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saturnville · 3 days ago

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ember & hush | kelvin harrison, jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: when Nia experiences an inconvenience at her apartment, Kelvin offers to let her stay with him for the night, which leads to tension and lines being crossed. warnings: none wc: 4823 an: the girlies are giving khjr love, and I am all the way here for it. I am tagging folks from my terry richmond taglist, so message me if you want to be removed. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl @mymindisneverhere

Most people hated old apartments. The beauty of aches, creaks, and groans of old floorboards and rusted windows was foregone when gray laminate floors, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances took over Architecture Digest.

But she loved her apartment. Nestled in the rear of a Victorian-style building turned small investment property. It wasn’t much, but its beauty was indescribable. From the stained windows with stories of Mary and Jesus to Romeo and Julie and even Mona Lisa were her greeters each time she crossed the threshold.

Her heels were pitter-pattered against the cracked tile floor as she trekked toward the elevator. Her forearms grew weary from the lines of bags on her arms. It was her monthly restock day, and as usual, she went a bit overboard and was paying the consequences by nearly colliding with the wall beside her.

“Oof,” she grunted, wobbling a bit. She stuck her hand out to press the elevator button. She whistled a soft tune as she waited for the doors to open. A soft ding indicated she was next up for a luxurious ride. The first layer of doors peeled open, revealing her neighbor, Kelvin, on the other side.

Her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand, which was labeled with the logo of the local Chinese restaurant on the corner. She chuckled and stepped into the elevator. “Chinese for the third time this week? It’s only Thursday.”

Kelvin laughed mockingly. “Cooking isn’t in the cards this week.” He tilted the bag as if offering a confession. “I’m in survival mode.” She nodded in understanding. Seeing him rush out the door from her peephole early in the morning with a backpack slung over his shoulder to see him trudge indoors later in the evening proved his words correct. His job wasn’t the most graceful, but he adored it. She could tell from how his eyes lit up when she asked about his day while they passed each other in the apartment foyer.

“I see,” she concurred.

A moment of silence settled before Kelvin spoke up. He nodded toward her bags. “You sure you didn’t make a Chinese restaurant run?”

Nia’s eyes dropped toward her bags as if unaware of what she had swiped her debit card on. She smiled softly as she thought of all she had gotten. Investing in herself and her relaxation was non-negotiable; monthly restocks were planned and budgeted monthly. She deserved to treat herself with care.

“All the self-care goodies. Lotions, body washes, snacks. Everything to keep me happy this weekend.” The smile on her face didn’t fade, and it was contagious. It was so infectious that Kelvin didn’t realize a small smile bore on his lips. However, he saw how the bags slowly weighed her down.

The elevator dinged again.

“Here.” Kelvin held his hands out. Nia sighed thankfully and slid some of her bags into his awaiting hands, choosing to ignore the jolt that shot down her spine when their fingertips touched. Ever the gentleman. She didn’t surround herself with men often, but Kelvin was the one man who made her feel comfortable and cared for. From when he opened the door for her, helped carry her groceries, and let her borrow his utensils when she realized she was lacking. He stood outside and jumped her car for 30 minutes at 12 degrees last winter. He always had her back.

Her hand touched his bicep, which she tried not to squeeze, and said, “Thank you.”

The walk to her apartment was short. Nia continued to engage with his new questions about her day as she dug in her messy tote for her keys. “Uh, I had a client I tried not to cuss out, but what’s new.” She went to put the key in the door, but much to her surprise, it opened on its own. Her eyebrow raised, and her heart pounded. She locked her door this morning. What happened?

“But I…” She was in a rush this morning; maybe she forgot to lock it. But even if she didn’t, why did her door open? A busted lock didn’t mean her door shouldn’t shut. The hinges were loose.

Kelvin sensed her discomfort and growing panic. His eyes cut toward her apartment, whose vanilla and cedarwood scent wafted beneath his nose. He returned his gaze to her.“You sure you closed the door all the way?”

“Positive.” She nodded. She gnawed on her bottom lip like candy as her brain rattled off a million possibilities that had to make a fraction of sense. “I don’t…maybe the hinges are loose? I don’t want to go in…will you…can you?”

Kelvin pushed the door open slightly, peeking his head around without further question. “Yeah, stay here.” With the door wide open, she watched his movements intently. Her bags left his strong hands, and she was given a home on the couch. He maneuvered around the living, dining, and kitchen before disappearing down the hallway. She heard light switches flicker and doors open.

“I think you’re good. We’ll call maintenance first thing in the morning,” he said as he returned down the hallway, suave and confident like he’d been there before. “What do you want to do?”

Nia’s face twisted. What else was she going to do? There was no other home for her to go to. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do but suck it up; I don’t know…I rather not, but…”

Kelvin’s eyes followed hers as they bounced around her home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a clear sign of fear. Watching her shrink away from her own home felt wrong. He spoke before he thought: “You can stay at my place until they fix the lock if you’d like. I still got the food and a dope DVD collection,” he suggested.

Nia’s eyebrows raised. She and Kelvin had been neighbors for years, but she had never been in his home, and up until today, he hadn't been in hers either. Her delayed answer caused him to retreat visibly, growing bashful.“I’m sorry…”

Nia smiled shyly. He was so kind. “I don’t want to invade your space, Kel.” He quickly shut down that thought, insisting it was a genuine offer made by his desire for her to feel safe. He insisted that he didn’t mean to overstep, which she shut down by saying, “I don’t think you were overstepping…I wasn’t expecting it, is all, but I do appreciate your offer. Would you mind sticking around while I shower?”

Kelvin huffed a breath of relief and nodded immediately, “Absolutely.”

Nia shut the front door as far as possible, pushed a half-full case of water by her door that had been there for days in front of it with her foot, and instructed him to make himself comfortable while she took a quick shower. He then took the time to digest the place she called home. Everything about it screamed her, from the fine-line paintings to the green accent wall with a gold coffee cart pressed against it. Her apartment exuded warmth, which lulled him to sleep against the fuzzy throw blanket on the back of her couch.

Twenty minutes later, her unforgettable scent pulled him from his light slumber. When he peeled his eyelids open, she stood before him dressed in a satin long-sleeve pajama set with fuzzy slippers, her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her face free of makeup. She looked like a teenager going to her best friend’s house for a sleepover. It was good enough for him if she felt comfortable enough to present herself to him in the way she might do alone. It meant, to some extent, she trusted him. He had never given her a reason not to. He was a gentleman, she insisted. He wouldn’t try anything. Right?

Seeing him asleep on her couch pulled her out of her thoughts.“Sorry, sleeping beauty,” she said. Kelvin gave a lopsided grin. Her laughter softened the tension in the air, and Kelvin couldn’t help but notice how his chest tightened at her relaxed smile. God, she made comfort look effortless and asked if she had all she needed for the night. She nodded, pointing toward the tote on her shoulder.

The walk to his apartment was short as he only lived two doors down. As they inched closer to his apartment, Nia found herself growing nervous. Was she a fool for going into this man’s home? She had known him for some years, so she did trust him. Maybe she was overthinking.

Kelvin stuck his key into the door and pushed it open. “Welcome. What’s mine is yours, so make yourself comfortable.” Nia was in awe. Her inner artist wanted to jump up and down. His apartment was every artist’s dream. It was covered in black-and-white prints, abstracts, line art, and much more. It was clean and smelled amazing, and the couch in the middle of the living room looked like a cloud.

“Your place is beautiful, Kelvin,” Nia complimented genuinely. Kelvin’s eyes dropped just slightly as he thanked her bashfully.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to eat,” he raised the bag of almost-forgotten Chinese food. “The DVDs are in the television stand…or streaming services; pick your poison. Kitchen is to your left, bathroom is down the hall and the first door on your right.” Kelvin locked the front door and jogged toward his bedroom, leaving Nia to make herself comfortable on the kitchen island as she helped herself to some of his food.

Nia paused for a few moments, realizing she had no fork. She pondered. Would it be rude to go through his drawers? Yes. He did say what was his was hers. But people always say that; did he mean it? Well, he had to if he opened his home to her. “Girl, get it together,” she mumbled. Hunger won the battle over politeness, and she hopped off the bar stool. Her slippers scraped against the floor as she tiptoed around the kitchen like a bandit.

The first drawer revealed four piles of neatly folded towels, all organized by color. She nodded in approval. “Not bad, Kel.” The second held measuring cups and spatulas. “Okay, chef.” However, the Chinese bag on the island and two additional ones in the trash said otherwise. The third revealed a beautiful set of black silverware. “Victory!”

Sliding back onto the bar stool, she savored the flavor of the chicken and noodle dish. She glanced around his apartment between bites, taking extra time to examine the art and the stack of records in the corner of the room. His apartment—his home—felt inviting. Like him.

Sometime later, Kelvin came around the corner, seemingly more relaxed. Sweatpants and a T-shirt had replaced his dress pants and sweater. Nia had seen him in a durag before, but something about it was different this time. His deep stretch exposed the slight curve of his waist beneath his sweatpants, and she found her gaze lingering longer than usual—an amplifier of a pulsing feeling between her thighs. She snapped her eyes away quickly.

“How you feelin’?” He asked as he approached her. Suddenly, Nia felt her heart race as she stammered, I’m good. “Good. Hope you left some food for me. Got some on your face, too.” Nia gasped and scrambled for a napkin, hoping the grease hadn’t made her look like a pig rolling in mud.

Kelvin’s hearty laugh halted her movements. “I’m playing with you, girl.” Nia’s eyes lowered in annoyance. His dimpled smile was the spark that ignited something warm within her. She suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed almost, yet dually at ease. How did he manage to do that?

“Anyway,” Nia dragged, turning on the bar stool to face him. Kelvin leaned against the counter, attentive as he ate the remainder she didn’t eat. Her palms were sweating, and she wondered if it was the temperature in the room or just him standing there, leaning so casually against the counter. She hadn’t expected to feel so… off-balance. She tried not to show how his gaze affected her as she continued, “What does your DVD collection include?”

Kelvin cocked his head to the side and nodded a few times. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. They were full. Full and plump and moisturized, she wondered what they tas—. Dear God. Nia, get it together, she scolded internally.

“Damn near every Marvel movie. Most of the Black cinema movies: Love, Jones, A Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Last Holiday, Brown Sugar—“

Nia’s eyes lit up. Kelvin couldn’t miss it. His eyebrow raised, “First one of the night?” She nodded like a kid who cheerfully finished their chores and awaited their allowance.

“Let’s get it going, then.”

Kelvin had soon plopped on the couch beside her, the smell of Chinese food lingering between them. Still adjusting to the fact that she was in his home, Nia shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. Her legs, sprawled out normally when she was alone, were tucked tightly beneath her bottom.

She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, but she kept her gaze ahead. Her heartbeat pounded so vigorously that she felt it in her ears. Curling the blanket tightly under her chin, she shrank into the couch cushion.

Kelvin didn’t miss the small movements she made to avoid getting close. He sensed the tension but didn’t press. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. After a beat, he reached over her to grab the remote. He didn’t miss how she gasped when his fingertips grazed her ankle in passing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “You gonna sit over there or come over here and share the blanket?”

Nia’s eyes darted diagonally as if looking for a way out. Was it that obvious, or was he hyper-vigilant? She shrugged a shoulder. She scooted over just a bit, but not enough to close the large gap between them.

Kelvin chuckled, the sound warm, “Girl, get over here,” he said softly, a playful yet inviting invitation. He wasn’t about to push her, but he wanted her to feel wanted.

Nia finally gave in with a reluctant smile. Slowly, she moved until their hips brushed. Kelvin reached over her to adjust the blanket, ensuring she felt comfortable. She stole a glance at him as he adjusted his position. He was so calm and relaxed as if it were natural and second nature.

They ate silently, passing the food back and forth as their eyes followed the scenes on the screen. They said tiny because they were content but unprepared to address their tension. Everything between them felt effortless, like a routine they’d perfected.

Halfway through the movie, Nia yawned. Work, shopping, and dealing with her door had done a number on her, and all she desired was her head against a pillow and a room of darkness for eight hours. “I think I’m gonna crash.” Her eyes dropped slightly as she moved the blanket to cover her feet. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch.”

Kelvin blinked, clearly surprised. “You wanna sleep on the couch?” His voice softened, and Nia saw a hint of concern in his eyes for the first time. “Nah, I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.” He shook his head in disagreement.

Nia’s lips parted, “I don’t want to displace you…”

Kelvin laughed as if what she had said was part of Kevin Hart’s comedy set. “You’re not gonna displace me, Nia; I live here. I’ll be cool, regardless. I didn’t buy those expensive ass couches for no reason. I just don’t want you sleeping on them. Sleep in the bed.”

Her silence and awkward sway didn’t go unnoticed. She fiddled with her fingers like a child and pursed her lips. She knew it was kind of him, but she still felt a smidge of guilt. This man, her neighbor, had opened his home to her, let her eat his food, and lounge on his couch watching her favorite movie. Now, he insisted on her sleeping in his bed, not because he wanted to sleep with her but because he wanted her to be comfortable. Her other neighbors were friendly, but they weren’t kind like this. The kindness was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly sweet.

Kelvin tilted his head. His words tested unsteady waters: “You want me to sleep with you?”

And just as she thought she couldn’t get any more flustered, Nia’s face warmed like the earth beneath the sun’s rays. She stammered, “W-what? No—not like that.”

The corner of Kelvin’s lip twitched as he tried to hide his smile. For someone so outwardly confident, Nia had the awkwardness and quirks of a 17-year-old girl. She was easily bashful and overwhelmed, often stuttered over her words when embarrassed and had difficulty keeping eye contact with him after more than 30 seconds. Yet, the average Joe would never know that by her soft smile, steady walk, and confident sway of her hips. It was cute.

“Not like that,” he reassured softly. “If that’ll make you comfortable. No funny business.” Kelvin raised his hands like a boy scout and nodded stiffly to emphasize his point. Nia rolled her eyes playfully and agreed. For her comfort, she told herself.

Kelvin instructed her to head to his room, the farthest down the hallway on the left, while he cleaned the laundry room and kitchen. Nia grabbed and slung her tote bag over her shoulder, curiously walking down the hallway. The smell of newly purchased wallflowers caressed her senses, adding a new level to domesticity.

Kelvin’s room wasn’t like the rest of his home, which was vibrant and full of colors and patterns. His bedroom was calm, dimly lit, and minimal. His bed was in the center and took up most of the space. The cloud-like duvet was pristine white and looked new. Her fingertips caressed the soft fabric. Her brown eyes raised, and she nodded approvingly at what she saw. Three prints hung horizontally above his bed, all fine-line art of the Black woman—beautiful.

Two black nightstands with matching lamps accompanied the bed. One nightstand, which she assumed was his, contained a book, a journal, a BIC pen, and glasses scattered about, while the other was empty, waiting for something to accompany it.

A chair and small table were in the corner, along with books and magazines written by Black authors and published by Black companies, plus a plant. She smiled. It was cozy.

Nia found her way to the bathroom. Its aesthetic matched his bedroom. Black and white with hints of earthy colors. She set her toiletry bag on the counter next to his, her white one contrasting with his black one. She found herself soaking in his space. Her fingertips ran over the hand towels, sleek hand soap bottles, and the cap that covered his toothbrush. She was with him. In his home. In his room and his bathroom. They were close.

Nia gasped when the door opened. “Sorry, you alright?” Nia nodded and ushered him in. Kelvin’s body heat set her on fire as he reached above her to grab his contacts case out of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled quietly. He smelled so good.

His question pulled her out of Lala's land quicker than she would have liked. “You mind if I brush my teeth in here?”

“It is your house, Kelvin,” Nia stated matter-of-factly. “Go ahead. I need to brush mine, too.”

The bathroom was quiet, save for the soft hum of Nia's electric toothbrush and the rhythmic sound of bristles against teeth. She hummed absently, her tune mingling with the buzz of the brush. When her eyes lifted to the mirror, she froze, caught off guard—not by her reflection, but by Kelvin’s gaze. He’d already been looking. His brown eyes held hers for a heartbeat, a game of hide-and-seek she hadn’t known she was playing. Then, he winked. Heat crept up her neck as she fought the smile threatening to curl around her sudsy, blue toothbrush.

Kelvin leaned forward, spitting into the sink before rinsing his toothbrush. "You hum off-key, you know that?" he teased, shaking water off his hands.

Nia gave him a dramatic side-eye through the mirror, blue toothpaste foam still coating her lips. "And you hold your toothbrush like you're fencing. What's your point?"

He laughed low and easy, the sound reverberating through the small bathroom. She rinsed her mouth and joined him at the sink. Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm: she reached for the towel as he dried his face, their elbows brushing, but neither pulled away.

"You heading to bed?" she asked, her voice light, as if it wasn’t the only question between them.

Kelvin nodded, tossing the hand towel over the rack. "Yeah. You?"

"Guess so," she said, tucking a stray curl under her bonnet.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment too long as if gauging her next move. Without waiting for his response, she padded toward his room, her bare feet muffled against the carpet. Kelvin followed, flipping the light switch off as he went.

Nia plopped onto the bed, tucking her knees beneath her, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She bit her lip, glancing over at Kelvin, still standing by the dresser and slipping his shirt off. How often did he work out? Three days a week? Four, five? She couldn’t tell, but she knew it was frequent by how his back tensed with subtle movements. Her mind raced, and she swallowed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh,” she started, her voice quieter than she intended. “I guess this is the part where you’re supposed to say something cute, right?”

Kelvin shot her a playful look, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then half-smiled, her face warming. "I dunno, like 'I’m glad you’re here,' or 'I can’t imagine sleeping without you'… something sweet."

Kelvin chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed into bed beside her. "You want me to lie?"

