#open to suggestions for other things people use on their desks…

[pitconfirm]

2025 is the year I upgrade my battle station (desk setup)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[seratopia]

vi x reader (fluff) - modern au ; around the house

→ she/her pronouns!

self-indulgent, personal headcannons i have for VI! suggestive and pervy! you've been warned!

an absolute BEAST if she sees you around the house in your loungewear. you won't be able to walk by the kitchen, do laundry, ANYTHING without her hand somewhere on your ass.

she especially loves when you wear just an oversized tee and underwear; goes apeshit if the shirt lifts and she catches a glimpse of your butt while you're doing something mundane like reach for a mug on a shelf.

It's a lazy Sunday at Vi's apartment, meaning that the both of you have most likely haphazardly thrown on each other's clothes as a slim effort at modesty.

Vi has on a raggedy black wifebeater, no bra of course, and some random pair of plaid boxers. You've thrown on a shirt you found on the floor, which you didn't know said, "BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN" until you looked in the mirror. Oh well.

Suspecting that Vi would probably be playing Call of Duty in her room or something, you frolick off to the kitchen, thinking you can just make yourself lunch and binge a Netflix show.

You were very wrong. She already started getting bored as soon as she entered the lobby, thinking too much about how she should be with you since you're at her flat anyway.

Discarding her headset to the side, Vi leaps off of her desk chair, excitedly wandering around the apartment to see if she could find you. And she does, finding you reaching up on a shelf for a bowl.

Her eyes aren't on you though, moreso on the literal SLIVER of ass that shows as the t-shirt lifts. You're standing on your tippy-toes too, since Vi purposefully puts the bowls on the top shelf for this exact reason.

Whilst stirring your ramen, you feel a rough palm slide up against where your thighs and ass meet, giving you a good squeeze. It's almost ignorable at this point, since she does it so often. Vi's all up on you, gently pinching your butt before sliding her palms up onto your waist. She pulls you into her as you stir up your ramen, aligning up her front to your back.

A kiss is pressed to your nape, before she leans her cheek on your shoulder. A whiny groan escapes her lips, where she squeezes your waist tight.

"Mmph, you're so cute... you know that?" She murmurs into your ear, like she can't handle it.

The airy giggle that escapes your lips almost has Vi's head spinning, in which she rests her chin on your shoulder to see what's on the stove.

"What'cha making?" She asks, and you affectionately place your hand on top of hers.

"Shin. You wanna share?" You answer, turning the stove off as steam starts to wafe from the pot.

You feel a nod against your shoulder. "Mhm."

౨ৎ ――

has these strangeeee cravings/struggle meals, mannerisms too. she grew up in prison for most of her teenage-to-adult life, so she had to get creative when it came to food she wanted to eat.

sometimes she'd crush up dry ramen noodles and sprinkle the flavoring packet as a snack, or dip plain bread in applesauce

she will eat ANYTHING, no complaints, she's seen the worst, probably has a stomach of steel

she eats so fast too, so quickly. like those reels about the girl taking her time to eat and the boyfriend finishing his meal in 20 seconds.

i reckon she eats alot too, either fast metabolism, or just that she burns alot of calories in general from being so active.

her body runs warm

DUDE she'll look at people weird too; i feel like she has a staring problem sometimes. if you're at a sephora or something she'll give you some space, but then stare at you from afar like some creep

(i dont know anything about prison)

Over the years of dating Vi, you're noticed the 'prison' behavior that never really washed out of her. She's opened up a lot to you about her experience in jail; what she was in for, how she felt, the types of thing she's had to do to get by. You treat the subject with upmost gentleness, something that Vi's never really used to as someone who's been traumatized her entire life.

You've started to see reoccurring comfort meals that she eats sometimes. Once, you asked Vi if she wanted anything from the supermarket while you out. She texted you; can u get me cheese ritz crackers.

It's almost like you knew Vi was up to something silly; when you came home with the crackers, she did a little, "oooh, yay!" before pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

"Why'd you want these?" You asked, kicking off your shoes at the door.

She grabbed the packet from your hand, in which you notice a tender, nostalgic expression on her face as she peered at the packaging.

"Mac & cheese." She just said with a cheeky grin, heading over to the kitchen.

You watch as she would scrape the cheese filling off the crackers, put them into a bowl, and melt them down in the microwave with a bit of butter and milk. While that's happening, she'd boil a packet of instant noodles, and then dump the noodles into the 'sauce' and stir it up.

"Y'know, I made this a lot in jail. It's my favorite." She'd explain to you with a full mouth, groaning with every bite she took.

And now, sometimes you make it, just to make Vi happy.

౨ৎ ――

your first christmas with Vi was super cute. though Vi used to celebrate christmas in early childhood, she doesn't really remember it. christmas time during jail was just receiving small goody bags from charities; nothing heartfelt or meaningful.

vi almost doesn't know what to do with herself during christmas, especially when you're feeling all festive and making gentle decorations around the apartment.

she used to not care about holidays, but now she does, because you do <3

Knelt on the soft, carpeted floor of your apartment, you sit across from Vi. She has on these silly Christmas-themed pajama pants on that you gifted her mid-December, along with the hoodie she likes to sleep in the most. You're bundled up in warm pajamas, complete with a silly Santa hat on top of your head.

Reaching underneath the decorated tree, you pull out a wrapped parcel, handing it to your girlfriend with a warm, excited smile. The way she looks at the present is so confused, so awkwardly cute. Hesitantly, she takes it in her hand.

"Is this for me?"

"Duh! Yes, you can open it." You say with a smile.

You watch as Vi peels back the layers of colorful wrapping paper with a tiny smile on her face, fighting the urge to pull your phone out and start recording like a proud parent.

A little gasp escapes your breath when Vi finally reveals the present; a black, cat-eared beanie you crocheted for her in secret weeks prior. The way her face utterly lights up has your heart melting inside. You realize how big this might be for her; one of her first real Christmases, one of her first real handmade gifts.

She peers up at you, with the beanie in her lap. "Did you make this?"

You nod. "Yeah, you wear beanies a lot so, I thought a kitty-cat one would be cute."

You watch as Vi's face starts to twist whilst looking down at the beanie, her eyebrows loosening while her chin starts to wrinkle just a little bit. She quickly sinks her head low, using the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away at fat tears that dribble down her cheek.

At first you don't know how to handle it, until you shuffle closer to her on your knees, placing your hand on her knee. After sniffling a few times, she looks to you with reddened eyes, a quivering lip.

Setting the beanie aside onto the carpet, Vi hoists you closer to her with two palms by your sides. She wraps you up in a warm, tight bear hug, digging her cheek into the side of your neck with sniffles against your ear. Vi practically rings all the air out of you with her strong arms, but you tolerate it anyway because you know it's all love.

Smiling, you soothe her with a pat on her shoulder, trying your best to match her level of hug-strength. You then feel muffled words against your shoulder, before Vi sits up.

You can barely ask what she said before Vi tenderly pulls you into her with arms around your shoulders, pressing up her soft lips against yours. The tears on her cheek smear onto your face as Vi pokes and prods at your mouth with her lips, kissing you sweetly with the tiniest sobs in between.

When finished, she hugs you tight again, almost knocking you over onto the carpet.

"I love you." *sniffle* "I'll keep it forever."

౨ৎ ――

she's a thighs girl, through and through. you literally have to watch when you wear shorts or a skirt because she'll go apeshit like a pubescent teenaged boy.

does dumb in the head when you sit and your thighs squish up against the chair, ESPECIALLY if you sit on her lap.

likes to grope em up with her hands, or rest her head on them

sucking hickeys on them is fun too ;)))))))

"Vi, you really gotta stop doing this in public."

You say with as much of a serious tone as possible, crossing your arms whilst looking up at her. You're both towards the back of the Sephora, amidst searching for a specific perfume that you wanted to try.

Vi only replies with a cheeky smirk, crossing her own arms before trailing her eyes back down towards your thighs. She's insufferable.

"Doing whaaat?" She slyly asks, shifting her weight onto one side.

"Feeling me up like a perv, that's what!" You exclaim in fake annoyance, walking away from her and quickly busying yourself with one of the isles of lipgloss.

Vi makes light grabby hands as she chases after you, playfully whining while you test out a gloss color on the back of your hand.

"But you're so soffttttt-"

Your glare is enough to silence her, walking away like a kicked puppy to make odd mixtures with the makeup testers.

౨ৎ ――

she's such a goofy goober at heart <333

it's the small silly things that make you giggle the most; putting something odd on her head, staring at you with funny faces, mewing at you, tickling your sides; kid-like stuff.

and when you playfully roll your eyes, she'll just respond with the cheekiest, cat-got-the-cream kind of smile.

she'll go to great, weird lengths to hear you chuckle or laugh.

cackling with her is rare, but literal gold like i'm talking tears coming out the eyes, flip flopping like a fish while laughing, lightly hitting eachother on the arm, scream laughing.

Your girlfriend practically beckons you over to the Spencer's with a spring in her step. Letting her wave you over like an excited puppy, you step into the dark store, whilst Vi eagerly heads over to the t-shirt section. She has a thing for gag-gifts, like odd mugs or silly socks.

You let Vi loose like a child into a park, while you stare at the odd cups and lanyards. Browsing through the very extensive belt collection towards the back of the store, you notice a familiar head of pink hair out the corner of your eye.

"Babes, look!"

If she had a tail it'd be wagging right now, holding a wad of dark grey cloth in between both of her silver-ringed hands. With a sly smile on her face, unraveling the ball of cloth in her hand to put up a large shirt.

It says "two-seater" in the middle, one arrow pointing to the neck of the shirt, while the other points to the bottom of it.

You short, your eyes flickering from the big shirt to Vi's smug face.

"It's perfect for you." You say, and she eagerly nods, folding it over her forearm. She then gives you this silly look, like fluttering her lashes and peering at you with oddly pursed lips. She looks half like a baby that ate a lemon, half like a peasant begging for food.

She steps closer to you, holding the shirt and tugging on your sleeve.

"Can I wear it while you sit on my-"

You harshly hit her on the arm, in which Vi rubs where you hit with fake hurt.

"Shhh, people will hear!"

She stops you before you turn away towards the belts with a hand on your arm, goofily fluttering her eyelashes at you like it's actually going to work. She does that thing you like, ghosting her hand onto your side with a little squeeze.

"...."

The cashier gives you both a look when Vi hands them a few dollar bills, placing the shirt into a paper bag while scroll through your phone.

౨ৎ ――

extras:

knows how to do that thing where she presses her palm onto your lower tummy while finger-fucking you to make you cum faster

i see her at-home outfit as a band/silly tshirt with the sleeves torn off, plaid boxers, and mismatched fandom socks

sends you godawful memes when you text

never learned to spell properly; sometimes gets certain words wrong too and its a little funny

takes up the whole damn bed, snores, it's like she's having a seizure once she shuts eyes

your first impressions of her are flirty, nonchalant-ish???, and overall genuine. once your relationship gets deep, you start seeing how silly she is, her smaller flaws, how she actually acts around people she loves

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[am-i-interrupting]

hii how are you doing?

so, i have this idea for a silco fic - reader is his assistant and they become close friends, like, even though she’s younger than him, he trusts her and values her opinion. they like discussing books and philosophy and stuff, but silco refuses to believe he’s falling in love (he sees it as weakness ig) . reader starts feeling like her feelings are one sided. idk lots of hurt and drama but with a fluffy end!

Kingpin’s Office

Sevika was laid back on the couch in Silco’s office. From one hand dangled a large bottle of alcohol. Her other was hidden behind her cloak.

Her leg bounced up and down. It’d been a stressful week for everyone. Especially her because it’s been a stressful week for Silco.

Numbers were piling up. They were growing larger and larger and more and more. Silco didn’t have time for the unimportant shit and she wasn’t the best with numbers. Most people in Zaun weren’t.

It wasn’t like there was some education system. No, most of those who did things that topside would use math for just used common sense and trail and error.

That wasn’t possible for things like payroll and equipment costs. This was important but it shouldn’t be taking up Silco’s time and they both knew it.

It’s only now, in the trenches with a storm on the horizon, that Sevika dared open her mouth with a suggestion, “There’s a gal in the Promenade I know. Owned a shoe shop for a while ‘til some enforcer’s wrecked the place and she wasn’t able to pay to get it fixed.”

“Your point?” Silco asked, smoke from his cigar slipping from his lips with the words.

“She’s good with numbers,” Sevika said, getting to the point, “and she’s looking for work.”

Silco paused. He thumbed the corner of the paper in his hands. He brought his cigar towards his mouth and slowly, thoughtfully took a drag. His lower lip curled to his right side as he blew out the smoke.

“Bring her in.”

That’s how you met and were then employed by the Eye of Zaun. At first it was just the numbers. Then your work began to expand. It wasn’t officially but you were given different papers to go over, the ones not so important to be looked over by Silco himself.

It was easy to be intimidated by the man. However, without an official office and Silco still wanting to keep a close eye on you at first, you learned the man wasn’t one who needed to be feared all the time. He certainly had his scary moments, yes, but he also had his softer ones as well.

You noticed little habits within that first month of doing paperwork on the couch. He would tap his cigar once, twice and then twist it to put it out. He enjoyed the sound of ice clicking against glass. He would pick up his cup and empty it just to hear the noise. He wasn’t found of music while he worked but he couldn’t say no to the blue haired girl who would fall in from the rafters.

The first time you met Jinx was an experience.

“I’m busy,” Silco had said causing you to look up but the two of you were the only ones in the room.

You jumped slightly in your seat when a voice responded to him, “Isn’t that what she’s head to fix?”

He took a deep breath. “She is here to look over documents which don’t require my attention. That doesn’t mean I don’t still get busy.”

“Blah, blah, blah. You know what I’m hearing?” the voice asked. “A bunch of big fat excuses.”

Silco didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply let the scribble of his pen answer what he thought about it.

A mere moment before a loud bang sounded through the room, Silco gathered the papers and spun his chair to face the side instead of the desk. A flash of blue and then you saw a young girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, sitting on the desk.

She groaned as Silco still focused on the papers in his hand. Her head tilted back and her body followed it to fall. She laid on the desk.

Two braids angled over the side and her bangs followed the pull of gravity. Her eyes looked at you. She smiled and waved. A pen between your fingers, you waved back.

“It’s so quiet in here,” she said.

“Jinx,” the word (which you realized was actually a name) was said in a low, warning tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said as she righted herself. She got right in his face. “You’re no fun.”

“Hmm.”

He moved his chair back to its previous position and placed his papers on the table top. Jinx moved to a cabinet and flung it open.

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked, head reared back to look at you.

“Oh, I— I’ll listen to anything,” you said, startled to have the girl’s attention directed towards you.

“Anything,” she repeated with a sly smile coming over her face.

“Jinx,” it was said in that same tone.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Put out on a record regardless of the warnings. It was not what you would expect him to have. It carried a strong bass with a nice tune, guitars and drums, a beautiful singing voice. The track was lovely but rock music instead of the instrumental you assumed he’d have.

You quickly learned that Jinx seemed to be Silco’s soft spot. It was cute. The towering figurehead of the Undercity was wrapped around the finger of a blue haired teenager.

You were now approaching a year of working with Silco now. You had your own office but occasionally (most days) you would end up bringing some of your work into his.

“Ballad put in a request for a raise,” you told him. “What would you like me to do?”

He waved a hand. “Whatever you see fit.”

That was another unexpected thing. Once he realized, about four months in, that you were actually competent, he let you do what your gut told you to. He didn’t question it. He trusted you with it.

He actually began to frequent your office the past few months nearly as much as you frequented his, bringing a piece of paper with him and asking your opinion.

He never simply left after getting that answer. No, he commented about how you decorated the space. This led to talks about all sorts of things.

You learned that he enjoyed to read. He had an entire collection of books, some of which he’d even let you borrow. They were all well taken care of even if the spines were a bit worn.

You noticed they were also mostly from Piltover proper. Upon questioning him about it he said, “If we ever hope for them to take us with an ounce of seriousness and give us the tiniest bit of respect, it’s important to know how to speak like them.”

The two of you had many talks which lasted minutes at the least and hours at the most.

You had learned you rather enjoyed his company and held onto a spark of hope that maybe he enjoyed yours as well.

You gave Ballad that raise they asked for. They deserved it and there was money for it.

You continued on with you work, completely unaware of the eye which kept flickering towards you.

Silco had been feeling things which he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a warmth in his chest which occasionally spread downward towards his groin. He recognized it as attraction.

He waved it off as though that was all it was. It was simply being attracted to his beautiful employee. A common trope, he supposed, but nothing dangerous.

Recently though, as he’d gotten to know you more and more, that warmth was becoming something softer. If he could run it through his fingers, he knew it would feel like silk.

He was still trying to figure out what this was. He was racking his brain, trying to see if he could remember something like this.

Then, as your lips curled around a word which was left unspoken while you read, he was struck with an urge.

He wanted to kiss you. Not like he’d imagined before where it would be hard and rough, with clothes coming off.

No, he wanted to kiss you.

He wanted to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. The want was to look into your eyes and then pull you close. He yearned to press his lips against yours, soft and lingering.

Were your lips as soft as they looked? Would you make a soft noise? How would your tongue feel teasing against his?

He tore his eyes from you. He looked down at the papers in front of him.

Those sort of thoughts were dangerous.

Dangerous for himself because that would give him something to lose. Jinx was already enough. It was dangerous for you because you would have a target placed upon your back.

This needed to stop.

He put an end to visiting your office. He stopped speaking to you when you visited his unless directly spoken to. He made his words short and curt.

He needed to separate himself from you before he did something he couldn’t take back, not after.

You felt the change. You noticed it instantly. You brushed it off at first. Perhaps he was just having a bad couple of days. However, as it continued on, it couldn’t help but feel personal.

What happened?

You had a rather nice, comfortable relationship with Silco and now it was suddenly upended?

A part of you laughed at yourself. You really thought the niceties would last? You thought you could be important to the kingpin of the Undercity?

How could you be so naive? So utterly stupid?

You took the hints. You began to retreat. You stayed in your office.

It was empty in there. You’d come to have a warmth in the air because you knew once a day, Silco would find his way in. Now it was cold.

“You’re getting harsh on my girl,” Sevika said one day. “Why?”

Silco flipped the page to the other side. “I don’t know what it is you’re talking about, Sevika.”

“Yeah, bullshit,” she said. “You go in her office every day for five months and she’s doing the same thing in yours. Now, all of a sudden, she asks me if she did something wrong and you’re always cooped up in here. You’re telling me you’re not being hard on her?”

Silco continued to ignore Sevika. Even though his pen halted for a moment.

You were worried you had done something wrong? To the point of going to Sevika? His stomach turned.

Sevika walked up to the desk. She placed her hand down on it with enough force his ashtray jumped up.

“Why?” she asked.

He finally dignified her by letting his eyes turn up. “I am her employer, not friend.”

Sevika gritted her teeth before a wide, harsh smile crawled across her face. “Oh, so that’s what this is about,” she said. “Okay.”

Silco raised his right brow.

“You caught feelings,” she stated. “Yeah? Doesn’t give you an excuse to be an ass. Our line of work is dangerous. Doesn’t matter what her relationship is with you, she’s gonna have a target on her back regardless, just like me, just like Ren, just like Jinx.”

His lip twitched slightly at the mention of Jinx. Sevika expected as much. That’s part of why she did it.

“Do us all a favor,” she said as she yanked open the door, “just get this over with and fuck already.”

She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t have a death wish despite what she’s just done. The display left her blood and skin jittery. She needed a smoke.

Nothing changed over the course of the next couple days, other than the fact that Silco was extra snippy with his second in command.

You were supposed to close the door and go back to your office. That had been the script for the past couple weeks. Instead, you took a step into the room and closed the door behind you.

“Should I put in my weeks or wait until you fire me?” you asked.

Silco halted. His pen slipped in his grasp. His eyes turned to you. “Why would I fire you?”

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. Did I overstep? Was it something I did? Something I said? You’ve been avoiding me and I don’t know why.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he said.

“Well, you certainly have been avoiding something then!” you exclaimed. “Is it me? My office? The work I do? I’m confused and I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep dancing around you without even knowing the steps I’m supposed to take.”

“You don’t need to dance around me.”

“Well it sure feels like it. So am I quitting or are you biting the bullet and firing me?”

“You’re not getting fired. Stop being dramatic.”

“Okay.”

You rocked back and forth on your heels. You wrung your hands in front of your torso. Your jaw clenched and unclenched.

“Then I quit,” you said even though it pained you to do so.

“You’re not quitting,” Silco said.

“Well, why not?”

Silco stood. For the first time in nearly a year, you felt the full effect of the Eye of Zaun. He was imposing and demanded attention.

Maybe you had a death wish though or maybe you were just really stupid because you weren’t scared.

“Because I am not upset with you.”

“Then what are you?”

He rounded the desk. His hand reached for your own. He stopped where your nails had begun to dig into your skin.

His head bowed down. You could feel his breath against your own. His eyes darted down. You wetted your lips. He met your gaze.

He tilted his head. Your eyes began to flutter. For a second you thought. . . But he pulled back. He looked you over once more.

His hand traveled to your elbow. His knuckles grazed your torso. He let them trail down. His hand wrapped around your waist. He used it to guide you closer to him.

Then his lips met yours.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart. 

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME 

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment. 

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week. 

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines. 

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other. 

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal. 

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past. 

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past! 

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile. 

YOU: i hate you 

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do. 

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer. 

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms. 

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead. 

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in. 

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.” 

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.” 

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!” 

“Am not!” 

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place. 

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. 

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.” 

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider. 

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream. 

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence. 

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?” 

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?” 

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.” 

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other. 

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week. 

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues. 

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.” 

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line. 

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously. 

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends. 

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?” 

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?” 

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications. 

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius. 

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night? 

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest. 

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now. 

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. 

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come. 

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING. 

Oh.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him. 

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable? 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen. 

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you. 

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” 

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” 

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.” 

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?” 

“It’s for safety.” 

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?” 

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.” 

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.” 

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of. 

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized. 

“We can go helmet shopping another day.” 

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you. 

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that. 

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy. 

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street. 

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again. 

“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?” 

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.” 

“You say that to every girl you bring here?” 

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.  

“Only the prettiest ones.” 

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week. 

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you. 

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him. 

 The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy. 

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his. 

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver. 

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race. 

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” 

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands. 

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch. 

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide. 

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away. 

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.” 

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.” 

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. 

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me? 

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.” 

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?” 

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows. 

“Does it really matter?” 

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking. 

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him. 

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on. 

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse. 

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light. 

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.” 

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away. 

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.” 

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?” 

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?” 

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.” 

“Like you have been?” 

“Burn in Hell.” 

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill. 

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish. 

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen. 

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of. 

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.” 

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends? 

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends? 

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter 

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that. 

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again. 

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.” 

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.” 

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.” 

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist. 

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly. 

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.” 

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce. 

“I did.”

“I believe you.” 

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much. 

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much. 

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.” 

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play. 

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead. 

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song. 

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember. 

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot. 

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you. 

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?” 

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.” 

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?” 

“Maybe.” 

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer. 

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him. 

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly. 

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care. 

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him. 

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up. 

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter. 

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.” 

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter. 

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others. 

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet. 

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply. 

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were. 

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer. 

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.” 

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.” 

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.” 

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time. 

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile. 

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind. 

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing. 

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect. 

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.” 

“I have an answer.” 

“You sound very sure there, big guy.” 

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?” 

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though. 

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness. 

“Yeah. Dating.” 

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye. 

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating. 

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him. 

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it. 

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.” 

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.” 

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed. 

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

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[beckyninja]

Worthy

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warning: things get spicy, though nothing explicit

Description: The reader struggles with insecurity and low self esteem, while Guilliman struggles with... other things.

Oh boy, this is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written. Be gentle, please!

“Roboute, ah….”

You reached up to him from your place sprawled atop his desk. Data slates and parchment scattered in every direction as you writhed. A sensual dance, just for him.

 He realized he’d never truly appreciated the aesthetic beauty of the female form before now. Starlight and candlelight competed to see which could add the loveliest glow to your skin. Your bare skin, on display for all to see.

No. Not all. Just him. No one else would ever see you this way. He’d slaughter anyone who-

“Roboute?”

Guilliman blinked and the fantasy faded.

You sat in a plush chair he’d recently placed in his office, legs tucked up beneath you, a book in your hands. The very picture of innocence.

Guilt gnawed at him.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I’ve finished this one.” You tapped the book’s cover. “With your permission, I’d like to return to the library- pardon, the librarium, for another.”

He smiled. “You grow more fluent in High Gothic by the day.” 

You glanced away. “I shudder to think how I must have sounded when I first arrived. It’s difficult to master pronunciation when one has only ever read the words.”

He returned to the parchment before him, signing his name for the two-hundred-and-thirty-second time that morning. “Nonsense. Your accent was, and is, utterly charming.” 

Especially when you cry my name as I suck bruises into your delicate- by the Throne! Get a hold of yourself, man!

“You’re kind to say so.”

Something in your tone gave him pause. He straightened, observing you more intently. The muscles around your mouth tightened, turning your smile wooden. Your shoulders hunched and you gazed at the floor. He realized you resembled nothing less than a serf expecting a scolding.

But before he could comment your mood shifted once again, and you looked as relaxed and happy as before. “As I was asking, may I return to the librarium?”

“Of course. And you need not constantly ask my permission. I have given instructions for that particular librarium to be open to your access code at all hours.”

Your delighted gasp made his hearts glow. 

“Thank you, Roboute! I’ve only just finished the first volume of Epatheon’s Chronicles of Macragge and the historitors suggested I read all six before moving on to the history of wider Ultramar….” 

Guilliman’s worries faded as he absorbed your chatter. A passing cloud, nothing more. He braced himself to return to the lonely monotony of Imperial paperwork when a particularly excited gesture sent your book tumbling to the floor.

“Oh, my apologies!”

Then you bent… over….

And he was suddenly profoundly grateful to be safely concealed behind his massive desk.

Throne, damn it.

***

“Thank you, Lord Tarchus.” You smiled up at the Ultramarine assigned to escort you that day, praying you’d gotten his name right.

The helmeted head inclined slightly in response. 

As you started toward one of the only other areas you felt familiar with on this massive ship, he fell into step behind you.

You thought you’d successfully banished the looming sense of dread. But, for the second time that day, tension tightened a leaden fist around your stomach. You kept your gaze focused straight ahead, not daring to meet the eyes of the people you passed. A diplomat’s mask came in useful at times like these.

But it could not shield you from your own thoughts.

“What presumption to think you deserve this kind of attention, girl.” Grandmother’s voice pierced your defenses. “How full of justified resentment this warrior must be for wasting his time on you. Who do you think you are?”

