, having just arrived from the looks of it; their car doors were still open, and the big bulky guy he always considered linebacker material was retrieving his backpack from the floor of the back seat.

(Y/N) wasn't familiar with the Cullens. The five of them had enrolled during his junior year and while they'd captivated his attention, he'd never been one for gossip. The boyish one with bronze waves and an air of grumpy indifference otherwise known as Edward secured himself a spot in an AP History class with (Y/N) during his senior year, but the singular time they'd interacted was when Edward had been chosen to hand out a paper for an essay.

That was about as much interaction as he had with the startling beautiful family, though (when she was coherent and conscious) his mother blabbered about how handsome and kind their father, Dr. Cullen, was. He made it a point to stay away from the hospital so he took her word for it.

"Should I drop you off with your friends?" He questioned, scanning the student body shuffling through campus or taking time to squeeze whatever water they could from their pant legs.

"Uh," Bella's eyes briefly flickered to a small group huddled together consisting of two brunettes, a blond jock, and a shorter guy who appeared deep into a debate nobody was particularly paying close attention to. She cleared her throat and shook her head, even ducking her head slightly when the car passed by them. "No, you can, uhm... you can drop me off by the curb. It's fine." 

Carefully maneuvering on the slick road, he stopped by the sidewalk leading up to the building and watched her fumble with the seatbelt, attempting to be quick but it effectively got her nowhere. A quiet, rushed apology tumbled from her lips before she pushed the door and stumbled out, nearly tripping on the curb but catching herself in time. Jesus, this girl. It was a miracle she didn't land herself in the hospital every week.

She ducked her head to smile at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you later at pick-up?"

"Yep." She was like a deer- or a fawn, actually. Trembling legs and survival instincts that'd yet to kick in.

"Great, bye!"

Bella moved to shut the door only to catch it before it could shut properly. Her body stiffened and she held it for a brief second, as if her mind caught up to what her body had done, before she opened it again and ducked down to smile sheepishly at him. She hooked her finger around a strand that slipped over her face and her eyes flickered around the interior of his car nervously. 

"I.. I was wondering if you wanted to come to Seattle a week from Saturday with me- if you can, of course. I want to stop by and grab a few books, and maybe some clothes." Bella explained, shifting her weight from foot to foot as the consequence of her uncomfortable position settled onto her back. She then rushed out, "It's okay if you can't. I just thought it'd be nice to go with someone." 

"Sure, sounds good." He nodded, and she visibly relaxed once more. "I don't mind." 

"Cool." She nodded too and remained still as her mouth pressed into an awkward line. "Okay, uhm.. bye, again."

This time she let the door close completely and he chuckled under his breath, watching her quickly make her way toward the building to get out of the light drizzle right as Edward Cullen caught up with her. He arched a surprised brow at the sight of them together but from the irritated way Bella looked at him, he assumed they were far from friends. Edward looked amused, though. He spared a glance over his shoulder at (Y/N) and- much to his surprise, again- he raised his hand to give a small wave.

Did he remember him from History class? Maybe.. no, definitely. Why else would he wave to a complete stranger? Clearing his throat, (Y/N) waved back, which seemed to please the usually scowling boy. Edward turned back to Bella and spoke to her, prompting a flustered scowl and a peek over her shoulder at him. 

(Y/N) tore his eyes off the two and stepped on the gas, carefully avoiding getting caught in any iced-over parts and dragging a poor student along with him before he drove back onto the road. 

The diner he worked at, like most places in Forks, was just off the interstate and separated from other buildings by short expanses of woods on three sides. The neon lights that once shone vibrantly had dulled into a lime green color that read Milton's Diner during the daylight and Din in sparse flickers during nighttime, hardly inviting but it still had its fair share of loyal customers shuffling in and out throughout the week. It was a small, shabby, diner run by the same family throughout the decades.

It was there before him and it'd probably be there long after he perished.

Like a switch was flipped in his head, (Y/N) settled into work mode the second he stepped inside and found his nose assaulted with the smell of brewing coffee and cooking oil. He felt as if he'd stepped out of his body and left it to run on autopilot while he took orders, answered questions, laughed at jokes he'd heard a million times over, and balanced hot plates on his arms until the rush of morning slowed into the even pace of the afternoon.

He always knew he wasn't destined for much outside of Forks, or the dingy diner he worked at.

A certain hope lingered with him through his high school years, one that told him he could make it out of his small town and make something of himself, but that'd been promptly crushed under the heel of parents who'd had no business having a second child when they barely tended to their first. He wanted to hate them, to scream at them each time he saw them, but when he took in the exhaustion they wore like second skin, he always thought twice about it. 

The soft ding of the bell brought him back from his daily pity party and he pushed himself off the wall, already deducing the only other waiter working was on her tenth smoke break despite having only clocked in an hour prior. He reached into his apron and tugged out his notepad and pen, the greeting automatically rolling off his tongue before he even looked up. 

Bella stared at him in alarm, already halfway into one of the booths. Edward looked overly amused.

(Y/N) was no stranger to ditching class or recognizing former classmates on impromptu dates but he never expected Isabella Swan would be the type to do either of those things. Her face flushed in that familiar shade of red and she glared accusingly at Edward, her body lightly thumping against the cushion of the booth when she sat.

He tilted his head toward the old and chipped grandfather clock pressed against the wall by the counter. "Shouldn't you be in school?" He questioned them, pointing his gaze at Bella because he knew what her father would think about it. He had little idea what rules Dr. Cullen imposed on his adopted kids.

"I-" 

"Bella fainted," Edward stated, grinning when Bella glared at him again before he continued. "She wasn't feeling well so I offered to drive her home." 

"And you came here instead?" 

"And we came here instead." Edward nodded, almost as if he were a regular customer and not someone who looked like he belonged at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.

Edward picked up the flappy and likely sticky menu to study it, his eyes flickering over it too quickly for someone who was actually taking time to look at the options before he set it back down and peered up at him.

His eyes were an interesting shade of golden brown, which was odd considering (Y/N) recalled them being a whole lot darker the last time he saw him up close. He still looked other-worldly, like a model in a magazine whose face had been photoshopped to rid it of any imperfections, yet the area below his eyes was a darker shade as if he wasn't getting enough sleep. Strange for a kid who likely slept on the most expensive mattress and nicest of sheets.

"I'll get a black coffee." 

"I thought you were hungry," Bella said under her breath, hands roughly tugging at the sleeves of her wet jacket until it was snugly set beside her and draped over her backpack. 

Edward barely glanced at the menu. "And fries."

By the time (Y/N) turned around toward the counter, Dolores had returned to her spot behind it and set a cup of steaming black coffee for him to retrieve before turning to shout the simple order into the kitchen in her nasally voice. He shot her a thankful smile and she nodded in return with her usual blank expression, her attention more focused on squinting at Edward before looking away to read the newspaper she'd abandoned in favor of smoking.

Gingerly setting the coffee down in front of Edward, he looked to Bella but she shook her head dismissively. He gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment and tucked his notepad away, sparing the two another look before spinning on his heels and retreating to his corner while he waited for the fries. He tried not to watch them but they were virtually the only people in the diner, apart from an old man at the end of the counter who was blatantly dozing off over his half-eaten burger. 

Bella and Edward had a hushed conversation, one that seemed to amplify her irritation and his amusement. Every so often, her shoulders would slump and her features would relax, and occasionally his expression would tighten with seriousness before melting back into that casual, nearly teasing smile.

They were a strange duo but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Bella was so... Bella and Edward was the quietest of his siblings, perhaps even the normal one of the bunch.

The rattle and thump of the fries took his attention off the two and he slinked up to the counter right as Dolores plopped the basket onto the counter without looking up from her newspaper. He picked it up and took a few steps toward their booth, the smell of the warm fries tantalizing to his senses and he reluctantly parted ways with it. Before he could turn, Edward caught his eye.

"Sit with us." He said, and he added another layer of absurdity by scooting further into the corner and patting the spot beside him.

Did Edward Cullen believe they were... friends? He frantically thought back to his high school years post-Cullens but he only managed to recall the one singular interaction where he'd only muttered a quiet thanks and the few times he'd pass him or one of his siblings in the hallways. Maybe he thought there was mutual respect. Maybe he was thankful (Y/N) hadn't spent his time gawking at him and his family like everyone else.

"I'm working." He mumbled.

Edward surveyed the diner and then quirked a brow at him as if to say 'Seriously? That's your excuse?' so (Y/N) reluctantly slid into the booth beside him. Bella's eyes flickered between them, more perplexed than surprised, but she made no comment about it and instead fished out a fry to nibble on. Edward propped his head on his fist and kept his other hand spread over his thigh, at no point making any move to drink his coffee.

(Y/N) waited for a minute of silence and no movement to pass before he reached out to grab the coffee and some sugar packets from the little tray pressed against the wall. Edward only smiled and watched, a light laugh vibrating in his chest when (Y/N) sipped on it and immediately crinkled his nose.

"Edward is insistent on joining us on our trip to Seattle. I hope that's okay?" Bella's brows lifted in a pleading kind of way, her puckered lips and the way she glanced at Edward telling him she definitely tried diverting the subject but ended up giving in.

"You two can go." He spoke in a tone he hoped reassured her he wasn't mad about it. He wondered how much Charlie knew about the trip. Would he have to cover for her? 

"No," Edward shook his head and one of his wavy strands fell over his forehead. "The three of us will go. We'll take my car." 

Who was he to argue with a Cullen and deny himself a taste of their fancy lifestyle?

"How long have you been working here?" Bella asked, her chin tilted up and eyes roving over the random posters, license plates, signs, and animal head mounts scattered across the walls.

If she was looking for an aesthetic, she wasn't going to find one. The decorations had a habit of suddenly appearing with little to no explanation, and they didn't pay (Y/N) to question their choice of interior design. He could, however, do without a mounted deer staring at him while he worked.

"A while." (Y/N) answered, regretfully taking another sip of the coffee out of habit. Edward laughed again and attempted to muffle it by pressing his mouth into his knuckles when (Y/N) glanced at him. "Mom's work pays for most of the bills but I have to pay for my car, groceries, anything Abby needs or wants. I started working so I wouldn't have to bother her all the time."

"She's your mom," Edward said suddenly, his brows furrowing. "It shouldn't bother her." 

"She works long hours." (Y/N) shrugged but Edward still looked unconvinced. Annoyed, even.

Bella hummed. "And your dad? Is he still driving trucks?" 

His lips pursed. "I think. I haven't seen him around for a while but he sends money sometimes so he's still alive... somewhere. Sometimes I think he has a new family somewhere else."

Silence fell over the table, as it usually did when (Y/N) revealed his family wasn't exactly the white picket fence type. Bella looked sympathetic, but (Y/N) knew she was familiar with the struggle of having a somewhat incompetent parent and a borderline absent one, even though it'd been her choice to spend more time with Renée. Edward, on the other hand, looked furious with his deep frown and knitted brows that formed creases in his otherwise smooth skin.

"So, uh," (Y/N) cleared his throat, eager for a subject change away from him and his family. "How'd you two meet?"

"Biology," Bella answered yet her eyes were more focused on studying Edward. "We- We sit next to each other."

(Y/N) tried to ignore Edward staring a hole into the side of his head. He was sort of.. weird.  "Ah... well, we had History together last year. I don't remember where we sa-"

"I sat on the row directly behind you." Edward interrupted, his voice quiet yet naturally attention-grabbing.

"There wasn't a sitting chart but you sat in the same spot by the window the whole year and you spent half of the class each day staring out of it at the forest but you always got good grades. Kayla Patton and Chloe Asaka were the ones who sat next to you most often; Kayla because she had a crush on you and Chloe because she's known you since middle school and you had another class together. You were one of Mr. Wallace's favorites and you were always in class earlier than everyone talking to him even though everyone hates him because he's strict."

(Y/N) could only stare at the bronze-haired boy beside him in startled silence. He'd forgotten about Kayla Patton entirely, let alone even realized Edward Cullen had spent the entire year faithfully sitting behind him. The amount of conversations he must've overheard, the amount of habits he must've picked up on. He felt a hint of fleeting guilt for not having taken note of the Cullen earlier. 

"History couldn't have been that boring." He exhaled, suddenly feeling wildly shy.

He always considered himself more of a passerby, someone who blended into the background and went unnoticed by strangers. People recognized him, it was a given in a small town, but it was never the kind of attention that implied they were looking or waiting for him because they wanted to be in his presence. Yet, perhaps the most wanted boy in school, had paid him attention. Had he worried each time (Y/N) called out sick? Was he relieved each time he appeared the following day?