Nia shrugged, her fingers nervously twisting at the hem of her shirt. "Maybe not lie, just… something that doesn’t sound so weird."

He gave her a teasing look before letting the silence hang for a second, the air between them feeling lighter than before. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I’m glad you’re here."

Her breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t just a casual remark—it was real. He wasn’t trying to ease her anxiety with empty words; it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn't entirely hide the joy she felt from his statement. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him, as his eyebrow raised and his dimples appeared.

“Thanks," Nia murmured, her voice quieter now, almost shy. "I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Nia’s fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, cautious energy buzzing through her veins. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this unsure, but her body betrayed her want with every passing second. One moment, she yearned for his attention; the next, she was shaking like a stripper when she got it. And Lord knows it didn’t help that Kelvin was beside her so calmly as if he didn’t have the treasure between her thighs ready to explore.

Kelvin, already propped up on the pillows beside her, had an arm behind his head, his eyes casually studying her. Had his eyes always been this pretty? They were so big and brown. Like a baby, though. She glanced at his chest, still warm from the clothes he shed earlier, and she felt her heart race again. What was it about him that made her feel like this?

Kelvin noticed her gaze, and his lips curved into something that felt like reassurance and an unspoken invitation. His hand moved, resting just above her knee, but he didn’t lean any closer. He didn’t have to; the space between them felt alive, thick with anticipation.

“You okay?” His voice was low and soft, like he knew exactly how she felt.

Nia swallowed, her throat dry. Glancing away, she bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. She was more than okay, but putting that into words seemed too much. She nodded, her voice small when she spoke.

“Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Kelvin’s hand shifted from her knee to her thigh, his touch lingering there. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”

She could feel his warmth through the fabric of her pants, and her breath hitched slightly at the feel of his palm pressing against her. She wanted to say something—to laugh it off, to ease the tension—but her mind was fuzzy, distracted by how her body responded to his touch. Yeah, just you, she said to herself—the man who had seemingly flipped her already wild world on its head even further.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, she moved slightly closer. Her back brushed against his chest, and she heard his breath catch at the slight contact. Her heartbeat sped up as she felt the heat radiating off of him. But still, she didn’t turn toward him, not yet. She was unsure, but she also wanted him there.

Kelvin’s hand shifted again, inching up her side, his fingertips grazing the skin beneath her shirt. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in just slightly as if to say something, but his voice faltered, caught between them.

Nia’s body responded before her mind did, her back relaxing as she pressed closer to him. It wasn’t much—just a shift—but it felt like a silent invitation. And it was all he needed.

His fingers found their way to her waist, gently caressing the curve of her body. The movement was so slow that it was almost as if he were waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she let herself melt into his touch. Her heart was racing.

Kelvin’s heart raced, too, but it wasn’t from the anticipation. It was the unfamiliar tug of something deeper. His hand, still resting lightly on Nia’s waist, seemed almost too heavy now. He had to fight the instinct to pull away, to give her space—but there was something about how she shifted toward him, her breath soft against the air, that made him want to lean in closer. He could smell the hints of vanilla and honey on her skin. He wanted to bury his nose in her neck and inhale.

He didn’t want to move too fast. Didn’t want to scare her off. But every little breath she took, every slight movement she made, felt like an invitation for something more.

His hand stayed where it was, not quite touching the softness of her skin beneath her shirt but just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. He wanted to trace the curve of her waist, feel her breath hitch again, maybe even make her laugh or stammer, but there was a part of him—this silent voice in the back of his mind—that told him to wait. Patience was a virtue, grandmother always said.

He shifted slightly, his gaze flickering from the softness of her face to the curve of her neck. His lips tingled as he imagined kissing her there. He felt her pulse beneath his lips as her body reacted to him in ways it may not have responded before. But he pulled himself back, catching himself just before his thoughts got too far ahead. Nia was already nervous, already unsure.

Her back pressed against his chest, and the simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, sharper than anything physical. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the cool sheets around them, and he could feel every inch of her. What if he moved too fast? What if he said the wrong thing?

Kelvin wasn’t one for hesitation, but with Nia, everything was different. He wanted to be gentle, to let her feel like she wasn’t just a passing moment. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to know that when he touched her, it wasn’t just about tonight.

Finally, when she moved closer again, he couldn’t hold back. His hand, frozen in place, finally pulled her in closer. His fingers skimmed the skin of her abdomen as he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter. This time, when she exhaled, her body relaxed into him, and his breath came out in a rush of relief.

“Goodnight, Kel,” Nia murmured into her arm.

“Sleep well, beautiful,” was the last thing she heard before falling into her best sleep in a long time. Because, for once, she didn’t have to go to bed alone.

#saturnville #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr x reader #kelvin harrison jr x black oc #kelvin harrison jr x black reader #black!reader #black reader #x black oc #kelvin harrison jr smut #aaron pierre x black reader #mufasa the lion king #original content

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bluemerakis · 4 hours ago

Note

that last sb fic 🫡 i owe you everything for that BUT i do have a request that's been rotting in my brain for days and i need someone as talented as u to give it a go

soldier boy x vought exec daughter!! the power play, the (healthy) age gap, forbidden desires????!!! need it, thank u, i love ur work

first off, i’m so so glad you enjoyed the fic anon! 😭 you’re making my heart incredibly full with the lovely compliment!! mwah!

secondly, that pairing is actually to die for??? wait i need it too. I GOTCHU!! thank you for trusting me with this wonderful wonderful idea, i hope i did it justice!! never stop using that amazing mind of yours to brainstorm these pairings 🩵

─ ۶ৎ ─

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ synergy ❞

part i

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ soldier boy x vought!exec!daughter

warnings .ᐟ cussing, porn with plot, age gap, power play, reader has daddy issues (sorry this just makes it so much hotter), slow-burn enemies to … hate-sex partners, i guess lmfao; pet names, tension thick enough to cut with a knife, soldier boy just being typically insufferable in the best way ever

synopsis ─ as the daughter of vought’s executive director, you’ve got a pivotal role to play in the upkeep of the company. that means keeping payback in check—uniforms, brands, rehearsed speeches, and keeping a clean mouth (and nose) on the leader of them all—soldier boy.

the last task seems impossible to achieve, especially when the lead supe seizes all opportunities to get beneath your skin, and your skirt, during your every interaction. it makes working with him mostly insufferable, but you can’t deny the unspoken tension between the two of you—a tension that vouches for the slither of you that craves anything other than fleeing his presence.

word count ~ 9k

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“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, sweetheart, this job’s going to be tough on you.”

You listened to your father speak from where you stood only a few inches away from his desk—hands looped tidily behind your back, chin tilted upward in poise, and expression carved from the same stone that had built this building up from the ground. Honestly, you currently felt no different than a troop standing at their superior’s attention. And yet, you knew that it’d been by design. Your father’s design.

You tried not to pay too much mind to the way his use of sweetheart pricked the hairs of your neck. It was a name your father had spent years branding as your own term of endearment, but knowing what you knew about him, and what you meant to him, the term felt more like belittlement. You hated it.

You couldn’t help but hitch your brows at his statement—a brisk act of defiance that vanished almost as quickly as it’d come. Growing up, your father had never been anything but tough on you, and it’s a scar you’d carried well into adulthood. So you would have thought that, by now, he’d have learnt to stop doubting your capabilities.

A girl can dream, right? Because at the end of the day, entering your father’s company meant that you were fresh meat, and taking on this job wasn’t so much like being tossed into the lion’s den as it was being fed directly into the jaws of this man-operated corporate. It was a suffocating environment, but no different to the air you’d grown accustomed to breathing in the artificial circumstances of your upbringing.

After all, your father had practically raised you for this job.

You watched as the man of your nightmares circuited his unkempt desk with a chilled whiskey clutched at the ready, his hair the type of unruly that could have only been styled by a stressed hand. His head was tilted down to the ground, eyes studying his every step as though your existence before him had never been fathomable to begin with. Or demanding of the sort of respect that warranted even a second of eye contact.

His free hand whisked through the air as he spelled out all sorts of gestures tinged with subtle exasperation. “You’re going to be working with Supes,” he continued, glass lifting to his lips to down an eager gulp, as though the mere term was a distasteful pill to be swallowed. You caught his jaw unclenching for the first time this evening as his tongue waltzed with the liquor, and once the sip had lost its frisk, he discarded it with a swallow and a grunt of pleasure.

The scene before you had you stifling a wry grin. Supes were no saints, your father had always disclosed that much to you—but this? Drinking at the mere mention of them? Your father could be easily rattled at times, but for the most part, he was overly talented at holding his temper together when it came to dealing with. . . alternative groups. And drinking was a vice he’d long since worked hard to wean himself off of—for the most part, at least. So, if this atypical demeanour of his was the haunting preview for the horrors you were about to endure on this job, you knew you were in for one hell of a ride.

Your father continued his disgruntled pacing to round the corner of his desk, where he took up his throne and settled into its comfort with a dramatic creak. There, in the symbolic comfort of his importance, he found it in himself to finally acquaint your eye at last. A king addressing his lesser subject.

“Most of these Supes have been around since before me—some senility modifications they’d worked into the compound V formula. Has them looking not a day over forty,” he explained sullenly, as though perturbed by the science of it all. “Regardless of those insignificancies, the knowledge of their alterations make them presumptuous, it makes them insolent, but most importantly, it makes them dangerous—a liability, if you will.”

“A company’s kryptonite,” you droned suddenly, breaking your unspoken vow of silence with words that made your father’s lips curve up in satisfaction—and why wouldn’t it? They were his words, after all, words he’d spent all your growing years imbuing into your vocabulary of his selection so that you were not unlike his shadow. A part of you wondered, out of spite and just for a fleeting second, how he’d react to you finally stepping out of it and into your own light. Into your own legacy. Maybe, this job would be exactly the way to do it—the start of something new, born of something ancient.

“Precisely,” your father hummed gleefully, studying you though a slight narrowing of his eyes that told you all you needed to know—that he was currently admiring the fruits of his labour. His life’s work. You, a fail-safe investment, should his time to bite the dust arrive abruptly. “I taught you well,” he added with a suffocating smugness.

You taught me obedience, you retorted silently. But because he was always right, you offered a faux smile of agreement. “I’ve got big shoes to fill,” you said—lacquering his ego, maybe, but simultaneous making your future favours all the more sizeable. “I can’t give anything less than my absolute best.” He taught you that, too. Repeatedly. A mantra forged with every intent to instil a festering fear of failure, rather than nurture any hopes of sure succession. A grenade he’d planted within you, one hand always on the pin, just waiting to implode all that you were at the first mistake.

Your father never could refuse another flower in his bouquet of self-importance, so he received your praise with greedy palms, utterly oblivious to the spiteful thorns furled around their metaphorical stems—thorns that you vowed would eventually come back around to nip him where it hurt.

You watched his lips quirk with a smile that felt deeply displaced—like he’d been given a brief rundown of what to do, but lacked the practice to perfect it authentically. “Your mother would be proud,” he declared suddenly.

Admittedly, those words made the air catch in your throat for a brief second—your airways thickening with some unresolved emotion that made your lungs stutter for their next breath. You blinked in rapid succession, as if flipping through the pages of the behavioural manual your father had written into your code for instances that threatened to usurp your composure. Instances like these. But there was nothing that could’ve prepared you for your emotionally-uninvested father taking a casual stroll down memory lane.

You settled for a thick swallow and a slight perking of your chin, brows kneading with a purpose meant to push forward a steadfast narrative, but was really just a show of your greatest restraint. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” you pushed out bravely—but there was a slight hitch in your tone that you hoped your father’s attuned senses hadn’t snagged.

You’d never truly known your mother—she’d walked out of your life before you’d even learnt to crawl. But despite her apparent abandonment, your father had never failed to recall her memory in warmth—when he did bring her up. So you thought, then, that she couldn’t have been all that bad—and that, maybe, if she’d stuck around, she could have saved you from his bone-chilling, mind-numbing tundra of a heart.

Your father absentmindedly twirled his partially-emptied glass at the rim, eyes hovering on you for a duration that began nudging at your unease. They were narrowed, calculating. It was the same look he wore anytime he reviewed new proposals to implement—or those to scorn and discard without a second glance. It had always been a gift of his, to be an enigma never telling of which decision he’d eventually settle on, and it made you squirm more than you’d have liked to admit.

Eventually, he uttered a simple hm, your heart lurching at the cryptic noise—he, who always voiced his verdict with the intent for the world to hear it, settling on a sound so indefinite. Then, he drew in a deep, decided breath as he craned himself forward in his throne, free hand unfurling across the expanse of his cluttered desk to pluck up some folder he’d clearly set aside for this very conversation.

Slowly, he lifted it in your direction, a silent beckon for you to shed your salute and approach him at last. You obeyed on slightly wobbly legs drawn into rigidity by a show of confidence, striding over to a cover a distance close enough to snag the file, but not close enough to be drawn into his consuming orbit. “What’s this?” You asked, eyes buckling to skim the folder’s title for an answer that would precede your father’s.

Payback. The name placed immediately amongst the ranks of your knowledge. The super-abled team of heroes that the entirety of new York had practically claimed their new religion—deserving of praise and worship and altars in the form of billboards and big screens that spanned every skyscraper in view. The gods that could, would, and should do no wrong, according to the sheep of America. But wiser men could see through the white robes. Wiser men, like yourself, knew that Payback were nothing more than wolves loitering on the horizon, discreetly thinning out the naive herd. One by one—so sparse as to go unnoticed by the masses.

So, the question begged whether the file you currently held was cluttered with information intended to inform, or blackmail designed for your shortcomings to contain them.

“Open it,” your father instructed, earning a mildly wide-eyed glance from you. He lifted his glass with a glare that looked grim, then drained the last of the whiskey that had been slowly drowning in the glass keep as he waited for you to follow through.

You did, eventually, after watching him set down his glass, but flipping open the cover was driven by greedy curiosity, rather than the need to obey his every command—as you often found yourself doing. Your palm fanned beneath the spine to support both ends of the file as your other hand began flipping through the information-heavy sleeves.

Black Noir, Crimson Countess, Gunpowder—all the ridiculous names you tried not to pay too much attention to as you flitted through the pages. You skimmed through enough of the information to deduce that you were practically holding an old-school Wikipedia on each of Payback’s members, and it was a finding that had your heart sagging an inch lower into your chest with the sheer disappointment of it all.

You didn’t doubt that your father was hounding all the good stuff for himself. You also didn’t doubt that he’d ever hand you the key to that safe willingly. He trusted you with enough to become the skeleton of his company, but not the heart, lungs and soul of it all—hoarding the deepest, darkest secrets that would send the entire organism collapsing should it ever become public knowledge.

Fair enough. You’re new on the job. And you’re not him—even though he’d spent years trying to make you enough of a splitting image. Hell, you’re not even the child he wanted. You were the exception—the lemons he’d had to utilise to create worthwhile lemonade. You supposed that this job was your own sack of lemons to turn into something worthwhile, and that your father would have to have a taste of it before deciding when you’d have access to the more exciting information.

You hadn’t bothered to page toward the end of the file, the exploration terminating a rough three quarters in, where a picture of The TNT Twins stared back at you. You couldn’t have glanced away faster to relieve the discomfort their beady stares evoked. “What am I supposed to do with this?” You asked your father bluntly.

His hands were folded together now, elbows resting promptly atop his desk. At some point during your brief reading, he’d run another hand through his hair to recollect the class he often modelled throughout the hallways of Vought’s building. He looked almost respectable again. “Research,” he said.

“Research?” You echoed. “I’ve already done my research. And there’s nothing in here that I don’t already know. I doubt—”

“Do it again,” he cut in firmly. It sent a chill down your spine. With your lips pressed into a silent, sullen line, you watched his elbows slink from the frame of his desk as he settled back into his throne. His chin perked up as though needing to re-establish his elevated status, even from where he sat below you. “If you are to be the new manager of those Supe scoundrels, you will need to know everything there is to know about them. Every minuscule detail. From their first names, to their family history, down to every last transaction they’ve ever made.”

Manager? Of Payback? You reiterated silently. And it made your cheeks burn hot. That’s the so called job your father had been making a fuss over? That’d you’d paid all the years of your life toward preparing for? It was the coldest bucket of ice water your father could’ve dumped atop your head, but it did nothing to quench and cool the fire you felt bristling within.

The file’s covers clapped together as you closed it and held it against your chest, where you heaved an exasperated breath beneath the provided cover. “So you want me to micromanage a bunch of reckless superheroes?” You asked with practiced patience—your tone cool and level despite the irritation drawing your jaw rigid. This was not the job you’d expected after all you’d endured. After all the relentless, soul-sucking training your father had subjected you to.

Your father’s gaze narrowed in on your expression with unveiled scrutiny, and your heart must’ve felt it through the stack of paper shielding it because it began to thump rapidly. “You’re perfect for the job,” he said decidedly, and it felt like a dagger had pierced your chest to still the earthquake within your heart that had been rattling you from within. “We all had to start somewhere, sweetheart. My father didn’t hand me the other rein to the company until I’d learnt how to mount the horse without a leg-up.”

You began stroking your thumb across the file’s cover in calming patterns as you held your father’s stare. “I’m capable,” you pushed out tensely. “You know I am.” I was made for more.—that’s all you’ve ever told me. So what fucked up game are you playing with me right now?

“You are,” he agreed nonchalantly, as though oblivious to the dagger he kept on plunging further and further into your heart. “And that’s why I’m not trusting just anybody to nurture the faces of this company. I’m trusting you.”

Oh, is that right? You laughed bitterly. Silently.