Your heart raced as you walked faster. You needed to get your book, then get out of these halls and back where you belonged. Tucked quietly into a corner of Roboute’s office where you’d be no bother to anyone. 

Where you’d be with him. With his gentle eyes and strong hands. Hands that felt so good when they pressed you to a massive chest rippling with muscle to put the gods of antiquity to shame. You’d felt them through his tunic on the night he kissed you breathless. When his touch sent molten liquid boiling straight between your-

A gauntleted hand landed on your shoulder. “This door… my lady.”

“Oh!” Heat rushed to your face as you realized you’d walked straight past the librarium entrance. “Y-yes. Thank you. I won’t be long.”

Your shoulders sank as you entered your code and stepped into the room. What right had you to think such thoughts? Roboute hadn’t so much as touched you since carrying you to your room after the… incident. He’d been polite, chivalrous, and honorable. He spoke to you like a dear friend. You should be more than satisfied. 

But you remembered hunger in his eyes the night he proposed. Was it selfish of you to want just a glimpse of that again? 

Grandmother’s laugh, half mocking half disgusted, echoed in your ears.

“Pathetic child. The man finally came to his senses and realized the truth: you’re simply not worth the effort.”

***

A million things should have occupied the Lord Regent’s mind. Mountains of paperwork, endless strategies to compile, not to mention the meeting with Calgar and the Ultramarine Captains in an hour’s time. He’d thought having you near would help him focus. 

A foolish assumption.

Your face greeted him as you emerged from your quarters each morning. You took your meals with him, spent most of your waking hours reading in the chair he’d provided for you. And during his few free moments, or when the paperwork in front of him required less than his full attention, the two of you conversed.

He told you much of Ultramar and Macragge, his home. He recounted stories of his childhood and parents that he hadn’t had the heart to dwell upon since his reawakening. Bittersweet memories, but made more sweet by your sympathetic ear.

The sheer relief of talking to an outsider did more to brighten the shadows of despair encompassing him than anything else in the past decade. Your mind was bright and pure, unshackled by superstition or callous cruelty. Your hands unstained by blood. You did not fear asking questions, nor did he fear telling you the truth. Every moment spent in your presence was a gift….

…and a torment.

Guilliman knew he’d been staring at your empty chair for minutes now. Breathing deeply, he tasted your scent upon the air, and he knew if he approached he’d be able to feel your warmth on the fabric. 

He’d felt your warmth before, and regretted it. Because now he knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what you tasted like.

Throne, I ache for her.

Lust had never been a factor in his life. His accelerated maturity had bypassed the riotous desire of the average adolescent, nor had his brothers ever expressed experiencing such. 

Well, Russ perhaps.

He scowled. He was no slobbering Space Wolf. And yet.

You gasped when he took you in his arms. He heard your single heart beating wildly within your chest and the sound maddened him. It took so little effort to push you to the polished floor. Your clothing came apart like parchment in his hands.

He loomed above you, higher thought lost to his most primal instincts. You submitted eagerly, turning onto your front and presenting yourself to him. Only ever to him. He snarled in satisfaction as he mounted you like a feral-

“No!” Data slates clattered to the floor as he stood, shaking the fantasy from his head.

You were precious and fragile. Such actions would only frighten you, and the idea of you fearing him was unbearable. For you, he would stifle these perverse desires. 

Even if it meant denying himself the slightest touch.

His vox crackled to life. “My Lord? Is all well?”

Guilliman took a moment to regulate his panting breaths. “All is well, Cato.”

“I thought I heard-”

“All is well, Cato.”

A brief pause, then. “The Captains are already assembling in the comm center. Would you like me to escort you to your armoring station?”

At least his armor would hide certain biological functions he found it increasingly difficult to control.

***

“Stupid female.”

For a brief moment you thought you’d somehow manifested your thoughts into reality. Then your eyes adjusted to the soft candleglow, and you saw you were not alone in the librarium.

A Mechanicus techpriest stood next to one of the writing tables, looming over a prostrated serf. You fought an instinctive grimace at the mass of metal augmentations and scar tissue that seemed to make up the majority of the Imperium’s cyborg scientists. 

A necessary evil, Roboute had called them.

But as you watched the techpriest reach down and grasp the serf’s lower jaw in his claw of a hand, you certainly felt this one was more evil than necessary.

An image of Lord O’Rourke threatening to end the lives of thousands of innocents flashed through your mind like lightning. The sudden rage that had prompted you to hurl yourself at him surged in your veins again.

“Unhand her at once!”

The priest looked up with a hiss and clatter, and this time you didn’t bother hiding your scowl of disgust as you marched toward him.

“I said unhand her!”

“Noncompliance.” Its voice screeched. “Additional human female does not equal authority figure.”

You grasped the metal wrist still crushing the serf’s jaw. “I am the Lord Regent’s betrothed. And I command-”

“Irrelevant data. Betrothed does not equal authority-”

“Do not interrupt me.” You felt…fierce. “I may not have authority over you now. But one day I will. And you know what I do have?” 

You stared, unflinching, into its corroded ruin of a face. “A very good memory.”

The techpriest whirred and buzzed for a moment. Then the metal hand unlocked and withdrew. You released its wrist, stepping between it and the serf. 

“Compliance.” It hissed.

“Thank you. Get out.”

“Compliance.”

You didn’t move from your place sheltering the serf until the priest shambled its way through the librarium door. Then you bent double, panting as the adrenaline rush faded. 

“My…my lady?”

You turned to the serf, a young woman, still kneeling on the hard floor. Blood welled from a scratch along one cheekbone. Glancing around at the shelves and tables, you saw nothing with which to clean the wound, not unless you chose to rip a page out of one of the books. Instead, you tore a strip from your sleeve. 

The woman gasped. “Oh no, my lady!”

“It’s only cloth.” Kneeling down, you pressed it to the woman’s cheek. “That brute ought to be punished.”

“It was my fault.” The woman gestured to the bucket of cleaning supplies tipped on its side next to her. “I was clumsy and jostled him. I deserved-”

Another lightning-flash of memory. A younger you, exhausted from studying all night, stumbling into your tutor as you tried to rise from your desk. The blows that followed.

“You did not deserve that.” You recognized the dark circles underneath the woman’s eyes. “How long since you last slept?”

“I don’t know.” The woman lifted her chin. “I am not complaining, my lady. My sister- I mean, the other serf assigned to this librarium, just gave birth. I am more than willing to take her burden on my shoulders.”

The scratch stopped bleeding, and you removed the cloth from her cheek. “That’s very good of you. May I know your name?”

“My name? I- of course, my lady. I am called Hestia.”

“Well, Hestia, this librarium looks fairly sturdy. I doubt it will crumble to dust if you take a day-cycle to rest. And if anyone questions you,” you felt some of that fierceness return, “refer them to me.”

***

“...refer them to me.”

The servo-skull finished its projected recording and returned to hover over the techpriest’s shoulder. Guilliman steepled his fingers in front of his face. 

“Incident equals gross overstep.” The Magus squawked. 

“I see.”

“Chastisement recommended!”

“Hmm.” Guilliman turned to the serf at his elbow. “Request the lady’s presence in my office, Marcus.”

The man bowed and jogged off, but not before Guilliman noticed him shoot a glare toward the techpriest.

Guilliman returned to examining a data slate on his desk, pointedly ignoring the Magus. In his mind, the scene of you defying the techpriest played over and over again. The grainy projection couldn’t mask the imperious lift of your chin, or the fierce look in your eye. Neither did it hide the gentleness with which you tended the serf woman’s wound. 

Judging from Marcus’s reaction, Guilliman had no doubt the story already circulated through the serf quarters.

If they liked you before, they adore you now.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Marcus entered with a flourish. “May I present….”

He gave your name and titles with respect bordering on reverence. Guilliman watched your face redden and felt a surge of empathy as he stood and beckoned you to his side. Your smile froze when you noticed the irate Magus.

You rushed to him. “Roboute, I can explain-”

“No need, my dear.” For the first time in days, he touched you, taking your hand in his.

The softness of your skin, and the way his hand swallowed yours ignited a heat deep in the pit of his stomach. He fought the wild urge to drag you up and onto his lap.

Instead, he addressed the Magus. “You are correct that my betrothed had no authority to act as she did.” He felt you tense, and gently squeezed your hand. “This is a matter I intend to rectify.”

Pulling a foot-thick stack of parchment from the pile on his desk, he handed it to Marcus. “This is an order giving this lady, my future consort, authority upon The Macragge’s Honor. She may command any person on this ship only excepting the Mechanics ArchMagi and the highest ranking Ultramarines.”

There were other caveats and exceptions of course, not to mention an extensive list of extenuating circumstances. He was nothing if not thorough. 

“See that it is posted and transmitted throughout this vessel.”

The serf’s eyes shone as he clutched the parchment to his chest, bowed lower than before, and fairly sprinted from the room.

The Magus looked as though he was about to start venting steam.

“You are dismissed.” Guilliman fixed the techpriest with a look he’d been told could freeze promethium. “See your underlings take greater care with the serfs, Magus. Any reported abuse will be severely punished.”

“Compliance. My Lord.”

As soon as the door hissed closed behind the Magus, you gripped his hand with both of yours. “Roboute, please don’t do this.”

He stared down at you, at the panic in your eyes. Before he could speak you rambled on.

“I-I can’t command anyone. I didn’t mean to suggest I could, or wanted to. I don’t deserve this kind of power! I’m so, so sorry, but-”

You tried to draw away, but he tightened his grip on your hand. All your interactions up to this point replayed in his mind, and one commonality became blindingly clear. 

“Why do you think so little of yourself?”

You twisted in his grip, eyes darting about like a captured prey animal. “I’m sorry, I…I….”

“Stop apologizing.” Against all the stalwart promises he’d made himself, he drew you closer. “What has happened to you that you cannot recognize the greatness I see within you?”

“N-no, I’m not-”

“Have I done or said something to make you think yourself unworthy?”

“No! At least….”

When tears filled your eyes he felt pain worse than Fulgrim’s blade across his throat. He cupped your face in his hands.

“Tell me what I have done that I may rectify it.”

He watched you squeeze your eyes shut and lean into him. “Y-you haven’t touched me in so long. I thought, I thought you didn’t…,” your voice died away.

If the Emperor Himself had suddenly marched into his office and punched him in the jaw Guilliman could not have been more stunned. All the times he fantasized about you, all the nights he stroked himself to completion to thoughts of you, all the moments he barely held himself back…!

“Damn it all to the Warp!”

***

Roboute’s sudden bellow nearly deafened you. You found yourself picked up by your hips and tossed atop his desk. Writing implements and documents of what you were certain was vital importance scattered in all directions. But the look in the eyes of the giant leaning over you said he could care less.

“Do you remember my words the night I came to your chambers?”

By the Light and the Void, that growl….

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Tell me.”

“Y-you, you said….”

His face pressed close to yours, teeth bared. “Tell. Me.”

The sheer force of a Primarch’s lust overwhelmed you. And yet you realized you’d willingly get on your hands and knees to beg for more.

“You said you wanted me.”

His mouth crashed into yours, stealing the very air from your lungs. After a blissful eternity you felt him grasp your thighs and yelped as he flipped you onto your front, your legs dangling off the side of his desk. Then his fingers sank into your hips and he pressed against your rear.

“Ah, Roboute!”

“Do you feel that?” You heard snarling frustration in his voice. “Do you feel how badly I desire you?” A forearm the thickness of your waist slammed into the desk above your head. “I have never felt like this about anyone in my long life. The things I want to do to you, woman.”

You felt his chest expanding and contracting against your back. You heard his heaving pants.

Doubt vanished. 

“I love you, Roboute!”

He groaned. Again, he turned you and you stared up into his eyes. The hunger remained, but tempered now by something far sweeter. You reached for him and he let you pull his head into your neck.

He whispered against your skin. “I swore not to take you until I could do so as your husband. And I stand by that oath. But never again doubt my desire for you, my Hearts.”

Relief. Sheer relief like the removal of a burden you hadn’t known you’d been carrying. 

“Never again.”

He pulled back to look you in the face. “And stop doubting your worth.”

A harder request. “I…I will try, Roboute. For you.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “Do it for your own sake, my love. You are far more than you-”

The door opened and the outraged voice of none other than Cato Sicarius spoke. “Lord Guilliman! I just read your latest proclamation and I felt it my duty to voice severe concerns-”

“GET OUT.”

You heard the hasty retreat of armored boots and burst into giggles. Roboute looked down at you, then his rumbling chuckles joined yours.

You laughed in each other’s arms, and all was perfect.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @jaghatai-khock

[ryngzmn]

₊˚ෆ | moving up | S.B (2)

SUMMARY: After you helped him learn how to use a mobile phone, Ben comes to you a few days later so he can learn how to use a laptop.

WORD COUNT: 818.

WARNINGS: not proofread, little bit of swearing, maybe OOC Ben???, use of Y/N (only once).

A/N: a few people suggested I make this a series where reader teaches Ben how to use various pieces of modern technology and I LOVED that idea so here I am with my first series<3. also literally could not come up with a title so I js decided on some basic one…

part one! | part three! | part four! | part five!

Ever since you forced helped Ben work a mobile phone, you realized he started being a little nicer to you.

He didn’t call you names as often and he didn’t yell at you whenever you didn’t refer to him as his super name.

You didn’t ask him about it since you thought that if you did, he’d go back to his bitchy self.

—————————————————————————

Butcher and the others had just left for yet another mission that Butcher didn’t let you go on.

Apparently, he had also noticed how Ben seemed to be a little nicer to you compared to the rest of The Boys.

You didn’t necessarily mind not going on mission and risking injuries, per say, but it got a little boring constantly being told to stay back and watch Ben to make sure he doesn’t blow something up.

Right now, you were sitting at a random desk that was placed in the makeshift hideout, just minding your own business.

Well, you were minding your own business until you heard Ben’s booming voice speak up as he approached you.

“Hey, Y/N.” You raised your head and looked in his direction.

The first thing you noticed was the laptop tucked firmly under his arm. You raised an eyebrow, wondering whose it was since Ben obviously didn’t know how to work a laptop.

“Whose laptop is that, Ben?” You questioned skeptically.

“It’s Hughie’s.” Ben said smugly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder and gesturing to the now empty desk that once had Hughie’s laptop on it before he left.

“Seriously, Ben—“ Before you could protest further, Ben grabbed a chair and placed it next to yours, putting the laptop between you.

“Teach me how to use this thing.” Ben said in a slightly demanding tone.

You rolled your eyes and opened it, noting how Hughie surprisingly didn’t use a password in his laptop.

“Okay, well..” You sighed and looked over at Ben, pointing at the smooth squared area below the keyboard that you were dragging your finger on.

“This is how you drag the cursor. You can also plug in a mouse instead of using that.” Ben just stared at you, his forehead creased.

“A mouse? Why the fuck would you plug in a mouse to a laptop?”

You shook your head, shoulders slumping a bit.

“Not an actual mouse. Like a, uh…” You found yourself stumped on how to explain so you turned back to the laptop and opened the web browser.

“This is the web browser, there’s multiple of these but it looks like Hughie just uses Google. This is where you look stuff up.”

You quickly typed in the word laptop mouse and then turned the screen towards him.

“This is what I meant by mouse. It’s basically a different way to move the cursor.”

Ben nodded before looking at you again. “What’s a cursor?”

You pointed to the small white arrow that was in the middle of the screen. “That’s the cursor.”

“Oh, okay.” Ben moved the laptop closer to him and started snooping through Hughie’s apps and messages.

“Ben-“ You frowned, gently taking the laptop away from him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Ben scoffed and mumbled something close to “party pooper” under his breath before he snatched the laptop back.

“I jus’ wanna do something real quick.” He mused, going to Hughie’s messages and scrolling until he found Butcher’s contact.

“What are you doing?” Ben held up a finger to silence you before he started typing something.

You shook your head in disappointment as you read what Ben was trying to send to Butcher.

‘I hate you, you stupid British fuck’

After clicking the send button, Ben laughed boisterously, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see Butcher’s reaction to that message.”

“He’ll probably know it’s you.” You butt in, arms crossed across your chest like an angry parent.

Ben let out a defiant huff. “No he won’t, he’ll totally think Hughie sent it and then chew him a new one.”

—————————————————————————

Eventually, when everyone got back after you taught Ben how to maneuver through a laptop some more, Butcher saw the text and showed it to Hughie.

You sat back with Ben and watched as the color drained from Hughie’s face in a horrific expression.

“I didn’t send that!” He started defending himself immediately, making various points on how the time didn’t match up and how he would never say that to Butcher.

Butcher chuckled before turning to you and Ben, you didn’t hesitate to rat Ben out.

“It was his idea. I was just showing him how to work a laptop.” Ben shot you a glare as you were glad looks couldn’t kill because you’d definitely be dead meat right now.

It was safe to say that instead of Butcher chewing Hughie a new one, it was Ben on the receiving side of Butcher’s scolding.

—————————————————————————

reblogs n feedback r appreciated! <3

[mommybard]

You know how in some lewd stories they have those pills that can change or corrupt people? I need those to become real because I’m stuck with a thought that I just can’t get out of my head.

Getting just the cutest little thing as a roommate. Befriending them. Gaining their trust. Hanging out with them. And then…well, slipping some of those into their food and drink. Not enough to give them an overnight change, where’s the fun in that? No, just enough for small changes here and there that their mind will rationalize away until it's too late~

Increased libido? That’s not too hard to explain away, some people's sex drives tend to ramp up or slow down for various reasons. So it’s not too hard for them to accept when they find themselves masturbating as the first thing when they wake up and the last thing before going to bed. Granted, they’re suddenly wanting more but…well, that could just be anything. Definitely not caused by the cookies I made them~

The changes to their body? Well that's easy enough at first. Sometimes people gain a bit of weight, or clothes shrink in the wash. That has to be the reason those jeans seem to be clinging a bit more, hugging their hips, barely able to get up over their ass. And they have been going to the gym…maybe its just finally seeing the results of the work out? As for their chest…well its just more sensitive it all. Could really be anything. Probably not that fresh horchata I made them~

The changes keep coming. Any rational person would've probably scheduled a check up to find the cause. And they meant to do that, honestly! Its just…their focus has been preoccupied recently. It started off with just finding themselves occasionally day dreaming about lewd things. Being forced to their knees and made to worship a domme. What it would be like if their friends lost all respect for them as a person and started to use them like a free use toy. How good it would feel to not have to think but instead just be the bestest little pet, spending their day under the desk of someone who does the thinking and worrying for them as they fill their day with loyal service to that person. 

But its been taking up more of their brainpower. The last few times when they meant to make the call they got distracted when they opened their phone and saw the smutty story they had been touching themselves to earlier…and, well…spend the next few hours playing with themselves. Similar thing happened when they tried to do it on the computer. They meant to type in the website! But as they started it auto suggested a porn site and…gods way they would give to get fucked like that. 

Poor thing being forced to wear less and less as they run out of clothes that genuinely fit anymore. Thinking they're being subtle about how drooly they'll get mid conversation. That the walls are thick enough that I can't hear them desperately fucking their holes raw on toys they rushed to order. 

Until I give them the final pill. One that pushes them into a deep heat. Full strength, not the careful doses I used with the other drugs. Watching them drink it down without even realizing, laughing to myself when they rush to their bedroom to “study”. Letting them go for a few hours, long enough for them to realize that need deep inside them isn't getting satisfied with their fingers or toys. They need something more. Something real. 

And of course, like the good friend I am, I offer to help them out. Wouldn't want them to try to rush out in their state. There are so many evil people out there who might take advantage of them and their trust! I wouldn't want that now, would I~?

[promise-you-doie]

Best Friend Ever | S. Eunseok

Eunseok x (f) Reader | Fake dating to lovers

Word count: 20k

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

playlist

A college student rejecting attention is taken aback when a famous athlete asks them out. Confused and suspicious, they confront their past experiences and insecurities as they navigate a newfound curiosity about the athlete's intentions. The story explores personal growth, unexpected connections, and the courage to leave one's comfort zone.

The college classroom buzzed with the low murmur of students chatting and the occasional squeak of chairs being pulled out. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. In the middle of it all sat You, Your eyes drifting lazily around the room as you waited for class to end, your mind already elsewhere, disinterested in the present. 

A sigh, heavy with restlessness, escapes your lips as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. Your other hand is used to tap the head of your pen against your laptop, a rhythmic echo of your impatience. You try to divert your eyes from reading the time, but you can't help but glance at it here and there, each glance a testament to your mounting anticipation. 

You startle when a small note lands on your desk, seemingly out of nowhere. Intrigued, you open it, ignoring the sensation of someone's gaze on the back of your head. 

The note simply reads "Hey," followed by a smiley face, but you know exactly who it's from. 

You whip your head around to face your best friend three rows behind you. Sohee's wearing a wide grin on his face when he waves at you. But you only glare in return, a mix of annoyance and amusement in your eyes, before turning back around to face your boredom. Once again just waiting for- 

"That's all for today. Class is dismissed." Your professor's voice echoes through the room, and you can almost feel the collective sigh of relief. It's all you need to slam your laptop shut and jump out of your seat, joining the rush of students eager to leave. 

Sohee is already standing at the door waiting for you, mainly because he saved a lot of time by not having to pack up. You always thought he only attended lectures to distract you, but he would always argue differently. 

As soon as you meet him by the door, he throws his arm around you and pulls you along with him, guiding you out of the classroom before the rest of the students come trampling over you. 

"I'm starving," Sohee mumbles, his voice barely audible over the bustling noise of the hallway, a cacophony of footsteps, chatter, and the occasional laughter. He winces when you push him away from you. 

"People already think we're dating," you say, your eyes scanning the passing students, each of them engrossed in their own world.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"That's because it is. I don't like people getting the wrong idea," you say, your voice tinged with a hint of unease. 

"I know what it is?" Sohee taunts, his finger jabbing the air. "You're afraid you'll fall for me if I stand too close." 

You roll your eyes, trying to dismiss the thought. "I can guarantee you that's not the case." Sohee hums in disagreement and continues walking ahead of you until you have to follow up with him. 

This was the nature of your relationship. Sohee often liked to hint that maybe you were into him as more than just friends, and you'd be there to shoot it down every time. 

It was annoying sometimes, but Sohee was like a brother to you. You expected him to be annoying. 

"What should we eat? Burgers? Pasta? Pizza?" Your best friend begins to list off. He waved his finger around in the air as if he were actually flipping through the options. 

"We should go for-" "Y/n." A somewhat familiar voice stops you mid-sentence. 

You didn't have to turn around to know that Eunseok was calling for you. You were only confused as to why. After all, you and Eunseok existed in starkly different worlds. 

He was the star of the school. D-1 athlete, attending on a full scholarship. It's impossible to live in the same city as him and not know who he was. The same didn't apply to you.

No one knew who you were. Not because you were super shy and avoided attention, but because you just preferred to hang out with your two friends, Sohee and Ningning, and binge on card games and pizza on Friday nights, a quiet and content life that you cherished. 

So why would Song Eunseok, a well-known college basketball player, be calling out for you?

"Hey," He says when he finally meets up with you, his voice a mix of nervousness and determination.  

"Hello?" You say, confused. Sohee, obviously just as puzzled as you are, bunches his eyebrows together and sticks his lips out into a subtle pout. 

"Will you go on a date with me?" Eunseok's unexpected question hangs in the air.

Things were just getting weirder and weirder. Him picking you out in a crowd of people was odd enough, but now he was asking you out on a date. 

There's only one logical explanation for this. 

He was pranking you. You had your fair share of brutal jokes, especially among ruthless high school boys who always made it clear that no one would ever seriously be into you. 

You thought things like that only happened in grade school, but old habits do die hard. 

You snark. "No, thank you." The words come out harsher than you intended.. You attempt to walk away, assuming he'll accept the rejection and leave you alone. You should've known better. 

"Please," he pleads, halting you in your tracks. You pivot and stride back toward him.

"I'm not falling for any of your tricks." 

"One date." He holds each of his hands up in the air. "No tricks, I promise." The look on his face tells you that he's being genuine. Yet, you still look to your best friend for an answer. 

Except he only shrugs. You don't know what you were expecting from him anyway. He was never helpful before, and he won't be beneficial now. 

"When?" You ask, turning back to Eunseok. 

"Are you busy right now?" He shoots. 

"Umm..." 

Eunseok pulls out the chair so you can sit down first. You accept his offer and place your bag on the floor beside you. You notice how empty the lunchroom is. 

"If you wanna get into my pants, you're gonna have to do a lot better than this." You comment, your voice echoing in the empty school cafeteria. 

"I'm not trying to get in your pants." Eunseok's voice cuts through the silence, and his glare makes you feel small and insignificant. You shift in your seat at the sudden discomfort. 

"Well then... What do you want?" You hesitated, trying to read his true intentions. 

"I need you to be my girlfriend," he replied casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 "You need me to?" Leaning in closer, you were intrigued, eager to understand his unconventional request.

"My family is starting to think I'm gay." He admits, and it makes you jump back. Who would've thought that star athlete Song Eunseok was battling with his sexuality? 

"I'm not," he says with a knowing look as if he could hear every thought racing through your mind.

 "Huh?" You blink in astonishment, your eyes widening, and shift in your chair, the leather creaking beneath you as you settle back in.

"Look, I just need you to meet my family here and there. Nothing serious."  

"Are you asking me to fake a relationship with you?"

"Yes, exactly." He nods with a severe expression, showing no sign of amusement. It was as if he had done this before.

"I'm not interested," you declare firmly, rising from your seat and gathering your belongings. 

Eunseok's voice quivers with desperation as he says, "I'll pay you," attempting to entice you to stay.

You express your disdain by poking your tongue through your cheek. The sound of your bag dropping to the floor fills the room as you turn to face him. "Money doesn't sway me. You can't just dangle it over my head and expect me to jump when you tell me to," you assert, pressing your palms onto the table.

To your surprise, Eunseok smirks. "You're a smart, independent woman," he says, and you nod. 

"I am." 

"I admire that about you." He stands up so that now you have to look up at him. "Which is why I chose you of all people."

"That's flattering. How much are you paying."

"Wait, you're dating him?" Sohee exclaims, yanking his head out of your empty fridge.

You nod, "Yeah." Your lips pressed together. It wasn't easy to lie to your best friend, but you knew you had to. He had a terrible habit of just talking, talking to any and everyone about any and everything. One time, in fifth grade, you told him about a crush you had on some guy in your class. You don't remember how word got around to the entire school, but you remember that the tracks led right back to your loose-lipped best friend. The potential consequences of this secret being revealed were too significant to risk. 

"So he asked, and you just said 'yes'? No questions asked?" Sohee asks, his voice filled with disbelief. 

"Pretty much." You shrug. 

