#conversations about the relationships they’re in

[pinkboaclub]

Professor Styles

Summery: Harry is your professor who also mentors you in the field you aspire to pursue. One night, while at his home, things go a little to far.

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, teacher-student relationship (university-everyone is of age with no large age gap), alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“It asks us to ponder how we preserve the image of power, and what those images reveal about the societies that create them.” Professor Styles said, beginning to wrap up his lesson on Oliver Cromwell's death mask. “That’s all I have for you today.”

As everyone around you gathered their things and headed for the door, you took your time, collecting your supplies. You waited for a moment, knowing you needed to speak with Mr. Styles.

One of your male classmates was already engaged in conversation with him, asking a few last-minute questions before wishing him a good weekend and leaving the lecture hall. As the room emptied out, his eyes found yours, and he offered a small smile.

"Hi," you greeted him.

"Hello, Ms. Y/L/N," he replied, his tone warm and professional.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I just wanted to confirm that we're still on for tonight."

"Of course," He said, his smile widening. "I have a feeling we'll get very far."

To anyone else, overhearing a student and their professor engaged in such a conversation might raise some red flags, but in this context, it was strictly professional.

"Definitely," you replied, nodding. "I've already completed most of the pigment analysis. I just need you to review the results tonight."

"Sounds perfect. I'll see you tonight, then."

"See you tonight," you said, before turning and walking out of the lecture hall, the door closing softly behind you.

You had been working to become an art restorer, specifically taking paintings and reconstructing and restoring them. When Professor Styles had overheard you telling another student this, he offered to be your mentor, as he was very familiar in the field. So, for the past three months, you would come over to his home every Friday, learning and practicing to restore paintings.

That night, you sat on his couch, grabbing some of your research from your tote bag as Professor Styles—or Harry, as he preferred you to call him outside of class—grabbed you a glass of water.

“So, we can go over your pigment analysis,” He places the glass of water in front of you. “Also, I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, a gift? I wish I had gotten you something.” He chuckled at your remark, walking to his book shelf and pulling two large paintings from a portfolio bag leaning against it.

He held one painting in each hand and turned them around to reveal them to you. They were two old, beat up paintings that had severe chipping and cracks all over them, but they were absolutely gorgeous. A gold mine for a aspiring art restorer:

“Wow,” you leaned in closer as he walked toward you to give you a better look. “These are beautiful, what are they? Where did you get them?”

“Won them at an auction, someone’s great grandfather’s old painting, I thought they’d be perfect to practice on.” You had previously only worked on paintings you found at thrift stores, and that was before Harry even began mentoring you.

“They’re perfect, thank you, Harry.” You looked up at him, giving him a smile.

“Of course.” He returned the smile, a soft, appreciative look in his eyes. “Those are going to take a couple weeks to finish, but it will teach you a lot. Let’s go over what you have first.”

He placed the paintings back in their portfolio bag and sat beside you on the couch. As he rolled up his sleeve, you couldn’t help but notice the muscular forearms that were now on full display. The slight brush of his skin against yours every time he leaned in made your stomach flutter, and you quickly tried to focus on the task in front of you to keep your composure.

It would be a lie if you said you had never noticed Harry in a way that went beyond a professor or mentor. He was undeniably handsome—tall, charismatic, with a presence that filled the room. It had become harder to focus on anything but him, especially since you’d started talking more outside of your shared passion for art history.

After a random comment about his bookshelf one night, the two of you had ended up spending the rest of the night talking about music, literature, and sharing recommendations. Those conversations had brought you closer—far closer than you had anticipated—and, if you were being honest, had only made your feelings for him grow.

But you tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he said. You gathered the stack of research papers you’d compiled over the week from the coffee table and handed them to him. He had tasked you with studying the chemical compositions of paint from various historical periods. "This is great," he remarked, flipping through the pages. "This will also be incredibly useful for restoring those paintings." He said, pointing towards the paintings he just showed you. You took a sip from the glass of water he'd offered, the coolness easing the subtle nerves you felt around him.

The night continued with you two talking about your research, where to go from here, and the paintings he had given you.

As your conversation went on, it started to diverge from art. You now sat comfortably with a glass of red wine he had offered you, him sitting across from you, doing the same. The topics were easy and light until Harry shifted the conversation.

“So, how are things going in your other classes?” he asked, genuinely curious, his gaze focused on you with an intensity that made you pause.

You shrugged, the words coming out a little more candidly than you intended. “Pretty good. They can be hard to focus on sometimes.”

“Hard to focus?” Harry echoed, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “How so?”

You chuckled softly, the honesty feeling strangely liberating. “Mm, it’s just...not as interesting,” you admitted, almost laughing at the thought of telling one of your professors that your other classes sucked, though the red wine helped with that.

Harry didn’t seem offended or put off by your answer—in fact, he seemed more intrigued. “They’re still art classes, right? You don’t enjoy them?”

“I do. I definitely do,” you reassured him. “But, your class is definitely the best. I feel like it’s the only one where I’m actually moving toward my goal of becoming an art restorer.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was flattered. “I get it. It’s hard when you’re taking a bunch of classes, and only one of them really feels like it’s leading you somewhere you want to go.”

You exhaled, relieved he didn’t think you were simply disinterested in your studies. “Yeah, exactly. I feel like the rest of them are just kind of...a filler.”

“Well,” he said, leaning back on the couch, “even the ones that don’t seem directly related to your goals still help build the foundation for what you want to do. You might not see it now, but everything connects in its own way.” He looked deeply into your eyes, making you nervous.

“I know,” you agreed, taking a small sip of wine to give you a moment to collect your thoughts. “I know, it’s just hard sometimes when I can’t see the bigger picture.”

Harry met your eyes with an understanding that made you feel like he genuinely saw you, not just as a student, but as someone working hard toward a future they were passionate about. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he said softly. “It’s part of the process. But it will all click, eventually.”

You felt a quiet connection in his words, the kind that seemed to resonate deeper than just the academic advice he'd offered. You hadn’t realized how much his reassurance meant to you until that moment. The wine made everything feel softer, and for a brief second, you let your guard down, your gaze lingering on his face.

Harry smiled gently, and there was a warmth in his expression that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t quite expected. The conversation drifted back to more casual matters, but there was a new undercurrent to the air—an unspoken understanding between the two of you that made everything feel a little more…charged.

As the evening went on, the distance between the two of you seemed to shrink. Harry, though still maintaining his professional demeanor, seemed more at ease. You found yourself laughing more freely, your nerves slowly melting away. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how his voice softened when he spoke to you, it was all so comforting. You couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, he felt some of the same magnetic pull you did.

At one point, you found yourself leaning a little closer to the table, showing him a particular section of your research. You didn’t mean to move so near, but the way you both reached for the papers at the same time brought your hands dangerously close. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a second, neither of you moved. It felt like time had stopped, like the world outside the house had disappeared.

His gaze flicked from your hand to your eyes, and you just looked at each other. His expression softened, the playful edge of the conversation shifted into something quieter, something more intimate.

"Ms. Y/N," he murmured, voice low, "you really are talented. I mean it." His voice was sincere, and the way he said your name made your heart beat quicker.

You swallowed, a little nervous but not wanting to back away from the moment. "Thank you, Harry. It means a lot coming from you." Your breath felt heavier as your heart raced and the intensity of his gaze made it hard to look away.

He hesitated for a second before his gaze dropped to your lips and you immediately felt a shift in the air. It was sudden and unexpected, yet somehow felt right. When he leaned into you, you couldn’t help but do the same, instinctively closing the space between you.

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, his lips brushed yours. It was quick, gentle and soft. For a moment you almost forget where you were, until you both pulled away.

You blinked, heart thudding loudly in your chest as you met his eyes, unsure of what to say, unsure of what had just happened. Harry looked just as surprised, his breath was heavy, though his expression was kind, almost apologetic. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

"No," you cut him off, feeling a surge of warmth rush to your face. "It’s okay. I...I don’t know what that was." You stayed silent for a moment, though it felt like hours.

You both leaned in again, your lips colliding, faster and harder than the first. Though, this time, you didn’t stop. His hand went to your hip, pulling you closer to him as one of your hands went to his face and the other to his shoulder.

You both slowly leaned back, laying yourself on the couch as he hovered over you. He soon helped you out of your sweater, quickly pulling away from your lips, but immediately finding them again once your sweater was gone. His hands roamed your body as both of you got lost in each other.

Harry pulled away again, an almost shocked expression on his face.

“Is this okay? I’ll stop right now if you want me too, we can pretend this never happened, it won’t affect anyt-“ he hastily asked, but before he could continue, you kissed him again, giving him his answer. You definitely wanted this.

You tugged at his shirt, telling him to take it off, to which he complied. He begins to kiss down your shoulders before unbuttoning your pants.

“Professor,” you pulled him back up to your lips. You, your body, needed to skip the foreplay and get right to it, you were desperate for him. “I want you, now.” You said in between kisses.

He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. He helped you out of your jeans and underwear before you helped him out of his.

His hand travels down, making sure you were prepped enough before he started. There was no question, you were sure you had never been this wet before. His hand traveled to your clit and began rubbing it.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He admired your body before running his cock up and down your slick folds.

“Mm, Professor.” You moaned out with your eyes closed, taking in the very little pleasure he was giving you.

“Harry, baby,” He corrected you. “M’not sure how many times I’m going to have to remind you, darling.”

You smiled and nodded, but to be honest, you couldn’t think of anything else other than him pushing inside you as quickly as possible. When he finally did, you hadn’t realized how big he was, but had to get adjusted quickly.

"Can I move?" He asked as he pecked the corner of your mouth. You quickly nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. He kissed you again as he pulled out, leaving just the head inside before thrusting back in. You kissed each other as Harry rocked his hips into you, quickly slipping into a steady pace. He reached down to circle your clit as he kissed your neck and you gasped at the sensation.

Your moans felt like they never stopped as both or your body’s thrusted, being motivated by the built up sexual tension. His pace quickened, causing you to be louder, incoherently moaning and whimpering, which he loved. He looked down at you, taking in the pleasure you got from his cock.