A long time ago, you’d made peace with the knowledge of the childhood you’d never gotten—friends, parties, terrestrial playtime, being care-free. You’d made peace with it because you hoped you’d have had the job to compensate your losses. A job worth a damn. But this? Helicopter parenting a bunch of super-abled, overgrown babies with scorching tempers? It felt like the biggest, rankest pile of stinking shit had been hurled at the door of your housed self-respect. Yet, a part of you felt anything but surprised—the part of you that shared your father’s DNA, and that knew exactly how his brain worked.

Clutching the file against your chest even tighter than before, you drew in a calming inhale, your lips settling on words of peace. “Okay,” was all you offered, knuckling under to avoid starting a war you knew you wouldn’t win. Not now, at least. Not anytime soon. But you’d show him. When the time was right, and you’d collected all the right cards from the corporate deck, you’d show your father just how much you were capable of achieving.

A satisfied hum reverberated in his chest. “Wonderful,” he said, shifting forward in his seat to whisk a hand through the city of stacked paperwork erected along his desk. “Tomorrow morning, I’ve arranged a meeting with Payback. I’ll have you introduced to the group and leave you all to get better acquainted. I expect Soldier Boy might make a show, but word has it that he’s just been plucked from another one of his benders in some city slump.”

Your father’s head shook disdainfully as he recalled the reported skirmish. “I don’t bother to hassle myself with that Supe’s shenanigans, anymore. This isn’t the first time that fool’s nearly dragged Vought’s name through the sewers with his reckless addiction,” he grumbled, glancing up at you with another file he’d plucked from some part of his desk. “As the new manager, you’ll have to keep an extra close eye on that one, sweetheart. Here,” he added, lifting the extra-reading in your direction.

You leaned forward to receive the folder, rotating it to decipher the upside-down text. Soldier Boy. You couldn’t help but scoff at the fact that he had his very own folder separate from the rest of the group. Oh, he had to be trouble, alright.

Out of curiosity, you tore your gaze away from the new addition to glance at your father. “What happened to the last manager, anyway?”

His head had buckled again to rummage through pages laden with script you couldn’t discern. “It’s logged in the last few pages of Soldier Boy’s records,” he said distractedly.

There was a lot to question about that single sentence, but you settled for the most prompting one. “Records?” You echoed with a frown.

Your father hummed confirmation. “You’ll need to log everything Soldier Boy gets up to. It’s the conditions the board settled on last time he was picked up from some party he’d turned bloody. You have to account for all hours of his day, make sure he’s rehearsed his written speeches before airings, and that he’s not floating in the skies of narcotics throughout it all. Though, the last task has proved impossible as of late. I don’t doubt he’s got an inside man supplying him. But with everything else Vought’s got going on, we can’t spare the men to hound that particular trail. As long as he keeps his nose clean while on the job,” he finished dryly, as though he knew his hope was severely misplaced.

Your frown deepened spitefully as you heeded Soldier Boy’s repute. “Why the hell is somebody like him still running this show? He clearly can’t even keep his own life together.”

Your outburst didn’t come as a surprise to your father, whose attention didn’t stray from his desk to soothe you. “No, he can’t,” he agreed. “But he’s been around long enough to warrant the hassle. Vought’s name has piggybacked off of Soldier Boy’s past—propaganda and all—for years, now. So, you try discreetly removing America’s sweetheart from the company and dealing with the outrageous consequences of the masses.” He laughed wryly.

“Besides, as insane as it might sound, we have better control over what that imbecile gets up to under this company’s roof. There’s no telling what bullshit he might spew to the streets if he was let go from his pride and joy.”

You pressed both files against your chest, eyebrow hitching thoughtfully. “Is there no way to. . . you know, neutralise him?” You asked carefully, half-expecting your father to whip you with a horrified glare. But it seemed as though your words were as natural as the next breath he took.

“We’ve tried,” he said simply, still fixated on the documents sprawled out before him. “We can’t. Not yet, at least. But they are working on a way to contain him.”

Your interest piqued greedily. This was the type of company secrets you’d hoped to get a taste of—important details. Something worth a damn. “Who’s they? And how?”

That was enough of a probe to earn his attention finally. He halted whatever document he was sorting through, eyes upturned to yours with an earnest glint. “You need not worry about that, sweetheart.” You bit down on your tongue woefully. “All I need you to do right now, is make sure that Payback is on their best behaviour. And keep Soldier Boy in check.”

The disappointment throttled your chest, making it hard to breathe and form any genuine words to acknowledge your purpose. So you watched in silence as your father averted his gaze to reach for a loose pile of documents, humming absentmindedly as he gathered them into a neat assembly. He paused to do a sweep of his desk before setting on his stationary box, where he reached to take up a stapler. He seemed to have forgotten you were here entirely.

“Is that all?” You piped up eventually.

The stapler hovered along the corner of the stacked pages as he glanced up at you briefly. “That’ll be all,” he confirmed. “Oh, and the meeting will be at eight a.m tomorrow morning,” he added.

“Right,” you murmured, trying your best to lighten the sound into something that resembled excitement, or at the very least, acceptance. “Goodnight,” you offered meekly, and with tonight’s work clutched tightly in both hands, you turned on your heels to make an exit.

You’d barely gotten into the rhyming click-clack of your departure before your father’s voice rung out across the space. “Sweetheart?”

You came to a slow halt, casting an apprehensive glance over your shoulder. “Yes, dad?”

He’d laced his fingers atop his desk, like a judge about to rule a decision. “Watch your back,” he advised, his expression softening into something that almost looked like concern. But you hadn’t thought it humanly possible of him. “Especially around Soldier Boy. He’s crude, and exploitative, and he won’t hesitate to try and sink his fangs into you.”

The corner of your lip quirked dryly. He didn’t sound like much of a challenge you weren’t already used to encountering on a day-to-day basis. “I can handle Soldier Boy,” you assured him.

His chin dipped in the slightest of nods—curt, but enough of an acknowledgement that made you yearn for another taste of his approval. You chided that voice. The voice of the little girl who’d done everything to mimic the exact footsteps her father had laid out amongst the sand. The little girl who’d rarely gotten praise for her many victories, but had been endlessly berated for her sparse failures. You silenced her.

When the time was right, when you’d worked hard enough to make something for yourself, you’d allow that voice to have a say once more. Only then, it wouldn’t voice pleas for your father’s approval, or beg for scraps of his company. It would be to acknowledge your own hard work, to raise up your own status, and to give yourself the encouragement you’d always sought from him.

You returned your father’s nod, and without lingering on him any longer, you turned and finally exited his office.

As you clattered down the winding hallways muffled by nighttime’s silence, your gaze drifted over to the looming windows in passing, noting how the sky’s starry army saluted you at intervals. You made a beeline for the elevator up ahead, which stood open in waiting, and thankfully, with nobody else inside. You slipped into the tiny, four-walled space and hit the button for your floor, watching as the doors trailed close with a rather dramatic creak. Definitely behind on maintenance. When you reached your designated floor, the elevator dinged and parted for you to step into the open, which you did hastily.

Your eyes bowed with exhaustion now. You’d need to brew a pot of coffee as soon as possible if you had any hopes of powering through your work in preparation for tomorrow. As you made your way down the hall, you heard the elevator depart behind you. Somebody must’ve pushed the summons button, and you hoped they weren’t en route toward your floor. The thought daunted you a bit, hastening your steps toward the door marking your suite. You didn’t have the energy to entertain conversation right now.

When you reached your abode, you clutched both files beneath one arm as your free hand reached into your blazer pocket, feeling out the security card that would grant you access. You plucked one out in a smooth motion between your index and middle finger, hand outstretching to hover it over the sensor. But the light declined you with a blaring red, and your brows furrowed as you brought it forward to study the details.

It was then that you noticed you’d pulled the wrong card—one that granted access to your father’s suite. You reached back into your pocket to swap it out for the only other card, and then in the distance, the elevator dinged open.

Oh, fuck me, you groaned internally.

You tossed a glance over your shoulder just in time to see who the doors had parted to reveal. The first thing you noticed was a couple, faces connected in a heated war of the lips. The woman was pressed against the back wall of the elevator, hands wrapped around the neck of a man in a uniform that would’ve looked misplaced if it hadn’t been worn inside of Vought’s building. A superhero uniform.

Your interest piqued a hundred times over, and you found yourself staring to gather more information. The man’s hands roamed the women’s waist in messy, hungry motions, tousling her clothes about the place. You squinted at the colours of his uniform, head craning forward an inch, and then instantly recoiled with a wide-eyed stare as you recognised the colours of Soldier Boy.

Just then, the woman pushed him back at the chest with an obnoxious giggle, uttering some shrill sentence that skipped the frequency of your hearing channels entirely. Soldier Boy’s laugh, however—deep and reverberating—didn’t go unnoticed. It graced your ears almost pleasantly, and you watched as he herded her out the elevator with an exploitative study of her behind.

You were immediately drawn to his striking face. You’d seen it countless times all across the city, but somehow, it didn’t do him the justice that an in-person encounter did. His hand came forward to cup the woman’s ass with a clap that echoed down the hallway, and she let out a delighted squeal then had him chuckling in success. Neither of them noticed you loitering further down the hallway.

You grimaced at the sight of Soldier Boy. Never meet your heroes—now that was a saying that was onto something. Not that Soldier Boy had ever been your hero. Still, it did help knowing just what sort of person you’d have to deal with so thoroughly. And despite knowing what you knew about him—courtesy of your father and your research—you wished this instance hadn’t been your first impression of him. You’d count your blessings, though because by the sounds of his reputation, this behaviour of his was nothing of note.

“Come on, baby,” Soldier Boy’s voice boomed through the quiet air. “Let’s get you back to the room, hopped up on some bennies, and then I’ll show ya the best night o’ fuckin’ your life, yeah?” He chuckled, hand stringing around her shoulder to guide her around a corner that plucked them both from your view. And thankfully, in a direction away from your suite.

Benzadrine and an illegal, after-hour guest? Boy, he was not up to a great start in your books. You should have pursued them both, halted them in their tracks and started your case before bleeding his ear with repercussions, but you didn’t. Instead, you pulled out the correct access card, scanned it in, and hummed contentedly as the suite parted for you to drift inside, leaving the day’s shit outside the door.

Technically, you weren’t on the job yet. So, whatever obvious mischief Soldier Boy was currently up to was anything but tonight’s problem. You had other things to tend to for tomorrow’s big day, and there, you’d meet the leader of the Supes, anyway. Good to see he was around, after all, but it was simultaneously a fact that had you clenching your jaw an inch.

You knew men like soldier boy—avoided them like the plague, usually. But this time, with a miserable job like the one you’d been stuck with, you’d have no choice but to work with him.

ミ☬彡

You’d hardly gotten sleep last night. Between sifting through the files of Payback’s history and learning the names of the important personnel you’d have to consult at least once in your life, you’d been busy. Busy was an understatement. You’d been drowning.

When the clock had struck five in the morning, you’d wrapped up the last of your reading to take a power nap until six, and then hopped straight into a much needed shower. After drying off, dressing proper and gathering the day’s documents into a case, you’d taken a moment to grab a quick bite to eat before heading to the meeting room.

For the sake of punctuality and practicality, it helped that you lived in Vought’s tower. You’d been assigned permanent residence in one of the suites tucked into the top floors, and if you’d skimmed the blueprint correctly, it was only two floors above where most of Payback was situated. Though, judging by last night’s encounter with Soldier Boy, you could deduce that he lived on the same floor as you—likely a show of his lead-Supe status. Great for him, bothersome for you.

You had to admit to yourself that living where you worked, and working where you lived was far from the ideal lifestyle, but there wasn’t much you could do to change it now. You could only endure, so endure you would. But first, a cup of coffee to kickstart your energy reserves was a must.

After a quiet elevator ride, you’d traversed the winding hallways to reach the double doors of the meeting room. When you slipped inside, you weren’t surprised to find the room completely empty. It was only a little over seven, and that gave you roughly an hour to cram in a little more reading before the rest of the crowd arrived.

You settled at one of the chairs tracing the circumference of the large, winding table. The shape was semi-circular with the middle hollowed out to allow for addressing the members as the centre of attention, and it was a position you’d find yourself in very soon.

Around you, the world drowned into non-existence as you began skimming the first of your pages, the minutes ticking by like fleeting seconds. When you checked your watch again, it read quarter to eight. You hoarded your notes back into your case, chair screeching aside as you wandered over to the corner of the room where the coffee machine idled. You began prepping enough coffee to fill the mugs of the first four people lucky enough to claim it, and sip on a hot cuppa to ease them into this morning’s meeting.

You hovered by the machine until it brewed finish, keeping your hands entertained by aimlessly rearranging the mugs and other clutter. You were feeling slightly anxious about this big day, but at the same time, thrilled. This was your first ever job, but one you knew you could handle and blossom within until something greater came along. Until you seized something greater for yourself.

You reached for the coffee pot and began filling your mug, and it was just then that you heard the doors to the meeting room slide open, loud chatter seeping into the quiet atmosphere you’d grown comfortable in. You glanced over your shoulder briefly to spot a mixture of smart, simple uniforms and more dramatic, colourful ones trailing inside—board members and Supes alike, streaming inside in unity.

You found yourself glancing away almost instantly, head dipping to the pot of coffee that you continued to pour until your mug was filled to the brim. Your heart started to beat a little faster, now, the reality of it all sinking in. But you paced a breath or two to steady your nerves before placing the pot back into the slot.

It’s okay, you’ve got this, you steadied silently. You can’t afford to make mistakes, your father’s voice chimed in, but you pushed it away with a light frown. Bringing your mug up to your lips, you took the first, hot sip, savouring the bitter taste of it before swallowing it tensely. The warmth was soothing as it slid down to your stomach, almost enough to lay off the edge entirely.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” the first gruff voice of the morning furled through the air to harass you from some distance outside of your view. The vanity saturating his tone almost made you want to ignore it entirely, but as the daughter of Vought’s Executive with a reputation to uphold, it would be best not to soil both your family’s name—and your own—on your first day on the job—even if you had to bust a tooth or two clenching back biting remarks.

So, you lowered your mug back onto the table, your head jerking with a slight breath of patience. The corners of your lips quirked up in forced duty before you turned on your heels to face the man so determined to believe his every one-liner was some hypnotising spell.

You were instantly greeted by a handsome face modelling a potent grin—perfect white teeth that must’ve been tirelessly polished by his sense of self-importance. And his eyes, so impressively green, held this tantalising glint to them that almost made you not want to look away. The one and only Soldier Boy, even more striking this up close. But you had a feeling—many feelings—that his mouth was about to open to invalidate everything physically appealing about him.

“There she is,” he said lowly—a melodic rumble that managed to instil goosebumps along the nape of your neck. “A face as pretty as expected. Tell me, sweetheart, would you mind pourin�� me a cup? Black, and hold off on the sugar—unless you’re offerin’,” he added with an animated wink.

His use of sweetheart made your stomach curl in a manner that paled in comparison to the emotions your father evoked when addressing you. Maybe because everything Soldier Boy said felt like it came with unvoiced strings attached that you’d climb into his bed come the end of the day. And you wouldn’t even get started on the commercial wink he’d perfected to the point of being laughable outside of rolling cameras.

God, he was a faux-fest of charm.

“Oh,” you laughed dryly, head slightly tilting to one side, if only to scorn Soldier Boy further. “You must be mistaken, I don’t work for you.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes narrowed an inch. Whether it was from a place of surprise that you’d talk to him this way, or that—for once—he was being met with mockery rather than admiration, you had no idea. Didn’t care.

“Excuse me?” He chuckled carefully, but his gaze was anything but calculated as he did a bold sweep of your figure. “Everybody works for me, sweetheart,” he countered, eyes finding yours in a frown. “That’s kinda the perk that comes with bein’ Vought’s pocket-fillin’, undeniably handsome pussy-magnet, and the face of this entire operation, ‘course.”

“Well,” you chuckled, but it lacked humour. “Unfortunately, I’m not one of those people. But, if you’d like a cup of coffee, I’d be more than happy to step aside and let you pour one yourself.” The furrow in the Supe’s brows deepened at your bluntness, and you offered another forced smile before turning your back on him.

You did good on your word and side-stepped an inch to accommodate him while recollecting your own mug. But instead of sliding in beside you to fulfil his caffeine craving, Soldier Boy’s gloved palm came down on the countertop, his exposed fingers tapping at the wood.

“Bold,” he remarked sultrily. “I like it.” He brought himself forward to hover over your shoulder, the contact so close that you felt his chest graze your shoulder. Your head sank back an inch with a breath of patience as you turned to give him the attention he so clearly couldn’t live without.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked pointedly, your hands coming up to cradle your mug against your chest.

A faint grin stretched his lips as he peered down at you, his eyes narrowing on your every feature like you were an object of fascination that needed to be thoroughly studied. “Apparently not,” he chuckled lightly, slipping an intentional glance at your coffee. When he tuned back to eye-level, his chin jerked a small gesture in your direction. “What’d you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” you answered vaguely, bringing your coffee to your lips for a sip. Your eyes didn’t stray from his as your nose dipped past the rim to drain a mouthful, and neither did his as he studied your every move with a twitching lip. You were testing his patience, alright. It made you grin against the porcelain.

“Right,” Soldier Boy cleared his throat, hand coming up from the counter to join his other in a cross against his broad chest. “Well, I’m sure I need no introduction,” he chuckled haughtily. “So, why don’t you tell me your name, sweetheart?”

You lowered your mug with a dramatic swallow, weaving a look of confusion through your features. “Yeah, I know who you are,” you said. The Supe quirked an eyebrow and gave a slight nod that said well, of course. “You’re The Boy Soldier, right?” And just like that, the grin was wiped clean from his face.

The Supe leaned himself into your vicinity. “You fuckin’ with me?” He murmured, as if the foul mouth on him was any secret.

You tilted your head in mock. “Obviously,” you shot back. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to learn some modesty.”