Sohee ponders, his body plopping down on the couch in front of you. You could always tell when he was thinking because his bottom lip would poke out, and he scratched the back of his head. It was rather cute, but you'd never admit that aloud. "This doesn't make any sense." He finally mutters through a pout, his brows furrowing in confusion. 

"What's not making sense?" You ask calmly, crossing your arms and leaning back against the sofa. 

"Did he cast a spell on you or something?" He sits up. "You hate ball players." 

"I do." You nod. "but he's different." You don't have to convince yourself you knew Eunseok very differently from the other sports players you were previously acquainted with. For starters, none of them would ever consider you to be their girlfriend, real or not. 

"How would you know that after just one date?" Sohee almost shouts. 

"Look, will you just trust me? I know what I'm doing." You said, your voice filled with a determination that Sohee had rarely heard before. He takes a deep breath and throws his head back against your small orange sofa. All the thinking was draining him. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"I guess I have no choice." Your best friend reassures you. Tiredly, rubbing his hands against his face. 

"Good," you exclaimed with a smile, jumping up from your seat to stand in front of him with your hand held out. "Now, let's go get some food. I know you're hungry."

"You're not gonna start ditching me to hang out with your new boyfriend, right?" Sohee sits across from you in the diner that you frequented too often. Usually, you'd visit with Ningning, but she was pretty busy these days. 

"He'll never get in between us." 

"Promise?" He asks, peering up through his eyelashes. 

You never made promises unless you knew for a fact you could keep them, which is why you wrapped your pinky finger around your best friends without a shadow of hesitation. You were certain you would never break this promise.

"It's so strange now that you have a boyfriend." Sohee breaths just as your phone begins to vibrate.

Eunseok: Hey, I need you.

You: First off, that sounds weird. And secondly, I can't. I'm busy

Eunseok: You need to be busy with me.

You: why are you so weird?

"I'm gonna ask for refills," Sohee announces, his voice cutting through the buzz of conversation in the air and causing you to pull your eyes away, momentarily captivated. "Alright," you reply with a smile, and as Sohee walks off, you feel the familiar buzz of your phone vibrating in your pocket, drawing your attention once again.

Eunseok: My family wants to meet you.

You: Hard pass; I'm hanging out with my best friend. Maybe next time :)

Eunseok: $100

You: I can't just leave him.

Eunseok: $250.

You: Deal.

Eunseok: Perfect, I'll meet you at your place.

"Are you leaving?" Sohee asks, his disappointment palpable in his voice."Sorry, Hee. I'll make it up to you, I promise." You rush, reaching into your wallet to leave a twenty-dollar bill on the table. While Sohee plops down in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. 

"What are you wearing?" Eunseok asks, leaning against his sleek silver 2021 Jeep Wrangler. 

"I tried to be normal," you frown, looking down at your chosen outfit.

"Normal looks weird on you," he advises. "Go change."

"But your parents-" "Will like you, no matter what. Just be yourself," he cuts you off and grabs your shoulder to turn you back towards your apartment complex.

“And be fast.” He says last. 

You ask, "How is this?" while standing in front of him, extending your arms so that he can take in your entire outfit. "Much better," he nods in approval and courteously opens the car door for you to get in. His car is immaculately clean and impressively modern. Nothing like you’d see any other college student drive, athlete or not. Maybe Eunseok was an exception because he wasn’t just any athlete but one of the best. 

You can’t say you cared enough to know. You were more worried about other things. 

“You don’t have any exes I need to know about, right?” You ask, “You know… anyone who still has unresolved feelings and isn’t really good at talking things out.” 

“No one is going to show up at your door,” Eunseok reassures, his eyes focused on the road ahead, offering you a sense of security. 

“And do you have STDs or anything?” 

‘Why is that important?” He breaks his concentration to look at you.

“You’re right.” You nod, twirling your fingers and looking around until you see something outside of the window that catches your attention. 

“Any other questions?” He asks through his smirk, one that you were already beginning to hate. 

“Why me?” Eunseok opens his mouth to begin to speak, but you stop him before he can, “And don’t try that fake feminist bullshit on me. I know how you men are.” You add. 

To which he lets out a small laugh, “You were the first person to come to mind because I knew I’d never fall for you, so I don’t have to worry about things getting complicated.” 

It sounded harsh, but you were used to it. No guys ever looked in your direction. The ones that did only wanted one thing, and it wasn’t a cool, loving, caring girlfriend. The problem wasn’t that you were ugly. You were just too different. The way you talked, the things you liked, the way you dressed. You were far too strange for anyone to love you. Well, except for Sohee, of course, but that was only because he was a little strange himself. 

“Likewise.” You hum and continue gazing out of the window. 

When Eunseok reaches the driveway of his family home, he parks and turns almost his whole body around to face you. “Okay, first, I need your phone,” he demands with his hand out. 

You ask, “What do you need my phone for?” Yet you still hold your phone in the palm of his hand and patiently wait for him to reveal his plan. 

“Here you go.” He passes your phone back with his contact on display. 

“My everything?” You read aloud, your eyebrows instinctively furrowing. You thought that was the worst of it, but when your phone closes, you catch a glimpse of his face on your lock screen. “No offense, but I don’t wanna see your face every time I open my phone.” 

“You can change it back later.” He says unamused. 

“Okay but who’s gonna believe that we're so in love after two days?” You ask, folding your arms. 

“That reminds me, if they ask, we've been dating for three months.” 

“Don’t you think they’ll find it strange that we’ve been dating for three months, and you haven’t mentioned having a girlfriend?” You question. 

“Will you just trust me on this?” He asks, reminding you of when you asked Sohee the same question. You give him a half nod and breathe, “You’re the one paying me, so I guess I have to.” 

Eunseok’s little brother greets him as soon as he gets out of his truck. Wrapping his small arms around Eunseok’s legs. “Hey, critter, where’s mom?”

The little boy you assume is around six years old, seeing as you could hear his lisp when he says, “She’s in the kitchen talking to dad. I don’t think they know you’re here yet.” And suddenly, the kid turns to you. His smile, no longer evident, was replaced with a look of concern. You mirror his expression as the boy asks, “Who’s this?”

“This is my girlfriend.” Eunseok introduces you, moving to rest his arm around your waist. Your initial instinct is to push him off of you and slap him, but you do your best to try and muster up a smile instead. The only problem is that you don’t know how to fake a smile, and you think you might’ve scared the boy while trying to.

“You couldn’t just say hi to my little brother?” Eunseok scolds you the second the small boy disappears into the house. 

“Kids make me nervous.” You defend yourself as you pull his arm off of you. “This is gonna be an extra ten bucks, by the way.” You add, referring to his hand placements. 

“Maybe I should’ve gone with someone else.” 

“It’s not too late!” Your suggestion falls on deaf ears when he grabs your hand and guides you into his family home. Which you didn’t realize was so big until you got inside. Everything looked so expensive. “Woah, I didn’t know you were-”

“You’re here early. I haven’t even started prepping yet.” Eunseok's mother unintentionally cuts you off to welcome him into a hug. “And I’m assuming this is your girlfriend.” She adds, looking at you. 

“Yeah, this is Y/n,” Eunseok speaks for you. 

“Aren’t you just the prettiest thing.” You were never good with compliments, mainly because you weren’t used to getting them. So, while you should’ve smiled and replied with a humble “thank you.” You say, “I know.” Instead. 

Eunseok's head swiftly turns in your direction, and his mom's smile drops. "I mean, Eunseok tells me that all the time. It's become a habit of his." Nice save, you think to yourself, noticing how Eunseok's shoulders relax. 

"You're a very lucky girl. You know there's no one like my son." 

"You're right; never in my life have I met anyone like Eunseok." You grin, knowing that you don't mean it the same way she does. 

"I'd say I'm the lucky one. Y/n's top of her class and she just started her internship for a space program. Plus, she's funny and gorgeous, and she supports me. Not to mention, I've also never met anyone like her." Eunseok wraps his arm around you to pull you closer to him. 

Strangely enough, you didn't feel the need to rip his arm off and punch him in the face like you wanted to the last time. Instead, you're more impressed that he even knew about your internship and thought you were funny. Although you were sure, he was just saying that to feed that facade you two had going on. 

"I would just say we make a good match." You add. 

As the older woman beams and compliments the both of you on how good you look together, you exhale in relief. But when Eunseok's father strides into the room, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe, you realize his mom was just a warm-up act.

"You into fashion?" The older man's voice is so deep it echoes through your eardrums. Your knees buckled, and if it weren't for the hand that Eunseok kept firm around your waist, you would've run out of the door screaming. 

"Uh, um, yeah. Well, no, actually. I mean, it's… cool… sometimes."  You stumble over your words. Your heart races the more he looks at you; you feel like he knows everything. He knows you're lying to him; he knows you're accepting payment from his son to keep up this act, and he probably knows about that pen you stole from Sohee last week. 

“I like it, it’s different.” His father says, referring to your outfit. “Good choice, you better treat her right.” He turns to the tall, younger male beside you. 

“I intend to,” Eunseok responds. 

“Why don’t you give her a tour of the house? I’ll call you down when dinner is ready.” His dad suggests and leaves you and Eunseok alone for a moment. 

Rather than allowing Eunseok to guide you, you grab his wrist and pull him up the stairs to the first room you find, which, luckily for you, happens to be his room. You rush to lock the door and stomp back towards him. Your voice still shaky from the interaction with his father, you say, “I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

“What you have to.” Eunseok pleads. 

“No, tell them I died in a tragic accident and that you can’t ever move on from me. That'll solve both of our problems.” You argue. 

“It’s not that bad.” He says incredulously, holding his arms over his chest. 

“It's not bad. It’s horrible.” 

“My parents like you already, I can tell.” Eunseok pleads, attempting to convince you. 

“That’s worse, you idiot.” You catch yourself from yelling too loud. “I’d rather they hate me so they won’t wanna see me again.” 

Both of you take a break from arguing to respond to his mom when she asks. “How are you guys doing up there.” 

“We’re fine.” You say in unison as you stare at him with the look of death. 

“I can see why it’s so hard for you to get a girlfriend.” You insult. “After today, we’re done.”

“What? Are you breaking up with me?”

“I am.” You assure him as you walk away. Opening the door to find his brother on the opposite side. You pause for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. He blinks at you and you awkwardly coo, “Hey, little boy.”

“Are you really dating my brother?” The kid inquires, staring up at you with a puzzled expression.

“Umm, yeah.” You wanna roll your eyes. You couldn’t believe you were still going with this bit after arguing that you were done.

“That makes me happy because you’re really pretty. Do you wanna see my room?”

“Sure, why not.” You think aloud.

“Yay! Come on, it's this way.” The child cheers, tugging on your wrist to lead you to his room. 

If possible, your body entered a whole other dimension. The model solar system scattered around the ceiling was the first thing that caught your attention. The life-sized astronaut standing in the corner of the room made your heart leap out of your chest. Hands down this was the coolest room you had ever seen in your life. 

“What the fu-“ You stammer, catching yourself before you can finish your sentence. 

“Don’t worry.” The boy sings, “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Your joy came to a harsh halt, when Mr Song announced that dinner was ready. The small boy remained by your side while you glared at his older brother. You roll your eyes when Eunseok pulls a chair out for you and gestures for you to take a seat. 

You accept the seat reluctantly, but refuse to thank him. The room is quiet, exactly how you prefer to keep it. 

"How long have you been dating Eunseok?" His father abruptly interjects, shattering the fragile silence you had painstakingly maintained. 

"Um." You gulp, your voice betraying the effort to conceal your discomfort, "Like three months… an- and a half?" 

"Three months?" Mr Song repeats, turning to Eunseok. For a small moment all of the attention is off of you, which allows you to release the breath you've been holding for over five minutes. "How come we're just now finding out about her?" 

The question makes you tap Eunseok's leg because you already warned him about this. "Just trust me." He said, but now he's stuttering and tripping over his words. "I- well, she-" 

"It's my fault." You interrupt, "I wanted to make sure we were compatible before I just sprung myself on his family." 

"Let me just say we are absolutely delighted to finally meet you. You are such a charming young lady," his mom gushes. "Did you know you're the first girl he's ever introduced to us?" 

“Really?” You ask, unsurprised. "You know, it's actually really funny that you say that because sometimes I find myself questioning if he's-" and as you're about to finish the sentence, a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen. To his parents, he was just being affectionate, innocently wrapping his arm around you to demonstrate his love for your personal space. None of them would've guessed what was honestly going on.

"What were you saying, honey?" Mrs. Song smiles, anticipating ‌ hearing the rest of your thoughts. 

"Sometimes I wonder if he’s even real." You force a grin, your words laced with a hint of bitterness that you hope goes unnoticed.

“It was lovely having you.” Mrs. Song beams happily, standing by the doorway of their family home. 

You reply, “It was nice being here.” While subtly removing Eunseok's arm from around your waist, or at least trying to. But his hold just got tighter with each attempt you made to push him off.

“I don’t want you to go.” The small boy pouts in front of you. 

“Don’t worry, she’ll be back,” Eunseok responds to the boy for you.

“Promise?” The little boy looks up at you with glossy eyes and one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen in your entire life. How could you say no to such a sweet face?

“I promise.” You reassure looking everywhere but the boy in front of you. 

“I can’t wait to see you again.” His mother claps. “Drive safe.” She cheers as Eunseok guides you to his car. You wait until the front door is shut, and no one can hear you before you push him away from you and hold your hand up as if you’re about to slap him.

“I should kill you.”  You growl. 

"At least let me drive you home first.” He suggests holding his truck door open for you. You wanna slap him, choke him, kick him in his knees, and make him beg for mercy. But you roll your eyes instead and take your spot in his passenger seat. 

“Your family is kinda cool, even though your dad scares the shit out of me.” You mutter, staring out the window at the passing cars on the road. 

“You know you’re welcome anytime.” 

“I think it’s best we keep this professional. I don’t want you to ease up on payments because you think we’re friends.” 

“That’s fair.” Eunseok nods. 

“You and I could never be friends. We’re too different.” You add, resting your head against the back of your seat. 

“I’m starving.” Sohee whines, throwing his head against the back of your couch. 

You laugh, “you always are.” Squishing his cheeks together. 

“This isn’t funny Y/n. I could die if I don’t eat something in the next 2 seconds.” 

“You’re not going to die. I ordered pizza 20 minutes ago; it should be here any minute.” As if on cue, there’s a knock at your door, and before you can say or do anything, Sohee is shooting up to retrieve it. 

“Oh, it’s you…” Sohee squints at the tall ball player in front of him as soon as he opens the door.

“Who is it?” You ask, jumping up from your couch to stand next to Sohee. “Oh… Eunseok. What- umm. What are you doing here?” 

“My mom saw how much you liked the food yesterday, so she asked me to bring you some leftovers.’ Euseok pushes the bag full of containers in your direction. 

“Did she really? Are the green beans in here too?” You ask, snatching the bag from his hand. 

“Yeah, I think she packed everything.” Eunseok scratches the back of his neck.

“I feel like I just abducted and woke up on Venus.” You squeal, rushing towards your table to dig through the bag.

“Huh?” 

“She’s thankful,” Sohee explains for you. 

“Well, tell your mom I said thank you. Bye, love you.” You rush, pushing him out of the way and slamming the door in his face. 

When you turn back on your heels you’re surprised to see Sohee staring at you with an equally surprised expression on his face. “Are you guys saying that already?” Sohee asks 

“Well, we’re moving kinda Fast because… You know… We just never know when we’re gonna … die.” You laugh awkwardly.

“You know you’re really unpredictable,” Sohee continues to stare.

“What do you mean?” You plop down at your table, half waiting for his explanation but mostly interested in the food in front of you.

“You guys have nothing in common. He’s well known and attractive, but you never cared about that kind of stuff.” Your best friend watches as you unpack the leftovers your “boyfriend” just bought you. ‘You say you love him, but can you name just one thing you like about him?” 

If you were in a serious relationship you might’ve cared about what it was that Sohee had to say, but nothing about this was real. So you couldn’t care. You couldn’t care even if you tried. 

“I like him because his mom knows how to cook.” You answer with your mouth full.

"What did you guys think about that movie I told you to watch?" Ningning asks, walking between you and Sohee. The hallways are full of students and teachers as the three of you walk through the somewhat heavy crowd. 

"I didn't watch it." Sohee shrugs while eating the burrito he begged you to buy because he was "so hungry, he could pass out."

You answer, "It was horrible," ready to give a detailed description of why you hated it and everything that was wrong with it.

"Wasn't it," Ningning replies. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into watching it." You gasp.

"I had to make sure it wasn't just me." She says, but you don't fully process it because you feel the ghost of someone's hand about to grab yours. On instinct, you attack; what else were you supposed to do? Unfortunately, right after you turn around to punch the stranger in the face, you freeze. The stranger isn't a stranger but your (fake) boyfriend, standing there with a shocked expression and blood dripping from his lip.

"Oh my god." You shriek, "I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay; don't worry about it," Eunseok mutters, but the growing puddle of crimson red liquid tells you that it definitely isn't okay.

"You're bleeding!" You acknowledge reaching for his bottom lip. 

"It's fine, I'll be fine. Let me just take you to class." 

"Well, let me clean you up." You continue, staring at his busted bloody lip. 

"It doesn't even hurt." He cheers, shaking his head. 

"I won't be long; I have my first aid kit right here." 

“You carry around a first aid kit?” He questions, his eyebrows raising in surprise, as you push him into a random empty classroom. “Do you just punch people often?”

“It was an accident.” You answer, your voice softening, as you rip a sanitary wipe open and tap it against his lip. “Why would you even be grabbing my hand in public anyway?” You ask, while continuing to repair his busted lip. 

“You’re my girlfriend; I’m supposed to treat you as such.” He mumbles.

"Fake girlfriend." You respond, your voice tinged with a hint of bitterness, as you sit up with a tube of ointment on display. "Apply this again before you go to sleep tonight, and it should be healed in no time. And don't lick your lips. This stuff tastes disgusting."  

"I don't imagine it would taste like strawberries." He remarks. 

You back away from him with your hands on your hips. "Whatever, you still didn't answer. Why were you sneaking up on me?"  He doesn't say anything for a short few moments, and you can tell that he's thinking about how to say what he's going to say. 

"So my dad is good friends with my coach, and word got around." He mumbles the last part, but it’s intentional this time.

"Word got around?" Your eyes widen at the thought, "So I'm stuck with you?" You ask, raising your hand to push your hair out of your face, and rolling your eyes when you see Eunseok flinch at your sudden movements. 

'You say that like it's a bad thing." 

"It's certainly not a good thing." You shout again. Which only makes Eunseok lean away from you, arms shielding his face. 

"Relax, I'm not gonna hit you." You breathe, "Although I should." 

"Are you mad?" Eunseok says after a long silence. 

You respond sarcastically, "No, of course not." You tilt your head to stare at the basketball player in front of you, wondering how you managed to get yourself into this situation. "In fact I couldn't be happier." 

"Since when were you and Eunseok a thing?" Ningning asks, emphasizing Eunseok's name. 

Ever since the interaction between you and him in the hallway, all you heard was his name. 

"A month," Sohee answers on your behalf,

"You knew?" Ningning whips her head around to the boy. "How come I'm just finding out about this?" 

"I tried to keep it as private as possible." You answer. 

"What, so you told Mr. Blabber mouth over here?" Ningning’s accusatory finger points at Sohee, who's innocently munching on his sandwich. "You know, you guys really make me feel left out." 

"That's what happens when you choose other people over us?" You shrug. 

"It would still be nice to know about what's going on in my best friend's life." Ningning debates.  "And what about you? Are you datin—never mind?" Ningning stops herself. Both of you know ‌that Sohee was never private about anything. The entire planet would know if he got a girlfriend. Considering he couldn't keep a secret even if his life was at stake.

"How did you even start dating? You two are so… different." The girl rests her chin in her open palm. 

"That's what I said! What could you possibly like about him? He's just some dumb ball player."  Sohee adds. 

“Dumb ball player? You might have a crush on Y/n, but that does not give you the right to down-talk the Song Eunseok.” Ningning jumps up, swinging her finger around.

All you can do is facepalm. This is why you never tell them anything; it always causes an argument. Too immersed in your friends in front of you, you don’t notice when Eusneok appears next to you until he says, “Do you mind if I sit here.” 

“Don’t you wanna sit with your other friends?” You look around the area for all the possible seats he could take besides right next to you. You were starting to think he didn’t understand what personal space was. 

"You're here." He says, occupying the seat without your permission. 

"The more I look at it, it kinda makes sense," Ningning interjects, tilting her head. 

Sohee soon does the same, only to mumble, "I still don't get it." 

"Okay, what are you guys thinking for tonight?" You try to change the subject. You feared that if you talked too much, you'd accidentally reveal how you felt about Eunseok and that this entire bit was fake.

"Why don't we just do Pizza?" Ningning suggests, but Sohee is quick to knock down the idea. 

"We always do pizza. Why don't we do tacos." 

"Mm yeah, tacos sounds good." You nod, "Let's do tacos." 

"I don't want tacos." Ningning frowns, "How about sushi?" 

"I'm good with sushi." Sohee agrees. 

"Perfect, we're going with sushi." You clap, but your joy is short-lived as Eunseok's sudden grip on your wrist startles you, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

'What are you guys planning?" He asks.

"Every Friday, the three of us do a game night. It's... it's kinda boring." You say, your voice trailing off, hoping he won't ask to come along. But he doesn't seem to catch the hint.

"Oh really? I'll bring the drinks then." He volunteers

"Oh no, you don't have to." You wave your palms around and shake your head. 

"I don't wanna come empty-handed."

"You don't have to come at all; it's okay." You smile sarcastically. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

"What's better than hanging out with my girlfriend?" He asks, smiling sweetly at you while Ningning squeaks about how cute the two of you are. 

"Since I'm such an awesome girlfriend, I'll let you hang out with your friends tonight." You say through gritted teeth. Squinting as you push his hands away from you.

 "And since I'm an even better boyfriend, I'll hang out with you instead." He grins, overpowering you and pulling in closer to him by your waist.

Sohee grimaces at the sight, "You guys aren't gonna be doing that the whole night, right?" He asks.

Despite all of your attempts to change his mind, Eunseok still finds himself in your living room arguing with Sohee about who knows you better. And leave it up to Ningning to encourage their foolishness. 

“Okay, this one’s easy; what’s her favorite color?” Ningning stands in front of the two boys with flashcards. 

“Blue!” Sohee calls out first. 

“Blue, purple, and green,” Eunseok calls out almost exactly at the same time as Sohee. They both look at you in sync for the answer as your smile grows.

“My favorite color is blue.” You confirm, “and purple and green.” 

You watch Sohee, your melodramatic friend, drop to his knees, his hands gripping his hair in mock despair. “You’re so dramatic,” Ningning chuckles, her laughter filling the room before shuffling the cards to ask another question. 

“Alright, what’s her go-to movie for movie nights.” 

“Umm,” You laugh when Eunseok looks straight at you for the answer. 

“E.T.,” Sohee calls out, jumping and pointing his index finger. He doesn’t have to look at you to find out if he’s right because he knows he is. That’s been your favorite movie since the both of you were kids; you kind of grew out of it since then, but you never missed an opportunity to watch E.T. 

“And the winner is-.” Ningning pauses, eyeing the two boys down for suspicion. “It’s a tie.” She beams. 

Sohee nods and holds his hand out for Eunseok to shake, “You’re cool, I guess.” 

“Thank you.” Eunseok smiles. 

“I still think you don’t deserve her, but you’re not as bad as I thought.” Your best friend explains, looking off to the side. 

“It’s getting late, I’m heading out.” Ningning breaks through the handshake to walk towards your front door. “Let’s go, Sohee.” She calls out behind her. 

“But I wanna finish hanging out with Y/n.” The boy cries but follows after her when she shoots him a deadly look. 

As the door closes behind Sohee, it's just you and Eunseok, the silence amplifying the sense of isolation. 

“I see your lip got better.” You acknowledge it when he sits down on the floor next to you. 

Eunseok taps his bottom lip, “It still hurts, though.” He says. 

You laugh and cup his cheeks with both hands, gently wriggling his face around. “You poor baby, do you want me to kiss it better?” You ask, but he stares at you blankly, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and amusement. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You lean back from him, but his eyes never leave you. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” He finally says, leaning back against his palms.

“You invited yourself.” 

“Well, thank you for accepting me; I had fun,” Eunseok replies.” You said you do this every Friday?”

“Do not show up at my door every week, Eunseok; my neighbors are gonna think-” We’re dating.” He adds, finishing your sentence. 

“Just don’t show up here every weekend, okay,” 

“Why are you so mean to me?” 

“I have to make sure you understand that we aren’t friends,” You assert. “And when this deal ends, I’ll probably never talk to you again. So don’t get too comfortable.” 

The next afternoon, you're walking through ‌semi-crowded hallways. Sohee and Ningning, being who knows where you mentally plan what you're going to do once you get home. The plans include changing into sweatpants and watching Netflix until you fall asleep on your couch. 

The thought almost brings a smile to your face; there's nothing you love more than the soft touch of your couch, the familiar scent of your home, and the comforting silence that surrounds you when you're doing nothing in the comfort of your own home. 

Amid your blissful thoughts, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, breaking your reverie. Instinctively, you roll your eyes before you check to confirm that it's Eunseok. "Come watch me practice." He grins when you turn to face him. 

You ask, "Why would I do that?" Pulling your wrist away from him. 

"So you can meet my friends." He says. 

"Why would I do that?" You repeat. 

"Because I met your friends." 

You say, "I'll pass," but Eunseok quickly grabs your wrist again. 

"Come on, it'll be fun." He doesn't wait for you to agree or disagree before he pulls you towards the gym. 

You were quickly learning about Eunseok. He didn't understand physical boundaries, or any boundaries for that matter, and he loved to ignore everything that came out of your mouth. You could say this was your fault. You let him dangle money over your head, and now you're stuck with him for the next few months. 

Eunseok shifts his hand from your wrist to intertwine his fingers with yours. And before you know it, you're surrounded by sweaty basketball players in the gym. You hear their shoes squeak against the gym floor, along with the bouncing of basketballs. This was the first time you'd ever entered the school gym, considering you never had a reason to. Sports aren't your thing, and before now, you never imagined that you'd end up with a sports player. 

"Yeah, no, I don't want to do this." You mutter, your voice barely audible as you try to walk away. But with your hand still firmly held by Eunseok, a simple tug is all it takes to bring you back into the uncomfortable setting. 

He pleads, "Just this one time.' 

"What am I supposed to do here?" You frown, looking around the dimly lit gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor echoing in your ears.

"Relax and watch your boyfriend play basketball." He smirks down at you. 

You whine, "You're not even my boyfriend." You use your other fist to punch his chest weakly, but as always, your words fall on deaf ears. 