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well.” He grabbed one of your legs, holding the back of your knee to get an angle where he could repeatedly hit your g-spot. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this? How long have I had to watch you in class, pushing down any thoughts of doing exactly what I’m doing right now?”

You moaned out, acknowledging his confession. Every memory you had in his class came rushing back, every time you accidentally made eye contact, was he thinking abou fucking you then? When you purposely wore a skimpy outfit, did he notice?

As you felt your stomach tighten, your moans called out his name repeatedly. “I’m gonna cum soon Ha-” Before you could finish, speaking and cumming, he pulled out of you and looked back into your eyes.

“Need to see you ride me, is that okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You cried out, climbing on to straddle him. You both moved quickly, eager to please each other.

You lined yourself up with his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto him. His hands tightly hold your hips to keep you steady. You start moving up and down, your hands holding yourself up on his shoulders.

Harry watches you in awe, fascinated by your body moving up and down him, your breasts bouncing up and down, your back slightly arched, and your hair beautifully swaying around. Fascinated at how you still look angelic during such unholy activities. You moved your hips faster, looking down to see Harry appear and disappear inside of you.

Your mouth falls open as his cock hits your g-spot with every thrust and his hand moves to rub your clit. Your bounces started to become sloppy as your legs became weak, both from the repetitive movement and the pleasure.

Harry wrapped one of his hands behind your back, pushing you closer to his chest and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Shh, I’ve got you, let me make you come.” He shifted his hips, gaining a better position before thrusting up into you.

“Fuck, Harry.” You grunted as his hips slammed into you, but his protective arm still held your back in place.

“I know, I know,” he turned his head towards your ear, holding his lips to it. “Let yourself cum, I wanna feel you squeeze my cock, darling.”

His sultry voice whispering in your ear was enough to send you over the edge.Your cunt pulsed around Harry as your climax hit you, sending him spiraling over the edge as well. You collapsed on top of him, your full body weight leaning into him and your head resting on his shoulder.

You both sat there, bodies sweating, chests rising up and down, saying nothing. You had almost forgotten where you were but, how could you? You were in your professor’s arms, sitting on his cock, coming down from an orgasm.

The words rang in your head again…until you lifted your head up, avoiding eye contact with Harry, despite his eyes trying to find yours. What if he hated you after this? What if this was the end of your relationship with him?

You lifted yourself up, slowly looking for your clothes. Harry, with a worried look on his face, did the same. Both of you put your clothes on, still saying nothing.

“I’m sorr-“

“That was very unprofe-“

You both spoke at the same time, then stayed silent.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. That was very unprofessional of me.” Harry spoke up, both of you finally locking eyes.

“It’s okay.” You whispered. “Uhm…I should go, though.” You grabbed your papers and your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and heading to the door.

Harry walked behind you, holding the door open, watching you begin to walk away.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” You turned back, not knowing what to say. You weren’t mad at him, at all. You were mad at yourself.

“See you on Monday, Mr. Styles.”

[lovscb97]

railway (b.cc.) ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TRACK 001: part of the step out series

synopsis: you didn’t mean to get tied up with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, but sometimes all you can do is hold on tight for the rough ride ahead of you, even if it means going against all the pre-written rules of friendship.

tags: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader, angst, forbidden romance, mutually toxic relationship, morally grey characters, chan and reader are both kind of awful, mention of other idols (rest of stray kids, stayc, enhypen, etc), oc as chan's ex-girlfriend (aeri), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, use of nicknames (baby, darling, etc), very brief pussy slapping, possessiveness, mild dacryphilia, car sex, fingering, sir kink, squirting, jealousy, slight exhibitionism, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (bitch, slut, etc), dirty talk, very brief mention of strength kink, mirror sex, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking, slight overstimulation, etc

theme board: www.pin.1003 / song link: prod:b.cc

wc: 7.85k

add. notes: welcome 2 the first course >:] i've offered my insights n analysis on railway alr but delving into the meaning of the song n creating a whole fic based off of it was very intriguing for me esp cus i don't usually write based off of music i listen to. i knew i wanted smth wrong to put out but i don't like infidelity n the usual story on toxic situations is tough to pull of so i decided to go down the more 'scandalous' route of sorts n make chan ur best friend's ex instead :3 there's a pinterest board i made for all these fics which for this one u can find linked above to grasp the aesthetics of it n i'd recommend reading this while listening to railway ofc. as always plz make sure u watch out for the tags n dni if ur a minor. also sidenote but aeri (the oc) is not meant to be seen as giselle from aespa but rather i just used that name bcs it's pretty lol just thought i'd lyk that. either way i hope u all enjoy! 

. . .

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your jeans, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

© all rights reserved to @/lovscb97, do not plagiarise, translate, re-upload, etc 

[scoupsakakitty]

hii!! i love your works and was wondering if you could write a nana tour Vernon fic, where when they go to vernon's room seungkwan has to go in and check first because vernon and reader were together and then he tells reader to hide in the washroom or something?? you can write it as you wish, and please ignore if you're not comfortable

Hidden Moments | idol!Vernon x Reader | fluff

The soft hum of conversation from the hallway grew louder as Vernon closed his hotel room door behind him. You leaned against the small desk, watching him with a lazy smile as he set his phone down on the nightstand.

“Think they’re going to catch on soon?” you asked, teasingly, referring to the other members of Seventeen.

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If we keep sneaking around like this, maybe. But I think we’re doing okay so far.”

Your relationship wasn’t a complete secret, but it wasn’t exactly public knowledge either. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while now, quietly stealing moments whenever Vernon’s chaotic schedule allowed.

He crossed the room, standing in front of you and placing his hands gently on your waist. “I like this though,” he murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s just us for a while.”

The moment felt warm, intimate and then there was a knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

“Vernon? Open up, I need something,” Seungkwan’s voice called from the hallway.

Vernon’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced toward the door. “Uh, give me a second!” he replied, his voice steady despite the panic in his expression.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “He can’t see me here,” you whispered, already moving toward the bathroom.

Vernon nodded quickly, ushering you toward the door with a sheepish smile. “Stay here,” he whispered before you slipped inside.

Moments later, you heard the room door open, followed by the unmistakable voice of Seungkwan.

“Why did you take so long?” Seungkwan asked suspiciously.

“I was… uh, cleaning up a bit,” Vernon lied.

“Cleaning? Really?”

The sound of footsteps made you tense.

“Wait, did you have someone in here?” Seungkwan’s tone was accusatory, and you imagined him narrowing his eyes at Vernon.

“No! What are you talking about?” Vernon said, a little too quickly.

“I don’t believe you,” Seungkwan replied, his voice dramatic. “I’m going to check.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Hyung, seriously, there’s nothing—”

But Seungkwan didn’t wait for Vernon to finish. The sound of approaching footsteps made your heart race. You barely had time to think before the bathroom door creaked open.

Seungkwan peeked inside, his gaze falling on you crouched awkwardly by the sink. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” he said flatly, blinking a few times. Then, he turned back to Vernon, who stood behind him looking sheepish. “You’re unbelievable.”

Vernon scratched the back of his neck. “I can explain…”

Seungkwan raised a hand to stop him. “No need. I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see anything. But next time,” he looked back at you, “hide better.”

With that, Seungkwan left, muttering something about how he deserved an award for putting up with everyone.

When the door closed, Vernon let out a breath of relief, turning to face you as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, trying not to laugh, “that could’ve gone worse.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Next time, we’re locking the door.”

You grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Next time, we’ll be more careful.”

“Deal,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Despite the close call, you couldn’t help but feel that moments like these messy, imperfect, and shared only with Vernon were your favorites.

————————————————————————————-

[boybandbaby]

Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship

word count: 1676

warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch

note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes

tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best

1️⃣

Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.

Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.

“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.

“Hey!” Spencer yelped.

When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.

Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.

Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.

“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”

Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.

“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”

Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.

2️⃣

While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.

“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.

“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.

Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.

While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.

Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.

So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.

I know I wish I was there with you both

Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand

When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage

Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?

Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.

I love you.

Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.

He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”

“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.

3️⃣

When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.

Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”

“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some chicken, rice, and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.

Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.

4️⃣

Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.

“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”

“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.

“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”

“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”

Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.

“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.

“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”

“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.

You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.

Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.

“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”

“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.

5️⃣

You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.

Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.

While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.

“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.

Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.

Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.

“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.

“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.

“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.

“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.

You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”

“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.

“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.

Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.

“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.

“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”

“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”

“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.

“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.

“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”

“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”

“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession p.9

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 8 or if you want to read it from the beginning here's my masterlist :)

The tension from the paddock still lingered as you and Toto returned to the motorhome. Toto’s arm was firmly around your waist, his protective demeanor more evident than ever. As soon as the door closed behind you, he turned to you, concern etched across his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning yours for any sign of discomfort. Before you could answer, his tone grew firmer. "Those paparazzi had no right to corner you like that. I'm going to make sure they’re fired."

You placed a calming hand on his chest, looking up at him softly. "Toto, let it go. They were just doing their job."

His jaw tightened, but he sighed, clearly trying to rein in his frustration. "They crossed the line. But if that’s what you want, fine."

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock at the door. The team’s social media manager stepped in, looking hesitant but determined. "I hate to interrupt," she began, "but the news about your engagement is already online. It’s everywhere. I need to know if you want to release a statement."

Toto’s expression darkened, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he addressed the manager directly. "Our relationship is private, and it will stay that way," he said firmly. "There’s no need for a statement."

The manager nodded, understanding the finality in his tone, and quickly excused herself. Once the door closed, Toto turned back to you, his hands cupping your face gently. "I’m going to handle this," he assured you before leaning down to kiss you deeply. His kiss was grounding, a reminder that no matter what happened, you were in this together.

"I know you will," you whispered, feeling the weight of the situation but trusting him implicitly.

After a few moments, you decided to step out to find George. He had been distant ever since the dinner, and you knew the news breaking wouldn’t help matters. You found him leaning against a wall outside the garage, his arms crossed and his expression guarded.

"Hey," you greeted softly, walking up to him. He glanced at you, his stance stiff but his eyes betraying a flicker of warmth.

"Hey," he replied, though his tone was hesitant. "I heard the news is out."

You nodded, sighing. "Yeah, it is."