Soldier Boy’s lips quirked with a scheme as he softened his glare. “Oh, yeah? You gonna teach me?” He jeered.

You held his stare levelly. “Careful,” you warned, your fingers tightening around the body of your mug.

The Supe relented an inch at that, tall frame straightening to full height as he stopped encroaching on your space. “Not really my style, sweetheart.”

“It should be. Especially around me,” you retorted, leaving the statement to dangle in front of his face as you brought your mug up for another sip.

Suddenly, Soldier Boy’s expression tackled something other than a shit-eating smirk, his charm sobering up into a look of apprehension. “The hell you on ‘bout?” He demanded in a hushed, but gruff tone. “Who are you?”

You downed the last of your coffee, turning to lower the mug onto the coffee table with a deliberate slowness that made the Supe grimace and draw his lower lip into a frustrated bite.

“Enough o’ the goddamn theatrics,” he snapped, hand coming down rather firmly onto the coffee table. A second later, he was glancing around to see if he’d drawn any attention, and you did the same, only to find that everybody was far too absorbed in their own conversation to eavesdrop yours.

Glancing back at Soldier Boy, you caught his returning eye with raised brows. “What? The entertainment industry got you sick of the suspense?” You jabbed. His jaw clenched, causing you to huff a soft breath of satisfaction.

“Who am I?” You continued more seriously. “I’m just somebody that saw you sneaking in your pick of the Soldier Boy kiss-ass litter last night. And, I heard you offering her drugs, no less. Not a great look when you’re supposed to be following some sort of rehab program, you know, as per the terms of your last. . . probation, if you will.”

The Supe’s face tensed with the knowledge of getting caught, and it made your chest brim with satisfaction, but it was short-lived as he took a step closer to size you up and glare you down. “Yeah? And what about it, huh?” He murmured. “You think anybody’s gonna believe a single world outta your mouth? Over me—the Soldier Boy?” He gave a huff of laughter, gaze averting to the side for a second before narrowing on you again. “Sweetheart, you have no idea who you’re messin’ with.”

You raked your glare across his figure, as if trying to comprehend his audacity. “And you think that you do?” You shot back, your own arms coming up in a cross of restraint.

The gesture was enough to earn the Supe’s attention with a condescending smirk and hitch of his brow, which only made it all the more pleasurable to continue.

“Have you forgotten that you have no idea who I am?” You pointed out. “Besides, do you actually think that your word means anything to any person with a functioning brain? You’ve got the entirety of Vought elbow-deep in NDAs and rampant insomnia trying to cover this company’s ass after all of your reckless stunts. So trust me when I say that your word is as valued as a toddler crying wolf.”

The Supe’s chin perked with the slightest, almost imperceptible movement, clearly reflecting on your speech while simultaneously attempting to conceal a mixture of indignation and unease—because Soldier Boy wouldn’t be caught dead quivering before anybody. If there’s one thing you could thank your father for, it was his unintentional hand in teaching you how to decipher a man’s mind.

Eventually, the Supe mustered up his remaining nerve, his lip taking on a slight quiver of some emotion you couldn’t exactly place. It looked. . . ailed, but his brows were so intent on memorising discontent. “You gonna tell me who you are, sweetheart, or are you just here to tease my dick til I give you somethin’ to show for it, hm?” He asked in a low murmur.

You squinted at the mouth on him. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out who I am—soon enough,” you told him, and the ambiguity made the Supe glance off to the side with a muffled for fuck sakes.

Just then, one of the board members—a shorter, elegantly dressed lady—politely inserted herself between the two of you with a soft-spoken greeting. Your attention flickered over to where she reached to pour herself a mug of coffee, then back to where Soldier Boy remained glaring you down—only silenced by the newcomer’s presence. A blissful silence. You took that as your opportunity to ditch his interrogation, flashing him one last grin before you turned on your heels and moved back to where you’d left your belongings at the table.

You gathered your things together and set it down at your seat, and it wasn’t long before the chatter around you died down, your father streaming in through the doors. Almost immediately, members were rushing to take up their seats. In either side of you, you were faced with a man and woman dressed smartly, who introduced themselves as part of the board. You exchanged your own name, but purposely neglected revealing your second name. That would come in due time—undoubtedly attached to some degree of judgement. But for now, you’d savour the last remaining moments of peace that came with your mystery.

“Good morning, all,” your father greeted, and the crowd sizzled with softer reciprocations. He brought himself to stand in the centre of the space, doing a quick turn to drink in all the surrounding faces, his stare stuttering on the view of you. He offered a small nod, which you reciprocated subtly, and then he was turned back to addressing the rest of the room’s occupants.

Just past him, on the opposite curve of the table, you saw Soldier Boy slink into his seat of choice. He caught your eye almost instantly, and already, you could see some degree of puzzle-piecing taking place amid his expression��especially as he gauged your seat amongst important personnel, as opposed to watching you leave the room with the other assistants.

That’s right, you chuckled internally, holding his stare boldly. I’m here to stay.

Soldier Boy was drawn rigid in his seat as he endured your visual probing, the singular, gloved hand he’d come to rest on the table subtly tapping at the wood. Eventually, he averted his gaze off to the side, like he’d grown exasperated with your attention, and you birthed a light smirk before turning your focus back to your father.

For the first half the meeting, he gave a quick rundown on Vought’s current dealings, soliciting input from some of the gathered board members on new strategies and information they may have. It was knowledge public enough for the Supes to listen in on, but they did so deploringly—as if it were a waste of their precious time. Your attention snagged onto Soldier Boy in particular, whose glare had wandered back over to you in the short time you’d spent ignoring him. Now, it seemed as though he just couldn’t neglect you, not even for a second.

You knew that his mind was likely on a rampage of nagging thoughts about who you were and just what the hell else you knew about him. And each time you caught his eye, you let nothing on, despite the mean amusement that made you want to grin boldly. Is this what having powers felt like? Yours was a lot less tangible than a Supe’s, but still real enough to have an effect—if Soldier Boy was any testament to that.

The meeting droned on for a while longer before your father was clearing his throat with the claim of an important announcement, and the crowd equipped a new sense of interest. Even the surrounding Supes seemed to perk, some even slipping you a glance, as though they expected you might finally be introduced. And you were.

Your father’s head turned toward you, his hand outstretching in a beckon as he called your name. “Please, join me,” he said.

You would’ve gladly done so without a second thought, but then he continued onto summoning another person to his side—and of course, it had to be Soldier Boy. You watched as the Supe made haste on his summons, intentionally avoiding your deploring eye as he drew up beside your father.

With a small, preparatory breath, you moved to relieve yourself from the table, the atmosphere falling silent enough to emphasise the harsh screech of your chair as you straightened up. You worked your way around the other seated members, turning the table’s corner to join Soldier Boy at your father’s other side—in the centre of it all.

When you reached the waiting pair, you tried not to directly acknowledge the tense scrutiny etched across Soldier Boy’s face as he watched you enter the bubble of importance. But in the corner of your eye, you caught the way he shifted his weight between his boots, and the slight, choked clearing of his voice. It coaxed forward a grin that tugged at your lips, but for the sake of remaining professional, you pursed them to ease it off.

Your father’s hand outstretched to receive you at your back as he ushered you beside him, head turning to address the room. “For those of you who haven’t yet met her, this is my daughter,” he began, sparing you a brief, enigmatic glance. “In fact, today marks the first day that she enters the Vought family—as the new manager of Payback.”

Soft murmurs of surprise arose from the gathered people, and you couldn’t help but do a sweep of the peering faces. Most of the board members looked faintly surprised, heads tilting together as they exchanged hushed words. But the rest of the crowd—the Supes, looked almost exhilarated, like you were a new game to be played. You knew it was likely an attempt to scare you off, but if anything, it only made you feel more determined.

Still, your attention didn’t stray to where Soldier Boy stood. But you guessed he must’ve looked a combination of every member’s shock.

Your father cleared his throat, and it was the singular sound needed to quiet the room once more. “I expect great things for this company moving forward,” he continued, and you were faced with the back of his head as he glanced over at Soldier Boy. “Let us seize this new change with vigour, and show America why we are worthy of being her face.”

All around you, the members erupted with scattered claps, but as the seconds dragged on, it became more paced and prominent. You found yourself modelling a proud smile as you gazed upon the room, feeling a new sense of importance.

Maybe, just maybe, you could work with this job.

Around you, the room lit up with chatter and the shrill voices of moving chairs as the meeting dispersed. Your father’s hand on your back drifted away as he retreated a step, earning your attention back to him—and regrettably, Soldier Boy, who was now in appreciable view of you.

The Supe’s expression was stoic as he glared at you, but you saw the muscle of his jaw flicker when you met his gaze, and the way his hands had drawn into tense fists at his side.

Your father turned to face Soldier Boy. “Ben,” he addressed him—you’d almost forgotten the Supe’s very normal name, but you’d pocket it for a time when you could best use it to your advantage.

The Supe angled his body an inch to face your father, but not without sparing you a quick, accusing glance. “Sir,” he cleared his throat thickly.

If your father noticed the silent, ricocheting tension between yourself and Soldier Boy, he didn’t show it. “You’ll find that my daughter and you are quite alike,” your father said.

You grimaced at that observation, which must’ve been potent enough to beckon to the corner of the Supe’s eye because he flashed you a look of subtle offence before modelling neutrality more.

“But I hope that in your similarities, you will find yourselves working synergistically, rather than butting heads.” Your father’s words sounded oddly optimistic—almost cheesy, but you knew that everything he was saying was an indirect warning that the Supe not stir up trouble. A naive hope.

The hands Soldier Boy had bundled at his sides released to loop around his back, chin tilting up slightly to embody the essence of his name. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered hoarsely, then added, “sir.”

“Good,” your father murmured, a satisfied look settling into his sharp features. “Now, let us formalise this new partnership with a handshake,” he decided, his attention straying over to where you waited in silence.

“Handshake?” The Supe echoed almost dumbly, earning a side-long glance from your father.

“Is there a problem, Ben?”

Soldier Boy’s frown reached you briefly before he glanced back at your father, eyes narrowing before he lifted his head determinedly. “No, sir,” he answered firmly. And then, without further command, he took initiative by releasing his formation and strolling over to where you stood.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” your father said with a quick nod, before he strayed toward the crowd of chirping board members.

Tensely, Soldier Boy drew up before you, his gloved hand outstretching into your vicinity. When you glanced him in the eye, he looked as though he were attempting to probe your mind. Your lips stretched with a smile that was meant to be polite, but that you knew came off far too smug, and you lifted your own hand to link with his.

“I look forward to working with you, Soldier Boy,” you said, your voice clear-cut and ringing through the tense air circulating between you two—connecting all that you were.

The Supe’s lips quirked into a one-sided, insincere smirk, scrutiny heavy on his brows. But he said nothing, much to your didappintment. With a soft hm, you loosened your fingers in an attempt to shake his hold and terminate the handshake, but then his grip on you tightened, stilling you in your tracks.

“I’m sure you do, sweetheart,” he finally answered, his typical, mischievous demeanour making a formidable comeback. “I ain’t gonna lie, you’ve perched yourself on one helluva dick by takin’ on this job. But, you strike me as the typa gal that loves a challenge, so I’m gonna make damn fuckin’ sure you get it,” he promised lowly, delivering one more meaningful squeeze to your palm before you found it strung up against his lips with a single, strong pull.

There, he pressed his lips to your knuckles in a chaste kiss—an action so far from expected that you’d seized into speechless confusion. The intense green of his eyes seemed to gleam brighter as he drank in your reaction to his touch, and when he withdrew his lips and lowered your hand, you found him modelling a charming grin.

You yanked your hand free of his touch, arm flying back to your side in rigidity. “You—” you attempted to chide, but your tongue trampled itself into a hot, speechless mess. And at your side, upon the knuckles Soldier Boy had branded, you felt the lingering sensation of his lips.

“Me?” The Supe entertained, head tilting almost mockingly.

You felt your cheeks simmer, but not with embarrassment—just sheer frustration. “Behave yourself, Ben,” you choked out, arms coming up in a cross.

His expression beamed with a look of pleasant surprise, and then he was humming in approval. “Say that again,” he urged, eyes narrowing devilishly. “I could get used to the sound o’ my name on those pretty lips o’ yours,” he chuckled.

Your head tilted at his toying. “Really? Even if it’s as I’m reporting last night’s little house-party bender to the board?” You retorted. Soldier Boy’s light immediately dulled at that, and you quirked your eyebrows in accomplishment. “I expected as much,” you huffed, arms unfurling back to your side. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

And with that, you turned and took your departure, leaving Soldier Boy in the stunned rear. Just when you thought you’d heard the last of his voice for today, his insistence trailed after you in one last statement.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart, I’ll be waitin’.”

──────────────────────

a/n ─ first off, sincerely sorry that i took so long to get this request out, anon!! one thing about me is that i do tend to take long with writing but literally only bc i am way too hard on myself (perfectionist tingz) and always end up changing things 10000 times until im satisfied. secondly, this dynamic is so scrumptious pls, i really enjoyed fleshing it out—anon your mind is amazing. i split this into two parts bc it became a long one (as it always does with me) and it’s already written, but i’ll be releasing it at a later stage just to edge you all 😵‍💫 not sure when yet tho as i’m driving back to college sat and i’m super busy as of now but i’ll keep yall posted. i hope you all enjoyed this first part! also my & @floralscented’s world both collided with this request so i encourage all you lovely people to go and check out her take on it as well!! i don’t think there will ever be too much of this pairing 🙂‍↕️

thank you for reading!! please show your support with likes, comments & reblogs—they are deeply appreciated ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @angelicjackles @deansbbyx @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented @deansbeer @deansbbyx @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @whisperingdaze @st4rmarley

want to become a part of the taglist for any future soldier boy works?

other works ─ the boys masterlist

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devynconstance · 1 day ago

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UPDATE!

So I'm not dead. I took what I thought would be a weeklong break from social media (it was not a week; try closer to multiple months... oops lol) in order to finish the last few final background tasks for my website and shop. Does it surprise anyone that such an endeavor took wayyyy longer than I was expecting? Yeah, well, it's what I get for doing everything the hard way (from scratch and by myself), but I digress; long story short, my website and shop are officially live! If anyone is interested, you can check it out here: https://pendress.com/. Most importantly, this means I finally have time to start creating again, and that leads me into the topic of my book purse.

Unfortunately, the official book purse pattern is not finished yet. But fear not! Because I was gone for so long and everyone was so excited about this pattern, I put together a free mini template on how I made this purse. It's not perfect by any means, but it is everything I could remember from the first attempt. This means there may be missing steps, and it might be confusing to follow, but I'll answer any questions as clearly as possible if anyone's confused, and I'll hopefully have a more in-depth photo tutorial/video soon.

The official pattern/instructions is still coming, but my goal is to basically give as much of the information as possible away for free so you don't have to buy it in order to make this bag. If you still want to support me by buying the pattern when it does become available, it would be so greatly appreciated (and I will be putting bonus information in the pattern and actual printable pattern pieces so you'll still be getting something extra for the support), but it won't be necessary in order to make this book purse.

Thanks again for all the support on this endeavor!

And now onto the tutorial!

I completely forgot about this but I was cleaning out my closet this morning and come across this book purse I made a few years ago! I still can't believe I made it in the first place but now I really want to made another one.

Anyone interested in a tutorial/pattern??

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contamination-zone · 2 days ago

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Just wanted to tell you that i love your Nightmare and Fresh headcanons and personalities ^_^

I love how your Nightmare is such a menace 😭, i dont necessarily enjoy when people make him dadmare (to each their own ofc), so seeing this nightmare is so reFRESHing! I love how you show us his thought process too, its seriously so interesting to see how he thinks

Your fresh too! He's such a silly goober

Seriously, chefs kiss

Thank youuu! X]]]

[Not ship] [Just, so much yammering under the cut]

I am also, ahh, not the most interested in dadmare... I prefer when he is genuinely cruel and an awful person, because I like when characters are just the worst :-][I do feel like I sand off many of the hard edges though, even still... bad habit of mine, to try and make them more palatable hehe]

Also a reason Nightmare is so interesting to me is as a tool to show more of Fresh's characterization off. Most of what I see with Fresh is either ignoring how morally grey he is, or characters helping him get "better." Nightmare though, I feel like he could really show off and feed into Fresh's worst habits.

Nightmare would do very little to make Fresh stop being so existentially terrified of death, I think he'd even feed into it or try to make it worse; its useful to him, it keeps Fresh close. Nightmare is powerful, and if Fresh is so scared all the time, it means it would want to have a strong ally to protect it.

Also the lack of regard for others/using others in self interest. Extremely self explanatory, I think they are just enjoying meals together X]

I also think Nightmare treats Fresh different to the rest of his gang; the gang is useful in what they can do For Nightmare, and only producers of negativity second. Fresh, however, would probably not be a very public ally to Nightmare, and wouldn't provide that sort of thing. His use is in his own suffering, and the suffering of the host he's inhibiting. Which means Nightmare cares less for using him in more practical ways, and more for just Keeping him.

This leads to Fresh getting more special treatment, almost akin to pampering HAHA. Nightmare needs to show that Fresh would have a better time With him than Away from him. He has to balance what he wants of the relationship with the fact that Fresh is liable to bolt if He's not providing enough to Fresh. [And I think escaping, fleeing, is one of Fresh's strong-suits.]

Also sorry gahaha, you had such lovely things to say about my nightmare interpretation, but I just went off about freshi and how he's affected by the relationship.