"It wasn't." Edward agreed, the anger replaced with soft amusement. The gentleness on his face was almost tender, like the way Chief Swan used to gaze at Renée before their divorce. "You were just more interesting."

Edward was full of surprises, and (Y/N) had never been a big fan of them. Heat licked up the back of his neck and bit at his cheeks, ones that were already warm from the smoke slipping out from the kitchen. He looked away from Edward with a quiet noise and when the Cullen chuckled, low and husky and vaguely flustered, (Y/N)'s heart undoubtedly skipped a beat.

Ah, shit. He'd been hoping he was immune to the untouchable Cullens.

No matter what he did, he couldn't get Edward and his stupid words out of his head. He'd forgotten how irritating and distracting crushes were- ugh God, was it really a crush?

Edward was undeniably attractive, he recognized it the second he and his siblings became the talk of the town, but he'd never actually been attracted to him. He'd had always been Edward Cullen, the guy whose model-like siblings were dating each other and nobody truly cared because they 'weren't actually related'. But now, each time he closed his eyes, Edward's pretty honey eyes flashed in his head, crinkled with warmth and humor.

He was hyper-aware of himself now too, and when he usually tossed on whatever was in reach, he took a moment to think about his clothes before realization slammed into him each time. 

He wanted to strangle Edward, or better yet, run him over until his pretty face remained permanently disfigured and he had to remain on permanent bed rest so (Y/N) would never have to lay eyes on him again. 

Maybe he wasn't the best at processing his emotions...

(Y/N) swirled around the soggy cereal in his bowl and watched the remaining Cheerios swim along the milk, waiting to be eaten or dumped down the drain. Abby, thankfully, hadn't caught on yet to his predicament and he wanted to keep it that way. (Y/N) (L/N) had better and more important things to fret over than some stupid guy.

His head lifted when he heard two soft knocks on the door, and he waited until he heard another before scooping the bowl into his hand and chugging half of the remaining milk. The bowl clattered softly when he placed it into the sink and he wiped at his mouth, mentally flickering back through the checklist he'd made for Abby when she told him of sleeping over at her friend's place. Instead of seeing his sister standing on the porch, he saw their neighbor.

"Bella," He greeted and he looked her over, unconsciously searching for an injury or anything that could explain her sudden appearance. It was a Saturday but Charlie was working and he guessed it was easier to cross the yard than search the town for her father if she needed help. Bella looked unnaturally frustrated.

"Can I.. talk to you about something?" She asked, fiddling with the sleeves of her rain jacket.

He frowned. "Of course." 

With Abby having a sleepover at her friend's house and their mother essentially living at the hospital, the house was silent. Bella reacquainted herself with the interior, gazing over dusty picture frames and running her finger along the old railing as they made their way up into his bedroom. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had someone over who wasn't Abby's friend.

"You okay?" He asked and took a seat on the edge of the bed, head raised to observe her fully. Bella rocked back and forth on her feet and chewed on her bottom lip, her anxiety making him anxious. "Bella-" 

"This is going to sound crazy.. but hear me out." She began, not the start he wanted to hear but he nonetheless nodded for her to continue with furrowed brows. "I bumped into Jacob at the bonfire Mike invited me to yesterday night and he mentioned some things that had me thinking about the Cullens." 

"The Cullens?" He repeated, his confusion heightening as Bella began to pace his room, her fingers now toying with the ends of her hair.

"The tribe has stories about these 'people' they call the Cold Ones. Have.. have you ever noticed how Edward's eyes sometimes change color? From black to gold? Or how they're strangely pale and have this almost inhuman beauty? And when I had my accident, Edward was nowhere near me yet he managed to be at my side in seconds and left a dent in Tyler's van with his hands." 

"Okay." (Y/N) said long and slow as he attempted to piece the puzzle she was spewing together. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I think- I think Edward and his family are vampires, (Y/N)." 

[jd-loves-fiction]

Requesting a Jade Leech thing where the reader and Jade have been broken up with, but he’s a manipulative bastard and fully intends on charming them back. Get as creative as you want with the prompt, I just wanna see him being all scheming lmao

(I’ve had “bad idea right?” stuck in my head on loop)

🌑I'm gonna make this a bit more comedic, hope you like it :))

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Jade seemed strangely unaffected when you told him you wanted to break up, accepting it easily with an oddly peaceful smile on his face. Just what is he up to?

You tried to steer clear of him for a while, in fear of what he might be scheming as well as for your own emotional stability, but he always just seemed to be there. 

Studying in the library? There he is, just standing around suspiciously, looking as effortlessly beautiful as always.

Enjoying a snack at the lounge? He’s the only one who brings it to you everytime, despite how many other workers there are, flashing a soft, gentlemanly smile and wishing you ‘bon appétit’ in a sugar sweet tone.

Talking to a cute underclassman stuttering through his attempt at asking for your number? Suddenly he seizes up like he’s being shocked and makes up some sorry excuse to run off in the other direction. When you turn around, there he is, smiling innocently and waving at you from where he stands – no doubt having a hand in what just happened.

You quickly started to understand why he looked so unbothered when you were breaking up with him – that was his scheming face, already thinking up ways of driving you back to his arms.

Loneliness won't be what does it. You’re stubborn, damn it! And the more he tries the more you want to see how far he’s willing to take this little game. It shows effort, at least, it’s just a shame he seems so hellbent on making you give in instead of having an adult conversation. 

So you play his game. Jade is a jealous man – nothing makes him spring into action like envy, this you know for certain. Next time you pass by the lounge to study, you make sure to sit at the bar and never acknowledge him, instead making loud conversation with Floyd about… whatever it is he’s rambling about, though he seems to be in a happy mood which is good for you.

He talks so much at you that it’s barely a conversation, more like a sermon of some kind – especially so given his passionate tone, Though you know Jade pays little mind to those details while he’s boiling with jealousy behind the bar. And to anyone watching you two it sure looks like you’ve moved on from Jade and onto his brother.

You leave the lounge that day exhausted but pleased, knowing you’ve successfully riled Jade up more than he did you. Maybe this’ll be enough for him to let you move on… but then again… do you want to move on?

Caught up in your conflicting thoughts you fail to hear him approach until he’s breathing down your neck. Startling, your back bumps against a nearby wall as you quickly turn around, seeing Jade right in front of you with a strangely neutral expression on his pretty face.

“...Jade?” You try to sound casual, but you’re sure the fright seeps into your tone regardless of your efforts.

He calls your name softly in turn, a troubled look crossing his face for a moment, “Had a fun time listening to Floyd prattle?”

Lips twisting in indignation, you righten your posture, “Very much so! He's a surprisingly good listener – compared to a certain brother of his.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.” You assure him disingenuously, arms crossed petulantly. Jade watches you silently for a moment, a familiar look of longing in his eyes – forming a tightness in your chest, before he sighs heavily. For a moment you think he might finally be honest with you, open up about how he truly feels and vow to be better – it’s all it’d take for you to take him back. But of course, it can't be that easy to change such a man.

For now, he settles for leaning in close, one hand against the wall behind you and taking a lock of hair between his fingers before bringing it to his lips. You hold in an undignified squeal.

“Just don't have too much fun with him. We both know he could never compare.”

You scoff, “I think you’ve been watching too many romance movies. You seem to be getting slightly delusional.” Shouldering past him you walk away without looking back to see his thoughtful expression. Not that you’d know what it means or care! Hmph!

If only you could both just talk to each other,  there’d be no need for these silly games. Though they sure are fun…

[hyperfocusthusly]

Sweet things

@bucktommyfluffebruary - day two prompt ‘cooking together’

Notes: established relationship, domestic fluff, Tommy is too busy staring at his boyfriend to be an effective sous chef | Rating: G | Words: 700

[Read on A03]

——-

“Sorry I’m late!” Tommy calls through the house, “there was an accident, traffic was a nightmare.”

“That’s okay,” a familiar voice calls back. “I had to start without you.” Tommy comes into the kitchen to find Evan whisking a bowl of egg whites. “Need to keep on schedule so it has to bake and cool before we put it together.”

Tommy half remembers the 20 minute run down of why you have to let a meringue cool slowly, something to do with sudden temperature change causing cracks? In his defence he had been half asleep at the time, laid out on the sofa with Evan’s fingers carding through his hair.

Ever since Athena had assigned them the dessert portion of the menu for their barbecue this evening Evan had been spending every spare minute searching for the perfect thing to make. Several internet deep dives, three new recipe books and countless conversations later he had come to the conclusion that a pavlova would be perfect for the job.

“It’s the best of all things.” He had explained one evening, plastered against Tommy’s back while he did the washing up. “It’s crunchy and chewy, sweet but if you choose the right flavour crème, I was thinking passion fruit, then it’s not too sweet. Plus it’s light enough for after a big meal, perfect for a summer barbecue.”

Tommy comes around the kitchen island, rests his hand on Evan’s hip and presses a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“Hope you didn’t do all of my jobs for me. I want to look Hen in the eye and tell her I helped make this thing, I’m pretty sure it’s high on her list of things she doesn’t believe are possible.”

Evan laughs,

“I need you to separate some more eggs, 3 yolks should do and then they need to go on a double boiler-” he shifts out of Tommy grasp, pulling the scales out of a nearby cupboard and measuring sugar into a bowl.

“I thought we were making meringue.”

“We’re making a pavlova, three key components; meringue, crème and fruit.”

“Oh yes of course, how could I forget the three key components.”

Evan pulls a face of mock shock at Tommy’s sarcastic tone.

“How indeed” he reaches up and taps the recipe card taped to the cupboard. “All the instructions are there if you need them.”

Tommy separates the eggs carefully, and puts them in a double boiler on the stove. He is stirring them gently when he feels Evan’s gaze boring into the side of him.

“Can I help you with something?”

Evan waggles his hand in the direction of the drawer Tommy is stood in front of.

“Can you pass me a spoon?”

“Sure.”

He digs one out and gives it to Evan, their fingers brushing over the handle. His gaze lingers on Evan for a moment too long.

“You know you have to stir those constantly right?”

“Mmm?” Truth be told, Tommy is a little less focused on the steaming bowl and more on his gorgeous boyfriend. He feels a bit lost with the way the afternoon sun is catching the lighter tones in Evan’s hair, lifting the golden tones of his skin.

Evan reaches over with the hand not currently occupied whisking egg whites and closes it over Tommy’s wrist, forcing him to stir the mixture.

“If you don’t they will scramble.”

“We can’t have that.” Tommy murmurs softly, still entranced by the way the light makes Evan’s eyes shine, picking up the different shades of blue in his eyes and making them sparkle.

Evan catches Tommy’s eyes and stops for a moment, his trademark frantic cooking energy slowing down as he looks at Tommy. He knows realistically that 24 hours is not a hugely long time to go without seeing someone but the way he feels immediately lighter under Tommy’s gaze makes him realise how much he misses him when he’s at work.

“Sorry,” he mumbles “I didn’t even say hello.”

“That’s okay baby, I know how important the structural integrity of meringues is to you.”

“You’re important to me too.”

Tommy smiles and Evan thinks he may never get tired of seeing it.

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed);

@leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[bussyyeukie]

Neon Lights and Blood Fights p.3

(fighter!simon x secretary!reader)

part one. part two. part three.

It had taken you nearly a full day to do that paperwork.

Could’ve taken you an hour of just signing blindly, but you decided to read (most) of the pages inside. A handful of NDA’s, some stuff about medical history, agreements about the job–that you won’t find another while working for Price and his men, and that you won’t disclose any info (more NDA’s within that) about his, and yours now really, fighters. Stuff like that. Not to mention the pages, upon pages, upon pages of legal crap you did not understand. You weren’t dumb, not by any means, but it was just legal, lawyer type paperwork that you’d never dealt with before. So it was no surprise that your search history looked like you were trying to cheat on the Bar exam by the end of it.

Currently, you were sitting at the desk in front of the entrance, a shitty little desk with a few things on it and a file cabinet. Not really an office desk but more something where some files about the fighters and “clients” were kept. Nothing too in depth, really it all just looked like gym filing to anyone else, and it’s where Price had stationed you for the time being. You had voiced your concern about confidential information being so close to the front entrance, and he had said, “Don’t worry about’ it darlin’, I got my own tricks up my sleeve too…” and left you with a wink. You assumed it meant the information was false, or it was extremely known things. All fighters have two legs and bones!