"You're late." A stranger calls out from a few feet away from you. His tone seems harsh, a clear sign of tension, but you ignore it by clinging onto Eunseok. As the unnamed man gets closer, his eyes find yours, and he begins glaring at you, his silent threat hanging in the air. 

“Y/n this is Sungchan.” Eunseok gestures towards the boy in front of you, "And Sungchan, this is." You notice his breath hitch when he pauses. “Y/n.” 

Sungchan looks at you again, but he doesn't do anything else to acknowledge you. "Don't show off because your girlfriend’s  here." He says last before walking away. Allowing you the chance to finally breathe.

"I don't think this was a good idea." 

“Don’t worry he’s not always like that.” Eunseok explains to help make you feel better but it does the direct opposite. 

“Great so it’s just me.” You frown. 

He turns you around so that your facing him, as he takes each of your hands into his own. “Don’t think too much about it okay.” 

“I won’t.” You nod. 

“I’ll go get changed, you can wait over there.” He points with your hand still connected to his. “When were done I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

“If I have to sit here for an hour I’m leaving.” 

An hour quickly turned into two, but you remained planted on the bleachers. You would never say it to him, or even aloud, but you actually enjoyed watching him play. It was entertaining to see how much he enjoyed basketball and how broad his smile was when he turned to you every time he scored. 

You never thought you’d be this into sports, or maybe it was the boy playing the sport.

As practice comes to an end, Eunseok approaches you. “I want to introduce you to my friends.” He says. You look behind his shoulder to see Sungchan already looking at you and shake your head. 

“No, I’ll pass.” You stand up in front ‌of him and grab your bag to leave. 

“It’ll be quick.” He says,

“I have things to do, Eunseok.” You say, Attempting to walk away. Eunseok lets you take two steps before he reaches for your wrist to pull you into his arms and picks you up, barely enough for your feet to hang above the floor. 

“Eunseok.” You slam your fist around his arms, “Put me down.” You continue, but he only laughs, finally landing you on your feet when you’re in front of his friends. 

“Y/n this is Shotaro.” He points to the smiley boy standing beside Sungchan, “That’s Seunghan. That’s Anton, and you’ve met Sungchan already.” 

“How long have you guys been dating?” Shotaro asks before finishing the rest of his water bottle. 

Eunseok answers, “Four months.” 

"Four months, and you haven't told us," Seunghan asks. 

"I wasn't ready to meet anyone yet," You say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Eunseok chuckles nervously, attempting to diffuse the tension. Your gaze meets Sungchan's, a silent exchange of unspoken words, before he finally breaks the silence.

"Well, if we're finally meeting you, that must mean you're serious, huh?" He says, looking at you.

"You never know what could happen. We might break up tomorrow." You look up at Eunseok, hoping he'll get the message.

Eunseok responds, "But we're not breaking up anytime soon." Wrapping his arm around you. 

Though you're mildly upset with Eunseok, you're even more uncomfortable with the way his basketball mate is eyeing you down. And while you'd usually push your (fake) boyfriend away, you feel the need to hold him closer, mainly because he was the only person in the room who felt somewhat familiar to you.

"Anything could happen," you say while simultaneously resting your head against him, hoping to ease that anxious feeling you're getting. 

Eunseok notices something's wrong when you begin to get unusually touchy—turning in his arms to rest your head against his chest. Their voices become nothing but distant sounds as you disassociate into your thoughts. 

"Are you ready to go?" He whispers into your ear. 

You mutter, "I've been ready to go since we got here." You feel the vibrations in his chest when he laughs. 

"Let's go." He says, reaching for your hand.

"Wait, you don't —""Aren't you hungry?" He interrupts, and you nod, allowing him to guide you out of the gym.

"Didn't know you could be so clingy." Eunseok comments as he reaches to open your drink since you were struggling with opening it yourself. 

He grins, "Here," when passing your drink back and watching you get flustered.

"I don't think we should keep meeting each other's friends." You blurt after thanking him. "It'll just make things more awkward after we break up. They'll want to comfort us and all that weird stuff." 

The way Eunseok looks at you makes your heart skip a beat. Out of nervousness, you take a bite of your sandwich to distract yourself from his gaze. "You're thinking about breaking up already?" He asks.

"How long did you plan on doing this?" You respond, "You know we'll have to stop eventually." 

Eunseok sits back in his seat, "I like introducing you as my girlfriend." he says 

"I think you need a real relationship instead of paying me to pretend with you. It's embarrassing, actually." 

"Maybe I like pretending with you," You look up to see that he isn't even looking at you. He has your heart skipping beats, and he couldn't even give you the decency to look at you.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause it won't be long." You assert to hide the way you're feeling. 

"I'm thinking about buying a skateboard," Sohee reveals. The clinking of plates and forks around you fades into nothing when you look at your friend wide-eyed. You were used to spontaneous, crazy ideas from him, but they didn't usually include potential suicide.

 "A skateboard?" You repeat

"Do you even know how to skate?" Ningning asked, playfully teasing as she took a bite of her salad.

Sohee looks away. "No, but I have free will and think it could help land me a girlfriend."  

"I think it just would make you look like an idiot with a skateboard." You shrug, "But to each their own." As you wrap your sentence up, you check your phone for the notification that just came in. 

My everything: I miss you

My everything: Let's hang out.

"You know what? I think a skateboard might actually suit you, suit you," you say, trying to dismiss the message you just received.

You observe Sohee's face lighting up. "I knew you'd agree with me," he beams. Then, he turns to Ningning and asks, "Why can't you be more supportive?"

"I can't wait to watch you fall on your face." You add, and Sohee's smile gradually fades. Your phone vibrates a few more times, drawing skeptical glares from both Sohee and Ningning.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?" Ninging speaks up first, her voice tinged with concern. You feel a familiar pang of anxiety as you glance down at your phone, quickly dismissing the call with a hesitant shake of your head. "No, um, it's just spam or something, no one really important," you mumble, hoping to convince both yourself and your friends. Sohee leans in, his brow furrowed in thought. "Have you tried blocking them?" he asks, his tone suggesting a practical solution to what seems like a trivial problem.

"It's no point. They're just going to keep coming back. I'll tell him we aren't friends, and he'll keep bothering me because he doesn't understand anything I say." You vent, the tension in the room thickening as you mindlessly stab the chicken on your tray. 

Sohee readjusts himself in his seat, feeling visibly uncomfortable now since the vibe in the room has changed. "I think blocking him might help with that."

You reach for your phone and press the power button, watching as the screen goes dark. "That should take care of it," you mutter, placing the phone face up on the table. With your attention no longer occupied by the phone, Sohee visibly relaxes, and Ninging seizes the opportunity to steer the conversation in a new direction.

"So, how's everything going with Eunseok?" she asks, a cautious grin spreading across her face.

“Why are you always bringing him up?” You whine. 

“I just wanna know the details. How come you never share the details?” She persists.

You shake your head, “There’s no details to share.” 

“I find it hard to believe that you two are actually dating,” she argues, her top lip turning up. You have nothing to say to that; you’ve been trying your best to sell your act, but you're no actor, and you were never really good at pretending to like people that you didn't.

“We're dating. It’s real.” You nod, using your drink to avoid eye contact. 

“Well, why does it seem like you don’t like him?” Ningning rests her elbows on the table, which makes you nervous for some reason.

"Like him? Please, I like him so much you could even say I love him," you reply with a forced laugh. "Can we change the subject?"

“There’s a basketball game tomorrow; I know we don’t usually go to the games, but I think it could be fu-” Ninging trails off when you throw your head back and groan. 

“I’m not doing this.” 

“Why don’t you wanna go support your boyfriend.” Ningning doesn’t back down. You always told her she could be a lawyer since she had the knack of always getting the truth out of someone. You just hated that she always used her talents on you.

"Sohee, what kind of skateboard are you thinking about getting?" You ask, ignoring the way NIngning looks at you. 

"You know you make it hard for me to believe that two of you are actually dating." She challenges, her tone laced with skepticism.

"I don't know what to tell you. Go ask him yourself, I guess." You shrug

"Name five things you like about Sohee." Ningning spurs randomly. 

"Easy, Umm, he's a good listener; he's fun to be around. He knows the best food places and has a good sense of humor. I like his smile and his fluffy hair."

"Okay, that's six things." 

"I can make it seven. He's fun-sized," you add with a chuckle, the humor in your voice lightening the mood. 

"Okay, great, that's seven. Now, name one thing you like about your boyfriend." 

"He's… Well, he's good at basketball." 

"You know, Ningning is right. I'm more convinced you have a crush on me than you do your boyfriend," Sohee interjects. 

"Whatever, think whatever you want. I don't care." You throw your hands up in defense.

"Yeah, you're not very convincing." Ningning laughs, and Sohee joins her. 

The gymnasium is filled to the brim. You just hope that it's full enough for you to go unnoticed by your boyfriend or any of his teammates. You lost Sohee and Ningning to the concession stand and the group of girls who stopped to ask Sohee if he knew how to skate.

"I'm going to go find seats," you call out, but with all the commotion happening around you, neither of them hears you. 

So you roamed the busy gym by yourself, hiding at the sight of any jersey you saw, especially any jersey with the number thirty nine. Unfortunately for you, there were hundreds of jerseys, with thirty nine going around.

"Hey." A somewhat familiar voice appeared behind you, causing you to stop right in your tracks. You think you'd rather have run into Eunseok, but Sungchan finds you instead. 

You slowly turn to see the tall boy hovering over you, already dressed in his basketball attire. "Hey." You say, sucking in a breath. His gaze is much different than the one he had a week ago; it's softer now, and you think you even see a smile. Still, you hold your breath, scared he might yell at you at any second now that Eunseok isn't around. 

"Umm," he shakes his head, "He's down there." Sungchan points to the very boy you've been avoiding. Thankfully, he's turned away from you, seemingly preoccupied with another conversation. 

"Oh, thanks." You nod.

"I can walk you down if you want." He insists, and you shake your head. 

"No- I think I'm gonna go to the restroom." You point. "I might've drank a little too much." 

"Yeah," he stands, lingering around like he wants to say something else, and you continue holding your breath. "Do you know where the restrooms are? or do you want me to walk you?" 

"I think I can handle finding them on my own." 

"Yeah, yeah, of course." 

"Yeah," you laugh. Shortly after, he laughs along with you. "Good luck with the game, Sungchan." 

"Thanks." He says just before you run off to hide in the restroom. The idea seems great at first, but you begin to have your doubts when you see rolls of toilet paper stringed along the floor, and each stall has evidence of someone else's previous activities. 

You're sure you can find somewhere else to hide out until the game starts, no big deal. 

However, when you see Eunseok leaning against the wall outside, waiting for you, you aren't so certain.

"Damnit, Sungchan," you think to yourself as you look the other way and attempt to pass your boyfriend. 

You thought you had almost slipped away when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. "You really are here," He grinned as you turned to face him.

"Not because I want to be." You huff, "My friends forced me to come." 

"But if you tell them that you're better without me here, I bet they'll leave me alone," you think aloud. Eunseok smiles to match yours; based on that alone, you get a peak of hope. 

"Yeah, of course." He nods. 

"Okay, umm, just go wait over there. I'll find them, and then you can just say something like, 'Why are you here? I told you not to come. You're going to make me nervous and go home seriously.' And they'll buy it." You grin.

"Right…" 

"Oh, you're the best, thank you. I'll be right back!" you yell, drifting farther away to find your friends. 

"Guys," you panted, holding onto your knees as you caught your breath. “The game is about to start. We need to-" You snatched the water bottle from Sohees's grip and finished the rest of it, which just happened to be the entire thing. 

"We should go sit down, don't wanna miss the game." You pop up.

"But-"Ningning frowns, gesturing to the one person in line in front of her. "I've been waiting here for thirty minutes. I want my hotdog." 

“No time. Let’s go.” You rush, pulling her along with you to the spot you and Eunseok agreed to meet up at. 

Just as promised, Eunseok looks surprised to see you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks, pulling you into a bear hug. 

“I came to watch you play obviously.” You mumbled into his chest. 

“I thought you told me you wouldn’t come.” He says loud enough for your two friends to hear. “I guess you wanted to surprise me.” 

Your eyes go wide and you attempt to push him off of you but that only makes him cling onto you tighter. “Eunseok.” 

He coos, "I'm so glad I have a girlfriend that supports me." Easing up on his hold. "I know I'm gonna do much better now that you're here." He grins despite the way you're glaring at him. 

"You two are so cute. We're going to give you some space." Ningning calls from behind you while Sohee continues to glower at the entire thing. 

"What the hell was that?" You ask as soon as they leave.

"I'm kind of busy right now, but we can talk afterward, right?" He smirks and leans down to kiss your cheek. "Wish me luck." 

"Break a leg." You shout as he backs away from you. "Or both of them." 

The game starts while you're still stomping your way through the gym, your lips turn down into a mean frown, and your arms crossed over your chest. Ningning spots you first and waves her hand around for you to sit between her and Sohee.

"You look mad." Sohee acknowledges.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" You laugh sarcastically. "I'm not mad."

"He looked at me." The girl behind you squeaks. "Eunseok looked at me." 

"Because of that." Your best friend mutters.

"Y/n isn't a jealous person. it's going to take a lot more than some freshman to tick her off." Ningning speaks up, but she's proved wrong when you turn around and glare at the younger girl. 

"Where'd you get that?" You ask, referring to her jersey.

 "I made it." She beams, "Eunseok is my favorite player."

"Give it to me." 

"No, it's mine." She pouts, possessively holding her garment.

You breathe and reach into your back pocket for your wallet. She looks at you confused when you pull out a hundred-dollar bill. "What's your name?" You ask.

"Lea." She says barely.

"Alright, Lea. I'm going to give you this." You wave around the money, "and you're going to give me that jersey. Okay?"

She nods hesitantly.

"Good girl." You coo, passing her the money and waiting patiently as she pulls the shirt over her head and passes it to you. 

It takes less than a second to slide it over your clothes and marvel at how good it looks. "Perfect fit?"  You smile, and she smiles back, holding a thumbs up. 

"That went a lot better than I thought it would," Ningning comments, her voice filled with relief and amusement, while Sohee picks at the material of your newly acquired jersey.

"Wow, did you actually make this?" He turns to ask, and Lea nods. "This is so good." He continues playing with your shirt until you push his hand away. 

"Do you skate?" She asks. Sohee looks down at the useless skateboard and then up at you, who's giving him a knowing look, anticipating his lie.

"Umm, no, I just thought it would be cool to walk around with." He utters, "But I'm learning."

"That is so cool." She giggles. 

"You think so?" 

You look at Ningning, eyes furrowed, and Ningning looks back at you with the same expression. Neither of you thought that his plan would actually work. 

"Do you wanna come sit by me?" Lea taps the empty spot next to her. He looks to both of his friends for permission, and you nod. 

The game goes on pretty well for the next 30 minutes, or so you assume. You weren't really sure; you just cheered when everyone else cheered and booed when everyone else booed. "Woo." You jump out of your seat, fist in the air. "That's my boyfriend." 

"You're cheering for the wrong team." Ningning informs you. 

"Oh." You pause. "Boo, you suck." Your best friend laughs as you lower back in your seat and continue to watch Eunseok play quietly for the rest of the game. Occasionally locking eyes with Sungchan.

Once everything is over, Eunseok finds you first. "Hey," he announces, interrupting your conversation with Ningning. 

"Hey," You gasp, feeling his warm breath on your neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and draws your back to his chest.

"Do you mind if I walk her home?" Eunseok asks Ningning, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"You can't; we have to look for Sohee." You explain but Ningning shakes her head.

"I don't mind; she was talking about you too much anyway. It was starting to get annoying." Your best friend beams when you scowl at her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun. Bye." 

And when she skips away, Eunseok only pulls you closer to tug on the hem of your shirt. "What's this?" He questions. 

"Someone gave it to me. I figured it'd be rude if I didn't wear it." You lie. "I'm not wearing it for you."

You're scared you'll spill everything if he looks at you any longer. Luckily for you, he just nods and changes the subject. "Sungchan told me you wished him good luck." He says, taking your hand in his.

"I did."

"You told me to break a leg." He responds, sticking his bottom lip out unintentionally. 

"Isn't that a phrase of encouragement? You know, like when people say 'break a leg' before an audition because they want them to get the part." You start rambling even though you know exactly what you meant.

"They don't tell them to break both legs." He says.

You bite back a laugh. "Well, I just wanted you to do really good." 

The sky is pitch dark, not even the stars shine on the warm night. The only light comes from the dimly lit street lamps, casting long shadows on the deserted streets. But you're not gazing at the heavens. You're too busy navigating the path, trying to avoid colliding with Eunseok every few steps.

"Oh, how come you haven't responded to my texts? Is your phone broken?" he asks, breaking the silence you were slowly getting used to.

"No, my phone is fine; I just didn't wanna talk to you." 

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ouch," He teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I have an idea." You stop and jump in front of him. "Why don't I help you find a real girlfriend? Then we can stop this." 

He looks up and pretends to think, giving you a few seconds of silence before he smiles down at you. "Nope."

"What?" 

 "I don't want to." He shakes his head.

"Have you ever thought about how this is affecting my life?" You whine when he grabs your hand and pulls you back next to him.

"I have, actually. You get a weekly stipend, free game tickets, and an amazing boyfriend. Could things get any better for you?" 

"I have two friends who keep poking their noses into my romantic life and a weirdo who doesn't listen to anything I say." You mutter. 

"I guess there's that too." He grins. "You still have an amazing boyfriend, though, so I think that evens it out." 

"You're not my boyfriend." As suspected, your words go into one ear and straight through the other. He keeps his same stupid grin on his face and your hand wrapped in his until he walks you to your apartment.

“I wonder what my girlfriend is doing.” Sohee pouts, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand. 

“Probably thinking of all the ways to break up with you.” Ningning laughs, and you start to laugh with her, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit. 

“Sorry, guys.” You sniff.

“Don’t worry, girl. It’s fine.” Ningning reassured but continued to back away. 

Sohee passes you a napkin. “Are you getting sick?” 

“I hope not; I don’t wanna cancel our game night.” 

“We might have to,” Ningning speaks. “Don’t worry, we always have next week.”

“But we’ve never missed a week.” You cry, “We’re going so strong I don’t wanna ruin it.” 

Ningning shakes her head. “My health is-“ She stops when she notices how you and Sohee look at her. “Your health is far more important than game nights.” She corrects herself. “So just get some rest. We’ll try again next week.”

You sniff, “Okay.” 

And just as planned, you took Friday off, as your cold just got worse. Your head was banging, your throat was dry, and your nose was so stuffed you could only breathe through your mouth. 

You rotted in your bed, your body temperature far too warm for you to relax, but the room far too cold for you to leave your covers, which was very ironic to you because you set the temperature to seventy-five degrees before you got into bed the night before.

Just as you were about to drift into a peaceful slumber, a sudden knock at the door shattered the tranquility. Frustrated, you reluctantly left the warmth of your bed and trudged through your apartment, emitting groans reminiscent of a zombie. 

"Game nights canceled." You sneeze into your elbow. 

"I heard." Eunseok sneaks his way past you and into your apartment.

"Why are you here then?" You question. 

"To check on you." He responds, "You weren't answering my phone calls."

"I'm sick; I don't really feel like talking right now." You sneeze again. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" You rush, pushing him towards and out of the door. He tries to get a few words in, but he's not able to say anything before you yell, "Bye." And slam the door in his face. 

Exhausted, you made your way back to the couch, too weary to even consider returning to your bed.

Around twenty minutes later, there's another knock at the door, and you want to cry out of anger. The more you get up, the more your head hurts. Once again, you're met with Song Eunseok. "Do you listen to anything I say?" You ask, but he only smiles fondly at you.

"I brought medicine." Eunseok covers his face with the hefty medical supply he bought for you. 

“I didn’t ask for it.”

He presses a kiss on your warm cheek. “You’re welcome.” He says before squeezing in past you and closing the door. You fold your arms and watch him find his way to your kitchen. He sits the bag on the table, slides his hoodie off, and folds it over your chair.

“I have a headache, Eunseok; I don’t have time for your games today.”

“Perfect, I bought Tylenol.” He shakes the bottle of supplements.

“Your coach is gonna hate me if I get you sick too.” You plead.

Eunseok finally pauses his movements to say, “I’ll be fine,” nonchalantly as if you weren’t losing your mind at the thought of him missing any of his practices of games because of you—all of the girls who’d line up at your door because their favorite player isn’t playing. You were just sorta getting on good terms with Sungchan; imagine how he’d react if you got his teammate sick.  

“I can hear the death threats now.” You whine, “I’ll take all the medicine, Eunseok. Just go home, please.”

Despite your cries and pleas, he only sighs. “I have to make sure you eat. You can’t take medicine on an empty stomach,” Eunseok informs ever so calmly.

Tilting your head back, you throw your arms down. Your lips naturally fall into a frown. “Why are you making this so hard?” 

“Why are you being so dramatic?” He leaves the kitchen to stand in front of you. Each of his hands lands on your shoulders. The warmth of his touch seeps through your clothes, calming your nerves. “It’s just a small cold. You’re not going to die, and neither am I.” He adds, guiding you to sit on your trim, cozy sofa. “Just relax.”

Something about the way he says it actually makes you want to relax. You inhale and let your shoulders fully rest. “See, that feels nice, doesn’t it?” He coos, his voice soothing and comforting.

“But if you get sick-“ ”I’ll be fine because you’ll be here to take care of me.” He finishes.

He’s not going anywhere; you’ve come to that conclusion when he begins pulling out pots and pans and chopping vegetables in your kitchen. However, you can’t say that it bothers you. With each passing day, your feelings towards him were shifting. You were learning more about him as a person. He was someone that his little brother looked up to, someone that his friends admired and respected. And slowly, he was becoming someone you adored, someone you were starting to have deep feelings for.

You were becoming more comfortable with his presence, so much so you could even say you craved it at times. 

“Drink this.” He mutters, holding a bottle of electrolytes to your lips. This time, you don’t fight him; you don’t have the energy. He taps a napkin under your chin to clean and sits the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“I don’t want to eat; I want to sleep.” You mumble, eyes half closed, when he picks up the homemade soup. 

“Just eat a little, then you can sleep.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but Eunsoek uses that as an opportunity to start spoon feeding you. The soup is warm, and delicious it almost distracts you from the fact that he was feeding you. 

Almost.

“I can feed myself.” You grumble. Voice hoarse as you attempt to get the spoon from his hand. He’s quicker to pull it away from you.

“Would you just let me be a good boyfriend?” Eunseok asks, dipping the spoon and bringing it back up to the tip of your lips.

“You’re not-“ You huff and roll your eyes, accepting defeat. “Fine.” You breathe reluctantly  allowing him to continue spoon feeding you. The pattern continues until the bowl is empty, your stomach is full and your eyelids are heavy. 

“See that wasn’t so bad was it?” He asks but the only response he gets is a hum from while you shift on the couch and rest your head in his lap. 

“Can I go to sleep now?” You respond sluggishly against his thigh. 

Eunseok croons, “I won’t stop you.” As he slides the polyester blanket up to your shoulder. Pushing your hair out of your face when you curl up against him. 

As soon as he gives you permission, you let yourself drift off to sleep. Maybe it was the warmth of the soup, the soothing effects of the medicine, or perhaps it was the gentle way he strokes your head. You find yourself much more at ease with his presence compared to two hours ago when you were tossing and turning in bed, struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position.

As you awaken, you find yourself nestled in your bed, cocooned within the worn, soft pink comforter. The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, gently warming your face as you slowly open your eyes. A deep yawn breaks the silence as you slowly stretch your arms and arch your back. You notice that your breathing feels clearer, and the scratchiness in your throat has significantly decreased since yesterday. 

Knowing you have only one person to thank for that, you skip to your living room. Smiling internally when you see Eunseok asleep on your couch, his legs hanging off the sofa because of how tall he was. You kneel in front of him and lay your hand on his chest just barely, but it's enough to wake him up. 

As his eyes slowly flutter open, you hear Eunseok's gentle voice inquire, "How do you feel?" His warm hand reaches out to brush your forehead, checking for any signs of a fever. 

A soft smile spreads across your face as he then caresses your cheek. "I feel better," you murmur, savoring the tender touch.

"Are you hungry?" You ask eagerly, infused with warmth toward him. "I'm really not a good cook but I could order something."

Fake dating was starting to get easier. Once you realized you were getting paid to hold some basketball player's hand and call yourself his girlfriend, everything else just fell into place.

Mostly everything.

You weren't as comfortable around Eunseok's friends as He was around yours. Avoiding them seemed to be the best option, but Sungchan was making that so much harder for you.

"Catch," Shotaro calls right before a basketball comes flying straight toward your head. You should've moved or even attempted to dodge it, but you go into shock, your feet planted firmly on the ground, and your eyes squeezed shut as the ball gets closer. You wait for the ball to come into contact with your face, but it never does. 

"Careful." Sungchan sounds, throwing the ball back to his teammate. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, turning to see Sungchan standing behind you. On instinct, you shuffle away from him but nearly trip over your own two feet, and he quickly reaches to grab you by your arm and steady you. 

"Sorry, I- umm- I didn't mean to interrupt you guys I was just looking for-" You weren't usually nervous like this, and it wasn't a lot of people who could get this reaction out of you but much like Euneseok's father, Sungchan scared the life out of you.

"He isn't here." He states. 

"Okay, thanks."  You scramble towards the exit without saying another word, your heart racing and your palms sweaty. 

Your second encounter with him was when you were walking down the busy hallway. Preoccupied by your phone, you weren't paying attention to where you were going. It was a habit of yours that Sohee was trying to help you break since you were in high school. But like you always say, old habits die hard.

Sohee: Quick, Lea is demanding I take her on a date. What do girls like?

Ningning: Teach her how to skateboard. I'm sure she'd love that. 🤭

Sohee: this is serious 

 You: I already told you all girls aren't the same. Ask her what she wants.

Sohee: I tried that, she told me to figure it out.

Ningning: 😭😭

You: dude. buy her flowers or something, she’d probably enjoy a cute picnic.

Sohee: She's allergic to bees. What if I take her on a picnic and she gets stung and dies like in that one movie.

You're still typing when you run face-first into the soft flesh of someone's palm. You blink once, twice before following the trail of their arm back to Sungchan's face. "Watch where you're going." He glares down at you, his stern gaze making you feel small and vulnerable.

You can tell he's trying to be endearing, but it sounds harsh and doesn't help your racing heart or the hundred thoughts swirling in your mind. Most of them conclude with you breaking into tears right there on the spot.

"I'm sorry." you spur and run the opposite way, knowing that it's going to take longer to get to your next class. 