#fresh #fresh sans #fresh!sans #nightmare #nightmare sans #nightmare!sans #fresh & nightmare #utmv #undertale multiverse #puppydraws #puppy barks #ukuban #also I always smile when I see you in my notes... you have been following me for a while... recognizable face [pfp] :-]

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cupidbedsy · 3 days ago

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♬ brotherly love ; ice bound

➪ summary: chloe wants nothing more than to be surrounded by her brothers after her fight with trevor, so if that means haphazardly packing and flying to new jersey

➪ warnings: mentions of the fight between chloe and trevor, blood, crying, negative self-talk... i think that's it. not proofread!

➪ word count: 3.0k

➪ file type: ice bound fic

➪ cupid's notes: finally providing comfort (but also more angst) to the phone call ! there isn't much actually tevor x chloe but oh well. um i think this is the last thing i had 'pre-written' for this au (aka the last thing from the old blog). but anyway, i hope you all enjoy :)

Her mind rang with one thought over and over again, she needed to get out of here. She hadn’t moved from her desk since he hung up, too busy thinking about everything he had said, too busy trying to convince herself that it was just a dream and she would wake up soon.

She grimaced when she felt the stickiness of her socks, peeling them off to reveal small cuts littered across the bottoms of her feet. She poorly bandaged them, just enough to make it through airport security and not be questioned.

She grabbed her suitcase, wincing with each step she took as she shoved clothes into it. She would’ve been moving out of her dorm and back in with her parents next week, but seeing Jack couldn’t wait.

It was nearing an hour and a half before her last-minute flight to New Jersey was set to leave, and she all but rushed to her Uber, climbing in and staring out the window hoping the driver would get the hint that she wasn’t in a chatty mood.

She mumbled a ‘thank you’ to the driver, making a mental note to tip him well once she was able to. She went through security smoothly, giving her best fake smile and trying to make sure her energy was positive enough not to cause any suspicion or alarm.

Stepping onto the plane and settling in her seat, she realized the small sliver of good luck the universe decided to throw her way today was the fact that nobody was sitting next to her. She put her headphones on and listened to a podcast the whole flight, though she wasn’t paying attention to any of the words spoken.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

She had gotten in what seemed like a 20-minute nap, one that supplied her with enough energy to get her luggage and make her way to Jack’s apartment. She had scrolled through her texts, way far back to the beginning of September to retain his address, it had been a while since she visited Jack.

The Uber ride was quiet, much like the one she took back in California. The driver didn’t say anything about her lack of energy and the tear stains that had reappeared on her cheeks. She counted each tree they passed, keeping her sight on them until they were too far gone for her to see each one.

If it wasn’t for the slight jerk her body did when the car came to a stop, she wouldn’t have registered the fact that they had made it to Jack’s apartment building. She climbed out of the car, her suitcase in tow and he said a quiet goodbye to her driver before making her way up to his floor.

Her knock was soft enough that she wasn’t even sure she did knock, but the sound of footsteps and the lock unlocking proved her wrong. A mop of hair appeared in front of her, messy as always. Jack ran a hand down his face, blinking rapidly to clear his eyesight.

“Jacky.”

Her whimper pulled him into full consciousness, eyes opening wide as he took in her appearance. He scanned her from head to toe, everything from her rumpled sweatshirt to her worn Converse she had thrown on. When his gaze made its way back up to her face, he saw the tear streaks down her cheeks.

“Chlo…” He pulled her into a hug, listening as she broke down for the umpteenth time since the previous night.

Bringing her into the apartment, he dragged her suitcase in one hand and closed the door with his foot, leading her toward the couch. He allowed her to collapse, taking him with her as they settled onto the cushiony surface.

He didn’t say anything else, simply letting her cry it all out as he ran his hand across her back, trying to bring her the comfort she needed. Each sob she let out made his heart crack and his anger grow. He hadn’t seen her this upset since she and Hayden broke up; somehow, it was worse now than it was then.

Eventually, her sobs turned into hiccups that turned into sniffles. She stilled, letting all her thoughts rush back into her mind as she stared off into the distance. Crying had seemed like a brief distraction from the cluttered mess that was her brain, allowing her to let her emotions out.

Jack breathed a small sigh of relief as her breathing steadied, taking in the quiet and tense atmosphere her silence had brought on. He didn’t pull away or make her look at him, just pressed a kiss to her head before speaking softly, “What happened?”

She shook her head, blinking away new tears. She didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Plus, how was she supposed to tell her brother that his friend broke her heart? That’s right, she couldn’t. She couldn’t be the one who ruined the friendship because she was naive enough to not only let herself fall for him but to believe that he reciprocated the feelings.

“C’mon, Chloe. Talk to me.”

She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe she could just tell him without letting him find out who she was talking about.

“He hurt me.”

Those three words were Jack’s heart’s tipping point, he could physically feel it break into two pieces, right down the middle. He had had to sit through a conversation like this before and he hated every single second of it. And if he was honest, it did not get easier the second time around.

“Who?” Jack’s voice was calm, cool, and collected, but Chloe could easily make out the sharp undertone in his word.

When he didn’t get an answer, anger flashed in his eyes. Not at her, of course, he would never be mad at his sister for some guy, who probably didn’t matter, breaking her heart. She deserved the world, especially after everything she had been through.

He could tell she didn’t want to talk anymore, however. So he helped her sit up, smoothing out her hair as she wiped at her face, trying to rid the evidence that she was crying. He placed another kiss on her head before getting up, getting a glass of water in the kitchen before coming back and kneeling in front of her, helping her grasp the glass.

She took small sips, letting the cool liquid ease her sore throat from the harsh sobs she had let out minutes prior. She got halfway through the glass before she rested it down on her knee, avoiding meeting Jack’s eyes as she looked anywhere else.

“I’m tired.” Her voice was rough, somewhat gravely, as she declared her exhaustion.

Her brother nodded, taking the glass from her and reaching out his hand. She took it, standing up and following him towards the small guest room his apartment had. The two stopped in the doorway, Jack holding both her water and her suitcase as her eyes trailed over the plain furniture.

“I- Can-”

He recognized her stammering as panic, nodding his head in response, “C’mon.”

He then guided her towards his room, allowing her to go into the bathroom to change so he could straighten up the bedsheets and throw stray dirty t-shirts into his laundry basket.

Chloe stared at herself in the mirror, noticing the tears that she hadn’t been able to wipe up before they dried, her bloodshot eyes from rubbing at them too much, her still messy hair that they couldn’t get to lay flat, her wrinkled hoodie. God, she looked like a mess.

She fumbled around with her hairbrush, untangling the knots in her hair harsher than usual. The same went for as she brushed her teeth and washed her face, her actions more forceful than they needed to be.

She placed the washcloth down on the sink counter, staring back up at her reflection. While the makeup had washed off easily and her hair had been restored to its natural state, she could still see the red in her eyes.

She shook her head, silently cursing at herself to stop thinking about it. He made up his mind, and she should move on from that. But the tiny voice in the back of her mind couldn’t let go of what they had, what they could’ve been.

She changed out of her clothes, relaxing into the pajamas she had haphazardly thrown into her suitcase before leaving. When she took her socks off, she was met with the sight of red bandages, ones that she had completely forgotten about.

She searched Jack’s cupboards, looking for a first-aid kit that she knew he had somewhere in the apartment. She was relieved when she found it, that meant she didn’t have to tell Jack about this until tomorrow.

She mimicked the poor bandaging process she had done earlier, slipping her socks back on before she shuffled out of the bathroom, making her way over to where Jack sat, typing on his phone, no doubt texting his parents or his coach.

He looked up when he heard the soft click of the bedroom door and he softened once he saw how tired she actually was, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I texted mom.”

She froze even though she had known that he would do so, “Oh.”

“I didn’t tell her anything, just that you flew out here and showed up tonight. She tried asking but I figured that was something you should talk to her about.”

Chloe nodded, sliding under the sheets and resting her head against the pillow. Jack followed suit, placing his phone on the nightstand before facing her, pulling the comforter up to just beneath his chin, “I have a game tomorrow. Do you want me to stay here?”

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering, Chlo. Do you want me to stay here?” He repeated.

She sighed, nodding. The thought of having to stay in Jack’s apartment, one that she had barely visited and had only been in for less than two hours collectively, didn’t seem appealing. Add on the fact that she was in a city she didn’t know, she wanted Jack here and even though she wanted him to go and play, she couldn’t help but let herself be selfish just a tiny bit.

“Okay. I’ll text coach in the morning.

With that, she slowly drifted off to sleep, leaving thoughts of the day behind.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Jack woke up to sounds coming from the bathroom, something clattering against the tile. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, raking a hand through his hair as he sat up. His eyes found the purple suitcase and that’s when last night's events came rushing back to him.

He was quick to make his way over to the bathroom, knocking softly, “Chlo? You okay?”

“No.” Her voice was laced with tears, and he was pretty sure she was on the edge of breaking once again.

He was about to ask if he could come in when he heard the door unlock and more things clanging against each other. Walking into the bathroom, he saw his sister leaning up against the wall, feet out in front of her, and all the previous effort of trying to make it look like she wasn’t crying was for nothing with her tear-rimmed eyes and messy low ponytail.

“I need help.”

He gave her a curious look, one that would’ve usually made her topple over with laughter at how stupid it was, but this time it just made a tear fall down her face.

She motioned to her feet and Jack finally saw what she was talking about; small cuts that wouldn’t have been visible if it weren’t for tiny amounts of blood lining them. They covered a majority of the balls of her feet and the heels as well.

“What happened?” His voice was high and squeaky, kneeling to take a closer look.

“I broke a picture frame yesterday,” she hiccuped, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I kind of stepped on the glass.”

“Kind of? Chloe, your feet are littered with cuts! I think you did more than just step on glass.”

“Jack, please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighed but nodded. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t make her. He moved to grab the first-aid kit that she still had sitting open on the ground next to her, cleaning up the cuts and placing gauze on her feet before wrapping them up.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have to go to the hospital.”

She just gave a small huff of acknowledgment before continuing to watch him bandage her feet, much better than both her previous attempts. And once he was done, he looked up at her, a frown tugging at his lips, as she mumbled an ‘I’m sorry’.

“You don’t have to be sorry, for anything. You’re my sister, if you need me I’ll be there, even if it’s the middle of the night and I’m, I don’t know, in Switzerland-” Chloe couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her causing Jack to smile, “Wherever I’m at, I’ll be there. I promise.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Jack and Chloe flew to their parents' house once the Devils’ season concluded. When they arrived, Chloe was taken into her mother’s arms and they spent most of her first day there watching cheesy rom-coms and laughing about dumb things while eating their favorite foods.

After that, Chloe was sure that she felt better about the whole situation, that she had moved past it. But most days, she found herself curled up in her bed, rewatching White Collar and letting her thoughts consume her.

Luckily, she was never alone. Most of the time, Luke and Jack took turns spending the day with her, trying to help her out of this funk she had found herself in. And while she loved that her brothers were there to take care of her, she couldn’t stop the feeling of longing she had for the comforting presence of her older brother.

Quinn’s season had been slightly longer than Jack’s which caused him to fly home about a week later, only being briefly caught up on everything that had happened. He hadn’t even stepped through the door of the home when Ellen started ushering him up to her daughter’s room, whispering about how much Chloe needed.

He opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. It was late, nearing 10, and the only form of light he had was the soft glow that came from her koala night light that he had gotten for her 6th birthday and her laptop that was sitting on her legs, playing the theme song of her favorite show.

The laptop illuminated her face but he couldn’t really see her, just the hood of her hoodie that was pulled as far down as possible while still letting her see the screen. She was holding a thing of ice cream, going in between eating large bites and bites that contained mostly air.

It was only when he kneeled onto the bed that she noticed he was there, eyes snapping up to meet his gaze and it seemed like all the emotions she had been struggling to keep in for the past eight days finally broke free, tears streaming down her face as Quinn brought her into a hug, head buried into his chest.

He closed her computer, placing it on the nightstand followed by removing her ice cream from her hand and setting it next to it. Her cries didn’t last long, though, dying out a mere couple minutes later. The emotions she had built up seemed to not be a lot in hindsight, maybe she had really cried herself dry back in New Jersey. Or maybe the sadness she had thought she was keeping down was anger instead.

All Quinn had to do once she stopped crying was ask what happened and words were tumbling out of her mouth, him struggling to keep up. He tried his best to retain every single little detail she mentioned, from the words he had said to the clothes she was wearing when it happened.

Halfway through her rant, she had let his name slip from her mouth, all too caught up in her rambling to notice. Yet, the look on her older brother’s face caused her to stop, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she saw something that resembled fury shine in his eyes. It was then that she realized that she had said Trevor’s name.

It had been 13 days since she said his name, 13 days since she even thought about his name. Sure, she had pictured him vividly - light brunette messy curls, bright smile, light brown eyes staring back at her -, and thought about how his voice sounded both before and during the phone call, but she had never once gained the courage to think his name.

Quinn knew, one look and that’s all it took. He knew, no matter how much they both thought they were being sneaky. He couldn’t let her see the argument he was creating in his head, one that even if he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, he wouldn’t. Because even though they had broken up, he could see how deeply Chloe cared for him, and hurting him would only make her hurt worse.

He shook his head, giving her the signal to continue on her rant and the promise that he would ‘forget’ that piece of information even though they both knew he wouldn’t.

Once she had exhausted herself both from crying and talking, Quinn laid beside her, continuing to watch White Collar with her. And before the episode was even over, she was asleep, her mind finally quiet for the first time in weeks.

꒰ ICE BOUND TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @fantillisgirl @bunbunbl0gs @libbyaller

ICE BOUND MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

#˚ ༘♡〚 cupids writing 〛ₓ｡#♫ ice bound !#♫ chloe and trevor !#trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras x oc #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x oc #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x oc #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x oc

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milessunflowers · 2 days ago

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Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

#f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader

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atangledfate · 1 day ago

Text

It was no surprise to dawn that Twist struggled to understand a gift of gaia. It wasn't really something most mobians thought about at least not the why. most just accepted that some of them were born special, and gifted. To some it was being touched by light gaia and to others it was thought to be a curse of Dark Gaia. Still many more informed thought was simple mutation but, the truth was no body really knew. Mobians were just born gifted, or curse and had to live with there abilities. Dawn never believed for a second it was worth thinking to deeply on.

" hah! no problem, honestly i wish i knew the real reason but ya know my ma' use to say--- some mysteries in life are meant to stay a mystery. Now go clean your room! "

Her duplicate smiled as she lead twist down the hall to the triage wing where many of the worse injuries were being kept. Lots of duplicates rushed around with carts and first aid kits trying to care for many patients.

" Yea, Capitalism is always a drag... But i bet there is some program to help out. Well anyway it was just a thought..."

Her ear twitched at the mention of watching someone lose an arm and being fine. She had to endure such wounds during the war, and while her duplicates tended to disappear when suffered major injury. She still had vivid memories of getting sliced up, crushed, or maimed during the war. It didn't leave a mark on the real dawn but the mental trauma of enduring was everlasting mark on her psyche.

" Here we are... come on let's get these folks patched up... and ready for transfer to GUN's facility. Least the ones we can move! "

=============================================

In truth Jewel didn't know much about Yara's family but they did have a well known reputation concerning thieves. Made her wonder if that's how he lost his tail, or if he was born that way. She just hoped the prince would treat them well and not be to hard on them. She made a mental note to check up on them later. though Surge's report did seem to worry her to no end. Why was GUN being so cruel? she'd always had goo report with Mr. Tower, and now this?

" I See... that's still concerning. Thank you Surge for the update. Also thank you again Highness... your talents are still most welcome. But i did mean what i said. I expect you to treat the boys well... i'll be checking on them to insure they aren't mistreated in the days ahead...everyone deserves a chance at redemption after all."

She turned to Surge and buzzed up to eye level as she felt it helped her seem more commanding.

" Surge i need you to get me back to command as soon as possible. I can't help but feel my place is in the command center with the others. With things feeling a bit dire... i need to try and contact General Tower and see what is actually going on... i can't believe he'd authorize a move like this..."

"Can't say I even understand Gaia Gifts even having it explained to me, though that's the best way anyone's explained it to me." Twist supposed all the doctors explain it in a lot of detail instead of just giving a simple and easy answer. The lemur supposed the gifts were just so complex most figured a more detail explanation was helpful, though it just made him have more questions.

"Thought bout it, though I don't got that kind of cash and insurance won't cover something like that." Twist and his family lived rather comfortable, though cybernetics were expense. Though now it made him wonder what his G.U.N contacts could do. Maybe he could even return to service as he wasn't that old. Something he'd worry about later as there were more pressing matters.

"I've see a solider lose their arm right in front of me and didn't so much as flinch. I'm sure I can handle whatever injures are here." Twist had seen some major injuries during his service so not much could shake him. The lemur would simply start to follow one of the copies of the nurse. He might have to shake of some of the rust to remember everything, though it shouldn't take long.

===========================================================

"I know my parents don't have the best reputation, though I can assure you I am nothing like them." Yara's parents weren't cruel, though they have always been seen as rather ruthless with their rule as punishments for crimes were often swift and at times harsh. Makes for a secure kingdom, though also a tense one when it comes to the people that live in it. "My talent isn't in healing, though I can revert the damage enough to where you basically got a small bump on your head." His main skills were in his Illusion Mist.

"We'll still be careful not to get on your bad side. Last thing we need is to be on your families bad side again." Rough was surprised they managed to make it out of Midesta the first time and doubt they'd get lucky again. Though Yara was always has a softer approach then his parents. The skunk was glad to hear they let him take charge of running things.

"It ain't that bad, just G.U.N being a bunch of dicks and wanting you lot to close up shop so they can poke their nose around. Guess they knew about Clutch and Mimic here, yet didn't want to share that information with you guys." Surge supposed she should be glad as she was sure they'd throw her and Kit under the bus as well.