You rubbed your eyes, hair tucked behind your ears. You failed to really style it today, so it sat a bit messy. Glancing tired eyes at the clock it read 3:00pm. You groaned, looking down to the empty desk in front of you. All except a number 2 pencil you had been pushing around.

Price had sat you there this morning, and said to “keep an eye out” which meant you’d been sitting there for about 3 hours doing nothing. Watching the occasional person walk by, and one random person in training gear walked in. You sent them Price's direction with a sweet smile.

The bell above the door chimed, you looked over, sitting up a little straighter, your shirt stretching slightly across your chest and shoulders. You’d decided on a skirt and button-up short sleeve today. Wasn’t terribly cold out, and you’d learned the gym was usually warm–if not hot–almost all the time. A fairly snug gray skirt reached your knees, very professional mind you.

A smile creeped onto your face as you spotted the brunette Scotsman push through the door, large duffle bag in hand and hoodie on, but still rolled up over his bright cast. Looking down the street, shouting something.

“Ah won’t staun ‘ere aw day waitin' fur ye!” he scoffed, “Hurry up!”

He grumbled to himself and paused when he saw you sitting at the desk, attentive.

A cheeky grin swiped across his lips, pushing the door open further, you raised an eyebrow as he walked in. 

“Weel looky here,” he leaned against the desk, ginger on his bad arm, “this sure is a bonnie sicht fur this afternoon, eh?”

You chuckled a bit, “Good afternoon Johnny.”

You’d know these boys for about a week. Not especially well or anything, but Johnny was scary friendly, and so was Kyle–so it was easy to talk to them when they were constantly bothering you and forcing conversation. Simon on the other hand…he kept his distance. Not a lot of distance, but still distance. He was polite, and spoke to you when needed, but he didn’t go as out of his way to talk to you like Johnny did–and when Simon did it was short, awkward conversation that typically ended in him roughly excusing himself or going, “I have to go, train…” and walking off in some random direction.

Once he’d walked into the girls bathroom (not used since there were never any women in the gym) and stayed in there for 30 minutes just in case you were still out there when he emerged. Icing on the cake was he said he was going to go speak with Price as he walked away.

You honestly liked talking to him. Weird as he was, Simon was sweet and was obviously not used to conversation with anyone other than like five people currently in his life. Five might be pushing it. Judging from his typical company, he probably wasn’t used to getting a word out during conversation.

He reminded you of yourself in the 3rd grade when you thought the weird talking points you'd memorized the night before was gonna make you friends.

“Price mov' ye oot here fur the day??” Johnny leaned in closer, smug as he grinned, catching your eyes everytime you looked somewhere else, “Pretty borin’, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t believe, nothing to do but sit here. Wait for you and the rest to show up I guess…”

He laughed, clapping a hand on your desk and shouldering his bag more, “Ach! Weel, somewan's been sittin' aroond aw day waitin', an' sure is gonna get a kick oot o' this welcome committee!”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms on the desk and leaning in, secretly, “Oh really?”

“Aye,” Johnny nodded, “He’s strugglin’ t'day.”

You glanced behind Johnny, just in time to spot a large body filling up the doorway, bell chiming as the door opened. The lumbering blond had on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, frowning as he walked in. Catching your eye immediately, as he gripped the strap of his duffle bag tighter, jaw clenching.

He walked up to Johnny, standing next to him, looking at you. He was taller than Johnny, and had a good view over the desk where you sat, not that it was a tall desk or anything to begin with.

His cheeks went a bit pink as he stared at you, blushing a bit yourself when you realized he wasn’t really staring at your face.

Maybe the skirt was unprofessional for this environment?

“Good afternoon Simon,” you nodded tentatively to him, with a sugary smile. Tugging the end of your skirt down, trying to stretch it past your knees.

He grunted and nodded, “Aft'noon.”

Fidgeting with the strap of his bag slightly.

You glanced behind them, noticing the absence of a person there, “Where’s Gaz?”

Looking between the two, Soap shrugged, and Simon rolled his eyes.

“He’s leyte t'day, summat about 'is cat,” his grumbly voice seemed to clear in the gym, even with the background noise. Johnny was loud, sure, but something about Simon’s voice just cut so clear through everything. Maybe he did theater in high school, and learned to project.

Your pouted slightly, looking between the two, "Oh, I hope she's ok, Kyle said she'd been acting a little off recently."

“Price got 'er workin' reception fur the day” Johnny jutted a thumb at you as he eyed up the slouching hulk next to him.

“Ah can see that Johnny…”

You huffed a bit, standing up, catching the way Simon immediately refocused his attention on you, not hiding the way he looked you up and down. His brows scrunching together, lips pressing a bit tighter.

“Come on,” Johnny scoffed, “Come back with us, we’ll show you a few moves huh?”

His chuckle was cut short as he seemed to snap to attention a bit. Shoulders squaring and a weird look crossing his face as he looked past you.

Your brows quirked up before a heavy hand found itself on your shoulder, the sudden sensation making you yelp and jump. Whipping around to look at the man standing behind you. A warm smile on his face, crows feet deep set next to his eyes and full cheeks. 

“Pullin’ ‘er away from work so soon?”

“O-oh,” you put a hand on your chest, hands nearly shaking as your heart pumped under your ribs. Gulping as you licked your lips, the chapstick left a sticky wet on your tongue that tasted of vaseline, “Mr. Price, you spooked me.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, hand dragging down your arm as he gripped it, tucking you against his side in a buddy-buddy way as he looked to the boys in front of the desk.

“My 'pologies darlin', didn’t mean t'give yer a fright,” he jostled you slightly, your gaze finding itself back to Simon, “Shud work on yer awarness sometime though.”

“Y-yeah, probably,” a tight smile found itself onto your face, Simons fists clenched tight, the one on the strap of his bag, and the once hanging by his hips. Muttering something to himself and looking from the hand around your arm to Price–who was looking back at him.

Johnny broke the moment of silence quickly, “Wasn’t gonny, sir! Jist a joke, wouldn’t dream o' pullin' 'er frae work.”

Price jostled you again slightly, your feet finding themselves in a poor placement as you stumbled for a moment. Praying you wouldn’t totally tumble on a rolled ankle. Finding your balance quickly, looking up embarrassed. Cheeks pinker than before as you stood with your shoulders raised. Pressed against the side of Price’s chest, you looked up to him, finding him already looking at you. Your eyes widening as you nervously look back in front of you, a sheen of sweat finding itself around your collar and your palms–which were clasped tightly against each other.

“Good! I need 'er fer a li'l outing,” he looked to Simon out of the corner of his eye, demeanor changing slightly, more professional and stern, “Yeh too, Simon, bizness mattahs.”

Simon nodded curtly, bumping into Johnny as he walked past, not rough but in an irritated manner. Sending a wicked side eye to the scot as he passed, you followed him with your gaze for as long as you could, without turning your head dramatically to catch him turning the corner.

Jumping as Price squeezed your arm roughly, snapping you back into the moment, and away from how Simon's shoulders lumbered as he walked and his butt was probably thicker than yours.

“Yes! Uh, Sir,” you collected yourself quickly, then pinched your brows, “Outing?”

“Yeh ma’am, I’ll brief ya more on the ride there, got somethin' fer ya in the meantime.,” he gestured to under the desk, “Grab yer things, quick.”

He pat your low back as he let you move and lean down, grabbing the bag under the desk with your work items in it. Grunting as he moved you, pulling you with him away from the front desk and away from Johnny. Who scoffed and waved to you cheekily as he walked towards the other side of the gym, towards the rings.

You watched him for a moment, before stumbling as John quickened his pace towards his office.

“Um, sir,” you cleared your throat, “I promise I wouldn’t have left work, even if they invited me, I would’ve stayed right at my spot.”

Price laughed, glancing at you as he pulled at his door, holding it open to you.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, I know yer a good, 'ard workin' girl, wouldn’t let temptation stray ya.”

His smile was so warm it almost didn’t fit the rest of his demeanor. You swallowed, nodding as you quickly made your way into the office.

It was stuffy as ever, the scent of smoke ever present, and the old chair was as worn as always. There was a file on the desk as Price walked over and snatched it up. Passing it over to you.

“You’ll be joinin' me an' Simon on a business meetin', here’s some info on the other party and their fighters an' that, as well as the possible location,” he leaned against the desk on his palm, shifting his belt in the loops of his pants.

You cautiously flipped open the folder, it wasn't very thick, only a few pages really. Some informational sheets.

“Um, thank you sir?”

“So polite. Wait outside fer a mo', Simon’ll be with us fer a bit, I just gotta grab some things an' we’ll be on our way. Meetin's in 30,” Price chuckled, shaking his head, he stopped himself before turning to you more, “After today, you’ll be comin' to all me meetin's with me, an' you’ll be in charge o' schedulin' 'em an' keepin' up to date. Got it?”

Nodding your head, and tucking some hair behind your ear, you smiled tight, “Yes Mr. Price.”

The burly man patted you on the shoulder, smoothing out the fabric of your shoulder where he crinkled it. 

“Now go wait outside for Simon.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Oh, and drop yer bag 'ere, lot safer than just sittin' out under the desk out there,” he gestured to the room, but mostly to the spot under the large window that was always closed off with shitty curtains. You licked your lips slightly as you nodded and thanked him and set your bag down, pulling a pen from it and chapstick. Shoving both into the pocket of your blouse quickly, same with your phone. It wasn’t huge, but it did pull at the fabric of the pocket.

Your lips felt dry as you watched him walk around his desk, he was dressed in a semi nicer shirt than usual, and his pants were slacks instead of jeans. You turned on the toe of your foot, and dragged your eyes away from Price as he yanked a drawer open. 

The door was heavy as you opened it and stepped outside, shoes clicking on the hard floor. 

The metal of the wall next to Price’s door was cold through the fabric of your shirt, and you took a deep breath in, letting your head fall against the wall. You looked at the subtly swaying light on the ceiling. Thinking about how you got here.

You huffed and rubbed your eyes carefully–trying your best to not smear the makeup.

“Yer cryin'?”

The deep voice made you jump, whipping your head to look at the man next to you. Slightly taken aback at what you saw, brows furrowing and mouth parting as you looked at Simon.

“What?” you shook your head, “N-no, I, no–I was just rubbing my eyes, sorry…”

Simon shrugged and turned, hands in his pockets, his eyes boring holes into you.

“Alrigh',” his response was short and sweet. You looked him up and down. He was in a suit, not an exactly nice one, but like something a fancy limo guy would wear, you weren’t even sure Simon could sit in a limo, much less the driver's cab, he just seemed too…large.

But he didn’t look bad, in fact he looked pretty handsome, it fit him at least, but the tie wasn’t tied exactly well, and the top button was undone, as well as the buttons by his hands. The shirt also wasn’t tucked in, and the coat was unbuttoned. Not to mention his pants were tight on him, not noticeably unless you were looking…but you were in fact looking.

He looked unbelievably hot.

Your jaw clenched and your shoulders raised when you found your gaze drifting back up to his face. His brows pinched and lips slightly pursed.

“Wha’?”

“Huh,” your voice sounded foreign, cracked a little in fact.

Simon scoffed and looked to the side, “Where’s Price?”

You straightened up fully, gulping, and tucking hair behind your ear that didn’t need to be tucked, “Um, he’s in his office, he’ll be right out though! Said for me to wait out here with you for a moment…”

Simon nodded, and leaned against the wall, looking off towards the rings. 

“So…” you broke the silence, with that weird pitchy voice that wasn't yours, “What’s with the suit?”

Simon grumbled, pulled a hand up to rub his face, “Stupid shit, Price makes us wear 'em when we interact with other…fighters, says we can’t be lookin’ a mess when 'e’s in charge of us.”

You nodded, then pursed your lips, “Should…should I be dressed better?”

Looking down at your outfit, you smoothed out your skirt, and double checked your buttons and collar, and glanced at your legs to see if you had any runs in your stockings.

“Nah,” Simon's voice was stuffy as he cleared his throat, “Yer lookin' good. Real pretty, like a proper business lass.”

You blinked owlishly as you looked at him, forgetting about your triple check of your clothes, swallowing thickly as you felt your stomach shift. Face growing hot and your knees creak with the sudden weight of your body.

“O-oh,” you ran your hands down your front, looking down at the floor–missing how Simon tracked your hands down your front, “Well, thank you. You look, really handsome too actually.”

At that Simon cleared his throat louder, shifting uncomfortably, looking like he just got hit in the stomach. 

“They're uncomfortable fuckin’ clothes.”