Another time, you're wandering around the student library searching for a specific book. It was closing soon, and you knew you had to hurry, but the book was nowhere to be found. You had already asked the librarian three times, so you weren't really eager to ask her again for the fourth time, but you did anyway. Tiptoeing back to the main desk as if it would decrease your embarrassment in any way. 

"Hey, umm, are you sure the book is in section C? I checked a few times and couldn't find it," you ask.

"You can't find it?" The older woman repeats, and you nod. 

"No."

"That's too bad." She snickers almost like a witch, which would've intrigued you any other time, but right now, you were desperate. 

"Okay." You pull your lips into a tight-lipped smile and turn away from the desk. Treading back towards the section she advised you earlier and running your fingers through each book. You make it to the bottom of the shelf before you throw your head back and huff in sheer frustration. That's when your eyes land on the very book you've spent fifty minutes looking for, all the way at the top of the shelf. 

Quickly, you push yourself up on your feet and stick your arm over your head, except the book is out of your reach. You stand on your tippy toes and try again; this time, just as you're about to grab it, another hand comes into view and pulls it right over you.

"Hey." You call, spinning around to confront the book thief. But your arms nearly get weak when you catch sight of Sungchan, holding your book. 

It happens again: Your stomach is twirling, your heartbeat is unsteady, and your palms are so sweaty that if you wiped them against your shirt, you would probably leave handprints. 

"I kinda need that." Your voice, tinged with vulnerability, comes out a lot smaller than you had planned for it to.

"This?" He asks, showing off the book.

You nod, your eyes trained to the object in his large hands.

A faint smirk played at the corner of Sungchan's lips. "Why should I give it to you?" he teases.

"Because I'm your friend's girlfriend." You blink bashfully, hoping that would be enough for him. 

Suddenly, his lips straighten out into a thin line, and you think you might've even seen him straighten up. "Right," he mutters, handing the book over. 

Just like that?  You think to yourself, your relief palpable as you hesitantly accept the book, half-expecting him to pull it back right when you get the tips of your fingertips on it. 

"Thanks- uh, Thank you." You stutter. 

He utters, "Yeah." And walks away, leaving you even more confused than before. 

You figured things were probably never going to get easier with his friends, but that wasn't a permanent problem since you and Eunseok weren't going to be "dating" for much longer anyway. 

It's pitch dark when your eyes flutter open. From the lack of light, you knew it still had to be midnight. You throw your hand around and blindly search for your vibrating phone, not without wondering who could be calling you so late at night. 

“Hello?” You utter breathlessly into your phone speaker, eyelids half open and not knowing who’s voice you’re going to hear on the other line.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.” Eunseok sounds directly in your ear. The base of his voice causes your eyes to fully open. You can hear that he’s been up for a while, or maybe he hasn’t gotten any sleep at all. 

“What do you want?” You groan, “I’m not leaving my bed.”

“I just wanna talk to you, I can’t sleep.” His confession has you rolling over to face the ceiling. Suddenly you’re no longer tired and you wonder why that is. 

“You have friends to talk to.”

“We’re not as close as you think.” You can hear him shuffle in his bed, presumably to get more comfortable.

“Neither are we.” You debate but he knows that isn’t entirely true. If you really disliked him as much as you say you do you would’ve hung up on him the second you heard his voice. Yet you chose to sacrifice your sleep to keep him entertained and that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Fair, but I don’t like them as much as I like you.” Eunseok responds after a long period of silence. 

“You’re always saying weird stuff.” You try but fail to contain your smile. 

“I’m just being honest.” He says.

Choosing to ignore his indirect confession, you turn on your side and you can hear that he turns in his bed too. There’s another moment of isolated silence but it isn’t awkward. Hearing his slow breaths on the other line is quite calming.

You whisper, “Eunseok.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask

“Shoot.”

“How come you can’t find a real girlfriend?” 

For the next ten seconds he doesn’t say anything and you check the phone a few times to make sure he hasn’t hung up. “I haven’t found anyone that caught my eye.” Eunseok finally answers, but that’s far from the answer you were expecting.

“No one?” You ask. “I don’t believe that.” 

He laughs breathlessly against your ear, “Well how come you aren’t dating anyone?” He flips the question around.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But you’re the only weirdo willing to date me.” You giggle and expect him to do the same but it’s quiet on his end, except for the ruffling of sheets when he sits up on his elbows.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” He nearly scolds. “Sungchans been interested in you for a long time.” 

“Really?” You jump up. Somehow it makes sense when you think about it. The distant stares, the nonchalant attitude. You just wondered if Sungchan knew how scary he was when he was trying to flirt.

"Yeah," Eunseok sighs, "He was pretty pissed when he found out about us, but aside from him, I'm sure there were other guys who've asked you out."

You play with the closest thing to you, which happened to be the fluffy pink bunny Ningning brought you for your birthday a few years back. Humming as you think about the handful of boys that have asked you out on dates, you twirl the bunny's long ears absentmindedly, "No one that I was interested in." 

"So you're interested in me?" You can practically hear his smile when he speaks. 

"You're paying me. Plus, I wanted to see what was so great about the Song Eunseok." You tease. 

"And what have you learned?" He asks

"You're annoying, but you're not as bad as I thought you'd be." It goes silent again. Only the sounds of your wobbly ceiling fan and the noises from his background fill the room. After so much silence, you begin to bite your cheek in anticipation. Had he fallen asleep? You think to yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to do this with me." He finally speaks, and you jerk your head towards the phone. "I like having you as my fake girlfriend." 

"You're always saying weird stuff." 

"You'll get used to it," Eunseok responds. The tone of his voice tells you he's most likely fighting to keep his eyes open, that is if he hasn't already given up trying and just let himself sink fully into the comfort of his bed. 

"You should get some sleep; we have class in the morning." You say just above a whisper, half afraid to disturb his sleep.

He mumbles, "Don't hang up." Which causes your lips to turn up against your pillow. 

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark." You say sarcastically. 

"I'm just not ready to end the call," He murmurs, his voice rough and drawn out. You wish you could succumb to sleep as easily as he does, but you're left with your face buried in the soft cotton pillow, eyes wide open, mind racing.

 If this was fake, why did it feel so real?

You utter, "We still aren't friends, Eunseok." But the only thing you get in response is a soft snore. 

Muffled coughs, dim lights, anxious tapping. There’s no place in the world you hate more than the library, yet here you were, head buried in your notebook, bouncing your leg up and down. 

“Mind if I sit here.” Eunseok appears out of nowhere, sliding into the seat right next to you before you can grant him permission.

“What are you doing, Eunseok?” You sigh, pushing your hair back. 

“You looked like you could use some company.” He whispers back, a smile spread upon his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay quiet.” 

You suck in a deep breath and go back to focusing on your notes. Eunseok follows your lead, keeping as quiet as he promised he would. He stays so quiet you almost forget he’s there. 

His presence becomes known again when you feel stares coming your way. You can practically feel the heat of the gazes burning into the side of your face, occasionally looking up to lock eyes with a stranger or two. 

You ignored it at first. It's just a few sets of eyes on you, no big deal. Soon, it becomes too many eyes for you to bear. Mainly because you know why they're looking. You sit up in your seat and glare at the cause of your distraction.

"This isn't gonna work." You breathe. 

Cluelessly, he lifts his head from his laptop. "I didn't do anything." He frowns. 

"You didn't have to." You gesture your head towards the wandering eyes and hushed whispers. "They're not looking at me." 

"I can't help that." 

"I know you can't, but I really need to finish this essay, and I'd rather do it without people staring," you explain. Judging by the look on his face and the way he nods, you think he understands.

"I guess I'll just see you tonight then." 

"I told you not to show up at my apartment." You scold as he packs his stuff up. He doesn't say anything, and you know he's ignoring you on purpose. "Hey." You call out and catch when a smirk plays on the corner of his lips. 

“I’m serious, Eunseok, don’t stop by.” You half whisper, but it counts for nothing when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek.

He’s gone before you could yell at him any further. You slouch in your seat and sigh as you check the notifications on your buzzing voice phone.

Sohee: Can’t make it tonight. Lea wants me to help her dog sit 

Ningning: You know, I’m starting to not like this new girlfriend of yours.

You: No worries, ningning and I will have enough fun for you. 

Ningning: We won’t?? I’m not third wheeling you and Eunseok.

You: Noo please, this is the one thing I look forward to every week. He won’t be there I promise. Don’t do this to me please. 

Ningning: Lie to me again. 

You: Fine, Eunseok and I will have enough fun for the both of you. 

You breathe in frustration right before you bury your head into your arms, biting your lip to stop from crying. Tears swelling up against your waterline as you sniffle. Two weeks without your weekly hangouts you were just inches away from losing it.

You sit contently in your apartment, alone. Lights from the television flash on the wall behind you. “I taught him how to talk now. He can talk now.” You quote along with the movie, followed by a laugh. 

You pause the movie and throw your legs over the couch when you hear a knock at the door. Assuming it’s the pizza you ordered, you open the door, but the man behind the door isn’t wearing a pizza delivery uniform, and he certainly doesn’t have your medium two-topping pizza in the palm of his hand.

“Eunseok.” You frown with disappointment. 

“Don’t be too excited to see me.” He sneaks in past you, taking notice of your empty apartment and the miscellaneous pieces of popcorn thrown around the front of your couch.

“Everyone canceled.” You mutter. 

"Perfect, so it's just us." 

"What are you doing here, Eunseok?" You turn to face him, arms crossed. "I'm sure there are better things for you to do right now."

"Maybe, but I'm already here, so I might as well stay." He pats your head. 

Just then, there's a knock at the door, and this time, you're certain it's the pizza you ordered half an hour ago. "I'll get it," Eunseok says before you get the chance to, and you save your breath because you know he's going to do what he wants no matter what you say. You watch as he strides to the door, his long legs eating up the distance. 

"I have a medium pepperoni and mushroom pizza for-" The delivery guy stops when he looks up to see who he's speaking to. "Song Eunseok?" He babbles, "No way, I'm a huge fan." 

"Are you?" Eunseok laughs, and you roll your eyes when you know he can't see you. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it, man." The delivery pushes the pizza box into the palm of Eunseok's hand. "Enjoy it." He runs off, not giving Eunseok the opportunity to say anything else. 

The tall basketball player turns to you with an annoying grin budded on his lips. "We got free pizza." He holds up the box.

"I saw." You murmur nonchalantly, grabbing the box from his hands and striding towards your couch. You can practically feel Eunseok's breath on the back of your neck from how close he treads behind you. 

"Pepperoni and mushroom?" He questions, plopping down on the sofa right next to you. 

"I didn't expect any guests." You utter, with your mouth full. 

As the night continues, you end up with your head in Eunseok's lap, gazing up at him while he mindlessly dances his fingers around your skin. 

"How long have you been playing basketball?" You murmur, intertwining your hand with his. 

"Since middle school," he answers, "My dad wanted me to get out of the house more often, so he put me in basketball camp. From there, I just fell in love with it."

"Did you ever think you'd love it for so long?" You ask another question just to hear him talk.

"No, but I never imagined I'd fall out of love with it." 

"Do you ever get tired of playing? Or just lose motivation sometimes?" 

Eunseok nods, "I do sometimes, but then I feel guilty." He glances down at you, "It's become a part of me, and rejecting basketball feels like I'm rejecting myself."

"Wow?" You gasp in awe. "This is serious for you." 

"Yeah." He breathes, "very." You sit up halfway as he readjusts himself in the chair, and he gently pulls you back down once he feels comfortable again, clamping his hand around yours. "So what about you?" He utters.

"What about me?" 

"Tell me about yourself."

"There's nothing to tell." You murmur bashfully, "I'm just a nerd who loves the idea of outer space."

"Why?" Eunseok asks, watching you fondly as you think about how you're going to answer. 

"I like the idea of how big and vast it is, how much life it holds." You sigh, "It reminds me of how small I am. That's a comforting thought for me because I know that nothing really matters." You look back up towards him and catch the way he's looking down at you. Suddenly, you become hyper-aware of the position you're in. Ripping away from his lap, you rush to the opposite side of the couch and clear your throat. 

"But that's why I love Astronomy." You laugh nervously. "Are you thirsty by chance?" You ask, jumping up and running towards your kitchen. 

"Not really." Eunseok stands up on his feet to follow you. He leans against the wall while you slide back on your counter, sipping your soda and staring into thin air so you don't have to look at him. He's the first to break the thick layer of awkward silence you've single-handedly created in the room. "My brother's birthday is coming up in two weeks. He really wants you there." He treads closer to you.

"Does he really?" 

"My family likes you." He murmurs, "Everyone likes you." 

"Because they think I'm your girlfriend." You retort, and he slides closer.

"Because you're you." The compliment causes your breath to hitch, "There's no one like you." He adds, in a hushed tone. 

Looking down at the floor to avoid looking in his direction, You respond, "You're being weird again.". 

Eunseok couldn't explain his feelings about you because he knew you wouldn't listen. He thought if he showed you, you'd finally understand. He lifts your chin and dips his head down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. When you don't push him away like he half thought you would, he does again to test the waters. Yet you still don't do anything, so he tries it one more time; this time, it's more than just a simple peck. 

It starts off small and gradually grows deeper and feverish. You slide your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. His lips are gentle against yours, just as you imagined they would. It feels so right to have his body pressed against yours, his large hands tugging at your waist, but it feels too good. It feels so good that you begin to feel guilty.

It only takes a slight push on his chest for him to break the kiss and look down on you through hooded eyelids.

“We shouldn’t do this. “ You breathe heavily. You’re so sure this isn’t what he wants. He’s just lost in the heat of the moment. You both are. But the way he looks at you makes you doubt yourself. You rest your head against his chest, sighing, “We can’t do this.” 

In the end, you were only trying to save your feelings.

“We don’t have to.” He sounds patting your back gently, and you hate it. You hate that he makes it so hard for you to hate him. He’s so tender and patient with you; you hate that you love it. 

“I think you need to go home before we end up doing something we both regret.” You mumble against his chest. 

“Why would I regret it?” he asks. You can feel the vibrations from his voice through his skin.

You lift your head to look at him, stuck on how to answer. “We-“ you open your mouth to speak, but you’re instantly cut off with a kiss.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.” He kisses you again.

Sooner than later, he has you caged in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you with ease. Maybe that was the perks of "dating" a basketball player. 

Slowly, he lays you on your bed. His lips only leave yours to pepper more kisses around your collarbone, trailing all the way down to below your waistline.

Your eyes shoot to the ceiling above you. You're far too shy to watch the other things he does to your body. He's gradually undressing you piece by piece until you are completely naked in front of him. While he remained fully clothed, this made you feel vulnerable and completely open to him. Not many other men could say they've seen you like this, but Eunseok could see all of you. The thought caused your entire body to shudder. Fortunately, he was there to ground you, his larger hands roaming the sheets to find yours as he made your skin heat up.

"Oh goodness, Eunseok." You mutter, biting on your lip.

"How was the dog sitting?" Ningning asks Sohee. You sense a bit of annoyance in her question, but you don't speak about it. 

"I don't wanna talk about it." Sohee deadpans.

Ningning shrugs, "Okay." and turns to you. "How was your weekend?" 

Instantly, you shake your head and look down at your food. "I don't wanna talk about it." Except Ningning doesn't let up on you as quickly as she did Sohee. 

"What happened?" She prods, and thankfully, Sohee steps in. 

"I'll tell you what happened!" He huffs. "Lea asks me to dog sit with her. I do, and then she gets mad at me for paying too much attention to the dog. It's called dog sit, not Lea sit." 

"Have you thought about just breaking up?" Ningning suggests. 

"Yeah, you guys seem to argue a lot." You join in, "which is understandable because you're an idiot, but not even Eunseok and I argue as much as you do. And I ha-"

You trail off when both of your friends stop to look at you. "Hate being away from him. It breaks my soul." You save yourself. 

"Exactly." Sohee pipes up, "The thought of breaking up with her kills me. I love her too much; she's crazy, but she's the only one for me. I'm certain."

"You've been dating for two weeks." Ningning grimaces, and you scoff at the conversation. 

"When you know. You know."

"Right…" The girl nods, shifting her attention towards you. "So, how about you?"

"Me?" You ask for confirmation. "I'm okay. In fact, I couldn't be better. I'm so okay that okay wants to be me."

"Did you and Eunseok get into a fight?" Ningning asks, reading right through your anxious demeanor.

"You didn't break up, did you?" Sohee asks. Almost as if he summoned him, Eunseok slides into the seat next to you. 

"Who's breaking up?" He asks before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. 

Ningnings eyes remain on you, her eyes squinting as she reads your body language. How you jolt away from him, the awkward smile, the lack of physical touch.  Something's definitely up, and she wants to find out.

"How was your weekend?" She aims her question towards your boyfriend, resting her chin in her palm. 

"My weekend was amazing." He glances back at her. Mentally, you thank him for not making things too obvious, and Ningning curses him for that exact thing. 

"What made it so amazing?" She questions further.

"Um-" "He was able to knock some really important stuff off of his to-do list." You jump in to answer for him. 

Interesting. She thinks. "What was on your to-do list?" She asks.

"Wow, you're asking a lot of questions," He laughs awkwardly, oblivious to the way you're bouncing in anticipation, biting down on your lips until you think you taste blood.

"Yeah, what's with all the questions?" Sohee seconds. 

"I just wanna know the details." Ningning defends, "Unless you have something to hide." 

"We had sex." You blurt shamefully, tucking your head into the crook of Eunseoks neck to shield you from embarrassment. The pressure became too much for you to bear. 

She knew something was up, but she didn't expect to drag that information out of you. "Oh?" she gasps. 

"Me too." Sohee joins, burying his face in his hands. "And we did it in front of the dog." He confesses. You pull your head from Eunseoks shoulder to glare at your best friend. 

"In front of the dog?" You ask and he nods, his bottom lip poked out. 

"I'm not proud of it." 

"You're disgusting." Retorts Ningning, “All of you.” She points to Sohee, "but especially you."

If anyone asked, you'd tell them you were more than confident you could live without caffeine. But realistically, you knew that was a lie. Because you often had days like these where you'd spend all night cramming for a test and wake up a zombie the next day. 

Usually, you'd be responsible enough to make sure you had your credit card on you, but this particular time, you were running on forty minutes of sleep and a dream. 

"Oh, please." You beg the barista, with long copper blonde hair and a weak excuse for a goatee. "I'll do anything. Just this one time, no one has to know." 

The man shrugs carelessly, "There's nothing I can do." 

"Except there is," you whine. "Just this one time." You beg, but your efforts count for nothing as the employee begins to work on other tasks, ignoring you as if you weren't even there. You throw your head back and groan, stomping towards one of the seats and throwing your bag down. 

Not even ten seconds later, you hear someone else enter the cafe, but you don't care enough to lift your head from the palms of your hands. "Hey,' you hear a painfully familiar voice, and you imagine yourself vanishing in thin air.  

"Sorry, I can't talk right now, kinda busy." You mumble into your hands. 

"Doing what?" He chuckles, sliding into the chair in front of you.

"Contemplating suicide." 

"Woah." Sungchan pulls your hands from your face, forcing you to look at him. Close contact usually makes you freeze up, but you're preoccupied at the moment. "Don't talk like that."

"It's a joke." You roll your eyes. "I'm just super exhausted and have a super important test today. I left my wallet at home, and the barista won't give me one free pass, and I haven't had my weekly hang-out with my friends in three weeks." You throw your head down. "I'm gonna lose it, Sungchan, I'm gonna lose it."

"Would it make you feel better if I got you a coffee?" He asks, his hands still hooked around your wrists. 

You lift your chin to face him, eyes lighting up when you ask, "You'd do that? really?"

"It's just a coffee, it's nothing serious." His lips quirk into a bashful smile.

"It's very serious," You murmur, "My future career is on the line."

"Okay, just wait here. I'll be right back." He slips away for just a few minutes before he finds himself back where he started, right in front of you, this time with an iced coffee and a croissant.

"I figured you'd feel better if you had breakfast as well." 

"You're amazing, Sungchan. I owe you one."

"Consider it a favor. You're my teammate's girlfriend. It'd be wrong for me to just leave you here." He murmurs. You both stare at each other for a while. Each wanting to say something but not knowing how to say it or where to start.

Sungchan seems to find the words faster than you do. "I don't want things to be awkward between us." 

"We wouldn't be so awkward if you didn't scare me so much." You scold him, and he laughs. 

"I don't mean to. You just-" He pauses mid sentence.

"I what?" 

"You have to get to class Y/n." Sungchan stands up and places his palm on the center of your head. "You're going to be late." 

"What?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything else before he leaves the cafe, and you're left to try and figure out what just happened.

"Wow, this is a lot of children." You gasp at all six- and seven-year-olds running around Eunseok's family home. 

"It is a children's party." Eunseok remarks.

“Y/n.” Eunseoks little brother runs up to you, wrapping his arms around you when you squat down to meet him at eye level. "You're here."

"Of course." You smile to match his, unaware of the hurdle of children surrounding you until the young boy turns away from you. 

"This is my brother's girlfriend. Look how pretty she is." The boy gloats, and the others take turns showering you with compliments. 

"You have really cool hair." One kid shouts.

"You look like a rockstar." Says another.

"I wanna be like you when I grow up." The last kid speaks, and by now, your cheeks are red. Overwhelmed with compliments, you look up at Eunseok, expecting him to help you. 

He doesn't. He laughs with his arms crossed, amused to see how much the children look up to you. 

They remained huddled around you for a bit longer, each asking you questions and sharing pieces of information about themselves. However, once Mrs. Song called out that the piñata was ready, the kids disappeared from in front of you. 

Eunseok reaches out to help you, and you accept it. Tightening your lips into a line when you're grounded in front of him. 

"I told you everyone likes you." He smiles, interlocking his hands with yours. 

"I should've believed you." You say.

You didn't expect so much to change when you took Eunseok up on his offer. You didn't expect that the gym would be like your second home or that you'd care about basketball all of a sudden. You didn't expect to be standing here at a child's birthday party, being randomly showered with compliments ever so often. Or having one child after another tug on your wrist to join them in yet another activity. 

By the end of the party, you're exhausted, your feet hurt, and your cheeks are numb from smiling too much. Yet your lips remain turned up into a slight permanent smile.

"Looks like you had fun." Eunseok comments once you've reached your apartment door. You nod, and your smile grows.

"I did." You giggle. "Your parents really know how to throw a party."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." He says, swinging one of your arms back and forth. While you use the other to unlock your door.

"I'll see you tomorrow." You hum when the door is open, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight Eunseok."

He tightens his hold on your hand before you can get too far from him, pulling you right back. You frown before you speak. 

"My feet hurt, I need to get to bed." You complain, looking down to your shoes. 

"I have a game coming up saturday." He says, fidgety. "I think I'll play better if I had my girlfriend there." 

You roll your eyes, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. You do a weak job of trying to contain the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm not your girlfriend." You laugh, but he's looking at you like he's still waiting for an answer. "If I'm not busy that day, I might stop by." 

You watch his smile grow, and his hand wraps tighter around yours. "Can I go to bed now?" 

"Yeah, of course." He leans down to press his lips against yours. "I'll see you on Saturday then."

"I said I'll think about it, Eunseok." You respond, but you know he isn't listening.

Saturday rolls around, and you find yourself back in the gym. Just as always, it's pretty filled, and you have to push through crowds of people to get to your seat. Ningning trails not too far behind you, both of her hands occupied with the hotdogs she couldn't get the last time. "These are pretty good seats." She says once she takes her seat beside you, both of you leave just enough space for Sohee. 

"Do you see him?" You ask, leaning against Ningning as you scan the area for Eunseok. She shakes her head, mumbling something with her mouth full, but you don't spend too much time trying to figure out what she's saying as your eyes land on the very boy you've been searching for. His back is turned towards you, but you know it's him because of the number thirty-nine that's displayed along the back of his jersey. You can't help the giddiness you feel when you see him. The best you can do is bite your lip, but it doesn't do much to contain your emotions. 

You watch him for a bit longer. Your eyes are trained on him as if he is the only person in the room, And when he turns around to face you, your heart skips a beat, "Oh, there he goes," Ningning nudges you with her elbow. Yet you're too focused on the basketball player in front of you to even register what she's saying. 

'Why didn't you tell me you were here?" Eunseok asks, already pressing a kiss on your lips,

"You seemed busy." You reply, "I didn't wanna interrupt you."

You look away when his coach yells for him, but Eunseoks eyes remain on you. "You're not gonna leave, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. 

"Wish me luck," Eunseok says last as he pulls you into another kiss. 

"Good luck." You hum loud enough for him to hear. You catch his smile before he backs away from you, swiftly making his way towards the floor before the game starts. You're left with a big grin on your face, oblivious to the way your friends watch you.

"What did I just watch?" Sohee asks, breaking you out of your trance.

"When did you get here?" You change the subject unintentionally.

"He got here a while ago." Ningning answers, "You were just too occupied to notice." 

You turn away in embarrassment, searching for anything to distract you. That's when your eyes land on another couple, "Is Lea coming?" You ask

"No, she said since she's not into Eunseok anymore, sports don't really entertain her." Sohee shrugs.

You and Ningning gasp, "Oh?" at the same time. 

"But it's been a while since the three of us hung out, so that's why I'm here." He continues, "Do you think she misses me?"

"Doesn't matter." Ningning shakes her head, "If she missed you that much, she'd be here with you." And just as she wraps up her sentence, Lea plops down right on Sohee's lap. 

"Great." Your friend sucks her teeth, glaring at you.

You watch Sohee's smile grow and see as they break off into their own conversation. Both of them forget that you and Ningning were even there. That's how it stays throughout the entire evening; the two of them remain wrapped up in eachother while you watch Eunseok on the floor.

Your eyes are stuck on his every move. It's almost magnetic. Every so often, his head would shoot up in your direction, and he'd lock eyes with you. 

When the game ends, you're the first person he looks for. A wide grin is evident on his face as he effortlessly lifts you in his arms and collapses his lips onto yours. For a second, it feels like it's just you and him, but you're harshly reminded of the crowd surrounding you when you hear his dad's voice. You scream and slide off of Eunseok, shielding your face in his chest. They proceed to have a short conversation, but you're too busy burying yourself in your own embarrassment to hear anything they're saying. 

You know the conversation is over when Mr Song squeezes your shoulder and wishes you a farewell. "He's gone," Eunseok whispers against your ear, but you only shake your head. 

"I want to die." You mutter against him, to which he simply laughs and wraps you into a bear hug. 

Eunseok quickly changes his clothes after telling your friends that he wants to be the one to take you home. Neither of them found an issue with it since Sohee wanted to stay with Lea, and Ningning had her Netflix series to catch up on. 

It's almost pitch dark. The wind blows through your hair as you walk towards your apartment, presumably. If it weren't for the fact that Eunseok was holding your hand, you would've already wrapped your arms around yourself to preserve your warmth. 