"I suppose I should contact my representative in G.U.N to inform them about my punishment for Rough and Tumble. They may not be completely pleased, though my family has always held a good relation with them so I doubt they'll put up much of a fuss about it." Yara supposed it helped the two skunk brothers were rather small time criminals.

#Restoration Medical #Dawn #Grumpy Old Mechanic #Twist #Mysterious Prince #yara #prepare for trouble #rough and tumble #thunderstruck #surge #director of restoration #jewel

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nelle-y · 2 days ago

Text

A love story told through voicelines (V)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, fluff, shorter than the rest but that’s because it’s the end

Note: The story comes to a close! Thank you all so much for your support, I couldn’t have done it without you guys🫶🏻 If you have some ideas for other fics, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! (Part 1) (Part 4)

(You) About Diluc: Reflections

I’ve been thinking a lot about our fight. I don’t know if it was the heat of the moment or my own pride, but I said things I shouldn’t have. I called him stubborn, like his concern for me was some kind of flaw. He didn’t deserve that!

But when he called me reckless… it stung. I wanted to defend myself, to tell him I could handle it, but deep down, I knew he was right. I was reckless. I got hurt because I wasn’t careful, and instead of thanking him for worrying about me, I threw it back in his face.

I know he was just trying to protect me. That’s who he is—he takes on the weight of the world, and I made it even heavier with my words. I was so caught up in proving I didn’t need him hovering over me that I forgot how much he cares.

If I could go back, I’d say something different. Or maybe… I’d just listen. He didn’t deserve my anger. He deserved better.

(Diluc) About you: Reflections

My thoughts are quite repetitive when it comes to them, and maybe that’s how I drove them away—by caring more about their safety instead of them. I didn’t mean to hurt them, but seeing the scar on their arm reminds me of how much I could lose with one careless act. It was unbearable. And I let that fear dictate my words.

I know I can be overbearing. They’ve told me before that I control too much, and that I was… incredibly stubborn. Maybe they’re right. I wanted to protect them, but I didn’t stop to think about how they felt, what they needed from me in that moment. I acted as if I knew best, and in doing so, I ignored the trust we’ve built.

If I could go back, I’d handle it differently. I’d find the right words, words that wouldn’t hurt them. But now… all I can do is hope I haven’t broken something I can’t repair.

(You) About work

I’ve been trying to get back into the rhythm of working at Flora’s shop, but… it feels strange. The flowers are the same, the customers are the same, but something feels off. Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s the weight of everything that happened at the manor. I keep catching myself glancing toward the road leading to Angel’s Share, wondering if he’s okay, or if… he even cares.

*sigh* I need to focus. These asters aren’t going to arrange themselves.

(Diluc) About you: From afar

I passed by Flora’s shop today, and I saw them working as usual, but… quieter. Seeing them brought it all back—those quiet moments at the winery, their laughter, the way they always managed to surprise me. It’s unbearable, how much I miss them.

I almost stepped in, but quickly retreated. What would I even say? “I’m sorry”? Would that even matter by now? I’m sure they’re mad at me—maybe furious. And I’m sure… if I could change anything, I would change even the night I resigned from my position as Cavalry Captain if it meant bringing them back.

(You) About Diluc: Finally aware

I saw him today, you know. Well, not saw as in meet with—he just passed by. He didn’t come in; though strangely, I took a step in his direction. Out of habit, I suppose. I don’t think he noticed me… and why would he? After everything… Ugh! Why am I still dwelling on it? It’s not like I’m waiting for him or anything.

He’s just so… stuck. In my mind. I keep hoping to see him, even just for a moment. I miss eating with him, and trying to make him laugh. I miss the flowers that we took care of in the winery. I miss Adelinde.

I miss him…

And it’s infuriating, because I was the one who left. I needed space. I chose to leave the winery because it felt like too much. So why? Why does he linger like this? Why does every passing memory of him feel so sharp, so close, like it was yesterday?

I don’t know what this is. I thought leaving would bring me peace, but it’s only made me realize how deeply he’s rooted in me. I don’t know if I can ever let him go, even if I should.

…Could it be? Could this feeling—this aching pull—be love?

No… not could. It is. I love him.

(Diluc) About you: Finally aware

I need your thoughts on something. It’s… rather personal. For some time now, I’ve found myself increasingly distracted by them—always thinking about their safety, their well-being, even their smallest habits. Every little thing they do seems to pull at my attention. At first, I dismissed it as concern, but it’s different—stronger.

When I spoke to Adelinde about it, she said it sounded like love. Love. I… I don’t know what to make of that. But the more I think about it, the more everything starts to make sense—why I can’t stand the thought of them being hurt, why their smile lingers in my mind long after they’re gone.

I’ve even gone as far as to read about it in novels from Inazuma, though I’ll admit most of them are overly dramatic. Still… I couldn’t help but see myself in the pages. And now I can’t ignore it anymore.

This is love, isn’t it? I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. But… it’s oddly comforting, too, to finally understand why I feel this way. It all feels clearer now.

… I can’t let it end like this. I’ll speak to them, no matter what it takes.

(You and Diluc) Character story: Confessions

The day was drawing to a close, and the horizon burned with hues of amber and crimson as the sun dipped below the mountains. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

They didn’t know why they were running—only that their feet carried them forward. Wind gracing their hair, tugging at their clothes, and each breath coming quick and sharp with the patter of their feet. Were they running to the winery? They haven’t really thought about it. They were just chasing the closest thing that felt like home.

Inside the manor, Diluc sat at his desk, quill hovering over an unfinished report. He’d been staring at the same sentence for far too long, his mind elsewhere. His eyes kept straying to the lamp grass resting in a small vase—“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.”

In a breath, the quill laid flat on his desk, ink leaving a stain that may or may not come off. He didn’t care, though—he had other business to attend to. One that could change his life, for better or for worse.

As he ran, he thought of what to say. He’d gone over the words a dozen times in his head, but nothing ever seemed quite right. Every thought felt too small, too simple to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

The crimson sky had turned to blue, stars slowly forming like the constellations they once had. They both remembered that night—their head on his shoulder with only nature to accompany them, silent, and sanctified.

The moon hung low in the sky by the time they crossed paths on the dirt road. Neither had planned for this exact moment, yet it felt inevitable, as if fate itself had intervened.

They stopped a few paces apart, both breathless—Diluc from his hurried strides, and them from their sprint. For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the wind wrapped around them, heavy with all the words they hadn’t yet said.

“I…” they muttered, but their voice caught. After a breath or two, they spoke again: “I didn’t think I’d run into you.”

“I could say the same.” Diluc’s eyes softened as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Though… perhaps I hoped for it.”

Their breath hitched at his words, and they looked away, unsure of what to say. They hadn’t expected this—hadn’t pictured him to be so calm, so open. The reality of seeing him here, in the flesh, was almost overwhelming.

“I don’t even know why I came,” they confessed, voice trembling. “I just… I missed—“ they hesitated admitting they missed him. It terrified them—how one word could strip away everything they’d worked so hard to hide, yet hold the power to give them everything they wanted.

They swallowed hard, the silence between them growing heavier, and tried again. “I missed… the winery. Adelinde. The flowers. The peace of it all.”

But the lie tasted bitter, and they knew he saw through it. Diluc waited, silent and patient, as though he knew the truth would come, in time.

“I missed you,” they finally whispered, their voice breaking. The confession escaped before they could stop it, leaving them vulnerable and exposed. Their heart raced, the fear of rejection and relief of honesty crashing into each other.

“I’m sorry…” they added, one reckless word after the other. “For being so careless, for not understanding that you were only trying to protect me—for everything.

“I thought I did the right thing, leaving the manor. I told myself I needed space. But since then, all I can think about was you. I couldn’t stop looking forward to our lunch dates, to the moments you’d pass by the flower shop, to even catching a glimpse of that slight smirk of yours.

“And it’s all so infuriating,” they continued, voice gaining strength, yet still trembling with frustration and longing. “Because I look at you with that unreadable expression of yours, and it’s like you don’t care. You’re always so calm, so distant, like nothing ever fazes you. It’s maddening!

“Even when we were together, it was the same. You always tried to shoulder everything alone, hiding behind that stoic exterior. I could never tell if you were trying to protect me or push me away. And now…” Their voice wavered, and they dropped their gaze, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions spilling out. “Now, I don’t even know if you missed me at all. Or if I was just someone you had to look after.”

They hadn’t noticed how Diluc closed the gap between them until they felt a gloved hand caress their hair. “I cared.” They looked up at him with a somber expression. “More than I should. And I still do.” Diluc’s eyes had changed. The unreadable mask they had always found so frustrating had slipped, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“I tried to convince myself it was better this way,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “That keeping my distance would protect you—from the burdens I carry, and the dangers that follow me. And though I wasn’t completely wrong,” he put attention to your scarred arm. “Pushing you away felt worse. For both of us.”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing against their cheek as if grounding himself. “You were never just someone I had to look after. You are… everything I’ve been too afraid to lose. I thought keeping my feelings buried would keep you safe, but all it did was drive you away.”

His voice softened further, but the intensity of his words only grew. “I can’t bury it anymore. I won’t.”

Their breath hitched, tears pooling in their eyes as he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to gently hold theirs. His grip was firm, steady, and yet full of care—just like him.

“You have undone me completely,” he said, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions, “and I have no desire to be put back together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and profound, and the sincerity in his eyes left no room for doubt. In that moment, the barriers between them shattered, replaced by a warmth that enveloped them both.

Tears slipped down their cheeks, but they smiled through them, their heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve been undone, too,” they whispered, fragile yet filled with hope. “And I don’t want to be whole without you.”

The stars above, as well as the wind, bore witness as they stood there, hands entwined, finally allowing their hearts to speak what had been unsaid for far too long.

—end—

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc fluff

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corkinavoid · 5 hours ago

Note

Obsessed With You by Cosmicandy

Theater gothic/Phantom of the opera

(For some horrific reason I couldn't think of a trope)

DPxDC Phantom in the Opera

9/2 sat

Went to Gotham City Opera to see Eugene Onegin with B & Dames. The performance sucked ass (as modern takes on classics usually do), but during Tatyana's aria, some tech guy dropped a rubber chicken from catwalks right on stage. I bet it was on purpose since the lead's voice sounded much similar to the sound that chicken made. Wish I could shake the dude's hand, that was truly the crescendo of the whole scene.

15/2 sun

Came by GCO on the way to WE. Had some time to spare, so decided to go in and find the rubber chicken guy to thank him for the laugh last week. Thought he might appreciate the positive feedback since he was defo yelled at for the stunt. Turns out everyone blames it on a 'ghost'. Using 'Phantom of the Opera' as a cover story is poor taste, in my opinion, but on the other hand, it worked, and who am I to judge.

17/2 mon

Got curious and pulled up the records of GCO employees. No one matches the guy I've seen on the catwalks.

18/2 tue

Blackmailed Damian into drawing the guy. No match through the face recognition program. Should have expected that, really; the one cute guy with a sense of humor I meet (or see, actually), and he doesn't exist.

20/2 thur

Can't stop thinking about the rubber chicken guy. Might have to go back to GCO and ask about the whole ghostly rumor. Last time, no one bat an eye at the 'ghost' excuse, now that I think about it. Has it happened before? Is it a go-to explanation for any prank no one wants to take credit for?

26/2 wed

Visited GCO at night. Seen the guy, but the cam footage came back corrupted when checked downstairs. So maybe the fact that his hair was floating and glowing in the dark was not a hallucination.

27/2 thur

Definitely not a hallucination! Good news: got a sample. Bad news: after analysis, the data also came back corrupted. Weird news: the hair keeps glowing even after it's been cut off.

2/3 sun

The guy's name is Danny. Ghost story confirmed. I'm having a crisis.

4/3 tue

I'm not sure if I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about him or I want to forget everything I've already learned. But then, I've already got so far. Might as well commit to the bit?

8/3 sat

Was invited to see La Traviata tomorrow. Can I still call that reconnaissance, or am I in date territory?

10/3 mon

...it was a date. On an entirely unrelated note, Teddy Hyde ruined all my attempts at coming prepared.

18/3 tue

Heard a new rumor among GCO staff members. They suspect the ghost in their opera is having a crush on Red Robin. Not sure where they've got that idea, but it sure took them some time to notice.

19/3 wed

Damian keeps staring at me at dinners. Maybe I should take that portrait of Danny that he did down from the wall over my bed.

22/3 sat

Going on a date today, and this time, it's definitely a date! Feels like I should be having a crisis over dating a ghost, but somehow, I'm only having a crisis over outfit choices.

61/0° gBs

hEy, yoU're keEEpinG a DIary¡ aboUt Me!¡ ThAt"s cuTe FUCK OFF DANNY THIS IS PRIVATE INFORMATION GET OUT heHeheEhe no~

~•~•~•~

The thing is, I loved the song. And I loved the aesthetic. And I had such a goddamn hard time figuring out how to fit them together; I went through at least three different setups before deciding fuck it imma write silly boys being silly and wish for the best.

Dare I say it turned out cute as fuck, even though I still missed the mark on theater gothic aesthetic for the most part. Anyway, have a few pictures for general vibes!

[Just so you know, if you enter 'sex with a ghost' into google, the first few results will be the lyrics to 'Sex with a Ghost' by Terry Hyde, which is why Tim's research has been rather fruitless]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #dead tired #brain dead #cork game #theater gothic #phantom in the opera

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energ00n · 2 days ago

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hi!! i’ve been super obsessed with your apprentice au since you started posting it - the way you portray these characters is just like… wow… this is cinema. and the apprentice garments are all so creative it’s nuts. like, orion’s is my favorite, but elita’s is so cute too… little guys. and the designs! i love how they’re all cogless until they’re of age/ready to graduate/etc instead of it being violence against them to gain control like in the movie. also prima. he’s great. his relationship with orion makes me giggle and kick my feet, like that’s his dear little apprentice…

the recent comic made me roll over and go AUGHHH!!! EHHGHNN!!!! like oh okay it hurts really bad, and then it hurts even more when you’ve been in orion’s position before, and sometimes it leads to doubts like “so was it all a lie/are they ashamed of me/am i just the punchline” etc etc. they call me the overthinker, on account of how i overthink things. and it sucks because elita was offering genuine advice from a place of real worry! like orion IS a known troublemaker and dee needs to manage his time better but if he makes dee happy… and then dee turns around and pulls that because he feels like he has to overcompensate, because i also get that, two important things to you and when you’re confronted that sometimes they clash with each other (not inherently a bad thing!) you panic... however, prima prime kill this fool (joke)

i didn’t mean for this to get so long and also it’s very late but your art does that to people! there’s so much to chew on and think about and talk about, and of course your style is so beautiful as well (i’ve always liked how you used colors!!). wow. have a wonderful day!

Oh this is just delightful to read through thank you so very much!!!! I love love LOVEEEEE hearing thoughts about my works, especially when it's story-heavy like this! Absolute treasure to hear that what's going on is relatable to you guys too!! I always aim for something like that consider it's sometimes straight out of my own experiences. No need to apologize, this is wonderful and it made my day. I hope you continue to enjoy my work!!

#ask ene

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delulustateofmind · 2 days ago

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This may be a wrong headcanon (it JUST came into my head) but I see the youngest child (I see the youngest being a daughter who understand her mother’s pain) being the one to really notice something definitely wrong with Suguru and Satoru. They’re probably more in tune with the world around them and internet to know this ISNT normal. (Also based on my personal experience) Being the youngest to get away with more, they probably got more taste of the real world and notice that their mom (reader) NEEDS help ASAP!! They would probably try to help convince reader to get away even if reader thinks it’s impossible. I see them as risking their life to get her away from Suguru and Satoru because she deserves better. They might connect more with reader or try to and end up attached to her and feel a lot for her.

(They don’t have savior complex, they just see it as common sense.) Since their other siblings got used to it or actually think reader, they DONT trust their siblings. They don’t trust their dads or anyone. They act normal as possible, but can help but be disgusted by their dads’ actions. Quietly making sure the plan goes accordingly until the two can escape. They only trust themselves with this. Would they somehow someway escape? Is it still impossible? Would they kill the youngest if she were to help the mother? Would she just let reader escape even if it means their life being on the line (or they die)? She just wants their mom to finally be free… I don’t know…

SORRYYY It was just a very suddenly unexpected thought and head canon

No need to apologize for sharing ideas, pookie! 💖

Mmm, this could either lead to the reader declining to leave after the trauma of Kiyoshi’s death or something entirely bittersweet. While I think the youngest daughter and Reader would have a good relationship, the trauma of losing Kiyoshi—having her child die in her arms to something she couldn’t see or comprehend—would weigh heavily on her. Even if there was a way to escape, I don’t think Reader would take that chance again, not if it meant risking her daughter’s life.

Because of this, I could see a possible Maki-esque situation where the daughter leaves the clan, hoping that one day, her mother can be free too.

It’s a really good idea, though! If played out, it could make for a beautiful headcanon AU where Reader finally gets a happy ending.

Thank you so much for sharing your ideas!! 💕

#anon ideas!#snail yaps #“this is love” asks

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youngwonhui · 2 days ago

Text

✦ live on my knees, make you see | ch. 1

*•. member: choi seungcheol x afab reader

*•. summary: the first morning of your new job doesn’t go quite as planned. Ever since then, you realized that the rest of your life slowly turned off of its axis or maybe fits into the missing space you’ve been feeling throughout your life. In the centre of it all, there’s Seungcheol. The stranger you’ve met for the second time on that same morning.

*•. genre: angst, strangers to lovers; kinda, corporate and family drama, life and misunderstanding happened in general

*•. wc: 7,723

*•. warnings: unintentionally introducing corporate drama. no, i am not projecting. maybe.