You shrugged, “Well your tie is tied wrong for starters, plus you don’t really seem like you wear ‘office ready’ clothes often. Although you look more like a bodyguard.”

Simon looked at you as he licked the inside of his cheeks, the flesh moving differently with the scar tissue in its wake, you’d seen Simon's face a lot, and each time it’s like the first. You'd also notice he acted different in the mask, more A-line with the 'stoic fighter' persona. There’s always something new you realize, or notice about his face, or he makes an expression you’d never seen or you watch how his skin tugs in certain ways due to his scaring. But you never got when Johnny would make a joke about scaring girls off, you assumed he was getting more than he could handle. But now as you thought about it–he’d very rarely speak about women, or any ‘encounters’ he’d had with them. Maybe it was because you were there, and he didn’t want to spill his guts around some stranger girl. Not like Johnny would, seemed like he had a new girl every night.

“It’s tied fine.”

You giggled, crossing your arms, “I think I’d know Simon.”

You missed that way his shoulders tensed when you’d said his name, and you definitely missed the way his hands shifted in his pockets and if he was a little less ashen he’d be blushing.

“Well it doesn’t do any good to just point out I didn’t tie the stupid bugger well.”

He tugged at the tie with one of his hands, loosening it more. 

God you swore the room instantly got 10 degrees hotter.

“I–well I’ve just tied a lot of ties ok,” you gulped, “I didn’t ya know, mean anything–I, I can help! If you want…”

What you wanted was to leave, to throw yourself from a building and somehow figure out how to delete what you say out of existence. But you can’t do that, so you just stand there with your lips pressed together and a constipated look on your face.

Simon curled a brow and shrugged, “You can if ya want. Your choice.”

You felt so light after that, he took a step forward and your muscles froze. All of a sudden you were worried you’d completely forgotten how to tie a tie.

“Yeah I mean,” you paused, maybe saying something about how he’s supposed to look nice and not sloppy wouldn’t be the best, “Just come here…”

Simon hesitated, then clenched his jaw, taking a step forward as you tucked the file under your arm, squeezing it tight to you. Fixing your hair behind your ears before you stood straight, reaching out to his tie–which was a simple black tie. Honestly it was a little short for the tall man, but you didn’t think Simon would care too much about how long his tie was supposed to be.

“I think I have to take it all the way off,” you said, looking closer at the knot the blond had tied it into. You glanced up at his face, and the tall man shrugged.

“Do what ya need.”

Your hands worked fast to untie it, and pulled the tie from around his neck before straightening out. Your face felt hot–you were sure you were red, or looked sweaty at least, and Simon was just…staring. Brows relaxed for once as he looked at you with a blank face, which, was slightly softer than his usually resting face. As you went to re-loop the tie, you found yourself going onto your tippy toes slightly. Leaning in closer to him as your arms went up. You tried to keep distance between the two of you, professionally of course, he was technically your boss in some way. But Simon leaned down, almost like he was chasing the distance you were subtly creating as you leaned back. You could smell him, even in ‘nicer’ clothes he still had the almost minty lingering scent of cigarettes and a certain musky sweat smell to him. It wasn’t bad, like BO sweat, but it wasn’t like cedar or “ocean mist” or anything like that.

You looked up to his face, quickly finding his eyes locked onto you. Sunken and brown, you couldn’t help but notice how thick his lashes were, and they were light, not blond but light. They seemed to catch the light of the gym beautifully, even though the lighting was terrible, Simon didn’t seem to get the memo. Even his eyes looked like they were reflecting a golden hour type light. Even with the dark circles and eye-black residue around them (which you noticed never fully came off, you’d never see him without some short of muck on his face).

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you snapped your gaze back to the tie, burning hotter than ever. There was no way he happened to not catch you hard you were staring directly into his eyes.

But, you didn’t notice how intensely he was staring at you, so he might’ve not noticed.

“Um, so,” your voice again was squeaky as you spoke, “You just make sure this side is longer than this side, and then cross it over here…”

Your hands were slightly unsteady as you showed him. Explaining as you went, finishing with a fairly decent tied tie. Much better than what Simon had done, as you adjusted it, you also found yourself fixing his collar, which was a bit uneven, and buttoning one of the buttons he hadn’t. Before you found yourself squaring out his shoulders like a mother would her child you stopped yourself.

“Uh, sorry, got ahead of myself, I tied my boyf–ex’s ties all the time, he didn’t know how, like at all, it was embarrassing…for him! Not for you!” you chuckled nervously as you pulled your hands away, rubbing them on your skirt, which you also adjusted where it didn’t need it, tugging it down a bit, “It’s totally understandable for you, he was just like, um a child ya know. Totally helpless…”

As soon as you mentioned him you regretted it, not only did it make you think about him, which you had tried not to do since you last saw him, but Simon’s whole demeanor changed. He tensed and his brows pinched tight, his mouth curled down and he had a thinly veiled sneer on his face. Shoulders leaning forward slightly, fists clenched at his sides.

“Enuff of that,” he pulled his hand up to run it down the tie, looking from it to you, looking at you with that same annoyed sunken look he typically had, “Don’t gotta talk about that tosser anymore. Fuckin’ wanker pushed his luck, used it all up with ya.”

You raised a brow, looking at him confused.

“Used it all up?”

“Glad t’see ya kids gettin’ along.”

The stray voice jolted you two out of the bubble of standing outside Price’s office. Speaking of, the grumbly man was closing the door behind him, holding a sleek black briefcase in his hand. Smiling at the two of you.

“I–” Looking at Simon, you realized how close you two were still standing, how he was slightly leaning down to you, and how you were standing with your hands clasped behind your back in a school-girl way.

Simon grumbled, standing up straighter, “Ya talk like yer on yer deathbed, old man.”

Your heart was racing, and your eyes wide as you looked at Price. Not exactly sure why you felt like you’d been caught doing something, but your body was reacting the same, embarrassed and nervous. Not a feeling you enjoyed.

“Um, yes sir! I was helping with Simons tie,” you yipped, gesturing to the tie. Simon rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Your stomach jumped at how barrel chested he looked, and how thick his arms looked, and his fucking mitts of hands.

You quickly snapped out of it, smiling at Price sheepishly.

“Aw, Simon couldn’t tie ’is own tie,” Price laughed and clapped the large man on the shoulder, giving him a look you couldn’t quite figure out. Felt like you were out on an inside joke.

“I can tie me tie, she just... does it better, office-snob type,” Simon glanced at you, the back to Price.

“Hey,” your brows pinched together as you huffed, “I’m not a snob…”

Price laughed, “Don’t worry darlin’, we don’t think yer a snob, yer just well put together, somethin’ Riley’s not used to.”

The bearded man laughed again as he clapped Simon on the shoulder harder than before, almost as a reprimand. Price squeezed Simon’s shoulder as he looked at you.

“Well, best get on our way, there’s a car out front we’re takin’,” and with that Price walked off, whistling a soft tune as he went, “Don’t wanna leave everyone waitin’.”

When he was out of ear-shot, you looked to Simon.

“I’m not a snob,” you said, crossing your arms, pouting. 

“Don’t read too much int’ it, love,” Simon didn’t seem to be listening too much as he looked at you, but he shook his head and as he walked ahead of you, you swore you saw a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

Scoffing to yourself, you jogged to catch up, following the two men out of the building. Price let you two to a back parking lot you didn’t know was there, and to a large truck. It wasn’t exactly brand new but it looked like a sturdy work truck.

Honestly, you were expecting something…nicer. An expensive black car with blacked out windows and so clean the paint was like a mirror. But, a large dirty white work truck that was slightly lifted and had dents in the doors was the only car in the lot. You clutched the folder tight as you followed after the two, nearly jogging to keep up with their long legged pace, and the uneven ground wasn’t ideal for heels.

You were also very aware that there was apparently no backseat.

Price reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys, glancing back to the two of you.

“Sorry 'bout the ride, darlin', the regular work car is,” Price paused to think over his words as he stuck the key into the door, unlocking it, “In the shop at the mo', got a bit banged up. So we're usin' Simon's truck.”

Simon sighed as his large hand reached for the passenger door, pausing as he looked into the car the back to you, like he was piecing something together. The driver's side door groaned as it opened, rocking the truck as Price swung himself in, grinning.

“She ridin’ in the bed then?”

Simon jerked the door open as he shot a nod towards you. Your eyes widened as you looked at the bed of the truck, swallowing thickly as you looked at the brute, he didn’t look like he was cracking a joke. But then again, he never really did.

“I'm not riding in the bed,” you said, pointing a finger at it, then looking at Price, “–um, sir…”

Price laughed, turning the car on, the engine rolling. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not ridin' in the bed,” he chuckled, patting the seat next to him (which was not a seat but the hump in between the two seats that would maybe fit a five year old…so not you).

“O-oh,” you squeaked, Simon stepped off to the side, still gripping the door tightly. His lips pressed tight together. You grabbed onto the truck and lifted yourself up, setting the folder down as you climbed into the truck. As awkward as it was, and you nearly stumbled forward as you pulled yourself all the way in. A bit red in the face as you sat yourself next to Price, keeping a few inches between you two. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” Price pat your knee and looked past you, the grin on his face growing.

You had a few inches separating you and Price, that was till Simon got into the truck. The cab rocking and his large frame squishing you against Price. Your body tensed as you were squished tight between the two men.

Simon grunted, shooting you a side eye, “Can’t ya move o'er.”

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth, curling in on yourself instinctively, then looked to Simon with a crease in your brows, “No. If I move over anymore I’ll be in Mr. Price’s lap…”

The blond man let out an annoyed grunt, “Just–christ woman…”

Price let out a belly laugh as he looked to you both, “Now no bickering, I need you two on your best behavior for this meeting, understood?”

He looked at you at the end, gaining a bit more of a serious tone. Your shoulders raised and you nodded. File clutched in your hands as it rested on your lap.

“Of course, uh, sir, Mr. Price…”

Simon scoffed lightly next to you and Price patted your thigh, feeling Simon's arms rub against you as he crossed them over his chest.

The ride was stuffy, even though the windows were down both men smelling heavily of tobacco and Simon smelled of sweat and Price of cologne. Not to mention the truck, god it smelled like an ashtray and mothballs, and, the lingering scent of pennies would catch your nose every other breath. The scratchy radio playing something quietly.

Unfortunately both men man-spread, and it was a manual truck, so you could either try to spread your legs around the gear shift, or tuck them tight against Simon. Which, you opted for. Body burning hot at each bump or gear shift that jolted the truck–at a certain point you think Price was doing it on purpose with how harsh his start and stops were, and a particularly sharp turn that landed you nearly splayed over Simon's lap.

You refused to look at him after that, face burning all the way down your neck. Simon kept a steady gaze out the windshield, solid as stone in his seat. At another rough turn by Price, Simon moved. A hand reaching over to press itself hastily against your shoulder–steadying you on the turn. 

“Uh, thank you,” you muttered out, licking your lips nervously, not looking at the bulky man.

He grunted in return and looked out the window next to him, his hand moving down to wipe itself along his slacks, his muscles tense as if he was hesitating to make a movement.

“Ow long 'ave you lived in town?” Price's voice cut into the air., Making you jump slightly.

“A few years,” you fidgeted with your hair then looked at Price, the older man switching between looking at you and the road, “Something like 4 or 5, I moved once while I was here.”

“Oh is that right?” Price mused. You nodded and hummed at him, looking back in front of you. There weren’t many people out, and not too many cars parked along the road. You were entering a nicer part of town, where more of the business and financial buildings were. Nothing extremely high end, but your old job was about 10 minutes from where you were now.

As you were looking around the area, watching people hurry up and down the street, all in nice clothing, you felt Simon shift next to you, then felt the weight of his arm behind you. Your brows raised as you instinctively sat up straighter, sending a side-eye his way.

He had his face turned away from you, and looked even more tense than before, but this time his arm was resting on the upholstery behind you, there were no headrests, so you could lay your head back on his thick forearm if you wanted it. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you could smell him more now that you were essentially tucked into his chest, under his arm.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move, or scooch away from him. In fact the thought of it made you tense up more. The car was silent.

“Comin’ up on it,” Price said, a cheesy grin on his face as he looked at you both, “It’s jus' 'round the cor'ner.”

“Mmhm!” your voice was squeaky, and went even higher when you felt Simon’s arm move closer to you, more wrapping around your shoulder now. You honestly didn’t know what to do, it was like when a cat laid on you and you didn’t want it to move…or claw you to shit. This all felt like some Johnny shenanigan, the “yawn to arm over the shoulder” thing seemed very much up his lane, but not Simons. Especially not with you, you weren’t sure he liked you in general–much less had a romantic liking hidden in there for you.