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. "How do you feel about it?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your emotions into words. "Overwhelmed," you admitted. "It’s a lot to process."

George’s expression softened slightly, but he still looked conflicted. "You know," he began carefully, "you don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to. Just because things have gone this far doesn’t mean you’re trapped."

His words surprised you, but you shook your head firmly. "That’s not it, George. I love Toto."

George frowned, clearly struggling to accept your answer. "I don’t understand how you can trust him so completely. He’s—he’s not like us. He’s controlling, and I’m worried he’s going to hurt you."

"He’s not like that," you countered gently but firmly. "Toto takes care of me. He makes me feel safe."

George shook his head, frustration evident in his posture. "You deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like you have to choose between him and your family."

"George, I’m not choosing," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "I want you to be part of this, part of my life with him."

Before George could respond, a familiar voice interrupted. "Can I have a word with George?" Toto’s tone was calm, but there was an undeniable authority in it. You turned to see him standing there, his gaze focused on your brother.

You glanced between the two of them, sensing the tension. Toto’s eyes softened when they met yours. "It’s about work," he added, his tone gentler. "Can you wait outside for a moment?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and stepped out, leaving the two men to talk. Even though you trusted Toto, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease. Whatever they were about to discuss, you just hoped it wouldn’t drive a deeper wedge between you and George.

From Toto’s point of view, he watched you leave, his heart tightening at the sight of your worried expression. As soon as the door closed behind you, his demeanor shifted. His calm exterior remained, but there was a steely edge to his gaze as he turned to George.

"You need to stop interfering," Toto began, his voice low and measured. "Your sister is an adult, capable of making her own choices."

George squared his shoulders, his own frustration boiling over. "She’s my sister, and I’m not going to stand by while you manipulate her."

Toto let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Manipulate? Is that what you think this is? George, she loves me, and I love her."

George’s jaw tightened. "She doesn’t see what you’re doing. You’re isolating her. She’s already losing her family because of you."

Toto stepped closer, his height and presence dominating the space. "Careful, George. You’re treading on dangerous ground. I’ve been patient with you because you are important to her, but my patience has limits."

George glared at him, but Toto continued, his voice dropping even lower. "You should know that I’ve been considering some changes to the team with Kimi joining us next season."

George’s eyes widened, his anger faltering for a moment. "You wouldn’t."

Toto’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Don’t test me. I value your talent, but no one is irreplaceable. If you want to keep your position here, I suggest you stop trying to sabotage my relationship."

George clenched his fists, but Toto didn’t back down. "Your sister means everything to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her and our relationship."

With that, Toto turned and walked to the door, his expression neutral as he opened it to let you back in. Seeing your concerned face, his demeanor softened immediately. "Everything is sorted," he said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You glanced between them, unsure of what had transpired but relieved that the tension seemed to have lessened. "Are you sure?"

Toto nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Positive. Now, let’s not worry about anything else tonight."

[boofeine]

Hey sweetie❤️

Do you mind doing a reading on how the seventeen members act hen they’re jealous??

oooohhh ok!!! that got me curious 😃

how seventeen members act when they're jealous

reading made with the major arcanes

seungcheol; first card pulled: the fool. he gets completely swayed away with emotions. he is someone who gets jealous, and he lets all out when it happens. the type to get sulky or even angry/sad, it might have fights because of it :/

jeonghan; first card pulled: the sun. completely opposite, jealousy might not be a thing for jeonghan. at best, it's a way of him to tease, and god knows he loves that. and even if he is jealous, he won't show and be racional about it.

joshua; first card pulled: judgment upside down. he just acknowledged it like 'oh yeah, i think im jealous' and then keeps it to himself. he might not be good at hiding it, though, it's written all over his face, and it gets in something bigger because he doesn't want to talk about it but the person can see something is bothering him.

jun; first card pulled: the hermit upside down. another one that gets pretty irracional. sways away with his bothersome and talks about it. he organizes his thoughts and takes action, and he also tries to be mature about it and work it out. good for him!!!!!!!

soonyoung; first card pulled: the hermit upside down. hmmm the dec sequence pull literally screams, 'i can't tolerate it, pls next'. he probably takes his jealousy as a sign to rethink the relationship (no matter what kind). he might be a little freaky about it... i hate to agree, but he might have crazy intuition, and 99% of the time is right in choosing to leave :///

wonwoo; first card pulled: the moon upside down. here we have an emotionally intelligent guy wooww! he does get sentimental about it but knows to sit and organize his thoughts to afterward expose to the person in question and get things straight in a mature conversation.

jihoon; first card pulled: the hierophant. oooh he gets melancholic frfr!! he knows it is what it is and he might like it... in a spicy way... he might like sex after a jealous situation where the person has to prove themselves by treating him. he has a hard time talking about his feelings tho.

seokmin; first card pulled: the chariot upside down. he does feel stagnate but, in a way, he knows if he's jealous, it is because there are true feelings involved. jealousy for him is more like a sign that he must really like that someone, and he doesn't see it in a bad way. also, he just feels jealousy in romantic relationships.

mingyu; first card pulled: strength. he feels like he 'lost power'. he gets pretty vulnerable and swayed away. he gets a bit taken back and needs time to understand what's the feelings about, jealousy really messes him up....

minghao; first card pulled: justice upside down. guys... actually, until now, he's the member more affected by jealousy. he gets angry, impulsive, and out of his head. i can say it almost definitely every time it turns into a fight. (im only saying the first card, but thought important to add the devil came out on the reading dec here sooo....)

seungkwan; firts card pulled: justice flew from the dec. he's mature. he does get jealous and swayed away, wants to leave, and even gets angry but knows that's not a healthy behavior, so he uses rationality to work on an equilibrium. probably the person who cause it is oblivious about it, tho. he works it out by himself.

vernon; first card pulled: death. he rarely feels it, and when he does, he pushes it away. he doesn't think it's a healthy or useful feeling to have, so he just ignores it. but that does not always help him, it affects his inside and could cause inner turmoil when pushing it aside.

chan; first card pulled: the moon upside down. gets emotional too, he's also very affected, but he gets more sad than anything else. i can also sense a bit of insecurity. but he doesn't really act on it, same as vernon that can be bad for him, the difference here is that chan understands and acknowledges the feeling.

[oo432i]

wasted

pairing ; husband!anton x wife!reader

summary ; you and anton are invited to appear on the popular talk show byob hosted by joon and brian. you both shares anecdotes about your relationship, from how you guys met to their first impressions of one another. fans also get a sneak peek into your married life, plans for the future, and anton’s sweet, drunken confessions that make you and everyone else fall for him all over again.

warning(s) ; english is not my first language, alcohol consumption, light teasing, fluff overload.

part of a series — jagi, mwohae?

Sitting on the terrace, you and Anton waited for your cue to join Joon and Brian on their show. You could hear faint laughter and chatter inside as the two hosts warmed up the audience. Anton reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You nervous?” he asked, his soft voice cutting through the evening air.

You smiled, shaking your head.

“Not with you here. But… I am curious about what they’ll ask us.”

He chuckled, leaning closer.

“Probably something embarrassing. I’ll take the heat for us if it gets too bad.”

Before you could even respond, the production assistant signaled it was time, and you both stood.

“Hyung, guess who’s joining us today!” Joon teased, leaning toward Brian.

“I’ll give you a hint, they’re both very famous.”

“Bro, aren’t all our guests famous?” Brian rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean like very famous.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

Joon grinned mischievously before announcing,

“Let’s welcome today’s guests, Y/N and Anton, the ‘IT’ couple!”

Applause from staff member erupted as you and Anton walked onto the set. Brian stood to greet Anton with a bro hug.

“What’s up, Anton? Long time no see.”

“Good to see you again, man,” Anton replied with his signature bright smile.

Joon turned to you, his eyes wide with mock amazement.

“Y/N, you look stunning!”

You laughed.

“Thank you, Joon. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

Once everyone settled, Brian leaned forward and ask.

“So, what did you guys bring to ‘BYOB’ for today?”

Anton reached under the table, pulling out a sleek bottle of whiskey.

“This is our favorite drink. I thought it’d be fitting to bring it here.”

“And soju!” you added, holding up the bottle with a grin.

“Because it’s my second favorite.”

Joon’s eyes widened.

“Yo, they know how to party. Why not open them up now?”

Brian grabbed paper cups and poured drinks for everyone. After a toast, he took a sip and exclaimed,

“This whiskey is dangerous, not too strong but just sweet enough.”

Joon nodded.

“I like it. You two really brought the good stuff.”

After some casual banter, Joon shifted the conversation.

“So, I heard you just celebrated your first wedding anniversary. Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” you and Anton said in unison.

“Time really flies,” Anton added, his hand resting lightly on yours.

“Let’s talk about how you two met,” Brian said.

You smiled, reminiscing.

“We met when I was visiting my cousin. Anton lived a few houses down, and we started out as friends. From strangers to friends, then lovers, and now here we are.”

Brian turned to Anton.

“What was your first impression of her?”

Anton chuckled.

“Honestly? How bright and extroverted she was. I was so shy back then, and she had this way of drawing me out of my shell. It felt… balanced.”

“And Y/N? What about you?”

“My first impression of Anton was his voice. It’s so soft and calming… like an angel. And his smile? It’s everything.”

Joon dramatically clutched his chest.

“Anton, you’re making it hard for the rest of us! That soft voice could make anyone fall for you.”

You playfully leaned closer to Anton.

“Well, too bad. He’s mine.”

The group laughed before Brian asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“So, any plans for kids?”

Anton nodded thoughtfully.

“We’ve talked about it. We both love the idea of starting a family, but we want to wait until we’re ready. Maybe in two or three years.”

“Yeah,” you added.

“We want to enjoy this time together first. But we do love babies.”

As conversation flowed, drinks poured, Anton began to loosen up, a soft flush coloring his cheeks. He leaned closer to you, his words slightly slurred but still clear.

“Do you know how lucky I am?” he said, his gaze locking onto yours.

You laughed nervously, knowing he was entering his overly affectionate, tipsy phase.

“Anton…”

“No, I’m serious.” He turned to Joon and Brian.

“She’s everything. Like, I don’t think I’d be half the person I am today without her. She’s my anchor, my best friend, my—”

“Okay, okay!” you interrupted, face burning.