*•. cross posted in AO3

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Huffing and puffing into your first day at the new job is not ideal. But the fact that you had missed the bus and the new office building are basically needle in a haystack, so now you’re climbing upstairs, ten minutes before you’re supposed to meet your new boss.

It’s enough, probably. It’s just not ideal.

When you look up, impossibly out of breath, the sight stumped you. Nowhere was a sign that points you to the agency. Only a single black door along the hallway. Which is not the ones you’ve remembered seeing on the google maps.

Darned all the only online interviews, making you unable to familiarize yourself with the new environment. Resulting on this small kerfuffle on the very first day.

Hands on your hips, jacket slung into it, you try to organize your thought. Making a mind to knock on that door and find out some direction. That is, if there are anything behind those doors.

You are proven wrong when said door flung open. Just as you’ve raised your balled fist to knock on it. Now it just froze in the air while the figure behind the door stood wide eyed.

Immediately taking a step back and lowering your hand, you cursed your day further. It’s barely 9AM and you’re facing hurdles one after another just to get to your work. The man who you assumed is the resident behind the door remain planted on his feet. One hand holding on the knob, and another a tied-up plastic with big sign of recyclable materials on it.

You just had to get in the way a man and their trash huh?

“Hey, uh sorry I didn’t mean to disturb. I’m looking for Diamond & Carats? The agency? The address said that it’ll be in this building?” You inquire to the stunned man; hair still ruffled from sleep and clad in a mismatch pajama set. Passing moments flow when he still stares at you with what you can assumed is a shocked gaze. You hoped you don’t surprise him too much. Yet you still need some sort of answer. So you waved your hand, and the man sputters out of his thought. Muttering sorry for basically spacing out on you.

“Agency? The advertising agency?” You nodded, finally a semblance of help. “Well, you’ve missed it then. Because they’re supposed to be one floor down from here. You should go downstairs and then took a right into the corner, only then you could see the sign where the entrance is.”

“Thank you.” You were already descending down the stairs, being punctual became your number one priority for now.

Following the direction from the kind stranger, you manage to find the somewhat hidden entrance to your new office. Thankfully not looking too disheveled as you steal a glance from the big reflective glass wall displayed along the entrance. A kind receptionist has welcomed you and now leading you to a waiting room.

Way to go on your new job.

Your thought traveled back to your college days. Never were the top student, but you were always down for an opportunity of a job. That’s why you took the graveyard shift as the library’s clerk. True to your nature, the college library was never your frequent spot. That’s why the first day on your library job, this situation is almost mirroring that day. Not knowing exactly where to go.

You’re just hoping this job isn’t much like the library job. Getting more and more lost inside the maze you couldn’t even see.

Although back then the maze was clear. As clear as the big shelves by the back of those library.

As you wait to be introduced to the team, you make a mental note to thank the kind stranger upstairs. Connecting the dots, you assume he lived there as the residential tenant. Or he’s just a janitor that work in his sleepwear, which is an option you couldn’t really comprehend.

After being welcomed by your team manager, a middle aged man with some sort of sleazy tone and too much confident on his shoulder, you’re eventually introduced to your team. A small tight knit one consists of three people around your age. Soyeon, Jisun, and Chan. You were kindly informed that your predecessor left because they preferred to retire early.

“Well that’s new, but not surprising.” You smiled at Soyeon, quite literally doesn’t know what to do with the information you just received.

Accepting this job are solely based on the salary you had offered. The startup tends to offer that but hearing that your predecessor has decided to step down because they prefer to be unemployed sounds a little odd in your mind. But you kept that thought away. In store as you try to focus on every little point from the tour around office guided by your new team.

Your sleazy boss has left long ago. Making his sleazy way back to his desk before handing your introduction tour over to your team. You have a sneaky feeling that man wasn’t very fluent around the office.

They kindly explained the flow of work after introducing you basically to the whole floor. From then it’s the administrative like logging into the company’s work database, to Chan’s many tricks on working with the copy machine. Sensing that Chan is throwing out a joke, you let out a belated laughter. Half regretting how awkward and a little rude you might come out as.

Sensing that your new team are kind in nature, they probably only wanting to be kind to you so they can quickly finish any of their postponed project. Seeing that your predecessor ‘retiring’ early completely falter the team’s progress. As seen at the timeline you had skimmed through after you’re logged into the desktop.

“Thank you for all the guidance, guys, honestly. I will make sure not used the mug that shaped as a woman’s bosoms, as well as touching the Greek yoghurt in the fridge.” You dabble yourself an attempt to joke back. Relieved when each of your team laughs. They’re too kind.

Maybe your first day isn’t so bad after all.

One thing you made sure in your every job are finding a safe spot for your escape from the grueling office environment. A hidden space just to have a private conversation, or better for you, smoke.

You had made sure to asks your team discreetly after the daily meeting. After your long and failed attempts to find one. To your surprise, Chan provided you with an answer. So here you are, perched on the tall wooden fence of the building’s hidden backyard/alley. Clean enough to take a breather, and discreet enough to not have too many eyes looking as it’s secluded behind the car park. You thanked whoever the building owner are for deciding to have this sort of space rather than having it unmanaged.

Exhaling through your lips, you scanned through the copies of files you had brought. Lists of report from your predecessor regarding each progress of the projects handled by your now current team. Stumped doesn’t even begin to describe your state of thoughts. Although progressing somewhat nicely, there are few times that some projects are held back due to vague reasons. And that doesn’t seem weird, but if said vague reasons are repeated many times, that’s just suspicious to your eyes.

Folding the papers and stuffing it back to your jacket pocket, you decided to put a bookmark on that and just enjoy your cig for now. Freeing your mind through the toxic stick. You cursed for not bringing your favourite scarf with you today, as the wind blew a chilling breeze to your neck. Despite the blazing sunlight.

Your eyes eventually landed to the opened window on the topmost floor of the building. There’s a man basking in the sunlight with his back facing you. The worn-out neckline of the white T-shirt are showing you a patch of skin decorated in tattoos. The view is not very clear as you’re almost ten meters apart.

There's a tuft of messy brown hair illuminated under the sunlight. It further convinces you that it's the man that helped you at your first day. Without hesitation, you picked up a stray pebble. Sizeable enough to throw and make some noise. And some noise you make as the stone make contact against the polished concrete wall. A few feet beside the opened window. And some attention you gained. The turned back now facing you.

“Hey, you.” You started, trying your best not to be too loud.

“I'm gonna assume you're trying to get my attention and not aiming straight at my head.” The man replied with a slight smirk. His eyes squint at you, blinded by sunlight.

“Don’t worry, i have great aim.”

“I see, you’re just bad with direction then.”

“Touché. You still remember me.” You laugh lightly, throwing the cigarette butt into your portable ashtray. “I still just wanted to thank you for that day you know. It was my first day here. I’m also sorry for barging like that.”

“Seungcheol, Choi. Everybody calls me Cheol. Also, no worries. The office downstairs are not very visible with their signs. I sent back too many delivery packages back down because they’re also not familiar with the place.”

“I’m Y/n, glad to meet you.”

With a mock salute and a nod from the man perched on upstairs window, your smoking break ended like that. Before you immediately rushed inside when you saw a glimpse of your watch.

Upstairs, an amused smile painted in Seungcheol lips. Glad of the surprise he got for today, in a form of you.

As it turns out bumping into Seungcheol is as easy as it gets.

From walking into the building together in the morning, to occasional talk whenever you’re on your smoke break. Whether Seungcheol are perched on his window or just simply on the level ground as yours. You don’t question as why he is making a way back to his place at 8AM, looking as if he’s having a rough night just by the nest of messy hair he’s sporting. He doesn’t question the apparent stress etched into your feature. Getting more and more prominent in each day you took your smoke break.

Once he paid a visit to the office, knocking lightly at the glass door when you’re coincidentally passing by. In his one hand is a tube of a sample posters. Mistakenly left by his door by the courier. You thanked him before turning back in. Fighting the urge to cooed at the fluffy white dog in his other hand.

On one of the mornings, you bumped to Seungcheol looking quite haggard, he blurted out that he’s just spend few nights up in a jam session. You managed to stop him as he rambled and assured him that you didn’t think that he just came back from a heist. You calmly told Seungcheol that he doesn’t owe you any explanation for the way he’s look at that chilly morning.

“Yeah, sorry for rambling. Long story short i’m a music producer. Not that it expla-”

“Hey, Seungcheol. It’s cool. Breathe.” You paused in front of the stairs. Seungcheol mirroring you before taking a deep breath. He then looks to you through his long lashes, before bursting into small laughter. Feeling how ridiculous he might have been.

“Sorry, it’s too early for me to bug you huh?”

“Nah, it’s alright. Besides, i sort of done this to you too, remember?” You continue your steps to your office. Like before, Seungcheol follow your action. Making his way back home.

“That’s true.”

The climbing up the stairs then filled with comfortable silence. Before parting ways as you had to make a turn to your office, you call to Seungcheol one last time.

“I’m a project manager. If that explained anything.” You smiled as you shrug. The sight of Seungcheol smile bid your goodbye as you turn your back to him. Heading straight to the office while Seungcheol climbs one more floor back to his house.

One night, you were working overtime to finish the last touches to the project, and you were ordering some takeout for dinner. After thanking the courier, you were helping the old man to navigate a way out when Seungcheol just making his way upstairs. Presumably going back home.

“Are you working late?” Seungcheol offhandedly remarks, pointing to the big bag of chinese takeout you’re holding.

You had ordered too much pot stickers. In your defense it was a buy one gets one promo. You failed to think out that you were eating for one.

“It happened so. Much to catch up, so little time.”

“Well, godspeed.” Seungcheol offered you a pumped-up fist as a good luck. For some reason, an impulse thought passed by your head. As Seungcheol begin his trek upstairs back to his home.

“Would you—” Your voice stopped the man. Turning to face you, mid-stairs. “Do you like pot stickers? or maybe shrimp fried rice? I happened to order too many.” You raised the plastic bags. Seungcheol looks like he's having contemplating thought.

“Sure, i could go for pot stickers.” You quickly walk over to handed Seungcheol the food, but the taller man stopped your hand midair. A question hanging by the tip of his tongue.

“Do you want some beer with your dinner? Maybe take some break?”

“You're torturing yourself. A can of beer with your dinner is such a treat. You'll sleep well afterwards too.”

On a whim, you had quickly agreed to be invited over to Seungcheol's apartment. Foregoing the dark and empty office as you gather the work papers and laptop and then vacated to Seungcheol's spacious living room. Clear coffee table now filled with a spread of chinese takeout with cans of beer belonging to each of you.

Laughing at the way you've been distancing yourself with beer, Seungcheol took one pot sticker in one bite. Humming at the way the crispy skin enveloping the warm filling. You share a look of acknowledgement. Earning a thumbs up as you took pride of the restaurant you had frequent in.

“I'm giving you the number of the restaurant. They deliver faster through there rather than when you ordered through app.” You had finished with your fried rice, sipping the cold beer to wash the grease. “Although maybe they do it faster because i'm their number one customer.”

“That's too bad.” Seungcheol slumped back to his couch, a brief pout on his lips before taking another quick bite. “Guess i have to go through you so i can get fast delivery. Or some extra food.”

“You make it sounds like i'm a dealer.” You retort, looking up from editing the graph data in your laptop.

“No, but you’re kinda gatekeeping.” He points his chopsticks at you accusingly, you only shook your head before returning your attention back to the laptop.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me being here like this?” You muttered, not sparing a glance.

“Well i live here alone, And with the dog of course. If i don’t like it i can just kick you out, you know.” Seungcheol replied, accompanied by a teasing smirk and a shrug.

“Ouch, that’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“How about you? no one that’s gonna worry about you back home?”

You can only scoff lightly, fingers flying on your keyboard to fix up a typo.

“I’m a grown adult. No one have to worries about me.” You said with a tight smile on your lips.

“Well as a neighbourly duty, i’ll be the one. It’s dangerous to be alone downstairs in your office. Feel free to knock upstairs if you’re feeling lonely when you work overtime.”

“I might work overtime often to be honest. With the way the company work.” You paused, pursing your lips in slight frustration. “It’s been almost two weeks and everything is weird, well mostly my boss. My team are fairly kind and welcoming. Which is kind of admirable with the things they have went through.”

“What do you mean?” To Seungcheol’s question, you slowly put aside your laptop and hold up stack of papers you fish out of the piles you brought with you. Scooting closer to him. When Seungcheol realizes you’re showing him a bunch of companies’ data his eyes grown wide. “Are you sure you’re allowed to show me these?”

“Seungcheol you’re a music producer, what? You’re not secretly an employee of a chemical waste or biofuel company, aren’t you?”

A dry chuckle escapes Seungcheol lips as he shook his head. Slight ecstatic that you had remembered his occupation he had mentioned on a fly a few days back when you’re both making a way into the building at early morning. He had to defend the gnarly look in his face that clearly shown he hasn’t sleep or took a shower for days.

“So what is this tea you’re showing me?” Seungcheol prompted, eyes skimming through the graphs and datas you shown him.

“So to put it simply, as it turns out my boss has been embezzling money through some of my team’s old projects. And that is without them knowing. Them being my team. Not to mention his deep connection with some of our clients which, well let’s just say it could be categorized as corporate collusion.” With a downturned smile, you look over to Seungcheol who looks like he’s just been splashed with a bucket of water.

“Y/n this is big?” You nod, taking back the papers of evidence from Seungcheol’s hand. He simply doesn’t want to dip his hand further into this. “Are you- what are you going to do with this?”

“At the meeting tomorrow, i’m planning to show this to the board of investors. As well as the CEO. Some small group of people who’s in charge. I have all the data classified as anonymous but i have all of my team’s confession as well as some of other team.” You sighed deeply, a small dreaded vine weaved through you but you had remembered how some of your team has been nothing but kind to you and you can’t just let your boss use them for just a tool to fill his wallet. “I am sorry Seungcheol i didn’t mean to drop all of this corporate bullshit on you.”

“Uh, no don’t worry. I’m sure it’s been hard for you and your team. Especially since you’re new at that company.” Seungcheol assures you calmly. Shifting in his seat as you resigned back, sighing in half anticipation and half anxiety. “I’m glad you can trust me enough to spill all of this though.”

“Is it weird that i’m not very scared for this?” You rattle the stack of paper in your hand. “I kind of just wanted this to end soon so that i could continue work peacefully.”

“I don’t think it is. You just don’t want any jerk doing bullshit in your work. That’s understandable.” Seungcheol shrugged, assuring you of your feeling. The buzz in your system somewhat helps to his statement. “Although maybe you can treat your team for a drinks? When this all over? They kind of deserved it more.” Seungcheol reaching over across to grab your can of beer before handing it to you. His is already in hand, then offering a cheer. “Godspeed for your meeting tomorrow?”

“Cheers.”

Relief, that’s what you feel at first. The long and winding meeting goes somewhat smoothly and as you had expected, none of them had catch up on what your boss has done. You can’t really grasp what they feel at first but the seething tone and the gradually visible lines of frustration and anger as they turn pages and pages of your so-called report of ‘evidence’ assures you a little bit.

They sent you away at noon, thanking you of what you’ve presented before you make your way back to your team room. Passing by the spacious room of your boss, feet propped up on the desk. Incognizant while doing virtually no work.

You’re immediately swarmed with question as soon as your team saw you enter the room. You quickly urged them to stay calm and make no fuss.

“Are we in trouble?” Jisun whispered lowly, the apparent anxiousness and fear shown in her demeanour.

“We all know who deserve to be in trouble. And none if it is us.” Chan’s statement followed with agreeing nods along the room. Still keeping any noise down between yourself and the team.

“Chan is right. For now, we need to keep everything on the lowkey as we let the board and the people in charge took care of the problem yeah?” You reassure the room, looking over the pairs of eyer gazing back at you with worries.

“I’m sorry, but how are you being so calm about this?” Soyeon lean over her desk, closer to you in curiousness.

“Although it’s never been this big, sadly it’s not even my first rodeo. I work in too many places where people are just jerks and serial bulshitters.” You deadpanned before turning back to the work at hand. Then remembering Seungcheol words last night, you look up around the room to your team.

Your whole life, you were never the sentimental type. Workplace relationship is never the one thing you tries to maintain. Simply because you go through your job as quickly as you need it to be. Or more like, as much as your bills need.

The situation never lets you have the luxury to pursue anything as glimmering as a love life. The acquaintances you made along the way, you are truly thankful even though at times those relationship felt like a transaction.

“Hey, listen. Is everybody free tonight? After work? Let’s get some drinks and bites, it’s on me.”

While Soyeon and Jisun exchange a look, Chan immediately raises his hand in agreement. An excited smile etched in his face, the lip piercing glinting under the light. Within a beat, Jisun and Soyeon agrees to your invitation eventually.

The impromptu celebration was the perfect cover. Your unsuspecting boss might think that you and your team simply letting loose after a long successful project, but in reality, you are celebrating for other things as well. It is also a time to regroup and properly getting to know who you’re working with. Not only the brief conversation between hustling to meet deadline that hurdles you one after another.

So now, sitting comfortably at the outdoor table of the restaurant, you’re ordering the second round of cocktails to accompany the stream of gleeful conversations going on. It’s perfect, you think. If the walls powered by your social battery slowly crumbling, you could slip away easily into the crowds of people.

Unfortunately, your coworker is the friendly type of drunk.

After letting loose of any work burden by the end of the first round. You spend the next thirty minutes trying to deflect any attention turned towards you.

“Okay, am i the only one that is getting interviewed here? None of you obviously need to know how many times i’ve been in relationship.” You laughed as you finished, then taking a sip of your beer. It reminded you of someone.

“Well, we’re basically know everything about each other here. So yeah.” Chan chuckled, Jisun and Soyeon nodded accordingly.