Price pulled around a tall building with large glass windows, and parked in a shadowed off parking area down an alley behind it. Roughly turning the car off and opening the groaning door.

“Hop out, love-birds, we’re 'ere!”

Simon ripped his arm away from you faster than you'd ever seen him move, and got out of the car, walking off quickly.

God it felt like you had whiplash, grabbing the file tightly and slipping out of the car, hopping down onto the pavement. Looking up to see Simon pulling on his black balaclava, tucking it into the collar of his shirt, speaking quietly with Price at the end of the bed of the truck. You found yourself frowning slightly at the covered up face, you’d grown to like not seeing it covered.

Simon glanced over, rolling his shoulders when he saw you. Your brows pinched slightly as he just stared at you, before peeling his eyes away to look back at Price who was saying something to the large man. 

You closed the door of the truck, and looked down at your attire, adjusting your skirt and shirt, flattening it out properly before you walked over to the two men.

Price looked at you as he shoved the keys in his pocket, resting his hands in them as he spoke.

“Ah Y/n,” he sounded more reserved than usual, more professional, “Stick close to Simon, yeah? Don’t want ya wanderin' off in 'ere, an' don’t speak to anyone unless you're with me an' I’m talkin' to 'em. Got it?”

You nodded, “Yes Sir.”

Simon sighed heavily, as Price clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful,” the man reached up and pinched your cheek, “Simon'll keep ya safe, darlin', don’t worry 'bout it. Jus' be sweet an' smile that pretty smile.”

You nodded and rubbed where Price pinched you, looking up at Simon who was looking steadily at Price with a hard gaze. 

“They really got into character when it related to business,” you thought, huffing through your nose. Following them into the building. You felt your pace falter slightly at how nice the inside of the building was. Pristine and shiny and everything looked so expensive. Especially the people walking around.

There were a few eyes on you three as you walked in, but for the most part everyone acted like this was a normal occurrence. Which, it probably was for all you knew. It was cold inside, and smelled like a hospital. Not warm or welcome at all.

Price walked up to the front desk where a pretty girl was sitting, typing away. She had hair pins holding her hair back and a radiant face. She glanced up at you three, her eyes lingering on you–looking you up and down before glancing to Price with a “really?” look on her face.

“Mr. Price?” she asked, folding her arms on her desk, tilting her head.

“Yeh, ma’am,” he grinned. Simon stood behind and to the side of Price, looming over him and the desk–like some kind of evil guardian angel.

“You’re late you know,” her tone was sharp, not terribly, but she wasn’t exactly pleased. You felt your face flush when she looked at you, “Why have the secretary if you aren’t going to use her?”

Price waved her off, “We made it, didn’t we?”

The woman behind the desk shook her head and picked up the phone, typing numbers in, “You know Kate hates starting off late…”

Price chuckled and shrugged, “I’ll deal with 'er, don’t you worry.”

The woman laughed and scoffed, “Yeah I’m sure you will–12th floor, third room on the left, and you better hurry up.”

With that Price nodded and led you both to an elevator, once on it you three stood in silence. Standing between Price and Simon, the elevator had the lingering scent of cologne and perfume, watered down by the time between people using it.

“That was Laswell's wife,” John said, leaning against the wall of the elevator slightly, stretching his leg out like his knee was bothering him, “Sweet woman, but no doubt sick of us coming in and putting her wife in a bad mood.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head.

“Laswell?” you asked, quirking a brow. The name ringing a faint bell in your memory.

“Ah yes,” Price snapped, “I don’t believe I ever officially put 'er in your files. Think of 'er as upper management, she’s me boss essentially. Oversees most, if not all, of the organizations workin' in our line o' business. Gets the las' say in 'bout 80% o' anythin'. Tough woman. Makes sure everyone gets theirs an' gets it however she deems it fair— which, ain't always exactly fair.”

“She can be a'right cunt most o' the time,” Simon grumbled.

“Don’t mind 'im, he’s jus’ pissed Laswell lets guys use ‘performance enhancin' drugs’ before fightin' 'im,” Price explained.

“Fuckin’ shits.”

You nodded, feeling your back straighten as the numbers above the doors grow higher, anxiety seeping through your skin and dripping into sweat. An image of this evil, towering, red-eyed woman popping into your head. Sharp claws that had blood dried underneath. Shadowed eyes and a serpent tongue. Sweat beading at the base of your back, joints tight as you shifted, shoes suddenly unbearable and clothes incredibly tight.

The elevator dinged, and you felt your breath suction back into your lungs, nearly making you lightheaded. 

Simon shifted up straighter, hands clasped behind his back and Price was still messing with his leg, shaking it out as cursing about an old injury under his breath. As the doors opened you nearly wanted to look away, fearing you’d meet eye to eye with medusa.

Instead you saw the bright light of the floor, and a lean blonde woman standing with her arms crossed a few feet from the elevator doors. She had her hair pulled into a bun, her bangs swept across her forehead. Lips pulled into a frown and brows wrinkled together. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her shirt was perfectly tucked into her navy slacks which fit her unbelievably well. Straight legged all the way down to cover the sleek black heel she was wearing. The air that radiated off of her reminded you of the very high up business women you’d see go off on people at your old job or who your boss would try to suck up too when they’d come in. Demanding respect and holding so much power over the room.

“You’re late,” she said, voice heavy with annoyance, she licked her teeth under her lips and sighed, “Again.”

my lovely tag list for this series:

@sophhieannee . @rafaelacallinybbay . @oceantornadoo . @jamdoughnuts . @msjaeger .

[satorus-princess]

Oh, My Good Looking Boy

a/n: set in a modern au (because canon is traumatic), just some fluff hehe

the first time you saw him was in the hallway of your high school, a bag slung over one of his shoulders as he spoke to a long-haired boy. despite the busyness of the hallway, he managed to catch your attention through the crowd - his cerulean eyes that shimmered beautifully even from a distance, his sandy hair that bounced around his face as he walked, and his cheerful smile as he spoke to his assumed friend.

he and his friend ended up walking past you and he noticed your gaze on him, beaming a smile your way before he continued the conversation with his friend. you blinked a few times, wondering if that smile was directed towards you or the wall behind you.

the second time you saw him was when you walked into your homeroom. he was leaning against a table near the windows. with his back towards the window, the sun created a heavenly backdrop for him as it blazed through like a spotlight on him. you felt like you were caught in a trance, staring at a scene painted before you.

this time, he was talking to a girl with dark hair who seemed unamused while he was barking out a laugh. after a glance at them, you took a seat on the other side of the room, closer to the front. you couldn't see him anymore, but you could hear him. his voice was teasing, interrupting himself with his own laughs as he seemed to be entertaining himself.

once the teacher entered, he quietened down with the occasional whispers. he stayed near the window as he took a seat, taking out his things for class. he found his gaze drifting to the back of your head, recognising you from the hallway.

the third time you saw him, you were getting your bicycle at the end of the day to go back home. he was waiting near the entrance of the school, typing away on his phone as he stood there, cherry blossom petals descending around him, almost in slow motion. the warm, golden sun filtered through the white strands of his hair and made his eyes look even more ethereal than usual.

he looked up and caught sight of you and gave you the same smile that he had given earlier in the hall. you gave a polite smile back before focusing on stuffing your bag into the basket of your bike. as you straddled the seat of your bike, ready to go home, you heard footsteps approach you.

“hey,” the same voice you had heard earlier in the classroom says. this time, it was softer and less teasing.

you turned your head to the left to see him standing a short distance away from you. “hi,” you replied. you seemed to be confused as to why he was talking to you.

“you're in my class, aren't you?” he asked. without waiting for an answer, he continues. “i'm Gojo.”

“yeah, we're in the same class. i'm (y/n)... did you need anything?”

“not really, just wanted to say ‘hi’ to a cute classmate," he said with a cheeky smile. the long-haired friend from earlier called his name and gojo turned to the sound before looking back at you. "ah, well, it's nice meeting you, (y/n). i'll see you around, yeah?”

you simply nod in response, your chest feeling warm and fuzzy while you feel awkward when his eyes lock with yours. “yeah. have a good day, Gojo.”

the way his name rolled off your tongue so sweetly made his smile widen as he watched you cycle away, the golden sun beaming down on you. an angel, he thought to himself.

now, his head rests on your chest while he scrolls on his phone and you play with his soft locks. you run your fingers through his hair and twirl a bunch of strands around your finger. this makes him hum contently. he glances up at you to see your dreamy gaze as you stare into space, a smirk forming on his lips.

“what's that look for, hm?” he asks teasingly, leaning up to peck your nose playfully before resting his head back onto your chest.

you blink out of your trance at his words and playful kiss. looking down at him, you smile.

“i'm thinking about when we first met. the me seven years ago wouldn't have thought that she'd end up here with you, like this,” you muse softly.

his smirk softens into a tender grin and he props himself up on his elbow to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “mm, i remember the you seven years ago. all shy and awkward. now, she bites me,” he laughs. you laugh with him, kissing him back.

“she just can't get enough of her pretty boy.”

[midnight-mourning]

Vessel for Your Good Intent

Okay the art's going to be late(r) BUT, enjoy this little thingy I've whipped up for you all. A little peak into one of the au's i'm keeping locked up in the drafts, hope you enjoy! Last one of @divinit3a's January Cafe Prompts

Words Chosen: serpetine, gold, pacts & deals, shapeshifter, precious

Word Count: 1715

"Make a deal with me."

You glance up from your book for a moment, over to the empty mirror. Feeling shy today, apparently. 

You chuckle, looking back down to continue reading. "I've already made a deal with you. Several, if I recall."

"Make another." He drawls, somewhere beside you now. If you had to guess, in the reflection of the clock sitting beside you.

"Why? I have no need for it at the moment." You peek up to see if you can catch him, but the clock holds nothing. "I take it you are then, was that last offering not enough for you? Feeling a bit peckish, love?" 

The tinge of a smirk grows on your face in that moment as the silence lengthens. He never did like it when you used his nicknames back at him. You go to stir your tea, only for a hand to grasp your wrist as you jump. Right. Silver. Reflective as anything else. 

Your surprise slips into annoyance, if only to help hide the racing of your heart a bit better. 

His words are a hiss in your ear now, sharp, a warning. "I don't rely on you, pet. This is just for fun fun fun, you know that."

"Just making sure." He releases you, slipping back into the shadows before you can catch a true glimpse, as usual. 

You reach for your tea again and take a sip, assuming the conversation is done with. 

"I meant it as an opportunity for you." In front of you, from the tea cup's reflection, startlingly you into almost spilling and making a fool of yourself. 

You frown now, staring directly at the small silhouette on the side of your cup. "Again, why? Business is good, my health is fine, what could you have that I'd want?" You wait a moment, then add. "Right at this moment." Given how your previous wording was received, you can tell he's being more particular today, and you have to be a bit more cautious. 

Not that you already weren't with his previous proposition. 

"Because I know you want more, and I'm in the mood to offer it." The small, shadowed figure shrugs. The ray-like projections from his head flit back and forth.

You tsk, setting the cup back now. "Well, I don't. You know that. I would have made a better deal if that was the case."

"That's the best part, though." Back to the mirror, the pale visage of his face sits in the corner, grin unwavering as ever. "You don't even have to give much at all. Practically a steal steal steal, just for you!"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch~"

You snort. "There's always a catch. Always."

The smile turns to a frown, then, a small grin. "Let me weave a story for you."

Your eyes widen. "No, you know I don't like it when—" Too late, his hands are over your eyes and your world is smothered in darkness. 

"Don't worry, I think you'll like this one."

"You say that every time..." You mutter. 

Just a quiet chuckle in response as the darkness starts to shift, lighten, become a scene. 

You've yet to get used to seeing yourself in an outside view like this. You're in your shop, hard at work organizing herbs and other ingredients. It's quiet, peaceful, but tiresome work. A shift. 

Now, you're in a larger space, grander, standing behind the counter as customers pour in and out of the busy location. You give directives to your full team of employees, who answer each order with obedient nods and words of acknowledgement. You're respected, admired for your work. People take pride in being able to visit your shop and buy your products. 

Another shift, a lavish party in some grand parlor, no, now a ballroom. You're the star of the evening, no one else can compare. Everyone there holds you in high regard, they're entranced. The gold and silver throughout the room cannot compare to your own radiance. 

Shift again, a surrounding of gold. Coins and treasures, you realize after a moment. All of yours, more than you can dream, more than you'll ever need. You have nothing to want for. 