“I think he’s had enough.”

Brian and Joon were doubled over with laughter.

“Yo, Anton, you’re gonna make us all cry,” Joon said, wiping his eyes.

“But it’s sweet,” Brian added. “Keep going.”

Anton ignored them, still focused on you.

“I just want everyone to know how much I love you. Even if I embarrass myself on national TV, it’s worth it.”

You covered your face with your hands, laughing and groaning at the same time.

“He’s like this every time he drinks.”

“And we love it,” Brian said.

Anton leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze softened. He was quiet for a moment, prompting Joon to nudge him with a laugh.

“Yo, Anton, you good? Did the whiskey hit you more already?”

Anton chuckled and shook his head, his focus drifting toward you.

“No, I’m just… thinking about something. You know, it’s one thing to love someone, but it’s another to realize how lucky you are to have them.”

Brian raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh, we’re getting deeper now. What’s on your mind?”

Anton smiled wistfully, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Our wedding day. That moment when Y/N walked down the aisle… I swear, it hit me like a ton of bricks. She looked so beautiful, so radiant. I couldn’t believe she was about to marry me. I mean, who am I to deserve her?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him.

“Stop that. You know how much I love you.”

“No, but seriously,”

Anton continued, looking at the hosts.

“I was standing there, and I felt this overwhelming mix of emotions, happiness, gratitude, even a little bit of fear. And then I remembered what my dad told me once.”

Joon leaned forward, curiosity piqued.

“What did he say?”

Anton’s smile grew, and he glanced at you before answering.

“He said, ‘When you find someone who brings out the best in you, who makes you want to be better every single day, don’t ever let them go. And if you’re lucky enough to marry her, make sure she knows how much you love her every single day.’”

The room grew quiet for a moment, everyone absorbing the weight of his words.

“He told me that when I first introduced him to Y/N,”

Anton added, his voice soft.

“He could see how happy she made me, how much I lit up whenever I was around her. And on our wedding day, as I watched her walk toward me, I realized he was right. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Joon let out a dramatic sigh, fanning his face.

“Okay, who’s cutting onions in here? Anton, you’re killing me, man.”

Brian nodded, visibly moved.

“That’s so beautiful, hyung. Honestly, it’s refreshing to see someone so genuine about their love.”

You placed a hand on Anton’s, squeezing it gently.

“He’s always been like this. Even when he’s not drunk, he has a way of making me feel like the most loved person in the world.”

Anton grinned, his confidence returning.

“Well, I’m just telling the truth.”

[vonspe]

as a fellow emmrich x crow rook romancer, how do you imagine emmrich dealing with all of scipio's backstory?

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT Rook choosing to leave their faction and start a new life ties nicely into the themes of the game! Rook is definitely worried about it and wants to have a conversation about it right off the bat, but idk if emmrich would be completely receptive to it tbh. He does not want to consider it too deeply just like he doesn’t seemingly want to consider anything about the relationship until they’re literally about to all DIE but I digress. It’s very clear Rook is pained by his past choices and emmrich is so very empathetic 😭😭 they work it out

[cha-melodius]

30 for zahra/shaan for the hug prompts if it sparks joy <3

(Thank you for sending this one, I've never really written Zahra/Shaan from either of their POVs and it was a lot of fun. Not to mention this hug prompt was perfect for them. read all the hug ficlets)

30: The reluctant hug from someone who isn’t exactly a fan of physical affection. 

The first time they see each other in person after the email leaks is when Henry goes to DC for Alex’s speech.

Usually, in a situation like this where they’re only interacting for work, neither of them would even think about letting any part of their relationship slip through. All the looks, all the touches, even a hint of personal conversation—that stuff is only let out when they’re off the clock. They’ve crammed a lot into two-day holidays over the last half a year, and even with what little pieces they get of each other, it’s worth it.

Today is different, though. He can see the toll that the leaks and their aftermath have taken on Zahra. Not just because of the political impact, though of course that is her job to deal with, but the personal one too. Zahra cares deeply about Alex, more than she’d ever admit to anyone. Shaan can tell, though. Could tell when he first heard the minute hitch in her breath over the telephone line. She feels responsible, just as he does. They couldn’t protect their charges, no matter how hard they tried.

Now, she’s running around as usual, barely sparing him a glance as she barks out schedules and timing. They’ve landed no more than a half an hour before Alex is due to speak, and it’s a mad rush, even when Alex and Henry disappear for ten minutes, no doubt to do things Shaan would rather not think about. It’s not until later that evening—they’re staying overnight, something he’d quietly insisted upon when they’d made these plans—that Shaan manages to actually catch her.

“Did you need something?” she asks brusquely. He knows better than to take it personally.

“Yes,” he tells her, equally business-like. “Can I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Her eyes flash like she knows what he’s up to. She probably does. Normally, he’d never attempt to request a private moment, even now when most of the White House has retired for the night, but there’s nothing about this situation that’s normal. For a moment he thinks she’s going to refuse, but then she gives a short nod and leads him through a random doorway.

“Ok, Srivastava, what is it? I don’t really have time—” she starts immediately, which is a lie because he personally heard Ellen Claremont say she didn’t need anything else from Zahra tonight.

“Zahra,” he interrupts softly, putting hand over one of hers.

She doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign. Or maybe a bad one. When she looks up at him, the conflict is plain on her face. ��We can’t—” she starts. Stops and licks her lips, her lipstick still flawless this late at night. “Not here.”

“I know,” he reassures her. “I’m not asking for much. Just a hug.” She narrows her eyes at him, and Shaan lets his expression soften. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Even in the moments when they can truly be alone together, Zahra isn’t much of a hugger. She won’t even initiate one on those rare occasions where she wants to be held, so Shaan has learned to detect such circumstances and then ask for one for himself. She always gives a little huff, like it’s a chore, though if she didn’t want to she’d just tell him no and walk away. Then she will reluctantly let herself be drawn into his arms, and only when her face is hidden against his neck will she allow her shoulders to relax. She’ll take a deep breath, her arms tightening around his waist, and he’ll hold her for however long she allows.

Today, Zahra needs a hug, and Shaan will do whatever he must to give it to her. It helps that it’s not a lie—Shaan really could use a hug himself, after everything.

He has to keep himself from smiling when she rolls her eyes and lets out her usual huff. The rest follows as he’s become accustomed to, though she holds him tighter and longer than he was expecting. Then she shocks him by murmuring, “I love you,” into the collar of his shirt. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

“I’m here, my love,” he breathes as he smooths a hand over her hair. “I’m here.”

[aziraphales-library]

May be an odd request, but do you have any fic recs where Anathema is characterized really well?

I don't see much of her, and when I do, she tends to be there to fulfill a role that may be lacking for what I'm after

I went through my bookmarks and picked fics I remember Anathema from, not just as a prop to get Aziraphale and Crowley together, but as a full character with her own stuff going on...

Friendship is Demonic Magic by Shadow0kana, whtbout2ndbrkfst (T)

After Crowley interrupts Aziraphale and Anathema’s phone conversations one too many times, Aziraphale suggests the two have their own meetups to discuss what they have in common. Cue monthly coffee dates between a witch and a demon who can passionately discuss (debate) anything from Halloween to Astronomy to Hamlet… while also conspiring to form a book swap aimed at getting Aziraphale to read anything written after 1950.

Reluctant Hospitality by brionypoisoned (G)

Anathema Device comes to stay at Aziraphale's book shop after breaking up with Newt. She doesn't know that Aziraphale and Crowley are romantically involved, and Aziraphale attempts to keep it that way. Everything goes very badly.

It's Not The Journey by cosmya (T)

It had been going so well. They’d averted the apocalypse, averted their punishments, averted further investigation or attention by their respective organizations. They were left with little to do but bask in the happy ending. Therein had been the problem. Another champagne, sir?” interrupted the flight attendant. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. Oh, I shouldn’t, he thought. “Yes, please,” he said. “Thank you.” Anathema and Newt are getting married, and two of their wedding guests are in a bit of an awkward place. An all-inclusive resort with unlimited alcohol is precisely what they need to re-break the ice.

Do I wanna know? by KissMyAsthma (M)

Aziraphale and Anathema are both closeted queer people, and they decide to do what any sensible closeted queer people do - they form a fake relationship, to shut the mouths of their families and shoo away unwanted suitors. Their comfortable arrangement is put into question when a school reunion makes Aziraphale reconnect - or connect, really - with his school crush, Anthony Crowley. But past is past, and now that they’re both adults, Aziraphale is just glad to make a friend. If the friend finds himself interested in Aziraphale… Well, there’s nothing for him to do since Aziraphale is taken, right?

what the water gave me (we'll watch the sun kiss the sea) by sabraneadaz (T)

“What’s your name?” Pepper asked, jumping to crest the next wave. She’d drifted further out to join Adam where he stood between the Them and the stranger. “All these questions,” the man said, “next you’ll be asking me if I’m an animal, vegetable, or mineral.” “Go on then,” said Adam. “Which one?” (The Them find their summer holidays spoiled by fly-tipping. A woman struggles with life without prophecy. A bookshop owner learns to love, and a mysterious man navigates 21st century courtship. In other words, it's the selkie au no-one asked for.)

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T)

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

- Mod D

[oceanfruitsstuff]

Yapping during my rewatch

Even discussing Mike and Will, whether it’s platonic or romantic, I always think it’s important to recognize their right dynamic in the show. I think at large, most of the audience of stranger things brushes their relationship to the side. Which can be understandable at times, the way Mike and Will interact is very soft and delicate in a plot of chaos. Their conversations—again, platonic or romantic—are extremely intimate. We obviously see this with other characters as well, but with Mike and Will it’s kind of ignored because there’s this overwhelm and “flare” of Mike and El, people believing that Mike is El’s in a sense, so when Will comes in the picture I’ve seen people evoke the emotion of…jealousy maybe? I’m not sure how to word it correctly if I’m being completely honest, and this is all purely my opinion, it’s very possible I’m way off.