Without asking, Eunseok slips his hand from yours to wrap his jacket around. You let out a sigh of relief at the newfound warmth, but that's when you realize this isn't the way to your apartment.

"Where are we going?" You ask, halting as you look around.

"There's a party-"Eunseok begins to explain.

"I don't want to go to a party. I wanna go home." You whine. He pulls you closer when you attempt to pull away from him.

"I'll pay you." He bribes you, but you shake your head. 

"That's not gonna work this time." You try once again to back away, and just as before, he pulls you right back. Only this time, he wraps his arms around you.

"Then do it for me. I just made it through the finals, and as my girlfriend, I think you should reward me."

"Pretend, girlfriend." You correct him, "I don't owe you anything."

"Actually, you do; it's your duty to appear as my real girlfriend." His growing smile sends shivers down your spine, "What will people think if I show up alone?"

"Whatever they want." You shrug, "It's not my reputation at stake." 

"You're so stubborn." He laughs, pulling you along with him. 

The "party" could be classified as a hangout. Most of Eunseoks' teammates are there, including Seunghan, Shotaro, Anton, and a few other people you've seen around campus. Despite the low crowd, you still cling to Eunseok. He doesn't seem to mind it as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, holding you closer than you already were. 

The music was just a few notches below what you'd consider too loud, and surprisingly, it didn't smell like sweat and alcohol. On the contrary, the scent of the room was quite pleasant. As Eunseok converses with some of his friends, your eyes wander around the space. You notice the seventies-inspired decor, the record player tucked in the corner, and a life-sized sculpture of the school mascot standing beside it. But It's the pool table that catches your eye. 

You turn away from Eunseok as you watch the crowd surrounding the table. Each of them places a twenty dollar bill on the stool beside the table before they start the game, and you can't help but watch, knowing that you'd win if you were given the opportunity.

The players are in their element, the cue sticks gliding like silk in their hands as they aim for the vibrant balls on the table. The sharp crack of the cue ball against the others reverberates through the room as precise shots are made, and the players exchange confident smiles and spirited banter. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable as the game reaches a crucial point. The onlookers lean in their expressions, reflecting the tension of the game. As you watch, you feel the excitement building, imagining yourself stepping up to the table, calculating angles, and planning your shots with precision. 

As the game draws to a close, the victorious player triumphantly pockets the final ball, claiming the prize money. The room erupts to cheers and applause. "Do you wanna play?" Eunseoks voice breaks you out of your trance. You blink up at him and shake your head, but he can see right through you.

Swiftly he pulls you along to the table, and sits a twenty dollar bill on the stool. "You'll do great" he says followed by a kiss to your temple. Eunseok slides his hand out of yours, and backs away from you.

You gingerly picked up the cue stick, feeling the smooth wooden surface in your hand, and carefully applied chalk to its tip. Your eyes surveyed the arrangement of colorful balls, already visualizing each shot in your mind. With a sense of determination, you leaned over the table, your gaze fixed on the target. The world around you seemed to slow down as you prepared to take your shot, your mind calculating the angles and forces needed for a successful strike.

Taking a deep breath, you executed your shot with precision and finesse. The cue ball glided across the felt, expertly striking the others in a harmonious dance as the balls ricocheted off one another, following the calculated path you had envisioned. 

The game progressed with a steady rhythm, the players engaging in friendly banter and playful teasing as they vied for dominance. Every successful shot garnered a mix of applause and good natured ribbing, enhancing the camaraderie and a sense of shared enjoyment. The room was filled with warmth of shared fun and spirit of healthy competition. 

You step up when it becomes your turn again, lifting your stick and sliding down the table just centimeters before the cue ball. You take your shot. The satisfying thud as it made contact with the colored balls echoed through your ears. Your hands flew up when the last ball found its pocket. 

The first person you look for is Eunseok. You throw your arms around him, and he wraps his around your waist, hoisting you into the air. When you slide off of him, he holds your hand open to place the prize money in the center of your palm. "It's all yours." He murmurs. 

You scoff playfully, trying your best to suppress a smile. "You're so cute." 

"We're still not friends." You blurt. 

Eunseok grins, "I thought that was obvious," he says. "I mean, friends don't do what we did." 

He's amused with how your cheeks flush red and how speechless you've become. You don't even bother trying to come up with some snarky remark. Instead, you mutter, "Shut up." and Eunseok laughs. 

The sound of basketballs bouncing against the waxed floor meets your ears the second you walk into the gym. You smile softly when you catch sight of Eunseok. You throw your bag off to the side and take a seat, watching as he bounces the ball around before he takes his shot. That pattern continues a few more times before you make a noise to let him know you're there. 

Eunseok turns around immediately, an involuntary smile approaching his face. He runs over to you with the basketball in his hand. He's sweaty, and his hair is stuck to his forehead, but none of it bothers you. You still grin when he approaches you.

"Why did you call me here?" you ask teasingly.

He doesn't answer your question at first; he just kisses you, and you kiss him back. "If I make this, you have to let me be your boyfriend." He says, and you can't help but smile.

You don't get to say anything before he's running away from you and towards the court. He bounces the ball longer than he should, and just when he goes to shoot, he misses. You giggle to yourself but bite your lip when he turns to look at you. You get up, walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his abdomen, "You don't need to shoot a basketball to ask me to be your girlfriend, weirdo."

"I thought it'd be less embarrassing to miss than it would be for you to reject me." He says, defeated.

"Who said I would reject you?" 

You watch his eyes light up right before he leans down to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist and sweeping you off your feet. 

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

[reiluvr]

Suguru's Morning Routine

hello! this is a new account, just cause i wanted to start somewhere new! requests are open and im still working on everything so...

i'll eventually make a masterlist, once i've posted at least 5 works or so.

this is pretty much 100% fluff even though i'm a hardcore angst girl. just starting off easy. uhhh there's suggestive words but no smut.

just suguru being head over heels for you and toru <3

It's the way Suguru has his alarms set for at least half an hour before the other two ring. He's so used to this routine that he doesn't even really need the alarm, his eyes already open and hands reaching for his phone to turn the alarm off in case it wakes you two up. He turns his body, a smile subconsciously falling onto his face as he observes the mess of your hair. He gently brushes a few strands away from your mouth, fingers tracing your features as he grins.

Once his ten minutes of admiring you are up, his body shifts, neck craning to admire Satoru on your other end. His heart flutters as he watches the constant rise and fall of Satoru's chest, finding solace in watching the "honored one" look so mundane. His smile only widens further as his eyes trail down to observe how your legs entangle with Satoru's, Suguru being the only somewhat normal sleeper. In the quiet of the room, a small giggle escapes him as he thinks back to the beginning of the relationship, how hard it had been to get a good amount of sleep between Satoru's limbs stretching across the entire bed and you're constant mumbling. Now it's only one of his countless favorite things about his two partners.

He alternates between both of you, waiting until the sun has fully risen to quietly get out of bed, humming a soft tune as he turns on the coffee maker, already pulling out countless items from the refrigerator. It was honestly a blessing that Satoru was loaded, because not only did he eat for a family of ten, all three people in the house had very different tastes, leading to grocery weekends being quite hectic. He places three cups on the counter, practically adding only a few drops off coffee to the first one as he drowns it in creamer and sugar cubes. He moves to the second, not even trying to fight the smile as he notices the small paw prints on the side of the mug. He had gotten accustomed to finding cat themed items all around the house once you had moved in. It had been a nightmare listening to Satoru whine constantly about how "those stupid cats mean more than we do, right?" He adds two sugar cubes to the cat themed cup, pouring the coffee and topping it off with whatever nut based milk they had bought that week. By the time he turns to the last cup, Satoru's poptarts have popped out the toaster, so he quickly places them on a plate while he heats up a pan to prepare his own eggs. He quickly pours coffee in his own cup, not bothering with sugar or cream as he takes a few sips, mixing granola into some strawberry yogurt. By the time breakfast is ready, he can already hear Satoru's soft whines from the bedroom, the man already having found something to complain about. He places the poptarts on one end of the desk, placing the granola in the middle, and the eggs on the other end. No one spoke about it, but everyone knew they had an assigned seat.

He takes his coffee with him, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom as he watches. Satoru seems to be clawing at the bedsheets, one hand digging into the bed as the other is wrapped tightly around the bedframe. You stand there, hair a mess and clothes all ruffled, clearly just having gotten up, with one of Satoru's ankle in you hands, desperately trying to pull him out of bed. Suguru rolls his eyes, you'd think after years of living together, they'd be over this dramatic scene every morning. He sighs, placing his cup on the dresser as he shuffles behind you, hands wrapping around your waist as you drop Satoru's leg in surprise.

"For once, could you two just wake up normally?"

He has to suppress his smile as he hears your own frustrated complaints, already talking his ear off first thing in the morning.

"I woke up and he was literally laying on me! So I push him off and he start whining and crying, you know how he is, he's all like "you don't love me" and "I'll just go die, I guess". And then! Suguru, you're not gonna believe this, actually, you will, cause Satoru still acts like he's 16. He pulls me back with him as he's like, "Hey ma". MA? WHY IS HE TRYING TO HAVE SEX FIRST THING IN THE MORNING??-"

Suguru does the only thing that he knows will shut you up, pressing his lips against your own as he silences you, Satoru cackling in the back as you push Suguru away, already on another rant about how you're living with two men who are horny 24/7. Of course, you're just kidding, already back in Suguru's hold a few minutes later, both of you just swaying in place while waiting for Satoru to finish washing his face. (He has a 24 step skin care routine.)

The three of you finally settle into your places, both you and Satoru digging into the prepared breakfast in front of you. Suguru sighs happily, watching as a bit of yogurt sticks to your nose, Satoru pointing it out. He watches as Satoru throws his head back in laughter as you try to wipe it off, only smudging it more. He holds back to urge to tell Satoru not to speak with his mouth full. He watches as you rub your nose red, somehow still missing the smudge. He watches as Satoru finally reaches over, using the edge of his sweater's sleeve, it's Suguru's sweater but he's already accepted he's never getting it back, to gently rub your face, getting rid of the mark. By the time he takes a bite of his own eggs, they're cold. He just smiles and continues eating, a cold breakfast being a small price to pay for enjoying his morning with his favorite people.

[losers-clvb]

mayor's banquet // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

summary: you and sam do not get along. after a hunt where you're put in danger, you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you two are more compatible than you think.

content: enemies to sort of lovers, canon typical violence, arguing, maybe out of character sam and dean, use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

note: this is the first of two parts. i have only watched up until season 5 so bear with me if it's out of character. also, keep in mind it's quite unedited. the second part of this will contain smut.

masterlist part two part three

----

God, Sam Winchester infuriated you.

It had begun when you had met the boys. Bobby had been training you as a hunter, something that had been your birthright through your mother before she was killed. You were needed on a particular case in Arkansas when you were introduced to the Winchester boys. Dean had, with slight persuasion from Bobby, accepted you with open arms. Sam on the other hand had been slow to even acknowledge you. It was disheartening when you realized it was because of his lack of trust in your hunting abilities. He didn't want to have someone inexperienced to look after when they were already trying find a way to save Dean. Sam had been short with you, opting most times to just ignore your questions rather than answer them. Eventually you did the same. After the hunt in Arkansas it was clear to Dean that you would be useful to them, plus you usually sided with him over Sam.

That brought you where you were now, the three of you checking into a motel. You had gotten a suggestive smirk from the attendant at the desk when checking in. She obviously thought the three of them had some less than innocent things planned. It wasn't the first time and would certainly not be the last. It was routine at this point. Check in, Sam and Dean got the beds, you would sleep on the couch. When Dean opened the door to the room however, there was no couch. This hadn't happened yet, though you haven't been with the boys for more than a few months. You simply stared into the room with brows furrowed. Dean came up behind you and let out a small laugh before talking.

"Guess you're sleeping with me tonight sweetheart." Dean smirked before moving past you. You followed after him with a look of faux annoyance. Dean meant well, even if he had tried to get in your pants the first time you hunted together. Now, you were more of a cousin to him, not quite as close as him and Sam, yet closer than most people he knew. You shuffled in after him before throwing your bag onto the bed. You sat next to it as you watched Sam trail in. Your eyes were stormy as you dared him to argue with you about anything. It was rare that the two of you hadn't been at each other's throats yet. Sam held your eye contact until he passed you. It seemed he wasn't in the mood for a fight right now.

----

A few hours later, you were sat in a bar with Dean next to you. You were sipping on a beer while listening to Sam speak about the details of the case. A string of mysterious deaths had made your trio suspect demon possession, or possibly a witch. Something other than human had caused this to happen. Sam had discovered the history of the town had held similar deaths to these.

"Every 100 years, 10 residents of this town have been found dead. All found to be victims of some sort of sacrifice." Sam spoke to them both but only looked at Dean. You looked over the flyer that was laying on the table top. It was advertising a town banquet hosted by the mayor's family. The same mayor that had descended from one of the town's founders. The dots were connecting in your head as Sam spoke again.

"And guess which family kept showing up every century?" He asked before speaking again, obviously not expecting an answer.

"The Wilson family." He raised his eyebrows with the last word. It was obvious he thought the family had something to do with this. You just kept staring at the flyer, trying to figure out why the faces on it seemed so familiar. Something was ticking in the back of your mind. It was one of the things you and Sam had in common. Too smart for your own good. If you had asked Dean, that was why the two of you never got along. You and Sam were practically the same person, and when you fought with him, it was like fighting with yourself. Neither of you would admit to this, not wanting to admit that you had anything in common with each other. But it was still the truth.

"My great grandmother was here." You said, causing the Winchester brothers to pause. They both turned to you with twin looks of confusion. Your eyes stayed on the flyer.

"100 years ago, she was one of the last sacrifices." You continued, feeling yourself trying to swallow the words down.

"It was what my mother was searching for when she died. She was waiting for this time to come around again." You sighed, looking up at the boys.

"This family, they never die. They're immortal, and the only time they can be killed is in between the first and last sacrifice."

Sam broke his gaze from you after your last word, counting the names in his head. Dean scoffed before taking another swig of his beer.

"There's been 7 deaths, which means our window to kill them is closing fast." Sam said. You thought for a moment how best to go about the situation when another beer was placed in front of you. Your eyes shot up to the bartender, a skinny man who only pointed to the corner of the room. You looked over, seeing a table of men around your age. One raised his own beer to you with a flirty smile. You smiled back before turning back around. You looked to Sam and Dean again, who wore very different expressions on their faces. Dean looked proud of you, as if it was the first time you had been flirted with. Sam, however, looked pissed. You knew it was because of the case and he didn't want any distractions, but it still made you angry to see it. Acting on impulse, you stood from your chair and walked to the table. The man met you halfway, leaning on the empty table near the two of you.

"Hey pretty girl." He said suavely. You leaned next to him, only a step away from him.

"Hey yourself." You responded. You felt eyes on you from every direction and you knew on pair of them belonged to Sam. That pushed you further, knowing it would only make him angrier, even if you had a plan.

"You're new to town? I'm sure I would have remembered you." The stranger said as he leaned in closer, eyes darting over your shoulder.

"Just passing through. Was there a reason for your generosity, or is that how you greet all newcomers?"

The man chuckled as your question, still looking over your shoulder.

"Well, certainly not how I treat everyone." He paused before turning his gaze back to you. "The Mayor's Banquet, are you going?"

You thought for a minute while letting your eyes trail up his body.

"Maybe." You replied shortly, knowing where he was going with this.

"Go with me." The man said in a way that told you he thought you were wrapped around his finger. You got the sense he was used to getting his way. Guess that's how it was when you were the mayor's son.

"I don't even know your name." You laughed out, resting a hand on the table. You weren't about to give in so easily, trying to not make him suspicious. He had been the one to ask you to the banquet, but you were the one who needed it. It was the only way to get close enough to the family.

"George. George Wilson." He spoke, though you already knew this information. You smiled and moved closer, close enough that your feet were touching. George placed his hand on top of yours. It was freezing cold. Bone-chillingly cold. You looked down where your hands met, then looked back up at him. You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

"Well, I suppose I was looking for a date." You answered before leaning into him. "I'll meet you outside this bar at 7." You whispered in his ear before leaving him. You made sure to sway your hips as you walked, trying your best to look seductive. That was the best way to go about things.

You made your way back to your seat while ignoring the looks from Sam and Dean. Once you had gathered your jacket and purse, you looked at them. They still held the same looks they had when you were given the beer. You shrugged before walking out of the bar, hoping they would follow.

----

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked as he walked into the motel room. You had arrived only 5 minutes before and were in the process of readying yourself for bed. You looked up at him from your bag.

"I have a plan." You replied, looking at Sam as he walked in. He looked just as angry as he had at the bar. You narrowed your eyes at him when he scoffed and shook his head.

"And what was the plan? Find someone to sleep with while the residents of this town die?"

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, turning in shock to his younger brother. Sam's words made you whip around and stalk towards him. You jabbed a finger in his chest.

"You haven't heard a word yet and you're already doubting me. If you kept your mouth shut for longer than 3 seconds you might have found out that was the mayor's son. You might be interested to know that I'm his date to the banquet, his date who will be able to get him alone a room where you two will be waiting with weapons." You growled out through gritted teeth. You watched as realization crossed his face. You knew he was too stubborn to admit he was completely wrong, so you moved away from him to continue what you were doing. Sam and Dean began to do the same, moving about the room.

"How were you so sure that was him?" Dean asked, still eyeing his brother in annoyance. You stopped again and kept your eyes on your bag.

"I spent my childhood looking at those pictures. Everything. I have their faces memorized." You threw your bag to the ground and crawled under the cold blankets. You waited for Dean to crawl in beside you before turning the light out. You felt the heat coming off of Dean and smiled. You were still freezing from George's touch.

----

A thump on your shoulder woke you. At first, you thought the worst. Demons, vampires, anything that was sent to kill you. Then, you felt a kick. You turned your head slowly to look over at Dean. Apparently, he moved in his sleep. You would wait it out, maybe he would stop after a few minutes.

Those minutes came and went and Dean was still moving. You sighed, eyeing Sam’s bed. Maybe you could get him to switch.

No. You knew he wouldn’t move. He might not even wake up. Or he would wake up and tell you to fuck off.

It was a quick decision. You would just sneak into his bed and hopefully wake up before him. He wouldn’t even notice, right? Plus, you were still shivering and Dean’s moving kept the bed cold. You pulled yourself onto your feet and tiptoed over to the side of Sam’s bed. Slipping under the covers was easy with Sam sleeping on one side of the bed. You closed your eyes and fell asleep with Sam’s warmth enveloping you.

[pushingdaisies1]

Nasty Dog . . . ♡ ↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.

(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)

(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..

Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.

Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.

“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were. "Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand. She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.

It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.

Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.

Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof. She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal. "As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma. "Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours. "Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.

She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."

A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while. "Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course. "All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown. "Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time. "Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day. Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there. You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher. Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand. "Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table. "Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.

"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter. Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.

Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.

She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work. "I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.

"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."

She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning." The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table. "On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.

As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging. One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run. "Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups. You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.

You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.

Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch. Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring. Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying. In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet. "I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off. You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation. "Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.

Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.

You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.

Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet." Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down. He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways. You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later. Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.

You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands. You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.

Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another. "Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next. You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.

Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.

Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.

Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.

It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.

“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”

His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.

The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.

“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”

He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.

“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.

“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.

“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.

He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.

The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.

You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 (im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)

TAGLIST:

@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r

[aramynx]

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

KATSUKI BAKUGO X READER

You and Katsuki have known each other since middle school, and have always notoriously been at each others' throats as naturally gifted students. Things take a frustrating turn when you both end up at UA, as those darned teenage hormones begin to run high…

a/n: it's my first time in a few years writing something longer gang, you'll have to bear with my (probably nonsensical) pacing xoxo

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part 1 • part 2

“Hey Kacchan!” You called out, bursting into a light jog towards the only familiar face you had seen that morning. You smirked as you watched him tense up at hearing that godforsaken nickname that you just loved to tease him with, causing him to spin around rapidly, although not to greet you.

You were feeling good in your new uniform- it was as comfortable as any school uniform could be, and fit almost perfectly. The man in front of you, however, looked like his trousers were a size too big as they pooled at his ankles. You were sure Mitsuki probably had to wrestle his tie onto him for a ‘first day’ photo before he left the house that morning, that surprisingly was still neatly tucked into the collar of his shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing a tie, are you even the real Katsuki?” You teased, eyeing up and down in feigned suspicion whilst his scowl only grew stronger.

“Shut up, you’re so obsessed with me.” He scoffed, not willing to yell at you before he even walked into his dream school, “Can’t believe I have to deal with your annoying ass for another three years.”

“And the rest of our decades as pros after that! You know we make a great team- we could even put our agencies next to each other.” You smirked, knowing exactly how to piss him off.

“Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?” Katsuki shouted half-heartedly before continuing to walk towards your new homeroom. He didn’t refuse your suggestion- you smirked.

You refrained from teasing your long time ‘best friend’ on your way through the building, using the time to look around the halls of the prestigious U.A. High and really soak it all in. You were really here, on your journey to being a hero. Looking out through the long glass windows you observed the masses of students still making their way across the grounds, as tiny as ants from this distance.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder, watching you for a moment as you stared out of the window peacefully. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but you might not be so bad when you weren’t deliberately trying to push his buttons. He turned away and opened the classroom door, quickly shoving his tie into his bag and kicking his feet up on the desk.

One difference between you and Katsuki was that you were willing to make friends with other people; that was something he’d never understand about you. Once you entered the room, you were practically swept up by a girl who was completely pink, with a wide smile and eager eyes.

“Hey! I saw you earlier on the way in and you are so so cute!” She said, squeezing your hands in hers enthusiastically, “My name’s Mina, wanna be friends?!”

She bounced up and down slightly, watching you as you nodded and told her your name in return before calling another girl- Tsu- over to meet you. As you waited for your teacher to arrive, you chatted with the girls about how amazing it was that you had gotten into U.A. Conversations throughout the room quickly ceased as the voice on your homeroom teacher filled the air, introducing himself with nothing but exhaustion before telling everybody to put on a gym uniform and head outside.

“Are you friends with that shouty guy?” Mina asked on your way down the stairs.

“Oh, Katsuki? Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started, “We were in middle school together but its more like a rivalry than a friendship- I don’t think he actually likes me that much.”

“Ooohhh drama~!” She smirked in a sing-song voice, excitedly jogging ahead of you, “See you out on the field, ‘kay?”

Once you had changed into your gym clothes, you walked out into the slightly chilly spring air, the sun’s faint warmth overpowered by the cool breeze glazing over your exposed forearms.

“A quirk assessment this early?” Tsu whispered from beside you, “I hope he isn’t serious about expelling anybody.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to make jokes…” You responded, watching as Aizawa instructed Katsuki to throw the ball as far as possible using his quirk.

You weren’t surprised when you heard how far it went, after all, you already knew how powerful he was. In your way to the first assessment, you managed to catch up to Katsuki, hands in pockets as he walked over.

“Great job with the ball toss, bigshot.” You smirked, poking his cheek as his pursed lips quickly turned back into his signature scowl.

“Shut up! I’m gonna destroy you in every damn one of these tests!” He yelled, sparking up his palms towards you, but you only swatted them away and giggled, making his anger worse.

Despite his harsh words towards you, he never actually called you anything too demeaning, unlike with other people.

“Maybe in your dreams, Kacchan.”

Rivalry and teasing aside, you and Katsuki had some kind of close bond; the kind where you knew you could trust each other if it came to it in a life or death situation.

Little did you know just how soon that bond would be tested.

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[lucrativesoul]

The Assistant

summary: you have been promoted within the police headquarters, and your new position is the assistant of none other than Leon S. Kennedy. the ever alluring man has you weak in the knees.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 9.9k

warnings: smut, boss x employee, very brief mention of smoking, very vague drug mention.

a/n: yay i'm posting it :3 using this photo cause i couldn't stop thinking of noir leon while writing this (brainrot) i didn't originally intend for this to be so long but here we are... this was different than what i'm used to writing but it was so much fun! already in the process of a second fic! enjoy yall

“So… I’m not fired?” 

Standing in front of your boss’ desk, you were genuinely surprised by the words out of her mouth. For some reason, for the last few weeks, you had a hunch that you were about to get sacked. The office had been slowly getting emptied out, of boxes full of documents, of equipment, hell, even of people, and you were positive you were next. 

She had just called out into her office, a mere twenty steps away from your desk where you worked, or used to work, now, in the dingy yellow room with foggy windows and no working AC. You took a deep breath, thinking this was it, getting ready to add this to the list of ‘Previous Employment’ on your resume, when all she had simply told you was that you were going upstairs.

She laughed curtly. “No, you aren’t. They need you upstairs. You’ll be better off up there.”

You slowly nodded your head, trying to keep most of the confusion off of your face. “So, sorry to ask, but, what about down here?”

You had been here for just shy of a year at this point, and they placed you in one of the ground floor offices of the five story buildings sorting out random court documents, for whatever reason, they were always needed for something incomprehensible. You didn’t question it, you just did it, because you got paid to. Yes, the fluorescents gave you occasional migraines and stepping into the fresh air at the end of the day made you feel reborn, but it was just busy work, and there were much worse jobs to do.

“They’re cleaning us out. We’re all still here, just… relocated.” You nodded, at least relieved to know that your old deskmates weren’t ruthlessly fired. She handed a manila folder over to you, and when you flipped it open, there was only one piece of paper inside. You’ve learned to not be surprised by confusing things such as this. “Mr. Anderson of the top floor has recently been relieved of his position.” Ouch, you thought. Poor soul. “His position had been freed and with no new applicants, they were looking inward. I appreciate your work here and your employment history shows some experience in the assistance department, so I suggested you as a candidate. They want you up there.” 

Your stomach sank, and your best friend’s voice rang out through your head. “You can’t lie about past employment, idiot! They can check!” Well, you held back a sigh, they definitely didn’t check.

“Wow, I… Thank you. But, sorry. That I’m leaving.”

She merely shook her head. “Still here. This office will be gone soon enough. Between us, I’ve been praying for this day.” With that, she dismissed you, and after swiping the few personal items off your desk and into your bag, you headed home.

This single paper had stumped you all night. You sat at your table after eating (barely, you were too nervous about starting a basically new job the next day), and decided to review the content of it before retiring for the night. It was quite simple: it listed the job description, ‘Executive Assistant’, it listed the location, ‘5F, 505’, and your new boss’ name, ‘Leon S. Kennedy, Exec. Agent’.

You had honestly not heard this name before. You should know everyone who works there, considering the nature of the police headquarters, but you were often forgotten down in the basement, no one too important worked down there, besides your boss, or old boss now, who had connections to all other departments. Everyone got there before you and left after you. Could be at the same time, but you often tuned it out, needing the sweet release of your home. You wondered why she volunteered you up for this. Maybe she was sympathetic about the setting you had to work in for someone your age.