Another. You're in your kitchen. It takes a moment to realize you're no longer watching, but living this one. There's the sound of feet pitter-pattering hurriedly down the stairs, a few children suddenly appearing and rushing past you with an exchange of giggles. Ready for breakfast and their days to start. 

As you face the stove again, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a face burying into the side of your neck to press a kiss there. Some murmured apology you can't quite catch as your hand reaches up to grip one of the arms. The person, man, chuckles, releasing you to spin the two of you into a dance, humming a tune that's familiar and not at the same time. 

The children from before laugh from the other side of the room, sounding further off than that. You have everything you could ever want. Fame, fortune, notoriety, a family, someone who loves you—

"That's enough." You whisper, finally looking up into the golden eyes of the man. Serpentine. Out of place on his otherwise human appearance. "I thought I told you to stay out of my head."

The eyes widen, the smile on his face slipping. "I was just—it wasn't meant like that."

"It certainly seemed like it." You step back, crossing your arms over your chest as a poor attempt to shelter yourself. 

He frowns now, seeming to be thinking as he too, steps back. Leaning against the opposite counter. 

With his focus elsewhere, it all seems to freeze. Even the air itself seems to pause. 

He glances back to you after a moment. "Pacts, deals, bargains, they're... the typical way to be able to express ou-my, desires. They're the only way, for that matter." That last bit is muttered, softer than should be possible for a demon. And yet.

"You could try just saying them outright." You offer with a quiet huff. "Though what more you could possibly want beyond my being, I'm more than just curious about."

He stands upright then, eyes wide. He nods, finger wagging as he takes a step towards you. "There, you've said it there. That's what I want. You. All of you. Whatever you'll let me have. I'll take it." 

"I already told you I have no need for—" You halt as your heart jumps to your throat, words dying as suddenly he takes your hand and brings it to his face, cradling it against his cheek. 

"Not like that. Not how you're thinking. More than that, you mean more than that. Precious. Irreplaceable. Let me prove it. Please." He falls to his knees, gripping your hand for dear life. The scene around you ripples. "Please just, make a deal with me. Please."

You can only stare down at him with a sense of horror and utter disbelief. "I think that's enough pretending, Shapeshifter. You've made your point. You don't need to wound my pride any further."

You knew that if enough time passed between deals a demon would become desperate, but this was absurd, even for the game he was playing. To be down on his knees, practically begging you, the little human bound to him and not vice versa, it was one hell of a way to toy with you. 

"This isn't a matter of pride." The grip on your hand tightens, the scene wobbles dangerously. His next words are seething. "Is it so hard to believe I'm speaking with a sense of genuinity?" 

You look around for anything to pull you out of this fantasy entirely, relying on your words for the moment to keep the tension from falling. "Of course it is! You didn't just ask me that, did you? After all you've done? After what you've—" You find what you've been searching for, the weight of the small bottle heavy in your pocket. You grip it with your free hand, pushing the cork out with your thumb. 

"I, you're not, but I don't, this isn't..." He can't seem to find the words, but it's the, utter devastation in his tone that makes you hesitate then. 

You keep the bottle in your hand, looking down at him with a hardened gaze. "Can you say, with absolute certainty. That anything you've said to me is completely and entirely genuine? That you’ve meant it wholeheartedly, with no ill-intent?"

A moment. You give him just a moment. 

For you think if you gave him anything more you'd hear a response you can't handle. 

You rip the bottle from your pocket and splash the water over him, the effect is near instant. He hisses as steam rises from his form, now cowering against the pain as the scene starts to collapse in on itself. You need to be quick. 

The half-empty bottle smashes to the ground, and you kneel in front of him, picking up one of the broken pieces.

He catches on instantaneously. "Wait, don't—" 

You use it to prick your finger, hovering it above his ever-changing form. Switching between the illusion and reality. 

It takes a moment, but finally, a few drops fall down onto him, and he stabilizes with a gasp. 

The fantasy collapses completely and you suddenly find yourself back in your chair, having to take deep breaths to center yourself again. Once you do so, your eyes dart around the room, looking into each reflective surface. 

Not the mirror, not the clock, not the spoon, not the cup. A flash of fear wells up in you, you don't dwell on it. Come on, where—

"That stung." You turn. 

The window. 

You don't hide your relief, shoulders sagging. "That was the point."

You watch the faint shadowed form, faint, but only because of the light streaming in. Not wavering, not weak. 

"Thank you." He states, disappearing without another word. 

You wait a moment, and realize that he's actually gone this time. 

For now. 

You sit back in the chair, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. Then you pause, pulling your hand back to examine it. 

No mark. Not even the hint of a scar. 

You don't know what to make of that. 

And that's all you get for now, back into the drafts it goes, had a lot of fun writing for these prompts, can't wait to see what comes next :)

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[winters-light]

You’re a Guest in Alpine’s Home

Words: 600?? A/N: idk what you want to call this, there isn't really a plot and i haven't edited it but i was struggling to write my other fic/blurb because the english student in me was overthinking every word and grammatical choice and i just needed to write something to get going really

You've been dating Bucky for a while, and he finally invites you back to his apartment for a drink after a dinner date. He had mentioned he had a cat he loved very much, and you were excited to meet her but nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.

As you walk into this apartment she immediately races up to Bucky and claws at his leg. Without a second thought, he drops your hand to pick her up and give her little face a whole bunch of kisses. You barely recognise the way the man in the leather jacket has softened his voice so much as he murmurs to his cat about how much he missed her and how much her loves her. Oddly, you were almost jealous that the furthest you had got with him was a respectful kiss goodnight.

A minute or two pass as he greets his kitten lovingly before remembering you were stood at his side and turning to you.

"This is Alpine," he finally formally introduces the two of you. She was adorable and fluffy and all you wanted to do was scoop her up in your arms too but the way she glared at you made you hesitate. Instead, you reach out and stroke her carefully murmuring a soft hi in an attempt to let her familiarise herself with you.

As soon as Bucky placed her down, she wandered off without a second glance at you. You watched at her as she wandered down the hall and into a room with the door open as Bucky ushered you into the kitchen in the opposite direction. "Don't mind her, she'll be back soon. She just takes a while to warm up to new people," he explains sheepishly as he invites you to sit down whilst he makes you a drink. You nod understandingly accepting the drink and sipping it as you engage in easy conversation with Bucky.

After a while Alpine makes her way into the kitchen and hops into Bucky's lap. You watch as he instinctively pets her soft fur as he continues his conversation with you. However, Alpine appears unsatisfied at the lack of attention, the way Bucky was too invested in you currently to even glance down at her and crawls up on the counter. You were a little surprised but didn't think much of it as she wandered around but she was a smart cat, and she waited for your eyes to leave her and return to Bucky before she pushed the bottle of wine you and bucky were sharing onto the floor.

It hit the floor with a loud crash and Bucky immediately jumped up and scooped her into his arms apologising to you briefly before fussing over his cat and ensuring she didn't hurt herself. You knew she loved the attention and couldn't blame her honestly. Once Bucky had properly ensured his precious kitten was not injured he stood up with her carefully and walked back down the hall. You followed behind him curiously as he entered the room you’d seen Alpine walk into earlier, you had assumed it was Bucky’s room and couldn’t help the small huff of laughter that left your lips as you realised that you were wrong.

It was Alpine’s room.

Of course she had her own room. She had a bed in every room in the apartment and toys all over the place, Bucky had sent you countless photos of the two in bed together but here was a fully furnished cat bedroom Bucky had set up for her. He had her so spoilt it was no wonder she was so possessive of him. You watched silently amused as he dropped her off and closed the door before heading back to the kitchen to clean up with you.

[exhaustedpirate]

when you look at me

day two of @bucktommyfluffebruary, let's gooo! buck learned to cook from the bobby nash school of cooking and it's all very specific, tommy loves every bit of it!

rated G | 1452 words also on AO3

Tommy is looking at him.

That’s not the surprising part, of course. Tommy looks at him all the time. And vice-versa, because when you have a hot pilot in a plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves roaming around your loft, you look.

No, the unusual part is the way he is looking at him. 

There’s a quirk to his lips, a raised eyebrow and a little sparkle in his eyes. It’s a good look, it always is, but Buck doesn’t know what he did to earn it.

They have been preparing dinner - lasagna this time-, same as they have done for the past month they’ve been dating. They stand side by side as Buck directs him to prepare the meat, to grab this or that ingredient and it thrills him that they can move so effortlessly around his kitchen.

The music playing in the background is quiet and calming, the loft is warm from the preheated oven and having Tommy’s body accidentally bump into him or having to maneuver close to the older man’s body has definitely brought a comfort to his house that he never thought he’d feel.

They laugh, they talk, they exist and in the end, only one thought remains - Tommy just fits.

But this isn’t new, no matter how much the figurative cat purring up a storm inside his chest tells him that it still feels new. They have done this every chance they get since the moment that Tommy agreed to give him another chance over coffee. So, Buck doesn’t really know what he did to deserve (to be blessed with) such a look.

Buck opens a new packet of cheese and the quirk on Tommy’s lips turns into a full-blown smile.

“What?”

Tommy’s smile turns into a smirk and Buck really needs to focus on the conversation and not on how he knows that smirk feels against his lips.

“That’s the fourth pack of cheese you’ve opened, Evan.” It’s not mocking - Tommy doesn’t mock.

Buck looks down at the counter and notes that there are, in fact, four open packs of cheese close to the oven-safe dish he is setting up. There is also another one yet to open and he appreciates that Tommy doesn’t mention that one.

“Oh,” He taps the cheese grater in his hand to loosen the pieces of cheese inside on top of the lasagna before he grabs the last packet of cheese. “T-That’s how Bobby does it.”

Tommy leans against the counter, turning to face him, arms crossed over his chest and an open amused expression on his face. It’s such a good look.

“Does he also use salted butter instead of unsalted? Or grates nutmeg instead of using the powdered kind I know it’s in your cupboard?” 

“Y-you, uh, you noticed that?” Buck is definitely blushing now, especially with the way Tommy looks at him.

“I did,” Tommy smiles and his eyes take on that intensity and his voice turns a tone lower and it all turns Buck’s insides into a rollercoaster. “I always notice what you do, Evan.”

Buck stumbles. While standing still. He stumbles. 

It’s such a good look. 

“Well, hmm, Bobby is a good cook,” Tommy nods, a soft smile on his face that makes Buck want to just…look at. “He’s taught me a lot.”

“The father you never had, right?”

Buck chuckles, finally finished with the cheese. “Yeah, Bobby taught me a lot,” He explains, sliding the lasagna into the oven and setting the timer for 45 minutes. “He took the time to teach me, you know what I mean?”

Tommy smiles at him while putting the cooking utensils in the sink and nods. Without being asked, the older man starts washing up everything. Buck stands beside him to help with the drying, as they’ve done all those times before.

“I didn’t have Bobby as my Captain for long,” Tommy says. “But I did have the chance to tell him about wanting to get back to flying and he was the one who supported my decision to transfer to Harbor. He created a safe space for all of us.”

“Yeah, Hen and Chim mentioned how different it was under Gerrard before,” Buck doesn’t look away from the towel in his hands. “I saw how he acted during the medal ceremony but I-I never thought he would be…you know?”

A warm hand lands on the side of his face, a thumb running over his brow, his birthmark, a soft kiss on the port-wine stain. Buck breathes, his shoulders relax as the hand on his face runs down his back.

“I miss Bobby.” 

Buck’s voice was quiet, almost child-like and he would probably be embarrassed about it if Tommy didn’t place a firmer kiss on his birthmark, arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a warm hug. His hands grip onto his shirt at his lower back, burying his head in Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I know he’s still around, I just-”

“Evan,” Tommy interrupts softly, his head resting against Buck’s. “It’s okay to miss him as your Captain, even if he’s probably gonna be around in half an hour for dinner.”

Buck’s chuckle is watery and he tightens his grip on Tommy who returns the embrace. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a Bobby for longer,” Buck says quietly. “I’m sorry you had Gerrard.”

“Thank you,” Tommy kisses the side of his head and he feels the smile on his lips. “I’m glad you didn’t have him then and that you have a good support system now.”

Buck looks up, his grip loosening on the man’s shirt but placing them on his back, keeping him close. Tommy gives him a soft smile, understanding and affection flooding his blue eyes - it’s a good look. 

“You have us too, Tommy,” Buck says, one of his hands running up Tommy’s back and down his arm, stopping at the forearm. “You are part of our family.”