What I’m saying, there is a lack of flash when it comes to Will and Mike, their love for eachother as friends, as maybe more, is displayed in quiet understanding, while a lot (not all) of other relationships in the show have this air of bravado. Hoper and Joyce (sometimes not always, but they are dramatic), El and Mike, even friendships like Dustin and Lucas, or the core four. It’s comedic and attention grabbing in the way that it’s somewhat loud or dramatic or funny. Not saying that Will and Mike don’t have their moments, they most definitely do, we all watched the rain scene and the rink-o-mania scene, but there is this heavy weight on those conversations of Mike and Will never quite saying what they want to say or trying to say. It’s not funny, their conversations aren’t necessarily humorous really ever. They obviously have that back and forth together as friends, but when we watch them on screen, even when they’re shoved next to eachother every second of most seasons, it’s subtle. Most love is found in the quiet—without other emotions warping what love truly is. It’s not brash or angry or jealous, it’s soft, kind, and delicate, but most of all, understanding. My opinion of course.

I’m just yapping constantly, so if this is not where your thoughts or beliefs with Will and Mike are, totally fine, not saying I’m completely correct or anything. Anyway, Will is a character somewhat placed in his own genre for the first two seasons of the show, which is where we really get to know all these other main characters. So when he shows up in season 3 as himself + having a speaking role, people have already built relationships with the other characters that we know a lot better than Will. We don’t really know Will that well, we’ve only really seen him as him for two seasons, compared to the other core 4 or El. So, when he swooped in and still was—whether anyone wants to admit it or not—Mike’s #1 without him being missing or possessed, I think people had mixed feelings about it.

Of course Mike’s focus was Will in season 1, is friend is missing. And of course Will is his focus in season 2, he’s possessed by an evil monster that might kill him…but then it continues. We are told in seasons 3 that Mike has been ignoring all of them for El all summer, but when the true plot hits, we’re seeing Will and Mike shoved right next to eachother throughout the entire season. The rain fight, Mike chasing after him, the sauna scene, car scene, the Byers moving scene in the kitchen, the shot of Mike looking back at the house and then immediately cutting to Will crying. It’s odd the tensioned focus put on those two. I think people were expecting El and Mike to be this unstoppable duo once Will was safe and Mike didn’t have to “save” him anymore. I mean Mike is this main guy with the superhero savior girlfriend, Will is gonna just be in the background now right? I didn’t even expect when I was watching the show for the first time, getting to season 3, to see so much of Mike and Will, it made my clocks start finally working. and when El and Mike together didn’t really happen, I think it raised a lot of questions, confusion, and irritation with the general audience. We’ve seen promo for El and Mike for years, and then you watch the show and suddenly quiet Will is in the place everyone expected El to be in. Everyone kind of has their partner in crime in the show. Usually it’s Dustin and Steve, Max and Lucas, Hopper and Joyce, El usually has a plot alone or leans towards Max the last two seasons—then Mike and Will, but shouldn’t it be El? Why isn’t it El? They’re this main important couple everyone’s making them out to be, but their relationship is shown as very brushed off or “isolated” or even a joke at times when you actually watch the show, especially in season 4. Will always just beats her out, even if it’s by a sliver. In the sense that he’s basically getting the relationship Mike and El should have outside of kissing. Mike doesn’t really have divided attention, at times they all do it’s a very long show, but overall, he’s very focused on Will. They are a duo, almost everyone else in the show is a duo with their love interest—unless they’re single or their girlfriend lives in Utah. And El is right there for Mike to be paired with, but he never is and I think it’s always raised the question, whether people are voicing it or not, as to why that is. When anything happens, Mike looks at Will first, we are shown that a lot actually since I’ve been going back and watching, it’s actually kind of crazy. People hate to admit it, but Mike and Will have been best friends their entire lives, I think at the end of the day of course it’s Will. It’s impossible for it not to be.

Anyway what am I even saying who knows, I think nothing is being hidden about Will and Mike’s relationship, based on how they structure couples in the show, we are told exactly who is gonna be with who, no matter what other interferences happen on the way there.

[riversenchanted]

Where your mercury is placed is where you have intelligence at in your birth chart

Mercury 1st house/ Aries: Intelligent about knowing how to express themselves/fashion geniuses. These people are typically multi talented and able to be highly skilled at anything they pursue. They are like sponges for information!

Mercury 2nd house/Taurus: Intelligent about money,investing, and material possessions. These people are likely to own their own businesses or be investors of some kind. They may have multiple streams of income. A highly abundant placement to have!

Mercury 3rd house/ Gemini: The jack of all trades! Intelligent speakers, communicators, learners, teachers. People can learn a lot just by being in their presence. Their brains move just a little bit faster than the world around them. Sometimes this placement is prone to adhd.

Mercury 4th house/ Cancer: intelligent about family, emotions, counsel, cooking, home life. These people are commonly psychic/claircognizant. They always know the right thing to say. These are the people you go to when you need advice snd support.

Mercury 5th house/ Leo: intelligent about the arts, romance, children, self expression. These people bring light into the room. They have a creative genius like no other and a magic in the way they think and operate. They have a strong creative intelligence.

Mercury 6th house/ Virgo: intelligent about analysis, health, structure, and logic. These people make excellent doctors, judges, and politicians. They have a strong memory and interest in bettering others lives and keeping things balanced and fair. They analyze things deeply and are always looking for ways to help and improve any situation they face. They’re always calculating and taking in information.

Mercury 7th house/ Libra: Intelligent about relationships, justice, counsel, influence. These people are strong communicators and have the power to influence others and bring people together. They are diplomatic and fair. Always looking for the gray area and middle ground in any situation.

Mercury 8th house/Scorpio: intelligent about solving mysteries, uncovering truth, emotional depth. These people make good investigators. This placement shows a strong desire to uncover truth and have a deeper understanding of why things are the way they are. They tend to see through peoples facades easily. These people can be psychic or empathic.

Mercury 9th house/ Sagittarius: intelligent about philosophy, religion, travel, culture. These people have a wide variety of knowledge. They are the type of people who will have random facts about everything. They will spark conversation with anyone. Always eager to learn and very tactile in the way that they learn as well.

Mercury 10th house/ Capricorn: intelligent in business, work, legacy, and reputation. These people are extremely detail oriented. They have sharp minds and don’t forget anything to easily. These placements are adaptable and flexible. Willing to face challenges head on and grow from them. May have remarkable careers and be well known for their skills in the work field.

Mercury 11th house/ Aquarius: intelligent in networking, community, problem solving, innovation, technology. These people think 10 steps ahead at all times. These are the visionary’s. Their minds always at work and looking to the future. An inventors mind. These people bring others together to solve a common issue and work efficiently with others.

Mercury 12th house/ Pisces: intelligent in creativity, psychology, intuition, spirituality. These people have rich inner worlds but may have difficulty expressing it fully. They spend a lot of time in deep contemplation and are highly observant. They have a talent for compassion and deeply understanding others. They see things from multiple points of view and therefore have the ability to problem solve from multiple angles.

[artificialcaretaker]

If we’re all collectively brainstorming what a Sonic 4 Stone would be like, I thought I might just drop in what I’m thinkin cause I’ve been THINKIN.

So like, I did that whole “F1X TH1S” panel redraw thing as just a fun lil reference but I’m thinkin like. I do think there’s some potential in him not necessarily being an antagonist but rather pulling up to wherever Sonic and Co. are and just very aggressively being like “I’m going to find where the Doctor is. You are going to help me. You don’t have a choice in this, let’s go.” Idk maybe he’s throwin Metal Sonics at ‘em to grab their attention maybe one catches them off guard and brings them directly to him idk!!

Anyways their immediate reaction is like “Dude we saw him Super Explode on live television what do you mean ‘find him’ how would that be possible :O” and he’s like “WE’RE GOING TO FIGURE IT OUT.” And at a certain point Sonic is probably like “Wait guys, Shadow was there too!! Maybe if we help then we can save our new friend :D” and Stone is like ok. Ok I guess whatever makes you work I dunno.

I definitely think he’d have to go through a lot of emotional development throughout the whole ordeal cuz like. He’s been with Robotnik for who the hell knows how long and now he’s gone and he refuses to believe there’s a way he won’t come back because he can’t really imagine a life without him. Y’know, classic stuff. And like he’d prolly have to do some self reflection on his motivations and stuff cuz he’s theoretically had the same motivations as Robotnik the whole time but ALSO his motivation is kinda just staying with him?? So like, I dunno, he has to do some self reflection on HIS wants in particular. Cuz as much as he doesn’t want to admit it there’s a very real possibility that he’s not coming back no matter what he tries to do. And THEN what?? THEN what’s his life gonna look like??

I imagine him being like. Very mean to Sonic and his lil posey like I don’t think he necessarily DISLIKES them but it’s like “GRAHHHHHH these darn KIDS are SMILING and having FUN and I’m so SERIOUS everyone stop hitting the griddy and LOCK IN RAHHHHHH 🤬🤬🤬” and they’re all like “Hey man chill out we’ve just gotta believe in ourselves :D” and he’s genuinely about to start throwing things. But also maybe they’re a part of the character development they’re probably like “Hey it’s so great that you really like this guy that’s so nice :D” and then it shifts to “Hey so it’s nice that you really like this guy but why do you always listen to what he wants what about what you want :O” and at some point they’re probably like “Hey so I’m sorry to tell you this but we think he might actually just be dead so y’know if you wanna go over any coping strategies :D” and Stone actually starts throwing things. Mfs be 40 and they opps 14 idk 😔😔😔

Idk HOW they figure out how to get Robotnik and Shadow back but come tf on they’re coming back we’re not stupid guys. And Sonic and gang are all like “YAYYYYYY we did it with the power of friendship and hope everything is back to normal :D” and Stone would go up to Robotnik and THEY FUCKIN KISS C’MON GUYS LET’S MAKE THIS ONE COUNT then he’s like “Ok Doctor so I know we just dragged you out of the solar system and all that but I think we need to have a serious discussion on boundaries and what we both want out of this relationship” and then Team Sonic are all like “YAYYYYYY he’s finally ready to have the tough conversations he needed to have :D” and then I dunno they try to initiate the Classic “C’mon, even YOU” Kids Movie Ending Hug but then Stone and Robotnik simultaneously start staring at them completely blank faced and go “We’re still trying to Super Kill you guys btw” and Sonic probably goes “*Gulp* guess we really ARE back to normal <:D” and we all do a collective GET OUT 🤬🤬🤬 at the screen.