You went to bed after deciding there was no hidden detail in the few lines of script on the sheet. You would just have to wait and see.

Figuring the gray dress pants and white, long sleeve mock neck that you threw on this morning were good enough, you left the house early enough to prepare by buying a coffee. Being stuffed into the basement had its perks, eventually everyone had caught on to the idea that they just needed you guys down there to do what they didn’t want upstairs, and you and your coworkers had found the thin cracks in which you could push the dress code a little. No, leggings weren’t permitted, but they were on the days your slacks were dirty and when you put a dress shirt and sweater on over it. You were sure your boss noticed, but said nothing anyway. Clearly, it didn't put a dent in what she thought of you.

You had to at least try today though, as you had no idea what it would be like to work on the top floor. You had no idea what kind of a person Agent Kennedy was, and you weren’t going to chance anything on the first day. You had played it safe when you first started here and it paid off, so fingers crossed it could pay off again.

After a few deep breaths, you popped the door open and headed into the building. Usually, you could park in the back and take the lower level entrance, which was essentially the one and only way into the basement that wasn’t from the service elevator, but you went in through the front today. You ignored the tightening of your stomach and climbed the stairs. 

“Can I help you?” A man stood from the front desk at your arrival. You started reaching for the ID card you carried on a lanyard, stuffed into your pocket.

“Yes, I work here.” He reached out for your ID, not believing your truth.

He raised an eyebrow. “The basement entrance is in the back of the building.” He handed it back and went to sit down.

“Yes, I know, I was moved. I’m going upstairs.” You handed him the manila folder before he could ignore you further. He raised an eyebrow again after looking at the small paper.

“Alright, Anderson’s replacement. Fifth floor, to the right.” He motioned to his left to the elevator, and only then did you let him sit back down. 

You took the walk to the elevator as a chance to survey the room. You hadn’t been over here very often. You made a few trips up here a few months ago, but you didn’t look around much, only headed to the confidential files room to move information. The floor was a sleek black tile, shiny as ever, and the room was lit well due to the large windows at the front of the building. It didn't look like a headquarters building. You told yourself it wasn’t to calm your nerves.

Swallowing the last of the anxiety, you stepped out onto the fifth floor. It was simply a hallway, all black, but the windows at the end made the space seem larger, and not so dark. To the right, you remember the man telling you. Your footsteps were reverberating off of the walls, matched with the pounding of your blood flow in your ears.

The corridor opened up to a wider room, inhabited by a handful of other people. One of them spotted your arrival, and walked over.

“Good morning, I’m–”

“Yes, right over here. Glad to see you.” You were taken aback for a moment, They already know me? You thought, as you followed the young man to a large desk on the left side of the wall, facing inward to the foyer. You were sitting in front of floor to ceiling windows, across the room was the same setup with a few smaller desks, people scuttling back and forth on their own side. You turned back to thank the man, when your heart fluttered in relief.

“Thank you,-- Oh, my gosh, Brett, you work up here now?” Brett was an old deskmate that had left the small office three months ago. You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but the last day that you saw him you remember eating lunch on his desk with another coworker who sat in front of you two. You were saddened by his loss, but now absolutely relieved to have a familiar face.

“I know, right? They said you were coming. I’m glad you got out next. It’s better up here.” He let you put your stuff down and get settled, before telling you what your next moves should be. “He’s in a meeting right now, but he wanted to meet you once you got here. Don’t be nervous, but brace yourself. He’s serious. Mostly. I’ve seen him smile once, but he’s nice to the rest of us. Hopefully more to you.”

After a few more minutes of small talk, he left you on your own, and you passed the time getting used to the surroundings while waiting for your new boss to be out of his meeting. Early for a meeting, you thought, but then again, it didn’t take a whole team for one person to make a conference call. 

There was a momentary beep sound that came from Brett’s desk, and he picked up the phone. He said one thing into it before hanging up. He turned to you. “He’s ready.”

The nerves came back, but at the comforting thought that there was at least one person you knew out here, you tried your best to look forward to just sitting back down at your desk.

You were about to knock, but figured otherwise since he had directly asked for your presence. You walked up to the large double doors, and pulled them open.

His back was to you when you closed the door behind you. Walking closer, you stopped a few paces away, observing him for a brief second. He had a white dress shirt on and a gray vest. He looked quite large from where you stood, and you were sure that he was at least 6 feet tall, probably taller. He was messing with some papers on his desk, and you took a quick breath before speaking.

“Good morning, sir.” You stood tall, shoulders back, hands clasped behind yourself. Don’t cross your arms in front of you, you recall trying to retrain your habits, you look insecure. He turned around.

You swallowed hard. Jesus Christ, there were no tips on that blog on what to do when your boss is straight out of People Magazine’s sexiest men alive. His ash blonde hair was pushed back off of his forehead, showcasing his sturdy bone structure, a deep, furrowed brow that lacked any wrinkles, and high cheekbones with a sharp jawline. Straight nose, strong chin, and shoulders the size of, well, you. Maintaining eye contact was a challenge. 

You saw him give you a quick once over, all the way down and back up your body again, so brief like it never happened at all. You were itching to pull your arms back in front of yourself.

“Good morning.” He took one step closer to you, held out his hand, and you gingerly took it. His hand was rough, yet the handshake was gentle. “Agent Leon Kennedy.” He lowered his hand and put it in his pocket. His other hand was holding a file. “I hope once you are comfortable here we will work well together.”

You gave a tight smile, forcing your face to make it look natural. You were sure it didn’t. “I look forward to working with you.” Your voice was a lot breathier than intended. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a hidden smirk. Leon could definitely tell you were nervous. It was a big part of his job, after all. He handed the file over to you. “Just run these for a while. Find me when you finish them.” You took the folder. He stood there momentarily, watching you. “You can relax a little. I’m not going to kill you.” He stalked back over to his desk and sat down, attention still on you. 

You mumbled while flipping through the file. Attempting to lighten the mood, “I would, but smoking is not allowed in the building.”

“That will kill you, you know.” His voice was light. He took the joke well.

You closed it and looked back up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Would you prefer if I drank myself stupid, then?” He said nothing, and just smiled at you. Yours grew wider. “I’ll see you soon with this, sir.” You turned and left.

The day passed with ease. It was no difficult task to focus, now that the nerves were buried and you knew what it was that you had to be doing. Lunch with the others came and went, and it took you a fair chunk of your day to run the files he handed over. It was similar to what they had you doing in the basement, but the addition of sunlight unobstructed by dirty windows made it seem like a fun job.

You had attempted humor with Leon within the first few minutes of meeting him. You probably shouldn’t have, but no one in your life could force you to give up making jokes in serious situations. That’s just how you operated. Leon didn’t seem to care. He actually smiled. Brett had told you he rarely does that, and you made him after only a minute. It honestly had your heart racing all day.

With only an hour left in the day, you packed up the papers Leon had given you along with some new printed ones. You knocked on the door this time, and opened it when he beckoned you in.

“Sorry it took me so long. Little more labor intensive than I’m used to.” He took the file you were handing over, and put it on his desk without looking inside. He was sitting turned toward the computer on his desk, and though he told you to come in, you hoped you weren’t interrupting anything. 

“Thank you. No more of that librarian sorting you were all doing down there.” So, he knows. It was no secret you were sure, but you were still surprised that he knew you worked in the building at all. Leon turned his attention back to his desk for a moment, and you stood there, head tilted slightly to view what he was looking at. He turned back to you, and your head snapped up to make eye contact. “I have nothing else for you right now. Boring day for you to start. You can go home. Tomorrow, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have you review some portfolios and slides I have, so you can become familiar with the content. I have some meetings coming up later in the week, or next, there's a good chance you’ll be coming with me.” he swiveled himself around and grabbed a stack of papers sitting on top of a file cabinet, held together with a paperclip. “Just put this on your desk for now, for the morning.” It was something along the lines of criminal justice and related business strategies. This would be a doozy.

“Of course, sir. As you wish.” You took a step back to leave. “Thanks for the early day.” You sent a halfhearted smile his way. He didn’t reflect it, but his eyes were soft.

After a few seconds of holding your stare, he said, “Already better than Anderson. I like you.”

Your stomach tightened, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally. “I hope I can continue to please, then.” You felt his stare hot on your back as you left, but you remained composed. Once, and only once, the doors were shut, you shakily exhaled, and quickly packed up to leave.

The week went by with a pace you were never used to with your job. You found yourself excited to come to work, excited to see Leon. If you had known you worked in the same building this whole time, you would have been begging your old boss to get moved.

It was a rather tame week, and you weren't sure if it was because there was no work, or this is just what the workload was always like here. It was now Friday, you sat at your desk going through a database page for the assignment you had to review before the meeting Leon had said you were attending. It definitely made you nervous, this was past your parameters and you hadn’t had any sort of experience with something this serious. At least, that’s what you thought it would be. You needed to be prepared for that so you didn’t look incompetent for this job that you only just got. 

Resting your chin on your hand with the other slowly scrolling through the page with the mouse, you cocked your head and looked up when Leon suddenly appeared in front of you. You shot a smile at him.

“Were you in a meeting?” He stood so tall from this angle with you sitting down, and your neck almost hurt looking up at him. 

“Yeah, light work though.” He held onto a file with his left hand. The right was in his pocket. He turned briefly to look behind him at the others who worked in the small lobby. “So, about that meeting next week,” you nodded, shifting your posture now. “It’s Monday morning. I just need you to be there to help with any outside communications like other appointments since it might be a while. I sent this to you–” He motioned to your computer, which was the PDF you had been reading from his email. “In case something happened to mine for whatever reason. God forbid...” He mumbled, partially rolling his eyes. You chuckled. “Good for you to know it though.”

“I figured. This is also light work.” You cocked a smile, and he repeated the action. “As long as I’m not being expected to execute the whole presentation, I think I can serve well to take calls for you.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out from him. “That’s all I need you for. It’s not here,” He leaned onto your desk with one arm, and you had to desperately peel your eyes away from the way his veins flexed in his forearm. The image was already burned into your brain. “It’s in the branch a couple cities over, so… If you would like to meet me somewhere over here,” You tried to swallow at the implication, but your throat was suddenly so dry. “You know, to make it easier.”

You drew in a breath. “Of course,” You put your hands into your lap so he wouldn't see you nervously wringing your fingers together. “How did you know about my minor driving anxiety?” You playfully quirked an eyebrow at him. 

He smiled. “Intuition. Or my job training.” He stood up straight now. You found yourself wishing he wouldn't leave. “You can leave at three with the rest of them today. I’ll see you on Monday.” You only released the breath you were holding when he was safely behind the confines of his office doors.

The weekend allowed a little relaxing, but mostly anxiety the close it came to Monday. You were finding it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about Leon. This whole week felt like a dream. Your body felt hot anytime you were alone in his office, or anytime he merely stopped at your desk to drop something off. You felt so small next to him, and almost struggled to form coherent thoughts when you had to speak to him. Your eyes thoroughly raked his body up and down when he was turned, his broad expanse of back and shoulders nearly turned your brain to slush. He always smelled like crisp cologne, something expensive, it had to be. 

You found yourself thinking too often about the way he looked at you. It was a stare that wasn't something you were used to receiving on a daily basis. There was something else… His gaze was dark and luring. Like he knew what you were thinking. Like when you two made eye contact, he knew he was the object of your fantasy. 

Which, yes, it had only been a week, but you had to admit, you had never seen anyone this attractive before. And here you were, working for him. It only made your skin heat up more at the knowledge that it was forbidden. It heightened the experience every time you had to see him. That was your boss, and he sure did have that power over you. The conversations you had with him bordered on strictly work, but you were dying to see another side of him. The smirk he gave you when you made him laugh had your stomach twisting in a way that lasted long after the interaction was over. Every time you said something that gave him that reaction, you needed to make it happen again. It felt like a new addiction that developed way too fast. You wondered if he could tell. You at least tried to be subtle about it. 

A shiver raked through your body as you stood outside of your car early that Monday morning. It wasn’t that cold, but you didn't think the weather was the reason you were shivering. You had arrived at headquarters to meet with Leon, as he offered to take you over to another city's department for his meeting. The aforementioned shiver happened immediately after turning and seeing Leon in the same outfit as you saw when you first met him.

His button down shirt strained on his biceps when he moved, and the gray vest sat perfectly on his waist, making you realize exactly how his frame would look underneath his clothes. You had to push this aside as he motioned you to come over to his car.

It was a sleek black sedan, which made sense for who he was. You felt shielded from the world as you closed the door, the tint locking you in next to your boss, who was insanely close to you, and you feared could hear your frantic heartbeat. 

He placed a few files on your lap and you let them sit there for the time being. “I was going to get you coffee, but I didn't know how you would take it.”

You held back a smile at the thought of Leon thinking of you this morning. “It’s okay, but thanks. I already had some.” You saw Leon nod out of your peripheral, and you could only look forward, knowing you might stare if you turned your head. 

“But you take…” Leon prompted. He’s curious anyway? Is he expecting to do it in the future? You could have exploded. 

After rattling off the basics of what you drink, he replied, “Sounds very sweet.” You laughed and nodded. “I don't know about all that. Maybe I’ll try it out.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to be into sweet things.” You risked a look over, and when you did, he mirrored the action with a grin on his face.

“You’d be surprised.”

Thankfully, you were very relieved at the end of the day when the meeting went by with minimal interaction on your part. You were introduced to some of the other important players in the legal game that knew Leon, and sat off to the side with one of the files he handed you. Despite most of the information going over your head, you still paid attention, at least to make Leon look good and show that you were a competent assistant. 

The sun was close to setting by the time you filed back out into the lot, trailing right behind Leon. Slipping into his passenger’s seat, he followed a second after, and you felt your body physically relax knowing the stressor of the week was now defeated.

“Not so bad, right?” He spoke without looking over, shifting gear and taking off.

“Are they always this long? Maybe I should plan ahead and bring multiple drinks with me.” 

He chuckled. “Only sometimes. This one was important, that’s why. They usually aren’t outside the city either so… consider this an introduction to the team.”

You rolled your eyes and looked over. “Do you keep forgetting that I already worked here before this?” You heard the smile through your own voice, and saw one creep on his face as he kept his eyes on the road. Your heart felt light. 

“No, absolutely not. The pace you work at is evident enough of that. It’s just a different type of job, I’m sure. I don’t really know what goes on down there.”

With the smile still on your face, you let your eyes linger on him for a moment more. His hair, which was pushed on top of his head, was starting to fall, and a strand fell onto his forehead. The past week, he had worn it down a couple of times, and you honestly didn't know which one you preferred.

You rolled your head over to the side, watching the passing cars go by. The radio was on, but at the lowest volume, merely for ambiance. Your hand brushed over the files on your lap, that you had taken back from Leon upon leaving so he could shake hands with whoever he needed to, and pried open one of them.

Before your eyes could even properly latch onto any words, Leon’s hand reached over and gently pushed the top of the file closed, and you looked over at him.

“That’s confidential, you know.” He looked over at you for a brief second, but you could see he wasn’t mad. 

“Sorry. I was just sitting through that whole thing, though, in case you forgot.” You looked back down at your lap and noticed Leon’s hand was still on the file, the weight of it heavy on your thighs.

“No, I didn’t forget. I don’t know how much of it was digestible to you.” He barely lifted his hand off of the file folder, pulling it sideways, landing it on your thigh for a second. His hand was big enough to wrap around the side, and a split second later, he dragged it off, and your skin burned with the track it traced. Breathing became hard suddenly, and you had to turn your head to the window and focus on the outside world.

You arrived back at headquarters thirty minutes later, and the fresh air felt incredible on your flushed skin. It wasn’t even that warm in the car, but you couldn't stop thinking about the way Leon’s hand felt on your thigh. It was like he never lifted his hand at all, you could still feel the contact lingering, the way his fingers grazed your leg, the immediate warmth you felt, not only on your thigh, but in your stomach. You wished you could have taken your jacket off in the car.

Before you could get any words out, Leon said, “Come up to the office for a second. I left something up there.”

You said nothing, simply followed him up. The parking lot was nearly deserted, save for the few officers doing a detail whom you greeted when the both of you walked in. You fiddled with the edges of the files you were still holding, not trying to look in any of them in case Leon were to reprimand you for it again. You were almost tempted to, just to see his reaction. That thought made your knees weak.

You followed him out of the elevator into the office. As expected, the lobby was empty. Leon made his way over to his desk, pulling open a file cabinet, and started sifting around. You stood there, then walked over and dropped what you were holding onto his desk. You looked around the office, it was as wide as the lobby was, and large windows spanned the walls. It was simplistic. His desk was in the middle, file cabinets behind him, multiple monitors, a few chairs in front of his desk, some  round black ottomans in front of a black leather couch to the left. There were more files open on top of one of the ottomans. 

You stalked over to it, leaned down and picked one up. It looked like what he had given you the other day–

“You must be a glutton for punishment.” You jumped slightly when Leon spoke from directly behind you and grabbed the file from your hands. You spun around. “You shouldn’t be rifling through random documents, you know.” 

You sighed, not wanting to make eye contact, but knowing not doing it would look bad. You kept your arms to your side despite wanting to cross them. His eyes were dark. You couldn't tell what type of reaction this was.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make a severe mental note of that.” He said nothing in return, simply looking down at you. The peaks of his bone structure highlighted by the distant street lamps and the glow of the moon outside the windows. It made the shadows look all that much darker. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine.

He hummed, a low, throaty sound. “My new assistant, just so nosy.” His voice was low, and you gulped, trying to blink through your emotions normally, but you knew it looked anything but. 

“Dare I say it’s in my job description.” You mirrored his low tone, mentally relieved it wasn’t as weary as you expected it to sound. You tilted your head up to his, as a small gesture of challenge.

He nodded his head, as if to consider your words. “Dare you do.” He backed up, placed the file on his desk, then came right back to his spot in front of you. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still. It was most likely the better option anyway, who knows if your limbs could even move properly right now. You felt bare in this position, your cotton top feeling too warm where it overlapped with your jacket, and though your legs were on display under your skirt, they, too, were burning up. Your heart was hammering, but Leon kept talking. “What do you think about this job so far, hm? Does it live up to expectations?”

You had to take a steady breath before answering. “I think this surpasses any expectation I could have ever set.”

“Good answer.” You maintained eye contact with the man in front of you, surprising yourself with how well you were holding it. He seemed unfazed at all. He was probably reading you like a book right now. “You know, I love having new recruits start here. They’re so unaware of their surroundings. It almost makes a fun game for myself. They think they are so secretive, but after a while I can tell whatever it is they don't want anyone else to know.” You felt your breath catch in your throat. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. “I know Breanna across the lobby from you doesn’t like her desk mate despite buying her coffee three times a week.” Checks out, I can tell, too. “I know Brett does things to stay awake during his shifts that he shouldn’t be doing within a 50 foot radius of a cop.” Ouch. That’s also true, but he only told me during a hard come down. “And, I know how nervous you are to be around me, and you don’t know what to do with yourself whenever I’m in the room.”

You made no moves now. How did he know? Surely you weren’t that obvious with it. It had been one week, and yes Leon called you into his office quite a bit during those five days, but he had work to hand off to you every time. It’s not like he was doing it on purpose. 

But now, standing under his hard gaze, nowhere to go, you weren’t so sure it was accidental. 

Your jaw tightened. “How can you be so sure?” Now, you could hear the waviness in your voice. A smirk blossomed on his handsome face. 

“I can see how you look at me. Usually these things take time to figure out, but you…” He took a step closer, and you took a half step back. It’s not like you didn’t want to be close to him, but now he was donning a persona that made you shrink into yourself. You knew you liked it by the heat spreading inside. “You, dear, are like looking through a window.”

“So… you tested it out earlier?” It felt like a pathetic question, but you needed an answer for why he put his hand on your thigh earlier. Compared to this current position, that seemed so tame.

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m pretty sure I was, but… I had to make sure I was gauging the situation correctly.” He looked you up and down, your hands had made their way to clasp behind your back, still fighting the habit to cross them across your chest. Your breathing felt erratic. “I would have left it there, but I couldn’t make too much of a scene. Not yet.”

You simply stared at each other. You could tell that he knew he had the upper hand, solely because he was correct. Everything he was saying was right. Damn that detective training, nothing was getting past him. The room was sweltering now, but maybe you were the only one that felt it. 

One last burst of confidence had you muttering, “You do this to all your new assistants?”

In one swift action, he had a hand over your waist and pulled you close to him. Bodies touching, heat feeling like a fire between you, he lowered his face so it was centimeters away from yours. The glisten of his eyes were the only thing you could see, and if you weren’t running on pure adrenaline right now, you probably would have collapsed. You felt the vibrations from his chest when he spoke.

“Only the ones I intend to hang on to. And I can’t say I’ve had multiple of those.” You gulped, and when you didn't reply, he continued, “Did I gauge the situation correctly?”

“Yes,” You whispered, and his mouth was on yours. 

His kiss was intense, and you felt now like your body might give out. Your hands found their way to make contact with him, one grasping the wrist that was holding your waist and the other to the side of Leon’s face, and you felt his other hand close in on your hips.

It was like nothing you had experienced before. The kiss was hot and messy, you let his tongue in easily, and you couldn't help the small sighs that escaped whenever he leaned in to deepen the exchange. You felt his nose press into your face, your foreheads pushed together and your bodies entirely too close you felt like one entity. The hand that was caressing his face snaked to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and your knees finally buckled when he gave a low growl in response to you tugging his locks. 

The kiss broke for a second as you lost balance, but he was not thrown off course. Hands still grasping your body, he found the couch that you were only a step in front of, and he lowered you on it, still connecting your lips together fiercely. Both of your hands now in his hair as your back hit the cushions, and you felt the dips next to you where he was kneeling over you. One of his hands let go of you and supported himself next to your head, but you craved the contact again.

He took your chin in his thumb and index finger and tilted your head slightly to the right, and broke the kiss, but his lips stayed on your burning skin as they traced down your jaw bone, biting into the flesh, and his tongue marked a path down your neck, and it was insanely hard to breathe. 

One of your hands found solace on his thick shoulder while he was still making work of the soft skin on your neck. The hand of his that wasn't on your chin still traced its way from your hip up to your chest, and he squeezed one of your breasts in sync with a bite to the neck. Your head pressed harder into the couch underneath you.

“Leon, please…” You gasped out, unsure if you even said it out loud, surprised you even had the energy to speak. You felt him lift his lips off of your skin a second later and his fingers moved your chin again to make you face him.

“What is it, hm? What do you need?” He dipped down to kiss you again, and you wished he would have stayed there so you wouldn't need to verbally answer him. 

“I… I don’t…” I don’t know, I need you. You barely had the breath to speak anymore, and though you knew Leon knew exactly what you were trying to say, he feigned confusion, and looked at you from under his furrowed brow. It was so obnoxious, it ignited the flame inside you even more. 

“Come on, baby, I can’t hear you.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and your vision went blurry with lust. You ground your jaw and swallowed your pride. 

“I need you.” You gasped out finally, your lungs deflating. Your hand was fisting the material over his shoulder, and you noticed through your haze that he wasn’t wearing the vest anymore. When did he take it off? Before you came up to the office? While you had your back turned? It didn’t matter, it was now one less thing you needed to rip off of him. 

“Is that so?” He went back to biting at your neck, and at this rate you didn’t care what state he was going to leave it in. You whined at his lack of response to your plea, feeling frustration and desire bounding up inside of you, needing an outlet to release it.

“Leon, fuck, please…” You weakly tried to push him back but he wouldn’t budge. He reconnected your lips again, and that you greatly accepted, pulling him closer now so he would continue kissing you with fervor. The hand that was on your chin finally left, and he replaced it on your wrist, and suddenly, he was hauling you up.

He pulled back from the kiss just as quickly as he was pulling you to sit upright, and he swiftly maneuvered you so that when he fell backwards to sit on the couch, you were pulled right on top of him, straddling his thick thighs. You couldn’t even imagine how you looked right now, it was out of your mind for now as you looked down at the man under you, his hands on your waist. His shirt was wrinkled and slowly being pulled out from where it was tucked into his pants. His tie was being loosened and the top two buttons had come undone, exposing the smooth expanse of skin over his collarbones and chest. As you let your weight settle onto your legs, and his, you lowered directly onto his growing erection, and he squeezed his hands over your torso and scrunched his face. With a heavy breath, he pulled his head forward and stared at you.

“Did you think I was just going to give it to you?” His voice was gravelly, and it almost made you whimper. His hands dropped to your thighs, which were now incredibly exposed due to the position of your skirt hiking up, and Leon probably had a view of the black panties you had on. You didn’t care. Let him see. You needed him to take them off.

You shook your head. “You can’t be nice to me?” Your hands came up to his chest, it was firm and sturdy, and you were dying to see it bare. You fumbled with the buttons, and Leon had been at least gracious enough to loosen the tie and throw it over his head onto the floor. 

Leon laughed. You felt it under your palms. “Darling,” You looked up to make eye contact with him at the mention of the pet name. “This is me being nice to you.” 

You barely had time to register his words, and the way it made your stomach turn before he had a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you forward to another intense kiss. You could barely breathe, your limbs were all pins and needles and your skin was alight with a burning ember, fueled only by Leon, but you loved it.

In the midst of the kiss, wet and slick and tongue heavy, your hands were needlessly prying the buttons open at the top of Leon’s shirt. His hands were traveling under your clothes, palms gripping your thighs, and you found yourself grinding down into Leon’s lap subconsciously, but kept going when it resulted in him groaning into the kiss.

You pulled back suddenly at the victory of pulling the last few buttons open, and Leon immediately caught your stare, but you dropped it to look down at the open expanse of skin and muscle that he had been hiding. A strong chest gave way to flexing ab muscles as he writhed under you, probably trying to gain your attention or to show off, and sturdy hip muscles abducted into V lines that disappeared under the waistline of his pants. You couldn’t help it, you reached out to drag your hands along the smooth skin, every second of contact adding to the pooling happening between your legs, where you were also very conscious of the fact that Leon’s hands were dangerously close to. 

“Do you want this to happen today, or do you want to keep staring?” Leon prodded at you jokingly, and when you looked up, a grin was plastered on his face, and his eyes were still dark. You felt the tightness arise again at just the sight of his expression paired with his upper body on display for you.

“You’re sounding more eager than me, now…” You breathily replied, overwhelmed with all of the emotions coursing you at once. 

Leon breathed a brief laugh before raising an eyebrow with his response. “I can show you eager.”

At once, his hand reached up in between your legs and you felt one of his fingers dance across the hem of your panties, and your grip tightened where your hand landed on his bicep. He gave you no warning when you felt him pull it aside, drag his finger downwards and raked his knuckle through your wetness, earning a sharp gasp from you in return, and you nearly fell forward onto his chest as the feeling sent sparks soaring through you. 