Tommy’s eyes widen a fraction, his lips parting in controlled surprise, a faint hitch of his breath betraying his composed exterior. It’s a good look. His mouth opens and Buck can hear the protest start, the deflection forming and that just won’t do.

Buck pulls Tommy into a hard kiss, forcing all his emotions into it. Making Tommy believe that he is worth the effort, that he is a part of them, that he doesn’t have to be jealous. Making Tommy believe he is loved. 

When he pulls back, there is a different look on Tommy's face. Not good, better. The look of a man who might just be starting to believe all that Buck didn’t say, all that Buck channeled into his kiss. The look of a man ready to be a part of it. To be loved.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, a smirk threatening to burst through.

“Hmm, yeah,” Tommy clears his throat and nods, dazed, and Buck’s smirk is let out. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Buck nods, pleased, elated. He pulls away from the embrace but takes Tommy’s hand in his. “Now, help me assemble the tart.”

Tommy laughs, that giggle that always brings a grin to Buck’s face. They stand side by side, as they always do, in front of a bowl with a berry mix and the dough he made from scratch.

“Is this also a Nash recipe?” Tommy teases and Buck bumps into him. 

“Yeah, well, who better to impress a Nash than a Nash, right? Bobby is a great cook,” He repeats with a shy smile, focusing his gaze on making sure every inch of the pan is covered by the dough.

Tommy bumps back into him. “If it helps, I’m always impressed with your cooking.”

Buck’s blush grows and he bites his lip. “This is an important dinner.”

“Oh, I’m aware, it’s basically ‘meet the parents’.” Tommy’s tone might be teasing but Buck detects the anxiety in his expression.

“That’s why I wanted to cook with you,” Buck returns the tone, glad to be distracted from his own anxiety by taking care of Tommy’s. “It’ll put you in their good graces.”

Tommy laughs and Buck mentally pats himself for relaxing the man. He takes a small step back for Tommy to carefully pour the mix in the pan, far enough to not be in the way but close enough to feel the warmth that Tommy irradiates.

“Besides,” Buck continues, kissing Tommy’s cheek when he’s done. “They already know you and love you.”

Tommy’s smile is soft as he watches Buck work on the top layer of the pie, and when he looks up, he notes the brightness in those blue eyes and the crinkles around his eyes. 

“Then I think we’re off to a great start.”

It’s such a great look.

[funnier-as-a-system]

Big decision making has made me decide to try ADHD meds. My psychiatrist is awesome and she assures me that none of the effects are permanent and if I don’t like them, I can stop and go back to how I was before.

But my question is…what do I do if the meds cut off communication between me and my headmates? I’m not sure we know how to function completely independently from each other. Some of us don’t, definitely.

What advice can you give and what do you know about ADHD meds and the impact they have on headmates?

Might it go in the opposite direction and make communication EASIER? And CLEARER? And make us work more efficiently as a team?

I know the number one thing people taking them say is it makes your brain “go quiet” and I don’t like the sound of that. I’m not prepared to only have one train of thought and I’m a bit nervous about how I’ll react.

There's no one certain way that ADHD meds will impact your internal communication. Some say it makes communication more difficult, others say they make it easier, still others report no difference at all; for some, their brains "going quiet" can include not hearing their headmates as much, but for others, their brains "going quiet" can just mean that their brains calm down enough that their headmates' voices are clearer. So, unfortunately, this is something that won't make its effects obvious until you're on the meds for a while.

But even if meds make communication more difficult, it's unlikely that it will just stop entirely. In addition, you can practice external communication if that sounds like it might be helpful – things like keeping a journal, leaving each other notes, and co-fronting or proxying* to write messages back-and-forth without having to switch (you can even hold entire conversations this way, though it may take some practice).

* I'd recommend asking other system blogs about this, because I don't feel that I can give a good explanation and description of proxying.

At the end of the day, your psychiatrist is correct that you can stop taking ADHD meds if that treatment doesn't work out, which includes if the meds impact your internal communication badly enough that it's not worth taking them. If this happens, perhaps bring up the possibility of short-term meds that you only take when you need to focus on something, rather than daily meds (which I assume you'll be trying out). We tried out ADHD meds, and the negative side-effects outweighed the positives, so we stopped taking them. If worst comes to worst, you can do the same and look for alternative treatments.

You don't have to just wait for results to appear before you take action, though. By recording how you feel and what's going on within your system each day, you can track symptoms, positives, and potential problems as they appear. If you start now, you'll also have records of how you are when you're not taking any meds, so you can compare later down the line if needed (or just wanted, if you're ever curious). Keeping your own records to refer to can also help your psychiatrist know what the effects of this new treatment are, when they appeared, and how things are likely to develop in the future.

In short: things might go better than you expect, if things go poorly they can be fixed and new plans can be made, and in the meantime, you can keep a personal record of your internal and external functioning to help keep track of things and catch any problems you might face early.

Wishing you the best, anon!

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7390:

I believe someone else has said something like this before, but oh my god, does it suck how much more people care about fictional bisexual men over real life bisexual men. As seen on Tumblr, a lot.

I don't care if someone says it's just a joke when they say they support bi men because [insert fictional man here] exists, the fact almost every post about bi men is full of fans that make it about fictional characters is infuriating. And then you do some research, and most of those same characters are actually headcanons instead of canon characters, fuelled mostly by stereotypes that many of those same fans wouldn't think twice about hating if those same stereotypes were directed at them. There's barely any bi men posts to begin with, and now the number lowers because of this.

Also, the fact is that it shuts down so many potential conversations with actual bi men because apparently bi men are soo privileged for being told at almost every corner that being erased is actually a good thing, the erasure and silence means they don't face bigotry, and to "stop making everything about men" like they don't deserve a space to talk.

Yet a canon bisexual male character either being erased or badly written or hated by audiences earns much more anger than all of this and a lot more posts making it about fiction.

I wish bisexual men posts would stay about real life bisexual men.

[etclouie]

day three — loves never far

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — summary; returning to work, Emily wants to help you (Emily Prentiss x fem!reader)

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — warnings; established relationship, bau!reader, reader starts back at work after a break (reasons unspecified), possible ooc emily, they say ‘love you’ at the end, that’s it i think

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — word count; 452

ᯓ ꨄ︎ — a/n; first time i’ve written for emily, so possible ooc emily 

prev day | next day louie’s 14 days of love | main masterlist

for the past couple weeks you’d been off work, Emily taking care of the paperwork and stuff for you. 

she also made sure that your return to work went smoothly, despite briefing you on everything every night when she came home. 

in her mind, she wanted you to still be up to date despite the fact you weren’t there, which you couldn’t fault her for. 

you couldn’t fault her for anything. 

which was one of the many reasons you loved her, through everything she always managed to put you first. 

so today when you returned to work, she made sure you had everything you needed, even when she had little time to spare. 

“you don’t have to do all this for me”

you whispered to her, watching as she shook her head as she sat on the edge of your desk. setting down the file in her hands to hook a finger under your chin to keep your gaze on her. 

“want to take care of you”

she told, which warmed your heart. and normally, you would’ve leaned in to kiss her but you knew you couldn’t here. 

even in her office you felt off, when no one was around or could see, so now in the bullpen you couldn’t. 

slowly you pulled her hand from your face, soothing your thumb across her knuckles before letting go. 

“don’t have to, you are still technically my boss”

you watched as she grimaced at the title, something she hadn’t really wanted in the first place. told you so when she came home the very first night after the change. 

she guided her attention to the file on your desk again, flipping through until she stopped on a particular page. 

“don’t call me your boss please”

she murmured, skimming over the words on the page as her finger followed suit. 

you couldn’t help but grin, holding back a laugh as she tried to dismiss the whole thing. 

“but you are my boss”

she sighed at that, shaking her head before standing from your desk. directing the conversation away once more. 

“if you need any help my office isn’t far, and i’m always available to help”

you hummed as you listened to her, resting your elbows on your desk and watching her. 

you couldn’t help the way your eyes flicked from her face and down her body before meeting her eyes again, nodding slowly as she walked up the couple of stairs to her office. 

“thank you Em, love you”

she rolled her eyes, but you didn’t miss the way she smiled. casting a glance over her shoulder to you as she stepped through her office door, whispering back to you. 

“yeah yeah, love you too”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[audiovideodisco]

hii

could you please do a chase x house!daughter (also a doctor) fic where chase meets her for the first time and dr wombat falls head over heels for her (followed by australian pining, much to the amusement of the team)?

thank you so much!

Hello!!!! thank you for the req!!

sorry i took a while, ive been a bit busy with my masters degree and ngl i forgot how exhausting uni is when ur ill, but this was a nice break ❤️❤️

i hope you like it!!

Worshipping the bloodline.

When Foreman hires a new doctor, things go a little bit sideways, and very down under. Who is she?

cw: mild language, house being house, one unintentional uncomfortable joke by taub, australians

word count: 964

requested: yes

relationship: chase x house’s daughter!reader

characteristics: doctor reader, she/her reader, no other descriptors

•••

“Dr. Veltz will be joining later this afternoon. Play nice.” Foreman said, directing his last words at House. He didn’t react much outwardly, but sent Foreman a cheeky eyebrow raise, which in turn made him roll his eyes and walk out the glass office door with a rhythmic thud of his new dress shoes on the hospital flooring.

“Who’s Dr-“ Chase started, soon cut off by House, not to anyone’s surprise.

“She’s… I don’t know. Ask Foreman. I didn’t hire her.”

“You didn’t?”

“Officially, I did. Unofficially? I don’t want anyone else on my team, wait, no, I officially don’t want anyone on my team either… You get the point.”

Chase looked at Dr. Park across from him, as if searching for information, but she just shrugged and began rambling about the case file ahead of her, and House gladly took the opportunity to steer the conversation away.

As the day wore on, the team almost forgot about the mystery Dr. Veltz, until she turned up at House’s office door.

“Hi, I’m-“

“Yeah, Veltz, I know-“

“Could we, um, talk, before I start? Uh… in private?”

House looked at her pensively but eventually nodded and took her to his office, shutting the door.

Chase couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the woman that had just walked into the room, rather unsubtly staring at her through the glass walls. She wasn’t his usual type, but she really was magical…

“HEY! AUSSIE!” Chi practically barked at Chase as she slammed her hand on the table, just about bringing him back to the differential office.

“W-woah- what?”

“You were staring. Like, directly at Veltz.” Taub said, not sure how aware Chase actually was of his actions.

“What? I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you kinda were, she is very pretty, I don’t blame you…” Adams said, a little bit of amusement still lingering on her face, but her compliment to Veltz was genuine.

Chas put his head in his hands as he felt himself go read with embarrassment. Meanwhile, Veltz and House spoke in his office, trying to ignore the shenanigans in the other room.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just… well… Australian and Catholic.”

Veltz laughs softly at his teasing but isn’t able to hide her nerves.

“What is it. You’re practically vibrating.”

“Uh… I pushed for this job so that I’d get the chance to actually talk to you about something-“

“You’re not a patient are you-“

“No- no… nothing like that, I genuinely want this job, but I think you have a right to know about… well incase you don’t want me to work with you because of it-“

“Get on with it-“

“I’m your daughter.”

House’s face went quickly through all five stages of grief except acceptance.

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve never gotten anyone-“

“My mom… I took her legal surname, but you met her as a sex worker in medical school. Leonie Lane.”

His face flashed with recognition. Why the hell did he think he was able to defy nature back then… in med school of all places? Condoms, House… although, maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. She was clearly incredibly capable or she wouldn’t have even gotten this far.

“She… um… she never told me.”

“She knew you didn’t sign up for that, and said it was as much her fault as yours. She wanted me, and I’m the one who asked about your name.”

“My name?”

“Yeah. She told me my dad was a doctor who saved lives, but she didn’t pretend that something happened to you or anything, she told me the truth, and I had a lovely supportive family in others too. But I asked if she knew your name, I wanted to meet you. You’re the reason I became a doctor.”

“Wow. Um. It might sound horrible, but can we do a DNA test? I just-“

“Of course, that’s not horrible, that’s completely reasonable.”

He nodded solemnly.

“Alright, uh, let’s go back to the case for now, we can catch up more later…”

“Alright, cool.”

They go back to the room, hearing the other doctors bickering, which ceases as soon as they enter.