Sound good guys?? Haha yea it sounds so good I’m so clever :]

[nerdishpursuits]

I find it heartwarming they keep reinforcing how well-established Marta and Fina are as a couple.

They are light-years ahead from any other pairing on the show, every interaction proof of their unassailable love and searing chemistry.

They way they communicate, understand and support each other, the undeniable spark in their eyes whenever they’re together, how they constantly ache to touch and feel each other. The way they talk things through and make joint decisions. Every single detail is a thing of beauty and contributes to their relationship feeling so natural and heartwarming: every impassioned word, every longing glance, every tender touch. It feels so intimate one almost senses they are intruding.

It’s clearer than ever that Marta wouldn’t happily enter a marriage of convenience. Her confession to Fina that she has no desire to repeat the situation with Jaime? Feeling trapped again, having to constantly pretend? Emphasising she would never willfully enter such a union, as it would make her utterly and profoundly miserable? Heartbreaking and revelatory. Much like Fina’s own, pained admission that a world in which Pelayo’s outlandish proposal makes sense is a sad world to live in.

Prophetic conversation aside, how delightful were their scenes together? The profound satisfaction of being able to sleep in each other’s arms, the delight of having the freedom to bask in each other’s warmth and affection, the flirtatious banter that ignites their smoldering desire.

And most of all? Knowing Marta doesn’t want to be tied down to anyone unless it’s Fina herself. Be still my heart. Oh, how they're going to suffer.

They try to fence the world out but it keeps creeping in. It’s depressing that the word of an abuser like Santiago carries more weight than that of a respectable woman like Marta. Why the priest would ever give credence to any of those rumors is stupefying. As is the fact that prison gossip is suddenly making the rounds around town and the colony. Then again, misogyny is the order of the day and the church very much champions obedient women, not trail-blazers like Marta. As a consequence, it will meddle where it’s not welcome, doing its best to clip her wings.

All that aside, I’m naively curious if they’ll end up dedicating screen time to the mini vacation Marta and Fina want to take together. Considering things are about to take a turn for the worst? Some happiness, before misery makes itself at home, would be most welcome (as always, not holding my breath on this one as much as I’d love to see them gaze at the ocean together)

Extra points if they reenact the scenario they were toying with: we’d have to purchase separate train tickets and run into each other by happenstance … it’d be like a spy movie, only this one would have a happy ending - and you’d be my Greta Garbo

Swoonworthy much, Mafin?

Lastly. I like the fact they’re reaffirming Marta’s awareness and acceptance of her sexuality, time and again. By emphasising her outright rejection of another marriage to a man, even a gay one, it’s clearer than ever that Marta de la Reina knows who she is and whom she loves. There’s no doubt about it. It’s why the very thought of being tied to a man, yet again, is so viscerally uncomfortable and entirely unfathomable. To quote one Taylor Slow: Marta’s seen this movie before and she didn’t like the ending.

Therefore, it must be downright agonizing to realize she’s being slowly pushed into another cage. And how devastating for Fina as well: she’s so desperate to protect Marta that she’s willing to entertain the idea of the woman she loves marrying someone else. Even if it’s solely out of convenience, it must be excruciating to even contemplate. Never mind urging Marta to go through with it? New level of torment unlocked.

Now on to see how this entire Pelayo business unfolds and what fresh hell and pretty rainbows they have in store for us.

We’ll have to let the chips fall where they may. Buckle up, muffincup. Curves aplenty lie ahead.

P.s. Carpena took his sweet time but, at long last, made it onto the shit list, joining Carmen who’s been enjoying quite the extended stay (she will, most likely, refuse the one month business trip - I have the niggling suspicion Fina will end up going instead)

P.s. 1 Claudia is a frickin’ ray of of sunshine: too good for this world, too pure

P.s. 2 I’d like to see more of the Marta and Luz friendship. It feels like they haven’t seen each other since Jaime’s passing. But I guess Luz’s assignment is mainly as Begoña’s friend and confidant. So they’re saving Pelayo for Marta: Miss MarPel, the spinsters mini series.

[gingerteafairy]

butterfly effect (tate langdon x reader)

You've seen enough time travelling movies to know you would get out of this loop if you fix something and maybe this thing is stopping Tate from his destiny.

tags n warnings: angst, bullying, time travel, family issues, depression, murder house references, platonic relationship. word count: 5.2k

April 1st, 2000, 8:00 PM

You step into the subway, hands buried deep in the pockets of your coat. Finding the nearest empty seat, you drop into it with a tired expression, the dark circles under your eyes betraying how desperately you needed rest. Your friend sits beside you, her cheerful smile seeming untouched by the exhausting day at work.

You close your eyes, hoping to catch a moment of peace, but your attempt is swiftly interrupted by sharp, boisterous noises. Groaning inwardly, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, already knowing what caused the commotion without needing to look: teenagers being loud and rowdy.

“What does a person have to do to get some peace?” you mutter irritably, cracking your eyes open and throwing a glare full of quiet disdain at the group of carefree teens.

“Talking about the school kids?” your friend chuckles at your annoyed expression, turning to glance at the teens herself. “Don’t be mad—they’re just like we were once.”

“Not like this.” You scowl, crossing your arms and sinking back into the seat.

She laughs, the sound carefree as she leans her head against the subway wall. “I kinda wish I was like them again… so happy. I liked school.”

“I didn’t,” you counter, shaking your head. Your gaze drifts to the ceiling as a faint heaviness settles in your chest. “It was all so confusing, so chaotic. We had hormones, college applications and rude teachers.”

“You sound ancient saying that—you’re 24. It wasn’t that long ago.” She teases, her grin infectious enough to tug a reluctant smile from you. “Let me guess, you were the quiet kid.”

“Not the quiet kid exactly,” you reply, your brow furrowing at the memory. “But I did deal with some bullying. That’s why I just wanted out.”

“Wow… I’m sorry about that,” she says softly, her playful tone replaced with genuine sympathy. She pats your shoulder warmly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “I had a few friends. Bonnie and Neil. They were really nice. We had some good times, too.” Your gaze returns to the teenagers, now practically climbing the walls in their excitement. “Yeah… every now and then, we were just like them.”

“There’s the confession we were waiting for,” she jokes, laughter bubbling out and pulling a chuckle from you as well.

“They got married, Neil and Bonnie. That's just so funny, they were like salt and pepper. Inseparable.” You remembered.

“This is awesome. One of my school mates is waiting for twins. Oh, time flies, isn't it?” 

“Yeah… There was one boy…” you begin, your voice trailing off. “He was the quiet one. I can’t remember his name anymore, but I found out later… he died. It was awful.”

“That’s terrible…” she murmurs, her gaze turning distant. “He must’ve been so sad.”

“He was,” you admit, your voice quieter now. You couldn’t remember his name, but one thing had stayed with you all these years: his eyes. They were deep, haunting, filled with a sorrow that felt older than the universe itself. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still 18.”

“It’s like we never really grow up,” she agrees.

The nostalgic conversation carries on until the subway screeches to a halt at your station. Together, you step off, parting ways with your friend as you begin the walk home.

The silence of the night envelops you, your thoughts turning inward. You sigh, gazing up at the sky, remembering how much you loathed high school. Life had improved dramatically since then, and yet…

You couldn’t help but wonder: what if you’d taken more chances? What if you’d made a fresh start or even saved a depressed teenager like yourself? But there’s no going back. Maybe you were okay with that. Maybe.

The sound of your alarm clock jolts you awake, and you groan, bracing for yet another monotonous day at work. As your mind clears, something feels… off. Your brows furrow, eyes blinking into focus as you realize your head is resting on a wooden desk—not your bed. You sit up abruptly, taking in your surroundings. Teenagers, vaguely familiar, bustle around the room, grabbing books and stuffing them into their backpacks.

“What the hell is this?” you murmur, disoriented.

“Aaaand guess who’s gonna be prom queen this year? Paris Hilton!” A familiar voice snaps you out of your daze. You turn, squinting at two faces you hadn’t seen in what feels like ages.

“Neil… Bonnie… Is that you?” A wide grin breaks across your face as you stand and pull your friends into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! Where have you been? You guys look exactly the same as in high school!”

“Uh… okay?” Bonnie chuckles nervously, pulling back with a bewildered look. “We saw you, like, five minutes ago. Are you drunk?”

“Drunk? She passed drunk hours ago, she's freaking high,” Neil teases, giving you a playful squeeze before stepping back. “Gimme some of this weed you're consuming, girl. Maybe I can gain courage to ask Bonnie out.”

“Stop it, you nuts. She's gonna say we will marry again someday.” She giggled, nudging him.

“Oh, we’ll definitely get married, shawty. Just wait for it.” He winked at her. “Anyway, in case you missed it—Paris Hilton, prom queen!”

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“April Fools!” they laugh in unison, their teasing grins infectious as you blink at them in surprise.

“Come on, math class is starting,” Bonnie says, tugging on your arm.

“April Fools…” you echo softly, your brain racing to make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze lands on the calendar at the front of the classroom, and your heart nearly stops.

April 1st, 1994.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.

Your hand flies to your hair—it feels different, lighter. You glance down at your outfit: a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans you distinctly remember throwing away years ago. “I’m back in high school,” you groan, the weight of the realization sinking in.

“Man, she’s really out of it,” Neil comments with a laugh, shaking his head at your dazed expression.

You barely register his words, your body moving on autopilot as you follow your friends into the bustling hallway. The noise and chaos feel overwhelming, and before you can fully process it, someone slams into your shoulder, sending you stumbling to the ground.

“What the hell?” you snap, glaring up as a mocking laugh pierces the air.

“Oops,” the girl sneers, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thought the janitor had already picked up the trash.” She laughs again, flanked by two other girls who mirror her smug expression.

Your eyes narrow as recognition dawns. Jade Beryl. The queen bee who made your life miserable.

Fury flares in your chest. You stand, brushing yourself off with deliberate slowness before locking eyes with her. “What’s your problem, Jade? Blind, or just plain stupid? If you need glasses, I can hook you up with a number. Might help you see past those dollar-store contacts you’re wearing. Seriously, fifty cents? Pathetic.”