It doesn’t help that they basically introduced themselves as a group regarding everything you possibly needed to know. Maybe sometimes wen’t overboard when Jisun casually mentioned that Chan spent a night in jail once for beating up a pervert in a subway station.

The three has been a close friend since before they even enter the company. Somehow the synergy resulted from their friendship reflected well in each other work, yet still maintaining to keep each other in check as they strive to win a challenge. You clearly admire them. Not just at their reliability, but also the way they can found solace as well as ignited spirit. They’re each other’s person.

“I know we’re kinda not in the mood to talk about work.” Jisun hesitantly begins, earning your attention as well as a curious eyes from her friends. “But what do you think will happen? About you know who.”

“I’m sure you all read the final document i sent last night?” Your coworkers nodded. “I can assure you i’ve mentioned none of any informant, so no repercussion will find its way to you. The next step, well i can only imagine the board will conduct meeting on how to safely remove ‘you know who’. They wouldn’t like to be tricked for their money. Especially in such company like ours. Although, there’s probability that the corruption runs deep. Meaning that a few in the upper management took their hand deep in the same jar as ‘you know who’.”

You had your suspicion. Yet you still took the evidence to the board.

As cliché as it sounds, you can’t stand injustice. If anything happened, you have your evidence after long winded lowkey digging into the financial team, as well as putting together those evidence which obviously isn’t your main specialty. Perhaps because none of your job history has required you to do so.

Or worst case scenario you get fired. And that’s that.

“Wait but doesn’t it mean that there’s a chance that you might be in trouble?” Jisun voiced out. You simply shrug to push the thought aside. Right on time when the waiter had come over to deliver your drinks. You easily urged the increasingly worried bunch to drink.

“Well we can’t never be too sure, can’t we? Even if we have steel evidence. Now let’s just drink!”

The three hesitantly exchanged glances before taking a hesitant sip.

Never in your mind that you’d sacrifice this much. Just to what? Protect a few innocent people who might or might not be in trouble? You shook your head to push the thoughts away.

It might hurt to lose a steady source of income, you thought instead. But you always know one or two kid who needs tutoring, or that one convenience store that always need a part timer. A few moments to cool down before going back to the job hunt.

Disgustingly vicious cycle, but you’re no stranger to that.

You had found out that focusing on your job like a mad man is better than another path down to the edge. At least you’re well enough. But does it make you happy enough?

“How’s the big bad meeting?”

Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol had made a visit to your hidden—apparently not so hidden backyard. He emerges from the parking lot exit, carrying a bundle of white in his arms. A pair of shiny glasses perched at his wavy hair as he’s cladded in a red puffer vest.

“It is neither big nor bad. It went well in case you’re wondering. Or somewhat— i don’t know.” You can’t help to shrug off. Not wanting to acknowledge the apparent silent front the upper management has been doing. It is not helping that your so-called boss is having ‘business meeting’ out of office for a few days. Which you don’t know the detail.

“Why doesn’t it sound very reassuring?” There’s a genuine concern in his tone. Shifting closer to where you stood. You instinctively put out your cigarette, after realizing that the very white bundle is his dog with a pink bow.

“Simply said that i’ve done what i need to do, and still waiting for answer. So yeah, maybe reassurance is a rare sight for me.” You paused, entire focus stolen from the man in front of you and into the fluffy being he held.

“Oh yeah, this is Kkuma. I realized i haven’t introduced you to her. She’s pretty much my daughter.” You recognized the proud smile painted on his face. As well as the soft smile with a gaze you could only describe as loving.

“Well hello Kkuma, aren’t you a cutie.” You make a small wave, bowing down closer to came face to face with the dog.

To your surprise, the little dog makes a surge forward to eventually licked your face. With a slight shock you look up to Seungcheol a moment, then back to the excited dog. You spend no time to gift her friendly scratches and pats.

“I always wanted a pet.” You begin, already pulling away to not overexcite the little fluff. “Princess Kkuma here makes me rethinking an old dream.” Your confession sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“What’s stopping you? This little princess has been a blessing for me ever since she arrives.” It’s such a sight to see a man of Seungcheol stature to hold the little white fluffy creature with such loving and care.

“Well, my whole life it was just me any my mother. And she wasn’t very well for such a long time. So having a pet wasn’t very ideal. And then after she passed, i’m just too occupied with other things, i can’t even think about getting a little friend.” You reasoned; an upturned smile quickly returns back to an unchanged face when Kkuma bark softly to you.

“Y/n i’m so sorry, i- well. You could always knock on my door, if you’d like to meet this princess.” You could feel the slight tension Seungcheol hid behind his words. But you brush it off like always.

Glancing at the time, you eventually excused yourself to Seungcheol. Hands in your pocket as you walk away and back into the building. Climbing sets of stairs back to your desk to wait around. And giving each of your teammate a reassuring smile every time you spot them staring at their screen with familiar dread.

A few days later, the rush of footsteps quickly welcomes you as you enter the front door of the office. Startling both you and the poor receptionist. You were not early admittedly, but you weren’t too late. So you don’t expect such fuss. You look up from your thick bundle of your scarf and quickly recognized your three teammates has swarmed you with a gleeful expression mirroring in each other.

“Have you check your email?”

“It’s done!”

“Ding-dong the witch is dead!”

It’s a continuous series of excited whispering as the three practically corners you back into the wall. Wide eyed and eventually realizing what’s going on, you look around the room and quickly shot an apologetic look to anyone who’s disturbed by the sudden commotion. You hastily ushered the excited bunch to your work room. Then sat them down with shushing motion like you would do with children.

“Okay. Now, with precise and workplace appropriate tone and volume, explain to me what happened.” You begin, eyeing the three as they exchange glances. Unfurling the scarf from your neck and neatly folding them on top of your desk.

Wordlessly, the bunch elected Jisun to lift up the phone in her hand and show you the email they had excitedly asks. It was a blast email, directed to everyone in the company. A short paragraph detailing that your boss, has been removed from the company for theft and misappropriation of project for his own benefit. The removal is effective immediately.

After skimming the short email signed by the CEO. You silently look up with mouth slightly agape in surprised. Then beginning to open your own mailbox to check if it’s not a mere trickery.

Sure to it, there’s the same email but followed by a private message directed only to you. Simply stating that your boss has been taken on a business trip as a trick from the board and CEO to corner him and break the news to him. To minimalize the possibility of commotion in the office. Also to keep things private and and as lowkey as possible. The next step as well as evidence already handed to the legal team to investigate further.

You try to suppress a smile. Bad thing to overjoy over one's misfortune. But the relief you felt feeling like it’s a pure oxygen flowing through your vein. Simply invigorating, as clearly shown between the three in front of you.

As if an invisible chain just came off of them. Jisun, Soyeon, and Chan has a continuous smile etched to their face even until one by one said goodbye to you once the clock hits 5PM. As you begin to clean up and get ready to go home, you can’t help to smile to yourself as well. Quite in disbelief over the amount of happiness you can get over helping people. You team who you barely know for less than six months.

Suddenly your thought flew to the man resides upstairs.

Then, in a blink of an eye your feet have led you there. Knocking the door with a pack of beer Chan has hidden in his secret stash beside the copier. You had promised to repay him back.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Holding up the beer in your hand, Seungcheol show off his smile before stepping aside and letting you in. Unlike the first time that you’re welcome to a fairly kempt place, now there’s a few splayed-out papers in the coffee table surrounding the crumpled-up burger wrappers as well as half eaten fries. Complete with clothes strewn all over the place, you try to maintain a straight face but Seungcheol’s quick senses are faster.

“Wait, let me clean up a little.” Seungcheol rushes to throw away any trash, his quick steps eventually pulling the attention of his dog. Which ended up being too curious and following every step he takes. “Kkuma, please. I almost walk all over you.”

Feeling rather burdensome, you quickly put the beers down and then you try to gain Kkuma’s attention instead to distract her from hindering Seungcheol’s attempt. Still walking around the apartment, Seungcheol mouthing a thank you as he collects a T-shirt on top of the dining table. You had made your spot on the hallway, sitting cross legged on the floor as Kkuma whimpering softly to gain your full attention. Her paw tapping lightly at the end of your soft scarf.

Moments later, Seungcheol re-appear with a grin. Catching his breath in a new set of clothes and a beanie. Presumably hiding a wild tuft of hair. You shot him an impressed look. Eyes widened and a questioning smile over the attire change.

“I sweat too much from running around.” He simply reasoned, joining you on the floor. His eyes trained to his dog. Kkuma already curled up beside you, chewing a strawberry plushie. You had delegated your scarf as a makeshift cushion beside her when Kkuma persist on the colourful garment that’s previously wrapped around your neck.

“I’m sorry though, i don’t mean to barge in tonight. I shouldn’t hav-”

“Shush, you’re bringing me beer.” Seungcheol leaned back across from you. You could see signs of exhaustion in his face and it brought a feeling similar of sadness in you. “Besides, i’ve been in such a rut. I couldn’t find time to clean up at all. So, you being here is kinda helping.”

Offering a can to him, he quickly opens it before clinking it to your already opened ones.

“So, to what do i owe the pleasure?” Seungcheol questions.

“Well now i-” You hesitated for a moment. Feeling the lump of unease slowly coming up, barging in and bringing your good mood when Seungcheol is showing fatigue while having no time to even clean up his apartment. But the look in his eyes. The big and encouraging look that lies atop his somewhat charming eyebags. “Well i have good news about my boss.”

You try to not imagine how Seungcheol’s eyes glow brighter upon your words. Then, to your following silence Seungcheol quickly nods in understanding over your slight hesitation. You continue while explaining that there’s so little that you can really share around. So, he took your good news with him, that’s enough.

“I’m sorry.” Your pardon took his full attention. “I came here without thinking and just barging in like a kid in a candy store.” You smile apologetically.

“No Y/n, you shouldn’t. It’s a weird corporate thing, i truly understand. I think i should be the one to apologize though. You’re here hoping to share the good news with a friend and met with a shipwreck instead.” Seungcheol chuckled, then taking a swig of his beer. The can seemingly light in his grip with the speed he’s taken to down the content.

The silence followed drowns his word to realization. The heaviness of it. The bitter smile Seungcheol tries to hide eventually surfacing. Its appearance further prove the state Seungcheol is in. His initial jokes have lost its meaning when reality kicks in.

“You’re not a shipwreck Seungcheol.” You voiced out softly. “I might be in no help in an artistic or musical side, but hey since we’re ‘friend’ then you can talk to me.” Your emphasis on friend instantly bursting out a smile from Seungcheol. Yours followed suit.

“It’s the usual, really. I get too overwhelmed with work and then can’t really write anything worth a dime. Then, i neglect everything before indulging on unhealthy meal before forcing myself to stay awake until i get any semblance of some melody that’s maybe good enough.” Seungcheol smiles bitterly, crushing the empty can of beer into the wooden floor before fidgeting with his beanie.

You blinked at the sight in front of you. Minding the dog that’s now fallen fast asleep on your side, you make a shift forward to sit right in front of Seungcheol. Now his attention is up to you.

“Give me your hand, both of them.” You hold out your palm to Seungcheol. To your little surprise, he gives in to lay both of his hand on top of yours. Palms up as you shot him a quick thanks before bringing his hand together, yours enclosing around his interlaced fingers. “It’ll be better if you close your eyes.” Seuncheol follows suit. Sighing when he can feel your hands squeezing his before caressing it softly. “My mom used to do this to me out of nowhere. When she became sick at the hospital, she does this whenever i’m about to leave. I like to think that’s her way to make me feel calm.”

Seungcheol eyes flutter open at your recollection. He’s welcomed by the sight of your smiling face down to the joined hands. With all his might, Seungcheol swallowed down the words he’s about to say. He likes to think that his body remembers. Years and years have passed but his body remembers.

How nice it is to be held by you.

“Your mother sounds great.” Seungcheol find himself whispers. Quickly replied by your chuckle before you let go of his hand and giving it one last pat. Seungcheol tries to hold back the whine in his throat.

Thankfully you didn’t make change on your proximity.

“Well she’s like most mothers. All great until she thinks their child is causing trouble. Which is probably most of the time for her.” You paused, a whisper of smile grazing your face. As it’s been a long time since you talk about your mother. The sudden topic of reminiscence jogs a happy memory in your mind. “Although i do understand her. It’s never been easy to raise a child alone, right?”

“Not that i have a child, but i think so.” Seungcheol would like to know more about your story, but for now he’s willing to stay where he’s at. Straying off of any possible uncomfortable topic.

You squint your eyes playfully at Seungcheol. Taking note of how the lines in his face has visibly soften. You like to think he’s loosened up due to the alcohol in his bloodstream. But you might never know.

“How could you disregard Kkuma like that. She’s right there.”

Seungcheol covers his mouth to stop himself to burst out laughing. Doesn’t wanna disturb his dog snoozing nearby, his heart clenched at the sight of your scarf. You smile at the way the outer corner of his eyes wrinkle endearingly and the dimple deepened. But he might never know.

It is safe to say that work has been smooth sailing as of late. Although there’s small commotion outside of your boss’ office, when the legal team is doing a sweep of any document in there. Now, the room remained locked with its lights off. Hiding all the remnants of strewn papers and anything that’s deemed unimportant.

It sparks a happiness when you observe how your team work happily day by day. Unlike the first time you saw them, how they reminded you of a litter of abandoned kitten.

Sure, you and your team need to adjust to your new team manager, but the transition has been a trouble-free one. And you thanked your team for the full cooperation. Helping you when bumped into any obstacle regarding all the old files or project.

The day ended when your team manager thanked you and your team for the recent successful pitch on an ad campaign. Grinning the moment your team manager left, Chan sets off a howling cheer with the rest in tow.

“So, anyone up for a celebration?” You voiced out the idea, which sadly met with uneasy exchange of glances.

“I have to take a raincheck on that. I got a date waiting for me at the italian restaurant nearby.” Chan quickly shoulders on his bag and make a quick exit. Probably trying to avoid his friends teasing.

“We’re so sorry Y/n we got a pre-ordered tickets for a movie. But you’re welcome to join in? I’m sure there’s still available ticket.” Jisun points to herself and Soyeon, eyes all expectants.

But you noticed the small underlying hesitancy in both. You could easily interpret it, you weren’t born yesterday.

“Ahh, no i wouldn’t want to impose on your date.” You said that with a wink. Hoping to alleviate any awkwardness as your words send the two into a fit of giggle.

Quickly saying goodbye, they left you to your own device. The opened window on your desktop is just showing mostly planning for new project meeting. You feel like you’re owed to have a night off. The sun is barely setting, you’re contemplating to pay Seungcheol another surprise visit.

And then you did.

As a repayment for taking Chan’s stock of refreshment, you had stocked the mini fridge used by your team. Beers, gatorade, or even the mango yoghurt Jisun always have for dessert. You took enough beer and then sets off upstairs. Bidding goodbye to any employee still hanging around to finish a deadline or just simply wasting time until the night falls.

With your shirt already unbuttoned at two top, and jacket slung on your arm, you try you best to look as relaxed as possible.

It’s weird that nowadays, these habits came to you like it’s deserved. Visiting Seungcheol always resulting in a time spent inside a bubble of coziness. Where you could let down all guards and freely let yourself laughs as he makes a cute mistake when he’s trying to brag about his cooking skill. Or when Kkuma refuses to listen to him and Seungcheol proudly calling it a talent.

A chuckle escaped your lips, standing in front of the familiar door as you wait for the resident to opens it and welcomes you in. You almost looking forward to seeing the messy tuft of hair, sometimes falls down into his long lashes but never quite obstructing his view as you noticed that Seungcheol has this habit to runs his fingers to his hair as an attempt to keep it in place.

Eventually you hear the doorknob clicking open. Looking up, the sight welcomes you are far from what you had expected. Not even in million years as a pair of bright brown eyes knock the air out of your lungs completely.

The figure behind the door was not Seungcheol. But it wasn’t a stranger. Yet not an acquaintance either. Just another person who had made appearance in your thought. Glued to an idea, imagination of all the ‘what could’ and ‘what if’.

You had never been shy to admit that your mother raises you as an unwed single mother. People had never been nosy enough to seek out why, or where your father has been. It seems like it’s clear in your demeanor that you’re not even gonna acknowledge him in your life.

People could assume, but you and your mother knew the truth. Of your father’s whereabout and how his life going. Possibly thousand miles away from the life he left behind, and into the one he actually lived with a new family.

One of them you saw today.

“Y/n?” The stranger muttered. The proximity allowing you to hear it loud and clear.

You feel like you can’t breathe, yet your bloodstream flow quicker that waterfalls. The can of beer already drops to the floor. As you took a stumbling step back, your confounding mind tries to plan a way to escape the present situation.

Pivoting on an unsure foot, you almost stumble before making your way to the stairs. Hands flew to make it to the handle, but there’s faster ones giving you balance. The familiar dark pool of brown eyes came to your sight.

“S- seungcheol.” The words barely made it out of your lips, but the important ones never.

No explanation of why you’re fleeing from his opened front door while clearly in distress. Well, it’s not that you have extensive explanation as of why your father’s son suddenly made an appearance into your life. So you could only remain silent as your shaking arms held tight by Seungcheol.

Steadying Kkuma in his other hand, Seungcheol gaze back to his opened front door. Frowning at the sight of the frozen figure, pale as his eyes fixed to the back of your neck as if he’s seen a ghost. Bright brown eyes not even looking at the questioning glare from Seungcheol. “Hansol?”

With this you shook your arms free of Seungcheol’s hold and then making your way down the stairs and out of the building. Disregarding the faint call from Seungcheol in your rush.

|| next chapter

fun fact, the first excerpts written for this fic was in 2017

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups scenarios #seventeen imagines

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