The weeks go on as normal, and House and Veltz find out that she is his daughter. It’s a bit confusing for them both to navigate, but it gets a little easier. Park, Taub and Adams notice his slight - very slight - favouritism towards Veltz, and Taub can’t help himself but make a remark about it. It’s a particularly bad pain day for House, so he’s even worse at masking his preference towards her, and his words are practically entirely unfiltered…

“Veltz has sauntered in and captured House’s heart, almost like he’s got the hots-“

“Don’t you DARE insinuate that about my dau-“ He caught his slip up, but it was too late. Veltz mouthed to him, knowing he felt guilty for her sake, not his,

“It’s alright.”

“Wait, does this mean that Chase has a crush on House’s kid?” Park says out loud before her brain stops her.

“Kid? I’m- wait… what?” Veltz turns to look at chase, who by this point is burning bright red, and had averted his gaze.

“Oh jeez.” Chase mutters.

“Okay. Let’s move on so our patient doesn’t die of SEPSIS before with untangle whatever the hell is going on here.” Everyone nods, looking back at the whiteboard.

As the case comes to a close, Veltz hands Chase the test results to file away, and a small slip of paper sat on the top. He had given up at this point, not thinking anything of it, but when he unfolded the slip, seeing her distinct handwriting…

Call me. (555)555 555.

he couldn’t help but smile widely, almost like a child, blushing furiously and stuffing the paper in his trouser pocket, calling her that very night.

[lady-embers]

"Why do you ship Gwyn and Azriel together?"

This is why: It's the potential they could have in the future and the moments that stood out in ACOSF as potential foreshadowing.

To me, it started with Azriel coming to training and offering Gwyn a slight smile that she didn't return. That moment stuck with me as well as when Gwyn let out a noise of excitement, and Azriel half turns at the sound. Then, I noticed that Gwyn would glance at Azriel during the scene of putting up the ribbon, and Azriel drifted closer....

The moments for them really picked up for me, though, when Gwyn cut the ribbon & we see Cassian noticing Azriel attention fixed on Gwyn with "admiration and quiet encouragement" shining from his face. How the world paused as if shifting in a new direction and how Azriel pauses, too, as if feeling larger forces peering into the ring at Gwyn. Which brought up the thought: Is this possible foreshadowing to get us to notice she might go the direction of Gwyn and Azriel given the little things before?

Also, I like how his shadows dance around him when he's conversing with Gwyn after she asks, "What do we get if we win?" Then, when she tosses over her shoulder,"See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger, " it gives off competitive flirty banter, especially looking back at this after reading the bonus scene for Azriel (I'll touch on that in a few).

I also noticed his shadows deepened, and his siphons gleamed like cobalt fire when Cassian mentions the girls being hurt in the Rite. How Azriel said to trust in their training of them. Potential endgame couples trust in their partners, even in dangerous settings.

It's how we find out Azriel is the one who slaughtered all the remaining soldiers when he came upon Gwyn at Sangravah when he's known to leave two for questioning and wrapped her in his cloak. Which is a parallel of Lucien wrapping Elain in his cloak to cover her, provide protection, to his mate, Elain, after a traumatic event happened to her.

All these little events add up in just ACOSF to make me start believing in their potential as a possible endgame couple.

That's not even counting what happens in his bonus chapter where Gwyn makes an appearance and....

His shadows dance with her very breath, they are calm and content content to sit on his shoulders after feeling something restless settle in Azriel during his interaction with Gwyn, they sing back in answer to some music (and that's after learning Nesta describe her bond with Cassian as "music between their souls"). How he ends up tucking an image away of Gwyns teal eyes lighting upon seeing the gift he left for Clotho to give to her and tucks it deep down where it glowed quietly.

Once I learned that that bonus scene took place between Ch. 58/59 within ACOSF, it solidified my feelings that I had for Gwyn and Azriel as I was reading ACOSF.

[silentbeaves]

OK, I'M REALLY, REALLY NERVOUS TO PUT THIS HERE, AND I'M NOT SURE HOW MANY PEOPLE WILL LIKE MY WRITING ON MY TUMBLR SINCE MY BLOG IS ANIMATION AND 3D RENDERING BASED, BUT I WROTE SOME JESSTRA LAST NIGHT FOR SOMEONE. I MIGHT POST IT IN OTHER PLACES BUT I'M NOT SURE LOL

(NOTE. I've barely proofread this LMAO)

The two are heading down a gravel path towards a small town. Petra’s steps are concentrated and calculated as she holds a few emeralds that she’s going to trade in for some gold bars, mainly to repair Miss Butter, as the sword has gotten a little worn down, despite having enchantments to prevent that. Jesse, for whatever reason decided to tag along. She’s brought her own items. Some iron, a few emeralds, and a couple of diamonds, just in case she wants to buy anything special from the market.

“So, since I didn’t get to say good morning to you, how’ve you been?” Jesse asks, lightly tugging at Petra’s free hand.

“Oh, sorry, I was in a bit of a rush. Didn’t expect you to come along,” she says. “I’m alright, though.” Petra gently wraps a pinkie around Jesse’s. It’s a minor touch, not important; Petra does it quite often nowadays. But Jesse can’t help but feel her heart flutter.

“It’s alright, I get it.” Jesse grins, squeezing her finger around Petra’s.

Then silence falls upon both of them and to Jesse, it feels a little awkward. The sound of crunching beneath their boots and subtle breathing only fuels the awkwardness. Not that Jesse isn’t used to silence, but she would enjoy some conversation with, y’know, her one and only. 

“What’re you gonna use the emeralds for? You never told me.” She starts.

“To repair Miss Butter. She’s gotten a bit damaged since the last caving trip,” Petra scoffs. “The one where I had to save your sorry butt every second.”

Jesse huffs in response, but it’s light-hearted. “Hey, at least you were hot, doing it.” Petra’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head in total disagreement. “No, no, I was not.” Her face is visibly turning red, and the tips of her ears are burning up.

The shorter chuckles, elbowing her. “Um, yes, you were.”

Recovering from her brief embarrassment, Petra shoots back. “Uh-huh. And was that the reason you were so pathetic there? Couldn’t help staring at me?”

Jesse blinks awkwardly, feeling the weight of her body straining her legs suddenly. “No…”

“Pfft, you don’t sound very sure.”

She just couldn’t stand it when Petra teased her back like that. It sent her swooning. Urgh!

Petra lifts a hand to study the emeralds that rest in her palm, getting visibly bored on the walk to the town. She scratches at scars, reaches to the back of her neck, and fiddles with her collar. She’s kinda cute when she does that. Jesse can’t help but stare, unable to pull her eyes away.

“Petra?”

“Hm?” Petra glances at Jesse from the corner of her eye.

Jesse hesitates, but she goes along with her weird train of thought. “You look as pretty as those emeralds you are holding.”

Petra chuckles in amusement, finding that flirt to be absolutely awful. “That was the worst one yet, Jess.” She quips.

“Fine.” Jesse crosses her arms. “You’re pretty handsome.”

Raising a brow, Petra stops walking and turns to Jesse. “What’re you trying to do?”

“Flirt with you.”

“And your end goal?” 

Jesse feels her stomach drop. Admitting this will be no easy feat. She scuffs her boots along the gravel, her gaze falling to the ground. “I, uh… To get you to-- to kiss me.”

Petra, stunned, takes a small step back. “Oh.” Her body is tense, but she does her best to relax it. “Um, I mean-- you could’ve just… asked? You don’t have to win me over, or whatever.” She begins taking slow and hesitant steps towards Jesse, stuffing her emeralds in her pockets.

“I-I know, but it just feels… awkward, heh.” How awful, Jesse can feel that her face is burning up. Just the thought of kissing her is flipping her stomach in all sorts of directions. They’ve never kissed before, and the chance to bring it up never really occurred. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“...No! No, no, Jesse. It’s…” She’s desperately trying to find the right words, gesturing her hands around in the air, clawing for a sentence. “It’s fine! If you want to, we can, just let me know when.” Petra begins walking past, but Jesse grabs her by her collar.

“I want to. Now, if it’s okay.” Jesse gazes up into Petra’s eyes, but she’s unable to keep eye contact for long.

“I… now? Like, now, now?” The redhead grimaces, her face etched with fear. “Are you sure?”

Slowly, Jesse nods.

Petra can practically feel the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead…

“You okay with it?” Jesse asks.

Weakly, she nods. “I’m just… don’t expect it to be any good.” And with that, Petra begins to reach up to Jesse’s jawline, her fingers just ghosting her cheek.

Deciding to be a little brave, Jesse places her boots on top of Petra’s, grabbing her shoulders and lifting herself to an equal height. This makes Petra suddenly very hesitant, and her eyes look anywhere but at Jesse.

“C’mon, don’t chicken out, Petra.”

“I-I wasn’t!” She reels her hand back, clenching it. Chuckling, Jesse reaches to grab her fist, caressing it with her thumb.

“It’s okay, just take it slow. I know you’re not used to this.” Her voice is soft and gentle, plenty reassuring. Not to mention the touch. It sends prickles of warmth spiking through Petra’s chest. Not a feeling she’s used to. Not the touch she’s used to.

“Okay, okay. I-- I’ve got this,” Petra stammers, her heart beginning to race. “Easy, easy.��� Jesse’s hands slide from her shoulders, down her sides and to her waist, steadying herself, and trying to ground Petra from her anxieties.

Ugh, she’s too hesitant to do this. What if she messes it up? What if Jesse doesn’t like it? What if… someone’s watching them? That would be beyond embarrassing, and awful for her reputation. 

Sighing, Petra turns her head away, a hand reaching back down to her pockets. “Listen, I just need to get these emeralds--”

Jesse is glaring at her.

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Jesse begins to lean in slowly, giving her enough time to ease into it. Petra’s breath hitches, and her brow furrows. But Jesse’s confidence is alluring and slightly contagious. And with her mind finally made up, she leaned in as well, closing her eyes and closing the small gap that had been between them just moments before. 

Her brows raise with pleasure and realisation. It’s not as bad as she thought it’d be. Jesse’s lips are soft and comforting against hers, and she gives an involuntary sigh of relief into her mouth. At that, Jesse’s grip on her waist tightens, bunching the fabric between her fingers. A pair of hesitant hands make their way up Jesse’s back, one hand reaching up as far as the back of her head, feeling her brown, fluffy, although slightly untidy, hair.

Jesse slightly tilts her head, making the kiss more comfortable and slightly more passionate for the both of them. Petra’s lips are so firm and sure, even if a little chapped. As if that doesn’t make it more endearing, though. She pulls Petra’s body against hers, a small, almost inaudible moan escaping her lips. It makes the redhead shudder and tense, and Jesse can feel it. She feels her muscles tighten, so she pulls back, allowing both of them to catch their breaths and give it a small break.

“Hoh… wow…” Petra breathes out, completely dazed and flushed. Jesse, to no surprise, is also completely red.

“Heh, you alright, there?” The shorter cups Petra’s cheek, rubbing her thumb where her freckles are. She’s so delightful to gaze upon, especially this close. It’s not often Jesse gets to. 

“Yeah, I just-- didn’t expect it to be so…” She trails off, her eyes meeting Jesse’s. Her gaze is soft, as she stares up at Petra, a small glint in her eye.

“You wanna go again?” Jesse enquires, her voice gentle, and not prodding.

Dumbfounded, Petra blinks. “Yeah, sure.” Never in a million years would she imagine agreeing to kiss someone, twice for that matter. But here she is, kissing the one person she doubted she’d ever kiss…

And with the perfect scenery, god rays, a lovely gentle breeze, and no one else around, they kiss once again, this time Petra leaning in first. Her hands are less hesitant to feel around Jesse’s body as she kisses her, eliciting small moans and sighs.

Petra never understood what was so pleasing about kissing and touching and all that sappy stuff. But now? After hearing and feeling Jesse, she finally gets it. It proves your love for someone, what you’d do for them, and how much you trust them. To be so vulnerable as to get so close…

A hand reaches to cup Jesse’s jawline as they both drawback, faces flushed, and heads spinning. Jesse steps down, grabbing Petra’s other hand and raising it to her chest. “Thanks, Petra. It means a lot to me.”

“You don’t have to flatter me.” Her voice is slightly wavering; she’s still dazed.

The shorter then gives a small peck to the back of Petra’s hand, a grin worn on her face.

 “I gotta say, you’re really good at kissing,” she says, as the two make their way down the path again.

“Thanks,” Petra replies, her strides are less calculated and confident and rather more casual.

She’s been very vulnerable and open today, and Jesse would say that’s an amazing step up from a few months ago. They could just barely hold hands for longer than five seconds. And here Petra was, being the most vulnerable Jesse’s ever seen.

Ugh, she’s so sweet.