“Calling me eager…” The sound of his voice paired with the feeling of his fingers on you was far too much to handle. “Yet it feels like you must have been wet all night…” He dragged his finger back up to the top where he maneuvered his hand so the pad of his thumb pressed heavily on your clit, and you nearly screamed, but all sound was trapped in your throat as you lost function of your body.

He ripped his hand out of your underwear and it moved around to find the zipper in the back of your skirt. “Take that shirt off,” He ordered, and you obeyed as best you could through your stiff limbs. 

You peeled it off from the bottom, feeling the fabric stick to your moist skin, and Leon’s eyes heavy on you as you finally got it over your head and on the floor. Your lingerie choice was nothing phenomenal, for the expected business meeting at least, but you could tell by his gaze that it really didn't make a difference in what he was thinking right now. Seconds after you dropped your hands back to your sides, he flipped you once again, back on the couch and him hovering over you, pulling the skirt that he had unzipped down your legs, and into the pile of your shirt and his tie somewhere behind you.

Your breathing was erratic as you watched him intently, his lust-filled eyes on your body and his hand running lengths up and down your torso, legs, back up to your chest, and neck, and landing on your bra strap that he pulled down, and wasted no time in attaching his mouth your hot skin. Your hand gripped his elbow as he bit the tender flesh of your breast, he sucked on it harshly once, twice, before lifting and wrapping his lips over your nipple, which had your back arching and a string of soft moans pouring out. 

You felt an aching cramp in your core, the pleasure was insurmountable and you needed him to do something about it, but you knew he was buying time to rile you up as much as possible before doing so. You knew he was straining with his own pleasure and you were desperate to tear apart his belt and pants and take his girth into your hands, to feel it, to taste it, you wanted to choke on it, but you knew he wouldn’t let you do that. If not in the span of a few minutes, maybe not tonight at all. You were submitting your control, and you had to let him do what he wanted.

He finally let go of your nipple, and the air felt cold with the layer of saliva he left behind, and even though you were basically naked save for undergarments, you still felt too covered. You reached up to pull at Leon’s shirt, fully unbuttoned and untucked, and he leaned back on his knees to pry it off of himself. You could see his skin glistening with sweat as he moved, and so badly you wanted to reach out and touch him, run your hands over his skin, all of his muscles, pull him close so you could feel his chest on your own. 

Your eyes fell to his pants, and the tent that was present had your mouth watering, you needed him to pull it out, and now. 

Of course, Leon being ever so sharp, didn’t miss this. “We’ll get there. Don’t worry.” Without looking up, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, but you didn’t care anymore, you couldn't move your eyes from where they landed, trying to imagine his cock in its glory, how long and thick, how he would use it and how it would feel. You felt like you were melting.

Unmoving from where he was propped up in front of you, his hands traveled down the expanse of your legs, dragging his fingers underneath your thighs where it was sensitive, making you jump with the contact. His hands came around to the top of your knees, where he pushed your legs apart and lowered himself in between them. Even just the sight of him doing so had you whimpering, and when he pressed his thumb into your clothed clit, you bucked up, but he was quick to hold you down.

Keeping his thumb centered on your clit, he continued to apply pressure, using his middle and index finger to stroke up and down on the outside of your panties, which you were sure were soaked by now. Throwing your head back into the couch, one hand gripping onto the wrist that was holding Leon up and the other was clawing into the cushion, you were dying for him to do something. 

He was getting too used to teasing you now. He had you right where he wanted, half naked on the couch in his office after hours, so close to practically coming untouched at this point, and while you wanted to fight him on this, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The mixture of the pleasure and mental ecstasy you were feeling had you forfeiting any sense of control now, and you just watched him, as he watched you.

All at once, you felt the cold air hit your core as your underwear was peeled away from you, but the sensation didn't last long as a hot, wet tongue was pressed into your heat, and you nearly screamed at the sudden contact.

His mouth was all you could focus on in that moment, you could feel every movement his tongue made, and your body reacted viscerally to it. Your hand flew out and grabbed onto Leon’s hair, which incited him to only keep going, and to be ruthless. His hands were digging into your thighs where he was spreading them apart, fighting against you wanting to close them in reaction to pleasure he was sending shooting through your body. 

One long, painfully slow lick from top to bottom ended at your clit where he latched on, tongue pressing in and teeth gently making an appearance, and your grip in his hair became even stronger when he pushed two fingers into you, your vision going blurry, and there was no filter left to stop any thoughts from pouring out over your lips. 

“Oh my god… Leon…” You were whining now, moaning in between deep breaths and gasps, feeling his fingers pump in and out all while his tongue was relentless on you. 

His mouth disappeared but his thumb took its place, and you felt him kissing, licking, sucking his way up your torso, chest, neck, until he was seated next to your ears, groaning into them as you dug your nails into his skin.

“Oh my god, what, huh? You like the way I make you feel?” All you could do was gasp out a ‘yes’ in response to his question, he wasn’t giving you any liberty to be coherent. “You probably thought about this all day…” A bite below your ear followed the sentence. “That pussy was so wet… you probably wanted this since the first day…”

And you did. How could you not have thought about this at the sight of your insanely attractive boss? Wouldn’t it be so hot to be banging your model-status boss, having to hide it from your coworkers, going in his office to sneak touches while no one outside those doors knew? Yes, of course you thought about it. It had your heart racing, and now you would stop at nothing to make those fantasies real.

“You feel so good, I can’t wait to be inside you.” With one last soft bite to the jaw, he pulled his fingers out of you, and involuntarily you whimpered, but he shut you up by pressing a kiss into your lips, which you greatly accepted. His kiss was harsh yet soft at the same time, you felt a passion behind it while also letting his tongue sweep over yours, tasting yourself on him, sighing into it, feeling like you could kiss him forever.

His hands left you, now feeling bare, you gripped his shoulders hard as you heard him undoing his own belt. As much as you wanted to do it yourself and be right in front when you pulled his hard cock out of his pants, you didn’t have it in you to attempt to move yourself, and with Leon on top of you, he was sure to stop any feeble move you made to do so.

HIs lips left yours once more and reattached to the side of your throat, biting down harder than before, but it only made you moan, arch harder into him, and sent a flurry of hot tingles into your pussy, aching for more action from him.

Leon pushed himself off of you, his warm mouth off of you and leaned back, staring at you panting, and of course, his dick in his hands was impossible to ignore. Just seeing it was almost bliss, and now you were desperate for him to use it as you lay there, being scrutinized under your boss’ gaze, and while you felt so tiny, just the sight of how hard he was made you feel so powerful.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the sight of you, before lowering himself again, lining up with your gaze so you looked him directly in the eye. You felt his forehead press into yours, his hand lingered around your underwear again, pushing it aside, and after just another moment of silence, another deep kiss, his bare chest met yours and you felt the tip of his dick push into you, past the entrance, into the warmth. 

You sighed so loud, followed by a moan, hands still gripping his shoulders, listening to him groan in tandem with you as he slowly bottomed out. His pelvis pushed against you, your legs coming up to wrap around him, and you felt his hands pull your bra down so he could cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple, adding to the pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good… Fuck…” He was groaning, he hadn’t even started moving yet, and you were dying for him to start. He sat still in you, lapping at the skin between your jaw and neck, positive he could feel the vibrations on his lips of your moans.

“Please, Leon, move… Please,” Your nails were surely digging red streaks into the skin of his back by now, but he barely even seemed to notice, rather, you thought he might have loved the feeling of it instead. You felt the pressure of him lying on top of you, paired with the pressure building in between your legs, your thighs beginning to shake, having to hold onto Leon tighter to steady them.

Finally, he slowly started to pull out, and you could barely breathe at the sensation it left behind. He kept his face buried in your neck, you could feel his ragged, heavy breathing and you could hear his groaning which was only making you wetter. 

His hips snapped forward, no regard to what pace you had wanted to set, not like it mattered, you probably would have told him quick and rough anyway if he asked. You almost screamed out at the feeling of him slamming into you, you could only throw your head back onto the couch cushion and rake your hands over his skin, into his hair. Leon licked a long stripe up your neck to your jaw, gently biting on your bottom lip before kissing you again. 

You kept kissing him hard in between his thrusts, with him pulling away for only a second at a time, both of you breathing hard, your hands traveling down to grip his biceps, and you could feel them flexing with his movement. 

“Shit,” He said over you, you could feel his breath on your lips. “So fucking tight,” One of his hands went down to grab onto one of your legs that you had thrown over him. “So fucking good.” He practically growled as he continued the assault on you, his hips showing no mercy, and his hand sure to leave a bruise on your thigh from his grip.

Leon pushed himself up, still inside of you, leaving you lying down. His skin was slick with his sweat, and maybe yours as well from being pressed against you. His hair was falling down over his forehead, and god he looked so good right now, if you weren’t already in the act of getting the shit fucked out of you, you would want to fuck him all over again. His hands adjusted their position to rest on your hips, pulling you up so he can fuck you from his kneeling position.

This new angle was hitting every spot perfectly, allowing him to go deeper than he was from just above you. The intense stretch his cock was delivering paired with the way he was holding onto your hips with such ferocity, all of it together was too much, and you were becoming unwound. 

“Leon… Leon, fuck…” You gasped out, barely able to finish your sentence, but Leon understood well enough. He slowed his pace only a beat, but it was enough to have you straining, desperate for him to go faster to allow you to finish. He kept up with the slower pace, watching you as you whined under him, begging him to go faster.

“Please, Leon…” You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, barely able to keep them open. Through them, you could see him looking at you, brows furrowed in exertion, mouth open, chest rising and falling with rapid breathing.

“Please what?” Leon growled. You whined again, knowing he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. “Say it.”

You couldn’t breathe, but you had to give him what he wanted so he could give you what you wanted. “Leon, please, I’m going to cum… please…” 

He leaned in again, still holding your hips up, his pace even slower now, and you could feel the heat bundling up, bringing tears to your eyes at the lack of relief. His face was inches away from yours. “Please, what?” 

You choked out a sob, mixed with a groan at the slightest movement he made inside of you. “Please let me cum Leon, please,” You had no voice at this point, the words coming out in a whisper, loud enough for him to hear, but he probably would have anyway. 

“That’s right.” He backed up now, and resumed his previous position. “Good girls get what they want when they ask.” Your eyes closed in bliss when he picked up his pace, the weight of his words hanging heavy in your head, adding to the ecstasy he was giving you right now. He was slamming into you again, steadying himself on your hips while also pulling them forward to meet his thrusts. You had no breath left to spare on words anymore, and fruitless moans spilled from your lips focusing the energy on bringing your orgasm to close. 

You tried to call out his name as best as you could, but all you heard were moans as the heat inside you came to a roaring burst, and you felt your legs tighten around Leon, his grip steadying you, your hands clawing at the cushion, at his wrists where they held onto you. 

Your heartbeat was crazy at this point, and you couldn't even hold your eyes open as you rode out your orgasm, his hands smoothing over your skin, and you used the sensation to come back to reality. He had momentarily stilled his movements again, and you felt his lips on your neck, none of the roughness there now. You rolled your head over to the side to face him, and when you did he attached his lips to yours, a passionate kiss, his hands feeling like heaven on your body. 

You pulled away and stared at him for a moment. His eyes were soft, but his face was still contorted in concentration.

“I hope you don’t think we’re done here, darling.” You breathed out a sigh, collecting yourself, a smile creeping onto your face.

You kissed him, and whispered into his lips, “Show me what you got left, then.”

[acciocriativity]

... MEET CUTE? - A POLY!ATEEZ ONE SHOT

Ateez Masterlist

Pairing: Non-idol!Ateez x Non-idol!Ateez (established romantic relationship); Non-idol!Ateez x Non-idol fem!reader (platonic); Yunho x reader focused (platonic)

Genre: fluff, tiniest bit of angst

Warnings: implied mention of a homophobic father; one suggestive comment; a lot of loose ends that may or may not thighned up in future;

WC: 3, 4k

N/A: This concept has been on my mind for a few weeks now, so here it is! BTW, I really missed posting here. Hey, pretty people 👋

When you moved away from home to attend Seoul University, it felt like the world suddenly became bigger in front of your eyes. You remembered all of your mother’s warnings about how it would be harder now, more responsibilities and obligations would be coming your way, how it would be different from the relatively small high school you were used to. Of course, it was all true, and it was hard to adapt at first. However, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that college was nothing but a bigger high school if you met the right people. That was always the impression you had when the name “Jeong Yunho” was mentioned, or God forbid, if he ever walked by one of your friends.

One of the first lessons you learned was that an A-list celebrity wouldn’t have a chance against Yunho. You knew that for sure because someone made an online poll on the college forum for people to vote on it a while ago.

Some knew him by his excellence in hockey back in middle and high school, which still stands untouchable for his age. At least, that’s what you heard from one of your roommates.

“People dug it in the news?”. You were flabbergasted. You looked up from the open notebook on your small desk to your friend, who showed you the photo from an old news article back in 2007.

It was no surprise that prestige and recognition could get anyone far in life. It was much less surprising that people’s eyes shined at someone who had it all. But the lack of having better things to do was truly impressive. You knew you had 3 essays and a quiz coming up, so that effort would never cross your mind.

“I know, right? But don’t you think he was kind of cute then?”

It was a blurry picture of him on the ice, his face barely there. Still, the number 9 on his back clear as day.

“Yeah, kind of…”. Your voice trailed away as you read the small lines under the photo. “Don’t you wonder why he stopped?”

Others had the chance to cross paths with him in a way or another. That took up most of the surrounding rumors to this day. He was an angel, a true Disney Prince and no photo could ever make him justice, which you believed as much as the next person. You knew he was on the last year now, so the fangirling died down from the original fuss. It was worse then, you guessed.

Still, people were fascinated by him in a way that fascinated you. As far as you were concerned, he could drop everything and become a true movie star, a legendary hockey player for the national team or a worldwide famous model, yet here he is, a diligent student on a path to continue his father’ legacy someday and everyone loved and admired him for that. He truly had it all, but wouldn’t those same people take everything away from him if they could? But who are you to say anything, right? You only ever known him by name and a vague description of how much tall and handsome he was, what would you know.

If his father saw them, no, if he ever dreamed about both of them being anything more… his father would never step foot in a place like this. Those thoughts plagued his mind in moments like these, so it took him some effort to think rationally again. The cold sweat only made him more uncomfortable, waiting for his boyfriend in a simple chair in the so familiar corner of their favorite restaurant was never this nerve-wracking. The window showcased the snow slowly cascading outside. It was supposed to be a nice date, the first snow of the year and all of that, so why. was. he. still. alone?

No sign of an answer from Mingi, he checked his messages again to be sure.

There was no denying that Yunho was an impatient man. He never knew how to wait to get what he wanted, that also apply to have a nice alone time with his boyfriend.

The bell ringing from the entrance bell caught his attention and he fixed his hair on instinct, but it wasn’t Mingi.

There was a uncomfortable pressure slowly forming on Yunho’s chest as he tried yet another failed phone call. Mingi would never have stood him up like this, something must’ve happened. He debated calling Hongjoong, who was still working late shifts and Yunho knew how busy he’s been, nobody really called him at work unless it was a true emergency. So he called Seonghwa instead.

He did his best to seem as casual as he could. Mingi wasn’t picking up his calls, has he left the house yet? It seemed calm enough. Seonghwa told him about a massive traffic congestion on a main street close to their house, but he only seemed to breathe properly when the forgotten phone was found on the couch. Seonghwa tried to ask him if things were alright and he was quick to say yes. They exchanged ‘i love you’s and Seonghwa said something like ‘don’t get home too late’, which made Yunho laugh, because he was the one who told them to “have fun wink wink”. He hang up feeling a bit better.

Mingi was on his way, he only had to be a bit more patient.

His little bubble popped when Mister Kim left a warm drink on his table.

“I didn’t order this, Mister Kim”, Yunho said in a soft yet warning tone as he looked up at the old man smiling at him. “I said I was going to pay for everything today”.

He already drank two cups of coffee in a span of 15 minutes, which he insisted on paying overprice for. Mister Kim is too good for him own sake, and he was away too nice to Yunho and Mingi, both boys he took under his wing a long time ago.

“This one wasn’t me, I swear on the Lord’s name”, Mister Kim said quickly. “This one is from the nice lady who just left”, he whispered as he leaned in.

“Is it? And somehow she guessed my favorite order, hm?”

“Just enjoy it, wouldn’t you? Stubborn boy, tsc, consider it an act of kindness after a rough day”. Mister Kim left shortly after, just as stubborn.

Yunho was speechless for a moment, but couldn’t help his smile. Usually, he doesn’t accept drinks or anything really from “ladies”, knowing well the intentions and feelings behind it. Mister Kim really was too kind for his own good, wasn’t he? Yunho knew he suggested the drink, more than willing to make it for him. Was he really having such a rough day enough for a stranger and Mister Kim himself to notice? However, that was a thought for later, when he finished the warm green tea.

It was only after Mingi and him helped Mister Kim close the restaurant, that he noticed the small “cheer up, bro” written in a black marker on the cup with no pickup line and no phone number.

What a wake-up call right there.

Mingi almost broke his neck from laughing when he saw it. That’s when Yunho decided right then and there he liked that lady, whoever she was.

By the time you were back to that restaurant a week later, you only remembered the taste of the best moon cakes you’ve ever had in a while. You always crave some when you missed your mom’s desserts, but none ever got close to hers as those. Hopefully, there’s still some left to take home with you.

The place itself wasn’t modern by any means, it felt like a voyage back to your childhood the moment you first came in. You were desperate to escape the cold and the smell of fresh coffee and baked cake led you right to the front door that first night. Although old-fashioned to its core, every surface seemed pretty clean and organized. The soft music playing was a plus for you, so you slowly walked to the empty front counter.

This time was no different, except the distinct smell of strawberries and the fact that there was no client in sight. The nice old man was cleaning one of the tables while humming along, it seemed like that was his favorite song. Since he was in no rush to greet you, you slowly looked through the displayed options, happy to see 3 moon cakes left.

“Excuse me, sir?”. You looked at the man once again. He was now working on another table, but he stopped humming, so you took as a sign to keep going. “Perhaps is there a strawberry cake on the oven right now?”

“Do you like strawberries?”, he asked as he took off his gloves and looked in your direction. His tone was as soft as the first time. He really doesn’t look like he ever yells.

“Oh, yes, I do. It’s my all-time favorite flavor”. You couldn’t help the excited tone on your voice. Strawberry cake always meant something good happened, the only good luck charm you still believe in.

“Really?”, he chuckled. “It’s a shame not a lot of people think like you these days. It rarely sold in the past, so I only make it for special occasions”

You nodded, trying not to look so disappointed. “I understand. Would it be possible to place an order for it? I know it’d be an inconvenience and I don’t mind waiting as long as it’s needed to”.

This time he laughed wholeheartedly, so much so his eyes seemed to disappear. You were surprised to say the least at how delighted he was. “Of course, I could. Why don’t you come back later in the evening? I’ll have one ready to-go”

“Wait, really? Thank you so much, thank you”, you bowed down as many times as it felt right to, which he was quick to wave it off. “Before I leave, can I have those 3 moon cakes?”.

Your hopeful eyes amused him to no end. You were an expressive person, it reminded him of someone dear to him, and he could tell you seemed kind and genuine, the type of client he wanted in his restaurant around his boys.

“A diverse taste bud, I see”.

“It’s thanks to my mom”, you smiled and your eyes lighted up when you mentioned her.

You felt like it was your lucky day as you watched him pack your order.

You felt mortified as you hugged the neatly packed strawberry cake in your hands.

Slowly, you blinked as you processed the name you just heard from the tables on the left. There were three round tables together, around 8 boys in total. They were impossible not to notice as soon as you came in the late evening, because not only they were loud, they were all well-dressed and good looking. Maybe there are truly God’s favorites, it was your only thought about them before you moved over to the counter. But now you were sure you heard the name Yunho in the middle of their conversation and you brain stopped working for a second. That was not in your Christmas bingo card. If it was the Yunho you thought it was, then you were just being weird for no reason. It’s not like he was an actual celebrity. But if it wasn’t him, then it was even worse to you. Maybe you were too invested in those silly conversations you had with your friends.

“Miss Strawberry, are you alright?”, Mister Kim, you found out his name, stared at you with genuine concern.

You stood paralyzed in the front counter.

“Yes! Yes, I am”. Your voice reached a few octaves higher and you looked down as you felt some stares on you, your hair covering the left side of your face. “Can I have those, please?”. You didn’t even see what you pointed at on the display, you could only see your reflection. Why were you even hiding? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you did nothing wrong.

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of it, please”, you said as you suddenly stood tall again.

The determination of your face was enough to tell him you were being serious and he had to try hard not to laugh at your expression.

“Yunho, can you come here for a moment?”, Mister Kim gestured for him to come fast as he moved to grab some to-go bags.

That was enough to direct everyone’s attention to you. Then, it downed on you how silent, except a few whispers, the small restaurant became. There was no music playing, which only now you were able to notice it. Those boys’ voices took so much space and created a new kind of ambiance to the point you didn’t notice the soft hum you became such a fan of. But now that it was all gone, you felt awkward and out of place. At the same time you knew nobody really cared about you, there was an immense pressure on your shoulders to act like they did.

“Can you bend down and help me bag all of the croissants?, Mister Kim asked.

Yunho, who was quick on his feet, started to work with a smile on his face. Even if he wasn’t asked to do so, he’d jump to help as soon as he saw it. The display was too low and Mister Kim’s back is not the same anymore.

“Are you taking the back pain pills the doctor told you to?”, Yunho’s tone was light, but he seemed genuine on his concern.

You heard some murmurs as an answer, but your focus was elsewhere.

After a quick glance anyone could tell that Yunho was as tall and handsome as the Jeong Yunho. But what does that even proves? Yunho was a good name to give a child? You were intrigued, the possibility was there after all. The normal man in front of you could be the Jeong Yunho, which if true, would leave you a little bit upset. You heard Yunho was nice, of course he was, but not ‘helping a grandma cross the street’ kind of nice like this. If that was true, people would have to put more credit on the man’s name, he’d be truly just fucking perfect.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s glance on your direction was as quick, but he didn’t remember seen you there before nor he ever heard of a “Miss Strawberry”. Nonetheless, he was happy the restaurant was getting new costumers.

“Making him work on his birthday, you’re mean Mister Kim”, someone said from one of the tables, the light teasing tone made it clear they knew each other for a long time now.

Although those words weren’t meant for you, still, it was you fault he was helping out on his birthday. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him now that he started it. Yunho worked in a efficient and smooth manner, like that was his day job to do so.

“It’s alright”, Yunho said, but nobody seemed to notice but you, it felt like it was for you after all.

“Should I call you instead, Wooyoung?”, Mister Kim said in a serious tone and the boy was quick to apologize and stuff his mouth with the same strawberry cake you had.

After that, the room slowly filled up again with small conversations here and there while Yunho whispered to Mister Kim and once in a while, met your eyes with a gentle smile on his face. The light exchanges were interesting, but you tried not to pay much attention on the words, because you felt like you were intruding on something you were not supposed to, like coming to a friend’s house while they were having family dinner.

The bags of croissants soon took up the whole space on the counter. At the end, there were 9 bags waiting to go home with you and would’ve be impossible for you to carry everything on your own with the cake bag.

“Mister Kim, don’t you happen to have a giant bag, do you?”

He wasn’t sure he had one big enough, still, he went to look for something and this time, he did asked for Wooyoung’s help.

“I can help, Mister Kim”, Yunho said.

“You can help making some company to the nice lady and maybe thank her as well for the tea”, he said as he walked to the back, leaving you just as speechless as the man in front of you.

Yunho saw how surprised you seemed as you realized it was him all along and couldn’t help but chuckle. Now he didn’t feel as bad for not noticing you that day, you didn’t stop to do so yourself.

“You seem caught off guard”, he said as he giggled to himself. Your expression went from shock to embarrassment, he could read you like an open book, which was a nice change of pace. Now that he had a good look, he understood what a deer caught in red lights actually meant, you truly looked like one.

“I’m so sorry, you were in a dark corner and I just thought you seemed a bit upset, I didn’t mean to be rude or anything like that at all and…”

You were rambling, you didn’t know how to stop yourself this time. Your face was hot, you could feel it and the fact that he was actually giggling wasn’t helping your case at all.

Maybe you wouldn’t have stopped talking if you haven’t heard a “hey” that grabbed your attention.

“Are you the green tea lady from last week?”, one of the boys asked you. The first thing you noticed was that he was kind of tall for something sitting down and had a pretty smile.

“Yeah, I am. Didn’t know I got a nickname though”, you managed to say after you took a few seconds to breathe again.

“Would you like to come sit with us?”, the same boy asked again. He had that chill guy kind of voice, that anything he said was cool, laid back and pretty simple.

Now you were truly jealous, that’s how you wanted to when you grew up. You tend to forget there’s people like that, on the other extreme of you.

“Hum, I don’t want to intrude in your gathering, I was on my way home”.

“If that’s the only reason, then let me tell you you’re not intruding. You can take my word for it since it’s my birthday party”, Yunho said and you felt he was sincere with the invite.

Whether he was Jeong Yunho or not, you decided then you liked him.

BONUS SCENE

“Are you all sure it’s alright? No one is going to feel left out if I only take Mingi out?”, Yunho asked once again his six boyfriends.

This was a serious matter to him as he fears he prioritizes Mingi a little much sometimes, even when he tries so hard to give equal love and attention to them all. It’s a constant fighting battle for him, when it doesn’t need to be. This much was said countless times before, yet here he is feeling guilt for nothing.

Jongho felt like they were in a movie or something, because there was no plausible reason for them to be whispering to each other in the small kitchen while Mingi was showering, especially not over this.

“Yes, we are sure. Don’t we all know how he is?”, Jongho asked as he looked around the table and he saw San nodding along. It was a no-brainer for him. Mingi was just… Mingi, there was no other explanation needed.

“He’s going to love the idea, that’s all that matters”, Yeosang said in agreement.

“Isn’t he the sweetest, hum hum? Caring about our feelings and all that”, Wooyoung teased as he pinched Yunho cheeks and anything he could get away with that moment. “You loooveee us so much, don’t you?”, he hugged Yunho for the nth time this morning.

Yunho stared him down, a failed attempt to seem intimidating. He was way too soft with Wooyoung, that’s why he’s such a brat.

“That’s right, unfortunately I do”.

“What the fuck do you mean unfortu- OW! Meanie, we never said slapping as a punishment”, Wooyoung caressed the reddening spot Jongho slapped on.

Jongho only shrugged.

“We should get going, Mingi is going to be suspicious of us like this”, Hongjoong said as he lightly pushed Jongho out of the kitchen.

“Th’is unfair”, Wooyoung whined on Yunho’s chest, who could only giggle at the scene.