The grin slips from her face, her confidence faltering for the first time.

“Looks like someone finally grew a backbone,” she mutters, throwing a nervous glance at her silent companions. She elbows them to follow her, but they remain rooted in place, stunned by your sudden boldness.

“Once trash, always—wait!” she yells after you, but you’ve already turned on your heel, marching toward your next class without a second glance.

“Dude, that was epic!” Bonnie beams, grabbing your arm as you push open the door to the classroom. “You totally owned her!”

You manage a small smile, but your mind is racing. What the hell is going on? How did you get here? And, more importantly, what are you supposed to do now that you’re back in 1994?

Neil laughs along with Bonnie. “It’s a shame we don’t sit together in this class.”

“Yeah, she’s paired with the weirdo,” Bonnie whispers, glancing around to make sure no one overheard her comment.

“Weirdo?” you ask, curious, adjusting the strap of your backpack.

“Tate Langdon,” she murmurs into your ear, and you freeze.

Tate. The boy you were partnered with back in school, the one whose life ended so tragically after the school shotting. You remember him as a quiet, sweet boy who rarely opened up. You’d always felt too shy to try and befriend him, too afraid of overstepping. He always sat alone and seemed so tired and sad.

Your legs seem to move on their own as you make your way to the back of the classroom, where he’s sitting alone, quietly reading a book. He doesn’t notice you at first, his focus completely absorbed by the pages. When you stop in front of him, he finally looks up, his expression unreadable.

“Hi, Tate,” you say with a polite smile. He tilts his head slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Mind if I sit here with you?”

He hesitates, glancing between you and your friends, who are still staring from across the room. His brows knit together slightly before he murmurs, “I guess you’ve already completed the dare.”

“Dare?” you repeat, baffled. The weight of the moment feels almost crushing, as if the air around you has grown ten times heavier.

Tate sighs, closing his book and resting it on the desk. “Sometimes people come up to talk to me as part of some dumb truth-or-dare game.”

“Pffft. That’s so immature,” you blurt out, immediately regretting the words as they leave your mouth. You let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “Sorry, that… sucks.”

“Sucks?” he echoes, and to your surprise, he chuckles. His smile transforms his face, making him look younger and more carefree even with the eyebags. You can’t help but notice how good looking he is. Caught staring, you quickly sit down beside him, trying to regain composure. “Cool shirt.”

“Oh…” you smile, catching his shyness through the monotone voice. “Thanks, Tate. But you have a good set there. Normal people…”

“Normal people scare me.” He completes, slightly blushing at the corny t-shirt. “It 's a fact.”

“Totally.” You beamed with the opening, maybe being his friend wasn't as difficult as you thought “So… what are you reading?” you ask gently, determined to keep the conversation going.

“A book about birds,” he replies, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. He shows you the cover, and with a moment of hesitation, places the book on your desk. “You can read it if you want.”

“Thank you, Tate.” You smile, picking up the book as if it’s a piece of him. Opening to the first page, you skim through it, feeling a glimpse of the depth in his quiet personality. You remember how talented he was in literature, how he’d write the most hauntingly beautiful poems.

“I’ll read more when I get home. Can you give me your phone number so I can call you later?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

His reaction is immediate—he swallows hard, his eyes widening slightly as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He looks at you, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Oh no,” you stammer, realizing how uncomfortable you’ve made him. “I didn’t mean to be pushy… we don’t even know each other that well. I’m just some random person who came up to you out of nowhere. I’m sorry!”

“It’s not that…” he mumbles, glancing at you from under his lashes. “It’s just… no one’s ever asked for my number before. I don’t even know it by heart.”

Your initial embarrassment fades into relief, and you laugh softly. “That’s okay…”

But to your surprise, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small piece of paper. “I wrote the number down, my mom told me. I keep it in my bag,” he explains quietly, placing the paper on the desk.

You take it carefully, your fingers brushing his for a split second. “Thanks, Tate,” you say, your voice soft, your smile genuine.

For a moment, his lips quirk up again, and you realize this might be the beginning of a chance you never thought you’d have.

You carefully folded the small piece of paper and slipped it into your pocket, planning to call him later from home. Tate pulled out his math notebook, setting it on the desk with a hesitant expression, clearly struggling with something on the page.  

“Need help?” you asked instinctively, and he nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. You picked up the notebook and scanned the problem. “Holy fuck, what kind of demonic sorcery is this? I don’t remember math being this bad.”  

“You sound like my mom,” he chuckled quietly, his gaze softening. His laugh caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were reminded of the subtle age gap between you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make this setting feel slightly surreal.  

“Well, looks like we’re just two idiots stuck figuring this out together,” you teased, letting out a dramatic sigh and giving yourself a playful facepalm.  

Tate smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Great, my only help probably doesn’t even know what two plus two is.”  

You gasped, feigning offense, then laughed at his unexpected sarcasm. He wasn’t anything like you remembered—or like the rumors you’d heard.  

“Alright, genius, let’s see you tackle this one.” You pointed to a particularly nasty equation, raising an eyebrow at him.  

“Nope, that’s all you, Einstein,” he shot back, arching an eyebrow.  

You clutched your chest in mock hurt, then grinned. “We should study at your place sometime. Might make this easier.”  

The lightness of the moment shifted instantly. His expression darkened, the shadow of something heavy crossing his face. His jaw tightened slightly, and the familiar pain and turmoil you remembered seeped into his features.  

“Okay,” he said shortly, his voice clipped. Realizing how abrupt he sounded, he cleared his throat and attempted a half-hearted smile. “Sorry… it’s just… my house is kinda… you’ll see.”  

You nodded slowly, sensing you’d touched on something sensitive. Maybe it was his home life. Maybe this was part of why things went so wrong for him.  

Before you could say anything more, the classroom door swung open, and Jade strutted in with her usual arrogance. Her eyes landed on the two of you, and her lips curled into a cruel smirk.  

“Well, well, the weirdo and the loser. What a perfect pair,” she sneered, raising an eyebrow.  

Tate’s jaw tightened again, his gaze fixed on the window as if willing himself to disappear.  

“Hey, is your home life so bad that you have to bring other people down just to feel better?” you snapped, standing from your chair.  

Jade faltered, her smirk wavering as her eyes flickered with uncertainty. “My life’s fine, thanks. Better than yours, clearly.”  

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “Truly good people don’t tear others down to lift themselves up.” You paused, softening slightly. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. If you need help, I can help you. I know people like you usually have… complicated histories.”  

Jade’s expression froze, her confident demeanor cracking. For a split second, her fake blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she quickly brushed it off, straightening her posture and walking away briskly.  

You sighed, sitting back down, and noticed Tate watching you with his head resting on his hand. His lips curved into a faint, amused smile. “You’re… really weird.”  

You laughed nervously, smoothing your clothes and shrugging. “I just… know some things.”  

“Right.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile growing just a little.  

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a breakthrough. For the first time, you saw a glimmer of something lighter in his eyes, something that hinted at hope.  

The moment was interrupted as the teacher entered the room, starting the lesson. But as you turned to your notebook, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, you were changing things—one small moment at a time. You've seen enough time travelling movies to know you would get out of this loop if you fix something and maybe this thing is stopping Tate from his terrible ending. 

When class ended, you found yourself walking alongside Tate to his house. The building was grand and beautiful, with a timeless, antique charm. Yet, something about it felt wrong—like the air was thicker here, carrying an unshakable weight. The moment you stepped inside, the emptiness of the house struck you, but it didn’t feel like you were truly alone. A chill crept up your spine as if unseen eyes were watching.

“I’ll grab something real quick,” Tate said, disappearing down a hallway without waiting for a reply.

You stood there awkwardly, the silence pressing down on you. A strange urge pulled you toward the staircase. Slowly, you climbed the creaking wooden steps, each one groaning under your weight, amplifying the eerie stillness.

At the top, you found yourself in a long corridor lined with closed doors. You reached out to touch a doorknob, curious about the house’s secrets.

“That’s not Tate’s room,” a voice said suddenly, sharp and cutting through the silence.

You jumped, spinning around to see a tall woman with fiery red hair standing behind you. Her pale face and piercing gaze made your heart leap into your throat.

“I… I wasn’t—” you stammered.

“His room is that one,” she interrupted, pointing to a door further down the hall. Without another word, she turned and descended the stairs, disappearing into the shadows below.

You swallowed hard, your unease growing. The house seemed to pulse with its own life, every corner shrouded in an unexplainable darkness.

Taking a shaky breath, you moved to the door she had pointed out. You opened it cautiously and stepped inside. The room immediately screamed Tate. Posters of grunge bands lined the walls, stacks of CDs and books were scattered across the shelves, and the air smelled faintly of incense.

Your gaze was drawn to the desk, where a pile of papers sat. You stepped closer, your fingers brushing over the edges of handwritten notes. They were poems—raw, emotional, and hauntingly beautiful. As you leaned in to read one, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

Before you could react, a sudden presence loomed behind you. A hand covered your eyes, and you let out a startled scream, spinning around to find Tate standing there, grinning mischievously.

“Boo! Did I scare you?” he teased, his smile laced with a boyish charm.

“You scared me a lot! What the hell, Tate?” You pushed his shoulder lightly, your heart pounding as you tried to calm yourself.

“Sorry,” he said, though the glint in his eye betrayed his amusement. He plopped down onto the floor, motioning for you to join him. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“You’re such a dork,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but laugh. Still, the tension in your chest hadn’t fully dissipated. Something about this house lingered, heavy and oppressive.

As you sat across from him, your gaze inadvertently dropped to his wrists. Faint scars crisscrossed his pale skin, and a lump formed in your throat.

“You can ask,” Tate said softly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You snapped your eyes back to his face, feeling a rush of guilt for staring. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, offering a small, almost fragile smile. “I can tell you the stories behind them if you want.”

“You don’t have to… if it makes you uncomfortable,” you said gently, returning his smile in an attempt to ease the tension.

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. 

The room fell into a quiet lull, but the weight of that unspoken conversation lingered. Despite the unease that clung to the house like a shadow, sitting here with Tate felt like the beginning of something—something that might just change everything.

"You… tried to kill yourself?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, cutting through the silence like a knife.  

Tate looked down at the scars on his wrists, his fingers brushing over them unconsciously. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the weight of the truth.  

"Once," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a burden was being lifted off his shoulders, like he was letting someone in for the first time. "I took a bunch of pills, and, well… it didn’t work. I remember thinking, ‘Fuck, I can’t even do this right.’”  

You let out a small laugh at his dark humor, but your worry lingered beneath it. "I’ve… felt that way before too. I tried to kill me once, but I stopped.” 

"Why?" he asked, his tone curious but gentle.  

"I don’t know," you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. "Mostly family stuff. I’ve got some serious daddy issues, you know? And then there’s school… the bullying…"  

"But you totally owned that girl today," he pointed out with a small smirk.  

"Not always," you admitted, your voice softer now. "It used to really get to me."  

"Well, you’ve changed," he said firmly, meeting your eyes. "You’re strong now. Strong enough that nothing can break you."  

The words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. You’d never really stopped to think about how far you’d come.  

"Why did you say that about your house?" you asked, changing the subject gently.  

He leaned back, his arms wrapping around his knees. "Mostly because of my family," he admitted, his tone dropping. "My mom’s… well, she’s a bit crazy. Major mommy issues."  

"Looks like we’re a perfect match," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.  

"But I feel like my family is stranger than most," he added, his expression growing serious again.  

"Aren’t all families strange?" you teased, and he chuckled softly. But there was still something heavy in his gaze.  

"I think mine’s… worse," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, after a moment, he looked back at you, his expression unreadable. "Fun fact: this house is haunted."  

"Haunted?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Like a horror movie?"  

"Worse," he said with a straight face, leaning in slightly. "The difference is… this one’s real."  

"Oh, of course," you laughed, rolling your eyes.  

"I’m serious," he insisted, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression.  

"Right," you said sarcastically, crossing your arms.  

Tate clicked his tongue, sitting back with a small smirk. "Don’t worry, though. I’ll protect you."  

"My hero," you said, laughing at the absurdity of being "protected" by an 18-year-old boy. He laughed too, the sound soft but genuine.  

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that—about the oddities of his house, the nightmare that was high school. By the time the day ended, you felt like you’d seen a completely different side of Tate. He wasn’t the boy everyone whispered about; he was kind, complicated, and surprisingly funny.  

Later that night, you couldn’t help but worry about him. You dialed his number just to make sure he was okay, but no one picked up. Maybe it was too late. Even Tate Langdon needed to sleep eventually.

The alarm clock blared again, dragging you reluctantly from sleep. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Relief washed over you as you scanned your room. It was familiar—your apartment, your life. Everything seemed normal again.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you checked the date.

April 2, 2000. 

“So, it was all just a dream,” you muttered with a faint smile, a serene expression softening your features. You got up, shaking off the lingering haze, ready to face another day at work.

At the station, you met your colleague, who greeted you with her usual cheerful smile. The world felt steady again, routine and predictable. Yet, deep down, a small, stubborn part of you wished that dream had been real. That Tate hadn’t died. That he was still out there somewhere, and maybe—just maybe—you two could have been friends.

“I’ll take the next train,” your friend said suddenly, glancing at her watch. “I need to stop by somewhere first.”

You nodded, watching her walk off in the opposite direction. Shrugging, you turned your attention back to the arriving train. Today was important—you couldn’t afford to be late.

Once inside, you scanned the carriage for a seat. Your usual spot was free… almost. A tall man stood near it, engrossed in a book, large headphones covering his ears. He seemed so absorbed in his own world that you hesitated, unsure of how to approach.

“Excuse me, can I sit here?” you asked politely.

He didn’t respond. You tried again, louder this time, but he remained oblivious. Mustering a bit more courage, you lightly tapped his shoulder.

The moment he turned to face you, your breath caught in your throat.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, blinking in surprise as if he’d seen a ghost. He quickly removed his headphones, his piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“I'm so sorry. Shit you were on headphones. Did I scare you—” you began, but your words faltered as you truly saw him.

It couldn’t be.

“I think that’s the first thing I said to you when you came to my house,” he said, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “But… I guess you don’t remember me.”

Your knees felt weak. That voice. That laugh. The same sharp eyes, the familiar golden curls.

“Tate?” you whispered, your heart racing.

A knowing smile spread across his face, and you stepped closer, unable to believe it. It was him. Tate Langdon. The same boy you thought you’d never see again.

“Tate, oh my God,” you breathed, pulling him into a hug before you could stop yourself.

He froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then he hugged you back, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You’re alive,” you murmured, almost in disbelief. “You’re really here.”

He laughed softly, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, alive and kicking. Sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

“What happened?” you asked, sitting down beside him, still stunned.

He sighed, leaning back slightly. “After our conversation that day, I packed up and left. Same day you left my house. I didn’t even think twice about it. I grabbed what little savings I had, took the first train out of town, and came to New York. No goodbyes, no looking back. I just… I had to leave all the bad behind. That town, that house, my parents…”

You nodded, hanging onto his every word.

“So that’s why you didn’t answer my call,” you murmured, the pieces falling into place. It all made sense now—why your phone call went unanswered, why he seemed to vanish without a trace.

“I had to disappear for a while,” he admitted, glancing out the window as if the memory was still fresh. “But it was the best thing I could’ve done. I needed to start over.”

Looking at him now, you could see the difference. Tate seemed lighter, freer—his smile was genuine, his laughter no longer tinged with sadness. He was still the quiet, thoughtful boy you remembered, but the weight he carried back then seemed to have lifted.

You couldn’t help but smile, a bittersweet feeling swelling in your chest. Tate had survived, and he’d made it out. Somehow, against all odds, he’d found his way to a better life. And now, as if by fate, you’d found him again.

"I got this terrible job at McDonald's..." Tate chuckled, lost in the memory as he stared ahead. "Got fired, of course, but eventually landed a spot working at a record store."

"That’s a much better fit for you," you teased, grinning at him.

"Yeah... but can you believe I got fired from McDonald's for putting pickles on the wrong sandwich?" He turned to you with an exaggerated look of disbelief.

"Honestly, it sounds fair. A lot of people hate pickles."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" he protested, feigning indignation.

You laughed, but his tone shifted to something softer. "Still, it was for the best. I met the manager at the record store after that, and we really hit it off. He told me I might even be promoted to manager someday."

"Tate, that's amazing!" you said, beaming with genuine pride.

"Eh, maybe. But sometimes I see a Nirvana record and feel this weird sadness," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "You know Kurt Cobain died just days after we talked about him back then? I haven’t been able to listen to Nirvana since."

"Seriously?" you asked, tilting your head in surprise.

"Not once," he nodded, his tone serious. "But I do listen to Foo Fighters now. Dave Grohl was the drummer, so... it feels like keeping a small piece of Kurt alive."

You laughed softly, leaning back against the subway wall. "I’m really glad I ran into you today, Tate."

"Don’t say that like we won’t see each other again," he said, pouting playfully as he mimicked your position. "This time, I’m not disappearing or leaving the city. You’re stuck with me now."

His words struck a chord, filling your chest with a bittersweet warmth. You squeezed his hand, trying to blink away the sudden tears welling in your eyes.

"Thank you, Tate," you whispered.

"No," he said, clasping your hand tightly with both of his. "Thank you. In fact, as a proper thank-you for being my friend back then, I’m giving you a record from your favorite band."

After work, you couldn’t resist checking out his record store. The moment you walked in, you were greeted by the scent of vinyl and the warm glow of nostalgia. Tate waved at you from behind the counter, his hair slightly disheveled as he rang up a customer.

“Give me a sec!” he called, motioning for you to look around.

You browsed the aisles, running your fingers along the spines of old and new records until you stumbled upon a display of Foo Fighters albums. Grinning, you picked one up and walked back to the counter just as Tate finished.

“You’ve got good taste,” he joked, taking the record from you. “But this one’s on me.”

“Tate, you don’t have to—”

“Ah, ah, ah! It’s my thank-you gift, remember?” He held up a finger, his grin mischievous.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes playfully. “But only if you recommend something new for me to listen to.”

He brightened at the challenge, quickly disappearing into the shelves and returning with an album you’d never seen before.

“This one. Trust me, you’ll love it,” he said confidently, sliding it into a bag along with your Foo Fighters pick.

“Guess I have homework now,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the bag.

“See you soon?” he asked, leaning casually on the counter.

“Count on it,” you said, smiling as you headed out the door. “And Tate…”

“Yeah?”

“I still listen to Nirvana.” You chuckled, stepping out and missing Tate's laughing, shaking his head as he came back to work on his discos. 

[legacyfiless]

he definitely disagrees with that statement — bryan’s pretty much the total opposite in nigel’s eyes but for once he decides bite his tongue and hold the snarky comment back for the sake of this conversation going surprisingly well. “ alright then, fair enough ” shrugs it off although he does have a slight feeling that their seemingly healthy ex relationship wouldn’t be so good if he found out about this “ what’s the problem with that? i was giving you a compliment ” he might be testing his luck a little, but she’s fun to be around, even if they’re ‘ fighting ’ — anyone else probably would’ve walked away by now, and he would’ve let them, just not her. she was too good to let go of “ oh? alright, deal then ” it only manages to reel him in even further, like a challenge to try impress her, in the back of his mind he knows bryan would kill him for even trying this but somehow that makes it even more apealling

“ is it though? i’m not even trying to make it weird now i’m just making a point ” partly a point to drag this conversation on a little longer so that it won’t end so soon, this attention isn’t so bad. her jokes make him smile, and it’s not often that nigel ever really softens up for anyone besides his friends— even at that, the majority of the time he’s sitting there straight faced no cracking a smile for anyone “ yeah well, maybe you should do it more often, it’s pretty on you. and i am far from boring, thank you. i’ve managed to keep your attention for this long so i’ll take it as a win ” he didn’t initially expect her to flirt back, more so thought he’d be warranted another shut up but he definitely wasn’t gonna complain about it “ as much as i’ve liked this, how about i get both? your number and i take you out for a drink ”